#so I’m aware this pairing exists

[anonymous-spooks]

Jeff and Toby’s dynamic in my AU.

It’s a shame that I do want to write more of them together, but never had the motivation, so here’s a run-down:

Neither could stand each other. With Toby as Slenderman’s proxy (thus making him as an authority figure), Jeff hardly listens to what he has to say. He doesn’t like to follow orders, but will have to anyway.

Both have short tempers, however Toby has to keep himself composed as opposed to Jeff, who could barely contain it.

They do respect each other, and help each other out when fighting demons. Although, I doubt they want to be in the same room together without one of them pissing the other off.

[ellynneversweet]

Phantom of the Opera but Christine is a K-pop star contractually forbidden from having a boyfriend. Is this anything?

[hueseok]

it was always you.

for as long as you remember, you’ve always had the fattest crush on your childhood friend, jeon jungkook. it never blossomed into something more though, because that’s what happens when life naturally takes it course—you grow up, you move on, and you pretend that those feelings never existed in order to maintain the good friendship that remained between the two of you over the years.

so when he visits you after work one day, asking you to marry him, you do everything you can to refuse, because the reason he’s asking you isn’t due to the fact that he finally realized that he loved you after all this time, but because he thinks he’s doing you a big favor.

or at least, that’s what you think.

pairing: jungkook x reader

word count: 13.2k

rating: 18+

content: fluff, semi-angst, childhood friends to lovers au, pining au | ft. naval aviator!jungkook + brother’s best friend!jungkook; professor!reader + editor!reader | inspired by purple hearts

warning/s: swearing, potentially wrong medical & military information (i’m sorry but i tried to do as much research i can 😭), mentions of having type 1 diabetes, making out, heavy petting, implied sexual content: oral (f. receiving), fingering, penetrative sex, unprotected sex (this is only fiction!)

MINI PLAYLIST: ♫ die with a smile — lady gaga, bruno mars ♫ juno — sabrina carpenter ♫ selfish — *nsync ♫ nandito na ako — benj pangilinan, angela ken

opening note. omg this is my first full length fic in two damn years i think??? certainly took a long time before i had the motivation to write again but i hope y'all like this! to my og readers who still keep up with my shenanigans, this one's for you 🥹💗

“Any questions?”

A boy wearing half-rimmed glasses raises his hand and you gesture for him to speak. “Can we get an extension on the Save the Cat project due tomorrow?”

You sigh, just as several of your students begin agreeing with him and muttering reasons of their own why the extension should be approved. It’s the week before finals, and you’re aware that the class must be packed with assignments and projects for several of their classes because of it, hence the rather last minute request. They look tired and pleading, a complete reflection of how you were when you were the one in their position nearly a decade ago, begging for an extension from a professor who you thought was kind enough to be swayed with the proposition.

You scan the crowd. “How many of you are at least 70% with it, hm?”

More than half of the class raises their hands.

“Okay, that’s honestly unexpected,” you say, pleased to know that they aren’t slacking on your subject. “Does Monday sound good? That’s three more days, to be fair. I don’t want to extend it further because I have to read everyone’s work and you guys know I don’t like rushing it before turning in your final grade.”

A chorus of relief and thanks echoed in the room, all of your students either dramatically sinking in their chair or erupting in an animated conversation with their seatmate or making crying faces to portray how grateful they are.

“Thank you so much, Ms. ____!”

“I love you, Ms. ____!”

“Ms. ____, I will offer my first child to you,” one theatrically adds and you smile a bit, rolling your eyes at students like this one who is now opting to flatter you way too much for your act of kindness.

“Alright, alright. Just get it done and I’m expecting quality work, okay? Class dismissed.”

The whole class begins to gather their things at the cue and you don’t stay there a minute longer after your announcement, exiting the lecture hall to head to the faculty room where you’re certain half of the teaching staff have gone home already. It’s already 8:47 p.m., and all you want to do is head home to get the rest you deserve after an eventful day.

There was a time that having a schedule from 6 p.m. to 9 p.m. wasn’t the norm for you. You used to value work life balance so much—it was even a nonnegotiable you used to say in interviews, saying that if you didn’t get enough rest within the week, then the job most likely wasn’t for you. But things have been very different for the past months; you have definitely grown out of that mindset due to the fact that you’re simply in need of another source of income to pay for your monthly rent, utility bills, and now your medication. You’re in a stage of your life wherein you consider working part time as a professor was a blessing rather than a big nuisance.

Making a right turn to where the hallway to the faculty room is, you’re too busy rearranging the papers inside the folder you’re holding to notice a man sitting on the bench placed just beside the entrance. He notices you the second you appear in his line of vision though; he straightens his posture and proceeds on standing up immediately upon seeing you closer, calling your name softly when you failed to look at his direction, too preoccupied with the thought of finally coming home that you’re oblivious that the man trying to catch your attention is Jeon Jungkook.

“____,” he calls again and this time you notice him, your eyes widening instantly.

“Holy shi—” You stop yourself from finishing that sentence. “Jungkook?”

He grins. “Hey, lamb chop.”

“What the hell are you doing here?”

“Is that how you greet an old friend?”

“Oh, fuck off.”

He laughs, following suit to you who’s already giggling just by his presence alone, outstretching his arms then. “You gonna hug me or what?”

You beam and step forward to embrace him. He returns it without hesitation, muscular arms circling around you and squeezing tightly that it lifts you up from the ground for a quick second. The faint smell of fabric conditioner on his clothes enters your nostrils and you feel like a teenager again, warmth rushing to your face while your heart hammers loudly in your chest. Regardless of how old the both of you are, you think your hopeless crush on the guy will forever live on and constantly transform you into a middle school girl whenever opportunities like these to have him near arise. You’re just happy you’ve trained yourself to be better at hiding it now compared to when you were younger.

“Aren’t you supposed to be in base or wherever it is that you’re designated?” you ask, the first to let go from the hug.

“Actually, I returned from deployment three days ago. I’m on leave for two weeks.”

“Wow. Two weeks, huh?”

“Yep. It’s the longest break I’ve gotten in a while.”

“That’s good. Everybody needs a break from time to time.”

“Says the girl has a day job and a night job.” He points out with a smirk; your heart does a little leap at how handsome he looks doing that. “When the hell did you get into teaching, by the way? I never pegged you to be the kind who can tolerate it. You hate kids.”

“You’ll find yourself tolerating lots of things in this economy.” You snort. “And my students aren’t kids. They’re in college.”

“Yeah, which you graduated from six years ago. Still technically kids.”

“Are you seriously jabbing at my age when you’re two years older than I am?”

He rolls his eyes at that one, an indication that you won the argument. “Anyway,” he starts again and you grin, “I didn’t come here to compare how old we are—”

“You didn’t?”

He sends you a look. Your grin gets even wider.

“I’m here because I was hoping to treat you to dinner.”

“Dinner?” you repeat, not masking the surprise from your voice.

Let’s get the facts straight before we proceed to this conversation.

It isn’t a lie when you say that you and Jungkook are great friends. You have been since you were 7 and your family just moved into the house next to theirs. He was a natural playmate, a companion when you couldn’t tolerate the antics of your older brother, the boy who looked out for you aside from said older brother, and the person you’ve shared significant history with throughout your youth that you can never seem to forget nor disregard.

It’s just that you never deemed that you were great enough friends for him to go out of his way and visit you at your workplace, offering to treat you for dinner. Gestures like that were reserved for your older brother, Seowon, who’s the same age as he is and who you’re sure is considered as his best friend. Compared to them, yours and Jungkook’s dynamic shifted slightly after graduating from college. What once was a really close friendship turned into a casual one, with mostly just teasing, light talks, and the occasional welfare checks at times you hear certain news from the other that’s worth speaking directly about.

At the mention of that, realization dawns on you on why he must be here.

“Jungkook…” You’re trying not to sound mad but you can’t hide the exasperation from your voice. “That’s not the real reason you’re here.”

“Of course, it is. Why else would I be here?”

“He told you, didn’t he?” you ask, not willing to drag this out. “You’re just going to give me another lecture that I definitely don’t need.”

Jungkook frowns, like he’s dismayed that you caught on pretty swiftly.

“I’m right, aren’t I?” You pressed.

“He meant well, ____.”

You scowl. To remark that Seowon is unnecessarily nosy and coddling would be an understatement. That man hasn’t left you alone the second he was aware of your condition. Usually, whenever he gets into his ‘big brother tendencies’, his girlfriend Winnie steps in and helps you lay him off your back. However, it’s different this time; no matter how much you reinstill your independence and insist that you’re fine, it’s like you’re talking to a wall.

“What exactly did you hear from him?” you query.

He seems hesitant in answering that. “That you got diagnosed with type 1 diabetes.”

You wince.

“Look,” he steps forward towards you, “I wasn’t going to bring it up unless you did, okay? I’m just here because I’m genuinely worried about you and I want to know how you’re doing.”

“I’m fine.” You murmur. “You don’t need to worry.”

“Worry doesn’t vanish magically just because someone says so.”

“Well, it should—because I’m fine.”

“You sure? I heard that you’re struggling to buy insulin among other things you’re having a hard time paying.”

“Fuck. Seowon told you that too? That’s private.”

“My parents know. He just filled me in because he wants you to have as much support as you can get.”

“I don’t need that. I’m an adult. I’ve lived by myself for years. I can fend for myself just fine.”

“It doesn’t look like it from what I’ve been hearing.”

“All you’re hearing is a warped and exaggerated version of the story told by Seowon who won’t listen to a word I say.” You huff. “I’m fine and I’ve been doing everything I can, alright? I’m taking care of myself. I’m going to the doctor whenever I need to. I’m making ends meet, buying treatment for this goddamn disease and regulating my sugar levels all the fucking time. Why do you think I’ve been working two jobs for the past year? It’s because I’m doing everything I can to stay alive.”

Jungkook doesn’t reply, he only remains gazing at you.

“If you’re here to offer me money or whatever because of what he said,” you add, already embarrassed that you can’t even look at him anymore, “then I don’t want it.”

“That’s not what I’m here for,” he says.

“Then are you really just here to treat me to dinner?” you question sarcastically.

He laughs and you dare return your eyes at him, catching him peering at you with a fond expression. “Yes. It’s my way of doing a welfare check.”

“Welfare check.” You echo with squinted eyes. “Well, in that case, here I am—alive and healthy.”

“I can see that, and I’m glad.” He smiles. “But I need more than just seeing you. I need a conversation and an apology.”

“An apology?”

“For being the last person to know about your condition.”

“And we’re still talking about that apparently.” You mutter under your breath. “Sorry. I didn’t think that you wanted to know.”

“Of course, I would have wanted to know. It’s you we’re talking about here.”

Something about how he said you causes your lips to twitch as you fight off a smile. This isn’t a good time to dive into your romantic feelings for your childhood crush, but when he’s letting go of lines like that which are sure to have your heart soaring out of your chest, it’s hard to keep on a cool and unfazed facade. You just convince yourself that he sees you as a little sister and that’s why he’s so worried; you should already be past your ‘delulu’ phase at this age to be affected by such statements.

“I didn’t want to add to your worries,” you reason. “You already have your life to think about. Add to the fact that you’re a naval aviator—so you literally have your own life first to think about.”

“I can make space for you.”

Is he flirting? Is this a normal thing to say between friends?

You blink. “Okay, uh, that’s… that’s completely up to you, I guess.”

“I just like knowing those things first hand. It makes me worry less.”

“Got it. Next time I learn I’m dying, I’ll tell you.”

“____,” he says your name in warning, and you know he’s serious.

“Sorry.” You heat up. “I couldn’t resist.”

“Don’t be a pain in the ass.”

“I promise that’ll be the last time I make a dark joke, Lieutenant.”

Jungkook’s nostrils flare. You prevent yourself from grinning like a fool again in success of getting on his nerves.

“Are you done here? Because I’m hungry and would really like to get going now.” He changes the subject and gestures to the faculty.

“Yeah. I’ll just get my things and then I can get out of here.”

“Great. You’re letting me take you to dinner, right?” 

“Do I have a choice?”

“No.”

“Fine.” You deadpan.

This time, he’s the one who’s beaming at you. “I’ll wait for you here and we can go.”

“Okay.”

****

When Jungkook discovered that you had type 1 diabetes through a phone call with Seowon, he spent the rest of the night staring at the ceiling, ignoring the snores of his squadmates and overthinking what’s supposed to happen to you now that you had an autoimmune disease which he was told didn’t have a cure. He was assured that you were okay despite it, that there was medication to treat it, and that you had access to them and have been very careful with your lifestyle due to the diagnosis ever since.

He still couldn’t be put to ease though. As ridiculous as it may sound, he had this overwhelming realization that life truly was short, that you had to make certain decisions all the time because you need to adjust to what the universe is only willing to give you. It was funny coming from a person who risked his life for a living. He thinks that perhaps he never understood the philosophy of the quote ‘time is gold’ until he had a loved one on the same trajectory, always one step closer to possible death.

And so that same night, he decided to file a leave for two weeks, effective immediately after his deployment. 

He wasn’t sure what his game plan was exactly in filing that two-week leave. Was he supposed to barge in your life and force you to let him take care of you? Was he supposed to demand why you ended up having diabetes? Was he supposed to act as a big brother like your actual big brother because he was that worried about you? But if Jungkook was going to be truthful, he already had an idea on what he wanted to do in the back of his head—he just didn’t want to execute it because it was absolutely insane.

Until he heard Seowon suggest it himself when they met up at a bar to share a drink together.

“She would never say yes,” Jungkook said, beyond doubt that you won’t be persuaded that easily with a plan like that.

Seowon made a face. “I know. That girl is so hyper independent—she’d rather die than accept help.” He scoffed. “She needs it though. It’ll help with her medication and she won’t have to pay rent for that shit apartment she’s living in. Plus, she'll actually get the chance to take care of her body if she’s not juggling two jobs to have sufficient income.”

“You’re right.” Jungkook shrugged.

“You’ll do it then?”

He took a sip of his beer. “Yeah. I’d do anything for ____, you know that.”

“Even as crazy as marrying her?”

“Sure.”

Seowon stared at him, narrowing his eyes and morphing his expression into a teasing one. “Are you sure you’re not just considering this because it’s a perfect excuse to marry my sister? I know you like her.”

“I don’t like her.” 

“You’re in love with her.”

“I don’t—” Jungkook began to deny but Seowon was staring him down. “Fuck you, man. Don’t make me some kind of pervert who’s trying to lock her into marriage because he likes her. You’re the one who brought the idea up.”

Seowon laughed out loud. “I know, I just can’t believe you’d agree. It’ll benefit ____, that’s for sure—you, on the other hand? It’s career suicide.”

He shrugged. “I’m okay with the thought that she’ll be okay.”

“Because you love her, man.” Seowon pushed. “Why on earth would you consider this if you weren’t? It’s a fraudulent marriage. You’ll be thrown in the brig and be dishonorably discharged if you get caught.”

“We don’t even know if she’ll agree to this whole thing. You said it yourself, she would never say yes.”

“Yeah, unless maybe you’re the one who tries to persuade her.”

“Me?”

“Yes.”

“Do you want me to buy her a ring and kneel down before her or something?”

“That can work.”

“What?” Jungkook laughed.

Seowon raised an eyebrow. “Don’t tell me you don’t know how she’s been crushing on you since we were kids.”

He barked out a laugh again. That he knew; it was impossible not to when a lot of friends and cousins kept on teasing you before, especially at instances Jungkook was in the very same vicinity. “We’re not kids anymore and I barely see her though.”

“Still, it ought to count to something. It raises the chances of her agreeing.”

“You’re really cool with me marrying your sister, Won?” Jungkook asked.

Seowon placed down the beer bottle he’s consuming on the counter. “Yeah. You’re a good guy. You’re not perfect, but I know you enough to know that you won’t do anything that will purposely hurt her. Besides, if this sham marriage ends up to be a real relationship and then for some reason, you fuck up and decide to break her heart—I’ll easily know what to do, where to find you, and then I’ll do everything I can to fuck you up.”

Jungkook pressed his lips together to stifle a chuckle.

“Noted.”

****

It’s always been a big wonder to you how no matter how long it’s been since you saw each other, it still feels like no time has passed between you and Jungkook. You think that’s why you can never get over him; he always had this comforting and familiar aura that you appreciate—something that you sought for in every other person that you liked. Maybe it was impractical, maybe it was the reason you can never hold a relationship for more than two years, but unless you gain the courage to confront your feelings and tell Jungkook about it, then you constantly dispel any doubts you might have whether this was good for you or not.

You don’t want to lose him. Admitting that you harbored romantic feelings for him would just make it awkward for everyone: your brother, your family, and then his family. You don’t think you can ever trade his smile, the sound of his laughter, and all the good things about him for anything in the world. 

“Are you dating anyone?” he asks.

You choke on your drink, having just poured yourself and Jungkook a glass of water after the server arrived with the pitcher. You’re in a Japanese restaurant near the university, aware that the cuisine was a favorite for the both of you hence why it’s what you recommended when he asked where you wanted to dine. The place is packed with people from the workforce and students; you’re thankful that you don’t see any of your students within the mix.

“We’re getting straight to it, huh?” you say.

Jungkook smirks. “I’m just making sure I’m not upsetting a boyfriend by meeting you tonight.”

“Don’t worry, you’re not upsetting anyone.”

He nods in understanding. You don’t want to add more meaning to his actions for the evening but he seems glad about the information.

“How about you?” you ask back. “Are you dating anyone?”

The ends of his mouth lift a bit upwards. “Nope.”

“Why? You don’t have the time for it?”

“Precisely.”

“It must be really hard dating when you’re in the Navy then.”

“Kinda. We’re away a lot and stationed in different places most of the time. It can get really dangerous for us too and people don’t like the stress that comes with that.”

 You bob. “Does it get lonely?”

“Sometimes, but when you’re on duty, you don’t get to think about those things.” He chuckles. “Besides, I don’t know if this sounds fucked up or not—but it can get exciting. Flying a plane can be fun, you know. Not to mention that it helps when you’re surrounded by good men in your squadron.”

“You’ve always been an adrenaline junkie.”

“And you’ve always been a scaredy-cat.”

You scoff at the declaration. “No, I’m not.”

“Remember when Seowon and I forced you to ride that ship in the amusement park that sways left to right and as it goes on it falls from a higher standpoint?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

But you do, and Jungkook knows you do, it’s evident by how your expression is trying to feign innocence. That memory is your villain origin story; the whole pretext of why you refuse to ever visit the amusement park or ride an exhilarating ride again. Yet you can’t help but recall that it’s one of the rare instances wherein you got to hold Jungkook’s hand when you two were younger, as his hand was the one you were clinging for dear life when it happened while the other was too busy slapping Seowon in irritation.

He snickers, appearing like he’s replaying the scene in his head. “We should do that again with Seowon during my break.”

“Hell no.”

“I thought you weren’t a scaredy-cat?” He challenges.

“I’m not.” You give him a kittenish glare. “But I am busy. I have to send the final manuscript of this book I’m editing to the chief editor next week and it’s about to be finals week for my students as well.”

He fakes a shiver. “I don’t know how you can do two jobs like that, ____. Truly.”

“You work as a naval aviator so I’d say we’re pretty even.”

The waiter arrives with your orders not long after, and you and Jungkook carry on with your conversation, jumping from topic to topic without difficulty. You’re not certain when was the last time you saw each other like this to have so much to talk about—was it last Christmas? Or was it more recent or longer than that? Nevertheless, it feels good and you find yourself blushing multiple times throughout the night, whether it’s because of how his words can have two meanings or how his eyes are staring at you so intensely whenever you’re the one who’s talking.

You like the undivided attention, the back and forth that’s occurring as you discourse, the subtle touches one of you does when something funny arises, how your knees are touching underneath the table. You wonder what’s so different with this encounter that the energy feels so bizarre in a good way? As far as you’re concerned, you’re positive that you’re acting like you always have in his presence—lively, smiley, sarcastic—and aside from the little touches of flirting here and there, Jungkook’s acting like he always has too.

When dinner was done, Jungkook offered to drive you home. You obliged, no longer in the mood to annoy him for you were tired to make the effort. Before stepping outside the restaurant however, you excused yourself to the restroom first, checking your blood sugar with the glucose meter you brought along wherever you went. It’s a hassle but it’s necessary, largely because you’re still in the middle of saving up for the insulin pump that would help you regulate your sugar levels easier.

After administering yourself with the insulin injection you have, you spend a few more seconds inside the enclosed room. You should be past the point of feeling sorry for yourself, but it’s times like this wherein you’re with a loved one that the dejection hits and you wish that you’re in a better predicament than you are right now. You’re close to being broke, you’re overworked, you’re somehow fatigued all the fucking time—those factors aren’t soothing your worries at all. It’s a miracle how you manage to keep an optimistic mind amidst everything.

“Ready to go?” Jungkook smiles at you once you’re back at the table and you nod, clutching your bag tighter against your body and following him to his car.

He drives you to your place, turning the radio on, and letting it play while the both of you sit in silence. You’re both tired and you almost even sleep during the ride. It’s only when Jungkook gently shakes you awake that you realize that you’ve arrived in front of your apartment building.

“I’ll walk you up,” he insists as you’re unbuckling the seatbelt. 

“That’s no need, Kook.”

“Of course, it is,” he says. “I’ll walk you up. That’s nonnegotiable.”

So, you allow him.

It takes five minutes tops to reach the door leading to your apartment. As you rummage through your bag to grab your keys, Jungkook patiently stands there, occasionally glancing around the hallway and even smiling when the old lady that resided in the same floor got out of her room to throw out the trash. He receives a smile in return which you notice and grin fondly at.

“Well, this is me.” You turn to him, done unlocking your door. “I’d invite you inside but you should probably get going. It’s quite a long drive back home.”

“Yeah.” He breathes out a chuckle. “Hey, tonight was fun. It made me realize how I missed you.”

Your brain temporarily malfunctions; you force yourself to recover quickly. “Me too. I had fun tonight. Maybe we should do this again whenever you’re on a break.”

“Agreed.”

You flash him a smile. “You can go now. Goodnight.”

Jungkook nods, however doesn’t move a muscle. He’s looking at you, like really looking at you, his eyes moving from one feature to another, as if he’s memorizing your face or having a hard time arranging the words he wants to say. You guess it’s the latter, familiar with a tongue-tied Jungkook that it takes you a few good seconds before you’re demanding why he’s impersonating a mannequin.

“There’s something I want to say,” that’s what he utters and you almost snort due to your assumption being right.

“Okay…” The smile is still on your lips. “What is it?”

“Promise me you won’t get mad first.”

“Well, if you’re making me promise that then it’s probably worth being mad about.”

“It’s not as bad as you think.”

“That’s not convincing at all.”

“It’s just…” He begins and trails, biting his lower lip, “it’s… it’s why I went here. Why I went here to see and meet you, I mean.”

You unconsciously recoil at the revelation. It’s certainly a rookie mistake to believe that there was no ulterior motive in Jungkook meeting you today. You just didn’t reckon you’d actually be truly disappointed at that—at the idea that he just didn’t randomly decide to visit and be with you earlier until now.

You draw a long breath. “Well, I knew you weren’t just feeling generous and wanted to treat me to dinner out of nowhere.”

There’s a pause and then he resumes. “Just—before I say it, you have to hear me out, okay? You have to let me explain before you berate me.”

“I can’t promise that either.”

“You have to.”

“Why do I have to?”

“Because what I’m about to say is for your own sake. You know I always have your best interest at heart, don’t you?”

You wrinkle your forehead in further confusion. “Can you just get on with it? The vagueness is making me more annoyed.”

“I just don’t want you to misunderstand.”

“Misunderstand what?”

“What I—and Seowon—genuinely think is the best option.”

“Oh, and Seowon is in on this too?” You bellow. “Have you and Seowon just been conspiring behind my back the whole time?”

“Calm down.” Jungkook puts his hands on your shoulders, a chuckle inevitably escaping him. “I’m sorry for dragging it out. You should know I’m high key afraid of you, that’s why.”

“You should be.” You grumble.

Another chuckle, but he’s back to appearing anxious. You want to shout that this isn’t healthy, that you’re close to giving him a real reason to be afraid of you—yet once he blurts the confession out, you’re speechless, gawking at him and staggering backwards in complete shock. Perhaps you would have bolted as far away from him as possible if not for his solid grasp.

“What?” You hiss.

He swallows hard.

“I want you to marry me, ____.”

You don’t bolt away running. You shake off his hold on you though, and before he gets another word in, you’re hastily rushing inside your apartment and slamming the door to his face.

****

Jungkook was your first kiss.

It happened in a game of truth and dare. You were at a party of a mutual friend and when the bottle miserably pointed in Jungkook’s direction, the person who was tasked to think of his dare when it was his pick said that he dared him to do 7 minutes in heaven with you. 

He profusely refused at first, especially since Seowon was in the same party, but everybody began booing and next thing you know, Jungkook was agreeing as long as it was fine with you. When you nodded to make your consent apparent, your friends were quick to shove you both in the closet, some of them pulling Seowon back who was complaining how it wasn’t right to bully you into doing 7 minutes in heaven with Jungkook. They calmed him down once they bullied him into agreeing too.

“We don’t have to do anything,” Jungkook told you in the darkness, his breath fawning over your face. “You don’t have to feel pressured. It’s just a stupid game.”

You blushed.

Secretly, you were hoping that he’d kiss you or touch you. Who didn’t want to do anything with their crush at the age of 15? A lot can happen in 7 minutes. You were aware that sometimes people made out, went as far as third base, and although you didn’t want to go that far with Jungkook, you wanted something to happen while you were stuck in this small closet with him. There weren’t a lot of instances that put both of you in this kind of situation; you wished that you were brave enough to ask him to kiss you or do the first move yourself.

5 minutes in, Jungkook turned towards you.

“Is it true that Taehyung kissed you last week?”

You whipped your head so fast that you might have given yourself whiplash. “That’s—that’s not true. Where did you hear that?”

“During homeroom. Some girls were talking about it.”

Your cheeks burned. “Oh.”

“So, it’s not true?”

“No.” You shook your head. “I haven’t even had my first kiss yet.” You laughed weakly.

It was his turn to seem stunned. “You haven’t had your first kiss yet?”

You shook your head again, then realized he might not see you doing so. “Not yet.”

“Want me to change that?” he asked, grinning.

He said that with a boyish grin and teasing tone, but you sucked at social cues (plus, you really couldn’t see shit that much) that you started nodding.

“Okay,” you told him.

“Huh?”

“You can kiss me.”

“Oh, oh, shit—I didn’t—” He was blabbering, about to take back what he offered. “I mean, I was just joking but—”

You widen your eyes. “You were? Oh my God, I’m sorry, I thought you were—”

“No, it was my fault. That was a little out of line for me. I’m sorry.” He was laughing and you felt like burying yourself 6 feet under. “It was a stupid thing to say. But if you want me to kiss you, it’s cool.”

“It is?” Hope sparked within you.

“Yeah. It’ll just be a peck anyway.” You can tell he was smiling through his voice. “Just don’t tell Seowon because he might punch me in the face for kissing his sister.”

You cackled. “Deal.”

56 seconds before the 7 minutes were up, Jungkook leaned down to match your level and placed his lips on yours. 

****

You’re seething with rage, the embodiment of Godzilla, channeling the God of War, Ares, in your body; you harshly press Seowon’s number on your phone to call him and he answers after three rings.

“What’s up?”

“I will fucking murder you,” you snarl.

A beat. You hear shuffling. Then he answers, “you already talked with Jungkook?”

The nonchalance and calmness in his voice drives you to be more frustrated than you already are. “Yes, I have! What is wrong with you? Why would you plant that idea on his head?” You yell, not caring that your walls are thin and that your voice can probably be heard by the couple that lived next door. You’re feeling a mixture of anger, embarrassment, and every negative emotion that exists at the moment. You’re comparable to a bull who just saw the color red.

“____, it won’t be a big deal if you don’t make it to be.”

“Are you hearing yourself right now?”

“Did you even let Jungkook explain?”

“I don’t need him to spell everything out. I know why he’s asking me to marry him.”

“Then you know too that it’d be good for you.”

“Marrying him won’t be good for me.”

“Why not?”

“It just won’t!”

“You’ll get health insurance benefits that you don’t get with your current jobs. You can pay less rent once you move in at Jungkook’s place—there’s a huge chance he won’t even let you pay him while you stay there too. He’s away most of the time anyway, so staying there wouldn’t be a problem. Plus, you can start studying for a masters degree like you’ve always wanted.”

You groan. “Not like this. This is crazy.”

“The both of you can divorce once you’ve saved up a little. It really isn’t that complicated.”

“It’s a sham marriage!”

“It’s a sham marriage with Jungkook.”

“That doesn’t make it better.”

“Are you sure? Your grade school diary might disagree.”

“Oh my God, that’s fucking low of you to bring that up. You just gave me another reason to hate you.” You stomp around the living room, acting like a teenager because of your brother’s behavior. This isn’t the first time he revealed that he’s read your diary before; that doesn’t mean it’s less infuriating to be reminded that he has. “I swear, you better fucking sleeping with one eye open tonight. I’m choking you to death.”

Seowon laughs out loud. “Just marry him. He’s surprisingly amicable with the idea.”

“That’s because you’re pressuring him! I bet you and Mom devised this entire thing together.”

“Mom doesn’t know. To be fair, she’d probably have the same reaction as you. It’s all me and Jungkook.”

“Wow. You have two brains and yet none of you thought this was goddamn stupid?”

“It’s not stupid. It’s genius if you come to think of it,” he says. “Jungkook just wants to help you, dude. He wants to make sure you’ll be okay and all that shit. You’re the reason he filed for a two-week leave, did he tell you?”

Your heart does that jumping thing again. “No.”

“Well, he did. He’s on a break for two weeks because he wants to convince you to marry him and actually marry you within that time frame.”

“This is nuts.” You sigh, finally flopping down the sofa and rubbing your face with your free hand. “The both of you are nuts. How are you okay with this?”

“It’s Jungkook. I trust him. Don’t you?”

“Of course, I do, I just—” you cut yourself off and frown, “I just feel like it’s unfair for him. I’m marrying him because of military spouse benefits and what does he get?”

There’s a long pause, and you almost check your phone to see whether Seowon has already hung up on you or not.

“It’s better that Jungkook answers that question,” he tells you finally.

“Why? You can’t answer it on behalf of him?”

“Something like that.” You can imagine him shrugging. “All I know is that he’s genuinely concerned about your health and your financial status right now. So, just think about it, okay?”

“God, fuck it, fine. I’ll think about it.” You grimace.

You hang up and glance at the door.

You don’t think the conversation you just had with Seowon took that much time. The initial rush you had upon having your longtime crush propose to you is wearing off and you’re realizing that it was a dick move to literally slam the door right in Jungkook’s face earlier, leading you to stand up from your seat and look through the peephole to check if he’s still there.

He isn’t, which you sigh in relief at.

As you lean against the door and regulate your breathing, you think how funny it is that Seowon is right about one thing—and that was grade school you would have been delighted at the thought of getting married to Jungkook. He’s your dream guy; your parents loved him, his parents loved you, the both of you got along very well, and his personality and looks are everything that you’re looking for in a partner. It sucks that you live in a world where the only reason he wants to marry you is because he’s afraid you’ll die because of self-neglect. 

Your phone pings and you unlock the screen to look at the message that flashes on it.

Jungkook: hey, seowon just messaged me to say that you two already talked Jungkook: i’m sorry for jumping on you with a topic like that… Jungkook: i’m shit at confrontation lol Jungkook: also it’s the first time i’m proposing so give me some slack

You scoff at his audacity to joke about it this soon.

You: it’s okay You: i’m sorry too for what i did You: the answer is no btw

Jungkook: already??? Jungkook: let’s talk about it first

You: no need You: i don’t want to marry you

Jungkook: oof that’s harsh

You: sorry not sorry?

He doesn’t respond and you think you’re safe. Maybe Jungkook does take no for an answer and you’re confused because you’re a little disappointed that he’s not falling on his knees, begging you to marry him like what your imagination is supplying you.

However, after you took a shower and went to check your phone again, you see that Jungkook messaged you a few minutes ago in response to your last message.

Jungkook: give me 10 days and i’ll change your mind

You have the urge to go take a shower again because of how hot your body is feeling at the statement.

You: hate to break it to you but you’re not matthew mcconaughey

Jungkook: 🤣🤣🤣

****

It’s not part of Jungkook’s branding to chase a woman. Typically, women chase him; they chase him in every city and country that he gets stationed in, flirting with him and hoping that they’ll get the chance to take him home for the night for a mindblowing one-night stand. They never succeed though, for despite their pretty faces and sultry gestures, Jungkook only smiles and declines every offer, saying that he had a girl waiting back home that he loved very much.

He used to think that he only used that as an excuse because he’s not the type to hook up with every attractive girl he meets. There are times when he succumbs, when he gives into the temptation of a little fun, especially after a life threatening or highly stressful mission—but most of the time, he thinks he declines and use that pronouncement of his because his mind reverts him to the idea of you, to what would happen if he just gained the balls to ask you out.

Evidently, although asking you out and asking you to marry him are two completely different things, he’s a bit afraid that your answer will always be a hard no. It’s what you’ve been literally spelling out to him since the day he presented the idea, regardless of how he’s trying his best in swooning you or explaining how this is the perfect plan to help you gain an upper hand with your diagnosis.

“I’ll file a restraining order against you, I’m serious,” you say to him when he appears yet again outside the faculty room, waiting for you to gather your things and head home. You’re wearing a white button up shirt and pinstripe wide leg trousers, an outfit combination that he ogles at before he goes down to business.

“You wouldn’t.” He glares at you. He gestures for you to let him take your backpack, and despite what you said, you let him. “Also, what the fuck is in this thing? You’ll break your back if you keep using this.” He swings your backpack on one shoulder.

You laugh. “My laptop, its charger, a couple of notebooks, books, pens, then the outputs of my students.”

“Aren’t they supposed to submit virtually? What happened to Google Classroom?”

“I still use it, but sometimes I like to have their work printed out so I can write the comments better. How do you know Google Classroom?”

“I have a squadronmate whose kid uses it for class.”

“Ah.” You nod in understanding.

You two continue walking forward.

This has been your program for the past few days. Jungkook goes to the university you work at, he’ll wait outside, you’ll threaten him with something ridiculous, he’ll take your bag, he’ll offer to take you to dinner, you’ll decline, and then he’ll drive you home anyways. Before that routine ends, he’ll lean on your door frame and give you his best puppy eyes, asking you to marry him for the sake of your welfare, and you’ll scowl at him, insisting that you don’t need his help to survive.

“Dinner?” he asks, right on schedule.

You glance at him. “No. I want to go home and sleep for 12 hours.”

“Busy day?”

“Yep.”

“You know, if you marry me, you won’t have to work two jobs and overexert yourself.”

He doesn’t need to turn to you to know that you’re giving him a dirty look. “I won’t marry you, Jungkook.”

“Why not?”

“Because marriage doesn’t work that way.”

“It does. Billionaires do it all the time. The mafia does it too. It’s always been some kind of transaction.”

“Well, if I marry you, what do you get?”

“The assurance you’re taken care of.”

“That’s cheesy.”

You share a laugh and he grins.

“It’s true,” he says. “I’ll be fine as long as you are.”

He waits for you to quip back a reply, flickering his eyes to you when it takes longer than usual. Instead of the sneer he’s expecting, you appear to be flustered, an expression that is very recognizable for him who’s known you since forever—an expression that makes it too obvious for Jungkook that the crush you had on him that he thought has been long gone was still there. He’s been seeing it a lot lately, particularly when he’s uttering lines that sound flirtatious on purpose; he’s positive that you’ll threaten to kill him when you discover that he basks on the fact that he can still make you all flustered and cute, which encourages him to do and say anything that would elicit a reaction from you. Was it unethical to seduce you into marrying him? He might have to rethink that part too.

Reaching the parking lot, he unlocks the doors to his vehicle and places your bag inside the backseat. He watches you walk around the car, about to go to the passenger’s side, but then you wobble a bit and his attempt to get inside is instantly forgotten.

“Hey,” he strides to where you are, gazing at you as you now hold onto the hood, “you alright?”

You raise your chin up. “Kook, can you get my bag?”

Jungkook doesn’t need to be told twice. He’s swinging the door again and getting your bag from the other end of the backseat while you get on the passenger’s seat, keeping the door wide and placing your legs outside, your feet planted on the concrete.

“What do you need?” he asks, crouching in front of you and zipping the bag open.

“Glucometer.”

He halts. “What does that look like?”

“It’s in the yellow bag. There.” You point at it right when he rummages through a certain part.

He brings it out and you take it from his grasp. Your movements are sluggish but he can discern that you’re doing your best not to be too slow; he’d present to help but he knows that he might prolong what you’re doing due to his cluelessness, so he just observes, noting how you’re pricking your finger with a device and then pressing it lightly to the glucometer which shows that your blood sugar is low.

“Apple juice,” you mutter to him and he finds it faster than the last one.

You grab the juice pouch from his grasp, prying the straw attached on the back, pushing its end for it to pop out of its plastic cover—then your hand shakes, preventing you from continuing and punching in the straw properly.

“Let me do it,” he says.

You don’t fight him, you just slump against the seat as Jungkook picks up from where you left, and the moment he does the job and guides the straw to your awaiting lips, a long exhale through your nose escapes you.

“How are you feeling?” he whispers. He didn’t notice that he was holding his breath the entire duration of the scene.

Another sigh. “Better.”

“Does this happen a lot?”

You seem to hesitate. “Not a lot. Just when life gets a bit too hectic.”

“____—”

“Just take me home.” You don’t give him the chance to lecture you. “Please, Jungkook.”

Defeated, he nods. “Alright.”

“Thank you.”

He helps you position yourself properly on the passenger’s seat. “But we’re talking about this at your place.”

Before you can protest, he closes the door.

****

Lee Hyunwoo was the name of the guy that you brought home for Christmas Eve eight years ago. It was the first time that you did, and Jungkook hated how Hyunwoo was considerably handsome, intelligent, and kind—the exact kind of person he always imagined you deserved.

In the short time Hyunwoo spent with theirs and your family that night, everybody loved him and was already inviting him to the next gathering, all the while Jungkook avoided him at every cost, puzzled by this strong dislike he was feeling for your guest. He was annoyed at the manner in which Hyunwoo had an arm around your waist the entire evening, how you grinned up to him, eyes sparkling and all that shit. Hell, you used to look at him like that.

“Honey, can you get the mango float we have in our freezer?” Jungkook heard your mother tell you, and without thinking, he stood up from his chair and made a beeline to where you were, telling you he’d accompany you to your house.

“That’s fine,” you told him. “It’s literally next door.”

“Yeah, but it might be heavy.”

“It’s not.”

“Better safe than sorry.”

You rolled your eyes and agreed then, excusing yourself from Hyunwoo who was in an engaged conversation with Seowon. The pair were geeking out because of their mutual love for the MCU and the next film slated to be released the following year.

Upon arriving at your home, you dashed to the kitchen with Jungkook trudging behind you. He wasn’t sure what his next course of action should be now; all he wanted was some alone time with you, away from the presence of that college boyfriend of yours, but now that he had that, he couldn’t think of anything that he wanted to say or do. He wasn’t even sure why he was feeling a bit jealous—was it because of that saying? Wherein people are bound to want what they can’t have? Or was it that you only appreciate what you had when you’ve already lost it?

“How long have you and Hyunwoo been dating?” he asked, leaning against the counter as you pulled your freezer open.

“Four months, I think.”

“Four months? And you already brought him home?”

You snorted at his tone. “His family is in another country so I thought it’d be nice to invite him.”

“You must really like him then.”

“Yeah, but I’m not in love with him or anything.” You placed the mango float on the space beside Jungkook on the counter. “He’s nice, and he likes me too.”

“Does he treat you well?”

You flashed your eyes at him, amusement dancing in them. “What’s with that question?”

“What’s with it?”

“Nothing, it’s just that…” you trailed, a smirk etched on your face. “Wait a minute, are you… you can’t possibly—” Jungkook was widening his eyes, ready to deny your accusation once you questioned whether he was jealous of Hyunwoo or not— “are you pulling an overprotective brother skit on me, Kook?”

Fuck, thank God, he thought.

“I prefer ‘overprotective friend skit’,” he said.

“That doesn’t have a nice ring to it.”

“But I’m not your brother.”

“You don’t have to be, I’m just saying that you and Seowon have been acting similar since Hyunwoo and I arrived.”

“Nonsense. Seowon likes him.”

“Oh, so you don’t?”

He pressed his lips into a tight line.

“Did you just admit that you don’t like Hyunwoo?” you asked, chuckling. He was grateful that you didn’t seem to be offended by it.

“I didn’t say I didn’t like him.”

“Instead you implied it.”

“No, I didn’t.”

“You kinda did.”

He heard you laugh and he couldn’t help but allow himself to laugh as well.

“I’m sorry,” he apologized. “Maybe I’m just not used to you dating anyone. You are chronically single.”

“Can’t say you’re wrong.” You snorted and picked up from the mango float, marching back to his house and gesturing for him to follow you.

He did, no words spoken between the both of you once more. Though when you were entering their place again, with Jungkook holding the door open for you, he mentioned something he never reckoned he’d have the guts to mention out loud.

“When you open my gift,” he began, “don’t do it in front of Hyunwoo, okay?”

“Why not?” You weren’t paying attention to where you were going, intrigued by his warning.

“He might not like it. You’ll see.”

That night, at the comfort of your bedroom, Hyunwoo nowhere near but instead sleeping at the coach downstairs in your living room, you opened Jungkook’s gift and saw that it was a necklace with your birth flower as its pendant.

You smiled, rolling your eyes to yourself, and slept with that giddy look never leaving your face.

****

“Not so fast,” Jungkook grunts.

Did he think that you were going to be less difficult since he was helpful earlier? Yeah, he did. He likes to think that if it wasn’t for him, you would have taken longer in feeding yourself with apple juice, so he at least wanted a thank you in the form of your willingness to have an adult conversation with him tonight. However, that clearly isn’t the case because when he walked you up to your apartment like he always did, you’re attempting to lock him out, shutting the door as fast as you can once you’re inside, thus trying to prevent him from initiating that talk he wanted the two of you to have.

“Seriously?” He successfully pries the door open and you scowl at him.

“Jungkook—”

“No, you don’t get to reason your way out of this. I’m done hearing you out. It’s your turn to listen to me.” He steps inside your apartment.

You groan, striding to the sofa and throwing your bag there. “You can’t force me to marry you.”

“Is marrying me so fucking bad that you can’t get over it for health insurance benefits that can really help you?” He demands, infuriated. 

“That’s not the issue.”

“Then what is?”

“You can get arrested!” you exclaim. “And so can I! Does that not freak you out?”

“We’ll only get arrested if we get caught.”

“I’m not willing to take the risk.”

“I’m not willing to see you die.”

You scoff out a laugh. “Who the fuck said anything about dying? I’m not dying.”

“You almost passed out on me. You almost—”

“It’s an error on my part, I admit.” You sigh. “When I get busy and preoccupied, sometimes I forget to check my sugar levels regularly throughout the day. I’m sorry.”

“And you expect to be convinced that you have everything handled?”

“God, I’m not a child. Stop treating me like I can’t do shit for myself.”

“Please, ___,” he approaches you with the most pleading expression he can muster, and he watches as your hard expression crumbles, “just accept my help. It’s really not a big deal—you won’t even see me often, so keeping up with the whole marriage ploy wouldn’t be difficult. We’ll divorce in two years, we can pretend we never got married after that.”

“You just don’t get it, don’t you?”

“What do I not get? If you think I don’t understand something, then explain it to me—”

“I can’t marry you,” you say. You do so like it’s final, like there’s no point in arguing with you because he can never change your stand on this. As he’s pleading with his eyes to urge you to agree, you’re communicating with your eyes in a similar way that’s wishing he would just drop this. “It’s wrong.”

His eyebrows furrow. “This isn’t the time to go on your high horse and decide what’s wrong and what’s not. It’s a fraudulent marriage—of course, it’ll be wrong to some degree.”

“No, I mean…” You turn away from him, rubbing your face in exhaustion. “It’d be wrong of me to marry you. I’m taking advantage of you if I do, and I don’t like that.”

Jungkook shakes his head, frustration worsening at the childlike excuse. Surely, you weren’t that naive, were you? “You’re not. I’m not doing this against my own will. Besides, we get extra pay just for being married. If it makes you feel better, I won’t split it with you.”

“That won’t make me feel better.”

“Then what will?”

You flop down on the coach and lean back, closing your eyes. He knows he’s being a pain in the ass but he can’t just stand here and do nothing. He thinks he’s already come too far in convincing you, he isn’t going to back out now. Every single day spent together, he can feel you warming up to the idea of marrying him for health insurance. Your connection and entirety of your relationship has been off the charts recently that it’ll be harder for him not to be assured that before he leaves for his job, you’ll be taken care off.

Jungkook goes to the spot beside you, sitting down. Your knees bump together, he keeps on gazing at you, waiting for you to focus on him; a minute passes and his gaze moves to your hand that’s laying on the small space between you.

Without overthinking, he stretches out and clasps it, allowing his fingers to play with yours that finally captures your attention. The moment he glances up, he sees that you’re staring at him and he doesn’t let go, he even smiles, a quiet promise that he’s always willing to listen to whatever you want to tell him.

You hesitantly smile back. “You know,” your eyes train back to your intertwined fingers, Jungkook reveling in the warmth of your skin, gaining more confidence in acting out his feelings, “there was a time wherein I would have said yes immediately if you asked me to marry you.”

He smirks, can’t deny how hearing that inflates his ego a bit although this route in the conversation isn’t where he expected to go. “What changed?”

“For one, I grew up.”

“Ouch.”

You laugh. Then you stay quiet for a while before speaking. “Can I confess something?”

That piques his interest. “Anything.”

“But you have to promise not to make fun of me.”

“That’s impossible.” He teases. “What is it?”

You stall, readjusting your position so that you can directly face him. Jungkook doesn’t let go of your hand, he keeps it in his grasp, his thumb rubbing along the expanse of your knuckles.

“I like you, Jungkook. I really really do,” you finally say and he blinks, startled.

It shouldn’t surprise him, considering that it’s been long established that he knew of your crush already, though he doesn’t seem to have anticipated for you to boldly admit it when all these years, it’s only been some kind of unspoken understanding that neither of you downright acknowledged.

You continue speaking. “In fact, I like you so much that maybe it developed into love at some point—I’m not sure. I’m at this stage of no longer being afraid of what I feel, I think? Most of the time, I just let it occur like it’s something so natural. Like it’s a feeling that I can never get away from? Like whatever I do, there’s no way to shake you.” You chuckle half-heartedly. “Though never in a million years would I have thought that I’d confess all of this. What for anyway? I don’t want you to be burdened with what my teenage heart couldn’t rub out.”

His mind is racing; hundred thoughts, hundred scenarios, hundred experiences he’s spent with you since the day you met. Jungkook never realized how much he needed you to say that you liked him—that maybe you even loved him—until he heard it from your very mouth that you did, causing every inhibition and doubt he had to vanish. Now, he only wants to engulf you in an embrace and shout Yes, I feel the same way! Sorry for being a fucking corward and not doing this first!

He would have done all of that in a flash if it didn’t appear that you still had something to say. Based on your rather constipated posture and the hand he’s holding that’s becoming clammy, he discerns that you’re just in the first part of what you wanted to admit.

“Actually, that’s also why I can’t let myself marry you,” you say. “I know it sounds ridiculous, but I don’t know… it feels really icky somehow. I feel like I’m holding you hostage, or that I’m tricking you because of an ulterior motive, or that I’m defying the laws of the universe by having the chance to marry you. I’m not sure. I just know that I don’t want to marry you if it means I’ll only get to do so because you think you’re doing me a huge favor. I don’t want to be your charity case, Kook—I deserve to be more than that, you know? I’m not traditional or whatever but if it’s not for love, I’m not keen on getting married.” You abruptly pull away from his clutch, embarrassment washing on your features by what you stated. “Plus, two years might not be that long but what happens when you meet someone and you like her? How can you explain that you’re only married to me because I need it for my medication? It’ll just be unnecessarily messy. I don’t want to hold you back from those kinds of things. I don’t want to be a hindrance.”

That’s his cue. That’s when he knows he’s supposed to kiss you and take your breath away, to admit that he’s certain that he has loved you since that one time when he was in the Naval Academy and although the training was hard as fuck, the thought of you gave him strength and he didn’t want to see anyone as much as he wanted to see you after—that when you and Seowon visited him, that familiar urge to have you alone was all he felt the entire time, solidifying the idea that perhaps he didn’t just see you as a friend.

“You’re unbelievably dense, ___,” he murmurs, smirking at the play of events, and you glance at him, expression showing disbelief that he’s somehow treating this matter lightly.

“What?”

“Do you honestly think I go around and offer marriage to every woman out there who can benefit from being a military spouse? Do you think I’m that generous? I’m not. I wouldn’t ask anyone to marry me for the same reason if they weren’t important to me—or if I didn’t like them. I’m not that much of a saint,” he adds. “I mean, I’m taking a two-week break to convince you to marry me. I’m spending time with you every single day. I’m driving for almost an hour and a half, enduring the traffic to get from my apartment to the university you work in to do that—and you think this is because I want to be charitable?”

Silence. Your forehead wrinkles. He thinks you’re still not getting the point.

“I’m in love with you, ____,” Jungkook says.

Your breath hitches in your throat. You’re opening your mouth, then closing it, then opening it again, then pressing it into a thin line. He thinks you look cute, being taken aback like this, and he’s wishing that he’s done this sooner so that the last five days of him chasing you around like a lost puppy was spent with talking more about what’s possibly waiting for yours and his relationship next.

“Are you serious?” you ask after what seems like forever. “Or are you just saying that because you’re that desperate to have me on board with the whole fraudulent marriage thing?”

“God—” He’s inching closer to you now, laughing, watching your lips twitch at his reaction— “I’m convinced that you were born into this earth to drive me fucking crazy.”

And just like that, he no longer restrains himself from kissing you.

It takes you a few good seconds before you will yourself to move. You can’t seem to process the reality of Jungkook admitting that he was in love with you and then taking the liberty to plant his lips on yours. You’re not complaining, of course, but you are a bit overwhelmed that it literally makes you freeze, unaware of what you’re supposed to do now that your fantasies are coming into life.

However, once you feel him angle his head to the side, doing so to deepen the kiss, your reflexes kick in and you’re kissing him back, encircling your arms around his neck and leaning towards him, Jungkook sighing in what appears to be relief. He grips your hips to support you as you try to straddle him, but your movements are so clumsy that you end up sprawling against his chest instead, perched on a leg of his that provides pleasure on the spot you need him the most. He chuckles at your lack of gracefulness, gliding his lips to your cheek and down to your jaw, nipping.

“This okay?” he whispers with a palm drifting to your bottom.

You nod and Jungkook’s mouth is back on yours in an instant. He squeezes your ass, takes his time in fondling with it, cheekily slapping whenever you get brave yourself and push your tongue past his lips, before he skims his hand lower to your thigh and signals for you to mount him. Upon being properly sat on his lap, you get an immediate feel of his hard length through his jeans, prompting your imagination to run wild and induce the filthiest things he can do to you if neither of you stops.

“Holy shit,” he curses, your kisses roaming to the base of his throat where you lap and suck.

It becomes a dirty pattern for a while. The both of you will take a brief pause from making out to remove a piece of clothing or kiss every other exposed skin there is: the cheek, the jaw, the neck, the collarbones, the shoulders. Then one of you hauls the other back for another passionate kiss, hands skating everywhere on your bodies, sounds of arousal echoing inside the room; you’re starting to get lightheaded but you’re positive it’s not because of your sugar levels running low.

“I hate that it took us so long to get to this point,” he mutters.

You grin. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize. I’m the man—I should have confessed long ago.”

“Why didn’t you?”

“I don’t know. ‘Was afraid to lose you, I guess.” He draws his head back and admires your blissed out expression. “But then when Seowon told me you had diabetes, I panicked and thought that I might lose you either way.”

You go back to making out, Jungkook guiding your hips in grinding on his clothed length. It’s addictive—the intimate feel of him, how he’s not shy in making sure you know how much he’s craving to be as close to you as you are to him. You think you can spend the whole night just doing this and be okay with it.

“Fuck, Kook,” you groan against his mouth, a hand descending to his stomach and to his manhood, “you’re so… so fuckin’ hard.”

You’re palming him now, tracing the erection evident under his boxers.

He lets out a grunt. “Yeah, baby, I know.”

“Do you… do you want me—” You’re breathless, not able to continue whatever it is that you want to say.

He understands you just fine though. “No.” He shakes his head. “Don’t do anything.”

You’re not sure what Jungkook means by that. How are you supposed to do nothing when you want to do everything to him? You soon comprehend what he means when he guides you to lay down on the sofa, when his lips skim lower and lower, passing your breasts, giving them the attention they deserve, until he goes lower than that and discards your underwear, kissing you in between your legs.

It’s like he’s releasing all the pent up emotions he’s been keeping all these years. His tongue and fingers are relentless, his voice is telling you that he’s eager to coax an orgasm out of you, and as he lifts himself up to return to his previous position, face hovering yours, you’re positive that he’ll get everything he wants because without a doubt you’ll give him everything he wants from you too. Hell, if he uses this opportunity to ask you to marry him again, you might answer yes straight away, no longer bearing in mind the worries you expressed to him earlier.

Although did that even matter anymore? Jungkook said he loved you. He said you drove him crazy. You never thought you’d come to see the day he’d utter those words but here you are. The man of your dreams is kissing you, pleasing you, and looking damn enthusiastic as he does all of that.

“Last chance to stop me,” Jungkook teases. His eyes are glassy and you can feel his cock nudging on your thigh.

You giggle, bringing his head closer to press another long kiss on those pink and plump lips of his. “Please never stop.”

“Never?”

“Never.”

“I’m going to take you up on that.”

“Please do.”

After this night, you’re certain that you’ll never allow yourself to be with another man aside from Jungkook. At the back of your head, you always thought that you were his, regardless if that wasn’t true or that there was no real relationship to prove that—however, at this moment, as he thrusts in and out languidly, you unquestionably know that you are. You belong to him now and he belongs to you; he lets you know through his love-filled gaze, his passionate kisses, and the manner wherein he moans your name.

“I love you,” he says, like he’s still in deep longing for your touch and affection.

You hum, tangling your fingers through the strands of his hair. “I love you, Kook.” You stare at his eyes. “I can’t remember a time I didn’t.”

A boyish grin erupts on his features.

Time passes by quickly. In a few more of his kisses, of the intoxicating slam of his hips, of his seductive whimpers, you’re coming beneath him, Jungkook pulling out and jerking his length until he too comes, his seed landing on the base of your tummy. You have the nerve to giggle at that, grinning at him with low-lidded eyes, and Jungkook hastily wipes his cum off your skin, attacking you with another passionate kiss that leaves you breathless.

“There’s no way you’re not marrying me after this,” he murmurs.

You teasingly graze your teeth on his bottom lip. “I’ll think about it.”

He groans. “Don’t think about it. Just say yes.”

“At least let me sleep on it, Kook.”

“Fuck—fine.” He grabs your sides and pulls you flush against his body. “Guess I’ll have to keep on convincing you until you agree.”

****

“God, why is this so difficult?” Jungkook whines, keeping you in his embrace, head tucked between your cheek and shoulder.

The air is very humid and Jungkook’s in his naval aviator uniform, which doesn’t look cool in a sense that air is properly flowing through the material. He doesn’t care though, doesn’t care that it’s sticking to his skin as he refuses to let you go, not even when you complain playfully.

“Kook, I’m fucking sweaty.”

“I don’t care.”

You laugh. 

He’s leaving to return to his duty and you’re here with him outside the base before he enters, being with him until the last possible minute because that’s how much of a good wife you are.

Yes, you and Jungkook did get married. Three days ago in fact, at the city hall’s courtroom. Neither of you invited your parents; they didn’t know about the occasion and you refused to tell them, afraid that they may be critical about yours and his choices when they discover the true reason why you’re rushing to be wed. The only people that remained to be aware of it was Seowon and his girlfriend, Winnie, who served as the witnesses, which was fine by you. In your understanding, this was just for the papers and your health, and not the real deal yet to be celebrated lavishly.

“I’ll propose to you again after a couple of years,” Jungkook promised after the ceremony. “Let’s renew our vows and I’ll give you an amazing wedding.”

You would have told him that there was no need, but who were you kidding? You did want a proper wedding with Jungkook. The previous week didn’t even feel like you were newlyweds. Yes, the both of you compacted all of the dates you could have if one of you weren’t such a chicken in five days, and yes, though the honeymoon stage was experienced and practiced—it was only because you were a new couple who after years of hiding their feelings for one another, was now finally free to express it as much as they desired.

“Call me everyday?” you ask when he finally pulls back, Jungkook pecking your lips one more time.

“Definitely.” He smiles. “Visit me whenever possible?”

“Of course.” You kiss him too.

His smile transforms into a grin. “Take care of yourself, alright? Keep me updated all the time. No sugarcoating allowed.”

“Yes, Lieutenant.”

Rolling his eyes, he gives you another kiss and engulfs you in a tight hug, lifting you off the ground that causes you to giggle.

“Okay, pack it up, love birds!” Seowon shouts.

The two of you turn to your brother who’s leaning on his car, the vehicle that was used to transport the three of you today. You’re still in the middle of moving your belongings at Jungkook’s place and Seowon was kind enough to volunteer helping, always dubious that you could do stuff on your own. Despite your reluctance, you let him assist you, mostly because you’re trying to make a conscious effort in not upsetting him again.

Let’s just say that when the judge hailed you husband and wife at the civil wedding, Seowon wasn’t thrilled to see that the kiss shared between you and Jungkook wasn’t as fake as the supposed sham marriage, leading him to the conclusion that in the middle of Jungkook’s ruse of convincing you to be his wife, something must have happened that led to your approval and that rather 18+ rated kiss. Mostly though, he’s just offended that neither of you thought of telling him that you were an official couple before the wedding.

Jungkook unwillingly places you down.

“I think I need to go,” you say.

He nods with a sigh. “I’ll miss you.”

“I’ll miss you too.”

“Call you tomorrow?”

“Yes.” You affectionately caress his cheek, bringing his face down for the very very very last kiss. 

He leans into it. “Fuck, I don’t want to leave.”

“Seriously—hurry up!” Seowon shouts and you pull back.

“I will kill him,” you tell Jungkook.

“He’s your brother,” he says. “And now, my brother-in-law, so I can’t let you do that.”

“That might be your very first red flag, Jungkook, insinuating that you’re choosing my brother over me.” You cross your arms. “Tell me, if the both of us were drowning, would you save me or Seowon?”

“You,” he answers without missing a beat.

You narrow your eyes. “Is that the truth?”

“Of course. Seowon would probably undrown himself anyway and you’re shit at swimming. It’s an easy choice.”

You punch him hard on the shoulder and he feigns hurt, snickering. “For the record, I don’t think anyone can ‘undrown’ themselves—but fine, you pass the test.”

Jungkook faces Seowon’s direction and does a final salute, your brother returning it swiftly, and just like that, you and him share your last farewells. You watch as he goes through the entrance of the base and sends you a wave of goodbye; you weakly copy the gesture and stand there for a few seconds, just watching him fade from your view the further he trudges inside. You don’t think saying goodbye to him ever felt this heavy, and you blame it on the fact that after all this is the first time you’re saying goodbye to him with the assurance that he loves you too—and that alone weighs millions.

You spin on your heel and go to Seowon who’s already in the driver’s seat. As soon as you get in and wear your seat belt, he’s giving you a dirty look.

“What?” you ask.

“Please never do that in front of me again.”

His statement makes you smirk. “Why? Didn’t you want this?”

“Want what?”

“Me and Jungkook to be together.”

“When on earth did I say that?”

“You previously admitted that you were lowkey playing cupid by suggesting that Jungkook marry me for health insurance.”

A short pause. “Yeah, but that doesn’t mean I have to watch you two reenact a porno every fucking time.”

“We’re not—”

“You are. Don’t deny it.” He grumbles. “God, every time I see you two, it’s like I’m Ross from that one Friends episode where he accidentally sees Monica and Chandler doing it from the window of his apartment.”

“Yeah, I remember that.” You laugh. “In my defense, you haven’t seen me and Jungkook actually do the deed so—”

“Wait, so the two of you have?”

Your expression drops. His tone is approaching older brother protectiveness territory and you’re quick to attempt diffusing the situation. “I will not dive into that. All I’m going to say is that I’m a grown adult and so is Jungkook.”

He grimaces before starting the engine. “Yeah, never dive into that. I don’t need to hear the details.”

You share a laugh and then silence fills the car.

You press your lips together, looking at him while he backs out from the parking spot. “Hey, thanks, by the way. For driving today, and for offering to help me later, and maybe for also never minding your own business.”

You recall how Seowon was the one who couldn’t stop worrying about you and finding a solution when you told your family that you had type 1 diabetes. Your parents were concerned, they pestered you for months to force you to accept financial assistance from them, but they gave up soon after. Seowon though? He never did. He persisted through every outburst you had; he tolerated your bitchiness and your dirty looks all the time. Out of everyone in your life, you always felt like regardless of how stubborn and prideful you could be, Seowon was worse—in the best way possible.

A crooked smile illuminates his face. “You’re my kid sister. It’s my job to never let you experience peace in your whole life.”

You scoff. “Well, you’re damn great at what you do.”

When you reach Jungkook’s apartment, unloading the boxes and arranging your stuff to its designated places, your heart swells in happiness as the reality sinks in that your life is heading in the right direction after months of feeling hopeless. It drives you to be more thankful to the little things, to the people who were always by your side, to your previous circumstance that although wasn’t ideal was still manageable. A lot don’t get to have that kind of privilege and you promise yourself that you’ll make an effort to find more things to be grateful about from this day forward.

“Oh, I forgot to mention,” Seowon approaches in the middle of you arranging your books on Jungkook’s near to empty shelf, “Winnie wanted to give you this. She would have handed it over herself but she’s going to be busy for the next few days.”

You take the frame from his hand and see that it’s the picture Winnie took of you and Jungkook after the ceremony. It’s in the restaurant that you ate at to celebrate the civil wedding. Jungkook was grinning at you with an arm around on the backrest of your chair, you were leaning towards him, smiling at the camera—and the absolute selling point of why this was the best picture ever taken was because of how cake icing was scattered on your faces, places on spots in an artistic manner like it was planted there on purpose for the picture and not because the both of you were being silly that instance.

You think it showcases your relationship with Jungkook marvelously. It’s playful, it’s sweet, and most of all, it demonstrates how you two are clearly great friends.

“This is so beautiful, Seowon,” you say.

You immediately send Winnie a heartfelt thank you message for the gift and continue to take a photo of the frame, sending it to Jungkook as well.

Once you hit send, you type out a message to accompany it.

You: look how cute we look 🥹

You’re certain it’ll take hours before he replies so you keep your phone again, going back to staring at the picture which is now placed on one of the shelves. It’s the sole picture frame you have with Jungkook. In fact, it’s the only picture that Jungkook has in his apartment, and you like to think that this might be the mark of the new beginning you’ll have with him. Even though your relationship wouldn’t be traditionally explored given his occupation and how he’s most likely going to be away a lot, you don’t mind.

If there’s one thing you really believe in, it’s that waiting for Jungkook—whether consciously or unconsciously—always brings out the best outcomes.

gentle reminder: this author loves feedback! let her know your thoughts if you enjoyed reading this fic and you’ll add 100+ points in her writing motivation meter ♡

[checkeredflagggs]

Stepping Up

Pairing: oscar piastri x spouse!reader

summary: when tragedy strikes Oscar’s in-laws, the Piastri’s step up.

a/n: needed to write something angst and this is what happened.

Warnings: Parental Death

Masterlist

Phone Call, Family Lawyer

Private Messages, Oscar and y/n

f1gossip

liked by user, user, user, and 728,823 others

f1gossip: Uh-Oh! Something seems to be wrong in the world of Oscar Piastri, seen here rushing away from the Chinese GP despite his stunning win.

view all comments

user1: I hope everything is ok…

↳user2: I wonder what’s it’s all about…

↳user1: I suspect we’ll find out

user3: do you think it has anything to do with y/n? They weren’t at the GP and they’ve said they love the Chinese one!

↳user4: oh that’s a good point!

↳user5: oh I love y/n and Oscar

↳user6: they are such a cute couple!

↳user3: this is all making me hope I’m wrong…

↳user4: ngl me too — Oscar almost never runs off like that and for it to maybe include y/n?!?

user7: ok so i know he’s like rushing and maybe panicking but like? He’s so adorable?!?

↳user8: omg thank you for saying that i thought i was the only one

user9: sending good thoughts and vibes their way, if something has gone wrong…

user10: some gossip from the paddock is that not even Zak or Andrea knew why Oscar left in such a rush

↳user11: oh man that’s really not a good sign…

↳user12: not at all…

Private Messages, Zak and Oscar

Bluesky

user12: shit really??

user13: who?!

user14: ok but it would be fucking hilarious if this was about Max and Kelly?!?

↳user15: hilarious but that’s been known forever

user16: ok but who is it talking about?!

↳user17: Well it’s not the Ferrari or Alpine men

↳user18: not the Williams or Haas men either…

↳user19: just did a deep dive on the revolving door of Redbull and Racing Bull drivers — not likely

↳user20: I don’t think it could be any of the rookies??

↳user21: probably not George and Lance doesn’t have another girlfriend (that we’re aware of)

↳user22: Fernando or Nico??

↳user23: that’s my guess

↳user24: I’m gonna go wild shot and say Y/N Piastri!

↳user25: and I’m gonna say you’re crazy!

↳user26: they’ve never talked about kids and y/n has been so open about their life — it’s not them

f1gossip

liked by user, user, user and 827,382 others

f1gossip: Movers spotted going in and out of the Piastri residence in England! Is this the end for our favorite McLaren couple?

view all comments

user27: it better fucking not be

↳user28: your honor they’re my emotional support couple — they can’t be split up…

↳user27: you get me

user29: ok where are you getting this from?! They could literally just be getting new furniture or something?!?

↳user30: this looks like they’re taking EVERYTHING from their house though…

user31: what if y/n is the one who had a kid from a previous relationship?!

↳user32: don’t even speak that into existence

↳user31: no but listen — y/n misses the Chinese GP (despite saying it’s among their favorites and saying they’d be there)

↳user31: then Oscar is seen rushing from the race and then goes silent for like 2 weeks

↳user31: during that time we get a gossip piece that a racer’s partner has kids from a previous relationship

↳user31: and now there’s movers in front of the Piastri house?!

↳user31: Oscar found out about the kids and they’re breaking up about the secret

↳user33: I’ll agree with everything but the last bit — I think they’re moving to make space for a kid in their lives

↳user32: I like that thought more

f1partners

liked by user, user, user, and 493,923 others

f1partners: Missing in action! Y/N Piastri, Oscar’s spouse, has been absent for a third GP in a row — a shocking twist compared to last year when the Piastri’s ruled the paddock! Trouble in paradise or just a break in the chaos?

view all comments

user34: hey! Let’s normalize leaving them alone???

user35: they don’t have to go to every single race you know?!?

user36: let’s be real here — those 2 are so disgustingly in love, let’s stop it with the break up rumors??

↳user37: so true! They’ve literally never looked at anyone else ever

user33: user31 more proof I think! Y/N is definitely staying home to help the kid acclimate

↳user31: I’m starting to agree…

user38: ummm if Oscar is free…

↳user39: I want to know if they need a third!

↳user40: ok user38 you can have Oscar but I’d do some major crimes for even a moment of y/n’s time

↳user41: mood

Private Messages, Oscar and y/n

f1_updates

liked by user, user, user, and 627,823 others

f1_updates: Post Oscar’s win in Saudi Arabia, he seemingly dodged all questions related to his spouse, Y/N Piastri, and the persistent rumors of an imminent divorce. More proof of trouble?

view all comments

user42 or maybe he just wants to talk about his race???

↳user50: right? Like ask him about stuff that actually matters!

user51: god i wish people would just leave it alone???

↳user52: someone who gets me. like what does it matter if he and his partner are having issues or not??

↳user53: we’re here to watch him race, not speculate over his relationship status

↳user54: ^^^^

user56: I know it’s because he’s annoyed but god he’s so hot

↳user57: ngl i was watching yuki in the back being a cutie

↳user58: so real for that

Private Messages, Oscar and y/n

mclaren

liked by y/n, oscarpiastri, landonorris and 2,822,293 others

tagged: y/n, oscarpiastri

mclaren: Watch out Imola! The Piastri’s have arrived!

view all comments

user59: 3 kids?!?

↳user60: my jaw? Dropped!

y/n: Oh McLaren admin you didn’t have to roll out the red carpet!

↳mclaren: anything for our favorite Australian and his family!

↳y/n: you spoil me liked by mclaren

oscarpiastri: glad to have you guys here 😃

↳y/n: we wouldn’t want to be anywhere else

user61: ohmygod the Piastri’s are so cute!

↳user62: they really really are

charles_leclerc: does this make me a grandfather?

↳oscarpiastri: it does, yes

↳y/n: family dinner Tuesday

↳charles_leclerc: I’ll be there!

landonorris: uncle Lando to the rescue!

↳y/n: rescue from what??

↳landonorris: your ice cream-less existence!

↳y/n: you’re watching them when the sugar high hits liked by oscarpiastri

oscarpiastri and y/n

liked by landonorris, charles_leclerc, logansargeant, and 1,834,734 others

oscarpiastri and y/n: Earlier this year, tragedy struck our family when y/n’s parents unexpectedly passed away in a car crash. In the aftermath, our lives were turned upside down when we took custody of y/n’s younger siblings. Since then, as many people have noticed, y/n has taken a step away from Formula 1 to focus on helping their siblings acclimate to a new life. As we continue to settle into our new normal, we ask for a measure of privacy and of grace — we’re happy together and that’s not going to change.

view all comments

user63: oops

↳user64: I bet some people are feeling very stupid right now

landonorris: make some space cause uncle Lando is on his way!

↳y/n: if you have any kind of candy or sweet food on you, turn your ass right around

↳user65: Shut. Down.

↳landonorris: 😣😣

user66: ok I’ve only had the Piastri’s for like a week but if anything happened to them, I’ll kill everyone then myself

↳user67: big mood

logansargeant: space for an American?

↳y/n: always Lo 🧡

charles_leclerc: how do you guys feel about dogs?

↳y/n: very enthusiastic

↳alex_albon: good because we’re converging on your house with furry cuddles

↳y/n: that’s gonna make some rounds on the internet Alex

↳alex_albon: regretted it immediately

user33: I told you all

↳user31: yes you did

Taglist

Please interact with my taglist post if you want to join — I don’t always check the notes on the individual posts

@anamiad00msday @suns3treading @daniskywalkersolo @awritingtree @justheretoreadthxxs @lost4lyrics @freyathehuntress @angelluv16 @nichmeddar @justaf1girl @a-beaverhausen @tallrock35 @il0vereadingstuff @widow-cevans @1-of-my-many-obsessions @charlesgirl16 @anunstablefangirl @princessesgarden @galaxygurlll @shelbyteller @ihaveitprinteddout @allthings-fandom @mountainshuman @moonypixel @nikfigueiredo @daisydaze111 @deephideoutmilkshake @mimisweetz @books-fangirl-books @woderfulkawaii @fastandcurious16 @lilyofthevalley-09 @rexit-mo @alessa-the-enchantress @1800-love-me @greantii @toodeepintofandoms @tukes @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @lecfosimaxbull @dramaticpiratellamas @devilacot @supernatural-harrypotter7 @nightrose-18 @alexxavicry @vhkdncu2ei8997 @purplephantomwolf @shadowreader07 @spilled-coffee-cup @stuffyownswrld

[norristrii]

THAT’S NOT HER, CHAT!

You and Lando had been keeping your relationship hidden from the public eye. But all it took was one accidental appearance on his stream to change everything. After that, there was no going back.

pairing. Lando Norris x Verstappen! fem! reader.

warnings. chaos, fluff, comedy.

DATING LANDO HAD BEEN EXCITING, exhilarating even, but it also came with its fair share of complications—ones you had been aware of from the start.

Two months in, things still felt new, still carried that fresh spark of discovery, of late-night conversations and shared laughter that felt just a little more intimate now. The way he looked at you, the way he reached for your hand absentmindedly, like it was second nature—those moments were yours, tucked away, safe from the outside world. But while the relationship itself was thriving behind closed doors, taking it online was an entirely different story.

You had your reasons—solid, unshakable ones that kept you cautious.

First, you were Max Verstappen’s sister. That alone made things complicated. The championship fight had put your family in the center of attention in ways that went beyond just racing, and adding your relationship into the mix? It would inevitably fuel speculation, opinions, and unwanted scrutiny. People would have theories, analyze dynamics, question loyalties—none of which you wanted to deal with.

Second—well, Lando’s fans were intense. Not all of them, obviously, but enough to make you wary of putting too much of your personal life on display. You had seen how they dissected his every move, how they speculated about things that didn’t even exist, how quickly narratives could spiral out of control. The thought of people analyzing every interaction, every glance, every post—it was exhausting. You loved him, but you weren’t sure if you could handle what came with loving him publicly.

For now, the secrecy wasn’t a burden—it was a protection. A way to preserve something that felt fragile, something you weren’t ready to hand over to the chaos of the internet.

You spent so much time at Lando’s place that, at this point, it felt less like visiting and more like home. Your things had slowly integrated into his space—your clothes hung in his closet, your favorite snacks filled his kitchen cabinets, and the couch had practically molded itself to fit your preferred spot.

And you adored every bit of it.

The quiet mornings where the two of you lazily made breakfast, the way he’d pull you into his antics without hesitation, the soft moments where words weren’t needed—just existing together was enough.

But there was one unspoken rule.

When Lando was streaming, you knew not to walk into his room. Not because he didn’t want you there—quite the opposite. But because the two of you had made a choice, a silent agreement to keep your relationship yours for now. Away from the internet, away from prying eyes and endless speculation.

He was too quiet. So quiet that you had convinced yourself he wasn’t streaming, that you could casually walk in and drop off the food without a second thought.

So, naturally, without hesitation, you pushed open the door, plate in hand, ready to deliver his food like it was the most ordinary thing in the world.

And that’s when the panic set in.

“I’m streaming, I’m streaming, wait!” Lando practically jumped in his chair, hands flying up in frantic urgency, his voice tight with alarm.

You froze in place, gripping the plate a little tighter, your heart immediately racing. Your mind scrambled—had the camera caught you? Had his chat noticed? Had you just completely blown your cover?

Lando’s eyes flicked towards his monitor, then back at you, a whirlwind of chaos flashing across his face. He exhaled sharply, his fingers moving quickly as he hit pause on the stream, momentarily shutting out the thousands of people currently watching.

Only then did he turn back to you, his expression softening, his lips curling into something between amusement and exasperation.

“You can come now,” he said, his tone lighter, like he was trying not to laugh.

You let out the breath you didn’t even realize you were holding, the tension in your shoulders easing ever so slightly as you stepped fully inside, setting the plate down on his desk.

“Thank you, baby,” Lando said softly, leaning in to press a light kiss to your cheek. His tone was casual, affectionate, like it was the most natural thing in the world.

But you? You were frozen. Your eyes locked onto the chat, still rolling at an alarming speed, messages flooding in faster than you could even process.

Is that Y/n Verstappen? Y/n and Lando confirmed? Baby? Omg. NO WAYY SO THE RUMORS WERE TRUE!?? MAX’S SISTER?

Your stomach dropped as realization hit you like a freight train. Slowly, you turned to Lando, your voice careful, almost hesitant. “You didn’t pause it?”

His eyes widened, panic flashing across his face as he whipped back to his monitor. “Oh, shit!” he exclaimed, scrambling to mute the stream. But instead of fixing the situation, he leaned into the chaos, laughing as he turned back to the camera.

“Chat, this is not Y/n Verstappen!” he shouted, his voice filled with mock urgency, his hand flying up to cover your face as you tried—and failed—to stifle your laughter.

“That’s not her, chat!” he repeated, his grin widening as he glanced at you, clearly enjoying the absurdity of the moment.

You couldn’t help but laugh, shaking your head as you buried your face in your hands. The damage was done. The chat was already in full meltdown mode, and there was no undoing it now.

Lando, of course, was having the time of his life. And despite the chaos, you couldn’t help but laugh along with him. Because, really, what else could you do?

You couldn’t help but laugh, the entire situation spiraling into chaos before your eyes, and instead of trying to salvage it—you leaned right into it. There was no fixing this, no smooth way out, no denying the very obvious slip-up that Lando had just handed his viewers on a silver platter.

So instead of panicking, instead of shrinking away from the inevitable, you grinned and played along.

“He’s lying, chat!” you exclaimed, stepping fully into frame now, amusement bubbling in your voice as you pointed at him accusingly. “That’s me! Y/n!”

And that was it. The chat detonated all over again.

I love whatever this is. Y/N AND LANDO HARD LAUNCH BEFORE GTA6??? They’re so cute stopp

The messages flooded the screen at an alarming rate, the reactions coming in so fast it was impossible to keep up. Text flew by in all caps, people spamming emotes, sending chaos into overdrive.

Meanwhile, Lando whipped his head toward you, jaw dropping, eyes wide in sheer disbelief as if you had somehow betrayed him in the most dramatic way possible.

“Hey!” he gasped, his voice filled with exaggerated betrayal, throwing his hands up. “You’re supposed to lie along with me!”

You laughed harder, shaking your head, still grinning at him. “Oh, no, you absolutely dug your own grave with that ‘baby’ comment,” you teased, nudging him playfully. “This is your fault, Norris.”

Lando groaned dramatically, dragging his hands down his face, shoulders shaking as he tried—and failed—to suppress his laughter. He turned back to the screen, exhaling a long, exaggerated sigh before finally giving in.

Lando leaned back in his chair, dramatically throwing his hands up in surrender, accepting his fate with a grin that only made the chat more unhinged. He knew he had lost this battle before it even started, and at this point, there was no turning back.

“Okay, okay,” he said, dragging out the words for effect, voice dripping with exaggerated exasperation as he finally relented. “So chat, this is my precious girlfriend, Y/n Verstappen.”

He gestured toward you with both hands, as if he were presenting some kind of grand reveal, his mischievous expression making it clear he was fully leaning into the moment now. The fact that this wasn’t how he planned on announcing your relationship didn’t seem to bother him anymore—if anything, he was thriving in the chaos.

The chat exploded instantly.

Messages were flying so fast it was almost impossible to process them, the flood of reactions coming at an overwhelming speed. There was no stopping it now, no undoing it. You had gone from a quiet, private relationship to a full-blown hard launch in the span of seconds—and the internet was eating it up.

PRECIOUS?! What is going on!? THE WAY HE SAYS IT SO PROUDLY?? PLEASE. MAX IS ABOUT TO THROW HANDS. She’s precious, smart and beautiful… and yeah he’s also here.

You blinked at him, raising an eyebrow, arms crossing over your chest as you tilted your head slightly in mock amusement. “Oh wow, precious, huh?” you teased, a slow smirk tugging at your lips. “Didn’t know I ranked that high.”

Lando scoffed, turning to you with a playful glint in his eye. “Obviously. You should feel honored,” he shot back with an air of complete confidence, leaning closer like he was about to let you in on some grand secret. “Chat, she’s lucky I didn’t say queen.”

You rolled your eyes, shaking your head, but the warmth bubbling in your chest betrayed the sarcasm in your expression.

You grinned, shaking your head slightly as you leaned into frame, playing along without hesitation.

“And that’s my Lando,” you added with a smile, eyes flickering toward him as he dramatically placed a hand over his heart, pretending to be touched by your words.

This is hard launch of the century. I JUST CAN IMAGINE MAX WATCHING THIS. THEY’RE SO IN LOVE OMGG. This stream changed me as a person.

Lando laughed, shaking his head at the chaos unraveling on his screen. “Oh, now they’re losing it,” he mused, reading the messages aloud. “Max is definitely gonna kill me.”

You grinned, resting your chin on your hand as you eyed him playfully. “Yeah, you might wanna start practicing your apology now,” you teased.

Lando exhaled heavily, straightening up and dramatically addressing the camera like he was preparing for a speech. “Alright, alright—if Max Verstappen is watching this,” he started, clearing his throat. “Just know that I am deeply, deeply sorry for exposing this relationship like an absolute idiot on stream.”

You snorted, shaking your head at him. “Wow, strong start,” you mused, crossing your arms.

Lando ignored you, pressing on. “Max, please, I beg of you—do not throw me into a wall the next time you see me,” he continued, still fully committed to the dramatics.

You shrugged innocently, crossing your arms. “Yeah, probably will,” you teased, lips twitching with amusement. “But hey, truth is, it was your mistake, not mine.”

Lando groaned, tossing his head back like he had just accepted his doomed fate. “You could have helped me cover it up, you know,” he pointed out, smirking at you.

You raised an eyebrow. “Oh, please—you called me baby and precious on stream, Norris,” you countered, shaking your head. “This was never staying a secret after that.”

Lando exhaled heavily, dragging a hand down his face, feigning defeat. “Guess we’re official now,” he muttered, laughing to himself.

You leaned in slightly, nudging his arm. “Guess we are,” you echoed, grinning.

And just like that—the world knew.

Messy, unplanned, very public—exactly the way it was always going to happen with Lando.

And honestly? You wouldn’t change a single thing.

Even if Max did come for his life later.

It would absolutely be worth it.

Every second of it.

© norristrii 2025

@haniette <3

[scudevils]

land down under — OP81

pairing: oscar piastri x irwin!reader

warnings: swearing, possibly the most fluff i’ve ever wrote, oscar and lando trying not to embarrass themselves in front of the irwins, i tried to make it as accurate to australia zoo as possible (even watched a walkthrough 😭😭, but alas i’ve never been so nothing is 100%), mutual pining altho no too much because i can’t do that to myself, not proofread!!

synopsis: during a mclaren media appearance, oscar can’t help but find himself interested in the youngest of australia’s royal family [6.4k]

a/n: this came to me after seeing the robert irwin bonds ad, i’m also rusty af i haven’t written since december so bare with me pls. although fun fact i have actually had a corn snake around my neck before so i’m twinning with oscar and lando!

MASTERLIST

an irwin.

that's what you were, the name that you carried, the real australian royal family some would call you, the lasting impact of your dad's legacy was something you took pride in, how he and your mom raised you, robert, and bindi to continue his work after he had passed, the importance of protecting the natural world and the role that we all had to play in the conservation of wildlife.

it was ingrained in you since you were a child, continuing what your grandparents had started with the australia zoo, ensuring the effort to raise awareness and preserve wildlife and their habitat, would not end with them. it would endure generations, their work would be worth it.

whilst robert followed in your father's footsteps, crocs and snakes being his speciality, you preferred the calmer residents at the zoo. since it's opening on your 8th birthday, the african safari exhibit was where you spent most of your time, the unofficial name in honour of you, if you had to choose it was easily your favourite place in the zoo, something so enchanting about it that had you spellbound.

it had been built to recreate the serengeti ecosystem, exhibiting how these species lived in harmony with each other, giraffes, one of your favourites since you were young, zebras and white rhinos, existing how they would in the wild together. further up the exhibit were the cheetahs and across from them the tigers, your favourite of the big cats.

the elephants were your favourite to sit with, captivating to watch, their intelligence that only few were blessed to see up close with their own eyes, how they played with the zookeepers, truly gentle giants.

it was your idea of wonderland.

which was why when you were informed the zoo would be hosting the mclaren f1 team as a media appearance before the upcoming race weekend, there was no doubt in anyone's mind you'd give that portion of the tour, including the koala's and kangaroos experience as those were your areas of expertise.

bindi and robert were more into the sport than yourself, both of them occasionally staying up for races that weren't as unreasonably late, and of course, thrived when it came to the races in your own timezone, but you'd have to have been loving under a rock to not know that the team had an australian driver, it was impossible to escape him during a race week, his face plastered across adverts, despite the race not even taking part in the city.

you hadn't expected how many would show up, obviously you knew it was going to be busy, social media a buzz at the fact two formula 1 drivers were going to be visiting, although the number was easily in the thousands, only to be cordoned off from them anyway by the mclaren crew. that was slightly annoying to you, even if they all weren't there to see the zoo, at least they were buying tickets and would hopefully give them a chance to take a look at the work you were doing.

the camera's were on before you realised, filming the two mclaren drivers walking through the zoo entrance as if they were anybody else, your eyes first spotting the one on the right, whose face you'd seen all over the country the past week, and you couldn't help but think 'cuter in person', his calm demeanour making him appear more approachable than his teammate. they introduced themselves to your mother, bindi and robert, finally landing on you, oscar gave you a warm smile and lando, you'd learned his name was, sporting what you could already tell was going to be his signature cheeky grin.

"okay guys," robert spoke a mix to the two drivers and the camera, "we're so glad to have you here, any place you'd like to go first?" he asked them, a part of him having a feeling he already knew what they were going to say.

whilst the attention wasn't on you, you tried not to stare, really, but you kept catching oscar in your peripheral that it was hard not to, the papaya-coloured top was just so eye-catching, was what you told bindi when she caught you.

"don't know about you osc, but i'm just here for the crocs" lando answered with a short laugh and a smile, not that you were staring (you were totally staring), but you'd caught his teammate rolling his eyes beside him, lando nevertheless looking over roberts shoulder at the map of the zoo, trying to find where the crocodiles were on it.

from the walk to the first exhibit, you quickly learned lando was a people person, and it wasn't just for the cameras, his energy was almost infectious and you were laughing along to his terrible jokes as you walked beside him and oscar, who was definitely more eager to take in what your brother was telling him about the enclosures you were walking past at the moment in time, something about irwin's turtles and the komodo dragons, you'd heard it all before, and really, you should've urged lando to listen.

the sight of the first crocodile seemed to finally be the one thing to shut lando up, as he got out his phone to take pictures, oscar still stood beside you fighting every urge in him to copy his teammate, he had to keep it cool in front of the irwins, nicole had urged him in her text earlier in the morning, sunglasses resting on his head. "he's gorgeous, isn't he."

oscar looked down at you, a look as if you were crazy crossing his features before turning back to the enclosure in front. "you and i have very different definitions of gorgeous."

you smiled at his joke, there was truth to his words, growing up around all the wildlife made you appreciate the beauty they had, even the ones with big sharp teeth. "he jokes! thought your teammate was the only funny one."

he let out an amused scoff, taking a closer look at weipa the crocodile in front of him, tuning back into what your brother was saying to the group about him, how your father had saved him from a croc farm before transporting him here for conservation.

you took the time to appreciate the way the team-coloured shirt complimented his tan, the australian sun can do real damage to some people, but not to him, noticing the moles on his neck and face as he continued listening to robert rambling on. or one of the first times in your life you were glad he could talk for days. his eyes were soft, kind-looking, the type that you could spend hours staring into and never getting bored, the way they crinkle when he laughs was endearing, almost too endearing that you wanted to look away but couldn't. maybe it was creepy how you noticed how his eyebrows knitted together when he focused on what he was being told, occasionally looking back down at weipa to make sure he wasn't going anywhere then back to robert. you were staring. hard.

bindi bumping into your shoulder brought you back to consciousness, finding lando and robert looking back at you for an answer. "sorry what did you say." you could feel the warmth creeping up your neck, your heartbeat thumping in your ear, already thinking how you were going to blame it on the aussie sun when bindi teased you for it later. "right yeah, he's only about 10ft when the males are usually around 13-16ft, a short king." that brought a couple laughs from lando and oscar, and you were thankful to move on to the next enclosure.

the walk was minimal, only a minute or two up the trail and you were already at the next one. "this happy couple is graham and bindi, two more saltwater crocs," robert pointed the two of them out, graham half in the water whilst bindi was up on the banks. "these two were a bit mischievous together, and were brought in as part of management program in the 80s together."

another zookeeper gave you the bucket that you haded to lando, pieces of various bits of meat in it, encouraging him to throw in two bits for them, seeing the way his eyes lit up at the snap of their jaws. "her names' bindi? like your sister?" oscar asked, a light tone to his words, he was so easygoing it made you scared at how someone could be so relaxed in this type of situation unless you'd grown up with it like you all had.

"can't you see the resemblance." that earned a laugh from him, it was so infectious and warm, that you wanted to make him do it more, his eyes crinkling, you couldn't help but join him, not catching the glare bindi was sending you from beside lando, who was too scared to laugh instead it be directed at him.

lando handed the bucket over to oscar who looked back at you, nodding in his direction and he proceeded with caution towards where robert had instructed him, a safe distance away in case anything was to go wrong. "this is the original bindi actually, she's definitely got a personality on her." robert commented as her jaws snapped around the piece that oscar had thrown in. "and this big boy, is the only one who managed to get a piece of one of us, poor wes got bit in the backside."

you couldn't help but wince at his words, the reminder of the danger of your jobs, anything could happen in a split second, no matter how long they were rehabilitated for, they were still wild animals and nothing could break their spirit. "on that happy note, acco?"

robert nodded, taking the bucket from oscar and handing it back over to one of the zookeepers in the back, before leading the way to the last of the crocodiles they were going to see. you felt oscar walking beside you, the warmth radiating off him in the already 25° heat. "do you ever get scared?"

his question caught you off guard, no one had really asked you that before, and if they had it came from the kids during question time than someone like him. "do you?" you redirected the question, and he took a second before answering, before nodding his head, adding a 'sometimes'. "i've been around these animals my entire life, i've been scratched more times than i can count, bitten by a few cubs before, but at the end of the day they're still animals. if i get hurt, it's because i made the mistake, they're just reacting off their instincts." you took a breath, thinking back to the time when you were 11 and you were handling one of the cheetah cubs, young and inexperienced and obviously not reading its body language enough and it took a nip at you, it was sore of course, but it was a learning experience you needed if you wanted to continue working with them. "so yes i get scared, but not of them, of making a mistake that could get myself and them hurt."

"i get that fear too." he admitted, his stride slowing down slightly to match your own when you looked up at him, the brim of your hat obstructing your vision of his face. "i can make the smallest mistake out on track, and it can have severe consequences for not only me, but other drivers."

he wasn't entirely sure the reason he was confiding in you like this, a strange feeling of trust with you despite only meeting, and you felt the same, like you could spill all your secrets and not feel an ounce of regret, but it had to wait as robert interrupted you. "this massive guy is acco, just around 16 and half feet long," looking up at oscar, you were about to say something when you saw how his attention was completely on what your brother was saying, like he was actually trying to learn more about the wildlife and the efforts you were doing there, and that brought a smile to your face.

visiting acco always made you a little emotional, his enclosure being where your father had proposed to your mom, it was always like a little bit of him was there when you went.

"he was a bit of a problem child who had a bad habit of trying to attack people. when my dad tried to catch him actually, he sunk the boat that he was in, but he managed to get him and transport him here where he's been ever since." the two drivers were silent as they watched the crocodile moving around the enclosure, the speed of him despite being such a large animal catching them off guard.

and just as quickly as that part of the tour had started, it was already ending, bindi leading the way towards the reptile house, named after your brother, only a couple minutes away from acco's enclosure. "i hope you're good with snakes." bindi jested, gauging from their reactions that they were most definitely not.

"we're not gonna get anything trying to kill us right?" lando questioned, hoping her response to be the one that he wished for. he wish didn't seem to come true however when bindi just laughed off his question, his eyes wide as he looked back at you and oscar, then to robert behind yous. the camera's picked up on his reaction, and you knew that he knew they did.

"it's australia, everything's trying to kill you."

the lighting inside the reptile house was dark, gloomy, save for the bright blue, sterile lights that lit up each of the vivariums, a placard beneath detailing the species they held inside. "that's a big snake." lando blurted out, his eyes wide as he saw the olive coloured corn snake coiled underneath the heat lamp, the background made out to be the australian outback.

"she's actually one of our shorter snakes," bindi guided them over to the glass, unlocking it with one of the many keys she had attached to her belt, before sliding the glass open. "this is sally, she's super chill, she's even met chris hemsworth."

"she's more famous here than you mate." lando bantered, placing a comforting arm around oscar's shoulders.

"you wanna hold her?" bindi had already started lifting her out before they could reply, careful to support her head body with one hand and her head with the other, a loose grip allowing sally to move around freely in her hands without the chance of falling. "she's very friendly," she commented, admiring the way the snake was coiling around her arm, getting comfortable in its new surroundings.

"promise she won't kill me?"

"she won't kill you, lando," you reassured him, carefully taking sally from your sister's hands and into yours, before you slowly started to drape her around lando's shoulders, telling him not to move so much whilst she got comfortable, you could see the fear in his face disappear as she settled, replaced with a grin as he got oscar to take about 100 pictures of him with her around his shoulders, as if he was in his very own jungle photoshoot.

oscar stayed a couple of feet back, he got out of australia early enough he hadn't developed the nonchalant attitude towards the snakes and spiders that resided in his homeland. "you're insane." he shrugged with a laugh.

you looked back at him, the apprehension clear as day on his face, but behind that you could see he was curious, watching the way his eyes followed the snake as it moved around lando's shoulders. "want to try?" you asked, trying to read him an answer.

for the first time since bindi had brought her out, oscar took his eyes off of the snake, looking at you, an odd feeling of trust in them as he hesitated, finally letting out a breath and nodding his head, taking a step closer to you before stopping. "can you hold her with me? please?"

you remembered the way he'd confessed his fears to you earlier, how vulnerable he'd been with what was a complete stranger before today, and nodded your head, already lifting sally off of lando's shoulder, and carefully settling her across your own and oscar's shoulders, feeling the way his stiffened, as if you could feel his heartbeat racing, you placed a hand on the small off his back, bringing him back to reality as he relaxed, the sensation of the snake around his shoulder being forgotten and replaced by the burn of your hand on his back.

"see, told you it wasn't so bad." you chirped, turning slightly to face him, slow enough you didn't disturb sally, to find oscar looking down at you, breathing steady unlike yours, realising just now how close you were to him, and neither of you were doing anything to change that.

"you're far too persuasive." oscar laughed, shoulders more at ease now, comfortable with the predicament that you were in, even more so when he felt the pressure of sally on his shoulder easing as bindi attentively put her back into her habitat.

"and you're braver than i thought." you teased him, bashfully admiring the way his face lights up when he laughs, the sound captivating, you found yourself absentmindedly smiling at it, both of you falling in the back of the group as bindi took everyone to the next terrarium, the poison dart frogs standing out from the rest of the animals there.

"don't let their good looks fool you, these guys are one of the most poisonous animals around, like most guys." bindi jested, despite being in one of the happiest relationships you'd ever seen, allowing lando and oscar to get a good look at the colourful creatures. "this one is wanda," she pointed out the one closest to the front of the glass, black and red in colour, "and that one is buzz." motioning towards the black and yellow one hiding behind some of the leaves.

they watch the frogs with growing intrigue, "it's crazy how something so small can be so deadly." lando remarks, another frog coming out of hiding, a completely different colour scheme than the other two before it.

"everything plays a part in the ecosystem, that's the beauty of it." you hear robert say, and every day you swear he sounds more and more like your dad.

bindi showed them around a few of the other residents of the reptile house, the different species of lizards and the rest of the snakes weren't ones they could touch, holding too much of a risk, so the tour went rather quickly, oscar and you talking amongst yourselves for the majority of it, a complete 180 as now lando was doing most of the listening. "you're telling me, you had a snake as a pet growing up?" oscar looked at you, raising an eyebrow as if you had any reason to lie to him.

"that is what i'm telling you, my little coco." you reminisced, she was a gift on your 9th birthday, named for her rich chocolate brown colour (you weren't very creative as a child). "she was a little princess."

"a scaly, cold-blooded, princess," he muttered with a laugh, a grin forming on his pink lips. he was enjoying talking to you, getting to know you as well as he could the more as the tour went on.

"she was a cutie."

"freak." he jested, tone light and almost breathless as he shook his head again, you could instantly tell there was no malice intended.

you bumped against his shoulder, a shy smile making its way onto your face, and you almost caught yourself blushing at the proximity, the normality of it all, as if you'd known him longer than a few hours at most.

finally, bindi was finished showing around the reptile house, passing the baton on to you to finish the race. "are you guys ready to see the best part of the zoo?" you asked, raising an eyebrow as lando eagerly answered 'yes', like he was on a school field trip, and your eyes drifted to oscar, rolling his eyes as he nodded with an amused smile.

you were immediately hit by a wall of heat as you left the air-conditioned building, taking a couple of seconds to adjust back to daylight from the dark, mood lighting inside, the air had a faint scent of eucalyptus from how close you were to the koala enclosures, a short walk through the birdhouse and you were there.

the first enclosure you came across was the kangaroo walkthroughs, pointing out the animals lazing under the sun. "he looks like he could knock me out." lando eyed up a particularly buff-looking grey kangaroo who was hanging out in the back of the pack.

"he definitely could." you retorted, grinning at the brits insulted expression as you handed him and oscar the cone full of 'roo feed, stifling a laugh at the way they were instantly flocked around as they stepped inside the pen.

following in after them, you bent down to feed one of the kangaroos that had come over to you, recognising her from her distinct markings. "this little girl is teal, she's a sweetheart who loves her cuddles." as if she was listening to you, she nuzzled against your hand, scratching between her ears as he nibbled at the pellets in your hand.

oscar smiled, crouching down to your level as another kangaroo came hopping over to you, this time it was melman, and you knew he wouldn't be leaving without oscar giving him some scratches. he was apprehensive at first, letting the animal sniff at his open palm before gathering some pellets for him to eat, following your instructions as you told him to scratch behind his ears. "i understand wanting to do this every day."

"it's definitely a perk." giggling, you looked up to find lando having what was practically a stand-off with one of the joey's from across the enclosure. "he's not going to punch you," lando nodded at your words, although still, he kept his distance, listening to you as you told him to kneel down slowly, holding out his hands to the little joey before taking a handful of the food.

"this might be the best thing ever." lando's exterior damn near melted as the joey grabbed a couple of pellets with his paws, looking back at you with a grin.

"better than winning a race?"

"it's up there." he laughed, reaching out experimentally to give it a scratch.

the mclaren media team were having a field day with the content you were providing them, of lando and oscar with the snakes around the neck, although the latter looked a lot more uncomfortable, and now lando feeding and cuddling a baby kangaroo, you knew his fans were bound to go crazy over the pictures.

unapologetically, your eyes drifted again, finding yourself subconsciously smiling at the gentle kindness of oscar in front of you, his touch soft against melman, as if he would break if he was any rougher, and when a joey approaches him, he's offering her food with so much patience that it makes a saint jealous, his smile soft and effortless you're not even sure he knows he's doing it. you can't look away, his calm presence, the way he respects the space between them, it's pulling you in more than you'd wish to admit, disarming any type of defence you put up.

you blink, remembering where you are, that you're surrounded by a camera crew, and your brother and sister, and clear your throat like that'll shake it off. "alright, koala time," you say, a little too casually, handing the now empty cone back to one of the zookeepers, motioning ahead as you start walking.

oscar falls in stride beside you, still grinning, and you swear you can feel that glance he throws your way like a spark against your ribs, he's joking with lando about something, and when you look up you see how the light catches his eyes, as if he was carrying a little bit of the sun with him.

the closer you get to the koalas, the stronger the smell of the eucalyptus, and you swear you need it to clear your senses. trees branches stretch overhead, looming over and shading the area. as you approach the entrance of the enclosure, you could already see a keeper holding one of the fluffy animals, awaiting the arrival of the two drivers.

"this is tilly, she's our go-to girl for this experience, super chill and great with people," you explain, introducing her to them as they look back at the koala with wonder, lando quick to volunteer to be first to hold her.

carefully, you show lando how to stand to hold a koala; his hands clasped together forming a sort of bowl for her to sit in, telling him to keep as still as possible and to try not to make as much noise as possible.

"if i knew this is what i'd take to keep him quiet i would've brought him ages ago." you stifle a laugh at oscar's words, seeing the glare that lando was sending him, about to say something back before remembering he was to try and stay quiet.

you scoop tilly from her perch in the other keeper's arms, cradling her with practised ease, you'd been around koalas your entire life it was almost second nature at this point, and gently rest her in the bowl that lando had created with his hands. his eyes go wide, looking between you and the animal in front of him and a grin spreads across his, her soft fur warm against his shirt.

"feel how soft she is?" you ask him, taking his hand in yours and guiding it over her back, letting her settle into his arms, and he nods. "she's got super thick fur to keep her warm and dry, even when it's raining!"

tilly cuddles up against lando's chest, allowing him to gently brush one of his hands against her back, smiling from ear to ear as he gets his picture taken, not wanting to let her go. "what's the fine if i steal her?"

"lifetime ban from australia."

"i can still win the championship missing one race."

somehow, after he’d put up quite the fight, you managed to get tilly out of lando's grasp, showing oscar how to hold her, just as you had shown his teammate, and before he knew it she was being placed into his arms, soft against his exposed skin, already making herself comfortable as she moved in his arms, cuddling up against his chest.

oscar was a little unsure at first, hesitating slightly, but once she's settled in his arms, a look of awe washed over his face, glancing down at the animal below. he barely breathes, eyes wide, the corners of his mouth lifting in a slow, amazed smile. "she's... so chill," he whispers, as if afraid to break the moment. his grip is careful, respectful—he can feel the tiny claws and the steady, slow rhythm of her breathing.

"they're super chill animals." you smile, admiring the sight in front of you, he was such a natural even if he didn't know or believe it. "if you were going to be any animal, it'd definitely be a koala."

"a koala?" he echos your words, with a bemused smile glancing down at the one in his arms as if he was comparing.

"yeah, you know." you shrug as if that was enough of an explanation. "you both just have this calmness to you, but can get shit done when you need it."

his laugh reverberates around your head, hearty, warm, and real. "i'll take it, could've been an emu."

"nah, too cute to be an emu." the words are spilling out before you can stop yourself, and when you realise what you've said its too late to take it back, your eyes slowly find his, cheeks feeling hot and you can hear the rush of blood on in your ears. "i didn't just say that."

an expression you haven't seen before crosses his features, he's smug, a type of smile you want to wipe off his face forming on his lips. "yes you did."

"shut up." you quickly suggest moving on to the final part of the tour, carefully taking tilly out of oscar's hands trying to make the least amount of eye contact possible, and when you're successful, you're already leading the way back to the where you were getting the shuttle to the next part of the tour, the mclaren crew letting you know you had to wrap it up soon as they were running out of time.

the wait for the next bus isn't long, although it feels like an eternity, lando happily talking away in your ear and you politely nod, throwing in a couple of basic responses here and there and a laugh when appropriate, but you have other things on your mind. so now. as you board the shuttle bus, the atmosphere is thick with unspoken tension, what makes it worse is it's just you three and the mclaren media crew, robert and bindi resuming their duty at the zoo.

with the cameras and at least eight members of crew, it's slightly crowded, and when it comes to finding a place to stand beggars can't be choosers, you found yourself squeezed up against oscar and one of the mclaren photographers. he's holding onto one of the poles in front of him, arm stiff and silently begging lando to stop making jokes about the driver's questionable driving skills.

you glance up at him, your hand around the pole just beneath his. the shuttle bus hummed as as it wound its way through the lush paths of the zoo, sunlight dappled across the windows, reflecting back on his features, the fresh sunburn across his cheeks highlighted.

it was hard to tune lando out completely, you'd be a liar if you said he didn't have some funny jokes, but you wished he's stay silent for a few seconds, take a lesson from his much quieter teammate, who was either doing a great job of ignoring you, or was deep in existential thought.

the driver called your stop and you all huddled off, the warm air brushing against your face as the distant call of exotic birds echoed through the trees. lando and oscar are close behind, both of them looking around with the kind of wide-eyed curiosity that everyone has on their first visit to the exhibit.

"alright, welcome to the best part of the zoo." you say, grinning. "welcome to our african savanna, we imitated the ecosystem that exists here," you lead the way down the winding path, lined with acacia-like trees and tall grass, oscar finding his way by your side meanwhile lando is taking more pictures than a mom during a graduation.

the large, serengeti-inspired enclosure stretches out before you, a herd of 4 striped bodies grazing lazily under the sun, a duo of giraffes just behind them, eating leaves from a tree. lando leans on the railing, squinting, taking out his phone and getting more pictures. "mate, they look like horses in prison uniforms."

"i'd like to see you try and tame a zebra," you chuckled, lando making a promise you'd see it one day, and that you'd hold him to it. "the one that won't stop playing? that's lucas, he's easily the cheekiest boy we have, bindi says it because he's trying to impress gigi," pointing over to the zebra by the water trout, you couldn't help but giggle at the fact this was essentially just gossip with but animals.

"i hope he gets his girl."

their attention turns to the giraffes towering over the rest of the landscape, how calm they move with a sort of elegant rhythm. one ambles over to the edge of the viewing deck where a zookeeper offers visitors leafy snacks to feed them. "that's how tall lando thinks he is." the laugh fell from your lips before you could help it, feeling lando's glare from one side and oscar smiling at your reaction from the other.

"that's forest." you motion towards the tallest one at the back of the group. "he's actually the tallest in the world, and he's quite the lady's man, but he's such a sweetheart."

a zookeeper from beside hands you a bucket of fresh carrots sticks and leafy branches, hearing the soft clatter of hooves signalling the approach of the giraffes; tall, graceful, and curious. "yous wanna give it a try?" you ask, demonstrating as one of the female giraffe come up to you, zuri, steps forward, her long neck swaying gently as she eyes the food outstretched in your hands, her tongue snakes out, wrapping around the offering, and with a swift tug, it's gone.

lando's jaw drops, a slight look of disgust crossing his features. "did she just lick the branch out of your hands?"

"her tongue's nearly half a meter long," you say, taking a branch out of the bucket and passing it to him, giving oscar a few of the carrot sticks. "totally built for plucking leaves from tall trees."

oscar gives it a go next, reaching out cautiously and zuri leans in, eyes blinking slowly. the carrot sticks are flat against his hands as he holds his palm out straight, her tongue wrapping around the food and its gone. oscar looks back at you, then laughs, wiping his hand on one of the towels given. "alright, that's cool. slimy, but kind of awesome."

lando's practically itching to have a go himself and just as he extends his hand, a second giraffe swoops in from the side, gently bumping him with its head to get to the food first.

"oi! no need to fight about me," he laughs, steadying himself and you hand over another branch. "there's enough of me to go around, ladies."

you chuckle at his oblivion. "except that's zeus."

"oh." the giraffes continue feeding, taking the branches out of each of lando's hands, their calm, unbothered presence setting a peaceful rhythm for the end of the tour.

you can see the mclaren team signalling to each other behind the drivers, already beginning to walk back to where the shuttle had gotten you from, the enclosure fading behind you, sun a little lower in the sky than before casting a warm glow over the zoo, distant sounds of birds singing to each other and excited passersby.

it's only one stop on the shuttle that the fuss of getting everyone on doesn't seem with it, you’re off just as quickly as you were on, dropped off almost exactly at the zoos entrance, and the excitement in lando's jokes almost simmers out as he realises the tour was coming to an end.

the iconic australia zoo sign comes into view, bindi and robert already waiting for you as you get off the shuttle, and are thanking the mclaren crew for coming one by one before reaching the two drivers.

"thank you guys so much for coming, it was amazing to have you both here." roberts tells them with a grateful smile, lando and oscar match his energy as they thank you all for having them, letting them interact with the animals and for all the cool pictures they got, lando adding the last part.

they're coming in for hugs before you realise, feeling lando's arms around your waist and he's still cracking jokes in your ear, teasing you about oscar and you stiffen, if he'd caught you, then most definitely his teammate had too.

oscar shifts his weight a little behind him, looking almost bashful, then gives you this soft half-smile and says, "hey, uh... i was wondering—if it's not weird—and you can totally say no, can i get your number?" he glances down for a second, then meets your eyes again. "y'know... in case i've got more animal questions."

you pause, that was the one thing you weren't expecting him to say, anything from how he thought you were weird for staring at him from the very beginning, or nothing at all just a simple diplomatic hug, but not this. he takes your silence as an answer of its own, and is about to walk away when you hold onto his arm. "yeah, of course, in case you get any animal questions." oscar smiled and you blushed, taking your phone out of your back pocket and sliding it over to him, looking around to see if anyone had noticed, when you find lando with a smug smile on his face you can't help but roll your eyes.

"come on romeo!" you hear lando shout from a distance, looking over his shoulder oscar gives him a look, one that seems to keep him quiet for a few more minutes.

as oscar slips his phone back into his pocket, something shifts, a moment of soft, mutual stillness between you., it’s not awkward, it doesn’t feel like anything with him could be, just charged in the quietest, most natural way. the kind that lingers, sticks with people.

you step forward, almost instinctively, and say with a little smile, "guess i'll see you around then?"

his eyes soften the more he looks at you, a blush dusting across his sunburnt cheeks, and he nods, just once. "yeah. i hope so."

and before either of you overthinks it, you lean in, arms gently circling around him, he meets you halfway, pulling you in with that calm steadiness he carries on track, nothing rushed or overdone, just warm and sure. he smells like sunscreen and eucalyptus, maybe a hint of whatever cologne he didn't expect anyone to notice, but you noticed, the way it complimented his natural smell.

he lingers a second longer than he needs to, and when he pulls back, there's a quiet smile playing on his lips.

"for the record, i think you’re cute too,"

[mariasont]

schrödinger’s relationship

spencer never needed to define what this was, until you did. now, the box is open, the outcome inevitable, and he has never been so happy to lose an argument.

pairings: spencer reid x fem!reader warnings: situationship (ish? it gets resolved fast lol), mutual pining, friends to lovers (except they've been kissing for months), mention of heavy makeout, lap sitting, shirt removal, spencer kissing you to shut you the fuck up, cat does not survive the experiment (metaphorically speaking, there is no animal killing in this fic LOL) wc: 1.4k request: here

Your body is warm in his lap, your weight pressing down just enough to be distracting — no, disorienting — and Spencer is trying very hard not to look at your lips. Not just because they’re parted, slick, and kiss-swollen, but because the soft smudge of your lip gloss is evidence that this has been happening. That he’s been kissing you long enough to leave proof of it.

Mascara has clumped just slightly at the corners of your lashes and there’s a half-moon of pink polish chipped at the very edge of your thumbnail.

He’s obsessing over details. Your pupils are dilated, swallowing every fleck of color. He knows it’s a physiological response. That it’s dopamine, norepinephrine, oxytocin, all working in tandem to make you look like this, flushed and increasingly pretty on his thighs.

It’s easier to focus on biology than it is to focus on the fact that this moment exists in a state of suspended reality.

This was new. Not just in the way that everything between you had been new, in the way that months of small, careful steps had led to this, but in the way that Spencer had never felt like this. Overheated. Overwhelmed. Overrun with sensation. It had started as everything else had, soft and slow, the kind of kissing that didn’t lead anywhere except to more kissing. 

And for months, he convinced himself that he could exist in this purgatory of lips meeting and parting, of hands resting politely at your waist. That he could always pull away before the ground gave away beneath him.

Today the ground was gone.

Spencer had never been particularly drawn to categories, not in the way people seemed to crave them. Labels had always felt limiting, reductive, forcing the complexities of human relationships into neat little boxes that never quite fit. He had been content in ambiguity, had never needed something to be named in order to understand it. 

With you, the lack of label wasn’t liberating, it was frustrating. Because if this wasn’t something that could be named, then what was it?

“I’m just saying, I feel like if Rossi can write a whole book about a case, then I should at least be able to mention it in passing at brunch.” Your fingers skate absentmindedly across the dip of his throat, and Spencer, entranced, forgets to do something as basic as breathe. Oxygen is apparently optional. “But no, apparently that’s an inappropriate topic over eggs benedict. Which, okay, sure, but if I have to sit through another conversation about Carly’s fiance’s fantasy football league, I think I deserve to liven it up a little, you know?”

Your genuine need for an answer is clear, but Spencer can’t even remember what brunch is.

You gesture when you talk, and it’s so innocent, just for emphasis, but right now, it’s destroying him. Your fingers drag absently up his arm, over the soft material of his sweater, mapping the line of his forearm before skimming back up his neck. And then, like you don’t even realize you’re doing it, your palms smooth over his chest, fingertips tapping lightly against his collarbone like you’re idly counting his heartbeats. Spencer is painfully aware of every single one.

This is it, he thinks. This is how he dies. But he can’t decide what would kill him faster — how you touch him, or the moment you stop. 

Spencer manages to clear his throat, barely.

“I think your friends don’t appreciate you enough.” His voice sounds strained, but any attempt at analyzing tone evaporates the second his fingers breach the barrier of your shirt. 

Warm fingertips skim over bare skin, and suddenly, the conversation seems wildly misplaced. Because what was that about appreciation? If he’s trying to prove a point, he’s making it very convincingly.

You hum, shifting against him, not intentionally, probably, but it doesn’t matter, because he feels it all the same.

“Well, I can’t just hang out with you constantly.”

Spencer isn’t sure how to respond, because if he’s honest, that’s exactly what he wants. You, constantly. No breaks, no buffer. Just you.

Instead, he stares at your mouth again, because his brain is broken, and this is the inevitable destination. He never really understood the appeal of making out before you, before that first time, when he was supposed to just kiss you once and somehow ended up losing entire minutes of his life to your lips, to the sheer pleasure of pressing against you, of drinking in your sounds.

His broken brain is built to reinforce pleasure-seeking behaviors. Neurochemical feedback loops, all of it designed to keep him coming back. To keep him wanting. As if he needed the help.

Spencer doesn’t even pretend to think about it before saying, “You say that like it’s a bad thing.” 

Your lips twitch. You’re about to tease him, he can tell.

“It wouldn’t be a bad thing at all,” you say, tilting your head. “But wasn’t it you who went on that tangent about how platonic relationships significantly improve cognitive function?”

Spencer tries to find a loophole in that statement.

“And we,” you say, tracing a path down the trail of hair at his navel, “are not exactly fulfilling the platonic requirement.”

There was a time when he would have insisted — vehemently, even — that their relationship was strictly platonic. Fool’s errand.

“I mean, technically, if we wanted to be platonic, we could just… say we are.” That alone is egregiously incorrect. Spencer prepares to say as much, but then you pause, rolling the thought over like you’re actually considering it, before adding, “Like if we don’t label it, then it doesn’t count, right?”

His first instinct is to argue. His second instinct is to really argue. But neither one survives the sensory overload of you pressed against him.

“It’s like when you don’t open your credit card statements,” you continue, lips pursed. “Sure, the debt exists, but if you don’t acknowledge it, then it doesn’t feel real. So technically, if we just never say what this is, then it’s…”

“Schrödinger’s relationship?”

Spencer doesn’t know why he gives you the words, why he hands you the metaphor like a loaded gun and watches as you take perfect aim.

“Exactly! We exist in a state of undefined possibilities. We’re both platonic and not platonic until we open the box.”

Spencer sighs, rubbing at his temple, because now his entire brain is consumed by the implications of your logic. 

Schrödinger’s cat was never meant to be a real experiment, just a way to illustrate how, in quantum mechanics, particles can exist in multiple states until measured. The cat is placed in a box, along with a vial of poison triggered by a completely random quantum event. Until the box is opened, it’s both alive and dead, trapped in an impossible in-between, a paradox that shouldn’t exist but somehow does. The problem is, that concept doesn’t translate perfectly to relationships. People aren’t quantum particles. Relationships don’t exist in probability states.

Except, apparently, this one does. Because as long as neither of you put a definitive label on what’s happening here, you exist in an undefined state. 

He glances at you, at the expectant look in your eyes, and something about it makes him laugh, not because this is funny, necessarily, but because of course it would take a physics analogy for him to see what’s been obvious all along.

“I’m fairly certain that if we opened the metaphorical box, we would find that the cat — that is, our relationship — was decidedly not platonic.”

He hopes you’ll take the words for what they mean. That, for once, you won’t take the obvious escape route, won’t let yourself tuck this moment nearly into the realm of plausible deniability.

Because what he really said, what he really meant, was that he wants you. Only you. Singular, exclusive, definitively. If you pressed him for stronger language, he’d give it to you.

Your face was quick to light up.

“Are you asking me to go steady? Because Spencer, that’s a serious commitment. That means shared desserts, and, like, the expectation that I text you goodnight. And what’s the policy on PDA? Full access or —”

The rest of your sentence vanishes into fabric as Spencer pulls your shirt over your head, words muffled into cotton. You let out a muffled protest, momentarily caught in the fabric, and Spencer swears he’s never been more tempted to laugh at anything in his life.

By the time he tosses your shirt aside, you’ve recovered, blinking at him like nothing happened, hair adorably mussed.

“ — case-by-case basis?”

Spencer drags his hands down your hair, smoothing out the worst of the damage. He sighs dramatically, but his lips are twitching. “If I had known going steady required this much paperwork, I would’ve reconsidered.”

You grin at him. “Oh, you think this is bad? Just wait until we get into the holiday gift-giving policies and date night scheduling. Speaking of which —”

He doesn’t let you finish. He kisses you mid-sentence, less because he wants to shut you up (though that’s a nice bonus) and more because he can. Because he gets to. Because somehow, without him even realizing it was happening, this wonderful, impossible thing has become real.

This thing between you, this thing that was supposed to be undefined, a quantum maybe, it’s never been uncertain. It’s never been both platonic and not platonic, no matter how long he tried to pretend otherwise.

No, the box is open now. It probably always was. 

And Spencer had never been so happy to kill the cat.

💌 masterlist taglist has been disbanned! if you want to get updates about my writings follow and turn notifications on for my account strictly for reblogging my works! @mariasreblogs

[siempre-bucky]

existence

Joaquin Torres x Fem!Reader

summary: There's a rumor at the base that MRs. Torres doesn't exist. No birthday parties, no drinks at the bar after a mission, no base run functions. Sam crashes at the Toress' after the White House incident and sees if she actually exists.

wc: 1457

a/n: Spoilers for CA:BNW

 His ears were still ringing. 

Echos of gunfire and police sirens shrouded his mind, Sam’s body was on autopilot with his eyes burning holes into the dirty apartment complex carpet and his sore feet dragging along it. He still doesn’t comprehend how Joaquin could be in a chipper mood after that. Sam noticed the limp in Joaquin's step and the bruise on the back of his neck. It could have been worse, the President could have died, Cap reminded himself. 

“Wait till you meet her, Sam! Ugh, I have been waiting for this for the longest time!” he cheered, clearly forgetting the late hour. Right, Sam blinked, he was finally meeting Mrs. Torres. After working together for three years, he thought this mystery woman didn’t exist. The younger man would make excuses “She’s working overseas,” or “She has no service.” But after catching a glimpse at his lock screen which proudly displayed a photo of the pair at a Hurricanes baseball game he changed his mind. The rest of the base thought it was AI-generated. 

“I’ll believe it when I see it, man,” Sam forced out a chuckle, ribs screaming back at him. 

Joaquin stopped at the door, digging his key out of his pocket and turning the lock. The echoes disappeared once Sam took a step into the small DC apartment. The smell of baked goods and a soft “We’re home, Amor” coming from the other man was enough to silence them for a moment, the pain in his ribs dulled with the feeling of anticipation rising. 

She was real. His brown eyes discreetly widened as she appeared in the doorway that divided the kitchen and living room, wiping her hands with an orange and green rag. He didn’t take his eyes off her, she examined Joaquin up and down before giving herself the ok to crash into him.  “I’m so happy you’re ok,” She muttered against his neck, his arms holding her against him. 

The soft interaction made something in his chest ache, and the way Joaquin then cradled her face and whispered reassurance in two languages almost made him tear up. Almost. He’d be sure to make fun of him for this later. 

“Sam, this is my wife.” 

The woman smiled softly, aware of the situation at the White House,  and introduced herself, outstretching her hand. He noticed her firm grip, but he could feel the tremble. “It’s nice to finally meet you, Sam. I can’t get him to shut up about you,” she chuckled, leaning back into Joaquin’s embrace. 

“Nice to meet you too,” he said with a small smirk. 

“There’s a pillow and blanket on the couch for you along with some clothes. Half his closet is just U Maimi stuff—I hope you don’t mind the colors.”  

Sam turned around and glanced at the neat pile resting on the arm of the couch. “It’ll do fine. Thank you.” 

“You’re welcome anytime. I’m going to get him cleaned up, let me know if you need anything else.” She patted her husband on the back and ushered him into the kitchen, dismissing all of his protests. 

Sam walked towards the couch and ran his fingers over the plush olive green material of the blanket before picking up the vibrant green t-shirt. He snickered and tossed it over his shoulder. 

“Shit!” a shrill curse came from the kitchen followed by soft apologies. It was instinct for the hero to look over and check out the scene. Joaqquin was fine, sitting on the counter with a piece of gauze covering his eyebrow. She stood between his legs, a look of sympathy on her face while she dabbed at the wound. 

Love looked good on the kid. In their line of work, there wasn’t much room for love or even just the look of it on someone's face. He remembered the first night he saw it on Joaquin’s face; it was at a bar somewhere in Europe and Sam had been counting on his fingers how many girls the other had turned down for a dance. 

“Five,” he laughed wiggling his fingers in his face. 

Joaquin rolled his eyes and playfully shoved his hand away, “Yeah, yeah.” 

“Wanna go for six or do you wanna tell me why you’ve said no to every pretty girl in this place.” 

The curly-haired man took a swig of beer for confidence, letting out a deep sigh as he put the bottle back on the table. “I have someone back home,” he finally admitted. 

“You got a little girlfriend!” 

There was a small blush on his cheeks and a smile so soft and sweet it was sickening. “A wife.” 

“Wife,” Sam repeated slowly. 

“College sweethearts, I think that’s what it’s called.” 

Yeah, love looked good on him. Sam snapped out of his memory and opened the blanket his eyes watching her press her hand against Joaquin’s chest with his wrapped around her wrist, his thumb swiping along the bone. His heart was beating, he was alive. Sam wondered if that was something they did after he came home from deployment, or now when he returned from a mission. Tonight was just supposed to be a fun night celebrating their mission, not stopping an assassination attempt. 

“Sam…bro, you good?” 

The couple stood in front of him, a red first aid kit in her hands. “Go get changed, I’ll patch up Captain America,” she smirked. Joaquin smiled and kissed her on the temple before retreating to the bedroom down the hall. 

“I’m fine,” Sam laughed it off. 

Her eyes flickered down to his arm, wet crimson staining a patch of his forearm. “Sit,” she told him firmly. 

He took off his suit jacket and rolled up his sleeve. Well, I’ll be damned, he thought as he looked at the sliced skin, it shouldn’t need stitches. She popped open the kit and got to work in silence. He should say something, the gears in his brain working overtime to come up with something appropriate. 

“You know, I was starting to think you didn’t exist.” He settled on that. Nice going, Sam. 

Thankfully she laughed, pouring a clear liquid over the cut that made him wince. “We get that a lot. We have a tally of all our friends who’ve said that.” 

“Sorry to add another. Work keeps you away?” 

She smiled and nodded, “I work for a charity. Helping communities rebuild after the blip. Some places haven’t been as lucky as we have. I was away a lot—it worked out when he was deployed.” 

A sadness began to loom over her as she gently wrapped his arm with a white gauze. She missed him, and he missed her just as much. “Was?” he narrowed in on the past tense of her words. 

“I requested a transfer to a desk job as soon as he finished those wings. I need to be here if something happens.” There was a tremor in her voice, “Him being Falcon puts him in even more danger. I want—need to be closer to him.” 

“He’s a good man,” Sam told her gently, “a damn good Falcon, he learned from the best.” He got a smile and a small chuckle out of her relieving her of some of the nerves she carried. 

She put her hand over the gauze and looked at him dead in the eye. “Keep him alive, Sam.” It was a gentle command. “He means everything to me.”

His lips parted and glanced down at the silver wedding band around her finger, thinking of a way to tell her that he might not be able to in this line of work. Joaquin saved the day, strolling into the room with a signature toothy smile. “Have you been talking about me this whole time?” he joked. 

Her smile instantly brightened. “You wish,” she laughed, collecting her things from the couch and rose to her feet. 

“She’s a miracle worker.” Sam raised his arm to show his partner the neatly wrapped gauze. 

“Looks good, Sam!” The other man cheered, leaning forward to get a better look. “We don’t have a well-stocked medicine cabinet for nothing.” 

“Yeah, I learned after too many scraped knees from the basketball court back in Maimi.” 

Joaquin winced and wrapped his arm around her, pulling her close to his side. “Let’s let Captain America get some sleep,” he suggested, pressing his lips to the side of her head. 

“Let us know if you need anything, Sam,” she told him. 

“Will do, Mrs. Torres. Thank you for everything.” 

“Anytime. We’re here or you.” 

Sam got comfortable on the couch, and surprisingly he felt like he could fall asleep instantly. Pulling out his phone, he sent a quick text to his friends at the base: ‘Mrs. Torres exists.’

[umamaki]

FALSE GOD ! caleb x reader

CONTAINS l&ds caleb, female reader, hurt/comfort, explicit smut, pwp, size kink if squint, caleb gloves mentioned, car sex, gendered pet names, cunnilingus, unprotected sex, creampie, edging, brief inappropriate use of evol, language, possessiveness, make up sex yay, lmk what i miss. wc 1.4k

NOTE i had an itch and i scratched it… 

divider by saradika_graphics

“There’s my girl.” 

The roof of the parking lot is supposed to be empty. Your car is the only one parked and you certainly hadn’t heard another pair of footsteps accompanying yours just now. 

You don’t allow yourself a chance to be startled by the familiar voice cutting through the night’s silence as the revolver once snug in your waistband is aimed at their throat. 

Nothing—nothing could’ve prepared you for who was at the other end. There did not exist a single universe where you would’ve been able to correctly guess, unless it’s one where dead men come back alive.

“Caleb?” It was barely a whisper, but the soft wind carried your voice to his ears. You falter and step back. The gun still points at him but it’s your arms that only slightly weaken. 

“So it really is you,” he looks different, matured. He’s grown taller and gained weight. There’s a mix of desperation and relief in the way he looks at you, “you haven’t changed a bit, Love.”

There’s a hint of a tease in his tone, but he doesn’t mean it. He watches you with bated breath, gauging your reaction. 

You finally snap out of it.

“What the fuck, Caleb? I thought you died!” Anger overcomes your initial shock. Betrayal, too. You raise the gun back at his throat, your grip on it tightening. 

“And here I thought you’d be happier to see me.”

“I don’t know where the hell you’ve been. But you know, you really had me fucking convinced.”

“Don’t be so naive. I did what I had to do.” 

“Like what, lie? To me? That’s bullshit and you know it.” His face gets blurry with every tear that begins to cloud your vision. You hastily blink them away, just to see him in clarity again. “You were my best friend.”

“I know. I’m sorry.” He steps forward. He uses one hand to lower your gun away from his body, and the other to wipe the tears flowing down your cheek. He bows down to where his face is level with yours, “so let me make it up to you.”

He finally embraces you. His face is buried into your shoulder and he holds you so tightly that you can hardly muster up enough breath to tell him to relax. He smells like home. 

“I missed you, you know. I missed you the whole time. You’re my girl, after all.” He looks you in the eyes and there’s earnest in every part of him, you don’t doubt it. 

“I thought I lost you,”

“I’m here now. Let me take care of you, make up for the time we lost, hm?”

He ghosts his lips up over yours but waits for your confirmation. You don’t hesitate to close the gap. He immediately devours your mouth with his, kissing you back with such fervor that you are firmly pressed against the side of your car. 

You think you feel drops of rain fall down on you, but Caleb is quick. He opens the your back door and positions you at the entrance. 

“And look what I can do now,” his hands settle on the top edge of the door and you’re not sure why that is, until you feel an invisible force thrust you to lay across the back seats. The top of your head brushes against his knuckles but it doesn’t hurt. 

The door is slammed shut and Caleb is immediately back on you, wasting no time in kissing and sucking a trail down from your jaw to your neck. 

“We probably shouldn’t.” He’d changed over the time he was gone, that part was true. He carried around an air of danger and sin. However you’d be lying if you said you weren’t just the least bit tempted by it. 

“Yeah? Says who? There’s no one else here but us.” You gasp when he nips your neck where your pulse is, soothing it with his tongue afterwards. “You’re a big girl now, aren’t you? Tell me to stop and I’ll stop.”

His hands circle your inner thigh. He’s fully aware of what he’s doing to you. You’re practically soaked through to your pants. You regret what you said and shake your head, taking it back. 

“What is it? Use your words baby,”

“Don’t stop. Please, Caleb, don’t stop.”

He parts from your neck and lowers himself to make out with your tits through your clothes. The pressure coming from him and the friction of your clothes rubbing against your sensitive nipples causes a moan of pleasure to escape from your lips. 

You kick off your shoes and he helps with pulling both your pants and underwear off with one fluid motion. He positions your thighs to rest atop each of his shoulders, sloppily kissing the inside of them. Your hands naturally find themselves grasping his hair. 

“This all for me?” He begins with a tentative lick to your clit, but it’s not enough. You pull him closer to your heat through his hair, all the confirmation he needs to fully make out with your pussy. 

“Ngh—Caleb…” You whimper his name in between moans. Your heels involuntarily dig into his back, hard, but still he doesn’t budge. He sucks on your clit and licks at your folds with the same intensity as before. 

“You taste good, baby. All mine.” He rises to kiss you, failing to neglect your lower half as his gloved fingers plunge themselves in your aching hole, thumb rubbing circles on your clit. 

The warmth inside you increases with each thrust of Caleb’s fingers. Your moans become louder and you become limp in his hold. You’re ready to reach your climax, so when he abruptly rips his fingers out of you, you can’t help but let out a whine. 

You’re out of breath and confused. In your haze, he pulls off his belt and frees his hard cock from his pants, stroking it for a moment of relief. 

He was big. Not surprising, given the way his body fills up the enclosed space of your car. Everything about him was so, so big. 

He appears to be able to read your mind. “You can take it, can’t you?” To that you answer with a nod, eyes not leaving his length. “Good girl.”

You’re still sensitive from when he fingered you and the subsequent intrusion is a mix of pleasure and pain. He takes satisfaction in seeing you take him so well, inch by inch. He likes how your pretty mouth hangs open and how your belly rises and falls with each labored breath. 

After what feels like an eternity, he’s stretched you out to the hilt. You’re convinced you’ve never felt so utterly and completely full as you do now. 

“That wasn’t so hard, was it?” He presses a hand down on your stomach solely to feel himself inside you. 

“Just, move. Please—” You’re growing desperate and restless. 

“Is that the tone you want to use with me?” He draws back so only his tip remains inside you. “But since you said please…” You scream when his cock slams back in and starts going at a ruthless pace. You hear lightning strike in the distance.

“Fuck fuck, Feels s’good Caleb—” 

“That’s it, pretty girl. You’re doing so well. Missed this so much.”

Your orgasm comes fast this time. It’s blinding and encompassing and it takes all your breath away. He takes you through it, continuing his pace and rubbing your clit for added relief. He follows suit soon after, finishing inside you with one last thrust and collapsing on top of you without pulling out. The weight is comfortable, warm. 

Your windows are covered in a layer of fog and the rain outside has become a wet downpour. The muffled sound of raindrops surround the two of you and you think you could fall asleep in this exact moment.  

“I’m still mad at you.” Your hands find their way back to playing with his hair.

He chuckles and his whole body vibrates as he does, “I know, Babygirl. I know.”

[cheriedivine]

𝐀𝐩𝐩𝐥𝐞 𝐜𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐫

chapter I | next

꩜ synopsis: you’re best friends. just best friends. except when she lingers a little too long at your door. except when she calls you her favorite, and it doesn’t feel like a joke. except when her fingers graze yours and neither of you pull away. except when you start to wonder if she’s wondering, too…

꩜ Pairing: Ellie Williams x fem reader (no use of y/n)

꩜ CW: swearing, weed, creepy guy, slightly suggestive, tension (if u squint).

꩜ WC: 4.9K

꩜ A/N: okayyy soooo, i’m starting a new series, it will be a slow burn so bear with me. Im excited for this and all the yearning to come woohooooo! just your typical loser lesbians who are best friends and there’s tension but they don’t know it yet alright…

══════════════════════════════════════

How can we tell something is complicated? Is it because the easy way isn’t available, or because we crave the possibility of more?

Life is full of complex things like the human brain or death or love. Especially love.

The line between love and codependency is blurry, if it even exists. Do we cling to the people we love because we need them or because we don’t know who we are without them?

Still, love is more than need. It's more than survival.

Of course the easy way is not to feel.

But then again. What’s the point of life without love?

Without being consumed by it? Without being absorbed?

Ellie always felt like love wasn’t meant for her. Yeah sure she had been in a few relationships in the past, casual summer flings, but nothing that got too serious. The moment someone wanted to put a label on her she was out the door.

Maybe she was doomed from the start, sentenced to suffer in loneliness for the rest of her life. Maybe it was karma for all the shit her ancestors had done.

Or maybe... she was just twenty-one, and spiraling.

But then she met you.

Her best friend. Her whole world.

You brought sunshine into her life like it was nothing. Like it was easy.

She smiled more. Went out more. God. She even made stupid jokes just to hear you laugh. Saying you made Ellie’s life better was an understatement.

How it started?

It was a casual Thursday. Ellie was tired, the kind of tired that settled deep in her bones. She’d been up since 5 a.m., chasing the sunrise for an early shoot, and stayed late at the studio the night before, hunched over rolls of film, watching images slowly come to life. Now, all she could think about was the couple she’d photographed that morning. Mid-twenties, freshly engaged, smiling like they had the rest of their lives mapped out. Some people had it all figured out, she thought. Settled. Steady. Meanwhile, she was here…at her usual breakfast spot, an old fashioned diner, squinting at her laptop, scrolling through photo edits with aching eyes. Her camera bag sat beside her on the booth seat, worn and stickered to hell. Savage Starlight, Sleater Kinney, a faded rainbow sticker that had started peeling at the corners.

She yawned into her tea, hood up, headphones loosely slung around her neck, when someone placed a plate down in front of her. chocolate chip pancakes, soft scrambled eggs and bacon, her usual.

Ellie blinked up, and you were standing there, wiping your hands on a dish towel tucked into your apron. Your eyes flicked toward the camera case.

“Savage Starlight,” you nodded at the sticker. “God tier taste.”

Ellie froze for a second, then smirked. “You read that?”

“Duh,” you said like it was obvious. “Issue 8 ruined me emotionally for weeks.”

That pulled a laugh out of her, the first real one she’d had all morning. “Same. Still not over that ending.”

You smiled, shifting your weight to one foot, clearly not in a rush to leave. “Cool camera, by the way.”

“Thanks, she’s my baby” she said, suddenly aware of how wrecked she must look. Messy bun barely held up, camera strap indenting her neck. “—I’m Ellie, by the way.” She stuck her hand out, immediately second guessing it.

Was that too old fashioned? Joel really was rubbing off on her.

“I know. I take your order every other Thursday.” you said, shaking her hand.

She blinked, embarrassed. “Right. Sorry. Early mornings kinda melt my brain.”

“No worries,” you grinned, and Ellie noticed the little pin on your apron. A tiny, pixelated spaceship with your name on it, stupid stupid stupid. she thought to herself for not noticing it earlier.

And since that moment, something shifted. It wasn’t anything loud or life altering, not some cheesy movie moment with music swelling in the background. But it was something. A small click, like a puzzle piece sliding into place.

Ellie became obsessed with you, in a way that she needed to be around you or her day wouldn’t be complete, she needed to hear your voice, your laugh, you calling her stupid for a dad joke she made, she just needed you, her best friend.

From then on, Ellie started showing up more often, not just on Thursdays anymore. Sometimes it was Tuesdays. Sometimes Saturdays, right before the lunch rush. She claimed it was for the pancakes, and not the terrible service (she earned herself a playful smack on the head for that). She’d sit at her usual corner booth, camera bag by her side, flipping through photo previews on her laptop, waiting for your shift to end.

Ellie would usually show up with the latest issue of Savage Starlight, sliding it across the counter like some sort of sacred offering. It became an inside joke your “weekly trade deal,” she'd say. In return, you’d draw ridiculous little faces into her pancakes with extra chocolate chips, crooked grins, wonky eyes, sometimes a very unflattering interpretation of Joel. She thought it was hilarious.

You’d complain about the usual chaos, the rude customers, shit tips, kids treating the floor like their personal warzone. Ellie would listen between mouthfuls of bacon, eyes gleaming.

“Sounds like you need a cig break,” she’d propose, already halfway out of the booth.

And that’s how most of your breaks ended up. At the back of the diner, sharing a cigarette with your best friend, the smoke curling into lazy spirals between your fingers. Who would’ve thought the best thing to come out of this job would be the quiet girl who used to sit in the corner booth alone, camera gear spilling across the table and making it a logistical nightmare to serve her food?

You ducked behind the counter, catching your co-worker scribbling down an order on a pad.

“Taking five,” you whispered into her ear, already slipping off your apron and tossing it over the stool.

Ellie was waiting by the door, cigarette hanging from her lips, hands in her pockets, grinning like an idiot. Moments like these, quiet, in company of you, were the highlight of her day.

The metal door creaked behind you as you stepped out into the alley, greeted by the smell of old grease, cigarette smoke, and freedom.

“You have no idea how much I despise this uniform,” you groaned, tugging at the stiff collar of your work shirt like it personally offended you. “Why do they make us wear these stupid skirts and hats?”

Ellie chuckled, flicking the lighter and shielding the flame with her hand. “You look cute, very… militant barista chic”

You gave her a flat look. “It’s a literal open invitation for creepy dudes to stare”

“In that case I’ll beat them to death with my camera tripod” she said around the cigarette, grinning as she passed it to you. “I would like to see you try honestly.”

You took a drag, leaning your back against the brick wall, bumping your shoulder into hers lightly. “I’m just saying, Hooters uniform has more coverage than this… thing.”

Ellie nodded solemnly. “Oh yeah? Are you a Hooters expert now?”

You snorted, passing the cigarette back. “Certainly more than you. I wish I could just spend time with you in your stinky little studio instead of serving Ice lattes to Karens”

Ellie blinked, a flicker of something crossing her face, but she masked it quickly with a laugh. “Obviously. I’m way prettier.”

“Thats certainly one way to put it.”

“Rude.”

You both stood there for a while in comfortable silence, trading the cigarette and small complaints about the day, until your five minutes were definitely more like ten and your co-worker cracked open the back door to glare at you.

Ellie just winked and mouthed bitch. She checked her phone, winced, then let out a dramatic sigh like the world was ending. “Shit. I’ve got a shoot in twenty minutes.”

You blew out a stream of smoke. “Ugh, fine. Go be artsy and productive or whatever.”

“I will. Gotta make the girls look ethereal in a field of flowers or something,” she joked, already stubbing the cigarette out on the wall and stuffing it into an empty Altoids tin she kept just for that purpose.

You rolled your eyes. “Tell them to pose like they're not better looking than me or I’m gonna have a problem.”

Ellie gave you a look, smirking as she slung her camera bag over her shoulder. “Don’t worry, you’re the muse.”

You flushed but covered it with a sarcastic bow. “Obviously. Anyway, I’m stuck in hell for two more hours, but I’ll text you after. You still down for the movies tonight?”

“Dina threatened me if I bail. Jesse’s picking the movie, though, so get ready to watch something with car chases and unnecessary explosions.”

You groaned. “He has the worst taste. I swear if it’s another Fast and Furious sequel I’m leaving.”

Ellie laughed and started backing down the alley, walking backwards. “You say that every time and yet you stay. For the family.”

You threw your apron at her. She dodged it.

“Text me when you're done,” she called out before disappearing around the corner, entering her beat up truck.

Back inside, the rest of your shift crawled by in a blur of clinking mugs, whiny toddlers, and low tip customers, but it was easier to survive knowing you had a movie night waiting, with your best friends, and Ellie sitting next to you in the dark, probably whispering dumb commentary in your ear the whole time.

You smiled to yourself as you cleared a table. Just two more hours.

The field was nice. Golden hour kind of nice, warm light slicing through the tall grass. Ellie adjusted the settings on her camera, peeking through the viewfinder at the group of girls twirling in their flowy pastel dresses, laughing like they were in a Greta Gerwig film.

“Alright, ladies, pretend you like each other!” she called out, grinning.

They laughed and did that overly exaggerated cutesy pose thing, arms slung around each other, a couple fake-kissing cheeks. Ellie snapped the shots effortlessly, stepping around them with practiced ease. Her brain clicked into auto-pilot when she was shooting. Light, angles, timing. The rest of the world faded at the click of the camera.

Except for one of them.

Cat.

Bridesmaid number three. Mid-20s, pretty, clearly knew it, and knew how to work a camera. She'd been giving Ellie a look since they started, the kind with too much eye contact and a little too much lower lip biting.

"Should I hold the bouquet like this?" Cat asked sweetly, lifting it chest-level and tilting her head just enough to make it obvious.

Ellie didn’t skip a beat, snapping the shot. “Sure…unless you’re auditioning for a rom-com in which case, maybe tilt it a little more—yeah, that’s the angle. Nailed it.”

The girls laughed and whooped like they were in a music video.

Cat winked at her. “You’re kinda funny, camera girl.”

Ellie smirked but didn’t look up from her camera. “Only kinda?”

The flirting kept bouncing like that for a bit. Harmless, surface-level, the way Ellie always played it when she wasn’t invested, just bored. She never let it get too deep, not like with you. After wrapping the shoot and handing off her card to the bride, Ellie was stuffing her camera into her bag when Cat came up to her, twirling a piece of her hair between her fingers like she practiced that in the mirror.

“Hey,” she said, kind of sing-songy. “You should give me your number. You know, in case I wanna book you for something… personal.”

Ellie bit back a grin, already zipping her bag. “Oh, totally. Here—”

She grabbed a pen from her tote and scribbled a number on the back of a coffee receipt. Not hers, obviously. Some random number she made up.

Cat took it, all flirty and hopeful, and Ellie gave her a small salute before heading toward her truck.

As soon as she was out of sight, she cracked up to herself, shaking her head.

“Yeah, good luck with that one.”

She wasn’t mean. Just... not interested. Not in Cat. Not in anyone lately.

Only person she actually wanted to hear from was probably just clocking out of that stupid diner, peeling off that stupid uniform and texting her with some dumb meme or a rant about someone leaving syrup on the counter.

She checked her phone.

No text yet.

She leaned against the side of her truck, thumb tapping lazily against the metal, waiting. Like clockwork, her phone buzzed in her back pocket. A text from you.

It was a photo. Your middle finger proudly raised beside your diner uniform, crumpled and defeated on your bed. “im out. pick me up at 6?”

Ellie chuckled, typing back: “Only if ur wearing the uniform.”

Your response came quick: middle finger emoji.

Still grinning, she climbed into her truck and headed to her studio (which, technically, was also her apartment…but calling it the studio made it feel a little more like she had her shit together). She was planning on washing off the day and changing into something comfortable for movie night at Dina’s.

Meanwhile, back at your place, you kicked off your shoes the second you walked in. Your roommate wasn’t home, probably still stuck at work, so you shot her a quick text letting her know you’d be out late. You peeled off your uniform, and threw on your robe before texting Ellie again, “home. u picking me up at 6 right?”

You stepped into the shower, determined to scrub off the smell of burnt bacon and sticky syrup, letting the steam pull the exhaustion out of your bones. Afterward, you got caught up scrolling on your phone, time slipping past unnoticed… until there was a sharp knock on your door.

“Shit,” you muttered. Then louder, “HOLD ON, I’M COMING!”

Still wrapped in your towel, you darted to the front door and flung it open. Ellie blinked, caught off guard. Her eyes flicked over your towel-wrapped frame a second too long, before she quickly covered her grin with a hand, trying (and failing) to play it cool.

“I am so, so sorry,” you said, pulling the towel tighter around yourself, suddenly feeling too exposed. too self conscious. “I got distracted and totally lost track of time.”

Ellie raised her eyebrows, but her voice stayed teasing. “You sure you’re not trying to seduce me?”

You rolled your eyes. “Ten minutes. Swear.”

You vanished down the hallway. Ellie flopped onto the couch, pulling out her phone and texting the group chat: running late but grabbing snacks first. don’t start without us.

She shifted to get more comfortable, and caught a glimpse through the crack in your bedroom door. Two inches. Practically nothing. Not on purpose… right?

You were slipping on a hoodie, back turned, still in just your bra and pants. Ellie’s face flushed instantly. She snapped her head away like the door had personally scolded her. “Jesus Christ,” she muttered, burying her face in her hands. “Fuckin’ creep.”

Before her spiraling could get worse, you emerged from your room, hoodie on, tugging on your shoes.

“Okay,” you said, grabbing your keys and swinging the door open. “Let’s go.”

Ellie followed, still flustered, and absolutely not ready to unpack any of what just happened.

The sky was starting to turn soft and purple as Ellie pulled out of your complex’s parking lot, her tattooed arm flexing, hand grasping lazily on the wheel, the other fiddling with the volume knob. Some old indie playlist was shuffling through the speakers. Ellie music, as you called it. You leaned back in your seat, hair still a little damp from the shower, hoodie sleeves pulled halfway over your hands.

“So?” you said, glancing at her. “How was the rest of your very glamorous day?”

Ellie let out a snort. “Oh, you know. Just got aggressively flirted with by someone named Cat.”

Your head turned so fast it nearly cracked. “Cat?”

“Bridesmaid number three. Said I looked like I’d be good with a camera and my hands.” Ellie smirked.

You groaned, but came out more like a failed laugh. “Ew. Who says that?”

“She did. With full confidence. Honestly? Kinda impressive.”

You narrowed your eyes at her. “Tell me you didn’t flirt back.”

“I mean, a little. For the bit.”

You gasped dramatically, pressing a hand to your chest. “You’re shameless.”

“Hey—she asked for my number, I panicked and gave her Joel’s landline. So I think I redeemed myself.”

That made you burst out laughing, and gave you a weird sense of relief. “Oh my god, imagine her calling and Joel picking up.”

“‘Hello, Miller residence.’ And then just click.”

You were still giggling when you turned toward the window. “You’re evil.”

Ellie looked over at you for a second too long, a crooked smile tugging at her mouth. “You’re just jealous.”

You scoffed. “Jealous of Cat? Please. I wear a dumb visor and serve bacon to men named Dennis who tip in nickels.”

“That’s hot.”

You rolled your eyes. “My shift was hell. I had a kid throw a hashbrown at me and scream because I gave him the wrong syrup. Like. What syrup could he possibly need at age four? It’s all just sugar.”

“Future criminal behavior,” Ellie said. “I would’ve drop-kicked him.”

“Oh believe me, I considered it. But then I remembered I’m trying not to go to jail this year.”

“Personal growth,” she nodded solemnly.

There was a comfortable silence after that. The kind that didn’t feel like it needed to be filled. The kind you only got with someone who knew you well enough to not need noise. But still, Ellie spoke again, a little quieter this time.

“Hey,” she said, eyes on the road, voice soft. “We still have to get those snacks.”

You turned your head, smiling without really meaning to. “7-Eleven stop?.”

“7-Eleven it is.”

The buzz of fluorescent lights and the faint hum of the refrigerator coolers welcomed you as the door to the 7-Eleven swung open with a mechanical chime. Ellie held it open for you with a sarcastic bow. “After you.”

You rolled your eyes smiling. “Wow. So chivalrous. All for a bag of Flamin’ Hot Cheetos.”

“What can I say?” she shrugged, grabbing a plastic basket. “I’m a provider.”

You split up for a second, Ellie going straight to the drinks section while you scanned the candy aisle, already filling your arms with too many options. Gummy worms. A Kit Kat. Those sour blue raspberry straws Ellie claimed she hated but somehow always ended up buying.

You were just about to decide between a regular-sized Snickers or the obnoxiously large King Size when a voice behind you broke the silence.

“Damn,” the guy said, eyeing you up like you were on sale. “If I was your man, I’d never let you out the house looking that good.”

You didn’t even turn to look at him at first, just dropped a pack of sour candy into your basket.

“If you were my man,” you said, glancing over with a tight smile, “I’d move states and change my name.”

He scoffed. “Damn, you don’t gotta be a bitch about it—”

“—And you gotta be stupid enough to not take a hint” Ellie appeared behind you, sliding an arm around your shoulders with a lazy grin, completely playing into the moment.

The guy blinked, probably about to say something else, until Ellie looked at him, really looked at him and whatever speech he had left drained from his face. He turned and walked off without another word.

“You find the sour blue raspberry straws?” she asked casually, like nothing had happened.

You nodded, leaning into her like it was muscle memory. “Yep.”

Something always shifted in Ellie when guys like that got too close. She didn’t make a scene, didn’t have to, but her jaw would clench just a little, her voice would drop, and suddenly she wasn’t just your best friend. She was your shield, your protector. And no one got to talk to you like that when she was around.

Once he was out of earshot, you burst out laughing, nearly dropping your armful of snacks. “Babe is new”

“It felt right,” Ellie said, grinning. “And also hilarious. You should’ve seen his face.”

You were still laughing as you dumped your haul on the counter. “Thanks for the save, my prince charming.”

“Anytime,” she said, tossing a couple of sodas beside your loot. “Protecting you from weird dudes is in my contract.”

“Oh yeah?” you raised a brow. “Where’s this contract?”

“In my head,” she said.

You shook your head, still smiling. “We should make it a real thing. Ellie Williams: official candy mule and creepy guy repellant.”

“I prefer the term bodyguard,” she said, pulling out her wallet. “But yeah. Works for me.”

Dina’s apartment smelled like buttery popcorn, weed, and that vaguely sweet candle she always left burning on her windowsill, something with a name like Midnight Fig or Velvet Moon. The TV was already on when you walked in, credits of some old romcom playing, Jesse sitting cross-legged on the floor, halfway through a bag of gummy worms.

“You’re late,” Dina called from the kitchen, not even looking up as she stirred something in a pot. “Movie night rule number one: punctuality. Rule number two: bring snacks. Did you guys bring snacks?”

“We were on time,” Ellie said, kicking the door closed behind her. “But somebody forgot I was picking them up.”

You shot her a look. “I was in the shower. I told you to pick me up at six, not barge in at six.”

“Oh my god,” Jesse muttered. “Just make out already.”

“Shut up,” both you and Ellie snapped at the same time. Jesse loved to poke the bear when it came to you two, claiming it was funny how flustered you both got.

That only made him grin wider.

You dropped onto the couch with a dramatic sigh, pulling a throw blanket over your legs and tossing a bag of hot cheeto chips onto the coffee table. “There. Snacks.”

Ellie flopped down beside you, her thigh barely brushing yours. Not enough to say anything, not enough to move away—but enough to notice. She leaned back, hands behind her head.

“So,” Dina said, walking over with a bowl of something that looked suspiciously like boxed mac and cheese. “Ellie, how’d your shoot go? You flirt with any bridesmaids?”

You groaned. “Don’t encourage her.”

Ellie smirked. “Told you already. Bridesmaid number three. She winked at me and called me ‘camera girl.’”

Dina wheezed. “Wait. Wait. Did she give you her number?”

“She asked for mine,” Ellie corrected, proudly. “I gave her Joel’s landline.”

“Are you trying to get disowned?” Jesse asked, taking a handful of popcorn.

“I’m trying to avoid drama with a woman named Cat,” Ellie said, dead serious.

You shook your head, “You’re impossible.”

Dina squinted between you two, then looked at Jesse. “Tell me they’re not already dating.”

“Not yet,” Jesse said, popping a gummy into his mouth. “But they will be. I give it, like, three months. Maybe two if there’s a karaoke night.”

You threw a pillow at his head. Ellie snorted and leaned closer, her arm grazing yours again.

“Anyway,” Dina said, tossing a remote into Jesse’s lap, “are we watching Jennifer’s Body or are we letting Jesse pick another sad man movie again?”

“Jennifer’s Body,” you and Ellie said at the same time.

The night rolled on. Full of bad jokes, half-eaten snacks, and shared glances neither of you really knew how to deal with yet.

Not tension, exactly. Not yet. But something.

The movie had long since faded into background noise, replaced by gossip and stolen bites of popcorn. Jesse and Ellie kept chucking snacks at each other like overgrown children, until Dina groaned from the armchair, "You idiots are cleaning all this shit up. Y’all are like toddlers when you're together."

They both laughed, Jesse flinging a pillow in her direction, which, of course, kicked off a full-on war. You were winning. Striking Ellie with a pillow like your life depended on it, until she fought back three times harder, knocking you onto the couch and sending the whole group into hysterics.

This was your group. The best friends you ever had.

You’d all met not long after you and Ellie did. Jesse and Ellie were practically siblings, bonded since childhood, while you’d known Dina since high school—trauma-bonded over shitty exes and academic burnout. She knew you like the palm of her handl You definitely were an incredibly different group of humans, but it’s what made things more genuine with y’all.

You and Ellie had a secret running bet about Jesse and Dina. After one drunken party makeout they swore never happened, they’d been in full denial mode, sneaking glances and pretending it meant nothing.

Ellie bet $20 and a month of free rides that they'd never admit it. You, being the romantic, countered with a month of free pancakes and $10 that they would.

(Not that they needed to know about it.)

A blunt or two made its way around, leaving everyone pleasantly buzzed, limbs heavy, laughter echoing off the walls. Jesse and Ellie were laid out flat on the floor. You sprawled on the couch with Dina nestled between your legs, her back to your chest. It was warm, hazy, perfect.

You glanced at your phone. 2:57 a.m. Saturday. No work tomorrow, thank god. You’d definitely get fired for showing up this stoned.

Your fingers idly played with Dina’s hair while she giggled at nothing. Jesse and Ellie were arguing about something in the background, their voices fuzzy through the weed fog. Eventually, Dina stretched and yawned, announcing she was going to bed.

“If anyone’s crashing, cool. Just don’t open the windows and don’t trip balls in my apartment,” she mumbled.

Jesse followed behind, only to get a very loud, “GET OUT OF MY ROOM, I’M NOT HIGH ENOUGH FOR THIS.” He retreated to the guest room in defeat.

Ellie dropped down on the couch next to you, head tipped back, eyes glossy.

"You don't have an early photoshoot with your kittycat tomorrow?" you teased, glancing at her sideways.

"You wish. I might as well just cave and give her my real number," she said with a lazy grin.

“And forget about me?” you said, bumping her shoulder.

"You know I would never."

"Oh, I know. Im just fucking with you" you smirked.

“Oh yeah?,” she shrugged, grin widening. “I think you would like that.”

“You’re an asshole.”

“Your favorite one.”

“I think that’s why we’re best friends.”

“Yeah, you’re my best-best-best-friend-ever-in-the-world,” she said, slurring it like a spell. “But shh, don’t tell Jesse. Sensitive guy.”

She held a finger to her lips like she was sharing an FBI top-secret, you laughed, shaking your head.

Shortly after that, you dozed off on the couch, your head resting on her shoulder like it was the most natural thing in the world. She could smell your shampoo, faintly sweet, and the ever-present scent of maple syrup that always clung to you no matter what. Like it was just… yours. Branded in her brain.

Your thigh was warm against hers, and yeah—it wasn’t weird. You were always like this. Close. Safe.

But then Ellie’s mind flicked back to your apartment. That two-inch crack in the door. The sliver of skin, the bra strap, your back. She’d looked. Not on purpose…but she’d looked. The weed was fucking with her head.

Her chest tightened. Was that weird? Creepy?

But best friends think about stuff like that sometimes… right? Like, it wasn’t a big deal to know your friend was hot, and protecting her from creepy guys knowing you’d treat her so much better In a normal, totally non-weird, completely platonic way. Right?

She tilted her head slightly, watching you breathe, peaceful and soft beside her. Her brain finally quieted.

You were her best friend.

And that would always be enough.

Right?

[littlegochu]

"just friends" part 1 │ jjk 18+

"no feelings. no promises. just a night that didn’t end when it should’ve."

pairing: jeon jungkook x reader (f)

genre: friends with benefits, cold male lead, cold female lead

rating: 18+, smut

synopsis: we weren’t close. just mutuals. he was mia’s boyfriend’s friend — always quiet, always there, always looking like he didn’t care about anything. then we hooked up once. and then again. now it’s late-night texts, locked doors, and pretending not to look at each other during group hangouts. no feelings. no rules. just whatever this is. and yeah, maybe i’m in too deep — but if he is too, he’s not saying it either.

-

5 months ago

leon’s dorm was too full.

shoulders bumping, drinks spilling, heat clinging to my skin like static. someone was yelling into a red cup, someone else was filming it like it mattered. mia had disappeared into the crowd. theo was shirtless again for no reason.

i needed out — or at least five minutes of not pretending to have fun.

i turned into the hallway, hoping for quiet and a bathroom. the lights were dim, walls lit up with weak blue from a broken led strip. i wasn’t drunk. not really. just warm. a little foggy.

i rounded a corner — and ran straight into someone.

“shit—” my drink sloshed, and my hand shot out to catch the wall.

a steady hand caught my arm instead.

“careful,” a low voice said.

i looked up.

jungkook.

of course.

he let go of me as soon as i was steady.

i stepped back. “sorry.”

he nodded. “you good?”

“yeah. just—needed air. trying to find the bathroom.”

he didn’t say anything for a second, then tipped his head down the hall. “it’s that way. last door on the left.”

i hesitated. “thanks.”

he didn’t leave.

just leaned against the opposite wall, hands in his hoodie pocket, like he wasn’t in a rush to go anywhere.

leon’s friend. mia’s boyfriend’s roommate. the guy who showed up to every group hang without saying much, just existing in the background like he didn’t need to try.

people assumed things about him — that he was cold, cocky, probably a player. i didn’t know if any of that was true.

but i did know he was stupidly good looking.

backwards cap, silver rings, hoodie sleeves pushed over his tatted forearms. the way he looked at you like he wasn’t even trying to. the way his mouth barely moved when he spoke.

he had that quiet, effortless thing. like he didn’t have to prove anything.

and maybe it was the tequila, or the heat in my skin, or how good he looked standing there in that damn hallway light, but for a second i couldn’t stop staring.

he looked at me. slow. calm.

and fuck — it made my stomach flip.

“you always this quiet?” i asked.

he blinked. “you always this lost?”

i scoffed. “you always this annoying?”

“you always this talkative?”

i rolled my eyes. “okay.”

he nodded toward the bathroom again. “go before someone else throws up in it.”

-

i stayed in the bathroom longer than i needed to.

ran cold water over my hands. pressed them to my neck. stared in the mirror and tried to calm down.

i wasn’t drunk. not really. but i felt buzzed in the worst way. warm all over. restless. too aware of him.

i opened the door and nearly tripped.

he was still there.

leaning against the wall like nothing had changed. like he wasn’t still in my head.

his brow lifted. “you good?”

“it’s hot.”

he looked at me, then nodded toward the next door. “my room’s right there.”

i blinked. “what?”

“you wanna cool off or not?”

his room was dark. neat. quiet.

i sat on the edge of his bed, then laid back, trying to breathe.

he followed. not fast. just kicked off his shoes and dropped onto the bed like it was nothing.

we didn’t talk. just laid there — side by side, not touching.

“you always let girls crash here?” i asked eventually.

he didn’t turn his head. “only the ones who almost eat the hallway.”

i scoffed. “i wasn’t that bad.”

he didn’t answer.

i turned toward him. studied his profile in the dark.

he looked good. too good. relaxed. unreadable.

i swallowed. “so this is the move, huh?”

he finally looked at me.

i didn’t back down.

“bring them to your room, lay there all quiet, let them crawl to you?”

he stared. “if that’s what you want to think.”

my pulse jumped.

“and then what?” i asked.

he reached out slowly. curled a hand around my waist.

my breath caught.

his voice didn’t change. “then i hold them like this.”

he pulled me in. not hard. just enough. close enough to feel his breath. close enough for mine to stutter.

i looked at his lips.

he didn’t kiss me.

just stared back — eyes low, unreadable.

and then he pulled away.

he laid back into the bed. arm tucked behind his head. no explanation.

i blinked. stared down at him.

he wasn’t saying no. just waiting.

so i leaned in and kissed him.

his lips parted under mine.

he kissed me back. slower, rougher. hand back on my waist, pulling me over him.

i straddled his lap, kissed him harder, my hands under his shirt, dragging up his sides.

his fingers dug into my hips.

and then — he stopped.

his mouth stilled. his grip tightened, then released. “don’t,” he said, voice low.

i froze. breathless. “what?”

he didn’t move. “you’re drunk.”

i swallowed. “i want this.”

he shut his eyes. jaw flexing once.

“you won’t in the morning.”

i sat there, still, pulse thudding through my ribs.

he didn’t push me off.

but he didn’t pull me in either.

so i climbed off him. laid back beside him. said nothing.

he didn’t speak.

but he stayed.

-

leon’s dorm felt different this time.

same couch. same lights. same group — kind of. but the energy had shifted.

mia and leon were already asleep in his room. the rest of the group had passed out wherever they dropped — theo on the floor, face half-buried in a hoodie that wasn’t his, and jimin slumped over the armrest like his spine gave out mid-laugh.

i sat cross-legged on the carpet, watching the movie no one was awake enough to finish.

beside me, jungkook nursed a water bottle like he wasn’t paying attention to anything. not the tv. not the noise. not me.

but i felt it.

his shoulder brushed mine.

once. then again. not deliberate. not really.

we hadn’t spoken about last week. not a word. not even a look that hinted at it.

but i hadn’t stopped thinking about it.

his mouth. his hands. the way he stopped. the way he wanted to keep going.

and now — with everyone else unconscious and the room dim and quiet — i couldn’t stop thinking about what it would feel like to finish what we’d started.

i didn’t drink tonight. said i was driving. truth was, i wanted to be clear when it happened — if it happened.

jungkook had a midterm tomorrow. he hadn’t touched a drop either.

and maybe that’s why it felt worse. because we were both sober. and still thinking about it.

the credits started rolling.

he shifted beside me. slow. unbothered.

“you staying?” he asked.

i shook my head. “said i’d drive. might crash on the couch, though.”

he hummed. didn’t say more.

i stood, brushed popcorn dust off my legs, stretched. his eyes followed — just for a second. then flicked away like he didn’t mean to.

he didn’t blink. just waited. “the couch is full.”

i looked at him.

his mouth twitched, but only barely. “so where are you going?”

i swallowed once.

then nodded toward the hallway.

“show me again where the bathroom is.”

he stood. didn’t say anything. didn’t smirk. didn’t tease.

just followed.

we didn’t even make it to the door before i turned and kissed him.

this time, no hesitation. no buzz clouding it.

his hands went straight to my waist, dragging me in. my back hit the wall, his mouth rougher now — hungrier, like he’d been holding it in. like he wasn’t going to stop this time.

my fingers curled into the front of his shirt. i kissed him harder. let him take what he wanted.

he didn’t ask if i was sure.

he didn’t pull away.

we found his room again. dark, same sheets. door shut behind us with a quiet click.

i didn’t feel nervous.

i felt ready.

his mouth stayed on mine as he pressed me down into the mattress, hands sliding beneath my shirt, slow, steady. like he already knew how i moved. like he’d imagined it before.

when i tugged his shirt over his head, he didn’t flinch.

when he kissed down my throat, i arched into him.

when i pulled him closer — all the way — he didn’t ask anything.

we weren’t drunk.

we weren’t in love.

we were just there.

wanting the same thing.

and that night — was the start.

it started with tension. with texts. with “you up?” and “you have ten minutes.” every hookup ended the same: a quiet fist bump, no eye contact, leaving before the sun was fully up.

we were both busy. school, work, life — whatever excuse we needed to keep it simple.

but then school ended and he started staying a little longer.

not always. not every time. but sometimes he’d fall asleep after. and not rush out in the morning.

sometimes he’d bring food. sometimes we didn’t even fuck.

just laid there. watched random shit. talked about dumb things we never asked each other in the beginning. it wasn’t a relationship.

but it felt less like hooking up and more like choosing to stay.

authors note: comment and lmk what u think!

part 2 here:

[frenchkisstheabyss]

♡ ｐｌｅａｓｅ ｍｅ ♡

♡ Pairing: drug dealer!wooyoung x good girl!chubby!fem!reader

♡ Genre: fluff/smut/playful enemies to lovers

♡ Summary: If there's one thing you've learned from having a criminal as a step brother it's this: Never, under any circumstance, get involved with a guy like him. It's messy, it's risky, and it almost always ends in tears. It's the #1 reason you've pushed Wooyoung away for so long but sadly for you he's sickeningly handsome and painfully persistent. A combination that was bound to break you down and today's the day.

♡ Word Count: 3.7k

♡ Warnings: san's your step brother (only mentioned), wooyoung's a criminal but a cute one, heavily tattooed woo, he low key/high key worships reader's body, kissing, oral sex (f receiving, reader's first time actually), fingering, a lil handjob, scratching, unprotected sex, a lil rough sex, cock riding, choking, creampie, pet names (baby, princess).

♡ A/N: Hello, my darlings. For whatever reason (he's super fucking hot) I've had a thing for Wooyoung lately. I'm also such a sucker for a criminal/mafia/etc boy who's super soft for reader and that's how we ended up here. As always, if you end up reading this I hope you have fun with it my loves. xoxo

The perfect sunny day. You’ve been waiting months for the weather to break and finally you’ve been blessed with one. Refusing to waste it, you’ve been relaxing by the pool all day. Occasionally you’ll take a dip, letting the cool sparkling blue waters wash over you, but mostly you’ve been right where you are now. Spread out on a lounge chair, your earphones blaring your favorite song as the sun sprinkles its rays across your soft skin. 

This is the most peace you’ve had in a long time and the preciousness of it isn’t lost on you. At any second your stepbrother and his “business associates” could charge through the front door, bringing chaos and bloodshed with them, but you try not to think about it. For now this sprawling villa is all yours and nothing can take that from you. Well, almost nothing. 

“What are you doing out here, kid?” Wooyoung asks, staring down at you through a pair of dark tinted sunglasses. 

With your eyes closed, you hum along to the music, blissfully unaware of his existence. Wooyoung takes a long look at you, his gaze scanning you from head to toe. In all the years he’s worked for your stepbrother not once has he missed an opportunity to observe your beauty and this is the opportunity of a lifetime to say the least. He prides himself as being a man who bows to no one but he’d get down on his knees just to beg for one nibble at that plush figure of yours. 

Pushing his glasses back to the top of his head, he leans in closer to that pretty face and shouts, “You should really be more aware of your surroundings!”

His breath skims your cheek and you open your eyes only to see the shadow of a man, his features obscured by the sun. “Aah, shit!” you scream, scrambling out of the chair and nearly falling as you do. 

Wooyoung cackles, reaching out to you in a half hearted attempt to offer some comfort. “It’s okay! It’s me!”

You snatch your earbuds out, your eyes adjusting to the brightness as you begin to make out who it is in front of you. “Woo?” you squint, “You son of a bitch! What’s wrong with you?” 

“Wait, I’m sorry!” he apologizes but you’re already raining slaps down upon him. Using the duffle bag in his hand, he holds it up, blocking a few of your hits. 

You maneuver around it, landing a half dozen more hits before you tire yourself out. “You don’t sneak up on people like that! You almost gave me a heart attack!” 

“I said I’m sorry, okay? I didn’t mean to scare you, honestly. Come here, let’s make up” Woo opens his arms, approaching you for a hug and, as always, you shove him away. The rejection doesn’t even sting anymore, he just takes it as a part of your charm.

Eyeing the hefty bag in his hand, you fold your arms across your chest, eager to get him out of your hair. “Tell me what you want. Quickly.” 

“Well, I have this delivery…”

You throw a hand over his mouth, refusing to hear another word. The less you know the better. “San’s not here so you can go. Thank you. Goodbye.” 

With that you ease back down into your chair, ready to carry on with your day like this never happened, but Wooyoung’s not giving up so easily. Part of you knew he wouldn’t. 

Wooyoung scoffs, his tongue poking his cheek, “You know I can’t do that. Today’s the drop off date and I don’t miss my dates, not for anyone. Not even you, princess. So here…”

He holds the bag out to you and you shoo it away. The only thing worse than knowing what’s in that thing is having your fingerprints all over it. “Fine, I’ll show you where to leave it but get that thing away from me and don’t call me ‘princess’, got it?” 

You get up with a huff, pushing past him and storming towards the house. Wooyoung takes his time, lingering behind for as long as he can, too stunned by this perfect view of you from behind to move.

“So…” he says when he's finally caught up to you, “How’s work?”

“Fine” you snap, navigating the halls with little care for if he can keep up. 

“You still best friends with that girl, uh, Charlotte?”

“Scarlet and yeah, still friends.”

“How about your little boyfriend?” 

His mocking tone makes you roll your eyes and you throw back a sharp look at him as you turn down a hall lined with sleek, black doors. “Broke up.”

Wooyoung pouts, hand over his heart, “Ouch, sorry to hear that.” 

He may be offering his condolences but that slick grin on his face says otherwise. Wooyoung’s been trying to get with you for as long as you can remember. You’re far from oblivious to it and for his part Wooyoung’s been far from subtle about it. Being mean to him has done nothing to discourage it but you continue to try, hoping that one day he’ll get the message and back off. It’s not that you don’t like him. The truth is the exact opposite. The crush that Wooyoung has on you is mutual. So mutual that just the sight of him has your stomach in knots. 

With those gorgeous features and that silky dark hair, he’s your every fantasy come true but he’s also trouble. You’ve seen what falling for a guy like that can do to a girl and you refuse to spend your days crying while he rots in a prison cell somewhere. You just weren’t built for it but sometimes when you’re alone and his eyes are on you the way they are now, his gaze hotter than the sun itself, you contemplate letting your inner desires cave to your better judgement. 

Refocusing on the task at hand, you push the thought away. “You can put it in here” you say, opening the door to the guest bedroom. 

Wooyoung steps inside, waiting for you to join him, “You scared to come in or something?” 

“No, I just don’t need to. Closet’s over there.” 

“I’m kinda blind without my glasses. Help me out?”

There’s that smile again, the one that has you melting beneath that cold exterior. Giving in, you walk over to the closet, sliding it open for him. 

“Here.” 

Wooyoung tosses the bag inside and when he does you swipe his glasses away, inspecting them. “I know these aren’t prescription by the way.” 

He just shrugs, snatching them back, “Yeah but they’re cool, aren’t they?” Stepping closer to you, he slips the glasses onto your face, beaming at how adorable you look. “They look cooler on you though.” 

A tingly feeling comes over you at the realization that you’re wearing something of his. It’s such a silly, schoolgirl thing but it’s nice and you can’t keep yourself from enjoying it. You crack a smile, a rare occurrence, and Wooyoung’s face lights up at this new achievement. 

“Oh my god, did you just smile at me?” he teases, tattooed fingers extending to brush along your arm. 

You grab his wrist before he can, staring him down behind the pitch black lenses. “I don’t know what you’re talking about” you deny, forcing the cursed smile way, “You must be, I don’t know…seeing things.” 

Wooyoung laughs, inching closer to you until you’re pressed against the doorway, a thin layer of clothes the only thing separating your barely clothed body from his. Taking the glasses off of you, he shoves them in his back pocket, making sure your eyes are visible when he asks this. “How long are we gonna do this?” 

“How long are we gonna do what?” you ask, your pulse racing at his closeness to you. He’s even more attractive up close, not a solitary flaw in sight, and the dark shift in his demeanor only makes you swoon harder. 

Twisting his arm free of your grip, he laces his fingers between yours, his thumb drawing light circles on the back of your hand. “Go back and forth like we don’t both want the same thing.”

It’d be typical of you to pull away and it crosses your mind that you should but for some reason you can’t. Chewing at your inner lip, you try to avert your eyes elsewhere, “And what exactly is it that you think I want?” 

Wooyoung tucks a finger under your chin, tilting your face closer to his. Your lips are dangerously close to touching. One wrong or right move—depending on how you look at it—and they’ll meet. 

“Me” he whispers and your body tenses, giving away just how correct he is. 

“I…I’ve never said that” you stutter, flustered by him for the first time. You feel naked, your secret laid bare. How could he know? 

“Then say it now. Say you don’t want me and I’ll stop” he says, brushing your lips with his. 

His tongue peeks out, teasing the seam of your lips and they part for him instantly, granting him easy access to the warmth of your mouth. That’s it. Years of fighting this blown to bits by a simple kiss. Only it’s not simple at all. The motion of his tongue is like a whirlwind, sweeping you up in him and nothing has ever felt so right. 

Your hands float up to cradle his face, your touch more precious to him than anything in the world. He didn’t know you’d surrender. For all he knew you could’ve kicked him in the balls and showed him the door. But it was worth the risk to put to rest what felt like an eternity of pining. He needed to know and now that he does there’s no turning back. He couldn’t if he wanted to.

The kiss grows deeper with every motion of your lips. Time itself seems to stand still as you fall deeper into each other, a thin haze falling over your minds at the heaven of this indulgence. Slipping a hand along the curve of your hip, he reaches back to grab a handful of your ass, groaning at how deliciously soft it is. 

“San says guys like you are no good for me” you say, the aching between your thighs betraying the very concept of that. 

His fingers find the strings of your bikini bottom, tugging at the carefully tied bows little by little until the fabric falls away. “Let me show you how good I can be for you, princess.”

You bite down on his lip just hard enough to make him pay for calling you that again. Wooyoung grins, kissing his way down your body. He takes care to press his mouth against every inch of you. Your collarbone, your breasts, your stomach. By the time he’s down on his knees, his tongue dragging along the meat of your thigh, your body’s vibrating from the sensation of being devoured so fully. But there’s still more of you to taste and Wooyoung’s drooling at the sight of it. 

He glances up at you eagerly, tapping his left shoulder and you know exactly what he’s asking. You drape your leg over his shoulder, your thigh pressed right up against his cheek. Wooyoung’s always known you to be this bold, confident girl but a sudden shyness washes over you and he can’t even lie, it’s the cutest thing he’s ever seen. 

“Don’t tell me no one’s ever…”

You bury your face in your hands, shielding yourself from the truth of his statement. It’s not like you haven’t been with guys before but they were all too focused on themselves to give you the special attention you so intensely longed for. Now, with Wooyoung’s face hovering close enough for his breath to tickle your clit, you can barely keep yourself together. 

Wooyoung strokes your entrance, swirling his fingertips in the juices dripping from you. “That’s a shame. She’s so pretty” he groans, curling his tongue against your clit.

You tremble at the contact, walls clenching as his digits press into you, scissoring you open. Moans spill into your palms, the feeling of him licking between your folds too perfect for you to keep quiet. 

He reaches up to grab your arm, tearing your hands away from your face. “We’re all alone, princess. Let me hear you.”

Slurping harshly at your pussy, his fingers sink in deeper, your cushy walls swallowing them hungrily. The silver watch on his wrist clicks with every rotation, matching the rhythm of him pounding your core. He purses his lips around your bud, alternating the amount of pressure he applies to make sure you can’t possibly predict what’s next. 

Your body tingles from head to toe, pleasure creeping into parts of you that you didn’t even know it could reach. The room’s just quiet enough to hear your arousal swishing around on his tongue, the space between his fingers squelching as you leak down his hand. You’ve never been this wet before and that knowledge only makes you wetter. A part of you has always known that Wooyoung could give you exactly what you needed. It seems criminal to have denied yourself of it for this long. 

“Woo, aah, baby…” you gasp, hands clamping down on his shoulders when he hits your sweet spot. 

He leans back, lips glistening with your essence. “Did you just call me ‘baby’?” he asks, lightly petting your spot to keep your walls quivering, “Sounds so cute coming from you.”

Wooyoung picks up speed, moisture splashing on your thighs as his fingers dip in and out of your core. Your nails dig into his shirt, hips rocking to match his movements. The pressure building is so intense it makes you dizzy. Your brain’s so scrambled that you have to remind yourself to breathe. You arch with that next desperate gasp for air and he takes advantage of this new angle, sneaking a third finger into you. 

“Say it again” he begs, still lapping at your clit, “Be a sweet little princess and say it for me.”

“Baby…” you whine as your glossy eyes meet his, “My baby.”

Wooyoung’s been hard for you since he saw you by the pool and it’s only gotten worse with your arousal coating his tongue but the sound of your voice—floaty and satisfied—calling him yours does something special to him. Something that has every bit of blood in his body rushing to his cock, the throbbing of it against his zipper borderline unbearable. 

A switch flips on in your brain reminding you that, your current position aside, he’s the one wrapped around your finger and there’s something incredibly hot about that. He’s a man that’s committed crimes you’d never dare ask about. He’s been to prison more than once, made men twice his size wish they were never born, and all his heart desires is for you to want him. You might not know what it feels like to wield the power he has outside of this room but, if it’s anything like what you’re feeling right now, it’s no wonder he can’t let it go. 

Summoning all of your inner strength, you thread your fingers in his hair, tilting his head away from you. “Take your clothes off” you demand, sliding your leg down from his shoulder. You do your best to put on a strong front but your legs are turning to jello and it’s only a matter of time before they give out. 

Wooyoung rises to his feet, staring back at you defiantly. You think for a fleeting moment that he might not listen. Maybe your bossy act was over when you opened your legs. But your fears are quieted with two simple words. 

“Yes, ma’am.”

You can’t take your eyes off of him as he strips down, slowly revealing a toned body mapped with tattoos and a cock you can’t resist wanting inside of you. “Like what you see?” he asks, pretending not to notice you blushing. 

It’s distracting how pretty the head of his cock is, pearls of precum decorating the swollen tip. “I’ve seen better” you lie, prying your attention away from it. 

Wooyoung takes your hand, wrapping it around his length to let you feel it pulse. “Have you?” he teases, noticing how you mindlessly trace each vein, admiring the slight curve of his cock as you stroke it. 

You shake your head, your bottom lip tucked between your teeth, “Can I ride it? For…research purposes.”

“Research purposes? Is that it?” he laughs, guiding you over to the bed. 

Pulling you down onto him, he captures you in another sugary kiss, untying your top to let your bare breast rest in his palm. You straddle his lap, your pussy gliding down his length as he toys with your nipple, the bud pebbling with every pinch. He grabs your ass, lifting you up until his tip is pressed right up against your entrance. When he lets go your body slams down onto him, the thickness spreading you so wide that you scream between his lips. 

“You said you wanted a ride” he whispers, raising his hips to meet yours, “Take it.”

Tiny spots of color litter your vision, a flash of heat catching you off guard as you do what you can to adjust to the stretch. Your lashes flutter away the moisture forming in the corners of your eyes as you sit up in his lap, hands splayed out on his chest feeling it rise and fall with every uneven breath.

“Ah, fuck, princess…” he hisses when your full weight settles onto him and he bottoms out, his tip kissing your cervix. 

Your pussy hugs him tightly, hips rotating to feel him in every way you can. Feeling him in your hand is nothing compared to having him between your walls. You cling to him, picking up on all the finer details. It’s as if your body wants to remember it. Commit it to memory so that the ecstasy of this fullness never fades away, even after he slips out of you. Not that he has any intention to. He’d stay here forever if he could, enveloped by walls as smooth as velvet, his senses overwhelming him like its his first time. 

“Anyone ever tell you how cute you are?” he asks, gently massaging your thighs. 

You pout, knees pressing into the mattress as you lift up a few inches, pausing your movements. “Just cute?” 

Wooyoung grabs you by the hips, slamming you back down, and the force of his thrust almost makes you fold over. “Cute. Beautiful. Gorgeous…” he hums, palms tracing your figure, “You’re everything I could ever ask for and I knew from the day I met you that I’d do anything to have you.”

“Even get on my nerves?” you tease, intentionally flexing your walls around him. 

A whimper escapes him, the shock on his face beyond amusing to you. “Now that was cute” you giggle, repeating your actions but this time he holds back, refusing to give you the satisfaction. 

Lacing his fingers around your neck, he gives it a light squeeze that warns he can go harder. “Don’t threaten me. Do it” you dare, scratching red marks down his chest.

Wooyoung doesn’t hesitate, tightening his hold on your neck with a controlled strength that makes you feel safe and in danger all at the same time. His free hand finds your clit, his thumb toying with your bud as you ride him faster.

The deprivation of air leaves you lightheaded, heightening the feeling of everything else and you find yourself zoning out. There is no room, no bed, no house. Only the two of you pushing each other further towards the edge. Wooyoung can tell when you’re right there, the stuttering of your hips giving away how close you are to falling apart. 

“You gonna cum for me princess?” he coos, thrusting into you. 

You bounce in his lap—a mindless, helpless, whining mess—and his brain’s eating itself alive trying to decide where to look. At all those pretty faces you make? At the way your body jiggles from the impact? At the place where your bodies meet to make all of those delectable sounds? His eyes dart back and forth, indecisive and needy. He wants to take in all of you but there’s not enough time for it. His stomach muscles are tightening, that familiar tension clawing at his insides. 

He flicks your clit faster, maintaining his hold on your throat until you arch one last time, a moan ripping from your throat even in the absence of air. He turns you loose, the air rushing back into your lungs as your high takes you under wave by devastating wave. You collapse onto his chest and Wooyoung holds you close, too hypnotized by the feeling of you soaking his length to brace himself for how quickly he comes undone. He erupts deep within you, spraying your walls in thick layers of warmth that only make you crave more. 

It’d be the lie of the century to say that sex wasn’t something you’ve always wanted from each other but that was never just it. You wanted what came after too. The closeness of having your bodies intertwined, basking in the afterglow with his arms around you. The softness of his lips pressed to your forehead as he whispers the sweetest things to you. 

“You know you’re mine now, don’t you?” he asks, lovingly petting your hair. 

“Oh, really? Who says?” 

He leans down to kiss you and any shred of resistance melts away. You are his. You should’ve been all along. Somewhere in the back of your mind your worries linger. What if he gets into trouble he can’t get himself out of? What if you lose him one day? But, as he stares at you with stars in his eyes, you can’t imagine the alternative of not having him at all.

[imsojules]

sleepy mornings with jj maybank ♡

pairing: jj maybank x fem!reader

a/n: i wrote some really short fics on the plane because my stupid ass forgot to charge my earbuds💔 then i forgot they existed, found them in my notes app today and thought this one is kinda cute, so i hope you like it!!

It’s too hot in the room, but JJ’s knocked out on top of you, all heavy limbs and zero awareness of how much body heat he’s producing. His leg’s tangled with yours, one arm flopped across your stomach, the other buried under your back like a human seatbelt. The fan overhead clicks with every turn, not doing much of anything.

He’s snoring softly with his face smushed against your shoulder and his hair sticking every which way. He smells like salt, old sunscreen, and the beer you didn’t finish last night.

You shift a little, trying to get comfortable without waking him. His grip tightens instinctively.

“Nope,” he mutters, voice rough and sleepy. “You’re not going anywhere.”

You huff a laugh, tucking a piece of hair behind his ear. “I wasn’t. Just adjusting.”

JJ hums like he doesn’t believe you. His fingers trail under the edge of your shirt, lazy and thoughtless. He’s not awake enough to mean anything by it. Like if he’s touching you, the world’s still good.

You card your fingers through his hair, brushing out the knots from yesterday’s swim. “You drooled on my shirt.”

“Worth it,” he mumbles, grinning into your skin. “Markin’ my territory.”

You chuckle, thinking maybe you should start charging him rent—because with all this prime real estate, he’s basically squatting permanently.

The Chateau is quiet for once. No yelling or crashing, just the buzz of cicadas outside and JJ clinging to you like you’re the only solid thing left.

“I love you, you know,” you say, voice low, meant for him and no one else.

He groans, dragging his face up just enough to blink at you, his tired eyes barely open but shining anyway. “Say it again when I’m not half-dead.”

“You’re always half-dead,” you tease.

He smirks. “And you still picked me. Crazy girl.”

“Yeah, well.” You run your thumb across his cheek. “I’ve got issues.”

JJ stretches like a cat, then flops right back onto you. “Best decision you ever made,” he mumbles.

You smile, fingers finding the soft spot behind his ear. “Go back to sleep, Maybank.”

He doesn’t argue. Just breathes out slow, presses a sleepy kiss to your collarbone, and melts right back into you, but before sleep pulls him completely under, his lips move in a quiet, sleepy murmur, “I love you more.”

You close your eyes, feeling your heart swell, and let his warmth and quiet snoring slowly carry you back to sleep.

[byeoltoyuki]

DENIAL

↳ Pairing: San x reader

❧ Genre: enemies to lovers, enemies with benefits, fluff

❧ Words: +6k

❧ Warnings: blowjob, unprotected sex, pussy slapping, mention of orgasm denial and spanking and being tied.

❧Summary : You swore it was a one-time thing. Get him out of your system and never see him again. If only it was that simple.

❧ A/N: Surprise! I’m not dead! I’ve been barely active on tumblr for the past few months but I never stopped wishing to have time to write some more. Hope you enjoy it as much as I did while writing. Comments are always appreciated ♥  

“It’s the last time.” You swore against San’s lips, biting angrily, pushing him against the nearest wall, tearing his shirt off, as if it was entirely his fault. When really, it was mainly yours.

This thing, whatever it was, between the two of you, was supposed to be a one-time thing. You were supposed to get him out of your system, maybe also prove that he wasn’t worth your time, and preferably ignore his existence for the rest of your life. So how the hell did a one-time thing turned into two, then three, then ten?

Simple.

San was a walking sin. Handsome (sadly) face with a sharp jaw. Pretty eyes, pretty smile and devastatingly cute dimples. And his body. You shuddered just at the mere thought. Strong muscles that could crush you if he wanted to. Strong hands that often find its ways either around your throat or on your ass.

To sum up, San was a temptation you couldn’t ignore no matter how hard you tried.

“I believe you said the same thing the last two times.” He reminded you, a smug grin on his face. Oh how much you wished you could wipe this grin from his face – but you couldn’t. San held power over you. He knew exactly what to say, where to kiss, where to touch to turn you into an addicted mess, begging for more. Always making sure you would crawl back to him.

There had to be something wrong with you. There was no other explanation.

Annoyed with yourself and a little with him, you shut him up with another kiss, trying to win at least one battle – the only one you stood a chance. There was nothing sweet about the way you kissed. No, you poured both all your resentment and need into the kiss. You pressed yourself harder against him, pulling at his hair which made him chuckle against your lips, completely unfazed with your annoyance.

“Nice attempt, kitten.” San cooed at you, his hands slowly sliding down your body, stopping at your butt. He gave it a strong squeeze that made you bite on your lips to prevent a moan to escape. “But we both know I win again.”

You were dying to protest, to prove him wrong. But it would be lying. Because ever since you met, he kept winning against you.

Six months ago

The bar was crowded and loud. So many people had gathered there for different reasons in the middle of the week. You and your friend were one of them. It was supposed to be a good night. A night to celebrate another victory of yours, another success. And yet, you were far from celebrating. Quite the opposite.

You emptied your glass in one go and groaned. “I can’t believe she chose this Choi’s design.” You complained, still baffled that you had failed. You were one of the best in your field and you had spent endless hours working to satisfy a potential client. You were so confident in your design, convinced your client would adore the outcome. And she did. She did admit it. It was a tough decision and yet, you lost to a guy you had never met or heard before and it irked you to no end, hurt in your ego.

“As much as it pains me to admit, he’s good.” Yeji said and winced instantly as you gave her the stinky eye. She held up her hands in defense. “Don’t look at me like that. I warned you he’s good, you choose not to listen.”

Yes, you made a terrible mistake and you were perfectly aware of it. It wasn’t in your habits to underestimate an opponent whether it was their first time or not, but lost in your own little world, you did exactly that and now were paying the price.

“Fuck.” You buried your face in your hands. It wasn’t the end of your world and definitely not of your career but it still stung.

“Come on, I don’t think it’s a bad thing.” Yeji began, “This project would have taken a lot of your free time. Now you can concentrate on something else.”

“Guess so.” You agreed. “I’m gonna get another drink.” But before you could do that, a commotion behind you attracted your attention as a group of men entered the bar. You didn’t intend to stare (and you were definitely not the only one staring right now) but it was impossible not to. The four of them looked incredibly handsome in their suits and had a powerful aura around them.

Well shit. Your eyes followed them as they went for the only empty table in the back of the bar. You eyed them, one by one, your gaze stopping at the tallest of the group. You watched him, unable to take your eyes off him, as he took off his jacket and slowly rolled the sleeves of his white shirt, exposing strong and veiny arms.

Yeji coughed beside you, trying to attract your attention to no avail. For a short moment you felt like in a movie; the moment where everything and everyone stopped existing except for you and this stranger. It was a ridiculous reaction, you thought later, but there was something about him that had you completely bewitched. Maybe you had a kink for men in suits and you weren’t aware of it. Or maybe it was his aura along with the nice smile.

“YN,” Yeji’s voice sounded so far away despite her being so close. “You should probably stop looking.” She quickly added, sounding a little nervous which should have been a warning but you barely registered her words.

He, sensing probably your eyes on him, looked your way. He stared back, his gaze so intense you gulped. But then, he smiled, showing his cute dimples and you swore your heart missed a beat. Yeah, you somehow ended in a movie.

“You’re drooling.” Yeji mocked.

That got your attention and you quickly looked away. “I am not.”

Yeji burst into laughter. “That got your attention huh.” But quickly sobered as she glanced at the man who was still staring at you, curiously. “Just so you know, this man is Choi San.”

You were grateful your hands were empty because you would have dropped your glass. “What?” You looked back, eyes wide. This beautiful stranger, the man that made your heart skipped a beat couldn’t be the man who won against you. No way. You refused to believe your friend.

Until the said man winked your way, his smile turning into a knowing smirking as if he knew exactly what Yeji had told you. As if he knew, you just found out his identity and were not happy about it.

Fuck my life.

Back to present

San grabbed your hips and in a blink of an eye you found yourself crushed against the wall. He pressed his body hard against yours, letting you feel all of him. Letting you feel just how badly he was also craving you. You couldn’t help but arch and moan as you felt his hardness against you. He pushed his leg between your knees and forced them apart. Your body moved on its own, you grinded shamelessly against his thigh, trying to ease the ache between your legs.

He tsked. “So needy.” And yet he didn’t stop you. “So beautiful, love.” San dragged his lips from your lips, to your jaw, to your throat, leaving no inch of flesh untouched. “So responsive.” Biting, licking, marking you. No matter how many times you told him not to mark you, he still did as if he wanted the whole world to know exactly who you belonged to. As if he wanted to make sure you wouldn’t forget that no matter how much you tried to escape him, there was no way out.

Your whole body thrummed with need, with desire. You believed you could die if he didn’t touch you. It should be illegal to feel so much need for someone.

“Tell me, love. What do you want?” He asked as he bit on your tender flesh.

Desperate and on fire as you were, you were ready to accept anything he was willing to give. “Anything.”

He chuckled against your skin. “My lips?” And he sucked a spot. “My tongue?” And he licked. “My fingers?” You felt him slip his fingers right under your dress, toying with your flesh. “Mmmmh, no panties tonight, love? You knew how it would end.” For someone who behaved as if San was the bane of your existence, you certainly came prepared for this to happen. Hoping he would bring you to his place and ruin you.

“Please, please, please.” You begged, half delirious with need. His fingers were so close to your aching pussy. You just couldn’t wait any longer.

“Use your mouth, love.” He advised you. “You usually have no problem with using this pretty mouth of yours. Especially to tell me how much you hate me.” He pressed the palm of his hand to your cunt and hummed in satisfaction. “And yet look at you. So desperate.” And he slapped your pussy.

You arched your back as a loud moan escaped your lips. It was not enough. You couldn’t take it. “Just fuck me. Please.”

San hiked your legs around his waist, his grip on you strong, bruising, possessive. You loved every second of it. You buried your head into his neck, biting, leaving marks in return. For once, it wouldn’t be just scratches on his back that you would leave.

Holding you with one hand, he took out his cock with the other and nudged against your pussy. Despite his own need and wish to ravish you and make you scream his name, he couldn’t help but tease you.

You whined in response. “Bloody hell, San.”

“Admit that you don’t hate me and I’ll give it to you.” He challenged you.

And you couldn’t believe he would ask something like that. You could talk about your hatred (or lack of it) any other time but no, he chose this moment. The urge to kick him was strong but San pushed the tip of his hot and hard cock inside you and you lost the wish to fight right away.

Fuck it. You needed him to fill you up more. “I don’t hate you.”

The smile he gave you unsettled you. His smile was genuine and so happy, you forgot how to breath. But before you could dwell on it, San buried himself to the hilt.

“Fuck!” You threw your head back.

This.

Him inside you, hard and warm. So incredibly full. You just couldn’t get enough of it.

“Fuck.” He cursed under his breath. He was trying hard to control himself and not just pound into you. He wanted to tease you more, to watch you fall apart around his cock. But then, you clenched around him and he growled. “Don’t do that.” It came out more desperate than he intended, exposing just how affected he was. He could play the powerful man all he wanted, but once inside you, there was little control left.

“Fuck me, please.”

San closed his eyes and took a deep breath before, finally, unleashing the beast. His grip on your thighs tightened to the point, you knew it would leave marks later, and did not care. He fucked you against the wall, his every thrusts powerful, going deeper and deeper. Your nails dug into his shoulders, holding for your dear life as whimpers escaped your parted lips.

You took everything he gave you, mewling, arching, begging for more. “Please, don’t stop.” It was still not enough. You didn’t comprehend why you needed so much more from him, but there was no reasoning. Not when your whole body sang in response to his cock.

“No chance.” He reassured you with another sharp thrust. “This,” and another strong one. “is mine, kitten.” And he growled louder, his pace not slowing down. In fact, it turned harder. Punishing.

And it felt divine. Every inch of him just made you feel so alive. There was no stopping. Every stroke of his cock brought you closer to the edge. Your mind blanked. You could barely breath. Your body trembling. And you still wanted more. More pleasure. More of him.

And he could tell. “Come for me, love.”

How could you not obey when his voice sounded so sweet? So full with something you almost believed to be love. Electricity shot through your body and you cried out his name. Tears leaked from the corner of your eyes as your orgasm hit you in waves.

San fucked you through your orgasm, seeking his own release. San’s thrusts grew sloppier. He hissed between his teeth and finally he came with a deep groan. He pressed his forehead against yours.

None of you spoke. The only sound in the room was your pants and probably the roars of your hearts.

“I’m never letting you go.” He promised.

***

You woke up in the middle of the night, feeling all hot and squeezed tightly. It took you a moment to realize where you were and who was lying half on top of you. You weren’t supposed to be sleeping in his bed. In fact, you were supposed to be back at your place, in your bed. But you were drained after your late-night activity.

One round turned into two than three. You couldn’t have enough of him and San obliged. He fucked you in his bed, hands tied behind your back, at his mercy, ass red with all the spanking (who cared if you wouldn’t be able to sit straight for a day or two). He fucked you again in the shower because you couldn’t be a nice girl and keep your hands to yourself when he tried to clean you.

Get the hell out of here! A little, panicked voice ordered you. But as if sensing your attempt at fleeing, San’s grip on your body tightened to the point you couldn’t move your limbs at all. Even in his sleep, he was aware of your intentions. Even in his sleep, he wanted to keep you close and safe in his arms.

You tried a few times but failed every single time. Resigned, you turned in his arms so you could face his sleeping form. San looked so relaxed, his face so soft and the little pout unleashed the butterflies in the stomach.

Shit. I’m in trouble. Big trouble.

You didn’t want to feel so much for this man, but with every passing day it became harder and harder. Obviously, sex was great and addicting, but it wasn’t the only thing that made you come back for more.

Three months ago,

You sighed and cursed yourself for the hundredth time tonight.

They say ‘beauty requires sacrifice’ – you agreed but hated it nevertheless. Nothing was better than comfortable clothes. But tonight, and every time you had a party where you could spot potential clients, you did your best. And tonight, you looked particularly good. You had outdone yourself, whether it was with your dress or your shoes or your makeup. Everything was perfect. Not that you had any ulterior motives. No men you were trying to seduce. And especially not the diabolically handsome one who, and it hurt to admit, chose not to come tonight. It was unusual. San attended the same parties you did which made avoiding him quite difficult and not end in his bed even harder.

You shook your head. “Stop thinking about this asshole.” You scolded yourself and slowly walked towards the balcony, hoping it would be empty and you could take your shoes off for a moment. Heels were great, it made you look hot, but it was a pain in your ass. You regretted them a lot.

You met few people from the party on your way to the balcony; some were too lost in their conversation, some seemed to be lost in a seduction game and some smiled at you. You tried your best to ignore the pain and smile back.

But finally, you reached your destination. You sighed loudly in relief as you found the balcony empty. Just perfect. You leaned against the railing and slowly reached your feet and started rubbing. It soothed you but only for a moment. The wish to just take them off was strong but you couldn’t possibly walk back bare feet.

“What a sight.” A very familiar voice echoed not very far from you.

All your pain vanished instantly as you raised your head and found San leaning against the doorframe, watching you intensely. Your heart leaped in joy at the sight of him which should have appalled you but right in this moment, you barely cared. He looked dashing in his white cream suit. He could be a model and you wouldn’t be surprised.

San eyed you from head to toe, slowly, making sure to memorize the sight in front of him. “I’m surprised no men tried to approach you. You’re gorgeous, love.”

You weren’t waiting for someone’s approval, but his words along with the hunger in his eyes, pleased you more than you were willing to admit. Your words failed you, so instead of trying to say something, you simply stared back and enjoy the view.

A tiny smile grew on San’s face at your lack of reaction. Slowly, he moved toward you and only then you noticed what he was holding in his hand: a pair of flat shoes. Your shoes. You didn’t remember leaving a pair at his place which made you question how he got them in the first place.

“What – How?” You mumbled; eyes wide.

San didn’t answer right away. He stopped in front of you and then, slowly, his eyes locked with yours, got on his knees. You forgot how to breath for a second, unable to look away, unable to speak.

Your treacherous mind couldn’t help but imagine what he could do to you. Your treacherous body forgot all about the pain and instead tingled with desire.

You watched him as his hands found your ankles and a soft gasp escaped your lips. He rubbed your ankles gently, his warmth spreading through your body.

“San-“ Whatever you were about to say died on your tongue as he massaged your left ankle a little stronger – you moaned at the relief. Embarrassed with how easily he made you moan, you clasped your hand over your mouth. San, instead of teasing you like he usually would, only smiled.

“Hold on to me.”

You hold onto his shoulder, your knees feeling suddenly weak. Not because you couldn’t stand properly but having San on his knees, taking care of you and being so gentle? You were a mess and not the kind you were used to. You could probably melt into puddle if you let him be this sweat with you. And that was dangerous.

“I thought you weren’t coming.” You told him to distract yourself from some intrusive thoughts.

“I wasn’t planning to.” He admitted and helped you slip your foot in your so much more comfortable shoe. “But then I thought about missing you in this gorgeous dress.” And then he did the same with your other foot. “And I just couldn’t.”

For a moment you stayed like that. You watching him and wondering how he could be both so evil (at least in your opinion) and so sweet. And San with his hands on your body.

“Couldn’t let another man have you.” San ended up saying as he slowly stood up. His hands didn’t part with you. No, they travelled from your ankles to your legs, to your thighs, hiking your dress in the process causing goosebumps all over your body. “You know why?”

You did know why. Or at least, you could easily guess what he was about to say. You asked anyway, “Why?”

San’s smile went from gentle to wicked and you had no doubt you were in (kind of delicious) trouble. One hand possessively held your waist, the other reached for your hair. His hand tangled in your hair before pulling harshly – a desperate moan escaped your lips. “You’re mine.”

You expected a possessive and dominating kiss. You expected some teeth clashing and a fight for dominance. Instead, he pressed his lips against yours. Softly. Gently. His mouth melting against yours. And so did you. You went completely soft in his arms.

Boy was trouble and there was no escape for you.

Back to present

Despite your rocky beginning, San was probably one the sweetest human being you had ever met. It pained you to admit it but you could no longer hide your feelings behind your hostility. He was gentle and caring. Every little gesture, every little thing he did for you without you expecting him to do, made your walls crumble and your heart yearn for him.

Two months ago,

The advantage of creating your own company with your friend, meant you were the one to decide how to dress, without anyone criticizing. If you decided to come to work in your pajamas the only look you would get would be a shrug from your friend. Which exactly was your case today.

You were exhausted and your body ached. Everywhere. You had San to thank for that. And maybe also yourself. You weren’t planning to provoke him or be a brat, but the temptation was too strong, and you paid dearly for that.

You tried to shake off the image of you under him, sweaty, panting, trembling, begging for him to let you come, your hands tied to the bed with his belt, your skin red and covered with marks. His marks.

You tried to forget the image of him nestled between your legs, digging his fingers into your skin as he teased you. As he feasted on you. Endlessly. Mercilessly. He pushed you to the edge for what felt like hours but never letting you come. No matter how much you begged. How much you cried. Because San had learnt everything about your body. He knew how much you could take. And he showed you.

You groaned and slammed your head on your desk. How were you supposed to have any work done today if you couldn’t concentrate?

“Cute office.” As if summoned just by your mere thoughts, San commented.

Startled, you almost fell off your chair, letting out a little, and very unflattering, yelp. You gawked at him, completely taken off guard and embarrassed. “What the hell are you doing here?” You didn’t intend to sound so hostile, but your tired brain was not cooperating.

San only chuckled and walked inside your office confidently. It was unfair that you looked so not composed and tired while he looked so handsome and relaxed. There was no justice in this world. Or maybe he wasn’t a human (which, in your opinion, would explain a lot). “Plushies, really?”

You cleared your throat and tried to compose yourself. So what if you had a few plushies scattered all around your office? To some it seemed childish, but really, they were the best moral support you could ask for. Plus, they were cute. “Yes. They keep me company.”

“Aren’t you full of surprises.”

You chose not to comment. Instead, you watched him closely and finally noticed what he had brought you.

San followed your gaze and smiled. “I figured you’d need some coffee after the night you had.” And he looked too damn proud when he said those words.

You huffed but couldn’t ignore the smell of coffee as he got closer to your desk. Whatever embarrassment you had felt previously vanished as he set the cup on your desk.

You slowly reached for the cup, eyes not leaving him. “For your information, I feel perfectly fine.” You were not.

San laughed at your poor lie. He sat at the edge of your desk and hovered over you. “You’re a terrible liar, love.” He pointed at the lovely, red mark around your wrist.

You hurried to pull at your sleeve to cover the mark, but San grabbed gently your wrist and brought your hand closer to him. You thought he wanted to inspect and admire his work and probably tease you and remind you why you got tied in the first place (news alert: you couldn’t keep your hands off him when he specifically told you to be a good girl and not touch him). He did none of that.

San peppered your wrist with kisses, the warmth of his lips tickled your skin. At this gesture, butterflies erupted in your stomach. He had absolutely no right to be this gentle and sweat with you. You wanted to argue and tell him to stop but your mouth refused to cooperate. Your whole body (the little traitor) surrendered to him.

Whatever game the two of you were playing, you were now convinced, you wouldn’t come out unscathed.

Back to present

Gently you reached for his face and pushed back some strands that fell over his eyes. You realized, in that moment, that you had made your choice. You could stop running.

Because San was worth the risk.

***

San was no longer in the bed.

You stared blankly at the empty spot before slowly reaching for his side, patting the spot. It was still warm. You rolled to his side and pressed your face to his pillow, inhaling his addicting scent. You still couldn’t believe that you had stayed the night. But oddly enough, now that you had admitted to yourself that there was no avoiding San – it felt nice.

It felt right.

A tiny smile spread on your face. When was the last time you felt so satisfied? So in peace? So happy? You couldn’t remember and maybe because it had never happened before.

Lazily, you threw the blanket off your body and got out of bed. You grabbed San’s shirt from the nearest chair and put it over your body. It was tempting to just walk out of his room naked and tempt the devil, but your body ached in reminder. There was no way you could have another round.

The moment you stepped out of his room, you easily guessed where to find him. A delicious smell was spreading in the hall. San was making breakfast and your stomach grumbled in response and delight. You had the privilege of trying his food. Once. You smiled at the memory. He had promised to take care of you. And he did.

He always did.

One month ago,

You had been told many times that you were a stubborn woman. You would love to refute this statement but sadly, it was true. Today was just another example of your stubbornness. You were sick, coughing for your dear life and a little feverish. But did it stop you from working from home? Absolutely not. Bundled up in your fluffiest blanket, a cup of tea with honey on your table, you pushed your limits. Didn’t matter that you received at least ten messages from Yeji, threatening you if you didn’t get any rest. You laughed at her attempt, even when she threatened with sending you San to deal with you. You didn’t really think she would reach him. Could reach him.

That was your mistake.

Music in your headphones you weren’t paying attention to your surroundings. And why would you in the safety of your home? Why would you when you lived in a friendly neighborhood, without stories.

Until you felt strong arms around your body.

Until your heart missed a beat.

You screamed, as loud as your lungs allowed you to while being sick.

You fought for your life, kicking, and screaming as the intruder lifted you from the couch as if you weighed nothing. It was a sad way to go, you thought, alone, at home, looking like a mess in your damn pajamas. You could already imagine the headlines.

Or maybe you wouldn’t die. Maybe, whoever was holding you tightly against a very solid torso, wanted to kidnap you. It was better than death, right? Right?

“For someone supposedly sick, you have too much energy, love.”

Your body froze instantly at the warm and friendly voice.

You knew that voice.

You loved a little too much that voice.

You opened your eyes and gawked at a very amused San. He shook his head, smiling fondly; his dimples on full display - your hand hitched to poke his cheeks.

Realization dawned on you.

One, you should definitely not underestimate ever again Yeji’s threats.

And two, you were not going to die today. Except maybe of embarrassment. Your face heated up in embarrassment and you buried your head into his chest, trying to hide, trying to forget the very unlady scream that had left your mouth.

San laughed softly and pressed his lips against your forehead. “It’s okay. I promise not to tease you about this little incident.” Seemed too good to be true. San never forgot about your embarrassing moments. Never. “For the next few days at least.”

“Knew it. Asshole.” You cursed under your breath and slapped his chest for good measure. Not like it hurt him anyway but you felt a little better afterwards. You cleared your throat, “How about you put me down now?” Thought for a second and quickly added, “And maybe explain why and how the hell did you get inside my place?”

San huffed in response and pressed you a little tighter against him. “Why? Isn’t it nice? In my arms?”

“No. I hate it.” You lied through your teeth.

In fact, it was more than nice. Too fucking nice.

It felt right.

And safe.

San was warm. And gentle. And smelled too damn good. You forced your body to obey and not to move. You forced yourself not to rub your nose against his neck. It worried you a little how badly you wanted to do it. Your fever is the reason. That’s why.

San laughed heartily at your blatant lie. “Yeah sure. Whatever floats your boat, love.”

Your ego demanded that you defend yourself but any words you were about to say died on your tongue as San carried you straight to your room. It was his first time at your place and yet he looked like he belonged.  That was another worrisome thought.

“Wait-“ You protested at the sight of your bed. Your brain finally caught up with his intentions. “I’m not staying in my bed!” And you wriggled in his arms. You didn’t mind if he dropped you (what a little pain right?), but there was just no way you would go back to bed when you have lot to do.

“Yes, you are.” San threw you on your bed, making you squeal in the process.

You recovered quickly, glaring at him as angrily as you could manage, ready to jump out of the bed. San pushed you back with one hand. One, strong enough, push and you fell right back.

“Don’t even think about it.” He warned you. “I’m glad to know I’m not the only one you refuse to listen to.” There was no doubt he was referring to Yeji but you ignored his remark (and took note to curse your friend later for not minding her damn business).

“Yes. You’re not special.” You grumbled and pulled the blanket over your body. You refused to admit that being in your bed felt nice, your body instantly melting in your sheets.

“YN.” You winced at the use of your name. San almost never used your name. He loved using different pet names that most of the time pushed your buttons (and yet they grew on you). Hearing your name coming out of his mouth brought very unwanted feelings. “You’re a stubborn little thing, but it’s okay, I like it.” He hovered over you and brushed few strands of hair from your face. “Be a good girl and rest. I’m going to take care of you.”

Back to present

You thought you couldn’t take another round. Well that was your thought before finding San in the kitchen.

Fuck my life.

If you thought that San in a suit was hot, this San in grey sweatpants and shirtless and cooking was a sight you would never forget. Who cared about breakfast when you had such a sweet meal right in front of you? And who cared that your body was begging you not to jump on him?

To hell with food. You had a better idea.

Without making any noise, you approached him. You pressed your lips to his shoulder, then to his back, enjoying the taste of his skin on your lips. You expected to startle him but San only chuckled and glanced over his shoulder.

“Hello love.”

You only hummed in response, too busy peppering his back with kisses.

“Food is almost ready.” You bet San knew exactly what kind of meal you wanted and yet he played pretend.

You hummed again while your hands travelled from his shoulders to his arms, hands to settle then on his hips. Before you could explore further, San grabbed your hands and turned to face you, trying to look stern. Nice attempt, you thought. But his eyes betrayed him.

You batted your eyes innocently but refused to let go so easily.

“You won’t stop, will you?” He asked, resigned.

You licked your lips in response. San let go of your hands and you smirked in victory. Slowly you lowered yourself on your knees. You grabbed his pants along with his boxers and pulled, freeing his cock. Your mouth watered at the sight of your prize. Long and thick and begging for attention.

You grasped him with both hands and stroked. Slowly, gently, taking your time. You savored the feeling, the moment. The power you had over him. You loved letting him take control over you, but you also delighted in watching him come apart because of you. Because of your touches, your mouth, your tongue. There was just something so hot, so sexy, watching him throw his head back, his eyes closed, lost in his own pleasure.

You pressed your thighs a little tighter, feeling just how easily you got wet and you had barely touched him yet.

Slowly, you licked his cock. Up and down, savoring the taste of him. His hips bucks in response and you hid your smirk. It was game on.

You slid his length down your throat, moaning at the feel of him inside your mouth. San was thick and long and hard and you still weren’t fully used to him. But who cared? A little challenge was always welcoming. You took him as far as you could – your eyes watered.

“Fuck, kitten.” He groaned as his hands sank into your hair, grabbing tightly. You moaned around him in response, loving the slight sting of pain. “You’re so good to me.”

You usually weren’t but you didn’t correct him. You also didn’t tell him how much you wanted things to change between the two of you. But it was okay, you had lots of time before you. And right now, the most important thing for you was to please this beautiful man, this lovely and sweet human-being.

You bobbed your head and licked and sucked, confidently, eagerly. With every swirl of your tongue, his grip on your hair tightened. You bet he was trying hard not to let go and just fuck your mouth.

Every little groan, every pants only fueled your own desire. You were yourself so turned on you fought the urge to slip your hand between your legs and take care of your own needs. Not this time, come on.

“Just like that.” He encouraged you.

You moaned in response, eyes blurry with tears as you stared back at him. And what a sight. San chocked. He was barely holding on. You so eager, teary, your mouth full of him.

Your mouth and hands worked in tandem. You increased your pace, sensing he was so close to his release. And you wanted it. You wanted him to come down your throat. You wanted to show him you could be a perfect, little girl if given a chance.

“YN-“ He warned you and tried to push you off him.

You didn’t budge. You held stubbornly and let him explode with a roar inside your mouth. He watched you with bright eyes as you swallowed everything. He watched as you slowly released him and licked your lips, glowing in delight and satisfaction.

“You’re gonna be the death of me.” But despite his words, he smiled. He grabbed your arms and lifted you from the floor. You barely had time to recover, his lips were already on yours. Sweet, gentle and yet also demanding. He parted your lips with his tongue and deepened the kiss, tasting himself on your tongue, moaning into the kiss.

You melted in his arms, into the kiss. This was the best morning ever and you wished you had done it sooner. How many mornings like this did you miss because of your own stubbornness? Because you refused to admit how you truly felt? It was ridiculous and you punched yourself mentally for that.

San pulled back. He held your face between his hands, staring more seriously at you. “You stayed.”

Oh. Maybe you were about to have the talk after all. “I did.”

If San was frustrated with your answer, he didn’t show it. Ever the patient man. He simply nodded and stroked your cheek. Slowly. Lovingly. His eyes never left yours. “You never did before. Why now?”

Your heart beat loud and strong inside your chest, you bet he could hear it too. “I-“ Why was it so hard to be honest? Why was it so hard to confess how you truly felt? It shouldn’t be. Not with him. And yet, you couldn’t formulate a proper answer.

Fortunately for you, San saw through your struggle. “Let me tell you this, YN. I want it all. I want you. Your heart, your body, your soul and everything you’re willing to give me.” And there, the dimples were back as he smiled at you. “I want your smiles and your lovely giggles. I want your anger and your tears. I want to spend my days and nights with you. And I want to wake up by your side every single day. Do you want it too?”

There was only one possible answer and as he finished his confession, you couldn’t help but give him the warmest smile you could muster. You wrapped your arms around his neck and pressed a soft kiss to his lips.

“I want it very much.”

[burguesinha24]

KITTY KAT

a/n: I need her… P IS FOR PUSSY P-U-S-S-Y, THAT PUSSY

Pairings: personaltrainer!Vi x f!reader

Warnings: she does indeed take you to pound town, very self indulgent (i hate working out), fingering, oral (you receiving), spitting (tehe), kinda fluffy idk, semi-public sex GRRRAH

Song: Kitty Kat, Megan Thee Stallion (our queen)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The gym.

One of the worst fucking places in existence. 

Who the fuck could ever take pleasure in being sweaty and tired and sore?

You, apparently. 

You didn’t necessarily like working out. (It was the bane of your existence) But your doctor had said it was healthy, and it was New Year’s, so now was as good a time to start as any. Plus, it gave you an excuse to wear the adorable sports bra and skirt combo your sister had gotten you.

As expected, the gym was absolutely packed. You could see white dudes flexing from every corner, along with a few (glorious) muscle mommies. Unfortunately, the universe did not seem to support your dream (that was whole-heartedly pushed on you by your friends and doctor) of getting fit for the year.

“Apologies, ma’am, but we just don’t have enough space at the moment.” You stared down at the poor, overworked receptionist and frowned, credit card already in hand.

“Really? But I can spot a few extra spaces-”

“It’s a fire hazard, ma’am. You’ll have to wait outside or come back at an earlier time.” 

“There’s really no space? At all?” The teenager looked down at the computer in front of him. 

“Well, we do have available spots with our private trainers, but you’d have to pay for the session. As well as an extra fee for being so last-minute.” You cursed under your breath, moving to put your credit card back in your bag when someone cut you off.

“I’ll take her.” You looked up at the sound of the voice, only to find piercing blue eyes already staring at you. It was scary, honestly, how fit she was. Her messy pink hair flopped carelessly to the side, over one of her eyes, and her body was littered with tattoos. She was already glowing, probably from an earlier exercise. She hooked her thumbs in the waistband of her grey sweats as she walked over to the teenager behind the desk.

“You sure, Vi? You don’t usually ta-”

“I said I’ll take her, Ekko.” She glanced up at you again, an easy smile playing on her ridiculously attractive features. “She looks like she’s never stepped foot inside a gym before.” Your face flushed at her absolutely correct observation. Her gaze darted down to take in your appearance, shamelessly dragging up and down your frame. You suddenly felt a little self-aware about the light pink set you had decided to wear, even if your sweater was drowning your figure. 

Fuck, I do look like I have no idea what I’m doing.

“I’ve been inside a gym before.” You finally responded, frowning at the way her grin only grew.

“Sure you have, cupcake.” Your heart pounded erratically at the nickname, and you silently cursed the universe for putting you in the position to make a fool of yourself in front of such an attractive woman. The teenager behind the desk, Ekko, glanced between the two of you, sighing and turning back to his computer with a look that said, ‘I-don't-get-paid-enough-for-this’.

“Alright, that’ll be-”

“Free of charge, Ekko.” You tore your gaze from her hypnotic blue eyes to look down at the young man. He raised an eyebrow. “Fine, whatever. I gotta give a reason, though. What should I code in? That you were too horny to-” She coughed loudly, drowning out the rest of his sentence. He smirked at her as she sent him a harsh glare. 

“I’ll deal with that later, just give her a damn card.” 

One sibling-like argument later and a shiny new membership card in your hand, you found yourself in one of the training rooms with the attractive stranger. 

Vi.

Her name echoed in your mind. You wondered what it was short for. Victoria? Vivian? Vienna? She watched as you set your stuff down in the corner of the room, nervously fiddling with your water bottle until it finally decided to stand upright without falling over. She eyed you expectantly as you turned around.

“What?” You finally said, picking at the fabric of your sweatshirt. 

“You gonna take that off?” Your cheeks flamed. “I don’t go easy.” She tilted her head. “I would hate for you to get uncomfortable and sweaty before we even start.” Holy shit the way she was talking had you second guessing what you were really here for. You obeyed her request, (because, duh) slowly sliding off your sweatshirt to reveal the set you had chosen out for today. Something flickered in her eyes as she drank in the sight of you.

Shit, she had thought you were hot in the lobby, but this? This was just fucking unfair. You looked like a goddess. Your skirt just barely hung half-way down your thighs, and your bra pushed up your breasts in a way that had her mouth watering. She quickly tore her gaze off of your body as you cleared your throat.

Get it the fuck together, Vi.

“So, what are your goals, hm? Any particular things you want to hit?” She made her way over to the closet in the room, sifting through the selections of weights and trying to ignore the heat thrumming through her body that had nothing to do with her previous workout. 

“I don’t really know. I guess just… being healthy?” You sounded so shy, so tentative. She fought the shudder that was threatening to roll down her spine. 

“Well, I guess I’ll start you off easy. Work on your core,” Now it was your turn to shudder. “Maybe hit some squats too.” She turned back around, closing the closet and tilting her head to better look at you. “Just to get a lay of the land, hm, cupcake?” Your face felt like it was in a perpetual state of fire. You nodded eagerly.

She made her way over to you after turning on some music that felt way too sensual for a workout. (of this type, anyway.) 

“We’re gonna start with some stretching, ok?” You fiddled with your fingers, nodding like a child being instructed by a teacher. Vi circled your form before settling on standing behind you, her hands gently resting on your hips. “Gonna need you to spread your legs for me, pretty.” The words, whispered so softly and so dangerously in your ear, almost made you gasp. You tilted your head to look back at her, eyes blown (adorably, if she might add) wide. She grinned, a seductive, dangerous thing that made your panties drop. (Figuratively). She raised an eyebrow. “What? I don’t want you to pull a hamstring, cupcake.” You swallowed thickly, trying to will away the increasingly inappropriate thoughts that were crowding your mind.

Slowly, slowly, you spread your legs, biting back a whimper as her hand snaked up your back, gently pushing your upper body down into a sort of downward dog position. The burn you felt in your legs was almost embarrassing. The moment you were down, fingertips brushing the floor, Vi’s gaze went straight to your ass.

“Fuck.” The words slipped past her lips before she could even realize what she was doing. She tucked her bottom lip under her teeth, dragging the hand that was on your back higher, just tracing the curve of your ass. 

You were wet.

She could see the faintest of outlines through the thin layer of your undershorts. 

You whimpered, legs shaking ever so slightly from the strain of the stretch. (You really needed to workout more)

Now she was wet.

Without even thinking, she grabbed you by your ponytail, yanking you up into a standing position. The force of her movement made you stumble, your legs still awkwardly stretched wide. Thankfully, she had stuck out her knee for you to sit on. 

“I think,” She breathed in your ear, a hot, heavy thing that sent an embarrassing amount of slick oozing out of your cunt. “That we should focus on a different type of workout, hmm, cupcake?” You nodded slowly, dazed. And fuck, was she a woman starved. 

In a second you found yourself on the floor, looking up at her with wide, desperate eyes. You clenched your thighs together, your hips rocking up into the air for some form of friction. She took her time, just staring at you. At the way your hair fanned out around you like a halo, the way your breasts moved with each shuddering breath you took, the way you looked so, so wrecked. A dangerous grin spread across her face.

She was going to ruin you.

There was not a single coherent thought in your mind as she hastily dragged your skirt and panties off of your legs in one, harsh tug. She was manhandling your legs open, and you swore she whined at the sight of your glistening arousal. 

“Fuck, baby.” She whispered out hoarsely. You squirmed under her gaze, cheeks burning in embarrassment as you tried to close your legs. “No no no no no, don’t you fucking dare.” She dragged her middle finger down your slit, gathering up your juices before bringing her finger to her mouth and sucking. “Been dreaming of this sweet pussy for so long.” She moaned out. 

“B-but, we just met like, h-half an hour ago.” You sputtered out, your cheeks rosy and your eyes hazy with lust and confusion. She grinned again, lowering her head so she was a hair's breadth away from where you needed her most.

“Thirty minutes is a long fucking time, cupcake.” You didn’t even have time to process her words before she was wrapping her lips around your clit, giving it a harsh suck that left you keening. 

“Oh, f-fuck!” You gasped out, back arching at how her tongue skillfully lapped at your pussy. She hummed against your burning flesh, the vibrations against your puffy clit making your toes curl. The obscene sounds of slurping and squelching filled the room, and you might have had half a mind to care about it if you weren’t so fucking far gone by the feel of her mouth. 

“Taste so good, princess.” She mumbled against your skin. You dared to look down and, fuck, she looked even more wrecked then you were. Her eyes hazy and half-lidded, cheeks flushed and shiny from your juices, and her hair sticking to her face with each deliberate suck. You could vaguely make out how she was grinding against the ground, but she pulled away before you could actually think of helping her as well. You whined at the loss, reaching down to try and tug her closer to you. 

“P-please-oh-” You gasped as she spit on your already slobbering cunt, once, twice, three times, before she was satisfied. Your clit twitched as the globs of her saliva attacked it. 

“Shh, baby, trying to make sure your nice and messy f’me.” She rubbed a few quick circles on your clit with her thumb before prodding at your entrance with her pointer finger. Her eyes were glued to the way your face contorted as she pressed into your cunt. “Fuck, you’re so tight.” She whispered in awe.

“OhmygodViplease.” Your begging was nothing more than a long string of incoherent words. She chuckled, pressing yet another long, thick finger into your opening.

“Fucked dumb already?” She cooed, thrusting into you shallowly. You almost sobbed. It was only when she added a third finger that she was finally satisfied. Her slow, shallow thrusts turned fucking manic. Her eyes never left your face as she curled her fingers up with each thrust searching for-

“Fuck!” You squealed, your walls clamping down on her like a vice. She crawled up your frame, leaning down to nip at your neck before thrusting in that same spot again.

“Found it.” Her gazed dropped from your face to look down at her fingers as she fucked you, her mouth parting open in awe at how you were swallowing her up, you arousal dripping onto the floor beneath you. It didn’t take long before you were on the very precipice, just dangling off the edge of oblivion. She pressed down harder on your clit, and then you came. 

Your back arched into an almost painful position, your fingernails digging into the floor for something to anchor yourself to. She whispered in your ear as you saw white, her fingers still fucking you through your orgasm. 

“Shh, I’ve got you, I’ve got you. There we go, perfect fucking pussy.” She finally stopped as you collapsed, boneless on the floor. You turned your head to look up at her, smiling tiredly.

“What’s your name short for?” She grinned.

“Violet.” 

“Mm, pretty.” You winced as she closed your legs, then blushed as she sucked her fingers clean. “What about you?” Your brows furrowed as you pushed yourself up by your elbows. 

“You can do me later. After our date.” You blinked in surprise, your mind still a little hazy.

“Date?” She stood up, then helped you stand on shaky legs. 

“Well, our session has ended, so I figured we could pick things up at your place, maybe. I know a bomb-ass asian restaurant just off Main.” You smiled softly, and it made her beat just a little faster.

“Yeah, alright. I’ll see you then.” You walked out of the private room looking a hell of a lot more disheveled then when you first walked in. Ekko rolled his eyes, praying to whoever was up there that he wouldn’t have to clean any suspicious stains from the floor. 

You looked down at your phone as it pinged, smiling to yourself as you read the message.

Hope you enjoyed our workout, cupcake ;)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

a/n: my first ever like actual fic pls don't kill me guys ik its kind of shit, was honestly just trying to get this out of the way so i could work on oil rig worker Vi. ANYWAYS I LUV U ALL MWAH!

[wendichester]

⋆ 𐙚 ̊. sweet, oblivious, you³,

summary. dean likes you. sam likes you, too. lucky you, oblivious to it all.

pairing. dean winchester x reader x sam winchester  genre. fluff but also not pg-13

wordcount. 928

notes / warnings. polyamory, mentions of previous sexual content (threesome, oral sex, sharing dynamics, shower sex), sexual tension, mild language n banter. lots of feelings happening, no established labels.

ᯓ★ read part 1, part 2

The next morning is weird.

Not bad weird. Just... different.

Like the world tilted a few degrees overnight and you’re the only one who noticed. Or maybe you just finally caught up to something that’s been off-kilter for a while.

Because Dean makes pancakes. Like, real ones. From scratch. With that dumb little curl of concentration between his brows and a towel slung over his shoulder like a sitcom dad. He doesn’t say much when you walk in — just tosses you a wink and a “mornin’, sweetheart” like it’s the most normal thing in the world.

Meanwhile, Sam’s already at the table, glasses perched low on his nose, flipping through a lore book while he sips his coffee like he didn’t recently eat you out on the kitchen table.

And you?

You just stand there in one of Dean’s flannels and your own underwear, heart pounding like a guilty drum solo, trying to figure out how you’re supposed to exist now.

“You’re overthinking,” Dean calls, not looking up from the stove.

You blink. “I am not.”

Sam glances up, one brow raised. “You are.”

Your jaw drops. “Can you two not gang up on me before caffeine?”

Dean slides a plate onto the table, golden pancakes stacked like edible therapy. “Didn’t seem to need caffeine last night,” he mutters, grinning into his mug.

Sam makes a small choking sound, coughs behind his fist.

You chuck a napkin at Dean’s head. He catches it mid-air. Of course he does.

It’s so stupidly domestic it almost breaks your brain.

You sit. You eat. You avoid eye contact. And yet… not one second of it feels wrong.

Which is terrifying.

It turns out navigating a relationship with one Winchester is a challenge.

Two?

It’s a full-time job. With no handbook. No boundaries. No HR department.

Dean is touchy. Constant. Brazen.

He walks past you and smacks your ass like he owns the place. Pulls you into his lap during movie nights and nuzzles your neck like a cat. Whispers filth in your ear just to watch you blush.

Sam’s more subtle. Sneaky. Patient.

His affection is quiet — a lingering hand on your lower back, a stolen kiss when no one’s looking, the way he murmurs your name like a prayer when he thinks you’re asleep.

They orbit you like moons, never colliding, never competing… but never ignoring each other, either.

They don’t look at each other when they touch you.

Don’t talk about it, either.

But it’s understood.

A silent agreement.

A shared secret.

And every time they take you — together or apart — it’s like a ritual. A rhythm. Like they’ve both silently decided you’re theirs now, no take-backs.

The next test is a hunt.

Which, honestly, feels cruel.

Because being around them in the bunker is already dizzying. But being in close quarters, motel rooms, adrenaline highs and near-death moments? Recipe for chaos.

You end up in the front seat of the Impala, sandwiched between the two of them after the first day of tracking.

Covered in dirt. Drenched in sweat. And way too aware of the way Dean’s thigh presses against yours… the way Sam’s hand occasionally brushes yours on the seat… the way neither of them seem willing to bring up last night’s shared shower situation that ended in you on your knees with one of them in your mouth and the other watching, fists clenched, jaw tight.

It’s fine.

You’re fine.

Totally fine.

Until Dean mutters, “You know, next time we stop for supplies, I’m buying a goddamn king bed.”

Sam snorts. “You say that like you’re the one getting pushed off.”

“You elbowed me in the ribs, dude.”

“You took all the blankets.”

“You sleep like a corpse!”

“Only because you were practically humping her in your sleep—”

“I was cuddling!”

You groan and bury your face in your hands.

“Can we not do this while I’m right here?”

They both go silent.

Dean clears his throat. “Right. Sorry, sweetheart.”

Sam shifts. “Didn’t mean to make it weird.”

You peek between your fingers. “We already passed weird like five exits ago.”

Dean laughs. It’s low, fond. “Yeah. Guess we did.”

And Sam… he just reaches over and laces his fingers through yours.

That simple.

That easy.

That sure.

Your heart damn near explodes.

That night, the motel room is dark and quiet.

You lie in bed — the one bed — between them.

Dean’s on your left, arm slung over your waist. Sam’s on your right, hand tangled in your hair.

Neither of them’s asleep.

Neither are you.

There’s a moment — quiet, weighty — where no one says a thing. Where the air buzzes with all the things that haven’t been spoken.

And then you do something bold.

You speak.

“This isn’t just sex, right?”

Dean doesn’t move. “No.”

Sam exhales, slow. “Not for us.”

You blink at the ceiling. “So what is it?”

Dean rolls to face you. “You tell us.”

You turn toward him. His eyes are shadowed, soft. Watching you like you’re fragile, even when you’ve proven you’re not.

“It feels like…” You bite your lip. “Like I’m home.”

Sam presses a kiss to the back of your shoulder. “Yeah,” he whispers. “That’s what it feels like.”

Dean leans in and kisses you — soft, lingering, grateful.

And then Sam kisses you too, a few heartbeats later. A little deeper. A little slower.

And you realize something.

They don’t need labels.

They don’t need rules.

They need you.

And you — God help you — need them too.

ꔛ. navigation 𓂃˖ ࣪ all drabbles ; compatibility readings ; support my work .ᐟ