#and I’m falling in and out of smut mode

[writingfics-passingtime]

Endorphins

synopsis: you're working yourself to the bone in preparation for a big event, unwilling to take a break or de-stress, so Loki takes matters into his own hands.

pairing: Loki x female reader

wc: ~3400

cw: mostly a whole lotta fluff! but some swearing, tickling, and mentions of stress/burnout

minors DNI: this fic does not contain smut, but includes an adult-aged character experiencing attraction towards the reader; I am not comfortable with engagement from anyone under the age of 18. thank you for your understanding and respect.

note: a little fluff-bomb palette-cleanser after the intensity of my last couple of Loki fics. if you'd like to read more fics like this i'd love for you to let me know!

The common room of the residential wing of the Avengers Compound wasn’t empty, but it was quiet. The kind of lived-in calm that came after half a morning’s worth of coffee and sleep-laced banter.

A newscast flickered on the television with the volume mostly down, just enough for background noise. Steve was reading something on a tablet with that technology-induced furrowed brow. Bruce sat nearest the windows, flipping through a medical journal with one socked foot tucked under the other knee, looking up only when Natasha approached, all too quietly, and wordlessly refilled his coffee with a small, satisfied smile.

Others were scattered amongst it, all were uncharacteristically peaceful.

Except for you.

You were perched on the edge of the sectional with a stack of reports beside you, laptop open on the coffee table, pen cap clenched between your teeth. Your eyes were sharp, shoulders high with tension, jaw visibly set. You’d been like this for days - edgy, overworked, quiet, insular. Everyone knew why.

There was a summit in two weeks. A UN delegation. An avalanche of new diplomatic threads to untangle, several of which involved countries you’d gone on missions in recently. Your name was on every page of briefing notes and draft statements, and now you’d been snowed under.

"Hey. You good over there?" Sam broke the calm, directing his attention pointedly to the way your leg was bouncing.

You didn’t look up, but some kind of awareness flashed across your face and your leg fell still.

"Yeah. Good. Just focused."

Curt. Efficient. Not unkind, but final.

Loki, from his armchair, eyes appearing focused on the book in his lap, quirked a brow.

Bruce glanced up. "You've been at it for a while. You should really take a break."

"I was at the punching bag this morning."

Steve chimed in, not looking away from his tablet. "That’s training. Not a break."

"Feels like a break; I like training."

"You need to do something that isn’t work," Sam offered gently from his couch, falling easily into counsellor mode. "Take a beat. Do you have a hobby? A creative outlet would help."

You didn't look up. Just exhaled slowly through your nose. It was the kind of breath that meant I’m trying to be polite.

"I appreciate the concern," you said, very diplomatically, "but I have a pile of actual responsibilities in front of me, and knitting or bouldering is not going to rewrite the second paragraph of this response to the Wakandan delegation. If you'll excuse me."

You stood, gathering your laptop and papers, and exited the room with a measured grace that only barely masked how tense you were.

There was a moment of quiet as everyone waited for you to be out of earshot.

"She’s gonna snap," Bruce said, setting his mug down.

Sam sighed, arms crossed. "She’s in pressure mode. Doesn’t mean she’s angry. Just means she thinks stopping will make it worse. But we let it sit too long and it’ll turn into the wrong kind of burnout."

Steve sipped his coffee. "I’m watching it."

"She has been boxing," Natasha pointed out.

"She doesn't need more cortisol," Bruce muttered, "She needs a damn serotonin drip. Or something. Or someone. Honestly, just- someone make her laugh."

Natasha shrugged. "I could try."

Bruce winced. An unspoken: maybe it's best you don't.

"Wilson," Loki said aloud, not looking up from his book.

Sam turned. "Yeah?"

"You fancy yourself a comedian."

Sam's brow furrowed. "I mean... I am funny-"

"Then for Norns’ sake," Loki said, flipping a page with precise disdain, "do your job."

Natasha choked on a laugh.

Steve chuckled under his breath.

Loki felt his chest tighten.

The discussion annoyed him more than he expected. Not because of the concern - no, that part made sense. It was how they discussed it. They were talking in circles, wringing their hands, musing about serotonin and yoga, all while you were in the next room slowly grinding yourself down to the bone doing work that, if Loki wasn’t mistaken, concerned all of them.

Yet... you wouldn't allow a single report to be taken.

"Rogers." Loki snapped the book shut and settled back into his chair, perching his elbows on the upholstered arms. "Might I ask," he drawled, "are you the leader of this team or not?"

Steve’s brow furrowed slowly. "Excuse me?"

"You," Loki said plainly. "Stars and stripes. Human embodiment of a rousing inspirational speech. Are you in charge, or do you all simply loiter in proximity to each other?"

Sam raised his brows.

Loki didn't wait for an answer. "Delegate."

Steve sighed, long and deep.

"I’ve offered. But she’s protective of it; she cares a lot about the work, and her name is all over it. I can't just take it from her."

"Then order her to accept help."

"That's not how we do things," Steve said firmly.

Loki hummed under his breath as the others went back to their own little worlds.

Fascinating.

A room full of soldiers, spies, and scientists...

And yet none of them, not one, had the teeth to intervene.

The following morning, Loki found himself happening across an tiresomely similar scene, this time in the kitchen. The room smelled like toast and bacon and freshly ground coffee and the underlying tension of one person trying very hard to pretend they didn’t have basic human needs.

You sat at the island, dressed in your running tank and leggings, one foot planted on the stool, knee tucked to your chest. The thin veil of control you were clinging to was starting to crack, but you kept working, stubborn and relentless.

Sam leaned against the counter, nursing his coffee like it was a tactical manoeuvre.

"Just saying," he offered gently, "summit’s a couple weeks out. You could afford a break."

"I'll take a break," you said without looking up. "Once this section’s clean. It’s almost there."

Sam glanced over his mug, still trying to be gentle. "You said that yesterday. And the day before that."

"And when you said it Monday, it was 'just a few more paragraphs.'" Steve was crouched by the oven, checking on the bacon.

"I finally got a response I've been waiting for just before I was about to go for a run," you muttered, tapping a line of text and deleting it without mercy. "I'll go outside once I edit this section with this new info."

"Running is training. Training is work," Sam said. "You need something that’s not work. Something for you."

You sighed, long-suffering. "Something for me - something that'll make me feel better - is having this done."

"You know this is how burnout starts, right?" Sam’s voice was calm, but not soft. The therapist was peeking through. "You run hot for too long, you crash hard. You'll think better when your brain’s had room to breathe."

You gave him a look. It wasn’t angry. Just tired.

"And you think a watercolour landscape will clear my head?"

"You need fun. Your body needs endorphins."

"Exercise gives me endorphins."

"And cortisol. Which you've been running high on for almost a week. You need to let loose. Laugh. Give your body a break from the tension."

"I laugh," you said, with the driest tone possible. "You’re all very funny."

"Nope," Sam shook his head. "That’s not real laughter. That’s the social ‘ha.’"

"My ha is perfectly adequate," you snapped, deadpan, looking back to the screen.

Steve snorted.

From the other side of the kitchen, as his coffee trickled through the filter, Loki’s gaze narrowed on you, his eyes sharp as he observed the exchange. It didn’t escape him - your composure had cracks in it, the way your shoulders were wound tight, the way you barely breathed between sentences. His lips curled into a faint, knowing, endeared smile.

So stubborn.

Sam leaned his elbows on the island across from you, clasping his hands together. "What can I do?"

You raised a brow. "I’m not your responsibility, Sam."

"You’re my teammate."

You looked up. And to your credit, there was no venom in your eyes. Just that same brittle exhaustion that’d been following you like a shadow for days. You blew out a breath.

"I’m fine."

"You’ll think better with food," Sam coaxed.

Your jaw tensed. "I know. I'll eat in a bit."

"C'mon," Sam pressed, his voice light but serious. "Sit with us for half an hour, eat something, then you can get back to your 'almost done' report, and we'll all leave you alone."

You looked back at your screen. "I can’t tell if that’s a bribe or a threat."

"Bruce says the stress will kill you," Sam said, half-joking.

"Your jokes might beat it to the punch," you muttered back.

"Wow."

You resumed typing. "I promise, once this summit is over, I'll watch a Netflix special of your choosing and get more than my fill of endorphins."

Loki uncrossed his arms and stepped forward, smooth and deliberate. Unhurried, but with the weight of purpose behind them. He could feel the tension rolling off you, and for reasons he wouldn’t fully admit - couldn’t fully understand... he couldn’t stand it.

"Why," he began, his voice calm but with undeniable mischief laced beneath, "do you all insist on doing this the hard way?"

He rounded the island and approached you from the side, calm, not rushed, but without delay.

He had nothing to do with this - he told himself. This wasn’t about you or your exhaustion. This was just him solving a problem. A problem they were clearly too inept to fix.

Your shoulders didn’t move. You didn’t acknowledge him. You kept typing as he stood behind you.

His hands were on you before you registered the intent.

Loki’s fingers dug into your ribs, pressing and wiggling into the soft spots just beneath your arms with an expert precision.

You jerked, hands flying off the keys with a sharp sound of protest, an involuntary giggle bursting from your throat as you half-twisted, elbows snapping protectively to your sides.

Loki dropped his tickling hands, looming behind you like an impending storm, and let out a sharp and satisfied puff of air. "Thank the Norns."

And then, before you could gather your wits and react, he grabbed you around the waist and hauled you effortlessly off the stool.

You kicked and cursed in wild shock, flailing against the solid vice of his arm around your middle. "HEY!"

Loki looked to the others - their faces painted in quiet hesitance.

"Oh, don’t look at me like that," the god said with cool amusement, adjusting his grip as you writhed in his arms. “You’re all too bloody soft. Someone has to be the villain, and I rather enjoy the role." He then shot a sharp glance to Rogers. "You’re welcome."

He turned and started walking towards the living room.

"LOKI!" You snarled through gritted teeth, pushing at his forearm.

You were squirming like a snared hellcat in his arms, but your body gave you away. You were tired. Overextended. Tied in so many knots you couldn't tell where your own edges begin anymore.

"Let me go!"

"Yes, yes…" he sighed, striding into the large common room. "Once this matter is dealt with."

Bruce glanced up from his usual armchair, blinking behind his glasses. He took in the scene - you writhing in Loki’s arms, Loki’s expression impassive and focused, the faint storm in his stride.

From the threshold, Sam and Steve peered out with matching expressions of amused disbelief.

"Uh…" Bruce looked to the others, eyes wary and uncertain, coffee half-raised to his lips. "So we’re all just cool with whatever this is?"

Loki looked at the doctor briefly. "You said she needed endorphins. Laughter. Yes?"

"Well yeah but-"

"Lovely."

And then he threw you onto the couch.

It wasn't a gentle toss, but not cruel either. It was precise. Designed to disorient, and it did a hell of a job.

You landed on your side with a sharp bounce, half-seething, pushing yourself up with both murder and a giddy sort of nervousness in your eyes. You twisted and moved to scramble away, but he was already there - moving fast and smooth, settling down beside you.

He sat side-on, one knee on the cushion, the other foot braced on the floor. His hip pressed flush to yours, caging you in where you lay half-twisted against the backrest of the couch. His torso leaned across your waist, the angle perfect for blocking your every attempt to curl or wriggle away.

"You son of a-"

You reached up, maybe to push, maybe to slap, maybe to claw his face off - but it didn't matter. He caught your wrist easily, trapping it in mid-air.

"Easy," he said, voice low and warm. "Let’s not make a scene."

"Don’t you dare."

You didn't stand a chance.

He released your wrist and his hands darted fast - intentional, no wasted movement - his fingers dragging and digging into the sensitive space between your ribs and waist, thumbs pressing with precision.

You slapped at his hands, trying to hold back your giggles, still trying to fight, but he already had you.

Fingers spidered across your sides, precise and ticklish, pressing into the spaces between your ribs, the grooves of your waist. You jolted like a live wire. And then-

"Nnn-shit!"

You broke.

Giggling laughter exploded out of you, bright and helpless, like it had been waiting days to claw its way free. You bucked against him, hands slapping at his chest, knees curling up against his back.

He smirked, not even looking up at you, just watching his own hands move, thumbs circling, working the lines of your waist like a musician playing a their attuned instrument.

"Gods above," he muttered with an exhale, actually smiling. "You’re so ticklish."

"Asshole," you managed an adorable little snarl between breaths, but the laughter didn't stop. You were so consumed by the giggles that your protest didn’t sound as defiant as it should. "I ha-hate you!"

He chuckled, low and dark, his voice so teasing. "Oh, you’re going to have to try harder than that."

You let out a squeal when his fingers dug under your arms for half a second - then lower, finding the softest edge of your waist. You shrieked, bucking again, and Loki's grin deepened. His hands settled there with ominous precision.

Oh, he’d found something.

The spot just under your ribs, where nerves tangled and skin jumped at the slightest pressure. He focused there, thumbs pressing maddening circles, fingertips dragging with infuriating care.

You gasped, laughed, cursed - tried to twist, tried to curl - but it was useless. Your muscles had gone soft with the laughing. Your hands pushed at his chest, but there was no strength in them anymore. You were melting under him. And gods, he liked it.

"That’s it," he murmured, low and amused.

You didn't respond. You couldn't. Instead, you started going boneless beneath him.

He tilted his head, fascinated.

So expressive, mortals. All heat and breath and sudden collapse.

You could be a fury incarnate at any waking moment - sharp-tongued, iron-willed, as comfortable with a combat knife as you were in geopolitical briefings. And just as precise.

You’d spent the last week grinding yourself into steel and silence, undereyes shadowed with exhaustion, soaked in irritation, swatting away gentle jokes and light-hearted concern.

And now - reduced to this. Caught somewhere between defiance and surrender. Giggling, shaking, flushed and boneless beneath his hands.

Adorable.

He narrowed his eyes.

When had that word started surfacing in his brain so often?

God of Mischief, he reminded himself. This was simply the application of chaos toward emotional regulation. A necessary correction. Nothing more.

And yet, he could not look away.

He was a trickster, schemer, a thousand-year-old weapon of mass destruction. He had absolutely no business finding a mortal this... this charming.

And yet, he did not want to look away.

What a ruinous little thing you were becoming.

Your slaps were weaker now, your kicks barely jostled him. Your body had given up trying to fight and was just reacting, all frantic little spasms and helpless gasps. Your hands swatted for a second more- then simply curled around his wrists.

Not to push him away.

Just… to hold.

Your knuckles pressed into his sleeves, clinging without purpose, your palms warm against his skin. You were laughing, really laughing now - wild and breathless and beautiful, the sound pouring out of you with no control, like your body had finally found a way to purge the stress.

He watched you unravel under his hands, and it did something to him. Bended something inside him.

The laughter had knocked the fight out of your limbs. You were still squirming, yes, but without aim now. Pure reflex. He could feel the tension in you - the pressure that had been building for days - finally start to release.

He slowed his fingers, letting them glide lightly now, teasing, drawing out that helpless warmth until your laughter turned soft. Sweet. Still squirming, but relaxed.

When you went completely pliant, Loki stilled.

He watched your chest rise and fall, fast but looser. He'd felt the fight seep out of your shoulders, the weight in your brow gone. Your laughter trailed off into a breathless smile, your lips parted, eyes dazed with that post-laughter glow.

"There you are," he murmured, low and quiet, brushing his thumbs gently over your sides, not tickling anymore.

Something knotted tight in his chest as he looked at you - you, who could break bones and weaponise words. You, who had glared at the others like you wanted to bite them for suggesting a break. You, who hadn’t smiled in days, eyes heavy and sleepless with the unbearable weight of caring so very much.

Now a flushed, giggling heap on the couch. Under him. His body curved over yours, his hands still warm at your waist. Your fingers still wrapped loose around his wrists like you didn’t even realise it.

He swallowed.

This had been about endorphins. About tricking your nervous system into resetting. That was all.

Just… good strategy.

Right?

He kept his weight over you, hands still in place, but his voice dipped - lower, closer, with that subtle edge.

"I think your teammates are perfectly capable of helping you finish off those reports," he said. "Wouldn’t you agree?"

You nod without thinking, eyes unfocused. "Yeah."

Loki glanced up. Met Rogers’ gaze. Held it.

Steve was standing there in the kitchen archway, arms crossed, brow lifted. Loki didn't say a word - but the look was pointed.

"Captain Rogers will have Sergeant Barnes review the response to the Wakandan delegation," Loki continued, speaking to you but keeping his eyes on the one apparently in charge. "The others can proofread the rest, and deliver you notes... tomorrow."

"Yeah okay," you sniffed, still dazed, still sputtering residual giggles, but fully aware of your defeat.

Steve's mouth twitched. Not quite a smile.

Loki turned towards the good doctor.

Bruce was still watching from his chair, coffee in hand, one brow raised. Loki cocked his head, gesturing to your giggling form.

"Well, Bruce? What’s your diagnosis?"

Bruce watched you for a long second - your loose limbs, your lazy grin, the visible ease now where tightness had controlled your frame just minutes before. The corners of his mouth turned down in an analytical frown.

"Tension’s down. Endorphins kicked in. She looks lighter. I’d say she could use... another minute or so."

Loki’s smirk turned feral.

You didn't even protest.

You barely registered it, not until his fingers at to your sides started tickling with that same precision, but just a little gentler now, and your body danced with a squealing giggle you didn’t know you had in you.

The couch shook with your laughter again, the sound of your heels thudding against the cushion. You were completely wrecked. And you let it happen. You let him ruin you with laughter, your body betraying you, all your sharpness and strength replaced by unguarded sound and colour and heat.

And Loki...

He was half-smiling down at you like you were dangerous.

Like he was just realising you might be the only thing on this wretched planet that could bring him to heel. That could... soften him. That could make him enjoy softening.

And that, in itself, was terrifying.

But your laughter hit that beautiful, breathless pitch - and he knew he’d be doing this again.

.

.

.

end note:

i need to be clear that the tickle fluff in this fic is not meant to present as the solution to the reader's stress; the delegation of work is. tickling can be fun and sweet and help with relaxation, but it does not fix systemic issues or mental health concerns. this may seem like a weirdly intense note to end on for a fun and fluffy fic, but it wouldn't sit right with me to leave this up to interpretation. lots of love xo

[misc-obeyme]

Just leaving this here out of context. He’s been on my mind but my writing is all over the place lately.

[meenaxskz]

when the bed gave up on life (hyung line)

ot8 reactions | bf!skz x reader au genre: crack | light smut warnings: language | suggestive content a/n : (testing new posts layout, it will probably change again idk) i always try to not write cliché gym rat changbin... but it has jokes potential so yeah lol. ✧ hyung line | maknae line

bang chan

“C’mere” Chan growls flipping you onto your stomach. You gasp, already dizzy “Holy shit-okay-aggressive!” “I said I’d make you feel it” he grunts, pressing into you, “so shut up and-” CRRREAK. SNAP. Silence. You’re on the floor. The mattress is sideways. A piece of the frame bounced. Chan’s still inside you “…Did the bed just die?” you whisper, stunned. He’s frozen. Still holding your hips. “I-I think I just alpha’d the IKEA out of it.” You collapse face first into the blanket, wheezing. Chan pulls out gently like he’s scared touching you will trigger another collapse. “I’m so sorry,” he says, horrified. “Are you hurt??” You look up with tears in your eyes...from laughing “You fucked us into poverty” He starts pacing. Still naked “I JUST WANTED TO MAKE YOU SEE STARS” “You did! But the bed saw heaven!” --- Five minutes later, you’re both wrapped in the blanket on the floor, drinking water and staring at the broken frame like it’s a crime scene. Chan sighs. “That was expensive.” You snort. “tell me about it” He looks at you, grins. “You still wanna finish?” You raise a brow. “On what the rug?” He shrugs. “Bet it won’t break.”

lee know

You’re clinging to the headboard. He’s behind you, low growling, full feral mode, hips snapping. “Don’t even try to run” he pants. “You wanted this.” You gasp “Min- the bed’s creaking-” He grips your hips tighter. “So are you. Guess which one I care about more.” CRRREEAAAK. SNAP. THUD. You drop. Flat on the mattress, now tilted at a cursed 45 degrees. Minho flops on top of you like a sweaty, breathless. Silence. “…Did we just fall?” You’re wheezing into the sheet. “THE BED BROKE YOU PSYCHO.” He slowly lifts himself off you, glancing around checking the crime scene. Then calmly : “…It was probably loose before we started.” You sit up, wild-eyed. “I literally heard you say ‘I wanna break you tonight.’” “I meant emotionally. That bed just had bad build quality.” “...Minho, one of the legs is across the room.” He shrugs. “That’s not my fault. That’s gravity. And weak screws.” You glare at him, tangled in sheets and shame. He wipes sweat off his chest with a smug little annoying smirk. “You’re welcome by the way.” “For WHAT?!?” “For the experience. You’re glowing.” "Oh my god" --- Later, you lie together on the mattress, which is on the floor now, panting and sore. You mutter “we need a new bed.” He hums, already falling asleep “...and it better be able to handle me”

changbin

It starts innocent enough... LIES. Sweat is dripping, you’re moaning, he’s muttering things like “You’re so tight,” “I love this angle” and “This is why I do leg day" (??) The bed is screaming. You clutch the headboard “It’s creaking-” “I’M CREAKING TOO BABY STAY FOCUSED—” CREEAAACKK. SNAP. BOOM. The bed dies. You both collapse mid-thrust like the mattress got drop-kicked by karma. You gasp. “WHAT JUST HAPPENED?!” Changbin is hovering above you, wide-eyed, hair sticking up like he got electrocuted “…Did I break the bed?” You stare. “Are you asking me while you’re still inside me?!” He slowly pulls out, rolls to the side, and looks around at the hurricane damage. One bed leg is completely gone. A bolt rolled under the dresser. He exhales. “That’s kinda hot though.” You blink. “You BROKE our BED Binnie!” “I told you I was strong” You smack his arm. “This isn’t CrossFit! This was my peaceful coochie session!” He giggles. --- He grabs his phone. “Wait. Wait. I need a pic. I gotta show the guys.” “DON’T YOU DARE” He grins. “I’m putting ‘broke the bed during sex’ on my gym progress tracker.”

hyunjin

You’re on top, breathless, hair sticking to your forehead, hands planted on his chest. Hyunjin’s gripping your thighs, eyes rolling back as you ride him. “Fuck-yes...just like that, baby...” CREAAKK. SNAP. THE WHOLE RIGHT SIDE DROPS. You scream as the mattress collapses, pitching sideways. Hyunjin yelps, legs flailing as you both go crashing down mid-thrust. A full thud echoes across the room. Silence. Then his voice : “…WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT?!” You’re tangled in blankets, still half on top of him. “DID YOU JUST ASK ME LIKE I PLANNED THAT?!” He stares at you with wide, scandalized eyes. “YOU WERE ON TOP THIS IS YOUR FAULT.” You sit up, offended. “I was riding you into heaven and the bed flopped.” He throws a hand up dramatically. “EXACTLY I WAS LITERALLY JUST LYING THERE BEING SEXY AND SUPPORTIVE.” You glare “supportive?? You kept yelling FASTER like I was a fucking engine!” He rolls off the broken half of the bed and flops onto the floor like a naked fish “The bed wasn’t ready for that kind of passion. I wasn’t ready. My ass hit the wood slats” You cover your face. “I think I bruised my knee.” --- 10 minutes later, Hyunjin is sprawled across the mattress on the floor “we need a new bed. And... knees.” You open one eye “You still came though.” He chucks a pillow at you.

⤷ main m.list ❟

DISCLAIMER : This blog and all related content (fics, fake texts, headcanons, imagines, etc.) are entirely fictional and created for entertainment purposes only. I do not know Stray Kids personally, nor do I claim any of this reflects their real personalities, actions, or relationships. All characters and their personalities—including Meena King—are original creations.Please enjoy responsibly and remember : real people = real boundaries.

[houseofaegon]

Bob and a reader who bruises easily and when they have sex the reader is usually marked up the next day?

Marked ✩ Bob Reynolds

Pairings: Bob Reynolds x Thunderbolt!Reader

Warnings: +18 SMUT MINORS DNI. explicit sexual scenes, bruising (reader bruises easily), rough sex, possessive!bob, protective older brother!bucky, strong language, secret relationship, minor angst, fluff, found family, chaotic thunderbolts energy, family dynamics, violence (threatened),

Summary: You and Bob had been sneaking around for months, the thrill of secrecy only fueling the fire and desire. But bruises from the night before threaten to unravel everything—especially when Bucky Barnes sees them and goes into full protective big brother mode.

Author's Note: omg you guyssssssss!!! i had so much fun writing this one. i am so obsessed with the whole secret relationship setup, and bucky going full protective older brother mode???? ughhhhhh I'm obsessed. i love my boyfriends<3 yelena my baby I love love love writing her so much she's sooo ughhh I love her!!!! i love myself some found family<3 keep the requests comingggggg!!!! i’ve got so many on my inbox already i’ve been planning out all of the fics so they’ll be posted soon<3

You woke up tangled in sheets, muscles aching, skin kissed with tenderness. Bob's arm was drapped heavy over your waist, the rise and fall of his chest pressing your back into him, grounding you, like he needed the contact to breathe. He always held you like that after—like if he let go, you might vanish.

A dull ache throbbed deep in your thighs, your hips, the slope of your neck. Each mark a reminder of the night before. Of how careful he tried to be. Of how easily he lost himself in you when the door was closed and the rest of the world disappeared.

It had started slow, like it always did.

Quiet knock on your door, late enough for the others to be asleep or buried in their own distractions. Bob would linger in the hall, hoodie thrown over his head, hands in his pockets like some kind of teenage boy sneaking into his girlfriend's room.

The moment the door clicked shut, the tension would snap. You’d throw yourself at him—starving, always starving—and he’d catch you every time.

Last night was no different. You'd been watching him all day, practically squirming on the sidelines of the gym while he trained with Yelena.

That damn white shirt clung to him, soaked through sweat, riding up every time he moved. His biceps flexed with every punch, his golden curls damp and wild. You caught him watching you more than once, eyes dark, mouth parted.

He looked wrecked before you even touched him.

By the time he showed up at your door, you didn’t say a word. You grabbed him by the collar of his hoodie, yanked him into your room, and kissed him like he was oxygen.

His hands trembled when they touched your waist. “I’ll be careful,” he whispered, even as you guided him to the bed, tugging his clothes off, already breathless.

“You don’t have to be,” you said. "I don't want you to be."

He kissed down your neck, hands gripping your thighs like he was anchoring himself. When his mouth found your pulse point, he sucked just hard enough to draw a moan—and the bruise bloomed seconds later.

He pulled back to look at the mark, already forming, then looked up at you with something feral in his eyes. “You’re so fucking soft,” he groaned. “I’m gonna mark every inch of you. Mine. All of you.”

You gripped his hair, kissed him harder. “Then do it.”

His fingers laced with yours, pinning them above your head as he pushed into you slowly, the stretch of him drawing a gasp from your lips. He watched your face like it was the only thing that mattered.

His thrusts were slow, deep, patient at first—until you begged.

“Harder, Bob. Please. Don’t hold back.”

He shuddered. “You don’t know what you’re asking for.”

“I do,” you gasped. “I want all of you.”

His mouth crashed into yours, and the dam broke.

You swore the headboard cracked. The bed groaned beneath you. Your name was a prayer on his tongue, murmured between bruising kisses and gasped apologies he didn’t need to make.

Because you loved the marks. The ache. The secrecy.

The thrill of sneaking out of his room at 3AM, hair a mess, lips swollen. Of pretending nothing happened in the halls the next day. Of brushing fingers under the table during briefings, eyes meeting like a promise.

And in those moments—when no one else knew, when it was just you and him—you felt more his than ever.

You traced a bruise on your collarbone absently as you slipped out of his bed, one of his t-shirts falling to mid-thigh. You bit your lip to hide the satisfied smile. Bruised and adored. Just how you liked it.

The tower was still quiet as you crept back to your room to change, slipping into gym shorts and a hoodie for morning training. You paused once, catching your reflection in your bathroom mirror—faint marks painting your hips, the curve of your neck, the inside of your thigh.

Heat flushed through you at the memory. His hands gripping your waist. His voice—“You’re mine.”

You tugged the hoodie tighter and headed down to start training.

The gym was already humming with low music and the sound of punches hitting pads. Bucky was setting up on the mat, hoodie off, sweat darkening the collar of his black shirt. He gave you a quick nod when you walked in—his version of a good morning.

Bucky Barnes had been like a brother to you since day one. Not in the forced “everyone on a team is family” way—no, this was different. Real.

He was rough around the edges when you first joined the Thunderbolts, all tight-lipped commands and watchful eyes. Cold. Distance. Guarded. But something in you cracked through that hard soldier shell. Maybe it was how stubborn you were. How warm. Unafraid to rile him up, to poke the bear. Maybe it was how you asked too many questions. Or the way you always saved him a seat in the briefing room. Or how you reminded him—without meaning to—what it felt like to care about someone without it turning into war.

You sometimes reminded him of Steve.

He saw him in you. In the way you saw people. In how you never gave up on anyone, not even him. In the way you could smile even after a mission gone sideways and still say, "We're okay. We'll figure this shit out."

You were brave. Kind. Loyal.

You were the thing Steve used to fight for.

And Bucky—he didn’t say it, couldn’t say it—but he clung to that. To you. Because if someone like you could believe in him, then maybe there was still something worth saving inside him.

That’s why he called you “kid,” even though you weren’t.

That’s why he tossed you his hoodie when you were cold, sat beside you when you couldn’t sleep, and taught you how to break a man’s wrist with a flick of your body weight.

He watched over you in the field. Back-to-back in a firefight. A quiet hand on your shoulder after a tough mission. His voice, always steady, always low: “You’re alright. I’ve got you.”

He wasn’t your teammate. He wasn’t a friend.

He was your brother. Your family. Not by blood. But by bond. By choice.

And that made what happened next inevitable.

Because when he saw those bruises, the ground shifted underneath his feet. All he could see was someone hurting you. And he'd spent decades trying to protect people like you, people he cared about. He had lost Steve. He wasn't going to lose you.

“You’re late,” he said.

“Barely,” you said, grinning. “Try smiling once in a while.”

He rolled his eyes. “Try not tripping over your own feet.”

“Rude,” you said.

He tossed you a set of gloves. “Let’s go. Standard drills.”

You started slow. Footwork. Blocks. He moved easily, but watched your form like a hawk, correcting gently with a hand at your hip, your wrist, your shoulder.

“Looser on the right,” he murmured. “You’re tightening up too much, kiddo.”

“I’m fine.”

“Mm-hmm.” His tone was skeptical. “Take off the hoodie.”

You froze.

“It’s hot in here,” he added, too casually. “And you’re sweating like hell.”

“Bucky—”

“Off, Y/N.”

Shit.

You sighed, peeled it off, revealing the tank top beneath—and the faint, fresh constellation of bruises that peppered your collarbone and shoulders.

The moment the hoodie dropped to the mat, everything stopped.

Bucky’s whole body tensed.

His eyes locked on the marks. A slow, terrible realization crawling across his face like storm clouds. His voice was suddenly razor sharp.

He stopped breathing.

“What the fuck is that?”

You blinked, already knowing where this was going. “It’s nothing, Bucky.”

“Don’t lie to me.” His voice dropped, deadly quiet. “Who did this?”

“I said it’s nothing—”

His gaze narrowed. “Don’t bullshit me. Y/N, what is that?” He stepped forward, fingers brushing the side of your neck. His touch was soft, but his jaw was tight. “Who the fuck did this to you?”

“I—” You swallowed. “It’s fine, Bucky. It’s—just mosquito bites, that's all.”

“I'm not stupid. I know what bruises look like,” he snapped, his voice rising. “And those? They didn’t come from sparring.”

You stepped back. "Please don't do this."

“Do not follow me unless you’re gonna tell me the truth.”

And then he was storming down the hall, headed for the common room. Straight into the storm.

Because to him? This wasn’t just bruises.

It was his kid—his sister—hurt, marked, and silent about it.

And he’d tear down the whole damn team to protect you.

But of course, you followed him. You fumbled to put the hoodie back on, trying to catch up with Bucky.

You caught up to him just as he stormed into the common room, boots stomping accross the floor. You barely had time to catch your breath before all hell broke loose.

Bob was sprawled on the couch, legs stretched out, hoodie pulled halfway over his head, curls messy on his forehead. Yelena sat beside him eating chips straight from the bag, one boot resting on the coffee table. Walker was slumped on the other, flipping channels again and again.

"Just pick a damn channel already, jeez," Yelena scoffed.

"We have Netflix you know?" Bob chimed in softly.

The second Bucky entered, everyone looked up.

“Do you know who fucking did this to her?” Bucky barked, voice sharp enough to cut metal.

Yelena blinked, slow and unbothered. She raised one perfectly arched brow and held up her bag of chips. “Wow. Good morning to you too, soldier boy. Want a chip?”

Walker frowned. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about this!” Bucky turned, grabbed your armg gently, always gently, and tugged the hoodie sleeve up to show the fading bruise near your wrist. “And that,” he pointed to your neck. “And that.”

“Bucky, please—” you tried, stepping in front of him, but he wasn’t hearing it.

“You better start talking,” he growled, pointing at each of them like they were suspects in a murder trial. “Because if one of you laid a hand on her—”

“Okay, this is very dramatic,” Yelena said, popping another chip in her mouth. “I love it. Are we in a movie right now? Because damn, the drama.”

“I’m being very fucking serious right now, Yelena.”

She shrugged. “Just trying to defuse the tension.”

“And you're not helping!”

“I know,” she said sweetly.

Bucky whirled on Walker next. “Was it you?”

Walker sat up straighter, blinking. “What? No! Jesus—”

“I swear—if you even looked at her wrong—”

“Oh, come on, man!” Walker snapped, tossing the remote on the couch. “I’m not suicidal.”

While Bucky and Walker bickered, Yelena turned to you slowly, her eyes cool but curious. Then—subtle as smoke—her gaze dropped to the bruises peeking from your hoodie, then flicked to Bob.

Bob hadn’t moved. But he was watching. His shoulders tense. His jaw clenched.

Yelena raised one perfectly arched brow. You saw the moment it clicked for her.

Of course she knew.

She wasn’t stupid. She’d seen the way you looked at each other during debriefs. The way you flushed when Bob’s fingers brushed yours in the kitchen. She’d definitely heard the sounds coming from your room last night—because, shocker, spies hear everything.

But she wasn’t going to rat you out to Bucky. No. She gave you the look—the look—tilting her head with the tiniest smirk like, girl, really? him? damn okay.

Then she turned back to her chips like none of this concerned her.

Meanwhile, Bucky was still in full interrogation mode.

“I will find out who did this,” he said, voice rising again. “And when I do—”

“You’re going to do what, Barnes?” Walker snapped back. “Ground us? You're not her dad.”

“I don’t have to be,” Bucky growled. “She’s family. I raised her on this goddamn team while you were still figuring out which way the bathroom was!”

“Oh my god,” Yelena said through a mouthful of chips, “this is better than anything on TV.”

You rubbed your hands down your face and slowly met Bob's eyes, just for a second.

It was enough.

He stood up. Violently. Almost knocking off the entire coffee table.

Yelena sat up straighter, chip bag rustling. "Oh, here we go."

Walker looked from Bob to Bucky, then back. “Wait. Wait wait wait—are we fighting now? In the middle of the living room? Are you guys serious?"

Bucky turned toward Bob, chest puffe like a feral bull. "Say something. I dare you."

“Enough!” Bob’s voice cracked like a whip across the room, thunderous, vibrating in the air like it came from somewhere deeper than his chest.

Yelena froze, chip halfway to her mouth. “Well, there goes the drywall.”

Bucky took one menacing step forward. “What did you say?”

Bob didn’t flinch. His voice was low. "It was me."

Dead. Silence.

Oh, fuck.

You could've heard a pin drop.

Yelena whispered, “Oh my god, I knew it.”

Walker blinked. “Hold the fuck on.” He gasped like he just found out Santa wasn’t real. “Wait—you two?! You’ve been doing it?”

“You?” Bucky spat, stepping forward. “You think that’s fucking funny?”

“No,” Bob said calm. Too calm.

And that snapped Bucky.

He lunged. “I’m going to kill you right now!”

“Bucky!” you shouted, throwing yourself between them just as Bucky’s fist came up.

You caught him mid-swing, grabbing his wrist, bracing your weight against him with everything you had.

“NO! No, no, no—Bucky, stop!” you yelled, pushing back on his chest, eyes wide.

Bob didn’t move. Didn’t flinch. His hands stayed at his sides, jaw set like he was ready to take it.

“You did this to her?” he hissed. “You put your hands on her?”

“I didn’t hurt her,” Bob bit out. “I’ve never laid a hand on her in anger—”

“You left bruises!” Bucky shouted, jabbing a finger toward Bob like he was issuing a death sentence. “You don’t get to decide what hurting her looks like! You don’t get to be the one who touches her and makes her lie to me about it!”

“Bucky, please,” you pleaded, voice breaking.

“I didn’t hurt her,” Bob snapped. “You think I don’t know what I’m capable of? I’ve been terrified of it since day one. Every time I touch her, I’m scared shitless I’ll lose control—but I don’t. Because I’d rather die than ever cross that line.”

Bucky’s jaw locked. “That’s not comforting.”

“She’s not a child, Bucky,” Bob bit out. “She knows what she wants."

"But she's my child, Bob! Mine," Bucky roared, voice cracking with something other than rage, like fear. "I've been protecting her since she joined this team. I've bled for her. I would take a bullet for her if it meant keeping her safe. You think you can just crawl into her bed—what? Expect me to shake your hand? Pat your back? You're fucking delusional."

"She's not yours to own!" Bob roared. "You don't get to decide who touches her, who loves her. She’s not some piece of property. She made a choice. I made my choice."

Bucky’s breathing was ragged, fists clenched so tight his knuckles went white. “She’s my family!" he hissed. "And you didn’t even have the balls to tell me.”

“I wanted to,” Bob snapped. “She told me you’d do this.”

“She was right!” Bucky barked, his eyes glossing over with betrayal. “Because I trusted you. You were supposed to be safe.”

“I am.” Bob’s voice dropped. “I love her. I’m careful with her. You know she bruises easily. Everyone knows it. I try. I always try. But she wanted it. She asked me to. I never forced her. I’d never do that to her.”

You stepped in closer, your hand sliding to Bucky’s chest. “He’s telling the truth.”

Bucky stared at you like he didn’t recognize you for a second. “You let him…”

“I wanted him,” you said simply. “And I still do.”

Walker stood up slowly, blinking like a deer in headlights. “Oh my god,” he muttered, running a hand down his face. “Is this… is this a thing? Like a regular thing? You two just… sneak around and… Jesus Christ, you two fuck?”

Yelena nearly choked on her chips.

She turned to him slowly, eyes wide with disbelief. “Walker. My guy. You live here. How have you not noticed?”

“I thought the noise was the pipes!” he said, flailing.

Yelena tilted her head. “You thought the pipes moaned her name at 2AM?”

“HOW WAS I SUPPOSED TO KNOW?!”

She blinked. "Walker, if your pipes ever sound like that, you call an exorcist. Not maintenance."

He shook his head, exhaling hard. Then he looked at Bob, fury simmering low. “If you ever cross a line—if you so much as make her flinch or cry—I will end you. You break her heart, I break your face. Deal?”

“Deal,” Bob said without hesitation.

Bucky stared at Bob, his jaw ticking. But then his eyes shifted—back to you. Still tight with anger, but… softer now.

“You okay?”

You smiled—small, soft, but sure. “I promise,” you said. “I’m more than okay.”

You glanced back at Bob. He was still watching you like the room didn’t exist.

“He makes me happy, Buck.”

Bucky groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “Goddammit.”

He yanked you into a hug, a little too tight, one arm slung around your neck like he was both scolding you and shielding you. You melted into it as he pressed a kiss to your head.

“I swear to God, Y/N,” he muttered, voice low in your ear, “if he hurts you, I’ll kill him myself.”

You chuckled against his chest. “I know you would.”

Bucky sighed and pulled back, plopping down onto the couch like the last ten minutes had aged him a decade. “And for the love of all that is holy—use protection.”

Yelena snorted next to him. “And do not fuck in the communal shower. Please. I beg you.”

Walker looked horrified. “Wait—have they?!”

You and Bob exchanged a look. He blushed. You smirked. Then you crossed the room, and without missing a beat, Bob reached out and pulled you into him. His arm slid over your shoulders like muscle memory, tucking you against his side with an ease that made everyone in the room groan. He looked down at you with that soft, dopey grin, like a damn teenager who just scored the girl of his dreams.

Yelena let out the loudest groan of all. “Oh my god, you’re disgusting. Look at you—so in love. Yuck!” She made a dramatic gagging noise. “This is vile. I feel violated.”

Bob chuckled.

Bucky didn’t even look. He just threw his head back. “Jesus Christ, please stop this. I can’t take it anymore.”

Yelena didn’t miss a beat. “Honestly, Buck? I’m surprised she can still walk after what I heard last night.”

Bob choked violently.

You burst into laughter, burying your face in his hoodie, muffling a wheeze.

Bob cleared his throat, red as a tomato. “Okay, wow.”

Bucky clapped his hands, hard. “OKAY! Great. That’s enough. Breakfast. Anyone?”

Walker, still pale, raised a hand. “I need alcohol.”

Bucky didn’t even hesitate. “You know what? Make it two. Double.”

Yelena leaned back, completely unbothered, tossing a chip in her mouth. “God, I love this team.”

And you? You looked around—at the chaos, the bickering, the laughter—and felt it settle deep in your chest.

You loved them too.

With all your heart.

    ⊹             ⊹            ⊹             ⊹            ⊹          ⊹             ⊹             ⊹

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[carnalcrows]

FIXER UPPER

summary: You weren’t supposed to fall for him. Not the mountain guide with a sharp tongue and rough hands. Not when your kingdom was unraveling, your brother was missing, and your heart was already cracked from too many years spent waiting behind closed gates. But then again—none of this was supposed to happen. The eternal winter. The betrayal. The truth hidden beneath ice and silence. Now the world is colder than it’s ever been, and the only way forward might be through the storm. And through him.

pairing: kristoff! toji fushiguro x anna! bottom male reader

content warnings: 18+, romance, angst, fluff, smut (oral + p in a), bottom male reader, slow burn, emotional repression, ice magic, betrayal, brief imprisonment, soft reindeer, sibling angst, rooftop kissing, snowman lore.

word count: 6.9k (nice)

best viewed in dark mode

The bells rang at dawn.

You were already awake, sitting half-dressed on the edge of your bed, staring at the same spot on the stone wall you’d memorised sometime around age twelve. The castle had started buzzing hours ago, and now the sound of carriages rolling through the gates echoed through the open window like thunder. For the first time in forever, Arendelle wasn’t quiet.

The kingdom was opening its doors.

Which meant… today, you were allowed to leave your room.

Your heart slammed in your chest. Not from nerves. From the need to move.

You shoved your boots on, didn’t bother with the rest of the ceremonial layers, and ducked out the servant passageway before anyone could stop you. The halls were alive with chatter — voices and footsteps and rustling silk. You slipped past them like smoke, taking the stairs two at a time until the front doors loomed in sight.

Sunlight poured in.

People. Real people. Vendors and nobles, and foreign visitors spilling across the courtyard. Colours you hadn’t seen in years. Laughter. Horses. The smell of cinnamon bread and too much perfume.

It was overwhelming.

It was perfect.

You grinned.

You were halfway through your first lap around the courtyard when someone found you.

“Your Highness—!”

You turned. One of the advisors. Maybe. You hadn’t really learned names outside the staff.

“We’ve been looking everywhere—”

“I was doing reconnaissance,” you said. “For security purposes. You know. Royal stuff.”

They frowned. “You’re supposed to be helping your brother prepare for the coronation.”

“I’m helping him by staying out of his way.”

“Please go inside.”

You sighed dramatically. “Fine.”

Back in the great hall, the atmosphere had shifted. Nanami stood tall in his regalia — gold-trimmed, stiff-shouldered, eyes so carefully blank you wanted to shake him. He looked like a statue. Not a man about to become king.

You approached the throne and leaned in just enough to murmur, “You okay?”

He didn’t look at you. “Don’t be late.”

“That’s your way of saying thank you, right?”

Still nothing.

God, he was the worst at this.

You’d never been a fan of formalwear.

It itched. It clung in the wrong places. And every time you turned your head too fast, the collar threatened to cut off circulation. But apparently, this was the price of being royalty — buttoned cuffs and boots polished until they blinded your reflection.

Still, you had to admit: the ballroom looked beautiful.

Light poured in from the windows above. Music wound through the air, soft strings and brass layered under the quiet murmur of people trying not to seem impressed. The polished floor reflected everything — gold trim, blue velvet, the shine of new crowns.

And then there was him.

He was leaning casually near one of the refreshment tables, cup in hand, expression relaxed. Like this was all just a formality he didn’t need to pretend to care about. His eyes skimmed the room once, then found yours.

He smiled.

You turned too fast and almost knocked over a chair.

Somehow, you ended up near the dessert table.

Somehow, he ended up beside you.

“Not a fan of cake?” he asked, eyes flicking down to your still-empty plate.

You shrugged. “Trying to leave room for the fifth course. Which I’m assuming is just a bigger cake.”

He laughed. “Bold strategy. Let me know if it pays off.”

You glanced at him sideways. “And you are…?”

“Prince Geto of the Southern Isles,” he said, offering a small, mocking bow. “But you can call me Suguru.”

You arched an eyebrow. “And what brings a prince to our frozen little corner of the world?”

He took a sip from his glass. “Adventure. Opportunity. The chance to meet someone worth remembering.”

Oh.

Oh, he was good.

By the time the coronation began, you were absolutely not thinking straight.

Nanami stood tall as the crown was placed on his head— steady hands, steady voice, no hint of nerves. He looked like he belonged there. You stood beside him, a few respectful paces back, trying not to bounce on your heels like a child.

Geto was somewhere in the crowd.

You could feel it.

The crown settled. The hall applauded. Trumpets flared.

And just like that— the gates stayed open.

You found Suguru again that night.

Or maybe he found you.

Either way, the two of you ended up out on the terrace together — stars overhead, lanterns strung between columns, the city below glittering like frost on stone. You laughed more than you meant to. He listened like it mattered. And when the conversation shifted — when his hand brushed yours and didn’t pull away — something inside you softened.

“This is going to sound crazy,” you said, breath fogging in the air between you, “but… I think I was supposed to meet you.”

He smiled.

And that’s how, two hours later, you ended up back inside — cheeks flushed, hands clasped — announcing your engagement to a room full of stunned nobles.

Nanami’s face didn’t move.

But his voice was cold when he said, “You can’t marry someone you just met.”

Silence swept through the ballroom like a second frost. The music faltered, and dozens of gazes turned toward you — some scandalised, others pitying, and a few gleeful in that tight-lipped way only nobility knew how to be.

You blinked. “Excuse me?”

Nanami stepped down from the dais, movements precise, posture stiff. “You heard me. This is absurd.”

You could feel the heat creeping up your neck, a flush that had nothing to do with embarrassment. “You weren’t even there. You didn’t talk to him. You haven’t talked to me in years.”

Nanami’s jaw flexed. “Because it wasn’t safe.”

“No,” you snapped. “Because it was easier. Easier to shut me out than deal with whatever you were hiding.”

His eyes flicked toward Geto — still standing at your side, calm and unreadable — then back to you. “You think this is love?”

“I think this is my choice.”

“I’m still the king.”

You took a step forward. “Then maybe act like it.”

The words hit something. You saw it in the way Nanami’s expression faltered — just for a breath, a flicker — and then hardened again.

“This conversation is over,” he said tightly. “The engagement is denied.”

And then the cold cracked through the room.

It started at his feet — a sudden spread of frost lacing across the polished floor, spidering out in sharp, fractal lines. A gasp rippled through the crowd as the temperature plummeted. Ice climbed the pillars. The chandelier groaned above.

You turned, heart hammering. “Nanami?”

He looked down at his hands. They were trembling. Pale steam curled from his fingers.

He whispered, “No—”

A guard moved. Nanami flinched. Another spike of ice burst from the floor and shattered the edge of the dais.

The ballroom erupted into chaos.

Guests scattered. Dresses rustled. Someone screamed. Nanami backed away from the growing ring of frost, breath shallow, panic blooming on his face for the first time in your life.

“I didn’t mean—” he started.

But you were already moving.

“Wait—Nanami, stop!”

He didn’t. He bolted.

You chased after him through the now-frozen gates, out into the courtyard. The snow hadn’t started yet, but the sky had turned the colour of ash.

“Nanami!” you called again, voice raw, but he didn’t look back. Not once.

And then he was gone.

Vanished through the outer gates, his footprints icing over behind him.

The guards hesitated. No one followed.

So you did.

You didn’t even stop to change. You just grabbed your cloak, shoved your way through the muttering nobles, and ducked into the stables. Saddle or not, you were riding out.

Because whatever had just happened—whatever Nanami had kept secret all these years—you were going to find him.

And for once, you were going to be the one who stayed.

You didn’t make it far on horseback before the storm started.

It came from the mountains—whipping winds and a wall of snow so sudden it nearly knocked you off your horse. By the time you reached the base of the pass, the cold had sunk its teeth into your bones, and the road ahead was nothing but white.

You pressed forward anyway.

You didn’t have a plan. Just a direction, and the stubborn need to see this through.

The kingdom was in trouble. Your brother was alone. And whether or not Nanami ever wanted to talk to you again, you weren’t about to let him freeze to death on some ice-covered cliff. Not after everything.

Not again.

The wind howled around you as you crested the next ridge. Snow clung to your lashes, blurred your vision, and soaked your cloak. You urged the horse onward until its hooves slipped on the path, and you had to dismount. The rest, you'd do on foot.

The ice under your boots groaned with every step.

You didn’t stop moving.

Until a voice broke through the storm.

“You’re gonna die if you keep walking like that.”

You whirled.

A man stood just ahead, leaning against a snow-dusted outcrop with his arms crossed. Tall. Broad. Scowl permanently carved into his face. His cloak was rough and patched, lined with fur, and his hair was dark and windswept, half-frozen at the tips.

Beside him stood a reindeer, calmly chewing on a mouthful of frost.

You blinked. “...Are you talking to me?”

“No,” the man said flatly. “I’m talking to the blizzard. Of course I’m talking to you.”

You narrowed your eyes. “Do you always greet strangers with insults, or am I special?”

He shrugged. “You look like a royal idiot. You ride out alone in the middle of a storm, dressed like a ballroom extra, and you’re heading straight toward an avalanche zone.”

You scowled. “I’m looking for someone.”

“So are the wolves. Hope you’re faster.”

“Excuse me?”

He jerked his head toward the woods. “They’ve been following you since the ridge.”

You glanced over your shoulder. Nothing but trees.

He smirked. “You didn’t notice?”

Your stomach turned. “Who are you?”

“Toji,” he said. “Mountain runner. Ice harvester. Grumpy bastard. Take your pick.”

You stared. “...Right.”

Toji tilted his head. “And you?”

You hesitated. You should’ve lied. Said you were a traveller. A scholar. Anything else.

But you didn’t.

“Prince of Arendelle.”

Toji blinked. “Of course you are.”

“You’ve heard what happened?”

“Hard not to. Giant magical panic storm tends to make headlines.”

You exhaled sharply, frustration bubbling up through your chest. “Look, I don’t have time to explain. I need to find my brother. He’s—he’s not well. And the longer he’s out here alone, the worse it’ll get.”

Toji’s gaze sharpened. “The king?”

You nodded. “He ran. I followed. I don’t care what anyone says—I’m not leaving him out here.”

Toji looked at you for a long moment, jaw working like he was chewing on the idea.

Then he said, “You’re coming with me.”

You blinked. “I am?”

He turned and started walking. “You’re gonna get yourself killed otherwise. I know these mountains. You don’t. So if you want to find your brother alive, stay close and keep your mouth shut.”

You opened your mouth.

He didn’t even look back. “Starting now.”

You snapped your mouth shut.

The reindeer—Megumi, apparently—gave you a judgmental side-eye as you followed. You wrapped your cloak tighter and trudged into the storm after them.

And, maybe for the first time that day, you didn’t feel entirely alone.

The path narrowed as you moved higher, trees closing in, branches heavy with ice. Wind tugged at your cloak, but you kept going, boots slipping now and then on the uneven trail. Toji didn’t slow for you—just walked ahead like the cold didn’t bother him at all.

He glanced over his shoulder once. “You always this quiet?”

You huffed. “You told me not to talk.”

“That was before I realised silence makes you look more lost.”

You squinted at his back. “Do you always insult people you’re helping?”

“Only when they dress like they’ve never stepped outside the castle.”

You bit your tongue.

Megumi snorted beside you, smug and unbothered.

By nightfall, the wind had calmed, but the temperature dropped lower. Your fingers were stiff, and your legs ached from walking. Toji eventually pointed out a hollow beneath a rocky ledge, shielded from the worst of the wind.

“We’ll camp here.”

You looked around. “You… do this often?”

Toji raised an eyebrow. “Sleep under a rock with strangers? Not really.”

You didn’t reply. You just sank down on the cold-packed ground, pulling your knees to your chest. Snowflakes caught in your hair and melted against your temple.

Toji dropped a small bundle beside you—blankets, rough wool, but warm.

“Thanks,” you muttered.

He sat a few feet away, unbothered by the cold, arms folded behind his head like it was a summer evening. You watched him in the firelight, the way his breath curled in the air, the lines around his mouth softening when he closed his eyes.

“So…” you said finally. “What’s your deal?”

He cracked an eye open. “My deal?”

“You live up here. Alone. With a reindeer.”

Megumi snorted.

Toji smirked. “The reindeer’s better company than most people.”

You waited.

He didn’t elaborate.

You sighed and leaned your head back against the stone. “You don’t seem surprised.”

“About what?”

“The magic. My brother. The storm.”

Toji shrugged. “Seen worse.” You blinked. “Worse than an eternal winter?”

“I once saw a bear take out an entire logging camp because someone stepped on her cub’s tail.”

“…Okay. Fair.”

He glanced at you again, something quieter in his expression. “But yeah. I’ve seen what fear does to people. Your brother’s scared. He didn’t mean to hurt anyone.”

Your throat tightened. “I know.”

Silence stretched between you, thick and heavy. The fire crackled. Snow fell in slow, lazy spirals, and for the first time in days, you let yourself rest.

Even if only for a little while.

You woke to the soft crunch of snow and something… off. A rhythm. Humming, maybe. Low and meandering, like someone trying to keep themselves company and doing a poor job of staying in tune.

Toji was already up, crouched near what was left of the fire, blade in hand as he shaved slivers of ice off a frozen log. His eyes flicked toward the trees.

“You hear that?” he asked without looking up.

You sat up slowly, rubbing the sleep from your face. “What is that?”

“Annoying,” Toji muttered. “And getting closer.”

The humming grew louder, now accompanied by the unmistakable sound of boots crunching through snow. Then a voice, conversational and way too chipper for the setting: “—No, you’re going the wrong way. I told you, the tree with the weird bend is a landmark. Not a sign of poor navigation—hi!”

A figure came stumbling through the trees, wrapped in layers of mismatched winter gear, cheeks flushed from the cold, curly pink scarf bouncing with every step. His smile was bright, genuine, and completely out of place in the frozen wild.

“Oh, thank God,” he breathed, hands on his knees. “I was starting to think I imagined the campfire.”

Toji straightened slowly. “Who the hell are you?”

The guy grinned, unbothered. “Yuuji. Just a guy. I hike. I talk to myself. Occasionally rescue royals from hypothermia. You know. Standard Tuesday stuff.”

You blinked at him. “...Are you alone?”

“Nope.” He pointed behind him. “Got a reindeer that left me about twenty minutes ago and a snowman I built that tried to stage a coup. So technically? Yes.”

You stared.

He held up his hands. “Okay, maybe not a coup. He just... rolled away. Emotionally.”

Toji exhaled through his nose. “You’re insane.”

“I get that a lot.”

You stood slowly, eyes narrowing. “You said you saw a fire?”

Yuuji nodded. “Last night. Came looking this morning. I’ve been up the trail before—if you’re headed toward the summit, you’re gonna want to take the eastern fork. The West is avalanche territory. I mean, unless you’re into that kind of thing.”

You exchanged a glance with Toji.

The man had just wandered in out of nowhere with a goofy smile and more scarves than sense, and somehow, he knew the trails better than either of you.

“…You’ve been to the palace?” you asked.

Yuuji perked up. “Oh yeah. Big, spooky, lots of sharp angles. Saw it last week. Thought it was haunted. Still might be.”

Toji didn’t look convinced. “And you just… want to help?”

Yuuji shrugged. “I mean, not help help. I’m not trying to get stabbed or anything. But I can walk and point dramatically. Pretty good at both.”

There was a long pause.

You tried not to smile. “You really built a snowman that ran away?”

“Yeah,” Yuuji sighed. “He was my best work. Had little stick arms and everything.”

Toji muttered, “We don’t have time for this.”

You turned to Yuuji. “We’ll take the east trail. If you’re heading that way—”

“Lead the way,” he grinned, already turning on his heel. “Just don’t blame me if the snowman finds us. He holds grudges.”

You pulled your cloak tighter, fell into step beside him, and tried very hard not to laugh when Toji muttered under his breath, “We’re gonna regret this.”

You probably would. But at least it wouldn’t be boring.

The east trail started narrow, tucked between cliffs that rose like jagged teeth on either side, the snow pressed hard into the ground by wind and weight. It was quiet up here—quieter than you expected, the kind of quiet that made your breath feel loud.

Yuuji didn’t seem to notice. He filled the silence easily, narrating your path with cheerful commentary as he stomped ahead, occasionally pointing out “dangerous icicles” that were barely within reach or snowdrifts that, in his words, “definitely looked haunted.”

Toji mostly ignored him, trudging on with the patience of someone long used to tuning people out.

You walked in the middle.

It wasn’t the worst place to be.

Eventually, the trees opened up to a small ridge, the trail flattening out just long enough for you to catch your breath. You pushed your hood back, letting the chill air bite at your ears, and glanced out over the valley below.

That’s when you saw it.

Rising in the distance like a jagged shard of glass—sharp, towering, almost impossibly symmetrical. The palace. Nanami’s palace. Iced over in blue and white and silver, pulsing faintly in the dim winter light like it had a heartbeat.

You stopped.

Toji followed your gaze. “That it?”

You nodded. “Yeah.”

Yuuji shaded his eyes with one hand. “He really went full dramatic recluse, huh?”

Toji glanced at you. “You sure about this?”

You swallowed. The frost still clung to your ribs, a weight that hadn’t quite gone away since the courtyard. “I have to talk to him.”

Toji didn’t ask why. He just adjusted the strap on his shoulder and started walking again.

The closer you got, the more the wind picked up. Not wild, but purposeful—like it was watching. Judging. Snow whipped around your ankles, and the air buzzed faintly with something you couldn’t name. Magic, maybe. Or fear.

The gates of the palace loomed ahead, carved from solid ice, clear and seamless like water frozen mid-fall. You reached out a hand. The cold stung, but it didn’t bite. The doors parted with a whisper.

Inside, the air was still. Heavy.

Every sound echoed.

You stepped forward, your boots clinking faintly on the slick floor. Toji stayed a pace behind, his presence solid at your back. Yuuji stayed outside, saying something about “respecting magical sibling privacy” and “keeping an eye on the snowman situation.”

You didn’t even make it halfway down the corridor before you saw him.

Nanami stood at the far end of the hall, framed by a window that stretched to the ceiling, frost spidering out from his bare hands.

He didn’t turn. But he spoke.

“You shouldn’t have come.” You took a breath. “And yet here I am.” He finally looked at you.

His face was pale, tired, drawn tight with something between guilt and exhaustion. His coat—one of his favourites—was rimmed in frost, heavy with snow. His eyes, always so precise, looked almost… haunted.

“You’re not safe here.”

“I’m not safe out there either.” His hands curled at his sides. “This isn’t a game.”

“I know,” you said quietly. “But you’re still my brother. That’s not changing.” Something flickered behind his expression. Not soft. Not sharp. Just… uncertain.

You took another step forward.

“Let me help.”

Nanami’s jaw tightened.

He didn’t move away, but he didn’t reach for you either. His hands stayed clenched, trembling faintly at his sides. The ice beneath your feet groaned with every word, subtle cracks threading outward like a heartbeat gone wrong.

“I’ve already done enough damage,” he said, voice flat. “The longer I stay near anyone, the worse it gets.”

“You think I care?” Your voice cracked with the cold, or maybe it cracked from something deeper. “You think I haven’t already lost enough time with you? You shut me out for years, and I—I let it happen. Because I thought maybe you needed space, or maybe I just didn’t matter enough.”

His shoulders flinched. That got to him. You stepped forward.

“You’re not dangerous,” you said. “You’re scared. You’ve always been scared.”

“Wouldn’t you be?” he snapped. “If everything you touched broke, if people looked at you and saw a curse instead of a king?”

The words echoed in the chamber, sharp and cold and final.

You took another step. “I don’t see a curse.”

He laughed, bitter and small. “Then you’re the only one.”

The wind picked up again, swirling between the columns, a current of snowflakes lifting off the floor like dust. You didn’t stop. You closed the space until you were barely a foot away and said, softer now:

“I’m still here.”

Nanami looked down at you.

For a second, you saw it—the boy he used to be. The brother who used to sneak you pastries in the dead of night, who read aloud from ledgers just to make the words sound pretty, who built snowmen with you in the courtyard before anyone cared who was watching.

“I don’t know how to fix it,” he whispered. “You don’t have to,” you said. “You just have to come home.” The room went quiet again. And then the wind stopped.

You didn’t realise you’d been holding your breath until Nanami’s shoulders dropped, the tension bleeding out of him like something broken finally unclenching.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

 “I know.”

And for the first time in forever, he pulled you into his arms. It wasn’t warm. Not yet. But it was real.

And it was enough.

You didn’t know how long you stood there—his arms stiff around you at first, then slowly loosening, settling into something almost like comfort. The palace seemed to sigh with you, the magic in the air softening, the cold retreating from your skin just enough to feel your fingers again.

Toji waited just inside the archway, arms crossed but gaze steady. He hadn’t interrupted, hadn’t moved. He just stood there like he’d always been meant to stand behind you.

Nanami pulled back, looking down at his hands like he didn’t recognise them. “I didn’t want you to see me like this.”

You gave a half-smile. “You think I came this far just to see your good side?”

His laugh was short but real, and that was a victory all its own.

He looked past you then, toward Toji. “You brought backup.”

“More like he dragged me here,” you said. “I didn’t exactly come equipped for ice climbing and wolf evasion.”

Nanami’s brow furrowed. “Wolves?”

“Don’t worry,” Toji said. “I scared them off.”

“With what?” Nanami asked, incredulous.

“Toji,” you said, deadpan, “is the wolf.”

Nanami blinked. “That… makes sense.”

Before you could say more, heavy footsteps echoed from the entrance.

“Hey!” Yuuji’s voice rang down the corridor, a little out of breath. “Sorry to ruin the mood, but we’ve got company!” You turned fast. “What kind of company?”

Yuuji skidded into view, cheeks red from running. “The angry kind. A couple of guards, and—uh—Geto.”

Your stomach dropped. Nanami’s face darkened. “What is he doing here?” You didn’t have an answer.

Toji was already moving, hand on his blade, expression sharp. “They followed you.” You shook your head. “No. I—I didn’t tell anyone—”

“It doesn’t matter,” Toji said. “They’re here now.” Nanami stepped forward, a flicker of frost lacing the floor beneath his feet again. “They want me gone. If they take me, they’ll imprison me—or worse.”

“Then we don’t let them.” Yuuji nodded. “I’ll hold the front door!” You stared. “You’re not armed.”

“I have enthusiasm!” Toji sighed. “He’s going to die.”

“Not if we stop this before it starts,” you said. Nanami’s hand touched your shoulder. “You shouldn’t be in the middle of this.” You met his eyes. “I’ve always been in the middle of this. I just finally decided to stand still.”

He didn’t argue.

He didn’t have to.

—

The front of the palace looked different when you returned to it—sharper, somehow. The wind had picked up again, curling along the pillars like it was bracing for a fight. Snow clung to the arches in delicate spirals, and the air felt charged, brittle.

Geto stood in the open just beyond the gate, dressed in the same polished coat he’d worn to the coronation. He looked almost out of place surrounded by frost—too smooth, too warm. His eyes flicked upward when he spotted you.

“You came all this way for him,” he said, voice casual, but not quite smiling. “How romantic.”

Toji stepped forward before you could. “Cut the shit. What do you want?”

Geto tilted his head. “What everyone wants. Order. Stability. A kingdom that isn’t gripped by magic and fear.” Nanami stepped into view behind you.

Geto didn’t flinch. “And the monster makes his entrance.”

You could feel Nanami tense beside you. Toji moved subtly closer, like he could anchor the space between all of you before it cracked.

“I’m not your enemy,” Nanami said, low.

“Tell that to the frostbite victims,” Geto replied, cold.

“Don’t do this,” you said. “We can fix it. Nanami’s not a threat. He never was.” Geto’s gaze slid to you, then measured, quiet. “You’re in love with an idea. You always were.”

You felt that one in your ribs.

Toji’s voice was a growl. “You’re wasting our time.”

“Funny,” Geto said, and stepped forward, hand twitching toward something under his coat. “I was just thinking the same thing.”

And then the air snapped. Nanami moved.

So did Toji.

A crack of ice shot across the ground, fast and sudden, catching Geto mid-step. He slipped, barely, but it was enough. Toji closed the distance with a snarl, hand around Geto’s collar, blade flashing in the light.

But Geto didn’t draw a weapon. He didn’t fight back.

He just smiled.

“Arendelle deserves better than chaos,” he said. “You’ll see.”

Toji knocked him out with the hilt of his blade.

It was over in seconds.

You stood in the snow, breathing hard, heart pounding, staring down at the man you’d once imagined yourself marrying—and felt nothing but relief.

Not grief.

Not anger.

Just… release.

Nanami’s hand found your shoulder again. “Thank you.”

You turned. “You’re the one who saved us.”

“Maybe,” he said. “But you came for me first.”

You didn’t say anything to that.

You didn’t have to.

—

You left Geto in the snow, unconscious and disarmed, his breath fogging faintly against the pale light. Toji bound his hands with a cord from his pack, tight and deliberate, then turned to you.

“We need to move,” he said. “This won’t be the last of it.”

He was right.

You didn’t ask how he knew. You could feel it too—the heaviness in the air, the way the wind shifted. Something bigger was coming. And you hadn’t seen Gojo since the coronation.

That alone should’ve told you everything.

You took the southern ridge back toward the lowlands, hoping to circle the storm’s edge before it reached the valley. Yuuji caught up just past the ice falls, cheeks red, voice hoarse but chipper.

“I think I lost a boot,” he panted. “But I saved the snowman!”

Megumi made a sound somewhere between a sigh and a groan.

You slowed as you reached the next crest. Down below, the castle rose dark against the horizon, snow curling off the battlements like breath. Fires burned low in the city. The gates were sealed.

Toji frowned. “That’s not good.”

You stared. “What is?”

He pointed. Near the outer wall, rows of torches lined the square. Uniformed guards stood at attention, flanked by banners you didn’t recognise—crest designs subtly altered, new emblems sewn in gold thread.

At the centre of it all stood Gojo Satoru.

He wore white trimmed in silver, the old king’s seal draped around his shoulders like a shroud. His expression was unreadable from this distance, but you could see how the guards looked at him—like a man they already believed in.

Your stomach sank.

“You’ve got to be kidding,” you whispered.

Nanami’s breath was steady beside you, but his hands had curled into fists again. “He moved fast.”

“He’s been planning this,” Toji said. “He was waiting.” Yuuji looked between you all, confused. “Wait—who is that?”

You answered without thinking. “The king’s advisor.”

“Former advisor,” Nanami corrected quietly. And then, like he felt you watching, Gojo looked up. His eyes met yours across the snow-covered distance, and for the briefest moment, he smiled.

It wasn’t friendly.

You backed away from the ridge. “We need to get inside,” you said. “Now.”

Toji nodded once, sharp. “I’ll find a way.” He was already moving when your hand caught his arm.

He paused. “I mean it,” you said. “Be careful.” He looked at you—really looked at you—for the first time all day.

And then, without a word, he leaned in and pressed his forehead to yours. Just for a second. Just enough.

Then he was gone.

You watched him disappear into the trees. The sky overhead began to darken again. And you had a feeling that this wasn’t the end.

It was just the beginning.

The courtyard gates were already open when you reached them.

You weren’t sure if that made it easier or worse. The guards didn’t stop you—just looked past you, like their orders hadn’t included you. Like, maybe someone wanted you to walk straight in.

Inside, the square had transformed. Banners had been torn down and replaced with clean lines, crisp crests you didn’t recognise. Silver instead of gold. White instead of blue. Everywhere you looked, Gojo’s version of the kingdom had already begun to take shape.

He stood at the steps of the palace, hands clasped behind his back, posture regal.

You used to think he was handsome in that distant, untouchable way. The kind of man who knew he was smarter than the room and enjoyed pretending otherwise. But now, standing in front of him, all you saw was a crown he hadn’t earned.

He smiled as you approached.

“You made it,” he said, like this was a party. “And here I was, starting to think you got lost.”

“I should’ve known it was you.”

Gojo gave a soft laugh. “You were always too trusting. It’s cute. Naive. A little exhausting.” Your hands clenched at your sides. “You were our advisor.”

He tilted his head. “You say that like I didn’t advise. I tried. Really. But when the throne is handed to a walking disaster and a prince who believes in fairy tales, someone has to keep the kingdom standing.”

“You mean under your rule.” He smiled wider. “Exactly.” 

Nanami stepped forward beside you.

Gojo’s smile faltered.

“I thought you’d run,” he said. “That’s what you’re good at, isn’t it?” Nanami didn’t answer. He just lifted one hand, palm out.

The wind shifted.

The torches flickered.

Frost spread beneath his feet—and this time, it moved with control. Precise. Elegant. The guards backed up instinctively, unsure.

Gojo raised his chin. “You really think you can scare me now?”

“No,” Nanami said, calm. “I think you already are.”

Gojo reached for something beneath his coat.

He never got the chance.

Toji hit him like a storm.

No warning. Just a blur of motion, steel flashing in the light, Gojo’s body hitting the ground with a grunt. Toji’s foot came down hard on Gojo’s arm, pinning him, blade poised just above his throat.

Gojo hissed. “You—”

“Me,” Toji said flatly. “The guy who didn’t betray the crown.”

Around you, the guards froze.

And then Yuuji burst into the square with a triumphant yell, waving a flag he had absolutely not been given permission to wave, riding Megumi bareback like a child on holiday.

“Victory or whatever!” he shouted.

The silence that followed was… surreal.

And then someone in the crowd laughed.

Nanami stepped forward.

“This ends now,” he said. “No more fear. No more hiding.”

The guards looked at each other, uncertain.

Then, slowly, one by one—they lowered their weapons.

Gojo didn’t speak again.

He was taken to the dungeons that night.

And Arendelle began to thaw.

It didn’t happen all at once—the thaw. The snow melted slowly, retreating in ribbons from the rooftops, slipping from the edges of shutters and gutters and castle spires like a long-held breath finally let go. The sky brightened day by day. Light found its way into corners that hadn’t seen it in weeks.

People came out of their homes again. Windows opened. Children screamed in delight at the sudden return of puddles.

Nanami didn’t take the throne immediately. He stepped back from it, quietly, without ceremony. Said he needed time to learn how to rule without fear. Without shutting people out. Without shutting you out.

You believed him.

You spent the next few days in the palace, helping repair what you could—broken windows, damaged halls, frostbitten crops that needed replanting. Yuuji became a local legend. The snowman reappeared and promptly fell apart again. And Toji…

Toji stayed.

Not because he had to. But because, when it was all over, when the guards laid down their arms and the flags were restored, he looked at you and didn’t say goodbye.

Instead, he said, “You owe me a drink.”

You said, “You saved the kingdom.”

He shrugged. “I’ll settle for the drink.”

And then he smiled.

The room was quiet, dimly lit by the low burn of the fireplace and the silver spill of moonlight through the frosted windowpanes. You’d slipped away from the feast hours ago. The crown still felt too heavy on your brother’s head. The castle, too full of laughter that didn’t quite reach your chest. But Toji had found you anyway—of course, he had.

He didn’t say much when he closed the door behind him, just watched you for a long moment from across the room. You met his eyes, said nothing, and held out your hand.

He took it without hesitation.

When he kissed you, it was softer than you expected. Slow. Like a man who’d thought about this more times than he’d admit and didn’t want to get it wrong. You let yourself lean into him, your fingers tangling in the back of his shirt, your breath catching when he deepened it—when he backed you into the windowsill and kissed you like you were something worth losing a war over.

Your hands slid beneath his coat, feeling heat and scar tissue and steady strength. His mouth never left yours for long, just long enough to murmur your name against your skin, to breathe out a curse when you pulled at the layers of his shirt, when your fingers dragged along his spine and felt him shudder.

The fire crackled behind you. His palm found your waist, then your ribs, then higher, fingers splayed like he was trying to memorise you by feel alone. When you gasped into his mouth, he pulled back, just enough to look at you.

“You sure?” he asked, voice hoarse.

You nodded. “I’ve never been more sure of anything.”

That was all he needed.

The rest was slow. Clothes slipped away one piece at a time, each fold of fabric kissed away like a promise. He traced his hands down your chest like he’d waited his whole life to do it—like you were the only beautiful thing left in the world. You felt him everywhere: the drag of his lips down your throat, the press of his palms against your hips, the way he whispered your name like it meant something sacred.

You weren’t cold anymore.

He laid you down carefully—no rush, no weight you didn’t want. Just heat. Just skin. The brush of his mouth over your collarbone, down the slope of your chest, his breath warm and ragged when you arched into him, gasped his name, trembled beneath his hands. He was gentle, but thorough, moving like a man who didn’t need to ask what you wanted—he already knew. He gave it slowly, completely, one kiss, one stroke, one breath at a time.

When he finally entered you, it stole what little breath you had left.

It wasn’t pain. Not with him. It was weight and heat and fullness, your body adjusting to him like you’d been made for this, for him. His hand found yours and didn’t let go. His mouth never strayed far from your throat, murmuring soft praises and curses that blurred together as he moved—slow at first, then deeper, drawn into you with every gasp that escaped your lips.

You moaned into his mouth when he kissed you again, fingers clutching at his back, the slow, grinding rhythm of him inside you building into something bright and unbearable. He hit a spot that made your vision blur, your legs tighten around his hips.

“There?” he breathed.

You could only nod.

He groaned, deep in his chest, and began to move with more purpose, each thrust sending sparks down your spine. The pleasure coiled in your belly, tighter and tighter, like a thread pulled taut. You could feel him unravelling too—his movements growing rougher, his voice rasping your name like a prayer, his grip tightening around your waist like he couldn’t bear to let you go.

When you came, it ripped through you like fire, all warmth and shuddering release, your whole body arching into his. He followed you moments later, a muffled curse into your skin, hips stuttering as he spilled into you, burying his face in the curve of your neck like he’d break if he let go.

You held him there.

Neither of you spoke for a long time.

Eventually, he shifted just enough to look at you, eyes dark and full of something you didn’t have a name for.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he whispered.

You smiled, fingers brushing through his hair. “Good. Because I’d just come looking for you.”

He kissed you again, slower this time. Softer.

And in the silence that followed, in the cooling warmth of tangled limbs and moonlight, you fell asleep with his heartbeat steady beneath your hand.

The spring that followed was the softest Arendelle had ever seen.

Snowmelt shimmered on the cobblestones, pooling into gutters and gardens alike. Wildflowers broke through the frost like they’d been waiting for permission. Birds returned to the palace towers. The market reopened in full colour, with banners strung from every window and laughter that finally sounded real again.

Your brother ruled with a quieter hand now. Firmer in some ways, softer in others. He smiled more. Trusted more. Sometimes he let you sit in on council meetings and didn’t scold you for making faces behind the baroness from the western fjord. That felt like progress.

Gojo’s name faded into the background of the castle, mentioned only in whispers. The cell he occupied stayed locked. Empty, most days. No one talked about how the key had gone missing.

You didn’t ask.

Geto was never seen again. Some said he vanished over the mountains. Others said he drowned. You knew better than to assume anything with him.

Yuuji still came by the palace every week, usually tracking in mud or snow or some combination of both, and the snowman—rebuilt, reshaped, reimagined—never strayed far from his side. He talked to it like it answered. You never asked if it did.

Nanami asked you once, what you planned to do now that peace had returned.

You said you weren’t sure. That you might stay. That you might leave.

But you knew the truth before the words even finished forming.

Because Toji was waiting at the garden wall, arms folded, sun cutting across the sharp line of his jaw, looking at you like he always did—like you were something steady. Something real.

You walked down the steps without hurrying.

He met you halfway.

“I’m supposed to be meeting with a trade envoy,” you said.

Toji hummed. “You’re late.”

“I was busy being important.”

“Mm.” His mouth tilted in a smirk. “Wanna be less important for a while?”

You stepped into his arms like you’d done it a hundred times before. Like it was the most natural thing in the world.

“I was hoping you’d ask.”

He kissed you there, beneath the arching vines and bloom-heavy branches, with the whole kingdom breathing easy for once. It was slow and certain. And when you leaned into him, fingers curling into the back of his coat, it felt like more than enough.

You stayed there until the light dipped lower, until the shadows stretched long across the courtyard and the sky turned gold behind the mountains.

Peace, it seemed, was a quiet thing.

But it was yours.

And this time, it was going to last.

Taglist: @zolass @edensrose @tamias-wrld @ilovesugurugeto69 @planetxella @mazettns @longlivegojo @midnight-138 @literallyrousseau @vimademedoitt @useless-n-clueless @flatl1n3 @hikaurbae @lexkou @razefxylorf @abrielletargaryen @coco-145 @eagleeyedbitch @deathofacupid @gayaristocrat @porcalinecunt @whatsaheartxx @thecringes2000 @sageofspades @g4vcat @itsrandompersonyall @blvdprn @blueemochii @sappychat @onyxxxxqq @axetivev @s1llygo0s3 @crazydirectioner2000-blog @thestarsallowed @honey-valentin3 @academiq @gaozorous-rex-blog @idkmissgurl @sa1ki-deactivated20250510 @sooniebby @seomn

© carnalcrows on tumblr. Please do not steal my works as I spend time, and I take genuine effort to do them.

[xylusbible]

canonically obsessed loser caleb x afab reader

💫 word count: 1.8k

💫 content warning: 18+ MDNI, pwp, smut, cunnilingus, strength kink, caleb’s big muscly arms (BARK!)

💫 xybb notes: hihi ! i wrote this at 2am specifically because of caleb’s dialogue after massaging his shoulder or arm in interaction mode - “(talking about his arms or shoulders) they can bare more weight than you’d think” idk if it was an innuendo, but i sure took it as one ! hope you enjoy :3 (also i’m very gay and usually write queer pairing ships, so i haven’t written hetero smut in YEARS so bare with me. if this is horrible i’m so sorry ;-;)

[orange & mdni dividers by @cafekitsune), moon divider by @enchanthings, caleb banner by me]

caleb seems to have some sort of obsession with holding you in his arms. any chance he gets, he has his hands around your waist, tugging you closer, or pulling you into his lap to cuddle you close while you’re watching a movie together. and at the end of the movie when you inevitably fall asleep as usual, he loves getting to pick you up princess style and carry you to bed.

another thing he seems to have an obsession with is your legs and specifically, your thighs. he loves to hold them in is hands, massage them over his lap, have them wrapped around his head..

you don’t mind any of it one bit, because if there’s one thing you seem to have an obsession with, it’s caleb’s arms. he works out almost every day and weight training is a part of his regular routine. you love to ogle the slight veins that bulge out around his biceps and hold onto them whenever you get the chance.

today, he comes back from the gym while you’re in the kitchen eating a snack. he drops his gym bag on the floor by the front door, before making his way over to you. he wraps his arms around your waist from behind and pulls you towards his chest, before leaning down to kiss your temple.

“welcome back, colonel,” you tease as you set down your food to hold his arms around you.

“hey there, pipsqueak. get up to anything interesting while i was gone?” he asks in return, a soft smile on his face.

you shake your head. “nothing interesting. just watched some tv and made a snack.” he hums in acknowledgement.

you move to turn around in his arms so that you’re facing him, and take the chance to place your hands on his slightly swollen biceps.

“how was your workout?” you ask as you run your fingers along a vein near the inside of his right elbow. he lets out a soft laugh at your obvious admiration.

“good as usual. i’m sure you can tell, but i worked on arms today,” he says with a slight smirk.

“i could definitely tell,” you say with pursed lips, as you squeeze at his arms a little.

“how much is it that you can bench press again?” you ask cheekily.

“275,” he says proudly, flexing slightly under the light touch of your fingers. you hum happily in approval.

“that’s why you love to lift me up as if i’m as light a feather,” you say, biting your bottom lip a bit as you look up at him. he nods and tightens his grip on your waist a bit.

“it gets easier every time. wanna see?” he asks. before you can respond, he’s moving his hands down to your thighs and lifting you up quickly, easily. you let out a small yelp of surprise as he places you legs over his shoulders, and walks you both over to the nearest wall.

“caleb!” you scold, not loving the height that he’s holding you up to. thank the gods you have high ceilings in your apartment. but even though you’re annoyed, you can’t help but be a bit turned on by how easy it was for him to place you in this position. these days, lifting you up was a regular occurrence for him, and you never had too many complaints about it.

he smiles up at you from between your legs.

“see?” he says. you’re only wearing a long t-shirt and underwear, so as he says it, you can feel the slight wind of his breath on your inner thighs and you can’t help but squirm a bit in his hold. luckily, his hold on you stays firm and confident.

“okay i get it, you’re so cool and strong, babe. now please, let me down,” you say.

“i would, but you just look so good from this angle, pipsqueak,” he says.

you blush, knowing that he’s not seeing much but the lining of your underwear.

“you can see me from this angle closer to the ground,” you whine. he laughs, sending a slight shiver up your body as his breath tickles your thighs again. he finally decides to give you some mercy and walks back over to the kitchen, so he can set you down on the counter.

you sigh in relief and move to slide off the counter, but caleb stops you with his hands.

“ah, ah, ah.. i moved you closer to the ground, but i wasn’t finished enjoying the view,” he says before getting down on his knees in front of you, his hands moving from your waist to your thighs. he moves to spread them apart, and you let out a shaky breath.

“i could see the wetness starting to seep through your panties, love,” he says, and you let out a small groan of embarrassment. he chuckles softly before holding eye contact with you as he moves his face forward and starts to lightly kiss at your thighs.

you let out a quiet gasp as his thumbs dig in a little deeper into your skin.

“you had your snack.. can i have mine?” he asks with a teasing smile. you roll your eyes at the stupid joke, but nod anyways, knowing you’d never turn the opportunity down.

“nice,” he says, like a complete loser before he moves his hands up again to place on the waistband of your underwear. you lift your hips up slightly so he’s able to tug them down and off. once they’re tossed over his shoulder, he moves back in between your legs, moving his hands back to your thighs and hooking them over his shoulders once again as he places his head right in front of your cunt.

he waits for a few seconds, as if he’s committing the view to memory (like he hasn’t seen it hundreds of times now..) and you hold your breath in anticipation before he finally moves his face forward to kiss at your lips. you let out a harsher gasp this time, moving your hand to thread in his hair.

“i haven’t even done anything yet, and you’re already this reactive,” he teases. you tighten your hand in his hair in annoyance and he lets out a huff of a laugh before finally diving in completely, kissing at your clit this time. you let out a moan easily, relieved to feel the full pressure of his lips up against you. he uses his tongue to lick a path from your hole back to your clit and you tilt your head back at the feeling.

(caleb’s always been good at giving head, considering he seems to enjoy it just as much or sometimes even more than you do.)

he starts to eat you out with pure vigor, licking at your clit like an overeager dog, before circling his tongue around and inside your hole. you moan loudly, happy to be devoured by the man you love the most. he takes his time with you, rubbing circles into your thighs with his thumbs and plunging his tongue into you as far as he can go.

he eventually uses his evol to move your back down onto the counter so he can pull your hips forward and get even deeper. you clench his hair in your fist and let out a wail, breathing out harshly as he takes you apart piece by piece. he spreads you open wider and moves one hand from your thigh to where his mouth is, gathering some of your slick with his middle and ring finger before moving his tongue back up to your clit and plunging his two fingers into you easily. you thrash in his hold.

“oh my god.. caleb!” you moan out loudly, not able to control the volume of your voice when you’re feeling this good.

he flexes his tongue to make it firmer as he uses the tip to flit back and forth over your clit while he scissors his thick, long fingers inside of you. you shake in his grip, moaning in staccato as you’re not able to handle the influx of pleasure.

“fuck caleb, please” you moan out, not even sure what you’re begging for.

he moves his face back a bit but continues using his fingers.

“what are you begging for, princess? aren’t i already giving you everything?” he asks mockingly.

you whine out.

“w-wanna cum, caleb, please,” you moan out helplessly.

“you sure? it hasn’t been that long.. you know i could do this for hours,” he teases.

“please, caleb, please,” you beg as he curls his fingers upward to stroke along your g-spot. you choke on air at the feeling.

“okay fine, since you’re asking so nicely,” he says, before moving his face forward once again.

he gives it his absolute all this time. not willing to stop till you reach your climax like you asked. instead of just licking and tonguing at your clit, he sucks. slurps like it’s his favorite meal, like you’re the best thing he’s ever tasted.

tears well up in your eyes as you get closer to your climax. you can’t help but repeat his name over and over again like an omen, and it only fuels him to work harder. the grip he has on your thigh is bruising as he thrusts his fingers into you faster, while absolutely devouring your clit.

your voice gets softer and softer, barely being able to speak anymore as you reach your peak. he presses the tips of his fingers against your g-spot firmly one more time before you’re letting out a strained scream as you cum hard. his pace slows as he continues to stoke and lick you through it, until your thrashing and squirming away from his hold from overstimulation. he gets the hint after a minute and slowly slides his now soaked fingers out of you, and lays one last kiss on your clit before pulling back completely. he stands up from the ground and smiles at the sight of you—a limp puddle on the counter, panting heavily. you look up at him and make eye contact right as he lifts his 2 fingers to his mouth, and sucks your slick off of them before bringing them back out of his mouth with a pop! and using the back of his hand to wipe off his mouth.

“delicious, thanks for the meal,” he says cheekily, wiping his hand on his shirt.

you groan in annoyance. (because seriously, how can someone this hot be such a loser?)

[yuiiiriii]

synopsis : after a traumatic event, Jay, a complete stranger, has only did anything but comfort you. From the night you guys met, it was only humane to fall for one another.

includes : 5.9k words, strangers to lovers, undergroundfighter!jay x reader, smut! (mdni), teasing jay, f!oral receiving, possessive and jealous jay:3

warnings : assault, harassment, overthinking, miscommunication

The streets of Seoul were cold like no other. Approaching winter, it was only obvious. Yet you still forgot to pack a jacket. So you clutch yourself and your bag as you walk down the late night streets. Work was tiring as always and you wanted nothing more but to succumb to your bed.

As you walked your familiar route you always winced at a specific dark alley, it always made you uneasy. You find yourself almost past it when you’re being tugged harshly by your wrist. The lamppost only growing smaller as your tugged into the alley. Your fight or flight mode comes on and you scream. Pushing, punching, kicking, anything you could to get this random guy off of you.

He pins you to the wall, his big hand clasping over your mouth and nose, closing your airways. Your hyperventilating, sobbing, tugging at this guys arm. But he’s just too strong and as you’re still fighting, you slowly feel yourself slipping away. Vision going blurry as a tear runs down your cheek.

Jay leaves the convenience store with a bag in his hand. It’s late, yes, but it’s somehow still busy. So he pulls his hood up, hiding the cuts and bruises that litter his face and lips. He opens his bag of chips, popping one in his mouth. As he gazes at the cars passing by his body freezes and body chills when he hears a scream. His head shoots towards the dark alley and without a thought he’s sprinting in, dropping his bag.

He doesn’t even have to go that far when he sees you struggling. His eyes widen, the pure fear in your eyes. He retracts his hand, clenching his fist, he socks the man in the face. You fall to the ground, choking and gasping for air.

When you look to the side you see a guy on top of the man, beating him to a pulp. You pull your legs to your chest, shaking like a leaf. Jay pants, giving one last kick to the guy, he turns to you, his brows immediately pulling together. He kneels in front of you.

“Hey, let’s go back in to the city okay?” He says softly, lightly grabbing the sides of your arms and lifting you up.

He leads you to a bench, back into the streets. He stares at you worriedly and your gaze is so far off. Your cheeks have a little bruising, making Jay clench his fist. Your eyes are a little wide, tears still lacing them, and your breaths still ragged. You’re shivering so he doesn’t waste a second in unzipping his sweater, putting it around you.

That seems to snap you out of it and you stare up at him. You blink down at your wrists, noticing they were marked from how hard the guy held them. You begin to cry again, rubbing at your wrists harshly. Jay kneels down again, quickly grabbing your hands.

“Hey it’s okay, you’re okay.” He whispers, you glance into his eyes and they look so sincere. You notice a cut on his cheek and you gasp.

“Oh no, you’re hurt.” You whisper, your hand coming up to glide along it. Jay’s eyes widen a bit but he smiles regardless.

“I’m totally fine, let’s worry about you yeah?” His lips pull together in a small smile. You nod, staring at his hands still clasped in yours.

It’s a little odd how you’re very touchy with this guy, he’s a complete stranger. But there’s something so comforting and soothing about him, maybe it’s because he just saved your life but you think it’s more than that.

“Were you…walking home?” He sits down next to you, you hum. He pouts and you let out a giggle.

“I know. Stupid right? I just didn’t think I’d be out of work so late and I live really close by so…” You drift off, Jay does his best to keep you distracted.

“Oh, did you want a ride?” He immediately sputters.

“Uh, I mean, maybe I could walk you home?” He didn’t want to make you feel uncomfortable in any way and he was pretty sure getting into a strangers car was the last thing you wanted.

“Sure.” You smile, the both of you falling into step with each other.

“So do you always work late?” He breaks the silence, in no way was it awkward but he’d be lying if he didn’t want to get to know you more.

“Kinda? I don’t know stuff at the office has been more demanding lately. So I have to stay overtime.” You pout and he smiles, only because you look so adorable.

You reach the gate to your apartment and turn around to him. He seems to be pondering and you perk up.

“Oh! Your sweater!” You move to take it off but he stops you, sliding the fabric over you once again and zipping it up.

“It’s cold. Just keep it.” He smiles and you open your mouth to protest but he stops you.

“Would you want me to walk you home from work?” You blink, you were already home.

“You mean like…for the next time?” You tilt your head and he laughs.

“Yea, for the next time.” You quickly raise your hands.

“You really don’t need to! You’ve helped me so much already.” You play with the string from his sweater.

“Well, to be honest, I don’t know if I’d be happy with myself if you weren’t safe.” He mumbles, a faint blush on his cheeks. Yours resembling his now.

“Ok then.” You quip, smiling at the ground. He hands you his phone and you type in your number.

“Your names pretty.” He smiles and you laugh.

“Thanks…”

“Jay. It’s Jay.” He laughs.

“Right.”

As you were about to bid him goodbye, loud tires screeching is heard behind him, the both of you turning to the culprit.

“Jay! Where the fuck have you been! I’ve been calling-” Heeseung shuts up at the sight of you, making his lips curl in a teasing smirk.

“Oh? So this what you’ve been ignoring me for?”

Jay pinches the bridge of his nose.

“Hold on.” He murmurs to you.

You stand there blinking as Jay talks to the guy, you’re assuming they’re pretty close. He then sends you an apologetic look, waiting patiently as Jay walks back to you.

“So I guess I’ll see you when you get off work?” He smiles down at you and you nod.

“Yea. I’ll text you.” You smile.

“Take care okay? Only a call away.” He smiles, getting into the car.

You laugh bidding him goodbye as Heeseung speeds away.

Jay rests on his bed, fresh out of the shower. It’s been a week and he hasn’t gotten a text from you. Now he knows he shouldn’t pry or bug you, you have a life and so does he.

Maybe you just decided you didn’t want his help anymore. But still. Jay can’t help himself, so he shoots you a text.

Jay

Haven’t been working late?

He bites his lip.

Really Jay? That’s all you could think of?

He sighs, tossing his phone on the bed as he finishes drying his hair. That is until he gets a ping, his eyes gazing at his phone. He picks it up and smiles at the sight of your name on his screen.

Y/n:)

Haven’t worked this whole week lol.

I asked for time off

Because yk…

Jay frowns, the thought of you still scared that you didn’t even wanna go to work aches him. He wanted nothing more than to protect you, at least by his side he’d always make sure you were safe.

Jay

I understand

I hope you’ve been well:)

Y/n:)

I have been thank you Jay

I hope your week is going well

He sighs, if only it were that easy. He’s been packed with fights on fights. Heeseung has had him booked to the brim, trying to earn that ‘fast cash’ as he’d say.

He rolls his eyes at the thought. He gazes down at his hands, the cuts and bruises that litter them. The small cut on his cheek that’s almost done healing. The two of you send a few more texts and that was pretty much it. However you roam his mind all of the time. Your smile, your cute flushed face, your laugh, your voice.

So Jay is only ecstatic when you send him a text, letting him know you had went to work today. He throws on a t shirt and some baggy black jeans, pairing it with a black jacket.

He looks at himself in the mirror, fixing his hair and spraying a bit of cologne. As he walks to the living room to grab his shoes, Heeseung stares at him with confused eyes.

“What are you wearing? Where’re you going?” He says standing in front of him.

“Gotta pick up Y/n.” Jay says lightly, finishing his other shoe.

“The fight?!” Heeseung yells in disbelief.

“I said I wasn’t fighting tonight. Figure it out.” Jay grunts, clearly irritated. Heeseung crosses his arms.

“You gotta, there’s a lot of money. I’ll pick you up when you’re done walking her home.”

Jay doesn’t say a word but slam the door behind him. He huffs as he makes his way over to you. He feels undressed when he stands next to you.

You’re in slacks, a button up, with your trench coat draped over your shoulders, a scarf wrapped around you, your heels clanking on the floor.

He’s at a loss for words.

God you were so pretty and even prettier when you shoot him a smile, waving at him.

“Hey.” You say a little too giddily.

“Hi Y/n.” He smiles, standing in front of you.

“Oh! Your sweater. I washed it for you.” You hand it over to him and he gives you a heartwarming smile.

“You didn’t have to you know?”

“I know. I wanted to.” You stuff your hands in your pocket.

He smiles, throwing it over his shoulder. Jay stands close to you as you both walk, which brings you comfort, you know it’s just his presence though.

“You’re all dressed up. You going somewhere tonight?” You grin, playfully teasing him.

Jay flushes, he would admit that he did try with his appearance tonight, even if he is just walking you home. He needed to get a grip.

“Uh, you could say that.” He scratches at his jaw. You chew your lip, not being able to resist the guilt of possibly holding him back.

“You know Jay if you were busy you didn’t have to walk me home. Even though I appreciate it.” You send him a nervous smile and he quickly shuts you down.

“N-No! I don’t necessarily have plans. I just wanted to look nice.”

For you.

He’d like to add but he fears it might be too early for that.

You hum, readjusting your bag. He catches this and swiftly pulls it off you, slinging it around him. When you look at him to say something he just sends you a smile.

The two of you are red in the cheeks but you’d both just blame it on the cold weather. His heart pangs when your apartment comes into view. Hating how shortly lived your guys talks and walks were.

“Well, this is my stop.” You turn to him and he hands you your bag.

You noticed how red his nose has gotten and you laugh, making him blink in confusion. You unwrap your scarf, placing it over Jay’s neck, his breath hitching.

“There.” You pat it down, your hands sliding off his chest.

“It’s getting colder Jay, make sure to cover up.” He laughs, shaking his head in amusement.

“You’re to cute.” He says before he can even stop himself. You both freeze, staring at each other wide eyed.

“Uh, sorry, it just slipped.” He laughs dryly, running a hand through his hair. You laugh it off, not ignoring how it made your heart skip a beat.

“I was gonna ask, maybe if you’re not too busy after work we could grab something to eat? On me of course.” You hum, nodding up at him.

“I’d love that Jay.” He hums, hands in his pocket as he watches you reach the gate.

“Have a goodnight and get home safe.” You narrow your eyes at him and he laughs.

“I will, goodnight.”

Almost as if on cue, Heeseung is pulling up next to him, rolling down his window.

“Come on! We don’t have much time!”

Even though you’re inside, you pause a little watching them interact. Heeseung throws him a tank top and Jay quickly takes off jacket and shirt.

Your eyes bulge out of your skull.

He was so toned and lean. His biceps perfectly sculpted and his back muscles. Don’t get started on his abs. You hurriedly turn around rushing up to your apartment. After he slides on the tank top, he’s closing the car door shut.

“So have you kissed her yet?” Heeseung cheekily says and Jay groans.

“Shut up and drive man.”

You and Jay’s little walks became a routine and ultimately, something you looked forward after your harsh work. Jay did end up taking you out for dinner the next day and now you guys try something new every single time you go out to eat. It became something you both enjoyed.

Especially for Jay, after rough matches and knowing a belt fight was awaiting him. Being with you always seemed to keep him at bay.

You’re on your break when a coworker of yours comes up to you. Nelly. She was nice but also nosey.

“Hey girl, you didn’t tell me you had such a hot boyfriend!” She exclaims and you almost choke on your drink.

“W-What?”

“Yea! The guy that’s been walking you home for what? More than a month?” You’re flushed and she grins.

“Does he have any hot friends too? Set me up!” She pats the wall of your cubicle.

“We’re not dating Nelly. But sure I’ll ask him.” You mutter and she barks back a dragged out thank you. You laugh to yourself pulling out your phone and sent a couple texts to Jay.

Y/n ❤️

omg my coworker has been spying on us

not actually lol but she mentioned you always walking me

and also mentioned if you have any hot friends

anyways gotta get back to work, see you after Jay:)

Jay spits out a wad of blood, cringing at the cold water that’s being poured over him.

“Come on man, this guy ain’t any different, you got him.” Heeseung says, his words of encouragement to lock in Jay’s position for the belt fight.

Jay had been training for weeks upon weeks. There was no way Heeseung would let him lose now.

With a ding, both fighters are meeting up in the middle of the ring, circling one another. Few punches are thrown, which Jay dodges with expertise. Jay lands a damaging liver shot, causing the fighter to falter. Jay’s eyes glimmer with fire upon seeing an opening.

With a faint jab he’s knocking his opponent out with his signature right hook. The crowd roars as Jay smiles, the arena screaming his name. In the locker room, Jay dries his hair from the shower.

“My man!” Heeseung laughs, slapping him right on the back, Jay winces and Heeseung mumbles a small sorry.

“You’re a money maker you know that? We’ll probably be millionaires when you win that belt fight.” He laughs and Jay shakes his head, a small smile lacing his features.

“I’ll see you at the apartment, gotta get Y/n.” Heeseung eyes widen a little.

“Uh Jay?” He turns to him.

“It’s not too late?”

Jay freezes, ripping out his phone from his pocket, seeing missed texts and missed calls from you, he curses, sprinting out the doors. If Jay had calmed down and maybe stopped to think he would’ve asked Heeseung to give him a ride. Yet of course he didn’t, and he’s sprinting to your job.

Coincidentally, your work wasn’t far from the underground gym he fights at but still he was tired from the performance he just put up. When he arrives at the front of your job, he calls you, panting.

“Y/n, Hey! I’m sorry I’m late—” He says rushed out but you interrupt him.

“Jay, it’s okay. My friend gave me a ride home. My house is on the way to his anyways.”

His?

It doesn’t sit right with Jay, as a matter of fact it irks him. Jealousy bubbles in his chest and he can’t resist the way his tone changes.

“Oh, did he get you something to eat?” He taps his phone, his jaw clenched.

“Yea, we went out.” He grips his phone tighter, rolling his eyes.

“Great.” He replies shortly and you side eye your phone, a pout gracing your lips.

“I told you Jay if you’re busy you don’t have to feel obligated to walk me home.” You sigh and so does he.

“It’s not that, I—just had to do something and it slipped my mind.” His words don’t help the situation and you frown.

“You’re proving my point.” You laugh awkwardly and he grows frustrated.

“You know what I gotta go, glad you got someone else to take you home.” He doesn’t even let you answer before he hangs up, leaving you dumbfounded.

Jay hadn’t texted you for almost two weeks and you were both frustrated and worried. Even if he did answer he’d respond with short replies or excuses as to why he couldn’t walk you home. You can’t help but repeat your guys last conversation over and over in your head.

Was he jealous? You guys never discussed what you guys were.

You guys had to be just friends right? Pushing down your feelings and looking at it realistically you truly didn’t know if Jay even reciprocated your feelings.

Even if there was knowledge to how you both felt, there was no label.

It’s not like Jay was doing any better. He was upset and yet he has no reason to be since you guys weren’t even together, it still bothered him.

Jay knew he liked you but he wasn’t sure if you felt the same way. And even though this guy was your friend he couldn’t stop his mind from racing at the thoughts of you seeing other people.

That thought alone leaving a sour taste in his mouth and an ache in his heart. It was bothering him so much he wasn’t even doing good in training.

“Damn man, what is wrong with you? You got the power but where’s your strategy. You’re fighting sloppy. The fight is tomorrow.” Heeseung says frustratedly and even a little worried. Jay rips his gloves off, tossing them to the side.

“Don’t you think I fucking know that?” Jay snaps. Heeseung grows angrier.

“What the fuck is your problem? Things ain’t going good with your girl?” Jay scoffs, taking a drag out of his water.

“I’ll take that as a yes, don’t fuck this up.” Heeseung says, walking away.

“Fuck you.” Jay spits, his breathing uneven.

Leaving him alone to rustle with his thoughts.

You’re at work when you overhear your coworkers talking about some fight in the lunch room.

“Man! You said you’d come! This is like the biggest fight ever!” He exclaims pointing at a paper. You blink and continue to eat your food.

“Who’s fighting again?” Another coworker asks and the guys eyes glint with excitement.

“The one and only RAS! Jongseong Park! Jay?” The guy says and your head snaps towards them.

Their words die out.

It couldn’t be your Jay right?

“Hey, can I see it?” You point to the paper and your coworkers stare at you confused.

“Uh sure.”

Your eyes almost bulge out your skull when you see Jay on the front of it, a lopsided grin on his handsome face adorning no shirt at all.

He was a boxer?!

Scratch that an underground fighter?! You couldn’t believe your eyes.

“They’re fighting tonight?” You say in disbelief and the guy hums.

“I didn’t take you as a boxing watcher?” The guy grins and you hum.

“My brother is obsessed with it.”

Is the last thing you say before making your way to your computer. Searching up Jay’s name and the fight to begin with. You find nothing other than small posts about it.

However you find a an address, matching the same one on the paper. It was less than fifteen minutes from your job.

You realize now that the topic of Jay’s occupation never was mentioned. But now it made sense, all of the injuries he’d have.

You can barely focus on your work for the rest of the day. Only on Jay and this fight that was coming up.

Immediately after you clock out you’re making your way to said address. It’s in a very sketchy part of the city. You can’t help but feel like a piece of meat with the way everyone stares you down. However you make it to the building and it looks like a motel.

“I’m here for the fight?” You say and the guy blinks at you.

“Fifty bucks.” He says and you sigh, sliding the cash over to him. He nods at the guards and they let you pass, opening a door.

As you walk down the stairs, screams and cheers grow louder. You gawk at just how big this place was. It was like an underground stadium! You quickly notice all of the banners, posters, cutouts, you name it, of Jay.

As you walk through the crowds, you’re being stared down once again. You understand why, you look too formal to be here. Most of the women wearing little to no clothing, you stood out like a thorn. The lights turn off and you gasp. Shining right in the middle of the ring. The crowd silencing.

“Ladies and gentlemen, this is the moment you’ve all been waiting for!” He yells and the crowd roars, claps, throwing drinks.

“This fight lasts ten rounds, each three minutes long. Make sure to place your bets because we’re ready to rumble!” He screams, further pumping up the crowd.

“Fighting out of the blue corner, Ethan, Boogieman Davis!” The crowd is filled with boos and cheers, the man raising his hands up, holding them near his ears.

“Out of the red corner. The one and only, Jongseong RAS Park!”

The whole ground shakes with the amount of people screaming for him. Jay smiles, raising his gloved hand and bowing.

“God he’s so fucking hot right!” A random girl nudges you and you blink at her.

“He must be so good in bed. All that stamina has gotta go somewhere.” She laughs and you flush.

As the round starts you’ve accepted that you can’t watch it. To scared to see the outcome or watch Jay get punched. So you roam around the place. You pass by the bar and what looks like to be a food court and the restrooms.

Until you find another set of stairs. You walk up them as the scream’s Ooo’s! and Ah’s begin to fade again. You find a hallway, doors littering them. As soon as you reach one of them, it opens. You freeze and the mystery person doesn’t stop until they see you.

“No fucking way.” Heeseung gawks. You blink at him and he hasn’t moved.

“W-What are you—How? Oh my god.” He freaks out, pacing and grabbing at his hair. You open your mouth to say something but he cuts you off, pushing you by your shoulders.

“Honey you need to leave like right now and act like you’ve never ever came here ok?” He says all rushed out and you stop spinning towards him.

“I’m not leaving.” You pout and he groans.

“If Jay sees you. I’m dead!” He emphasizes with his hands.

“Scratch that. He can’t see you.”

“Why?”

“He’ll lose! I don’t know what has happened between you but you have got him riled up and in a bad mood for the past two weeks! So if he sees you there’s no way he’s winning. And I need him to win!” Heeseung says almost desperately.

“Well I can’t leave.” Heeseung whines and looks down at you, nibbling on his lips.

“Fine! But you’re staying in here.” You open your mouth to protest but Heeseung isn’t having it.

“Stay. In. Here. You’re safer in here anyways.” He sighs.

“I gotta go, Jay needs me.” He says, throwing an apologetic look your way and leaving without another word. Y

ou can still hear faint cheers and you sigh, your nerves all over the place.

Back down in the ring, it’s the 6th round. Both fighters are already battered up and even though Jay looked almost unscathed, he has a nasty gash on his eyebrow, due to the opponent “accidentally” headbutting him.

“You have to end this quick. He’s playing nasty, technically you’re winning by that point deduction but still. We want a knockout.” Heeseung says as a medic helps to clean and stop his cut from profusely bleeding.

The seventh round commences and without a second passing the “Boogieman” is delivering hard punch right to the Jay’s gash, making him stumble. The guy grins and doesn’t hesitate to land calculated punches on Jay.

He’s against the ropes, trying to block and evade any punches that are being thrown.

He’s so tired.

He wants to stop.

He wants it to be over.

Maybe if he just let one connect and lose it’d be fine.

His mind travels to you, your voice buzzing through him. ‘My Hero.’ You once said jokingly to him when he caught you from almost tripping. He smiles at the memory.

God did he miss you so fucking much.

At this time you both would probably be roaming the streets, getting snacks and cracking jokes. With the seventh round surely going to his opponent, Heeseung grows worried.

“Fuck, come on man. You gotta win this. If not for yourself, for Y/n.” Jay’s head snaps towards Heeseung and he gulps.

You’re with Jay all the time, when he’s home, training or even right now. You never leave his mind. Even though you don’t know this side of him, he’ll use you as his motivation.

That if he wins this, he’ll stop being a fucking coward and fess up his feelings for you, maybe even kiss you like he’s always wanted to.

So with the beginning of round eight, he lets his opponent land a couple of hits, reading his movements. It’s a risky play and Heeseung is practically shitting himself.

Right when his opponent goes into his mantra of rushed punches, Jay waits for an opening.

Stupid move.

The “Boogieman” had let his guard down, believing Jay wouldn’t do anything other than block. But in a moment Jay is ducking, turning his body, he’s delivering a nasty uppercut.

The whole crowd silences for a moment, sitting at the edge of their seats as the fighter hits the ground. The referee begins his counts and people begin standing up, counting with him. Jay breathes heavily, ready for sign that his opponent might get back up.

However the ref reaches ten, signaling the fight is over. The arena is louder than ever, as Jay smiles in relief, almost laughing. Heeseung and some people from their team join him in the ring, picking him up and cheering. With the announcer, both fighters and the referee between them.

“Our new lightweight champion by KO, Jongseong ‘RAS’ Park!” The announcer drags out, the referee holding his hand up as they wrap the belt around his waist. Jay smiles as the crowd chants his name, holding his belt. Jay gives a small speech, showing his respects to his opponent, the fight is over.

As quickly as victory is there it’s gone when Heeseung remembers you waiting in the locker room. The both of them walking up the steps.

“Jay.” Heeseung says and he turns around.

“What’s up.” He says stopping in front of the door. Heesung’s gives him an envelope.

“Y/n is here.” He almost whispers and Jay grows angry.

“Really man, that’s not fucking funny.” He rolls his eyes, beginning to turn the handle.

Heeseung stands with his head down as Jay opens the door and sees you standing there. The envelope falling from his hands.

He blinks once.

Then twice.

Then he’s turning around, definitely going to kill Heeseung.

“Wait!” You both yell and Jay freezes, his eyes snapping towards you. You stand there with a pout.

“Just, talk to me please. Deal with him later.” You mumble. Jay sends a glare to Heeseung.

“Leave.” He grits and Heeseung is gone in a flash.

Jay picks up the envelope and closes the door behind him. You watch as he sits on the bench, unwrapping his hands. You sigh at the cuts on his face. He doesn’t pay you any mind until you’re in front of him with a first aid kit.

“What’re you-” You hold his face and he blushes, eyes meeting yours.

You stare at him a little longer before you begin to open the box. You inspect the deep gash on his eyebrow. Your finger softly gliding around the skin.

“You’re gonna need stitches.” You whisper and he hums.

“Did you win?” You break the silence and he sighs.

“Mhm.” He says shortly, making you pout. You narrow your eyes and push the cloth with alcohol in to one of his cuts.

“Ah! What the hell!” He groans staring up at you.

“You ignore me for two weeks and you’re still mad? I don’t even know what I did!” You continue to pout as you tend to his wounds.

“I’m sorry.” He finally says.

“I’m being stupid.”

“Yea you are.” He narrows his eyes at you and you smile.

“Actually I have a right to be mad. Why are you here.” He frowns, crossing his arms.

“What? You didn’t want me finding this out? The one and only RAS?” You tease and he groans.

“You don’t care?” He grows a little conscious.

“No? It’s hot anyways.” He blushes again and you smile, gliding your thumb along a cut in his lip.

“You should be happy. You won.” You say softly and he nods.

“Thanks to you.” He gazes up at you and blink.

“I thought of you, you’re like my only motivation.” He mumbles, now his ears and neck were red. You smile and swiping his hair out of his face.

“You big sap.” You laugh, biting your lip. His hands come up to rest on the small of your back, rubbing circles.

“I really like you.” He whispers and your heart clenches.

“And I’ve been such a fucking coward and when you mentioned that guy—I just.” You can’t help but smile.

“I like you to Park.” He rolls his eyes, you lean down and peck his lips.

His eyes widen, staring at you in disbelief. You smile cutely as you clean his cut, but he grabs your wrist. He stands up, caging you against the lockers. His hand cups the back of your neck, the other on your waist. He pulls you into another kiss. You both lose yourself in each other, your hands tightly gripping his tank top.

“Wanted to do this for so long.” He breathes against your lips. His hand slides down, gliding along your waist and back.

“Got so mad when you mentioned that guy.” He huffs, nibbling on your bottom lip. You gasp and he shoves his tongue in your mouth.

“M-My friend?” You question and he almost growls.

“Don’t care what he is. You’re mine.” He breaks away from your lips, planting kisses down your neck.

“J-Jay.” You moan, your hands gripping his hair.

He hisses, clamping his teeth down on your neck. You whine, craning your neck to give him more access as your hands drag down his chest. You finally feel the muscle and rigid of his abs, making you bite your lip.

“Please.” You whine and he smirks.

“What you begging for huh?” He whispers in your ear, biting your earlobe, you grip his shoulders and he grins.

He pats your thighs and you jump. He carries you with ease, setting you on the counter of the sink. His hands rub at your thighs as he slots himself between your legs, spreading them apart.

“Can I?” His hand rests on your shirt and you nod. He teasingly unbuttons it slowly one by one.

“Jay stop teasing.” You whine, tugging at his wrist.

“Such an impatient girl.” He smiles, sliding the shirt off of you. He immediately places kisses on the apple of your breasts, squeezing one of them.

“So fucking beautiful.” He whispers in to your skin.

“I’m gonna take these off okay?” He says, tugging at your slacks. You nod dumbly and he smiles, pecking your lips.

As he works off your pants you rake your nails along his abs, making him shudder. He drops down to his knees, placing kisses and sucking marks into your plush skin, massaging your thighs.

“Perfect, you’re so perfect.” He gazes up at you and you moan at the sight.

He peels off your panties, licking his lips upon seeing your glistening folds.

“Fuck pretty, you’re wet.” You whine in embarrassment, your hands shooting to cover your face and he laughs.

Licking a long achingly strip. You sigh, your thighs twitching. He cups the back of your knees, placing your legs on his shoulders. He sucks and nips at your clit, pretty noises leaving your mouth as your juices cover his mouth.

“Taste so sweet.” He groans and you flush at his words.

“S-Stop talking—ngh!” You moan as he inserts two fingers inside your greedy hole.

“What was that baby?” You whine, as he pumps them inside you, his arm flexing.

“You’re mean.” You whimper and he only smiles wider.

As his fingers move faster so does his tongue, flicking your bud. His lips so plump and fast.

“Jong—” You moan and he can feel his cock twitch.

“Fuck, say it pretty girl.” He pulls out his fingers and you pout at the emptiness until he’s replacing it with tongue. A guttural moan leaving you.

“Close! So close Jongie.” Your hole clenches around his tongue, only sucking him in.

He groans against you, only adding more stimulation, feeding the fire that you feel in your core. His hand moves up to rub your clit, he feels you flutter against him, your cunt spasming against him.

“Cumming!” You cry out, your legs closing around him as your hand tugs at his hair, riding his face. He licks and sucks up all your juices, rubbing soothing circles on the inside of your thighs.

“Did so good for me.” He says breathlessly, peppering soft kisses on the inside of your thighs, even one on your tummy.

Your head still fuzzy from your orgasm but you smile down at him. He gently slides your panties back on along with your pants. He wipes his face with one of his towels, placing a kiss on the side of your head.

“So does this mean I can take you out on a date?” He asks, his hands at your waist once again.

“After that performance, I can’t say no.” You grin, your arms wrapping around his neck.

“You’re talking about my fight or my mouth.” He grins as you shove him away.

“Who knew you were such a freaking tease.” You flush, his hands intertwining with yours.

“Still waiting on that answer angel.”

“You called me like a million names already.” You laugh and he smiles.

“Just seeing which ones I like more but they all suit you.” He smiles and you do too.

“Yes Jay, I’ll go on a date with you.” He pecks your lips, tasting yourself on his lips.

“It’s Jongseong to you or Jongie.” He grins.

“Just to be clear you’re mine right? I just don’t wanna ask you like this.” He raises his brows.

“Yes, I’m yours.” You laugh.

“All yours Jongie.” You drag out and he nuzzles his face in your neck.

“Atta girl.”

Heeseung😒

wrap it up dude

the owner is waiting for you two to leave

glad you made it to third base though;)

[adorechris]

ONE NEW MESSAGE…

includes… smut, m!masturbation, SUBBBB CHRIS, recording

“mmpppmmm—“ chris whimpers out, his eyes squeezed shut. his right hand is moving rapidly over his dick, his left hand blindly reaching for his phone that’s lying on his bed. he squints open his eyes, desperate. he grabs his phone, and shakily opens your contact. he presses on the camera button, and switches to the record mode. he starts recording.

“sh—shit—“ he stammers as he angles the phone to his lower half, the video clearly capturing his hand stroking his dick.

chris whines, the pad of his thumb running over his tip, pressing down on his slit. he lets out a pathetic moan, his hips rolling.

“mommy—feels s’good, oh fuck—“ chris moans, his eyes rolling back briefly. he’s practically fucking his fist now, his hips thrusting into his hand repeatedly.

his dick twitches as he resumes stroking his dick. as he gets closer to the edge, precum leaks profusely from his tip and his hold on his phone gets shakier; looser. his phone picks up everything—his shaky breaths as he gets a little too close to the edge, the slick sounds of his hand stroking his length…

“i wish—i wish it was your hand—haaahh—i—i need you…“ he squeezes his eyes shut and throws his head back in ecstasy. his hand speeds up on his length.

“m-mommy—m’gonna cum…p-pleeasee,” he sobs in pleasure. his moans turn into breathy whimpers as he the band in his stomach gets tighter and tighter.

“oh f-fuck—i’m cumming—a-aah—!” he sobs. his hips buck rapidly before they suddenly still. warm, long spurts of cum shoot out, landing on his abdomen and paint the bedsheets below him. his hand strokes himself slowly, prolonging his orgasm. he lets out quiet whimpers and moans at every spurt of cum, his stomach caving in like a caprisun.

he falls limp against the bed, panting tiredly. “i—i love you.” he says to the video before ending it and sending it to you.

[popeabbot]

Wondering Why

Summary: When someone you love gets in an accident your parents are forced to come see you. Jack sees why you don’t talk to them, you wonder what you did to deserve him as he continues to pick up your broken pieces

Jack AbbotXfem!reader - established relationship (married)

wc:7.7k

tags: Prosthetic!Jack Abbot, age gap(like late 20s/mid 40s probs)Death, gore, angst, medical innacuracies, descriptions of suicidal tendencies, cursing, fighting, smut, literally SO MUCH PLOT w/happy ending porn, hurt/comfort, Jack going soldier mode and being defensive against your asshole dad

This fic had been living in my head all week so you KNOW I had to post it before tonight!!! Hope y'all enjoy!

December in Pittsburg meant snow and ice, and black ice. On top of your nightly regulars you now had to worry about car wrecks. Junkies, slip and falls, college kids coming home from break and doing stupid shit never phased you. Emergency medicine was your life. But you’d never admit that you lived for the thrill, so quiet nights were absolutely grueling. 

Hour 10

“Mmmm, it’s too qui-” Shen began as he set your coffee down.

“Shen I am not in the fucking mood,” you counter with a deadly tone. Jack giggled from his station, reaching somewhere for Shen’s banned words jar. One dollar for saying any of the banned words but he had to pay 5 bucks if a banned word flipped the whole shift. Thankfully before he could finish the sentence you were whisked away. Shen shrank under your glare as he dumped a couple bills in the Jar.

“Doc…do you have to tell my mom about this?” The 19 year old boy asked sheepishly as you stitched up his leg.

“As long as you can hide the stitch and come up with an excuse for the scar then no,” you placed a gentle hand on his leg as he flinched, “but you probably shouldn’t be stealing vapes and running off. The black ice will kill you before the vapor does.” He rubbed his hands against the back of his head and nodded solemnly as you gave him his care instructions and sent him on his way. You rolled your eyes and let out a small scoff, at least he seemed to understand your tone. Kids these days. Jeez. A knock broke you from your thoughts. 

“Doctor Abbot?” Macie Spencer leaned in the doorway, her usual sunny demeanor had a cloud over it. 

“Hey Macie, what’s up?” you stood from your chair coming to meet her. Kiara was the day shift social worker and a wonderful woman, but Robby’s daughter Macie was the human embodiment of sunshine and kindness no matter what. Seeing her shaken bothered you.

“Dr. Jack is looking for you, I’m gonna keep the family occupied as long as I can but it’s, it’s bad.�� You trashed your gloves and ripped a new pair from the box on the wall before rushing to the commotion. Two nurses and security had a man and a woman separated, though the separation just made them shout louder. Jack was on the ground doing compressions on a teenager…whose mouth was covered in blood. You fell next to him, taking over compressions so he could run to grab what he needed. Jack kept asking what she took with no answer from either parent, they were in hysterics. You couldn’t help but stare at the girl’s father, he seemed disoriented, almost like his body was there but he wasn’t. 

“Gurney?!”

“Need to try to get her back first.” 

The mother screamed and cried in Bridget's arms, yelling about how ‘it’ was all her husband's fault, her husband took her daughter away. You tried to hold back your own familial feelings as you continued to do your job, stopping and continuing as Jack instructed. After getting a line in, you moved the girl to a gurney, tubes were everywhere and monitors beeped and blared off and on. You weren’t losing her but you weren’t getting her back either. Her BP and heart rate were high but her blood ox was dangerously low, her lips beginning to turn an odd shade of purple.  

“Macie, find out what the hell she took!” You yelled out into the hall, praying Macie would hear you over the yelling. After a few minutes of needed silence, she slid into the room. 

“Dad said it could be ketamine….or antifreeze.” What. The. Fuck.

“We gotta-,” You looked to Jack, eyes wide with horror. He’d already read your mind and was setting the pump up, after prepping the girl he turned the machine on. Her stomach contents were a sickly green, chunks of her stomach lining coming out with it. You pressed the back of your hand to your mouth to hold back your gag, Jack's hand lingering over the small of your back. After pumping her stomach you pushed charcoal into her IV. Your team worked for another thirty minutes before you would have to deliver the news that she likely wouldn’t be coming off of a ventilator. You ripped your gloves off, in what scenario would she be drinking fucking antifreeze?! Tears began to prick in your eyes but you forced them away, you were prepared to go to that father with a face of stone. 

“I’ll talk to dad, you talk to mom. Keep them separated.” You stated, Jack shot up a brow in your direction, until he caught onto what you were thinking. He squeezed your hand tightly, his wedding band pushed into the flesh of your palm, grounding you. Dad seemed disoriented as you delivered the news, it wasn’t shock but pure denial. You tried to press him for more details but the death of his daughter seemed to be the final crack in the wall, you gripped his elbow, catching him as his knees buckled. “Sir, I am so sorry. This is unimaginable. If she took something that she bought and you knew..I need you to tell me. Help me save someone's son or daughter?” He looked to you with wide, bloodshot eyes, and solemnly shook his head no. 

“It’s too late.” Was all he said. You took a deep breath and let him know that Macie would lead him through the next steps with the police. 

You sat at your station, dragging your hands up and down your face before going back to charting the experiences of the night. A car flew into the ambulance bay, you sighed deeply. What disaster was making its appearance now? The car sped off as you reached the trauma bay doors, yet another homeboy ambulance dumping someone off in the cold. The woman was gaunt, her thin clothes not doing much to shield her from the weather. 

“Need some help!” You hollered, carrying the woman into the ED. Jack ran up to you, taking the woman from your tight grasp. The two of you ran to the closest trauma bay and after stripping and gowning her you began to assess. Her skin was pale and taut, lips turning an odd shade of purplish blue. Her veins were bright against her skin, you pulled her lid up, shining a small flashlight in her eyes. “Mmm, pupils aren’t reactive to light..”

“Blood ox is low, her BP is 86/60, systolic is 10mgs, lets see if we can wake her up.” Jack moved quickly to the front of the patient, rubbing her chest roughly with no response. Jack poked at the taut skin, a thin line pressed into his lips. He was worried about something but keeping it to himself. “Push warm fluids, and get her some warming blankets, I’m worried it could be hypotension caused by hypothermia. Keep a close eye on her, page Dr. Abbot as soon as she wakes up.” 

Jesse nodded as Taylor ran off to get warming blankets, you collected the woman's things that Chase had left and walked back to your station. Your frown deepened as you found nothing to identify her. “Gotta Jane Doe,” you announced as you started a chart on your laptop. The hospital began to buzz as day shift started to come in, the sun hid away as the day started without her. Jack came up behind you placing a kiss to the top of your head.

7am-Hour 12

“I’m so mad you get to go home while I have to work a double,” you grumbled, Jack laughed into  your hair as he leaned down to clock out. How could you stay mad at him when he was just so perfect. He placed a hand on your bicep gingerly and pulled you from your station, before you could protest you were out of the ED and inside the main hospital. Jack slipped your jacket on before following suit, his hand interlacing with your own. His calluses were rough, but a physical attribute of his you loved as he rubbed small circles over your thumb. The two of you were on the roof before you even realized it, sitting against the cold concrete you leaned into your husband. 

“Wanna talk about it?” He played with your hair with one hand and rubbed the other one up and down your waist, using enough pressure to keep you awake. You hummed into his neck, just wanting to share a moment alone before you were thrown back to the wolves. The light scruff on his jaw tickled your lips as you pressed in a kiss, bringing a smile to his face, “I wish I could take you home with me…mmm maybe I could convince Robby to cover,” he mused, pressing kisses into your neck. But you knew that wouldn’t happen, Gloria would chew all of your heads off considering you’d already gotten Jack out of working Christmas Eve AND Christmas. Jack had invited guests so PTMC would have to wait. Your silent bliss was interrupted by the snow that began to fall, Jack kissed you deeply, cupping both sides of your jaw before leaving, he’d be back later to pick you up.

Text me if anything comes up, you know i’ll wake up for you.

Your heart swelled as you walked back into the ER with a fresh cup of coffee, that man would truly give the world for you. And you would let him. Dana pulled you into a tight hug as you gave her an update on the teenage girl in South 10 and the Jane Doe in 15.

“Macie is a natural,” you commented to Robby as he sat next to you, your breakfast in hand. “It’s not an easy case but she’s being wonderful, amazing Macie!” Robby smiled and nodded as he slid your breakfast wrap onto a plate.

“Couldn’t be prouder. Make sure you eat. I already watched too many close call collisions on my walk here, could get busy.”

“I can’t believe you still walk in the snow,” you mumbled through chewing, “I swear you’re like part bear!” Robby decided to ignore the bear comment as he got up to do rounds, you scarfed the rest of your burrito down before checking the board. Triage the waiting room, simple enough and a nice buffer from how your night shift ended. Working a double was never fun when you’d already been working 12 hours but you prayed your shift would go smoothly. But there was one of Shen’s banned phrases popping into your head: smooth shift. 

Between food poisoning, kids with colds and broken limbs from ice, you checked in on your two night patients. Jane Doe’s condition had improved slightly, and Macie was in a heated discussion with the teenage girl's father. You started to walk towards her, feeling the need to protect her when you were pulled away once again.

“The Cracken is back.” You huffed, hands on your hips as you watched the man thrash in his restraints. Robby rolled his eyes at the nickname, he really didn’t like that ‘the cracken’ had become the patient’s name around the ER.

“Should we sedate him?” Dr. Whitaker asked, seemingly appearing out of nowhere. 

“If you wanna jump in there be my guest but they ace’d him on the ride over,” you flipped your wrist to check your watch. “Give 'em 10 minutes, if he’s still causing problems, come find me.” You clapped his shoulder and went to check in on more patients, confiring with Robby when cases got tough. When the ER seemed to fall into its usual chaos, you took a moment to check on the teenage patient and her parents. When you walked into- Maddy Nichols- room, her mother sat with her holding her hand.

“Hi Mrs. Nichols I haven’t been able to speak with you but I'm Dr. Abbot, my husband and I triaged your daughter last night.” Maddy’s mother looked up to you briefly, her eyes bloodshot and brimmed with tears. You sat beside her, placing your hand over hers. “Maddy’s tox screen came back…do you know why there was antifreeze in her system? I heard you yell that all of this was your husband's fault.” You watched as the young mothers face fell, tears beginning to fall freely.

“He was trying to...to do it himself. He’d blended it in a smoothie so I wouldn’t know but left it out. Maddy saw his and made a fresh one- wa-wanting to sit with her dad and share smoothies. He didn’t clean the blender out…Maddy was just trying to love, love him!” The woman turned and crumpled into your arms. You rubbed her back gently, holding your gaze on Maddy’s gentle face. This poor girl had been taken away from the poor choices of her hurting father. Kiara came in and sat across from the two of you, but you weren’t going to leave until this mother had let out her grief. Robby was on call, the ER could live with one attending for a few minutes.

“I- I’m sorry Dr. Abbot,” Maddy’s mother sniffled, pulling away from you.

“Never, never, apologize for needing to take a minute to grieve. I am so sorry we couldn’t save Maddy, but keep honoring her, talk about her everywhere you go. Listen to her music, watch her favorite movies, and eat her favorite foods when you go out. If you honor her that way she will never leave you.” You squeezed her hand, and she squeezed back. 

You introduced her to Kiara and explained why she was there and what her purpose was. “If you want me here when you let her go, I will be.” She nodded silently, turning back to her daughter and softly grazing her face. You took a mental picture of the girl with the note of ‘Maddy Nichols, accidental death, beautiful soul. 

You would honor her.

Hour 17

The Pitt made it to noon when shit really hit the fan. Dana stood on the nurses station, pulling the intercom phone up with her. 

“Code triage, 50 car pileup on the I-, multiple patients are about to be headed this way, move whoever you can upstairs!” Like a well oiled machine everyone worked to move as  many healthy people as possible. You were now jumping from patient to patient, trauma’s varied from case to case but your mortality rate was low: for now. You’d just finished relocating a man’s shoulder when Dr. Vienna Summers walked in.

“I’ll finish this, you need to go,” She stepped in, slowly bringing the man's arm down and placing it into a sling.

“Vi, what are you talking about? Are you leaching my patients?” You joked half heartedly, she turned to you and by the look on her face alone you knew it was bad.

“North 8, Mason and some kid...the kid’s fine but Mason is asking for you.” 

You were out of room and bolting across the ER without waiting for Vi to finish talking. No, no, no, no. Why Mason? What was your little brother doing in Pittsburg and why did he have to be on the interstate with ice out? When you all but slid into the room there were lines everywhere, his left leg was sliced in multiple spots, bone poking out. No,his leg was shattered. He had a bruise covering the entirety of his chest and deep lacerations to his face. 

“Mason??” You ran to his head, he was disoriented but knew you were there, attempting to reach for you, you laid his arm down helping to keep him still. “Talk to me Langdon,” You looked back at Frank who was looking at his leg.

“Lacerations and possible facial fractures, a couple cracked ribs, his hands and arms are okay for the most part but yo-yo is going to have to take him up. I can already tell he’s going to need plates in his leg. The only reason he’s not freaking out is from the morphine.”

“You didn’t give him Ket right?” 

Langdon quirked a brow, you had made sure your brother's medical records were in the system and updated from the day you started at PTMC years ago. “Right,” you sighed, “you have his chart of course you didn’t give him ketamine.” 

Yolanda slid in and started to assess your brother. She wanted a full CT before surgery to get a good look at his face but assured you that she would take the best care of him that she could. You kissed your brother's temple and said a quick prayer over him before he was in Dr. Garcia’s hands. You walked out of the room to find the kid Vi had mentioned. 

“His boyfriend Jasper is in the family room, he’s not hurt but pretty shaken up,” Dana spoke up.

“God I love that you read my mind,” you blew a kiss to Dana before heading into the family room. He was probably in his late teens, only a couple years older than Mason. His clothes were covered in blood and you recognized the shell shocked look on his face. You knocked lightly before walking in and taking a seat next to him.

“Hi Jasper,” Your voice was soft and kind, you placed your hand over his, “Mason is in surgery, but he’s got the best surgeon we have on staff, he's going to be just fine.”

Jasper started to cry, tears free falling from his face, you thought of the mother you’d spoken to only a couple hours ago. You pulled him into a hug, petting his hair softly. “I’m so, so, sorry!”

“Why?” you asked, pulling him up to look you in the eye.

“If he wasn’t with me then this never would’ve happened…his parents found out so he drove into Pittsburg this morning, we were on our way to come see you.” You took a deep breath and brought the boy back into your shoulder. You could imagine the kind of ballistic fight that Mason had gotten into with your father. The funny thing was that they didn’t care if Mason was gay, it was just the fact that he wasn’t with the boy they had picked out. Your parents had planned your lives out since you were born. 

If you followed the plan you would reap the benefits of your family business. If you didn’t, you would be ignored, forgotten. This had happened to you when you decided to come to Pittsburg instead of becoming some royal doctor like your parents had planned.

You thought about your husband. Jack would never be part of their plan, which is why they didn’t know. You and Jack had been together for 6 years and married for 4, but your parents didn’t know. Jack had asked, wanting to meet your father, marry you the proper way: the proper way didn’t matter when he heard how controlling your parents were. Even without COVID regulations your wedding had been small, some of your friends, some of Jack's friends, and the few coworkers the both of you could stand. Mason came after being sworn to secrecy, he walked you down the aisle.

 You hugged Jasper tightly, letting him go to call his parents to come get him but you couldn’t imagine having to have your parents come all the way from Washington to come see Mason. To come see you and Jack. You busied yourself as you waited for Mason to get out of surgery, dreading the thought of calling your parents, Mason's phone was broken in the wreck so you would have to call them yourself. You took a moment to sit with Amelia Nichols as she unplugged her daughter, her husband had been arrested, Amelia was alone. You gave her your number, a support group number, and a tight hug. 

“You should call them honey, before they file a police report,” Dana brought a cup of your favorite tea by your station while you did some charting, you groaned at the fact that she was right. You had no idea how long he had been gone and with his phone not working they would be going ballistic. You walked into the family room and pulled your phone out from your coat pocket. You slowly typed in the numbers, the dread growing in the pit of your stomach. Don’t pick up. Don’t. Pick. Up. Please.

“Hello?”

“Mommy?” Your voice was shaky, your mother sounded worried; tired.

“Oh my god, bunny? Where is Mason? We haven't heard from him. We got in an argument and he flew out of Seattle last night. We don't know where he is!”

“He’s here…in Pittsburg, in surgery. There was a pileup on the interstate...I know you’re probably in Seattle for work but it’s bad Mommy, you both need to come-” and fix this, died on your tongue. Your mother stayed silent, you hung up, you threw your phone against the opposite wall, curling up on the floor in silent, angry tears. You weren’t sure how long you sat there but Melissa King was the one to find you, she gingerly picked up your cracked phone and sat next to you. 

“I know we don’t know each other very well, since we work opposite shifts,” she started, looking at you with honest kindness in her eyes, “but I know you are one of the strongest people here. That means Mason is strong too. We will figure this out, together.” Mel placed her hand on your shoulder and gave it a light squeeze. You wiped the tears from your face and nodded, Vi stood in the door when you got up, Mason was out of surgery.

Hour 20

Mason had definitely seen better days, part of his face and forehead was wrapped from the facial fractures, bruises were blossoming, black and ugly across his ribcage. His left leg had been amputated from his knee down to his foot. You listened intently as Yolanda explained the situation, there was a significant loss of blood and too much soft tissue damage, she’d tried to save his leg but it was too far gone. With a dedicated prosthesis team and a good physical therapist he would be able to get around. You knew he would be fine, with the right prosthetic he could still play sports. If Jack could do everything he did on a prostetic than so could Mason.

“Mason?” you sat at his bed, pushing his curls from his forehead, but he continued to sleep. Garcia said you could take him home once your shift was over…home.

“I clocked you out, and texted Jack since you also broke your phone when you threw it,” Vi rubbed your back, your shoulders slumped. How could this be happening, to your baby brother of all people. “Your mom and dad coming?” You shrugged your shoulders, maybe your mom convinced your dad to come check on his son, maybe he said you could both fuck off. You’d find out soon enough. Vi ended up leaving and Mason woke up soon after. He was still disoriented but you were able to keep him grounded, he tried to ask about your parents but you wouldn’t give him an in. Jack came in around 5:30 to pick up you and Mason, he was still in a considerable amount of pain but Robby was already walking you through home care when Jack came into the room.

“Baby,” Jack pulled you into a tight hug and it took everything in you to not fall apart, Mason was still scared and unsure of his life going forward so you had to stay strong.

“Take us home,” you pleaded, gripping him like a lifeline.

“Yes ma’am.”

-The Abbot Residence 

Your home wasn’t very big, but it was yours. Stonewash grey with white trim, a stone path leading to the front door from the sidewalk and a white picket fence. Jack parked his truck inside the two car garage and helped Mason in. Inside it honestly looked like a slightly modernized 90’s home. You and Jack bought it when you got married and flipped it, the two of you had touched every square inch of the house and made it yours. It was tidy but still a home, medical book, notepads and files were stacked up on the coffee table. A perfectly sized kitchen with an island bar stayed spotless unless you cooked.

The walls were a pale but sunny yellow, dark hardwood floors covered every inch of the house aside from the concrete in the garage and the tile in the bathroom. You threw Mason's duffle bag over your shoulder, grabbed his medicine and walked in yourself. Jack had him propped up in bed in the guest bedroom, which Mason had fully decorated to be his room. You sat on the side explaining what everything was as you sectioned his medication in a pill box, he tried to listen intently buy he was tired.

“Do you need anything baby?”

“Water,” his throat was scratchy from being intubated. You made your trip from the kitchen back to his room fast, opening the water and helping him to drink. After making sure he was comfy you set up a mobile call button so he didn’t have to yell for you.

“You comfy bud?” Jack came in, checking his set up one more time, Mason nodded. You couldn’t help but feel your heart sore watching Jack softly ruffle his hair before placing a kiss to the top of his head. Jack never wanted to be an “old dad” but he had such a way with children, even teenagers. His grumpy war vet facade just seemed to melt around them. Mason fell asleep after getting his night medicine, you tucked him in, kissed his cheek and headed to the kitchen to make a whiteboard chart. Mason had medication at 6- administer more at 2 if needed. Keep close observation-

“I hope this doesn’t mess with our guests that are coming,” You sighed deeply as Jack wrapped his arms around your waist, you rested your head on his shoulder. 

“It won’t,” He peppered your neck in kisses, softly squeezing your sides to relax you, “promise.”

You basked in the silence and the warmth, your sanctuary. You could feel Jack's heartbeat against you, strong and steady like his arms that wrapped protectively around your waist.  You turned into him, your head instinctively finding comfort between his collar bones, he smiled, petting your hair softly.

“Can’t you just stay?” You mumbled into the cotton of his t-shirt, engulfing your senses with his cologne. Jack had never really been a cologne guy, you bought him a bottle your first Christmas dating and he’d been wearing it ever since. 

“Don’t make me regret leaving,” he groaned, capturing your lips in a kiss, you pushed up on your toes trying to capture every inch of him. After the shift you’d just had, and everything with mason, you needed all of him. Your hands slid up his shirt, exploring the canvas of his bare torso. Jack was quite muscular, you found a scar on his ribcage and traced it lightly, you didn’t realize he had led you to the bedroom until you knocked back into a crate. 

“Jer, have you been sleeping this whole time?” You gazed down at the sleeping dog. Her tail wagged excitedly at the sound of your voice. Mom was home!!

“Yeah we went for a run right before Vi called so she’s pretty beat,” Jack grinned, a boyish light coming to his eye. You wanted to scold him for running in the snow and the dangers of it, but he knew the dangers. You pulled Jack in for a few more kisses before he convinced you to take a shower. “I love you no matter what but you smell like the hospital my love.” He cackled like a hyena as a shoe was thrown in his direction, with another kiss goodbye he headed to work.

You let the hot water roll over your body, washing away the day from your skin. Jack had left a lavender shower bomb by the drain, the smell engulfing your nostrils and breaking the tension that had anchored in your chest. After some much needed time alone, you stepped out from the warm confines of the shower. One of Jack's NAVY shirts (your favorite one because it was long enough to cover your butt) and a pair of shorts were already waiting by your towel. God you loved that man. Jerico scratched at Mason’s door, annoyed that her favorite person was being kept away. You knelt down and gently held her face, whispering that Mason needed soft love. Jerico was a retired search and rescue dog so you knew she understood exactly what you were saying. You slowly cracked the door open, Mason was awake but quiet. 

“Hey,” you kept your tone soft as you crawled into bed next to him, “need anything?”

“Mmm, just you. Mom and dad are coming. I'm scared.” You could feel your heart break for Mason, he wasn’t scared of your parents as people but scared of not having their approval. To them; approval was love. You wrapped Mason in your unconditional love, humming lullabies until he fell asleep.

An angry fist rapping against your front door and Jerico’s defensive bark ripped you from sleep, your arm was sore from being wrapped around Mason, you pulled away slowly so as to not wake him before rotating the soreness out. Who would be knocking on your door at 6am?

You groaned, pulling yourself from the comfy bed and the warmth you had in your brother, before trudging across the cold house.

“Can I help you?” You asked, fervently rubbing the sleep from your eyes. The outside cold slipped past your bare legs, causing shivers to ripple through you. Jerico stood between your legs, sniffing at the people standing before you. A low growl slipped past her. Man bad. 

“We’re here for Mason,” that cold shiver took on a different feeling, you pulled your hands away to see your mother and father standing in the doorway. Your father wore his usual scowl, unhappy as always, your mother stood beside him. No, she was hiding behind him, a bitter taste grew in your mouth seeing her be cowardese to your father.

 “Um. Yeah, he’s asleep but come in.” You stepped to the side, Jerico backing up with you but never leaving her place. You watched as your parents seemed to examine your house with scrutiny. Sure it wasn’t the three story house with lavish decor you’d grown up in but it was yours. Yours and Jacks. You mumbled to your father that you needed to change, watching his eyes drag up and down your frame in disapproval. You knew when the roles reversed you would stand tall for Mason but you cursed to yourself for shrinking to him. You’d broken your work phone but picked up your house phone from beside your bed.

Mom and dad are here, I’m handling it. Might be in a bad mood when you get in :(

You hated sending that text as you changed into warmer clothes but it was better for Jack to be prepared. When you walked out of your room, your parents were still standing awkwardly in the entrance hall, your mother holding a picture from your wedding. You ignored them and walked to the kitchen, the open floor plan allowing you to keep an eye on them. 

“Are you hungry? I can make some coffee,” you turned your head in their direction as you pulled fruit and ingredients for breakfast from the fridge.

You are strong, you are loved, you are safe in this home -J 

Seeing the note on the fridge almost made you cry, you smiled softly as you got back to preparing breakfast.

“Who is this?” Your mother's tone made you jump slightly.

“My husband.” You answered as plainly as you could, carefully chopping fruit, your shaky hands didn’t help. Your parents eyes grew wide, they were standing at the kitchen island in a moment, your house wasn’t big but it felt like they’d charged at you. 

Seeing the reminder of one of the best days of your life made the horror melt at the edges. Your dress wasn’t fancy, a plain white flowy dress. Jack wore a navy suit, your eyes both gleaming as you were showing off your rings to the photographer. You frowned at the way your father white knuckled the picture and plucked it from his grasp.

“His name is Jack. He loves me very much, I would suggest watching your usual comments around him, he’s not a big fan of….bullies.” Looking at the pure devotion on your husband's face the day you got married gave you confidence. 

“He’s old enough to be your father, bunny.” your mother quietly remarked.

“You could do better than this cariño, we raised you to do better,” your fathers voice was cold as he gestured to your home. A fire started to burn in your chest and it was angry. How dare your father walk into your life and assume he could have control after 6 years. Six years of regaining your life, six years of being yourself, making your own way. Making your way with Jack Abbot being there every step.

Your parents hadn’t given him an easy task, but he was slow and methodical as he’d broken down your walls, finding a beautiful woman who had been freed. And sure Jack had seen you set back plenty of times, when your mother would come out in you, or when your fathers words would burn your tongue as they escaped your lips. But he never left, he’d been determined to make you his, the only life you’d have was the one where he showered you in the praise and love you deserved. Your eyes were locked on your fathers when Jerico bolted to the guest bedroom, a groan coming from the space. 

“I’m going to check on Mason. He needs his medicine.” You left your father at your kitchen island with his mouth agape, your mother following close behind you. When you entered the bedroom she fell at Mason's side crying in his arms.

“Mason I’m so sorry, I’m so so sorry. Your father didn’t mean it,” she petted his hair as she spoke, trying to ground herself. “we will figure it out, just come home please baby.” 

Tears welled in Mason's eyes but he stayed quiet, looking to you for direction. Your ears pricked at the sound of arguing in the kitchen but you decided this was more important.

Moving to the bed you pulled your mother up from the floor.

“Love is all we want. To be loved for being ourselves, choosing our own path.” You held your mothers hands tightly, you’d tried to have this conversation with her before coming to Pittsburg but she had been so absorbed in her plan she wouldn’t listen. Now, with her son injured as a result she had no choice. 

“I want to be a part of the family on my own terms. My plan.” Mason finally spoke, your mother nodded her head furiously as she held him tightly. You left some pills and a water bottle by Mason’s bed before interrogating the arguing in the kitchen.

The tension was palpable. Jack stood at the kitchen island, white knuckling the counter top. Your father sat across from him, arms crossed with a smug look on his face. Oh god, Jack was gonna kill him.

“Jack, you’re home,” You walked swiftly to his side, wrapping an arm around his waist. He looked drained, mentally and emotionally. Your phone had been quietly buzzing on the counter, warning of Jack's incoming state. And instead of his lovely wife he was greeted by her father. Who hated Jack simply for loving her. 

“How’s Mason?” He sighed, practically melting into your touch. It was at this moment you’d realized your father didn’t even ask how his son was.

“He’s a tough kid just like I raised him to be,” you answered lightly, carefully watching the anger come back in your fathers eyes. “Yo-yo already sent me a number for a few prosthetics teams, and I emailed the place you got yours. The VA typically doesn't do civillians but he said he owed you a favor, so as long as he’s done growing we can start that process soon.” Jack nodded, keeping his eyes trained on your father.

“Why does he need prosthetics? What are you talking about?”

“Oh. I’d almost forgotten you hadn’t bothered to ask about him,” your words cut deep, the anger finally coming out in you. “Mason had to have part of his leg amputated. The damage from the wreck was too severe.” 

You watched as a sea of emotions played on your fathers face, anger, sadness, maybe even a little spite? He took a deep breath before hitting you with the final blow of his trip.

“Then I guess you and your….husband can keep him. I have no use for another child who will amount to nothing.”

Jack's hands were on his throat before either of you could react, sending the bar stool he was sitting on flying. Your brain went fuzzy at the words, that was all the confirmation you needed that your parents would be leaving but Mason would not. Your whole body tingled with the sensation, not realizing Jack was beating your father till Mason was yelling.

“Yeah get his ass J!!”

“Mason!” Your mother shrieked pulling him back into the guest room. He was wobbily considering the half missing limb. You looked to Jack who had certainly laid a few blows to your fathers face. All it took for him to stop was your fingertips grazing his shoulder.

“You will get out of our home, without your son and your wife,” Jack spoke lowly, a growl rumbling in his throat. “And if I ever hear you talk to or about my wife the way you have today, I will make you wish you were mute.” Jack and your father were on their feet, your father screaming incessantly about how Jack would be hearing from his lawyer. “Call your fuckin lawyers I don’t give a damn. But know you just lost everything good thing you have and you don’t even realize it!” Jack slammed the front door and locked it. You wrapped your arms around him, keeping your body flush to his back.

“Thank you.”

“Baby,” Jack turned around so you were looking at him, the anger that had sat in his eyes replaced with soft love. “I will always defend you from assholes who don’t deserve you.”

You hated to admit that seeing him be defensive, going into soldier mode, it lit a different fire in you. You swiftly walked to the guest room and announced that your father was gone and you’d start to print the divorce papers for your mother. She seemed frightened about what your father would do but you weren’t afraid of anything when you knew your husband had your back all the way. 

Your breakfast ingredients had been abandoned on the kitchen counter, your mother decided to go pick up breakfast and Mason turned on the TV in his room, needing something to escape the chaos that had just happened.

“We have 30 minutes.” You announced as you followed Jack into your room, locking the door behind you. Jack sat at the foot of the bed, removing his prosthetic, being on it consistenly bothered him. For a second you thought about Mason before pushing it aside.

“Are you caging me in Mrs. Abbot?” Jack asked, amusement plastered on his face. 

“All I’m saying is you had a shitty night and had to have a shitty morning, consisting of throwing my father out of our house…I want to make it up to you,” 

The running water of the hot shower masked the abhorrent sounds escaping your lips. Lips and teeth and tongue were in a battle for control. Jack had you flush against the shower wall, using both you and the wall to balance himself.

“M’ sorry about my dad,” you managed through kisses. Jack pulled away, holding your face as his hazel eyes bore into you. God, why did he have to be so captivating? 

“We’re not doing that. I have to admit your parents were the guests that were coming,” he sighed, the creases in his forehead deepening, “I wanted to understand. See it for myself, I should’ve never brought them into our home.”

He waited for you to yell, to leave the shower and berate him, so your deep kisses came as a surprise. Part of you wanted to scream and yell, but the other part of you just couldn’t be mad that he wanted to love you that much more. 

“I love you.”

Jack picked you up and you wrapped your legs around him tightly. Your His muscles rippled beneath your legs as you held each other like a lifeline. He faltered slightly, gripping you with one hand and pushing the other against the wall. He peppered kisses from your collar bone down to the dip in your breasts, singing praises to you as he did. Jack was going to take his time. He was tired, so fucking tired, but you gave him life. He could sleep the day away with you in his arms, but right now, you both needed this. Your hands roamed his back, leaving nail marks in their wake, he was all yours and you were never afraid to claim him. You needed more.

“Jack..” you whined. His eyes shot up from your breasts, a mischievous grin plastered on his face. He placed you on a small shelf that stuck out about waist level. ‘Work smarter not harder’ he’d said as you’d watched him install it years ago. ‘Getting old, don’t wanna have to hold you up the whole time.’ You knew he also used it as a support for his leg, but the thought of him wanting to fuck you that much in the shower made it increasingly better.

You watched as he lowered himself to your sweet spot, small bated breaths escaped your lips. Your hands flew into his silver curls. He started agonizingly slow, feeling every inch of you he could take in his mouth, you yelped as you bucked into his face, his nose hitting your sweet spot. The laugh that drummed against you helped absolutely nothing, only taking you higher.

Your thoughts were hazy but you knew one thing, you would never be good enough for him. You often wondered why he caved, why he let you of all people in. But you would make sure to get on your knees and thank god for him every single day.  “So sweet, so loving, so perfect,” he came back up, capturing you in another kiss. “And all mine. No one else gets you but me,” that boyish grin made an appearance again, sending you reeling as you all but jumped back onto him. You took a moment to really look at him, freckled skin that was often tense now relaxed as he stood before you. He was covered in scars, some white and almost faded, some newer- still red with anger. You traced a scar on his chest, it sat perfectly between his pecs. You remembered that day, he’d been attacked by a vet that came in. He didn’t mean to hurt Jack, he’d been triggered into an episode and attacked on instinct. You almost cried patching him up, the first realization you could lose him, but he reminded you that he was tough. And he would always come home to you.

You slipped off of your perch and switched places with Jack so he could lean on it as you began placing soft, gentle kisses on all his scars. “You're so brave, and strong,” you spoke lowly, sinking to your knees as you kissed the insides of his legs. Jack only hummed, his eyes had fluttered closed as he had taken part of your hair in his hands. “You deserve everything.” You said as you took his length in your hands, stroking it slowly. Jack leaned back, white knuckling the tile to ground himself. 

“Fuck me.” He grunted through gritt teeth.

“I’m trying,” that response got a laugh, his eyes opened as he smiled down at you. You rose moved him again so you could perch yourself on the seat, taking his length with you. Sex with Jack was always like the very first time, it never got old. You lined him up to take you, your eyes were locked in each other, his breath as shallow as he watched you. His gaze was calculated, the gears turning slowly as he panted. You scooched to the edge, trying to stay as close to him as possible.

“Take me.” 

“Y-yes ma’am,” Jack grabbed the fat of your hips to hold you in place before letting himself in. You didn’t think you would ever adjust to how big he was, the heat in your stomach was building, ready to tip over. Jack's head fell into your shoulder as he found his pace, going faster than he had with his tongue but not fast enough to hurt you. Your bodies had become one as the hot water started to run cold, but you didn’t care. Jack panted in your ear, you pressed deep hungry kisses into his freckled shoulder.

“Gonna,”

“Uh huh me too,” 

Jack reached a hand from the small of your back and used his fingers to tease you even more, you bit into his shoulder trying to suppress the moan that escaped your throat. Your hands were tangled in his hair, at the top and at the nape of his neck. You pulled his hair just enough to get a reaction, he nipped at your neck. With a few bucks of your hips, you were spent, Jack held your hips incredibly still. He wanted to make sure you could feel all of him as your walls tightened one last time. Jack cleaned you off before turning the shower off, wrapping the two of you in a towel and staggering to bed.

“I’m home,” your mother called as she opened the door. The smell of French toast making your stomach growl.

“Nice timing Doctor Abbot, truly impeccable,” Jack teased, pressing a kiss into your neck. You giggled and kissed him back. 

“Coming mom!” You hollered back as you threw on whatever warm clothes you could find. “Sleep my love, I’ll be back later,” you laid Jack down in the bed, having to fight him off of you as his fingers fiddled with the band of your sweatpants, your laughter echoed through the room and straight to his heart.

“Love you,”

“Love you too,”

Sure your life hadn’t been perfect, your family was in for a ride, but you were together. And more importantly you had Jack Abbot, who would do anything to protect and keep you. After all, he took till death do us part to the very depths of his soul. He never broke his promises. 

Edit: I FUCKING KNEW HE WAS GONNA HAVE A PROSTHETIC- felt deeply inclined to adjust after seeing that.

taglist: @ebodebo @sceletaflores @yuenity @kchronicallyonline

[oceanicfishies]

Smile wide for the camera!

— featuring: zayne x mc

— premise: what would happen if Zayne's [Spring and Flowers] was not full of fluff? and zayne wanted to explore his cameraman skills?

— tags/cws: +18, handjob, no-use of protection, use of phone to record, very explicit, enthusiastic consent, but overall filthy smut

The day had been pretty moved, first you attempted to attend a ceremony in which you would win a reward of Linkon’s City Hunter of the Year? Month? Week? Who knows. Zayne was pretty hyped even when he did not explicitly state it. Then there was a wanderer attack and of course, you had to go full beat mode to beat the crap out of the monster and then, you had to receive the award via live recording.

Zayne held the phone with a smile as small wrinkles formed in his eyes, that stared at you over the phone. 

“(...) It’s a matter of discipline and compromise, no race, ethnicity, sexuality or biological factor can define if you become an amazing hunter: keep working and it’ll arrive. Thank you for your support, I’ll keep fighting to make our city a better place to live”. I could hear as the crowd went to clap me, and my cheesy speech that I had to give while sweat dripped down my neck, and I tried to pretend I was not tired at all after chasing that monster.

As soon as the video call ended I stared at Zayne, that had his phone still recording my face.

“What is there to record?” I said with a tired smile as he approached me with the camera, capturing every detail of my skin. 

“You, clearly” He said seriously as he smiled over me as I tried to move the camera away from my face until he finally stopped recording and placed his phone on his jacket’s pocket. Then, he opened his arms to embrace me with a smile, “congratulations, love” he murmured as I hid my face on his chest. 

“Thanks Zayne, I’m sorry you could not attend the official ceremony” I said with a giggle. He didn’t let go of me immediately. His hand made slow, deliberate circles on my lower back, and I could feel his breath against the crown of my head, steady and warm.

“Let’s get out of here before someone makes you give another speech,” he whispered, brushing his lips just above my ear.

The ride back was quiet. Not awkward—just the kind of quiet that settles between two people who know each other too well to fill the silence with meaningless talk. Zayne had one hand on the wheel, the other resting loosely on my thigh. His fingers tapped a lazy rhythm, and I didn’t stop him. Outside, the neon streaks of Linkon’s skyline passed like falling stars, and I let myself relax for the first time all day.

By the time we reached the apartment, I was half-asleep with my head leaning against the window.

He nudged me gently. “ Don’t pass out yet, champion.”

I groaned, dragging myself out of the car like a corpse revived. “I swear if one more person calls me that, I’m changing my name and moving to the mountains.”

Zayne chuckled as he unlocked the door. “Duly noted.”

The moment the door shut behind us, I peeled off the jacket clinging to my shoulders, tossing it somewhere near the coat rack. Zayne didn’t even pretend to act casual, he watched me with that mischievous glint in his eye, like he was already ten steps ahead in whatever fantasy his brain was cooking.

“Something wrong?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Not at all,” he said, stepping closer. “Just thinking... you look really good when you're sweaty and half pissed off.”

I rolled my eyes. “Romantic.”

“I try.” He was grinning now, stepping behind me to help pull the rest of my gear off. His fingers brushed skin, lingering longer than necessary. I let out a soft hum as he pressed a kiss to the back of my neck.

We moved into the living room, and I collapsed onto the couch while he grabbed two water bottles from the fridge. He tossed me one before taking a long sip from his.

Then, leaning against the wall with that smug little look that always spelled trouble, he said, “You know… I do still have my phone.”

I blinked at him, wary. “Okay?”

“And I am a pretty decent cameraman. Emmy-nominated, if you count my high school film class.”

I narrowed my eyes. “Zayne…”

“What?” He raised his hands in mock innocence. “I’m just saying—it’s a shame we never use my skills around here. The lighting’s good, you’re radiant... could be educational content.”

I threw a pillow at him.

He caught it, laughing. “Come on, imagine it: ‘Hunter of the Year—Behind the Scenes.’ We’d break the internet.”

I tried to act unimpressed, but the flush rising in my cheeks betrayed me. “You're insufferable.”

“And yet, you love me.”

His phone was already out of his pocket.

I watched him as he waved the phone a little, eyebrows raised in challenge. His smirk said he was half-joking. His eyes? They were dead serious. Focused. Curious. Wanting.

“You’re unbelievable,” I muttered, but didn’t look away.

“Mmhm. And you're blushing,” he said, stepping closer, slow like a hunter who knew the prey wouldn’t run. “So… that’s not a ‘no,’ is it?”

I leaned back against the couch cushions, stretching out my legs, letting my muscles relax in that post-battle haze. The warmth in my body wasn’t just from exhaustion anymore—it was from the way his gaze trailed down my arms, my collarbone, the slow rise and fall of my chest.

“You’re really not joking, are you?” I asked softly.

Zayne crouched in front of me, placing the phone gently on the coffee table, still untouched. “Only if you want me to be. We don’t have to, love. Not unless you're actually into the idea.”

I met his gaze. Open. Honest. Patient.

That was Zayne. Under all the swagger and snark, he always made room for me to say no, to set the rhythm.

“I mean…” I started, suddenly aware of the heat creeping down my neck, “you did miss the ceremony.”

“I did.”

“And you do have, allegedly, stellar cameraman instincts.”

“Legendary,” he confirmed, grinning.

I reached out and brushed a finger under his jaw. “And you’re asking?”

“I’m asking,” he said, voice softer now. “I want to record us. Just us. You and me. Only if you say yes. Only if you feel good about it. You can call the shots, review the footage, erase it any time. Hell, I’ll hand you the phone while we do it if that makes you feel better.”

I studied him for a moment. Not just his eyes—his whole posture. There was no push. No pressure. Just the quiet thrill of a shared idea, waiting to bloom if I let it.

A breath caught in my throat, and I leaned forward until our foreheads touched.

“Yes,” I whispered. “I want to.”

Zayne let out a small breath of relief, a smile breaking wide across his face. He tilted my chin up with two fingers and kissed me, slow and reverent, the kind of kiss that says thank you for trusting me.

Then he murmured against my lips, “I’ll set the angle just right. You deserve cinematic lighting, after all.”

“Oh, you’re so extra,” I laughed breathlessly, pulling him in as the kiss deepened.

Zayne’s hands slid under my thighs as he lifted me effortlessly, his lips still locked on mine, tasting like want and patience finally unspooled. I wrapped my arms around his shoulders, giggling against his mouth as he carried me down the hallway.

“Where..”

“Bedroom,” he murmured. “Tripod’s in the closet. I knew one day it’d have its moment.”

I let my head fall back in a groan. “God, you’re such a menace.”

“You love it,” he replied, kicking the door open with his foot.

He set me down on the bed and moved across the room like he had a blueprint in his mind. He pulled open the closet, found the tripod, and then set his phone into the mount with a casual expertise that was borderline ridiculous. He adjusted the angle, then turned back to me with a spark in his eye.

“I’ll only hit record when you say,” he said, pausing with his finger over the screen.

I sat up on the edge of the bed, watching him. My pulse was a steady thrum in my throat now, but I wasn’t nervous. I felt seen. Wanted. Powerful, even, like the adrenaline from the fight earlier had twisted into something heavier, slower, warmer.

I pulled my shirt up over my head in one fluid motion and tossed it to the floor. Zayne’s breath caught.

“I’m saying,” I told him, voice low.

He didn’t move for a second. Just stared at me—my chest rising and falling, the sheen of sweat still clinging to my collarbones, the confidence in my voice that only existed because I knew he’d earned it.

Then he hit record.

The phone’s red light blinked to life.

Zayne came to me slowly, shedding his jacket and shirt along the way. He crawled onto the bed, positioning himself behind me, lips tracing the base of my neck while his hands explored—fingers dragging over scars and muscle like he was mapping a holy text.

“You’re incredible, you know that?” he murmured, brushing my hair away to kiss behind my ear.

“You have footage to prove it now,” I teased, letting my back arch against him.

“I’m filming you,” he whispered, one hand sliding down my side, “but I’m watching you. Every breath. Every twitch. Every sound.”

I moaned softly as his hands moved with intent, tugging at the waistband of my pants. I lifted my hips for him without being asked, and he slid them down, slow and reverent.

I felt as his hand slid over my underwear, in a teasing circle motion as he explored my clit as if he didn’t know it by memory. I could feel his gaze on my face even when I had my eyes closed. 

“Zayne-” I whimpered “this is very cinematic but do not tease me” i said as i tried to grind my hips against his hand.

He looked up at me with that devil-smile, his hand just barely brushing the inside of my thigh as I tried to grind down against him, desperate for more friction, more anything. His other hand steadied me at the hip.

“Oh, I don’t know,” he said, voice dripping with mock thoughtfulness. “The lighting’s perfect, the framing’s tight... Seems like I’m building some narrative tension.”

“Zayne,” I warned, breath catching as he pressed one finger just where I needed him, not moving, only resting there like a promise.

He leaned forward, his lips brushing the inside of my knee, trailing kisses up, up, closer. “Say please.”

I narrowed my eyes—but there was heat pooling low in my stomach, tightening with every second he made me wait. I bucked my hips again, and he held me firmer this time, still teasing, still watching me unravel.

The red recording light blinks steadily beside us.

“Please,” I whispered.

That was all he needed.

His fingers moved, slow and deliberate at first: rubbing gentle, lazy circles that made me gasp and arch into his touch. He watched me like he was watching the sky crack open: eyes wide, lips parted, ruined by the way I fell apart under him.

“There she is,” he murmured, pressing harder. “God, you’re so responsive. Look at you—fuck, you’re gorgeous like this.”

He proceeded to take off my jeans and underwear, still sitting behind me. He began playing with one of my nipples as the other hand he began tenting me with the idea of fingering.

“Would this be fine?” he whispered as he kissed my neck.

“Guess” I said annoyed as I closed my eyes shut and placed my head on his shoulder. He giggled and introduced two fingers with all the gentleness in the world. “Zayne, fuck you” I said annoyed with his unusual sweetness. 

He laughed as if I had said the best joke in the world to then begin thrusting his fingers inside my pussy with no mercy. 

“M-much better,” I moaned, breath hitching as his fingers curled just right inside me.

Zayne’s chest rumbled with another laugh, and he pressed his mouth to the spot just beneath my ear, kissing slow and wet while his fingers picked up a punishing rhythm.

“Thought you liked when I’m sweet,” he teased, voice low and warm, still pumping his fingers in and out of me with obscene slick sounds. “You were getting all cuddly on me two seconds ago.”

“I like when you fuck me properly,” I snapped, grinding down onto his hand, chasing every pulse of pleasure that sparked through my spine.

“God, you’re insatiable,” he groaned, biting down gently on my neck as his palm ground against my clit with every thrust. My head rolled back onto his shoulder again, surrendering completely to the feeling of him playing me like he knew this body.

I barely noticed his free hand reaching toward the phone, adjusting the angle slightly.

“You wanna watch this later?” he whispered, eyes flicking toward the screen. “Wanna see yourself falling apart on my fingers?”

My answer came in the form of a moan.

Zayne's fingers sped up, and I could feel it coming—the tightening, the rush of heat from the base of my spine curling forward like a wave about to crest. He knew it too. He always knew.

“Let go, love,” he murmured, breath hot on my cheek. “C’mon, show the camera how fucking gorgeous you are when you come.”

And I did.

With a gasp, I came hard around his fingers, thighs trembling, back arching against his chest. My body jolted with every aftershock, helpless and wrung out and still hungry.

Zayne kissed my cheek as he slowly withdrew his fingers, bringing them up to his lips with a pleased hum. “Perfect,” he whispered. “Every damn part of you.”

He then moved to place me laying on the bed, with him sitting by my side with a gentle smile as he stared over me at my naked body. He then leaned down to kiss my neck as he removed his trousers and undergarments.

“My love…” He purred as his two hands grabbed my tits. “Any position you would prefer in moments like this?”

“Y-yeah” I moaned as I turned so my back was facing him and I was on all fours, my face perfect for the camera to record every expression. I lifted my ass off the bed and smiled at him.

Zayne groaned behind me like he was in pain, his restraint fraying fast. I heard the rustle of fabric, the zipper coming down, the soft slap of skin as he palmed himself, watching me from behind with fire in his eyes.

“Fuck,” he breathed. “You’re killing me.”

“Then come here and die properly,” I purred, tilting my hips back toward him.

He lined himself up, the head of his cock brushing against my entrance, teasing just like before—but this time, it was different. There was no pause, no slow build. Just a growled curse and then,

He slammed into me.

I gasped, fingers digging into the sheets, and feeling as his hand forced my head into the bed, feeling me in one deep, brutal thrust. My body rocked forward, then back again, already clenching around him, desperate for the friction, the stretch, the everything.

Zayne’s chest was pressed over my back, one hand on my head and the other on my hip: the pads of his thumb pressing into the dip of my lower back as he pulled out nearly all the way and then snapped his hips forward again.

“Is this what you wanted?” he asked, breath ragged. “Face in the camera while I fuck you stupid?”

I moaned—loud, needy—and nodded, not trusting my voice. His rhythm picked up, relentless, perfect. The sound of skin slapping echoed in the room, mixing with my cries and his gritted curses.

Every thrust pushed me forward into the mattress, and I could feel the heat from the phone capturing every expression.

“You should see yourself,” he groaned, leaning forward to bite down on my shoulder. “The way your eyes roll back when I hit that spot—fuck, like that—”

He angled his hips just right and I screamed his name, my entire body tightening. His grip on my hips turned bruising, grounding me as he drove into me again and again, chasing that edge with sharp, focused need.

“Touch yourself,” he demanded, voice nearly breaking. “Wanna see you come like this.”

I obeyed instantly, one hand snaking between my thighs, fingers working my clit as the pressure built fast. Zayne’s thrusts grew erratic behind me, and I could feel how close he was, how much he was holding back to let me break first.

And then I did.

I came hard, thighs shaking, back arching as I cried out into the mattress, voice wrecked and high and full of his name.

He moved gently from me, grabbing the phone to stop recording and then came back to the bed. He gently picked my trembling body and laid me against him. I opened my eyes as he cradled me into his chest.

I felt as his thumb caressed my cheek sweetly, a big contrast with the way in which he was fucking me seconds before.

“Hi love” he whispered softly 

“That was amazing-” I gasped as I leaned to kiss him. 

“It was” he said, quickly separating his lips from mine. “If you ever want round 2…”

“Why not now?” I said with a smile.

“Oh you greedy little thing” he said mischievously as he teased me one more time.

taglist: @mitskunicheesecake @puppy-steve @milknbagels @alexialvarez-11 @d4-ducks @xanxann01 @plzdonutpercieveme @namjoons-toenails @raendarkfaerie @shinyfestmilkshake @hisscenery @taronyuhunter @gawa-ng-gabi @cynireththorne @zaynescaleb

[seasprincess]

Professor!Spencer Reid x reader

“De-stress”

warnings: smut, fingering, student teacher relationship(reader is 20), soft dom!spencer,

wc:1.1k

₊✩‧₊˚౨ৎ˚₊✩‧₊ ₊✩‧₊˚౨ৎ˚₊✩‧₊ ₊✩‧₊˚౨ৎ˚₊✩‧₊ ₊✩‧₊˚౨ৎ˚₊✩‧

From the moment you laid eyes on him you couldn't help but be attracted to him. I mean look at him. He's extremely hot and really intelligent, a girl's weakness.

And of course you acted in these feelings of yours you have. Studying extra hard for his tests, doing anything you can for extra credit to impress him.

And Spencer noticed these things.

He knew it was wrong whatever this relationship is. He's your professor for christ sake, he shouldn't be doing these...activities with a student, let alone his student. But he couldn't stay away from you. Watching the way you bat your eyelashes at him as you leave the classroom. Which ends up with you bent over his desk. As risky as it is, he can't help but get a thrill from it all.

However the office meetings moved to his place meetings, drinking a glass of wine before you end up a moaning mess on his couch. Getting fucked senseless by your professor wasn’t something you thought would be happening but here you are.

And he’s good at it too. He’s had some prior experience which does help thanks to his age, a perk of ‘dating’ an older man. He’s also really sweet, of course he can’t take you on proper dates but he still tries his best with little gifts and great movie nights. Even if he does complain about the things being unrealistic in the movies. He still tries for you. Because he does genuinely care about you.

You were never late handing in assignments wanting to impress him. And the fact that having in stuff makes you feel like you’ve let him down. It’s nog a great feeling to let your boyfriend, or not boyfriend, whatever he is down.

But today you had missed it, so stressed out about everything else you forgot to make time for it.

You arrive at Spencer's apartment after pre warning him you were coming. You just needed to see him, even with the lack of assignment.

“I did notice the lack of paper on my desk today y/n.” The words fall from Spencer’s mouth easily as he doesn’t even look up from the other papers on his coffee table. Flicking through what should’ve been yours.

“I know I know. I’m sorry I’ve just had so much going on it completely slipped my mind.”

Spencer looks up and raises an eyebrow. It wasn’t like you to just ‘forget’. Hell you remember all the embarrassing things he’s said in class so him believing you just ‘forgot’ is not going to happen.

“What’s going on?” He immediately asks before you can even say any more of an excuse. Eyes scanning over your features to pick up on any signs. Usually he’s good at it, picking up a slight change in your demeanour and knowing something’s up immediately. But apparently this time he’s missed it.

You sigh before just taking a deep breath.

“I’m just stressed. I had so much going on this week. I’m sorry.”

Spencer doesn’t even say anything, switching from teacher mode to ‘boyfriend’ mode. He knows you need him, not to be scolded by professor Reid.

He gently pats his lap, indicating for you to take a seat on it. Which you happily do. Sighing as his arms snake around your waist and as your back touches his chest.

Spencer’s lips gently attach to your neck, knowing his touch can make you feel better.

“It’s okay sweetheart.” His hand intertwines with yours. He wants to show you love, too show you care. Not to ridicule you for some assignment he couldn’t give less of a shit about right now. “You wanna talk about it?”

You shake your head as you allow him to keep kissing that sweet spot he knows you like. With his slow kissing and free hand running over your thigh you can probably guess what he’s thinking about. Thinking about helping you relax of course.

“Can I help you out then?” He says as he turns your chin to make you look at him. Eyes scanning yours for any sign you’re uncomfortable or that you don’t want it. He always checks this is what you want. That he’s not being some pushy man making a young girl feel pressured to sleeping with him or whatever the activity is.

You nod slowly as you keep looking at him.

“Words honey.” Another one of his consent rules.

“Yes, please help me de-stress.” As soon as the words slip from your lips he smiles softly, hand running your thigh while the other one brings your cheek closer. His lips softly press against yours, pulling you closer in his lap.

His fingers each down to the zipper of your jeans. With one final check with you he begins to unzip. He’s not wasting any time here. He knows he can make you feel good, you’ve told him enough times.

“Lay down for me sweetheart.” At his request you immediately move, laying down on the sofa beneath him. Spencer softly sighs at the sight. looking at you beneath him is one of the best sights.

A small wet patch in your panties is apparent when he pulls down your jeans, you helping him out by lifting up your hips.

His hand slowly reaches where you’re practically craving him at this point. Fingers slowly rubbing you through your panties as he looks at you. He knows he’s got to be nice and do none of his usual antics of teasing and what not. So he pulls down your panties, discarding them somewhere in the room.

This whole moment is of course sensual but loving. The way he’s being so slow with you is different compared to other times you’ve been naked on his couch.

His fingers slowly start to rub your clit. He captures your moans with his mouth as he kisses you. You both kiss slowly and passionately as his finger moves down front your clit and into your cunt. Like everything else of this experience he goes slowly making you a whimpering mess like always.

“You’re such a good girl.” His words of praise make you relax more, he really does know what he’s doing. He’s a genius after all. “Good girl who’s taking my fingers so well.”

He places a kiss on your cheek before speeding up his movements. He knows you’re not gonna last long. Especially not now he’s added his thumb to your clit, applying pressure right where you need it.

You moan as you grip his bicep, the familiar feeling building up as he keeps going.

“I want you to cum on my fingers sweetheart.” His pet names make your heart race as you close your eyes. This is definitely one way to get your mind off of things.

It’s not long before you cum on his fingers. Moaning and whimpering as your grip tightens on his bicep.

He places a soft sweet kiss on your forehead and looks down at you with admiration in his eyes. He really does love you.

a/n: not proof read and will be writing a more feral spender reid soon😋

tags: @olderwomenenthusiast @lokisswiftie @yahboohah @pixie-verse @greatmiracleprincess @reidsjuno

[freaktoru]

summary: sung jinwoo x fem!reader -you fly to the international guild conference with your rich s-rank hunter boyfriend, sung jinwoo in a private jet. wc; 2k+ warnings: minor manhwa spoilers, smut, unprotected sex, use of pet names, dirty talk, creampie, fingering, pnv, pwp, female bodied reader, not proofread lol authors note: hi! this is my first fic. please enjoy, and please feel free to send any ideas into my inbox, i'm happy to chat and excited to write more for jinwoo. [best viewed in dark mode]

since becoming an s-rank hunter and the guild master of the Ahjin guild, there was no doubt about the fact that your boyfriend, sung jinwoo, was in high demand. as expected, jinwoo was invited to attend this year’s international guild conference to represent south korea and of course, asked you to join him. this conference was important to jinwoo as it would host all of the strongest hunters in the world and discuss the rise in numbers of gates spawning globally. 

sung jinwoo had made a lot of money since becoming an s-rank hunter, you knew this very well and experienced it first hand with him constantly spoiling you with your favourite food, new clothes, expensive jewelry and your shared penthouse apartment in the heart of seoul. jinwoo was not one to make a statement with his money, but when it came to you, he had no limits. thats why jinwoo decided to take you with him on a private jet to fly to america for this years conference. and that’s exactly where you currently found yourself—miles high in the air with your s-rank hunter boyfriend. 

“thank you, that’ll be all for now” you heard jinwoo say to the only flight attendant on the plane. you walk out of the washroom, hearing the flight attendant’s footsteps fade as you return to your seat. the interior of the jet was a smooth ivory colour with black accents and clean leather seats. you sat down in your seat across from your boyfriend who was looking out the window with a bored expression on his face, listening to the low hum of the plane engine. 

“sung” you say softly, drawing his attention away from the window. 

“hm?” he replies, his eyes darting in your direction and his gaze falling on your face. 

“what’s on your mind?” you ask.

“nothing, just thinking about the conference” he replies in an indifferent tone, clearly caught up in his own thoughts.

“i’m sure it’ll be fine, you’re one of the strongest hunters in the world right now, if not the strongest, i’m sure you can handle whatever is going to happen” you reassure him, hoping to pull him out of whatever he was thinking about. this happened often—jinwoo got caught up in his own thoughts and strength, and found it hard to pull himself back to reality.

“you’re right” he mumbled quickly and after a brief moment of silence he added, “come here baby” while patting his thigh, indicating that he wanted you on his lap. his voice alone was enough to send what felt like a current of electricity through your body.

since the press would be waiting when you landed, jinwoo was dressed in his usual expensive black outfit with black trousers, polished black shoes, a fine black dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows and an expensive black and silver watch on his left wrist. as an upper A rank hunter yourself, you were also dressed to impress, wearing a cream coloured blouse, a black pencil skirt with black heels to match and expensive jewelry purchased for you by none other than sung jinwoo himself.

you stood up from your seat and took a few steps over to where your boyfriend currently sat. as soon as you were within his reach, he grabbed you by the waist and pulled you into his lap. you felt your cheeks heat as he looked up at you with half lidded eyes, a lustful expression painted on his face.

“sung..” the words died on your lips as jinwoo strengthened his grip on your waist with one hand and lifted the other to your cheek. 

“shhh baby, i want to spend these last few hours of the flight with just you before we get hounded by the press and the public” he explains in a slightly annoyed tone, lightly pulling at your bottom lip with his thumb. 

“m’kay” you reply, too busy to utter a full reply as you wrap your arms around jinwoo’s neck, entangling your fingers in his hair and pressing a soft, wet kiss on his lips. sung jinwoo rarely loses his composure, but when you’re sitting on his lap, looking like that and placing such an innocent, soft kiss on his lips, he simply cannot contain himself any longer.

he pulls you close instantly—as if on instinct, as close as he can get you while you’re already on his lap. he deepens the kiss, one hand glued to your waist and the other tangled playfully in your hair. you moan, feeling jinwoo harden underneath you. 

“jinwoo- ah” you gasp breathlessly, pulling away from the kiss as you feel him move his fingers under your pencil skirt to rub lazy, teasing circles on your clothed clit. 

“look who’s already wet” he points out in a mocking tone all while ignoring your gasps and pleas. he pulls his hand away, unbuttoning your blouse and skillfully unclipping your bra with one hand, letting your breasts spill out into his ready hands. he grabs hold of one, squishing the soft skin of it while lowering his lips to your other nipple. you whimper at the feeling of his teeth grazing your nipple. you think to yourself that it must be the change in pressure from being miles high in the air because you feel so sensitive to his touch, almost feeling like your skin is melting under his hands. 

his fingers make their way back under your skirt while his mouth moves on to the other nipple, lightly biting and licking it, sending pulses of pleasure to your throbbing core. he moves his hands over your clit but this time, pushes aside your thong to coat his fingers in your slick. he slides in two of his slender fingers with ease and starts lazily pumping in and out of you. it feels so so good, his fingers knowingly hitting the exact spot to make you melt. jinwoo wears a seductive smirk on his face as he quickens his pace and watches you mutter incoherent words while gasping and moaning from the sheer pleasure of just his fingers. he pinches your nipple with his other hand and lowers his lips to your neck, sucking on the sensitive flesh. this feeling simply surpasses anything you’ve ever felt before, sending you into oblivion. you feel the flame inside you spread throughout your whole body as you release onto his fingers. 

“ah baby-” you gasp, your words cut off as jinwoo slowly pulls his cum coated fingers out of you, making you go limp from the orgasm. 

“clean up your mess kitten” he orders, tone bordering on serious. he brings his fingers up to your panting mouth, sliding them past your soft lips. you welcome his fingers, sucking your cum off of them and gazing at jinwoo suggestively as he slowly pumps them in and out of your mouth. once clean, he removes his fingers from your mouth and inhales sharply when you move your hand over the bulge in his pants. “my turn” you coo, while unzipping his pants slowly, freeing his cock. 

jinwoo was pretty, everyone knew this— and his cock certainly did not deviate from that description. it wasn’t wide but it made up for that in its length. it looked almost elegant in your hands as you started running your fingers gently along his shaft, always noticing that one vein that ran down the side of it. you watched any remaining tension leave his body as he groaned and relaxed into the seat. you pumped his cock teasingly for a couple of minutes and momentarily lowered yourself onto your knees to lick the beads of precum off the head of his cock. this is where sung jinwoo’s composure completely snapped. 

“stop teasing” he grit out as he lifted you up from your knees and back onto his lap. the movement was fast, almost animalistic. with the way he manhandled you, you could tell that jinwoo was simmering with need, and could wait no longer to get himself inside of you. 

he gave you no warning as he slid himself inside you, practically impaling you on his cock. you whimpered at the sudden intrusion, gripping jinwoo's shoulders so hard that your knuckles were turning white. he gave you a minute to adjust and you felt the pleasure override the initial pain. even though this wasn’t your first time with jinwoo, his sheer length was still difficult to adjust to every time. 

“fuck you feel so good” he rasped as he slowly starting moving your hips up and down on his cock. you were convinced this bliss would never go away, even after countless times with jinwoo, it was still the most euphoric feeling you’ve ever felt. this would beat any drug, you were sure of it.

this went on for a couple more minutes, jinwoo quickening his pace and hitting that sweet spot again and again, making your eyes roll to the back of your head. 

“nnngh baby please” you moaned, feeling yourself coming close to your climax. you looked down at jinwoo, his head thrown back against the seat, his jet black hair tousled and messy with stray strands sticking to his sweat covered forehead. the scene was a pure depiction of lust. his half lidded eyes and the slight smirk he wore on his face was enough to make you absolutely melt. 

“please jinwoo, i’m going to cum” you uttered breathless, tears beading at the corners of your eyes, hoping that jinwoo was close. “not until i say so baby” he replied, just as breathless as you. this was a rule jinwoo had for you, he would never let you come alone and would make you wait until he was ready to cum with you. this always pushed you over the edge because it took him longer to get there, however the wait was always worth it. 

“aaah” you gasped, feeling your boyfriend tense underneath you, indicating that he was going to cum. “cum for me baby” he said, and you felt yourself snap free. you crashed your lips onto his to seal the moment and felt that warm flame spread through your body once again. you felt the tension erase from jinwoo’s body and before you knew it, you went limp in his arms. 

jinwoo stayed buried in your warmth for a couple of minutes as you both came down from your high. you placed your head in the crook of his neck and the two of you stayed there like that, panting and catching your breath. 

“you did so good f’me” he rasped, his voice sending a warm tingle down your spine. you moved your head to look up at him and gave him a quick smile before pressing a kiss to his lips. jinwoo finally pulled out and quickly cleaned you and himself up with some napkins he found nearby. 

he then placed you back in his lap so that your head was back in the crook of his neck and you were both facing the window looking out at the clouds, still miles away from your destination. he ran his fingers through your hair softly, placing warm kisses on your forehead occasionally. you enjoyed the view and being in his arms more than anything, and mentally prepared for the inevitable doom that you knew would soon descend over the earth.

“sung?” you murmured the question, slowly feeling yourself getting emotional. 

“hm?” he responded, looking down at the frown on your face with confusion. “what’s wrong?” he asked. 

“we’re going to be okay right?” you asked in a worried tone. jinwoo instantly picked up on your worry and understood your stress.  

“of course. i’ll make sure of it” he replied softly, brushing a stray strand of hair behind your ear. 

“i love you” you whispered, followed by a quick peck. when you pulled back, you saw your favourite sight: sung jinwoo’s most genuine smile, the one he only reserved for you. 

“i love you too” he replied and pressed a soft kiss to your forehead. you felt yourself slowly drifting off into sleep, and heard the flight attendant come back out to inform jinwoo of the arrival time as you fell limp from sleep in his strong arms. 

no matter what, as long as you were with sung jinwoo, you knew that you would be okay.

© @blessedmisery 2025.

[queerteapie]

Please, I Beg (18+)

Pairing: Agatha Harkness/Rio Vidal/Reader

Rating: Mature

Fic Playlist: Spotify

Summary: You recieve a late night text asking for an emergency babysitter, and with the cost of LA, you take the job. The job, however, ends up being far more than the money.

Tags: 18+, angst, smut, NSFW, femme reader

Masterlist | Ao3 | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8

Chapter 1

The sun’s warmth begins to fade outside, giving way to a quiet breeze that whispers through the open window. It dances across your bare skin with a cool touch, raising goosebumps in its wake. Soft music plays in the background, and you hum along without thinking. Sitting on the edge of your bed, hair still damp and clinging to your neck from the shower, you hear the familiar buzz of a text. You reach for your phone, water still trailing down your arm, and glance at the screen - a message from the babysitting agency: an emergency request for a sitter tonight. Double Pay. 

Since moving to California, money is tight. Not the best financial decision you've ever made, but the right one nonetheless. The timing of this job is perfect. You type back quickly, confirming you can take it. A few seconds later, the agency responds with the address and a brief note about the family. You sit up a little straighter, already shifting into work mode. Time to get ready. You stand, towel slipping from your shoulders, and head to the closet to find something clean but comfortable. Your mind races through a mental checklist: ID, keys, snacks for the road. In the background, the music plays on, soft and steady.

You quickly change into a pair of workout leggings and a loose tee, comfortable but practical. After a quick blow-dry, you gather your hair into a messy bun, not bothering for perfection. You throw your overnight bag over your shoulder, taking a moment to glance around the room before heading out the door to your car. The drive to the family isn’t far, but with LA traffic, it’s going to be a close call.

With seconds to spare, you pull into the driveway of a house, grand in size. What could these people possibly do for a living?

Grabbing your bag from the back seat, you make your way to the front door and press the doorbell. Silence. You give the wooden frame a couple of quick taps, just as the sound of approaching footsteps breaks the stillness.

A woman’s silhouette appears behind the frosted glass, visibly fumbling with an earring as she moves closer.

“Coming, coming, sorry!” the woman calls out as she opens the door, stepping aside to usher you in.

“Evening! You must be Y/N. Lovely to meet you, I’m Agatha.”

You're drawn to her the moment she opens the door. There’s something commanding in the way she carries herself; confident, grounded, and unapologetically sure of who she is. Her hair falls over her shoulders with casual ease, and her dress fits in a way that shows she knows how to own a room without trying too hard. She has a presence that feels both warm and in control, like someone used to being listened to. As you inhale, a hint of floral perfume lingers in the air, subtle, but impossible to ignore, much like her.

"Y-yes, yes, I’m Y/N. Nice to meet you too," you manage to say, stumbling over your words. "I... wow, you look lovely."

It feels like an understatement. She looks phenomenal.

"Oh, why thank you, dear. How kind of you," she replies with a warm smile, and for a moment, the air around you feels heavier, charged. "Let me introduce you to Nicky. He’s pretty great, though as his mom, I suppose I have to say that."

She laughs, easy and genuine, and you find yourself smiling back as a quiet chuckle escapes you. You follow her down the hallway toward the lounge, still trying to gather yourself.

The décor along the walls catches your eye, unusual and unlike anything you’ve seen before. The furniture carries the weight of history, each piece rich with character, while the wallpaper speaks of quiet luxury.

Your gaze shifts to a collection of family photos, carefully arranged and lovingly displayed.

One image holds your attention. Another woman. There’s something about her, a quiet intensity that draws you in. She’s beautiful in a way that feels timeless, with a shadow in her eyes that hints at stories untold.

You linger, perhaps longer than you should, unable to look away. A soft smile finds its way to your lips, unbidden.

"That's Rio. She’ll be down in a minute. She only just got out of the shower," Agatha says with a sigh, her voice tinged with mild irritation at her partner’s lateness.

"You have a beautiful family," you reply, stepping toward the young boy sitting cross-legged on the floor with a colouring pencil in hand. He looks to be about seven, maybe eight. His tongue pokes out slightly in concentration as he fills in a bright red cape on what appears to be a superhero.

"Hey there," you say gently, crouching down beside him. "That’s a cool drawing. Is he flying or getting ready to save someone?"

The boy glances up at you with wide, curious eyes. "He’s flying. He’s got fire powers," he replies, holding up the picture with a touch of pride.

"Fire powers? That’s awesome. I’m Y/N, by the way."

"I’m Nicky," he says, then returns to shading in flames with an orange pencil.

You smile and watch for a moment, the quiet energy between you settling comfortably. Just then, another set of footsteps approaches, joining you in the lounge.

"Do you know where my suspenders are? I can't seem to find them anywh-oh, we have a guest," she says, appearing suddenly in the doorway, her movements hurried and distracted. Her eyes land on you, and she straightens slightly, surprise flickering across her face.

You rise to your feet and offer your hand. "Hi, I’m Y/N. I’m the babysitter for the evening.”

She takes your hand with a firm grip, her touch lingering just a moment longer than expected. A slow smirk tugs at the corner of her lips as her eyes sweep over you, deliberate and unhurried. "Well, aren’t you a pretty little thing," she says, her voice low and playful. There’s a glint of amusement in her gaze, and something else too, something that lingers like heat in the air between you, before she finally releases your hand.

Agatha raises an eyebrow as she watches the exchange, arms crossing loosely over her chest. “Rio, really?” she says, her tone light but laced with a hint of mock disapproval. “You’re meant to be getting dressed, not eyeing up the babysitter.”

Rio chuckles, clearly unbothered. “Can’t I do both?” she tosses over her shoulder as she heads for the stairs.

“Your suspenders are in the top drawer of the chest, try not to tear the place apart looking for them this time,” Agatha calls after her with a knowing smile.

Once Rio disappears upstairs, Agatha turns back to you with a warm but more focused expression.

“Okay, so Nicky’s already had dinner, he just needs a snack before bed. He’ll ask for chocolate, but try to keep it light or he’ll be bouncing off the walls. Bedtime is at eight, though he’ll try to push for eight-thirty if you let him talk you into one more story.” She pauses, then adds with a smile, “He’s good, honestly. Just a bit of a negotiator.”

You nod, taking it all in as Agatha reaches for her coat and bag. “We shouldn’t be too late, but feel free to help yourself to anything in the kitchen. If there’s any trouble, my number’s on the fridge.”

Just as she’s adjusting her coat, you hear Rio’s footsteps returning from upstairs. 

Just as Agatha slips her coat on, Rio reappears, now fully dressed and tugging her suspenders into place with a little flair. She gives you a wink in passing before turning her attention to Nicky.

“There’s my little man,” she says, kneeling beside him. “You going to be good tonight?”

Nicky nods solemnly, but there’s a cheeky sparkle in his eyes. “I’ll be good if I can have two stories.”

Agatha laughs softly and bends down to kiss the top of his head. “One story, and no bargaining. Don’t make Y/N call us, okay?”

He sighs dramatically but nods. “Okay. One story.”

Rio leans in, ruffles his hair gently, then glances at you with a smirk. “If he gives you trouble, bribe him with marshmallows. Works every time.”

“Rio,” Agatha says in warning, but there’s no real weight behind it. The two women share a look - half amused, half fond - before Agatha straightens up.

“Alright, we’re off. Thanks again,” she says to you, reaching for her keys.

“Don’t have too much fun without us,” Rio adds with a grin, and then the front door clicks shut behind them, leaving the house quiet for the first time that evening.

***********

Between entertaining, feeding, and eventually settling Nicky into bed, your mind never strays far from the two women who left you in a haze of perfume and flirtation. Images of Agatha’s dress clinging perfectly to her waist flicker behind your eyes, each detail burned into memory. And then there’s Rio - her smirk, her eyes, the deliberate way she looked at you just before stepping out the door. That one glance has been echoing in your chest all night.

The hands on the clock read 1am when you hear the soft hum of a cab pulling up outside, followed by the unmistakable sound of giggling and whispered shushes as they make their way along the path. You draw in a deep breath, hoping the extra air will steady you, maybe stop your thoughts from tripping over themselves.

It doesn’t.

The front door creaks open moments later, the soft shuffle of heels and the occasional laugh filling the hallway. Agatha and Rio are home.

“Oh, look who’s still awake,” Rio teases, her voice a little slurred, but no less alluring. She leans against the doorframe, eyes glinting with mischief as she scans you, her gaze lingering just a second too long on your lips. “I thought for sure you’d be in bed by now, all tired out from the little one.”

Agatha steps in behind her, her movements smooth and easy, but there’s a playful tilt to her lips as she sees you. “Don’t mind Rio. She’s had a little too much fun tonight,” she says with a knowing smile, brushing past her partner to pour herself a glass of water from the kitchen.

Rio pushes off the doorframe and moves toward you, her steps slower than usual, but just as confident. She stops a few inches away, leaning in close enough that you can feel the warmth of her breath against your skin. “But I think you should stay awake a little longer,” she murmurs, her voice low and teasing. “I bet we could make it worth your while.”

Agatha chuckles softly from the kitchen, evident that she’s listening, the tension building between the three of you. Rio’s hand brushes against your arm as she straightens, clearly waiting for your reaction.

“I-um, well…” you fumble, eyes making a quick glance toward the kitchen.

Rio’s smirk deepens as she watches you, her gaze steady and filled with mischief. The air between you crackles with tension, her nearness setting your skin alight. She leans in just a little closer, close enough that you can feel the warmth of her body and the sweet, spiced scent of her perfume.

“You know,” she murmurs, voice honey-smooth and heavy with suggestion, “Agatha and I don’t mind sharing... if you’re interested.”

Your breath catches before you can respond. Her words hit you low in the stomach, igniting something raw and wanting. Your mouth opens slightly, but nothing comes out right away. You can only stare back, heartbeat thudding, heat creeping up your neck. You weren’t prepared for this, how direct she’d be, how good it would feel to have her attention so focused, so intimate. A part of you aches to lean into it, to say yes, to let her take you apart slowly right there in the soft glow of the hallway light.

But before you can say anything, Agatha, who has been quietly observing from the kitchen, steps in. She folds her arms, the curve of a smile playing on her lips as she regards the two of you. “Rio,” she says gently, “you’ve had a bit to drink, love. Maybe... maybe it’s not the best time for this.”

There’s no judgment in her voice, just a calm certainty that grounds the moment. You glance at her, feeling a strange mixture of relief and disappointment. It’s clear she’s looking out for everyone - Rio, herself, and you.

Rio pouts, clearly not ready to let the moment slip away. “Oh, come on, Agatha. What’s the harm?” she says with a little laugh, then turns her attention back to you. Her eyes sweep over you again, slow and deliberate. “I’m sure she’s just as curious as we are.”

You swallow hard. She’s not wrong. Your body hums with tension, with want. But there’s also a part of you that appreciates the restraint, the respect humming beneath the flirtation.

Rio moves closer, and your breath hitches again. Her hand grazes your arm, light but electric. “Maybe just a little taste?” she whispers, her lips dangerously close to your ear. Her voice curls around you like silk, sending shivers down your spine. “We can save the rest for another night.”

Your body responds before your mind can form a full thought. Every nerve feels on edge, aching. But before anything more can happen, Agatha steps forward and gently rests a hand on Rio’s shoulder.

“You know I’m all for fun,” Agatha says, her voice softer now, almost intimate. “But I think tonight’s…not the right moment.”

She looks at you then, and you feel seen, not just desired, but considered. It catches you off guard, that subtle care beneath the suggestion.

Agatha smiles, her touch still on Rio’s arm. “We can wait. There’s no rush.”

Rio sighs, exaggerated and theatrical, but there’s a hint of affection in her eyes when she glances at Agatha. “Fine, fine,” she mutters, then shoots you one last look, hungry, promising. “But this isn’t over.”

Agatha chuckles, linking her fingers through Rio’s. “We’ll see you again soon,” she says to you, and her voice wraps around you like a secret. “And next time, maybe we’ll all be in a better state of mind.”

As they head upstairs, Rio casts one final glance over her shoulder, mischief still dancing in her expression, before they vanish from view.

You’re left alone in the quiet, the air still buzzing from their presence. Your body thrums with leftover heat, your thoughts tangled with everything that could have happened... and everything that still might.

[meenaxskz]

when it's getting freaky but you clock out (maknae line) | skz reactions

genre : funny | light smut (so spicy ?) pairing : bf!skz x reader summary: you were feeling needy. Touchy. Flirty. And he was sooo ready. And then YOU FELL ASLEEP mid motion like some kind of sleep deprived gremlin. hyung line | ✧ maknae line

han

It starts beautifully. You’re under the covers, bodies tangled, lips on his neck, hand slowly sliding south. “Holy shit,” he breathes, “I love you.” You giggle. “You better.” He moans the second your hand wraps around him. “You’re so good to me,” he whispers, gripping the sheets. And then? Stillness. No more movement “…Jagiya?” Silence. “Babe?” You’re slumped over his chest. Mouth open. Eyes closed. Hand still gently cupping him. Then he hears it. A tiny, innocent snore. He freezes. "BRO" He lies there in betrayal silence for a full 30 seconds before slowly, gently removing your hand like it’s made of explosives. He glances at you. You’re hugging his pillow now. Dead asleep. Happy “…Unbelievable.” He walks over to the dresser, opens the drawer, and pulls out your favorite hoodie. Puts it on, frustrated. Then he sits on the floor and stares at the wall “I don’t even know who I am anymore.” He wipes a single (dramatic ???) tear. You shift in bed, still asleep, and mumble, “Mmm… Ji…” He freezes. “…You think you can just say my name in your dreams like that and it fixes everything? No.” You make the tiniest little sound he ever heard. Pause. “....Okay maybe.”

felix

You crawl into his lap, straddling him with that dangerous little smile he knows too well. “Missed you today,” you whisper against his neck. He shivers. “Missed you too, angel.” Your fingers tug at the waistband of his sweats, slipping lower, teasing, lingering. He lets out a shaky breath, already half-melting. “Yeah? You gonna show me how much?” He nods, pupils blown out. Then... you go completely still. "...Babe?" Nothing. "Angel?" A snore. A literal, actual snore. He blinks. “...No, uh uh…You’re not asleep. You can’t be asleep.” He peeks down. Yup. Full ragdoll mode, , hand still resting on his impossibly hard bulge.

“Oh my god.” He slowly lifts your hand off. Then lies back, staring at the ceiling with the kind of emotional damage normally reserved for war films. “I was so close.” He glances at you again, pout forming. "You whispered 'I’m gonna wreck you' like ten minutes ago. That’s slander. That’s false advertising.” You shift in your sleep and cuddle into his side. He lays back and lets out the most defeated sigh in the history of romance. He drags the blanket over both of you. “…She said ‘wreck me’ and then flatlined. That’s evil.” He sniffles dramatically. You shift again, still asleep, and mumble, “So pretty…” He squints at you, though his lips twitch. “…Don’t try to compliment your way out of this.”

seungmin

You straddle his lap, hands sliding under his shirt, lips teasing his jaw. He raises an eyebrow. “Wow. You’re really committing to this.” You grin. “What, surprised I’m the one starting it?” “I just thought you’d fall asleep like you always do.” You scoff. “I’m not even tired.” “Sure.” He lets you tug his shirt off, smirking slightly. “You’re really about to get on top, huh?” “Shut up.” “I’m letting you lead. Don’t embarrass yourself.” “Seungmin, I’m literally grinding on you right now.” “I’m aware,” he says, deadpan. “I have eyes. And a… situation.” You snort and lean in to kiss his neck, hand sliding up to pinch his nipple and... “Babe?” Nothing. “…Are you serious?” He looks down. You’re out. OUT. Hand still on his nipple like you're trying to charge it. He blinks. “There’s no way.” You snore softly. He exhales. “This is incredible. I’m dating a sleep-deprived menace.” He adjusts slightly, still trapped under you. “Wow. You said ‘I’m not tired.’ Said it with your whole chest. Lied to my fucking face.” You breathe on his collarbone like an unbothered sleepy monster. “That’s so disrespectful.” He glances at the ceiling, sighs and gently, he lays you back and pulls the blanket over you like a passive-aggressive butt-hurt boyfriend. “Hope your dreams are spicy. Wouldn’t want to actually experience anything in real life.”

I.N

You’re both curled up on the couch after movie #2, legs tangled, the lights low. He looks over at you, barefaced, comfy hoodie, smelling like heaven...and thinks, It’s time. He clears his throat and brushes his fingers along your thigh. You hum softly. Oh my god it’s working. He leans in, nervous but trying to seem cool. “Hey,” he murmurs, voice low. “You look really…” You blink up at him. “Hmm?” “…Kissable,” he says, immediately regretting every life choice. You smile and climb onto his lap without a word. He chokes on his own breath. You start kissing his neck, slow and soft, fingers curling in his hoodie. He whines quietly. “Oh my god yes…” Then... Nothing. Stillness. Your lips stop moving. Your head drops onto his shoulder. He panics. “Babe?” You don’t move. “…Babe???” You’re asleep. YOU. ARE. ASLEEP. On his hard dick! He blinks. Hands still gripping your waist. You? Mouth slightly open. Out cold. Snoring. He stares at the ceiling in silence. “…Was I that boring?” You shift slightly and mumble something into his shoulder. He leans in. Did you say his name? No. You said “I’m cold.” He gently tugs the blanket over you. “…So you used me for warmth, then left me on read in real life.” He lays back, limbs stiff. “Cool, cool, cool. No, that’s fine.” Five minutes later he’s whispering at the ceiling like it’s a therapist. He stares at the TV. “I was gonna bite her neck. It was gonna be HOT” He practiced that. You shift again, cuddling into his chest. He pouts harder. “Don’t act cute. You emotionally damaged me.”

⤷ main m.list ❟

DISCLAIMER : This blog and all related content (fics, fake texts, headcanons, imagines, etc.) are entirely fictional and created for entertainment purposes only. I do not know Stray Kids personally, nor do I claim any of this reflects their real personalities, actions, or relationships. All characters and their personalities—including Meena King—are original creations.Please enjoy responsibly and remember : real people = real boundaries.

[xosannie]

ohhhhhh i cant stop thinking about make up sex with seonghwa, like imagine he did something that upset you and hes trying to make amends with you

sooooo he got on his kness and you somehow got into dom mode and pressed your high heels on his crotch jejsksksksks and seonghwa being whiny

hope you have fun writing 🫣

Know Your Place

☆a/n: AGGHH this is so good, right when I read this I knew I had to write something with this. You match my freak fr >:))

☆Genre: Smut MDNI 18+ Only

☆Pairing: Sub!Seonghwa x Dom!reader (afab)

☆Word count: 3.2k

☆Warnings: hair pulling, begging, stepping on his ween, degrading/humiliation, use of sex toys (f receiving), reader masturbates in front of Seonghwa, foot humping, Seonghwa is very desperate, praise (both for the reader and Seonghwa), slight heel kissing, dacryphilia, cumming in pants, reader gets called “Miss” (let me know if I missed anything)

☆Summary: When Seonghwa accidentally stood you up, leaving you alone in your shared apartment while he went out with his members. Somehow, he completely forgot about the date you both were meant to go on after he came home from work. When he did come home though, he swore he would do anything for you to forgive him. Anything?

—————————————————————————

“Where the fuck is he?” You huff.

Your heels clicking on the wood floor as you paced around the apartment. You tried calling him, but it would take your straight to voice mail. You warned Seonghwa to stop leaving the house without his phone fully charged. 

You groan in annoyance, walking to the living room and plopping down on the couch. You sat there with your head in your hands, your heart pounding with anger. How could he do this? 

Earlier that day, Seonghwa left your apartment for work. He had to spend the day in the recording booth for their upcoming album. That part you weren’t upset about; what upset you is that you both planned to go on a nice dinner when he got back. 

Two hours passed since he was supposed to get out of work, and he still wasn’t home. You were already dressed, wearing your prettiest black dress that you knew Seonghwa loved. It stopped at your midthigh and had some lace detailing. Your hair was curled, falling perfectly on your shoulder, and you had on a pair of black stiletto heels. 

You felt so humiliated, all dolled up just to be stood up by YOUR OWN BOYFRIEND. Suddenly you hear the jingling of keys on the other side of the front door; he’s finally home. A laughing Seonghwa stepped into the apartment, waving at his members before closing the door. When he turned to face you, his smile dropped, and you stood up slowly off the couch, glaring at Seonghwa.

He felt his heart ache after seeing the way you were dressed; he completely forgot about the date. The way you were looking at him sent chills down his spine, and you turned on your heels to storm in your shared bedroom. 

“Y/n wait…please.”

He caught up to you, stopping you before you could enter the bedroom. You shot around, eyes filled with fury. He stepped back, wanting to touch you but afraid you would blow up if he did.

“What the fuck, Seonghwa!? How could you? You stood me up!”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to...”

His voice was soft and apologetic; you saw his eyes fill with worry and regret, but you were too upset to even care. 

“You didn’t mean to?! Do you know how dumb I feel, getting all dolled up just to wait for you for two hours? Your phone is dead, so you didn’t answer any of my calls; you just wasted my time!” 

“Listen, I don’t know how I forgot. After we finished recording, the guys wanted to grab some food."

“I don’t want to hear it!”

You interrupted him, walking in the bedroom and slamming the door in his face. Seonghwa let out a small sigh, rubbing his forehead and cursing to himself. You were too upset to even change out of your clothing; you sat on the edge of the bed with your head in your hands again. You felt so hurt; if you hadn’t let yourself be angry, you would have started sobbing right in front of Seonghwa (and you certainly did not want to do that).

Seonghwa didn’t step away from the bedroom door, resting his head on the wood with his hand gripping the doorknob. He messed up, real bad. He felt so guilty he could cry. All he wanted to do was walk in and shower you with all his love and kisses, but he knew you needed space. He knew that in times where you were angry, the best thing to do was let you be alone for a moment to cool down. 

After a few minutes of silence, Seonghwa slowly turned the knob; it wasn’t locked (that was a good sign). He peaked his head in, his heart sinking when he saw the way you sat in the bed, still wearing your pretty outfit. 

“Babe?” he said meekly.

You jaw clenched at the sound of his voice; you sat frozen, hiding your face with the palm of your hands. Your lack of shouting was enough encouragement Seonghwa needed to fully step in, walking closer to you. He could tell you were starting to calm down, which is why he allowed himself to kneel in front of you, trying to meet your gaze. 

“I’m so sorry. I don’t blame you for being upset with me. I don’t know how, but I just forgot. I guess I got so sprung up with working on this album; the guys wanted to go out to celebrate our hard work, and it slipped my mind.”

You took in a deep breath, still not looking at Seonghwa’s face. You could hear the sincerity in his voice, and your body relaxed just a bit at the sound. 

“That’s no excuse though; I shouldn’t have left my girl like that. I feel terrible. I’m so sorry, baby. You look so pretty, I could tell you spent a lot of time to look nice.”

You felt his trembling hand gently grasp your ankle, admiring your pretty shoes and dress. He soothingly ran his hand up and down your leg, scooting closer. Your silence started to worry him; he had to fight back tears and continued to apologize.

“Baby? Please say something. I’m so sorry. What I did was wrong, but please, can you at least look at me?”

His voice took on a pleading, desperate tone, and you felt your stomach churn with desire at the familiar sound. You mentally cursed yourself for feeling that way in a moment like this. You slowly lifted your face out of your hands, staring at a kneeling Seonghwa. 

His brows were furrowed and his eyes filled with desperation. This was a familiar sight, but in other cases he would usually be naked, dripping pre-cum out of his pretty cock. 

“Please? I’ll do anything if it means you will forgive me. Please, I’m begging on my knees for you.” 

He whined; you could tell he was on the brink of tears. Voice cracking at how desperate he was for you to forgive him; you knew his apology was sincere... but the way he looked did something to you.

“Anything?” You spoke, your voice taking a darker tone.

Seonghwa noticed the shift in your tone, although he tried not to think of it much. You watched as he bit his lip and nodded eagerly.

“Yes! Anything, please let me show you how sorry I am. Just name it, and I’ll do it.”

Your hard gaze on Seonghwa caused him to shiver, immediately feeling smaller while he kneeled in front of you. Suddenly, you reached up, tightly gripping the roots of Seonghwa’s hair and pulling his head back. He gasped harshly, feeling a wave of arousal crash through him, and his eyes shone with newfound desire. 

“You’re going to be my little bitch today,” you grunted through your teeth. 

Seonghwa whimpered at your words, eyes glued on you, and nodded to the best of his abilities. 

“Yes, yes, whatever you want. Punish me for being bad.” 

You chuckled darkly at how easily he complies with you. You push your foot forward and press the bottom of your shoe on his crotch, adding slight pressure.

Seonghwa gasped again, feeling your shoe against his clothes. He winced slightly at the pain, embarrassed at how he started to grow hard. You laughed at him, stepping harder onto his crotch and watching his every expression.

“You’re such a bad boy, leaving me all alone.”

You began to rub your foot against his growing length, causing Seonghwa to whine softly. His expression was so pretty, his jaw going slack as he furrowed his brows. He tried so hard to keep his eyes on you, knowing that if he looked away, it would only upset you more.

“I’m sorry, Miss; I won’t do it again.” He whined.

You released your grip on his hair, leaning back and resting your weight on your hands. You lifted your heel off him, just to press down again. Seonghwa whimpered and whined at the feeling, using all his might not to buck up into your foot. He was trying to be a good boy, his hands clenched at his sides as he let you step on him. 

“You’re getting hard from this? You’re so dirty, so pathetic.” 

Seonghwa whimpered at your words, feeling himself twitch against your foot. He nodded his head, looking up at you with pleading eyes.

“Yes… I’m sorry. I’m so pathetic,” he whined out. 

You felt yourself ache at his words; seeing him in this state made you feral. You laughed at his reaction, removing your foot to cross your legs. Seonghwa had to fight back the cry he wanted to let out, already missing the pressure of your shoe on him. His eyes roamed up and down your body, enjoying how dominant you looked. 

“You’re so pretty,” he said softly. 

“I am? I wore your favorite dress; it’s just a shame you won’t be taking it off me tonight.”

Seonghwa whined pathetically at your words, feeling a pang of disappointment. He gripped his own thighs, trying his best to keep his hands to himself. He knew he wasn’t allowed to touch you unless he had your permission.

“Nooo, please?”

You smirk at him, kicking your foot up to press your heel against his chest.

"No, no, you won’t be touching me in that way.”

Seonghwa pouted at your words; he felt his cock ache with need. You barely touched him, and he was already so needy. The pressure of your heel on his chest excited him a lot; he loved the slight pain. He loved that you could do whatever you wanted to him; he was so willing to let himself go and obey your every command. It was all so humiliating it turned him on. 

“Kiss my heel.”

Seonghwa felt a shiver run down his spine. He pressed his lips together and took in a breath. 

"Yes, Miss, I’ll gladly do that for you.”

He gently grasped your ankle, placing a soft kiss at the top of your shoe. He made sure to keep his eyes on you, and he started to trail soft kisses up your foot to your ankle.

“These heels are so pretty; you’re so pretty...so perfect,” he mumbled. 

You pulled your foot away, making Seonghwa whine softly. 

“Let’s not get hasty.” 

"Yes, Miss, I’m sorry.” 

You stared him down, taking in his desperate form. Watching the way his chest rose and fell, his dick hard and aching in his pants. It was so erotic, your core throbbed with desire. 

“I love that look on your face; it drives me crazy.” 

You huffed, spreading your legs in front of Seonghwa. His eyes widened when he saw you were wearing no panties under your dress. He whimpered, nails digging into the fabric of his pants.

“Fuck, you’re not wearing panties?”

“Tonight, I was going to let you touch me all you wanted at the restaurant, but since you stood me up...”

Your hands reached down, dipping your finger in your wet folds, rubbing circles around your clit.

“You won’t be touching me at all tonight.”

Seonghwa took in a sharp breath, his head casting down as a broken whine escaped his lips. 

“Nooo, please, I’m sorry. I won’t be bad, I promise. Please, please, I need to touch you... to taste you. Please!

You laugh at his reaction, rubbing your clit faster. 

"God, you’re so pathetic; you have no shame.”

“I am pathetic; I’m a dirty, pathetic boy. But it’s all because of you. I need you, please!” 

You moan at his words, his begging turning you on greatly. You yourself were starting to grow more desperate; your fingers weren’t enough. It was hard to stay composed; you so badly wanted to pull Seonghwa on the bed and ride him till you both came. Although he didn’t deserve that, not after everything he put you through.

An idea popped in your head, and you smirked mischievously as you reached over to open the bedside drawer. Seonghwa eyes followed your actions, watching you questioningly. He felt his dick pulse when he saw you pull out a pink dildo. He moaned at the sight, knowing what you had planned.

“Oh my god, baby,” he whined. 

You chuckled, spitting on the toy to get it nice and wet. You gently stroked it, lathering the dildo with your saliva. He watched you intently as you aligned the toy with your dripping hole.

“No, please don’t do this. I can’t handle not touching you.” 

“That’s too bad; now sit and watch like a good boy.”

He pressed his lips together, trying to quiet down his pleas. All his efforts went to waste though when he moaned out loud at the sight of you pushing toy inside you. 

You bent your knee up, trying to get a better angle and give Seonghwa a better view as you fucked yourself. You moaned softly, the feeling of Seonghwa’s pleading eyes on your turning you on.

“Oh god, you’re so pretty. I wish I was the one fucking you. Your pussy is so wet; I need you, baby, please.”

You ignored his please, head tilting back in pleasure. The feeling of the toy sliding in and out of you felt too good. The squelching of your pussy filled the room; Seonghwa couldn’t take much more of this. He was so hard it started to hurt in his pants. 

“Please, I can’t take it. I need you. You don’t even have to fuck me just... fuck, please just give me anything.”

“Such a needy boy,” you chuckled breathlessly.

You place your foot back on his crotch, applying pressure like last time. The moan that ripped out of Seonghwa's chest made you ache between your legs. You subconsciously fucked the dildo in you faster.

“Fuck there you go. Hump my foot like the bitch you are.”

You didn’t have to tell him twice. He immediately grabbed ahold of you, wrapping his arms around your leg as he humped up into your foot. 

“Thank…you.”

“Fuck look at you,” you groaned. 

The sight of Seonghwa desperately trying to reach his high by grinding on your foot made you shiver in delight. His forehead rested on your knee; the mixture of pain and pleasure of your hard shoe rubbing against his most sensitive spot made his head reel. 

He looked back up, eye fixated on your pussy, taking the dildo deep. He moaned, watching with awe.

“You’re so pretty; you deserve all the pleasure.”

You moan louder, feeling your release coming faster than anticipated. You reached down to grab Seonghwa's hair, making him moan louder. Seonghwa can feel himself getting closer, his hips moving faster against your foot.

"Oh, look at that face you’re making; you’re close, aren’t you Seonghwa?” 

“Yessss,” he groaned; his words were slurring, and you could tell he was getting lost in the pleasure.

“Don’t you dare cum, not until I say you can.”

“Yes Miss… I’m trying... to hold it.”

You panted heavily; your wrist started to ache at how fast you were pounding your own pussy. You were on the brink of release, so close, but you needed more. You needed something else to push you off the edge.

“You want to touch me, baby?”

Seonghwa head perked up, eyes filled with excitement. 

“Yes! Yes please!”

“Take your fingers and rub my clit. That’s all you get to do.”

He whimpered, nodding eagerly and licking the pad of his middle and ring finger. He reached up to rub circles on your sensitive bud. You moaned, your hand gripping tighter in his hair, making him wince at the feeling.

“Like this?” He whimpered.

"Yes, baby, good boy.”

He moaned at your praise, dick twitching in his pants. He wished he was the one inside you, but he was so desperate to touch you that he was happy with the little friction he gave to your clit. 

“I want to make you feel good. Please cum, Miss. I can tell you’re so close.”

Seonghwa's words were all you needed to finally reach your peak. Legs trembling as you came all over the toy. Seonghwa moaned as he watched you come undone. 

“Yes! Yes! Oh, you’re so pretty when you cum, you deserve this.”

Seonghwa felt his own orgasm threaten to explode; he tried to hold it back to the best of his abilities. He whined desperately, his eyes filling up with tears. He gripped at your thigh, biting his lip so hard you were afraid it would start bleeding. 

After pulling the toy out of your wet hole, you set it aside, panting heavily. Your tight grip on Seonghwa's hair shifted to a soothing massage on his scalp.

“You wanna cum Seonghwa?” You asked breathlessly.

He nodded eagerly, pouting with tears rolling down his face. You smiled softly at his expression, cupping his face to make him look at you. You spoke to him in a gentle tone as you wiped a tear with your thumb.

“Cum for me, baby; you deserve it.”

“Thank you,” he said weakly.

A high pitch moan escaped Seonghwa’s lips, and he buried his face in your thigh as his hips stuttered. You continued to stroke his hair as he came all over himself, making a mess in his pants. 

“Shhh, that’s it. Good job, baby. You did so well.”

Seonghwa let out broken whimpers, holding onto you tightly while his hips rolled uncontrollably to ride out his high. His body stilled after his release, breathing heavily against your skin. He stayed there for a moment, brain gone to mush. You smile softly at him, lifting his face up to meet your gaze.

His face was stained with tears, his cheeks blushed red, and his lips plump from gnawing at them so much. 

“Good boy,” you praised.

He let out a small smile; his heart swelled with pride at the sound of your encouragement. He nuzzled his cheek into your thigh, looking up at you with loving eyes.

“Thank you,” he managed to let out. 

You pulled your foot off Seonghwa; a dark patch stained the crotch of his pants. You chuckle softly at the sight, leaning down to kiss his tear-stained cheek.

“I’m sorry, y/n; I shouldn’t have left you hanging like that.”

“It’s okay, Seonghwa; I forgive you.”

He smiled wide at your words, and his body finally relaxed. He let out a content sigh as his arms unwrapped themselves from your leg. 

“You took your punishment so well. You’re my good boy; I could never stay mad at you.”

You cupped his face with both your hands, and he laughed softly at your words. He reached up to rest his hand on top of yours, placing a small kiss on the inside of your wrist. You pull him up on the bed, wrapping your arms around him, and he nuzzles his face in your neck.

“Thank you. I still can’t help but feel bad,” he pulled away to pout at you. 

You chuckled, pushing his hair out of his eyes. You placed a sift kiss on his pouty lips; he immediately melted at your touch. 

“It’s okay; just buy me food tomorrow, and we’re fine.”

He chuckled, nodding in agreement. You both kissed each other again, slowly and passionately. You felt him pour all his love into this one kiss.

“Can I fuck you now?” He asked, eyes wide with hope.

You laughed, stroking his face and kissing his lips one last time.

“Aww, no.”

His body slumped, and he pouted softly.

“It was worth a shot,” he shrugged.

~

a/n: okay I know they don’t actually fuck but I felt this ending fit the concept the best. I hope you like it tho :3 (also side note, how do y’all feel about pegging….asking for scientific reasons 👀)

[justarkive]

TABLE 3 | JJK ch23

*.°* pairing: pre!military jk x waitress/secret fuckbuddy!oc

"For good service, and cute waitresses."

warnings: smut, alc consumption, fluff, profanity, angst, humour, fluff, celebrity au, idolljungkook, mentions of other kpop groups/idols, inner conflict, insecurity.

smut warnings: explicit smut again (ur welcome ) DRUNK SEX. they fuck in naris bed lol, protected sex, he dry humps ur face, throatfucking, dirty talk like its filth. HES SO DESPERATE AND HORNY. nipple play, clit play, f + m receiving oral, cnc undertones but not rlly just him being like “ let me use u “ lol, breath play kinda, missionary, mating press ? idk , kissing, hickeys, holding hands while they fuck <3, riding, thats it i think. nari sees his bare ass in the morning?? idk. he fucks ur tits

wc: longggg

this fic is not meant to represent the real jungkook or any other characters mentioned!

*.°* taglist: @jenniebyrubies @dreamersparacosm @darklove2020 @rayyrayy10 @elinaki92 @alana4610 @bjoriis @kaitieskidmore97 @cuntessaiii

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You wake up with a jolt.

Your heart is pounding, your brain immediately in work mode, and before you can even process what’s happening, you’re already out of bed, scrambling to get ready.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

You were supposed to be at work. You grab your phone, your hands shaking as you fumble to dial Nari’s number. She doesn’t pick up. You call again. And again. And again.

Finally—

“Hello?!” Nari groans, her voice hoarse with sleep.

“Are you not getting up for work?!” you yell, yanking open your closet in a frenzy.

Silence. “Are you joking?”

You blink. “What?”

“It’s. Our. Day. Off.”

Your hand freezes mid-reach. “No, it’s not.”

“Yes, it is.”

You open your mouth to argue—but then, suddenly, it hits you. Your boss.

Your overly dramatic, forgetful boss. Your boss who insisted yesterday that you and Nari were supposed to be in, even though you both had the day off.

“Oh my god.”

Nari sighs dramatically. “You actually got ready, didn’t you?”

You glance at yourself in the mirror. Fully dressed. Hair brushed. Bag packed. You groan, dropping onto your bed. “I hate him.”

Nari snorts. “You just woke me up for no reason.”

“I’m sorry, okay? I panicked.”

Nari yawns. “Mmm. Anyway, now that I’m up, spill.”

You furrow your brows. “Spill what?”

“The date, idiot.”

Oh. Right.

Your heart stumbles a little at the memory. The beach. The way Jungkook looked at you. The way he kissed you. The way he loved you.

Your silence makes Nari shriek. “OH MY GOD, WHAT HAPPENED?! TELL ME EVERYTHING.”

You roll onto your stomach, a slow smile creeping onto your face. “Well…”

And then, you tell her. Everything. From Jungkook surprising you, to the ridiculous phone call with your boss, to falling asleep in the car, to the entire beach trip—the teasing, the laughing, the photos, the splashing, the confession. When you get to the part where Jungkook said he loved you, properly this time, Nari screams.

“I KNEW IT! I KNEW IT! I FUCKING KNEW IT!”

You pull the phone away from your ear, wincing. “Calm down.”

“No.”

You hear her rustling around, probably kicking her blankets off in excitement. “So what now? Are you guys just back together? What’s happening?!”

You hesitate. Because the truth is—you don’t know. You don’t know what happens after this. You don’t know what happens in a week when he’s gone. All you know is that you love him. And he loves you. And for now, that has to be enough.

“…We’re just making the week count,” you finally say.

Nari softens. “That’s all you can do, huh?”

You nod, even though she can’t see you. “Yeah.”

A small pause. Then— “So… did you guys fuck?”

You groan, hanging up on her.

You finish making your bed, finally settling into the day after the whole work panic fiasco. Now in the shower, you realize that you actually have nothing to do until Jungkook is free.

And he said he was going to be busy all day. With what, exactly, you’re not sure. As if on cue, your phone starts ringing.

You glance at it from the shower, Jungkook. Right as you’re in the middle of shampooing your hair.

Your eyes widen. “Shit.”

You reach for the phone, hands still soapy, and it immediately starts slipping. You try to grab it, but it bounces out of your fingers and onto the floor with a loud thunk.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck—”

You bend down, water streaming from your hair, dripping onto the floor as you finally manage to press answer. “Hello?”

A pause. Then— “…Why do you sound out of breath?”

You groan, pushing your wet hair out of your face. “Because I literally just—ugh, never mind. What do you want?”

Jungkook chuckles on the other end, hearing the shower. “Oh, you miss me that much?”

You roll your eyes, stepping back into the shower, placing your phone on the ledge praying to God that your phone doesn’t get wet. “Says the one who called me.”

“I do miss you, actually.” His voice is casual, but there’s something in his tone that makes your stomach flip.

You clear your throat, pretending like that didn’t affect you. “Busy until five, right? With what?”

He hums. “Meetings. A lot of them. I don’t even wanna talk about it.”

You lean your head back, rinsing the shampoo out of your hair. “Sounds rough.”

“Yeah.”

A pause. Then— “I… was gonna get my hair cut off today.”

Your eyes shoot open. “What?!”

Jungkook laughs at your reaction. “Yeah, but I think I’ll skip it.”

You frown, squeezing some conditioner into your palm. “No, go, if you need to.”

“…You don’t want me to, though.”

You hesitate. “I mean, I will miss your hair.”

Jungkook smirks. You can hear it. “I still look good, though, right?”

You scoff. “You know you do, shut up.”

His laugh is soft. “Yeah, yeah.”

You close your eyes, relaxing under the warm water. “Where are you right now?”

“The gym.”

Your brows raise. “Oh? And you’re calling me mid-workout?”

“Yeah,” he says, casual. “I missed you, so I figured, why not?”

Your breath catches for a second.

Then, you glance at yourself—butt ass naked, standing in the middle of the shower, talking to a wet phone, water and soap everywhere. You must look so stupid. But despite it all, you can’t help but smile.

You stay on the phone with him the entire time.

Even after you step out of the shower, still towel-wrapped, rubbing lotion into your skin. Even when you move to the sink, balancing your phone between your shoulder and your cheek as you do your skincare. And even when you finally throw on some clothes and wander into the kitchen, eyeing whatever leftovers are in the fridge for breakfast.

Jungkook is just there. A constant, easy presence, talking to you between breaths as he finishes up at the gym. “So you’re eating cold pasta for breakfast?” he asks at one point, amusement clear in his voice.

You scowl, shoving a bite into your mouth. “Mind your business.”

He laughs.

And for some reason, it feels so normal. Like you’re in the same room. Like he’s not actually miles away, probably drenched in sweat in his gym while you sit cross-legged at your dining table in a hoodie and sleep shorts, munching on cold spaghetti.

Neither of you ever really hang up. The conversation just flows—from what you’re watching on Netflix to his gym routine to how your boss made you think that you were in work today because that man has some serious memory issues.

And then—

“Alright,” Jungkook sighs, “I gotta go.”

You frown. “Meeting?”

“Yeah,” he groans. “Kill me now.”

You snort. “Good luck.”

Jungkook grumbles something under his breath.

Then— “See you later?”

You pause, twirling your fork between your fingers. “I thought you were busy until five?”

“I am,” he says, as if it’s obvious. “But after?”

You bite your lip to keep from smiling. “We’ll see.”

Jungkook scoffs. “We’ll see—okay, I see how it is.”

You giggle. “Bye, Jungkook.”

He clicks his tongue. “Bye, baby.”

The call ends.

And you’re just sitting there, staring at your phone, trying really hard not to grin like an idiot.

The rest of your morning passes in a blur.

You clean up a little—fluff the pillows on your couch, fold the blanket you abandoned last night, wipe down the kitchen counters even though they weren’t really dirty to begin with. Anything to pass the time.

You send Nari a quick text somewhere in between.

You [10:30 AM]: What are you doing later?

Nari [10:31 AM]: Recovering from my pickle withdrawal.

You [10:32 AM]: …what?

Nari [10:33 AM]: YOU LEFT ME TO SUFFER ALONE YESTERDAY.

You [10:34 AM]: Oh my god.

Nari [10:35 AM]: I had to get my own pickles. I nearly DIED.

You [10:35 AM]: Nari.

Nari [10:35 AM]: Anyways, what do you want?

You roll your eyes, quickly typing your actual question.

You [10:36AM]: If Jungkook and I have no plans, can we come to yours?

Nari takes her sweet time replying, but when she does—

Nari [10:40 AM]: Ew.

Nari [10:40 AM]: But fine.

At the same time, a new text pops up from Jungkook.

Jungkook [10:41 AM]: What do you wanna do later?

Jungkook [10:41 AM]: Not gonna lie, I don’t really have anything planned.

You smirk, typing back.

You [10:42 AM]: yk anymore of those scenic ass spots you always take me to?

His response is immediate.

Jungkook [10:43 AM]: nah, not today unfortunately.

You raise an eyebrow.

You [10:44 AM]: Wow, okay fine. I’ll ask Nari.

Nari’s ew is still at the top of your chat, which makes you laugh as you text her again.

You [10:45 AM]: He rejected my idea, so I’m rejecting him. We’re coming to yours later.

Nari [10:45 AM]: Omg ew.

Nari [10:45 AM]: But fine.

Satisfied, you send a final message to Jungkook.

You [10:45 AM]: Nari said we can go to hers later.

Jungkook [10:46 AM]: I’m kinda scared. What if she slaps me again?

You [10:47 AM]: Don’t worry, I’ll make her apologize.

Jungkook [10:48 AM]: You will?

You [10:49 AM]: Yes, but she won’t mean it.

Jungkook [10:50 AM]: Figured.

You grin.

Nari never apologizes to any man, but she’ll do it for you, and you both know it. Even though you don’t really care. Even though you think Jungkook doesn’t really care either.

But still.

It’s funny.

You put your phone down, running your fingers through your hair as you exhale. You don’t even realize how much you’ve been checking the time—glancing toward the clock every few minutes, wondering when he’ll text you again.

And then, at some point in the afternoon:

Jungkook [5:11 PM]: omw, love u.

You barely take a second before you jump up, scrambling to throw something on, a little too eager.

And now, all you can do— Is wait.

Jungkook takes longer than usual. Long enough for you to check your phone, frown, and wonder if he forgot about you entirely.

But then— There’s a knock at your door.

When you swing it open, you’re met with a slightly out-of-breath Jungkook, his hair a little messy, dirt smudged on his jeans. And a bouquet of fresh daisies in his hands.

You blink.

“What kind of time is this, sir?”

“Shut up,” he mutters, shifting on his feet. “I was busy.”

You cross your arms, gaze dropping to his knees, where the evidence is literally there. “Yeah, I can tell, judging by the dirt on your knees.”

“Hey—supermarket ones are shit,” he argues, straightening up.

Your eyes flick toward the vase near the window—the daisies from…last time, the ones Nari had forced him to buy. They’re completely dead. “…True.”

Jungkook just smirks, watching as you quickly grab your bag, and before stepping out, you snatch a bottle of wine from your counter. He raises an eyebrow. “Oh, so it’s that type of night?”

You smirk back. “Let’s go.”

The drive to Nari’s place isn’t long. It starts with you giving Jungkook the address, and for the most part, the car ride is quiet—aside from the occasional sound of you scrolling through your phone, catching up on the nonsense Nari’s been sending you.

But after a few minutes, you notice Jungkook’s grip on the wheel is a little too tight. His brows are furrowed, and even though his eyes are on the road, he looks like he’s somewhere else entirely.

“What’s wrong?” you ask.

Jungkook exhales through his nose, shaking his head. “It’s nothing.”

You tilt your head, unconvinced. “Jungkook.”

He hesitates. Then— “I don’t know. I just feel like Nari hates me.”

You blink. “What? Why?”

He shrugs one shoulder. “I don’t know. I mean, I know she’s your best friend and all, but she was just being really…”

You wait for the insult—rude, horrible, unbearable—but instead, he mutters:

”…mean.”

Your heart clenches a little. It’s almost childish the way he says it, but that somehow makes it even sadder.

You sigh. “I know, she can be a bit much sometimes.”

“Yeah,” he says, jaw tightening. “Honestly, I know I deserved a lot of the things she did to me. But it was confusing, because she would always act like she hated me in front of you. And then, before I came to yours the other day—from the field, when me and her ran into each other—I don’t know.” He shakes his head. “She gave in. Like, she wasn’t mean then.”

You frown, reaching over to squeeze his hand. “We’ll talk to her about it, then.”

Jungkook’s eyes flick to you briefly before widening. “What? No. I don’t—No, I don’t have to.”

You squeeze his hand again, firmer this time. “No, honestly. Talk to her about it. She won’t bite.”

Jungkook groans. “Mmm. Debatable.”

You giggle. “She won’t.”

He exhales, shoulders slumping. “Okay. Maybe I will.”

You give his hand one last squeeze before letting go.

When you arrive, you barely have to knock before the door swings open. Nari stands there, arms crossed, sending daggers through Jungkook with her eyes.

Jungkook hesitates.

You sigh, reaching for his hand and tugging him inside before he can cowardly retreat.

He rubs the back of his neck, looking sheepish. Nari huffs. “Fine. I’m sorry for slapping you.”

Jungkook narrows his eyes. “…You don’t sound very sorry.”

“Well, I’m not.”

You snort.

Jungkook sighs. “I figured.”

Then— “But.”

Nari pauses, rolling her lips together before exhaling. “I guess I could’ve—maybe—toned it down. A little.”

Jungkook raises a brow. “A little?”

Nari glares. “Don’t push it.”

You bite your lip to keep from laughing.

Jungkook exhales, shaking his head. “Look. I get it. I know I fucked up really bad. And maybe I deserved some of it.”

Nari’s jaw tightens, but she doesn’t interrupt.

“But I don’t know,” he mutters, staring at the floor. “Sometimes it just feels like… no matter what I do, you’ll always hate me now.”

Nari’s lips part. She looks at you, then back at him.

And for the first time, she actually looks unsure.

“Wait,” she says slowly. “Are you… being serious right now?”

Jungkook huffs a humorless laugh. “Forget it.”

“No, Jungkook,” you interject, squeezing his arm. “If you feel that way, you should say it.”

Jungkook’s jaw tenses, like he’s considering brushing it off, but when you give him a small nod, he swallows hard and keeps going.

“I mean it,” he mutters. “I appreciate what you did for her. And for me. Stopping me from driving drunk , helping me when you didn’t have to…” He winces slightly. “Honestly, I probably wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for you.”

Nari stiffens, her fingers curling slightly at her sides.

Jungkook shakes his head. “I just—” He exhales roughly, frustration evident in his features. “You made me feel like I was doing everything wrong. And I was. But… I don’t know.”

Nari’s eyes widen slightly.

The weight behind his words finally sinks in.

Her expression softens, guilt creeping into her features. “Jungkook…” She hesitates. “I— I don’t hate you. I never have. It’s just…” She rubs her temple. “She’s my best friend. And I saw what you did to her. You expect me to just—what? Sit back and let it happen?”

Jungkook’s throat bobs. “No. I don’t. I just…” His voice drops, almost hesitant. “I just don’t want her to think I’m not trying.”

Nari exhales through her nose.

Then—

“I know you’re trying,” she admits. “And maybe I push too hard sometimes. Maybe I was too mean. I crossed the line… I’m sorry.”

You blink.

Jungkook blinks.

Nari shifts uncomfortably. “What? I can apologize.”

Jungkook eyes her suspiciously. “Since when?”

She groans. “Oh, my God—take it or leave it.”

Jungkook lets out a small chuckle, shaking his head.

You smile.

It’s progress.

——

“Did you bring the wine?” Nari asks, perking up.

“Duh.” Jungkook watches in amusement as you hold up the bottle like it’s some prized possession, but before you can walk further into the apartment—

You pause. Your eyes land on the kitchen shelf.

And your jaw drops.

“Nari—”

She follows your gaze, then shrugs. “What?”

“Nari. This is insane.”

Jungkook leans over your shoulder, finally noticing what you’re talking about.

The kitchen shelf is fully stocked with rows of—

Pickles.

Jungkook bursts out laughing.

“Bro, I was gonna die,” Nari says, so casual about it.

“No, no—this is psychotic behavior,” you argue, pointing at the sheer amount of jars. “This looks like you’re prepping for the apocalypse.”

“Better safe than sorry.”

Jungkook is wheezing.

You just shake your head, but Nari is already walking off, waving for you both to follow.

“Whatever, come on.”

Jungkook is still chuckling as you all settle into the living room. Nari—as always—immediately sits on the floor. You and Jungkook take the floor couch.

“So,” Nari says, grabbing the remote. “What should we watch?”

“Anything,” Jungkook says.

You all settle down, and as Nari flicks through the remote, she lands on some shitty comedy show she knows none of you will actually watch. She gives it a second, but she’s already distracted, grabbing the wine bottle from the table.

“Damn Nari, What’s been on your mind?” you ask, watching as Nari fills her glass without hesitation.

She shrugs nonchalantly, looking like she’s putting up a front. “Oh, nothing.” But, as always, Nari can’t keep her thoughts to herself for long.

“Okay, but seriously,” she adds, almost whining, “This guy from the club—he literally rejected me, and I’m just like—what the hell? Like, I looked good. So how is it possible?”

You fake gasp dramatically. “How could he?” you tease. “What a disaster.”

“Shut up,” Nari grumbles, rolling her eyes, trying to act indifferent but still clearly irritated.

You push, though. “No, seriously, you’re hot. You need to get a man.”

Nari throws her head back, mockingly groaning. “Stop shoving it in my face, okay?”

Jungkook, watching the scene unfold, can’t help but grin. “Come on, Nari, settle down.”

Nari shoots him a glare but doesn’t say anything. Instead, she finishes the wine glass a little too quickly. You notice her posture change, and her mood turns from sarcastic to a bit quieter.

The wine hits her too fast.

(Though it’s Nari, and she’d get drunk off of a drop of damn beer.)

And suddenly, she starts sniffling, trying to hide it behind a sarcastic smile. “I swear to God, I just want to be loved,” she mutters, then immediately bursts into a fit of exaggerated, drunken tears.

You and Jungkook exchange a look, both of you equally surprised but not quite sure how to react.

You move over to Nari, rubbing her back. “Nari, hey… you are loved.”

She waves it off, still sniffling but pretending to be fine. “I don’t even know what I’m saying,” she hiccups. “I’m just so lonely—”

Jungkook sits back, watching, unable to look away, his eyes softening at the sight of her, though there’s something else in his expression too—maybe a little amused, maybe just seeing through her sarcasm.

“You’re not alone, Nari,” Jungkook adds, his voice gentle. “Come on, stop playing tough. We’re here, you know?”

But Nari, in her drunken state, ignores the sincerity, still wiping her eyes dramatically. She suddenly looks up at the two of you, glancing back and forth. “Oh my God, can you two just get out?”

You and Jungkook look at each other, trying to stifle your smiles. The moment’s too genuine for either of you to ignore, but you can’t help but laugh softly, both secretly wishing Nari wasn’t such a mess—but also thankful for this small, unspoken moment between the three of you.

The night then dissolves into pure chaos.

Nari is on the damn table now, hair wild, jar of pickles in one hand, the remote in the other, belting out some song off-key like it’s her solo concert.

Meanwhile, you and Jungkook? Absolutely shameless. He’s got you in his lap, hands running up and down your waist, his lips on yours like he physically can’t not be kissing you. It’s all heat, all laughter between kisses, the world spinning in the best way possible.

Nari, mid-spin, suddenly launches a pillow straight at your head. “Oh my God, stop being so horny and get up and dance, losers!”

You groan, laughing, and Jungkook just grins against your mouth before pulling you up. “Fine, fine,” you slur, barely able to balance, and then suddenly you’re just dancing.

Jungkook joins in, badly. He’s spinning you, stepping on your feet, and he doesn’t care. At one point, he starts screaming lyrics to a song he definitely does not know the words to, and it’s so fucking stupid that you nearly collapse in laughter.

The three of you—drunk, delirious, alive. move around Nari’s apartment like a hurricane. And then—

Blackout.

You don’t even realize when or how it happens.

But suddenly, you’re out, curled up somewhere on the floor, head resting on something—probably Jungkook, because you feel warmth, his familiar scent. Nari is knocked out cold, sprawled in the middle of the living room with one arm still gripping the pickle jar.

The apartment is a complete mess.

Hours pass in a blur.

At some point in the night, you stir, barely conscious, when you feel someone shifting.

Then—Jungkook.

You feel his hands, his warmth, gently tugging at you, pulling you closer, before he’s wrapping himself around you like he can’t sleep unless he’s holding you.

It’s peaceful.

Until, sometime later—

Soft fingers trail up your arm, his warmth disappearing for a split second before you feel him pulling you up.

You groggily blink. “Jungkook?” you whisper, voice hoarse, the alcohol still thick in your system.

He’s kneeling beside you now, his touch light but insistent as he tugs at your wrist.

“Come with me,” he murmurs, his voice low, breath fanning over your cheek.

“What are you doing?” you whisper-shout, still half-asleep.

You glance over—Nari is passed the fuck out on the floor, her mouth slightly open, not even stirring.

Jungkook doesn’t answer. Just takes your hand, his grip firm, leading you toward a room he guesses is Naris, his lips brushing against your temple as he whispers— “I need you.”

And then—

You barely make it through Nari’s bedroom door before Jungkook is on you again, lips crashing against yours, hands slipping under your shirt like he physically needs to feel you.

But then—

He stops.

Mid-kiss, he pauses, eyes suddenly flicking around the room, taking in the absolute chaos that is Nari’s decor.

“Do you guys not know anything about minimalism?” he blurts out, genuinely baffled.

You groan, trying to pull him back in, but he’s too distracted now, blinking around at the explosion of pink, the cluttered shelves overflowing with old concert tickets, framed memes, and an alarming number of stuffed pickles—half of which are just straight-up staring at you both.

“Oh my god,” he mutters, eyes landing on a hot pink lamp shaped like a cat. “What the fuck is that?”

“Jungkook,” you whine, trying to recapture his attention, tugging him back down to you. “Focus.”

He blinks at you, then back at the room. “I’m just saying, this is crazy. Your room is bad, but this? This is next level.”

“Jungkook.”

“Okay, okay, I’m done.” He finally grins, shaking his head as he presses his forehead against yours. “But seriously, this is insane.”

You roll your eyes, and then—

Jungkook’s lips are back on yours, his focus finally shifting away from Nari’s absolutely chaotic room.

His hands grip your waist, firm and possessive, guiding you backward until the backs of your knees hit the edge of the bed. You let out a surprised squeal as you fall onto the mattress, the sudden movement making you giggle against his lips, and then—

He’s on you.

His body presses over yours, sinking you deeper into the sheets, kissing you like he’s starving, like he’s trying to drink you in. The alcohol is still buzzing in your system, making every touch feel heightened, every brush of his lips hotter, sloppier, messier.

It’s desperate, the way your hands move over each other—his fingers slipping under the hem of your hoodie, your own hands threading into his hair, tugging him closer, as if he isn’t already pressing every inch of himself against you.

He groans against your lips, but then—

He pulls back.

You blink up at him, breathless, lips swollen, waiting for him to say something devastatingly sexy.

Instead—

“I don’t know if I can get hard in this weird-ass room,” he mutters, eyes flicking toward the corner. “Those pickles are just—staring.”

You gape at him, then burst out laughing, shoving weakly at his chest. “Jungkook, shut up.”

“I’m serious.” His voice is half amused, half genuinely disturbed. “Why does she have so many? And why do they all have faces?”

“Jungkook.” You tug him back to your lips, giggling against his mouth.

He finally gives in, kissing you again, but now you can feel his grin against your lips, amused and stupidly endearing.

And then, you tilt your head back, offering your neck. Jungkook takes the invitation instantly.

His mouth latches onto your throat, kissing down the column of your neck, messy and wet, his teeth scraping against your pulse point before his tongue soothes over the spot. The contrast makes you shudder beneath him, fingers curling against his shoulders.

And then he’s tugging at your hoodie, yanking it up with impatient hands.

“Off,” he grunts, voice rough, already pulling it over your head before you can even process it.

The second it’s gone, his lips are back on you, trailing down your collarbone, across the swell of your chest, all while his hands roam—gripping, kneading, touching you like he’s mapping out every inch of skin he can get his hands on.

It’s desperate.

It’s messy.

And god, it’s so fucking good.

You’re clawing at his shirt, fingers fisting into the fabric, trying to yank it down in your eagerness.

Jungkook just smirks.

“I don’t think that’s doing anything, baby,” he teases, keeping his hands lazily at his sides, making no effort to help. “Other way.”

You whine in frustration, tugging the hem up this time, and he just watches you struggle for a second, clearly enjoying himself, before he finally gives in—chuckling as he helps you pull it over his head.

The moment it’s off, he’s on you again.

He crawls over you, slow and deliberate, caging you beneath him, and it’s so fucking hot. The way his muscles shift as he moves, the way his eyes darken as he takes you in—all of it makes heat pool low in your stomach.

Then he kisses you again, deeper, messier, like he needs to.

You’re biting at his lip now, dragging out these desperate little groans from his throat, making his hips stutter against yours. At one point, you’re not even really kissing anymore—just panting into each other’s mouths, trading moans and gasps like it’s the only thing keeping you breathing.

And then—

Jungkook shifts again, his body sliding up, and suddenly, his bulge is right in front of your face.

You blink, lips parting slightly.

His gray boxers are already tented, the thick outline of him pressing against the fabric, and before you can even process the absolute audacity of what’s happening, he grinds against your cheek.

Your breath catches.

It’s ridiculous.

And yet, somehow, impossibly—

It’s hot.

Because it’s Jungkook.

And because you can hear the way his breath stutters, see the way his stomach tenses at the friction, feel the heat of him through the thin fabric.

You don’t even know what you’re doing—haven’t ever done this before—but something about it makes arousal burn deep in your stomach, makes your thighs press together as your hands instinctively find his hips.

Jungkook groans above you, rolling his hips a little harder, his head tipping back.

“Fuck,” he pants. “That’s—oh my god.”

You don’t even have time to feel shy about it.

Because the way he’s reacting—the way he’s gripping the headboard now, chest heaving, the muscles in his arms flexing as he ruts against your face—makes you feel drunk on him, on the power of it.

And the worst part?

You still need him closer.

Jungkook doesn’t stop.

If anything, he gets worse.

He keeps grinding against your face, his clothed bulge dragging over your nose, your lips, his hips moving slow and controlled before rolling harder, deeper. And you let him—let your mouth relax, lips parting just slightly as his cock presses against your cheek.

Your whole body is reacting to it. Your toes curl, your thighs press together, and every roll of his hips makes your stomach clench tighter.

Above you, Jungkook is panting, his breath uneven, his hands gripping the headboard like he needs to hold on to something.

“Fuck—” he groans, looking down past his own chest to the sight below him. And the sight is unhinged—your wide, glassy eyes peeking up at him, his cock grinding against the softness of your lips, your nose, the curve of your cheek.

He nearly loses it.

“Shit, baby,” he pants, rolling his hips harder. “You have no idea what this looks like.”

His voice is wrecked, thick with arousal and whatever haze of alcohol is still left in his system.

You moan against him, mouth opening just a little more, the heat of your breath sinking through his boxers. Jungkook curses sharply. “God—keep doing that, yeah? Fuck, just like that.”

His grip tightens on the headboard, his whole body trembling. He’s never done this before—never even thought about doing this before—but now that it’s happening, now that he sees it, feels it, he doesn’t know why he hasn’t lost his mind over it sooner.

The warmth of your breath, the way your lips accidentally brush his clothed length, the wet heat seeping through the fabric—it’s making him spiral.

He’s groaning, moaning, whispering things that sound like your name, sounds like fucking hell, baby, you’re gonna kill me and so fucking pretty like this, let me just use you a little more, yeah?

He wants to stay like this forever—wants to keep rutting against you, wants to watch himself grind against your slack mouth until he comes all over your face.

And then he realizes—

He’s too close.

A few more strokes, and he’ll actually—

Jungkook curses, pulling away with a sharp inhale, a final hard grind that has you scowling up at him.

“Jungkook.” Your glare is deadly.

He just huffs out a breathless, wrecked laugh, pressing a messy kiss to your nose.

“Sorry, baby,” he murmurs, though he doesn’t sound sorry at all.

Jungkook pulls his boxers off completely, kicking them away carelessly, his chest rising and falling with each heavy breath. He grips his length in one hand, giving it a lazy flick upwards, watching it bounce back down. His cock is flushed, leaking, and he looks wrecked, pupils blown out with nothing but lust.

And you—

You stare.

Your mouth goes dry, your whole body tensing in anticipation. You already know what he’s about to do. “Lay back down,” he rasps, voice hoarse.

Your eyes widen. He’s going to do it.

He’s going to throat-fuck you in the exact same position he was just grinding on you.

Heat floods through you, and you’re already moving before you can think, lying back down as Jungkook shifts over you, bracing himself on his knees. But before he can position himself at your mouth, something catches his eye.

Your tits.

A sharp inhale. A pause. And then—

He grins, tongue darting out to wet his lips.

“Oh, fuck. Why haven’t we done this before?” he murmurs, voice dark with realization.

Then he spits.

It lands right between your breasts, warm and wet, sliding down the curve of your skin. Before you can even react, he presses his cock between them, pushing them together with his hands, and starts thrusting.

The weight of him, the warmth of him, the slick heat of his pre-cum mixing with his spit—it makes your head spin.

Jungkook groans, throwing his head back, his abs tightening with each thrust. “Fuck—this is so hot,” he pants, eyes flickering down to watch himself slide between your breasts. His cock drags against your skin, his tip rubbing over your stiff nipples, catching slightly with every roll of his hips.

You moan, a soft, breathy sound, and he feels it—feels the way your body reacts, the way your chest heaves as pleasure courses through you just from this.

“Shit—” He curses, giving a few more thrusts before reluctantly pulling away, dragging the swollen head of his cock up, tracing over your collarbone, then tapping it against your lips.

“Gotta be inside you, baby,” he breathes, moving back up, his knees caging in your head.

His cock is right in front of your face now, flushed and wet, leaking for you. And then—slowly—he pushes in.

The stretch makes your jaw ache instantly, but you don’t care. You love this. You love the way he takes, the way he gives at the same time, his hands cradling your jaw as his hips start to roll, pushing himself deeper, deeper—until he’s fucking your mouth the way he was fucking your tits, the way he was grinding against your face just minutes ago.

Jungkook groans—deep, wrecked, desperate.

“Holy fuck, babe—”

And you?

You’re in heaven.

Jungkook’s mouth is filthy.

He’s letting loose the dirtiest shit you’ve ever heard—things that would have made you blush if you weren’t already so far gone, so completely ruined under him.

“Look at you,” he groans, voice ragged. “Fucking taking me like this—so good for me, baby. Always so fucking good.”

His hips roll faster, the wet drag of his cock sliding over your tongue sending shivers through you. Your jaw aches, your throat is burning, but you love it. You love the way he fucks your mouth like he owns it, like he needs it just to survive.

And it’s too much.

Your thighs fall open, hands slipping under your underwear, fingers immediately rubbing your clit in messy, desperate circles. You whimper at the feeling, at the sharp jolt of pleasure that rockets through you, and it sends vibrations down Jungkook’s length.

He feels it.

And when he turns his head just slightly, just enough to catch a glimpse of you touching yourself while taking him so deep—

“Oh, fuck yes,” he groans, his head lolling back. “That’s it, baby. Keep going—fuck, keep playing with that pretty little pussy for me.”

His fingers tighten in your hair, his thrusts growing rougher, messier. The room is filled with obscene, wet sounds—the slick, filthy noise of your mouth taking him, the soft squelch of your fingers rubbing your clit, the way he groans above you, completely unhinged.

It’s dirty. It’s filthy. It’s desperate.

And then—he plants his feet flat on the bed.

You barely have a second to process it before he tightens his grip on your head, pulling you flush against him, and—

Jackhammers.

“Oh fuck—”

Your vision blurs. His cock slams into your throat, over and over, his balls pressing against your chin, the heat of him so overwhelming you can barely think. Your throat burns, but you don’t care, you love it, and the noises spilling from him above you make it all worth it.

“God—shit, baby,” he moans, voice wrecked. “Taking it so deep, look at you—look at you, letting me use you like this.”

You can barely keep your eyes open, but you feel his gaze burning down at you.

“Shit—so perfect for me, you love this, don’t you? Love being my pretty little slut—”

A deep, broken groan rips through him, and his thrusts stutter for a second, his hands trembling as he holds you there, keeps you full of him.

He’s falling apart.

You’re drowning in it.

Jungkook pulls out suddenly, and you gasp, choking on the rush of air that floods your lungs. Your throat is raw, lips swollen, drool spilling down your chin, and for a split second, you think he’s giving you a break.

But then—

He shoves back in.

You barely have time to react before he does it again—pulling out just long enough to let you catch half a breath before pushing back in, stuffing your mouth full of him. It’s relentless, dizzying, the way he keeps you gasping, keeps you needing—

And then he starts talking.

Between each brutal thrust, he punctuates his words with the force of his cock sliding deep into your throat.

“Keep—” thrust

“Fucking—” thrust

“Taking—” thrust

“It—” thrust

And then, on the last word, he pulls out completely.

You collapse against the sheets, gasping for air, chest heaving, thighs trembling.

But Jungkook doesn’t even let you breathe.

His mouth crashes onto yours, swallowing your ragged breaths, kissing you with so much force, so much desperation, you feel like you might actually melt into him. His tongue licks into your mouth, deep and messy, and all you can do is whimper, already aching for him again.

He groans at the sound, gripping your jaw, angling your face up so he can devour you fully.

“My good—” kiss “—fucking—” kiss “—girl.”

His voice is pure filth, husky and wrecked, full of heat and love and unrelenting need.

And you’ve never been more turned on in your life.

Maybe it’s the alcohol. Maybe it’s him. Maybe both, you don’t know.

You whine, hands fisting into his hair, tugging, pulling, begging him closer, needing more of him, all of him—

And Jungkook just grins against your mouth, breathless and completely, utterly obsessed with you.

Jungkook yanks at your thighs like a man possessed, dragging you up his body, and before you can even process what’s happening, he’s falling.

His back slams onto the floor with a dull thud, the force rattling through the room.

But he doesn’t care.

Not one bit.

Because you come crashing down with him—your soaked, swollen pussy landing right onto his face.

You squeal at the impact, hands scrambling for balance, but Jungkook?

Jungkook groans like he’s in heaven.

“Fuck,” he rasps, his grip like iron around your thighs, locking you in place. His breath is hot, his lips already brushing against your slick folds.

And then— “Give it to me.” His voice is wrecked, needy, shaking with hunger, and before you can even react, he dives in.

His tongue swipes up your slit, slow and filthy, before wrapping around your clit, sucking it into his mouth.

And that’s it. That’s all it takes.

You jerk, a choked moan ripping from your throat, fingers clutching at the sheets as a shockwave of pleasure wrecks through you.

Jungkook groans beneath you, the vibration shooting straight through your core. “Give me it, baby.” His voice is muffled against you, tongue plunging inside before dragging back up, flicking exactly where you need it. “Fucking—” He sucks, hard, making you cry out. “Give it to me.”

You do.

You can’t help it.

You grind against his face, rolling your hips, chasing every bit of friction his mouth can give you. It’s desperate, frantic, pure instinct—the way you use him, the way he lets you, encourages you, fucking devours you like he’s been starving for this.

Jungkook’s grip tightens, fingers digging into your ass, pulling you down harder, pressing you deeper into his mouth, like he wants to drown in you.

And fuck, you love him for it.

You don’t even realize you’re doing it at first—grinding down harder, faster, pressing yourself deeper against his mouth.

But Jungkook?

Jungkook feels it.

He groans beneath you, a deep, needy sound that vibrates against your clit, and fuck—fuck, it’s too much.

Your fingers tangle in his hair, nails scratching at his scalp as you moan loud, letting him know exactly how good he’s making you feel. And he loves it, if the way he growls against you is anything to go by, his hands flying up your body, grabbing at your tits.

“Shit, baby—”

You whimper when his thumbs flick over your nipples, sharp shocks of pleasure ripping through your body, making your hips stutter against his tongue.

But Jungkook doesn’t let up.

Not even for a second.

He just groans, fucking growls, like a man who’s been starved for years, his tongue working relentlessly, devouring you like he needs you to survive. His lips wrap around your clit, sucking just right, and you cry out, your whole body trembling as pleasure slams through you.

It’s too good.

So fucking good that you can’t even breathe.

Your head tilts back, spine arching, vision whiting out at the edges as you grind against his mouth like a woman possessed. Like you’re chasing the only thing that matters. Like you’re rabid for him.

“Jungkook— oh my god—”

He groans, muffled against you, the sound nothing short of wrecked, and then his hands slide back down to your hips, holding you firm, keeping you right where he wants you.

“That’s it, baby,” he growls, voice wrecked, tongue still working you open. “Fucking—fuck, that’s it.”

And you listen.

Because how could you not?

You ride his face like you need it, like you can’t live without it, like nothing else in the fucking world matters except his mouth on you, the way he’s pulling you apart and piecing you back together all at once.

It’s desperate. It’s raw. It’s love, in its most primal fucking form.

And neither of you would have it any other way.

As you finally reach your peak, a sharp gasp leaves your lips, your body trembling as the pleasure crashes over you. Jungkook groans against you, his arms tightening around your thighs as if to keep you from slipping away. He doesn’t stop—not immediately—lapping up every bit of your release like he’s savoring you, like he’s worshipping you.

Your breath comes in uneven gasps, and when it becomes too much, you whimper, hands fisting into his hair as you try to pull yourself away. But he growls, playfully resistant, pressing one last lingering kiss against your inner thigh before finally letting you go.

Before you can even recover, he moves—grabbing you and tossing you onto the bed like you weigh nothing. You yelp, landing with a soft bounce, the breath knocked from your lungs, but you’re laughing, breathless, lightheaded from everything he’s just done to you.

Jungkook stands at the foot of the bed, his chest rising and falling with exertion, his skin flushed, his eyes hooded and dark with something deeper than lust—something almost reverent. He watches you with a hunger that sends a fresh wave of heat curling through you, and when his hand wraps around his cock, stroking slowly, you swallow hard.

“You have no idea,” he murmurs, his voice rough and low, “how beautiful you are like this.”

Your body reacts instantly, warmth spreading over your cheeks, down your neck, the weight of his gaze alone enough to leave you feeling bare—even more so than you already are. You can’t help it. Your fingers trail lower, teasing, matching his rhythm, mirroring his desperation.

He groans, his grip tightening, his eyes locked onto you. “God, I could watch you like this forever,” he breathes. “You—touching yourself, knowing I’m the only one who gets to see you like this—” His voice falters, like even he’s overwhelmed by the thought.

The air between you is thick with tension, the unspoken love threading through every movement, every shaky breath. It’s not just about pleasure—it’s about this insatiable need for each other, this desperate, all-consuming pull that neither of you can resist.

Jungkook’s voice drops, eyes burning into you. “Tell me what you want, baby.”

Your lips part, a quiet, breathy whimper escaping—because the answer is obvious. Him. Always him.

His breath is warm against your lips when he rasps, “Condom?”

You’re momentarily confused, because—why? You didn’t use one during that night on the beach, since the first time he had you raw, and neither of you had looked back since.

Before you can stop yourself, the question spills out. “Why?”

Jungkook’s eyes flicker with something—hesitation, restraint, desperation. His chest rises and falls in shallow breaths, and he grips your waist like he’s holding himself back from something dangerous.

Then he swallows hard, gaze locking with yours, and murmurs, “Baby, if I fuck you raw right now, I think I’ll come the second I’m inside you. Please—just, I need a condom.”

A feeling blooms in your chest—something heady, something that makes your thighs squeeze around his hips. He sees it immediately, nudging his nose against yours like he’s begging you to understand.

You exhale, nodding, because—to be fair, he’s probably not lying. Not with the way his cock is twitching, heavy and desperate against your stomach, as if even the thought of being inside you bare would send him over the edge.

“Nari’s bedside table,” you murmur, and Jungkook groans, reaching over without pausing his movements, his other hand still keeping you spread open for him.

You hear the drawer slide open, feel him shift above you as he rummages blindly. Then—

“The fuck is this?”

You blink, barely processing, still dizzy from the way he’s lazily rubbing the tip of his cock against your clit, slow and teasing.

You crack an eye open just in time to see him holding up a tiny, fluffy cat keychain, his brows furrowed. He tosses it aside, only to pull out a handful of colorful hair clips, a few makeup brushes, a completely unrelated phone charger—

But the final straw is the pair of pink, fluffy handcuffs dangling from his fingers.

You burst into giggles, grabbing his wrist to stop him from digging further. “Oh my god, move,” you laugh, pushing him off just enough to reach into the drawer yourself.

Jungkook huffs, grinning as he watches you fish out the condom with ease, rolling back onto your knees between his thighs. His gaze darkens as you rip it open, his lips parting when you slide it on yourself, slow, teasing, just to watch his jaw clench.

“Gonna kill me, baby,” he mutters, and then he’s grabbing your waist, pulling you back over him, impatient.

Jungkook doesn’t waste another second. He pushes into you in one slow, aching glide, your body stretching around him, the both of you exhaling at the same time—like relief, like fulfillment, like this is the only place either of you are supposed to be.

“Fuck,” he chokes out, burying his face in your neck, his breath warm and uneven against your skin. His hands are everywhere—gripping your hips, your waist, sliding under you to press you closer, like even being inside you isn’t enough.

You cling to him, fingers threading through his damp hair, tugging just enough to pull another moan from his lips. Your other hand drags over his back, his shoulders, his waist—grasping at anything, everything, trying to ground yourself in the overwhelming sensation of him.

His pace starts slow, dragging out every thrust, making sure you feel all of him, but the restraint doesn’t last long. Soon, he’s fucking into you harder, deeper, his hands fisting into the sheets beside your head as his body presses flush against yours.

“You’re mine,” he whispers into your ear, his voice rough, desperate. “You hear me, baby? Only mine.”

You can only nod, gasping when he rolls his hips just right, when his words send another rush of heat through your veins.

He groans, lips finding your jaw, your neck, sucking and biting, marking you. “You feel so good, fuck—made for me, yeah? No one else, just me.”

You whimper, tightening your legs around his waist, pulling him even deeper. His breath stutters at the feeling, and then he loses it completely—his rhythm turning frantic, desperate, like he can’t get enough, like he’s trying to bury himself inside you permanently.

One of his hands tangles with yours above your head, fingers lacing together, his grip tight, unrelenting. The other moves down between your bodies, finding your clit, rubbing in messy, rushed circles that make you arch into him, gasping his name.

“That’s it, baby,” he murmurs, pressing his forehead against yours, eyes fluttering shut like he’s overwhelmed. “Come for me—want to feel you—fuck, need to feel you.”

His words send a fresh wave of heat crashing through you, your body tightening, pulsing around him. He groans, biting down on your jaw, rolling his hips into you with slow, deep thrusts, dragging out every ounce of pleasure.

Your moans break into sharp little cries as he fucks you through it, hips snapping up into yours, pushing you further, further—until your body gives out, trembling against him.

But he doesn’t stop.

He grips your hips tight, flipping you effortlessly, his cock slipping out of you for barely a second before you’re straddling him, his hands spreading over your ass, guiding you down onto him again.

“Ride me, baby,” he rasps, giving your ass a sharp smack that makes you whimper, makes you clench around him as you sink back down.

You grip his chest for balance, breathless as he fills you again, his cock stretching you open so perfectly, so deep it’s dizzying.

“Fuck, just like that,” he groans, hands trailing up your waist, thumbs rubbing circles into your skin. “Take me so well. My pretty girl.”

The praise, the way he’s looking up at you—like you’re the only thing in the world—makes your entire body burn. You start to move, rolling your hips, letting him press up into you, meeting you halfway with every thrust.

He groans beneath you, his fingers digging into your skin, his head tilting back against the pillow. “God, look at you. Fucking perfect. You were made to ride me, huh?”

You moan in response, nodding frantically, your hands smoothing over his chest, nails dragging down his skin.

“That’s my girl,” he grits out, eyes dark as they flicker back up to yours. “Come on, baby, give it to me. Let me see you fall apart.”

You whimper, grinding down harder, the friction, the pressure, everything building so fast you can barely breathe.

“That’s it,” he encourages, voice rough. “Feel how deep I am? Fuck—so good for me. Always so fucking good.”

His hands move up, brushing over your breasts before gripping your waist, helping you move, guiding you into a rhythm that has you both unraveling fast.

Your thighs burn, your body trembling, but you don’t stop, can’t stop—especially not when he keeps praising you, keeps moaning beneath you, his grip tightening, his thrusts growing sloppier as he gets closer, as you get closer—

“Fuck, Jungkook—”

You cry out as the pleasure crashes over you, your body tightening, pulsing around him so hard you feel him stutter beneath you, his jaw clenching as he tries to hold on.

“Fuck—baby, I’m gonna—”

He groans, hands clutching you tight as he thrusts up once, twice—and then he’s gone, shuddering beneath you as he spills deep in the condom, his moans tangled with yours, the pleasure crashing between you both in dizzying waves.

You slump forward, panting, heart pounding against his as he wraps his arms around you, keeping you against him like he never wants to let go.

And maybe he never will.

——

The morning is a fucking disaster.

You wake up feeling sore, warm, and very comfortable—until you open your eyes and realize Jungkook is completely butt-ass naked next to you.

And then—

The bedroom door creaks open.

“Ughhh,” Nari groans, rubbing her eyes, clearly suffering from last night’s antics. “Why the fuck is the sun so bright?”

Your body locks up.

She’s not looking. Her eyes are still half-closed as she blindly stumbles forward, heading straight for the bed—her bed—where you and Jungkook are naked.

“Nari, wait—”

But it’s too late.

She flops down onto the mattress, sighing dramatically. “Ugh, I feel like death—why does my bed feel weird?”

You and Jungkook freeze.

Nari frowns, still not fully awake, her hand patting around the bed—and then suddenly—

She grabs Jungkook’s bare back.

There’s a long beat of silence.

“…Why does my bed have abs?”

Jungkook screams.

Nari screams.

You scream.

“WHAT THE—?!” Nari shouts, finally opening her eyes—only for them to land directly on Jungkook’s very bare ass.

“OH MY GOD, WHAT THE FUCK, PUT IT AWAY!”

Jungkook scrambles off the bed, panicking, grabbing at the blanket for dear life while you’re trying to cover yourself.

“ON MY BED?!” Nari shrieks, pointing at you both, utterly horrified. “ARE YOU GUYS FUCKING SERIOUS?!”

“Nari, get out!” You cry, shoving at her.

“No, this is my room, you get out!”

Jungkook is already gone, bolting for the bathroom with the blanket wrapped around him like a desperate little burrito.

You can hear him locking the door, muttering, “Oh my fucking god, what is my life,” under his breath.

Nari turns to you, squinting. “Are you serious? On my bed? On my fucking bed?”

You groan, frantically grabbing for the blanket—only for her to yank it back. “No, it’s cold.”

“Nari, do you want to see me naked?”

“Kinda.”

“Nari!”

She cackles as you finally manage to snatch it away, wrapping yourself up before making a run for the bathroom, abandoning her in the room.

You knock furiously on the door. “Jungkook, let me in.”

A long sigh. Then, finally, the lock clicks open.

You step inside, finding him sitting on the toilet seat, his face buried in his hands.

“What the fuck was that?” you whisper-shout.

He lifts his head slightly, his cheeks burning red. “I think I just saw my life flash before my eyes.”

The two of you are fucking dead.

Still half-naked, still reeling from what just happened.

Nari is snoring her fucking life away in the bedroom, completely dead to the world, and you and Jungkook just stare at each other, still clutching your respective blankets, horrified.

And then— You crack. Laughter bubbles out of your chest, and before you know it, you’re cackling, doubled over, Jungkook gaping at you before he groans and buries his face in his hands. “Oh my god,” he groans. “I’m so fucking tired.”

“Same.” You wheeze, wiping tears from your eyes. “Like, what the hell did we do? Poor Nari.”

Jungkook just sighs. “She’ll probably forget.”

You both groan, knowing full well that she will never let you live this down.

Finally, you manage to sneak back into Nari’s bedroom, tiptoeing past her sleeping form as you grab your clothes, throwing them on in record time. Jungkook fumbles with his jeans, nearly falling over in his rush to get dressed, and you slap a hand over your mouth to stifle your laugh.

Eventually, you escape to the living room, dropping onto the couch, exhausted, the events of last night weighing on you.

Silence.

Jungkook drags himself off the couch and stumbles into the kitchen, opening the fridge.

A long pause.

“What does Nari even eat?” He stares into the sad excuse of a fridge, filled with nothing but pickles, questionable leftovers, and instant food. “How does she live like this?”

You snort, rubbing your temples. “Honestly? I’m not even surprised.”

Finally, you take in the absolute disaster that is the living room. Clothes everywhere, empty bottles, random snacks, and a jar of pickles knocked over on the coffee table.

Jungkook looks at you. You look at Jungkook. And then, in perfect unison, you both let out a long, painful groan.

The apartment is dead silent except for the sound of the TV playing some random channel neither of you are really watching.

You and Jungkook are curled up on the floor couch, hoodies up, barely functioning, waiting for the food you ordered like zombies in recovery.

Jungkook is fully slumped over, one leg stretched out, arms crossed, looking so fucking dead to the world. His hair is a disaster, dark circles heavy under his eyes, and he just stares blankly at the screen, eyes unfocused.

And then— Nari waltzes into the room like she’s been through war.

She looks equally dead, hair a mess, eyes half-open, her oversized shirt hanging off her shoulder, moving with the slow determination of someone who’s been personally victimized by alcohol.

She stops. Looks at the two of you.

Then, without saying a word, she stumbles to the fridge, pulls out a jar of pickles, pops it open, and just starts munching.

You’re safe. She’s forgotten.

And then— “I saw Jungkook’s bare ass.”

Jungkook lets out the most exasperated groan, dragging a hand down his face. “Nari, please—”

But then—her brain finally catches up. Her chewing slows. She freezes. Eyes going wide. Then she slowly turns to you. “Wait.”

Oh, fuck.

“Wait.”

“No, Nari—”

“You guys fucked in my bed?!”

“Nari, I—”

“YOU GUYS HAD FULL-ON, NASTY, SWEATY, I-HATE-YOU SEX IN MY FUCKING BED?!”

“IT WASN’T SWEATY—”

“OH MY GOD, SHUT UP, IT DOESN’T MATTER—”

Jungkook is just sitting there like oh shit man, watching this argument unfold as Nari flails her arms dramatically and you try to defend yourself.

“We were drunk!”

“I don’t give a fuck! That was my bed! Where I sleep! Where I DREAM!”

“We didn’t mean to!”

“Oh, so you just accidentally tripped and landed on his dick, huh?!”

Jungkook chokes. “Nari—”

“No!” She dramatically clutches her chest, looking pained. “My bed has been defiled—”

“Okay, relax, it wasn’t that deep—”

“It was literally that deep!”

“OH MY GOD, STOP!”

She’s fully yelling now, waving the pickle jar around, looking betrayed. Jungkook is just sitting there, mouth slightly agape, watching this play out like it’s a fucking drama series. And then—

“You guys ordered food without me?”

An awkward silence.

You slowly pick up your half-eaten sandwich and offer it to her. Nari snatches it, takes a massive bite, and keeps ranting. “I cannot believe this. This is actually sick. Fucking traitors. I’m gonna need you to call a priest—”

And then she grabs another pickle from the jar, stacking it onto her sandwich like some deranged gourmet chef.

Jungkook just leans back, shaking his head, muttering to himself. “I fucking hate my life.”

And you?

You just groan into your hoodie, realizing this will never be forgotten.