#p: Damage Control

[danandfuckingjonlmao]

had a dream dan got cancelled so he and phil hard launched in his apology video for damage control

[xxplastic-cubexx]

you say they can’t put telepaths in marvel rivals, yet we have some very credible leaks that jean grey and emma frost are gonna be in the game soon.

that being said, jean has telekinesis (and the phoenix force) and emma has her diamond form. telepathy is all charles has, lmfao. odds are pretty low for him, but maybe not zero if they give him telekinesis!

if yall have me say he got psionic blasts one more time i am going to scream HE HAS MORE THAN TELEPATHY . LIMITED BUT HE HAS IT <- he has gone against sentinels and disabled armies with it before HE CAN FIGHT I PROMISEEE

and technically they did give him telekinesis in krakoa (and very weak telekinesis sometimes before krakoa) so .... not my fave move but he does have that ...... and ig they give him a gun sometimes ........ last resort type shit but he has options ..

[eyepatchdate]

needed a Video Game to play so i finally started jedi fallen order today. i am interested in the story but oh man it has some of the worst backtracking known to man. not being able to quicktravel between the meditation points is like. kind of awful actually.

[akuma-tenshi]

your honour i simply adore them

[csial]

‘I have no need to forgive you. you cannot offend me.’ (cheating and sending this one here too, from neuvillette)

There is silence in the wake of the words that leave the sovereign's lips bar the wash of the waves that folds against his ankles, the gentle shift a reminder of all that has been divulged. Eyes cast down to their linked hands, head bowed in deference perhaps, grip loosening on instinct though not yet letting go entirely.

The second apology sits on his tongue but he swallows it for he has been told his words bear no offence, that his apologies are unnecessary. He ought know this; truly do they not wear each other's tokens and share this connection of fingers entwined? Has it not all but been said without words when they share these moments of time together? Yet it is hard for him to fathom, to consider that the sudden divulgence of all his emotions at once was not somewhat intense for Neuvillette and this is why the apology jumped forth without hesitation.

There is something different after all in taking that small step into the waters and allowing the vastness of his emotions to be seen by he who knows all emotion and memory. To feel the depths beneath the surface, to know the ferocity of what existed there. He had forgotten himself in their wanders, teased about diving into the depths and swimming together as they have done in the past, and let his foot dip into the water without remembering that doing so would render him little more than glass and expose Neuvillette to all that he does not say.

Now his heart thumps in his chest, the apology blurted off his tongue in an instant in hope that he has not overwhelmed Neuvillette with how much he feels, how deep his emotions run. He is not used to giving so much so quickly, but it has been done now and he cannot undo it. Instead he lifts his gaze again, swallowing once more and boldly lays his free hand upon Neuvillette's cheek.

"Nothing changes that you do not want to..." he insists, before anything more can be said. There is a deep need there to have that known, to have it spoken plain. At the same time, he studies Neuvillette's visage, chasing any reaction to the depths of his emotions, the weight of his affection, selfishly, and hoping he does not see panic. "It is there, and now you know it, you have seen it all. But there is no need for obligations to act upon it if you do not want to."

Amusingly, he contradicts himself in the little pep talks he has shared with his sovereign, one who insists that if something is wanted it should be taken, that if there is something to be changed it ought be, sitting instead on all this feeling and allowing a natural course to be followed, but there is reason in his actions. Perhaps the most reason he has reached for in a long time.

"It is there and has been for some time. It can remain unsaid for as long as you need. I ask nothing more of you than this." His hand squeezes, tightening that grip of joined fingers again, his hand slipping from Neuvillette's cheek to curl around the pendant that sits about his own neck. He's waited so many years to find some sort of direction in this world, to be free of his prisons, to feel a sense of peace, he is not inclined to rush Neuvillette either to find the same page. Some things are worth the wait.

[aoitakumi8148]

[Left behind] 𝟙 of 𝟙.

𝓜𝓲𝓻𝓪𝓬𝓵𝓮𝓼 𝓐𝓵𝔀𝓪𝔂𝓼 𝓗𝓪𝓿𝓮 𝓐 𝓟𝓻𝓲𝓬𝓮, 𝓝𝓸 𝓜𝓪𝓽𝓽𝓮𝓻 𝓗𝓸𝔀 𝓒𝓪𝓹𝓽𝓲𝓿𝓪𝓽𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓣𝓱𝓮𝔂 𝓜𝓪𝔂 𝓑𝓮.

Come close, and I will touch you. Talk to me, and I will relax. Bound me to your rules, and I will remain a volunteer. Punish me, and I will accept it. Take the organ along with the flower I give you, and your precious life will be saved. Vanish, and the eternity will make us more hollow than ever. We can't continue together, we can't die together, but perhaps the very power of this unhealable wound will help me to keep my bits of humanity...

[queen-scribbles]

One thing I did think was funny with the date nights, and I know it's bc they're trying to be vague with timing since you can run them anywhere after initiating the romance, is Theron calling himself your "idiot spy boyfriend" when all my toons romancing him are far enough along it should be "idiot spy husband" thankyouverymuch

Also I don't really think he's an idiot, unless we're using that as shorthand for "reckless and impulsive" rather than alternate to "stupid" now.

[sahrabarik]

Been playing a selunite tempest cleric dragonborn in a local coop game w my boyfie and i gotta say im getting attached to the cunt

[inkandapex]

stream madness

Lando Norris x Reader

Summary : To the world, Y/N had always been Lando Norris’ closest friend—before the fame, the podiums, and the roar of F1 engines. Their bond had always been well-known, shared through countless moments on and off camera. But as the months went on, something started to shift, and it wasn’t just between Y/N and Lando. It became apparent through streams, where their chemistry couldn’t be denied.

Words: 4.7k

Warnings: some swearing

part 2 | part 3 | part 4

Max's Cooking Stream

“Done! I think they came out quite well,” Max announces, lifting the pan toward the camera, showing off the results of two hours in the kitchen.

The chat is already flooded with reactions—compliments, jokes, and the occasional disbelief at Max’s culinary skills.

"I'll be the judge of that" Lando states as he steps into view "Like master chef" he continues

Pietra is chatting with someone just out of view, her voice light and engaged. The mic, which has been filtering most background noise throughout the stream, only picks up bits and pieces of conversation—muffled words, distant laughter. But this moment? This one, it catches perfectly.

Lando steps away from where Max’s mic is propped, moving slightly out of frame. He reaches for a fork, his attention focused on someone unseen. And then, clear as day, his voice carries through.

"Love, come here a sec. Try it with me."

The chat explodes. But all three were too busy to realize what had just happened

"LOVE?? did he just say love??" "Stop rn who is he talking to" "someone find out rn pls" "it might be y/n, she was seen with them around monaco yesterday" "yeaa he calls her love sometimes i think its just a normal endearment for them lol"

All three, oblivious to the brewing chaos, all continue with what they were doing. Because whether it was intentional or not, Lando just dropped something big.

"Y/N’s here too, everyone! The whole gang’s here—Y/N, say hello to the chat," Max finally acknowledges, glancing at the flood of messages. It’s clear he’s doing some damage control, but the chat is already too far gone.

With a small wave and an amused little smile, Y/N finally steps into frame, grabbing a fork as she inches closer to the pan of food her friends have spent the past two hours making.

"Doesn’t look half bad, to be honest," she muses, inspecting the dish. "P’s really doing wonders, getting you this far into cooking."

Pietra laughs in the background while Max rolls his eyes, but before anyone can add to the banter, Y/N is already taking a bite.

"You’ve gotta—"

"Bloody hell—"

Lando’s warning comes a second too late. Y/N’s eyes widen as the heat hits, steam practically pouring out of her mouth as she waves a hand in front of her face, trying to cool down.

"You muppet, that’s literally fresh off the stove—c’mere," Lando chuckles, already unscrewing a bottle of water. He hands it to her, shaking his head as she takes it gratefully.

The chat? Utterly unhinged.

"NOT THE WAY HE JUST—"

"‘C’mere’ HE SAID ‘C’MERE’ I’M GONNA SCREAM."

"I AM LIVING FOR THIS CHAOS."

And just like that, what was supposed to be a casual cooking stream has become a full-blown internet event.

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

Lando's Annual Stream

Everyone teases Lando about how he’s practically become a Twitch relic, only gracing the platform with his presence once a year. A far cry from the frequent streams he used to do. Some argue that it makes his rare appearances even more iconic, like a seasonal event the internet gathers for.

On one of his rare Twitch streams, Lando found himself diving into Backrooms with Max and a few other friends. As expected, chaos ensued—shouting, panicked laughter, and the occasional unintelligible screaming into the mic. But one moment, in particular, sent the fans into an absolute frenzy.

The doorbell rings, making both Ed and Lando pause mid-game and glance at each other.

"Food’s here," Lando announces into the mic.

Ed, already taking off his headset, ready to stand up. But just as Ed moves, they both hear the faint sound of the door unlocking.

"Oh, I think Y/N’s grabbing it, mate," Ed says, blinking in surprise. He relaxes back into his seat for a second before standing up anyway. "I’ll go help her."

"SHES STILL IN MONACO" "i thought she went back to London with Max and P" "omg she's staying with lando" "loool stop reading into it guys ed's also staying with lando. theyre just friends" "my delusions are being fed"

Both Y/N and Ed return, arms full with bags of food and cutlery. Ed drops back into his chair, already digging into his meal, while Y/N pauses beside Lando, holding a box of food in her hands.

"Do you want yours transferred to a plate, or is the box good?" she asks, tilting her head slightly.

"Like that is fine, thank you—oh, I’m streaming, by the way. They can see and hear you," Lando adds with a grin as he takes the box from her.

Y/N barely reacts, too used to this by now. Instead, she casually leans in slightly, scanning the chat as she asks, "Is Max here? Can you tell him to let P know I’ve been trying to call her?"

Lando doesn’t even look away from his screen. "He can hear you—he says sure. You wanna sit here and eat with us?"

She shakes her head, stepping back. "I’m good, got my own thing going on. I’ll see if I can join you guys later if you’re still on. Do you want water or anything?"

Lando glances up at her, smiling. "I’m good, I can grab some myself later."

"You know he’s lying, right?" Ed chimes in, chewing his food. "He’s just gonna wait until you leave so he can ask me to grab it for him."

"Shut up," Lando laughs, shaking his head.

Y/N only smirks knowingly before rolling her eyes. "Alright, whatever you say."

"Okay, okay, go back to doing your thing," Lando says, refocusing on his screen. "Connor’s complaining we’re taking too long."

The chat, meanwhile, is already in shambles.

"She’s literally taking care of him at this point.""Ed exposing Lando is my new favorite thing.""The domestic energy here is sending me."

"What is she up to now? Too busy to play with us?" Max teases as they dive back into the game.

"Nah, mate, she's busy building Legos in the other room," Lando replies casually, like it’s the most normal thing in the world.

Max snorts. "Another new hobby? You know she gave us a shit ton of air-dry clay stuff she made that one time. My apartment is literally full of it."

"No, Max, I stepped into the apartment today, and I genuinely thought I was in a Lego store. It’s insane," Ed laughs, shaking his head.

Lando chuckles. "Some of them are mine too, alright? They're not all hers. She’s been building some sets I’ve had lying around for ages."

The chat, of course, goes wild.

"Their apartment is a Lego store. I am crying." "WAIT SO THEY HAVE BEEN LIVING TOGETHER RIGHT??" "Domestic life with Y/N and Lando sounds like a fever dream."

Max just laughs. "Well, tell her to finish up and come scream with us in the Backrooms when she’s done playing with her bricks."

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

Taking Lando's Seat

The stream opens with Lando and Max sitting side by side, each focused on their own PC as they prep for a game of Tarkov. There’s an easy banter in the air, Max teasing Lando about his gear while the two get things set up. But it’s the subtle detail in the background that catches the chat's attention—Lando’s racing rig.

It’s glowing softly in the background, the LED lights creating an almost otherworldly vibe against the dim room.

Max finally glances at the chat, giving a quick nod to thank some of his new subs. But his eyes stop when he spots a few of the comments scrolling by.

Max smirks, leaning into the mic with a grin. "The rig? Oh—it's Y/N. She’s playing F1 right now."

With that, Max casually moves his chair out of the way, revealing Y/N sitting just behind him. She's fully immersed, headset on, brows furrowed in concentration as she steers through a corner on screen, oblivious to the fact that she’s now in full view of the chat.

A small smile tugs at the corner of Lando’s lips as he turns back to look at Y/N, still fully engrossed in the game, unaware that both he and Max are watching her with amusement.

"She's prepping for the season too," Lando continues, keeping his voice casual, though there’s a playful edge to it. "Chat, I think she’s planning on taking my seat—she’s been on there for hours now."

Lando laughs, but the chat immediately picks up on the vibe.

"HE'S JEALOUS, LOOK AT HIM."

"Lando knows he's been replaced."

"Imagine Y/N taking his F1 seat. I’d pay to watch that."

Max, who’s been watching the scene unfold, looks back at Lando with a raised brow. "She’s putting in more practice than you are, mate. Maybe she is taking your seat."

Lando chuckles, shaking his head, though his smile lingers. "Nah, nah, she’s still got a lot to learn... but she’s getting there. I’m just here for moral support."

The chat, of course, has already spirals into chaos.

"Moral support? He’s just trying to hold on to his seat!"

"I CAN’T WAIT FOR THE RACE BETWEEN THEM. WHO’S GONNA WIN??"

"Lando’s literally her biggest fan and her biggest competitor at the same time. I love it."

Y/N, still completely absorbed in the game, lets out a frustrated grunt as she crashes into the wall during a tight turn. "I've fucking crashed—how is AI Lando also a little shit?"

The pair immediately burst into laughter, unable to hold it in. The moment is too perfect—Y/N, so focused on her race, completely unaware she’s been on stream the whole time.

Max wipes away tears, trying to calm down. "What?" Y/N finally takes off her headset after pausing her game, looking around in confusion, only to notice the commotion between the two.

"We’re on Twitch," Max manages between laughs, still struggling to breathe. "They heard you calling Lando a little shit."

Max, still grinning, leans back in his chair, clearly enjoying the moment. "I mean, I honestly don’t know if you should be more offended by the fact that she just called you a little shit... or the fact that she’s not racing as you."

Lando looks over at Max, a playful glint in his eyes. "Yeah, who are you racing as right now?" His curiosity gets the best of him, and he stands up, walking behind Y/N to peer over her shoulder at her screen.

Y/N barely notices him, still intensely focused on her race. "You’re racing as Max?!" Lando exclaims, his voice a mix of disbelief and amusement. "I feel so betrayed!"

Y/N doesn’t respond, grabbing her water bottle beside her, taking a sip.

But Lando’s eyes widen as he looks at her screen again. "Wait, you're were P3?!" he says, his voice rising in shock. "What the fuck, Y/N—this is on 110 difficulty—did you change it?"

"Yeah, well I was but you crashed into me you knob"

Lando's completely taken aback, mouth agape, staring at her settings in awe. Without thinking, he takes over the controls, fully inspecting her game setup. "This is... this is insane. You’re actually doing really well."

Y/N, now realizing the level of chaos happening around her, turns to look at him with a grin. "What? Like its hard?"

Max, who’s been watching this unfold, laughs. "I told you she’d be better than you at this rate. I’m not surprised."

The chat, of course, is losing it.

"SHE'S RACING AS MAX AND BEATING LANDO. WHAT A MOOD."

"Y/N: 1, Lando: 0."

"Lando looks like he’s seen a ghost. How did she do that?"

Y/N just laughs, clearly loving the moment. "I told you, Lando, I’m coming for your seat."

"Alright, we've got to put a screen time limit on you from now on, love—fucking hell," Lando says, still shaking his head in disbelief, a playful smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. He ruffles her hair affectionately before heading back to his seat.

The chat explodes with excitement.

"Lando’s whipped for her. I can’t breathe.""The way he ruffled her hair? That’s the couple energy we’re here for.""Y/N just casually destroying him, and Lando’s still soft with her. I’m obsessed.""I can’t believe they’re just out here living their best life on stream. I’m living for this dynamic."

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

Gaming Trio

The trio can be seen in Lando’s usual gaming spot, the atmosphere relaxed but buzzing with excitement. In an effort to accommodate everyone, an extra table has been pulled into the room, holding the laptop they’ve set up for Y/N so she can join in on the fun. The new setup feels a little crowded, but it only adds to the chaotic energy that’s been building up since they all logged in.

"Y/N is right behind you!" Max shouts into the mic, pulling the same trick he did to Lando the last time they played Backrooms

"Max, shut up, oh my gosh—NO IT'S CHASING ME, WAIT—PAUSE IT, PAUSE IT!" The panic in Y/N’s voice is unmistakable, and it sends both Lando and Max into fits of laughter.

Max, already losing it, grins widely. "You’re telling me to pause, but I’m the one who’s not controlling it!"

Lando, equally amused, can’t help but tease, hiding comfortably from the monster "Didn’t know you were this scared of a game, love."

Y/N’s frantic clicking can be heard through the mic as she scrambles to escape whatever horror was chasing her in the game. "I can’t— I swear it’s going to catch me!"

A sigh of relief escapes Y/N’s mouth as she finally reaches the room, the monster stopping its chase just in time. “Right, so you two do all the work and I’ll run out when it’s time to escape.”

Max lets out another laugh, clearly amused. “That’s not how it works, Y/N. You've got to carry your weight”

“Come on then, let’s go. Just stay behind me and you’ll be fine.” Lando moves his character closer to hers, ready to lead the way.

Y/N, still a little nervous, responds with a grin. “I’ll keep my eyes closed.”

Lando laughs, shaking his head. “Y/N—darling, it’s fine. It’s not that scary. It’s not gonna jump out at you. You just die and respawn, it’s all good.”

Max joins in, teasing, “Yeah, but if you keep closing your eyes, you’ll miss the whole thing. We’ll be done before you even open them.”

Y/N scoffs but can’t help but laugh, her character hesitating slightly. “I’m not opening them. I’m just here to run when the time comes.”

Lando smiles at her, his voice light. “Alright, well, try not to panic. We’ve got your back.”

The chat erupts in excitement, fans loving the playful back-and-forth between them.

"Y/N’s already planning her escape route. Classic." "he calls her darling im sobbing " "Lando’s trying to act all calm but he’s lowkey making sure she’s okay." "Max is enjoying this way too much, lol."

Lando glances at Y/N with a grin. “Stay close, alright? We’re doing this together.”

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

Y/Ns Instagram Live

Y/N was live on Instagram, chatting with fans while showing off her latest air-dry clay creations. She’d been getting non-stop requests to share her work ever since Max mentioned it in one of his streams, and now here she was, crafting away on camera.

Sitting on the floor in front of a coffee table, Y/N focused on the delicate jewelry plate she was shaping. She was giving her followers a detailed look at her process, her hands moving skillfully as she explained what she was doing.

"See, then you build the sides and stick it to the plate part you just made," she said, carefully adding a border to the plate. "So it kinda has a nice little border around it, and that way, you can put your jewelry in the middle without it all rolling off."

"Who you talking to?" A voice, unmistakably Lando's, makes Y/N's head snap up to look at him, her concentration momentarily broken.

Her eyes widen slightly at the sight of him standing in the doorway, and she quickly responds, trying to maintain the calm vibe of her live stream. "I'm on Instagram live— you didn’t see my text?" Y/N says, her voice soft but carrying a hint of a warning as she tries to focus on her work again.

Lando, walks into frame to stand beside her, only half his body on screen. “I saw it, but I didn’t think you’d actually be live. What’s going on in here?”

"I'm doing a jewelry plate tutorial, see?" Y/N smiles up at him, gently lifting the plate to show him the progress she’s made, the edges perfectly formed and the design coming together nicely.

Lando leans in a little closer, clearly impressed. "That's actually pretty sick. Have you shown them the other ones you've done?"

"Mhmm," Y/N nods, setting the plate back down on the table and continuing to work on it. "I did earlier. I have a few that are dried, so once I'm done with this one, I'm gonna show them how I paint it."

"Cool, cool," Lando says, grinning as he takes a step back. "I’m actually pretty curious about the painting part."

Y/N shoots him a glance, arching an eyebrow. "You want in on this too?"

Lando looks at her, then at the camera, a playful grin spreading across his face. "Can I join you?"

Y/N pauses for a moment, clearly trying to keep a straight face. "You gonna try your hand at some clay art, Norris?" she teases, but her tone is warm.

"Gotta try to beat you in something after you've somehow managed to get close to beating me on the racing sim" a smirk on his face as he plops down on the floor beside her "Right what am I meant to do?"

The two sat mostly in silence, both deeply immersed in their work. Y/N’s focus was on finishing her jewelry plate, the soft clink of clay against the table the only sound as she shaped it carefully. Lando, on the other hand, was determined to paint one of the already dried plate, though it was clear his attention was divided between the task and watching Y/N work.

"Oh, I’ve messed up, bub," Lando admitted, his voice a little defeated. "I’m sorry, this looks horrific. I think I’ve ruined it." He leaned back dramatically, letting his shoulders slump as he rested his back against the foot of the sofa, casting an apologetic look her way. "This is a disaster."

"What? No! It's cute—you even painted flowers on it, it's nice!" Y/N exclaimed, her tone playful as she tried to hype him up, a grin tugging at her lips.

Lando looked at her with a raised eyebrow, clearly amused. "Those are strawberries, you muppet," he said, laughing as he gently nudged her with his elbow, clearly not buying her attempt to boost his confidence.

Y/N burst out laughing, her hands up in surrender. "Oh, I'm only kidding! Of course they're strawberries," she teased, her eyes twinkling with mischief.

She quickly mouthed a playful I didn’t know to the camera as Lando became distracted with his painting again, a smirk creeping up on her face as she watched him carefully work on his next stroke.

"add bub to the list of names lando calls y/n" "theyre actually so cute im going insane" "not y/n gentle parenting lando" "im telling my therapist about this" --------------------------------------------------

I'm telling mom

Max’s loud voice cut through the quiet apartment, shattering the late-night calm. It was already past 10 PM, and he’d been streaming for over two hours, fully immersed in whatever chaos his Twitch chat had cooked up for him.

“Y/N! Get in here a sec!” Max’s voice carried from his gaming room, loud enough to startle Y/N from where she sat beside P, half-watching a Netflix show.

With a sigh, she got up, padding toward his room. She hesitated at the door, peeking inside carefully, mindful of the camera that might be angled her way.

“It’s almost 11 PM, Max. What the fuck are you yelling about?” she laughed, eyes landing on him. He stood in the middle of the room, VR headset strapped on, controllers gripped tightly like his life depended on it. "You look ridiculous by the way"

“Can you call Lando? He’s fucking with me,” Max huffed, shifting on his feet like he was bracing for something. “He told me to download this horror VR game, and now he’s in chat claiming he’s in bed. I swear to God—he set me up.”

“So, let me get this straight,” Y/N started, arms crossed. “You want me to call Lando—”

“Yep.”

“—to ask him to get out of bed and play a game with you—”

“Mhm.”

“—instead of letting him sleep, because it’s nearly midnight in Monaco?”

“Exactly.” Max stood firm, pointing a VR controller at her like this was a life-or-death situation.

Y/N blinked. “Oh, you’re serious—right.” She sighed, shaking her head as she leaned against the wall, already dialing.

“I swear, if he doesn’t hop on after I’ve set this up and put my contacts in—”

“Lan, you’re on speaker,” Y/N announced the second he picked up, barely giving him a chance to breathe.

Before Lando could even say hello, Max exploded. “You muppet! I’ve been standing here waiting for you for the past ten minutes!”

“Oh, piss off! I’ve been waiting for you for nearly an hour, Max! Can’t believe you actually made Y/N call me for this.”

“You weren’t picking up my calls!”

Y/N let out a slow, tired sigh and turned to the camera with a deadpan look, the exact kind of exhausted stare straight out of The Office.

“So you tell on me?! How mature,” Lando huffs

“Just hop on the game!” Max shot back, exasperated.

“This behaviour at 25 is diabolical,” Y/N muttered, dragging a hand down her face.

Through the speaker, you could hear Lando moving around. “Fine, fine! Okay, I’m on,” Lando said, voice muffled as he adjusted his setup. “Max, hurry up—I’ll send Y/N the code. Love, show him the code before you leave.”

Y/N sighed, holding up her phone as she walked over to Max. “Right. I’ve been dragged from my peaceful night just to moderate a sibling fight.”

Max squinted at the screen. “Got it. Thanks, Mom—right, I’m joining. You can leave now.” He was already fumbling with the game settings, barely paying her any attention.

Y/N rolled her eyes as Lando’s voice softened on the phone. “I’ll call you later, alright? Go watch your show with P. I’ll text you when we’re done.”

“Mm-hmm,” Y/N hummed in response, finally making her escape.

As soon as she was gone, Max turned back to chat, shaking his head. “Right, let’s go. See? He’s such a knob—I have to call Y/N every time he’s being an ass because he actually listens to her.”

The chat was loving this interaction

"Y/N staying with Max and P is actually so wholesome" "NOT Y/N BEING MOM" "LANDO LISTENING TO Y/N ONLY IS PEAK BF BEHAVIOUR U CANT CONVINCE ME OTHERWISE" " "i'll call you later" is so cute he's down bad for her"

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

Big Reveal

At this point, they’d practically exposed themselves. The subtle interactions hadn’t gone unnoticed—small moments that seemed insignificant alone but painted a clear picture together. The lingering looks, the casual slips of affectionate nicknames, the way their conversations always carried a certain ease.

Everyone had a general understanding that the two were a couple, but they’d come to accept that Lando and Y/N weren’t quite ready to make it official—at least, not publicly. But what really sealed the deal? Max’s most recent stream, just before the season kicked off.

“Right, chat, Lando and I are finishing up the download, and we’ll hop on as soon as it’s done,” Max said, scrolling through chat and tossing out quick thanks for subs and gifted memberships while they waited.

“Is anyone else joining us or nah?” Lando asked, finally looking up from his phone where he sat beside Max, his own setup in front of him.

“Nah, don’t think so. Connor just texted—he’s out,” Max replied, making Lando nod before going back to whatever he was scrolling through.

“Chat, I’ll be back—I’m gonna grab some water,” Max announced, tapping his mic to mute it before standing up.

Completely unaware, Lando reached over and tapped the mic again, turning it back on.

“Baby?! C’mere a sec!” Lando called out, sitting with his back to the camera, casually waiting for someone to walk in—completely oblivious to the absolute chaos erupting behind him.

“OH BOB, YOU’RE NOT MUTED!!” “HES HOPELESS.” “NOOOOOOO LN TURN AROUND!!!” “HE FULLY EXPOSED HIMSELF IM CRYING.” "baby??!"

A moment later, Y/N appeared in the doorway, leaning against the frame. "Hello my pretty girl, wanna come join Max and I?" “Aren’t you live with Max right now?” she asked softly.

“Yeah, yeah, I muted it—don’t worry,” Lando reassured her without a second thought. “Wanna join? Max is still downloading it, we can set yours up if you’re up for it.”

Y/N smiled. “Yeah, sure, I’ll go grab the laptop.” With that, she turned and left the room.

Max walked back in, settling into his chair. “What were you two chatting about?” he asked as he put his headset back on.

“Y/N’s gonna play with us,” Lando answered smoothly. “Oh—by the way, I muted your mic. Chat can’t hear you right now.”

Max blinked. “Well, yeah, I muted it before I left—” His head snapped toward Lando. “Did you fucking tap the mic again?”

Lando visibly paled. “…No, I muted it.”

Max hurriedly glanced at chat, eyes scanning the messages flooding in before exhaling sharply. “You fucking unmuted it, you idiot.”

Lando sat there, frozen. Then, with an almost comically slow realization, he sighed. “Damn… well. Secrets out.”

Y/N practically skipped into the room, excitement clear in the way she carried her laptop against her chest. But the moment she stopped behind the two, her smile faltered.

Max and Lando both looked at her with identical guilty expressions.

“…What?” she asked, breaking the silence.

Max didn’t hesitate. “Your dimwit of a boyfriend just exposed you two. He unmuted the mic.”

Y/N’s jaw dropped. “No...”

Lando was already reaching for her hand, pulling her close. “I’m so sorry, baby. I swore I muted it.”

Y/N groaned, running a hand down her face. “Oh my God. How bad?”

Max snorted, scrolling through chat. “Let’s see… ‘We’re witnessing a live trainwreck,’ 'my pretty girl', ‘Bruh did he just expose himself?’ ‘Send help, I can’t breathe,’ and—oh, this one’s gold—‘My parents are finally public.’

Lando groaned, burying his face in Y/N’s side. “This is your fault, Max.”

“My fault?! You tapped the damn mic!”

The two went back and forth, bickering like a couple of siblings, while Y/N just stood there, still trying to wrap her head around what was going on.

“Oh, Y/N, come on. Don’t worry. It’s not like it’s a big surprise. He hasn’t exactly been subtle about it either.”

“Yeah, but until now, it was all just rumors and whispers.”

Lando shot her a reassuring smile. “Aww, baby, it’s fine. They love you, you know.”

Max groaned, leaning back in his chair and teasing them both. “See? Now he’s gonna go full PDA mode, more than he already does. We’re all doomed.”

Y/N laughed softly, shaking her head. “I swear, I can already see it.”

Lando reached over to take her hand, squeezing it gently. “It’s not that bad, is it?”

“Yeah, it is,” Max teased, rolling his eyes. “Just wait till he starts calling you ‘babe’ every two seconds on stream.”

Lando grinned mischievously. “You love it, Max. Admit it.”

Max shot him a playful glare. “I’m really starting to think I’ve been cursed.”

“Right, come on then, let’s play before I get called for an impromptu PR meeting,” Lando chuckled, giving Y/N a wink as he pulled his headset on.

[joonberriess]

e s p r e s s o

⋆ TAGS — boxer!jk, he’s a fanboy, pouty jkkkkkk, oc’s a idol, sugar daddy elements, fluffy, rom-com vibess, jk’s secretly a little sub who loves praise, praise kinks, making love, jealous!jk, possessive!jk, rough sex, pussy-eating, unprotected sex, creampies, very light dirty talk, oc’s a tease, jk just loves oc, some violence (nothing serious jk punches a guy), oc’s a pillow princess, mainly dom!jk, subby!oc who is a menace, jk is super protective and a good bf, he beats someone up for you, tit play

⋆ WORD COUNT — 14.6 k

Jeon Jungkook was many things—charismatic, “lover boy”, charming—but the biggest one of all: a pain in the ass (for Yoongi). Jungkook was the type of guy to do whatever he wanted WHEN he wanted.

The kid had a strong backbone, Yoongi will give him that but it was an absolute nightmare dealing with the press for someone like Jungkook. Yoongi can count on his fingers how many times Jungkook’s gotten into heat for his loud ass mouth. Sometimes not all publicity was necessary whether it was good or bad in Yoongi’s opinion (not that anyone’s ever asked).

“Where is he? That little shit–” Yoongi growls behind gritted teeth as he storms through the gym towards the private training room Jungkook usually practiced in.

He slams the door open and locks eyes with his target, “There you are–!”

Jungkook stops in his tracks and turns around in surprise, “Hyung?” He’s confused as fuck because he’s been behaving himself lately, sooo what did he do now? “Yoongi hyung—ow! What the hell was that for?”

“How many times did I tell your ass to keep your little flings under the radar? I told you: if you’re gonna be fooling around with people do it on the down low but no, you just gotta fucking let the world know huh?” Yoongi seethes, literally trembling with rage from where Jungkook stands.

Jungkook makes a confused noise, “But I didn’t–”

“Then, what. The. Fuck. Is this?” Yoongi slaps his phone in Jungkook’s face, on it there’s some tweet with an article linked to it.

Jungkook squints his eyes mumbling under his breath as he reads the tweet out loud, “..Idol l/n y/n caught in a dating scandal with infamous boxer Jeon Jungkook–what’s the big deal though, everyone usually ignores these types of things.”

Yoongi looks like he wants to scream, “Kid you realize you’re a celebrity right?” Nod. “Okay, and she’s a celebrity too right?” Nod. “So why in the FUCK wouldn’t this be a big deal? I mean, it’s not like we’re not talking about the nation’s ‘sweetheart’ here, the country’s fucking pride and joy.” He really needs a fucking smoke right now.

“Hyung it’s just a fucking rumor she probably doesn’t even care or know about it, I don’t see why you’re stressing out. Not like I know her either,” Jungkook carelessly says as he throws a few punches at the bag, “you’re gonna end up bald with how you’re stressing right now.”

Yoongi takes a deep breath, in, out, in, out. “Because, idiot,” emphasis on the idiot, “this shit is getting out of control, you have any idea how many fucking news outlets are talking about this? For fucks sake the entire country is in shambles cause their ‘precious’ y/n is supposedly dating some lowlife boxer, no biggie really it’s not like I haven’t been getting threats either over this little stunt of yours.” He glares.

Jungkook lets out an exasperated sigh as he stops in his tracks, “Hyung I didn’t do anything, so fucking what if I posted a pic with my photocard, it’s MY photocard! Don’t her fans do that shit too, so why is it a problem that I do it too?”

“Because people think you’re dating now! They think you’re soft launching her or something!” Yoongi tugs at his hair, “You realize if people find out you fucked with her just to get in her bed they’re gonna lose it and not just on her but you mainly. You want a fucking witch hunt out for you? Because you know damn well they love her more than you.”

“Ouch.” Jungkook grumbles petulantly.

“No, ouch, use your fucking brain think about the damage you’ll take all because you wanted to fuck their little princess.” Yoongi glares.

Jungkook’s almost offended that Yoongi would think of him like that. Sure he had his fair share of groupies and models but Jungkook wasn’t a complete asshole about it! He had feelings too, he’s not sorry that he was fucking casually like any other normal person who was looking to unwind. It also isn’t his fault that they labeled him a playboy.

In the eyes of the public Jungkook was a menace as there were rumors of him knocking models up and cheating on the girls he’s ever gotten spotted with. Everyday he woke up and there was something new that came out whether it was him “dating” or his flings coming out to talk about their one night stands.

Needless to say he didn’t have the best public image.

“Okay let me stop you there, I’m not after her for sex or anything. If you really want to know, I'm actually interested in her. I wanna get to know her some more and take things further y’know?” He huffs and wipes the sweat off his brow with his shirt.

Yoongi scoffs, “Yeah right, I’ll believe it when I see it.” As he finishes his sentence the door opens and Namjoon pops in with Seokjin, the two team members hauling in some duffle bags in tow.

“What’s going on? The hell Yoongi look so red for?” Namjoon huffs as he drops the bag gracelessly, “Jungkook what did you do now?” He clicks his tongue in disappointment, tutting him like a misbehaved child.

Jungkook’s mouth drops open, this traitor! He’s supposed to be on his side, not Yoongi’s. Seokjin interrupts with a loud cackle, “What didn’t he do?” Another traitor! Jungkook can’t believe this, his own hyungs against him.

“Long story short Romeo over here is in a dating scandal—not with just anybody though, fucking l/n y/n. Y’know, the poster child.” Yoongi spits harshly, shooting Jungkook another pissy look while he’s at it.

Namjoon’s mouth drops open in shock, Seokjin actually looks pretty terrified too which is funny because if only he could see the face he’s making right now.

“No way you’re insane for that, shit good luck with the press because they don’t play about their little popstar.” Namjoon manages to utter once the shock passes.

Jungkook glares, “I didn’t do anything! They’re mad I’m showing off my photocard, I bet you that they’re jealous because they don’t have this one.” He huffs and thrusts his phone out to show them his phone case.

“What exactly did you do?” Seokjin laughs.

“Nothing! I posted a mirror pic and I didn’t expect a bunch of crazies to over analyze shit and spot the photocard. Not like it’s MY fault people make up narratives and shit.” Jungkook rolls his eyes and tucks his phone away safely in his pocket, “But you know what, just wait and see.”

“Wait and see what?” Namjoon snorts in amusement.

“Hyung doesn’t believe me but I’m serious about her, I’m gonna ask her out and from there maybe talk and get to know each other. One thing for sure she’s gonna be my girl unless she slaps me in the face and tells me to leave her alone or somethin,” Jungkook grins as he elbows his still pissed off manager.

Seokjin looks at him with a shit-eating grin, “Sure let me know how that ends up going for you.”

Jungkook purses his lips, “You’ll see..”

𓂃 ﾟ｡ ⋆ ⟡

They end up in Miami for a boxing match Jungkook has pending but his opponent ended up coming down with something so it got canceled. Now Jungkook has no clue what to do for an entire week and it doesn’t help that he’s jet lagged, hungry, and tired. Not a good combination.

“Did they say when the match will be back on?” Jungkook mumbles boredly from his spot on the lounge chair in his hotel. He’s slumped over scrolling down his phone looking at random shit on his feed.

“Hard to tell Kook, apparently the guy’s really sick and can barely get outta bed or somethin’. They said it was better to wait it out for a week and see what happens with him.” Yoongi sighs deeply, “Fuck, just our luck too.”

Jungkook nods in agreement, “What do we do now hyung? Do we go back or..?”

Yoongi takes a seat on the opposite side of him with a shrug, “Dunno, do whatever you want since the match is canceled. Me and Joon gotta stay back to talk with the event organizers and shit.”

He goes quiet for a few moments before sitting up, “Oh wait there’s an award show going on right now, they sent me an invite for you but I don’t know if you wanna go or not.”

“Award show?” Jungkook makes a face but what other shit does he have to do? It’s not like he’s got a match anymore anyways, maybe the after party will be cool or something. “I guess, why do they want me there?”

“Appearances for the press—you know, the usual.” Yoongi hums.

Jungkook’s lips are pursed as he looks around deep in thought. DOES he wanna go? It’s not like this would be the first time they’ve asked him to make an appearance but Jungkook doesn’t really like these types of things. Red carpets and interviews are so tedious and time consuming.

Wait—

“Hyung!” He suddenly gasps, “Holy shit—pass me my suit.” He says as he bolts away into the bathroom.

Yoongi looks at him in confusion, “What..kid what the hell are you on?” He snorts, “Don’t tell me you’re excited to go to this thing.” Nonetheless he still takes out Jungkook’s suit for him and lays it on the bed.

“No you don’t understand,” Jungkook cuts off as he splashes his face with water, “y/n is probably gonna be there!”

“y/n—Jungkook really?” Yoongi groans, “I thought you were playing around last time, I didn’t think you were actually serious about it.”

Jungkook holds back his whine, “Hyung you always think I’m playing around, why isn’t anyone taking me seriously about her! I swear I have good intentions.”

“I dunno, maybe cause you have a habit of sleeping with anything that walks and looks pretty to you. Or maybe the fact that you’ve done this before. Should I remind you of that one model from Cancun?” Jungkook pouts, “Or the bartender chick from LA?” His pout deepens, “Or the girl from Paris?”

“Okay I get it!” Jungkook grumbles, “But this time I’m serious hyung, more than I ever been about someone—especially her.” He says with a sigh while changing out of his clothes and into the suit Yoongi laid out for him.

Yoongi sighs deeply, “Look all I’m saying is to be careful how you go about this, it’s a lot at stake right now not just because of you being involved with her but the fact that the public has their opinions about you already as it is.”

Jungkook appreciates the sentiment but he doesn’t need anyone to approve or disagree about his feelings. The public didn’t deserve any explanations over what Jungkook chooses to do with his life, he’s here to fight and that’s it. Not to be anyone’s marionette or dress-up doll.

“I know hyung, thanks.” He smiles back and slips his blazer on, “I’ll text you later on and tell you what happens.” Yoongi doesn’t reply verbally rather with a low grunt, “See ya.” Jungkook says with a final grin and heads out of the room down to the main lobby and into a car Yoongi had waiting for him.

On the way to the venue he checks out the award show on Instagram, he sees a lot of people he recognizes and a few new faces. His eyes scan over the page eagerly in hopes of seeing you on there. Are you performing tonight? Were you already there on the red carpet? Oh he bets you look absolutely divine tonight (you always do).

“Yes!” He says a bit too loudly startling his driver in the process as he sheepishly apologizes.

Jungnkook finally comes across a post about you and he reads over the caption with an excited hum, biting his lip when he sees that you are performing after all. He’s getting a mean adrenaline rush right now like the ones he usually gets before his matches. Just thinking about how he’s gonna get to meet you tonight is getting him all worked up. He wonders if you’ll even give him the time of day.

Only one way to find out.

.

“Jeon over here!”

“Jeon, look here!”

“Jeon, is it true you and y/n are dating?” Jungkook makes a point to ignore this and act like he didn’t hear it even though he’s screaming on the inside.

The red carpet’s full of singers and models, the fans are screaming and reporters keep getting in his damn way as he tries to make his way through the crowd. Of course he stops for a picture or two with a fan, poses for the paparazzi too but he’s not concerned with them right now. He knows he must look a little lost with the way he keeps looking around like he’s trying to find something (yeah, you).

Jungkook almost frowns like a child who didn’t get their way once he sees you’re not anywhere in sight. You probably already headed inside which sucks cause he really wanted to see you beforehand since it was probably arranged seating in there. At this rate he won’t be able to even say hi–

“Oh shit, my bad.” Jungkook says when he bumps into someone behind him. He turns around to apologize properly when his heart fucking stops. Ohmygod, ohmygod, ohmygod—it’s you.

You look up at him with those dreamy eyes of yours, face scrunched up cutely (your lips pouty) in confusion as you tilt your head up (UP!) to look at him, “Um, you’re stepping on my dress.” Even your voice is so prettyyy.

“Sorry my fault,” Jungkook steps back and kneels down to fix the rumpled state he left it in, vaguely aware of the fast flashing (the paparazzi must be eating this up), “lemme make it up to you though.” He says once he comes back up.

You tilt your head, “And how would you do that?”

“I’ll buy you a new dress.” Jungkook’s dead serious too, if you asked him to buy you a whole house he’d do it in a heartbeat. Take everything at this point—have it.

“And who said I want you to buy me things?” You muse softly.

Jungkook chuckles softly and leans down to talk in your ear because the crowd’s getting louder and it’s hard to talk to you, “Don’t be like that, if you let me take you out I’ll show you all the things I can buy you.” He murmurs low, voice husky.

You tilt your head to look at him, eyes dropping down to his lips and then back up as a coy smile plays at your soft lips, “You’re funny.” You pat his cheek with a soft manicured hand and walk away.

His heart nearly skips a damn beat when you do that. Oh he swears he can still feel your soft hand sliding over his cheek when you walked away from him like the little tease you were. He doesn’t know how long he stands there until he gets moving, a stupid grin on his face the entire time as he replays the moment over and over again in his head.

Jungkook’s not gonna lie, this little cat and mouse game that just started has him eager for more. He’s so getting your number by the end of the night, call him delusional but he swears you’re digging him too with the way you checked him out just now.

He spends the entire night throwing a few sneaky glances your way, hell when you got on stage to perform he nearly folded then and there. Everything about it—sultry gaze, soft husky voice, and sensual body rolls—was perfect. Jungkook don’t even care that people are watching him ogle you in 4K, he doesn't bother to hide the fact that he likes what he’s seeing right now.

To make things worse you pass by his seat and shoot him a dazzling little smile, waving your fingers coyly at him which makes the people go wild. Oh he’s in love. Jungkook makes a point in looking for you afterwards at the afterparty. You’re changed out of your outfit from earlier, now in a pretty babydoll and your little Prada loafers.

When he makes eye contact you shoot him a smile, “Thought I’d wear something you can’t step on again.”

Jungkook snorted softly, “I already told you, I dunno why you’re being stubborn, quit playing and let me take you out already.” He says smoothly and wraps his arm around your waist, surprised that you don’t push him off or anything.

You look him up and down with a soft hum, “Mmmm I’m kinda in the mood for some paella.”

“Then let’s go.” Jungkook’s ready, he will literally drop everything to get you some paella.

“Not from here though, I hear it’s way better in Spain.” You wrap your arms around his neck, tugging him down so he’s eye level with you, “So unless you’re willing to take me to Spain, I’m not going anywhere.”

Jungkook licks his lips, “Fuck it, let’s go.” He starts leading you away, peeping the way you look surprised, “What?” He laughs.

“You’re serious, right now?” Once you recover from the initial shock you smile at him with a quiet giggle, “You’re crazy.”

Oh he just adores that cute eye-smile of yours, “Let’s get you some paella yeah?”

It’s a nine hour flight you both impulsively leave on with no bags, didn’t even tell your managers, and only your phones and wallets. No one questions when Jeon Jungkook walks through first class hand in hand with you trailing close by, you’re even wearing his blazer over your shoulders because you complained about how chilly it was.

Jungkook’s smiling like an idiot the entire time he’s sitting with you in the first class cabin. You don’t seem to mind how touchy he is so he keeps an arm over your shoulder so you’re pressed close to his side. He nearly screams when you lay your head on his shoulder and doze off into a peaceful slumber.

You left Miami around one in the morning and got to Madrid at nine with Jungkook booking you two a room at the infamous Four Seasons hotel. You knock out with him for a few more hours until you’re complaining about your paella.

“Hurry up, I'm starving and you promised me my paella.” You grumble and poke at his face.

“Yeah, yeah I’m awake.” Jungkook murmurs calmly as he rolls out of the bed to make himself presentable.

Jungkook feels like he’s in a dream right now, god this better not be because the sight of you looking so happy in front of him while eating your beloved paella is one for the books. Your little brunch date turns into a shopping date because you complain you don’t wanna be wearing clothes from yesterday since the two of you decided to stay in Spain for the weekend.

He has a goofy smile on his face as he swipes, taps, and inserts his black card at different stores you drag him to. He lets you spend his money how you want to, relishing in the way the BVLGARI store worker’s eyes nearly bulge out of their head when Jungkook pays for a forty-eight thousand wrist watch, all for you.

“Doesn’t it look pretty?” You grin softly while holding your wrist out to him.

Jungkook gently takes your hand in his and admires the watch, “Perfect, really suits you.” He grins softly as he thanks the employees and heads out with you to another store to see what you find.

By the time Sunday comes Jungkook’s spent well over one-hundred grand on you but does he care? No, not really because he did say he’d show you all the things he’d buy you. Jungkook doesn’t wanna go back to Miami but Yoongi’s bitching at him to go back because apparently his opponent got better and the match was back on and set for Tuesday the earliest.

“Let me make you mine already.” He finds himself mumbling low in your ear as he tugs you into a loose hug, not caring that you two were standing in the middle of the airport about to board different flights back (of course he pays for your first class ticket home).

You look up at him with coy eyes and a soft little smile on your glossy lips, god he just wants to kiss the fuck out of you but he doesn’t because you haven’t give him the okay for anything past non-sexual intimacy which he’s fine with because he does wanna take time to get to know you.

His breath hitches when your finger comes up to trace over his lips gently, “Cute.” You don’t say anything else and walk away after the intercom announces your flight. You leave him standing there in the middle of the airport, dreamier than ever but sadly it’s cut short by his phone ringing.

“Where the hell are you?” Yoongi growls.

“Calm down hyung, I’m boarding in a few minutes.” Jungkook sighs as he rolls his eyes, “I got so much shit to tell you.” He smirks to himself and begins walking.

𓂃 ﾟ｡ ⋆ ⟡

Sometime into the next week when Jungkook lands back in Korea he asks for your number through Instagram. He’s kinda surprised you gave it to him instead of dodging him like before, nonetheless he’s happy and giddy about it. He quite literally looks like a schoolgirl kicking her feet in bed texting her crush, that’s how he feels like right now.

You’re a quick texter which he likes and you don’t seem to mind him spamming so that’s even better. Jungkook spends his week giggling over dumb shit (it’s not) you say which has Seokjin making fun of him for it, which speaking of them they still couldn’t believe Jungkook pulled you.

“No way let me see.” Seokjin had demanded, “You’re lying, she would never, she looks like she has standards.” Jungkook can’t tell if he’s jealous or something, maybe he’s a secret stan too who knows.

Jungkook long established he was down bad for you ages ago but this just took the cake, a whole new level of simping. It starts when Jungkook decides to post a training video of him boxing/training, he goes viral and trends for a week because in the background he’s playing one of your songs. He’s got a shit ton of people calling him a “girly pop” or “cunty boxer” but most tell him he knows what’s up.

He doesn’t know but by him doing that it opens a new door to your developing relationship because you start asking him to do things for you. It starts with you telling him to change his profile picture with a pic from your latest comeback (he gets made fun of by your fans but he doesn’t care).

Then you make him tweet: “stream y/n for clear skin” while promoting your music video through him (again he’s a laughing stock). The nail in the coffin is when you prettily request him to wear a shirt from your merch collection after one of his boxing matches.

“Oh my god.” Yoongi says with his mouth dropped open in shock as Jungkook steps out of the backroom wearing a baby pink t-shirt with your face all over it, the cameras flash like crazy and reporters yell out a slew of different questions.

Jungkook runs around carefree in his little pink shirt posing for the cameras and grinning like an idiot because he knows you’re probably at home watching this. Yoongi asks him why he does these things and Jungkook just shrugs, he likes the praise you give him for doing everything you ask him to. He knows it’s light-hearted fun and you’d never do anything to humiliate him intentionally, if you’re happy then that’s all that matters.

jk: did u see me tonight?

y/n <3: yess lol can’t believe you actually did itttt

you looked super cute too, you should wear more shirts with my face on them.

jk: mayyybeeee you can come to one of my matches? don’t u think i earned it?

y/n <3: when is it?

Jungkook damn nearly yells out in excitement, he’s literally shaking as he types out a fast response like you’re about to change your mind or something. He sends you the time and day for it, promising front row seats so you’ll have a good view as he kicks this guy’s ass. You have him cheesing when you say this is going to be your first boxing match too, he’s so excited now.

“Calm down kid you’re gonna give me a headache with all that tapping.” Yoongi grunts as he slaps his hand against Jungkook’s knee, “I don’t know why you’re nervous, she already told you she’s here.”

“Because hyung! This is a big deal to me, she’s here at one of my matches and she’s gonna get a front row view of the fight. Now I have to win this, I have to make it worth her time.” Jungkook grumbles with a pout.

Somewhere off to the side he hears Namjoon snort at him, “She’s really got you wrapped around her finger don’t she?” He says while hauling in a cooler with water bottles.

Jungkook doesn’t even refute that statement, he barely bothers to acknowledge him because he’s reading over the texts you’re sending him. “Hyung she said yes to coming to the after party!” He grins cheerfully.

“Good now get your head out of your ass and focus on what I’m about to say. You have less than five minutes before you’re up in that ring and I need your head in the game.” Yoongi says sternly as he plucks Jungkook’s phone out of his hand, “You remember what I said about pacing yourself?”

Jungkook sits there listening as Yoongi goes into trainer mode, he knows his hyung means no harm and just wants him to win this so Jungkook can’t really be mad at him. He must have zoned out because Yoongi brings him back with a sharp smack to his arm, “Are you listening to me?”

“Yeah,” Jungkook smiles as he stands up, “let’s do this.”

“Get out there and make me proud.”

The entire atmosphere outside has Jungkook’s adrenaline kicking in already. He hears the crowd chanting his name, the loud booming music, and the chatter from the on-goers. He mentally psyches himself, lightly bouncing on his feet as he closes his eyes and mumbles a small prayer. Once he hears his name echo loudly and the screams he steps out with his gloves in the air.

This is what he lives for—the crowds, the music, and the atmosphere. He looks around the arena with a grin as they chant his name over and over again, stopping here and there to pose with fans. Jungkook’s not entirely focused on them though, his eyes wander through the front row looking for you and when his gaze finally lands on you he can’t help the big smile he sports.

You look so pretty with your MIUMIU glasses over your head. You’ve got on a plain baby white tee under your black leather jacket, some low rise jeans and your loafers. Right now you’re the center of attention in your section with people taking pics of you from every direction and some asking for an autograph. You even brought your little friend (Jeon Soyeon?) along.

As he passes by Jungkook shoots you a wink to which you wave back with a flirty little smile. He doesn’t miss the way your eyes skim over his bare chest and the desire begins fueling him with more determination to win. Sure he likes winning because who doesn’t? But now he has more reason to win, he has to impress his future girl.

Jungkook gets pulled up on stage with his heart drumming against his ribcage, he’s so ready for this. The ref calls out both of them and soon enough after slipping his mouth guard and gloves on he rises to his feet and stalks forward slowly with a glint in his eye.

“I want a clean fight okay,” the ref says to both as Jungkook nods, “alright, to your corners.” He sends them both away, the announcer saying some shit Jungkook doesn’t really concern himself with.

Jungkook makes eye contact with you one last time, the two of you mutually nodding before the sound of a bell has Jungkook immediately shifting his focus. He’s light on his feet and takes his time watching with diligent eyes as his opponent circles around him, waiting to get the hit on him but Jungkook’s faster.

The guy swings but Jungkook easily dodges, another swing and Jungkook manages to catch him off guard with a sucker punch to the jaw sending the guy reeling backwards. Jungkook feels like he had enough time to warm-up, he doesn’t play around anymore and launches himself towards his opponent with determination.

Punch after punch and round after round ends with Jungkook delivering one final blow, easily sealing this poor guy’s fate as the guy just lets go and falls to the ground. The referee jumps in, counting down from ten as Jungkook watches with anticipation and adrenaline, ready to go again if this guy gets up. He sees Yoongi sitting with clenched fists and a hopeful look in his eye, and then he sees you.

You’re looking at Jungkook with worry, eyebrows furrowed and doe eyes filled with concern. He manages a bloody smile despite the fucking world of pain he’s in right now (he’s not looking forward to the ice bath after this). He swears the world around him blurs until he finally hears the bell and the announcer’s voice echoing through the arena.

“Knockout!”

Jungkook sags in relief as he hears cheers and yells all around. The paparazzi flash him with their cameras as the crowd loses it, Jungkook turns in time to see Yoongi crawling into the ring and bringing him in for a tight hug, “You fuckin’ did it kid,” he laughs in disbelief as he has Jungkook spit his bloody mouthguard out.

“Fuck hyung, water.” Jungkook rasps out as Yoongi yells for Namjoon to come over.

“You good?” Yoongi asks, “Look at me kid, you okay?” He pats his cheek as Jungkook nods tiredly given that the adrenaline rush was now gone, leaving him bruised and exhausted.

Namjoon comes over with water as Jungkook takes sips, spitting it out into a bucket Yoongi holds out for him to rinse his mouth out. The referee comes over to announce Jungkook as the winner as he stands there barely holding on from pain. He makes eye contact with you again, smiling through the exhaustion despite feeling pretty shitty right now. He slowly makes his way over as you simultaneously rise from your chair to meet him halfway.

“So, what do you think?” Jungkook smirks as he crouches down and hops out of the ring.

You pout cutely with a frown, “You’re hurt.” You softly murmur as your delicate hand comes up to cup his face, “I’m happy for you though, you did really amazing.” You smile.

Jungkook feels his heart swell with happiness hearing that, he goes to wrap his arm around your shoulder but stops in pain. He forgot about this part as a low groan slips from his lips, “Shit he got me pretty good.”

“Don’t overexert yourself,” you help him wrap an arm around you, “gotta be careful, you took some pretty hard hits in there.”

Jungkook laughs tiredly as he lays his head on top of yours while you walk together to the back, “Shoulda seen the other guy.” He says low, ignoring the pointed glare you shoot at him, “Yeah, yeah, I’m just messing with you.”

You grumble something under your breath but he doesn’t catch it, he’s riding off on the high from winning and being so close to you. He likes this and wouldn’t mind having you in his life more after this as he’s long made peace with the idea of you being in his future. All he can think about at this moment is you, you, you.

.

“Say you can't sleep, baby, I know that's that me, espresso,”

Jungkook’s laughing and talking with his friends, he’s got you wrapped up in his arms pressed against his chest as he nurses a whiskey in his other hand. You play with one of his necklaces and tune out his conversation which he doesn’t notice until he turns to you and sees how sad you look, “What’s wrong?”

You look up at him and shake your head, “Just thinking.”

“About?” He gently prods, shifting his entire attention to you.

“You didn’t look so good earlier..how do you do it? I mean, I get you trained for this but I dunno, kinda scared me seeing you all beat up.” You softly murmur, “It’s just a thought of mine, I don’t mean to offend you or anything.”

Jungkook softens at that, he thinks it’s adorable you’re worrying about him like that. Almost feels like.. “Let’s dance?” He asks when a favorite song of his comes on, “C’mon, it’ll take your mind off things.” He grins.

You smile at him softly and follow him to the dancefloor, wrapping your arms around his neck as he holds you by the hips with gentle hands. He hums along to the song playing in the background with his dark eyes trained on yours. You look so beautiful under the dark lights and he can’t help but lean in.

“You’re super pretty y’know that?” Jungkook softly hums as he presses his forehead against yours.

You softly laugh, “Tell me something I don’t know.”

“Mmm did I mention I really like your lips?” His lip curls in a smirk, “Love how soft and plump they look, ‘specially when you wear lip gloss..” He slowly trails off as his lips hover over your own, “Can I kiss you?”

The way your eyes light up, crinkling with joy as you eagerly nod. Jungkook presses his lips to yours in a gentle manner, it’s sweet and slow, just like how he likes it. Your arms tighten around his neck and you tug him further down until he's towering over your figure, blocking you from everyone’s view.

Feels like everything’s complete now and Jungkook’s never felt happier than ever.

He slowly pulls off from the kiss as he stares down at you suddenly feeling shy, “Can I, um, maybe drive you home? Just to make sure you get home safe ‘n stuff. You don’t have to if you don’t want to, just thought I’d ask.”

“Yeah, I’d like that.” You gently reply.

A slow smile spreads over his lips and he nods, “Let’s go then.” He guides you out of the party and into his sleek black car that’s parked out in the front.

The car ride’s quiet and peaceful, he has the windows rolled down as the fresh breeze brushes over the two of you. Jungkook wishes the car ride lasted a little longer but it’s late (two in the morning actually) and he knows you’re tired. He makes a mental note to take you out on a drive next time you guys meet up.

“We’re here baby.” He murmurs softly, gently waking you from your sleep.

“Hm?” You sleepily blink and look around, “Damn, I’m more tired than I thought.” You smile tiredly while stretching your arms out.

Jungkook chuckles, “Don’t worry I got you.” He steps out and rounds the car, opening your door for you and helping you out, “Want me to carry you?” He teases.

You shoot him a sleepy pout and shake your head, “I’m good, maybe next time though.” You breathily chuckle.

“There’s a next time?” He teases.

You toss him a knowing look, stopping in front of the building door, “Good night, or morning I dunno I’m tired.” You spin around and lean over to smooch his cheek gently, “I’ll see you tomorrow.” You softly murmur.

Jungkook’s completely entranced by you as he nods slowly, “Night.”

“Morning.” You teasingly correct him as you make your way inside.

Jungkook doesn’t leave until he sees you hop into the elevator, and even then you still wave at him before disappearing inside. Once you’re gone Jungkook lets out a deep sigh as he leans back on his car, what a night.

𓂃 ﾟ｡ ⋆

A few weeks pass and it’s nothing but bliss for Jungkook. Seeing that he has no matches lined up or anything he decides to hang out with you nearly everyday whether it be you and him going out for ice cream dates or Jungkook just taking you out for evening drives out of the city.

He’s on cloud nine right now—he’s got the girl of his dreams, his payout from the last match was pretty big, and everything’s going right for him. Sure you haven’t sat down to actually clarify what you two are but Jungkook knows you feel the same way about him. Maybe it isn’t such a bad thing with the way things are right now, the you’re mine and I’m yours is left unsaid but it’s there.

You’ve both been hard launching each other on your socials for the past few weeks anyways. By now people knew there was something up with you and him, given that Jungkook wasn’t exactly discreet when he posted on his stories with you in them. Jungkook knows you’ve been doing the same thing too so by now the media kinda labeled the relationship.

Will he say anything? Probably not. Does he care? Nope. He didn’t owe anyone an explanation, he just wanted to be able to date you in peace.

Sometime in the week though you send him a message asking him if he wants to come with you as your plus one to some award show taking place in Hong Kong. He says yes of course duh, why the hell would he say otherwise?

He posts a pic with you in the private plane before calling it quits and ignoring his mentions/comments for the rest of the day. Today’s your big day and while you’re not performing he wants to put his entire focus into being there for you.

“How do I look?” He hears you say as he’s getting ready.

You’re dressed to the nines styled in vintage Chanel and Jungkook had a suit tailored to match your aesthetic for the evening. He knows you both are gonna look so good tonight, no doubt you’ll blow anyone away with your unwavering beauty too. “You look amazing.” He says as he stands behind you.

Your eyes flick up in amusement, “That’s all?”

Jungkook lays his chin over your shoulder and grins softly, “Breathtaking, beautiful, ethereal, stunning—” You cut him off with an embarrassed laugh as you swat at his hands.

“Okay, okay, I get it.” You turn around and play with the buttons to his shirt, “You look really good too.”

“That’s all?” He grins back.

“Don’t push it, you make the compliments here.” You smirk and lay a sweet kiss over his lips, to which he happily and eagerly reciprocates.

He might have gotten a little carried away with it because he’s pushing you against the sink counter and kissing you stupid like he’s been doing these days. A soft muffled groan leaves him as he circles his hands over your hips and uses his grip to pull you into him until your lower pelvis is pressing against his own, dangerously close to his friend down there.

“Jungkook–” You sigh, “We’re gonna be late.” You say in-between his eager kisses.

“Don’t care, let me kiss you stupid.” Jungkook replies as he closes the distance between you two again, moving his lips passionately against yours.

You let out a sweet little moan as your fingers card through his hair, he doesn’t even care if you mess it up either. Looks are superficial and at the end of the day regardless of how people see him they’ll never know him or you and Jungkook’s okay with that.

Suddenly the sound of a knock interrupts the two of you and you pull away with a breathless sigh, “Yeah?” You call out.

“The car’s here and traffic’s looking pretty bad so it might be good if we leave right now. We got thirty minutes to get there since the red carpet’s already started.” Your manager says through the door.

You look at Jungkook with a soft smile as you lean up to smooch his lips, “We’ll meet you down there.”

No one expects you to come out hand in hand with Jungkook and he relishes in their shocked faces/reactions. He likes the thrill and can’t help but pull you closer by the waist with his arm tucked tightly around you. They yell and beg for pictures as you walk on by with him, ignoring their weird comments or stupid questions with no meaning.

“You wanna head inside baby?” He leans down to whisper in your ear after a few rounds of interviews and photos with the paps.

“Yeah I’m getting bored.” You hide your shoulder in his shoulder and follow as he guides you towards the venue with a hand splayed protectively over the small of your back.

He can tell you’re nervous about tonight with the way you sit with your hand tightly wrapped in his. You’re currently nominated for two major categories with one of them being album of the year. He’d be shitting himself too if he was going up against other talented singers. You’re gonna win though, you have to and if you don’t he’ll fight them to recount the votes.

“Easy baby,” he whispers low, “you got this okay?”

“I know but what if I lose?” You purse your lips, “I did really well this year so I’m hoping maybe that I do win.” Jungkook doesn’t like how sad and worried you look right now.

“If you don’t win I’ll buy the fucking thing.” Jungkook snorts, “No one had the highest record sales and streams like you did baby, you basically have this in the bag and everyone knows it.”

You huff out a laugh and look at him in disbelief, “Jungkook you can buy me all the things you want but you’re not buying me an award. Don’t be ludicrous.”

He shrugs carelessly, “I won’t if they just give it to you.” He says seriously as he leans over to kiss your cheek, “I believe in you no matter what.” You look at him with a precious smile and turn your attention back to the show.

Performance after performance passes until soon they’re announcing the winner for album of the year. You didn’t win the other category but Jungkook knows for sure you’ll win the next one. He can feel you nervously bouncing your knee and gripping his hand extra tight while the presenter takes their sweet time opening the envelope.

“And the award goes to,” pause, “y/n!” The crowd erupts into loud screams and cheers, hell Jungkook yells out as he looks at you with glee and helps you stand up.

“You won baby!” Jungkook hugs you tightly as he sways side to side, “So fuckin’ proud of you.”

You happily laugh and bury your face in his neck, “I was so scared, oh my god.” You accept his hand as he helps you step up on stage so you could get your award. He stands back filled with pride as he watches you stride with confidence towards the main stage, walking past all these other people he could care less about.

After the show Jungkook’s surprised you choose to go back to the hotel instead of the afterparty some other singer invites you guys to. He doesn’t protest because he’s been dying to get away from all these people all night (you reprimanded him for suggesting that you guys leave right after you get your win). He walks hand in hand with you, smug as fuck because his girl bagged album of the year, just like he knew you would.

“Smile,” Jungkook holds his phone up, the flash going off as he hears you complain about not being ready, “you look fine, I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He snorts and shows you the picture he took.

You shoot him a pouty frown and take his phone, “Delete it I look bad,” you huff, “you better take a better one.”

“Whatever you say princess.” Jungkook takes a series of photos for your Instagram and his, you look so pretty in each one he takes, it’s disgusting how much he’s obsessing over them, “Damn you look sexy.”

“I always do, thank you very much.” You huff and sit back in your seat, enjoying the rest of the ride back.

Jungkook’s immediately on you when the two of you get to the hotel. He’s been wanting to pick up where you two left off earlier before your manager interrupted. If it was up to him you two wouldn’t have even gone to the damn show, he’s been dying to get you out of the dress the minute he saw you in it.

“Jungkook wait–mmph,” you’re cut off as he slips his lips over yours, his hands coming up to cup your face as he swallows your lips in a passionate-hungry kiss.

“Can’t,” Jungkook whispers, “been waiting all night baby.” He reaches behind you to push the door open, kicking it open all the way as he tugs you close and walks you backwards into the room.

“Moment I laid eyes on you I was gone, knew I had to have you.” Jungkook whispers as he leans down to bury his face in your shoulder and neck leaving a flurry of hot kisses all over, “Wanted to rip this shit off you.” He growls softly.

You whined in protest, body falling backwards when the back of your knees hit the lush bed, “Not my dress–”

“I’ll buy another—hundreds baby, don’t you know who your man is?” Jungkook smirks as he climbs over you, “Can I take it off you baby?” He knows he’s being a bit too eager right now, so naturally he wants to make sure you’re both on the same page.

“Yeah.” You softly breathe out, “I want you to take it off,” you trail off looking at him with those siren eyes, “make me yours.” You say as you let the strap of the dress slip off your shoulder invitingly.

Jungkook swallows hard, hands itching and trembling with excitement as he reaches up to pull the other strap, “You already are.” He muses.

“All the way,” you intertwine your hand with his with a precious little smile on your face, “want everyone to know who my man is.”

Fuck. Jungkook bites down on his lip and nods, “You want them to see my marks, want everyone to know who’s fucking you good?” He purrs and leans down to hover over you, lips against lips.

You nod with a cute ‘mmhm’, “I want it all, you promised you’d give it to me.” You softly pout, “Or was that a lie?”

“Fuck no, take it baby, ‘s all yours.” Jungkook hurriedly unbuttons his dress shirt, hastily throwing his belt off and peeling his slacks off, “Gonna give you exactly what you need till you can’t take it.” He says as he reaches for the zipper to the dress.

He all but rips the thing off of you and tosses it to the corner of the room (mind you it’s worth over twenty thousand). It’s the first time seeing you like this under him and he wants to make it special for you, a night you’ll never forget.

“Fuck, you’re beautiful baby.” He comments as he leans down to leave a trail of kisses along your chest and tummy,slowly slipping down the bed as he inches towards your panty covered pussy.

“You have no idea how long I’ve been dreaming of this, been thinking about all the ways I could have you,” he whispers and lays a kiss over your damp folds, “I didn’t know if I wanted to lay you on my bed or bend you over the car—you make it so hard to control myself, you have no idea.”

He sees the little tremor that passes over you when he says this. Your eyes are filled with want and need but like the stubborn little thing you are, you don’t say anything. Jungkook can’t have that either, he wants—no needs—to hear your sweet little voice beg for him.

“What’s the matter baby? You need something?” Jungkook softly croons as he peppers soft kisses against your inner thighs.

You bite on your lip and nod, “Need you.”

“But you already have me?” He grins, he can see the frustration bubbling up on your face.

“Here,” you softly breathe and reach down to tug your panties upwards, the material digs into your cunt giving him a perfect outline of it, “won’t you give it to me?” Your voice pulls him in like a siren singing to a sailor, he’s so entranced by it he almost feels like he’s gonna drool right now.

Jungkook wastes no time in yanking the damp materials down your thighs, not bothering to slide them completely off as he lifts your legs up. They’re pressed together with your soft pussy lips pressed together for him, tempting him with a glob of shiny slick running down your soft asscheeks.

“Fuck,” Jungkook growls as he leans in to smother his face with your cunt, tongue slipping through your drenched dewy folds to lap up the globs of slick.

You kick your feet in the air with a tiny whine, hips wiggling in an attempt to get him on your clit. He laps at you messily, circling the tip of his tongue over your throbbing bud that’s squished between your folds. The moan you let out sends shivers down his spine and he’s eager to hear more.

“So fucking good,” he pants, “jus’ like I imagined pretty baby.” He slurs out, pussy drunk already.

He can feel you reaching down to tug your panties all the way off but he can’t be bothered with stopping, not when your cunt’s gushing for him. Jungkook licks with vigor, swiping over and over against your tender clit. Your cunt opens up beautifully with a low squelch and your thighs begin trembling under his strong hold.

It gets harder with each passing second to contain himself, his cock feels like it’s literally about to burst. He pulls away from you and lets your shaky legs fall back as he tears your panties off completely.

“Gonna fuck you so good baby,” he climbs over you and reaches down to pull his heavy cock out, “can’t wait anymore.”

Your legs easily fall apart for him and make room as he shuffles closer between them. Jungkook sees the way your eyes go dark when they land below between his legs where his cock hangs heavy, swollen at the tip with beady trails of precum oozing from the head. You lick your lips and reach down to grip him in your soft hand, tentatively squeezing and stroking as if you were feeling him up.

“Like it baby? Gonna have my fat cock fill this little pussy up?” Jungkook has a sleazy grin splayed over his lips as he watches you, “Hm?”

“Yeah, ‘m not gonna let you cum anywhere but inside,” you deviously smile back like the nasty little minx you are, “till it’s dripping.”

He groans at the thought of that and kicks his hips forward, “Lemme in baby,” he slurs out, “slip it right in for me, there you go.” He purrs when he feels the head slide over your messy pussy, smearing your slick and his precum all over your cunt before you’re guiding him towards your winking sopping hole.

You bite down on your lip when the tip catches against your rim, it pops inside feeling you inch for inch slowly—cockhead spreading you open until he’s fully seated in your tight cunt. He can’t help but bite his lip with the way you’re squeezing him so tight—so snug and warm.

“So nice ‘n warm for me,” he hoarsely says as he rubs his hands along your sides, gently squeezing at your hips as he pulls you closer until your pelvis is smacked tight against his own.

You let out the most sinful fucking moan ever when his cock slides deeper. Back arching and toes curling—he just loves how beautiful you look spread out under him with your pretty pussy snug against his cock. You release a stuttered moan as you reach for his hands and squeeze tightly.

“Hurts a little,” you say through gritted teeth, “why the fuck are you so fucking big?”

Jungkook nearly laughs at that because he doesn’t think he’s ever heard that many curse words leave your mouth before. “You want me to pull out?”

“No don’t you dare,” you glare, “took me a minute to get this thing in and you want me to do it all over again?”

Jungkook looks back down with a low whistle, “Little pussy looks like it’s struggling to keep me all in baby, you sure you can handle it?” He teases as he reaches down to flick his thumb over your swollen clit.

Your hips jump and you whine out for him, “Stop playing around Jungkook,” you turn to hide your face in the soft sheets, “you know I can.” You mumble softly, eyes half-lidded with pleasure.

Jungkook bites down on his lip and rolls his hips slowly, “I know, you were made for this dick.” He smirks and lazily flicks his thumb pairing it with his slow but deep thrusts.

Your moans come out soft and breathy, everytime he backstrokes there’s a light sheen of slick covering his cock from the base near his pelvis. Your cunt makes these adorable little squelching noises as he pushes back in, balls lightly pressing against your taint when he buries himself back in. Occasionally he stops for a few seconds before he resumes his lazy pace.

He never imagined it’d feel this good with you, something about the way your little pussy refuses to let go for even a moment—squeezing him so tight it’s almost impossible to move. His own noises come out soft and husky, he can’t help the moans and soft sighs he lets out from the hot pleasure coiling in his stomach.

“Baby,” he gasps as he leans forward to hover over you with hands on either side of you, “this good?” He asks as he steadily increases the pace in his thrusts, hips smacking wetly against your ass and balls swinging now.

You nod eagerly, “More than good—mm, jus’ like that,” you sound blissed out, gaze half-lidded and dreamy as you stare up at him with those pretty eyes of yours.

“Like that?” He groans, “Or like this?” Suddenly Jungkook snaps his hips up, a loud smack filling the room alongside a warbled cry of his name, “Oh you like that, don’t you? Baby likes it rough?” He purrs.

The slide’s fucking nasty with a mix of precum and your slick, he feels it slide down your taint where his balls slap repeatedly. The noise is filthy and sends pleasant tremors down his spine, “Oh, fuck,” he groans softly, “doing so good for me.”

Jungkook begins moving earnestly now, slamming his cock in and out of your bruised and battered cunt. Slick spills everywhere—the sheets, your inner thighs, his pelvis—it’s like music to his fucking ears right now. He can’t resist and leans down to smother your lips with his, swallowing every little cry and moan you let out.

Your arms come up to wrap around his neck as you hold on tightly, he reaches down to wrap a leg around his waist as he manages to slide in deeper with the tip brushing over your g-spot. You let out a loud cry into his mouth and bury your fingers in his hair, your thigh starts trembling again only this time more intense than before.

“You gonna cum for me baby?” He pulls away with a moan, “C’mon, be a good girl and make it messy.” He purrs against your lips while watching your expressions closely.

You stare into his eyes with unshed tears as more whimpers and whines escape, “So close,” you manage to wrap another shaky leg around him, “please, please, ‘m so close.” You whine out as your legs cross behind him on his back.

Jungkook doesn’t wanna disappoint or hold out any longer as he manages to stick a hand down between you to roll your clit between his fingers, “Cum for me, give it to me baby.” He growls softly as he plows into your tender and sore cunt.

The squelching gets louder and your moans turn into weak whimpers as you lie there and take it. His cock stirs at the sight of you nearing your end, he decides to give you a little extra push as he meanly pinches your clit. This causes you to cry out and go stiff under him, body shaking like a leaf as you gush around his cock.

“Jungkook,” you gasp repeatedly as your eyes flutter shut, face pinched in pleasure and overstimulation, “so good.” You slur out.

Jungkook lets your tender clit go and focuses on his own pleasure now that he’s got your orgasm out of the way. He grunts quietly and buries his face against your soft tits, mouthing at your sore stiff nipples. You squeeze around him tighter and tighter until the coil in his stomach snaps and he lets out a long moan of your name.

“Fuck..” Jungkook whispers breathlessly as he presses your pelvises close together, burying his cock balls deep till every last drop’s inside your battered pussy.

You moan quietly and let your legs fall from his hips, limbs feeling like jelly as you lay there panting softly. Jungkook rests his forehead against your tit and sighs deeply, “Are you okay love?” He asks softly.

“Yeah, jus’ really tired.” You whisper hoarsely and close your eyes, “Fuck, no offense but I feel really gross right now. Start a bath for me, pretty please?” You softly ask with a lip jutted out in a pout.

Jungkook of course can’t say no, “Course,” he presses a gentle kiss to your forehead and lifts himself off of you, “I’ll be back.”

𓂃 ﾟ｡ ⋆

Your company’s the first to make a statement confirming what everybody already knew, and then Yoongi followed shortly after. If Jungkook had thought it was bad before, people went ape shit now that it’s been officially confirmed by you two.

Before, they put all the heat on Jungkook because it was easier to blame him for it given the public’s opinion about him. It was easier to blame him because why not? He was some low-life boxer in their eyes. But then the attention shifted and people started targeting their hate towards you which pissed Jungkook off to no end.

Why the fuck was everyone so invested in what you did and didn’t do? Why was it that they felt entitled to dictate who you date and don’t date? Jungkook really needed these people to get jobs or mind their business because clearly they had no life outside of hating on a stranger for finding their own happiness.

He saw those vicious comments people left all over your posts and he fucking hated that he couldn’t do shit to stop them from coming back, pissed him off even more because his girlfriend didn’t deserve this. You deserved the world and more, not this shit.

So, Jungkook did the next best thing he could think of. He started taking names and screenshotting profiles before turning them over to a attorney he hired, if he couldn’t beat these stupid fuckers himself he’d let them have it with his private team. He made headlines after people started noticing that he was suing the people opening their big ass mouths.

“Baby, it’s okay really.” You softly complain, “You don’t have to waste your time with these weird people, I’m sure they’ll get over themselves if we ignore them.”

Jungkook shakes his head, “No, I’m sorry baby but I can’t sit there and watch these fuckers call you degrading names and demand shit like they know you—seriously who the fuck do these people think they are?” He growls under his breath as he paces back and forth, “And that’s not even the gist of it, these idiots are lucky I don’t catch them out in public because I’ll beat the fuck out of them.”

Out of the corner of his eye he sees you curl up on the sofa with a sad smile, “I know, but you can’t go around beating up millions of people for leaving a hate comment. It’s normal, this happens all the time I learned to live with it.” You’re trying to sound sure of yourself but he doesn’t buy it.

“Baby look at me.” He comes over and kneels down in front of you, “This shit is not normal nor is it ever okay, fuck them for making you feel like this. I hate seeing you look so dejected reading all those hateful comments,” he takes your hands in his and kisses them, “just lemme take care of it. Please?”

You look conflicted like you’re not sure if you should say yes but with a little more coaxing you finally sigh, “Fineee, just don’t do anything crazy. I don’t need my boyfriend in jail, thank you very much.”

Jungkook cracks a smile and buries his face in your lap with a happy sigh, “I promise baby, if I go to jail, who else is gonna cook you fried rice at three in the morning? Who else is gonna give you their black card?” He teases.

“Yeah, yeah now come here.” You open your arms for him, “You know I only need you and that’s all.”

Jungkook kisses that soft pout off your face as he nods, “I know you do baby, didn’t think otherwise.” He grins and lays his head on your chest with closed eyes.

The two of you sit there in silence together with the TV playing low in the background. Jungkook for the most part behaves himself despite being so close to your soft tits that are poorly hidden under your camisole. He can literally dip his head in there and get a sneak peek, maybe even a mouthful of titties—

“Jungkook, really?” You sigh, “You’re such a pervert.”

“You like it,” Jungkook winks as he mouths at your tit through your little camisole, “can I?” He knows you can’t resist and judging by the way your thighs press together, “Pretty pleaseee baby?” He gives you the best puppy eyes he can muster, all a man wants is some titty loving, that’s all.

You don’t even finish saying yes before he’s diving in and tugging your camisole down so that your tits spill out and into his face. His eyes light up and he immediately wraps his lips around a nipple, suckling gently as he laves his tongue over the stiff bud in his mouth. You quietly sigh and sink into the sofa with him following as he rolls his tongue over your nipple and flicks it repeatedly.

“You’re such a baby you know that?” You murmur, “But you’re my handsome bun,” the nickname has him perking up, “my strong, big, handsome bun.” You coo softly while stroking his hair slowly.

Jungkook’s eyes flutter shut as he sinks into the warm feeling, his sucking slows down until he’s barely moving his tongue anymore and simply suckling on your teat. “You like hearing how strong you are don’t you baby—love knowing you can easily beat someone’s ass for me?”

He nods pathetically with a low groan, “Of course you do,” you softly coo, “it’s why I picked you, knew you’d be able to take care of me the way I deserve.” You scratch his scalp lightly, moaning softly when he makes another noise, “Treat me so good like the princess I am.”

That he does. Jungkook is in heaven right now, he feels like he can just pass out right here and now with a titty in his mouth. He can’t help but shudder as he slips into a dream-like state, “Go ahead baby, just rest yeah? I got you.” You softly say while cradling his head and going lax under him, “Take what you need.”

And he does. He ends up falling asleep, one of the best fucking naps ever with your tit still in his mouth even when he wakes up. He so needs to do this another time, shit’s relaxing and a good stress reliever. Jungkook doesn’t think you’ll have any complaints either.

.

It’s a busy week for Jungkook because he has a match coming up in a few weeks and Yoongi has him completely locking in at the gym for training. You don’t mind it and being the best girlfriend you are you come as support during his sessions. You also confirmed his suspicions that Seokjin was a secret stan because his hyung fanboys out when he meets you.

“Hyung stop it.” Jungkook glares, “Leave her alone before I punch you.”

Seokjin scoffs, “No way, I get to meet my idol and you wanna ruin it for me? Where’s my respect, you brat.” This guy—needless to say Jungkook’s shooting daggers at his hyung the entire time he’s there.

The real challenge comes during the press conference/weigh-in Jungkook goes to like he always does. It starts off normal, the guy doesn’t trash talk and Jungkook’s not one for it either unless the fighter’s cocky then yeah he’ll put them in their place but this guy’s alright which he appreciates. It’s the fucking reporters that get Jungkook heated sometimes.

“Jeon, how do you feel about this upcoming match? Any thoughts on your opponent?” One asks with his recorder held out.

“I’m excited like always, I know potential when I see it so I’m hoping to have a great match with my opponent. He looks like he can give me a run for my money.” He laughs softly into the mic.

Another reporter asks something but it’s directed at his opponent so Jungkook just nods off listening to the two. Out of the corner of his eye he sees someone laughing when he looks at him, and at first he doesn’t pay attention and just keeps his focus on the reporters. But then this guy comes to the front and Jungkook just knows he’s about to hear the stupidest shit in his life.

“Jeon, so how are you and your girl doing? Heard the news and wanted to congratulate you.” He says with this sleazy grin.

It rubs him the wrong way but Jungkook keeps his temper in check as he forces himself to politely answer, “Good, thank you.” He curtly replies.

He hears Yoongi clear his throat next to him with a fierce glare, “Let’s try and keep this about the match, he's not here to answer questions about his life, this isn’t a personal interview.”

You’d think that after being called out like that he’d stop there and move on but no, this guy’s a piece of work. “I mean I was just askin’ cause I was kinda surprised with the news since you know, she been ran through by the entire industry.” This gets Jungkook to react as he pushes his chair back, causing it to fly backwards as he slowly stalks forward.

“New guy every month—say, you the new boy of the month Jeon?” He smirks.

Jungkook doesn’t even think before he lunges at him, he hears Yoongi call his name as Namjoon springs into action to get Jungkook back but it’s too late.

Jungkook’s fist connects with the side of this man’s jaw and sends him flying to the ground as Jungkook lifts his (now) bloody fist up to strike him again with a sick sound. He’s so far gone right now he doesn’t even feel when Namjoon yanks him off the guy.

“Jungkook! Calm the fuck down and get off him!” Namjoon yells through the chaos as reporters scramble to get shots and videos of this.

“No, get off me hyung! Let me fuckin’ go where is this little shit? If you’re such a fuckin’ man come say it to my face one more fucking time, I dare you! Say it!” He yells as he struggles against Namjoon’s strong hold.

It takes three guys to get Jungkook away from the reporter, Yoongi deals with the rest but Jungkook’s so fucking mad he can’t even sit right now. He’s pacing back and forth in the little backroom they got him in as Namjoon watches with concern in his eyes. He hasn’t tried to calm him down because even he knows the danger of trying to talk to him while he’s this mad.

The door slams open and Yoongi steps in, “Jungkook what the fuck was that?! That guy went to the hospital, do you even realize the mess you caused? He’s gonna press charges–”

“I don’t give a fuck!” Jungkook interrupts, stunning Yoongi into silence, “He fucking disrespected my girlfriend thinking that shit was funny. I could really give two fucks if he wants to press charges or not!” Namjoon watches the two in silence, but he’s ready to jump in if Jungkook turns on Yoongi or something.

Yoongi, who usually has something smart to say for everything, for once doesn’t have shit to say. He just stands there watching Jungkook kick the chair over and pace around the room furiously. “Kid, look, I get you. I would do the same too if I was in your place but this shit isn’t worth it. You can’t be letting them get to you like this, that’s what they want.”

“Well he fucking got what he wanted.” Jungkook scoffs with a humorless laugh.

“Just go home, I’ll deal with the press.” Yoongi sighs as he rubs his temples, “Please, for once just do what I say.”

The news is bad, there’s a shit ton of articles coming out within the next hour about how Jungkook attacked the reporter and left him a bloody puddle on the ground. It’s all over the place and there’s a shit ton of people commenting about it on online forums and comment sections. One side praises him for defending you, and then the other criticizes his inability to keep himself under control but Jungkook doesn’t care.

The REAL cherry on top is when you post your response to the news—you use that video of Latto saying “thank you to my man” along with a cute selfie of you cuddled up in bed with Jungkook. Even you made it clear as day you didn’t give a fuck about that guy either.

Your fans who had previously had negative reactions to your dating news were coming around too in favor of Jungkook. They said shit like “free JK he did nothing wrong” and voiced their support for him. Some were even harassing the reporter who had dared to say those things about you, demanding that he lose credibility as a reporter amongst other things.

Jungkook thinks it’s going to be okay because that guy totally fucking deserved it (and more).

.

The weeks fly by and the day of his big match comes—the biggest one yet because bets are high and on top of that Jungkook has a winning streak to keep up if he wants them to give him the title of “undefeated”. Following the conference nothing really happened, the guy turned out to have some shady shit on him so he decided not to press any charges in the end. God bless Yoongi for digging shit up.

With that being dealt with Jungkook could finally put his entire focus on the match. He had heard the entire arena sold out and some of the richest people on earth were attending. This was a huge deal and he had everything to lose. Jungkook was confident in his win but this guy was also the deal too, which only means Jungkook has to keep his guard up.

“You ready kid? This is about to be the biggest fight of your career.” Yoongi says as he comes to sit in front of Jungkook, “You’re gonna have to kick it up a notch this match, the guy’s good but he isn’t better than you.”

He nods at that because Jungkook’s confident in his fighting abilities, “I know hyung, I have a really good feeling about tonight.” He smiles, “Don’t worry about it, I got this under control.”

“Good, that’s what I like to hear from you.” Yoongi grins back as he pats his back, “Now get out there and make me proud.”

The arena buzzes with life when Jungkook enters the room, he’s hit with flashing lights in every direction as people scream and chant his name. He’s getting worked up again as the adrenaline slowly kicks in. Jungkook makes his way up to the ring, passing over your section where you’re sitting with Namjoon and Seokjin.

He closes his eyes for a brief moment, blocking out the crowd and music as he tries to focus. He can do this, he can do this. He will win, for you.

The guy packs a good punch and each round gets progressively harder and harder to fight him off. During one of the breaks in-between the rounds, he slumps into his corner as Yoongi immediately springs over to help him with his mouth guard.

“He’s tiring you out Kook, he’s gonna wait until you’re low on energy to give it his all.” Yoongi warns, “You need to match his pace instead of wasting your energy so early.”

Jungkook pants tiredly as he shakes his head, “Hyung he’s gonna knock me out.” He says deliriously, filled with pain and adrenaline.

“No he isn’t, because you’re not going to let him, you hear me? You’re going to get back out there and show that punk what you’re made of.” Yoongi sternly replies, “Do it for the pretty girl waiting for your win.”

Jungkook’s eyes snap over to where you sit, you look really scared and on top of that worried. He sees the way your knee bounces and how you pick at your fingernails. This isn’t what he wants to see.. This isn’t what he wants at all.

“Okay.” Jungkook grunts with renewed energy, “Fuck, okay.”

Yoongi pats his back gently and steps away from the ring, “Remember: match his pace.”

Jungkook rises to his feet and gets ready for the next round. He only has a few more before a winner has to be announced or the match is tied. Only one of them will walk out a champion, and it’s going to be him.

He takes Yoongi’s advice and matches this guy’s pace, he observes his every move and studies the combos he throws out. The guy’s a corner tech type so Jungkook avoids the edges and keeps him in the middle. He also notices that he goes for uppercuts and rear hooks.

As Jungkook prepares to strike he loses his footing and the guy takes the chance to hook him across the face. It sends Jungkook to the ground as he falls with a groan of pain. “Fuck.” He whispers.

He’s not sure how much longer he can keep up, can he even get up? His vision is beginning to blur a little and his hearing’s a little hazy too. He barely even makes out the referee counting down to a knockout.

Through the blurriness he sees Yoongi run over to the side of the net, “Get up, kid! Fuck, c’mon Jungkook get up!” He desperately says.

Jungkook wants to, but everything hurts so much and he’s so tired right now. He weakly tries to get up, barely managing to hold up on all fours as he pants heavily with blood dripping down onto the mat below. He lifts his head up slowly and suddenly the world stops.

You’re standing there with tears in your eyes, your mouth’s moving rapidly (most likely pleading with him to get up). Jungkook doesn’t like that, he swore he’d never let you feel that way again after you attended his first match and saw how bad it was. Fuck.

“Four…three..”

Get up. Get up. Get up. Get up.

Jungkook grits his teeth and stumbles forward, barely managing to catch himself on the nets as he looks back at his opponent with renewed strength. The countdown stops and the match continues, he is going to win this if that’s the last thing he does.

He lunges forward and the guy doesn’t expect it coming as Jungkook manages to get him cornered before he lets loose. He rains a slew of punches, too fast for the guy to keep up who doesn’t expect him to suddenly be this fast.

Jungkook feels like he blacks out during all this, landing hit after hit until he’s finished with one last uppercut and then everything stops. He feels a pair of hands pull him back as the referee begins the countdown. Jungkook stands there heaving as he watches tiredly.

“..Two..one..” The bell suddenly rings and the crowd cheers.

He did it. Holy shit, he did it!

Both Yoongi and Namjoon rush into the ring together, bringing him into their arms as they jump with joy. “You fucking did it!” Namjoon smiles happily.

“Where’s…where’s y/n?” Jungkook blearily asks as he looks around.

“She’s right there,” Yoongi points out, “she’s still here Kook.”

He pulls away from the hug and trudges over to the net, holding it up and holding his arm out for you, “C’mere baby.” He calls out.

You immediately stumble over and climb into the ring with him, sinking right into his arms when he tugs you close. “I’m here,” he whispers, “I’m here.”

“Don’t ever scare me like that again! You hear me? I don’t ever wanna see you like that.” You whimper and cup his face, “Oh Jungkook..”

He smiles softly and leans down to kiss you passionately in front of everyone. You easily melt into the kiss and wrap your arms around his neck. When he pulls back he looks around with a stupid grin on his face, “Fucking won but everything hurts.”

You frown cutely and ignore the reporters that begin to swarm the two of you. Jungkook keeps you tucked into his side as he answers their questions, “Feels really good I can’t lie, even if I feel like shit right now though. But I’m just glad I won, I've been wanting to dedicate this win to my beautiful girl.” He smiles down at you and kisses the top of your head.

They start throwing more questions at him after that. They’re all kind of the same regarding their relationship because they’re just dying to know all about his relationship to you. They even try to ask you some questions but luckily Yoongi intervenes when it begins to get out of control.

“Alright back up, give Jungkook some space.” Yoongi says as he pushes some reporters away, “You ready to go Kook?”

“Yeah, get me the fuck outta here.” Jungkook groans as he follows after his hyungs with you close by.

Yoongi and the others help Jungkook get into an ice bath as soon as they get into the back room. You work on cleaning the blood off his face and icing his wounds, “Does it hurt? Well, more than usual?” You softly ask.

“No babe I’m fine.” Jungkook replied calmly as he closed his eyes, “The ice feels really good, I’m sore all over.”

You hum, “Let me know if I’m hurting you.”

“I will.” He hums back and sinks into the ice with a relaxed sigh.

The cold sensation on his body is working wonders on his sore muscles. It feels like he’s living the dream right now. He doesn’t think he wants to even party after this, sure a big win calls for a celebratory dinner or something but right now cuddling and going to sleep sounds way better.

Yeah, way better.

.

“I thought you were too sore to do anything, what happened to that?” You laugh softly while looking down at him.

Jungkook’s pout deepens, “I can still move my hips, see?” He says and demonstrates with a little thrust up, “Pleaseeee! For me baby? I promise I’ll tell you if it hurts or something.”

You look at him in disbelief, “You literally just got beat up what do you mean please? Look at you! Why the heck is sex even on your mind right now?”

“Because, you looked so sexy on that billboard on our way back here.” He huffs casually leaving out the part where he raged because everyone can see you and no doubt millions have.

Not that he’s petty but he’s petty, he wanted to tear that shit down and keep it for himself. “That’s not the point,” he groans and tosses his head back on the pillow, “I can still move and it’s not like my cock got beat up too.”

“You are so nasty.” You laugh softly and sit back on his lap, “If I ride you will that make you happy, hm?”

It’s comical the way his hair bounces when he nods vigorously, “Yes.” He says without hesitation, “It’s like a reward.” He grins toothily.

You roll your eyes at him with a sigh, “You’re so spoiled,” you mumble while reaching down to help him pull his boxers down.

“Wait!” Jungkook looks up at you with pouty eyes, “Can you..?” He tugs at the loose shirt you’re wearing.

Immediately you know what he wants and you nod, “My baby deserves it doesn’t he?” You softly say while tossing the garment somewhere else, “Did so good out there,” you purr and lean over him.

His eyes sparkle as he nods, “I did,” he whispers and licks his lips, “means I get a reward right?”

“Yes you do.” You gently coax him closer as you lean down to press your soft tit to his lips, “Take it, ‘s all yours.” He latches on without wasting another second.

Your lips part as a soft breathy moan escapes, your soft hand reaches down to fish his hard cock out of his boxers. He shudders when you start stroking him, it’s slow and sensual as you gather bits of precum with your thumb and slowly work your way down around the shaft.

His balls sit heavy and they ache with need to empty themselves in you. Jungkook has to fight the urge to buck his hips as he accidentally grazes his teeth against your bud.

You yelp softly and he pulls away apologetically, “Easy, not so hard.” You softly chastise.

“Sorry.” Jungkook murmurs and presses a kiss on your tit before moving to the opposite one.

“Just sit back and relax baby,” you murmur, “I got you.”

You position the head at your weeping pussy, slapping it repeatedly in small taps until the tip catches on your hole. Jungkook holds his breath as you begin to slide down on his sensitive cock until you're bottoming out with your ass meeting his thighs.

“Good?” You softly whisper.

Jungkook nods and goes back to suckling on your nipple in peace. You rock yourself in his lap steadily like you’re scared you’re gonna hurt him but Jungkook encourages you with a little buck. This makes you sink down in his lap with a lewd moan, his cock shifting deeper inside.

“Use me,” Jungkook quietly pipes up, “I can take it.” His breath hot and heavy over your pebbled nipple.

“You sure? What if I hurt you?” You murmur.

“I’ll be fine baby, I’ll let you know if something hurts. Please?” He opens his mouth to take your nipple back in.

You shiver and bite your lip still a bit worried but you end up giving in. You slowly pick up the pace, switching from grinding to bouncing. There’s a low smack here and there but it’s nothing too crazy because you’re going as gentle as you can.

Jungkook’s lips tighten around your nipple with every grind and bounce. Your pussy tugs at his cock with the right amount of pressure sending shivers down his spine. He moans softly and moves one hand up to grip your bouncing tit.

“Fuck you look good like this,” he breathes out in pleasure.

You groan softly as he squeezes your tit in his strong hand, massaging the soft mound of flesh afterwards. He pulls away to push both tits together and buries his face between them with a happy sigh, “Never wanna leave, I could die a happy man like this sweetheart.”

“You’re just a perv.” You chuckle with a moan.

“For you.” Jungkook grins and then lays back, “Don’t tell me you’re getting tired already.” He notices that your bouncing has slowed down.

You glare cutely at him and sit up, “I don’t like doing the work in case you haven’t noticed.” You mumble while grinding back and forth over his cock, “You’re lucky I love you enough to do this.”

His eyes widen when he hears the words “love” and “you” in one sentence. It makes his sappy little heart beat with joy and pride hearing those words leave your lips, he can’t help but buck his hips upward eagerly.

“Jungkook..!” You gasp throwing your head back.

“Say it again baby,” he huffs as he uses his strong grip to haul you up and plop you back down on his lap, “I wanna hear it–” He cuts off with a breathy moan.

“I love you.” The words make him groan louder as he slaps his hips upward.

“Fuck I love you too,” he moans, “so, so fuckin’ much, you have no idea.” He whispers and looks up at you through hooded eyes.

You bite your lip hard and throw your head back with a whine, “ ‘m coming.” You whimper.

“Oh you like hearing that don’t you, knowing damn well that you got me wrapped around your fingers.” Jungkook huffs with exertion as he fucks into you harder.

“Y-Yes, love it so much knowing you’re mine,” you mewl softly and grind on him, “fuck, fuck..!” Your pussy clamps down and suddenly you’re coming all over him in slow waves of harsh pleasure.

Jungkook pulls you down for a passionate kiss as he holds you down against his pelvis. A few more rolls has him coming too, cock throbbing and twitching. He lays there panting heavily with hazy eyes while you whine about him being careful.

“Don’t put pressure on your side,” you grumble, “I told you we shouldn’t have fooled around.”

“I’m fine, see? Nothing’s wrong.” Jungkook laughs and delivers a sharp smack to your ass, “Now tell me you love me again. Wanna hear it from your pretty lips.” He mumbles and traces over your bottom lip.

“I love you.” You fondly sigh.

“Again.”

“I love you.”

“Again.”

“You’re so annoying! I’m going to shower.” You huff and stomp off with cum leaking down your inner thighs.

Jungkook lays there with a soft grin as he watches you go, “Yeah, yeah, I love you too though.” Forever.

And ever.

TAGLIST: @fragmentof-indifference @jungkooksseuphoria @kooliv @angelarin @jjeonjjk7 @lilliankoo @pb-n-juju @ellesalazar @saweetspoiled @laylasbunbunny @prettyprincejk @cherrysainttt @hyunjinswifeee @joongraduatewithonor @hellbornsworld @leire-mia @m1sss1mp @lissful @winkii @lifeless-firefly @exactlygreatcoffee @taestoess @ayalies @floweryjeons @softtcurse @lilspinachwrld @tearyjjeon @littleobsessedkitty @lovelovelovebts @angeljmnie @rerefundslocals @bangtans-mama @thvhoe @maddkitt @tvse @ohjeon @teteswtnr @jkslovey12 @kelsyx33 @milfpo1ice @sluttydidi @ztyur @beomgyuult @shescharlie @sweet-sourhotcoco @lalita-7 @hazzzelsdimension @p34rluv @kook-net @bonita0-0 @vmapy @dahliadaenerys @frieschan @lilyflowerguk @sayokodiary @babycandy111 @looneybleus @ash07128 @gyukookswhore @rrosiitas

[soaps-mohawk]

Cherry Red, Crimson Blood

Chapter 45: Heat of the Moment

Summary: There's a nervous energy to the pack as you all deal with the looming threat of your oncoming heat.

Pairing: Poly 141 x reader

Word Count: 11,479 words

Warnings: Alpha/beta/omega dynamics, a/b/o, omegaverse, NSFW, 18+, explicit sexual content, smut, heat cycles, mating cycles, p in v sex, oral sex (f receiving), fingering, rough sex, biting, scratching, spanking (it's like once), squirting, knotting, some violent imagery, blood, slight angst, language, slight fluff

A/N: You're welcome

MASTERLIST | <- Previous | Next ->

“You look nervous.”

He gives Christine a look. She’s put her doctor hat back on, sorting through supplies Johnny and Kyle picked up on their run to town. His eyes track her hands to avoid staring at her face, watching as she tucks gauze pads into the first aid kit. He swallows thickly, nerves blooming in his stomach.

She is right. He is nervous. His thoughts have been racing since he said those words, since he made the decision to man up and help you through your heat. There’s no going back. He can’t change his mind on this.

No, he’s wrong. He’s not nervous.

He’s terrified.

“It’s okay to be nervous.” She says, snapping the lid closed. There’s stacks and stacks of boxes of nutrient bars and a stack of electrolyte drinks next to your door. The things that will keep you both alive during the next week.

“I’m not nervous.” He says unconvincingly.

It’s her turn to give him a look. “This is new for you, if I’m not mistaken.”

“You’re not.” He says, his fingers twitching where they rest against his knees.

“Well, then there’s some things we should go over that might ease your nerves a bit.” She says, shifting into doctor mode. “There’s a lot that can happen during an omega’s heat, but the likelihood of something bad happening is very slim. Bad things do happen, but it’s a very slim margin data-wise of it happening.”

“But it could still happen.” He says. There is still a chance. Things have happened before, they could happen to you.

She gives him a reassuring look. “You’re not going to hurt her. Omegas aren’t as fragile as you think. Especially not during their heats.”

“But us both being purebreds...the first time we had sex, it was out of control.” He argues.

“And that’s likely the worst it’ll get.” She says. “Being purebred gives you an advantage in a heat. You’re more in tune with your instincts, which in turn will make you more in tune with her during her heat. You’ll be more aware, more conscious of what she needs and what’s happening. No alpha truly loses themselves in a rut. Things get hazy, of course, but there’s still a deep level of awareness there.”

He ponders her words, the nerves starting to ease a bit, but they don’t go away entirely. He’s never done this before. He has no idea what to expect.

“Besides, you won’t be alone for a week. It’s not just a week straight of heat-induced haze. There will be periods of awareness when things die down for a bit. That’s where betas come into play. They come in, check on things, make sure you’re well and eating and staying hydrated.” She gives him a smile. “Johnny will be here for you, and Kyle’s done this twice so he knows what to do. And if nothing else, you have me here in case, on the very rare off-chance, something does happen.”

As much as he hates to admit it, her words to ease the worry just a bit. Still there’s that deep nagging in his stomach, a pit starting to form. He could hurt you. He could do permanent damage. The mental image of him coming out of his rut to a bloody corpse won’t leave his head. Your absent gaze on his face, wearing nothing but the look of betrayal. You trusted him and he shattered it.

“You’re just as bad as she is.”

The words draw him out of his thoughts. He’d floated off into his head, off into the distance where nothing but nightmares lie. He gulps, his eyes flashing to Christine’s face. She’s wearing a small smile, her eyes soft as she stares at him. He drifted off so easily, off into his thoughts just like you do. It unnerves him, but it also speaks volumes of his trust. As much as he doesn’t want to like her, he feels safe enough with Christine to lose his head.

What’s happened to him?

“It’s kind of boring really.” Kyle says, sorting boxes of nutrient bars, putting your favorites on top. “Just a lot of sitting around and listening to two people fuck the next room over.”

“Do ye ever…”

“Sometimes.” He answers. “It’s hard not to at first, but eventually you’ll get so tired of it you’ll pray for the end of the week to come faster.”

“I can’t imagine.”

“You will.” Kyle smirks. “It gets old pretty quick. You’re mostly just listening for any sounds of pain and waiting for a break so you can go in and check on them, make sure they’re eating and drinking.”

“What about that time ye joined them?” Johnny asks.

“That’s entirely different.” Kyle says after a moment. “Focus more on keeping them alive and well this time.”

Johnny goes quiet for a moment. Never a good sign. “Do ye ever get scared for them?”

Kyle is taken aback by the question. He pauses sorting boxes for a moment, thinking over how he’s going to answer that. “I did during her first heat.” He says honestly. “I half expected to walk in there and find a bloodbath or a dead body. I sat there and waited for a sound, ready to rush in there to try and prevent it from happening. It wasn’t needed, though. John took good care of her. It’s rough coming out of it, but they both made it.”

“What do ye do after?”

“First step is make sure it’s actually over. You can tell just by touching her. The fever goes down, she gets sleepy. You get them into a hot bath first, helps with their recovery and temperature regulation. You clean up and change the bedding while they’re in the bath. Then you get them settled in bed again, bundle them up. She cries a lot. Makes you feel bad but it shouldn’t. It’s just a natural response.” Kyle stares at the stack of boxes. “Then it’s just a lot of resting, trying to get them to eat. She’s good at knowing what she needs, and you just let her lead.”

Kyle puts a hand on Johnny’s shoulder, squeezing it gently. The Scot looks downright terrified, more terrified than Kyle’s ever seen him. He understands, though. It’s a lot to take in, a lot to understand, a heavy weight to bear. The weight of making sure two people lost in their instincts don’t die or kill each other on accident.

“Don’t worry too much.” He tries to comfort Johnny. “You’ve got me right here with you.”

The living area is dark. You can just make out the shapes of the couches thanks to the nightlight in the kitchen. It’s late, and there’s a nervous twisting in your stomach. You stand in your doorway, staring out into the darkness towards the black void that is the stairwell. Your hand is wrapped around the doorknob, the cool metal grounding you as you stand there in contemplation. You’ll wake them, no doubt, and that could be dangerous.

Still…

Your feet lift up onto your toes as you slowly cross the living area, skirting around the dark shapes of the couches. Your body pauses at the base of the stairs, glancing up at the black void above. The bottom of the steps are visible in the darkness up close, and you carefully lift a foot to place it on the wood. You pause there for a moment before lifting yourself, placing the other foot on the same step. The wood creaks softly under your feet and you pause, not even breathing in the stillness.

Nothing moves so you continue, taking it step by step as you tiptoe up the stairs. Every creak and groan has you pausing and for a moment you question if you should have risked it and turned on the light. Creeping around in the darkness with three well-trained soldiers sleeping nearby was probably not the wisest idea.

Still you press onward, pausing at the top of the steps, listening for any movement. You doubt you’d be able to hear them if they were alerted to a presence in their sacred area, but still you hold your breath, ears thrumming in the still silence of the house.

You turn on your toes, going for the door on the right. Your fingers wrap around cold metal, slowly turning. You half expect him to be up and waiting to ambush, but instead you can just make out his form tucked under the covers in the darkness. The door clicks shut behind you as you close it quietly, tiptoeing closer to the bed.

“Kyle?” You whisper, standing there nervously. What if you startle him? What if he stabs you before he realizes it’s you? “Kyle?” You whisper a bit louder.

He lets out a grunt, his head lifting off the pillow. “Huh?”

“Can I join you?” You whisper, relief starting to quiet the nerves. He had been asleep the whole time.

He hums, rolling over and lifting the covers. You quickly slip under the warm blankets, staring up at him in the darkness. You can just make out his tired eyes. You feel bad for waking him when he’s going to need lots of rest later, but you can’t sleep. Nerves untouched by relief still twist in your stomach.

“Kyle?” You whisper his name as he wraps an arm around you.

“Hm?” He hums again, settling under the covers again.

“It’s going to be okay, right?” You ask.

His hand presses against your back, warm through the thin t-shirt you’re wearing. “Everything will be fine.” He murmurs sleepily. “Simon’ll take good care of you.”

“You’ll be there too, right?” You doubt he’d leave, but still part of you needs that reassurance.

“’Course.” He says, pulling you close. “Be right there with Johnny.”

“I’m scared.” You admit quietly, pressing your face into the pillow.

“’S alright.” His breath fans the top of your head.

You lay there in silence for a moment, his breathing slow and even. He’s fallen back asleep, something you need desperately. You could go into head in a manner of hours for all you know. It’s dangerous, leaving your room at such a time, but you need the comfort of your beta right now.

You press your face further into the pillow, inhaling deeply. Something twists in your stomach as you lay there, breathing in the scent on the fabric. The nerves start to settle and you relax further into Kyle’s hold, keeping your face pressed against the pillow.

It smells a bit like John.

“I’m goin’ crazy.”

“You’re going crazy? How do you think I feel?”

“Does it normally take this long?”

“It happens when it’s going to happen.” Dr. Keller says, trying to placate your nervous pack. It’s been six days since you first began to go into pre-heat and everyone is a bit on edge. “There’s no set time between pre-heat and when the actual heat starts.”

“Wish it were like clockwork.” Kyle says.

“You and me both.” You sigh. You’ve been on edge ever since your pre-heat started, something you’ve come to expect. It’s nerve-wracking waiting for the inevitable. You’ll lose your mind, black out and a week will have passed when it’s felt like hours. It’s terrifying, and you’re never quite ready for it. “The anticipation is enough to drive you crazy.”

“Yer tellin’ me.” Johnny says, nervously bouncing his knee so hard it shakes the table.

“You have the easy job.” You snap, squeezing your hands into fists until your nails bite into your palms. The nerves continue to rise the longer the hours drag on. No one is doing anything but sitting and waiting for the inevitable fever that will hit you.

“The boring job is more like it.” Kyle says, trying to diffuse the attention. “Can’t even imagine being on the other side.”

“And you’ve seen it firsthand.” You say, remembering your second heat with John. The vague glimpses of Kyle in the dark haze.

Kyle smirks. “And what a time it was.”

“Fucking christ.” Johnny groans, putting his head in his hand.

“None of that this time.” Simon says, putting an end to the thoughts swirling in the Scot’s head.

“C’mon.” Johnny almost whines.

“No.” Simon puts his foot down. He doesn’t even glance at you. He doesn’t have to. As much as the idea is appealing, you’d rather your first heat with Simon be just with him. You don’t know how this is going to end, and you’d rather not have someone else be involved in the carnage that might remain by the end of the week.

Nerves still prickle under your skin despite your pack’s attempts at calming the tumultuous energy that’s settled over everyone. It’s almost too much now, your palms starting to sweat where your hands are still curled into fists.

“Be right back.” You murmur before pushing away from the table, heading towards your room.

You leave the door open but stand there for a moment, letting out a shaky breath. You stare at the bed, at the sad attempt at a nest of sorts. The big bear is on the floor, as Simon will want it when he gets sealed inside with you. He might see it as a threat and destroy it, even if the thought sounds a bit ridiculous. You have no idea what his mind is going to be like. He’s not like John. He’s rougher, harder, more intense. The thought has something twisting deep in your stomach.

He’s not the only one worried there might be carnage left.

Your first time together had been intense to say the least, and that was while you both had clear heads. Lost in his rut, Simon could easily do damage.

You remember the buckets of plaster, the paintbrushes in the sink, your mother’s long sleeved turtleneck in the dead of summer after coming home from the care center after one of her heats. There were bruises on her face too that she tried to hide with makeup. You were one of the few that got close enough to notice.

Something about it had made you sick, almost as if you knew that would be your future.

You let out a shuddering breath as you climb onto the bed. You sit yourself down in the center, staring at the pillows and stuffed animals arranged haphazardly. It’s not right, but there’s no drive to make it right, no urge to build a nest from what’s sitting in front of you.

“You can’t force it.” A soft voice says behind you.

You turn your head to glance at Dr. Keller. “Isn’t it dangerous, going into heat without the safety of a nest?”

“Not always.” She says, taking a few steps into the room. “You’ve gone through heats before without a nest. It’s riskier, but it’s not impossible.”

“This entire situation is risky.” You murmur.

“What makes you think that?” She asks, sitting down on the edge of the bed.

“Simon and I...we lose control around each other. I’m scared...I’m scared that might happen again. And without a nest to feel safe...what if I get violent? What if Simon takes it as a challenge? Will he be able to settle without me having a nest?” The words come pouring out before you can stop them, all of the worries bubbling up like a volcano about to erupt.

“I wouldn’t be too worried.” Dr. Keller says, trying to be reassuring. “There’s a lot that can go right, and the odds of that happening are far higher than the odds of things going wrong.”

“I’ve seen it.” You say quietly, staring down at the comforter. “What happens when it goes wrong.”

“Simon won’t hurt you.” She says, putting a hand on your back. “He’s more in control than you think. There has to be a drive there to cause pain for that to happen in a heat. Heats draw out raw instincts, peel back the layers to bring forth the hidden inner self.”

You think over her words, think of the remnants of violence you had witnessed as a child. It makes your stomach twist. Your father really hid all of that beneath the guise of being a perfect pack, a perfect alpha.

You’d be a fool to think your father ever loved your mother. I’d be even more foolish to think he ever even liked her. She was nothing more than a status symbol, something to give him what he desired and nothing more.

That’s the difference, though. Simon likes you. Love might be too strong of a word, but you know he at least enjoys your company. He wouldn’t go out of his way to hurt you. Even back when you were fighting just for tolerance of your existence, you knew deep down he’d never go out of his way to hurt you. He nearly fought an alpha for you within weeks of knowing each other. He willingly showed you his face and has gone without his mask since then.

He’d never hurt you. He’s never wanted to hurt you.

“You really think we’ll be okay?” You ask quietly, your voice small and broken as you stare at your lame excuse for a nest.

Dr. Keller rubs your back gently. “I know it.”

He’s not ready.

He has no choice but to be ready.

It happens suddenly, but then again he knew that would happen. There’s no head’s up, no countdown. It comes on suddenly and then it’s go-time.

His hands are shaking.

He already knew before Johnny ascended the stairs two at a time in a frantic race to get to him. He could smell it wafting up the steps before your cry of pain in the kitchen. It made him flinch, his entire body tensing. He knew what it meant, even if he’d never heard such a thing before now.

“Simon, it’s time.” Johnny says, panting slightly. From his run up the steps or the sudden burst of adrenaline he’s not quite sure. They’re all so out of shape compared to what they once were.

“I know.” He rumbles, setting his book on the nightstand. He hadn’t gotten very far in it. He’ll likely have to restart it in a week. He was barely paying attention to the words on the page anyway.

It’s time.

He has to keep telling himself that as he rises from the bed. He debates shoes but thinks better of it. There won’t be any use for them. They’ll just be in the way. Even if something does happen, he’ll be too lost in his head to care much anyway. They’ll be entirely reliant on Johnny and Kyle to watch the house, and them.

Something about that is comforting.

Simon takes the steps slowly, descending with heavy footsteps. He feels as if he’s heading to his funeral. In a way he is. The death of his old self, the death of his boundaries, the death of his fear of vulnerability. Once he passes through that door, there will be nothing left of his old self.

Perhaps that’s a good thing.

He pauses halfway across the living room, pulling his phone out of his pocket. Still no word from Price. Something itches in the back of his mind but he shoves it aside. No time to think on that right now. He almost pockets his phone again, but he thinks better of it. He passes it off to Johnny, the Scot standing there, pale and wide eyed. He’s just as nervous as Simon feels inside, and he can practically hear his beta’s racing thoughts.

“Keep an eye on it.” He says, putting a hand on Johnny’s shoulder. “Any word you tell me as soon as this is over.”

Johnny can’t do anything but nod, his throat bobbing as he gulps.

“You’re a good lad, Johnny.” Simon squeezes his shoulder. “I trust you.”

Something shifts in his beta’s eyes at the words. He needed to hear that, Simon thinks. He’s got a big job to do, even with Kyle here to guide him.

Simon turns towards the other beta, giving him a nod. He can smell you already, your scent heavy in the air, clinging to your beta’s clothes.

It’s making his head start to go fuzzy.

He takes a breath, staring at your closed door. It’s now or never. There’s no going back once he enters. Some deep part of him wants to turn tail and run, escape out the door and never come back. Some deeper part of him wants to take the source of that scent in his teeth and shake it like a dog.

He’s not sure which one is more terrifying.

His fingers tremble as they close around the knob. He takes another breath, trying to ease the tension in his shoulders as he slowly twists.

The scent hits him like a train.

He’s never been hit by a train, but he’d imagine it’s something like this.

It barrels into him, invading his senses and numbing his mind. His thoughts start to seem far away as he breathes in the overly sweet musk spewing into the air like a fountain.

His eyes search out the source, and he finds it on the bed.

He finds you on the bed.

You’re laying there, naked as the day you were born, panting like a bitch in heat. You are, he supposes. You’re on your back, knees bent and thighs pressed together. There’s a hand between them, and he can just see the subtle movement of your fingers.

Needy little thing.

A low growl rumbles in his chest as he takes a step forward, closing the door behind him. It seals the two of you in, closing the last barrier between the you and the outside world for the next week.

His scent starts to mingle with yours, thickening in the air as his body responds to the pheromones from your heat. He read about this, he read about all of it in preparation. Yet those facts seem far from his mind as he stands there, breathing you in.

How sweet. How delectable.

He could devour you right now.

“Simon,” You whimper his name, pathetic and quiet. Your fingers tremble as you reach out a hand for him. “Help me.”

Something stirs in him at your begging tone. You need him. You need him to help you. He’s the only one that can.

The thought has his alpha stirring in the back of his mind. Something he hasn’t felt in a long time starts to run through him.

He crosses the room in three long strides, his hand reaching out for yours. It’s warm to the touch as his fingers trace your palm. It’s so soft and feverish, sweat beading on your forehead as you stare up at him with hooded eyes. He didn’t think your whole body would be hot with your heat. He thought it was more metaphorical.

So little he truly knows.

Your fingers wrap around his wrist as his own slide down yours. Your grip is weak, squeezing as tightly as you can.

“I’ve got you.” The words rumble out of his lips, his fingers closing around your own delicate wrist. Your scent invades his brain, continuing to thicken in the air as your fingers squelch in and out of your pussy.

He bends his body down, pressing his nose against your wrist, drinking from the source. It’s so sweet, sweet enough he’d have a mouthful of cavities if one could turn this scent into candy. He wants to bite down, wants to sink his teeth into you and chew until there’s nothing left.

A rumble of approval vibrates in his chest, your body shuddering in response. A quiet whine leaves your lips, pulling him out of his haze.

“Fucking hell…” He groans, standing back up to his full height. He stares down at you, at your pathetic form laying there in the bed. “Look at you.”

Sweat has coated your skin in a shiny sheen as you lay there in the ghastly overhead light. He should turn it off. He knows how much you hate it, but he can’t move. He can’t bring himself to care. His very being is starting to slip away, being replaced by a primal need to bite, to chew, to shake, to devour.

“Alpha,” You whimper, laying there panting under him. Your fingers attempt to squeeze his wrist but the motion is weak and more of a twitch than anything.

The word coming from your mouth has a tingle starting in the base of his spine, shooting up into the deep parts of his brain. His alpha purrs proudly, practically preening at the sound of its status leaving your lips in such a desperate manner.

You need him.

“Say that again.” He almost growls, his head starting to spin. It’s a euphoric feeling and he’s barely touched you.

“Alpha!” You call out, your voice pitched with a whine. Your legs pull up off the bed, curling in on yourself in desperation.

You need him.

His fingers slide down your arm, gliding through the sweat soaking your skin. He wants to lick it, taste you in your most base form. Desperate and needy for what only he can give you. Only he can offer you relief to the plight plaguing you.

The power goes straight to his brain, then down his spine to his cock.

It’s hard already. He’s been hard since he walked into the room and was hit with the barrage of your scent. His cock had twitched to life, standing at attention, ready and waiting. His jeans are uncomfortable and he almost wishes he’d opted for sweatpants.

His hands close around your upper arm, tugging you across the bed. You move without resistance, sliding across the thin sheet. The bed protector crinkles under your body, the small protection for the mattress from the slew of fluids destined to coat it over the next week. He doubts Kyle’s parents would be happy if they destroyed the mattress.

The idea of leaving his mark here forever has his mind reeling, though.

His mouth starts to water as he tugs yo rather harshly, spinning you so your feet rest on the edge of the bed. You’re still panting as you stare up at him, your pupils blown. Goosebumps cover your skin despite the heat flowing through your body as you hold his gaze.

Bold, he thinks. Part of him wants to punish you for staring at him so openly, but another part of him loves it. Your defiant nature, the thing he knows lays deep inside of you, coming out to play.

You can call me alpha now. The words ring through his head. He wanted to punish you then, when you’d uttered those words. How dare you make such a bold claim. Yet at the same time it amused him. Little omega trying to play big alpha leader. He wonders what would have happened had he succeeded to you. Part of him wants to do that now, just to see what you’d do.

Did John ever let you take control? It wouldn’t have lasted long. His instincts would have taken over quickly. What would you do if he laid down in your place and let you take control.

No, he wants to be in control.

He stares down at you, holding your gaze. Your fingers are still moving between your legs, pumping in and out in a desperate attempt to ease the need throbbing deep within you. No matter how much you want to take over, you still need him. You’re nothing without him right now, and that thought makes him shiver.

“Look at you, all needy f’me.” He murmurs, his fingers toying with the bottom of his shirt. His clothes are starting to feel constricting, heat blossoming beneath his own skin but he’s too caught up to care. “Show me.” His voice rumbles deep in his chest. “Show me how much you need me.”

Your teeth sink into your lip, little minx, as you part your thighs. They’re wet with your juices, your fingers still stuffed into your little pussy. Slick dribbles out around them, your entire had soaked from the fluid. A low rumble vibrates in his chest as he stares down at you, his fingers darting down to wrap around your wrist.

He tugs your hand from between your legs, slick dripping off your fingers and onto your stomach as he holds it in the air. Your pussy flutters around nothing, more slick seeping out of the drenched hole. You let out a low keen as he growls, your legs trying to close together in search of friction.

“Fucking hell…” He groans, dragging a hand across the bulge in his jeans.

He releases your hand, his own finding the backs of your thighs. He pushes your legs up to your chest, guiding your hands to hold behind your knees.

“Hold those f’me.” He orders you, his hands sliding down to the curve of your ass. His thumbs pull you wide open, your hips pressing up into his hands.

“Need you, alpha.” You whine breathlessly, the need evident in your voice.

It goes straight to his head, making his mind buzz with excitement and pride.

You need him.

“Need you now!” You whimper, pressing your hips up again.

A yelp leaves your lips as his hand comes down, his fingers stinging from the sharp slap he delivers to your pussy. “Patience.” He snaps, taking a step back.

He stares down at you, laying there spread open for him. He wants to devour you, and his brain is trying to decide which part to taste first. Your skin, your mouth, your pussy. Hell he’d suck on your toes right now if it means he’ll get to taste you.

Impatience tugs at his own mind. He’s wasted enough time dragging this out. He needs to act and fast, not just for his own sanity, but for yours as well. He watches your face, lips parted as you breathe. Your chest is heaving, body trembling from the effort of holding yourself up. He knows you’d lay there the entire week if he wanted you to, but that would be cruel.

Finally he moves, dropping down to his knees in front of you. Kneeling for you already and he hasn’t even gotten you to do that yet. He could have. He could have commanded it as soon as he walked in and fucked you just like that, starting this process off quickly.

No, he wants to savor this as much as he can before he loses himself too much.

Your pussy clenches as he comes face to face with it, inhaling the musk floating off of your body.

“Look at this pretty little pussy.” He growls, goosebumps forming on your skin where his warm breath fans it. “All wet and dripping just for me.”

You taste like heaven.

His vision nearly goes white as he drags his tongue through your folds for the first time. He could cum in his pants just from tasting you, like a needy pup getting his first look at a bare set of tits. A growl rumbles through his chest, his hands lifting to press against the backs of your thighs.

“Sweet as sugar.” He growls, dragging his tongue through your folds again to get a second taste.

Just as heavenly as the first.

He wants to bury his face in your pussy and never come out. He could crawl in there and live happily for the rest of his life.

He dips his tongue into your hole, slick coating his tongue. The muskiness of your slick paired with the sweetness of your pussy is umami on his tongue. He’ll never taste anything as good as this. Now he understands why alphas get so addicted to heats. He’d happily do this for the rest of his life if he could.

You whine at the third pass of his tongue through your folds, your hips pressing against his hands.

“Patience,” he murmurs, pressing a soft kiss to your clit. It’s hard under his mouth, slick dribbling out against his chin.

His shirt is going to be stained, but that’s fine. He may never wash it again.

“Please, alpha.” You whine, your hands sinking into the sheet under you. You’re so desperate, so needy for relief, relief only he can bring you.

The power is going to his head, traveling straight downward to his cock.

He shushes you softly, pressing another kiss to your clit before he wraps his lips around it. He sucks hard, slurping at your slick-coated folds. Your legs shake around his head, toes already curling. You’re so close already. You have to be after fingering yourself for so long.

His head is starting to spin, shivers running up and down his spine as his instincts start to come alive. He has a need to have you, possess you, devour you. His teeth scrape your clit, a sharp whine leaving your lips at the sensation. His fingers bite into your skin. He’ll leave bruises but he doesn’t care.

Omegas aren’t as breakable as you think. Christine’s words float through his head.

He’s going to find out one way or another.

He presses harder against your thighs as they attempt to close around his head. He wants you splayed open like a piece of meat set out for him. This bed is the table, and you are the dinner laid out for a starving man.

He sucks messily at your pussy, drinking in your slick and sucking at your clit. Your whines are getting sharper, louder as you get closer and closer to your orgasm. He can feel it, more and more slick seeping out of you and coating his face as your pussy flutters.

“Alpha!” You cry out as your first orgasm washes over you.

You shake under him, slick gushing out of you from the force of your first orgasm of the week. He doesn’t ease up, wrapping his lips around your clit to drag out your orgasm as much as he can. You’re still hot under his touch, sweat coating your skin and his where his hands press your legs into your chest.

“Good girl.” He mumbles around your clit, giving it a soft kiss before dragging his tongue through your folds again to gather your release.

It’s musky on his tongue, tinged with your natural sweetness. He could get addicted to this taste. He could spend the next week with nothing but his tongue buried inside of you. That would be cruel, though.

That’s not what you need.

He doesn’t relent though, his tongue pressing into your heat to drink from the very source. His face is slick from your juices as he fucks you with his tongue, his fingers bruising on the backs of your thighs. It’s a miracle you haven’t gotten a cramp yet, but perhaps you don’t care.

Omegas aren’t as breakable as you think.

He wants to test that.

You’re a whining and shaking mess as he buries himself in your pussy, nose pressing against the hard bud of your clit. Your body jolts, pushing up against his face. He’d drown here happily, but he has more to do. He doesn’t want to die just yet. Not before he’s had the chance to stick his cock in you.

He lifts his head, slick sliding down his throat and onto his chest as he licks his lips. He pushes himself up to stand, looming over you as he presses you down into the mattress. Your eyes are hazy, lips still parted as you stare up at him. The fine strands of hair that refuse to be tamed by your braid are sticking to your forehead, pinned there by the sweat soaking your skin. There will be an imprint of your back on the sheet from your sweaty body, he thinks.

He’d roll around in it if he could.

He finally releases you, your legs slowly dropping downward. You’re unable to hold them up on your own, already weak in your own need. He leans over you, pressing a knee between your thighs as his hands sink into the mattress on either side of your head. His jean-clad thigh presses against the heat between your legs, your hips jerking against the fabric.

His hand slides up your body, dragging through the sweat between your breasts, up your throat to your jaw. He grips it tightly, digging his fingers into your cheeks.

“Look at you.” He rasps, pushing his fingers downward. “Open.”

You do as he says, opening your mouth for him.

He leans down, a glob of spit dropping from his mouth onto your awaiting tongue. He doesn’t even have to tell you to do it as you close your mouth and swallow.

Bloody fucking hell.

He leans down, pinning your body to the mattress as he leans down to kiss you. “Missed this pretty mouth.” He groans, forcing your lips open with his tongue.

Your hips grind against his thigh as he kisses you, smearing your slick across your own face. It’s wet and sloppy, desperate and needy. He’s growing just as needy as you are, his cock throbbing as you wrap your arms around his back. Your hip drags along the bulge in his pants as you grind on his thigh, his own hands gripping the sheet this time.

“Fuck…” he groans, pulling away from your lips. “Gonna make yourself cum just like this? Gonna make yourself cum against my thigh like a needy bitch in heat?”

“Yes, alpha!” You whine as his lips trail down your jaw, licking at the sweat on your skin. Fuck you taste so good.

He drops his head, nudging your jaw with his nose. You tilt your head, submitting to him without protest. His alpha purrs in delight as he closes in on your neck, pressing a soft kiss against the sweaty skin. He scrapes his teeth across the delicate skin, the idea bouncing around in his head to leave bruises, to mark you up.

Omegas aren’t as delicate as you think.

His teeth close around a bit of skin, sinking down until you let out a quiet yelp. He releases the skin, pressing a soft kiss to the spot before moving further down your neck.

Your hands sink under his shirt as you continue to hump his thigh, nails biting into the skin of his lower back. He lets out a growl, biting down on your throat again. You sink your nails in harder, trying to hurt him as much as he’s hurting you.

Feisty thing.

He relents first, giving you the satisfaction as he returns to your lips, giving you a searing kiss.

“Alpha,” You moan against his lips, your nails raking up his back. It makes him shiver. “Touch me.”

“You want me to touch you, omega?” He growls, nipping at your lips.

You whine, your hips jerking against his thigh.“Yes! Please!”

“So polite.” He grins. “How can I say no?”

He pushes himself up, leaning a hand on the bed as his other hand trails back down your body. He pulls his leg away, your hips jerking in protest. He smirks, his fingers ghosting over your clit before cupping your pussy. He can feel the pulse of it against his fingers, slick instantly coating his skin.

He doesn’t hesitate, sinking two fingers into your heat. You whine, hips bucking at the intrusion. His fingers sink in easily, almost as if your body is opening in welcome for him. It is. He can feel the pull of your walls, trying to drag his fingers in as deep as they’ll go.

Fascinating.

He can only imagine how it will feel against his cock.

“Fuck,” He groans, your pussy nearly pulsing around his fingers. It’s almost as if it has a mind of its own. It does, he supposes, in your heat. It’s controlling you, desperate for what it wants, what it needs.

The thing only he can give to you.

It nearly makes him preen, the thought that you’re at his mercy. He can delay your relief as long as he wants.

The power sends a shiver down your spine.

Your pussy flutters around him, tugging at his thick fingers even though they’re as deep as they can go. He grunts, your body pulsing around him as he pulls them back, only for it to pulse again as he sinks them back in. It’s like it’s moving with him, squeezing as he pulls back, tightening as he sinks back in like it’s trying to drag his whole hand into your body.

He might be able to do that right now.

Why he had waited this long to experience this, he doesn’t know. Fear? He doesn’t know fear right now. Doubt? There’s no thoughts in his head, only how much he wants to devour you whole.

“Fuck,” he curses again, his cock throbbing painfully. “I would have said yes to this sooner if I knew it would be like this,” he groans, pushing his fingers in as deep as he can. “Fucking perfect little omega. Just for me.”

“Just for you,” You whine, pushing your hips against his hand.

Shit.

“Needy little thing.” He grunts, curling his fingers inside of you and he slowly pushes them in and out. “Can make you gush around my fingers just from this, huh?”

“Please,” You breathe, clenching around his fingers as the heat continues to burn beneath your skin. You’re so hot around him, not and tight and slick. “Need your knot, alpha.”

“My knot? Oh, love we’re nowhere near that yet.” He grins wickedly at you.

You whimper, the fluttering of your pussy around his fingers intensifying as he begins thrusting them in and out of you faster. He pushes against that spongy spot, angling his thrusts there. Your hips jerk, legs already shaking. He loves this, his little party trick. Even in your heat-induced state it still has your eyes rolling back in your head, pleasure taking over your body.

“Alpha,” You pant, your legs shaking uncontrollably. “Alpha, please!”

“I’ve got you.” He grunts, speeding up his thrusts. “I’ve got you.”

You nearly scream as your entire body shakes, fluid squirting all over his hand. Your hands wrap around his arm, and he’s not sure if you’re trying to push him away or pull him closer. The wet squelch of his fingers is loud in the air, his hand continuing to push against that spot to drag your orgasm out as long as he can.

“Please, please!” You gasp, body writhing on the bed.

He finally relents, withdrawing his fingers from your pussy. He drags them through your soaked folds, your juices only adding to the slick pouring out of you.

“Fucking hell.” He groans. “Fucking beautiful, that is.”

For a moment it almost looks like you get a bit bashful at his praise. It’s quickly taken over by another shudder of your body, your hands tugging on his arm. He leans over you again, kissing your lips softly. He keeps his fingers stroking through your folds, every pass of his fingers over your clit making your body jolt.

His mouth leaves your lips, his tongue dragging down your jaw to lick at the sweat on your skin. It tastes musky, not unlike the musk between your thighs. You’re delectable, like a gourmet dessert designed specifically to his tastes.

You tilt your head for him again as he drags his tongue down your neck, submitting to him once more.

“Good girl.” He groans, a shiver running down your spine at the praise.

“Need your knot, alpha.” You gasp.

His lips tease the spot right where your shoulder and neck meet. The idea floats through his head but he shoves it back. Not now. Not here. Not like this.

He can’t let go like that. It’s not his place.

“You want my knot?” He growls, distracting himself from the thoughts banging around in his head.

“Yes, please alpha!” You nearly cry, your hips pushing against his hand.

He’ll be kind, this time, he decides.

He pushes himself away from you, a shiver running down his spine. You stare up at him, legs drooped over the side of the bed. You make no move to shift your position, and he’s not sure you can right now.

“You want my knot?” He asks, his voice low and rough around the edges. His alpha is beginning to crawl out of the cage as his head continues to spin. He’s getting close to losing himself, getting close to that darkness that threatens to swallow him whole. A shudder runs through his body. “I’ll fucking give it to you.”

His shirt nearly tears as he rips it over his head. He doesn’t care, letting the fabric drop to the floor. His belt nearly hits you as he rips it free from his pants, tossing it to the floor somewhere. You’re watching him undress, something he once might have felt too vulnerable to do. Now it has him beaming with pride at the pleasure on your face. You like what you see, if your wide eyes and parted lips have anything to do with it.

He drops his jeans, kicking them off before he stalks towards the bed, naked and vulnerable. Yet, it doesn’t feel that way, shut in here with you. You’re just as naked and open, lost in your instincts and fully trusting in him. Something about that makes his cock twitch in pride.

“Present for me.” He growls, uttering the words the once thought he’d never say.

A visible shudder runs through your body at the command, and suddenly you have the strength to turn yourself over. You drag your body up the bed, pushing your knees under you before lifting your ass into the air.

“Fucking hell…” he groans, staring down at your dripping folds on display for him.

He gets it now. He understands. How stupid he was to turn this down the first time.

He cups your pussy, feeling the warm wetness of it against his palm. “You want my cock, little omega?” He growls, his cock twitching in anticipation. “You want me to stuff this little pussy full?”

You whine, arching your back to push your ass into his hand. “Please, alpha!”

You yelp as he brings his hand down on your ass. He watches it jiggle as he fists his cock, squeezing around the base to stop himself from cumming. He hasn’t even gotten inside of you yet and he’s already twitching.

Like a needy little pup.

He steps forward, dragging his head through your folds. You whine, trying to push back on him. He watches, his head catching on your entrance. It’s hypnotic, watching you so desperately try and take what you need.

He’s made you wait long enough. He’s made himself wait long enough.

“Alpha!” You whine indignantly, trying to urge him to hurry up and fuck you.

The power goes straight to his head.

He’s not that cruel, though.

Another whine leaves your lips as he finally relents, pushing his hips forward as he guides his cock into your heat. He nearly cums himself as he finally sinks into your waiting pussy, your walls immediately clamping around him. You’re so tight and warm, fluttering around him to try and drag him deeper.

Who has the power now?

“Shit.” He hisses, resting a hand against your ass as he frantically squeezes the base of his cock.

The thought has his alpha rearing up in protest.

You try and push back against him, try to force his cock in deeper but he stops you, pushing you forward instead. The top half of your body pushes into the mattress, arching your back up higher. He doesn’t even think to check as his hands close around your hips, gripping tight enough to bruise as he slowly presses his cock further into your dripping pussy.

Slick seeps out around him as he forces himself down deeper, spreading you open around his meaty cock. It’s like your body is welcoming him in, squeezing and pulsing as if it’s trying to pull him in deeper. He’s never felt anything like it, and he doesn’t think he’ll ever feel the same again.

There’s no resistance as he pushes in to the hilt, hips pressed up against your ass. Your moans are muffled, back arching as you push back against him almost like you’re trying to take him even deeper. He’s giving you everything he’s got, and yet it doesn’t seem to be enough.

It’s not.

He knows what you need, but he wants to savor this as long as possible before he loses himself. He wants to remember this. He’s not sure he’ll ever get the chance to do this again.

He wants to do this again.

Your body flutters around him as a shudder runs down your spine. He watches the way you twitch, feet brushing his thighs as you try and squeeze your legs together. You have to be dying with anticipation, waiting for him to make his move, waiting for him to give you what you need.

His hands tighten around your hips, the skin indenting as he slowly draws his hips back. Your body pulses around him, trying to pull him back in. He watches his cock, shiny with your slick, draw back out of your body before he presses back in, being sucked down deep into you. He repeats the motion, groaning at the feeling of your body doing what it’s supposed to do. It’s desperate for his cock, for his knot, and it’s trying to milk that from him.

He won’t give in so easily, no matter how badly he wants to do it.

He drags a hand down your back as he speeds up his thrusts, the wet squelch of your pussy loud in the room, nearly as loud as your needy moans. Slick dribbles down his thighs, coating his skin in your juices. It’s obscene, but it’s delicious.

His hand drops to your pussy, gathering some of the slick forced out of your body by his cock on his fingers. He brings them to his mouth, dragging his tongue across his digits to taste you again. Sweet, musky, just a hint of his own taste on his tongue.

Delectable. It makes him want to eat you alive.

“Fucking beautiful pussy.” He groans, thrusting back into you until his hips meet your ass. “All wet and warm just for me.”

“Just for you, alpha.” You say, your voice muffled by the mattress.

A low growl rumbles in his chest, his thrusts speeding up even more, becoming almost brutal as he fucks you. His status falling from your lips in such a vulnerable position has his head reeling, his alpha scratching at its cage to finally be released, to finally get a chance to devour you in all the ways he wants to.

He forces it back, just for a moment longer. He wants to savor this. He wants to make this last as long as he possibly can.

Your body is limp under him, held up only by his hands. You can’t do anything but lay there and take his cock like a good omega. It has his cock throbbing inside of you, pulsing in time with your pussy. You’re going to cum soon. He can tell by the frantic squeezing of your walls around him and the whine pitched in your moans. You’re close, and he’s going to carry you over that edge.

“Alpha!” You whine as he angles his thrusts, his cock pushing against that spot inside of you with every downward movement of his hips.

“Cum for me.” He grunts, pulling your hips back against his with every thrust. “Come on, give it to me.”

Your body shudders, hands sinking into the sheets as you come alive. It’s almost as if he commanded it, your pussy squeezing so tight around him he nearly sees stars. It takes everything in him not to spill into you as you cum, warm slick gushing out around his cock, dribbling down your thighs and the side of the bed.

He doesn’t slow his thrusts, the tugging on his cock from your spasming pussy nearly enough to send him over the edge. He wants this to last as long as he can make it.

Your body sags against his, exhausted from the heat ravaging your body and your orgasm. He pulls out of you, ignoring your whine of protest as he pushes you forward onto the bed. The mattress dips under his weight as he climbs up beside you, maneuvering your body so you’re on your back in the middle of the bed.

You stare up at him with hazy eyes, your chest heaving as you pant. From exertion or your heat, he’s not sure. Perhaps both.

He pushes your legs up with his knees, draping them over his thighs as he leans over you. He stares down at your face, sweaty and blissed out. Your pupils are blown, lips kiss bruised and swollen. His thumb drags through your folds before he lifts it to your face, smearing slick across your lips. Your tongue darts out, licking at his thumb as he presses it against your mouth.

Your lips part, allowing his thumb to press into your mouth. Your tongue is warm as it drags over his skin, cleaning your slick from his thumb. He groans at the sight, his fingers sinking into the sheet next to your head.

Your teeth scrape his skin as he pulls his thumb free, sliding it down your chin to your throat. You tilt your head back, exposing the delicate area to him. He longs to sink his teeth into your skin, taste your blood pooling in his mouth. Drool gathers on his tongue, threatening to slip through his lips as he stares at the sweat-slick skin.

His hand closes around your throat, keeping your head tilted back as he sits up. Your throat bobs under his hand as you swallow, fingers digging into the sides of your neck as he holds you there. His cock twitches in excitement, so hard it’s almost painful as he stares at you, laid out before him, completely at his mercy. It’s like an erotic painting, the alpha in control, the omega in her place beneath him.

He could cum just like this, paint his seed all over your stomach.

That would be a waste.

Instead he shifts his hips, lining up his cock again before thrusting into you. Your body opens itself to him once more, inviting him right in. He sinks in to the hilt, hips pressed flush against yours as he leans over you. Your pulse thrums against his fingers, beating fast almost in desperation for what your body needs.

He tilts your head back up as he starts to move his hips, grinding in and out of you slowly. You flutter around him again, legs twitching where they lay draped over his. It’s intense, it’s intimate, it’s a position he never would have allowed himself in had he been in his right mind.

He’s not in his right mind.

He’s so far from his right mind he’s lost sight of himself, of his fear, of his worry. The weightlessness of his brain is euphoric, the last strands of himself left holding onto the cage of his alpha.

He stares down at your face, your gaze holding his. Your eyelids flutter, lips parting as you whine. The sounds vibrates against his hand, your head pushing against his fingers where he holds you still.

“Look at me.” He whispers, still grinding his hips into you. “Look at me.”

You do, eyes wide as you stare up at him. He wonders how much of you is left in there, if you’ve lost yourself completely yet. You’re unable to voice much more than mutterings of his status and pleads for what you need. He wonders just how much of you remains in such a base form of your instincts. Are you even aware of what’s happening?

He squeezes his hand around your throat lightly, constricting just slightly. Your eyes widen, a flash of panic washing through them before it fades as he releases you.

Oh yes, you’re still in there.

He picks up the pace, snapping his hips against yours. Your pussy continues to flutter and pulse around him, pulling him in and sucking him deeper. Your lips are parted, quiet moans leaving your lips, vibrating against his hand. Liquid seeps out of your mouth, sliding across your cheek before hitting his thumb where it rests by your ear.

You’re drooling.

How cute.

A shudder runs through his body as you squeeze around his cock, his balls twitching as he fights an orgasm back desperately. He’s not ready for that yet. Neither are you, he decides. His desire to stretch this out as long as he possibly can winning out against his body’s need for relief.

He releases your throat, his hands sliding up the bed as he lays himself down on top of you, pinning you to the mattress. Your body is hot and slick as it meets his chest, his sweat mingling with yours. It’s hot in the room already, the air damp with sweat and the scent of sex.

He almost misses the cold air in the barracks.

If he had more of a brain, he’d tell them to turn the heat down. Let them freeze if it means things are more comfortable for the two of you.

Your arms wrap around his back, dragging him from his thoughts. You’re moaning in his ear, body arching against his. It’s a beautiful dance, one so in-tune with nature. Humans in their most natural forms, feeding their base instincts.

He wishes he could record this in his mind, keep this memory alive for the rest of time.

“Fucking hell…” He breathes, grunting as you squeeze around him again. You’re close. He can tell by the way your pussy flutters around him.

So much he’s learning about your body.

How little he really knew.

He presses his face against your throat, breathing in your scent. It floods his nose, sinking straight into his brain.

Omega, omega, omega.

His alpha chants it like a mantra over and over. There’s an omega under him. He’s balls deep in an omega right now. He’s got an omega in heat pinned beneath his body, completely at his mercy.

A shiver of power runs down his spine.

He needs you to cum again. He needs to feel you try and milk his cock while he withholds what you need once again.

“Cum for me.” He growls in your ear, your body shuddering against him. His teeth sink into the lobe, not hard enough to draw blood, but enough to pull a yelp from your lips. “Cum for me again.”

It’s like he has complete control of your body as you spasm around him, letting out a shrill whine as your nails bite into the skin of his back. He doesn’t care, the pain throbbing at the base of his cock. It’s almost too much. He almost can’t hold it as you flutter around him, trying to milk his cock again. You’re early searching out what you need, but he won’t give it to you.

Not yet.

He lays there for a moment, squishing you into the mattress but you don’t seem to care. You’re still wrapped around him, nails still sunk into his skin. Your pussy continues to flutter around him, oversensitive and desperate, but still eager. Your bodies are both slick with sweat and fluid, and he can feel the wet spot forming on the sheets from where your slick has been forced out by his cock.

Thank goodness for mattress protectors.

He understands their necessity now.

“Please, alpha,” you beg weakly in his ear, finally relinquishing your hold on him to slide your hands down his back.

“Tell me what you want.” He mumbles in your ear.

“Your knot,” You whine, arching up into him. “Please give me your knot.”

So polite, even lost in the daze of your heat.

“Bloody fucking hell.” He groans as your begging goes straight into his brain. He’s held off long enough. He’s tortured you by withholding this for long enough.

He pushes himself up on shaky arms, the exertion starting to wear on him just as much. He can only imagine how you feel. For a moment he considers doing it right here, like this, but it’s not right. No, he wants to see you again.

“Present for me.” he commands, watching in awe as your body immediately moves.

You roll yourself over, popping his cock out of your pussy as you move. It hangs there, red and soaked with cum and slick. You push yourself over onto your knees, front half pressed into the mattress as your hips lift up, presenting yourself to him.

A glob of slick pushes out of your pussy, drooling out onto the mattress below you. He watches it fall, watching where it starts to seep into the fabric.

Bloody fucking hell.

He can’t hold back any longer. He might cum just sitting here if he’s not careful.

Simon pushes himself up onto his knees, his hand fisting the base of his cock. His free hand slides over the globe of your ass, your skin hot to the touch. He leans forward, unable to help himself as he sinks his teeth into the soft skin. You let out a yelp, hips jerking against his mouth. His hands hold your hips still, his teeth biting down until he feels the skin give. A thin trail of blood seeps onto his tongue as he laves it over the mark he’s left. Your legs are shaking, a quiet sob leaving your lips.

How beautiful.

He straightens himself back up, staring at the mark on your ass before he’s shuffling himself forward to your body.

Your pussy invites him in again, still pulsing around him as he sinks into you. There’s no resistance, no fight as he sinks in to the hilt at once. You’d let him do anything to you in this state, and that thought has his head reeling.

He composes himself, hands squeezing around your hips before he starts to move, unable to hold himself back as he snaps his hips into your ass. A muffled whine leaves your lips, muted against the mattress as you lay there, bent in half for him. His hand slides down your spine to your head, fingers slipping into the braid Johnny had done for you this morning.

Was it this morning? An entire day could have passed already and he wouldn’t know.

He’s far too lost in the way your pussy flutters around him, trying to coax his knot from its recesses. He can feel it, the pulsing at the base of his cock, the pressure starting to mount. He won’t be able to stop it this time. You’ve decided it’s time and so has his cock. He’s lost control, and that makes his alpha nearly scream.

His hand grips your hair, tugging you up onto your hands. He holds you there, suspended by his hand, held up only by him as he fucks you hard. His own desperation is clouding his mind, his alpha pushing against the cage. He won’t be able to hold on much longer. There will be no stopping his alpha once he’s free.

His hips slam against your ass, the pressure at the base of his cock intensifying. He stares down at it, at the skin starting to stretch and inflate. He has to pull back, making his thrusts shallow as his knot forms. You whine at the change, pushing your hips back against his cock. No doubt you can feel it, the edge of his knot pressing against your pussy with every thrust.

How is that going to fit in there? He muses.

Where there’s a will, there’s a way, he supposes.

He watches his knot as he continues to fuck you, watching it catch on the rim of your pussy with every thrust forward. You’re a moaning mess, half begging incoherently, half whining in need. He’s so close to giving you what you need. You’re so close to relief. It’s just up to him to give it to you.

Another shudder runs down his spine.

His hand slips from your hair to the back of your neck, gripping you tightly there. He stares at it, the way his hand looks around the back of your neck. Is that what it looked like when he scruffed you? What if he did that now? How brainless could he make you with the simple shift of his fingers?

Your body shudders, your whines slurring together, almost as if you’re drunk. Perhaps you are, your body wearing down after being denied for so long.

“You want it?” He grunts, pushing his knot against your pussy.

You whine in answer, pushing back against him, lifting up off your knees to try and push his knot into you.

He releases the back of your neck, his hands falling to your hips. “Fucking take it.” he grunts, pushing his hips against you as hard as he can on his next thrust.

Your body shudders as his knot starts to push into you, spreading you open even wider. He watches in amazement as your pussy stretches to accommodate him, your walls sucking him in even more. His hips continue to move, thrusting shallowly as his knot is pushed completely into you.

It’s unlike anything he’s ever felt before.

You’re so tight around him, gripping him like a vice. He can’t pull back, locked inside of your hot pussy by his knot. He can’t stop his hips as they try to pull back, tugging on the knot. It’s almost painful, but it’s making his head spin. He’s so close to cumming, so close to finally getting his own relief.

Your body is shuddering, whines leaving your lips with every tug of his hips. He keeps moving, keeps chasing his own high. He’s so very close, the way your pussy is nearly suffocating him enough to send him reeling over the edge.

He sees stars as he cums, his vision going white as he spills into you. He pushes his hips against your ass as hard as he can, his body folding over yours. His cock is throbbing, pulsing in time with your pussy as you milk him for every drop he gives you. You’ve cum again, he can tell by the way you pulse around him.

Your body is shuddering and shaking, getting heavier in his arms. There’s a puddle under your bodies from sweat, slick, and drool.

Drool begins to form in his own mouth as you let out a keening whine, tilting your head to the side, bearing the right side of your neck to him.

“Do it.” You whisper, arms trembling where they attempt to hold you up.

He stares at your neck, at that spot between your shoulder and your neck. It’s calling out to him, singing a siren song to draw him in to his doom. He stares at your sweat-slick skin, indented by his fingers still wrapped around the back of your neck.

It would be so easy.

He’s already sunk his teeth into you twice. What’s one more time?

You let out a whimper, going limp in his arms. He continues to stare at that spot, and he can almost see the pulsing of your desperation, your need, your want in it. How easy it would be, how simple it really is. It’s just a bite and you’re tied together for the rest of your lives. Is it really you in there? Are you asking him this by your own volition, or is it your heat-clouded mind asking something you don’t want.

Or is it something you want being driven forward by your heat?

Could you want it? Would you have asked if you didn’t? What if he makes a mistake?

His knot throbs inside you, his cock finally at ease after getting what he needed. His alpha rears in his head, pushing through the cage of his mind as his vision starts to swim. He still stares at your neck, drool sliding down his chin.

Do it, his alpha goads him. It’s so simple. Just a little bite.

He stares at that spot, the fingers on the back of your neck tightening their grip.

It would be so easy.

His head is spinning, his vision going dark around the edges.

It really is so easy

NEXT ->

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[carnalcrows]

STAY QUIET

pairing: rockstar! male OC x male reader [faceclaim]

synopsis: The scandal should’ve ended with damage control. But when the video keeps resurfacing—and the trail leads back to a grudge older than Jiho’s debut—you realize this was never about bad PR. It was personal. Now you're spiraling, Jiho’s not letting go, and someone’s about to find out what happens when a scandal turns into strategy.

content warnings: 18+, idol/manager dynamic, bottom male reader(he’s tired, ok), jiho is younger and terrifyingly in control, mild yandere energy, fingering, p in a (reader receiving), possessive behavior in soft lighting, revenge plot, workplace betrayal, low-key emotional blackmail, they catch the guy but at what cost. also: sheets were changed after, i'm not a monster.

word count: 2.5k [pt 1 here]

You don’t tell anyone he stayed.

No one asks.

When you return to work the next morning, your pass still works, but you notice two things before you’ve even cleared the lobby.

Your name is no longer on the artist schedule.

The lady at the front desk doesn’t look you in the eye.

The building smells like cheap cologne and too much coffee. Somewhere upstairs, Jiho is probably already in makeup. You’re not technically supposed to be there, not on paper, but no one told you not to show up, just like no one said the scandal was real. Just like no one ever tells you anything directly.

You keep your head down and head for the second floor, hoping the PR director’s still out at the brand meeting.

She’s not.

She’s waiting in the boardroom with two people you don’t recognise and a company-issued iPad pulled up to the paused frame of the video.

You blink once. Twice.

“Have a seat,” she says. Not unkind. But definitely not kind.

You sit.

The man beside her—suit, subtle luxury watch, no name tag—leans forward like he’s about to explain a security breach, not your job’s slow death.

“We’ve reviewed the clip. It’s clear there was physical contact that could be interpreted as inappropriate.”

You exhale slowly through your nose. “It was a collar.”

He nods like that’s tragic.

“We’re not here to accuse you. But the clip didn’t come from an audience member or a fan. It was internal. Shot from the floor’s restricted side angle. Only ten or so staffers have access.”

You freeze.

“You’re saying it was leaked on purpose?”

He doesn’t answer. That’s not his job.

The PR lead clicks her nails against the screen. “What we need from you right now is stability. Don’t escalate. Don’t comment. Don’t reach out to Jiho directly, even privately.”

“Why?” you ask, despite knowing better.

She tilts her head. “Because this isn’t about what happened anymore. It’s about what people think happened. And what they want to believe next.”

You leave the meeting with your jaw locked and your hands shaking.

The elevator’s slow. The hallway feels tighter than usual. Your phone buzzes once.

It’s Jiho.

Where are you?

You type out: Don’t. Not right now.

Then delete it. Then type it again. Then delete that too.

The elevator stops on the rehearsal floor. The doors open.

Jiho’s standing there.

He’s alone.

Hood up. Cap low. A water bottle dangling from his fingers like he forgot to let go.

You step back into the corner of the elevator without meaning to.

He doesn’t get in.

Just tilts his head. “Come with me.”

You should say no.

You don’t.

You’re not sure if it’s gravity or muscle memory. All you know is that by the time you’re halfway down the hallway, trailing a few steps behind him like it’s still your job, your pulse is up and your mouth is dry.

You don’t ask where he’s taking you.

Maybe it’s pride. Maybe it’s instinct. Maybe it’s just easier to let him lead than to admit you’ve lost control of the narrative—of your job, of this… whatever this is. You just follow Jiho through the corridor like you’re still the one managing him. Like you’re not the scandal the company’s hoping will quietly phase out.

He doesn’t speak until the elevator doors close behind you.

Then: “They told you to stay away from me?”

You don’t answer.

He tilts his head, smiling like it’s funny. “So why are you here?”

You give him a look. “You asked.”

“That was a test.”

You scoff. “Of course it was.”

The elevator dings on the basement level. Not parking, not storage. The old staff lounge—the one the company stopped using after a remodel. It’s empty now, lights dim, couch still there with a rip in the armrest and one of Taeyang’s old hoodies folded like someone meant to come back for it.

Jiho walks in like he owns the place.

He sits. Doesn’t gesture for you to do the same. Just watches as you hover in the doorway like you’re waiting for a better option.

“What is this, Jiho?”

He shrugs. “Time alone.”

You press your fingers to your brow, exhausted. “You really don’t care, do you? About the fact that this could ruin your reputation, your future—”

“You.”

The word cuts through your sentence like a knife.

You stare.

He leans forward, elbows on knees, fingers laced. “It’s not about me. It’s not even about the company anymore. They’re not scared because I touched your collar. They’re scared because they think I might do it again.”

You’re quiet.

He continues. “They saw something they weren’t supposed to see. So did everyone else. That’s the problem. That I looked at you like that. That you looked back.”

“I didn’t—”

“You did.”

You open your mouth. Close it.

He stands slowly. Walks over until he’s just in front of you, blocking the doorway. Not touching. But close enough that your brain short-circuits the idea of leaving.

“I’m not going to make you do anything,” he says, voice low. “I don’t need to.”

You flinch. “What does that mean?”

Jiho looks at you like it’s obvious.

“It means I already have you.”

You don’t remember when you started shaking. Only that you’re still shaking twenty minutes later, in the stairwell, back against cold concrete, your phone buzzing in your pocket.

You answer on the third ring.

It’s Doyun.

“Hey,” he says casually. “You ghosting me or something?”

You glance at the wall across from you. Your brain’s still spinning. “I’ve been busy.”

“Yeah, I figured. PR’s been sprinting across the building since 9 a.m. I think someone cried.”

You rub your eyes. “Did they say anything?”

“Not officially. But you know how this place works. The stylists know everything before management does.”

You wait

Doyun exhales. “They think it came from inside.”

You go still.

“The clip,” he clarifies. “Not a fan. Not a leak through press. It was shot from the side—restricted angle. One of the old camera hallways that’s staff-only now.”

Your mouth goes dry.

“Was it… recent?” you ask, slowly.

“No clue. But it was posted through a dummy account with a weird handle. Someone’s been watching for a while, maybe.”

The hallway feels colder now. Too still.

Doyun hesitates. “You think Jiho knew?”

The question hangs in the space between you. You don’t know how to answer it. You don’t even know if you want to.

“No,” you say. “Probably not.”

Doyun doesn’t push. “Yeah. Probably not.”

But he doesn’t sound convinced.

And you aren’t either.

You’re called in on a Thursday.

No warning. Just a message from the assistant coordinator that says "9:45 a.m., 3rd floor. Bring your badge." You don’t ask what it’s about. You already know.

The room’s smaller this time. No full boardroom. Just the head of artist management, a legal rep, and your new handler—some fresh-faced guy from planning who speaks in phrasing like “potential optics challenges” and “staff-artist ambiguity threshold.”

They don’t ask you what happened.

They ask what you’re willing to say on record.

You sit there, palms flat against your jeans, wondering how the hell this became your life.

You don’t name Jiho.

You don’t need to.

They tell you that "a quiet, internal phase-out" might be the best path forward. You ask what that means. They say you'll still get paid. You ask how long. They don’t answer.

Then they tell you a second clip has been posted.

It’s shorter than the first. Just three seconds. From a different angle—shakier, a little out of focus.

But it’s still you.

Still Jiho.

He’s brushing past you in a hallway, hand grazing your back. It could be nothing. It is nothing. But the caption under it says:

“so they’re still seeing each other huh 💅🏻”

It has thirty thousand likes in under an hour.

You ask if they’ve traced it.

They say no.

You ask if Jiho’s seen it.

They don’t answer that either.

You leave the office with your head pounding.

You don’t go home. You don’t go to the studio. You end up at a small café four blocks away, the kind of place where no one looks at you twice if you stay too long and don’t order a second drink. You sit in the back corner with your phone face down and your thoughts crawling like ants in your skull.

You don’t know how long you’re there before someone sits across from you.

You don’t have to look up to know who it is.

“I was followed,” Jiho says quietly.

You look up then. He’s not wearing a mask. No hat. Just a hoodie and glasses and that blank expression that always looks like he’s either thinking too much or nothing at all.

“By who?”

“I don’t know.”

He sips from a plastic cup that you didn’t see him buy.

“They weren’t close. Just enough for a blurry shot. They didn’t care what I did. They just wanted to see where I went.”

You don’t speak.

Jiho leans in, elbows on the table.

“I went to see you.”

You close your eyes.

“You knew that would happen.”

“I hoped it would.”

“You—” your voice is too sharp, too loud. You swallow. Start again. “You’re being followed. And you still came here?”

He nods. “Now they know where to look.”

Your chest tightens.

“Jiho,” you whisper, “what are you doing?”

He’s quiet for a long time.

Then: “I’m making it impossible for them to erase you.”

---

You’re half-asleep when Doyun calls.

It’s not unusual—he’s the kind of person who only remembers you exist when the world’s ending. But this time, his voice isn’t teasing. It’s quiet. Measured.

“I know who leaked the clip,” he says.

You sit up immediately.

There’s silence on the line. Then: “His name’s Jisoo. Does that ring a bell?”

You close your eyes. “Yeah.”

Trainee. Cut just before debut. Replaced by Jiho.

You’d heard whispers, back when you joined—something about missed rehearsals, a bad attitude, internal tension. No one ever said it out loud, but everyone knew: Jiho took his spot.

Doyun exhales. “Apparently he still had access to the system. He’s been reposting the video from a buried staff login. PR’s keeping it quiet while they figure out how far it goes.”

You rub your eyes. “Why are you telling me?”

“Because I think he’s not done. And because I saw Jiho earlier. He’s not doing great.”

You freeze. “What does that mean?”

“I mean,” Doyun says carefully, “he looked like someone who’s about to make a problem permanent.”

You hang up without saying goodbye.

You find Jiho in the old green room. The one they stopped using after the remodel. He’s sitting on the floor, hoodie up, guitar untouched beside him. He doesn’t look surprised when you walk in.

“They know,” you say. He doesn’t look up. “Yeah.”

You close the door behind you. “You could’ve told me.”

“I didn’t want you involved.”

“You got me fired,” you snap. “No,” he says. “They tried. I stopped them.” 

That shuts you up.

You sink into the chair across from him. The air between you is still sharp, brittle.

“Why did he do it?” Jiho finally looks at you. “Because I got his spot.”

“That was years ago.” He shrugs. “Some people hold grudges better than they hold choreography.”

You almost laugh. Almost.

Then: “We need proof.” Jiho blinks. “We already have it.”

“Yeah,” you say, “but we’re not the ones holding the company leash.”

The plan is messy.

You dig through the backend system and find the last IP log-in. Then you run a bait file through it—an early version of a sponsorship contract with a fake date and Jiho’s name highlighted like something’s off. Then you sit back and wait.

It doesn’t take long.

Thirty-seven minutes later, the file’s been opened. Duplicated. Shared to a Discord server you didn’t even know existed.

You bring it straight to legal.

They call you back the next day.

“It’s done,” they say. “We’ve locked him out. He won’t be bothering anyone again.”

You expect that to feel better.

It doesn’t.

You don’t even knock. He opens the door like he was already standing behind it.

Jiho’s not surprised. Not smiling, either. Just calm, quiet, eyes flicking over your face like he already knows why you’re here.

You walk in.

He closes the door behind you—slowly. No words. No questions. Just lets the silence stretch until it turns into something else.

Then: “Take your shoes off.”

You do.

You’re not even halfway through the hallway before he’s got a hand on your jaw, turning your face to his, breath warm across your lips.

“I’m not going to ask what this is, Hyung,” Jiho says, voice low. “I already know.”

And you should respond. You should say something—something level, something safe—but the way he looks at you strips that instinct clean. So you just nod.

That’s all he needs.

He has you stripped down before your head even hits the pillow. Every movement is intentional. Every touch calculated.

He kisses like it’s not optional. Like it’s permission and punishment all at once. Your pulse spikes the second his hand slips beneath your thigh, pulling you open, making space for him.

“Hold still,” Jiho says, just above your ear.

You try. You fail.

He moves slowly—not for your comfort, but for his own satisfaction. Like he wants to feel every inch of your body adjust around his cock. Like stretching you out means something more than just prep—it means possession.

The first thrust is too much. The second is worse. The third has you gasping, your fingers twisting in the sheets, legs trembling under the pressure of his pace.

Jiho doesn’t slow down.

He stays close—pressed to your chest, hips moving in a steady rhythm that makes it hard to think, let alone speak. His breath is hot against your throat. His grip unshakable.

“You feel that, Hyung?” he whispers. “That’s me.”

You groan—half pleasure, half disbelief.

He presses deeper. His body locks into yours like muscle memory, like a song he’s played a hundred times but only now gets to hear out loud.

You’re already close—your spine bowing, your mouth slack, your vision buzzing at the edges—and when he pulls your leg up over his hip, the angle makes everything shatter.

You’re gone.

You come like your body’s been waiting for it all week—hips stuttering, breath caught, eyes shut tight—and Jiho doesn’t stop. He keeps fucking you through it, pace tight and focused, until he’s cursing into your neck and spilling inside you with one final thrust that leaves your whole body pulsing.

He doesn’t pull out right away.

Just stays there.

Breathing hard.

Chest rising against yours.

Then he lifts his head. Looks down at you. Quiet. Sweaty. Still a little smug.

“You’re mine,” he says again, voice hoarse.

And this time, you don’t even try to deny it.

Later, you lie there tangled together, skin damp, hair in your eyes, breath slowly evening out.

Jiho’s arm is thrown across your waist, lazy but possessive.

“You think they’ll still try to split us?” you ask.

He exhales against your collar. “They can try.”

You close your eyes.

For the first time since it all started, you believe him.

© carnalcrows on tumblr. Please do not steal my works as I spend time, and I take genuine effort to do them.

Taglist: @axetivev @yyuinaa @zaynesyumei @sageofspades @onyxmango @puccigucii @the-ultimate-librarian @sooobiinn @sooniebby @i2innie @tintenka1@timaas-blog @darlinqvi @horrorsbeyondreality @rednugget @lysanderplume @leron1108 @kauo-writez @the0ishere @calgurl @kissenturine @bleedingbl0ssom @gayaristocrat @hyppernovva [comment to be added, or send an ask]

[oscpstri]

love to hate | verstappen

verstappen x fem albon!reader, 6.9k

max verstappen was a menace to formula 1 and an even bigger menace when it came to you. he didn't like you, you didn't like him either. he glares at you, you glare back. he kisses you, you kiss back.

INCLUDES: use of y/n, rivals to lovers, many crashes, slow burn gone wrong (its fast), set in 2025 but not accurate timeline, profanity, max and george beef, so much tension that even i'm scared, lotta f1 jargon, max and george beef, reader is george's damage control, reader is also a russell apologist (she gets schooled obv), THIS IS A MAX FIC I SWEAR, YOU GET MORE OF JUST HIM BY THE END BELIEVE ME PLEASE

NOTE: inspired by NA NA NA minus the toxic relationship aspect of it. max is soooo rivals to lovers man im gonna puke

( moments series | more MV1 )

Being Alex Albon's sister was probably the easiest thing in the world. No PR nightmare, no huge scandals, no overall gossip— Alex was a saint. Being George Russell's non-biological sister, on the other hand, was a major headache. Especially when your personal goliath was a fiery Red Bull driver who always had it out for the Brit.

Max Verstappen was a force to be reckoned with, but you loved a challenge. Every scratch, every bump, every hit that Max and George have on track somehow always leads to you.

Alex thought bringing you with him everywhere would mean him protecting you. So when did it switch to you defending George? You went from being Alex Albon's sister to George Russell's PR manager (unofficially)— a permanent figure in the paddock who always manages to get tangled up in Max and George's headlines. Some even wonder if its George beefing with Max or you.

You hate Max. He's arrogant, unapologetic, and always has something to say. Max hates you. You're loud, opinionated, and always ready to catch him on his bullshit whenever he tiffs it out with George on track.

You both had been going at each other ever since you stepped foot into your first race weekend. And what went from rants to Alex about the sheer stupidity of Max Verstappen was now glaring at each other from across the room, targeted subtweets after a race, and insults thrown via other drivers. It had even come to a point where you would deliberately walk past his motorhome when he had a bad race just to shove it in his face. Of course, he did the same back to you.

Had it all gotten out of hand? Maybe. Did anyone care? No. Did everyone else on the grid enjoy the free entertainment? Absolutely. Was Alex constantly developing a headache? Chronic.

Sure, maybe this wasn't your fight to fight, but you were defensive over the people you loved and that included unofficial brother figures.

Which is exactly why Alex was stood in front of you, Carlos holding you back. You're sure your face was probably red, fists clenched by your sides, jaw tense, and eyes looking everywhere but towards your brother.

"Calm down," Alex urges, holding you by the shoulders. "You're more worked up than George."

Your head snaps to look at Alex, eyes carrying a fire that was far too large to be burned out. "Calm down? Golden boy was all up in his face!"

During the race, Max and George were side by side. A miscalculation in distance by Turn 5 left the Red Bull with a damaged sidepod and the Mercedes a broken rear wing. This all could have glazed over if it weren't for Max beefing it out with George in parc fermé.

Alex was telling the truth, you were more worked up over this than George was. Hell, George was probably in the Mercedes motorhome continuing on like nothing happened. Yet here you were, about to throw hands over something that happened all the time.

"You're too close to George to be able to look at this objectively," Alex points out, running a hand through his hair. You could only look at him like he was a crazy person. Objectively?

"I agree, Y/N," Carlos perks up from behind you, letting go of your wrists.

You huff at this, annoyed that both drivers were on a different page than you were. "Whatever. I'm going."

Alex and Carlos turn to each other. The older quirked an eyebrow, indirectly asking if you were okay. Your brother merely sighed loudly, nodding once in reply. It's not like you would run off, it wasn't like you to run from what you were scared of. Usually when this happened, you would go to George to talk to him about it. It would only infuriate you more to hear from a first person perspective, but it's a bonding experience.

As you make your way towards the Mercedes motorhome, you spot a hoard of people in navy blue walking towards your direction. You wouldn't have thought much of it, until you notice who was in the middle of their flock.

You roll your eyes at the sight, speeding up the pace of your walk to refrain from a blood-bath erupting in the middle of the motorhomes. But of course, the devil talked— "Albon!"

You stop dead in your tracks, huffing once before slowly turning around. There, in all his glory, was the one driver you would pay to see not stand on the podium for once. The usual glint was in his eyes, blonde hair a mess. One hand was holding his helmet and the other was holding the water bottle whose straw was still in his mouth. He smirked at your rough appearance, quickly catching the way your nostrils flared and the fists you held by your sides.

"Gonna visit George?" He asks. No reply from you. This only stirs him even more.

"Nonverbal today? Interesting," he clicks his tongue, a grin appearing on his face. "See you next week then, Albon. Hope you find the courage to talk by then. Kinda missed it."

He turns on his heel, continuing his trek towards god knows where.

"What an ass," you mutter under your breath, walking away from the scene of the crime and heading into the Mercedes motorhome.

"What an ass!"

You were stood up from your seat, headphones still in as everyone around you gasps and groans at the screens. Max and George had just crashed into each other and it wasn't a cute scene. Both leading cars were now in the wall and neither drivers were happy.

George was ahead when it happened, Max right behind him. The Brit had gained a place while the Dutch was sent to pit— an effective undercut on Red Bull's part. What wasn't effective was the crazy lunge Max did when they both rounded turn 1. It was a ballsy move but there was no intention of making that corner. Next thing they know, they're both nose first into the wall.

The two drivers were furious and everyone could tell. They didn't even look at each other as they got out from their cars. Hell, they even went the opposite directions in heading back to the pit lane.

You were even more furious. You knew Max was stupid but to try and pull a move like that? He knew he couldn't make it.

So here you were, barging into navy blue and energy drinks territory with a crazed look on your face. You don't know if people didn't notice you or they did but just didn't care. All you know is that now you were in a room with a red-faced Dutch who had a ticking time bomb strapped to his body.

"You bitch! You knew you couldn't make that corner!" You stop in front of him. Max was sitting on the makeshift bed in his driver room, a towel around his neck. His hair was disheveled, suit pulled down revealing the navy blue fireproofs he wore underneath. His eyes carried a tidal wave in them— dark blue, cold, looming over like you would drown once it snapped and came down.

He placed his water bottle down, eyes narrowing ever-so-slightly before standing up. He didn't tower over you, god bless the Albon genes, but he was tall enough that you had to look up. And for some reason, you felt small.

"Did you even see what happened?" His voice mirrored his gaze— cold, quick, deep. "Or are you too high up the Russell praise train to not notice that he fucked up first."

The fire in you burned brighter, the fire in your eyes matching the ice in his. "Don't you dare put this on him. You were the stupid one."

Max could only scoff at this, a smirk on his face. "Y/N, I was stupid. But he was reckless."

He could tell from the look on your face that you wouldn't back down— wouldn't even blink at the raging possibility that maybe George was at fault too. So he grabbed you by the wrist and dragged you outside to where the screens were. You were too shocked at his quick movements to realize the contact, eyes growing wide when you notice the Red Bull mechanics who definitely saw you now.

"Watch." Max's voice brings you back to reality, your eyes going to the screen in front of you that showed the replay of what had happened before their crash. You scoff at this, arms crossing over your chest.

"Are you about to mansplain Formula 1 to me, Verstappen?" You look over at him with a smug expression on your face, eyebrow quirked in question. His face remains stoic, eyes still on the screen.

"You know this stuff as well as I do. You tell me."

You look back at the footage, shaking your head in disbelief. You were about to yawn from what you thought you had already seen, until the camera pans to another angle that shows the crash up close.

What you thought was Max being idiotic was actually Max merely responding to what George had left on the table. The Mercedes driver defends for the position like crazy, so much so that he brakes late into turn 1— illegal and egoistic. Max simply takes the move and lunges from where he is at. It was a race of egos— no one lifted.

You could only blink at the screen as it continues to replay the moment like a ghost who's mission is to torment your life. What was even worse was that you were wrong and Max Verstappen was right beside you with a stupid smirk on his face that you wish had left with the car he broke.

"Moving under braking, Y/N. Real smooth that one," he shakes his head as he chuckles sarcastically, tilting his head to look at you. "Cat got your tongue?"

You turn to look at him, sending him a hard glare before stomping your way out of there. Admitting to Max that he was right was one thing. In front of his own team? Even worse.

"That's even worse!"

You were sitting in the McLaren hospitality, wanting nothing to do with any team that would remind you of the embarrassing encounter you had with Max last week. Until of course, you decided to tell Lando about what happened. Safe to say you wouldn't be back at the papaya home anytime soon either.

While Alex was your real older brother and you regarded George as one as well, Lando was more of your annoying twin brother who you couldn't get rid of no matter how hard you tried. Because the both of you were the same age, you would always find yourself talking to him whenever the trio would get together. You had your fair share of inside jokes with the man, and this was an added one.

"God, please don't remind me," you groan, head falling to your hands. You could hear Lando's giggles echo throughout the empty driver room, his TV playing a random race replay in the background.

"Mate, George has been doing all this illegal shit," he starts. "It's about time someone bursts your bubble."

You look up at this, eyes narrowing at the curly-headed driver. "Are you saying I shouldn't defend George?"

Lando puts his hands up in mock surrender, eyebrows raised. "Hey, I didn't say that. I just meant... maybe you should start looking at this stuff from a bigger picture."

You hate to admit it, but Lando was right. Ever since the interaction with Max, you couldn't help but go to bed every night wondering if you were jumping the gun. If George isn't mad then maybe you shouldn't be pumped up as much either.

Lando left to get ready for the sprint race ahead and you followed suit. As you walk past all the bustling hospitalities, you rub shoulders with the man of your nightmares. A small smirk appears on his face again, stupid eyes lighting up with a glint. "You still on the Russell parade, mini?"

Your eyes twitch at the nickname, holding your chin up. "Why do you ask? Want me to switch to yours?"

He chuckles at this, adjusting the hat on his head. "Cute. Don't cause a fuss after the sprint, now. Wouldn't wanna prove you wrong again."

You roll your eyes at this, walking away. You promised yourself you'd lie low, stay quiet, especially after last week. And that's exactly what you did. Until shit hit the fan again.

The sky was already gloomy to begin with, dark clouds casting over the circuit despite it still being early in the afternoon. The sprint started like it usually would, engines roaring, fans shouting, engineers yelling. But by Lap 4, the rain poured like a madman.

Cars started swerving, people started retiring— it wasn't worth it to hold out this long, not when qualifying and the actual race were on the line.

The FIA being the FIA kept the race going, deeming the thunder above a sign that it was still "raceable" despite the track being halfway turned into a swimming pool. Of course, the top teams being who they were raced like pride and ego was on the line.

And that's when it happens. Red flag and the same damn Red Bull and Mercedes stuck in the gravel just like how it was last week.

It wasn't until Charles almost spun on debris when race control finally called the whole race off early. You were a thunderstorm— furious, raging, quick. Because just as soon as it had happened, you found yourself back at the garage of navy blue again.

"This was your fault," you barge into his driver's room again, eyes narrow and ablaze. The Dutchman turns to look at you, eyes the same icy cold blue that it normally was, and scoffs. "Word moves fast."

"Don't fuck with me, golden boy. This one was on you." You point a finger at him, stable, angry, confident. You were right this time, you know it.

Max puts his hands up in mock surrender, eyes carrying a certain glint you had never seen before. "Fine. Caught me. I squeezed him off the track. I admit it."

You were almost taken aback at the confession, lowering your accusatory finger. "What?"

"But," Max starts, taking a step closer towards you. "He kept his foot on the pedal. Mate thought that wet grass was the perfect time to go full Senna."

You step back, mouth slightly agape. He was right. You saw it happen. You scolded George in your head when it did— he tried to overtake Max on the outside where there was barely any grip. And on a track that was practically a puddle? He had to have known it wouldn't work.

Suddenly the air around you felt hot and you felt your knees about to give out. No way was this happening. No way were you admitting that Max Verstappen was right.

Your eyebrows were still furrowed, eyes narrowed, and jaw clenched. You leaned forward, practically inches away from his face.

"I hate you," you spat, turning on your heel.

"You only hate me 'cause I'm right. You know I'm right." You couldn't see him, but you could hear the smile on his face. Envision the way his lips were upturned into that stupid smirk you so badly wanted to slap off.

But as you walked back toward the Williams motorhome, your couldn't wipe off the burning feeling in your chest. It was rage alright, but something else was lingering— waiting to be let out. The feeling went away though as you spot the other half of the problem outside his own motorhome, talking with his Team Principal about what had happened.

You sigh in relief as you get closer, noticing that he wasn't injured.

"That was stupid, George."

"He didn't leave a space! I did what I could."

Toto sighed at this, a hand going up to rub the bridge of his nose. "Fine. But don't do this again. It cost you the race. You were in good pace."

George nods at this, earning a fatherly pat on the shoulder from the team principal. As Toto walks away, the Brit notices you standing off to the side. A soft smile appears on his face, urging you to sit next to him. "Twice in a row I haven't finished a race. I'm a clean guy but I might start raising my voice if this happens next week."

You chuckle at his posh violence. George wasn't the type to get physical, he would hash it out verbally and fire deep cuts that run through your soul— complete opposite of the raging lion back at Red Bull.

He runs a hand through his hair, sighing in exhaustion. "He could've just let me through. I can't believe that is our four-time world champ."

Normally you would back George up, mumble an 'amen' and add more whispered insults to drag Max's name, but for some reason you held back this time. You don't know if George noticed, but you felt your eye twitch slightly at his words.

Silence falls between the two of you. It was deafening. The usual banter you would have engaged in by now was nowhere to be found. You opened your mouth to speak, but nothing came out— not an insult, not a funny metaphor, not a useless threat.

The older Brit looks up at you, a hint of worry in his face. "You okay, mini? You haven't said much."

You take a deep breath, opening your mouth to say some snarky comment so your misery would be over. Instead you say, "You never should've been there."

George twitches at this, eyebrows slightly furrowing. He sits up, blue eyes piercing into your. "What?"

You mirror his stance, gaze wandering elsewhere as you explain your point. "Sure, Max squeezed you too wide but... you tried to do the impossible in the wet."

George pauses at this, face stoic and eyes narrow. "Are you defending him?"

Your eyes grow wide at the accusation, snapping to look at the Mercedes driver who sat in front of you. You start shaking your head frantically. "No! What? Absolutely not."

George continues to look at you with the same expression. Unconvinced.

"I'm just saying... maybe don't go full Senna next time."

And that was when you knew you fucked up.

You were an F1 fan sure, but you didn't start getting into the sport once your brother was placed in it in 2019. Your knowledge of the motorsport only dated back to when Lewis Hamilton won his first championship in 2008, any hall-of-famers prior to that era you knew but weren't the most knowledgeable on. So an Ayrton Senna reference, especially when the oldest lore you knew was Crashgate, was a head-turner. And George— sweet, older brother George— definitely wouldn't be fooled.

"Full Senna?" He was intrigued, perking up at the name. "Where'd you get that from?"

Your eyes feel like they're about to pop out of their sockets. You start fiddling with your hands, not being able to maintain eye contact with George. "Just... heard it somewhere. No big deal."

He was still unconvinced but slowly nodded his head. You, on the other hand, were short-circuiting internally. You excused yourself from George, hastily walking towards the Williams motorhome so you could hide in Alex's driver room until you had to leave.

"Fuck this. What am I doing?"

"Fuck that! What's he doing?!"

That was the first thing you heard when you stepped out from Alex's driver room. George's voice echoed through the televisions that showcased the live broadcast. You hurry over to get a view as to what the fuss could be and lo and behold, the two paddock idiots had done it again.

After the back-to-back DNF's, both drivers actually stayed out of each other's hair for an entire month of races. Four weeks, not too bad. This gave you enough time to cool off and rethink the defenses you had made for George. At least, that's what you thought.

Those four weeks were the most draining weeks of your life. You were up every night rethinking every single crash, every single DNF, every single fight that you had stood first line of defense for for driver 63. You wondered if your anger was unnecessary, if you were acting out of pure emotion, if you were merely going with it because you hated being wrong.

And then when you consulted Lando about it, the only thing he gathered after an hour of ranting about how you felt, was: "Maybe it's because he's the only person who looks at you differently in the paddock."

You had frozen over the phone, eyebrows furrowing. "What?"

"He's the only one who doesn't call you 'mini', right? Despite being each other's arch-nemesis."

For the first time in a long time, Lando Norris was right.

Mini was a nickname that the grid gave to you when you first entered the paddock with Alex. The nickname simply meant a mini Albon, and unfortunately that's what everyone saw you as— just Alex's little sister. When you started defending George like a madman, the title changed to George's fiery non-biological younger sister.

You were always babied growing up, especially with Alex and George watching out for you. Hell, even when you and Lando were the same age, you were the one with the paddock princess title. You hated it.

Max only referred to your nickname twice. The second time he did, you called him out for it and he immediately backed off— hasn't said it ever since.

You thought he was just being an ass. Had worse things to call you or even deemed it insulting to Alex that you were related. It took you until now to realize that he never overstepped that boundary, even if it was a clear shot to the heart.

Then you remember the first time you stomped into the Red Bull garage— the day your perspective on George changed. When he dragged you to the replay, he didn't explain it for you, in fact he knew that you would get it with your own knowledge. He respected you, even when you were at each other's throats.

"You know this stuff as much as I do. You tell me."

You thought he was being condescending, talking down on you. But no, he was challenging you— respecting your brain, your take, your insight.

It all comes crashing down like a cold tide— Max Verstappen saw you for you, and that scared the living hell out of you.

So when Max and George had another tiff during qualifying, you stayed in your seat. You kept your focus on your brother, not bothering to get the details as to how they could have possibly fucked each other up during a pre-race.

You hear the familiar echo of footsteps walk through the motorhomes, not having to look up to know that Max was walking by. But when he looks at you, you don't look back. You could feel eyes digging into your side and it took everything in you not to look, not to spark another flame, not to glare at him as if your insides weren't turning to mush just at the thought of him.

Unbeknownst to you, the smirk on Max's face faltered. He blinked comically, mouth slightly agape, eyebrows furrowing. Where was the snarky comeback? The glare you normally shared even between five motorhomes?

When Alex walks back into the garage, you go up to him and give him a big hug. "P10! That's amazing, Alex."

He stammers slightly, arms slowly going to wrap around you. When you both pull back you notice a confused look on his face. You mimic his expression, "What?"

"You're not gonna do anything about what happened out there?" Your face falls into a deadpan expression.

"Do you want me to?"

Alex immediately straightens up at this, furiously shaking his head. "Please no."

You shake your head in disbelief, patting your brother on the shoulder one last time before making your way out of the Williams hospitality. As you do so, you come across Carlos and also give him a hug, congratulating him for the P6 he garnered right behind Alex.

You were all smiles and hugs, making your way down the motorhomes and congratulating anyone you came across regardless if they had scored points or not. And then Max is beside you. You don't know where he came from, just appeared like a gust of wind.

You turn to look at him, a blank expression on your face. "Not interested in your bullshit, Max."

You didn't fail to notice how his eyebrows were slightly furrowed, how his usual smirk didn't rest on his lips. Instead, he slightly tilts his head. "You okay?"

This makes you stop in your tracks, "What?"

Max looks around as if you weren't talking to him, closing the gap between the both of you with one step. "Are you okay?"

Your eyes bore into his. And for the first time, the looming tidal wave you usually saw was still. His eyes were like the soft waves by the seashore, warm and gentle. You look between them, blinking at his question.

"I'm fine." You swiftly move out of the way, walking as fast as you could towards the Mercedes motorhome. Max just stands there, watching your retreating figure walk into silver territory.

When you reach the George's driver room, you see him sat on the floor, head in his hands. You smile gently, an empathetic look on your face.

"Saw your laps. Unfortunate you got P8." You close the door behind you, sitting on the makeshift bed. George scoffed in reply.

"Yeah well, my prep lap was fucked 'cause Max backed up on me. I mean, what the hell was he thinking?!"

You nod at his outburst, remembering the terrible qualifying session for both drivers. "Max was petty."

"Thank you! He was!"

"But," you start. "That was crazy that you didn't get out of the way."

George snaps his head to look at you, towel dropping from his hand. "He wrecked my lap on purpose. How was I supposed to know?"

"He was on a flying lap, George. Plus, there's a reason you have side-mirrors on the car."

It was silent for a beat. You were nervous as hell. You were sure that George was already suspicious from that Senna reference you made a while back, then this? Even Alex called you up afterwards to question it.

"Who's side are you on?" George breaks the quiet. The fire inside of you started burning. You continued to stare at the ground, afraid that one look at the Brit would only add fuel.

"There are no sides here, George. I know what I saw. You fucked his lap, he fucks yours. Don't you think that makes a little sense?"

The silence was deafening but made you mad. Was he always like this? Did he always assume you'd die on this hill?

"You got that Senna reference from him, didn't you? He told you that?"

You look at George, fists clenched by your lap. "Does it matter?"

You stood up and turn on your heel. You walk out of that room before George could even get up himself and walk as fast as you can back to safety. You couldn't breathe in there, it felt like you would suffocate from the silence, the rage, the emotions.

As you reach the Williams hospitality, you fall straight into the arms of your older brother, the one person you knew could somehow immaculately fix all your wounds even if they were phantom. Alex embraces you with open arms, worried of course, but not probing. And you talk when you're ready. Talk about how heavy your mind was from babysitting an idiot. Talk about how Max left an impression on your being.

And it was in that moment, with you crying to your older brother, that you realized that you probably liked Max Verstappen. And that shattered your whole world.

Alex didn't bring it up. Didn't bring up your deep-rooted attachment to Max Verstappen. Didn't bring up your exhaustion caused by George Russell. Didn't bring up that you were cornered off in the Williams garage post-race instead of out and about. And you liked your brother because of that.

You were already suffocating, you didn't want your head to be held underwater as well.

You had already talked to George about it. You weren't going to fight his battles anymore, you weren't going to take the hit for something you didn't do, and you definitely weren't going to defend him for every stupid mistake he starts anymore.

You think it's stupid that it took you this long to realize that this was what Alex had been talking about all along— objectivity. Now you realize why Alex never jumped on the Russell train as quickly as you would even if they were both close as brothers.

A whole two months had passed. Two months of being there for Alex, two months of staying put, two months of sheer bliss. The first crashed that happened within those months, everyone turned to you— the media, the fans, the team. It sparked a flame but it never lit.

Then it happened again.

Big race, big crash. It was stupid, bad, unnecessary. Max and George walked out of it fine, but their cars and their leads were wrecked. One thing led to another and now the two were getting into it post-race— heated words, passive-aggressive jabs, snarky remarks. It carried on for a month. An entire month of endless banter, useless threats, snide comments. An entire month of everyone looking at you, expecting you to make a move. And that struck the match.

You hated it. Hated how everyone would look at you when you passed the paddock. Hated how everyone asked you what you had to say about it. Hated how the first thing you find online about yourself is the crash. You were still in the middle of it.

They both had a moment in the sprint race again. Touching tires like their life would end if a race finished clean. And once again, the paddock was buzzing and the world looked at you.

You had had enough. If George wasn't gonna say anything to make people shut up, you would.

You stormed off from your spot in the Williams motorhome, and you found yourself busting through the doors of Mercedes. You find George surrounded by the PR team, calmly spinning a narrative while the fuse inside of you only burns shorter.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" Everyone looks up. Poor Kimi goes still. George blinks like he wasn't expecting you.

"I'm doing media, we can talk la—"

"No, we're talking now."

You were a rage of fury. "I told you I wasn't going to defend you anymore. I told you to sort your shit out with Max yourself. And here we are again. A mess of pride and ego."

George frowns, "Why are you coming at me? He's the one that turned into me. He's the one that doesn't give space—"

"You know exactly how he drives and you still divebombed him like you're in a videogame!"

George opens his mouth to speak, but you don't let him.

"You don't even have the decency to tell people to stay out of my business. Everyone is still waiting for me to clean up your mess! To play peacemaker! To babysit the two idiots who would rather die than have a clean race!"

Your breathing starts getting shaky, head burning from all the eyes that were staring at you. "You treat me like I'm your little sister, like I need to be protected, but all I've ever done is protect you."

George's expression falters. "I'm exhausted, George. Please. The least you could do is tell everyone to fuck off."

You step back, catching your breath, before turning on your heel and storming out before anyone could say anything.

You find yourself behind the paddock. Sitting on a curb, head in your hands, sobbing with a rage you couldn't even describe. Your mind swarmed with a million things and your chest felt like it was split open. And of course—

"Are you okay?"

You look up. Eyes red, emotions raw, heart spilled on the floor. The Dutch makes the move to sit beside you, a worried expression cast on his face.

You scoff shakily, "Don't pretend like you care."

"I'm not pretending."

You laugh once. Dry.

He asks again, "Are you okay?"

You sigh at his question, wiping your eyes. You stand up slowly. Too tired to yell. Too tired to fake it.

"Why are you the one who gets it? Why are you always the first one to ask if I'm okay?" You start, turning to look at him. "I was supposed to hate you, Max."

He doesn't smile, doesn't smirk. Just stands up right in front of you.

"Then hate me. But stop lying to yourself— stop hurting yourself. Not anymore."

Beat. The weight between them shifts.

"Why do you make it sound so easy?" Your voice cracks, eyes darting back and forth between his.

"Because when I look at you, I don't see Alex's sister or George's damage control, I see a fire."

She blinks. And all of a sudden, he put her heart back where it belonged. And this time, it wasn't shattered.

"And I'd rather burn in it than hide from it."

You don’t breathe. Not for a second. Not when the words settle over you, not when his eyes don’t flinch. The wind picks up behind you, but you don’t feel it. All you feel is the heat in your chest, the ache behind your ribs, and the way he’s looking at you like you’re real. Like you’re more than a title, more than what everyone decided you’d be.

You take one step forward.

He doesn’t move.

"Then don't hide."

Max’s jaw tenses, like he’s restraining himself. Like he’s waiting for permission. "You're killing me."

You smirk at this, the light coming back from beneath your eyes. The banter coming back to you like it never left. Your hand delicately lands on the back of his neck and you pull him forward, just inches away from your mouth. "Good. Maybe you'll finally shut up."

He surges forward, mouth finding yours. It’s not delicate. It’s not patient. It’s desperate, starved, all teeth and fury and years of swallowed words. You kiss him like you’re trying to erase every fight, every snide comment, every time you said you hated him but didn’t mean it.

And he kisses you like he knew. Like he always knew.

His hands come up fast—one to your cheek, the other gripping your waist like he needs to anchor himself—and he kisses you back just as hard. No hesitation. No second-guessing.

For once, you’re not thinking. Not about George. Not about Alex. Not about the paddock or the cameras or the fact that this is so, so messy.

You’re thinking about how he’s the only one who’s ever met the real you. And for the first time in a long time—you let yourself feel it.

When you finally break apart, gasping, he rests his forehead on yours.

"You have no idea how long I've been wanting to do that." His voice was low, deep, a wreck. And you could only smile in return.

"Neither did I."

Max exhales a stunned, breathless laugh— because of course this is how it happens. Of course the kiss feels like war and peace all at once.

"Guess this means you're not the enemy anymore."

Max pulls away to look at your face, a big smile still etched in it.

"I never was."

It happens almost too casually for something this monumental.

Alex is leaning against the motorhome wall, sipping a water bottle and scrolling through his phone, when he hears familiar voices rounding the corner. He doesn’t think much of it, until he catches a low laugh that definitely doesn't belong to George or Lando.

That laugh is Max's. And you're answering it with something soft, something warm. Not your usual exasperated sigh, not the sharp defense of George— this is different.

Curious, Alex glances up just in time to see Max walking beside you, a hand brushing yours before you swat it away playfully. But it’s the look on your face that stops him cold: you're beaming. Not performing, not posturing— just effortlessly, unconsciously happy.

And then Max glances your way like you're the only person in the world worth looking at. Alex has seen that look before— in movies, in stories. Never aimed at his sister— never like this.

You notice him before Max does. Your eyes widen, cheeks flush, and your step falters just slightly. Max, ever oblivious, keeps talking until you mutters his name in warning and nudge him. He follows your gaze, and Alex watches as it dawns on him: you've been caught.

Alex just raises a brow. "So... is this where I give the protective older brother speech?"

Max pales a little. You just groan in response.

But Alex just laughs— warm and full, not a hint of menace behind it. He walks over, pulling you into a one-armed hug and presses a kiss to the side of your head.

“About damn time,” he says quietly, so only you could hear it. “I was starting to think no one would ever get you out of your own head.”

Then, to Max, with a wry grin, “Don’t make me regret this, yeah?”

Max nods, the tension in his shoulders finally easing.

Alex gives you one last look— not questioning, not protective— just proud.

“You look happy,” he says simply. “That’s all I care about.”

And you are. For the first time in a long time, you really, truly are.

The paddock was unusually quiet that afternoon, the kind of quiet that made George uneasy. No on-track chaos, no media blow-ups, and—most suspicious of all—no fiery rants from you. That alone should’ve tipped him off.

He pushed open the Williams motorhome door, expecting to find you with Alex or Lando, maybe ranting about tire strategy or laughing over some old karting story. Instead, the air shifted the second he walked in.

You were on Max Verstappen’s lap. Laughing.

Max had one arm lazily slung around your waist, and you looked at ease in a way George had never seen before. Not in the paddock. Not with anyone.

The silence cracked like thunder.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” George said, his voice low but sharp, slicing through the air like a whip.

You jolt upright, guilt flashing across your face. Max didn’t flinch, only tightened his hold slightly, like he had no intention of pretending this was something it wasn’t.

George’s gaze darted between you two, disbelieving. “This has to be a joke. You’re messing with me, right?”

“It’s not a joke, George,” you said quietly, stepping away from Max but not by much.

His jaw tightened. “So what, you’re with him now? The guy who’s made my life hell for years? The guy you swore you’d never defend?”

Max tilted his head, calm and irritating. “That was your doing, Russell.”

“Shut it.”

“Make me.”

“Max.” Your voice snapped and he stopped instantly. You turned back to George, heart thudding. “Look, I didn’t plan this, okay? It just happened. And for once, I’m not apologizing for something that makes me happy.”

George laughed bitterly. “Right. So you’re just tossing away everything for him? Years of loyalty—for what?”

Your fists clenched.

“Loyalty?” you echoed, voice rising. “You mean babysitting you every time you lost a race? Picking up the pieces after every feud you had with Max? It was fine the first time, but you got used to it. Used to lying back and watching me handle your shit."

His mouth parted slightly. You didn’t stop.

“I’ve been your therapist, your attack dog, your emotional crutch. I’ve been the girl no one takes seriously because I’ve always just belonged to someone else.”

You stepped forward, eyes burning.

“Max sees me. Not as your apologist. Not as Alex’s sister. He sees me. And deep down?” Your voice softened, trembling now. “I needed that more than I realized.”

Silence swallowed the room. For the first time in a long time, George had no comeback.

He looked at you, really looked at you, and saw it. The quiet strength in your shoulders, the steadiness in you eyes. And Max— damn him—hadn’t let go of your hand once.

George swallowed thickly. “You really like him?”

You nod.

He looked away, then back at Max. Their eyes locked. It was tense, taut, but something unspoken passed between them. A truce. Maybe not friendship— but something.

“If he hurts you,” George muttered, rubbing the back of his neck, “I’ll drive my front wing through his car.”

Max, to his credit, just smirked. “Fair. But I won’t.”

George exhaled, already regretting every part of this moment. “Fine,” he muttered, turning toward the door. “But I’m never talking to either of you about feelings. Ever.”

You laughed, soft and teary. “Deal.”

He paused in the doorway. “Does Alex know?”

“Everyone knows.”

George groaned. “I hate this paddock.”

And with that, he left— slamming the door a little too hard on his way out.

[thesecretestblogever]

can I request prompt #2 “slow sex after player injury” with Luke Hughes please?

pairing : luke hughes x reader

w.c. : 1.2k

warnings : unprotected p in v, riding luke, player injury (nothing graphic but takes place after his recent shoulder surgery), come inside :P 

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

“Ugh, this is so annoying. I can’t do anything,” Luke sighs. 

“Funny, you don’t seem to care when you tie me up,” your hands steady yourself on his lower stomach.

“Yea, but you like that,” he mumbles. His free hand rests on your hip as you grind down on his lap. He’s completely naked save for the bulky shoulder sling that supports his arm and holds it to his torso. He’s propped against an almost comical number of pillows to keep him comfortable and supported as you ride him. 

He lasted exactly a week after surgery before his touches began to wander and linger. It was enough time that he started to feel caged up resting all day. Going from being extremely active and working out for hours every day to being stuck taking it easy and laying in bed was taking a toll on him. You still had to help him shower, pull shirts over his head and make him meals, but he was slowly trying to become more independent. Already itching to remove the brace, you had to constantly remind him that he would do more damage by doing that than just appreciating a small break. 

This was your first attempt at trying anything remotely sexual, and it was only because he nearly begged. You were terrified of hurting him or prolonging his recovery that you treated him like glass, much to his annoyance.

“I can’t even give myself a good hand job right now, please, I’m literally going to explode,” he’d whined earlier. You’d been lying next to him in the bed reading when his hands started to wander under the hem of your shorts, ghosting along the soft skin. You’d batted his hand away until his insistent touches garnered your attention. You only relented when he promised to let you take charge and tell you if he felt any pain at all. 

It had been awkward and slow, filled with many embarrassed laughs and jokes to get to this point where you were bare and seated on his lap. You’d be a liar if you said you didn’t miss his body against yours. He fills you so perfectly and a soft moan falls from your lips as your hips rock against his.

“Can’t even touch you well. My right hand is completely useless,” he’s trying to enjoy himself, but he feels bad for not being able to pleasure you properly. You still your movements, giving him the look that has him pushing out his lower lip to pout.

“You have one thing and one thing only to worry about right now,” you lean forward, just enough to kiss his lips softly and brush some messy curls from his forehead. “And that’s healing so you can go to PT and play next season. You don’t have to worry about me,” you give him one last kiss before leaning back. You change tactics and lean back, your hands finding purchase on his thighs as you start moving up and down on him again. 

He’s used to taking the lead - he loves to hold you down and ravish you with his cock and hands, but he’s not able to do that now. 

“Can - fuck- can you talk to me? I like it when you talk,” he moans out at a specific way you swirl your hips. You smile at him. He’s too sweet and you wonder how you got so lucky to have him.

“You make me feel so good, Lu. Always. I love this cock. So big and perfect. It’s like you were made for me,” your speed increases as you chase the release that’s beginning to build in your core. 

“Touch yourself,” his eyes jump between your scrunched face and watching himself disappear inside of you as you work over him. It’s only been a little over a week since you’ve had sex and his stamina has already tanked. He whines as he can feel himself approaching his high. The warmth and tightness of your soft cunt is so fucking good that he’s mesmerized watching you do all the work and get off on him.

You give him what he wants so he can feel some semblance of control and your hand comes forward to rub at your clit. The result is immediate and the sweet moan that falls from Luke as you tighten around him spurs you on. He wishes it was his hands on you, and he has to fight to keep his hips still so that he doesn’t put pressure on his shoulder and back. 

He didn’t realize how much he likes having you take control like this - he wants to be a good boy, especially if it means he gets to come with you looking so gorgeous above him. He wonders if he died and went to heaven.

“You wanna come inside me, baby? Are you close?” Your thighs ache from all the work you’ve done, but the growing pressure of your approaching orgasm spurs you on. You pry open your eyes to look at your boyfriend and his pink cheeks and panting almost throw you over the edge. 

“Please don’t stop,” he mewls. The hand on your hip is holding on for dear life. “Wanna come inside you. Fucccckkkk-” His orgasm seems to catch him by surprise, his face crumpling. He can’t stop his hips from moving on their own, bucking up into your heat. His moans are so fucking beautiful and he feels so good you feel yourself break and the sweet pleasure washes over you. It’s all consuming - you didn’t realize how much you’d been missing this. You feel shaky and hot and the goodness of it all travels through your limbs. You ride out your high until he’s whining below you - he came first and the rocking of your hips is tweaking his pleasure into spikes of pain. It feels so good it hurts, he’s gasping for air. 

You slow your movements, softly rocking against him as your walls flutter and the edges of your vision return. There’s a mix of your cum and his leaking from you and causing a wet, slippery mess between your legs, but it doesn’t bother you at all. 

He’s usually the one that gets up to grab a cloth and clean you both off, but this time it's your turn and you take care of yourself in the bathroom before joining him again on the bed. You carefully wipe over his softening dick, him wincing at the sensitivity of it. When all is said and done, you tuck yourself into his good side, his arm wrapped around you and drawing random patterns on your hip. 

“It’s time for your next round of meds by the way,” you press a soft kiss to his warm cheek.  

“Thank you,” he sighs. “For taking care of me. For everything, really. I love you and I don’t know what I’d do without you,” his tenderness makes your heart squeeze in your chest. You don’t know what you’d do without him either. 

[slutzforbueckers]

Hi! Love your work! Thought maybe action #9 sending text/pictures where maybe reader & paige were texting back and forth but then paige got a message from the team chat at the same time and sent her wild response to the team and not reader on accident! Then damage control lol

oopsies

♡— pairing: paige bueckers x fem!reader

♡— warnings: not rlly smut but kinda fluff too idfk

♡— synopsis: you and paige were in the middle of sexting when she got a message from the team groupchat… she accidentally sent the wrong message to the wrong chat.

❥•°❀°•༢

paige 💋💋

i miss your pretty pussy

so fucking good

you bit your bottom lip at her text, rolling over onto your stomach as you thought about what to say next. within the next few seconds you decided that a picture would probably do more justice than anything you could say.

you

*one attachment*

she misses you too p, dw

paige groaned when she saw the picture of your fingers spreading your pussy, your arousal clear by the string of slick connecting your fingertips. she pressed her thighs together, trying to relieve some pressure.

she started typing again immediately, barely able to focus with the heat pulsing between her legs. while she typed she got a notification from the team group chat, she didn’t bother to look as she raised her pointer finger and swiped it away.

what she didn’t realize was that she accidentally clicked on the notification instead of swiping it. her thumbs were clumsy as she quickly typed and sent the text without checking twice.

paige 🪣

fuck baby

i wanna spread you open n taste everything

i’d have you crying in like five minutes

she clicked out of the messages to answer the group chats text but when she clicked on it a picture of your cunt was staring back at her. paige’s brows furrowed in confusion and her eyes narrowed as she checked the name—it was your contact alright but where was the text she’d just sent?

paige thought she had maybe accidentally hallucinated it and she started to type it out again but then she started receiving a string of notifications from the group chat. she saw up quickly when she realized what she’d done.

aubrey 👵🏾

girl what???

kk 💃🏽

oh hell nah

REF DO SOMETHING

jana 🍃

omfg delete delete delete

QUICKLY

paige’s soul left her body, she stared at the screen in horror, the realization hitting so hard it made her physically recoil. “fuck fuck fuck,” she hissed, scrambling to unsend the message—but it was too late, everyone had seen it. she tried to flip it around, do and say anything to stop this from being brought up for the next 10 years of her life—even though that was totally unstoppable.

paige 🪣

im so so so sorry

i was literally hacked

this is literally ai

don’t believe everything you see on the internet

kk 💃🏽

girl boo 🌚

azzi 👑

no ai could do that amount of damage i fear…

caroline🙎🏻‍♀️

i hate to say this but you’re cooked

you laid on your stomach still, wondering what was taking paige so long to answer. you started to type another message out but then you saw the three little grey dots appear.

paige💋💋

babe…

i accidentally sent the team gc the wrong text

*one attachment*

you looked at the phone in confusion and clicked on the picture. it was a screenshot of paige’s group chat, her text were at the top—filthy words that should never be spoken to anyone other than her girlfriend.

you laughed, you couldn’t help it. all you could do was picture paige’s face when she realized—how mortified she must’ve looked. you called her immediately and she picked up after the first ring, her face red with embarrassment. “you know you’re never living that down, right?”

“shut up, it’s not funny.” paige groaned, running her hand down her face. you laughed a little harder and she turned a little more red, glaring at the phone like that was really enough to stop you from laughing. “okay bet, remember this tomorrow night.”

her voice dropped to a low tone and you stopped laughing, your face going still because you knew what she meant. paige raised her brows and smirked, thinking that she had finally silenced you—which she should’ve known better when that mischievous smile came back.

“one second, let me make sure i’m talking to the right person.”

[orangesaek]

'level up' | streamer!Jeno

request: “Jeno (maybe him oblivious to it but falling for y/n who fell for him first)”

pairings: streamer!Jeno x afab-bsf!reader┊genre: slight angst, bsf-to-lovers, fluff┊wc: 2.8k┊cw: mild swearing/cursing

@bluedbliss 💗 tysm! i hope u like this one! Jaehyun’s will be out soon dw ☺️ xoxo

You’d been in love with Jeno for years.

It wasn’t a crush. It wasn’t fleeting.

It was something that rooted itself so deep inside you, even you didn’t notice it blooming until it was too late.

And Jeno?

Jeno was the rising Twitch superstar.

The face of esports, the hilarious, charming, handsome streamer who could break the internet with a smile and get a hundred thousand viewers just breathing into his mic.

Everyone loved him.

And you?

You were just the best friend. Always had been.

You told yourself it was enough.

But sometimes, being close to someone you love hurts worse than being apart.

It was just another night in voice chat.

You weren’t even gaming—just talking while Jeno aimlessly clicked around on a puzzle game and you scrolled social media in bed.

Your voice was soft in the quiet.

“You ever think about what life would be like if we didn’t meet?”

Jeno paused. “Uh, yeah. I’d probably be way more boring.”

You smiled faintly. “You’d still be famous though.”

“Maybe. But I wouldn’t have someone sending me memes at 3 a.m. or reminding me to eat.”

You chuckled.

“So I’m your meme provider and personal health coach now?”

“Exactly. And moral support. And emotional damage controller.”

You hesitated, voice turning quieter.

“I’d still choose to meet you… even if I knew you’d break my heart someday.”

He didn’t respond right away.

You heard him shift in his seat, clicking something aimlessly.

“You’re weird tonight,” he mumbled, like he didn’t catch the weight of your words.

You just laughed it off.

You told yourself it was enough.

But it kept happening—these little moments that chipped away at your resolve.

Then came the night everything changed.

You’d always suspected that one of Jeno’s fellow streamers, a popular female gamer named Karina, had a thing for him.

The flirty remarks, the way she laughed at every word he said—even the ones that weren’t funny—yeah, you noticed.

You never said anything. It wasn’t your place.

But it stung.

Especially when their fans shipped them hard online.

Edits, fanart, clips—everywhere you looked, it was “Jeno x Karina”.

That night, you were just hanging out off-camera, curled up on his couch while he streamed a group collab. You weren’t supposed to be part of the stream. Just quietly scrolling on your phone, handing him a drink now and then, and keeping him company like you always did.

“Jeno,” Karina giggled over voice chat, “if we win this round, you have to go on a date with me.”

Chat exploded instantly.

OMG DID SHE JUST—

👀 👀 👀

OMGOMGOGMGOGM

U GO GIRL LMAO

Jenrina CONFIRMED???!

You tensed, glancing over at Jeno.

He didn’t hesitate.

“Nah,” he said casually. “I’m already taken.”

That alone was enough to make the chat go feral.

But then he looked over at you, grinned, and with one arm, pulled you right into the camera frame.

“Guys, this is Y/N,” he said, as if it was no big deal.

“My girlfriend. We’ve been together for a while.”

Your eyes went wide. “Jeno—”

He cut you off with a smile.

“I know we kept it lowkey, but... I figured it’s about time. She’s the love of my life, and I’m way too lucky to keep pretending she’s just my friend.”

The stream exploded.

WHATTTT??!!

NO WAY YOU KEPT THIS A SECRET—

SHE’S GORG WTF

JENO?? MY HEART 💔💔

WTF HE’S SO GONE

IM CRYING WE LOST HIM

Karina laughed awkwardly in her cam window.

“Wow, uh, okay! Didn’t expect that. Congrats, you two.”

But the flash of embarrassment on her face was hard to miss. Especially with nearly a million live viewers watching it all unfold.

Jeno didn’t even blink. He was still looking at you, eyes soft.

Then he read a chat message out loud: “Bro, she’s so pretty. You lucky AF.”

He smirked at the screen and pulled you closer, your cheek pressed against his.

“She’s all mine,” he said, narrowing his eyes.

“And I’m not sharing.”

Your face burned, and you tried to hide it, but the chat was already blowing up again.

By the time the stream ended, both your names were trending worldwide.

And despite the chaos, the teasing, the panic in your chest... You’d never felt more seen.

But then again, it was all a lie anyway.

Then came that movie night. Just you, him, and a film that left both of you a little too quiet.

Halfway through the romantic drama, you noticed him wiping at his face.

“Wait… are you crying?” you asked, trying not to smile.

“N-no, this is sweat,” he said quickly.

“My eyes are just sweating.”

You softened. “It’s okay. I cry at this scene too.”

Jeno glanced at you, voice unexpectedly quiet.

“Do you think that kind of love is real? The forever kind?”

You shrugged. “Yeah. But it’s rare. Most people are too scared to say how they really feel.”

He stared at the screen for a long second. 

“That’s dumb. If you love someone, you should just tell them.”

“Exactly,” you said. “Unless they don’t love you back.”

Neither of you said anything after that. The silence spoke loud enough.

So finally, during one of your usual late-night hangouts, you cracked.

“Maybe I like you more than a friend.”

It slipped out.

Jeno froze.

You waited.

And he said nothing. Just blinked, glanced away, and mumbled something about getting more chips.

So you ghosted him.

“Still no reply?” Chenle asked, glancing at the group chat. “Dude, he’s been MIA for almost a week.”

“I called six times,” said Hendery. “Nothing. Straight to voicemail.”

Yangyang sighed, chin in hand. “He didn’t even tweet a ‘taking a break’ message. His fans are freaking out.”

“He left me on read,” Haechan added dramatically. “Me. That’s betrayal.”

Jisung frowned. “What if something happened to him?”

Taeyong tried to stay positive. “He’s fine. Probably just... I don’t know. Figuring something out?”

Chenle stared at the group chat, almost tipping over in his seat when he noticed Jeno’s icon blinking with ‘typing’.

“HE’S TYPING!!!” he yelled. The guys quickly opened the chat and waited anxiously for Jeno’s message.

And finally, he replied.

“Sorry guys. I’m fine... physically anyway. Just have something to figure out. Ttyl”

Jeno did. He finally did.

Sitting in his dark room, lights off, half-eaten ramen forgotten beside his keyboard, Jeno stared at the ceiling.

You said you liked him more than a friend.

And he didn’t say anything.

He started pacing, mind spiraling.

Why did he always reply to your texts within seconds and answer your calls before the third ring, when with others it took him at least 2 business days to respond—or sometimes he just forgot altogether?

Why did he drop everything, even mid-stream, when you needed help?

Why did it bother him so much whenever you were with other guys? Why was he suddenly willing to leave his house just to hang out with you, when everyone knew he barely ever went out before? Why did he spend so much effort choosing random gifts for you?

Why were his tears reserved just for movie nights with you, and never anyone else?

Why was he quick to dismiss anyone trying to flirt with him?

Why did you make him feel like home?

“Shit,” he muttered, dragging a hand over his face.

“I’ve been in love with her all along.”

He grabbed his hoodie and ran out into the rain.

You weren’t expecting anyone, especially not him—soaked to the bone, hoodie heavy with rain, sneakers squelching against your doormat.

“Y/N,” he said, out of breath. “Please open the door.”

You froze. Then unlocked it, heart racing.

“What are you doing here?”

“I need to talk to you.”

“You’re—Jeno, you’re soaking wet!”

“I don’t care.”

Then he kissed you.

It wasn’t soft. It was desperate, aching, like he was trying to make up for every second he hadn’t realized he loved you.

You stood frozen until you pushed him back, wide-eyed and breathless.

“What the hell was that?!”

Jeno exhaled sharply.

“I love you.”

You blinked at him, stunned. “What?”

“I’m serious.” His voice cracked. 

“I didn’t realize it until you stopped talking to me. Until you disappeared. And then I started thinking about all the times I dropped everything for you, and how I hated seeing you with other guys, and how you’re the only person who’s ever made me feel safe… like home.”

He laughed, dry and bitter. “I’m academically smart, but I’m so goddamn clueless. I didn’t get it...”

You blinked away tears. “You ignored me when I confessed.”

“I didn’t mean to. I panicked. I didn’t know what to say. I was afraid I’d lose you. But then I lost you anyway, didn’t I?”

He stepped forward slowly.

“I couldn’t stream. I couldn’t eat. Every time I looked at my phone and saw no messages from you, I felt like I couldn’t breathe.”

“You made me feel like a fool,” you whispered. “Do you know how hard it was to say that to you?”

“I know.” He swallowed. “I know now. And I’m sorry… for making you feel like your feelings weren’t important. They are. You are.”

You looked at him, your idiot of a best friend, soaked from head to toe because he just realized he loved you.

“Why are you like this?” you said, voice shaking. 

“Why do you only figure things out when it’s almost too late?”

“I don’t know,” he admitted. “Maybe because I’ve never had to fight for something I wanted… not until you.”

Your heart cracked open.

You threw your arms around him, not caring that he was dripping wet. He tried to pull back, worried.

“You’re gonna get sick,” he murmured.

You shook your head, pressing your forehead to his.

“I don’t care. I missed you so much, you stupid idiot.”

He finally smiled, eyes glassy.

“Can I kiss you again?”

You leaned in and kissed him softly. This time with no fear, no confusion, just pure, quiet relief.

Later, inside, wrapped in a blanket, you teased, “So... are you finally going to tell your chat why you’ve been MIA?”

Jeno smirked. “Yeah. I’ll say, ‘Sorry I disappeared. I was too busy realizing I’ve been in love with my best friend for like, 6 years and only figured it out when she ghosted me’.”

You burst out laughing. “They’re gonna roast you.”

“I deserve it.”

You rolled your eyes and kissed him again.