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itsbeeble · 4 months

Text

LET LOOSE

SUMMARY: Younghoon has hated you since the day he met you. He thought you were stuck up with that better-than-you princess attitude of yours. What better than to just…fuck it right out of you?

GENRE: smut, fluff, angst, crack

PAIRING: Kim Younghoon x afab!reader (ft. eric)

WC: 5.3K

SERIES MASTERLIST

PERM TAGLIST: @juyeonszn @winterchimez

18+ MDNI AGELESS BLOGS WILL BE BLOCKED

WARNINGS: Swearing, public sex, floor sex, academic rivals that everyone knows secretly want to fuck, enemies to lovers, missionary (that's a first wow), sexual references, mentions of alcohol, insults (not sexual), arguments, pining, mentions of killing someone as a joke, dry humping for like two seconds, making out, mentions of marking, mentions of oral, guys i think this is the least slutty fic I've written for this series, y/n is stuck in a perpetual state of denial, let me know if I missed anything but i think that's it

A/N: Everyone allow me to introduce Doll's less-slutty cousin!! I can't believe we're over halfway through this collab omg. I'm really glad people are loving this and I hope you guys have been catching the easter eggs me and Fawn have been throwing into our fics 😏

If anyone asked you what you thought of when you thought of local star student, heartthrob, and frat boy Kim Younghoon, you would scoff and cross your arms over your chest.

“I hate him,” you would say, your lips pursed and eyebrows furrowed until they were practically touching. “I hope his house burns to the fucking ground.”

One would think this was a gross overreaction, that you probably held a grudge over something stupid, or that he killed your dog or maybe he copied off your essay but made it seem like you were the one who plagiarized. And oh, how that would’ve been much simpler.

The true story, however, goes all the way back—

“Thinking about me again?” A hand cracks down on the desk in front of you, your mind and body jerking back to reality.

There he is, you think to yourself, the bane of my fucking existence. Your teeth are already grinding together, your grip tightening around the pencil you’d been using to write your notes and all he’s doing is standing there with a stupid fucking smirk.

“Why would I be thinking of you?” You bite out and Younghoon places a hand over his heart in mock hurt.

“Ouch, sweetheart.” Your body stiffens and your face contorts with disgust at the nickname.

“Don’t call me that, douchebag.” Younghoon sighs dramatically, dropping down to be at eye level with you.

“So cruel to me,” a pout, and then he’s smirking again. “What if I was into that, sweetheart?”

You might throw up.

“What do you want?” you groan, noting how other students have begun to flood out of the lecture hall while you’re putting your things away. Younghoon shrugs, rising to his feet at the same time as you. Had you been a weaker woman, his height would’ve had your knees wobbling and your panties hitting the ground but, fortunately, you were a strong woman. Some of your friends couldn’t relate to that despite your very clear and very much valid hatred for him.

“I just wanted to see what you were up to,” he shoves his hands into his pockets, rocking back onto his heels. “Considering that we’re now partners for this assignment.”

Your heart drops into your stomach, your eyes widen, and your cheeks are fighting between going pale and burning bright as a tomato.

“What are you— what do you mean we’re partners?” You echo, and his smirk only widens. Your shoulder bashes into his arm while you make your way to the front of the lecture hall where the list of partners is posted. He trails behind you, long legs making it easy to keep pace despite how impossibly fast you seem to walk.

“Aren’t you so excited?” He sounds too excited about this, and you have to physically stop yourself from grabbing him by the neck and choking him where he stands. “We get to work together for the whole semester!”

“I still don’t see how this is a problem,” Dawon tells you her tongue running over her lip as she watches you pace the length of your dorm suite’s lounge area. “Isn’t he, like, super hot? And smart?”

Your lip curls into a sneer and you whip your body around to look at her.

“He is not hot,” your voice has raised in pitch, your arms waving frantically. “He’s— he’s stupid and— and annoying, and he doesn’t know how to shut up, and his face— oh his face is just so— so—”

“Kissable?” Suyeon offers when she makes her way over with a steaming mug of tea.

“I think rideable is a better word,” Dawon grins at the way your jaw drops at the two of them.

“He does have a very rideable—”

“Okay, enough!” You snap, your face beginning to burn bright red in anger.

“Ooh she’s blushing!” Suyeon giggles and your face only burns brighter.

“You both are insufferable,” you throw yourself back onto the couch, your head turned toward the ceiling. “Kim Younghoon is annoying, stuck up, and his face is not kissable or rideable.”

“So you’re saying you’ve thought about it before?” Suyeon presses and you roll your eyes.

“Hell no. Why would I think about that?”

“Because he’s your mortal enemy and everyone ends up fucking their mortal enemy at some point.”

“Plus he’s a yummy, scrumptious, daddy cupcake.”

“Ugh, so true Dawon.” Suyeon squeezes your roommate’s hand, the two of them grinning deviously at each other.

“That’s— did you just call him— No, that’s not the point. The point is, that’s not true!” You lift your head, eyes wide with horror. “That only happens in books!”

“Not just books,” Suyeon raises her mug to her lips with a hint of a smirk on her face. “Didn’t you hear about the KAT and TBZ presidents?”

“Oh my god, Eric told me about that!” Dawon gasps. “Apparently they—”

“I don’t need to know the details of their sex lives.” You interrupt again. “God, you two are just…”

“Don’t you just love us?” Dawon winks at you, and you wrinkle your nose in distaste.

“Let’s not go that far.” Her lips twist, and the three of you go quiet for a moment.

“Why do you even hate him?”

Ah, there it is. The same question everyone had been asking since the day you started at this school.

Why do you hate Kim Younghoon?

“It’s complicated,” you tell them what you always say. You tell them that it’s nothing they should be concerned about. He knows what he did.

“Then uncomplicate it.” Suyeon is much softer than Dawon, her eyes furrowed but not with the mild irritation Dawon has. It’s more…concern than anything else, and for a moment you think about telling them. Think about dropping your petty act, let them know exactly what about Younghoon bothers you so much.

You open your mouth, and the two girls in front of you lean forward expectantly, practically on the edge of the tiny couch that had been squeezed into the suite.

“I can’t.”

“That isn’t going to work, sweetheart.” Younghoon says, waltzing up to you after your failed attempt to talk your professor into letting you change partners or work alone. Your shoulders are slumped in defeat, something that Younghoon seems to laugh at. “You’re stuck with me.”

“I really hate you, Kim Younghoon.” You lift your head, wanting so desperately to glare at him but you can only find the strength to stare blankly. He kisses his teeth, eyebrows furrowing.

“That’s a bit harsh, isn’t it?”

“Who cares? It’s true.”

You want to scream. You want to throw your body onto the ground and throw a tantrum, to cry and whine, to kick and punch the air—anything to get out of this situation.

“All this because I got a better grade than you in one class in high school.” Younghoon shakes his head, his hair falling into his face and obscuring his eyes partially. Your heart thuds against your ribcage (because of the memory, obviously).

“You really think that’s the only reason I hate you?” Hint: he’s right for once. Would you ever tell him that? No. As far as he knows, you have endless reasons to hate him. As long as he lives, that list will grow. In fact, it would be better if he knew that you’d be pissed if he died before you because that means he tried to escape one last competition, but you’d hate it even more if he died after you because that means he would win one last time.

“That’s all I can think of,” he shrugs and you kiss your teeth.

“Disappointing me again, douchebag.” He scoffs at that.

“Of course I am. When am I not upsetting you about some bullshit?”

Oddly, this time you don’t answer him. At least you don’t give him an answer to that question.

“Listen, Kim Younghoon,” you place a hand on your hip, shifting your weight to lean mostly on one leg. He leans toward you a bit, slightly angling his head as if trying to hear you better. “You’re the most annoying, egotistical, snobbish boy I’ve ever met. You always have this, like, need to be better than me— than everyone.”

Younghoon inhales, his eyebrows knitting together and his tongue poking the inside of his cheek. You can see the irritation in his gaze, can see him fighting the urge to snap at you and it has your stomach churning. When he finally responds, it’s not exactly what you expected. You thought he would snap back at you, tell you to go fuck yourself, to call you the same insults you just called him.

He doesn’t.

“Meet me in the library at 4 o’clock.” Your head jerks back, your nose wrinkling with confusion.

“Excuse me?” Younghoon just smiles coyly, already turning away from you.

“Don’t you wanna get this project done so you don’t have to deal with me?” He can practically see the wheels turning in your brain, contemplating all your options.

“I mean yeah, but how do you know if I’m even free—”

“You’re always at the cafe at the same time as me,” Younghoon glances down at you, stepping to the side as he pushes open the door of the lecture hall. You say nothing as you push by him. “I’m starting to think you’re obsessed with me, sweetheart.”

“That’s not— I would never— how—” You sputter, stumbling over your words and waving your hands in the air while you try to come up with something to say. Something to deny. Younghoon begins to smile again, coy and near-mocking.

“I don’t hear you actively denying anything.” His eyes widen and he bends forward, lowering his face to be near yours. Your cheeks are heating up, your mouth opening and closing like a goldfish. Words. You need words. Why is nothing coming out?

“Shut the hell up, douchebag.” He laughs and your stomach churns again. Is he laughing at you?

“I’ll see you at 4, sweetheart.” Younghoon starts to reach his hand toward you as he leans up, but thinks better of it and drops it back to his side.

“Yeah, sure,” you scoff and turn your back to him.

Fucking prick.

“You have got to be kidding me,” You toss a stack of papers onto the table you’re sitting at, glaring at the notes Younghoon wrote on the whiteboard. He’d rented a study room for a few hours, giving you time to start working.

Or, at least, try to start working. You had made no promises about not trying to kill him and making it so neither of you could get any work done. Although, you had thought about running him over with your car so that you would have an excuse to work on this alone.

The blinds over the door had been shut, blocking anyone from looking in and potentially seeing you try to kill a man. Lucky for you.

“What’s so wrong with what I wrote?” He squints at the board and you push yourself out of the old, creaky chair you’d been sitting in.

“It’s contradictory!” You complain, reaching around him for the eraser. He grabs your hand before you can do anything, turning on you with a scathing glare.

“It’s not, though!”

His grip tightens on your wrist when you pull it away. You narrow your eyes, but he doesn’t waver at all. There’s heat behind his gaze, heat that makes you nervous. You know he won’t hurt you, that’s not who he is. The heat though…that makes you nervous. It’s the same heat you’d felt several times in the past few weeks.

“Let me go, Kim Younghoon.” He leans his head toward yours and your throat begins to close, your heart pounding in your chest.

“Not until you tell me why it’s contradictory!” He snaps. You swear your ears start to ring, your vision closing in until all you can see is Younghoon.

“It’s— why does it matter so much to you?” His grip finally loosens and you rip away from him with a huff.

“Because you’re putting down my work! Again!” He flings his hands into the air and you bite your tongue. “Why do you hate me so much?”

A lump in your throat, tears in your eyes, and Younghoon drops your hand. He looks defeated, his shoulders slumping and his lips set into a deep frown.

“I just,” Younghoon sits in his chair, the old wood creaking under his weight. You stand in the middle of the study room, hands by your sides and your eyes flicking around nervously. Your posture is so tense compared to his, your eyes flitting around anxiously. “I’m tired of this shit. Not knowing what the fuck I did wrong. You never give me a reason and, at first, I was fine with it. I liked the casual rivalry. But now I’m just…it’s been four years, and I still don’t know what I did.”

“Choi Yuna.” It comes out fast, the name of your ex-best friend. So fast that Younghoon doesn’t catch it, he just stares at you with a look of pure confusion.

“What?”

You say her name slower this time, tugging at the edge of your shirt. “Choi Yuna, you dated her from freshman year until late sophomore year.”

“Okay, yeah,” he leans forward with his elbows on his knees. “What does she have to do with this?”

Your cheeks are burning, and you know he can see it. See how flustered you are.

“She was my best friend.” You bite on your tongue, trying to find the right words.

“I know,” he said, and you purse your lips. “She talked about you all the time.”

“That’s funny,” you scoff, a spark of anger returning to your tone and to your facial features. “Considering she’s the reason I hated you for so long.”

“What are you talking about, sweetheart?” Younghoon huffs, rubbing at his eyes with his palms. You can tell he’s frustrated, so you speak quicker.

“She— she knew that I liked you.” His eyes snap up, wide and bulging. “She knew that I wanted to ask you out in freshman year, so she made sure to get there first. I— at first I thought that you knew that’s why she did it.”

“You thought that I knew your best friend wanted—” Younghoon huffs and rises to his feet.

“Just—” You hold up your hands as he begins to step toward you, slowly backing you into the wall. “Just let me talk. I thought you knew, yes. She told me that you asked her out first and that she just— she just agreed. So yeah, I started to hate you. I started arguing with you and every answer you gave in class because I was just so…angry at— at everything, at myself.”

Your back is against the wall now, and you’re slowly curling in on yourself as Younghoon gets closer.

“And…?” he cocks an eyebrow and your swallow thickly.

“By the time I realized that it was all her….at that point it was just easier to keep hating you. To keep everything at bay.”

“Everything?” He echoes and had you been looking at his face instead of his chest, you would’ve seen the smirk you’d always claimed to hate plastered onto his face.

“Yes,” you groan and lift your head. Your breathing hitches in your throat, your body pushing even closer to the wall when you finally see just how close Younghoon is to you.

Just a few inches from your face is his own, his eyes dancing from your eyes to your lips. His breathing is, compared to yours, slow and even. Inhale, hold, exhale. You can see his chest rising and falling with the rhythm.

“Why—” you clear your throat. “Why are you so close to me, Younghoon?”

“No legal name this time?” He murmurs, one of his hands coming up to rest on the wall beside your head. His head dips down and now his lips are brushing against yours, every breath you take mixing with his. “What happened?”

“I just— you’re a little close to me.” Your hand presses on his chest, but it's as if you aren’t even trying to push him away. “We— we probably shouldn’t.”

Younghoon kisses his teeth, shaking his head at your suggestion. Arguably, it’s a wise choice, but right now he has you exactly where he wants you. If he lets you leave now, who’s to say you won’t pack your bags and take a one-way flight to Brazil?

“I’ve been waiting,” he says and you squeeze the hand on his chest into a fist. “For three years for you to get your head out of your ass. I’m not letting you go now that I have you.”

“Have me?” Your tone shifts into one of challenge rather than the nervous air you’d surrounded yourself with. “If anything, I have you, Kim Younghoon.”

You yank him to you by his shirt, reaching up on your tip toes to place a firm kiss on his plush lips. You hear a groan rumbling in his throat, the hand not on the wall wrapping around your waist and squeezing tightly. Your lips mesh together, but it isn’t messy. It’s slow, calculated just like every move either of you had made against each other. Every argument, every challenge. The build-up. It all led to this, and you’re not letting him go this time. He’s yours and Choi Yuna can’t take him this time.

With a new fervor, both of your hands come to lace into his thick strands of black hair, effectively trapping his lips against yours. He drops the hand that was on the wall, both hands now on your waist and sipping under the loose fabric of your shirt. You gasp at the cold feeling of his hands on your skin, and he takes that opportunity to sneak his tongue into your mouth. It’s experimental, the way his tongue caresses yours, pushing gently and letting you suck at the warm muscle. He listens to the pretty little whimper you let out when he does the same thing in return and a shiver runs down his spine. His hand slides up the back of your shirt, emerging from the collar and lacing into the strands of your hair.

Air. You had to come up for air. You needed to breathe. Your lungs are aching, but fuck his lips are addicting. They’re soft, and warm, and they feel so good against yours.

Your knees cave slightly, your mind going fuzzy and Younghoon rips away from you to steady your body, his knee shoved between your legs to help keep you upright.

“Sweetheart,” his tone is lighthearted, but you know he’s scolding you. “You need to learn to breathe. I’m not leaving just because you need some air.”

A pretty little whine escapes you, but Younghoon is quick to realize that it’s not because you can’t find the words to respond to him. Well, if you think about it, that kind of was the reason.

Your hips are rolling down on his knee, your hands gripping his shoulder for dear life as you ride his thigh. Your head is rolled to the side, your eyes squeezed shut as you try to find the right pace and the right amount of pleasure to ease your arousal. Younghoon’s jaw drops, and he feels his dick twitch in his pants at the sight of you trying so desperately to relieve yourself on him. Unfortunately for you, he notes, your jeans seem to be in the way of you achieving your pleasure.

“Sweetheart,” he coos but his voice is shaky and he thanks god that you’re too far gone to notice. “Look at you, trying so hard to get yourself off.”

You whine, and his breathing hitches when you try to ride him even harder.

“Is it not enough?” He presses and your eyes fly open with the quick nod of your head. But then you shake it, and his heart clenches at the confused furrow of your brow.

“‘S not!” You whine. “Need more, Hoonie.”

He smiles when you reach one of your hands down, undoing the button of your jeans and trying desperately to shove them down as far as they can physically go without interrupting your ministrations. To your dismay, they barely get anywhere before Younghoon has to set you down and starts to tug them down your legs gently.

You never thought you would enjoy watching a man get down on his knees for you, never thought you could have this much of a reaction to it. Younghoon though…the sight of him looking up at you through his lashes, the nearly pathetic look in his eyes when he sees just how soaked your panties are— it’s enough to have you practically crumbling to the ground, your lips crashing against his again and forcing him back to lay on the ground.

His hands are everywhere— your hair, your hips, your ass, anywhere he can reach. He squeezes the soft flesh of your ass when your lips trail down his neck, sucking little marks into the skin and pulling groans and quiet whimpers from his throat.

Your hands run under his shirt, and he weakly tries to help you push it over his head to be tossed somewhere else. You shush him, a playful look in your eye as you place a finger on his lips.

“Gotta be quiet now,” you unbutton his jeans, slowly dragging them and his boxers down and he lifts his hips to help you slide them down to his knees. He doesn’t bother with your shirt but makes quick work of your bra and shoves it up. You’re sliding your panties down your legs when he shoves his hands under your shirt, squeezing and tugging at the soft mounds of flesh on your chest. A quiet moan at the feeling of him tugging at your nipples, and his hands falter momentarily when you wrap your hand around the base of his cock.

“Don’t hurt yourself,” he teases and you scoff while lining him up with your sopping wet pussy. You know he’s big, both of you do, but you’d never admit that to his face. Never admit that you’re nervous about taking it all in, nervous that you won’t be able to take him at all.

“As if your little dick could possibly hurt me—” your voice catches and he watches with strained amusement as you begin to sink down on him. Your walls are tight around him, practically squeezing the life out of his poor cock while you try so desperately to keep sliding down on him. Younghoon pulls his hands out of your shirt, sliding them down to your hips and gently rubbing them as a means to ease your discomfort.

“What were you saying about my little dick?” Younghoon sneers and you have to fight back the whine that threatens to slip out of you. He’s just over halfway in when you force yourself to give up, the stretch beginning to be too much for you to handle. “I could’ve prepped you, y’know? Made this easier for us both.”

You can only lower your head onto his shoulder, biting harshly into the skin while he flips you around and pushes your legs up toward your chest.

“Hold these here, sweetheart.” You do as he says, gasping sharply when he begins to sink into you.

“Fuck, Younghoon!”

“Shhh,” he kisses you gently while continuing to press into you, using the width of his shoulders to gently spread your legs a bit further apart. “‘M almost there, I promise.”

“‘S too much,” you whimper, a tear slipping out of your eye and dripping onto the carpeted floor below you. “‘S too much, Hoonie.”

“I know sweetheart,” he coos and looks down at where the two of you are connected. He fights the sudden urge to cum when he sees the fluttering of your walls, sees them clenching around him, and trying to force him out. “I’m almost there.”

Another whine from you and he quickly slides the last three inches into you, clapping a hand over your mouth to muffle the scream you release. He stays still for a moment, listening to the sound of you sniffling, and turns his head briefly to look at the door. A shadow passes by and he exhales quietly.

“And you were worried about me being too loud. Who’s the one with a hand over her mouth, hm?” You can’t don’t respond and Younghoon pulls out entirely, leaving just the tip inside of you, and when you whine and let go of one of your legs to reach out for him, he sinks into you in one harsh thrust.

The moan you let out behind Younghoon’s hand is guttural, and your back arches off the floor. His thrusts are rapid, yet he doesn’t falter in pattern. He sinks deep inside of you, punching into you so deep that you swear he’s going to hit your cervix. He lets his hand drop from your mouth listening to the way you try to hold back your noises. Every whine, every whimper and moan and cry, you try so hard for him.

“Such a good girl,” he coos. “Keeping quiet and letting me fuck her real good.” His voice is so quiet, the words practically hissed into your ear and it’s so hot that your eyes roll into the back of your head.

Your grip on your legs loosens and then your hands drop them entirely, letting them fall onto his sturdy shoulders. He watches as both of your hands disappear under your shirt and he feels a pang of irritation as you begin to play with your nipples. They draw sharper noises out of you, higher in pitch and slightly louder. Although, Younghoon can’t complain when the combined pleasure has your cunt fluttering around him and fresh waves of arousal washing through you to make it easier for him to fuck in and out of you.

“Hoon,” your whine is loud. Too loud. “So close, please!”

Younghoon hushes you again, his hand running up the side of your leg and squeezing at the flesh of your thigh.

“I know, sweetheart,” he tells you. “You gotta be quiet f’ me. Gotta be quiet so nobody walks in, okay?”

“I can’t.” You sob out and Younghoon pushes himself closer to you, practically folding you in half so he can kiss you. You open up immediately, whining and letting him slide his tongue in for you to suck on.

Younghoon’s hips begin to stutter, his body shaking against yours, but you’re closer. Your body spasms, and you nip at his tongue to keep him close to you while you cum. Younghoon grunts at the combined feeling of your bites and the clenching of your walls around his length. It’s all a bit too much and it only takes a few more thrusts before he’s shuddering and collapsing against you, spilling ropes of white hot cum inside of you.

He can feel the combination of his and your cum beginning to squeeze out of you around the tight fit of his dick inside of you, but he doesn’t have the strength to pull out of you just yet. You’ve stopped biting at him, your eyes squeezed shut and your mouth slowly sucking at the warm muscle he continues to provide you.

Your body is sore, your thighs aching and likely bruised when you walk into your dorm a few hours later. You hadn’t gotten any work done after that, spending the rest of the time making out in a chair and grinding on each other like some damn horny teenagers. You know you’re a disaster, but you’re more than content with that knowing that Younghoon looks the same (if not worse).

When the door clicks shut, it’s dark in the suite and you silently thank god that Dawon and Suyeon are asle—

“Where the fuck have you been?”

The lights flick on to reveal your two friends at the counter in the suite’s living area. Dawon looks furious, but Suyeon looks like she just wants to go to be. You grimace, dropping your bag off your shoulder and onto the ground next to you.

“Out.” Your voice is hoarse and you grimace. You imagine your throat is a little bit bruised from…things.

“Doing what.” Dawon snaps.

“Or who, judging by the looks of you.” Suyeon clicks her tongue and rises from the couch. “Look at you! It looks like someone tried to eat you!”

Dawon squints at you, and you turn your gaze to the floor.

“You fucked him, didn’t you?” She inquires, but you both already know the answer.

“Who?” Suyeon frowns. “Who did she fuck?”

Your nose wrinkles, and you turn to her with a look that says I think you know. Suyeon tilts her head, her eyebrows knitting together in thought.

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“Oh. OH— OH MY GOD—”

The Tau Beta Zeta frat house isn’t as bad as you thought it would be. At least not party-wise. The moment you and your friends walk in, you’re engulfed in noise, drunk partygoers, and scattered members of the frat. In one corner you can see what looks like two members of the frat making out with their girlfriends. Haknyeon and Changmin, Dawon said, Too bad they couldn’t find a private space. Damn exhibitionists. A smile quirks on your lips just slightly. Oh, if only she knew the truth.

You barely acknowledge her, however, scanning the room for Younghoon.

“Eric!” You grab the passing boy by the arm and he jerks to a stop, nearly spilling the contents of two cups.

“Yo!” He grins at you, and you can just faintly see the crinkle of his eyes under the red baseball cap of his. “What’s up?”

“Have you seen Younghoon?” Eric purses his lips in thought.

“You aren’t gonna kill him, right?” You laugh and so does he.

“No, not anymore. Or…I might if he doesn’t show up soon—”

“BOO!” Someone’s hands wrap around your waist lifting you off the ground and spinning you as you scream for him to put you down. Eric slips away, casting his eyes behind him to watch you and Younghoon as he approaches a girl in the corner.

“Kim Younghoon!” You snap, swatting him upside the head. Your boyfriend smirks at you, bending down to try and give you a kiss that you block. “Don’t kiss me, you douche! That wasn’t funny!”

“It was kinda funny,” he laughs, swooping in to give a kiss that you choose not to block this time. It’s deep and slow, and he tilts his head to get a better taste of you when you bring your hand to the back of his neck.

“Mmm, I think I like it when you don’t hate me.” He murmurs when he pulls back, grinning wickedly when you place a kiss on the corner of his mouth.

“Do you now?”

“Mhm.”

“Shouldn’t have scared me then.” You scowl, turning away from him and beginning to stalk away. He scrambles after you, frantically trying to keep up despite the crowd.

“Where are you going?” He whines, grasping at your fingertips. You turn your head, a coy smile playing on your lips.

“We gotta let loose, don’t we? We’re a little tense right now.”

A puddle of drool is practically forming in Younghoon’s mouth and he’s suddenly in front of you, moving with a renewed fervor.

When the door of the third bedroom on the right of the third floor shuts and clicks locked, nobody questions it. Not the thumping, nor the loud grunts and moans.

When someone needs to let loose, people know better than to interrupt. Especially when it’s Younghoon and his former-crush-turned-enemy-turned-girlfriend.

285 notes · View notes

kkuramyeons · 3 months

Note

omg could i request a fluffy dorky sakura getting jealous of reader admiring kazuha’s abs, so sakura starts flexing all stupidly haha

balmy flex - idol!sakura miyawaki x 6thmember!reader

notes: reader is an 01’ liner, fluff, obvios pining, sakura gets slightly jealous but it’s zuha’s abs so … come on now, humor, slight purinz reference, etc.

a/n: i hope you like it, anon! also, since gender wasn’t specified I just wrote it as gn!reader.

❀ ❀ ❀

while makeup artists touched up y/n’s final look for the concept photos of the group’s upcoming mini album, “easy”, the idol heard yunjin ask if anyone else had any other requests for their accessories for their looks of the “balmy flex” concept shoot.

as the members shook their heads no in response to yunjin’s question, who told the staff that they were good to go, as y/n made their way over to where kazuha and eunchae were standing in the room.

the idol admired the maknae’s looks, giddy at the accessories each idol wore, wether it be tooth gems, fake piercings, or just their features, the 01’ liner gushed over how stunning the two maknaes looked.

“wow, zuha, this concept outfit is a really good look on you!” the older idol exclaimed as her fingers danced around kazuha’s stomach, feeling the toned skin of the younger idol’s stomach.

kazuha giggled, as eunchae started exclaiming that you two were flirting in front of her, again.

“yah! this is the third time i’ve had to separate you two today!” exclaimed chaewon as she made her way towards the younger idols, both y/n and kazuha paying no mind to their leader’s threats.

“thank you, y/n-nnie,” I think your outfit suits you as well, you look so good!” the younger idol said as y/n continued to praise her figure.

y/n wore a louis vuitton crop top and some low rise jeans that exposed their toned stomach and, if they pulled them low enough to show the skin below the le serafim logo underwear (as they planned to) the tattoo on her hipbone would be exposed, where some stars and sparkles decorated her skin.

from across the room, sakura watched the interactions with narrowed eyes, a scoff on the verge of pushing past her lips. lately, you and kazuha had been “feeding the fans” more, and the oldest member was growing annoyed of your limited interactions with her.

as she turned her line of vision away from your hands caressing zuha’s abs while chaewon pried your fingers off the younger girl’s stomach, sakura had an idea flash through her head.

if you had a sudden fixation on zuha’s stomach (who wouldn’t tbh look at those abs!!), maybe adding something eye catching to her abdomen would divert your attention from kazuha’s toned stomach, and result in all of y/n’s attention on her.

pleased with her train of thought, the older member made her way towards yunjin, who sat in a makeup chair, nose buried in her phone.

“I want one of those piercings,” approached sakura with a pointed glance at the jewelry adorning the girl’s abdomen.

“yeah, well, last call for accessories was five minutes ago, good luck with that,” dismissed yunjin as she didn’t look up from her phone, engrossed in a conversation.

“I know you don’t love it when that happens either, so please, help me out?” motioned sakura with her hands, subtly pointing to where chaewon and y/n stood, the younger of the two still fawning over kazuha’s abs, urging chaewon to join her, while eunchae just playfully rolled her eyes at the lack of attention towards her.

the interaction caught yunjn’s attention, and with a slightly furrowed expression, the younger idol turned to sakura, suddenly on board with helping her divert the attention away from kazuha. (and it wouldn’t hurt to have chaewon’s eyes on her, too.)

shortly after some pleading, the oldest le sserafim member proudly rocked a fake belly button piercing, taking some pictures of her adorned abdomen with yunjin.

out of the corner of her eye, sakura could see y/n’a curious eyes on her, watching as yunjin took more pictures, eyes slightly narrowed.

noticing the not so subtle glances, yunjin nudged sakura, reminding the older idol of the plan.

everyone’s attention finally away from kazuha’s abdomen, yunjin turned to where chaewon was standing, showing off her finished look to the leader.

“why are you standing like that?” asked chaewon seeing as yunjin was subtly flexing her muscles next to the idol.

“like what?” nervously answered yunjin, as chaewon rolled her eyes at her antics.

as yunjin and chaewon continued to bicker, sakura made her way towards y/n, subtly flexing her abdomen, leaning against the nearest wall in what she sworn was a relaxed (but flexing), position.

“are you alright kkura-chan? you look like you’re slightly distressed,” said y/n as she examined the older member up close, wondering why sakura looked like she wasn’t breathing, standing at a weird angle with her muscles flexed.

“oh! me? yeah i’m alright,” replied sakura with a strained smile.

“if you say so,” dismissed the younger idol.

before y/n could leave her side, sakura let out an awkward cough, now fully facing y/n, eager to have your attention on her.

“are you sure you’re alr-” began the younger idol, turning around to face sakura, suddenly speechless as she took in all of sakura’s look.

flustered at the sudden attention on her body, a pink blush tinted sakura’s cheeks, watching y/n’s mouth slightly drop ajar.

“this is new,” pointed y/n, as she caressed the older girl’s stomach.

sakura’s face flushed scarlet, her toned abdomen now receiving the same treatment kazuha’s did not to long ago.

“and you got a nose ring,” replied sakura, trying to control her erratic heartbeat due to the sudden closeness between the two.

y/n chuckled, taking in sakura’s reaction to their touches, fingers still tracing random shapes on sakura’s toned abdomen.

“you know, you didn’t have to change your look to get my attention, I would’ve come back to praise you eventually,” said y/n, slightly looking up at sakura, as they snaked her hands around the older idol’s waist.

embarrassed of the slight jealousy that caused her impulsive decision, sakura just nodded, hugging y/n.

“you know I think you’re the most beautiful girl in the room always, babe,” whispered y/n in sakura’s ear.

“I know, I know,” sakura replied, resting her chin on top of y/n’s head, growing shy at the other members watching their interaction, staff surrounding the girls as everyone went into place to get started.

“good, now can I get a good luck kiss so I can do well today?” asked y/n facing sakura, still taking in their girlfriend’s look for the shoot.

“well….” sakura trailed off, a small smile on her lips as she turned, watching to see if any cameras were recording. after a quick scan of the room and a thumbs up from chaewon, the older idol wrapped her arms around y/n’s neck, pulling the younger idol into a chaste kiss.

pulling away, y/n beamed at sakura and reassured the older idol that she was the most beautiful girl in the room, and that her concept photos would turn out great.

pleased, sakura put her hand in y/n’s back pocket, making her way alongside y/n to the set where the shoot would take place, aware of the cameras now around the pair.

the concept photos turned out amazing, fans going wild at y/n’s tattoo reveal, sakura’s piercing, and at the unit shoot between you and the oldest member, causing more dating rumors to arise between the pair, the unit shoot only adding more fuel to the growing speculations.

#le sserafim x reader #sakura miyawaki x reader #miyawaki sakura x reader #le sserafim #kpop gg #kpop x reader

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llyfrenfys · 5 months

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"Fascism and Welsh Nationalism", or "Stop Fawning over the FWA you cont"

This is inspired by things I've been noticing around Aberystwyth lately while out and about.

Some mfer is putting up Free Welsh Army (FWA) stickers and I have to keep on pulling them down. Why? You ask.

Fascism.

Because of the not so subtle links between the FWA and fascist movements (of which those links are quite frankly underdiscussed) this post is necessary.

So, starting with the stickers:

This is just one of three identical stickers I've pulled down this last week in Aberystwyth. They appear more to be car stickers than anything else and must have cost a pretty penny to print and/or purchase. They appear to have been bought directly from a website using FWA imagery and slogans - yet does not claim to be the FWA (that I can see, at least). I'm not going to link to it because they don't need any more web traffic. But we will get onto why this is significant in a bit.

Anyway, returning to the stickers - I pulled down the first one off of an electric box on North Road, opposite Vaynor St in late November. I pulled down the second (pictured) also in late November on Penglais Road off the bus stop near the hospital. And in early December I pulled down the third one off of a wall near the Spar at the end of Vaynor Street. Right off the bat we can assume the guy who wasted a lot of money on these stickers lives local to where the stickers I've found so far were. So they're lazy, for one - not venturing much further than their own front door by the looks of it.

Iconography:

I've written about the iconography of the FWA before here but it bears repeating that if fascists approve of your iconography, then that's a sign your movement is already overrun with fascists.

This is the sticker design which I've been noticing about town. Top to bottom we have "Cymru Rydd/Free Wales" which on its own is fine. No qualms with that. But between the Welsh and English text is a symbol. This one:

Now, this was the symbol of the Free Wales Army. Note that I say *was* because the FWA doesn't exist any more. Yet various actors have tried to resurrect its very unsuccessful corpse over the years. These stickers seem to belong to a new organisation which is the latest to try and capitalise on the ghost of the FWA. Now, if you're like me, you'll have already noticed this design is, for lack of a better word, a bit dogwhistley. The angled, blocky, swastika-like stylisation of what is supposedly an eagle, the black and white void of any other features and the very fact it *is* an eagle depicted all seem a bit *too* similar to the iconography of the Third Reich, don't you think?

Their design choice is no accident. It is a design which appeals to fascists while also has enough Welsh cultural reference for apologists to hide behind with a plausibly deniable reason for why their eagle Looks Like That. The white eagle is a reference to the 13th C. poem Mab Darogan, in which Myrddin prophesises that "a king shall come with heroism from among the Welsh people" and that "generous men shall be reborn of the lineage of the eagles of Snowdonia". The eagle could have literally been drawn in any way. But it rather specifically was drawn like this. That choice is not accidental.

Now this new organisation which is trying to reanimate the corpse of the FWA (we'll call them EW) has incorporated the FWA symbol into their sticker. An endorsement of the failed so-called 'paramilitary' organisation on their part, to be sure. EW also have included a different style of white eagle on their sticker as well - which is blatantly stolen from Wikipedia (the copyright is expired, but 0/10 artistic effort on their part even so). Also not to nitpick but the eagle on the sticker is grey not white so that's also a fail.

Artistic criticisms aside, the sticker is loaded with dogwhistley iconography all round. The Celtic knot border isn't necessarily problematic, however, fascists and/or neo-nazis love to slap Celtic knots onto things because they associate Celticity with whiteness. The colour scheme may also be a coincidence, but it does remind me of the fascist symbol which is the 'Flag of Kekistan" which uses the same colour scheme.

Why does this matter and who were the FWA?:

The FWA were a Welsh nationalist (supposedly 'paramilitary') outfit which formed in Lampeter in 1963 and disbanded in 1969 (just 6 years of activity). They took a lot of their cues from the IRA and were effectively fanboys of them. The group was never really considered a threat and mostly consisted of middle-aged men playing paramilitary dress-up. They did claim to be funded by the IRA and that they had dogs trained to carry explosives. Their claims remain unproven.

HOWEVER - and here's where things get sticky. A lot of the issues the FWA were publicly concerned with were and are actually valid issues (e.g. the drowning of Capel Celyn, the Aberfan Disaster etc.). The problem is that fascists or fanboys of fascists love to get their foot in the door by addressing genuine issues. But what happens is that invariably a minoritised group is blamed for the existence of said issue and naturally that leads to discrimination and violence.

The police started to get a bit antsy with the investiture of then-prince Charles as prince of Wales and the possibility of the FWA doing some terrorism. So some of the FWA's leaders were arrested just prior to this. The group officially ended in 1969.

The nationalism advocated for by the FWA was of the 'blood-and-soil' type. Not just your common or garden nationalism (which still has issues but given context is perfectly able to exist in a non-fashy way). And that's why the idolisation of the FWA in years since is sus. It appeals to romanticised nationalist notions of brave men in uniforms helping free Wales - when in reality they did little terrorism and little to actually further the Welsh nationalist cause. In fact, the leadership of the FWA fell apart after they started to disagree on whether their actions were damaging the cause rather than helping it.

Julian Cayo-Evans founded the FWA and ran it with Dennis Coslett and Gethin ap Gruffydd. Gruffydd went on to found other youth nationalist organisations after he left the FWA due to disagreements with its direction - e.g. he founded the Patriotic Front in 1964 which was later outlawed by Plaid Cymru in 1966. It goes without saying names like 'Patriotic Front' are deliberate nods to other, similarly named fascist organisations like National Front.

Legacy and The Present:

FWA's only legacy is the sycophantic fanclub which ressurects the corpse of the FWA every few years to parade it around and relive the 'glory days' of paramilitary cosplay. But aside from functionally being useless, their iconography and politics are still very much under the fash umbrella and that must be resisted at every opportunity (hence why I'm tearing down their stickers - I don't want fascists to feel welcome here). Part of why people may turn a blind eye to the FWA/sympathise is that they may not be aware of the history of the FWA or see the dogwhistles laden in their work and symbols. Some may even just assume without any other context that they're just another Welsh-language preservation group and may even support them without realising the deeper nature of the organisation beyond just preserving the Welsh language.

Which brings me back to EW. I'm going to put the rest of this under a cut, I do encourage reading the rest though and reblogging to get the word out that

It is always morally okay to tear down fascist propaganda

If you see some in your town, don't hesitate to let fash know they aren't welcome here.

EW:

So, onto the latest in a long line of paramilitary wannabes who idolise a long-dead organisation from the 60s.

The EW website seems... sketch. Lots of banners and sections asking to 'donate now' and 'take action' (with money). So right off the bat this looks like a cash-grab.

Secondly, from their own 'About' section they claim that the Welsh Independence movement has "become inundated with authoritarian Marxist entryists who regard Welsh independence as merely a vehicle for furthering their own political agendas". Which is pretty bold stuff coming from an organisation trying to do The Exact Same. There's also a LOT of emphasis on youth involvement and youth nationalism.

There's also a lot of ahistorical claims in the About section too. E.g. on the prophecy of Myrddin "From this legend derives the very name of Cymru’s greatest mountains, with ‘Eryri’ meaning the ‘Seat of the Eagles’ in Cymraeg." - this is contested as there is no one agreed upon etymology of Eryri. To claim that this is The Etymology suggests that they picked this one just because it conveniently fits the version of the mythology they're presenting. They also claim that "Owain ap Gruffydd, would adopt three such eagles as his royal coat of arms" - this is blatantly incorrect as Owain ap Gruffydd lived before the Age of Heraldry and the three eagles are actually later attributed arms.

In EW's FAQ there's a section on supporting their organisation - with one paragraph saying that you can buy stickers instead "If you aren’t eligible or willing to commit to becoming an activist". Lol at 'if you aren't willing to fully commit to our FWA fanboy club you can put up some stickers instead'. Also the button to buy stickers suggests you pay via paypal "We’ll accept quick payments using PayPal and will have them shipped to you First Class" - which *totally* sounds legit (what do you bet they ask people to pay via 'friends and family instead of through business means?).

And... that's it. There's very little else on their website. It *looks* like they're trying to be a movement, but appear to lack substance (and money, judging from how many different Donate Now buttons are plastered all over the site). A hollow organisation blatantly bending history and mythology to fit their narrative, proudly using symbols designed to appeal to fascists while asking people to trust them with the future of Wales?

Dim diolch.

For further reading on why we should guard against fascism in Welsh language revival and independence, see my other post here.

Reblogs welcome for an antifascist independent Wales.

#cymraeg #cymru #free wales army #fwa #eryri #eryr wen #antifascist #annibyniaeth #welsh independence #welsh #fascism cw #neo nazism cw #white nationalism cw #long post

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cespugliodifiori · 3 months

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[Sooo i’ve recently watched Hazbin Hotel and the character Alastor has caught my eye 😭 like i’m so obsessed with him that it isn’t funny anymore- But anyways i’ve thought about some head-cannons for him(they might not be accurate and english isn’t my first language so if you find grammatical errors i sincerely apologize) THE END IS ANGSTY (sorry i just had to, i added a ‘dangerously yours’ reference)]

How would Alastor express his “love” for you

• The first time you met him he actually freaked you the fuck out, i mean he had that big smile on his face ALL THE TIME, it was creepy. But after a few days he won you over with his ‘personality’.

• I think that he isn’t the type to have a serious relationship with someone, but he would rather have a ‘soft’ spot for you.

• Sometimes he would open the door for you, if he’s ahead of you, but one time he walked faster than you so he could reach out for the door first and say “Ladies first!”.

• One time, while Niffty was playing with your hair (or horns if your oc has horns) you were doing a crossword. When suddenly Alastor sat down next to you and helped you with some words, since his vocabulary is much more expanded than yours.

• He would definitely keep your tea warm if you’re having a conversation with someone and forget to drink it, while he’s around.

• You always wondered why would he do these little things for you, he still made you somewhat uncomfortable when he’s around but that’s just the aura he gives off, right?.

• One time, while you were sitting in the small bar of the hotel, you were eating cookies and milk for breakfast, when accidentally a cookie fell in the mug and you were about to get a spoon, but Alastor used his magic to pick up the cookie, you were weirded out at first and looked at him suspicious but he only smiled at you, “when did he get here?” you thought while munching on the cookie.

• It actually made him smile more when he saw you laughing at his sassiness or at one of his jokes.

• You found his deer ears to be entertaining, of course you didn’t dare to touch them, but time to time he would make them move (like letting them react to noises yk-) just to see a little smile on your face.

• Sometimes you would listen to him on the radio, it seemed like he always knew when you were listening to him, so he would always be extra sassy.

• He would call you “my dear” “sweetheart” “honey” “little one” “my fawn”

• He would make Jambalaya for you

• One time, Charlie putted on some music to make the hotel less depressing than it already was, a Jazz song came on and you noticed that Alastor looked up from the journal he was reading, it was a song from ‘Frank Sinatra’ named ‘It had to be you’. You were looking at Charlie dancing and laughing with Vaggie they were so cute together!. Suddenly, you felt a poke on your right shoulder and looked but there was nobody there, when you looked back Alastor was in front of you. “Hey” you said smiling kinda freaked out but shrugged it off “Care to dance?” he stretched out his hand, you were a bit unsure since the rumors said that he didn’t like to be touched, but he wouldn’t have offered then, right? “Sure” you spoke while taking his hand, his gloves feeling cold as ever and he took you on the ‘dance floor’. Charlie was surprised but happy that you and Alastor were getting along, she seemed excited!. It was the best dance you’ve ever had.

• When Husk pointed out that you would always get the princess treatment with Alastor, you tried to disapprove “it’s not that, he’s just kind sometimes” “oh really? how can you not see that you’re literally the favorite among all of us!” you shrugged it off, and said “well take example Charlie! He treats her like she’s his child” you said in your defense, and Husk rolled his eyes “it’s not the same.” “where are you trying to get with this talk??” you looked at him while he was cleaning a glass “i just… don’t let your guard down. You already know what he’s capable of” you looked at him with concerned eyes, he was scared that you’ll end up like him “don’t worry i won’t” you reassured him with a smile, and he seemed a bit more relaxed. (of course this happened when Alastor was busy)

• After the conversation with Husk, you kept your distance, you only knew him for two and a half weeks and it seemed like he knew you already for his whole life. A few days have passed and one day you decided to stay in your room all day. You were reading a book, your mind was a mess you weren’t even actually reading. Suddenly a radio static could be heard, your eyes looked up and met his red ones, your heart began to beat faster. You gulped and said, looking away “can you leave, please?” his radio static stopped for a second and he didn’t say anything, his look could tell you already that he wasn’t going to. You got out of your bed and went to open the door “please go…” your voice cracked “what is it? what’s wrong my dear?” his radio voice was somewhat soft but his eyes were cold as ever, you held on the knob tightly than before “you know nothing about me, you’ve known me only for 3 weeks!” before you could add anything else he uttered “3 weeks?” he spoke your name softly and added “i’ve known you all my life” he gestured, his smile getting bigger, while his radio voice began to malfunction, he started to get a bit irritated “all your life?” you said in disbelief, you closed the door and stood in front of him “it’s true!” he stated “when i heard beautiful music, i thought: she likes that” “oh please stop!, don’t think i know that you just want me to sell my soul to you!” he stopped and looked away, the radio static stopping for a second and resuming, it looked like he was thinking of what to say. Your heart sank “…is it true?” he had that stupid smile on his face, he kept his hands behind his back holding his cane tightly. He quickly regained composure, he’s shown you enough of his desperate side and spoke “no, my dear of course not, why would i fool you?” you were about to tell him of the conversation with Husk but you decided that it would worsen things “maybe because you’re the ‘radio demon’?” he laughed, his shoulder moving up and down as he did “oh sweetheart, don’t you get it?” he cupped your cheeks and looked down at you “if i ever wanted to take your soul i would’ve done it already!” he said his pupils becoming radio dials for a quick second, that freaked you out and he just laughed it off “smile my dear! you’re never fully dressed without a smile” he stretched out your lips before pulling away “want some Jambalaya?” he said walking past you, you cracked a smile and looked at him wiping the little tear that was about to fall “of course..” you followed him. Strangely enough you forgot about the conversation with Husk!.

[This is my first time writing head-cannons so i’m sorry if i’ve made errors! It was hard to make the conversations with Alastor since he has a very formal vocabulary 😭. The last head-cannon was related to ‘dangerously yours’ so it’s kinda weird but i hoped you liked it! Let me know if i should make more head-cannons or do requests! (i just need to learn how to use tumblr lol)]

#alastor #hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor #hazbin headcanons #hazbin hotel headcanon #hazbin hotel alastor #alastor headcanons

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simpingland · 7 months

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The little lights// Osferth x fem!reader.

Summary: Osferth has many reasons to keep his love for you a secret. But there is a limit to everything, and if can't marry you, then he will make his bows during a secret handfasting ceremony by the river.

A/N: fluff and so much fluff!!!! Osferth does inappropriate things here but not specified.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Osferth found it hard to keep secrets, but since it was you, he always did his best, knowing that the consequence of not doing so would drive you apart. However, you always took care to give him a reprimanding look when he got too close or whispered things in your ear.

It had all started when Uthred and his party had let you get involved in their adventures when you were orphaned, you knew how to ride a horse and you were a quick learner. So taken in by father Beocca and Thyra, you soon became something of a niece to the Danish-English leader. To the rest you did not think you were too important. True, Sihtric and Finan were fond of you, as if you were fond of a friend, and Hild also helped you in the few things Thyra could not understand. But from the beginning, with Osferth everything was different.

The instant you rode beside him, his eyes stayed with you as much as the afternoon went on. And though it was Uthred who gave you water and bread to fill that empty stomach, it was Osferth who had accompanied you in prayer to watch over your parents. He knelt beside you, and his concentration inspired yours for hours. You had never been a devout Christian, and Osferth assured you that none of that mattered if you were good at heart. Even he didn't know at first if that would be the case for you, but he soon discovered that it did. It was when you tended his wound after the battle of Beamfleot that you watched over him day and night.

"Aren't you going to sleep at some point?" he would ask you when he regained consciousness.

"When you wake up. I have to watch to see if you suddenly stop breathing."

"And what would you do if that were the case?"

"Punch you so hard I'd make your light soul go back to where it was."

That managed to make him laugh, causing him some pain too, but after that the baby monk regained his colour.

"Everyone here wants to hit me..." he was referring to Finan and his threat to kill him if he died, and though he said it with a smile on his face, you felt a little sorry for him.

"I guess... I guess we're not all as sweet as you. You're always clear about how you feel, and you know how to say it."

"I disagree. My mind is constantly collapsed with thoughts and my heart is in knots."

"Because of faith?"

He nodded slowly. It took you quite a bit of courage to take his hand and stroke it. The coldness he conveyed was short-lived as he squeezed your hand back.

"I have seen true evil, Osferth. And I do not fear it, but I do hate it. And in you I see the opposite of hate. You are...all love."

You needed only the nearby rustle of leaves to let go, hands away again, and you lost yourself as Osferth's heart filled at your words. If this was a test, God knew he would not pass it. The days following his recovery were meals together, walking on your arm, letting him smell your hair, which you washed in the river. And he imagined you bathing with soap made by Thyra. And thanks to the soap it all really began.

He asked you, blushing, if you could wash his hair. His arm was sore and he felt dirty. The others he didn't trust, for they liked to laugh at his monk-cut, and threatened a few times to cut it off for fun. And you took him to the river where you bathed. Holding your hand, he followed your footsteps, without that oppressive sound of metal, for the weapons were outside, that place was pure comfort.

"Lie on my lap" you asked him. And his doubtful face made you question if that was a good idea. "Oh if you prefer, put your head down..."

He sat down next to you, but changed his mind. With the subtlety of a fawn, his head rested in your lap, and he watched you for a moment before closing his eyes and letting the water run over his head. Tenderly, the foam formed on his head and you rinsed him with a small glass. Your hands almost made him fall into a deep sleep right there. But when you wiped a wet bandage over his face he opened his eyes again. Concentrating on removing the stains, you tried to avoid the blue eyes staring at your lips. A moment of weakness and you looked back at him.

Who it was, it doesn't matter, but your noses brushed and your lips followed. There in the river, with the waterfalls dreaming and the frogs croaking, the soap disappeared in the water, but the butterflies in your stomach flew looking to burst into the air. That's what an Osferth kiss felt like. Immense, fresh, pure. From then on, the soap did not smell the same, it smelled like that sweet moment, repeated in a thousand different ways every time you and him were even the slightest bit alone.

You never noticed the looks the others gave you every time you laughed at everything Osferth dared to whisper in your ear. He tugged at your sleeves to hold your hand in the moments when your nerves ate at you, and you wrapped your arms around his shoulders when they marched far away and you were not allowed to accompany them, and by letting him take you by the waist, Osferth needed a whole world to let you go. Only Thyra would remove the tears that fell from your eyes at night when you did not hear from him. He always came back, and you saw his smile grow wider each time he was made proud among men, when he could bring you a small relic wrapped in simple cloth. His hanging cross was the only thing he kept when you went to the river. And there he would tell you everything he had seen, and everything he had suffered. He enjoyed washing your hair too, and he kept a lock of hair that he asked you for his travels. He cried on your shoulder more than once, and though he tried not to kiss you beyond your face, he soon reached your neck, and you could feel his hands wandering through the seams of your clothes, through the knots he imagined himself removing at night.

"I don't understand, Lord, why if I've been faithful to you so long you put me to this test. Put anything else in the way, I will overcome it, but it is only she who now occupies my mind..." Osferth prayed in his sleepless moments. "I ask you not to use her to break my heart. I feel that all her pain will be mine too."

The prayer could not avail him much, or perhaps it was precisely heard, when one night, one of those merry ones where the ale is quickly drained from the cups, Osferth and you led a secret dance, and where you went, he went. The music was secondary and a mere excuse to touch Osferth's hands so that he could cling to you. And the heat of happiness set your cheeks on fire and you stepped out into the cool of the night. In the courtyard of your house, near the tavern and where no one was yet around, you and Osferth lay looking up at the sky.

"You are a surprisingly good dancer, dear Osferth," you teased.

"That's not much credit coming from such a lousy dancer as you, my lady..."

Surprised by his comment, you gave him a gentle nudge and pushed him to the floor.

"I never expected such treachery from you.... This is not the monk I adore."

He turned you around, leaving you wrapped in the straw, and tickling you somewhat with his gentle grip. The cross hung down and brushed your neck. In the gloom, his face was still as distinguishable as in your dreams.

"I may never have told you..." he sounded sweet and serious, and his hand caressed the bridge of your nose. "But when you were in my care, I thought...I thought I was on the verge of death, and all I could feel with pain and fear was your presence beside me. I thought the Lord was preparing me to go in peace...sending me an angel."

Crickets chirped as you felt the excitement fill your eyes. You smiled like a fool at the sweet thought, and found it hard to believe. You could feel his slight embarrassment and you kissed his cheeks and could not help but giggle with pure joy. What to say to that? That you loved him? That it was the most beautiful thing anyone had ever said to you? He was the man of words. You only wanted one thing. And that night you got it. Starting with a kiss, the moon saw you finally shed your clothes and he let you explore his flesh. And out of that night came the biggest scare of your life and your greatest blessing in turn.

The news of the pregnancy nearly stopped Osferth's heart while it kept you in a state of disbelief that made you awkward all week. You needed to go cry in the river to come to terms with what was to come. You would never let go of that baby if you were healthy and had the money to raise it. But everything felt rushed and Uthred would not look kindly on this strange union between people he considered family and people he considered a team. Besides, Osferth would soon be off on a dangerous new adventure, and he himself had moral doubts about the whole life. What was clear to him was that he would not abandon you. There must be some middle step to bring you together and make that baby more than a bastard, for he had certainly sprung from the purest love.

"Marry me, please," he said as he brushed your hair away from your face, trying to wipe away your tears as well."

"No, Osferth...not like this."

"Why not?"

"For many reasons...Uthred will get angry with us, and if you depart married then you can die peacefully and I want you to stress yourself so much that you force yourself to survive long enough to come begging me to marry you..." that made me laugh, though you were quite serious.

"Then let's get married in secret."

"No!"

"Why?" he was beginning to stress. You took a moment to find the words.

"Because I've already hidden for too long how much I love you and this is the only thing I have left to give you! I want Beocca to walk me down the altar and I want Thyra to make me a wreath. I want everyone to see me happy because of you. I don't want there to be any doubt in your mind that I'll be happy because of you. Let there be no doubt in your mind that...as much as you're crazy about me...I'm pretty much in love with you too."

Smiling and thinking, Osferth enjoyed your little jokes that served to tell him the things that really mattered to you. And yes, he agreed, he wished to see Finan and Sihtric drink in honour of your union, and receive the full blessing of the man who had brought you together in the first place, Uthred. He needed everyone to see how beautiful you were and how happy you made him without contingency. He took your hand and caressed it, looking at it with a throbbing thought.

"There is a ceremony...less than a marriage, but it will soothe my conscience, and I hope yours."

In the sunset, on that river where you first kissed, a kind-hearted priest agreed to offer ceremony. Witness Hild, the first to have noticed your pregnancy symptoms and who did not question your actions. You bought a yellowish ribbon, like Osferth's hair, and with thread of a blue that reminded you of his eyes, you wove him a cross that stretched to resemble a sword. He, on the other hand, chose a greenish cloth, like that of the plants that grew in the river, and with white thread he had depicted outstretched wings, like those of an angel. When you exchanged them, Osferth kissed the cross while you caressed the weft of the thread, both of you with your souls full. Then the vows began.

In the handfasting ceremony, one did not join his soul to the other, but promised before the loved one that they intended to remain by eachother side in an uncertain future. Perhaps your child would be born a bastard, but the ceremony, in the eyes of god, and in your own eyes, was a promise of good intentions and love.

"I promise to become a man worthy of you and our family. I promise to try with every breath I have left to return to your side. I promise never to leave you uncertain of how much I want to live with you. I promise to cherish the protection I know you give me."

You were somewhat lost in the trance, and it took the priest to mention your name to get your attention. Osferth's cheek, occupied by his smile, was too pretty to look away.

"I promise...to wait for you calmly, to receive you with the gentleness you deserve. I promise to take care of everything we harvest, and I promise to always, always tell you the truth. I promise to help you whenever you ask. I promise to let you know how much I want to see you every moment of every day."

The priest speech was not that important for the last part in your humble opinion. There were many other things to look at and to listen to. And Osferth's gentle caress on your hand made noise. And your little discomfiture of joy that made you sway in your place was to Baby Monk a lovely dance. Though the kiss was not part of the ceremony, when the man fell silent, your arms leapt to his shoulders and Osferth. With bonds forgotten, you tugged at his hand and both of you hurt each other through inertia.

"Forgive me," he said tenderly.

"Forgiven."

With his loosened hand he was able to grasp your cheek and deposit at last the kiss you had spent the night dreaming of. Hild clapped her hands and withdrew soon after you thanked her for her discretion. And then you didn't quite know where to begin your life with Osferth, though really, it hadn't quite begun. Strolling along the river as the day wore on, leaving others to wonder about your whereabouts, neither you nor Osferth cared about anything beyond what happened on that river.

Your good soon-to-be husband held out a hand for you to walk through the water, and when he saw the beautiful fabric of the skirt you were trying to protect, he picked it up before it got wet. And he followed you carefully as you told him how much you would miss him.

"I will pray day and night for you to come home and meet our child," you told him sorrowfully.

"Don't pray for me, pray that they bring the baby to us healthy and strong...I will pray for that, and for you. And I will ask him, if it is not too much, to let me see both of you in my dreams."

You turned to cling to his rib, and he nuzzled the back of your head as you absorbed his scent.

"Oh, Osferth, please tell me you will never hold a grudge against me for derailing you from your calling as a monk? I can't help but feel guilty."

That revelation hurt him a little, empathising with the woman he loved most in this world and the one who would make him the happiest man in a few months. He lifted your face, stopping the walk, and kissed your eyelids.

"You didn't derail me, you led me. This is the life with which I have been rewarded for so many years of dedication. To be with you is not to forsake God. In fact, I can be nothing but grateful to him. If he sees everything, he will be unable to lose sight of all that I am moved by you."

You had to keep walking to hide the silly redness that filled your face, and Osferth's hand on your belly made you slow your pace. And though you were afraid of a thousand things, that feeling was indescribable. The purest state of happiness.

"I think it's going to be a girl," he said, stroking the fabric against your belly.

"I think it's going to be a boy," you contradicted him mischievously.

"They say that boys make pregnant women beautiful. And I see you looking the same as ever."

You gave him a shove as he laughed, but he didn't see the branch behind him and ended up falling awkwardly as he laughed almost completely. Now you were laughing as Osferth tried not to perjure himself from the cold.

"That's what you get for being an idiot..." you continued your walk, your dress starting to get soaked. Something in her look and half-smile made you suspect a thousand things. "Osferth no..." He stood up slowly. He approached you soaking wet and dripping. "I can't swim and you know it."

"Can't a man give his wife a hug?"

"Give it to your wife when you marry her."

"I can't resist, my lady!"

He pounced, instantly drenching you with his big body and wet clothes. And coldness mingled with laughter as you tried to escape him.

"Osferth! You're going to drop me, and I'm going to get soaked and catch a cold!"

You said it in jest, but something clicked in the Baby monk's head and he let go of you. He then ran to get the cloaks you had brought with you and helped you out of the river. He put yours and his own your shoulder. He helped you dry off and turned a deaf ear to your suggestion that he should dry off too. You gave him a kiss on those lips, and he seemed to calm down instantly.

The sun had already set by the time you returned to the house where your friends awaited you, your feet marking distance, but your eyes following each other's like a light. And perhaps, you were just that, lights on the other side of the room, endlessly tinkling, guiding and simply beautiful.

~~~~~~~~~~

Tag list: @slytherincursebreaker

#osferth x reader #osferth #osferth x you #the last kingdom x reader #the last kingdom #the last kingdom osferth #the last kingdom fanfic #osferth fanfic #ewan mitchell fanfic #ewan mitchell #osferth x fem!reader #fluff

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mysticmellowlove · 26 days

Note

Sub jock hcs 🙏🏻

I hate jocks ands that’s where this gets fun-

Jock that’s on a powerful position( typical quarterback because it’s the only position I know lol) and the girl who everyone is lowkey jealous of. Like richest girl in town but she’s not from the town her family just kinda can in and took over. She is super kind though and that’s why he began to like her. They’ve never even talked but he always notices her. Always. But…. She doesn’t like him. She’s nice to him of course but she isn’t into him how others are. He’s a jock- ew

note; anon sent in an inspo as well (here)!

warnings; fem reader, sub male, solo masturbation,

The streamers fell over him as he clapped his friends on the back, the last game of the season and they had just won it. Cheers and hollers surrounded him as their cheerleaders flooded the field and began their routines, sending kisses to the players as they clumped together in a mass of grass-covered sweaty boys.

His best friend slapped him on the back and grinned through his mouthguard, his head inclining towards the stands where he knew she'd be waiting. Always here for college cheer, the leader of the student spirit committee was the cutest, kindest girl in the world. She also happened to be a major crush of his. He pushed his friend away teasingly as he jogged over to her, watching her shake the pompoms she had been handing out before the game that sported their university colours.

He basically grinned as he took in her smile, her eyes soon locking onto him.

"Hey QB, great job today." She hummed as she looked up at him, his form easily dwarfing her own. He knew he was a big guy, it's why he was picked for the quarterback position. Tall and muscular, devilishly good-looking... he often had his friends say he exuded 'raw masculinity' whatever that was. The girls also loved him, fawning over him and chatting him up.

But it was unanimous around the university that he had eyes for one person only, the one person he just couldn't seem to snag. She had moved here from a rivalling uni about a year back and had been a ray of sunshine ever since. She was the leader of the cheer committee and basically lived for setting up student union events. She was at every sports game, concert and exhibition.

She really was like an angel sent from above.

"Thanks, me and the boys are going out for celebratory drinks later on, you interested?" He grinned as he leaned against the stands, willing her to look his way for just a moment. To nod and give him a chance. She smiled that sweet little smile as she shook her head.

"Sorry, I have some module work I need to get done. I just had to come over and support our boys." He willed the flush in his cheeks to go down as he referred to him as her boy, even if it wasn't exactly what she had meant. He swallowed his disappointment but nodded anyway.

"Alright, good luck then. I'll see you sometimes on campus anyway." He shot her a heartwarming smile before he crawled his way back to the others, heart doing flips in his chest. This was usually how their interactions went. She was a lovely girl, so kind and open but it was clear she wasn't interested. He knew she liked the scholarly type more, her friend group reflected as much. He didn't like to admit it but he was a little bit of an airhead, but that's what had drawn people to him.

He knew others called him a 'golden retriever' which by his understanding meant he was lovable and energetic. But she seemed to like the stoic type and he couldn't bring himself to change... maybe one day when they were older something would happen between them. He wasn't going to be the star quarterback forever after all.

"Hey man, we're heading toward Joey's, gonna bring some of the girls along. You down?" His friend came up to him and they shared a clap.

"I would but I have something on later, I'll meet up tomorrow yeah?" He laughed as others gathered around him, booing playfully. Soon enough they relented and he watched as they filed towards the lockers, he'd be following as well but he wanted to help out his coach with the equipment first.

In reality, he was simply stalling time, he wanted the showers to himself after all. Packing up was nothing for him, mainly because there wasn't anything to do but it served its purpose. When the coach let him go he made his way to the lockers and grinned at their vacancy. Now he'd not only have the space to himself but the showers would actually be hot.

He shucked off his gear and stepped under the relaxing spray, just hot enough to relax his muscles. He flicked his hair back from his face and doused it in a small amount of shampoo he kept in his pack. As he let the water and suds run down him his mind began to wander.

Frustrated he leaned his head against the cool wall of the stall, his hand unwillingly going to cup his hardening cock. Every time she let him down easy he'd get hard, as if it was like magic. He was so down bad for her it was insane. And yet he couldn't bring himself to move on. So long as he was able to see her on campus he knew he'd keep fantasising about her like this.

Sure it made him feel dirty but the sheer amount of pleasure overrode anything in his mind. Never before was he able to get himself off like this thinking about others. He tried the porn, tried the mags and even his own imagination but everything looped back to her. What would she look like as he plunged into her? Would she look good in pink or red lingerie? What would her voice sound like as she scolded him for thinking of her like this?

That's how it began, he had noticed a shift in his preferences. All his friends would point at the smallest things around but his mind would be on her. It was innocent at first, her riding him as he held onto her hips but soon.... soon it changed. Her forcing him to lay down as she perched herself on his face, making him surrender before her so she could please herself first.

His tie and satin bows turned to handcuffs and ropes. His dick inside her turned to her hand wrapped around a toy she was teasing him with. Making her cry out his name turned into her making him a whining, sobbing mess.

"Fuck." He hissed as he realised he had been jerking himself off all this time, his hand wrapped furiously around his cock. God what he'd do to have her in this position. Her hand stroking him as he fought to stop his legs from buckling.

A drawn-out moan left him as his eyes rolled to the back of his head, just the thought of her had him wanting to cum.

It really was insane the hold she had on him...

#love for anon #sub male #dom reader #fem reader #drabble #ask

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maoam · 4 months

Note

sorry if youve already talked about this, but i wanted to get your thoughts on sasuke in these panels..maybe im looking too much into it and its not that deep, but i was rereading gaiden recently and i just feel like theres something here im missing. sakura even looks a little confused/worried in the bg. the way he talks is kinda cryptic, especially with how they put quotation marks around "cooperation". like?? am i crazy or is there something going on here. its like hes vaguely referring to something that only he and naruto know about. not to mention how sullen he seems...what do you think?

No you're not imagining it, Sasuke is clearly a bit sad and snidey here. Naruto looks taken aback by his words too, sweating nervously. Naruto didn't hesitate wanting to go with Sasuke and leaving his own family in the process, but Sasuke declined his offer.

It seems Kishi left it up in the air what's going on here, but clearly it's to show not everything is okay between these characters. Sakura is like a third wheel here, also very nervous.

Sasuke knows Naruto loves him, and Naruto knows Sasuke loves him. But Sasuke also knows Naruto felt hesitant and conflicted, with all the expectations and burdens on his shoulders. They both had even bigger responsibilities now after the war.

And while it's obvious Kishi wrote them to be in love, he can't say it too obviously, so he leaves these clues for us to patch together, to make some sense of why the hell are they married to Hinata/Sakura. He will leave implications that Sasuke never kissed Sakura, that Naruto doesn't want to go home even if Shikamaru could take over his mundane duties like counting on headbands. He will write some bimbo fangirls fawn over Naruto and Hinata walking in the park, talking about how they make a perfect couple because Naruto is the war hero/Hokage candidate and Hinata is the heiress of the Hyuga clan. Very shallow reasons, and we know how Kishi isn't too fond of fangirls. But those reasons make sense, considering NH marriage is appearance only, without the kind of deep love Naruto feels for Sasuke. Naruto settled for her, because that's what everyone expects from him.

And Sasuke isn't happy. But he loves Naruto, so he will stand by his side regardless. And in Boruto manga, there was the scene where Sasuke gave his headband to Boruto, and Boruto asked if it's okay, isn't this the symbol of the bond between you and my dad (which shows Kishi definitely didn't forgot, which some people might otherwise claim)? If you remember, at the end of chapter 699 Sasuke said he will keep holding onto it until him and Naruto finally settle things between the two of them. The chapter where Sasuke gave Boruto the headband and talked with him also had Sarada and Mitsuki at the same time talk about one's true, inner romantic feelings and being honest about them. Mitsuki suggested Sarada likes Boruto like that, and Sarada suggested the same about Mitsuki liking Boruto as well. Like? And Sarada also reminds us once again that Sasuke spends more time with Boruto than with her. Lol.

So yeah, that moment is just yet another clue to show Naruto and Sasuke aren't happy with their lives, but they are doing their best for the sake of the future. But since Sasuke gave away the headband, it feels like something is gonna happen...

#naruto ramblings #sns #narusasu #sasunaru #cassyoass #ask

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alphabetboyluvr · 10 months

Text

throttle - jjk | four

one / two / three / four / five / six / seven / eight / nine / ten / eleven

warnings - smut, a lil dirty talk over text, titwank, lil spit, lil degradation, lots of praise <3, handjob, showers, vaginal sex, (1) reference to you up?, jungkook cums 3 times in this one, the oc.... does not. CURIOUS. jaykay is soooo smitten :( Busan is proposed!! oh how our throttle couple luv busan <3, the angst is about to go from a 2 to a 6, jk is the pied piper, jk and cc play the desperation olympics, and they both lose!! namjoon is the worst (calls the oc a sket (twice!))

word count - 10.8k

minors dni // posted to wp late 2021 // series masterlist

"Look what the cat dragged in," you smile, all big and bashful as soon as you see him.

It's been a little while; too long, you think. Different schedules and busy personal lives have kept you apart - but none of the distance ever matters. It always melts away with one flash of his pearly smile, which he often tries (and fails) to contain around you.

"I wish," he groans, flopping onto your sofa. You're on the floor, typing away on your laptop, indifferent to the way he just lets himself into your apartment. It's been this way for a while now. "Haven't been near pussy in ages."

You gag, as if he's your brother or something. "Shut the fuck up, Yoongi."

He's dressed down in a pair of jeans and a shirt two sizes too big for him, but you can smell his laundry detergent from where you're sat. He's made an effort.

"You started it," he snorts, eyes not on you, but on your television. It's playing some muted drama that neither of you care for. He knows this, even when he asks you, "Whatcha watching?"

"Dunno," you hum, as predicted. "Just had it on for company."

Yoongi nods, understanding the desire.

He does it too; leaves the television running just so that he doesn't have to be alone with his thoughts.

Things are better these days. He's not as scared as he once was. It's been a couple of weeks, and after all, time heals. Eases. Pacifies.

Yoongi asks what you're doing, and pretends to be shocked when you tell him you're stalking.

"Who is it this time?"

"Just a guy."

"It's never 'just a guy'."

It's morbid, the curiosity that Yoongi forces himself to endure. It's like your nails have a grasp around his heart, and with every beat of it, they sink further into the muscle. The more attached he becomes, the deeper the pain runs.

You don't realise quite how profoundly his blood turns green. He's good at feigning indifference; good at pretending like it is just a crush.

And so he asks questions because he wants to hurt himself a little bit more. Wants his heart to ache. Wants to feel the discomfort he so closely associates with love. It's reached a point where he thinks love has to hurt, otherwise, it's not real.

"Since when has a guy ever been more than just a guy," you toy back. None of your past lovers have ever lasted too long. You doubt Jungkook will, either. Just the way the cookie crumbles.

"Since you fall in love at the drop of a hat," Yoongi smiles. His eyes are slightly clouded, the sombre vapour of burnt-out desire smoking in them.

"I've never been in love," you retort a little too quickly.

It's not a lie, but it makes way for the admittance of something else instead: you just love the attention that comes with men fawning after you.

And so you let Yoongi think that you have the capacity within you to love, because you fear that the love he has for you is conditional; transactional.

You just have to trust that the intentions behind acts of love are pure. You have to trust.

This issue with trust is that it's earned, not owed; and nobody has ever earned your trust. Never. Serpents lie beneath roses, and you'll be damned if you pick one either way, 'cause if it ain't a fang, it's a thorn that'll get you instead.

"Anyways," you hum, not wanting to dwell on the topic. All of your searches of Jungkook's name have garnered minimal results, nothing of which you can be sure relates to him. Now, you need a distraction and Yoongi is as good as any. Your knees click as you stretch out, and Yoongi winces at the sound, before you plonk yourself down on the sofa next to him. "What shall we order for dinner?"

There's a howl of wind sneaking between the cracks in your window panes; a stark reminder that winter is still here, and it's still as bitter as ever. Like the river you walk across on a near-daily basis, your heart will take a while to thaw.

But as with all seasons, winter will mollify; and perhaps so will the ice chains that wrap themselves around your warmest muscle. Maybe. The way Jungkook hugs around your chest when he takes you from behind already has the ice weeping in the dark of night. You think it's just some kind of placebo effect. Best not to get carried away with sensation.

Yoongi says something, but you're not listening. All you can hear is the soft splatter of water dripping from the ice; right down onto the chime that's oscillating in your stomach again. Fuck.

Across the street from your apartment complex sits a black SsangYong. It lurks in the shadows; silent, sinister, stalking.

A curt snap echoes through the car, as Namjoon breaks a Pepero stick in half, much to Jungkook's annoyance.

That's literally not how you eat them, he seethes internally. His nostrils are a little flared, and his eyes are hard as they stare out the window and across to the stairs that lead up to your entryway. It has a plain end for a reason.

Namjoon knows this, obviously. Doesn't care. Can sense the way it's getting under Jungkook's skin, so he does it again.

"No point in us being here," Jungkook eventually huffs, channelling his disdain into something - anything - that isn't how fucking annoying Namjoon is. It's been nearly an hour.

"Whoever owns that heap of shit has to come out, soon," Namjoon says of the Mini parked outside of your apartment block. He mutters under his breath for what must be the millionth time, "Fuckin' Ajumma's car."

"It's a John Cooper Works," Jungkook says a little flippantly. He's not impressed, not by any means, but he knows it isn't something to turn his nose up at. Might look like the kind of thing his mother would have loved, but it packs a punch. Limited edition, factory-grade. One of only two thousand. A mean little beast that'd give his Pony a run for its money, even with the mods.

"Okay? Tell Mr John Cooper that it's still an Ajumma's car," Namjoon shrugs. He doesn't give a shit about imports. They're all weak in comparison to the homegrown beauties he likes to drive. Jungkook could argue for days that he's wrong, but Namjoon simply wouldn't bother to listen - so what was the point? "Anyways," he continues, snapping another chocolate coated stick. It's about now that Jungkook wishes Peperos would have sharp ends so that he could stick them in his ears. "Either the fucker who drives it comes out now, or he says inside and carries on railing the sket until the sun comes up. Doesn't matter which. We've got a car to keep tabs on."

"You don't know he's fucking her-"

"We've both seen her," Namjoon scoffs, mouth half full, a little biscuit dust puffing out from his plump lips. "He's screwing the absolute fuck out of her."

"What does that even mean?" Jungkook's nose really is upturned, now. "You're just being vulgar for the sake-"

"Oh, give over. What was the first thing you said about her?"

"I-"

"Prissy bitch," Namjoon imitates. "Stick up her ass - pretty good ass though."

It almost makes Jungkook laugh, because while his former self isn't wrong (he thinks your ass is a gift from the Gods), he knows that it's your tits he could worship all day long.

If it were him in your apartment, he knows he'd be doing just that. Praising you; Worshipping, devoting, revering. He's never believed in God, not really. Never prays, never looks to the sky and mumbles words of desperation; but when he's beneath you, he finds himself beseeching. Imploring the man in the sky to let him feel the way that he feels when he's inside of you forever. Sometimes he wonders if you must be what heaven feels like. Knows he'd sacrafice himself for it. For you.

In theory, at least. Fears if he tells Namjoon this, he'll have to experience it in practise. He's not ready to, not yet. Just in case he's wrong, and he really does lose the closest thing to heaven that he's ever known.

"I just think we're going to an awful lot of effort for this," he deflects. "The more we know about this girl, the more variables we have to consider, and the less likely it is that we can actually get this shit done."

"We knew less last time," Namjoon says without skipping a beat. He knows this game better than most. Knows that it's imperative that they resolve the mess they made in the gas station as quickly as possible. "And look at where that got us - beating up some fuckin' dude who didn't have a clue what was going on."

"You didn't have to go so hard on him."

"I did. You know I did."

Silence resumes, and remains that way until Namjoon whacks Jungkook on his chest with the back of his hand a few hours later. His attention is diverted from his phone, which drops to his laps as his neck almost snaps to look in the direction of your apartment.

You're laughing as you walk down the stairs from your entryway. Jungkook thinks he can hear you.

He can't. He just remembers. Know the way it almost sounds like you're hiccuping when you start struggling to draw more air into your lungs, too happy to focus on keeping yourself alive.

Your body leans into the guy you're with, and there's an ease to the way you are together, one that has Jungkook feeling all uneasy. He adjusts in his seat - earns himself a hiss from Namjoon for being 'distracting' - and tries to focus on anything but the way you pull the guy in for a hug. It's not necessarily anything more than platonic, but it's not the hug of a stranger, either.

"It's him," Namjoon's voice is low, barely a vibration between his lips. "Guy from the gas station. Sket is shitting where she eats." He laughs. "Un-fucking-believable."

Jungkook says nothing. It's a little hard to speak with the weight of the world crashing down on your lungs, though.

Instead he simply nods, and reaches for his phone.

꾹: i gotta see you.

꾹: think i'm going crazy without you.

You don't reply until you're inside, clearing up the remains of the food you'd shared with Yoongi.

You: i'm not a therapist :/

꾹: please.

You: my place or yours?

꾹: mine.

When Namjoon asks who Jungkook is texting, he lies.

"Just Jin. Says if we have a visual on the driver, we're good to go."

"Good to go?" The question is asked an octave or so higher than Namjoon's usual deep drawl, surprised at such an instruction. "Thought we had to tail?"

Jungkook shrugs. "Change of plan. Says Kang ain't around to report to, so it doesn't matter what we do."

His lies will catch up with him eventually, but not today.

Today, Jungkook gets to pretend like everything is okay for just a little while longer. He's lucky that Jin trusts him enough to get the job done. He won't ask questions, will just know that whatever reason Jungkook had to lie will be worth it in the long run. He's a good worker, part of the team. He'd never intentionally sabotage them.

Or at least, he was a good worker. Was part of the team. Was never one to sabotage. Was one to play by the rules, and always win.

But Jungkook is playing games with trick dice, now. Rolling doubles every single time. He's gonna be the first to reach the exit line, but he's gonna reach it alone.

"Alright," Namjoon sighs, starting the engine up. The lights from his headlamps flare in front of the vehicle, flooding the desolate road. It's always quiet around these parts after it hits midnight.

A little off the beaten track, your place is on the backstreets; somewhere inconspicuous. Somewhere easily hidden. Concealed. The daughter of a politician disguised in breadline poverty.

Jungkook kind of hates that he knows where you live.

Not because he doesn't want to know, but because you haven't shown him. You've always gone back to his. He wouldn't suggest anything else, for fear of being caught without reason down around your side of town. There are only so many times he can lie about late-night boxing sessions without someone catching on.

"What a waste of an evening," Namjoon huffs a little more. He's a smart guy, smarter than Jungkook and probably every other fucker who congregates at Old Kang's place, but he's credulous to an absolute fault when it comes to the fuckers he runs the streets with. Would never betray a single one of them - not even Jungkook.

"It was past your bedtime, like, three hours ago. Consider yourself lucky that you got to stay out and play for this long," Jungkook ribs.

See, Namjoon's partner doesn't like him staying out so late. They worry. Blow up his phone, not to control, but out of concern. They've seen the dark side of the business that the boys are caught up in, and don't want that darkness to stain the colours of the man they love.

It's a mean jibe, and between close friends, it would have been funny -but the pair of them haven't laughed together in weeks.

Not since Jungkook fucked Namjoon's younger sister.

He hadn't meant for it to go as far as it had, but she was keen and he was horny. What's a boy to do?

They'd been in the same year group at school, so it's not like it was the most absurd pairing in the world. Never been friends, not really, but knew each other well enough that they always managed to strike up a conversation after a few drinks.

She was always hanging around the bars the boy went to, and Jungkook had been letting his hair down; one last night of freedom before he had to knuckle down and start the job Kang was assigning them.

He'll never admit it, but your assumptions about him on the first night you met were right. The KNJ on his phone was a FWB turned far too clingy: Kim Naejeon.

Needless to say, Namjoon hasn't exactly been Jungkook's biggest fan since he found out. Such is life.

Jungkook's phone buzzes in his lap, and he's relieved to see two little c's on the screen where the message ID is.

You: time?

꾹: just on my way home.

꾹: lemme send a taxi to yours.

Sat on your floor again, laptop open with your last search - jungkook, daegu, pony - on screen, you find yourself deafened by the chime in your stomach. It rings like the theme to a studio ghibli film, all pompous and ridiculous, and warm and lovely.

You sound like a banshee, squeaking with badly handled excitement. The shrill noise that escapes your lips as you throw your phone onto the sofa is borderline psychotic.

You never get like this over a boy.

You don't actually think you've ever squealed over a boy before, but one small act of chivalry - the bare minimum - has you doing somersaults.

It's funny, because it's not like he's the first guy to ever suggest sending a taxi your way. Unlike all of Yoongi's offers, though, you accept. You play it all cool and coy by simply sending him through your address, not like he needs it.

꾹: on its way.

꾹: i can't wait to see you.

You're not really sure how to deal with such a declaration. It's needy and pathetic and if it were any other boy, it would have you throwing up in your mouth - but it's not just any boy. It's him.

You: someone's a little desperate.

You don't have it in you to play nice, even if your grin is wider than the river behind your apartment block. Jungkook doesn't expect any less. In fact, he smiles when the message comes through - and quickly stiffens his cheeks again, not wanting Namjoon to make a comment.

꾹: desperate?

꾹: i'm not sure this is a game you want to play, CC.

Oh, how wrong he is.

You: i love games.

The double-entendre isn't lost on him, but any ability to not let you affect him is. Blood pumps around his body faster. Harder. It rushes, almost, with a single destination in mind. Makes him adjust ever so slightly in his seat, his spare hand coming to rest between his legs. He used to think he had self-control, but you're constantly surprising him.

He's learnt more about himself since he met you than he has in years. Realised that he isn't maybe who he thinks he is. Doesn't dwell on it, though, 'cause he enjoys the way it feels when the crotch of his trousers gets tighter.

꾹: i only like them when i win.

You: i only ever win.

꾹:we'll see about that tonight.

You: oh?

꾹: see who really is the desperate one.

You: its you :) x

The taxi arrives far faster than you expect, but Jungkook is pleased when he checks the app and sees the car en-route to his. He takes a note of the number plate and the registered driver. Doesn't trust the drivers around here. They're too fast without enough skill, he always thinks. Has lost count of the number of busses he's seen rear-end asshole taxi drivers. Luckily the roads are dead at this time of night, but he'll be damned if anything happens to you.

꾹: sure about that?

꾹: i know a few ways to get you a little desperate.

You: you don't know shit.

꾹: i know you get a little desperate when my hand is round your throat.

You: bullshit.

꾹: i know you get incredibly desperate when my fingers are in your mouth.

You: your fingers have never been in my mouth.

It's a lie. Of course it is. It's kinda become rare for the two of you to fuck without them being in your mouth at some point or another, whether it's to clean them off or just to give him a visual of just how devoted you look when he does it. He loves it and so do you.

꾹: no?

Jungkook almost ignores Namjoon as he asks, "what are you smiling at?", only to tell him that it's none of his business, lowering the brightness of his screen and clicking through into his camera roll.

He's a visual guy. Likes the things he can see. Tangible stuff. The photo that comes through to your phone has you flustered.

It's just the lower half of your face, and Jungkook's distinctive, tattooed hands in your mouth. There's a sheen to your lips. His fingers, too.

It's alarming how quickly you've become so comfortable with him. You barely know the guy. Shame that the alarm bells are always muted by the chime in your stomach.

You: must be some other girl ;)

꾹: told you already, CC.

꾹: i'm not interested in any other girls.

꾹: i only wanna see you.

When a picture of your legs, crossed and poised prettily in the back of the taxi, comes through to his phone, he's pleased. You're wearing tights. It's one of his favourite things a girl can wear - though he's not really sure why. He just loves how soft they are, how smooth they feel against his skin. Has him thinking about running his hands up and down them, and the way he knows you'll be looking all smug when he does so.

You: i'll see u soon x

You: desperate ;)

Jungkook thinks about locking his phone. Thinks about leaving you hanging. Thinks about the fact it will probably put you on edge a little if he doesn't reply - but he's weak. Knows that not replying will just put him on edge instead.

꾹: will it make you feel better if i admit it?

You: yes.

꾹: fine.

꾹: been thinking about you since the moment you left my apartment last.

꾹: impossible not to when my fucking pillows smell like you.

꾹: think about you when i smell gasoline at kangs.

꾹: think about you when i stop at red lights.

꾹: also think about how fucking wet you were the last time we stopped at one.

꾹: i'm at a red light right now.

꾹: god, i gotta fuck you.

You: told you you were desperate :)

꾹: i am.

You: how do you want me tonight?

꾹: naked.

You: that goes without saying, no?

꾹: naked and begging.

You: i don't beg.

You: not for any man.

꾹: c'mon, CC. a little reciprocation goes a long way.

꾹: you got me on my metaphorical knees.

꾹: be nice of you to get on yours.

You roll your eyes as the taxi rolls to a stop downtown, just by Jungkooks place. It parks on the wrong side of the street, but you pay it no notice. Chalk it up to a GPS error on the app.

You: i'm pulling up to yours now. you home yet?

꾹: not yet. be about 5. let yourself in. code is 0901.

There's a casual intimacy to the way in which Jungkook trusts you with his door code. It's an act of convenience, not anything to read too much into, but you're a creature of habit. Assumptions are your bread and butter. If there are conclusions to be jumped to, you're getting your pole vault out. Setting a new PB. Going for the world record.

So no, it doesn't have to mean anything. You know it probably doesn't - but you indulge in the 'what if' just for the hell of it.

His apartment is cold, the ondol off, one of the windows cracked open ever so slightly to let the air out. Winters are dry round these parts, and Jungkook has an odd paranoia around developing black mould in his apartment. It's not unwarranted - he's pretty sure his last place made him sick because of it. Knows for certain that it made his mother weaker before she passed. Refuses to let history ever repeat itself.

You're unaware of this, though, and slide the window shut. It's the height of winter, and he knows damn well if he's gonna get lucky tonight that it's gotta be a little bit warmer in his apartment.

You take a moment to refamiliarise yourself with his place. There's not much. A little furniture, some prints you recognise from the market downtown up on his wall. There are no personal artifacts, though. No more clues as to who Jungkook really is. You'll have him naked tonight, granted, but you won't have him naked. He won't be vulnerable; laid bare.

But you're not exactly gonna complain when you have him bare in the other sense.

In fact, you think you much prefer it this way. It'll be easier to let him go when the time inevitably comes.

You toss your coat on his desk chair and your shoes are kicked beneath it, not caring much for neatness. The rest of your clothes follow suit, and then you're waiting, all desperate and pliant, just like he asked for.

Though you're not one to beg, you're aware of how nicely he had requested - and how hot and bothered he had gotten you en-route to his place.

There's a thrum in your chest, and it beats to the same harmonious melody that the chime in your stomach produces.

Back straight, feathers smoothed, you're a songbird waiting for someone to hear your call. It only takes a few moments, the beep of Jungkook's keypad echoing through the door as he punches in the code adding a new layer to your song.

"Hey," he calls through, his voice muffled slightly through the sliding partition doors. The glass is frosted, but you can make out his silhouette as he kicks his shoes off by the door. "Just been on a job. Emergency at an office building downtown. Some bad wires. Tripped."

The lies roll off his tongue like butter in a hot pan. They sizzle. Spit. Burn you and scar you with the portrayal of a man who isn't who he pretends to be.

Thing is, Jungkook is exactly who he pretends to be.

He really does get too hot in the night, and genuinely does find videos of kids falling over far funnier than he knows he should. His hair sticks up on end when he wakes up, and he loves his car more than life itself. The way he winces after taking shots, and his dimples, which form in moments of contemplation beneath his cheeks, are entirely natural to him.

None of it - none of him - is a lie. At his core, Jungkook is the idea in your head; the yellow of midafternoon sun before it sets.

He's the amber light that flashes before fading into red.

That's his issue, though. Inevitably, he will always, unavoidably, turn red.

Jungkook likes to tell himself he's not a bad person. He just does bad things, occasionally. But don't we all?

Yeah, the voice in his head would rationalise. But bad things are sneakily not paying for plastic carrier bags at supermarket self-checkouts, or failing to tell a friend they have food stuck in their teeth. Not petty violent crimes and conspiracy to-

"Took your time," you flirt.

It takes him longer than he'd like to get from his kitchen and to where you are, his laces proving to be a bit of a bitch when he's in a hurry. He's dressed down, a pair of light wash jeans clinging to his thighs for dear life, a baggy grey sweater hiding that itty bitty waist of his.

You find yourself smiling, his presence bringing more than just the promise of satisfied desire.

It's dangerous how you can't hear anything other than the chime in your stomach whenever you see him. Might deafen you one day. Or maybe you'll hear it so often that it will just fade into white noise. Not a favourable outcome, not by any stretch of the imagination.

"Holy fuckin' shit."

You tilt your head and feign confusion, as if you don't know why he's salivating like a dog being offered a bone. You're on your knees, as requested, palms flat on the tops of your thighs; not naked, but you may as well be. A lace red set leaves little to the imagination, one of his flannel shirts draped over your shoulders to keep you warm - but also 'cause he seems like the kind of guy to eat that shit up.

So while you're right where he wanted you, as he struggles to form a coherent sentence, he's exactly where you wanted him.

Finally, he finds a few words.

"Desperation looks good on you, CC."

Arrogant son of a bitch, you think, but there's a grin on your lips that you just can't hide.

"Mmm," you flirt, not caring to drag things out. You want him so badly that hard to get seems like a dumb idea. "Maybe - but I think you'll find I look better on your dick."

His shoulders pull up towards his ears, head dropping as a small laugh vibrates in his throat at the boldness of such a statement.

"You're not wrong - but I like this," he says, closing the space between you. His voice is soft, as one of his hands cups your cheek and angles your jaw upwards so that you're looking directly at him. His thumb traces your bottom lip, and - almost like you've been conditioned - your lips part for it to rest on your tongue. "I like this a lot."

Your lips close around it, tongue massaging his thumb as you slowly suck on it.

It's gentle, and warm, and - fuck - he's spent so long thinking about the way your mouth feels but it never compares to actually experiencing it. Your lips vibrate as you hum, satisfied with the effect you seem to be having on him.

His lips are parted, eyes void of all thoughts, as if you've bewitched him. Maybe you have. He wouldn't put it past you. There's something dark behind your eyes, something he doesn't quite understand. Something he knows better than to let himself study for too long.

Jungkook's room is dark, the glow of his fairy lights dousing him in soft reservoirs of gold. The light from his kitchen pours in behind him, his back to the clouded screen door, a halo circling around his darling blonde waves. Your eyes must be betraying you, you think, 'cause there's no way a man this heavenly exists. It's impossible.

"Bet you're wet, aren't you?" he toys, voice low, a teasing grin on those pretty pink lips of his. He may look like an angel, but there's a pair of horns hidden beneath his curls.

There's no hesitation as you nod, vocalisations cut short thanks to his thumb remaining snug between your lips. Why lie? He wants you desperate, so he's getting exactly that. You think he deserves it. Think he always makes you feel good, so why not indulge him in this little fantasy? You can play desperate, if he really wants.

"Show me," he says so quietly it's almost a whisper; almost as if he doesn't believe he's asking you to do such a thing for him. It's not like it would be the most outlandish exchange the pair of you have had together, but the vulnerability is never easy.

Never easy to ask for, never easy to give. Especially not when Jungkook is harbouring secrets that he knows would shatter the fortress walls he's built up around the pair of you.

You're unaware of this as your hand creeps between your thighs, to where a mess is pooling in your panties.

It annoys you just how eager you are for him. You wish you weren't; wish he had to work for it. The tips of your fingers push against your entrance, but it's all just for show - you've been wet since the moment he first messaged you that evening.

You let your eyes fall to his crotch. It's strained, the pale denim doing an awful job at hiding how hard he is. He's been plump the entire journey home, but now that he's here - now that you're looking like that - he's solid.

He watches you, the way you move, the slight heave of your chest, and knows that you're down just as bad as he is. You wouldn't be on your knees if you weren't. In fact, you wouldn't be here, full stop.

You reach for his belt and set about getting to work immediately. His jeans are pushed to midway down his thighs, boxers following suit. The way his cock springs out of them, all fat and proud, has you salivating.

And so it's only fair that you take it in your mouth as soon as you can.

He reaches behind you and tweaks at the clasp of your bra. It loosens almost instantly, and you hum in approval of how easily he managed to do that. You let the straps slide down your arms, his cock still in your mouth as you toss it to the side.

"Between them," he instructs.

It's tempting to just do as he says. Irresistible, almost. You want him between your tits just as much as he wants to be there, but you want him more vocal. Want him begging. It's his own fault for getting you into such a submissive position. It's a flaw, the way you need to level the playing field, but one that he never fails to deliver on.

"C'mon, CC," he whispers, voice dulcet, trapped in his throat as he suppresses a moan. "Put my cock between your tits."

Your hands fall from the backs of his thighs to play with your breasts, your nipples hard and eager for him. Vibrating around his mouth as you moan, you're pleased with the grip he has on your hair. It tightens, and when he speaks, you're convinced his voice could make you cum alone, "I'm not gonna ask you again."

His cock takes a few more strokes of your hot mouth before you withdraw, stiff and flushed in front of you. He encourages you up so that you're sat on your knees, ass up instead of resting on your ankles as it had been. There's a string of your slick running from your heels to your pussy, the mess desperately seeping from you. Jungkook can't see it, isn't aware of it, so before you do anything, you dip two of your fingers between your folds to gather it up. He watches with laboured breaths.

You don't drop contact with his eyes, not even when they're trained on your fingers. He watches as you hold them up, glittering from the reflection of his fairy lights, before your tongue licks them clean. His cock jerks, the visual stimulation building his need to come undone by tenfold.

There's a little bit of your slickness still on your fingers when you pump his cock, once, twice, three times.

"Sorry, baby," you toy with the term of endearment, the groan he exhales when you say it confirming that you need to call him sweet nothings more often. "Where did you want your cock, again?"

He's been avoiding touching your chest, not wanting to take control of the situation, but your shoulders roll back just a little, your soft mounds his for the taking. His grip drops from your hair, the tips of his fingers ghosting your chest. He runs them delicately across your stiff nipples, his touch so minimal that you feel yourself leak, pussy throbbing, desperate for more.

Resting perfectly between his index finger and thumb, your nipples are pulled ever so slightly, before he finally indulges himself and cups your tits like he so desperately wants to. He holds them together and wobbles them, obsessed with how soft they are. He edges closer, the tip of his cock nudging against your cleavage. There's a small trail of precum leaking from his tip, the sheen now coating your skin. "Right there."

Spit gathers and pools in your mouth, lips pouting as you let it drip onto your tits. Jungkook groans, his hips pushing his cock further onto your chest. You hold your tits apart, his leaking crown kissing your sternum before you angle him upwards. The soft, pillowy cushions press around his thick shaft, keeping him firmly in place.

"That's it, baby," he mewls as you spit again, this time onto the head of his cock. You drop your gaze and lower your head, tongue flat as it licks the tip, spreading your spit. His hips are jerking against you, his foreskin nestled in place, cock tugging against itself.

"Look at me," he says quietly, as dulcet as the atmosphere in his room. Your eyes meet his, as your hands firmly jiggle your cleavage. His mouth hangs ajar, brows knotted in such a way you think he looks like his mind is all tangled up. You're not wrong - he can't think straight like this. All he can think about is how much he wants to fuck you in every single capacity he can. "That's it."

You grin, but try to hide it. "You like my tits, huh?"

Jungkook wants to roll his eyes, and almost does - but then you spit again, the pace of your jiggling hands quickening, and he finds himself doubling over.

"Fuck," he whines, completely undignified. Any strong, stable demeanour he has feigned is lost as his cock gets slippery, covered in your spit, being massaged by your tits. "Spit."

The momentum is retained, but it's getting sloppier. There's limited friction, your spit acting as the perfect lube for him to fuck your tits. He doesn't really know what to do with himself, how to withhold himself from spilling onto your chest, but he's all hot and bothered. He isn't gonna last long.

"Bed," he husks, pulling away from you, not even registering the fact he's helping you up. He just kind of does it, his mind entirely on where he wants to be. "On your back."

You do as you're told, your bare back hitting his freshly laundered duvet as your head nestles into his mountain of pillows. His legs straddle either side of your chest, movements frantic as he traps his cock between your tits once more. He's in control, the pace entirely set by him, his large hands gripping the flesh of your chest like he normally does your waist.

"Shit," he hisses. "Fuckin' love your tits."

Your hands grip his ass, encouraging his movements, before one of them roams to toy with your clit. The change in your moans is noticed by Jungkook, who glances back to check you're doing what he thinks you are. Suspicions confirmed, he laughs. "Dirty bitch," he keens. "Love being owned by my cock, don't you?"

You pause, and Jungkook notices a look in your eyes. It's one he knows well; one he enjoys. Nonetheless, one that panics him when he's in such a compromising position, because it looks like you've just been challenged.

With a pathetic, pouty mewl, you push your fingers into yourself. It's quick, your fingers pumping frantically to build enough slickness on them to wipe the smirk off Jungkooks face.

The hand that's still on his ass squeezes, your nails indenting him ever so slightly. He hisses, a lopsided grin on his lips as he continues to fuck your chest - until the feeling of your soaked fingers stroking his taint has him stuttering.

You apply a little pressure, the pump of his cock slow between your tits. His breaths are laboured. It almost sounds like he gasping for air, unable to concentrate on anything but the sensation of you.

Brows furrowed, eyes wide, you pout. "Thought I was being owned by your cock, baby?" You tease him, and are met with him cursing you out, a saccharine smile on his lips.

"Fucking hate you," he laughs, abs shuddering as your fingers trails further up. They're stroking, caressing, toying - and they don't stop. Not until they reach the tight muscle of his that you're just dying to penetrate. He's silent now. Doesn't want to tell you that he wants it, but fuck it, he does. He pulls back, eyes on yours. There's a hint of a nod, but you're not gonna do anything too daring unless he explicitly asks for it.

Your soaked finger presses against him, cautious not to take it too far. You're still learning each other; what you both like, and you aren't sure where his limits lie.

"Yes? No?" you question, eyes earnest. His ass has never been explicitly discussed between the pair of you, but he also never ruled it out, either.

He's quiet, but smiles when he shakes his head. "Not yet, C. Another time, though."

"I'll hold you to that," you tease, curious about his desires. You wanna know all the ways you can get him off, and you think you'll be willing to do almost anything. In fact, you know you will. All he has to do is say the word, and your tongue will be wherever he wants it.

His eyes roll back, and so do his hips. "And I'll hold you to the offer."

It's a rarity, he's found, for girls to be so bold. He's always had to be the one to initiate his own pleasure, or to just finish quicker than he'd like because his partner was already done. He likes this about you. Likes that you like to fuck. Likes that you apparently, for whatever reason, seem to especially like fucking him.

It's thoughts like these - something about luck, fate - that plague his mind as he pushes his cock between your tits again. It's fast, and it's sloppy, and it's wet, and soon enough, he isn't thinking at all. All he can do is feel - your warmth, your softness - and then all he can feel is how fucking good it is to be with you.

When he comes, he comes hard. It hits your throat, coating you in everything he is. A moan catches in his throat, eyes closed, hands pushing your tits so tight together that it fucking hurts - but he's shaking, and you know that his orgasm has him unable to realise just how strong his grip is.

It's not till he looks down at you, all breathless and blushed that he realises. There's a sheen on your chest, and he knows better than to dirty you all over again - but he's a creature of habit. His grip loosens, chest heaving as his hands begin to stroke at your tits. They fill his palms, overspill blooming between his spread fingers as he gently remedies them of his strength. It's unintentional, though not minded, how he spreads his cum as he does so.

You try and keep a straight face, but it's impossible, and then you're both laughing. It echoes around his room like the missing instrument to the song in your stomach. You aren't really sure why you're laughing. Nor is he. You're just happy. The pair of you remain this way for a moment or so, casually enamoured with how easy things are; how easy they could be.

"C'mon, CC," he speaks fondly, but spanks your titty for the fun of it regardless. "Let's get you cleaned up."

There's a tender nature to the way Jungkook moves your body. So docile, he's a world away from the version of himself that you'd just had in his bed.

This Jungkook - the one gently pulling your hair back so it doesn't get too wet while you wait for the shower to fully heat up - is so well mannered that you couldn't imagine him cursing, let alone calling you a bitch during sex.

Something about it, about him, has you feeling far more infatuated than you should be at this stage.

You're not ready for all this. Not prepared for the way you're feeling. It scares you. Gets you wanting to grab the towel and make a swift exit - but then he kisses your neck, hands on your hips, chest pressed into your back, and you realise that there's no place you'd rather be.

He reaches out to check the temperature of the water that's steaming into his bathroom, and decides it's just right. It's not that the water is particularly hot, just that his bathroom is bloody freezing.

Your reflection in his mirror is a vision of beauty; eyes trained on him, skin tainted by what would have been his legacy. Part of him doesn't want to wash it away. Just wants to marvel at you. Study the way your skin dimples and bumps when you're cold; then remembers that you can't cum when you're cold, so you probably aren't enjoying this as much as he is. He lifts the showerhead from its holder, and lets the water pour over you, and you alone.

The warmth has your shoulders easing almost instantly, and Jungkook feels a little guilty for having kept you cold so selfishly.

He's quiet as he rinses himself from you, contemplative dimples perching themselves beneath his cheeks. He barely utters a word for the entire shower; just peppers your shoulders in kisses.

It's not till you turn to face him, taking the showerhead from his hand and begin rinsing his body that he finally speaks up.

He takes a moment to study you first; watch the way your eyes glaze over his body, following the trajectory of the water, making sure you don't miss a single inch of his skin. Your lashes are dark, hiding your eyes from him, and he doesn't like it. Instinctively, his hands cup your jaw, bringing your eyes to his.

"Thank you."

His lips are on yours, soft, no pressure - and then they're not. They're trailing down your neck instead, as if he can't decide which part of you he wants to devour.

'All of you' is the correct answer, but he eats for pleasure, not for sustenance.

Easily, he could have you for everything that you are within a few seconds - but he wants to savour you. Wants to hear the way your breath hitches as his tongue flicks against your earlobe; feel your fingers dig into his scalp as he paws at your round ass. He wants the memory of your body in his hands, 'cause he fears you're like sand, and that his grasp won't be able to keep hold of you forever.

His bathroom is cramped, more like a wetroom, and the same grey tiles are on the walls that are on the floor. Shower attached to the sink, it's the standard for one-room apartments around these parts.

Yours is the same - but you do have the added luxury of boujie conditioners and loofas to soften the blow.

Jungkook has a 2-in-1 body wash and shampoo combo, and doesn't see the point in fancy scrubs when the labour of his job leaves his hands all rough anyway.

In your right mind, you'd moan about it. Tell him that he's such a boy, or that next time, he's coming to yours for a shower - but you're distracted by the hardness of his cock against your stomach and his hands cupping at your chest while he kisses you. The stream of water makes it borderline impossible to open your eyes, so you revel in the way it feels to be overwhelmed by everything he is.

"Again?" You mumble into his lips, to which you're met with a nod.

You slip your rings off and hear them clink against the porcelain of his sink, praying that your aim is correct and they won't end up down the drain. He hums a small purr of confusion, questioning your actions, and then groans an 'oh' into your mouth when your hand clasps around the base of his cock.

"Gentle," he reminds you, still sensitive but desperate for you once more.

His lips leave yours, head tilting back as he revels in your touch. Neither of you speak, but there's really not much to say. You'd just be making noise for the sake of it.

Regardless, there's a weight in your chest, clamping down on your lungs, that makes talking seem impossible. Might be trepidation. Might be nothing at all - but it sure does feel like something.

You marvel at the column of his thick neck as it stretches back, and think how pretty it would look covered in purple and pink, the bruise of your intimacy staining his skin just like it has done your heart.

Your movements pause when you realise you're thinking about your fucking heart. You're not sappy. You don't attribute sex to love, and the idea of even falling in love has you wanting to run for the hills.

It's been said before that the heart is just a muscle. It has no real bearing on your emotions, nor your amatory exploits.

But when the thoughts of your feelings cloud your mind with dainty pink vapours, all sparkly and strawberry scented, you can't help but feel like you're in danger.

In your chest, you can feel your heart ache.

So yeah, it is just a muscle, but muscles get worn out.

Jungkook notices your hesitation. He casts his eyes down to check you're okay. His crown rests against the wet tiles, water-saturated hair stuck to his face, lashes damp and lips all pouty. The man is a vision. Naked, bare, vulnerable. Yours for the taking, or so it seems. His eyes are heavy-lidded, deep brown; sweet as chocolate, sinful as straight whisky.

"You good?" He asks quietly, only for you to nod and pick the pace up again. His eyes stay on yours as a laboured grunt escapes his lips, brows pinching together. The way you feel around him is so good. Not too tight, just the way he likes it. Fingers all dainty, nails painted red, it's a sight he thinks about when he's alone more than he cares to admit. He's thick and hot in your grasp, working his foreskin up and down his shaft.

There are goosebumps on your skin, body positioned just out of the shower stream because you wanted to look at him; watch as you wound him up, just to make him unravel again. He pulls you closer, hands cupping your jaw as he kisses you, until you're beneath the water again.

His tongue is in your mouth as his hand drops to meet yours. So much larger than your own, his fingers clasp around yours and joins the effort, speeding up. He doesn't say anything else, but he's struggling to kiss you, now. His lips are ajar, resting against yours, little purrs of satisfaction finding a home on your tongue.

"Yeah?" You encourage a little breathlessly, as if you're the one moments away from ruin. "That's it, Kook."

He nods, as the hand that isn't on yours tangles in the back of your hair to keep you close. His hand works to increase the pace, making it a little rougher. There's a wetness between your legs that isn't from the shower, but you're too focused on him - on making him feel good, on being what he needs - to bother doing anything about it. He'll return the favour later, you're sure. He always does.

His grip on your hand loosens, leaving it up to you to finish the job. It only takes a second or two, and then you're milking him, thick white cum desecrating your hand and spurting into your stomach. There's not much, most of it spent on your chest earlier. He shudders, one of his legs a little more so than the other, his moans lost in the pitter-patter of the shower until they become nothing more than hot, heavy breaths.

And then, because quite frankly he doesn't know how to articulate how good, how fucking precious, how god damn infuriatingly beautiful you are, he kisses you again. Though his tongue is soft as it strokes against yours, his piercing is hard - much like his cock which is still firm against your stomach. He encourages your arms up and around his neck, hugging tightly. Your chest presses to his, nipples hard, tits pillowy and soft, and Jungkook swears he'll risk it all for you.

Thinks it would be worth it.

He'd do this wherever with you; in his crappy apartment, in a hotel he'll pay far too much for, in a derelict motel that hides you both when it inevitably becomes time to run.

Thing is, he knows you now. Knows you'll never run with him. Knows that when you find out, he'll never get to do this ever again. It makes him want to cry. Makes him wanna get on his knees and beg for forgiveness before you even know you're mad at him.

You don't forgive. You don't forget, either. You wouldn't be working in a shitty GS25 if you did. He knows this. Knows that as soon as the truth is out, so is he.

And so Jungkook lies. "Come to Busan with me."

Your noses are nestled together, and you can feel his words against your lips. The shower keeps on pouring, but it won't cleanse him of his sins. The water still runs red, even if you can't see it.

"Busan?"

He nods, steals a kiss, and begins to build upon the weak foundations he's formed. "I gotta go visit home. Been putting it off. Think it'll be more bearable with you there."

You kiss him back. Partially because you want to, but mainly because you don't know what the fuck to say. Your heart rate has doubled. Trebled. In fact, you're not sure it's beating anymore.

Family isn't a subject either of you has divulged in, not really. You fear that him opening up requires reciprocation, and that's just not something you're willing to give. Not to him, nor anyone else for that matter.

"When?" You finally murmur, pressing a kiss to his cheek before pulling away to slip your rings back onto your fingers.

He doesn't want you to meet his family. Doesn't want you anywhere near them - but when the time comes, he needs you to know why he ended up here. Needs you to know that everything he's done, rightfully or wrongfully, has been for them.

Doing right by them means doing wrong by you, but he didn't know you when all this started.

Didn't know that you're the type to point out every trash cat you see, or that you make up little songs to soundtrack almost everything you do (regardless of the fact you're tone-deaf). He didn't know that you drank peach tea like it's water, or that you'd somehow taste a little bit like it too. He didn't know that you'd become his favourite flavour, or that the scent of your perfume would have him hugging his fucking pillows for days after you slept over.

He didn't know.

Didn't fuckin' know.

And now he does. And it's tearing him apart.

He's a good liar, though, so you don't notice just how cut up he is when he shrugs and twists the shower tap off. He reaches around for the towel and begins to wrap you up when he says, "Next weekend?"

When he's like this - voice soft, skin bare, tucking the top of the towel over against your chest - it's like you've got the upper hand. There's no battle being fought between the pair of you, and yet you don't feel like equals. Feels like the balls in your court. You just don't realise you're playing different games.

There's pitter-patter beneath your feet and a chime in your stomach. You shuffle between his feet, his arms wrapped around you, lips pressing a kiss against your hair.

"I'll have to check the rota," you say, but you know you'll just ask Yoongi to swap shifts if you are scheduled on. "But I haven't been to Busan in a while. I'd like to come."

His eyes are hot as he presses them shut, chin resting on your head. You think the stutter in his chest is just a hiccup, so you smile. Without the sound of the shower, he can hear his phone buzzing, vibrating on his desk in the next room over.

"Gotta get that," he says, squeezing you before loosening his grip and reaching for a small towel that barely covers his ass. The air is cold against his skin as he opens the bathroom door. Steam gushes out of the room, and so does the hazy, cum-drunk atmosphere the pair of you had created. You miss it the second your skin begins to pebble, goosebumps chilling you, the hair on your arms stood up on end. Almost like someone's walking over your grave.

Maybe just leading you to an early one. Either, or.

You hear him as he mumbles on the phone - "Jin. Yeah? What's up? Cool, can do." - but ignore it. Steam has fogged up the mirror, creating a cloudy canvas for you to do your worst upon. It's childish, yes, but nothing stops you from drawing a little something on there to remind him of you next time he showers.

An uneasy weight sits on your chest when you look at what you've done. It's nothing bad, but part of you thinks you'll regret it - but that part of you is silent when he calls through for you.

When you emerge a few moments later, you're casual as you ask him who was on the other end of the line. He says 'a friend,' and then clarifies that it's 'one of the boys' because he doesn't want you to think the worst. It's an answer you accept.

Dropping the towel, you're unbothered by his eyes as you spend a few moments naked. You're just reaching for his shirt, but the way you move, how your muscles flex above your bones, but the soft flesh of your curves moves without your control has him feeling all kinds of fucked up. He's never wanted anyone more; never known that it was possible to feel such a way.

He tells himself it's just hormones. He's fucking empty, entirely spent on you. That's gotta be the reason. Some kind of primal desire type thing.

Even he's shocked when he begins to talk.

"You can't ever leave."

It's barely a whisper, his voice small, though the weight of his words is so incredibly large.

"Need you here forever."

It's the way that Jungkook talks in such certain terms that has the chime in your stomach ringing again.

You're sure he must have broken a thousand hearts with words like that. You wonder if there are still girls across the city pining after him, thinking about the way his breath feels on their skin as he fucks himself into them. Wonder if the fondness in his eyes is because of you, or because he's just riding a post-climax endorphin high.

"You don't mean that," you tell him, because you don't believe he does.

He shakes his head. Senses the challenge in your voice, and smiles. "You think I'm lying?"

"Think you haven't reached post-nut clarity, yet."

"You'll have to fuck me again, then. Third time lucky."

The third time comes in the morning.

It's still dark outside, Jungkook waking you with dainty kisses along your shoulders, his hands pawing at your tits.

"Morning," he husks into your neck when your hand goes to join his on your chest. "Dreamt about you."

"You are so full of shit," you laugh.

Truth be told, he didn't really sleep. Looked at you for far too long. It's borderline creepy, he thinks, how utterly obsessed he is. Part of him doesn't understand it, but the rest of him does.

You're forbidden.

He can't help but want you.

Jungkook may be Adam, but you're no Eve. You're that damn snake. Or maybe you're the fruit. He doesn't know at this point; just knows that he's eaten it, and he's pretty sure it's poisonous.

"Am not," he grins, riding that poison high. "What did you dream about?"

He's repulsed he's even asking such a thing.

"Can't remember," you pout, turning to face him. Dreams always elude you. It's frustrating, but at least you're not having nightmares. "What about you? What were we doing? Where did we go?"

Just like him, the fact you're asking him questions like that has you wanting to die.

"Busan."

It's not a lie this time. He isn't looking at you, though, so you half think it is.

He's just focused on the hand of his that's toying with your hair, pushing strands away from your face. The only reason he isn't looking at you is because he's embarrassed.

"Busan?" You ask, reminded of his proposition from the night before.

"Mhmm," he nods, his hair no doubt tangling against the pillow. "You 'n' me."

Again, you don't know if it's a lie, but oh what a beautiful one it would be.

"We were on the beach," he continues. "Not really doing much. Just sort of existing."

You laugh, eyes fond but away from his. You're looking at his hair now, too, playing with it. Mirroring his actions. Reciprocating. "Existing?"

"Existing," he says, refusing to clarify. You're distracted when you notice the way his smile brightens. No longer contemplative, he's got a dimple that only comes out when he's beaming all big and bashfully. "I like existing with you."

And so exist you do, in his bed for the next hour and a half. There's no talk of any substance and yet you're chattering for the entire time. He barely even kisses you. Just wants to hear you talk. Wants to hear your perspective on the world, and all the assumptions you make about it.

Jungkook's duvet is shitty quality. The heat it traps is minimal, but you'd take a morning beneath his sheets in the height of winter over being back at your place any day.

It's thoughts like these that make your feet itchy. Makes you wanna run. Bolt. Head for the hills and never look back - but you're locked in place by his arm over your torso. Faint light pours in through the clouded glass of his window panes, curtains apparently too much of a luxury despite the holes in the wall where a rail once sat, and you study the dark ink marking his skin.

There's a story to be told from reading his arms, but you haven't figured that out yet. No google search of his name could ever match the lore embedded in his skin. The tips of your glossy red nails trace the lines in awe, wondering how many people have had this luxury before you.

You wonder who sat by his side during the tattoo appointments, and who laughed with fondness as he winced in pain. Whose hand did he hold? Whose suggestions did he listen to for placements? It plagues your mind like a disease, turning the rubies in your veins to emeralds.

Who are you, you think to yourself. And why am I feeling like this?

It's only a matter of a time - a few languid movements and a couple affirmations later - until he's fucking himself into you again. Predictable, really. Money would be wasted on a fortune teller, and yet you want to go and see one anyway just to confirm whether or not you get to keep him forever.

Lazy and slow, the sex is just an accompaniment to the way he's kissing you. His cock is thick and deep as it fills you, but his hips are sluggish and tepid.

It's almost laughable that the sex is an afterthought.

By its basic definition Jungkook is fucking you - but he's fucked you enough times for you to know how likes to conduct his lays. Quick, fast, to the point. Finish line in his sights.

This doesn't feel like that.

It doesn't feel like that at all.

Even the way his kisses you as his cock stiffens and pulses, unloading itself into you isn't familiar. It's short, his stamina not back up to his usual performance, but it's so deep you think it might be fatal. Any chance you had of getting your heart out of this alive? Yeah. Good luck.

He groans into your mouth, tells you how good you feel, and presses his lips so tightly shut that it's almost as if he's scared he'll never kiss you again.

It's interesting, the way that Jungkook doesn't make you cum. Sure, the sex is good. You've enjoyed it all - but you're currently on 3-0. You chalk it up to a lack of realisation. Innocent inconsideration.

See, his words may betray him, but he's trying to be better. Trying not to drag you further into the web of lies he's woven around the pair of you. Issue is, you've mistaken it for silk. You're comfortable. Enjoy where you are.

He thinks it doesn't count; thinks that if he's the only one who finishes, then you won't be falling for him in the way that he hears girls do. Jimin had ribbed him for it after he'd fucked Naejeon; told him that the reason she was so into him was to do with the oxytocin cocktail that had flooded her bloodstream. It's not like it was news to Jungkook. He'd always known it was a thing, he'd just never really seen the impact of it quite so severely.

The way he see's it, the less you cum, the less you care. It's flawed logic, and it leaves him feeling guilty, which is why he blurts out dumb shit about wanting you around forever. Might be true, might not be. Maybe he's the one confusing hormones for heartfelt honesty.

But as you watch him tear himself away from the bed and head towards the shower, you realise that none of it matters.

You've been hearing bells since the moment you met him.

They're so loud they drown out the bullshit.

"You coming, C?" He calls through, as the shower begins to splutter into action in the next room over. He appears in the doorway, a tattooed hand cupping his balls and covering his modesty. His eyes are soft, grin lopsided as the sun rises.

It's beyond your choice as you move towards the sound of his voice, like he's some kind of pied piper.

You know he's taken over you.

Yet still, you follow the sound of the pipe.

And whether you like it or not, you know you'll let him drag you to the river, just for him to watch you drown.

────────────

minors dni // posted to wp late 2021 // series masterlist

272 notes · View notes

fluentmoviequoter · 8 months

Note

I love your writing it's great could you write a Dalton Lambert x reader where the readers a single mom to a one year old chris introduced them and they hit it off so they've been together for 6 months and then before that friends for 6 months so the baby was 6 months old when they got together and is now a year old so Dalton became readers baby's step dad a little and reader and her child go with Dalton to his home for Thanksgiving break and meet his family obviously Cali doesn't really care and is happy to have a sister and niece now and Renia is happy to know Dalton is happy and absolutely loves the reader and her kid and then foster being the teenage boy he is doesn't really care that much but obviously Josh doesn't really like reader cause she's a young mom and is skeptical of her considering the problems he and Dalton have

So sorry for the long wait! I hope this is along the lines of what you wanted. I think this is my longest fic and it covers over a year; I tried to follow your timeline. Thank you so much for the request and the kind words!! Enjoy and let me know what you think! :)

Warnings: fem!reader is pregnant and gives birth (no detail), unnamed child (nickname: Bump), marriage, lots of fluff, some angst towards the end. 3.8k+ words

A/N: The title is from "Come Together" by Aerosmith, which has absolutely nothing to do with the fic, I didn't explain why the reader is a single mom, that's up for interpretation/reader's choice. I also made a very obvious reference to another Ty Simpkins movie.

One and One and One is Three

✵Last October✵

“Dolphin, please!” Chris begs, extending a store-bought Halloween costume.

“I’m not going to another party with you, I’ve learned my lesson,” Dalton responds, crossing his arms.

“Fine.” Chris sighs. “I guess I’ll go by myself, just a poor, defenseless girl, and hope for the best. I thought we were friends.”

Dalton groans as he tips his head back, running a hand through his hair. “Why do you always do this?”

“Because it works. Now go change, we need to go.”

Chris tosses the costume onto Dalton’s bed before walking out.

Dalton takes a deep breath before picking up the bag.

“Iron Man? Really?”

After changing, Dalton meets Chris outside the dorm building, standing silently as she playfully fawns over him. The closer they get to the party, the more Dalton appreciates the cheap piece of plastic covering his face. Maybe he can get through the party and back to his dorm without any incidents this time.

Chris leads Dalton inside the house, greeting people and looking around as she walks toward the kitchen. Dalton hears several other Avengers yelling at him but pretends not to notice them. As he prepares to ask Chris what or who she’s looking for, she stops abruptly, and he nearly runs into her.

“Baby Bump!” Chris yells.

“Chris,” Dalton hisses, concerned he will have to break up a fight. He takes off his mask to prepare.

Chris hugs someone and then steps aside. “Dalton this is Baby Bump. Baby Bump, Dolphin.”

Dalton tells you his real name as you tell him yours. You laugh as you repeat his name and shake his hand.

“You’re…” Dalton begins.

“Pregnant?” you suggest. At the same time, Dalton finishes, “A kangaroo.”

“Oh. Yeah, I’m a kangaroo. And you’re Iron Man.”

Chris interjects to say she’s going to find food. You nod sweetly and smile, sending Dalton’s mind into overdrive as he imagines you looking at him like that.

“Do you like Iron Man? Or did Chris get your costume? She wanted to pick mine, but I vetoed that.”

“Yeah, yeah, Chris picked it. She forced me to come, so I didn’t have much of an option,” Dalton answers.

You nod and smile up at him, making him wish he had the mask back on to cover his warming cheeks.

“You make a very attractive Iron Man if it helps.”

“I’m pretty sure you could tell me I look stupid, and I’d say thank you.”

You laugh, and Dalton thinks it’s the best sound he has ever heard. You look over your shoulder for Chris and shift your feet to find comfort.

“Do you wanna go somewhere else, or sit down? Anything?” Dalton offers, raising a hand toward you slightly.

“Yeah,” you answer with a sigh. “But you stay here, enjoy! Chris should be back soon.”

“Chris isn’t coming back, it’s like her favorite thing in the world to abandon me at parties. So, where to?” Dalton offers his arm, and you loop yours through, smiling as he walks you toward the front door.

“Why did you agree to come?” you ask as you exit the house.

“I’d never let Chris go to a party by herself. This one seems like a decent one, so I’m okay with leaving her.”

“Bad experience with a college party?”

“Frat party the first week.”

You make a sound of agreement. “You’re a good friend.”

“You never told me where you want to go,” Dalton points out, trying to get your attention off of him.

“I’m craving something really weird, so if you want to go home-“

Dalton cuts you off with a dramatic shake of his head. “Let’s get it. How weird can it be?”

✵Last November✵

“What do you guys want for dinner?” Chris asks, looking up from her phone.

“Your favorite concoction?” Dalton suggests, looking over at you, where you’re lying on his bed with your feet up.

“Never going to let me live that down,” you grumble. “I’m pregnant, Dalton, it was a one-time craving, get over it.”

“Yeah, Dalton, give your pregnant best friend a break. You’re so mean,” Chris adds, winking at you quickly.

Dalton rolls his eyes and returns to his drawing, listening to you and Chris discuss what to order. When the two of you decide, Chris places the order and then says she has to finish some laundry before it gets delivered.

“What are you doing for the break, Dalton?”

Dalton abandons his drawing; his interest shifted to talking to you. He sits at the end of his bed and stretches his legs beside yours. “My dad’s coming to pick me up after my last class, so I’ll be with them for Thanksgiving. What about you?”

“I’ll be in labor, hopefully.”

“You’re staying here?”

“Yep. My stuff got delivered to my new apartment yesterday.”

“Need help unpacking?”

You open your mouth to answer, then tense as a contraction seizes you.

“Was that a contraction?” Dalton asks, sitting up as his eyes widen.

“Yeah, just Braxton Hicks. I’ve had more of them this week.”

“If I’m not here, you’ll call when you go into labor, right?”

“Depends on what day it is and how fast it happens.”

Dalton says your name, waits for your full attention, then says, “Call me. No matter what day or time.”

You nod, then raise your hand and allow Dalton to pull you up to a sitting position.

“Bet you never thought one of your best friends in college would be pregnant.”

“I’ll admit, I never thought about it. But I’m glad we’re friends.”

Dalton stands and helps you up the rest of the way, opening the door as you promise to return in time for dinner.

As the door to the bathroom closes, you feel another sharp contraction. Your eyes widen when you realize what’s happening.

Pulling your phone from your pocket, you click Dalton’s name on your favorites list.

“Hey, Baby Bump, did you fall in?” Dalton answers.

“My water just broke.”

You hear Dalton stand and start running. “I’ll be right there.”

“Sorry about dinner.” You exhale sharply as you experience another contraction. The phone beeps as Dalton hangs up.

“Did you seriously just apologize about dinner while you’re going into labor?” Dalton asks as he walks into the bathroom. You see his shoes outside the stall you’re in.

“Yeah.”

“We’ll talk about that later. Let’s get to the hospital.”

From the moment you walk out of the bathroom stall until your little girl is placed in your arms, Dalton’s hand doesn’t leave yours. He wipes your hair from your forehead and tells you every encouraging thing he can think of. Feeling closer to Dalton than ever, you nearly answer ‘Lambert’ when the nurse asks for your daughter’s last name. You decide not to tell Dalton about that, though.

When you finally force Dalton out of your apartment before Thanksgiving break, you promise to keep him updated. Dalton doesn’t tell his family exactly why he keeps checking his phone, but the smile on his face when you send a picture of you and your daughter tells everything they need to know. Even if Dalton doesn’t know yet.

✵Last December✵

“I missed you so much,” Dalton says as he hugs you. “You look amazing.”

“You were gone for a week, Dalton, I look exactly the same.”

“I got Bump some Christmas presents.”

“I’m not sure how I feel about Chris’s nicknames. Actually, really nervous to hear what she calls me now.”

“Oh, I know what she’s planning to call you and I’m getting in on it,” Dalton says with a smile.

“Wait, did you say Christmas presents? She’ll be less than six weeks old; she won’t remember it.”

“But you’ll remember her first Christmas, and you might need some of them.”

You nod and pull Dalton into another hug, whispering, “I missed you, too.”

The door opens, and a handful of gift bags enter before Chris yells, “Merry Christmas, Momma!”

“Oh, no,” you whisper, hiding your face in Dalton’s chest.

“Oh, yes,” he whispers in reply. “Momma.”

✵May✵

“I know something is going on between you two, Momma.”

“Chris, Dalton and I are just friends,” you insist, for the hundredth time.

“He acts like a dad to your kid, more importantly he acts like your husband, and you’re going to sit there and tell me you don’t want more?”

“We’re just friends.”

Chris’s smile grows, and you furrow your brows as you wonder what you said wrong.

“You didn’t answer the question. You want more, don’t you?”

You bite your lip and look over to your sleeping daughter.

Chris leans forward as she says, “Then do something about it.”

“Like what, Chris?” You stand and pace as you explain, “I can’t just tell a guy, who I’ve only been friends with for seven months, by the way, that I’ve fallen in love with him and can’t imagine my life without him. No one wants a girlfriend with a kid, besides It’s bad enough that he stayed by my side while I had a kid and buys her everything.”

“You said no one wants a girl with a kid then immediately said Dalton treats your daughter like his own.”

You wipe your hands down your face as you sit back down. “I can’t lose what we have. Dalton is an amazing guy, but it’s true that girls with kids are less desirable.”

“No, it’s not.”

You jump at the sound of a third voice, looking over to see Dalton standing in your kitchen.

“How long have you been there?” you ask quietly.

“I’m going to give you two some time,” Chris announces, sending Dalton an encouraging nod as she passes him.

Dalton waits for the door to close before he walks over to you, looking at your daughter before meeting your eyes.

“You are not undesirable because you have a kid. You are beautiful, brave, self-reliant, not to mention an amazing mother. Some guy will be very lucky to have you.”

“How much did you hear?” You repeat.

“Just that you think girls with kids are less desirable. Which isn’t true.”

“Really? That’s all you heard?’

“Yeah.” Dalton’s eyes soften as he kneels before you on the couch.

“What’s going on?”

“If I tell you something, and you don’t agree with me or feel differently, can we still be friends?”

Your daughter starts crying, and Dalton rubs his thumb across your cheekbone before standing and picking her up from her playpen. Dalton bounces your daughter and smiles at her until she starts laughing.

“Momma is nervous, but she doesn’t need to be, does she?” Dalton asks in a high voice. He shakes his head dramatically, drawing a laugh from you and your daughter.

Hearing your laugh, Dalton looks over and sees you smiling. He sits beside you, holding your daughter in his lap.

“I’m in love with you. I have been since after that Halloween party, and I just keep falling more in love with you,” you admit, playing with your fingers.

Dalton’s smile grows slowly, and he stands up, spinning with your daughter. “Did you hear that? Momma loves me too! Yeah, she said it! The big l-word, can you believe that?”

You smile as you stand and walk to Dalton’s side. He tucks you under one arm, kissing your temple quickly. “In case my victory lap didn’t make it clear, I love you too.”

“Even though I have a kid?”

“Are you kidding? I love her too. Professor Armagan is convinced she’s my kid anyway.”

“Seriously?”

“Yeah. I drew a picture of her and no matter how many times I try to explain the situation, she swears that it’s my kid.”

“I think she is, too. Maybe not by blood, but you’re the only father she’ll ever know, Dalton. She loves you; no one else gets her to laugh like that.”

“She cried when I walked in,” Dalton states with narrowed eyes.

“To get your attention, Dalton.”

Dalton gasps and looks over to her. “Really? You did all that just for me? Now I’m going to have to spend more time with Momma though.” He lowers his ear like she’s responding, nodding and shrugging to his imagined conversation. “Of course, I’ll still visit you. But I may have to kiss Momma when I come in or take her on a date. I promise we will still be best friends though.”

“I love you,” you whisper, looking into Dalton’s eyes.

Dalton removes his arm from your shoulders and holds up one finger. He sets your daughter back in the playpen, placing her favorite toy beside her before returning to you. Dalton wraps his arms around your waist, and you raise your arms over his shoulders.

“I love you. More than you know,” Dalton whispers.

Dalton tips his head down and kisses you, laughing into the kiss as your daughter squeals happily in the background.

✵October✵

“You two should do a couple’s costume! It is your one-year anniversary,” Chris says as she drags you and Dalton into a costume shop.

“We didn’t start dating until May.”

“But you should have started in October, that’s my point.” Dalton rolls his eyes when you look over at him.

“Joker and Harley?” Chris suggests.

“I like to think I left the psychopath back in the Further,” Dalton deadpans.

“You could have said anything else. Both of you,” you state, shaking your head as you look at the costumes.

“What would you pick?” Chris asks.

“Farmers and a pumpkin,” Dalton answers.

“That was fast. Wait, pumpkin?”

Dalton looks over at Chris, waiting for her to realize the obvious. “Oh! Right. I forgot that you’d want to include her.”

Chris walks to the next aisle, and Dalton returns to you, wrapping his arms around you from behind and resting his chin on your shoulder.

“Find one?”

“I think she’d make a cute Grogu.” You turn in his grasp, smiling as you ask, “Do you still have the Iron Man costume?”

“I think so. Why?”

“Because it looked really good on you. We could do superheroes.” Something catches your eye over Dalton’s shoulders, and your smile widens. “Or we could be the Incredibles.”

When you look back at Dalton, he’s looking at you like no one else exists.

“Or we could get married.”

You pull away from Dalton slightly, looking into his eyes. “Are you serious?”

“Would you want to? This isn’t an official proposal.”

“Of course, I would, Dalton.”

“What’d we pick? Besides PDA?” Chris asks as she returns.

“The Incredibles,” Dalton answers quickly.

“I think Bump has something for you, Momma,” Dalton says as he opens the door to your apartment after dinner.

Lit candles sit on the windowsill, and Chris and your daughter are wearing dresses. You look at Dalton with teary eyes, wondering what’s going on. You kneel in front of your daughter, and she makes grabby hands at a black box on the table.

“Wing,” your daughter cheers.

Chris winks at you before picking up your daughter and carrying her into your bedroom.

As you stand and turn around, you see Dalton kneeling in front of you, the box open to reveal a beautiful engagement ring.

“I love you. I fell in love with you when I first saw you dressed up as a kangaroo, and I can’t live without you. You and your daughter are the best thing that has ever happened to me, and I want to spend the rest of my life learning to be a husband and father with you by my side. Will you marry me?”

Tears slide down your face as you nod. “Yes, Dalton, yes!”

He stands, wrapping his arms around your waist and spinning you. You laugh as he slips the ring onto your finger, looking at it quickly before leaning up to kiss him.

“How would you feel about a Halloween wedding? For sentimental reasons,” Dalton suggests.

“Absolutely,” you agree.

Chris carries your daughter out, and she immediately reaches out to Dalton, squealing as he picks her up.

“Momma said yes!” He cheers, pretending to dance with her.

On Halloween, you and Dalton stand in a courthouse with outfits picked by Chris. Chris stands by your side, holding your daughter as you say your vows and marry Dalton Lambert.

As you exit the courthouse, you take your daughter from Chris and hug her close. Dalton silently asks for her, hugging her in the same way.

“You’re stuck with me now,” he whispers before looking at you, “and so are you.”

✵November✵

“Let’s go to my parent’s house for Thanksgiving. You can meet my family, and I know you didn’t get a real Thanksgiving last year,” Dalton suggests.

“I don’t know, Dalton. I mean, do they even know about everything that’s happened? About us?”

“My mom knows, and she really wants to meet you.”

Dalton wraps his arms around you, swaying you gently.

“Okay,” you respond with a nod. “Let’s do it.”

“I’m so nervous,” you tell Dalton as he pulls onto his parent’s street.

“Everything will be fine. They’ll love you; both of you.”

As Dalton parks in the driveway, he squeezes your hand and leans across the console to kiss you. As he pulls back, he sees his mom coming down the driveway.

“Here we go,” Dalton whispers before opening his door.

He hugs his mom quickly before coming around to open your door. After helping you out, Dalton says, “Hey, Bump, what are you doing here?” as he releases the car seat straps.

“Hi, sweetheart, I’m Renai. I’ve heard so much about you!” Renai introduces herself before pulling you into a hug.

“I’ve heard a lot about you too. I’m glad to finally meet you!” You respond before introducing yourself.

“And this is Bump,” Dalton says as he joins you.

“A pretty girl like this deserves a better nickname,” Renai says with a smile.

“Dalton!” Kali yells from the porch.

“I’m going to go become her favorite brother because I have a baby,” Dalton announces proudly before walking away.

Renai gestures for you to join her as she begins walking behind Dalton. “I can’t thank you enough for making Dalton so happy.”

“He’s made me happier than I thought possible.”

You hear someone say your name, phrased as a question, and look up to see Kali sitting with your daughter in the living room.

“Hi. You must be Kali, you’re Dalton’s favorite sister,” you tease before introducing yourself and sitting beside them.

“I’m his only sister,” Kali answers with a laugh. “Is she really my niece?”

“Yes, she is. Is that okay?”

“That’s awesome! Wait, so then you would be?”

“Your sister-in-law.”

“I finally have a sister!” she cheers before hugging you.

You make eye contact with Dalton over Kali’s head, smiling at him.

“Is that the wife?” Foster asks as he walks in.

“Yes,” Dalton answers before telling him your name.

“Cool. Nice to meet you,” Foster tells you before continuing toward the kitchen.

“He’s nice, just weird,” Kali tells you quietly.

“Dalton,” Josh calls as he walks in. He looks over at you, playing with Kali and your daughter. “A word?”

Dalton catches your nervous look and nods at you before following his dad outside.

“He doesn’t like me, does he?” You ask Renai as Kali continues playing with Bump, adopting Chris’s nickname.

“Josh has… trust problems and a lot of incorrect assumptions about single mothers. Give him a little time, and if he says something out of line, please don’t be afraid to put him in his place. As far as I know he means well, but sometimes he goes about things all wrong.” You nod, Josh’s voice becoming audible from outside.

“Would introducing myself make it worse?”

“Sweetheart, I honestly don’t know. I’ve known Josh a long time but even I don’t know what makes him so… Josh. But, feel free. I’ll be in the kitchen if you need me to come yell at him.”

You thank her, then slowly approach the back door before stepping outside.

“Dalton, you can’t even tell me why she’s a single mom at her age!” Josh argues.

“I can’t tell you because it’s none of your business,” Dalton explains, with a level voice compared to his dad’s yelling.

“Hi,” you say, drawing their attention. “I know we haven’t actually met, and that you don’t trust me or like me because I have a kid and I was a single mom.” You introduce yourself and extend a hand, awkwardly waiting as he hesitates to shake it.

“My mom was a single mother, and she had so many problems,” Josh begins.

“Mr. Lambert, sorry to interrupt, but I’m not a single mom anymore. I understand your concern that I have a kid and what people could say about Dalton for being with me.”

“Oh, so because you have a boyfriend you aren’t a single mom? You’re already balancing a child and college, what could you possibly offer my son?”

“Happiness,” Renai says as she steps out. “Josh, let them explain before you start biting heads off and making this about you and your mom. I’m going to go finish cooking, and if I hear you yelling again we will be celebrating Thanksgiving without you.”

You lean closer to Dalton and whisper, “Your mom is awesome.”

He chuckles against you before nodding.

“Okay. Please, explain,” Josh tries again, crossing his arms.

You look over to Dalton and nod, allowing him to explain.

“We got married. Almost two months ago,” Dalton answers. “And the last fourteen months have been the happiest of my life. If you have a problem with me, or her, keep them to yourself, Dad. We aren’t here for your approval, we wanted to give you a chance to get to know your daughter-in-law, but if you want to waste that by being stubborn and letting your childhood trust issues get in the way, then that’s your loss. Because this is the most amazing woman I’ve ever met in my life and that little girl in there is my daughter, blood or not.”

Josh drops his arms and nods slowly. “I’ll be honest, I won’t be able to accept this overnight, but if you’re both happy and your lives are going where you want them to, then it’s your decision.” He turns to you and apologizes for yelling.

“It’s okay, Mr. Lambert,” you promise. “I know that trust and respect have to be earned.”

“Call me Josh,” he offers, a small olive branch.

“Food is ready!” Renai calls. “And Bump seems to think her last name is Lambert.”

“Maybe it should be,” you whisper to Dalton as you walk inside.

His eyes widen, and he stops walking before rushing to catch up and ask, “What does that mean? Bump Lambert does have a nice ring to it!”

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