#does it make me less interesting? does it make me harder to love?

[mikakissiekiss]

one underrated thing that I feel like I haven't seen people mention in all of this is getting a lil sheet with their handwriting 😭 Am I just crazy? I love that kind of stuff!

Some thoughts on that below if you're interested or want to see it idk

I'm no analyzer or anything, but look at Leo's! I love how his handwriting is just a bit... messy? It's still written very clearly and legible but just kinda looks like he writes fast. I mean, he probably does 😅 And I love that it goes out of the box sometimes just on the edges! I really like how he writes his 5's also but that's mostly just cuz that's how mine look

Mao's looks a lot more straight by comparison! I like that he starts the lines in the last three boxes on the left edge (notice how Leo started sorta in the middle) and how he wrote his birthday with the month and day characters instead of only numbers. And his writing seems a bit smaller too. I feel like it obviously makes sense for him to be a bit neater

With the newer characters it's a bit harder cuz we don't really know them yet, but I feel like what we have is enough to kinda guess (on some of them, at least) I'm not too sure about Esu, but his cute compass drawing?? He kinda writes like Mao but his letters are a lot more crammed and less neat

For Ibuki though, I feel like this says a lot! The thick marker? Big writing, and he goes out of the box quite a bit. I also didn't realize he wrote "smile" at the top, I couldn't read it at first 😅. Based on this I'd say he seems really bold and confident (he gave those vibes away just by how he looks tho) Also I love his lil star in his signature, so cute!

Kanna is (as we already know) very neat! His handwriting looks so nice. Good spacing, straight lines. It looks pretty fancy. I also think it's fun that he also has a thicker pen/marker, I don't know what that says about him but his writing definitely looks really nice

And Yume's is so cute!! The round letters, and so many hearts 💕 His signature is so fun! And look at how many hashtags he put in the box. I can't wait to read his stories, the fact that he's a cosplayer is fun, I hope his stories talk more about what he likes to cosplay

And Raika's!! I love the way his letters trail off a bit at times and get kinda stuck together. And it looks like he wrote kinda smaller and more cramped to fit in the box more. Again, idrk what that means for him but I'm excited to see what he'll be like! He seems a bit self-conscious to me but I can't really tell yet.

[mrsnancywheeler]

I think Daisy seeing how Billy takes care of muse when Daisy has gotten her too high is interesting ngl

i love them all sm, and I definitely think it makes daisy a little more introspective about the situation and she understands it a little bit more.

like billy has no reservations about sticking his hands down your throat to help you throw up when you've had too much, helping you drink water, tilting your head back to help you swallow it. he knows how much you can handle and he gets you back on the track of what you're usually taking because daisy always manages to make the 3 lines you might take scattered throughout the day, 3 lines one right after the other with a bottle of champagne and a couple of beers right after and a joint.

when he's drugged up and so are you it's a completely different story, but when he's not high out of his mind he makes sure you're well taken care of and anything you say actually makes him think and feel guilty because it's so much more vulnerable.

"daisy, what the hell did you do?" he's got his hands on your face, looking at how insanely dilated your pupils have gotten.

"well, I don't know, we just kept going. it didn't feel like that big of a deal!"

"you're so irresponsible, daisy!"

"wanna sit down." the moment you say it he's helping you inside, had you on the couch.

"how much did you take, baby?"

"not enough, I said I wanted to go home. why are you here?"

"she didn't take you home and I'm glad she didn't-"

"daisy, I wanna go home." you rather unsuccessfully try to stand and billy's got you when you stumble.

"what is going on?" before daisy can chime in to answer billy, you have. because you're crying, daisy knows it's just you crying for the 100th time.

"I just want to go home, I'm sick of this. I just want to be loved, why don't you love me?"

there's a silence, a painful silence where billy is thinking, "we need to get you to throw some of this up."

and you're just crying harder because it proves something to you and daisy is just watching the chaos unfold. "I'm so stupid, just call me a taxi, I shouldn't be here."

"no, you're not gonna be alone." and you don't know know why you let him take you to the bathroom, why you let him help you throw up, why you let him get you a cup to wash out your mouth, or sit there on the bathroom floor with him. "I do love you, I just hate that you try to see me, all of me." Words whispered on the bathroom tiles before he's cleaning you up, convincing you to lay down and sleep it off, holding you until you feel somewhat better.

it doesn't really stop daisy from getting you high in the future, just a little less high, or from getting on billy's case, but she knows more why you're so stuck to each other.

sitting on rooftops with daisy drinking bottles and bottles of champagne and smoking a joint, she's scribbling down random lyrical ideas she gets from things you say. but you're losing it, she's got you thinking too much about billy, you're angry, sad, just riled up. and so when billy walks into this your time bomb is done ticking.

"daisy, what the hell!" he can already tell from scattered bottles that you've got to be drunk out of your mind.

"you're not her keeper, billy, an adult woman can handle herself. because that is what she is, isn't it?" daisy can't help herself but make digs about how everyone seems to glaze over how young you are, an adult, but not nearly as much as they are.

you're standing up, facing him, you've suddenly gained all the confidence to ask him things that you wouldn't usually dare to. "billy, what are we?"

"what? what are you talking about?" he's shaking his head and daisy is happily taking another hit off the joint. "you're my girl, you know that-"

"what does that even mean, billy? what does it mean to be your girl? label it, say it's something or maybe it means nothing to you at all, but I just wanna know where I stand. to understand who you want me to be because I have no fucking clue." and you're pushing back tears, slightly slurring your words, but they ring clear in billy's ears like the reckoning.

his hand runs through his hair, shaking his head, sighing, completely exasperated. "i-i don't know."

in the background daisy is scoffing, taking a drink, laughing slightly, "well, isn't that just a great response, you don't know."

you've spoken up before billy can shoot back, "I'm not asking to get married, I just want to know what I am to you or just what I'm not. because somedays I'm just some pair of tits that you're sick of doing lines on, another stupid fucking groupie-" your voice chokes, "and others it's like you'd hand the goddamn stars for me, your muse, your inspiration. and I don't even know what to expect, ever."

he can't think of a single thing to say that doesn't make him feel small, that express the complexities of how he's feeling. "you're drunk."

and it actually hurts him to see the way you just stare at him, letting the tears well in your eyes, "yeah." then you're laughing, grabbing the bottle from daisy to take another drink. "just go, billy, find someone much more entertaining then me. tracy has better tits anyways and they say she gives really good head-"

"I do know that-"he's taking a deep breath, swallowing, it feels like a lot to say this, "that I always want you around, near me, with me, when you're gone, it breaks me. and that I don't know how to explain what I'm feeling. look, I'm-" another deep sigh, "I'm sorry. let's just get you sobered up."

and him saying sorry must be good enough for you even if daisy knows she wouldn't have taken just that, but you're putting the bottle down, letting him get closer, "oh my god, I think I'm gonna be sick"

and she watches him nurse you through the next mornings hangover, the way he's mastered the hangover cure that helps you, the way he plays with your hair, the way he kisses your forehead, and how comforted you see by it.

yeah these are just some of my thoughts so far about it for my pookies

[inmirova]

spending the small hours of the night thinking about how hdb views the mere act of caring for him as inhuman.

[transmascutena]

thinking about how akio sees his younger self in utena and wondering if there's any fondness there. doesn't change the horror of what he does to her obviously but i do wonder

[clownprince]

Alright. Historically speaking I've been on the Bruce cannot cook team because I think the idea of him knowing like every martial art ever and being a genius detective and not knowing how to make an edible sandwich is just. Yeah. HOWEVER... I have just officially switched sides purely because I had a Vision of Bruce cooking for Joker and it added approximately 15 years to my lifespan

[readymades2002]

something difficult about writing/storytelling but only in short disconnected bursts is that writing anything longform is very difficult. there isn't as much time to practice long-term character development or subtlety (implying character instead of immediately clarifying) when its not really meant to go anywhere but a notes app. its a little frustrating...i'd love to do something more longform though. i've considered maybe just doing some short writing scenes in my various original universes a lot recently mostly because i just havent had time to draw anything fancy recently </3 maybe that would be something...

[lisbonsteresa]

m'kay

[sabertoothwalrus]

There’s something I love love loveeee about Laios and how badly he wants to be cool.

Let me preface with this: in general, I believe the harder you try to be cool, the less cool you actually are. The less you care what people think about you, if you’re “cringe” or “weird”, the more likely people will perceive you as confident and self-assured.

There are countless pieces of media where characters try to fit in with some group, change every part of themself to look/act like what they’re “supposed” to be, and end up miserable, often realizing the people they’re trying to impress aren’t worth the trouble.

I’ve experienced this in my own life too! Sometimes when I go out I wear a rainbow propeller cap! Cause I think it’s funny and silly and!! I ALWAYS get compliments!! I don’t wear it to be cool, I wear it because it makes me happy. And people overall have a positive reaction to it. it’s a huge contrast to when I was teenager and didn’t really put as much of myself into my appearance/wardrobe, and barely left any kind of impression on people.

So anyway, let’s get into it.

Laios… he’s been hurt so badly by people. He resented humanity for it. And yet, he still yearns for the approval of others. He wants FRIENDS!!!! and was angry and frustrated to learn his perception of his relationship with Shuro was so drastically different than Shuro’s!!!!

He KNEW that people were put-off by his love of monsters. Up until Falin got eaten, he deliberately suppressed how much he talked about it with others. He probably thought by not talking about monsters so much, it was working!! He was doing all the Right Things now! So Shuro confessing he always hated him was a huge blow.

But the reality is, he loves monsters. And most importantly, he loves cool monsters. He fantasizes about what would make the Ultimate Monster.

He feels very strongly about what he considers “cool” as well. He finds all aspects of monsters fascinating, but can still be HORRIBLY underwhelmed when they look too lame for his tastes.

He knows most people don’t feel the same way he does. He knows his “cool” is everyone else’s “weird”. It’s so tragically sweet how he latches onto Kabru the moment he shows interest in monsters, and takes every opportunity to infodump about them to him.

He wants people to find monsters as cool as he does!! But, he also wants people to think he’s as cool as he finds monsters.

Like!!! djkfghadkfjg IT DOESN'T EVEN BOTHER HIM WHEN PEOPLE HAVE A WRONG IMPRESSION OF HIM! He's FLATTERED by it. It's almost like, at this point, it doesn't matter to him if people don't like him. People can not like him and still think he's cool.

And my favorite thing is, it works. Laios IS cool as fuck. You KNOW he thought he looked so badass when he did this and he was RIGHT:

And yet, this is him trying very hard to look cool. But it's Laios's version of cool. It's almost contradictory, in that sense. Cause he knows people still don't get it. Like. He wants to be cool. He doesn't care about the "normal" ways to be cool. He thinks his cringe thing is cool. He does his cringe thing, that people very much do still think is cringe. So you would think that, since he wants people to think he's cool, he would not do the cringe thing. But he wore the pelt because he thought it was cool. And people clapped and cheered for him anyway.

is what he's doing really so different than this? ^

YAYYYYY WOOO GO LAIOS YOURE SO COOL!!!!!!!

[pucksandpower]

Best Laid Plans

Carlos Sainz x Vasseur!Reader

Summary: you were just supposed to be a means to an end — a way for Carlos to get back at your father for dropping him — but the best laid plans often go awry and you quickly become so much more than that

Warnings: 18+ content and manipulation

Note: did I spend the whole day writing this to celebrate Carlos’ win? Maybe …

So much love to @struggling-with-drivers for always giving me the best ideas

The warm Portuguese sun beats down on Carlos as he strolls through the luxurious resort grounds, trying and failing to shake the anger simmering inside him.

How could Ferrari do this to him? After all he has given to the team over the past few seasons? To be so unceremoniously dumped for Lewis fucking Hamilton is a slap in the face he can barely comprehend.

He kicks at the pebbled path, hands jammed in his pockets, catching the eye of a young woman lounging by the pool up ahead. She gives him a warm smile that does strange things to his insides for a moment before he recognizes her — Y/N Vasseur.

The reality of who she is hits Carlos like a truck. The daughter of the team principal who betrayed him.

An idea begins to form in Carlos’ mind, a cruel little seed taking root. If Ferrari wants to play hardball, he can play harder. And what better way to get back at Fred than through his precious daughter?

Putting on his most charming grin, Carlos changes course to approach you. “Y/N, fancy running into you here,” he lies easily. “I didn’t realize you were vacationing at this resort too.”

You sit up, shielding your eyes against the sun’s glare. “Carlos! What a pleasant surprise.” Your smile is bright and genuine, setting off warning bells in the back of Carlos’ mind. He quickly silences them — this is just collateral damage.

“I was just getting ready for a dip. Care to join me?” You gesture towards the welcoming blue waters.

Carlos pretends to consider it for a moment. “You know what, I would love to.”

Stripping off his shirt, he can’t help but sneak glances at your swimsuit-clad figure as you slide into the pool, telling himself it’s just for show. You really are stunning though, he has to admit. This might not be so difficult after all.

“So what’s a beautiful young woman like yourself doing all alone at a place like this?” Carlos asks once he’s waded in beside you.

You let out a tinkling laugh, sweeping wet hair away from your face. “Taking a much needed break from real life, I suppose. My job can be … demanding at times.”

That piques Carlos’ interest — to be quite honest, he had just assumed you did nothing all day. “Oh? Do tell, I’m fascinated.”

With a bashful look, you launch into an explanation of your high-powered career that genuinely impresses Carlos despite himself. You’re whip-smart, articulate, and passionate about your work in a way he can relate to.

“Wow,” he finds himself saying once you’ve finished. “I don’t know why, but I wasn’t expecting that from you. Not that I’m judging a book by its cover or anything!” He adds quickly at your arched eyebrow.

You let out another of those bright laughs. “Don’t worry, I get that a lot. People see a privileged girl and make all sorts of assumptions.”

There’s a hint of bitterness underlying the lightness of your tone that Carlos picks up on all too well. He knows what it’s like to be looked down on and underestimated.

“For what it’s worth, I think what you do is really impressive,” he finds himself saying honestly. “And anyone who thinks less of you for it is a fool.”

The words seem to catch you off guard for a moment before your expression melts into a warm smile. “Why Carlos Sainz, I do believe you’re flirting with me.”

He grins back unrepentantly. “Is it working?”

You pretend to consider it for a moment before laughing again. “Maybe a little.”

The flirtatious back-and-forth continues as you both float lazily in the pool, Carlos quickly getting caught up in the effortless fun of it. You match him quip for quip, parry for parry, in a way he’s not used to from women. It’s exhilarating and unexpected.

In fact, he’s so caught up in your company that he nearly forgets his original intention entirely. Until a stray thought brings the memory crashing back down … you’re Fred Vasseur’s daughter.

The realization is like a bucket of cold water being upended over Carlos’ head. What is he doing? This woman hasn’t done anything to wrong him. Going after you just to get petty revenge on your father is ugly and uncalled for. He should just be the bigger man, swallow the insult Ferrari dealt him, and move on.

But then he thinks about the disrespect, the callousness of dumping him like dead weight after all he bled for the team. Perhaps a little payback is in order after all.

With a wicked grin, Carlos begins swimming slowly towards you, an unmistakable glint in his eye. You seem to pick up on it, cheeks flushing ever so slightly. “What’s that look for?”

“Just thinking,” he murmurs once he’s close enough for you to feel the warmth of his breath. “About how I could make this vacation even more … memorable.”

His heavy-lidded gaze drops to your lips for just a moment, but you catch it. You bite your lower lip unconsciously as heat blazes between you. “Is that so?”

“Mhmm,” Carlos all but purrs, reaching out to gently cup your jaw, thumb stroking over your cheekbone. You shiver despite the warmth of the day, eyelids fluttering. “If you’ll allow me?”

For a long stretch, you seem to be rendered speechless, pupils blown wide as you study his face intently. Then, so softly, “Yes.”

That’s all the permission Carlos needs before he’s crashing his lips against yours in a searing kiss.

The moment your lips meet his, it’s like a jolt of electricity courses through Carlos. He kisses you deeply, urgently, all thoughts of revenge or ill-intent evaporating from his mind. This is pure want, unbridled desire singing through his veins.

You return the kiss with equal fervor, tangling your fingers in his hair and pulling him closer. Your mouth is warm, soft, pillowy — everything Carlos didn’t know he was craving until this very moment. He skims his hands over the slick curves of your body beneath the pool’s surface, marveling at the gasps and sighs he pulls from you with each exploratory touch.

When you finally break apart, you’re both panting heavily, faces flushed. Carlos drinks in the sight of you — hair tousled, lips swollen, and eyes dark with wanting. He’s never seen anything more beautiful.

“Carlos ...” You breathe his name like a prayer and something primal uncurls in his lower belly.

Instead of responding, he simply crushes his mouth to yours once more, walking you backward until your back gently hits the pool’s tiled edge. You let out a muffled moan as he settles between your parted thighs, the heated line of his body flush against yours.

One of his hands slides up over the soft skin of your ribs to cup your breast as you arch shamelessly into his touch. He drags his lips in hot, open-mouthed kisses along the line of your jaw and down the graceful column of your neck, relishing the way you keen beneath his attention.

“You feel so good, cariño,” he rumbles against the feverish skin just below your ear, punctuating the words with a deliberately slow roll of his hips that has you releasing a broken whimper. “So fucking perfect ...”

In this moment, with you writhing and mewling in his arms, Carlos has never been more grateful for his commitment to physical fitness. He knows he can keep this up all day if need be, ravishing you over and over until you’re a limp, sated puddle.

He runs his tongue in a scorching path up the side of your neck before returning to that sinful mouth, swallowing your desperate little moans hungrily. You cling to him as if he’s the only thing keeping you tethered, nails raking deliciously over his back and shoulders in a way that will surely leave marks. Carlos loves it, loves the proof of your passion painted on his skin in thin red lines.

Trailing his lips across the hinge of your jaw, he murmurs “Should we take this somewhere more private, princesa?”

You let out a shuddering breath, hips canting up instinctively to meet each roll of his. “God, yes ... please ...”

The sound of your needy whine sends a molten thrill straight to Carlos’ cock. He’s fully hard and aching for you, straining against his swim trunks with every second that passes. If possible, he wants you even more.

With a grunt of effort, he hooks his hands beneath your thighs and hikes your legs up around his waist in one swift motion. You let out a startled squeak that quickly dissolves into a moan as he shifts against you just right, creating delicious friction. Your arms wind around his neck as you bury your face in the curve where his neck meets his shoulder.

“You feel that, cariño?” Carlos rumbles darkly. “I can’t wait to be inside you. Stretching you so perfectly full of me. Will you be a good girl and take it? Every. Last. Inch?”

He emphasizes each of the final three words with a firm grind of his hips, rutting his rigid length against your clothed heat. Your back bows in response, mouth dropping open on a silent wail of pleasure. Carlos can feel your sticky wetness soaking through the thin material of your swimsuit bottoms and groans harshly.

“P-please ...” You keen, worrying his earlobe between your teeth. “I need you, Carlos. I need it so bad ...”

And just like that, the trance is broken. Carlos blinks, suddenly acutely aware that you’re grinding shamelessly against each other in the very public pool area of this high-end resort. A few pointed looks from other guests are enough to have a flush of embarrassment creeping up his neck.

Clearing his throat, he reluctantly pulls himself back and sets you on your feet. You let out a disappointed whimper that goes straight to his groin.

“P-perhaps we got a bit carried away, princesa,” Carlos huffs out a laugh, running a hand through his damp curls. “Why don’t we go somewhere a bit more … private to continue this?”

You bite your plump lower lip and Carlos has to resist the urge to lean forward and free it with his teeth. Nodding eagerly, you cast a look around before tugging his hand and heading for the exit, leaving a trail of water droplets in your wake.

Carlos follows eagerly, openly ogling the way your soaked swimsuit hugs every tantalizing curve. He’s never been so grateful for his decision to book one of the private beachfront villas at this resort — just a stone’s throw from where you’re leading him, he’ll finally be able to have you all to himself.

The thought has him semi-frantically fumbling for the keycard as you press urgent, open-mouthed kisses to any patch of bare skin you can find — his shoulder, his neck, the line of his jaw. By the time he gets the door open you’re both panting like you’ve run a marathon, desire thrumming white-hot through your veins.

The second you’re inside, Carlos has you pressed back against the door, forearms braced on either side of your head as he towers over you. For the first time, a flicker of uncertainty crosses your features and he’s abruptly reminded of who you are.

“Are you sure about this?” He murmurs lowly, searching your eyes. “Because if we do this, I can promise you there’s no going back for me, cariño.”

You visibly swallow hard but then give a small, determined nod. “I want this, Carlos. I want you.”

That’s all the confirmation he needs before he’s capturing your lips in another searing, desperate kiss that has you melting against him. He walks you backward, never breaking contact until the backs of your legs hit the edge of the plush bed. With a growl, he hooks his hands beneath your thighs and hitches your legs around his hips once more.

You let out a breathless giggle as he tumbles you both down onto the soft cotton sheets, immediately rolling until he’s blanketed by the gorgeous expanse of your body. God, you’re even more stunning like this — hair fanned out in a tousled riot, cheeks flushed and lips swollen, eyes glazed with naked wanting.

Carlos takes a moment just to appreciate the view, raking his eyes over every inch he can see. A tremor goes through you beneath his weighty gaze and he smirks, leaning down to trail open-mouthed kisses along the column of your slender throat.

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted this, princesa,” he rumbles against your overheated skin. “How many times I’ve thought about having you just like this, spread out beneath me and begging for it ...”

The truth is, he hasn’t thought about it at all until this very day. But something about the way your breath hitches and your hips cant up instinctively at his words makes Carlos want to keep going.

“I’ve watched you, you know,” he lies smoothly, relishing the full-body shiver that wracks your frame. He nips along the graceful line of your collarbone and you whine softly in the back of your throat. “Couldn’t tear my eyes away whenever you were around. Imagining what delicious little sounds you might make with my cock buried inside you ...”

You moan then, loud and unabashed as you tug needily at his hair to bring his mouth back up to yours. Carlos chuckles darkly into the kiss, reveling in how utterly desperate he’s managed to make you for him so quickly.

“Is this what you want, princesa? You want me to fuck you?” He keeps his tone a low, filthy rasp against the plush of your lips. “Hard and deep and ruthless until you can’t remember anything but my name on your tongue?”

“Yes!” The word rushes out in an urgent whine and Carlos lets out a feral growl, slamming his hips firmly against yours in one rough grind that has your mouth dropping open on a broken cry of ecstasy.

Moving with purposeful efficiency, he hooks his fingers in the waistband of your swimsuit bottoms and tugs them down over the swell of your hips and off completely. He shoves his own trunks down just far enough to free his throbbing length, giving it a few firm strokes to spread the pearling bead of precome over the swollen head.

With a low, heated look, Carlos hitches your legs over his shoulders and lines the blunt head of his cock up with your entrance. Just from this angle, he can see how slick and swollen you already are for him, glistening with arousal.

“Last chance, cariño,” he rumbles, rubbing himself in one deliciously torturous swipe through your folds and back again. You moan loudly, back bowing off the bed. “After this, I won’t be able to stop until you’re utterly ruined for anyone else’s touch ...”

The sound you make is practically inhuman, hand shooting out to grasp at his hip almost painfully hard. “Carlos … Carlos, please!”

Never one to deny such a desperate plea, Carlos braces one hand beside your head and slowly, inexorably begins to sink into your welcoming heat.

The tight, slick heat of your core enveloping Carlos inch by agonizing inch is utterly sublime. He has to grit his teeth and squeeze his eyes shut to keep from embarrassing himself right then and there. You’re impossibly tight, so perfectly molded to his shape — he’s never felt anything quite like it.

Beneath him, you keen softly as he stretches and fills you in one steady glide. Your fingernails bite crescent moons into the firm planes of his back as if you’ll fall apart if not anchored to him. Carlos rumbles his approval low in his chest at the sweet sting.

Once he’s fully sheathed, hips flush with yours, he pauses to simply bask in the feeling for a long moment. You feel so indescribably good wrapped around his throbbing length — hot and snug and fluttering subtly like your body can’t decide whether to grip him tighter or ease his way.

“Fuck, cariño ...” The words tear from Carlos’ throat in a ragged groan. “You feel incredible. So perfect for me.”

You whimper wordlessly in response, flexing and releasing your inner muscles in a way that has him seeing stars behind his eyelids. He captures your mouth in a filthy, demanding kiss to swallow your desperate little noises. It’s all he can do not to start pounding away with reckless abandon.

Pulling back slowly until just the thick head of his cock remains inside your clutching heat, Carlos locks eyes with you. Your pupils are blown wide, lips parted enticingly with each panting breath, the picture of wanton desire. He’s never seen anything so erotic in his life.

You must read the promise in his expression because suddenly you’re nodding frantically and chasing his retreating hips with a needy whine.

“Please, Carlos!” You keen desperately, nails scoring lines of fiery pleasure-pain down the rigid plane of his back. “I need it, I need you to-”

He doesn’t let you finish, snapping his hips forward in one hard thrust that buries him to the hilt. The broken cry that tears from your perfect lips goes straight to his dick.

Carlos repeats the harsh, punishing rhythm over and over, relishing the snug drag of your velvet walls against his aching cock. He soon has you a mewling, mindless mess beneath him, whining his name like a holy mantra with each powerful stroke.

“That’s it, princesa,” he rasps against the flushed curve of your neck, lips brushing saltily over your overheated skin. “Take it all for me. Every. Last. Fucking. Inch.”

As punctuation, he slams home with a sharp roll of his hips that has you keening shrilly and throwing your head back. You clutch at him desperately, meeting each heavy thrust in perfect counterpoint as he picks up the pace. The air is thick with the obscene sounds of skin sliding relentlessly together and your punched-out whimpers and moans.

Carlos has never felt so deliriously consumed by physicality before. It’s like his whole world has narrowed down to this moment, this connection of your joined bodies moving as one. He wants to burn the memory of how you feel, how you sound, how you taste, into his mind forever.

“Look at me,” he growls against the sweat-slick curve of your jaw when your eyes start to drift shut in ecstasy. “I wanna see those pretty eyes when you fall apart on my cock, princesa.”

You force your lids open with obvious effort, irises wild and hazy with lust. Carlos feels a molten surge of possessive desire lash through his veins at the sight. He slams into you with renewed fervor, savoring the high, desperate whine it punches from your parted lips.

“That’s it, cariño ... fuck, you’re exquisite like this.” His praise comes out in a ruined rasp but it seems to spur you on. Your nails dig bruising furrows into his lower back as you meet him thrust for bruising thrust.

Carlos can feel the telltale tightening and fluttering in your inner walls that signals your impending release like a vise grip around his cock. He wants nothing more than for you to shatter apart on his length. Slipping one hand between your sweat-slicked bodies, he finds the swollen bundle of nerves and rolls it firmly between calloused fingertips.

You release a strangled scream, back bowing off the mattress as white-hot pleasure spikes through you. “Carlos! Oh my god, Carlos, I’m … I can’t ...”

“Come for me, princesa,” Carlos encourages hoarsely against the side of your neck. He continues to work you over with nimble fingers in time with the punishing snap of his hips. “Let me feel you come apart all over my cock. Fucking soak it ...”

The guttural river of carnal filth coming from his lips seems to be the final straw, sending you crashing violently over the edge. You seize up around him with a shrill, sobbing wail, inner muscles clamping down in hot, pulsing waves. Carlos curses roughly, eyes squeezing shut against the unbelievable sensation of being massaged and milked for every drop.

If he thought the vice grip of your orgasm was intense, the aftermath is even more sublime. You lie utterly limp and boneless beneath him, still aflutter and fluttering in sweet, rhythmic clenches around his cock. He grits his jaw and fights to keep control, knowing he won’t last much longer buried in your intoxicating heat like this.

When you finally regain some coherency, eyes fluttering open with a dazed murmur of his name, Carlos pulls back slowly until just the throbbing crown remains inside. He intends to give you a brief respite before chasing his own thunderous release, but the moment he starts to withdraw your legs lock high around his hips.

“No ...” You keen, nails raking pleadingly down his back. The desperate craving in your tone very nearly undoes him. “Carlos, please. Don’t stop ...”

Growling low in his chest, Carlos immediately buries himself home once more — this time with a single, powerful thrust that has your brows shooting up as the air rushes from your lungs in a strangled cry. Clearly, you still need it as much as he does.

He fists one hand in the tousled hair at the nape of your neck, using the grip to tilt your head to one side as he lays a searing path of nips and sucking kisses along the exposed column. You shudder and whimper beneath him, utterly pliant and receptive to his claiming touches.

“Tell me what you want, cariño,” he rasps between rough drags of teeth over your thundering pulse point. He remains buried to the hilt, muscles bunched and quivering with the effort of holding himself rigid and still inside you. “Use your words and tell me.”

For a long moment, you seem too dazed and overwhelmed to reply. Then, in a small, wrecked voice, “I want … I want you to fuck me, Carlos. Please ...” Your eyes are glazed yet earnest, boring into his from beneath sooty lashes. “Don’t hold back. I need to feel you come too.”

A harsh groan is punched from Carlos’ lungs at your plea. Letting himself go and really taking you the way his body screams at him to would be heaven and hell all at once.

There’s likely no coming back from it — he’ll ruin you for anyone else’s touch, just as he warned. Once all is said and done, you’ll be irrevocably his in a way that frightens and exhilarates him to his core.

For a heart-stopping moment, he hesitates. And then you moan again — a thin, keening sound of utter desperation — and it’s like the last thread of Carlos’ control snaps completely.

“Hold on tight then, cariño ... because I won’t be able to stop.”

That’s the only warning he gives before pulling almost fully out and slamming back home in one brutal thrust that drives the air from your lungs on a high, shocked cry. He doesn’t let up from there — turning you over onto your belly and dragging your hips up onto his thighs so he can take you from behind in a series of ruthless, punishing strokes.

You quickly become an incoherent, sobbing mess beneath his onslaught, hands clawing uselessly at the sheets as he pounds into you again and again like he’s trying to split you apart. Carlos relishes the sharp smack of sweat-slick flesh on flesh, the strained crescendo of your hoarse wails, the drug-like delirium of being utterly surrounded and consumed by your scorching velvet grip.

It’s too much and not enough all at once. He clutches you flush against him, one big hand spread over your lower stomach like he could somehow force his cock impossibly deeper. The other winds around to toy and tug almost cruelly at your taut, reddened nipples — drawing out a stream of broken, overwhelmed whimpers.

Carlos has never felt more powerful. Body and mind, he owns you utterly in this moment. The thought is nearly enough to send him skating right over the edge into oblivion.

Instead, he jerks you up onto your knees fully so he can plunge into your straining, overworked sex at a different angle — this one hitting something deep inside that has you screaming hoarsely. He captures the wild thrash of your head in the curve of one sweat-slick bicep to bare the elegant line of your throat to his hungry mouth.

“Could you possibly have taken any more of me, princesa?” Carlos husks against the side of your neck, relishing the way it makes you tremble and clench even harder around his pistoning length. “You were made just to be split open on my cock ...”

You let out a garbled sound halfway between agreement and overwhelmed protest. Carlos snarls against your racing pulse, sucking a blatant mark of possession just below your jaw where everyone will be able to see before abruptly rolling you both back over.

He looms above you once more, grinding steadily into your core with deep, purposeful strokes that leave you writhing and wailing with over-stimulation. But Carlos isn’t finished yet — isn’t anywhere close to getting his fill.

“Look at me, cariño,” he commands in a guttural rasp, waiting with molten, heavy-lidded eyes until your lust-drunk stare meets his. “I need to see that pretty face when I come inside you ...”

His words seem to energize you somewhat, your eyes snapping sharper with renewed awareness.

And then, incredibly, you cunt flutters and grips down around him again in the unmistakable clutch of another orgasm ripping through you like a livewire. Carlos has to use every ounce of stamina and control not to follow you right over that blinding edge as you thrash and shriek beautifully beneath him.

By the time you come back down, cheeks flushed and chest heaving, Carlos is practically vibrating with the force of his impending release. His movements have taken on a desperate edge, hips snapping in erratic, forceful jabs as he chases that final blissful oblivion.

When your sated, velvety heat squeezes rhythmically one final time, Carlos throws his head back with his own roar of release. White-hot rapture spikes through every nerve ending as his balls tighten in excruciating bliss. His world narrows down to the exquisite pulsing of your sheathed depths rippling and drawing every last drop from him in endless, blistering waves.

It seems to stretch on forever, Carlos unable and unwilling to move from his impaled position even once the final shudders have wrung him dry. He simply remains blanketed over you, lungs heaving and muscles quaking with the aftershocks of his orgasm.

When he finally regains enough presence of mind to open his eyes and look down at you, the devotion burning in your spent, glowing expression makes his breath catch. For a long, fragile moment, it’s like you’re the only two people in the world.

Eventually, your eyes drift shut on a contented sigh and your body goes lax and pliant against the sheets once more. Carefully, Carlos eases out of your swollen, used entrance and rolls to collapse in a sweaty heap beside you. He immediately tugs you into his embrace, savoring the feeling of your damp, feverish skin pressed to his.

As you drift off to slumber coiled against his chest, Carlos presses a lingering, tender kiss to your crown and tightens his arms around you. He can feel the words pressing at his lips, straining to be released into the silence of this moment.

For now, he keeps them locked behind his teeth. But already he knows this isn’t simply lust or passion or a primal need for revenge that will fade with time. This was always meant to be more — something deeper …. everything Carlos never even realized he was missing until you stormed into his life in a whirlwind of smiles and secrets and blinding desire.

He’s in trouble now. Trouble of the very best kind.

***

Pale morning light filters in through the sheer curtains as Carlos blinks awake slowly. For a disoriented moment, he’s unsure of his surroundings — the rumpled white linens tangled around his naked body are certainly not what he’s used to waking up in.

Then the previous night’s events come rushing back in a heated wave. The pool … the frantic, desperate passion as he took you again and again until you were both hollowed out and sated … finally collapsing into a sweaty pile together. Carlos feels his chest tighten with a complicated swirl of emotions.

He turns his head on the pillow to find the source of the delicious warmth pressed along his side. And just like that, everything else falls away.

You’re tangled up with him still, one shapely leg hooked over his and an arm flung possessively across his torso. Loose riotous locks tickle Carlos’ skin where your face is half-buried in the curve of his neck.

He has to tamp down the overwhelming urge to pull you even closer, to wrap you in his arms and inhale the sweet, clean scent of your hair.

Like this — sleep-rumpled and soft in the morning’s buttery rays — you look almost unbearably lovely. An ache blossoms behind Carlos’ ribs as he studies the delicate fan of your lashes brushing flushed cheekbones and the gentle part of those full lips. Disheveled and without a stitch of make-up, you’re somehow even more breathtakingly beautiful.

Unconsciously, Carlos’ fingers find their way into your tangled tresses, lightly stroking and playing with the silken strands. You make a small, snuffling sound of contentment and burrow infinitesimally closer. He freezes, worried he’s disturbed your slumber, but your features remain smooth and serene.

He should get up. He should definitely get up and extract himself from this warm, addictive little bubble you’ve created before things go any further. This was only ever supposed to be a fling — a deliciously vindictive way to get back at your father for how he so callously cast Carlos aside.

Yet even as Carlos turns the thought over in his head, it rings hollow. What happened between you last night transcended anything so petty and cruel as revenge.

When he was sheathed so deeply inside you, your bodies moving in perfect sync like they were made for each other, Carlos felt something far more profound than just physical gratification. It was spiritual … cosmic, even, like every star in the universe had finally clicked into perfect alignment.

He should be disgusted with himself for having such saccharine notions. Carlos has always considered himself a realist — someone grounded in facts and figures, not given to romantic flights of fancy whatsoever. Yet here he is, helplessly mooning over a woman he barely knows all because of one night of incredible sex.

Except … Carlos is self-aware enough to recognize there was more to it than that, even if he can’t put words to the feeling yet. Some invisible cord has been lashed between you in a knot that feels unbreakable. Some intangible shift has occurred in his perspective that he can’t seem to walk back from.

Perhaps you sensed it too in the way you gazed at him afterwards — not just satiated, but glowing with a sort of wondering, naked adoration far too profound for a mere fuck. Carlos knows he should have been unnerved by the depth of emotion in your spent, happy features. And yet, he only felt it mirrored and compounded tenfold within himself.

With a frustrated huff, he tugs you closer and burrows his face into your hair, allowing your warm, comforting scent to soothe his wildly spiraling thoughts. You make another soft sound and your fingers twitch where they’re splayed over his ribs — reflexively trying to pull him in even tighter.

“What are you doing to me, princesa?” Carlos murmurs, low and graveled, against the crown of your head. “This isn’t how it was supposed to go at all ...”

Because the truth is, this was never meant to be anything more than a fleeting dalliance — an explosive joining of bodies and nothing more. But now that he’s had you, had this bone-deep connection to you, Carlos doesn’t think he can let it go so easily. The prospect of never again feeling you wrapped so perfectly around him in every sense of the word is abruptly gut-wrenchingly awful.

Which leaves him at an impasse. Because you … you are the daughter of the very man who unceremoniously discarded Carlos like an old rag after he gave everything to Ferrari. The offspring of the person who threw him away in a way that cut all the way to his core.

How could he possibly pursue anything real with you after that? It would be a horrific conflict of interests and constantly make things unbearably awkward, to say the very least. Not to mention Carlos has no idea if you even want more than just this one night of passion between you anyway. Perhaps to you he really was just an itch to scratch, a bout of impulsive lust to take the edge off before moving on.

The thought makes his stomach churn with jealousy so potent he has to physically swallow it back. Which … is not great, all things considered.

Tilting your head back with the lightest touch beneath your chin, Carlos studies your soft features searchingly. Perhaps if he stares hard enough, he’ll find some hint of deception or shallowness there. Some glaring evidence that this insane sense of yearning he feels is all one-sided — a misguided obsession brought on by the sort of euphoric sex one can never quite recapture once the high fades. He could use that as his cue to bow out now while you’re still tangled up together so prettily.

But even as he looks, really looks, all Carlos sees is the serene picture of a thoroughly satisfied, openly contented woman. There’s no shuttered gaze or pinched expression betraying any darker thoughts and feelings. Just blissed-out joy written in every relaxed line of those lovely features.

Something in Carlos’ chest cracks wide open at the realization that this is real for you too. You’re not just some meaningless one-off fling, but a woman who seems to have had her entire world upended in the same way his has been over the span of one incredible night.

“Carlos?” You murmur then, voice husky and slurred with the remnants of sleep as your lashes flutter open. “What’s wrong, mon beau?”

Your endearment sends a shockwave of tenderness and want pulsing through him straight to the roots. Carlos shakes his head minutely, winding one hand into your hair to hold you steady so he can simply … bask in your presence for a while.

“Nothing’s wrong, princesa,” he assures you lowly, thumb stroking gently over the arch of your cheekbone. “I just woke up early and got a little lost in my head for a bit there, that’s all.”

That small, secret smile he’s rapidly becoming addicted to tugs at your lips as your eyes rove languidly over his face. Your hand comes up to rest over his thundering heartbeat with surprising tenderness.

“Well then allow me to bring you back to the present. Right here with me.”

Your tone has taken on that rich sultriness from last night that shoots straight to his groin. Before Carlos can so much as draw breath to respond, you’re rising up to seal your mouth over his in a searingly passionate kiss.

He groans instantly, every atom of his being tuned to your frequency in a way that’s swiftly becoming terrifyingly natural. Carlos’ hands roam hungrily over your naked curves of their own volition, relearning each dip and swell through the silken glide of skin on skin.

When you break apart at last, you’re both thoroughly breathless and aroused. Carlos splays one big hand over the small of your back and simply holds you flush against him, savoring the feeling of your racing heart thundering in tandem with his own. He brushes kiss-swollen lips along the line of your jaw, prompting a delicious shiver.

“Don’t think for one second that I’ve had even a fraction of my fill of you yet, cariño,” he rasps against the feverish skin just below your ear, using his free hand to tug your head back so he can access the soft column of your throat. “You’ve addicted me beyond any chance of recovery now.”

Your breath hitches as he latches his mouth just above your thundering pulse point and sucks a blatant mark. Carlos revels in the needy whimpers spilling from your lips with each pass of his tongue over the tender patch of skin. He needs to mark you, claim you, render you unmistakable as his in every possible way.

“Carlos ...” You keen, back arching like a drawn bow as he continues trailing open-mouthed kisses down the slope of your neck and over your collarbones. “What are you saying?”

He pulls back to meet your heavy-lidded gaze, searching intently for permission to continue with what he suspects you’re asking. And there it is — desire and hope and invitation burning brightly in your soulful eyes, practically begging him to put words to this singular thing blazing between you.

Cupping your face in both hands, Carlos holds your rapt stare as he slowly, reverently presses a soft, lingering kiss to your slightly parted lips. You melt into him, one hand coming up to clutch desperately at his bicep.

“I’m saying,” he murmurs against the plush give of your pretty mouth. “That I can’t simply let this be the end, princesa. Not anymore. Not after experiencing what it feels like to be so exquisitely connected with someone in every possible way.”

The smile you give him in answer is as incandescent and warm as a living flame. You don’t attempt to contain the rush of emotion threatening to overwhelm you. Instead, you simply wind your arms around Carlos’ neck and pull him down into a molten kiss that somehow manages to convey every single infinite feeling ricocheting between your bodies.

He suddenly feels so overwhelmingly lucky in that moment. Lucky to have crossed paths with you by happenstance. Lucky that, by some miracle, he didn’t allow bitterness or pain or preconceived notions to blind him to your kindness and warmth and inherent goodness despite how this whole crazy thing started in his mind.

Because yes, you are the daughter of the man who turned his life and career upside down. But here, pressed against you, Carlos can feel the truth resonating through his bones — you are so much more than any of that.

And for the first time in his life, Carlos cannot fathom the idea of anything frightening him away.

***

The frantic Melbourne nightlife whirls and pulsates around Carlos in a dizzying kaleidoscope of neon lights and pounding basslines. Normally he would revel in the thrum of energy and excess — drinking in the atmosphere and feeding off the infectious exhilaration. But tonight, seated alone in the VIP lounge of one of the city’s most exclusive clubs, he finds his attention utterly undivided.

You stand out like a siren among the raucous crowd, every tilt of your hips and toss of your hair captivating Carlos completely.

He tracks the line of your body shamelessly as you sway and twist to the driving beat, that tantalizing little red dress riding up to reveal glimpses of toned, silky thighs that make his mouth water. A fine sheen of sweat glistens enticingly along your collarbones and in the hollow of your throat, no doubt making your overheated skin taste like salted caramel.

The urge to slide up behind you and drag his tongue along that slender, tempting slope is damn near overwhelming. He can vividly picture himself molding his larger frame against your softly undulating form, one hand spanning possessively across your lower belly to grind the rapidly stiffening ridge of his arousal against the lush swell of your rear.

He imagines precisely how you would react — arching back against him with a shuddering gasp, fingers threading into his hair to tug his mouth down upon yours in a frantic, needy kiss. How you would whimper and writhe against him, uncaring of the very public surroundings as desire rapidly whited everything else out ...

Almost as if sensing the scorching path of Carlos’ thoughts, you glance over your shoulder and catch his eye from beneath the veil of your lashes. That sly, inviting little smile immediately kicks his pulse into overdrive and lights a slow bloom of liquid heat unfurling in his lower belly.

With a crooked finger and a subtle uptilt of your chin you summon him to your side. And like the hopeless fool he is, Carlos rises instantly and crosses the small distance to enfold you in his arms from behind.

“Having fun out here without me, cariño?” He murmurs in your ear, lips brushing the sensitive shell so he feels the full-body shiver that wracks through you.

You lean back into his embrace, all soft curves and intoxicating jasmine scent. “I’m always having fun when I’m with you, Mr. Race Winner,” you sigh as your fingers trail delicately down the solid line of his biceps. “Even if we’re just sitting around doing nothing.”

The words are simple — honest and unguarded in a way that makes Carlos’ heart seize in his chest. For two people who came together in a wild collision of lust and passion, it’s moments like these that continually remind him of how much deeper your connection truly runs. Far beyond mere physicality into some soul-binding and unbreakable place.

You must sense the shift in his energy because you turn in his arms, expression questioning but so openly caring it nearly steals Carlos’ breath away. Tenderly, you cup his jaw and search his eyes.

“What’s going on in that beautiful head of yours, hmm?”

He shakes his head minutely, leaning down to brush his lips across your forehead before pulling you snug against his chest. You settle easily into the circle of his arms like that’s the most natural place in the world, cheek pillowed over his steadily thrumming heart.

“Nothing to worry about, princesa,” Carlos assures you gruffly, stroking soothing circles over the warm bare skin of your back. “Just feeling … lucky, I suppose. To have found someone like you.”

The words seem to catch you off guard and you pull back slightly to study his face, mouth curved in that secretive little smile that always makes Carlos’ stomach swoop.

“Well, I certainly feel the luckiest woman on Earth,” you tease lightly, booping his nose in a playful gesture that somehow serves to implant roots deep in Carlos’ soul rather than make him roll his eyes.

Instead, he just gazes at you for a long, weighted moment, allowing himself to simply bask in your presence. In the soft beauties that first drew him in — that delicate blush that finds its way across your nose and cheekbones, the little crinkles that bloom when your smile widens to that mega-watt, face-splitting beam, and those soulful eyes that never fail to pin Carlos helplessly in place.

Then there are the quieter, more intimate details he’s gradually uncovered the deeper he delves into your connection. The barely-there laugh lines at the corners of your eyes when you’re feeling particularly pleased about something. The trick of tugging on your lower lip with your teeth when you’re aroused and trying not to show it. The subtle furrow that appears between your brows when you’re concentrating intently on something.

Carlos knows them all now like geography he was born to navigate.

Without conscious thought, he smooths his thumbs over your jaw and guides you up into a slow, thorough kiss that has both your pulses kicking into overdrive. You whine quietly into his mouth, winding your arms around his neck and arching against him in ways that instantaneously have him hard and aching. But Carlos doesn’t give in to the heated urgency coursing through his bloodstream.

Instead, he keeps the languid glide of his lips over yours unhurried and leisurely — savoring the sensation of you pliant and receptive beneath his seduction. You seem to shake off your initial fervor as well, melting further into the molten drag of his mouth claiming yours over and over.

This too is a geography Carlos has long since mastered. The precise angle he needs to tilt his head to slot your bodies effortlessly flush together. The soft, mewling noises he can coax out of you with carefully applied suction to your plush lower lip. The tiny shudders when he swipes his tongue in long, slick caresses over the roof of your mouth.

You’re practically vibrating with restraint by the time he finally releases your mouth with an obscene, wet pop. Your lips are swollen and glistening, glistening with shared wanting. Carlos hums deep in his chest and brushes the pad of his thumb over the slick fullness reverently.

“So impatient, cariño,” he chides with a wolfish grin that has your nipples visibly peaking beneath the thin lace bodice. “You know that’s not what I had in mind for tonight.”

With an adorable little pout, you wind your arms around his neck once more. “And what, pray tell, did you have in mind?”

A dozen filthy scenarios immediately clamor for attention in Carlos’ head. Having you right here, up against the wall of this secluded VIP area. Bending you over the sleek lines of one of the low leather couches. Finding a shadowed alcove and sinking to his knees before you, nosing aside those delicate strips of lace to ...

He banishes each carnal thought before it can take root and produce visible effect. Tangling his fingers through the soft tresses at the nape of your neck, Carlos brings your foreheads together with a soft smile.

“I thought we might enjoy a moonlight stroll along the beach actually,” he murmurs, relishing the way your disappointed huff ruffles against his skin. “Just you and me under the stars, far away from the noise and crowds for a while.”

You regard him dubiously for a moment before seeming to melt at whatever expression Carlos doesn’t realize he’s allowed to show through. As always, you give in far too easily to his indulgent whims.

With a soft, fond roll of your eyes, you press up on your toes to drop a lingering kiss to the corner of his mouth. “Of course, mon amour. Just you and me under the stars.”

Twenty minutes later finds you ambling hand in hand down a pristine stretch of beach in the Middle Park suburb. The warm, salty breeze gusts gently over your skin, carrying traces of coconut sunscreen and the briny musk of the sea. Foamy waves lap invitingly against the silvered sands as Carlos steers you towards a small, isolated cove.

He procures a large woven blanket from his bag and unfurls it in a clear spot before tugging you down into the plush nest of fabric. You immediately gravitate into his space — curling against his side and tucking yourself beneath his arm like that’s where you were always meant to fit. For Carlos’ part, he cherishes the easy affection and careless intimacy of the simple gesture more than you’ll ever know.

You spend what could be minutes or hours like that — exchanging lazy kisses and sipping from a shared bottle of wine as the moon rises ever higher overhead. After a while, Carlos sprawls onto his back and you quickly drape yourself half-atop him so he can leisurely card his fingers through your windswept tresses.

The soft, steady thrum of his heartbeat beneath your ear combined with the soothing sounds of the lapping tide soon have your eyelids drooping. Carlos has never felt so at peace — this sublime bubble with you the single point around which the rest of the universe spins, perfectly in balance.

“Hey,” you mumble against the warm, sleep-rumpled fabric of his shirt. “Aren’t you the one always saying we should be living in the present?”

He huffs a quiet laugh, stroking one hand down the dip of your spine to rest possessively at the base. “What brings that up all of a sudden?”

You shift enough to look up at him through your lashes, eyes molten with a familiar heat that shivers down Carlos’ spine.

“I’m just wondering what’s got you stuck in your head so often these days,” you counter smoothly, punctuating the observation by swinging one leg over his hips so you can settle atop him fully, careful not to disturb his still-tender stitches. “We’ve barely been able to share … intimate moments at all the last month or so.”

Carlos sucks in a sharp breath as your weight settles over the rapidly stiffening ridge of his arousal. His hands find your hips of their own volition, squeezing reflexively as you begin moving atop him in a slow, undulating rhythm.

“Perhaps I’ve been overtly romantic,” he allows through gritted teeth, letting his head thunk back against the blanket as desire rapidly thrums through his veins. “Missing out on more … physical expressions of passion just because I wanted to remind both of us that this is built on so much more than lust.”

You hum thoughtfully, sitting up fully and swaying atop him in a way that has Carlos rapidly losing his tenuous grasp on reality beyond this blissful patch of the world containing just the two of you. He’s fully hard and straining against the loose linen of his slacks within moments.

“Then maybe we should do something about that right now,” you breathe huskily, arching your back in an inhumanly graceful roll that leaves Carlos’ mouth dry as the Sahara. His hands track helplessly up the delicious curves of your waist, bunching the delicate material of your dress around your hips.

He sits up to meet you so suddenly your foreheads nearly crack together. You release a breathless giggle that Carlos hungrily swallows with his lips, trapping you in a searing kiss filled with all the smoldering hunger he’s been studiously keeping banked for weeks now.

Mindlessly, he chases the taste of you over and over — salty and sweet and everything he’s been desperately starving himself for. His fingers fumble at the tie closures along your ribs until the bodice finally falls away, baring your breasts to his gaze and seeking hands.

You gasp softly into the heated seal of his mouth when Carlos’ calloused palms close over your soft, pliant flesh. He cups and kneads with reverent, possessive strokes that have you quickly arching your chest further into his touch and throwing your head back on a wanton moan.

“Carlos ...” You breathe his name like a prayer, riding his lap with increasing urgency and bringing your mouths back together in a clash of teeth and tongues. Your fingers slide up beneath the hem of his shirt to map the shifting planes of his abdomen, nails raking over the taut, quivering muscles. “Don’t hold back with me any longer. Not tonight … need to feel all of you.”

A shudder wracks Carlos’ entire frame at your breathy plea. He knows you’re right, can feel that same desperate yearning driving you magnified inside himself. Every cell of his body is vibrating with the need to take you fully — heart, mind, and body aligning in euphoric harmony after so many weeks of well meaning denial.

Seizing your hips in a bruising grip, Carlos surges to his feet and simply holds you against him with easy strength. Your legs immediately wind around his waist as you giggle deliriously against his lips.

“Is this what you want, princesa?” He murmurs lowly, swaying subtly to grind his straining need over the lush juncture of your thighs in counterpoint. “For me to finally have my way with you the way we’ve both been craving?”

“Yes,” you hiss out through clenched teeth, back arching as Carlos nips and sucks a path down the slender column of your neck. “God, yes, Carlos. Will you just fuck me already? Here on the sand and beneath the open sky like something out of one of those romance novels you pretend not to love.”

The easy teasing breaks through whatever lingering threads of Carlos’ control were still intact and he growls low in his chest. In one deft motion, he divests you both of the rest of your clothes and spreads you out on the blanket before him in all your unabashed glory. His gaze tracks over your form hungrily, drinking in every dip and swell as you watch him with dark, wanting eyes.

“Princesa ...” Carlos breathes, gratified to see his own desire and reverent longing reflected back at him tenfold in your heated stare. “No more waiting, no more teasing.”

His meaning is clear even without the punctuation of sinking down to settle fully over your smaller form, blanketing you with his weight and forcing your thighs apart to cradle his hips. You immediately writhe beneath him, winding limber arms and legs around him in a vice grip that sears every point of contact between you.

“Carlos, mon cœur ...” You keen breathily into the scant space separating your lips, every word punched from you in counterpoint to the sensual roll of his hips grinding his arousal through your slick folds. “Please. I need you. Need to feel you all around me again after so long.”

He crushes his mouth to yours in answer, tongue instantly delving deep to taste the exquisite velvet heat of you. You clutch him closer even as Carlos shifts his weight to one forearm so his other hand can roam freely over every inch of bare, pebbled skin he can reach. When his calloused palm finally finds your breast and gives a rough squeeze, you shudder and cry out into his waiting lips.

There’s no more waiting after that. Carlos sheaths himself in one powerful, purposeful thrust that buries him to the hilt and your gasp dissolves into a broken moan. He stills for the briefest of moments, just reveling in the unbearably tight clutch of your molten sheath, every nerve ending alight and thrumming. Then he slowly withdraws until just the swollen head remains inside before immediately surging forward once more.

Your nails score lines of liquid fire down his back at the first deep, dragging stroke. But Carlos barely notices the delicious sting. He’s utterly consumed by the feeling of finally being surrounded by you again — hot, snug, and so utterly perfect. Every sound and shudder and arch of your form against his own is like the sweetest plea washing over him.

He sets a demanding pace, relentlessly pounding into you from that first jarring thrust onward. The only sounds are your mingled cries and the wet, obscene smack of flesh on flesh echoing out over the lapping ocean waves. Carlos wants to make sure there’s no doubt in your mind how much he’s craved every inch of you.

“There’s my good girl,” he rasps hotly against the bullet-hard peak of your nipple before laving it soothingly with his tongue. You release a strangled cry, back bowing sharply off the blanket as you clench down on him in rippling, vice-like pulses. “Fuck … taking me just how you were made to. So damn perfect, cariño.”

Your garbled whimpers and keens of his name drive Carlos to new levels of feverish intensity with each hitching breath. He snakes an arm beneath your sweat-slick lower back to position your hips at a slightly higher angle, seating himself even more deeply inside.

Every purposeful thrust now grinds against that tender cluster of nerves in a way that quickly has your eyes rolling back. You go boneless and whimpering, allowing Carlos to manhandle and use your plaint and plush form in whatever way he craves.

Pressure rapidly mounts within Carlos like an incoming tidal wave as your inner walls begin fluttering around him in telltale pulses. He can feel his own imminent release building in tandem at the base of his spine, that familiar molten curl of pleasure threatening to crest.

“That’s it, princesa,” he grits out raggedly against the sweat-slick arch of your throat. He slides the hand not anchoring your hips down to toy with the engorged pearl at your apex — drawing out a stream of sobbing wails. “Take what’s yours. Fucking milk me with that greedy little cunt. You were made for this cock, made to be split open and ruined on it over and over until you’ve got no idea where you end and I begin.”

The filthy words seems to be your undoing. With a sobbing cry of Carlos’ name, you seize up — inner walls rippling and convulsing like they’re taking him for everything he’s worth. Carlos hardens his jaw and summons the last threads of his control to keep himself from shattering apart at the very first fluttering pulse.

As the shattering waves of your release gradually crest and ebb, Carlos chases them down with powerful thrusts designed to prolong and intensify every aftershock. You writhe and whimper beneath him in overstimulated pleasure, rapidly going boneless and sated.

That’s when he finally surrenders to the smoldering inferno in his belly, hips snapping forward in a few final, erratic strokes before Carlos throws back his head and allows his own orgasm to rip through him. White-hot euphoria explodes across every nerve ending as he empties himself in heavy, throbbing pulses deep inside your spasming core.

“Ah fuck … just like that, cariño,” he rasps out hoarsely, grinding himself as deeply inside you as physically possible and simply shuddering through each exquisite contraction. “Taking every last fucking drop of me right where you were made for it ...”

Utterly spent, Carlos collapses forward with the last dregs of his stamina — just barely managing to catch himself on shaking forearms so he doesn’t crush you beneath his weight. You immediately latch onto him, peppering his flushed face with sweet kisses.

For several long moments, you simply hold each other through the aftershocks, chests heaving and bodies trembling. Carlos has never felt more peaceful or completely at ease in his entire life. His every sense is utterly surrounded and suffused by you in the most blissful of ways.

When his lashes finally flutter open, the first thing he sees is your adoring smile glowing up at him in the moonlight. It nearly steals what little breath remains in his lungs.

“Hi,” you murmur shyly. Carlos huffs out a breathless chuckle and tugs you even closer until your overwarm bodies are aligned from navel to sternum.

“Hi yourself, princesa,” he replies, just as softly against your lips before sinking into another deep, leisurely kiss that tastes equal parts salt and sex and forever.

When you part again, your eyes are sparkling with so much uncomplicated happiness that Carlos nearly melts into a useless puddle on the spot. He’s drowning and he’s never felt more gloriously unmoored.

“I love you, y’know? Like … down to the depths of my soul,” your fingers trail over the sharp jaw and cheekbones you now know better than your own.

The words should terrify Carlos with their intensity and implication. Instead, they simply roll through him in a cresting wave of overwhelming tenderness and clarity.

Of course he loves you. How could he not, when his existence now seems to revolve around your presence as the only fixed point in a dizzying orbit?

So rather than balk or deflect or shove those emotions back down, Carlos allows every infinite but of love and adoration and soul-deep need to shine through unfettered. He cradles your face between his palms and simply stares, committing every minuscule detail of this moment to memory before leaning down to brush his lips over yours in the sweetest, most loaded caress.

“I love you too, princesa,” he murmurs the words directly into your mouth like a sacrament. “With every fiber of my being. You are my everything.”

You tug him down into a heated, clinging embrace, holding him like you never intend to let go.

And at last, Carlos knows without a shadow of doubt that he never will either

[genderkoolaid]

yeah, but you do mean 'loveless' like 'romanceless' right? Just cause you're not interested in a romantic partnership, and you're never attracted to anyone romantically, that doesn't mean you can't love your family and your friends. Am I understanding wrong? I feel like it's a widely accepted concept that 'love' isn't just romantic, it's about caring about someone, no matter if they're your family or platonic friend or your pet.

No, "loveless" means love-less. Another anon also asked me to explain as well so:

"Lovelessness" in the aro context comes from the essay I Am Not Voldemort by K.A Cook. The essay confronts normative ideas on love, its inherent positivity and what it means to not love. From the introduction, which brings up the question of non-romantic love:

This June, I saw an increasing number of positivity and support posts for the aromantic and a-spec communities discussing the amatonormativity of “everyone falls in love”. I agree: the idea that romantic love is something everyone experiences, and is therefore a marker of human worth, needs deconstruction. Unfortunately, a majority of these posts are replacing the shackles of amatonormativity with restrictive lines like “everyone loves, just not always romantically”, referencing the importance of loving friends, QPPs, family members and pets. Sometimes it moves away from people to encompass love for hobbies, experiences, occupations and ourselves. The what and how tends to vary from post to post, but the idea that we do and must love someone or something, and this love redeems us as human and renders us undeserving of hatred, is being pushed to the point where I don’t feel safe or welcome in my own aromantic community. Even in the posts meant to be challenging the more obvious amatonormativity, it is presumed that aros must, in some way, love. I’ve spent weeks watching my a-spec and aro communities throw neurodiverse and survivor aros under the bus in order to do what the aromantic community oft accuses alloromantic aces of doing: using their ability to love as a defence of their humanity. Because I love, they say, I also don’t deserve to be a target of hatred, aggression and abuse. But what if I don’t love? What if love itself has been the mechanism of the hatred and violence I have endured? Why am I, an aro, neurodiverse survivor of abuse and bullying, still acceptable collateral damage?

The author criticizes the idea of "true love" that is incapable of harm. Ze questions why we construct love in that way, and how it ignores and simplifies the experiences of victims of abuse ("It’s comforting to think that a love that wounds isn’t real love, but it denies the complexity of experience and feeling had by survivors. It denies the complexity of experience and feeling that makes it harder for us to identify abuse and escape its claws. It denies the validity of survivors who look at love and feel an honest doubt about its worth, as a word or a concept, in our own interactions and experiences.") Ze talks about being forced to say "I love you" to transphobic, abusive parents whose feelings of love was the justification for their abuse.

The core of what "loveless" as an concept is about is summed up in this quote:

There is no substantial difference between saying “I’m human because I fall in love”, “I’m human because I love my friends” and “I’m human because I love calligraphy”. All three statements make human worth contingent on certain behaviours, feelings and experiences. Expanding the definition of what kinds of love make us human does nothing but save some aros from abuse and antagonism … while telling survivor and neurodiverse aros, who are more likely to have complex relationships to love as a concept or are unable to perform it in ways recognised by others, that we’re still not worthy.

Lovelessness is against any kind of statement which quantifies humanity (and implicitly, human worth) in the ability to feel or act or experience certain things. Humans are human by virtue of being human, and nothing else. And, it is socially constructed! "Love" has no natural definition! Some people are not comfortable using "love" to describe positive feelings and relationships, and some people do not feel those positive feelings in general. And those people deserve the right to define their own experiences and their own relationship to the social construct of love.

In essence, lovelessness is both a personal as well as (in my opinion) a political identity, born from aro and mad experiences that challenges not just amatonormativity but all ideas that associate personhood and worth with the ability to feel certain things.

& as a note, there is also the term "lovequeer" which describes using the term "love" in ways which contradict mainstream understandings of what it means to love, and which kinds of love are considered worthwhile.

[meowzfordayz]

when you’re laughing nonstop

Author’s Note: humor isn’t exactly my selling point, so pls and ty enjoy my attempt(s) @ #funny. 🙃

when you’re laughing nonstop

Hashira x Reader, Kamaboko x Reader

Word Count: ~800

CW: explicit language

Emergency Request Fulfilled: If by any chance could you do the Hashira or the the kamboko squad, without trying to, makes the reader laugh like so hard they're crying, and any time they talk the reader just laughs more? (Idk if youve ever had those moments but those are the best laughs lol) How would they react?

~faqs~

When you’re laughing nonstop…

… Zenitsu panics, because he thinks you’re laughing at him?! It doesn’t help that after literally anything he says or does, you burst into giggles… and your inability to explain that you’re laughing with him rather than at him (albeit, he isn’t exactly laughing — more so pouting) due to the constant onslaught of giggles only exacerbates his panic and confusion.

… Inosuke thinks it’s a competition. “DID YOU REALLY BELIEVE YOU COULD OUT LAUGH ME?!” *cue maniacal laughing fit*  Meanwhile, you’re clutching your stomach, gasping for air, and entirely unable to inform him that: It isn’t a competition, idiot!

… Gyomei, the poor man, is just trying to meditate, but it’s hard for him to focus when you’re snorting every other second, your efforts to conceal your laughter less than successful. He doesn’t have the heart to ask you to leave, but he does gently (and sternly) cradle your head to his chest (he’s hoping his pulse’ll calm you), exasperated smile tugging at the corner of his mouth when you instead dampen his happi with your tears (from laughing so hard).

… Obanai tries to act irritated, but the twinkle in your eyes as you cling hopelessly to his haori’s sleeve, body shaking with laughter, is too endearing for him to maintain his facade. “Are you done?” he asks, indifference nearly giving way to a fond smile. “N-no!” you manage to gasp, promptly dissolving into another round of laughter, “Not even c-close!”

… Tanjirou waits for you to get it out of your system, smiling brightly the entire time. He doesn’t quite understand what’s so funny—all of his attempts to ask you result in half finished sentences interrupted by more laughter—but he does know you’re happy, and if you’re happy, then he’s happy! 

… your tears initially worry Mitsuri, but once she’s confident that they’re happy tears, and after observing that she seems to be the reason behind them, she brings you a handkerchief and does her best to prolong your laughter (facepalm worthy puns are her specialty).

… Shinobu clucks her tongue, already knowing you’re eventually going to end up with the hiccups. “W-where are you *hiccup* g-oing?” you whine, eyes narrow with suspicion, “Don’t leave meee!” Rolling her eyes, she lightly flicks your forehead, voice wry with amusement, “I’m getting you a glass of water,” raising an eyebrow as you hiccup again, “You’re clearly going to need it,” pressing a soft kiss to your shoulder, “I’m not leaving you.”

… Kyojuro watches you with great interest, and mild concern. It only happened once, but once was enough. (it being you choking on your own spit from laughing too hard, and almost passing out because he didn’t realize you were actually choking versus laughing)

… Sanemi swears you’ve been possessed by the devil. “Nothing in this world is that funny,” he grumbles, swatting away your fingers as you attempt to pinch his cheeks, “Stop it.” Of course, his petulant grimace only makes you giggle harder, and you know he isn’t really mad when he finally acquiesces and allows you to wield his hand: “Why are you hitting yourself? Why are you hitting yourself?” as you playfully smack his face with his palm, your delighted, triumphant grin soothing the glower in his stare. #the man is whipped #the man is in love

… Muichiro smiles ruefully, toe throbbing as you laugh and point at his misfortune. “A-are you o-okay?” you gasp between chuckles, “That chair really did a number on you!” What’s important to him is knowing that, were it a serious injury, you’d help first, laugh later… right?

… Giyuu prays it’ll end soon. Don’t get him wrong! He adores your smile, wishes he could bottle up your laughter for a rainy day, and overall cherishes your happiness… but he simply doesn’t know what to do when the giggles strike. Should I stand here and wait? Would now be an inappropriate time to go do laundry? Uh oh… they’re getting closer… if they get ahold of you, then you’ll have to stand here and wait… shit! *insert Giyuu awkwardly patting your head as you sob-laugh-sniffle into his chest*

… Tengen swells with pride, muscles subconsciously flexing, hair subtly shining, eyes glimmering. Who cares if you’re laughing at him? Either way, he’s the reason you’re laughing so hard, and he’ll be damned if he doesn’t get the credit for making you so happy. That being said, if the laughter shows signs of spreading to Hina… to Makio… to Suma… #Uzui Tengen is now running away #legend says he’s still running to this day (“What do you mean I’m running? Pfft! I can handle four hysterical spouses! Absolutely! 100%!”)

[inky-duchess]

Who fell first? Who fell harder?

Who is the one who fusses the most? Does their S/O mind very much?

What is their love language?

Has either OC ever gotten a hickey off the other? What was their reaction?

What is something they like to do together?

Who would ask the "would you love me if I were a worm?" question? How would their S/O answer?

Who likes forehead kisses? Who likes hand kisses? Who likes neck kisses?

Who is the big spoon? Little spoon?

If there wasnt enough seats, how would they sit? One on the other's lap? One on the armrest? One on the floor in front of them?

Who plays with whose hair?

Who is clingy?

What is something their S/O does that makes them flustered?

What is something they find hot about their S/O?

What is something they argue about constantly? Is it a deep-seated issue or something small?

How do they comfort one another when the other is upset?

Who is the better caretaker? Does their S/O like being taken care of?

Who steals whose clothes? Does their significant other mind?

They've had a major blowout. How do they handle it?

How good are they are communication?

Who handles the spiders? Who screams directions in the background?

Who typically tends to initiate intimacy first (this can be a conversation, action or anything)?

What is something - either character - doesn't like about the other?

Who said "I love you" first?

Who kissed who first?

Do they have any pet names for one another?

Who gets jealous most often? How does their S/O deal with that?

Who tends to drive on long journeys? Who navigates?

Do they trust one another? Are comfortable discussing their fears with one another?

What's an insecurity they hold about their relationship?

Describe how one character would cheer the other up after a hard day.

How would they describe one another.

Can they communicate private thoughts whilst in company? If so, how?

Which one of them gives "that look" when they other is acting like a fool?

How do they address a problem in their relationship?

How does each significant other view any exes and former relationships?

What is something that would break their hearts?

Who is more likely to avenge their S/O if they were hurt or killed?

What would be their ideal evening in?

Do they dance? If so, who's better?

What is a song that reminds you of the OCs' relationship?

Who sings to the other? Are they any good?

Who teases who? What about?

Who gets up early? Who stays in bed late?

Who's more likely to bring the other coffee or breakfast in bed?

What's the worst thing the other can say to one?

If they were ever in a life or death situation, who risks their life?

If it ever came down to it, who is turning to the darkside to save the other?

If they ever had less that 5 mins to tell their S/O something before never seeing them again, what would they say?

Is there a word or gesture that makes either of them melt?

Who's the romantic?

Are there any characters who ship them?

Who cooks? Who does the dishes?

Who eats healthier? Who's got the sweet-tooth?

What's something that they don't really care for but tolerate because S/O has an interest?

Who spoils who? Does their S/O tolerate it? Do they secretly enjoy it?

Who tends to be the level-headed one? Who is feral?

Who reminds the other to wear a coat when it's cold out?

Do they hold hands?

Is there a spot they tend to kiss or caress habitual?

Are they willing to show PDA? If not, is there a reason?

How would they describe their S/O in one word?

How would outside characters describe their relationship?

How would they describe one another in bed?

Would they ever answer the above question if it was asked to their face? How would they react?

Who tends to take the lead in intimate encounters?

Have they ever been caught in the act? What would be their reaction if they were?

Have they ever done it anywhere questionable?

Who is more vocal? Who is more experienced?

If they were to go shopping, who holds the bags? Who decides where they go?

If they went out to dinner, who is paying? Would there even be a discussion?

If someone were to insult their S/O, how would the other handle it?

If someone flirted with or showed an interest in their S/O, how would the other react?

Who knows the other better? Why is this?

Who's more likely to bail who out of jail? Would they give the other one shit for it?

Which - if any - other famous ship's vibes do they emulate?

Are they soulmates? Do they believe in that?

What is something they would never forgive the other one for doing/saying?

Who has memorised the other's medical history?

Also, are they each other's first contact in an accident?

What tropes could be applied to this relationship?

Did they have a meet cute? Or was it a train wreck?

Make their relationship into a list of A03 tags.

Who gets frustrated more easily? Who does the other calm them down?

Have they ever almost lost one another? How does it effect their relationship?

Their S/O is tipsy. How do they handle it?

Who gives the best gifts? Who gives the more thoughtful? Who goes for expensive?

If they ever lost one another in a public place, how do they find the other?

What's the darkest secret they have ever told one another?

Would they ever consider marriage?

Would they ever consider starting a family?

Who likes kids more? Who can't stand them?

There's a puddle in one's way. What does their S/O do?

One has hurt their leg on a hike. How does their S/O carry them?

Their pet has caused destruction. Who puts the pet in jail? Who defends the pet?

Who gives flowers to their S/O? What sort of flowers do they like?

Who reads the newspaper? Who wants to see the cartoons?

How do they wake their S/O up? Is it difficult to rouse them?

Who would burn the world down for who?

Who gives off "they said no pickles" energy?

Make a meme of this ship.

You can ask me about: Nikolai/Misha, Alekks/Erika, Katya/Marina, Hadrien/Art

[floshav]

part 2 to my last rodrick fic which u can read here !

summary: Rodrick proves his likeness for y/n through a spontaneous kiss leaving her smitten and dazed. However, thoughts of Heather still lingered in her mind, constantly being reminded of the blonde girl whenever she passed by. "Does Rodrick still like her?" "Does he even like me?" What happens when Heather suddenly takes interest in Rodrick after ignoring him for years just because she can't let y/n get what she wants.

wc: 2k plus

warnings: allusions to smut, heavy make out

2 weeks later...

the kiss, no not just the kiss but the two kisses rodrick and y/n shared that night resulted in their relationship. She had been left smitten and the feeling was one of those that even if you wanted to forget, you couldn't. The heart racing, blush inducing feeling of getting kissed on by rodrick the boy she'd been crushing on for years, with his rough boy lips which still managed to be soft and plush because well, he was Rodrick after all.

It was now a plain old Monday and she was lost daydreaming in her Calculus class, or was it english? She couldn't bother to take notice.

"Alright, take out your calculators and flip to page 56. We'll be grinding through the workbook today class!" Ms. Smith yelled whilst her big buggy glasses fell down the tip of her nose bridge, stopped by her finger which shoved them back in place. Y/n couldn't care less. Her mind was swarmed with what happened 2 weeks ago.

His lips grazed hers one more time, this time softer and one might say more lovingly if she was in a state of delirium. She felt his slender hand creep up the side of her hip brushing it against her shirt so so gently. He broke off the kiss and his face was so close to hers she felt as if she might faint right then and there. The boy who was rough, impatient and borderline rude crumbled in-front of her. She'd never seen Rodrick like this before. Each freckle, each fine line, each perfect imperfection visible to her now. She'd imagined this image thousands of times before, but never had she imagined it to come true. Rodrick hesitated before saying his next words "I- I really like you y/n. And- and i just want to set that clear before you try showing up to my house drunk silly again. You were being so wreck less you know that?" He chuckled dorky-ly ever so slightly which made her heart pound just a little harder. Her heart fluttered at how he cared for her.

"M'sorry I-i just, m'just so jealous." She slurred as her eyes began to tear up with a mix of happiness, jealousy, anger and most of all, sadness. "Why? You know i'm here for you and you only, stupid." Rodrick whispered so softly against her lips but y/n's mind swarmed with confusion. "B-but you always *hiccup* talk about Heather." She sighed as she let herself fall into her hands. "Makes it *hiccup* hard to believe" She said again. "I-" He moves further back and a familiar ache rises to her chest, one of abandonment. "She was just someone I was infatuated in. Nothing more. Fuck. If i really liked her, would i have kissed you back? Let alone kiss you again?" He said making eye contact this time. He looked absolutely illegal. The way his hair was his usual mess, his blown out eyeliner smudged beneath his fox eyes. His puffy lips. Everything about him made her feel unreasonably hot in the cool weather. "S-so no more feelings for her?" "No. no more." he said so seriously it made her scared. "In fact, she's an asshole and i don't want any part of her in my life." He said whilst memories of what Heather did earlier fled his mind. Rodrick plants a kiss at the corner of y/n's lips and this time she knows it was meant lovingly. Still, at the back of her mind, the one aching question lingered, didn't he say he loved her?

"Y/n?" "Ms y/n?" She blinked and the memory was interrupted by an annoying voice. "Do you care to open your workbook? Or do you intend on staring at the cover for the next hour?" Ms Smith's breath tickled the hairs on the back of her neck waking her from her daydreams of what happened that hazy night.

"Yea, sorry ms smith." She smiled tightly before flipping to page 66 or 57 the page number was was a blur to her, but an open book would do.

He planted a soft kiss at the crook of her neck.

suddenly her mind wandered to what happened later that night.

Hand riding up under her shirt. "is this okay?" His voice was earnest and soft against the skin of her neck.

her thighs clenched together unintentionally and she felt ashamed for imaging such lewd things. She'd been daydreaming about that night for the past few weeks. Each week making her crave for more until she felt sick. Rodrick hadn't made a move like that on her ever since, and she was just too shy to even ask so images in her mind would do for now.

He unclasped her bra in one swift motion and it made her question if he'd done this before, with... Heather? No, can't be, she doesn't even care for him. Right?

The kissing started to turn into making out and y/n felt his breathing falter when she brushed her pinky against his crotch by accident.

"Fuck do you even know what you're doing right now-"

"Ms. y/l/n!" Just as quickly as it started, her daydreaming had come to a halt.

"I've been calling your name for the past 5 minutes. Care to share your answer to the whole class? I assume you didn't even hear the question number i gave you. Number 5! Now." Ms. Smith tried to hush her yelling down to be more precarious.

"Sorry Ms." Y/n sighed before making her way to the black board with a dumb empty mind filled with Rodrick.

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

The same could be said about Rodrick. His usual sleepiness that was met with classes vanished ever since that night. Instead of sleeping, he was putting his pretty dumb brain to use by thinking. Thinking about y/n. Every night, everyday, every moment. He'd be lying if he said that she was the only girl he'd ever gained feelings for, because Heather Hills did exist. But it was true when he said he didn't like her anymore.

"Mmm- Aaah- R-rodrick p-please not my neck."

"Shhh, just one more kiss y/n, please."

"F-fuck!"

"FUCK FUCK FUCK FUC-"

Before Rodrick's dream could get any steamier he was awoken to the sound of Heather cursing just beside him, clearly to get someone's attention.

"FUCK! how am i going to do this!!!" Heathers voice was painfully exaggerated and Rodrick couldn't help but cringe. Was this the girl he was smitten by before?

"Oh- Hey Roddy!" Heather smirked as she twisted her body to face him.

Rodrick's head was rested on his arm and he couldn't help but look at her with dead eyes, clearly annoyed.

"You.... you play the drums right?"

"Mmm" Rodrick groaned as he scratched his temple, he was surprised at how much he didn't care for THE Heathers presence anymore.

"Was wondering if.... You'd wanna play a gig at my birthday party?"

Rodrick's eyes lit up. A gig? That was a once in a blue moon occasion to rodrick's ears. But reality struck him when he remembered it was Heather who was asking.

"Mmm sorry Heather, don't think i can." Though it ached him to decline the gig, he knew you wouldn't like it so he sucked it up. Rodrick felt a sense of pride when he realised he didn't stumble over his words around her anymore.

"Awwww but why! I'll pay you 50 bucks an hour, and you know my parties last long." She feigned a girly voice as she batted her long eyelashes which icked Rodrick out.

50 bucks an hour..... The offer was tempting but, you were even more tempting.

Before Rodrick could answer, you walked in the class with a goofy smile, ready to see your Rodrick with..... Heather.

Heather shot back daggers through a fake soft smile. The type she'd give to a teacher after almost being caught doing something.

"Oh... Hello there y/n! Sorry, Rodrick was just telling me about how he'd love to play drums at my party. Isn't that right Rodrick?"

"Wh- No?" Rodrick scoffed out, eyes squinting at the mischievous blue eyed blonde.

"Oh c'mon, don't lie to y/n just because you pity her! You're a man! Act like one." Heather said as she got up from her chair slightly agitated at the fact Rodrick didn't play along.

"See you there Roddy." Heather said before smirking and popping out her ass dramatically.

roddy... That nickname made y/n's blood boil and she never wanted to hear it again.

"I swear! I-I did not agree to any of the shit she just yapped about." Rodrick panicked whilst stumbling over his words like a nervous teenager, that familiar feeling rising again but this time towards y/n.

"Hard to believe Rodrick. Or should i say Roddy... God! i shouldnt have been so naive. I'm so stupid! I thought you were over her." Y/n lashed out before storming out the classroom in a hurry, not thinking straight.

"Wait! Fuck. That fucking bitch Heather." Rodrick sighed out as he reached for the class door.

You found yourself slanting against a crusty brick wall beside a half broken vending machine. You don't know why you overreacted so fast without even bothering to hear Rodrick's explanation but maybe it was because you were so stupidly insecure. You quickly fumbled around your pants pockets to find an old packet of ciggs you remembered you left there. There were 2 left so you lit one up and breathed in the pure comfort. It felt nice to not care just for a second with the cigarette around. When it could have gotten more peaceful you heard a set of obnoxious dorky feet approach you.

"Hey." Rodrick said lightly as he squatted down to your eye level, lanky hands hanging by each sides of his knees.

It made you jump a little and your facade of wanting to remain mad slowly revealed itself. You couldn't help but suppress a tight smile from leaking out.

"What" You said as you blew a whiff of smoke away from his face. His heart fluttered at the small gesture.

"I really did not agree to what Heather told you." He said seriously which was a rare look on Rodrick.

"Are you sure? Cuz it seems like you two are getting along just fine" Y/n sighed as she pushed her hair back, Rodrick's heart beat pounding harder by the second.

"Please, believe me I- I really did not agree to anything, I-I really want you to believe me please." Rodrick was pleading which was something she only saw when he was lovesick. At that moment she knew he couldn't harm her emotionally.

"Alright. Fine, I believe you." Y/n said with a tired voice, though deep down she was glad she could read Rodrick like an open book.

"Im so sorry." Rodrick sighs before nuzzling his head in the crook of her neck, still a nervous wreck whenever he handled her.

She releases her cig and reaches in to hug him back tightly and lovingly before breathing in the intoxicating scent of him. Far better than a cig.

Just around the corner was a cheeky little Heather, listening in to every single decibel of the convo. Heather tightly rolled her eyes and scoffed before it turned into a smirk. Something clicked in her head. She knew what she had to do.

She was going to fake it till she made it.

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

lol i feel like this story deserves a pt3 so if this does well i will continue it! I know this has been a long times worth of progress but i've been procrastinating writing like crazy lately and i've only started getting back into it. Anyway please do request because i'm always bored and free !

[yoon-kooks]

on mute | jjk

🦈pairing: fuckboy!gamer!jjk x reader

🦈genre: friends to lovers, office!au, coworker!au, smut, fluff

🦈summary: You always assumed your handsome coworker was down to fuck anyone in the office except for you. He always assumed you weren’t interested in a guy like him. And both of you were content with never admitting your feelings… until he unknowingly confides in you in the realms of a certain tactical FPS game.

🦈word count: 10.7k

🦈warnings: mutual pining, shooter game references, soft fuckboy vibes, fingering, doggy style, protected sex bc bro aint taking no chances🤠

a/n: i wasnt planning on including smut so thats a bonus✨

You press a hand to your mouth to suppress a yawn as the department meeting finally comes to an end. Your boss had gone over the schedule for next quarter, alluded to a few new projects, and gave a few shoutouts to people on your team who apparently “went the extra mile” this week. You couldn’t care less about being acknowledged for your work, but it does kind of irk you that Jeon Jungkook got a shoutout when you’ve never seen him do extra work in the office. All he’s done this week is take your pretty lady boss out to lunch. If that’s considered extra work, you suppose Jungkook works the hardest. After all, he’s the type to make time for anyone he wants to sleep with aka everyone in the office except for you.

As you scoot your chair out, you back into something very solid. Surely no one is dumb enough to stand right behind your chair when they know how eager everyone is to get out of here for the weekend. But when you turn around, you know exactly who it is without even seeing his face—Employee of the Week Jeon Jungkook. 

You stare at the back of his shoulders in that mustard button-down, and it occurs to you that it was his nice ass that you’d bumped into. He didn’t even stumble forward from the impact or at least step aside so you can leave like everyone else. You just want to get home, soak in a nice hot bubble bath, and play a few games with your calico all curled up in your lap—that’s the ideal Friday night that Jeon Jungkook is keeping you from.

“Excuse me, kind sir,” you say as your nude acrylics tap the armrest.

The boy turns around with fake astonishment. And a handsome smile. “Oh, Y/N, I didn’t know you were still here.”

“I mean, yeah, I’d be gone too if someone wasn’t blocking my way out.” In the year that you’ve been on the same team as Jungkook, the two of you somehow developed this sarcastic and aggressive way of speaking without actually being mad at each other. Some call it banter, but you dislike the possible romantic implications of that.

“What’s the rush? Got plans tonight?” He still doesn’t move out of the way. You didn’t expect him pinning you against a table in the office to be so underwhelming. You imagine a fuck boy like him could try a little harder, be a little rougher. Not that you’ve ever fantasized about it.

“Yeah, I just bought some cute new lingerie for when I hop into bed with Christina Lauren and my cat.” You leave out the gaming part of your Friday night plans. If he knew you played the same game as him, he’d probably use it against you somehow.

“Who’s Christina Lauren?” he asks. You love the thought of him imagining you in lingerie with some mystery woman. Or maybe that’d just encourage a threesome.

“My cat’s favorite romance writer?” You say it like it should be common sense to know that your cat purrs himself to sleep when you read to him.

“And you’re going to waste your cute new lingerie on reading a Lauren Christina bedtime story to your cat?”

“It’s Christina Lauren, not Lauren Christina.”

“Christina Lauren doesn’t care about your lingerie.” It amuses you how he keeps bringing up the lingerie. You wonder what he’d think if he saw you in that skimpy mesh fabric. It’d probably come as a shock to him considering he’s only ever seen you in your preppy office attire. He has no idea what you’re capable of beneath those cream blouses and mocha mini skirts.

If only he knew.

“Tldr, yes I have very urgent plans tonight.” That reminds you, you need to check your in-game shop to see if any pretty skins are on sale this time around. You’ve been eyeing the one with the cute whale shark design.

“What a coincidence, Lauren Christina is my favorite writer too. I really liked that one book she wrote.” You don’t hate that he’s prolonging the conversation, but if he says “Lauren Christina” one more time, you’re gonna report him to HR.

“Same,” you chuckle. “Now please move so I can leave.”

He finally steps aside. Before he can pull a fast one and trap you again, you throw your tiny bag over your shoulder and scurry for the exit. You stop just outside the conference room and spin around. The boy’s eyes quickly shift up from your skirt.

“Coming or not?” you ask with a head tilt. If there’s one good thing about having a local fuck boy in the office, it’s that you always have someone who’ll walk you to your car when it’s dark out. That’s one of the things you know he does just for you.

On the elevator ride down, it’s just you and him because everyone else has already vacated the building. You sneak a peek at your handsome colleague. It’s a shame that he spends more time in your coworkers’ beds than in actual relationships. If not for that, you’d—

“You should recommend a book for me,” he says, catching you mindlessly staring at him. Oops.

“You don’t look like a reader.” You doubt he’d ever pick up a book over girls.

“I’ll read a book if you say it’s good.” Now he’s just sweet talking you, and you’re not going to fall for it. Except, you would love someone to gush to about your favorite books.

“Dating You/Hating You.” The book title just sort of slips out of your mouth. Though you can’t exactly vouch for how good it is since it’s the one you’re currently reading.

“Give me your best elevator pitch for it.” Haha, he thinks he’s so funny. (You laugh anyway.)

Persuasion is your thing, but you can’t give a proper elevator pitch for a book you haven’t actually finished yet. Moreover, you don’t know what kinds of genres he’d be into or if this book would be a good fit for him. You don’t even know any of his interests outside of sex and video games. 

When you really think about it, there’s not much you know about Jeon Jungkook. He’s a mystery, but a charming one.

“It’ll give us something to talk about,” you say softly as the loud ding interrupts. “That’s my elevator pitch to you.”

“Not bad,” he nods as you both exit the elevator. That was way easier than expected. “Is it by your cat’s favorite romance author?”

“It is,” you smile. It’s hard not to smile when you’re with him. “I can lend you my copy next week after I fin—”

“Jungkook!” The new recruiting coordinator blocks your way out of the building with eager eyes and a smile brighter than your own. “Still down for drinks later at that place we talked about?”

You try not to roll your eyes as you step around yet another coworker who ignores you standing right next to the boy they want to ask out. You and Jungkook aren’t a thing, but it does hurt to know that not a single person thinks of you as worthy competition. He’s probably made it very clear to everyone in the office that you and him are just friends and that your nightly walks to the parking lot are for safety purposes only.

Thankfully, you get out of the building before you can hear Jungkook accept the invitation into someone else’s bed. The last thing you want is to be jealous of the people he’d rather be spending time with. You and your silly little book recommendations mean nothing to him.

Nothing at all.

“Sorry about that.” He catches up to you a minute later in the dimly lit parking lot.

You shake your head. “It’s alright. That’s what happens when you’re the popular guy.” And you mean it, too. You’re not the type to fault people for being who they are, nor would you ever ask them to change for you. Besides, there’s really nothing between you and him. There’s nothing he should feel sorry for.

“Hey, why do you always park in the furthest corner of the parking lot?” he teases, probably as a way to change the subject. You see his car parked just a few spots down from you, so he doesn’t really have a right to criticize your decisions. Looks like your habit has rubbed off on him. “It’d be safer if you parked closer to the building.”

You shrug even though the parking placement and slightly longer walks are intentional. He doesn’t need to know it’s your subtle way of prolonging the time you spend with him. You always look forward to those few extra minutes where he’s all yours.

“It doesn’t feel dangerous here at all.” Not when you’re with him. You unlock your car and hop into the driver’s seat.

“Yeah, totally not dangerous.” Jungkook holds your door as he scans the dark and empty lot for anything suspicious. He listens as a few sirens screech in the distance and does a double-take at the lone soda can rolling around in the wind. When the coast is clear, he turns back to you. “I look forward to reading the Lauren Christina book when your cat’s done with it.”

He waits for your seatbelt to click before closing the door. You roll the window down and glare. “It’s Christina Lauren! And have fun on your date.”

With a wave of your manicure, you’re off to your “urgent” Friday night plans.

When you return home, you get what you want. You strip off your work clothes and soak in a lavender bubble bath for a good 30 minutes before admiring the new lingerie Jungkook wouldn’t stop mentioning earlier. 

It’s tempting to try it on now, but you wish someone else could see it on you. Jungkook is right. Christina Lauren doesn’t care about your lingerie. If the boy were here to see it for himself, you want to know what he’d think, what he’d say, and what he’d do to your body. It’d probably be incredible—for one night—but that’d be the end of it. That’s how all of his flings go, and a hypothetical one with you would be no different. With a sigh, you set the lingerie aside, throw on an oversized sweatshirt that just barely covers your ass, and load into your game.

The first thing you do is check the shop for the cute gun skin with the whale shark design. The RNG gods give you a couple of good knives, an awful pistol, a subpar rifle, and no shark. It’s fine, you tell yourself. You didn’t want to spend real money on pretty pixels anyway.

As soon as your first match starts, your four teammates are quick to use their mics. Apparently, they all know each other. Can’t relate.

“So… How’d the date go?” asks the healer. The two duelists place their bets on whether the date went incredibly well or horribly wrong. You silently cast your vote for horribly wrong since you lean toward pessimism.

“I didn’t end up going,” says the initiator. He sounds a lot like a certain Jeon Jungkook, but you shouldn’t assume. As far as you know, he doesn’t have a reason to cancel the date with that recruiting coordinator. In fact, he should be having drunk sex with her right about now. Not that it’s any of your business to know what your handsome coworker does after hours. None of that involves you.

“Is it because of You-know-who?” asks the duelist who voted with you. You-know-who? Like a jealous ex-lover? Sounds like drama to you.

“Yep…” Nah, it can’t be the Jeon Jungkook you know. This guy’s voice is giving you more lovesick puppy than confident fuck boy. He dies from a grenade and goes silent for the next few rounds while his buddies keep providing intel to the team. You pick up the whale shark gun over his dead body.

“Hey, CL,” the healer calls out your username. “Do you have a mic?”

Yes, you do have a mic. No, you’re not going to use it. These guys seem harmless so far, but it’s not always fun when people realize you’re the only female on the team. Men in this game try to hit on you just like the ones you pass in the short distance from the office to your car. And they’ll only stop pestering you if you’re walking next to a guy like Jungkook, which you clearly don’t have in this game with your empty friend list. So you’d rather stay on mute for now.

“my mic is broken,” you type, “cat knocked it over.”

“Ah, that’s okay.” He heals you up and saves you from an otherwise fatal headshot. “We were just wondering if you could help our buddy out.”

You? You’re not sure how you’re supposed to be of any help to a lovesick puppy when you haven’t had much luck in the love department either. But you are a curious kitten when it comes to other people’s love lives.

“maybe… can i get more context?”

Apparently, this lovesick puppy (or “Jklmnop” according to his username) has a little more in common with Jungkook than you’d originally thought. Turns out both of them are the designated fuck boys at their workplaces. Except this one has a massive crush on his “super hot” colleague. Jeon Jungkook would never.

The issue is that Jklmnop caught feelings for the one person who doesn’t seem interested in him. Worse, it feels like he’s being friendzoned. And he’s been going on dates with other people in an attempt to squash those unrequited feelings, but it’s just not doing the trick.

“i know a fuck boy too.” You are by no means an expert in the fuck boy archetype, but perhaps your time spent with Jungkook has prepared you for this opportunity to help a friend in need. And you do have some advice. “im not saying fucking all your coworkers is a bad thing but if you really want this girl you need to go all in on her and show her that you’re willing to commit to something more serious.”

Because if you knew this to be true about your own local fuck boy, you’d give him a chance, too. But as far as you know, Jungkook has never shown any romantic interest in you (or anyone else for that matter). He’s just a platonic buddy to you and a fuck buddy to everyone else.

“and it’s very possible she doesnt even realize youre interested in her,” you type, “this is a dumb question but have you tried asking her out yet?”

Your dumb question gets a few laughs from the boys. You feel like an IT person asking their client if they’ve tried turning their computer off and on again.

“Oh, our guy here doesn’t ask people out. He’s the one getting asked out all the time,” Duelist #1 explains.

“It’s been a year and You-know-who hasn’t made a move on him, so that must mean she doesn’t like him,” Duelist #2 adds in a sarcastic tone. You imagine him rolling his eyes on the other side of his screen.

“well @Jklmnop if you dont normally ask ppl out, itll hold more weight when you do.” Your fingers pause for a second. Maybe you’re just soft, but it’d mean a lot to you if you were asked out by the Jeon Jungkook. You’re sure this fuck boy could pull it off too. “you should ask her out. maybe shes waiting for you to make the move.”

You don’t get an immediate response, but he trades his pretty shark gun for your plain one. He must have seen you steal the one over his dead body a few rounds ago. What a thoughtful guy.

Then a friend request pops up. Fine. Jklmnop can be the one username on your otherwise empty friend list.

“I’ll ask her if the opportunity arises,” Jklmnop says after clutching a 1v4. “Thanks bro.”

On Monday, you’re a lot sleepier than you should be at the beginning of the work week because you practically spent the entire weekend gaming with your new fuck boy friend and finishing the book you recommended to your office fuck boy friend.

Your dark circles must be pretty bad because Jungkook feels the need to stop by your desk and say, “Up all night reading Lauren Christina?” He taps the book on your mousepad, so he can clearly see that it’s Christina Lauren and not Lauren Christina. He’s just teasing you at this point.

“It’s Christina Lauren, you shithead. And yes, I finished it, so you can read it now,” you say, handing the book to the boy. He holds it with a soft grip as if to avoid creasing the pages. If library books were treated with the same care, they wouldn’t feel so crusty all the time. You can respect guys with gentle hands. “I expect a full book report by Friday.”

“At least give me the weekend,” he frowns. It’s the most attractive frown you’ve ever seen.

“Sure, if that’s how you want to spend your weekend,” you yawn. Wouldn’t he rather be doing anything else on his days off than read your book?

“That’s how you spent your weekend, Sleepyhead.” He makes a good point. His chuckle is quite cute too. 

As he flips through the book, you see something shimmery wedged between the pages toward the end of the story. You told yourself a million times to take your silly little bookmark out before lending him the book, but of course you forgot. Maybe he won’t notice.

Unfortunately for you, Jungkook pulls the metallic blue bookmark out to examine it. His lips curve upward when he sees it’s shaped like a whale shark. Oh great. He’s definitely gonna tease you about it. You knew you should’ve gone with one of the more sophisticated leather bookmarks.

“You really like these guys, huh.” He holds it up by the chain to let some light shine through the tiny holes mimicking the shark’s gorgeous spotty pattern. Not the reaction you were expecting, but you’ll take it.

“What makes you say that?” You don’t ever recall confiding in him about your whale shark obsession. Last time you checked, all of your nerdy and kiddish quirks were kept far away from your office. It’s just not on-brand for the professional image you’ve established here.

“Didn’t you have a cute whale shark phone case when you first started working here? Before you switched it to that cream-colored one?” He wrinkles his face, deep in thought as he tucks the bookmark back where he found it. He’s right, though. You just assumed no one had ever noticed it. As soon as you got your new work phone, you switched to something more neutral to fit your minimalist aesthetic.

“Oh, right.” You’d forgotten about the case just like you forgot about the bookmark. But Jungkook somehow notices and remembers those kinds of details about you. It’s almost endearing in a way.

You shouldn’t let yourself think like that, though. Those are dangerous thoughts.

“By the way, how was your date?” As much as you hate to admit it, you’re curious about his date with the recruiting coordinator. Besides, if he says it went well, you’ll have yet another reason to stop holding onto the tiny feelings you have for him.

“I didn’t go.”

“Oh,” you press a finger to your parted lips. That’s unheard of for Jeon Jungkook. “Did her cat die or something?”

“Why does someone’s cat need to die for the date to be canceled?”

“There must’ve been a pretty big emergency for you to forgo a date, no?”

“Is that what you really think of me, Y/N?” He cocks his head to the side because he’s a fuck boy and that’s what fuck boys do.

“That’s not what I think of you.” Another yawn slips from your mouth. “It’s just facts. You have a 99% attendance rate when it comes to dates, don’t you?”

He nods because he can’t argue with the credible gossip that goes on in your office.

“Anyway, I’m going to run to that coffee shop you won’t shut up about,” he says as he glances at the time on his phone and then at the dark abyss under your eyes. “Need anything?”

“Hmm…” You pretend to think deeply about your order. Usually when other people go on coffee runs, you request something easy to remember like an oat latte. But for Jeon Jungkook, the boy who keeps fucking up Christina Lauren’s name, you won’t go so easy. “How about an iced birthday cake latte with oat milk, an extra shot of espresso, two pumps of toffee syrup, and the crème brûlée topping? Please.”

“So… birthday cake frappuccino with oat milk?” He snickers in your sleepy face before walking off. “You’re gonna have to come with if you want all that extra stuff.”

It’s a latte, not a frappuccino. But you suppose it doesn’t matter if he knows the difference because you’re scurrying to catch up with him as he heads for the elevator.

The “coffee shop you won’t shut up about” has been open for a few months now, and you’ve stopped by at least two times a week since the grand opening for your usual dose of caffeine. Should you be proud or embarrassed that the baristas all know your name and order? How about when they raise their eyebrows at the sight of you walking in with your handsome coworker?

“She’ll have a birthday cake frapp—”

“Don’t listen to him. I’ll get a birthday cake latte, please,” you tell the barista at the register. Jungkook chuckles as you give his arm a light shove. “With oat milk and crème brûlée today.”

“Sure thing, Y/N,” she smiles at you and then turns to the boy next to you. “Anything for you?”

“Just plain coffee, thanks,” he says after a quick glance at the menu. You hate that he orders plain coffee when the menu has all these fun options like pink donut lattes or cookies n cream cappuccinos. If he wanted black coffee, he could’ve saved time and money by brewing some in the office. He didn’t have to go all the way to the coffee shop you wouldn’t shut up about. But he did. And he invited you along for the ride.

As the two of you wait for your drinks, you pick the booth in the corner next to the window. You’ve always had this vision of sitting inside a cozy cafe to work from your laptop or read a book. It just hasn’t happened yet because you get scared off when all the other customers bring their friends or lovers to share that experience with. Your laptop and books can’t compare to that. 

You’ve always been envious. Until today.

“That doesn’t look nearly as complex as it sounded,” Jungkook says when he sees your latte with the fancy crème brûlée on it. He slides his boring coffee across the table to you. “I’ll let you try mine if you let me try yours.”

Only a weirdo would accept a pathetic offer like that.

“Deal.” You take a sip of your sugary treat before passing it off to the boy. He winces from how sweet yours is compared to the bitterness of his black coffee. You make a face for the opposite reason.

“I’m surprised you agreed to it,” he hums with a tiny bit of crème brûlée around his mouth. You want to kiss it off. He must notice you eyeing his lips because he wipes it off with his thumb a second later.

“I wanted you to try my special drink,” you say. It’s for the same reason you lent him your book—to let him know another tiny piece of you without explicitly saying it.

“I’ll have to get it myself next time we come.” He pulls up the notes app on his phone and types as he speaks. You wonder if “next time” and “we” imply that this coffee outing is going to become another routine thing between you and him, just like your walks to the parking lot. Hopefully it does. No, it definitely will. Because you’ll be the one to ask him next time. “What’s it called again? Birthday cake frappuccino… with crème brûlée?”

“Exactly,” you lie. Who knows. His mistake might taste even better. You’ll have to find a way to sneak a taste when he isn’t looking. It’s something sweet to look forward to.

As you sip your latte, the barista who took your order catches your eye from across the store, points at Jungkook, and mouths something to you. You don’t quite catch it, so she repeats it again just as your coworker turns to see what you’re staring at.

“Boyfriend?” she mouths, clear as day, before spinning around to use the espresso machine. 

When the boy turns back to you, he has such a goofy grin on his face. He points to himself and repeats, “Boyfriend?”

“Stop,” you laugh at his antics but totally dodge the question. “Anyway… may I ask why you didn’t go on that date with the recruiting coordinator?” 

His eyes are wide. Probably because it’s not like you to pry. But you just want to make sense of why he’s sitting here with you, acting all sweet and boyfriend-like, after bailing on someone else a few days ago. He’s not his usual self either.

“It was faster to reject her,” he shrugs. You didn’t realize he was in such a hurry on Friday. It certainly didn’t seem like it with how he’d blocked your way out of the conference room.

“What were you in such a hurry for?”

“Isn’t it our unspoken thing to walk to the parking lot together?” He says it like you’re silly. Like the fate of the world depends on him being able to fulfill his duty of walking you to your car each and every day. Like he’d forgo hours of good sex for a five-minute walk with you.

“It’s not unspoken if we talk about it,” you say softly. You’ve always adored the short walks with Jungkook, but maybe you weren’t the only one who felt that way. What kind of guy rejects a date just so he can keep up this year-old tradition between you and him? No guy has ever done anything close to that for you. “But yeah, it is our thing.”

The boy nods with a gentle smile as he sips his coffee. For just a split second, he gives you Jklmnop vibes. You don’t know how else to explain it. He’s a fuck boy, but there’s something so delicate about him that you want to touch without breaking.

You wonder if he’d ever let you in.

On the way out, your favorite friendly barista waves you over to the counter with a huge grin. As much as you love the girl, you’re scared of what might come out of her mouth next. She leans in as if to whisper but ends up shouting over the grinder in the background.

“I can’t believe you didn’t tell me about him.” Her eyes flick to somewhere beyond your shoulders. “He’s such a hottie, by the way. Y’all are kinda cute together.”

A snort comes from right behind you. “Thank you,” says the hottie. Your hottie, apparently. It would’ve been perfectly fine for him to clarify that the two of you aren’t actually together, but you suppose his ego was too busy soaking in the compliment from the pretty barista.

“Really?” You raise an eyebrow at Jungkook as soon as you’re both out the door.

“What?” What’s with that playful smile of his?

“You didn’t deny what she said.”

“A compliment’s a compliment, Y/N.”

“I didn’t mean the part about you being a hottie.” You shudder at that last word. Yes, Jungkook is the hottest guy you’ve ever seen, but he doesn’t need to hear that from your mouth. “I meant the part about you being my boyfriend.”

“You didn’t deny it earlier, either,” he shrugs. True. “Besides, isn’t that also a compliment?”

Now that he’s mentioned it, it does feel pretty nice to be seen as a couple with someone as attractive as Jungkook—to give the illusion that it’s you who’s got him wrapped around your finger, you who he chose above everyone else, and you who gets to fall asleep in his arms every night. And it feels especially good considering how often other people dismiss you as someone not good enough for him. In fact, this is the first time anyone has ever acknowledged that the two of you go well together.

“Hey man, mind if I steal that fine little lady for a sec?” a sleazy voice calls out in your direction. You don’t bother turning your head to acknowledge the presence of yet another ignorant hooligan on the street, but you do step a little closer to Jungkook. You don’t know what pisses you off more: the fact that this stranger is another nonbeliever that you could be dating a guy like Jungkook or the fact that he asked for another male’s permission to talk to you instead of asking you directly. Most catcallers keep their mouths shut when you’re walking with your handsome coworker, but this one clearly can’t take a hint.

A warm hand pulls you in at the waist. It’s the same soft grip Jungkook held your book with. And you kind of never want him to let go. Because when he holds you close like that, all the shitty people become irrelevant. That doesn’t, however, stop you from getting a kick out of the death stare he gives the catcaller who finally backs off.

“You really showed him,” you tease. His face loosens up after you let out a tiny snicker. Still, he studies your every expression to make sure you’re alright.

“Does that happen to you wherever you go?” he asks as he moves his arm up from your waist to your shoulder, something slightly more appropriate for two friendly colleagues. Suddenly your waist feels cold.

“Usually when I’m out by myself.” Whether it’s the supermarket, the park, the office, you’ve felt objectified pretty much everywhere. Even online. The sad thing about it is that you know you’re not the only one. ”But I’m used to it at this point.”

“Well, men are kind of shitty,” he huffs, looking rather frustrated on your behalf. You’ve never seen him so irritated. For the most part, he knows how to keep a calm composure, even during busy season. It’s oddly satisfying that an inconvenience for you is what brought that emotion out of him.

“I used to think that,” you admit as the two of you enter the office building. “But all it takes is one good guy to outweigh the shitty ones.”

For you, Jungkook has always been that one good guy.

“True. I suppose that hottie boyfriend of yours isn’t that bad, huh.” He gives you a soft shoulder squeeze in the elevator before dropping his arm back to his side. It’s a subtle taste of what he could be doing to other places on your body if he were actually your boyfriend. He’d handle you with so much care.

“You won’t let that go, will you?” you pout, pointing your thumb back in the general direction of the coffee shop. “Those baristas really think we’re dating now, you know.”

He pinches your pouty cheek and leaves you at your desk with a not-so-innocent remark. 

“I wonder why they think that about us.”

The second half of your day feels painfully long. It’s kind of hard to focus on designing wholesome character models when you’ve got Jeon Jungkook stuck in your head. At this rate, your cute little characters are going to turn into bad boys who steal your books and lattes along with your heart. You can’t help it when he’s been extra sweet to you lately. Sweeter than a birthday cake frappuccino could ever be. And just like your favorite sugary beverages, there’s something so addicting about his company.

As you’re finishing up some designs, you spot the boy chatting with his buddies from the other departments. It’s unfair that an entire friend group can be so goodlooking. And it’s even more unfair that Jungkook is still the one you can’t take your eyes off of in the handsome bunch. Great, now you’re even more distracted.

“Hey, I saw you were online again last night,” says the guy from accounting. He has long pretty eyelashes. “Where was my invite?”

“Ah, yeah. Remember that girl on our team the other night?” Jungkook has a cheeky grin. Why does he have such a cheeky grin while talking about some e-girl, and why does your tummy hurt all of a sudden? “She helped me climb out of plat. She’s diamond.”

So what? That’s the same rank as you. Nothing special. Hmph. You hope she gets demoted before the act ends. You’re not a jealous person, but you are petty.

“How do you know she’s a she?” asks the engineer with plump lips.

“That’s what she told me,” Jungkook continues. “And it fits with the fact that she doesn’t use a mic. You guys know how fucked up people can be in that game.”

You nod along to that.

“What’s her username again? I wanna add her now,” the other engineer jumps in. This one has broad shoulders. Very broad.

“You just want to hit on her,” Engineer #1 shakes his head at Engineer #2. You agree with that too.

“Is she single? Or at least around our age?” asks the accountant.

“You guys are monsters,” Jungkook laughs. “I’ll give you her username only if you promise not to simp.”

“Fine,” they all agree reluctantly.

You convince yourself that you’re only eavesdropping because they’re talking too loud, but you’re actually just curious to search up the username and see how this e-girl’s game stats stack up against yours. You’re quite confident your headshot percentage will outrank hers.

“It’s CL, remember?”

“Oh right.”

No, not right. That’s definitely not the username you picked as a subtle nod to your favorite author, and Jungkook is definitely not the lovesick fuck boy you’ve been giving advice to through some wack ass shooter game. Definitely not.

Because if it were true, that would mean Jungkook has a crush on somebody in your office. And who the heck would that be?

“Ready to head out?” Jungkook pops out of nowhere and scares the shit out of you. You nearly leap out of your seat with a tight fist around your tablet pen like you’re about to knife the boy in-game. He holds your book up as a shield. “Whoa there.”

“My bad, I thought you were the enemy.” You snap the pen back onto your tablet and say it with a straight face as if he knows you play the same violent game as him.

He plays along, scanning the office for anyone suspicious. “Who’s the enemy?”

“Marketing?” You only say that because everyone in the office knows the marketing director Kim Namjoon was your college nemesis back when you were even pettier than you are now.

“Ah,” he nods as you pack up and roll your chair in. You’ve always wondered why he just accepts the weird things you do without question. “Glad I’m not your enemy. Wouldn’t want to be stabbed by your tablet pen. Or your nails.”

He points to your pretty manicure. If you didn’t know better, you’d think he’s subtly asking to hold your hand. But you do know better. He has an intense crush on someone else in the building, so there’s really no reason why he’d want to hold your hand.

So instead of misreading the situation and making a fool of yourself by entwining your fingers with his, you poke your favorite of his tattoos (the silly face on his middle finger) with your acrylic. “Consider yourself stabbed.”

You try not to look at the boy’s wrinkly smile. But it’s incredibly hard. Instead, you redirect your eyes anywhere else. Of course they fall on the “it couple” of the office passing by. They don’t do a whole lot of PDA, but the way they look at each other says it all, and they have this glow about them that seems so unobtainable. You feel the envy creeping up again.

On the elevator ride down, you try not to think about the happy couple or Jungkook’s wrinkly smile. It’s making you sad.

“Can I ask you something?” he turns to you. Maybe his question will take your mind off everything bringing your mood down. You nod for him to proceed. “How do you feel about dating a coworker?”

Shitty. You feel shitty. He could probably sense that from your silence upon seeing the couple.

“You mean like Hyuna and Dawn?” You don’t have a problem with it, or with them. If you could pull off a perfect office romance like them, you’d do it too. But it doesn’t seem likely for you, and that’s what sucks.

“Just in general. Like, do you think it’s fine, or is it crossing the line?” he asks. Aha, you get it now. He’s asking for your opinion because he doesn’t want to make you, his totally platonic friend, feel uncomfortable when he starts dating whoever he has a crush on here.

“HR allows it, so I don’t really see a problem with it,” you answer honestly. Sure, you’d be hurt if you had to work in an environment where Jungkook is doing lovey-dovey things with someone else, but you’re not going to be the one to ruin it for him.

“I’ve never seen you date anyone here, though.”

“Well I don’t get asked out all the time like you, Jungkook.”

“What about Mark from accounting? Or my guy Jooheon before he moved overseas? And don’t get me started on Kim Namjoon.” He has his fingers out and ready to list all the other guys in the office who’ve expressed some sort of interest in you, but he decides against it when he sees you glaring back at him. Wise man.

You’d love to know why he’s so familiar with your nonexistent office dating history.

“Okay, I get it. I’ve been asked out a fair amount,” you sigh. “But it doesn’t really count if they aren’t the right person.”

That earns you a soft head tilt from the boy. You swear he’s a puppy. “Oh? Miss Y/N has a type?”

When you think about it, a few of the guys who’ve asked out were your type—smart, funny, hardworking—and yet you still said no. They’ve never hand-delivered meeting notes and chamomile tea when you were out sick, never walked you to your car, never given you something to look forward to at work, and never known your favorite animal. They’ve never made you want them the way you want a certain someone else.

“I wouldn’t exactly call it a type.” It’s a person. The person who makes you feel so safe and cared for. The person who has feelings for another girl. “It’s a little more complicated than that.”

You don’t like being vague, but saying any more than that would only set you up for heartbreak. He can’t hurt you if you stay silent.

As the elevator continues to count down, Jungkook leans against the railing, arms crossed and head down. He’s awfully quiet for someone who always feels the need to say something silly until you laugh.

“What if I told you there’s one more person in the office who’s interested in you?” he asks just before the elevator arrives on the first floor.

The door slides open but neither of you steps out, so it closes back up.

You blink at the boy. First you learn Jungkook has a crush on someone, and now someone suddenly has a crush on you? Your brain genuinely doesn’t know what to do with all this information.

You’d ask who your secret admirer is, but it doesn’t matter. You’d only say yes to one person in this office, and his feelings lie elsewhere. Maybe he’s just trying to set you up with another guy who can walk you to your car. It’s not like the two of you would be able to keep up that tradition once he’s committed to someone else.

You’d rather walk alone at that point.

“A workplace romance sounds cool and all.” You point at the book in Jungkook’s hand while trying to keep a light tone. “But it’s just not for me. You know what I mean?”

He nods with a chuckle as the two of you finally clear out of the elevator. “Based on my history here, it’s probably not for me either.”

You know he’s poking fun at himself, but you hope he doesn’t actually feel that way about himself. He still needs to ask his girl out, and he can’t chicken out now. As the person he’s confided in about his feelings, it’s your job to shower him with encouragement and support. You’ll have to wait until you’re back online, though.

On the way to your car, the office romance conversation has been completely dropped. You ramble on about your sudden craving for tacos, and he claims he makes a “mean taco salad” before sending you a screenshot of the recipe no one asked for. You’ll try it when you get home.

Like always, he leans against your car door as you buckle yourself in. This time, he even tugs on the seatbelt like amusement park workers do before sending you off on a roller coaster. As gentle as he is, it stings where the tips of his fingers graze your shoulder. That feeling lingers even after the door closes.

Jungkook wasn’t lying, you think to yourself as you munch away at his definition of a “mean taco salad.” Your first instinct is to text him about it, but your second one is to silence your phone and cozy up for the night. After your shower, you have another staredown with the pretty lingerie set. At this rate, no one’s going to see you in it, so you might as well wear it and look cute for yourself. 

It’s a little more see-through than you’re normally comfortable with, but the soft silky champagne accents make your body glow. To complete the look, you throw on a short skimpy robe with a baby pink floral pattern. Perhaps you’re being extra for a quiet night in with your cat and a cup of chamomile tea. But it’s what you need right now because you’re desperately searching for something to comfort and distract you from that dang feeling Jungkook left you with. 

It also couldn’t hurt to play a few games without Jklmnop. Maybe you’ll get lucky with the whale shark gun today.

Unfortunately, there’s still no whale shark gun in your shop, but at least Jungkook isn’t online yet. The four games you play without him go really well stat-wise. You’re the team MVP for half those games—something you hadn’t achieved all weekend with Jklmnop on your team. He’s a great friend but the kind of ally who will intentionally blind you so he can make you quake in your boots and steal your kill in the process. He’s lucky he hasn’t let you die while fucking around like that. Still, you can’t remember the last time you had that much fun in your matches.

As you review the summary of game #4, a notification pops up in the top corner of your screen.

[Jklmnop is online!]

“wanna carry me to radiant?” he DMs you right away and sends you an invite.

“no,” you type as you join his party.

“what if i trade you my whale shark gun?”

“fine”

The first thing you do when you spawn into the match is demand the whale shark gun. You put your baseball bat to his head, waiting for him to keep his end of the bargain. The boy drops the gun in front of you and backs away slowly.

“It’s cute that you like that skin so much,” he chuckles into his mic. When you hear his voice, you feel like an idiot for convincing yourself that Jklmnop and Jeon Jungkook weren’t the same person. There’s no mistaking that that’s the calm and flirty voice that has haunted you every day at work for the past year. Does it make you an asshole for wholeheartedly believing your local fuck boy friend wasn’t capable of developing real feelings for someone in the office? Probably, but you intend on redeeming yourself by sending him your full support in the love department. You’re just waiting for him to bring it up.

Twenty kills and one stolen ace later, Jungkook still hasn’t said anything about the mysterious You-know-who—which is weird, considering he wouldn’t shut up all weekend about how she’s “soft like a kitten” but “one that won’t hesitate to bring the claws out.” Who is this girl, and what has she done to Jungkook? He’s become a total cheeseball. And you can’t think of a single person in the office who fits his cheesy description.

“any update on youknowwho about youknowwhat?” you type between rounds.

Jungkook’s character paces back and forth in the snow even after the round begins. The three other members of your team starts following him like ducklings without knowing the context. You watch from afar as they get sniped down one by one until you’re the last one alive.

Usually in 1v5 situations like this, you’re great at keeping your cool and isolating your duels so you aren’t overwhelmed by an ambush. But instead of listening for footsteps and directional cues, you’re listening hard for the boy’s response to your question.

“Clutch this and I’ll give you an update on You-know-who,” he says after you cut the enemy team’s numbers down to one. All you have to do now is plant the bomb and wait for the last person to come out to start defusing. That’s when you’ll swoop in and—

Your character falls face first into the snow. You’ve been knifed from behind, which loses you the round but earns you an evil snicker from Jungkook.

At the start of the next round, you wait once more for the boy to trade his gun with you. But instead, he just stands there, clutching onto the weapon while the rest of the team rushes onto the site to plant the bomb.

“I’ve decided not to ask her out,” he says out of nowhere. “We have this wholesome thing between us, and it’s best if we keep it that way.”

“what makes you say that?” you type before joining up with the others on site. As far as you know, Jungkook isn’t wholesome with any coworker. Except you, maybe. He must have some other strange definition of wholesome.

“Let’s just say I read a whole ass book tonight about a workplace romance and realized I’m not cut out for it.” He really read your book. No. He devoured it. Why does that mean the absolute world to you? “She’s seen me going on date after date, and now I’m pretty sure I’ve scared her away from wanting any part of that.”

He’s not wrong. You used to feel the same way about him, so you understand why he has his reservations. But if that girl knew how much he’d cherish their relationship the way he cherishes your friendship with him, you know she’d fall for him too. There’s no doubt in your mind about that. It’s just a matter of him vocalizing it.

“i still think you should be upfront with her about your feelings,” you type away as you get headshot from who knows where. 

“She can’t hurt me if I stay silent,” Jungkook hums as he runs toward the ticking bomb and crouches in front of it. It looks like he’s trying to defuse the bomb that your own team planted, but it explodes in his face before you have time to correct him.

“gj,” one of your teammates puts in the chat even though everyone watching knows it was not a “good job.” The only silver lining is that he secured the win for your team. You don’t feel like playing anymore, anyway.

Before you log off for the night, you start typing out some long motivational speech along with your top ten reasons as to why Jungkook would make an excellent boyfriend. He’d try new things with you, share some of his favorite things with you, make sure you’re safe, and tease you until the end of time while making you feel so so loved. You know this because it’s what he’s done with you for the past year. But the more you think about it, the more you realize it’s not your place to say all of that from behind a screen with your mic on mute.

You end up deleting your whole spiel and settle for a simple “good night😴” to the boy from your gaming account. Then you get back on your phone.

Y/N🦈 [11:47PM] “It was indeed a mean taco salad”

Y/N🦈 [11:47PM] “Btw did you finish the book?👀”

Jungkook🥴 [11:48PM] “Finished it in 4 hours😌”

Y/N🦈 [11:49PM] “Wanna drop it off to me now?”

Jungkook🥴 [11:49PM] “Now?”

Jungkook🥴 [11:50PM] “Isn’t it past your bedtime?”

Y/N🦈 [11:51PM] “Yes but my cat can’t fall asleep without his bedtime story”

Y/N🦈 [11:51PM] “🥺”

Y/N🦈 [11:51PM] “^^^My cat”

Jungkook🥴 [11:54PM] “omw”

The boy knocks on your door a few minutes later and does a horrible job of keeping his eyes above shoulder level. It doesn’t occur to you that your chest and ass are hanging out of your robe until the chilly air hits those spots.

“All dressed up for your night with Lauren Christina?” he says casually, handing the book back to you in mint condition.

“I thought you said Christina Lauren doesn’t care about my lingerie.” You cross your arms over your chest like it was totally intentional to answer the door in the bare minimum. Jungkook’s sleepwear, on the other hand, looks super cozy. And of fucking course he’s hot as hell in something as simple as sweats and a hoodie. A boy like him doesn’t have to put in any thought or effort to look cute.

“I stand by what I said.” He stares at your exposed skin in an almost lustful manner. Almost. “It’s cold out. You should go crawl back in bed and read your cat his bedtime story. Or do you need me to tuck him in, too?”

“He is quite needy,” you play along. Too bad he’s already fast asleep, all curled up on the couch. You wouldn’t mind if Jungkook tucked you in, though.

“Well tell your needy cat I said goodnight.” He takes a step back toward his car, but you know he must realize you didn’t call him all the way over here just for your cat’s sake.

“Jungkook,” you call out while flipping through the book. Once you find the bookmark wedged in the middle, you extend it to him like a peace offering.

He accepts the bookmark albeit with a puzzled expression. “Is this gratuity for delivering your book at this late hour?”

You shake your head. “It’s gratuity for lending me your whale shark gun all the time.”

“Whale shark gun?” He grips the bookmark by the dorsal fin and holds it like a pistol. It’s aimed at your left breast (or heart) (but breast sounds more accurate).

“The one from the Gentle Giants collection,” you say softly as you rub your arms because holy shit is it cold out. “In Valoranch.”

The wheels in his head start to turn as you pull him inside and toward your “work from home” setup in the living room. Your desk is pretty empty aside from the pastel headset, the cute dolphin Pokémon on your desktop wallpaper, and a cold cup of tea. 

Then he spots the little Valoranch shortcut on the far left corner of your screen. “Wait, you really play Valoranch? What’s your username?”

Instead of telling him, you show him with the help of your book. Your index finger slides across the bookcover from the C in Christina to the L in Lauren.

His eyes widen like a naughty cat caught doing something it shouldn’t be doing.

“Then that means you know about…” He pauses because he dare not repeat his feelings for another coworker in front of you.

You nod. “But I didn’t realize it was you until I overheard you talking about it with the guys earlier today.”

“My voice and backstory didn’t give it away?” 

“It definitely sounded like you.” You plop into your chair and start spinning around so he can’t get a clear view of your face. “But how was I supposed to know you had feelings for someone in our office? I still don’t know who she is, by the way.”

“You don’t?” Your childlike spins are interrupted by a steady hand. From the corner of your eye, you can see the boy’s face transition from doomed to amused. Good. He shouldn’t beat himself up over the bizarre situation.

“Nope.” At least you don’t have a specific face to imagine being next to Jungkook’s on those corny holiday cards that couples and families love to hand out around the office this time of year. “Regardless, you need to stop chickening out and just tell her how you feel already. If she knows you the way I know you, I promise you have nothing to worry about.”

The thing is, you don’t know if anyone else has been on the receiving end of the kinds of things Jungkook does for you. Does he show that side to anyone else but you?

“Fine, you’ve convinced me. I’ll do it.” He sits himself down beside the cat on the couch. “But only if you can figure out who it is.”

You give him a tiny nod for him to drop some hints. Of course you’ll lend an ear and play along if that’s what it takes for him to be more open about his feelings. Besides, you can’t say no when his voice is so soft and fragile like that. 

“She’s on the design team.” Your team is fairly small, so that narrows it down to names and faces you’d actually recognize.

“She has the most complex coffee order I’ve ever seen.” More complex than yours?

“I impulse-bought that whale shark gun because it reminds me of her.” Someone else has good taste in endangered marine life.

“My second job includes walking her to her car after work and pretending to be her hottie boyfriend.” Wait.

“And lastly, in case all of those other hints weren’t obvious enough, she has a needy cat who’s obsessed with Christina Lauren.” He strokes between your needy kitty’s ears and tucks the little guy in under a blanket. What a lucky cat. 

Jungkook only stops with the wholesome shit when you climb into his lap and press your lips into his jawline. On instinct, he slips beneath your robe and grabs you at the waist with those gentle hands of his. He smells of cardamom and cedarwood, like the candle you burn on cold nights when fluffy blankets aren’t enough. And like a moth, you’re attracted to the light and warmth he radiates in the dimness of your home. Even if it means you might get burned.

“Congratulations, you finally got the name right.” You stick your tongue out while your nails comb their way through the locks of hair at the back of his neck. He locks eyes with you, leaning ever so slightly into the massage the way cats do when they need more attention.

And then your lips meet his. You expect the guy who’s locked lips with everyone in the office to get straight to the point and not hold back, but that isn’t the case. What he gives you instead is a soft graze, an affectionate tease. When you try to go in for another taste, he pulls back and lets you chase him. You’d love nothing more than to wipe that smirk off his face with another kiss.

“I thought you said you weren’t down to date a coworker?” Smartass. You wouldn’t be sitting on top of his cock if you weren’t down to be more intimate with him.

“That only applies to everyone except you.” Your robe slides off your shoulder as you poke him in the chest. Funny how you aren’t cold anymore.

“What makes me so special?” he asks while getting a sneak peek of the pretty lingerie you’d secretly hoped he’d see on you.

You think about all the little things he does—he walks with you, reads your book recommendations, takes note of your favorite animals and coffee shops. And he never expects anything in return, including your feelings apparently. He just wants to make sure you feel seen and know he always has your back. When he’s too chicken to be upfront about his feelings, you’ve come to realize this is his love language. 

“You might be open about all the sleeping around you do with other people, but the subtle thoughtful things you do just for me don’t go unnoticed.” You run your fingers along his cheek and bring your lips within striking distance from his. This time, he doesn’t initiate another chase and allows you to press your words into his mouth. “Plus I think it’s really cute that you use the whale shark skin in-game because of me.”

“That’s when I knew I was down bad.” The sound he makes is somewhere between a chuckle and an embarrassed sigh. “I didn’t even know you played that game and yet my mind was still finding ways to connect everything back to you and your little quirks.”

“I knew I was down bad when I installed that game after hearing you raging about it with the boys,” you blurt out of nowhere.

“You did what, Y/N?”

“I started playing that headache of a game because of you, okay? I wholeheartedly believed I was taking that secret to the grave, but now it stays between you and me. Got it?” Your face feels hot, but you aren’t complaining.

“Yes, ma’am.” His teasing grin will never get old, and you love that about him.

In the heat of another kiss, you feel Jungkook tug on the silky sash at your waist. Your robe opens up like curtains being drawn for a grand reveal. Exposed as you are, there’s no need to hide anymore. In fact, you’d be more than down to have sex out in the open on the couch, but you also have to consider the innocent kitten sleeping next to you.

Like the considerate boy he is, Jungkook scoops you up without disturbing the cat and makes his way to your bedroom.

He lays you down on the bed and eyes your body from head to toe. If he wasn’t giving you horny eyes when you greeted him at the door, he definitely is now.

“Am I gonna get you in trouble for keeping you up past your bedtime?” He saves time by tearing his hoodie and t-shirt off in one go. Based on those abs, you suppose working out is another one of his favorite pastimes alongside sex, gaming, and fucking around with you.

“No.” You reach for his body and pull him on top of you. The large bulge tucked away in his sweatpants catches your attention. “But I might be a little sore for tomorrow.”

“Oh? Is that how you like it?” He rubs two fingers against the thin fabric between your legs to test the waters. Your body shudders and tenses up from the tiniest of touches. Given the dry spell you’ve suffered through this year, you know it won’t take much for you to lose it. “Sure you can handle it?”

“Try me.” You push back with your tongue in his mouth and help him out of his sweats. You’re one swipe away from clawing his boxers off, but he grabs ahold of your wrists and pins you against the pillows.

“Someone’s awfully eager,” he says as he leaves a trail of kisses from your neck to your breasts. You squirm under his hot breath, asking for more contact—anywhere on your body will do.

“Yeah, well, we do have another meeting bright and early tomorrow morning, and it’d look bad if we both fell asleep during it because we were up all night having—” Your rambling is interrupted by the boy’s cock staring you down. He tears open a square packet, but you swipe it away and slide it down his length. You don’t mind a bit of rubber if it gives you an excuse to get your paws on him.

In return, he helps you wiggle out of your teeny tiny thong and bra. His hands waste no time in squeezing your breasts and fingering you down below to make sure you’re wet enough. (Spoiler alert: You most definitely are.)

As big as he is, he slides in with relative ease thanks to how desperately you need him inside you. He fills you in perfectly, too, reaffirming the fact that you and him are perfect for one another. Fuck everyone who thinks otherwise.

You dig your long nails into his arms as he moves in and out of you. If he keeps going harder with every thrust, you’re gonna have a difficult time holding on.

“I swear your nails are like cat claws,” he grunts into your ear but makes no actual effort to extract your nails from his arms.

“If I recall correctly, you did refer to me as a soft kitten who isn’t afraid to bring her claws out,” you hum up at him.

“Hey, let’s not talk about all the sappy things I said in-game right now.” There’s a hint of poutiness in his otherwise raspy bedroom voice. As punishment for teasing him, he flips you over onto your knees to give him the best view of your ass. “You weren’t supposed to hear that stuff.”

“Tell me something I’m supposed to hear,” you challenge him as he gives your ass a good squeeze. His fingers dip back between your legs and circle your clit a few times. You body rubs back on instinct like a horny pup against a toy.

“I would like to formally ask you out,” he says with his hands at your hips and his cock back inside you. "Will you go out with me?"

“You're a little late, buddy, but yes, I’ll go out with you,” you chuckle until your orgasm sneaks up on you and hits you like a truck. The moans you let out are probably loud enough to wake the cat, but that just means the two of you will have to relocate the next time you have sex. Perhaps his place or the office breakroom might be worth considering. 

Your arms give out as you tighten around him, so you lower your face to the pillow and let the boy do as he pleases to your body to get his release. After a few more strong thrusts, he gasps your name out in pleasure and pulls out of you. You give him a good ten seconds to catch his breath before you smother him with a million kisses.

You take a glance at the time on your phone. It’s getting awfully late, and you do have that meeting in the morning, but the two of you have a few options:

A) Cuddle in bed and go to sleep like normal 9-5ers.

B) Hop online and play a few games together because your computer’s still on.

C) Go another round and make a special coffee run before the meeting.

None of those options sound like a bad idea when you’ve got Jeon Jungkook to do them with. All he has to do is say the word and you're down.

[gooppoo]

asked for filth? alright

how about jake fucking the reader in ways the na’vi dont usually do? like eating her pussy making her sit on his face, fingering her, all the ways that you think they wouldn’t do and reader is just overwhelmed and so fucked out while hes laughing at her lovingly

no this is a really interesting concept bc how does james cameron b havin these mfs get down and dirty?

Let me show you.

Requests Closed!!

mdni.

warnings: oral (reader receiving), fingering, face sitting, jake is actually being a softy (surprise surprise)

p.s. challenging myself to condense my writing bc I tend to overwrite tbh

"Yes, sit, right here." Jake giggled at your bashful nature.

You swallowed nervously, "I-I don't know Jake..."

He swished his hand nonchalantly, "Babe, I promise, you're gonna love it. When I was one of the sky people we did this all the time." Your ears flattened when he mentioned the sky people, "Listen, just try it, if you don't like it, we'll stop." He cocked a brow.

Your tongue ran over your teeth thoughtfully. Hesitantly, you shuffled toward his expression, praying that he was true to his word (his devilish smile was less than convincing).

Either side of his head, your thighs rested, one hand stuck out in front of you for stability. Jake chirped from beneath you to see if you were ready, and you sighed, unsure.

A wet, warm sensation spread across your folds and toward your clit. Your body involuntarily stiffened and jolted your hips away from his mouth.

"Woah woah hey, just my tongue. Don't worry baby." He studied your anxious stare, chewing on your bottom lip, "Only gonna use my tongue and my fingers. Promise." His wink was not as comforting as he thought, but still cute.

In your chest, your heart hammered making the rest of your body hot. It all seemed so new all at once, and it was overwhelming.

But...from the little bit you had, it felt pretty damn good.

Still, you proceeded with caution, and returned to your original position. You waited for his tongue to explore again, instead he opted to peck along your thighs. A part of you wanted to protest and whine for him to focus on your clit, but you let him show his expertise.

When his tongue made a reappearance, it was trailing toward your much wetter core. Again, the temptation crept up to force his tongue where you wanted it, but you were patient. And soon enough that patience paid off because before you could form another coherent thought, Jake was showing you that it was possibly for you to form incoherent thoughts.

It was like he was kissing you, making out with you messily, only it felt one hundred times better. All you could really do was gasp and mewl, feel Jake pull you harder down onto his character to dive deeper into you. At times, you'd both hum when you'd hips would buck out of pure pleasure.

But as soon as you adjusted to this new phenomena, another was introduced, this time you didn't pull away. There was a weak prodding at your slippery entrance - perhaps his fingers he had mentioned - sometimes penetrating through the tiniest bit just to slide back out.

It was different, and would take some adjusting, but as long as Jake kept his attention on your clit there wouldn't be any protest or insecurity. And he knew this too, he wouldn't send your body into shock and shove two fingers into you just to quicken the process. So he took his time building up to massaging your g-spot and keeping a blissful pace on your clit with his magical tongue.

Eventually, he was knuckle deep in you, stimulating your most sensitive spots and watching you gradually unfold on top of him. Feeling your thighs relax almost too much, cunt pulsing around his working digits, it was just as he had remembered it.

However, he couldn't sustain this rhythm forever, it would only get you so far, and he wanted you cumming on his face! He tried his best to be as unsuspecting while lapping at your clit and applying more vigor to your insides. And while this did send you further into your clouded mind of lust, it also quickly became too much.

"Jake - jake," you tried to warn him that you were on the cusp of overstimulation.

"Keep saying my name baby," he laughed against you. The faint tremble in your thigh and the tightening of your naval told him everything he needed to know, "I know it's a lot, it's okay. You're doin' fuckin' great." Most of his words were muffled, the vibration of his voice sending chills up your spine.

Sooner than he has expected, your thighs were stiffening, and your walls were tightening. He continued his pace with a sprinkle of passion, knowing what was waiting for him around the corner.

"Jake - oh, OH!"

There it was. That honeydew sweetness dripping down his fingers and coating his tongue. Making your sturdy legs shake and clit become too sensitive to even kitten lick. Jake was pussy whipped, no question about it.

When enough was enough, his half-damp face peaked from underneath you, an overly cocky smile plastered on his features.

"Whatcha think?" You nodded, still gasping for air, "I knew you'd like it."

[reiderwriter]

hiiii i have a request for the 1k celebration- congrats btw!! reader and spencer are trying to keep their new relationship secret but can’t keep their hands off of each other and have sex in the office bathrooms, then maybe one of the girls comes in to make sure reader is alright but spencer doesn’t stop what he’s doing whilst she’s trying to answer and then they have to go back into the office whilst everybody totally knows what they were doing lol- w prompt 35🫶

Prompt 35: "We might get caught. Does that turn you on?"

A/N: Thank you for the request! I'm always a big fan of Spencer bathroom fics for whatever reason 😭

Warnings: public sex, voyeurism, bathroom sec, fingering, penetrative sex, creampie, secret relationship, Perv! Spencer

Spencer had never been this forward before in his life. You appreciated his sudden confidence, but he just wished he had picked a time and place. Dragging you off to the women's bathrooms at the BAU office to fulfil your shared needs probably wasn't the time nor the place. 

It was happening anyway. 

Since you'd first pressed your lips against his the month prior - an honest reaction to his very sweet birthday present of plane tickets home for the holidays - you'd found it difficult to keep your hands off of him. 

He was warm, a heater in human form, and with the cold winter nights rolling in, you'd unashamedly used him as a human blanket multiple times. You loved the feeling of his weight pushing down on you, his head resting against your chest as he slowly kissed his way up your neck. 

You loved too, the feeling of his cock growing between his legs as your small touches and caresses became not enough. 

You loved even more the hours of love-making that had him curiously exploring every curve and edge of your body, every depth of you kissed, licked, touched tenderly. 

But with a month of exploration under your belt, you certainly hadn't had time for explanations, confessions, and celebrations. 

In simple terms, you hadn't told anyone about your relationship. New as it was, you didn't want to have to backtrack if Spencer decided he wasn't interested after he learnt everything about you. A small part of you also knew that it was as much because you didn't want to share him. Not yet. 

But Spencer’s timing was the opposite of impeccable, as he pushed you into the women's bathrooms half an hour before your team was supposed to ship out for a new case. 

“Spencer, we can't, not here,” you sighed out as his lips found a spot on your neck he'd discovered the week prior. It sent shivers down your back each time he even brushed it with his lips, and he was passionately flicking his tongue against it now, leaving you less than coherent. 

“I want to know how fast you can come for me.” 

Spencer was on a mission, and you sure as hell weren't going to stop him when it would be entirely more pleasurable to go along with him. 

He unbuttoned your pants swiftly, letting his hand rest between your legs as he worked his lips around each landmine of sensitivity he'd discovered in the last four weeks. 

Your moans flowed freely before you clamped a hand over your mouth, reminding yourself this was a very public bathroom in a very public building. One you had to return to every weekday from 9 to 5. 

“You're so adorable trying to hold in your moans. Let one out, just for me?” He begged, fingers finally finding their mark as he traced your clit delicately. It felt like an eternity until his fingers were inside of you, and even then, it wasn't enough. 

“Y/N, you in here? Penelope said she saw you head over her a few minutes ago.” JJ called from the door to the room, and you were suddenly cold with gratitude that Spencer had the foresight to pull you into a stall and close it before putting a hand on you. 

“Y-Yeah, I'm here. What's up?” You called back, eyes wide and locked with Spencer’s. He seemed to have been momentarily sobered by the interruption, but his hands didn't withdraw. His fingers pressed harder into your cunt, but he didn't move, raising an eyebrow as he listened to JJ's response.

“I just wanted to check on you. You've been a bit distant from the tram lately, like turning down drinks last week-” You'd turned it down because Spencer had begged you to let him eat you out until you passed out. 

“You left Henry's birthday party pretty early last weekend, too.” You'd left early because Spencer wanted to see if he could make you squirt.

“And at work, it seems like you're always worried about something on your phone?” Again, filled with texts from Spencer innocently inquiring about different things both of your bodies could do to reach an orgasm. 

“I just wanted to make sure you were okay.” You cursed your mind for wandering as you realised that each memory had spurred your lower body on to begin rocking your hips against Spencer’s hand. The gleeful smile on his face was enough to tell you that you'd fucked up.

“We might get caught,” he whispered in your ear, just low enough to not travel further than your stall door. “Does that turn you on?” When you inadvertently clenched around his fingers, he had his answers. 

Yes, every single thing that he said and did turned you on and got you into the worst possible scenarios.

“Y/N?” JJ called again, and you did your best to calm your body as you opened your mouth to reply. 

“I'm so sorry, I guess my mind has been elsewhere recently. I've been seeing this guy. So I think I'm just in that honeymoon phase, you know?” You spat the words out as fast as you could, so he had no time to sabotage you, to flick his wrist just so you'd be a twitching mess. 

“Oh, Y/N, that's great, congratulations. I'll leave you to your business in peace then, but just so you know, if you ever did need someone to talk to, I'm pretty good with boy talk by now.” 

You wanted to beg her to get out of there that second, but suffered through the niceties of a goodbye and a see you soon, all while Spencer’s fingers raced you to your finish line. 

“Fuck, Spencer, want to cum on your dick, please.” You begged as soon as you heard the door shut behind her, mouth connecting with his as you pulled more of him into you. 

“It did turn you on more. That's good to know,” he said, kissing you back as he dropped his pants and lifted you up slightly, before dropping you gently back down onto his cock. 

He pinned you between his body and the solid wall on the stall, not trusting the divider to stand up to the pace he was about to set. 

His thrusts were hot, fast, and rough, and you wouldn't have it any other way right then. 

“Spencer, cum inside me. Fill me up, fuck, fuck fuck fuck fuck, we can't leave any evidence behind.” You whimpered as you finally felt yourself explode, body twitching into him as he continued his steady pace, breath hot against your skin as he stared down, watching his cock pleasure you. 

“Very practical, Y/N,” he laughed. “But that’s where I was planning on doing it this entire time.” With that, he thrust as deep into you as your position allowed, and, with a grunt, spilt his load inside of you.

You stood there, both silent for a minute before he pulled his wrist forward, checking his wristwatch. 

“Six minutes 46 seconds. We should still have enough time to grab our go-bags before anyone gets suspicious. Thank you, Y/N.” 

He smiled at you again, and you knew just from the look that you'd be trying this again soon. 

Spencer wasn't going to forget any of this happened, and you, frankly, didn't want him to.