#i so so so so so hoped ro would be back

[whatelsecanwedonow]

STAR TREK: THE NEXT GENERATION (1987–1994) S07E24 – Preemptive Strike

STAR TREK: PICARD (2020–2023) S03E05 – Imposters

[steampoweredskeleton]

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Ignore

[gothgoblinbabe]

She Wolf

A/N: I said I was gonna get this done and it took me way too long and has an absurd word count but I am incapable of holding in word vomit! Inspired by She Wolf by Shakira cause idc its GOOD and it got me thinking' so here it is. Also you don't have to listen to the song as you read but I think It's fun!

Summary: You've got a crush on your best friend and he's a bit of a dick. He regrets it and tries to apologize but you're already trying to push yourself to move on any way you can, even if it's in some shady club you'd never been to before.

Warnings: MDNI 18+, swearing, Logan's kind of an asshole for a minute, Possessive/jealous!Logan, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it), friends to lovers cause that's my fave, afab reader, mutant reader, unnamed creepy guy (?) aaaand Logan absolutely has a pain kink. I think that's it but if there's any I missed please let me know!

Word Count: 7K (im so sorry but I'm not though)

divider credit here

“Are you ever gonna tell him?”

You looked up from your desk towards Ororo’s voice, sighing and taking your glasses off your nose.

“God, I don’t know, ‘ro. I don’t think I should. It’s just going to end with me being humiliated and him never wanting to even be in the same room as me again.”

You’d had a crush on Logan Howlett since the day you first walked through the doors of the mansion six months ago. You’d probably be considered best friends by now with how much time you’d spend together, doing jack shit around the mansion on your days off. Just about everyone could tell he had a soft spot for you and that you had one for him. Logan was a classic ‘tough guy’, constantly trying to hide his kind nature with a hard exterior, but it took only a couple weeks for you to crack that barrier. You weren’t exactly a seemingly ‘soft’ type either.

You’d spent the majority of your life before you joined the X-men hoping from couch to couch and hitching rides with strangers, not really having a destination or a place to call home. You’d been dropped off at a church when you were fourteen, around the time you started to turn every full moon. Your parents couldn’t live with having to chain their mutant daughter in their basement once a month, and so they dropped you where they thought you’d find some ‘help’. You’d been passed from foster home to foster home till you were eighteen, each one passing you up the moment they realized you were not like them. It was always a slip of the mask, something setting you off to make you so enraged your eyes gleam yellow and your sharp canines make an unfortunate appearance. You took off the second you could and being on the road came with its fair share of creeps; men with terrible intentions looking for opportunities. You’d never wanted to hurt anyone - truly - but when cornered by a creep, it was hard to think anyone would miss them. A couple of local newspapers caught on, debating where the wolf that tore men to shreds had gone. You weren’t an animal. You just had teeth like one.

Knowing you couldn’t lurk in town much longer, you’d hitchhiked your way to a camp occupied with people like you; lost with no place to call home. It was there that you’d met a couple of mutants who told you about Charles Xavier and the place that seemed completely unreal until you set your eyes on it. That felt like a lifetime ago by now. 

“I think you're underestimating how he feels about you,” Ororo said, bringing you back to reality. She was sat on the edge of your bed, flipping through one of your magazines as you worked at your computer to try and make a lesson plan for the coming week. 

“I think you’re overestimating how he feels about me,” you let out a short laugh, shaking your head.

Just as she was about to retort, you both heard someone shout your names from the hallway. You looked at each other curiously and left the room, hearing shouting again. 

“Are you guys gonna play Monopoly with us or what?”

You both giggled and made your way downstairs towards Scott’s voice. Him, Jean, Marie, Bobby and Logan were all sat in the living room, the game already set up on the coffee table. Bobby and Marie were picking out their game pieces, assigning everyone else to their own piece.

“Okay, Logan, you’re gonna be the dog,” Marie smiled, dropping the little metal piece into the palm of his hand. 

He was definitely not as amused, “why do I have to be a damn dog?”

Ignoring him, she handed another piece out to Jean, “you’re the thimble.”

She then handed the boat to Scott, the top hat to you, and the iron to Ororo. You all began the game after Scott painstakingly over-explained the rules and how to play. 

It was a good bit into the game that you all became distracted with conversation, eventually leaving the board game untouched. The topic of compatibility came up somehow, the conversation focused on the joy of Bobby and Marie. 

“I think anyone would be lucky to have what you guys have,” Ororo smiled, shifting her gaze between the two of them.

“And what we have, obviously,” Scott joked, hanging his arm around Jean.

“Gross,” Logan chimed in, taking a sip of the beer he’d hidden in the back of the fridge.

“I think someone is jealous,” Ororo said in a singsong voice, poking his arm.

“Of having someone hang on me all the time? No, thanks,” he scoffed.

As stupid as it was, it made you a little sad to hear he had no interest in even entertaining the idea. It wasn’t a surprise, but still a disappointment nonetheless.

Ororo brought up your name and your eyes went huge, silently begging her to keep her mouth shut.

“You don’t seem to mind her hanging on you all the time. I think you’d be cute together,” she said, smiling mischievously at you. Scott and Jean agreed and you had never wanted to smash your head into a coffee table as much as you did in that moment.

“Nah, definitely not my type of girl.”

It was just seven words, out quick without a second thought, and yet it felt like you’d been punched in the gut. You couldn’t take your eyes off the monopoly board on the table, avoiding everyone’s gaze. 

Definitely not my type of girl. 

“I think I should head to bed, it’s getting late,” you mumbled, keeping your head down to hide your blushed face as you got up from the couch and practically ran out of the room and up the stairs. 

“What the hell was that?” Scott scolded Logan the moment you were out of sight.

“That was so mean,” Ororo chimes in, backhanding him on the arm.

“I didn’t mean to be,” Logan said nervously , shrugging his shoulders, “…do you think she’s mad at me?”

“Probably more hurt than mad,” Jean said honestly. 

“Shit,” he sighed, putting his beer down to rub his face with his hands, “what do I say?”

“Not that,” Marie replied, “why did you even say that anyway? You could’ve just said no.”

“I think you like her and you’re being mean so that she wont like you back because you’re afraid,” Ororo said after a moment of silence. 

Logan sat quiet for a moment, his hands still over his face.

“Am I that easy to read?” His voice was muffled through his hands.

The rest of them couldn’t help exchanging knowing smiles.

“So you finally admit it,huh? You’ve got a crush,” Scott teased.

Logan moved his hands from his eyes to glare daggers at him, “you shut your fucking mouth or I’ll shove that monopoly board where the sun doesn’t shine.”

“I think that’s a yes,” Jean whispered to her boyfriend.

“Talk to her when you see her tomorrow. We’re not going to let you hurt her feelings just because you can’t accept your own,” Ororo advised, lightly patting him on the shoulder.

“Do you think she’s even gonna talk to me?”

“Only one way to find out.”

───────♡──────────────♡───────

Logan tried to catch up with you the next day, always seeing you as you were leaving a room he was entering or passing by and even then, you ignored his calls of your name.

It was a little after dinner now and because it was a weekend, a couple of kids were up playing the PlayStation in the living room. Bobby and Marie sat with them, taking turns with the controllers. 

Logan entered the room after about three laps around the mansion, mentioning your name to the both of them.

“Have you guys seen her? I’ve been trying to talk to her all day, she keeps running from me.”

“Can’t really blame her,” Bobby muttered, his eyes never leaving the TV screen as he button smashed. 

“She’s in her room,” Marie answered before Logan could come up with a retort, “she went up before dinner, said she wasn’t hungry.”

He groaned, running a hand through his hair, “she’s skipping dinner now too, great.”

“Go talk to her!” She insisted, shooing him away with a wave of her hand.

He made his way to the stairs and up to your bedroom, knocking lightly on your door. Hearing nothing, he knocked again, a little harder. Still, nothing. 

“You can’t avoid me forever, you know. I wanna talk about yesterday, I was a dick.”

Silence. Now he was a little worried. He tentatively grabbed the doorknob and turned, cracking it open a bit.

Your bed was made, your desk was neatly organized and you were nowhere to be seen. He noticed your purse was gone from the usual spot you’d leave it in and your closet was open, a couple garments and some shoes strewn about on the floor. It looked like you’d gotten dressed and dipped. He figured maybe Ororo or Jean might know where you were, leaving your room and looking for them instead. He found them shortly after, huddled in the kitchen. Again, he asked if either of them knew where you were.

“She’s in her room, she went up before dinner,” Ororo answered.

“No, she’s not. And her purse is gone.”

Both women turned to each other with the same worried expression.

───────♡──────────────♡───────

Having tried your cellphone about thirteen times from just about everybody’s phones, they all decided they had to tell Charles. He used his ability to connect with every mutant on the planet to try and locate you, visualizing with his eyes closed. Everyone stood in his study, anxiously awaiting his conclusion. After a moment of silence, he started to silently chuckle to himself.

“What’s so funny?” Logan asked immediately, crossing his arms and furrowing his eyebrows.

“I’m afraid you all have your work cut out for you,” he replied, finally opening his eyes.

“So, where is she?” Ororo asked, worry in her voice. 

“There is a club called The Nightcrawler - “ Charles began to explain, but Logan interjected impatiently. 

“Club? What, like a book club?” He nearly scoffed. There was no way you were at some sleazy nightclub in the city. You were a homebody and an introvert, neither of which made clubbing enjoyable. 

“Maybe we should just let her have fun,” Jean began to say, but Logan was already halfway out the door.

Uncharacteristically, you found yourself dressed to the nines in the middle of a dance floor full of people. You’d spent a while trying outfits in your room, searching for something you could actually wear out that wasn’t sweatpants and a hoodie. You’d settled on a halter top that tied at your neck and in the back and a pair of ridiculously tight pants that you’d bought forever ago and never had the guts to wear. You ended up standing in front of the mirror, choosing a pair of very cute but very uncomfortable shoes and looking over the outfit. If you weren’t Logan’s ‘type of girl’, you sure as hell were somebody’s. Trying to get yourself out there may be the best solution to forgetting the heart-crushing infatuation you had with your best friend who would never see you as anything more. 

“I feel ridiculous,” you chuckled to yourself, turning in the mirror to see the back of your outfit. You did look good, just super out of your comfort zone. You grabbed your bag and ended up slipping out when everyone was eating dinner. That’s how you ended up where you were, pushing your way through the crowd of people with a drink in your hand. You passed the raised lounge area and felt a hand on your shoulder, making you turn suddenly.

“Hey, you wanna dance?”

He was tall, leaning down a little to shout over the music. He was pretty good looking but didn’t look like Logan in the slightest, which you realized was exactly the point of going out tonight. He was dressed nice and smelled like expensive cologne. 

“Sure, why not?”

As you abandoned your half finished drink on a table and let him pull you a little further into him, a familiar song started to thump through the speakers.

“I love this song!” You exclaimed, letting the nameless guy rest his hands on your hips.

S.O.S., she's in disguise

S.O.S., she's in disguise

There's a she wolf in disguise

Coming out, coming out, coming out

“Ironic,” you muttered under the music.

───────♡──────────────♡───────

Logan walked ahead of Ororo, Jean and Scott, his long legs taking him much further at a much faster pace.

“Logan, slow down!” Ororo called out, jogging a bit to catch up with him.

“What if she didn’t even want to be there? What if some guy dragged her there?”

“Oh,” Jean laughed, “ I see. You’re jealous.” 

“No.”

“Yup.”

“Nope.”

“So you’d be fine if we walked in there and she is with a guy?” 

Logan slowed his pace as they approached the entrance, “sure, whatever,” feigned disdain in his voice.

The second the door opened, the bass of the music was overwhelming. It was dim, save for a few colorful lights projecting around the room. The four of them were squished together near the door, trying to pick you out in a sea of moving people. 

“This is gonna be like finding a needle in a haystack,” Scott shouted.

“Not necessarily,” Ororo replied, a smug smile on her face.

“What?” Logan furrowed his eyebrows.

She pointed across the room and he followed her gaze.

There's a she wolf in the closet

Open up and set it free 

There's a she wolf in your closet

Let it out so it can breathe

You didn’t even look like you. He’d never seen you in anything that showed that much skin or any clothes that even hugged you like that, for that matter. 

And you were with a guy.

Sitting across a bar, staring right at her prey

It's going well so far, she's gonna get her way

“So, what did we tell you?” Jean shouted, waving her hand in front of his glaring eyes.

“Just some kid,” he replied dismissively, turning to her, “doesn’t mean anything anyway.”

“You sure?” Scott nudged his shoulder, making Logan look towards you again.

That kid had his hands up the sides of your top with his head craned down to kiss your neck, your back to his chest. You were giggling, playfully smacking his arm. Truthfully, you thought the attention was nice for a change. After trying so hard for too long to get Logan to notice you, it felt good to have someone pay attention to you in that way. 

Not looking for cute little divos or rich city guys

I just want to enjoy 

By having a very good time

And behave very bad in the arms of a boy

You felt his hands squeeze your hips a little harder, enough for his nails to dig into your skin. Out of instinct, you felt your canine teeth start to poke against your lower lip. You tried in vain to tug his hands from you, only making him tighten his grip.

The switch in demeanor was obvious even from across the dark room, your smile turning into a grimace that bared your sharp teeth. You yanked the sleeves of his jacket to make him finally let go, turning around while he still had his arms ghosted around you.

S.O.S., she's in disguise

S.O.S., she's in disguise

“Touch me like that again, you son of a bitch, and I will rip you to fucking shreds.”

You gathered fistfuls of his shirt, bringing him down to eye level so he could see your snarling teeth and gleaming eyes as a hint that you weren’t bluffing. 

There's a she wolf in disguise

Coming out, coming out, coming out

Before anyone could even tell him to stay put, Logan had already disappeared into the crowd of people.

“God damn it,” Scott huffed, following Jean and Ororo when they went after him. 

“Logan!” Jean yelled, trying to grab his jacket to slow him and only having him slip out of her grip. 

There's a she wolf in the closet

Let it out so it can breathe

“Shit, I’m kinda into the fangs. What, you gonna bite me?” He was whispering in your ear, your hands still on his shirt. Before you could do something you were going to regret, you felt someone tug your upper arm and pull you away from him.

“Come on,” Logan snapped, “we’re leaving.”

“What the hell are you doing here? What do you mean we?” You yelled back. You didn’t want to stay anywhere near that guy but you weren’t ready to leave either and sure as hell not with Logan dragging you out like an angry parent.

“Hey, she doesn’t really look like she wants to leave with you, man,” the other guy interjected, keeping a grip on you by looping his fingers through one of the belt loops on your pants. 

“Yeah? She doesn’t want to stay with you either, jackass,” Logan moved his hand from your arm to hold your hand instead, “she’s not interested.”

What the hell had gotten into him? You felt like you were in the middle of a tug of war with two dogs. 

“No one’s gonna fucking ask what I want, right?” You tried to complain, neither of them hearing you. 

“Your little doggy girlfriend here was just about to take care of me. You mad about it?” The other guy laughed and you nearly lunged at him, Logan’s hand tugging you back. He intended to pull you away so he could get to him first, but Scott, Jean and Ororo jumped in just in time. 

“Alright - enough, enough, we’re leaving!” Jean yelled, pushing you all towards the door, Logan dragging you the whole way. When you finally were out in the cool evening air, you angrily yanked your hand from his.

“What are you guys doing here?” You asked, turning to Logan, “and what the fuck was that?”

“What was that? You’re welcome - “ 

“I didn’t ask you to come save me - from what, having a good time?”

“Oh, yeah, it looked like you were having a lot of fun,” he scoffed, “he had you by the hip so hard he probably left a bruise.”

He instinctively reached his hand out to check and you swatted it away, “Don’t - Don’t touch me!”

None of them had ever heard you sound so pissed off and you’d definitely never snapped at Logan like that before. 

You took a deep breath and reached down to slip off your shoes, leaving you barefoot on the concrete. 

“I’m sorry,” you apologized to the rest of them,” but why are you guys here?”

“You left without saying anything, we couldn’t find you and we wanted to be sure you were safe,” Ororo sighed, hugging you in relief, “we’re so glad you’re okay.” 

You hugged her back.

“I just - I wanted to disappear for a while,” you explained apologetically, avoiding Jean and Scott’s gaze. 

“Do you know how stupid it was to run off and not tell anyone where you were going?” Logan scolded you, but Jean clicked her tongue at him.

“Shut it! Enough from you! You’ve done enough damage control!”

The ride home was almost silent, your tired body slumped in the backseat between Scott and Jean, until Ororo spoke from the front passenger seat.

“Honey, I don’t mean this in a bad way, but,” she paused, thinking over her words, “what were you gonna do to that guy if we hadn’t stopped you?”

You understood what she meant immediately. 

“What, you think I was going to kill him?” you asked, crossing your arms and leaning forward in your seat, “I wasn’t. I don’t do that unless I have to and you know even then I hate doing it.”

“I know…so, what were you doing with a guy like him anyway?” she asked, trying to move on from the question that had clearly made you upset, “he seemed kinda shady.”

Logan was gripping the steering wheel so hard that his knuckles were white, dreading the answer.

You shrugged your shoulders, staring at the synthetic fabric of your pants.

“Liked the attention, I guess,” you answered honestly, kind of hoping you could throw anyone off the idea of you being interested in Logan, “it’s been awhile since a guy has liked me like that.”

“He only wanted one thing from you anyway,” he scoffed from the front seat. Ororo glared at him, about to tell him to mind his business before you stopped her.

“And I can’t want it either?”

That shut everybody up and Ororo turned to him again, a look on her face that said ‘you asked, you got the answer’.

You tried to bolt to your room when you all got home but Logan was quick to follow, catching up with you to stand in your path in the hallway outside of your bedroom. 

“What’s going on with you?”

“Leave me be.”

You tried to dodge around him but he stuck his arm out. 

“Logan.”

He raised his eyebrows, waiting for you to continue speaking.

“Move.”

“I’m not leaving you alone until you tell me what’s going on with you. You don’t disappear like that, ever. And I wanna talk to you about last night - “

“There’s nothing to talk about. Goodnight,” you huffed, ducking under his arm and opening your door.

“I care about you, you know, I was worried,” he began to explain.

You tried to slam the door in his face but he stuck his foot out, jamming his boot between the door and the doorframe. You let go in defeat and turned away, gathering your pajamas as if he wasn’t in the room.

“Yeah? Why?,” you scoffed, trying with everything in you to bite your tongue but failing miserably, “I’m not your type of girl. What’s there to worry about?”

Logan’s face fell. He pushed the door closed behind him. 

“Is that what this is about? That’s why you went out?”

“Why do you care?” 

You still had your back to him, furiously shuffling through clothing in your dresser.

“Stop.” 

You felt his hands on your arms as he came up behind you, paralyzing you in your spot.

You let him turn you around gently, almost chest to chest.

“I didn’t mean that.”

“You don’t have to lie to spare my feelings -“

“I’m not.”

He leaned back a little to force you to look him in the eye.

“I only said that - listen, I only said that because - “ Logan paused, biting his lip till it nearly bled, but you shook your head and slipped by him again.

“Please, don’t treat me like I’m stupid, Logan.”

You sounded so exasperated, tears forming in your eyes when you turned your back to him.

“Fuck,” he sighed, “I only said that because I didn’t want you to like me.”

You wiped the tear that rolled down your cheek and turned back to him, a confused expression on your face.

“It worked, are you happy?”

“No, I’m not - “

“Well, guess it backfired. Get out of my room.”

You were face to face again, keeping your mouth in a tight line so your lip wouldn’t quiver. It felt stupid to cry in front of him, but you couldn’t really help it once it started. 

“Oh, god, please, don’t cry,” he begged, leaning down and actually bringing a hand up to your face to wipe away a tear that rolled down your cheek. You wanted to smack it away, tell him again to just get the hell out , but you couldn’t.

“Why would you do that?” You mumbled out quietly, finally letting the overwhelming feeling of sadness cancel out any rage you had for him. You couldn’t look him in the eye again, concentrating on the throw rug you were standing on.

“I’m so sorry, princess, I am. I’m really fucking stupid,” he huffed. 

You were surprised by the softness of his voice and finally tore your eyes from the floor. He’d called you that before, but usually in a teasing way. This time it sounded endearing, like a plea of your name. 

“And what happened there, at the club? ‘She’s not interested’, what was that about?” You continued.

He sighed, still trying to figure out what exactly it was that he wanted to say. He realized there probably wasn’t much of a way to beat around the bush and he groaned, closing his eyes as he stood in front of you to make spilling his guts a little less agonizing.

“I like you - like you a lot, and I was an asshole because I figured if you hated me, you couldn’t like me back and it would save you the trouble.”

Hearing no response, he finally opened his eyes to see you still standing in the same spot, your lips parted.

“Save me the trouble of what?”

You were confused, your eyes narrowed as if you were angry.

“I don’t know…having to deal with me, I guess. I - I’ve never felt the way I feel about you for anyone else and it scares the shit out of me.”

You could hear him swallow hard, his eyes looking everywhere around the room except at you. 

“And earlier, when we picked you up,” he continued, “I acted like that because I was jealous, alright? Can’t stand to see some asshole on you like that, and you were dressed all nice and - I don’t know.”

You’d never heard him sound so nervous in all the time you’d known him.

“You are my type of girl,” he finally choked out, “only type of girl I’d ever want.”

All you could do was inhale sharply, his words echoing in your mind. 

“It’s alright if you hate me, I can’t say I really blame you. Fuck, I’m sorry.”

He began to walk out, convinced he’d fucked up beyond repair.

“Logan.”

Your voice stopped his hand from turning your doorknob and he turned back to you. 

No longer crying, you tentatively stepped forward a bit, nervously playing with the front hem of your top. 

“You’re not something to deal with, you know,” you muttered, letting your hair fall in front of your face.

You supposed this was the point where it was your turn to explain.

“I’ve liked you for a long time, Logan, probably since the day I walked in here and I just - I think I wanted someone to distract me so I wouldn’t wallow in self pity because you didn’t want me.”

“You were trying to get over me,” he realized aloud, a small smile on his face to hide the hurt, “I deserved that.”

After a moment of tense silence, he spoke again.

“Did it work?”

His voice was low and soft, a tone you’d rarely heard him speak with.

You pursed your lips and finally lifted your head, taking a deep breath. 

“No. I don’t think it was ever going to, either,” you laughed a little, “when that guy asked me to dance, the first thing I thought of was that he didn’t look anything like you.”

Your voice trailed off a little at the end, a little embarrassed to confess that even if Logan had already flat out told you he was interested in you.

Without another word, he came close enough to reach for your hands and gently intertwine your fingers with his. He cleared his throat, nervously chewing his bottom lip before he spoke.

“Can I kiss you?”

You must have had this dream a million times over, waking up night after night and feeling so empty because none of it was real. But now, with his hands in yours, it was very real.

You eagerly pressed your lips to his, not wanting to waste another second. His lips were soft and you were encompassed in the scent of his body wash and cologne, smelling of pine and cedar wood. You brought your hands up to play with his hair at the back of his head. Logan moved his arms to wrap around your waist, pulling you further into him. 

When you finally pulled away from each other, you were both smiling like idiots.

“We should’ve done that much sooner,” you giggled.

“Agreed.”

His fingers traced small circles on the exposed skin of your back, making you shiver.

He kissed you again, this time with much more intensity. It wasn’t long before your tongues were in each other's mouths and you both had fumbled yourselves over to the end of your bed.

“Wanted you for so long,” he mumbled between kissing your neck and jaw, his hands still sliding up and down your back, “I was so stupid.”

“We both were,” you giggled a little, cut short into a moan when he licked your neck all the way from your collarbone to under your ear.

“L-Logan,” you gasped, unable to hide your blushing face.

He hummed into your neck, bringing his mouth to your ear, “Can I show you how sorry I am? Let me make it up to you.”

His voice made the hair on the back of your neck stand up and you let him pull you onto him to straddle his lap, lost in the feeling of his hands on you.

“Mmm, uh-huh,” you hummed, mouth hung open as he sucked light marks into your neck. 

“You have to use your words, pretty girl,” he brought his head up to rest his forehead against yours. He cupped your jaw tenderly, almost as if you’d disappear if he let go. 

Before you could answer, he moved his hands to drag your hips over his, grunting when he felt the pressure.

“Y-yes, yeah - please,” you choked out between moans, tugging his hair harder every time he pushed and pulled your hips.

“Please what, baby?”

“You - you can make it up to me,” you groaned into his neck. 

He effortlessly lifted you by your thighs and laid you with your back to the bed. You untucked his white t-shirt from his jeans as he crawled over you, desperate to get your hands underneath it. You lightly scratched your nails along his back, making him groan into your ear. He kissed down your neck to the center of your chest, gently slipping his fingers under the hem of your top and around the back. 

“Can I take this off you, baby?”

You were already sitting up before he could finish his sentence, reaching to try and untie the knot at the back of your neck.

“Eager, huh?”, he chuckled, “let me, sweetheart.”

He wrapped his arms around your lower back to tug at the knot, feeling it come loose in his hands. He snaked his hands up to the back of your neck, doing the same to the tied strings there. When it came loose, the only thing holding the piece of fabric to you was his hands at the back of your neck. He let it slip from his fingers, a smirk on his face when it fell completely.

You threw the garment somewhere to the floor and tugged on the collar of his t-shirt, bringing him down with you as laid back again and pressed your lips to his. He pulled back for a moment to yank his shirt off and immediately return his mouth to yours, making his way down to your neck. He brought both his hands to your chest and swept his thumbs over your hard nipples, eventually bringing his lips to them and sucking. 

“Ah - Logan,” you whined, making him smile against your skin.

“I like it when you say my name, pretty girl,” he mumbled, dragging his fingers down your sides and hooking them into the waistband of your pants. He kissed all the way down to your hips, moving himself to lay on his stomach with his head between your thighs. 

Before he could ask you if it was alright to rid you of them, you were already unbuttoning your pants and pushing them down your hips and thighs. He took them off the rest of the way for you and you kicked your panties off with them.

He hooked his arms around your thighs to pull you closer, licking his lips and resting his cheek on the inside of your thigh.

“I thought about you a lot, you know - like this,” he huffed, his warm breath fanning over your pussy.

You had your hands in his hair already, swiping fallen strands of hair out of his face.

“I thought about you like this, too,” you admitted, sighing as he started to plant kisses right above where you wanted him the most.

“Yeah?”

His teasing voice brought goosebumps to your skin and you nodded, gasping when you finally felt his lips graze your clit.

“This what you think about when you fuck yourself?” He mumbled into you, the vibration of his voice making you tighten your grip in his hair. He growled like an animal, trying to push you even further into his mouth by the grip on your thighs.

You were trying to choke out an answer, distracted by the wet sounds of him messily eating you out.

“Y - ah, yes, yeah - not as good as the real thing, though.”

He laughed with his mouth still attached to you and you tightened your thighs around his head, keeping him in place.

He could have spent hours with his mouth to your cunt, practically fucking you with his tongue while you whined his name. 

A knock on your door sounded through the room, the both of you freezing in place.

“Hey, I just wanted to check on you. Are you feeling okay?”

It was Scott.

 You grimaced, thankful at the very least that your door was locked, but Logan had a terribly smug smirk on his face. 

“Y-yeah, I’m alright, just - just tired,” you managed to choke out, stuttering when you felt two of his fingers slip into you effortlessly.

“You sure?”

You sighed, hating and loving Logan at the same time for what he was doing. 

“Yup, th-thank you, m’ jus’ gonna go to bed.”

Scott responded with a goodnight and you groaned in relief when you heard him walk away.

Logan was curling his fingers inside of you, still lapping at your pussy and letting you use your grip on his hair to angle his head however you wanted him. You felt the pressure in your lower stomach rise and you tried to warn him, tugging on the hair on the back of his head.

“Logan, I’m - “

“C’mon, pretty girl, c’mon.”

His encouragement sent you over the edge, euphoria blooming from your lower stomach and spreading through you. You had to cover your mouth to muffle your pornographic moans, but Logan reached up to tug your wrist.

“Uh-uh, wanna hear you, beautiful,” he mumbled into you, practically pushing your thighs even further around his head.

“Fuck, L-Logan, too - too sensitive,” you stuttered out, trying to pull his face away by his hair and failing miserably because of his grip around your thighs.

He eventually reluctantly detached himself and crawled back on top of you, sucking the taste of you off his fingers. 

“I could do that for hours, you know, if you let me,” he groaned, pulling your hips up to him so you could feel the weight of his hard cock underneath his jeans.

Still sensitive, you reactively gripped his biceps and dug your fingernails into his skin. You were going to apologize and were quickly cut off by the guttural moan he let out into the side of your neck.

“Fuck,” he groaned, rocking his hips against yours.

“You’re into pain, huh?” 

You figured it was your turn to tease him, dragging your fingernails from his shoulders all the way down his back.

“You’re gonna pay for that, pretty girl,” he grunted, moving quickly to undo his belt and strip himself of the rest of his clothing. 

When his cock sprung up and hit his stomach as he took off his boxers, you swallowed hard; already feeling a wanting ache in your stomach again. You figured he was big - he was already a tall guy, after all - but he was far bigger than any guy you’d ever seen. Logan noticed the way you bit your lower lip, resting himself on top of you again and bringing his thumb up to pull your lip from under your teeth.

“What, are you nervous? It’s alright sweetheart, I’m not gonna hurt you.”

His voice was so soft and gentle, a tone you rarely ever heard from him. 

You could feel the weight of his cock against your inner thigh, heavy and already leaking. 

“ ‘m not nervous, I want you, please,” you begged, wrapping your legs around his waist. You reached your hand between your bodies to line him up with your entrance, trying to push him in with your legs around his waist. 

“You sure?” he huffed, trying with every muscle in his body to not slam into you in one thrust. 

You nodded eagerly, scratching at his lower back. 

Logan couldn’t help himself and gave in, slipping himself into you.

“So tight,” he groaned into your neck, pushing himself in even further.

“You - fuck - you’re so fucking big,” you admitted truthfully, nearly drooling at the feeling of him stretching you out. 

“Feels good?”

It was hard for him to speak when you were so wet that he was nearly slipping out of you as he gently rocked his hips back and forth, trying to be gentle and let you adjust to his size. 

“Mm - uh-uh,” you hummed, gasping each time he pushed further.

“Use your words, sweetheart,” he huffed and you groaned, digging your nails into him. 

“Y-yes, yeah - want you all the way in,” you whimpered.

That was all it took for him to be buried in you, grinding his hips into yours so that you were pinned to the mattress. 

He worked up to a devastating pace, practically slamming your headboard into the wall.

“S-someone’s gonna - someone’s gonna hear us,” you managed to gasp out, out of breath every time he filled you and pulled back again. 

“Don’t care, let ‘em,” he pressed his forehead to yours, bringing a hand up to your face to affectionately cup your cheek. It was so sweet and almost disgustingly hot, the caring gesture contrasting the intense feeling of him repeatedly slamming into the sensitive spot inside of you. 

He really didn’t have a care in the world about who heard you both, far too lost in the feeling of finally being able to have you under him like that. You had sweat soaked strands of hair stuck to your face, your eyes squeezed shut, and he was almost sure you’d never looked more beautiful. 

“So fucking pretty,” he huffed, his thumb swiping your bottom lip. He had an idea, one he’d considered many times when he thought of you under him like this.

“Bite me.”

You raised your eyebrows in surprise, threading your hand through his hair, “are you sure?”

“Please.”

You forcibly unsheathed your fangs, letting them tentatively poke at his thumb that was still to your lips.

He moved his hand to your throat, resting it there without tightening his grip. 

“Please.”

His pleading had the heat in your lower stomach rising and you obliged, sinking your teeth into his shoulder. You felt guilty - you didn’t enjoy hurting people - until he was whimpering in your ear, moaning your name over and over again. 

You bit his neck, his shoulders, his lip - all the small puncture wounds healing themselves within seconds. 

Having him so pussy drunk and groaning praises into your ear brought the pressure in your lower stomach to a max and you cried out his name, letting him fuck you through your second orgasm. 

“ ‘s good, huh, princess? Come on me, c’mon,” he was begging, feeling your muscles tense around him. That drove him over the edge, his hips rutting into you and his thrusts becoming sloppy. He finally let himself go, filling you and letting it drip from you onto the sheets. He pulled back a little to see the mess you had both made, your inner thighs painted with a mix of his release and yours. He went to pull out completely and you clamped your thighs around his hips again, keeping him still.

“Want me to stay?”

“Mhm - please.”

The sexual tension was replaced with loving comfort, Logan keeping you to his chest as he laid you both on your side. His chin rested on the top of your head and your face was against his chest with your eyes closed. You smiled at the thump of his heartbeat in your ear, nearly letting it put you to sleep. 

“Hey, pretty girl,” he mumbled into your hair, planting a kiss on the top of your head, “you know I love you?”

The last three words made your eyes shoot open and you looked up at him, worried you’d misheard him or maybe he was just messing with you.

“Really?”

“Of course. You think I would’ve done that with you if I wasn’t in love?”

You thought hard for a second, realizing he was right. It wasn’t that he hadn’t had hookups before, but it had been quite a long time since he’d bothered to even get to know someone like that. He wasn’t the type to lead you on, either - always up front with you, even if he didn’t have to be. 

“I love you too,” you answered, unable to hide the wide smile on your face.

“I should’ve told you much sooner,” he sighed, his eyes fluttering closed as you snuggled into him again.

Before you could both fall asleep from exhaustion, he yanked the comforter over the both of you, hearing you mumble sleepily.

“You can make it up to me some more.”

───────♡──────────────♡───────

A/N: If you made it to the end I love you <3 pls lmk what you think and reblog+like if you enjoyed!! also still navigating how to write smut without using cringe terminology so forgive me if that part sucks

[fefern]

✧˖° first dates with them. | lingyang, m!rover, jiyan headcanons.

⋆ ˚☁️ ⁀➴ synopsis: going on a first date is always nerve wracking, yet can also be exciting! what's it like for these boys to take you out on your first date together?

⋆ ˚☁️ ⁀➴ characters involved (separate): lingyang, male rover, jiyan, and a gender neutral reader.

⋆ ˚☁️ ⁀➴ warnings: none!

⋆ ˚☁️ ⁀➴ notes: hello! coming to you live with my first post for wuwa! just some cute little headcanons with the boys on first dates with you because i love planning dates out ;;!! requests are open if you want to talk or have me write something!! ( ˘͈ ᵕ ˘͈♡)

Lingyang

Lingyang has never been more excited or nervous to hang out with someone, even more so since this was his first date with you. 

As someone who always seemed to fear being different from the humans around him, he felt extra self-conscious when he looked in the mirror and adjusted his outfit. Did he look alright? Were you going to enjoy this as much as he thought he would? Will everything go well? What if you decided you changed your mind and didn’t want to date someone of his species?

His first date gift for you would be a small lion plushie. Cute and fluffy with vibrant colors, he’d hold it out in front of him and shut his eyes tight, anxiety flowing through him. “These are for you! That way, when you miss me, you can hug this! If you want to, no pressure!” 

He’d be ecstatic when you took it into your hands and held it throughout your date together, happily looking between you and the plush and feeling his cheeks turn a rosy pink that you two were going out together. 

He’d probably take you to the best food spots all around Jinzhou, ranting about which dishes to try or who had his favorite foods. He’d want to get to know you more, curious and nervous as he’s asking you about your likes, dislikes, what your daily life is like in Jinzhou. Lingyang would walk and eat with you along the way, practically enamored by anything you did or said. 

His tail would swish fast back and forth whenever you were talking. Even if it’s something you found mundane, he couldn’t help but be happy just listening to you speak. His ears will also be very reactive around you, usually up but always reacting accordingly to whenever you’d tell a story or joke with him. 

He’ll let you pet him if you want to, he trusts you after all. His cheeks flush a soft pink and he lets out a small purr when you do so, finding himself growing a bit shyer at the sweet touch. He also feels a tad embarrassed by it, so you’ll have to pry his hands away as he childishly hides the way he’s turning red from you. 

He seems a little bit sad when you two do have to part, but when you ask him when the next one would be, a hopeful look emerges in his eyes as he begins to excitedly make plans to see you again and take you on another date. 

Other Points:  - Will jump in place when super excited to tell you something while on the date.  - Would point to some random cute things on your walk and go, “That reminds me of you!” - Happy to talk about lion dancing with you, and if you show more interest in it, he’ll offer to give you your own personal show one day!

Rover (Male)

Considering he is a person that just woke up in a strange world with no memories of his past or who he is, he is a bit lost on the idea of what to do during a date with you. Were there rules he had to follow? Did people in Jinzhou have certain taboos or ways that they executed dates?

He’d most likely ask all around the city in order to find out what to do or where to take you. He wanted to make sure the experience was good after all, not something that the both of you would dread. 

When he meets up with you, his hair is a bit more put together than usual and he stands up tall, giving you a small smile as he gently takes your arm and links it with his. 

“Take me around the city. Show me how you see the world through your eyes.”

His first date gift would be a small box of candy. I could definitely see Rover as being a person who likes small sweet treats as a guilty pleasure, and he’d want to share them with you as a way of connecting you with something that you love. 

He’s calm throughout most of your stroll, browsing through stores or looking around in quiet curiosity as you show him little nooks and crannies of the city. He enjoyed hearing how you would describe stores or fixate on different areas of the city that he hadn’t thought to really pay attention to before. 

He makes a mental note of the places that you like so that for your next date, you two could come back to them. Rover is already a few steps ahead in terms of thinking where he wants to go with you or what he wants to do. 

When you’re done showing him the city, he’ll give you a kind, endearing look and smile at you. He’ll take a moment to just admire you, shifting some of your hair out of your face and enjoy being in your presence before ultimately, it is time to part ways. He’ll wave you off, thanking you for everything and giving him a tour, before he smiles to himself like a fool and turns to head back to his quarters. 

Other Points: - Probably would be looking at you more than the city.  - Fast walker, so you’d have to keep up the pace. Apologies if he’s going too fast and happens to catch you struggling. - Will inquire about certain places just to listen to you talk. 

Jiyan

As the general of the Midnight Rangers that conducts himself in a poised, righteous manner, he’d be the most classy out of all the people to take you out on a date. 

Jiyan’s got a busy schedule as the head of such an important group in Jinzhou, but after bonding with you and asking you out he wanted to ensure that he carved out time in advance for just you and him to spend an afternoon together. 

He’d take you to a fancy restaurant in Jinzhou, the best money can buy. He’d be sure to pick you up from your place and walk with you to the restaurant. When you open the door, he’s standing in front of you with his hair slicked back and ponytail waving a bit in the wind, his clothes pristine and ironed out to look his absolute best in front of you. 

His present for you is a bouquet of flowers he made himself. He enlisted the help of his mom for this one, catching up with her about medical practices as he puts together the best pecok, irises, and poppies that he could find when he was out on his rounds into a pretty bouquet just for you. It’s wrapped up with brown paper and has a nice aqua bow on it, matching his hair.

When you get to the restaurant, he’ll look at the menu with you and ask you to order anything your heart desires. He already knows what he wants to eat, and will quietly look at you with a softened expression as you begin choosing what you want. He finds the way you handle yourself beautiful, even if it’s through simple things like ordering food. 

Jiyan will happily eat anything you don’t end up finishing. He doesn’t want to waste money, and he also cannot deny that the way you ask him to finish your plate was cute. He’ll work it off anyways with the amount of fighting and training he does, so he doesn’t mind. 

Will pay for the meal. No splitting or you paying, as much as you might plead and beg.

Will take you back to your place and entertain any questions you may have for him, whether it be about his past, missions he’s been on, or just about his duties as general of the Midnight Rangers. When he drops you off, he’d take the back of your hand and gently place a kiss on it before standing up straight and giving you a small smile, wishing you a goodnight. 

Other Points: - Will hold all your belongings so your hands are free and light. Does not matter how heavy or how much you have, he will refuse to let you “labor” like that, as he puts it.  - Admires your personality and the way you hold yourself when you speak. - Has a strong desire to protect you; always subconsciously keeping an eye out for any danger even though it’s daylight out.

[lonniemachin]

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[alphabetboyluvr]

the curious lifespan of migrating monarchs - jjk

THE CURIOUS LIFESPAN OF MIGRATING MONARCHS (& other aurelian affairs)

pairing: streamer!jk x international student!female oc (s2l)

warnings: strangers to lovers, clubbing, foul language, alcohol, vaping lol, jungkook is kinda famous, the oc is oblivious, the oc is also a foreign student who has very recently arrived in Korea!! (pls note - while i've been in korean uni dorms, i've never been in yonsei dorms specifically so don't shout at me if it isn't supeeeerr accurate), jaykay is speaking in eng for like 90% of this!!, i've also never watched a gaming streamer and had to do so for research lmao so there's a lot of guesswork going awwwn <3, the oc has tattoos, they bond over this, cute nicknames (tokki and nabi <3), one bed trope?? kinda, jaykay lives w/ yoongi and tae (they are streamers too (and dj?? (tae is a bit unhinged))), jungkook wears calvins!, a singular appearance of yoongi in his boxers!!, tipsy hookup, fingering, protected sex (woo!), desk sex, oral (m receiving), girliepop swallows <3, brief mentions of jungkook's starry eyes, lots of kisses, bunny ears, (1) mention of cross-fit

wordcount: 13011

note from holly: this was a commission done for the lovely Michelle over on my kofi page!! i don't open commissions often, but when I do I'm very lucky that the requests are so much fun. this actually ended up being way longer than it was supposed to be lol and is also available on wattpad!! also fun facts for you - I imagine the boys apartment (and jks room!) to be same as jk + jimins place in BD, just a little bigger lmao

minors dni // cross posted to wattpad

CLUB SUNDOWN WAUSAN-RO, HONGDAE SATURDAY 02:24

Time ceases to exist after the sun goes down in Seoul. It could be two, or it could be five. The only thing that really clues you in on the actual time is the DJ schedule that lights up behind the decks: 02:00-03:00, Blu-Tae.

It's some guy you've never heard of. Looks no older than you. Probably a student, just like the rest of the crowd.

His hair is as blue as his namesake, which does make you smile, and his choices aren't bad either (even if somewhat questionable). You've never heard a jazz remix of Darude's Sandstorm before, and you doubt you ever will again.

Club Sundown is just as rogue as the rest of the city after the sun goes down. Hidden in the basement—like all the best places in Seoul are—the small room is packed to the absolute brim.

Who cares for views and sunsets offered by rooftop bars when you could lose yourself in the debauchery of an eternal midnight, instead?

Drinks are spilt on strangers, and dances have lost the grandeur of old-fashioned waltzes. It's not like you could dance properly, even if you wanted to. There's just simply no space.

Like Alice, you're down the rabbit hole—and oh, how you prefer it to being in the real world. In the shadows, you can be anyone you like.

If you were sober, you'd know this is also the case for daily life. You're in a new country with no ties to your former self. Who you are is who you choose to be.

But the shadows aren't all that dark. The red lights of the club bleed into the cracks, painting everyone in the same subtle hue of danger.

They shine a little light on the identifiers of you; the thin black lines of your patchwork tattoos. Trailing up your arm, they're memories of your past selves, and an indicator of who you hope to become.

"Down this," you say to your dormmate, Rae, handing back over the drink you've just ordered from the bar. "Cloakroom, then dance."

Still carrying your winter coats, you'd wanted to check the place out before committing to it. Entry is free, but the cloakroom is the same price as a drink. It would only be worth putting your coats away if you knew you wanted to stay—and given the fact the DJ was playing O-Zone's Dragostea Din Tei as you entered, you know it's a no-brainer. While his stage name might make you roll your eyes a little, Blu-Tae certainly does cater to your tastes. When you're drunk, and music vibrates through you, it's empyrean. No place you'd rather be.

"Oh, Jesus," Rae gags as she sips the drink you've just handed her. Despite her disgust, she's laughing. Head to toe in black, dark hair loose around her shoulders, she's been your ride-or-die since you arrived in Seoul. Both international students in the same dorm, there's no one you'd rather get up to no good with. "Vodka?!"

You beam at her like you're from the heavens above, wrongfully relegated to the depths of sin. Pretend like you love vodka. It's totally not like you panicked when you saw the menu was all in Korean.

Vodka-coke is a universally understood delicacy—the easiest thing for you to order without making a tit of yourself or butchering the pronunciation. When the bartender ignored your botched attempt at ordering in Korean and answered in fluent English, you'd wanted to melt into the floor. So embarrassing.

You're here, like most foreign students, for a language course. Semester is yet to start, and as much as you've studied and practised hard, it's always different when putting it into practice.

"I'm sorry," you laugh. "It's fine—you can order next time!"

But Rae has the exact same predicament as you. If anything, your language skills are better than hers, so you really have no hope. It's vodka-cokes for the evening, or maybe highballs. Once your tipsy brain manages to compute hangul cocktail names, you'll be golden, but that won't be for another few weeks, yet.

You'll look back at this time of your life fondly, realising how simple it all was, even if it feels incredibly overwhelming right now.

Funnily enough, hope is exactly what you have: for the semester ahead, for this new life you're forging, for the opportunities that may come your way.

In fact, by the time you're on your third vodka coke, you've managed to convince yourself you actually like it. You also can't taste it, thanks to the bartender freepouring a 60-40 ratio of vodka to coke in the first drink. Your tastebuds were wiped out pretty much instantly.

Coats in the cloakroom, you're glad to be wearing thin layers. The room is stuffy; your skin sweaty. While meeting new friends had been the goal, you keep to yourself. Dance like nobody is watching. Hold Rae's hands to stay close and ward off weirdos. Quickly realise that clubs back home are slightly different. Pay it no mind. Ignore the intrusions of hands on waists, because men, disappointingly, are no different.

Or at least most of them aren't.

But most of them don't look like the man in the corner booth, laughing with his friends.

Though he is tall, he's eclipsed by his demeanour. Shoulders broad, he's in a dark T-shirt and pair of jeans. Nothing special. Nothing that warrants such a perplexed stare from you - but he's familiar. You can't place him, but he's got the kind of face you swear you've seen before.

Rae doesn't notice the change in your poise, nor how you're desperately trying to work out where you know him from. Perhaps you've seen him around your university? It's only been a couple of weeks, but people are steadily moving in. Maybe he works at the convenience store you constantly find yourself in? Or mans the front desk of the noraebang you and Rae visit pretty much every other evening?

Impossible, you think. If you'd seen him before, you wouldn't have forgotten him, or the way he constantly toys with his lip rings. Plural. There are signs up around the place stating bar rules. NO SMOKING is rule number three. You've seen his friends pass him over a vape a handful of times. Anyone else, and you'd think it was cringe. Embarrassing.

But in the midst of his laughter settling, and a fresh toke being inhaled, his eyes flicker towards yours.

Perhaps it's just because you're drunk, but you don't avert your gaze. Show no shame. The smile on his lips sinks into a smirk as he exhales. An acknowledgement. A 'hello, trouble'.

Again, any other man, you'd find the vape smoke repugnant. Nasty. Now? Watching the way he flicks his tongue against his lip rings?

You wanna know how it tastes.

Black ink weaves an intricate outline of who he is up his arms. Where he's been. Who he's been. A map, if you will, of his soul.

Much like your own tattoos, he's got thick black lines, and little else. Simple, you assume. A man of convenience. Efficiency.

You wonder if he does everything in life with the precision to match his tattoos, and as your lips wrap around the straw of your vodka-coke, you decide you'd quite like to find out.

Interrupted by Rae pulling you deeper into the crowd, your night is spent in and out of shadows. Attempt subtlety. Try not to make your occasional glances to the corner booth noticeable, just checking if his eyes are still on you. More often than not, they aren't—but sometimes they are, and that's enough to fuel your little flirt.

It's not until the sign behind the DJ booth changes from 03:00-04:00, GLOSS into some other guy that you notice your staring contest opponent has slipped into the shadows himself. The booth is void of both him and his friends. Gone.

"GLOSS has a set at another club," Rae all but yells in your ear, and even then, you barely hear her. "All the hotties left when he did. Let's go."

"Where to?!" You laugh, empty cup in hand. Admittedly, the new guy who's stepped into the DJ booth is just not doing it for you. Blu-Tae was just the right amount of unhinged with classics, whereas GLOSS was definitely cooler, but still fun. Had the club yelling curse words over trap remixes just for the fun of it. This new guy, whose name you don't care to remember, takes himself too seriously, you think.

"It's, like, two blocks down," she yells back, tugging on your wrist to drag you to the stairwell that leads you back up to the streets of Seoul. The hustle and bustle of people trying to go in different directions in the tight place forces you apart, but you figure you'll catch up with her, or that she'll be waiting at the top.

You don't know the roads well enough yet to make it to whichever club it's at alone, and quickly realise when you nearly tumble into the side of a waiting taxi that you're far drunker than expected. Knew the bartender was freepouring, but didn't realise just how free those pours really were.

"Woah, easy trouble," a deep voice sounds from behind you as you're steadied to a more stable position.

"I'm good, I'm good!" You insist, shaking off the hands of your 'saviour'. Have no interest in being a damsel in distress, or some sober guy trying to take advantage of you.

Looking down to check your laces are tied properly, you check over your shoulder to make sure the guy isn't creepily waiting for a thank you that he can turn into an intrusive game of 21 questions—'are you open-minded?' or 'do you live alone?'—but when you glance in his direction, you regret it. Notice the tattoos immediately. Recognise the eyes. Want to die.

"Oh."

"Oh," he says back with a smile, imitating you. Suddenly, the confidence you'd had earlier when looking at him from afar dissolves into nothingness, just like the alcohol in your bloodstream. You feel rather sober, but your body would definitely disagree. "You okay?"

"Yeah, yeah," you nod, suddenly a little stuck for words, desperately trying to play things cool. "Are you okay?"

The pouting of his lips as his tongue runs along the inside of his cheek only serves to make you internally cringe. Men who look like him have no business being on streets like this. Should be in a museum. Strung up on the walls with the other masterpieces. Admired by everyone who looks his way.

In a way you don't yet realise, he is.

Though he's not in galleries, he's often burning into people's laptop screens. Is the background of a fair few thousand lock screens. Indeed, he is admired by everyone who looks his way, just not in the traditional sense.

"I'm not the one who just fell into a car," he reminds you, as if you could forget your embarrassment so quickly.

"Was just seeing if you'd catch me," you bullshit, the confidence you usually have returning tenfold. Was just a momentary blip. He's just a man, after all.

"Oh?" He chirps, decidedly curious. "So you fell for me?"

"Stumbled."

"Semantics."

His fluency, and the fact he just said 'semantics' so casually in conversation, clues you in on the fact he might be a language student, too. 

Could be useful study partners for each other, you think, then mentally berate yourself for already masterminding ways to see him again.

"So, where you going?" He asks, not caring to downplay his curiosity. The bartenders were free-pouring his drinks just as severely as they poured yours. The only difference is that his were on the house—'cause you were right. He does have a recognisable face. "Should probably go with you. Make sure you don't fall into the road."

"Stumble," you insist, a little pleased with the boldness of his suggestion, but not wanting to blindly agree. "My friend," you say glancing around, only to find yourself completely alone. "She wanted to go catch the next GLOSS set. So, I guess that's where we're going."

"Just down the road," he says, knowing the schedule like the back of his hand. Bounces from club to club supporting his friends, just like they would for him. If he wanted, he could get a slot up there, too. He doesn't care for it. "I'll walk with you, if you want? My friends are heading there anyway."

It's not a bad offer.

In fact, it's probably the best offer you'll get all night.

"C'mon," he nods his head to the side, encouraging you to follow him. Checks his phone for the time. "Starts in five."

If there's one thing you've indulged in since moving to Seoul, it's how safe you always feel. Security cameras are on every corner, and you've walked home countless times without any issues, even late into the night. While the place isn't perfect, it's far safer than your home country.

Still, you're not a complete idiot.

"It's not wise to follow strange men down dark alleys," you tell him.

He holds out his hand. Waits for you to shake it. Cocks a brow when you hesitate, so introduces himself.

"Jungkook. Nice to meet you. Now, can we please hurry up? I promised I'd be there."

Narrowing your eyes, you don't shake his hand. Arms folded over your chest, there is ice to your exterior, and given how warm his eyes are, you doubt it'll last for very long. May as well keep up this hard-to-get act while you still can.

Walking on past him, you call back, "Alright then. Lead the way."

In the domed mirror meant for reversing cars at the end of a tight alley, you see him laugh. "Wrong way, idiot."

Pausing, you scrunch your face up. Don't turn to face him for at least a second or so—but when you do, you're surprised to see him walking towards you. Hooking his arm around your waist, he carries on walking in the 'wrong' direction, taking you with him.

"Was just fucking with you," he grins. Nods towards a sign by another basement entrance, listing both Blu-Tae and GLOSS.

By the door, Rae is looking around like a mother duck who's just lost some of her ducklings when crossing the road. Breathes a sigh of relief when she spots you.

"C'mon," she grins, then realises who you're with. Says nothing of it, 'cause she doesn't want to be weird, but she recognises him, too. Decides she's just had a little too much to drink. There's no way it's him. Holds out her hand for you.

Reaching out for her, you're let go from Jungkook's grip, ready to get lost in the lights once more.

HAEJANG24 WAUSAN-RO, HONGDAE SATURDAY 05:53

Seoul is a city for the nocturnal. The restaurants and bars are open until the last men are standing. Given how much you've had to drink, you're surprised you still are.

Rae had dipped an hour or so ago. Had hit it off with Mr Blu-Tae himself. Seduced him with the suggestion that their couple name would be Blu-Rae. He'd said they should go to a DVD-bang. Would be fitting. See what Blu-rays were on file.

Naturally, you'd looked on with mild disgust and also admiration for how quickly she'd worked her magic. Everyone knows what goes down in DVD-bangs. Small private rooms, often with projector screens and the world's least comfortable futons, they're somewhere you hope to never end up—but also can't wait to hear all the details the next morning when Rae comes to your room for a debrief.

You'd been left under the surveillance of Jungkook.

"Look after her," Rae had instructed, then narrowed her eyes. "Or I'll destroy your reputation with a single twitter thread, Tokki."

It's a threat he's taken seriously. Knows how the internet works, and even though he's never done anything worthy of a cancellation, he also doesn't intend on starting now. The fact you seem to have no idea who he is during the daylight hours intrigues him. It's a rarity on streets like these.

Even when a few people asked for pictures with him on your walk to the hangover soup place, you didn't clock it as weird. Figured they were friends passing by, wanting to document their chance run-in. Just another memory of the night. The way Jungkook had greeted them was full of warmth, and kindness. Why wouldn't you assume they were mates?

You were also still incredibly drunk at the time, so didn't think to question it. Was keen for food, and Jungkook had insisted on hangover soup, and so that's where you are. Dishes nearly empty, far more of it eaten by him than you, you're laughing about nothing and everything all at once.

"Right," Jungkook declares, deciding he cannot hold in a question that's been tickling at his brain for the entire meal. "What the fuck is that?"

Coat left in the cloakroom, long forgotten about, your tattoos are on full display for him, just like his are for you. Up your arm they trail; a patchwork of teeny tiny identifiers. Latin phrases around skulls, birth flowers of the people you hold close, butterflies and stars. There's an ode to your favourite musician and your favourite Shakespeare quote, too. The fabric of you etched into your skin. There's no reinventing yourself, even half the world away from home.

You know precisely which tattoo Jungkook is asking about. You've asked yourself the same question a few times.

"Fuck off," you laugh.

While most of your tattoos are gorgeous, there's one that was done by a rogue artist on a girlie holiday a few years ago. What was supposed to be a seashell now looks like... well, nothing really. It's just a blob, thanks to the artist being absolutely terrible. The only solace you find in it is that your two best friends have an equally awful permanent reminder of that holiday on their bodies, too.

"It doesn't look how it's supposed to," you explain with a little pout. "I got royally screwed over."

He cocks a brow. You still haven't told him what it is. He isn't gonna ask you twice.

With a grumble, you feebly admit, "A shell."

And then he's laughing. Really laughing. Laughing so hard you think he might piss himself—which you'd actually prefer, because then he could be the embarrassed one, instead.

"I'm calling you Shelly from now on," he says with a broad smile. Has had his fair share of tattoo blunders, and knows you must've developed an affection towards how shitty it is. Would have gotten it covered up, otherwise. "That's incredible."

"You're calling me so such thing," you assure him, but you also can't help but laugh.

"I am," he tells you, then really solidifies it. "Shelly."

"Fuck off," you whine, doubling down. Scanning his arms, you try and pick out anything you can use against him, too. "If I'm Shelly, then you're Mike."

"Mike?!" He protests.

"Yeah," you insist, pointing towards the microphone on his forearm. "Mike."

"You are not calling me Mike. Do I look like a Mike?!"

"Do I look like a Shelly?!"

You've got a point. It's not the name he would have first associated with you - but it is cute, he thinks. Cute how mortified you seem. Cute how you can't help but smile.

After a little bit of back and forth, it's decided that neither of you look like your namesakes.

"Y'know, we kinda have matching tattoos," he says, holding out his arm for you to study. "Or at least, the placements."

And sure enough, below his elbow lives the outline of a bunny sitting on a crescent moon. Holding your own arm out next to his, below your elbow is a butterfly. Above it, is a teeny tiny moon.

Like Jungkook's moon, it's a crescent. Was supposed to symbolise new beginnings. You wonder what his means, but don't ask. Instead, you marvel at the coincidence of it all.

He presses his index finger against the butterfly on the inside of your forearm. The echoing chatter of the restaurant fades softly into nothingness as he says, "Nabi."

You nod. Even if you have spoken with him in English this entire time, it's nice to hear him speak in his mother tongue, no matter how minimal - so you reciprocate. Press your index finger against his bunny. Smile. Say, "Tokki."

It further confirms to Jungkook that you have no idea who he is. Has been a while since he's met a girl in a circumstance like this where that's the case. Likes the anonymity of it all. Is hiding his identity from you, and yet hasn't felt such vulnerability for years.

"Daltokki, right?" You continue, not wanting the silence to linger for too long. "The rabbit in the moon?"

You're not wrong, but you're also not entirely right.

"Yeah," he smiles regardless. "That's it."

JUNGKOOK'S APARTMENT ITAEWON-DONG, YONGSAN-GU SATURDAY 07:12

"Shhh," Jungkook quietly laughs. 

His hand is over your mouth and the other is on your hip as he guides you into his apartment. With your back to his chest, you've both been giggling for the entire ride to his place.

He had insisted that he should walk you home, and was surprised by the offense you seemed to have taken by this. You then told him that he absolutely could not seduce you, and that it was very gender-role-conforming for him to think that you were incapable of getting home by yourself.

"Maybe I should be the one to make sure you get home safely," you had said with a false sense of concern, which had made him laugh quite considerably.

In all reality, you didn't mind him offering to get you home. You just hadn't tidied your room. Didn't really expect to be taking a boy back to your place, much less one that looks like him.

Together, you'd caught the early morning bus over to Itaewon instead of a taxi, 'cause you're still on a student budget and Jungkook wasn't quite ready to blow his cover just yet.

You've been teasing him—questioning his status as a potential International Super Spy—ever since he took your hand and guided you into one of the flashiest apartment complexes you've ever been in. There was security. Doormen. A passcode for the elevator—not to mention that he was heading up to the seventh floor once you were in it. Might not sound like much, but when there are only seven floors to the entire building, it makes it the penthouse by default.

"It's not a penthouse," he'd insisted. "Plus, I live with friends. Only pay a third of the rent."

But a third of his rent is more money than you'll probably see in three months of post-grad work. You're drunk, but you're not stupid. You also know that the rental market here differs significantly from your home country. Monthly rent is cheap, but the deposits are extortionate. Sure, he'll get it back when he leaves, but to have the initial money needed for a place like this? He's not a regular student, if one at all, that much is sure.

"Not sure who's home," Jungkook whispers as you both kick your shoes off in the entryway. Given the looks of the other shoes, it's clear that this is a guys-only living situation. You're proven right when he continues, "Betcha Tae's still in that damn DVD-bang, but Yoongi might be back."

"Yoongi?" You question.

"GLOSS," Jungkook says, remembering how oblivious you are to who he is. Reaching down to grab your shoes, he isn't gonna leave them by the door. Will take them to his room. Doesn't want the boys asking questions, if they are in. Knows they'll just use it as an excuse to publicly roast him whenever they're next online together.

Given that a stream is scheduled for Sunday night, he doesn't want to tempt fate.

Their current choice of wind-up, which the viewers have been eating up, is the joke that Jungkook is a virgin. He's not, but he never knows how to defend himself without sounding like a tool, so always gets a little awkward. A lot of their viewers love it. Join in on the joke. Some take it seriously. He doesn't care.

Next month, Taehyung will do something dumb, and he'll become the favourite joke for a while. Maybe Yoongi. But for now, it's Jungkook.

None of them take it to heart. They're just a group of friends who share their gaming hangouts online, and accidentally made it to the top of the ranks.

They aren't particularly good at gaming, but that's part of the charm. Crescent Collective is how they're known: Blu-Tae, GLOSS and Tokki.

After a bet went wrong, and they all lost, they ended up with moon tattoos and their respective 'symbols'. Jungkook's is a rabbit, Tae's is a blu-ray DVD disk (because he really is committed to the bit), and Yoongi's is stars to symbolise the shine of fresh gloss. Jungkook's makes the most sense. Yoongi's is pretty decent. Taehyung's is just... Well, it's very him.

Sliding open the door into the main living area, Jungkook has to cover your mouth again when you gasp at the sheer size of the place.

"I thought butterflies were supposed to be silent?" He teases. "Quiet for me, Nabi."

His place is bigger than your family home, you think. Hushing you again, he's laughing—and then he's cursing at the sight of a half-naked Yoongi by the kitchen counter.

In his boxers, with half a clementine slice hanging from his lips, he's just as shocked to see Jungkook with you. Gets over it pretty quickly.

"Don't mind me," he says, chewing down on the fruit with a smirk. Looks towards you. "Apologies for the lack of clothes."

With your shoes hooked on his fingers, Jungkook's other large hand is still over your mouth. You're not sure you can form any words as it is, but you do notice the crescent moon and stars on Yoongi's ribs.

"Not a word to Tae," is all Jungkook says. Knows that he'll be in for a world of teasing tomorrow if he gets wind of it. "I mean it."

Holding his hands up, Yoongi's still smirking, but he is backing away into a room just off the kitchen. "My lips are sealed."

Watching as he closes the door, you wonder how much truth is in his words. Jungkook knows it's absolute bullshit. Chooses not to dwell on it. Loosens his grip on you and heads towards his own room. Turns back to check you're following him, and can't help but smile when he knows that you are.

Tossing your shoes just inside the door, Jungkook is quick to pick up a pair of jeans he'd left on the floor, before chucking them over his desk chair. He tweaks his bedding. Straightens it out. Looks a little shy as he turns to face you.

"Made it home safe," he says quietly, as you close the door behind you.

You nod. Keep a little distance. Say, "It's dangerous to sleep after drinking. Make sure you build a tower of pillows in the middle of your bed so you don't roll onto your back."

Both of you are far more sober than you were earlier. There's no need to worry about anything like that.

And yet he nods, now. Says, "You're probably right. You can always stay, though. Just to check I don't die in my sleep, or whatever."

"It'd be the responsible thing to do," you nod, wondering if he can tell just how fast your heart is beating. "But I don't have any pyjamas."

Jungkook swallows. The way he looks at you now is entirely different to how he'd looked at you in the club. Back then, he'd been bold. Flirtatious.

Now, he seems vulnerable. Needy.

"I sleep in my underwear," he tells you, unsure if you'll actually be sleeping. While he likes the idea of fucking you, part of him doesn't want to. Fears it'll ruin the magic of the unknown. The way he throbs at the mere thought of it would suggest that his hopes outweigh his fears. "I don't mind, if you don't."

The clothes Jungkook's wearing are baggy. You've seen nothing of his figure.

Reaching for the nape of his neck, he tugs on the fabric of his T-shirt. Pulls it over his head and discards it in one swift movement. The sound of it crumpling on the floor is abrasive in how it makes you feel. Raw. Unrefined. You suppose it's just a natural consequence of seeing the toned muscles of his chest. How his waist defies what you thought was possible for masculine builds, and how broad his chest is. The indent of his collarbones, and the lines of his pelvis that draw your eyes downwards.

A pair of Calvins peek just above the waistband of his jeans, and a silver chain rests around his neck. Light from the city filters in, and LED lights around his impressive computer set-up paint him in a hue of violet.

"No," you manage to reply, which is a miracle, you think. "I don't mind."

And then you reciprocate. Reach for the hem of your shirt and pull it over your head, letting the fabric fall to the floor. Seeing him swallow back his nerves, or maybe his desires, makes you feel far bolder than you should.

"It's really uncomfortable to sleep in jeans," you tell him.

He nods. Agrees. Threads the button of his trousers through its loop. Doesn't take them off yet. Waits for you to do the same. Keeps his eyes firmly locked on yours. Doesn't let his gaze wander, no matter how much he has to fight all his instincts not to fully take you in. Is still pretending like he doesn't want you in the most indecent of ways.

The room you're in right now is known worldwide. 

People set it as their zoom backgrounds. It's on Pinterest. There are YouTube videos attempting to recreate the set-up. If he were to power up his computer—which, in all fairness, is only on standby—and go live, there'd be a thousand viewers within minutes. Doesn't matter what he plays, or who he's with. He doesn't give it much thought anymore. Is just life.

Sometimes, he regrets not being a faceless streamer, but he also knows that it's part of the appeal. Connection, and the fantasy that comes with this almost dystopian, parasocial idea of it.

After all, the meeting of his eyes with yours across a busy club led you to this point. Human connection in the simplest of ways, that he thinks could culminate in the most complex of ways, too.

"Okay," he says. "So take them off."

"You want me to?" You ask just to tease a little bit, and when a smile flickers onto his seemingly nervous lips, you're glad you did.

"You think we'd be here right now if I didn't?" He says with a tweak of his brows.

"You've got a point."

With that, you push your jeans down and reveal the matching set of black underwear you're in. It's nothing special. In fact, it's not really a set, but it's close enough that it'd fool anyone who didn't know.

Jungkook, in this moment, is indeed a beautiful fool.

There's a lopsided grin on his face as he lets his eyes rake down your body. Is shameless as he indulges in you. Nods, as he bites down on his bottom lip.

"It's cold," you tell him, urging him along a little bit.

"Shit," he says without much thought. "Sorry. Was just... Yeah. Shit."

It's both endearing and wholly confusing how Jungkook flips from confident to cute. A man of duality. It makes you giggle, and then you're the one biting down on your bottom lip. Are both a little bashful. A little shy.

"I'm only here to make sure you don't die in your sleep," you remind him before it goes any further.

Looking at him now, knowing you want him in the worst of ways, it's testing all of your willpower not to just cut to the chase.

Thing is, you liked his company tonight. Want it again. Want to give him a reason to seek you out once more. Want him thinking about you in clubs, and looking for you in crowded bars. Pining. Yearning. Needy.

"It's already gone seven," he tells you, walking towards his bed. Knocks his head to the side. Silently tells you to follow suit. "Will probably only get a couple hours in."

"Better than nothing. Plus, you're actually really irritating," you bullshit as you get into bed with him. Are adamant you won't fuck him, but you do let him pull you in closer.

"Oh, yeah?" He grins.

"Mhmm," you nod, pretending as if you aren't looking at his lips. "You'll be less annoying when you're asleep."

"I'm never gonna sleep again," he assures you. "Will annoy you forever."

"I know where the front door is," you say as you stroke a few of his loose, wavy hairs back behind his ears. They fall freely almost right away, but it just gives you another excuse to play with it "I can just leave. I'm only here to make sure you don't die in your sleep. Pointless if you're awake."

"So I have to be asleep for you to stay?"

"Mhmm," you hum.

He immediately loosens his grip on you and flops into an overdramatic sleeping position. Fake snores. Gets you giggling. Can't hide his smile, either. Laughs through the god-awful noises he's making.

But it is late, and you're both tired. As much as he'd like to stay awake with you, the pull of sleep is just too tempting now that you're beneath his sheets. It's not like he doesn't wanna fuck you. His semi is very much present, but neither of you mention it.

"Y'know what's sad about butterflies?" Jungkook mumbles after the laughter dies down. He carefully begins to trace the lines of your tattoo, eyes entirely focused on the tip of his finger.

You purr a response before you fully vocalise one. "Tell me."

He glances up at you only very momentarily. Looks back down. Is quiet when he says, "How quickly they die. Spend over half their lifespan growing into these beautiful creatures, and then they have, what—A week? Two? Three, tops—and then they're gone. It's like the cherry blossoms in spring. Beautiful, and then—" He clicks his fingers. "—gone."

Stroking back some loose strands of his hair, you wonder if he's thinking about you. About this chance encounter. Beautiful, then gone.

"Just means you have to appreciate them while they're still around," you say softly. "Cherish them, because you know you only have them for a moment."

His gaze lifts to meet yours. The reflection of his LED lights makes it seem like butterflies are floating around in his deep, dark eyes, too.

There are stories he could tell you of ancient folklore; about human souls taking the form of butterflies. Of justice, and peace, and spirits. Of back in time, when tigers still smoked. He could tell you of his favourite butterflies. Of the black butterflies that are as large as his hands in the summer. Of the huge display in a museum downtown that would transfix him as a child.

Instead, he gently presses his lips against the lines of your butterfly tattoo.

The rate at which your heart is beating multiplies. Like a swarm of butterflies chasing through your veins, you've no control over the way you're feeling. He's brought your artwork to life; set the souls inside of your butterfly free, only for it to be apparent that the souls belonged to the both of you, anyway.

You know that this is one of those moments; a butterfly passing on by through your lives. Here, and then gone. Beautiful, but fleeting.

There's a shyness to Jungkook now, as he rolls onto his back. A reluctance to get things wrong. He doesn't look at you, just nibbles on his bottom lip and pretends as if the empty white ceiling ahead of him is the most interesting thing he's seen all night.

It's not.

You are.

You, and those eyes that make him feel like the butterfly on your arm is tickling at his tummy. He finds himself jealous when he faces you again and begins tracing the thin lines of your butterfly once more. Wants to embed himself into you like the ink that's carved out a home in your skin.

"Sorry," he mumbles, seemingly regretful of the tender kiss he'd pressed against your arm just a short moment ago. "Don't know why I did that."

"It's okay," you reply without much thought. Like him, you're letting the way you feel dictate the words you say. Care not for playing coy. "I liked it."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

Jungkook wants to stop his mouth from letting his desires escape. The issue is, he drank a little too much tonight and his lips are a little too loose. Too bad. Can't help himself from asking, "Can I do it again?"

You're just as bad.

"Yeah," you whisper. "Please."

The way his lashes splay against his cheeks as he presses another kiss to your arm is nothing short of celestial. Like that damn moon on his arm, he's got a beauty about him that's hard to capture in words. Ethereal feels too fantastical, but gorgeous feels too dense. He resides in a realm somewhere between the two. Somewhere you'd like to stay forever.

Forever, sadly, only lasts a few hours. You've brunch plans with new friends you can't bail on yet for fear of running a friendship before it's even begun.

You see yourself out. Jungkook's still asleep. Not quite 10AM, you've a dozen missed calls from Rae, and a cold can of coke waiting for you in your fridge. Funnily enough, though, you don't really feel hungover. Must have gotten it all out of your system the night before.

It's only fitting, when you think about Jungkook on the subway home, and how soberingly drunk the idea of him makes you feel. 

YONSEI UNIVERSITY DORMS DAESIN-DONG, SEODAEMUN-GU SUNDAY 21:39

Brunch had, predictably, been a yawn-fest.

The people were perfectly nice, but you spent the entire time thinking about Jungkook; how you'd left him in a pretty slumber, the LEDs behind his computer still glowing, with not even so much as a note to say thank you.

It's not like he had any paper on his desk, and you weren't about to start rummaging around his room. You also didn't want to wake him. Part of it was because you knew you'd be saying goodbye, and the concept of that was one that you didn't like all that much.

And so your subway ride back to your dorm had been spent searching his name. He didn't take long to find. 

From the club's Instagram, you found GLOSS and quickly discovered that there was far more to both him and Blu-Tae than just being DJs. Their follower counts were wild. Numbers you know you'll never see on your own account. Verification check marks accented their display names. 

Who are you? You'd thought to yourself, incredibly perplexed by it all.

Jungkook was littered all over their pages, and yet it still took a while for you to click through to his account. You're not sure why, but think that perhaps the unknown was a nice place to reside within. Safer. 

CR3SC3NT_T0KK1 was his username—and curiously, Tokki was also his display name. Brows furrowed, you'd almost dropped your phone when you saw his follower count. It eclipsed both of his friends. 

Filled with gaming set-ups, merch drops, and general life dumps, it was pretty clear that whoever Jungkook had made himself out to be the night before was not who he was in real life. 

Equal parts offended and intrigued, you were only more confused when you saw that Rae was already following him—but not following Taehyung.

"What?" she'd beamed when you'd asked her about it after you'd arrived home from brunch, a scoop of hangover ice cream being waved around in the air with her flamboyant gestures. "He's, like, one of the biggest streamers in the country—and if I want to keep Tae obsessed with me, we need as many connections as possible. Jungkook's a frog to me, baby, not a prince. Don't you worry your little cotton socks. I'm not after him."

"I wouldn't care if you were," you'd blatantly lied in response, and then you'd giggled together at how ridiculous you were both being over boys you didn't really know.

Hovering over the bright purple 'JOIN STREAM' button later that evening, part of you holds back. Think it'd be weird. Strange. That he'd somehow know it was you.

Dipping your mouse, you tick the checkbox to join as an anonymous viewer. Take a breath. Think fuck it. Watch with bated breath as the loading wheel turns—and then he's there.

Jeon Jungkook has the kind of beauty that transcends shitty quality streams. Smiling as he jokes with one of his friends through a headset with a pair of black bunny ears affixed to the top of them, you hear a voice you almost recognise. Notice the friend he's streaming with in the top corner. Realise you do know him, too.

Hair as blue as the trees are green, Tae has just as much boyish charm as Jungkook, but also an incredibly large hickey that seems to match the ones on Rae's neck.

"Nah, can we get an L in the chat for Kook," he's teasing. Sure enough, the chat begins to explode with the letter, and Jungkook looks so pretty when he protests.

"It's not an L!"

"It is!" Tae insists. "Should have seen him, guys. Was following this girl around like a lovesick puppy—"

"No, I wasn't!"

"And she didn't even give him her number. Not even her name!"

"That's not true!" Jungkook whines. He switches between Korean and English with ease, sometimes just single words, other times whole sentences. "I have a name."

"What is it?"

"Not telling you."

"Cause you don't have one!"

"No, because you'll all make my life a living hell," Jungkook laughs—and then notices a bright blue comment lighting up in the chat. His eyes widen. "Fuck."

GLOSS: Was calling her Nabi when he got home last night Almost shit his pants when he saw me

"Yoongi, I'm gonna shave your eyebrows off in your sleep," Jungkook growls—only for the chat to start spamming butterfly emojis. Closing his eyes, he leans back in his chair, the still paused video game long forgotten about, now. Thousands of people are in their chat, and even more are watching the stream.

"Guys, get it trending," Taehyung goads. "Tweet, I dunno, bunny and butterfly emojis."

"Don't do that!"

"Hashtag find Jungkook's butterfly."

"Do NOT do that!"

"I'm like a modern-day cupid," Taehyung beams.

"I'm shaving your eyebrows, too."

Closing the stream, you sit for a moment, mouth ajar, unable to process what on earth you've just witnessed. Part of you feels as if it must have an incredibly vivid daydream; a projection of your heart's desire.

And you know you shouldn't, but when you get home from running errands the following day, you join the stream again. Blush when you notice the chat is still teasing Jungkook.

"I'm gonna block you all," he threatens them with a grin, which only encourages them to send even more butterfly emojis.

The next day is no different, nor the day after that.

He is, though. Has been letting it all play on his mind. Doesn't have much of a filter when it comes to streaming.

"What if she didn't even like me, guys," he whines to the chat. "And sees this and is like... mortified. I think I'd punch myself in the face if she ever saw any of this."

You toy with the idea of sending a comment into the chat. Something that only he'd realise was you. Thing is, you feel bad for intruding. As if you shouldn't be prying. As if you're eavesdropping on him chatting with friends, and not on the stream he's broadcasting live around the world.

Typing out a message, you deliberate your choice.

Punch urself in the face pls, tokki x the message reads. 

Simple. Effective. To the point.

But everyone calls him that, you stupidly realise, now.

And so you change the name to 'Mike'. 

Before you can even really realise what you've done, you've pressed send.

The message flitters into the chat feed. He's about to resume his game. Doesn't notice it at first.

Gives the chat one final glance, and then his eyes widen. He sits up taller. Straighter. "Mike?"

You close the lid of your laptop immediately.

"Fuck."

THE STREETS WAUSAN-RO, HONGDAE FRIDAY 23:51

"Tae is on in five," Rae squeals, dragging you down the road at lightning speed. 

You'd spent far too long at dinner, and also had far too much to drink with your food, so have been forced to make an undignified sprint to the club in an attempt to make it in before the place reaches capacity.

There's already a queue. You can see it from a mile away.

Realistically, Rae could have gotten Taehyung to add her to the guest list. He'd offered. She didn't wanna look needy, so had played it coy about her plans for the evening. 

After a single beer and soju, she'd decided that the idea of him hooking up with anyone but her simply wouldn't do.

"Shit," she sighs in defeat, looking at the queue. The direction you've come from means that you reach the entrance before you reach the queue, but even then, you can tell it goes around the block. "Are there no other clubs these people can go to?!"

There are—but this club is rammed tonight for the same reason Club Sundown was rammed the week before. People want to see the Crescent Collective. 

You didn't realise it at the time, but you'd bypassed the queue of the second club last weekend because Jungkook had been with you.

And as if by a stroke of luck, or perhaps a twist of fate, the same tattooed hand that had held you as you slept last weekend is now putting out a cigarette just a few steps away.

Eyes landing on yours, he looks away again, almost immediately. Feels embarrassed. Stupid. For the way you left him, and also for the way he knows you must know who he is, now.

Behind a red rope, he's away from the general crowd. It's sort of obnoxious, you think—but also know Jungkook is anything but.

"They're with me," Jungkook says to the bouncer, not really looking at you, but nodding in your general direction. Is deliberately keeping a little distance. Instead, he says to Rae, "Tae wouldn't want you waiting in line."

Nodding, the security guard makes way for you, stamping the backs of your hands with UV-activated ink as you walk past.

"Thank you!" Rae beams.

"No worries," Jungkook smiles right back. "He's about to start. Was just getting air. You're lucky you arrived when you did."

"Angel," she praises. "I'll get you a drink while we're in there."

You know her well enough now to know that she absolutely will not, but you don't say anything. Instead, you fold your arms over your chest as you walk, suddenly feeling all awkward in Jungkook's presence.

"Nabi," he curtly greets you as you head down the stairs.

"Tokki," you greet him back just as formally. Consider calling him 'Mike' instead, but you chicken out.

Face scrunching up, Jungkook tries his best not to cringe at himself. Doesn't know if you're addressing him by his tattoo moniker, or just calling him Tokki because you know it's his identifier online.

"How have you been?" He asks, not wanting to let it simmer.

"Alright," you say, aware of how awkward this all feels, as you descend the stairs and into the club. The music is getting louder, and soon you won't be able to hear him talk unless you're in each other's ears. "And you?"

"Alright."

Just as quickly as he appeared, Jungkook is lost to the crowd. 

He doesn't care to stick around if he's just going to be hung out to dry by you again. He tells himself that he only made sure you got in to keep Rae happy for Taehyung's sake—yet as he rejoins his friends in their booth, he finds himself desperately seeking you out again.

It takes him a while, but he eventually spots you by the bar in conversation with Rae. He can't make out what you're saying, but notices how your eyes are flickering around the room. Seems as if you're hunting for something. 

Deep down, even if he pretends like he doesn't, he hopes it's for him.

Pulled away from your search by the bartender passing over drinks to the pair of you, Jungkook feels bad. Knows the drinks are pricey in this place. Also knows, from the conversations you've already had, that you're on a tight budget. Had said that once the semester starts, you'll stop going to parties. Are seemingly unaware of the fact the parties never stop in this city. You'll learn.

When your eyes finally land on his a little while later, you're surprised by his intense gaze—intrigued by his lack of shame for being caught out. He doesn't look away or appear embarrassed. If anything, it's quite the opposite.

Girls are vying for his attention all around him, yet you receive all of it. Half the room away, hundreds of people create a sea between you both. Jungkook thinks he'd swim through it, no matter how choppy the water, if it meant he could have you right now.

You're the one who left, though. 

It's up to you to come back.

Part of you doesn't want to, but then you see another girl making advances, and Rae's horror over other girls trying it on with Taehyung seems to have rubbed off on you. The idea of it makes your skin crawl. You're drunk, and a little reactive, but Jungkook likes playing with fire.

As you work your way through the crowd towards him, he tries his best not to grin. Finds himself vindicated in his desire to be close to you, 'cause it seems like you want it, too.

Sliding in between Jungkook and the girl, you turn and apologise.

"Just need to borrow him for a second," you smile, clutching at his shirt and pulling him away from the booth before she even has a chance to protest.

With an ever-so-satisfied smirk, Jungkook shrugs towards the other girl, and lets you drag him wherever you want. He's putty in your hands, a little tipsy and desperately in need of attention from you. 

For the past week, he's played scenario over scenario over scenario in his head about this moment, and now that it's happening, he's glad he let you seek him out. Is so pleased that you actively want him just as much as he wants you.

In the middle of the crowd, you're hidden from prying eyes. It's too dark to notice any discerning features of the people around you, yet somehow, Jungkook seems like a vibrant golden light to you. Impossible to miss. Unable to ignore.

You wanna talk. Ask him about who the fuck he is. Explain that you didn't mean to leave so heartlessly.

Taehyung's set is so overwhelmingly loud, though. Can barely even hear yourself think.

As soon as he'd spotted Rae in the crowd, Taehyung had sent the bar coordinator to go and get her. She's sitting pretty up in the DJ booth, incredibly pleased with herself. Notices you and Jungkook almost immediately. Knows it'll be on Twitter in the next few hours, especially if that damn butterfly tattoo of yours is noticed.

Bunnies and butterflies have been trending for days.

Jungkook speaks, but you can't hear him.

"Huh?" You ask, getting on your tippy toes, but it's fruitless. Even as his hand drops to your waist to steady you and keep you in place, you can barely make out his words. "I can't hear you!"

He can't hear jack shit, either. Frowns. Looks around. Spots Yoongi by the booth and gestures towards the side of the room. When Yoongi nods back, it's Jungkook who drags you through the crowd, now. Just beyond the DJ booth is a little black door that Yoongi meets you by. Taps in the code. Nods in your direction.

"A pleasure," he says with a knowing smirk. Miraculously, you can hear him, but ultimately, it's because you're not in the direct line of the speakers now.

You don't get a chance to respond before Jungkook gets you into what can only described as a dark hole as quickly as he can. Romance, you think to yourself, but you also are very aware of the fact Jungkook doesn't let go of your hand, even when he's searching for the light switch. It takes him a second, but he manages to recall the approximate location quickly enough.

Dingy yellow light floods into the room. Small and boxy, it's a 3-in-1 storage room, bathroom, and dressing room for 'talent'. It's why Yoongi had the code, but you can't imagine anyone with any shred of self-respect actually using this place. The walls are the same grey tiles as the floor, and the light bulb hangs from a wire without a shade. The tap on the sink drips, and you're pretty sure there's a leak in the far corner by the mirror.

None of that matters, though. All you can focus on is the man in front of you. Though not soundproof, the room does offer a far more muted version of Taehyung's set. More importantly, it provides you with privacy.

It's been a week since you last saw him, face to face.

Though you have, admittedly, seen him what feels like a million times on low-quality streams from his bedroom.

Realistically, it's been about three times, but you think about it almost constantly.

"You left," is all he says, a little pout on his lips.

It's cute, you think, that he is so outwardly offended by such an act. You would have thought that a man of his position would have a habit of leaving, himself. Then again, you didn't know of his status when you left him in bed that morning.

"And you didn't die," you reply with a teasing smile, trying not to make it sound so severe. "You were fine without me."

"I'm not joking," he says, even if he can't help but smile at the recollection of how stupid the conversation before bed had been. "You left. It was rude."

"I had brunch plans," you tell him, reaching your hands out for his. He wants to resist. Fails. Lets you pull him closer. Incredibly close, in fact. So close that you begin to notice all sorts of things. His freckles. A small scar on his cheek. A tiny fleck of glitter on his skin, no doubt from one of the girls who had been desperate for his attention earlier. "You'd only had a few hours sleep. I didn't want to disturb you."

"Could have left a note," he says, still pouty but far quieter. You can smell the Jack on his breath. Have always hated the taste, but think you could grow to like it. "Your number. Something, at least."

"I could've," you admit, edging even closer. Closing the gap. Nudging your nose against his. But then you smile. Pull back. Tease, "And you could have warned me that I'd become a trending topic on Twitter."

Just like that, Jungkook's pout snaps into the prettiest smile. His face scrunches up, lines creasing on his nose. Beneath his closed eyes reside the sweetest little puffs. He's got the kind of face that is impossible not to like.

"Ah," he cringes.

"Yeah," you laugh at the stupidity of it all. What did he expect? That you wouldn't find out? "Ah."

"In my defence," he holds his hands up, eyes wide and innocent. "You called me Tokki. How was I to know you didn't know?"

"Oh, give over," you laugh, as he reaches for your hands once again. Pulls you closer. "You know I didn't know."

Truthfully, he does know this, but it was nice to be unknown for a little while. Nice to not second guess your intentions. Even now, knowing that you know, he feels like none of it matters. 

"Look," he begins, toying with the hem of your cropped shirt. Lets his fingertips graze your bare skin. Tries his best not to think about what you look like half-naked. Fails. "I only came out tonight 'cause I hoped I'd see you. I don't care about staying out till ass-o'clock, again."

"Think I've only just caught up on sleep," you hum, angling your chin up and giving him the perfect opportunity to make a move that goes beyond flirtatious touches.

"Exactly," he smiles, letting his hand squeeze the side of your waist. Pulls you closer. "And I've not drunk half as much tonight, but I think I could do with you making sure I don't die, again."

"Yeah?"

Nodding as he nudges his nose against yours, Jungkook is all smiles. Lets his lips line up against your pout.

"Yeah," he mumbles—then lets the word get lost in your lips.

Sinking into what it feels like to kiss you, Jungkook can't help but feel satisfaction. Has finally caught the damn butterfly he's been after all week. 

He's played a lot of games. Won a lot of battles.

And yet victory has never tasted so sweet.

JUNGKOOK'S APARTMENT ITAEWON-DONG, YONGSAN-GU SATURDAY 02:07

You retrace your steps. Get a taxi to his place, 'cause there's no point pretending like he can't afford it. Not anymore.

You're not giggling like you were the first time you were in his elevator, but it's kind of impossible to do so when your back is to the wall and Jungkook's tongue is in your mouth.

Your hands roam his body—waist, ass. If you can squeeze it, you will. Just makes him deepen the kisses. If his large hands weren't cupping your jaw, keeping you close, they'd be doing the exact same thing as yours.

The ding of the elevator pulls you apart just for a second, and then you're the one pulling him down to the corridor to his place.

He doesn't open the door. Just kisses you again. 

Finally understands what it means to get butterflies, 'cause he's got you, now, and he never wants to lose it.

Hooking his hands beneath your ass, he hoists you up. Gets your legs wrapped around him. Could go in, but where's the fun in that? There's a slight danger of getting caught. He knows the hallway security cameras will definitely pick this up. The threat that it could get leaked online, and the simple fact that he couldn't give a shit if it does, is kind of hot.

"I'm not fucking you out here," you tell him through a hushed giggle, when he rests his forehead against yours.

"Woah," he jokes. "Who said anything about fucking?"

"I can literally feel your boner, Jungkook."

"Touché."

He doesn't even attempt to downplay it. He puts you down. Gets you through the threshold of his apartment. Shoes off by the door, there's no need to be quiet. Yoongi and Taehyung are still out, and will be for hours. He could take his time if he really wanted.

But what he wants is you. Doesn't waste time. Gets you in his room. Kinda feels like you never left. Jungkook still wishes you hadn't, but doesn't mind the idea of you making it up to him now.

"So," you hum, trailing your fingertips across his desk. "This is where the magic happens?"

He smiles a little bashfully, head dropping for a moment before his eyes are on yours again. "Yeah. You could say that."

Now that you're back in his space, it's a little embarrassing just how many clues there were. A headset rests on the desk—black, robust, with his signature bunny ears secured on top—and a mic is hooked up by the monitor. The webcam doesn't look special, but the keyboard subtly glows in his darkened room. Violet, like the LEDs behind his screen.

A laptop covered in vinyl stickers is closed next to the set-up. He uses it when he's not streaming on his desktop. At least three of the stickers are of the Crescent Collective's logo.

Turning to fully face him, you rest your palms behind yourself and perch on the edge of the desk.

He gets a little kick out of seeing you so flippantly disregard the domain in which he dominates. Gives him a point to prove. Gets him closing the space between you, hands on your waist, dipping to your ass to leverage further back on his desk. Knows it's sturdy, 'cause he built it himself, but has never tested out quite how strong it really is. Thinks now's as good a time as any to find out.

Your legs wrap around his body with no thought, just the innate understanding that you want him in a way you're sure thousands of people have only dreamt of: in his room, on his desk, that damn 'Go Live' button just a few short clicks away.

Reaching beside you, there's a smirk on your lips as you retrieve his headset. Put it on him. Say, "The ears are cute, Tokki."

He rolls his eyes. Is fighting a smile, and currently losing. He's seen some lewd shit during his time on the internet and is well aware of the fanart that includes the ears and little else. Always found it kinda funny, before.

Now? He's so hard it almost hurts, and he thinks he could grow to like it.

As your arms drape over his shoulders, he takes them off. Puts them on you, instead. Adjusts the sizing. Gets them just right for you. Is attentive, like that. Pulls his head back a little, and then realises what a problem you're gonna be for him.

It's not so much the addition of animal ears that's getting him insatiable, but seeing you adorned with a crown that is so inherently his that does it.

Jungkook's no saint. He's had his fair share of one-nighters. A couple hours of fun never to be spoken of again. Since the group of them signed to their management agency, they've been repeatedly told how important it is to get NDA's signed. Something about it always feels so icky to Jungkook. Cruel, almost. Has only had a couple hook-ups since then, both with flings he's known for a good couple of years, with no fear of them spilling the beans on how prettily he whines when he cums.

You're the first new girl in a long time. He knows he should really pause things before you cut to the chase—but then your hand is trailing down his thick forearm, delicately stroking his rabbit moon with a curious smile. Decides he doesn't care.

"The ears are cute," he replies. Teasingly adds, "Nabi."

The position of your arms over his shoulders ensures the tattoos he'd traced the week before are fully displayed for him. As his eyes drop to your butterfly, you're curiously smitten by the way his lips move to press a kiss against it again.

"Suit me?"

"Mhmm," he hums, eyes flickering back up to yours. "Should also get you a pair of butterfly wings, or something."

"I'd make you wear them," you tell him with a cheeky glint in your eye. "Turn you into a butterfly, yourself. Your girlies in the chat would love that."

Jungkook knows without a shadow of a doubt he'd let you. Not for the girlies in the chat, but for you.

Ghosting his lips against yours, he's waiting for you to press down. Is letting you take the lead.

Your kisses are sweet. Tepid. Reserved.

You're feeling; his hands on your waist, the pressure of his lip rings, the presence of his nose.

And then he's feeling; your bare skin as his large hands slip beneath the fabric of your shirt, the way your legs wrap around him, the vibration of a small groan against his lips.

The skirt you're in is bunched around your hips, and the positioning is just right for you to feel how hard he is against your underwear. It's a little undignified, you'll admit, but you're impatient, so you take control. Reposition his hand between your legs. Encourage him to take things further.

"Yeah?" He checks.

Nodding into a needy kiss, you mumble, "Please."

It might've been a while, but Jungkook's muscle memory is enviable. He's the best player on the team for that very reason.

As he hooks your underwear to the side, he's pleased to be greeted with indications of your arousal. Smirks into the kisses he's giving you, as his fingertips graze against your clit. Trails his lips to your neck. Wants to hear the way you gasp as he pushes his thick middle finger inside you.

"Fuck," you sigh at the welcome intrusion. Nod, as he curls his finger almost immediately. He's got a lot to thank those damn video games for, that's for sure.

Softly moaning, just how he hoped you would, there's an arch to your back as he picks up a pace. The need to perform, almost.

Head tipping back as Jungkook fucks another finger into you, you're unable to think too cognitively. Can only think about the way he feels. The smell of his hair as he presses kisses against your neck, and how prominent his collarbones are as your nails trail up his toned torso.

"Feels so good," you tell him. Move the hand of yours that's been resting on his shoulder to his hair. Tug on it a little. Elicit the prettiest of whines from him.

There's something to be said for making a man—especially one of such strength, stature, status—so weak. Gets you all giggly. Jungkook can feel the satisfaction ripple through your entire body, and it just makes him groan against your neck even more.

"You're so wet," he praises, pulling back to study your face as he plays with you. Lets his thumb stroke up against your clit ever so gently. Revels in the way you get a little shaky. Twitchy. With those damn bunny ears, you really are like a little rabbit. Jungkook finally understands why the fan artists choose to draw him in such a way. It is hot. "You're making me so fuckin' hard."

And then you're giggling again.

"Is it a joke to you, huh?" He smirks. Looks down at your pussy, all swollen and sopping wet for him, in the hazy violet light of his room. Knows that his throbbing cock is gonna stuff you so fuckin' full that laughing won't be an option. Is desperate for it. "How badly I want you is just a big joke to you, huh, bunny?"

The way he groups you in with his moniker is too damn hot.

"Dunno," you rasp, desperately trying to hold off the orgasm that's building inside you. "Fuck me and find out."

Reaching for the button of his trousers, you're quick as you wrestle his jeans down over his ass. Don't bother pushing them down entirely. Just enough to get his boxers exposed, and in turn, his thick cock. Hard and engorged, his desperation for you is evident. A small patch of precum seeps through the fabric of his boxers. He curses as your thumb strokes against it.

"Condom?" You ask, knowing you've got none on you.

"Hold that thought," he says, regretfully pulling away from you.

Watching on as he pushes down his jeans, and strips himself of his shirt, you're at a loss for words. You've seen him like this before, but it's so much hotter knowing that he's gonna be fucking himself into you as soon as he possibly can.

Jungkook could very easily lead you to his bed. Get you comfy. Reach to his bedside cabinet for a condom. Fuck you how he likes—doggy-style, minimal face-to-face contact—and be done with it all very quickly.

Instead, he says, "Stay here."

Doing as you're told, you watch on as he walks to the cabinet, and retrieves a condom. Admire his back, and his broad shoulders. The valley of his spine, and the hard work he's put into crafting his physique. Smirk to yourself as he dips into his boxers. Strokes himself. Once, twice. Tears the packet open with his teeth, just like you were always taught not to do, and rolls the latex down his thick shaft.

"What?" he smirks as he walks back, realising your eyes are transfixed on his cock.

You say nothing. Smile. Hold your hands out for Jungkook to take, just so you can pull him back even quicker.

Lips pressing into yours as he closes the gap, Jungkook is all smiles. Rubs the head of his cock against your pussy, gathering up your arousal all over his tip. Lines himself up with your entrance. Waits for you to give him the go-ahead.

Hand on his ass, you pull him closer. Edge the crown of his cock into you. Whimper. Beg. "Please."

Sinking into you with a laboured grunt, he's surprised with how much tighter you are around his cock than you were with his fingers. Wet and warm, there's an undeniable pleasure that sparks through his body as he gets familiar with the way you feel.

Slowly, his hips begin to pick up a pace. As his tongue strokes into your mouth, there's no dignity to the way he's taking you. The increased pace means heightened moans, and it's not just you—it's him, too.

"Shit, yeah," he grits. "So fuckin' tight, aren't you?"

Whining, you nod into his kisses. Are at his entire disposal as he grips your waist, proving exactly why Tokki is the perfect nickname for him.

As much as he likes the ears, he's a little worried that he might fuck you so hard they fall off. Doesn't wanna break them, and definitely doesn't wanna think about the story the boys would make up when they go live tomorrow to tease him—but also really wants to fuck you harder.

Which is funny, cause the way he tugs them off with such desperation and tosses them down, you'd be forgiven for thinking he couldn't care less about breaking them. Doesn't give you a chance to say anything, 'cause his big hands are cradling your face, bringing you in for desperate kisses once more.

There's a lewdness to the sounds you make together, but Jungkook knows that if he was an entirely different kind of streamer, you'd make bank together. Wonders about the way it would look on camera. Worries. Pauses.

"You good?" You check a little breathlessly as he reaches behind you, just to tug the wire to his webcam from the plus.

"Yeah," he nods, still fiddling around behind you. Smiles in the hedonistic haze as your lips find a new home on his neck. Strokes your hair gently, and presses a kiss to the side of your head. Quietly says, "Just making sure there's no way in hell I accidentally start streaming."

You hum, all purry and pliant. "People would pay good money to see it."

While he agrees, and has had the same thought process, he doesn't care. "You saying I should be charging you for this?"

"Oh, no," you say all very sweetly. "You should be paying me."

"I'll pay you with orgasms," he promises, knowing that it's a rare currency for one-night strands.

You smirk. Pat the top of his head. "Sure you will."

If there's one thing Jungkook loves, it's a challenge.

Pulling back, he turns you around. Gets you bent over his desk with zero opposition from you. Rubs himself against your soaked cunt, then asks, "Yeah?"

"Yeah," you smirk, and then settle into a sigh as he pushes into you. The feeling of fullness from Jungkook is one that's hard to compare. So thick, and fat, and heavy, his cock really is just as impressive as he is.

With one hand hooked at the crease of your thigh, the other holds the top of your shoulder. Gets you pushed down onto his cock as far as you possibly can be. There's a slight reflection in his streaming plaque beside the monitor, and you're pleased to see just how intensely focused he is on you, brows furrowed, pretty pink lips resting ajar. The silver of his lip rings and chain catch in the light, and you find you can't look at him for too long. He's too hot.

But then he's reaching down for your clit as he fucks into you. Has your legs shaking. The waves of a familiar sensation begin to lap against the shores of your pleasure.

"Fuck," you whine. "Feels good. Keep it like that."

Jungkook knows better than to ignore your requests. Does as he's told, the pressure of his fingers on your clit only deepening. Rubbing calculated circles against you, he knows just how to work you up. Gets you whining. Mewling. Moaning.

"Gonna cum, aren't you?" he smirks, as his own high builds.

"Fuck—"

"C'mon," he husks, feeling your walls tighten around him. He doesn't stop his relentless chase. Will win your orgasms fair and square. Continues pounding into you. Pace fast, strokes deep, he's everything you could ever want and more—and then he's slowing. Keeping you plugged, nice and deep, but focusing on the way he's toying with your clit. "You know you wanna cream for me. All over my cock, pretty Nabi. C'mon—"

"I'm close," you all but whimper. "So—fuck. So close."

"Yeah, you are," he tells you—and then your legs are shaking, pussy tightly clamping around his cock, one hand tense against his desk while the other grabs at his wrist. Uncontrollable, is the way you whine for him. It's so needy—so desperate and pathetic—that it's almost a sob. Jungkook doesn't ease up. In fact, his hips gain a little pace again as your orgasm shatters around you both. He's breathless, but manages to choke out, "Flithy fuckin' cunt. Feels so fuckin' good. Fuck."

The frail limpness of your body as the orgasm smokes away is cute. Jungkook loves it. You're so weak for him. He fucks into you still, chasing his own high, and your whines only get louder. It's overwhelming, but you never want to lose the feeling.

It doesn't take much. Just a minute or so of your tight cunt, and Jungkook is pulling out. Even though he doesn't ask you to, you get to your knees as he tears the condom off.

"In my mouth," you beg, and who is he to reject such an offer?

Jerking himself to completion, Jungkook is all pretty and pathetic when he cums, too. Looks at you with eyes so starry you'd been forgiven for thinking he was a descendant of the constellations.

He milks the final few spurts of himself onto your wet tongue, and curses when you press dainty kisses to his tip. Stroking your tongue against him, you don't want to waste a drop. Look up at him and find that his eyes are resting shut from the pleasure of it all.

Silence surrounds you both, just your beating hearts and laboured breaths filling to the room. He helps you up. Holds you tight. Hugs you for a little while, then presses a kiss to the side of your head. "Thanks."

"My pleasure," you giggle - and then he's smiling, too. Feels vindicated by his irrational thoughts about you over the last few days. He pays no mind to the fact you're still technically dressed, and he's basically naked.

As he sorts himself out, you perch back up on his desk and languidly swing your legs. Enjoy the thought of memories plaguing him whenever he tried to play his little games over the next few days.

"You wanna grab a shower?" he offers. "Food, too? Dunno about you, but I'm fuckin' starving."

"Same," you nod, biting down on your bottom lip. "I'll go wash up, you sort food? Are places still open for delivery?"

Checking his phone for the time, Jungkook is surprised that it's closer to midnight than it is to his morning alarm. Only a handful of places will offer delivery at this time, but that's enough.

"Works for me," he says with a yawn, then opens what you had assumed was the closet door. Reveals an en-suite and knocks his head to the side. "Get your shower. Gimmie a shout if you need anything."

Tiles large and grey, it's the perfect counterpart to his bedroom. A little dark, but it's only because Jungkook hates using the big light. Always flicks the small light switches instead. There's a window overlooking the city, and even though you're only seven floors up, the hills of Yongsan-gu mean that he's got a view you could only dream of.

You're about to start the shower up when he calls through. "Is pizza good?"

"Pizza's good," you call back with a smile. Look yourself in the mirror and wonder how the fuck you ended up in the bathroom of arguably the most famous person you've ever met. Decide it's better not to question it.

The shower begins to cascade down, even if your sins are washed way, you know you won't be able to forget the feeling of Jungkook so easily.

Truth be told, you won't even try.

YONSEI UNIVERSITY DORMS DAESIN-DONG, SEODAEMUN-GU SUNDAY 21:13

"L in the chat," booms the voice of Taehyung through your laptop speakers. His trademark grin rests on his face as he teases Jungkook.

You've only just opened the stream. Instantly, you focus on the prettily lopsided smirk of Jungkook's lips. You've learned it's an almost permanent fixture on his boyish face. Shaking his head, he's adjusting his headset. Making it a little looser so that it'll fit him properly.

No one is questioning it.

What they are questioning, is where the fuck that pretty purple bruise on his neck has come from.

"Cross-fit," Jungkook just shrugs, knowing that it's the colloquial term for suspicious bruises after some idol used the same excuse. Blatant horseshit. Jungkook doesn't care.

"I've never done cross-fit, but I know you're bullshitting," Taehyung snorts.

The chat seems to agree with him.

"Thought I was a virgin?" Jungkook states a little cheekily, making reference to Taehyung's usual banter. "How else would I get one?"

Taehyung knows better than the retort. Knows that Jungkook could very easily slip something about Rae into the conversation.

Virgin? You type through a message on a private discord chat with Jungkook. He'd set it up the day before. Has already sent you, like, a thousand messages. Is what can only be described as obsessed—but it's mutual. Could have fooled me.

As his eyes glance down to his laptop screen, he fails to hide his smile. Had opened your chat on there, cause he didn't wanna accidentally broadcast the messages onto his stream. Despite this, he doesn't care that there are nearly 10,000 people in his stream merely minutes into it. Is far more interested in his chat thread with you. Replies immediately.

Stop distracting meI'm working</3

Giggling as the message pings through to you, there's a giddy quality to the way Jungkook makes you feel.

He'd spent the day in bed with you after your night together. Had wanted you to stay when he started streaming that evening. Said he'd only be an hour or so, and was incredibly pouty when you did leave.

It had just been him on last night's stream—headset off 'cause he didn't wanna adjust it back yet, hoodie on to hide his neck. The other boys were nursing hangovers, so he could do what he liked.

What he did do had you incredibly curious. Was just chatting. Talking to the comment section. Sleepily reeling off facts he'd recently learned about butterflies. Debating over their lifespan.

You're not naive to the fact that Jungkook does this streaming stuff as a profession, and are aware that the more people talking about his stream on other platforms, the more viewers he'll get.

Made sense for him to add fuel to the butterfly-related fire by talking about them.

Had sent you a message earlier that evening to ask what kind of butterfly you had on your skin.

A Monarch, you'd told him.

"See, the thing is," Jungkook had rambled to his viewers a little later on. "Most butterflies have super short lifespans—Monarch's included."

Eyes all starry, lights in his bedroom purple as per usual, he'd looked cosy. You wished you'd have stayed.

"But there's a specific kind. Migrating Monarchs. They're the last of their generation—the final butterflies of the year," he marvelled at the magic of it all.

His facts were a little hazy, but he knew enough. Had been down a you-shaped rabbit hole all afternoon.

"And they migrate, right? Move away from home—somewhere warmer—and then it just extends their lifespan. 180 days. Not 30. That's six months. Six months. It's a long time. It's not fleeting. Not in the slightest."

It's also, curiously, exactly how long you're scheduled to stay in Korea for.

"I dunno," Jungkook had just sighed, a little forlorn, trying to make sense of his thoughts.

He bit down on his bottom lip, stroking his thumb against the hard plastic ears of his headset, then focused on the camera again. Wondered if you were watching. 

He simply shrugged. Said, "Counts for something, though, right?"

[animeficsworld]

The Caged Beast

Itadori Yuji x Reader / Sukuna Ryomen x Reader

There was a curse living inside your husband.

The strongest curse was only able to stay alive inside Itadori.

Rather than choosing death, Sukuna decided to stay in Yuji.

As the years passed, many things happened.

Yuji changed, grew into a man, met you and got married.

You were a kind soul.

Someone even Sukuna looked at with suspicion. 

Kind yet deadly, is the correct description.

You could be smiling, baking cookies in one second and in the next, you could be slaying curses left and right.

Sukuna had to admit, that Yuji chose well. He approved of you.

And now, after three years of marriage, you were pregnant. 

Your first child and Sukuna knew it would be a girl.

A little girl indeed.

A beautiful and healthy little girl. 

A true princess.

Yuji helped you every second of your pregnancy and even now with your baby.

He helped when he didn't have to go to fight.

Like now, Yuji was out with Megumi while you gave a bath to your daughter.

Yui, lovingly named after his father, was a rather calm baby. She liked to sleep and babble when she was awake. 

Yui adored her father and you. She wanted to be held at all times.

A true princess.

You soon dried her with a soft towel and got her into her fluffy pyjamas. 

Placing her on your chest you started to watch a show on TV.

The front door opened, but you were too immersed in the show to care.

"Food is on the table, I'm watching this, I hope the lady wins!" you said not looking away but you did notice your husband walk into the room. He moved over and got Yui from your chest, placing it on his as he sat down next to you on the couch.

His silence should have alarmed you.

It truly should have.

But it didn't.

Instead, you didn't even notice that Yuji didn't say a word until the show was long finished.

Then you felt it, the change, but it didn't scare you.

"Nice to see you from time to time. What prompted your visit?" you turned and looked at Ryomen.

His eyes locked with yours.

"I just wanted to see my Princess." he said as he ran his hand down Yui's back.

"She is Yuji's Princess." you said as you reached for your cup of tea and started to drink.

"I live inside this idiot. You made sure I would never leave. At least, let me have an hour with her."

You found it strange how Ryomen liked your daughter so much.

"You can have your hour. Just making sure you know she is not yours."

"She is My Princess. The only being on this world worth being in this idiot's body."

"Ouch. So it is not worth living for me? And here I thought we had a thing."

"I would have made you my bride. You are way too powerful for me to ignore." you nodded and began to look for something on the TV.

Yui slowly began to stir.

"She must be hungry," you said. "Her bottle is on the counter." you pointed behind yourself, not looking away from the TV.

"Are you joking?"

"It is part of your hour, go feed her." 

Sukuna mumbled something under his breath before leaving to get the bottle.

As he sat in her room, feeding and burping her, Sukuna wondered if he should tell you.

Since he became a part of Itadori's body, when you bonded their souls during a fight, technically this was as much as his body as it was Itadori's. So technically, the child sleeping in his arms was as much his as it was Itadori's.

Yuji asked you during a very intense fight to bond Sukuna to his body. Destroy the rest of his fingers and kill him.

But you couldn't do it.

You love Yuji too much to hurt him, instead, you bonded Sukuna to his soul, using Yuji as a cage to hold the beast.

You didn't know but by doing so, you got Sukuna's blood mixed with Yuji's. You didn't know or rather you chose to ignore the fact.

Sukuna was sure you didn't know but had suspicions.

You were a smart woman after all.

But you loved Yuji. Sukuna was just a plus one in the mix, one no one asked for or needed. But he was there.

Yui is Yuji's daughter. And you will never let anyone tell you otherwise.

--- 

You looked up as he exited the room, it was Yuji this time.

You smiled at him as you rushed to hug him.

"Did you put her to sleep?"

"Yup. Weird, I can't remember coming home."

"You are too tired, let's go to bed." 

Yuji smiled and you both moved to the bedroom.

You quickly fell asleep when Ryomen decided that he still had 10 minutes of his hour.

He looked at you sleeping beside him, it was strange. He only ever cared about power.

He lived to see the fear in people.

And yet, you never feared him, he feared you.

Your fierce attitude, your power and that look... is that what they call a mother's look? You could make the entire room shut up with just one look of yours.

Fierce and powerful. Yuji didn't deserve you in his eyes, he did.

But he was okay with getting just an hour with you and Yui... for now.

[jeonsbabygirlsworld]

TRIPLE THREAT

SUMMARY: What happens when the three of them rock your world together.

PAIRINGS: Jungkook , Mingyu , Eunwoo x bar dancer reader .

WORD COUNT: 2.2k ish

WARNINGS: Utter amount of smut.

SMUT WARNINGS: unprotected sex, oral (m,f), titty sucking and playing? , jk has a noona kink, doggy style, anal, ass and balls sucking 😗😗kinda ,masturbation , for once reader is sandwiched between gyu and kook, orgasm denial, missionary lmk if I missed anything and please bear with me it's my first time writing a 4some, Eunwoo baby your feelings are showing kinda. 🤫🤫🤫

A/n: hey guys ...... I hope you liked this I'm sry but it was really hard to write a foursome but yeah, I tried and I'm not a professional in smut writing, but I hope it was okay...

The luminous lighting of the bar made the diamond set of jewelry glow under the bright lights and adorned your skin very well, oh, the set was gifted by Eunwoo a respected actor and an idol and also your special customer who gifted you this set on your birthday night.

The Bar was just getting started, the announcer called up your friends and you could hear the audience cheers, lacing up your heels and setting up your hair you released a breath, and you waited for the announcer to call your name.

"Let's call up to the pole, miss white diamond"! The announcer cheers up and you can hear louder cheers than earlier, and you start swaying your hips to the rhythm of the music, occasionally going into the audience of thirsty men who would stuff money in the back pocket of your thongs and some in your bras.

You could feel a certain someone coming up here early today it was none other than Kim Mingyu CEO of the reputed Kim Industries, who would adore you a lot and treat you like the most fragile glass on the earth the kisses after you both would be done never made your heart skip a beat.

While you come up to the pole again you see the other one just behind Mingyu seated Jungkook a pro gamer, he was a sweet boy and would never leave a chance to not make you blush, and whines left his mouth when you would leave him on the edge while sucking him off, he even liked when you give him a private lap dances poor boy would just come at the site of you grinding at his raging boner.

Eunwoo would usually join later at night but today he was here early walking swiftly and standing right next to the whiney boy, you try to keep calm, but you are intimidated by their persona, going back to the pole some money falling when you bend down for a certain dance move.

Shaking hands and greeting each other they sit next to Mingyu watching you slut around the other men in the bar deciding to tease them you start removing the g string of Mingyu's initial and throwing it to him, while they look at each other and Mingyu stuffs it back in his back pocket. While you're dancing around went on for a while the three of them watched you and drank some of the alcohol the waiter served and by the expressions on their face you knew you would be fucked by the end of the night and this was the first time, they were here together and them seeing you on the stage, you were mostly reserved for them privately.

Up for whatever is coming for you, you motion the boys in a "come here" movement. The boys exchange some words before you lead them to the suit which is reserved for personal dances and sex, and you illuminate the room with the red lighting, and you sit on the edge of the bed waiting for the boys.

Eunwoo was the first one to follow while Jungkook closed the door behind him and by the looks of all the three of them, you knew you they are going to rock your world tonight. Eunwoo leans over you his hands on each side of your hips so he can speak in your ear "Done slutting around? "He asks in a raspy voice and his lips take in your earlobe so he could give you a little bite.

Gasping you let out a whimper of his name he crawls over the bed and your back collides over the bed Eunwoo starts leaving soft kisses which soon start to get rough and purple hickeys adorn your skin while the other two boys get on the bed.

A ripping sound is heard across the room and when you know your Victoria's Secrets panties are ripped .... wetness has already coated your pussy lips while Eunwoo smooths his fingers over them and you moan liking the feeling, Jungkook and Mingyu now have undressed, and they now have their hard cocks out.

"Woo right there.... yeah perfect "you gasp as he massages the ball of your clit in a circular motion and his fingers are coated in your slick, a moan is heard in between which is emitted from Jungkook while he palms himself wanting your mouth on him.

"Been such a slut this evening you don't deserve to get to cum, do you?"Eunwoo speaks up his fingers leaving your pussy while you twitch in his hold wanting more, Mingyu rises from the bed and comes closer to you and goes for a Kiss on your lips "Be a good girl for us tonight yeah? and I'll give you everything you want" Mingyu assures while you just nod and get in the middle of the bed.

Mingyu leans down to take your wet pussy in his mouth, and you swear you let out a loud moan being overly sensitive did a great job Eunwoo and Jungkook were now on either side of you and they did a great job in sucking your sensitive nipples and sometimes tucking on them "Fuck Gyu so good right there " your hands are tangled in Mingyu's wavy hair. The ministration of his fingers soon pulls you to the edge and that's when you are about to come the menace between your legs pulls out while you cry out a whine in their hold.

"No, you are not going to cum until we say so." Mingyu tells you clearly and your cries soon die down when you hear a small voice of your name being called "Noona" Jungkook calls you out in a soft voice, poor boy is left neglected.

Turning around to face him you are on your stomach which is in contact with the bed while you sway your ass in the air wanting nothing but Mingyu's cock in you, Jungkook whines soon turns into moans when your rub the pad of your thumbs on the slit he spreads his legs wider to have you completely in between his thighs, praises leaves his mouth and his hands grab on your curly hair to make a pony Mingyu reaches behind you and rubs the tip of his leaking, and you moan at the sensation, "Gyu please" you heave out and get back to suck the whiney mess above you and your hands leave his thighs for a bit you could massage his balls and the spot behind his balls which keeps him going.

"Yeah, right there Noona feels good" he purrs in between the moans feeling a bit naughty you get down a bit so can lick the clenched hole and he tenses above you because this is something new you roll around your tongue and a groan is emitted when Mingyu slowly starts pushing inside you, lifting your head to the side your met with the sight of Eunwoo palming himself soft sighs leave from his pink lips.

Gripping onto Jungkook's muscular thighs you spread them more while he is a whiny mess above you occasionally tugging on your hair hard when licking a particular spot behind his balls "God so good" Jungkook moans and clamps your head between his thighs when you get back to his leaking tip and soon chases his high.

Changing positions for a while you are now sandwiched between Jungkook and Mingyu, the older one is hovering above you while the youngest is beneath you, his already wet cock rubs your clit and his tattooed hands come to grab your so he can grind it more on your pussy, Mingyu traces your tight rim of your ass, wailing a cry you go back to kiss Jungkook too overwhelmed to tell Mingyu what you want.

"Come on work for it, maybe use your mouth and tell me what you want rather than just whining "he says with a deep voice which makes a shiver run down your spine, while you look over your shoulder and ask him to just slide into you. Slow languid thrusts are followed by both of them, Mingyu groans a bit at the tight fit of your ass around his cock his hands squeezing the small of your back leaving faint purplish marks on your skin.

It was an easy slide in for Jungkook your warm and wet pussy engulfing his cock felt a warm hug, overpowered by the feeling of both of them inside you, the shiny nails of yours dig into Jungkook's shoulder which he heaves out a groan of feeling bruised.

The thrusts soon turn frantic and hectic, and you look over at Eunwoo who enjoys looking at you three, motioning him to come over here he stands with his leaking cock you manage to hand job him and suck on his read tip to which he reacts quickly and helps you to stay at one place, loud slurping, groaning and panting surrounded the suite.

"Ah baby want your pretty lips right here, "Eunwoo says cupping your mouth and telling you he needs you on the tip, the thrusts make it impossible for you to stay in one place, but you still manage, " oh, don't stop Gonna cum kook" you tell him in between while the both do a great job of making you cum, Mingyu empties himself first his warm cum fills up your inside while he takes some of his cum dripping out of your hole in his finger so could lick on.

Humming on the taste of his cum, he grips your face, and he kisses your lips goodbye, and soon after Jungkook empties his load leaving you hanging on the edge and his cum dripping down your pussy messing up the sheets under you.

It was just you and Eunwoo left in the room, their cums dripped down your ass, emitting a whine of not being able to cum Eunwoo lifts you from your previous bent position, your back is now pressed on the soft bed, and your plump boobs on display, nipples rock hard because of the chilly air in the room, his fingers trace your lips and soon come down to trace your boobs and stomach.

Looking over your desperate to cum look he finally speaks up "Aww, did my princess Think id let that little silly stunt go away? "He exclaims and leans down so he can just slide right inside you. "Fuck so good woo let me cum ...I'm sorry I won't do it again" you beg while he smirks "Bold of you to assume I'll let you do this again, "he says, and you don't think much he said in the heat of the moment.

"Spread them wider, yeah perfect baby. "He talks you through your orgasm praising how warm your cunt is rubs the ball of your red and swollen clit and angles your hips just right so he could hit your g-spot and make you scream his name louder, his hands rest beside you to keep him up and not collapse on you and you wrap up your legs around his waist, "Good y/n? feels good right?" he says slowing down to give you rough thrusts, giggling you answer him his eyes shaping in half crescents when he smiles and leaves small kisses all over face, and you swear you see something in his eyes which is unusual, and Eunwoo NEVER smiles and fucks you just like a normal slut but today?

Waving it off you enjoy the moment and soon gush out on his cock while he empties himself and collapses on top of you, shivering a bit when his cold diamond chain touches your hot skin.

pushing himself off, he lays right next to you making some space so you could lay your head in his arms and your head on the side of his chest, this is new, you think in your mind, you have a habit of them leaving soon after making you cum and kisses there were too many with him.

But shrugging off you don't pay any attention and think he is just overwhelmed by his orgasm just lay there and just when you were about to speak, he leaves you just like any other night.

A/N pt 2: RUSHED END ik but I hope you liked it anyways ....sry I will come back with a new fic better :)

TAGLIST

@kimmingyuswifee @jungk97kwife @ahgasegotarmy116 @meraofc @jk-hoe97 @realovesworld7 @minghaosimp @jeonjungkookswife14 @doulcha @bangtans-momma @jungkooksrealbabymomma @galaxygirl453 @sp1derk0ok @blueeb3rry @theaskie-06 @raineo @lil-liv-liv12 @kna842 @gabrielamarie111 @httpjeonlicious

[qwimblenorrisstan]

Glimmering Shadows Pt. 2 | Azriel x Reader

Summary: After the mating bond between the two of you formed, Azriel takes you to meet his family for a dinner.

Word Count: ~1.4k

Warnings: Mentions of family problems, but other than that just some cute fluff

A/N: Sorry this was so long coming I went through some writer’s block, but it’s here now and I hope you enjoy<3

Requests are open!

Previous | Masterlist

Your family hadn’t been the most supportive, which was expected when you suddenly told them that you were mates with not just a Night Court resident, but the Spymaster of Night Court, a male shrouded in mystery and vicious rumors of the things he’d done, how he was a violent, secretive and dangerous person.

Even your attempts to convince them otherwise hadn’t yielded much.

“He’s dangerous, especially for our kind. You’re delicate, he’s..anything but.” Your father had spoken, your mother just seeming concerned. They hadn’t told the rest of your family the truth behind your absence, other than the fact that you wouldn’t be coming back for quite a while.

Being cut off completely from your family hurt, they’d been there for your entire life, your first steps, first words, birthdays, graduations, heartbreaks, everything. But you didn’t have time to think about that now, not as you were standing outside the family townhouse of Azriel’s adoptive family, most of them being people he’d known for centuries.

It was more than a bit nerve-wracking.

“You don’t have to do this if it’s too much.”

Azriel’s voice, quiet and low, but soothing said. You swallowed, shaking your head. You would do this. His family had already been told that you would join them tonight, and you’d even dragged him out to help pick a dress, even though he said they all looked good on you.

You’d ended up choosing a light pink romper, a color that complimented your hair, and your light shimmery wings and the pixies that surrounded them. You hadn’t ever intentionally kept your wings out around strangers, but you felt like it was wrong to try and hide anything from your mate’s family. Especially since you suspected that he was waiting for his family’s approval to accept the bond.

“I want to.”

You replied quietly to him, his hands sliding into yours, a movement that was second nature by now. He gave you one last glance that said, “You can back out, I won’t be upset” but you only shook your head. He nodded almost imperceptibly, before gently leading you into the house, and opening the door.

The home itself was customized to everyone inside, and it was obvious. From the Illyrian-sized couch and armchairs to the large fireplace, or the garden in the backyard you could see through the windows or the paintings of the family. You recognized some, like the High Lord and his mate, or the General, then Azriel as well as a few other women.

As soon as you and Azriel were even three steps into the home, you were greeted with a little toddler squealing and hugging Az’s leg, before gaping up at you and reaching up to try and tug at your wings, seemingly fascinated with how they looked. Luckily, the High Lady scooped him up and away just in time, giving you an apologetic smile.

“Sorry, he’s wild these days. I’m Feyre, this is my son, Nyx.”

You smiled, looking down at the little boy and then at the female.

“It’s nice to meet you, I’m-“

“Is Az’s girlfriend here?”

An excited and teasing voice asked, peeking around the corner before the General himself came into view. He was tall, muscular, and very brusque looking, a stern-looking female followed behind him, shooting him a look.

“Don’t cut her off,”

She snapped at him, and Cassian winced, hand going to rub the back of his neck as he sheepishly grinned.

“I’m Nesta, and this big idiot is my mate, Cassian.”

She said, eyes looking you up and down before whatever standards she held in her head were appeased and she relaxed a bit.

“I’m Y/N.”

You said, feeling oddly nervous now even though the hard part was mostly over. Rhysand strode into the room, smiling at you before murmuring something to Feyre and picking Nyx up and holding the little boy. It was a bit funny seeing the mighty High Lord having his ears and hair yanked on by a little toddler.

“Rhys, but I’m sure you already know that.”

He said in an amused tone, and Cassian snorted.

“Hard not to know your name when you’re such a massive prick.”

He said in a joking but casual tone with a crooked grin as he poked Rhys in the elbow, the High Lord squirming a bit. You glanced back at Azriel, amused, and his hazel eyes seemed to almost glitter as he smiled at you, looking gleeful that you were getting along with his family, or at least finding them entertaining.

Rhys rolled his eyes at Cassian’s remark, slipping his arm around his mate’s, and began walking into the kitchen.

“Oh, shut it. Let’s just eat dinner already.”

He said, and Azriel gave you a reassuring glance, arm gently placed around your waist as he led you into the kitchen that smelled of delicious food, and the two of you sat down, greeted with generous plates at the center of the table of meats, sides, all sorts of foods. Some of which you hadn’t ever seen in Spring Court.

The cooks, it seemed, were two shadowy females who you couldn’t tell apart, and another female, this one seemed like she could’ve been from Spring herself, happily finishing up the rest of the food with a warm smile. When she caught sight of you while putting the rest of the food at the center of the table, she offered a smile.

“I’m Elain.”

She said simply with a little nod before everyone else sat at the table. Nesta was to your left, Azriel to your right. Everyone got themselves some generous helpings of the large plate fills of food at the center, Azriel helping you cut up some of the meat that you couldn’t.

“Thanks,”

You said to him in a quiet tone, he smiled in a wry manner, raising a brow at you.

“It wasn’t that hard.”

He murmured back, and you gave him a look.

“If I knew you were so good at handling meat, I might’ve asked you sooner.”

You said back, and Cassian must’ve heard what you said because he snorted and choked on his food while Nesta smirked. Azriel only shook his head and smiled, giving you an amused and affectionate look that made your stomach fill with little butterflies. Rhys glanced between the two of you, a feline smile gracing his lips.

“You’ve got him wrapped around your finger, don’t you?”

He asked in an amused tone, at which Azriel only sighed, giving Rhys a little half-assed glare as his shadows slithered onto your skin and dress.

“It’s not hard,”

You said in an amused tone, at which Cassian let out a bark of laughter, Rhys shook his head and the females exchanged glances. Even Azriel let out a laugh at that, the sound deep and rich. The entire room went silent at that, them staring at Azriel, though he was too busy watching you to notice or care.

“Damn, you really do, huh?”

Cassian asked in an almost disbelieving tone, and Rhys, finally overcoming his surprise, smiled.

“I haven’t heard him laugh like that in nearly two centuries,”

He said, at which Azriel finally snapped back into reality, hand tightening around your waist as his cheeks lightly dusted with pink.

“Or that time when he watched you fall out of that big ass tree, that was pretty funny.”

Cassian said with a grin, and Nesta and Feyre both laughed.

“At least I didn’t get called ‘Cass with the Ass’ for my first few years at camp.”

Rhys retorted, and Cassian sputtered, looking to Nesta for some support, and getting none as she too snickered at the nickname. You giggled quietly and Azriel smirked. Cassian huffed, grumbling something under his breath.

“Someone’s jealous of my ass.”

He grumbled, and Rhys rolled his eyes.

“We all know that your ass is just overcompensating for something else.”

He said dryly, and everyone laughed at that, even Cassian had to admit that it was good.

Beneath everyone’s laughter, Azriel pulled you a bit closer to him from his chair, smiling at you as if it were just the two of you in the room. You smiled back, leaning into him as the two of your chairs scooted closer.

‘I love you’, he mouthed to you, the truth of it clear in his eyes.

‘I love you too’, you mouthed back.

Tags:

@yearninglustfully

@deepestmentalitypersona

@hqmsby

[darthfighter]

what do you see?

Chapter Three of Your Shadow series

warnings: tension, vulnerability, character death, angst like a mf, character development, sexual tension at the end…

summary: as qimir takes you in, he welcomes you into his home and the two of you grow closer physically and mentally (especially mentally)

word count: 3.3k

authors note: i’m gonna be so real i cooked with this chapter. i’m so proud of it, i hope you guys like this. smut in next chapter..

part two here !

Hyperspace always brings comfort to you. The quiet yet loud humming of traveling through the galaxy. Slightly feeling the force of gravity change. It’s like it’s just you in those moments. Like time doesn’t exist.

Time. Time. Time.

Time always moves forward while you look back. Your legs keep walking while your neck keeps looking back for your memories. Your neck should be sore at this point. You sat in Qimir’s ship, traveling with him and not knowing what the future held for you. You’d think that’s what you’d be thinking about, the future, but no. You thought of pristine glossy floors that reflected your every step. The Jedi temple floors. As you close your eyes and think about pacing, stomping, skipping through the massive halls, you find your comfort. The comfort that makes you feel warm inside again. Though, if you spend too much time. You get hot. Hot burning memories that scorch your head and skin. Some days at the Jedi temple, your again– hot tears would splash onto the reflective clean floors.

As if on cue Qimir comes around the corner. With your unspoken, and not so quite understood connection you have with him, you don’t doubt that he sensed your distress.

Your hand reaches your face and delicately wipes your salty tears off your undereyes while disguising your action with now scratching your eyes pulling them down to show a shade of pink beneath your white and colored eyes. The scratch burnt.

“We’ll be there soon.”

You nod. A couple silent seconds, and he takes you in with his gaze. Sucking, or lightly biting his lip. It makes your heart escalate. Qimir turns around and walks over to his kitchen, rummaging around. You stare at his build as he isn’t looking at you. The way his hair is long but not too long, his clothes and how they hug his body, his forearms with veins traveling around them like vines. He turns to grab a bowl on the other counter letting you see his side profile. He is smiling showing his unavoidable smile lines.

He knows. He knows your orbs are set on him. You look down to your hands in your lap and very loudly curse in your mind. Of course he can tell what your actions are. He’s a– well you were gonna say Jedi in your head, but he’s not. If anything, you hate to think, but he’s better than a Jedi. At least so far. He sees you the way you wish to be seen.

“Here.” You look up to him holding the bowl out for you. Relief washes over you. Your hands take the bowl without a second thought. Before even thanking him as you should in a moment like this, your hand meets the spoon and scoops up whatever is in it. You are so hungry you don’t even care to know. As you satisfyingly taste and swallow the food he gave you, he turns back to the cockpit making his way there. Your stuffed mouth is more than a thank you.

The slop in your bowl moves as you jump out of hyperspace, falling a bit more to the side.

—

You walk off the ramp of Qimir’s ship with a full stomach to be met with crashes of waves. The air smelt of salt and sea making the air damp and cold. Feeling as though moving your hand through the air could get your hand wet with all the moisture.

You slightly walked behind him, following him since this is his element. He looks back at you. The two of you look at each other, and the distance between you two is left unsaid. No words. Although with the short amount of time you’ve known Qimir, you can tell the two of you talk more with your eyes. In this moment his eyes say to follow him, and you do as such.

Shoes walking on uneven rocks, waves crash in the distance, cliffs with different ridges and textures, and comfortable silence. This island is nothing like what you grew up around. Feeling out of place is what you need. Nothing can make you feel like you're back in your child's body, besides the thought on how this can't compare to your home.

Your knees begin to use their strength with the elevated path you two began to walk on. Now walking beside the huge mountain resting on this piece of land. Eventually, you make it in front of an entry into the mountain. The uncertainty of it causes your pace to suddenly end. Your eyes inspect the entry. Though, Qimir is already halfway into the cave-like hall. Without turning around he speaks and his voice echoes against the rock walls, “Come on.”

He can read you, you thought. Why stop now?

Anxiously, you step into the hall. With each step more and more gets revealed. Before you know it you are greeted with a lair like house. There is a bed built into the mountain, a kitchenette, and a small hot spring. It’s not much, although you can’t help but find pieces of Qimir when you look around. How he made this his home. You’ve had more homes than you can care to keep track of. The only one you consider home is the one your family resided on. Home is gone.

This is home, for now.

With a full stomach means you feel satisfied and relaxed. Meaning your senses were decreased. Making Qimir’s verbal tour of his place muffled through your ears.

“Kitchen is over here. Workbench over there. I can leave if you wanna take a rinse off in the hotspring, or you can go to the shore. Over there is the-” Your body is already melted and stuck to the bed like a childlike sweet on a table in the suns. After Qimir looks at you, he finishes his sentence“-Bed.”

—

You jolt up awake. Alert. You're still here in Qimir’s home. You're not running, for once.

You’re still dressed in your poorly made disguise you put together to scout your old home, but since the climate is different, you decided to take off a sheet of cloth being your robe that rested on your shoulders. The air on this island was cold from all the crisp water, so all you needed was your thin dark green shirt, your baggy black pants, and work boots you’ve kept since one of your old jobs on a planet you forgot the name of.

Qimir was nowhere to be seen. It felt weirdly empty to be in his home without him in it. With that thought, you decided to go explore as much as you can.

Your legs wandered until you made contact with the waves meeting the shore. As you continue to wander, you find a rather comfortable spot with a large rock to rest your back against. Making contact with the rock made your back cold, sending shivers down your spine.

You were cold. Not hot. So you close your eyes, and start cold in your past.

“Master.”

“I will not hear it!” Your master's demand vibrated through the Jedi Temple training room. “Get up. And try again.”

You were sore. Countless fails. Many bruises. One weakness. Family. Early in your padawan days, you had a hard time being away from your family. Your mother and brother. They sat comfortable in your mind for your whole life, and to have the Jedi order be in your main mental chair, was a hard adjustment. Your family clouded your thoughts. To Jedi, this is a weakness. Though in their defense, you can care for your family, but to let it be in control of you, was not. In this case it was the reason behind everything to you.

Your family is the reason why you talk the way you do, the reason why you walk is because of your mother, the reason why you have compassion is because of your brother, the reason you can handle immense amounts of heat is because of your home. Where your family stays.

These thoughts cycled through your brain during training at this moment. Making you tumble to the floor.

“Again!”

“Master.. I’m tired.”

Before your master protests, she sees a bruise on your arm start to grow a darker shade. As well as a burn imprinted on your left hand from accidentally burning yourself with your own lightsaber due to your clumsiness. She puts her hands behind her back.

“Tomorrow, we resume. Let your thoughts not be clouded tomorrow.”

Now, you look down to your hand. You only see a scar. The reason for the scar not being your accident of combat, but a reminder your family will forever be on the front of your mind. Uncontrollably.

Although now it's warm. Your eyebrows frown at knowing you're not hot at your negative thoughts that aren't here, but you feel warm for another reason.

“Mind if I join you?”

Qimir stands above you. He radiates heat whenever you're around him, like he is a source of energy.

You scoot your bottom a bit to the side for him to position himself next to you, and when he does, there is barely any distance between the two of you. His bicep rests directly next to your arm as you both stare into the endless amount of waves onto the shore.

“So with what you said, before. On the roof.” You pick up a rock near you to examine as you ask Qimir your question, but he pays attention to you. Looking at you as you speak to him. “With joining you. You.. teaching me.”

He takes the rock out of your hands lightly. “What do you think it means?” He asks smoothly.

Quickly you retort “By using the dark side.” You don't even have to look at him to know he’s shaking his head. Your eyebrows frown together, trying to meet as one.

As he shakes his head he looks up to the shore as he answers you “You were molded to think that way. I'm gonna help you crack yourself out of the way the Jedi shaped you.”

You inhale through your nose to take his words in, like you needed to ingest them through your senses. Then, you grab a hold of the rock this time. Now feeling the warmth rest itself on the surface of it from both of your frictions caressing it.

“How will you make me chip away then?”

“Show you that you can do good in your own way. The natural way.”

“You think the dark side is natural?”

“I never said it’s the dark side.”

After going back and forth, he takes the rock back into his hands. This time, taking his sweet time lingering his touch on yours meaning his fingertips brushed your skin a bit longer than before. His touch burns you.

“You already are a natural at it.” You look up to him and his eyes are already set on you. He looks down to your lips for a split second and speaks again “I saw it. Yesterday on the roof.”

You don’t speak your mind at this moment. Though your mind is thinking about how right he is. You turn your neck in your mental memories, and look back at all the times you “failed” as a Jedi, but it was you just feeling the natural feelings that resided in you. Qimir seems to bring that out of you.

You agree with him as much as it is new to you to agree with such a different way of thinking than what you’re used to. It frustrates you on how it doesn’t feel wrong to agree with him.

Qimir personally hands you the rock this time, you lightly take it out of his hands. It’s warm.

He stands up to his feet and is looking down at you as he says “Tomorrow. Let your thoughts free.”

—

The next day you wake up feeling like you got the best rest since you left your childhood home. Maybe it had to do with our last conversation, you thought.

You lift up your body from the bed to see Qimir stirring a spoon in a pot. Instantly the smell of his meal hits your nose like a punch. You get up from the bed and walk over to join him. He pours out the liquid into your bowl. You reach out for it but he takes back the bowl slightly leaving your arm in the air before saying “Don't hide your thoughts today.”

“Okay.”

“Or your actions.” He leans the bowl towards you for you to grab and instantly the hot bowl meets your hands.

This was new to you. It went against everything you were taught. It was a new way of living. If anything, it felt like he was going to teach you how to breathe all over again.

After both of you finished your meals, you both silently got ready to prepare for your first day of training. If that’s what this is, you said in your brain.

You followed Qimir’s lead until he led you on the top of the mountain.

It felt and looked like you were in a dream. The fog that covered the top of the mountain like a blanket was all around you. Beyond Qimir who was about two steps in front of you, you couldn’t see beyond that. It was just you and him. As you rested from your very difficult hike up here, you breathed in and out.

Inhaling and exhaling the air, the fog traveled its way into your lungs. Now residing in you, making a sheet of fog in your insides.

Qimir then sits down in front of you. As he sits criss crossed, he looks up to you. You already know that look, so you join him.

“So how does this work exactly? Do I just tell you my darkest thoughts?” You humorly ask.

Although Qimir stays honest, “You don't have to tell me anything.”

This makes you feel comfortable, immediately.

“All I ask is for you to let your mind and body do everything for you.”

Your eyebrows frown in a question-like manner.

“When you think of anger, what do you see?”

You keep your eyes on Qimir as he asks this question. As he faces your silence, you close your eyes. You see yourself young. You’re hurt and bruised. You feel the fire in your chest as a Padawan. Being taken in to be trained as a powerful Jedi while your family is left behind. You remained homesick and it clouded your thoughts. It caused you to not perform well. Caused you to fall behind. Especially because your Master was extra hard on you. Thinking back on this, you shake your head in that moment thinking how a grown adult could be so cold to a young one like this. Qimir see’s this reaction, and asks his next question.

“When you think of fear, what do you see?”

Being taken in by the Jedi. The day you left is a memory that will always pop into your head every single day. How devastated your brother looked as you left him behind. Your mothers face is full of wet tears, and as you look at her, her eyes are nothing but red from despair. But despite her red eyes, she held a smile on her face. A smile to let you know you’ll be okay, as will they. As you boarded the ship, your knees shook below you. You walked by yourself onto the ship. Once the hatch closed, you fell to your knees. Kneecaps crashed onto the metal floor stinging you instantly. A Jedi present softly laughed at finding humor in it, but how could you, a child, find humor in being so afraid of being on your own that your legs gave out on you.

“When you think of loss, what do you see?”

The intercom. You see the hologram of a good family friend, broken apart as they tell you it’s your brother. That it is his last stretch. Surprisingly, The Jedi Council agreed to let you visit your home this one last time. It was only your third visit since becoming a Jedi. The other visits were to come back and heal your brother. Your brother was the hardest worker you knew. This brought him to his death. Working his blood, sweat, and tears wore him out. Those two times, you were lucky enough to be a medicine to him. To make him better. That third time, you weren't so lucky. Once you got to your homeplanet and landed your ship and booked it off your platform, you made it to your home. Where he laid. There was one specific thing you remember about that day, that being how cold he was. Walking up to him in your clean Jedi robes, to him in his worn out room. You began to do what you came to do. To heal. Your hand came in contact with his. In that moment, you gasped and underestimated how cold his flesh would be. Your heart stung in agony, but you needed to remain focused. You tried to heal him. You tried to make it work. You tried again. Again. You tried.

He was too far gone for saving.

Although you knew. There was a chance. A chance to revive him as you have done previously, but that meant he’d take your life. You’d give him yours. You turn around to your mom who has been hiding in the corner like a shadow. She says your name low, like a monster hiding in the dark. She disapproves. She scares you. You don't care. You grab his burning cold hand and start to use the force. You’re thrown out of your trance as you are thrown to the floor. Your mother stopped you. You rise to your feet as she throws her hands in the air, rambling to you how this was life. How life has beauty and ugliness. That this was a part of the ugly life, the life you didn’t want to face.

Your mother looks you dead in the eyes like a dagger, and tells you that this was the Jedi way. No attachments. Let it go.

You couldn't accept this. You attempt to push past her, but your emotions made you weak. You know you’re a million times stronger than your mother and can easily get her out of the way, but you couldn’t bear overestimating your powers and accidentally hurt her. So you wail like a baby instead, in her arms like the day you were born, on the day your brother died.

Your chest rose and fell at a pace that was noticeably fast, and you open your eyes to see Qimir. As you thought back on your worst painful memory, he sees you in this state. Vulnerable and hurt. Though, you see something in his eyes. You see resemblance. He’s also lost something.

You close your eyes again and with this familiarity between the two of you, you start to control your breathing. You feel the need to relax. To get warm. You think of home on the hottest days. You think of your mothers juice. You think of the excitement of finding your kyber crystal. You remember the anticipation to cut off your padawan braid. You again feel the relief of turning away from The Order. You reminisce on spending your first paycheck on blue noodles. You think of Olega, how arriving there you felt like something was there, waiting for you. You think of bumping into Qimir. You think of him seeing you as you are.

Your breaths are steady. Precise. You open your eyes.

Qimir’s eyes are set on you. With his teeth sucking in his lip.

“When you think of desire, what do you see?”

You look at him in front of you, and as he waits for you to close your eyes again. Your eyes stay open, seeing Qimir.

[mxltifxnd0m]

boyfriend headcanons ⟡ d. winchester

pairings: dean winchester x reader, dean winchester x gn! reader

word count: 1.2K

warnings: no use of 'y/n', fluff, one suggestive comment, a smidge of angst, reader is to be implied as a hunter, lowercase intended

a/n: SURPRISE! i made the dean version of bf headcanons. i stayed up until 3am making this bc my mind had ideas and i didn't want to lose them lol (ik im crazy 😁) also technically my first fic for dean lmao

i hope you all enjoy and please reblog and comment, it really helps out!!

𝘥𝘦𝘢𝘯 𝘸𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘮𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘵

⟡ before dating you:

was super attracted to you before he even said a single word to you 

it was definitely lust at first sight (he wouldn't have minded sleeping with you) 

then you opened your mouth, and he was like, oh man, they're gonna be trouble, aren't they (as if he isn't trouble as well) 

you guys bickered a lot. like A LOT to the point where sam would have to remove himself from the room or get in between you two in order to stop the bickering 

the bickering got so bad that sam had to lock the two of you in the motel room sam and he were sharing and didn't let you guys out until the two of you could have a civil conversation 

you guys eventually stopped bickering out of malice after finding common ground between the two of you 

there was bickering but it read more of an old married couple bantering with one another 

then somehow, you guys became friends, and the physical attraction that dean had to you had morphed into something else and then he realized that he liked you 

he only confessed his feelings when you had a close call with a ghoul and blurted out his feelings to you when patching you up 

⟡ dating dean winchester:

you would describe dating dean as a roller coaster, but like all relationships, it has its ups and downs 

it was hard to have vulnerable conversations with dean without the infamous hunters' helper (alcohol lol)

you guys fought a lot at the beginning of your relationship bc you were fighting tooth and nail to get him to at least try and talk to you 

you soon realized that you would have to take a different approach to it and eventually let him come to you when he needed it 

it took a while, but once he put his walls down and trusted you, it seemed like a weight was lifted off of him when he finally told you a sliver of what was going on in his head 

⟡ soft dean!

now, this is where we get soft! dean 

we all know that dean is secretly a softy at heart, and you see it in the more quiet moments with him

he'll stare at you when the two of you are researching or when you're bustling around the kitchen, prepping and cooking lunch for the three of you 

and without fail, a cute blush will appear on his face, making his freckles pop against the red hue of his cheeks as you catch him staring at you  "what are you looking at?" you asked with a wide smile on your face.  "just you sweetheart." he tries to play off his flustered state with a wink, but you shook your head, knowing he was a bit embarrassed he got caught staring.

speaking about getting flustered, he loves teasing you and trying to get you flustered with fleeting touches, flirty gestures, and outright whispering the filthiest things that he wants to do you during the most inconvenient times, like if you're on a case or researching 

what he didn't take into account when he started it was that you would dish it right back at him

he loves it when you keep him on your toes 

⟡ pet names

OH another thing, PET NAMES  he loves using pet names for you 

we have the usual sweetheart, babe (not baby bc you know you come in a close third after sam and the impala) (he's tried arguing that's not true, but you knew it and understood you came after both of them).

he would def call you honey, beautiful, angel, and some variation of your name/nickname 

if he's in a playful mood, he'd probably call you borderline cringe pet names like pumpkin, sweet cheeks, pookie these are the ones you roll your eyes at since he knows you hate them

⟡ love langauges

now, his love languages, his main ones to give are acts of service, physical affection, and quality time, while the ones he likes to receive are physical touch, words of affirmation, and quality time 

⟡ physical touch

now, physical touch is a given for dean  he's a very tactical man and is a sucker for it 

when he can, he'll always be touching you, holding your hand or resting on your shoulder, thighs pressed together while sitting together eating in a diner booth, cuddling while watching a movie or always being in his arms while sleeping together, making out wherever whenever (his favorite place is obviously in the backseat of baby) 

but there are days when he needs physical affection from you, and you gladly give it to him, and he's a sucker for you when you play with his hair 

PDA, man is shameless with the PDA  he doesn't care he will kiss you no matter what and when he can  he loves you, and even if he's afraid to say it, he'll definitely show it to you 

⟡ acts of service

which brings me to acts of service  dean will do anything for you even if you didn't ask for him to do it  makes breakfast for you almost every morning, gives you his flannel when you're cold (he loves to see you in his clothes), replaces the lightbulb in your lamp when you mentioned it was flickering, taking care of you when you get drunk (he did this even before the two of you started to date and bickered the entire time), but the list goes on and on 

dean just likes to take care of the people he loves (it was practically ingrained into him at a young age) 

⟡ quality time

he also likes spending time with you it doesn't matter if the two of you aren't talking and working on your own tasks; he likes being in your presence (it soothes him)  with how crazy his life is, he loves the mundane things/tasks he does with you

sometimes, he'll go run errands with you, not bc he's bored and wants to avoid research (which is actually the main excuse at times) but, he likes the sense of normalcy it brings him when the two of you are together, and when you spend time with him 

⟡ words of affirmation

now, dean would never admit it to you (or to himself), but he needs to be reassured 

his mind is a dangerous place for him, and he can find himself drowning in his self-deprecating and self-destructive thoughts (these are also the days he needs you the most, and your touch is grounding to him) 

your words act as a lifeboat for him in the chaotic storm that is his mind and calms them down significantly 

he slowly works on his self-esteem and self-worth, but with your help, it's a little easier for him 

⟡ protective

this is a given, but he is SO protective of you 

dean is a fiercely protective person at his core and will do anything and everything to keep the people that he loves safe, and now that includes you 

some arguments were had when dean was being overbearing and flat out refusing to let you go on certain hunts with them bc it was too dangerous. you had to remind him that you were a hunter before you met him and will continue being one until the day you decide to try and retire or die 

he doesn't like it when you hunt alone, and so he always tries to come with you or send sam with you if he's indisposed for some reason 

he's only like this bc he can't lose one of the best things in his life 

[btsgotjams27]

perfect palette | jjk

vegas isn’t your first choice, but you love your best friend and are willing to do anything for her, including planning her bachelorette party. everything is all set, ready to go for the last day, until you receive a text from the model you’ve hired. he’s out sick but have no fear, he’s sent the next best thing to replace him for the night.

✨ title: perfect palette

✨ pairing: jungkook x f!reader (nicknamed Ro)

✨ genre/au: slice of life, light angst | model!jk, las vegas!au

✨ rating: m/18+ | ✨ word count: 7.5k

✨ warnings: language, drinking, mild nudity, jungkook + reader are tipsy, kissing, reader is nicknamed Ro but is only called by her name a handful of times.

✨ a/n: hi again! so this idea came to me when i was in vegas lmao, and the painting idea is from 'this is us' (the show). i just thought it was a fun premise. i hope you enjoy it.

What happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas.

Your head is pounding, and your stomach is growling. As you pop your head up, you notice the hotel room is a complete mess: furniture has been knocked over, empty tequila and champagne bottles litter the room, and clothes and money are scattered across the floor.

A low, muffled groan startles you, making you cover up with the duvet. You definitely don’t remember sleeping with someone. Your mind races, attempting to recall last night’s shenanigans.

Whoever is next to you mumbles under their breath and turns over on their stomach. The silver chain that’s adorning their neck glimmers from the sunlight peeking through the blinds. You can’t help but notice their broad chiseled back and the markings on it. No, they’re not scratches from nails—they’re purple lines, going from one beauty mark to the next, and each mark is surrounded by a pair of red lips. Turning your hand over, you see it’s stained with purple, matching the color on their back.

What the fuck happened last night, you think.

You lean over, peering at the mysterious person. A scalloped tattoo delicately covers their shoulder and the rest of their arm is covered in ink. You giggle when you discover the tattoos are colored an array of hues—blue, red, green, and orange. It looks almost like a child was told to have fun and went wild with coloring.

The person groans again, switching to lay on their back side. You pull back, holding the duvet up to your chin. A small gasp comes out when you recognize the mystery person—it’s Jeon Jungkook, your old college buddy. Five years have passed since you last saw him at graduation. Last you heard, he was in Los Angeles, taking a jab at modeling and acting. Well, with his perfect face and body (your eyes quickly scanned over him), who would say no to him?

The real question now was, how did he end up in Vegas, and specifically in your hotel room?

—

The day before.

“Ro, cheer up please. We’re in Vegas, not a funeral,” Lottie says, swiping on a pink lip stain. “You’re only gonna feel like shit if you keep scrolling through those photos.”

Lottie’s right because looking through your ex-college sweetheart’s wedding photos is not doing anything for you. Four years of committing to a man who said he never wanted to get married, but there he was with a ring on his finger.

Your phone is swiped from your hand. “Hey!” you protest, standing to snatch it back. “Give it to me!”

“No! I will not let my maid-of-honor mope around like a sad puppy. Forget Jimin! He’s a married man now and a Libra—an October Libra too, I might add. That should’ve been a red flag right off the bat!”

She’s been your work wife for the past three years, and the two of you bonded over talking shit about your boss and colleagues. The only anecdotes she knew of Jimin were the ones you spilled on drunken nights.

“Lottie, give me my phone. I have to make sure everything is ready for tonight. It has to be perfect,” you explain, holding out your hand, insisting she gives it to you. But it was an excuse to keep lurking.

The itinerary for today consisted of: brunch, pool and cocktails, dinner at Hell’s Kitchen, then a night of painting–naked painting you should add. As if the Magic Mike show wasn't enough skin for Lottie and the rest of the crew. You somehow stumbled upon a small business, ‘Perfect Palette’ combining models and painting into one. This would be the next closest thing to being with a fully naked man. It's been a hot minute since you've seen one.

The bride-to-be reluctantly hands over the phone and you're scrolling through emails, switching apps to confirm everything.

“Take a chill pill, babe. Everything doesn't have to be perfect, but I am excited about painting tonight!” Lottie smiles and claps, then leans over to give you a hug. “Okay! Time to get ready for brunch.” She runs off to the restroom. “And no more pining over Jimin, please!” She yells back.

It's hard not to look through the photos of your ex-boyfriend because it was supposed to be you, not the woman he's kissing and holding. If only you could go back to graduation and fix things between you and Jimin…maybe life would've turned out differently for you.

As you open up Instagram (your burner account, obviously), you see a new post of him and his wife on a plane with the caption, “Can't wait to honeymoon in Bali.”

Bali was your dream honeymoon location.

With a heavy sigh, flinging yourself onto the bed, you turn off your phone. Lottie’s always right—this is depressing.

A ding goes off and you're hoping it's just one of the girls confirming the schedule for today. Grabbing your phone, you hold it above you, the screen illuminating your face.

The notification reads:

Namjoon 8:30 AM

Hey. I came down with the stomach bug so I can't make it tonight, but don't worry, I'm sending the next best thing to replace me. I promise the bride and your girls will love him. He's a newbie but he's just as beefy if not more than me. Have fun tonight.

You turn the phone over and rub your hand over your face. Great, just my luck, you think.

Well, whoever this person is, you hope he’s worth what you’re paying for.

–

The Primrose restaurant is the perfect spot to finish off a weekend in Vegas. It’s bustling with groups similar to yours—probably other brides and bridesmaids celebrating a last hoorah before committing yourself to one person for the rest of your life. At this point it seems silly, doesn’t it? Being with someone, choosing them on a daily basis, loving them for all their faults, but who are you kidding? You’re a hopeless romantic now waiting for your charming prince.

Gwen and Ivy sit across from you and Lottie, whispering and pointing to their phone like two high school girls. You don’t doubt they’re plotting something. You just hope it doesn’t involve more naked men, minus the one you’ll see tonight. There are only so many ripped abs you can take.

“What are you two whispering about?” Lottie asks while narrowing her eyes. She holds her glass of mango mimosa, taking a sip.

“Nothing!” They both speak in tandem and Lottie makes a face at the two.

“No surprises,” you plead with your friends. “The rest of the day is already planned.”

“Don’t worry, babe! We’re not planning anything else,” Gwen reassures.

“It’s just that—” Ivy is cut off when Gwen jabs her in the ribs. “Ow!”

Gwen puts her phone down, hiding it under her thigh. “It’s nothing that concerns you.”

“But it does—kind of—” Ivy interjects. “Jimin and his wife—they’re pregnant.” She grabs Gwen’s phone, showing a photo of Jimin kissing his wife’s belly.

“Oh,” you say softly. “That’s great. I’m really happy for him.”

You hate to admit it, but it stings. He’s living the life you dreamed of with him. The big house, big cars, but someone else got the big ring. And now they’re starting a family? Everyone seems to be moving forward, but it feels like you’re at standstill. It’d be amazing to have a man plop in your lap, but life just doesn’t seem to be going your way.

Clearing your throat, “Should we get ready for the pool?”

—

It doesn’t matter how many times you tug down your swimsuit, it keeps riding up in all the wrong places. The white linen shorts and tie top aren’t doing you any favors either by being paper thin.

The pool is bustling with hoards of party-goers. They’re laughing, drinking, and having the time of their life. An ex-boyfriend’s current life shouldn’t be affecting yours—but it is. You wish you could let go, let loose, forget everything related to Park Jimin. You’d rather be consumed by anything, anyone other than him.

Lottie’s at the bar, ordering a round of drinks. Gwen and Ivy are grabbing the attention of four guys. And it’s the last night before returning to reality, so you should be having fun, flirting, and making a fool of yourself to someone whom you’ll never see again. That’s what Vegas is for, right?

As a maid of honor, you’re definitely not living up to the hype and you know Lottie’s disappointed expression like the back of your hand, and yet you can’t unbunch your panties that are in a twist. The effects of the morning mimosas have worn off, and maybe you need something stronger. Hell—even a gummy sounds tempting at this point. Anything to forget how miserable your love life is.

“You’re still thinking about him, aren’t you?” Lottie asks. You shake your head no, but she knows you. She sits down, taking your hands. “Look, I’m sorry about Jimin. It sucks that he got married even though he said he never wanted to—” You’re ready to interrupt but she stops you, placing her index finger on your lips.

“Bup-bup-bup. I know what you’re going to say, but don’t,” Lottie implores, pleading with her eyes. She knows how much you torment yourself with lowly thoughts.

You want to say that there’s definitely something wrong with you. Why else would Jimin say one thing to you about marriage and then do the complete opposite?

“You’re more than enough, so please don’t think otherwise. Don’t let this one guy determine the course of your future relationships. He’s not worth your time and energy.”

Tears began to well behind your eyes as she continued, “You deserve to have some fun. So please, can we enjoy this last night together before we have to go back to our real lives?” Lottie pouts along with puppy eyes.

Lottie’s always right and that’s what you love about her. You hate that you’ve been a poor sport this weekend when you’re supposed to be celebrating your friend and having fun. You’ve been busy moping over a man who is now married with a child on the way. It’s a pathetic way to spend your last night in Vegas.

You let out a deep breath, expelling all the bad energy you’ve harnessed. “You’re right. I’m sorry. I’ve been the worst maid of honor, but have no fear!” A server brings over the drinks that Lottie ordered, you pick up your Paloma cocktail and an oversized margarita, handing it to the bride-to-be. “Let’s have the best night. Cheers!” you say, clinking your glass against hers.

—

Tequila is one of your worst enemies, but also the best way for you to loosen up your limbs and lips.

By the time the four of you arrive at the hotel room, you’re unsure if you can even pick up a paintbrush, let alone even get paint on a canvas.

“Oh, I’m sorry, sorry that you love me! Change my mind up like it’s origami!”

The trio of you, Ivy, and Gwen are linked arm in arm trying to fit through the door while singing at the top of your lungs.

“Ugh—I swear Tate McRae is my spirit animal,” you say, turning to Gwen. “You know, she just gets it. Always gets me in my sad girl hours and then has me dancing the next.”

“I’m a-I’m a-I’m a wild ride that never stops!” Ivy continues singing, letting go of the two of you while Lottie trails behind. Someone has to be the semi-sober one.

“Hey Ro—they’re bringing everything right?” Lottie asks you.

“Yeah, the guy will bring the supplies. There’s an area cleared out for him. I’m gonna freshen up then I’ll be out.”

“I’m ready for a man to bare it all and ask nothing of me in return,” Gwen comments, taking a seat on the couch.

You chuckle, shaking your head at your friend. Hopefully, it’ll be the last naked man you’ll see this weekend. But either way, you’re sure you’ll enjoy this last activity.

The powder puff pats against your skin, making dust fly everywhere. Taking a step back, you give yourself the once-over in the mirror, but not before swiping a red stain on your lips. You don’t want to look disheveled for this naked guest. Apparently, he’s the ‘next best thing’ next to Namjoon, and you saw Namjoon’s photo on the website. You’re curious to see this mystery man and how this evening will end up.

As the door is ajar, you can hear the girls talking amongst themselves along with giggles. Whoever this guy is, he must be living up to their standards.

You’re unsure what to expect, how everything will turn out. Is this model fully naked? Are they covered? Do you keep your art piece? How are you supposed to bring a canvas of a naked man on a plane without receiving a few stares? You definitely didn’t think this part through.

“Ro! Get your butt out here. We’re gonna start painting soon!” Gwen yells, making you sprint out the door and into a curious situation.

Four canvases on easels and paint palettes on stools surround the model. His back is turned to you and he’s already half-naked with only a towel wrapped around his waist. One arm is completely inked from the top of his shoulder to his wrist. When he turns around and your jaw drops, not because he’s built like a Greek god (well, yeah he is), but because you recognize the half-naked man.

“Jeon Jungkook?” 

“Ro?” His eyes light up and he secures his towel, tucking it in his waist. “What are you doing here?”

You step toward him and the girls. “What am I doing here? What are you doing here?”

Jungkook rubs the back of his neck. “Err—”

Lottie clears her throat, blinking at you and then Jungkook. “Um, excuse me. How do you two know each other?”

The pair of you give each other a look and chuckle before you answer. “Oh, we went to college together.”

“Just went to college together? Nothing more?” Ivy narrows her eyes at you, trying to figure out if you’re lying.

“What? No! We’re just friends. I was with Jimin, remember?” A pathetic reminder of your past relationship and now non-existent one.

“Uh huh,” Lottie remarks, taking a stride to you, pulling you in. “I wanna hear all the details about that one later.”

“There’s nothing to tell,” you whisper. “We’re friends—nothing more.” Catching Jungkook’s gaze, you smile softly before taking your seat on the stool.

“Are you ladies ready?” Jungkook asks, ripping off his towel, only to reveal another small hand towel covering his crotch.

The girls are yelping and hollering. You can’t help but cover your eyes, giggling at the fact that you’ll be painting one of your friends—naked.

—

Jungkook’s surrounded by the four of you. His pose is simple, straight forward. Literally straight forward because he’s facing you, knees slightly bent as he’s sitting on the stool. Your eyes have caught his every now and again, but he's focused on something past you.

Every inch of him is chiseled like a statue right out of Ancient Greece. From his jawline, to his collarbone, to his sculpted chest and not one, two, three, four, but eight pack abs. How is it that some people are just born to look like a Greek god? You didn’t think God had favorites, but Jeon Jungkook definitely proves you wrong.

Studying Jungkook’s physique for the past hour has made you realize how intimate this feels. Although the pair of you were friends in school, this is the most time you’ve spent with him outside of it, and the most time you’ve spent just looking at him. He is definitely a pretty boy with a soft, sweet energy.

Your brows are knitted, biting your bottom lip, trying to figure out how to paint his inked arm. It’s looking more and more like a glob than anything distinguishable. It’s when your eyes catch his and he’s doing that smile, the one where one side curves up, and it makes your heart skip a beat.

Jungkook’s eyes flick to the large clock in the living area. “Okay, ladies. It looks like time is up. How did everyone’s painting turn out?” There are groans and grumbles coming from the four of you. Jungkook chuckles, “Aw, come on. It can’t be that bad.”

He turns, fetching a robe behind him, slipping it on to cover himself. Jungkook takes it upon himself to check out everyone’s canvases, and you’re dreading the moment when he approaches yours.

You clutch it, holding it close to your body, and you have no intention of Jungkook ever seeing it.

He tilts his head, giving you a look. “Ro—it can’t be that bad.”

“Trust me, it is!” You turn, hoping to somehow destroy it before leaving tomorrow morning. It’s not that Jungkook looks horrible—it’s that you’re a horrible painter. But your death grip isn’t as strong as he is. With a sigh, you hand it over to him.

Jungkook nods with a pout on his lips. “It’s…”

“Horrible—I know.”

“No, no. I’d say it has an abstract feeling to it. I like it.” He gives a bright smile, returning the canvas to you.

You give him a thin smile, knowing that he’s just saying it because it’s his job. “By the way, you’re really good at this gig, but are you still pursuing the whole modeling thing?”

“I’m still doing that. I just do this gig for fun on the weekends. I mean, I get to meet cool, and sometimes crazy people and the money isn’t bad either.”

“Alright, ladies and gentleman. Tequila, anyone?” Gwen suggests as she wiggles her eyebrows, holding up the bottle. No one answers which makes her frown. “Aw, come on!”

“I’m game. What about you Ro?” Jungkook’s eyebrows are raised, eyes practically pleading for you to say yes. “One for me?”

You know it’s never ‘just one’ with Jungkook. You’ve seen first hand what that one line does to people, but you take the risk. “Okay, Jeon—just one.”

Everyone else gives in, raising and clinking their glasses to toast the bachelorette. Expelled breaths come from everyone after knocking back the clear liquor.

“Round two?” Jungkook asks, extending his glass toward Gwen in which she happily obliges.

You smirk, shaking your head as you catch Jungkook’s gaze.

—

It didn’t take long until you were feeling euphoric from the alcohol coursing through your veins. You’re always on cloud nine when you drink Tequila.

Lottie called it quits after her fifth shot. Gwen and Ivy are also well on their way to sleeping like babies. But you and Jungkook? You both have caught a second wind of energy.

“Ugh, I’m so hungry!” you exclaim, rubbing your belly as it growls. Jungkook’s trying to hold in a laugh. With a gasp, you turn to him, slapping his back, which is firm to the touch. “Shut up! Drinking makes me hungry.”

“Okay then, let’s get some room service. What are you craving?” 

You tap your cheek with your index finger, combing through the many options. “Pizza. No—wait, chicken wings.” Jungkook closes his eyes and hums. “No, nope! I want a juicy, juicy hamburger…with…with…” Your brain is obviously short-circuiting.

“Fries?” Jungkook answers.

“Yes! Fries! And a milkshake!”

“We can do that. I’ll call it in.”

An hour has passed and you and Jungkook are sprawled out on the bed, bellies full and minds are swirling.

“Oh man, I haven’t done anything like this in such a long time,” you admit, turning over onto your belly. You lay your head in the crook of your arm, facing Jungkook.

“What? Eating?” he teases.

You giggle. “No—getting tipsy and I don’t know, just being free.”

“This is you being free?” Jungkook raises a brow. “I gotta get some more tequila in you then.” He proceeds to get up, but you pull him back.

“No, no, no. Trust me, this is good. I don’t wanna black-out.”

“Okay, how about some champagne then? Just to celebrate your last night here,” Jungkook suggests.

You know you’ll regret it, but you agree. “Just one bottle.” Besides you already paid for it, you wouldn’t want it to go to waste.

He sprints out of the bedroom to the bar area to grab a bottle and two glasses. You can’t help but notice how his biceps flex as he pours the two of you a glass.

“To—”

“Lottie,” you finish his sentence.

“To Lottie.” He clinks his glass with yours before chugging down his bubbly.

You stare blankly at the Greek god himself. “You’re trying to get me drunk, aren’t you?”

His lips thin into a smile. “I’m not doing anything…”

“Mmhm.” You take a gulp of your glass. You’re sure that if Jungkook were to ask you to do something, you’d say yes in a heartbeat. He made being around him comfortable and you always felt at ease.

“So, what should we do now?”

Your lips turn into a pout, peering around the room before a lightbulb goes off. “Ah! I have just the thing.” You rush over to your luggage, rummaging through it. Turning around, you wave a box of double tipped markers.

Jungkook knits his brows together. “And what do you think you’re going to do with those?”

You giggle. “You’ll see!”

—

Your tongue is out, concentrating on the purple line connecting from one beauty mark to the next. You’ve forced Jungkook to lie on his belly as you’re hunched over, straddling his legs.

“Don’t move!”

He relaxes, letting you continue on. Capping the purple marker, you set it aside. You’re giggling, tracing the line across his back and you can feel him squirm under your touch.

“You finished or what?” He peers over his shoulder but you turn him away.

"Just need to add the finishing touches." Leaning forward, you press your lips to the first beauty mark on his mid back, leaving a lipstick stain. Then you move to the next one beneath his shoulder blade, and continue on. His skin is smooth and warm under your lips, and though it's faint, you think you hear a low groan from him.

You sit up, adjusting your position, staring at the artwork you’ve created on Jungkook’s back. “Done—with your back at least. Now onto your arms.”

—

Jungkook turns his head to see what you’re coloring, flexing his bicep, making you color outside the lines.

“Oh my god! You made me mess up!” You try wiping the color, but it doesn’t budge. “You did it on purpose.”

“I did not! Why do you need to color inside the lines anyway?” he asks before returning to his previous position, resting his head on his arm.

“Because…that’s the way you’re supposed to color.” Taking an orange marker, you continue shading in his cloud tattoo.

“You don’t always have to follow the rules,” he breathed, gazing up at you.

“I know…” you mumble. Your eyes flick to his then back to the tattoo. You hate when things are not in your control. There were a handful of moments in your life when shit hit the fan and chaos ensued—Jimin being one of them.

You clear your throat, grabbing a yellow marker to color in a gradient effect. “And are you the type to not follow the rules?”

Jungkook chuckles, “I guess we don’t know each other well huh?”

“Well, I was practically glued to Jimin when we were in school.”

“What happened with you guys anyway? I thought you guys were like soulmates or something.”

“We just wanted different things,” you mumble, not wanting to elaborate. “What about you, hmm? Being a model in LA and Vegas? I’m sure you have women wanting to crawl into bed all the time.”

His gaze catches yours. “Exhibit A.”

You scoff. “Hey! We’re friends—that’s the only reason why you’re in my bed.”

“Uh huh. I saw the way you were eyeing me during the painting session. Don’t tell me you weren’t thinking about it,” Jungkook teases, making you stop coloring, and pinch his underarm. “Ow, ow, ow! Okay, just kidding!” He moves away, but you pull him back.

“Hey! I’m almost done coloring,” you say, gripping tighter onto his arm.

“That’s not fair. Only you get to color me?”

You sigh, tilting your head. “I’ll let you draw one thing on me.”

“Can I pick the location of where to draw it?”

“As long as it’s not my tits or ass.”

Jungkook lets out a hearty laugh. “Alright, how about your—”

Your hand flies to cover his mouth, knowing exactly what he’s going to say. “Jeon Jungkook! That’s a hard no!”

“You practically saw my junk and I can’t see yours?”

“Well, I paid for it.”

“I can pay you too.”

You gasp. “You can’t just buy me.”

“Fine. Give me a few options and I’ll choose the placement.”

It would be easy to choose a place more visible, but you’re feeling frisky. “My hip or my back.”

Jungkook lips his licks, eyes flicking to your hips then back up at you. “And I can draw anything I want?”

You hum with a nervous tremble. You’re sure he wouldn’t draw anything ridiculous. “I trust you.”

“‘Kay then, turn over on your belly. Top off.”

Sitting up, facing Jungkook, your hands fall to the first button on your linen vest. Your eyes never leave his as you continue to unfasten the rest, then you toss it aside, revealing a blush pink see-through bra with floral detailing. Jungkook is trying his best to not let his eyes wander lower and you’re trying to do the same. Yes, you’ve stared at his half-naked body for an hour tonight, but you didn’t have the chance to explore it up close.

“Is this okay?” You know it is, but you’d like confirmation.

“Mmm.” He gestures for you to lie down, and you do as he asks.

Jungkook reaches for a black marker, the tip is thinner than the others. He shifts his position a few times before lying comfortably next to you. The warmth from his body radiates, heating up against your skin. You lie on top of your crossed arms, facing him, wondering what he’s planning to draw. Maybe some flowers or stars.

His brows are knitted as he’s concentrated on where to begin. He starts on the middle of your back, drawing circular shapes from what you can tell. The tip of the marker grazes back and forth, and his hand and fingers emanate a gentle touch upon your skin.

He’s quite handsome, you think. Even the scar etched on his cheek has a certain beauty, and his nose must be a butterflies favorite place to land on.

“Is it okay if I unhook this?”

“Hmm?”

“Your um,” he clears his throat. “Your bra.”

You’ve been too focused on Jungkook’s face, you hadn’t realized he was halfway down your back. “Yeah, um, go for it.”

He unhooks your bra in one fell swoop and the sides of your bra fall to the side. Continuing with his design, he concentrates on the smallest details going down your spine. Your eyes flutter shut as his warm breath softly fans the wet ink on your skin.

“Are you seeing anyone?” Jungkook asks, trying to make conversation, realizing he doesn’t know you well, besides when you were with Jimin.

“Single as can be. What about you? A girlfriend? Friends with benefits? Situationship?”

Jungkook laughs. “What kind of life do you think I lead here, hm? That’s a lot of assumptions about me.”

“I don’t know. I just assume that someone that looks like you would have someone is all.”

“Well, I’m also single, and I’m a more monogamous kinda guy.”

“You are?” you question with a dramatic gasp. “That comes as a nice surprise. Maybe we should go get married tonight in a chapel,” you joke.

“With a few more drinks in me, I’m sure I’d say yes to anything.”

“Stop—don’t tempt me.”

“I’m serious. I’m ready to meet someone and do the whole boyfriend-girlfriend thing, but a lot of the people I meet just want sex.”

“I’m sorry, did I just meet a guy who doesn’t want sex?”

Jungkook deadpans. “I didn’t say I don’t want sex. I do—I just wanna be a romantic and spoil someone.”

“Oh, well, you can always wine and dine me. I won’t object,” you tease.

As Jungkook continues drawing, the pads of his fingers create a light buzz of electricity, from one end to the other. Your eyes flutter shut, relishing from his soft touch. You almost let out a low moan but catch yourself when he gets to a ticklish spot near your ribs.

“Jungkook?”

“Hmm?”

“Do you think the right person will come along for you?”

A beat passes before he answers. “Yeah, I think so. Whoever they are, I just know that I'm probably not ready to meet them yet, but the right time will come.”

“But what if the right person came at the wrong time?”

“Or…you were the right person in the wrong place,” he suggests. “Are you talking about Jimin?”

“Yeah, I've been trying to avoid talking about him. He recently got married and his wife is pregnant too.”

“Ah, don't tell me you're feeling shitty? ‘Cause you shouldn't.”

A sad chuckle leaves your lips. “I'm pretty sure I fumbled it.”

Jungkook stops drawing on your back, softly calling your name, in which you hesitate to look at him for fear of bursting into tears.

“Hey…you didn't fumble anything. Pretty sure it's Jimin’s loss.”

“You're sweet, Kook. Thanks.”

Jungkook continues on his quest to finish his drawing.

“Is it almost finished?” you ask, clearing your throat. The tequila and champagne are starting to wear off and tomorrow’s reality is beginning to settle in. Tonight feels like a dream and you don’t want to wake up.

He hums. “Almost. Just a few more details then we’ll be good to go.” Short strokes lightly mark across your back and he doesn’t break his concentration. He continues for a few minutes before closing the cap. “Done. Wanna see?”

“I’m not gonna lie. I’m low-key scared to see what it is.”

Jungkook straightens his posture then reaches for his phone. “You have nothing to be scared of. It’s pretty. I promise.” He takes a photo, showing it to you.

Though the drawing session didn’t feel long, you could see the intricate detailing he went into drawing the moon phases down your back.

Sitting up then turning away from Jungkook, you use your arm to cover your breasts and secure your bra. “Are you always good at everything?” you ask, standing and walking over to the dresser, you pull out an oversized shirt, slipping it on, then you grab the tequila bottle and two shot glasses. There’s just enough to end the night.

Jungkook shifts to the edge of the bed, legs spread, and you slot yourself right in between. “Nah, I’m not good at everything.”

“Oh yeah? What are you not good at?” you ask, making him hold a glass while you pour his then yours.

He chuckles, looking away, then back up at you. “For starters, I’m not good at flirting.”

“You’re lying.” Your eyes lock in on his as you set the empty bottle down on the floor.

“I’m not.”

“Okay, practice on me then,” you say, trying to persuade him.

“A bit of liquid courage might help.”

You raise your glass and clink it against his. “Bottoms up.” The both of you wince as you knock them back, tossing the glasses on the carpeted flooring.

“Better?” you inquire, wrapping your arms around his broad shoulders, playing with the hair along the nape of his neck. Jungkook’s fingers delicately trace up and down your thighs, sending tingles across every inch of skin. His eyes are so starry, you’ll gladly get lost in them.

“You’re pretty.”

“Could say the same about you,” you giggle, twirling his hair in your fingers. “You’re right.”

Jungkook closes his eyes, reveling at your touch against his skin. “Mm, about what?”

“That you’re bad at flirting.” Your eyes linger on his lips, wondering what they taste like and how much you’d like to kiss the chocolate chip mole right underneath his bottom lip.

He lets out a soft chuckle, looking down at his feet then back at you. “Told you,” he says as he pulls away, propping himself up on the bed. He scans you from head to toe, loving the fact that you’re in between his legs. Hasn't seen you in years, but he’s intrigued.

Letting out a yawn, you cover your mouth then apologize.

“Damn, didn’t think my non-flirting would put you to sleep.”

You laugh. “It’s been a long day and it’ll be an even longer one tomorrow.”

“Right, I should head out too.” Jungkook shifts, scooting to the edge of the bed but you don’t budge.

“Do you wanna stay? Since it’s pretty late already.” Nearly 3 AM and you know you’ll regret this but right now, you’ll indulge in whatever’s left of this trip.

Jungkook’s silent for a moment before answering, “Sure. I’ll stay.”

You crawl over him, slipping under the covers that have been calling your name for the past few hours. The plush, fluffy pillows are like a cloud as you lay your head down. Jungkook follows your lead, doing the same, facing you. His fringe gently falls, covering his eyes, and you find yourself moving them out of his face.

“You’re cute,” you whisper, letting your finger trace his cheeks to his jawline.

“I don’t really like being cute,” he hums.

“Well, that’s just too damn bad, isn’t it?” You inch closer to him, and can feel the warmth radiating off his body. It feels nice to be in close proximity to another human being again. And you like that there are no expectations. You can just be with Jungkook. The two of you run in the same circle of friends, and he makes you feel safe—like if anything were to happen to you tonight, he’d take care of you.

Your eyes flick to his lips, lingering longer than expected, and your cheeks are warming up, ridding the last bit of alcohol coursing through your veins.

Jungkook moves in, closing the distance. The tip of his nose brushes against yours, lips ghosting each other in a delicate dance before finally meeting in a tender kiss. Time seems to stand still as you melt into each other. Hearts beating in perfect harmony, lost in the sweetness of the moment.

With your breaths mingled, it creates a cocoon of intimacy as you savor the softness of each other's lips. Your fingers entwined in his hair, drawing him closer, bodies pressed together in a silent declaration of desire.

The last leg of this trip was fate trying to make you forget about your worries, and Jungkook was the perfect color to paint over your monochrome palette. 

There’s a longing deep inside you wanting to escape, and as much as you want to release it, you’d rather have him when you’re sober and in the right mindframe.

“Ro…” Jungkook moans as he pulls away, your hands splayed on his taut chest, forehead resting against his.

“Yeah?” you reply, leaning in for another kiss.

“I don’t want you like this,” he says, taking you by surprise, almost like he could read your mind.

Letting out a chuckle, you answer, “No—yeah, makes sense.”

“It’s not that ‘I don’t want you’, I do! I just—don’t want this to turn out like other flings I’ve had in the past because I don’t consider you ‘a fling’ or someone to just toss the next day because we’re friends and I would never do that to—“

You interrupt him with a peck on his lips. “Jungkook. I understand. I feel the same way.”

“You do?”

“Yeah, I had a lot of fun tonight and that’s all thanks to you.”

“I didn’t do much.”

“No, you did! You helped me loosen up.”

“I’m sure it was just the champagne and tequila doing all the work.”

“They helped, but it was mostly you.” You smile, letting a beat pass before speaking again. “Should we try to get some sleep?”

He hums, leaning in for a kiss, in which you willingly give. You tug on his silver chain, asking for a few more kisses before letting him go.

Not even three minutes in and Jungkook is already snoring. His chest rising and falling, rumbling like a mountain. It’s cute, you think. Could get used to listening to this, almost like white noise.

You admire how Jungkook lives his life without worries, letting the wind guide him. It might not happen right away, but maybe when you return to reality, you should consider not always staying within the lines. That it’s okay to go out of bounds and live a little. Life shouldn’t be so serious all the time.

—

There’s a light sound of pitter patter sweeping across the floor with shushed ‘Ows’ and ‘shut up’. You weakly open your eyes to see what the commotion is. Your body wants to get up, but the pounding migraine is saying otherwise.

A loud thump makes you blink your eyes open and pop your head up. There’s furniture knocked over, tequila and champagne bottles are scattered everywhere, along with clothes and money.

The low, muffled groan startles you, making you cover yourself with the duvet. They’re facing away and you can’t make out who this mystery person is. You peer over to find a man covered in tattoos, and it looks like a child tried to color inside the tattoo lines but failed miserably.

He mumbles gibberish under his breath and turns over onto his stomach. Great, now you can’t even get a good look at him, you think.

His silver necklace glimmers from the sun peeking through the blinds. And holy shit—his shoulders?

Broad.

Chiseled.

For all you know, he could be some kind of athlete. Then you notice the purple lines on his back, and no—they aren’t scratches from nails, the lines connect from one beauty mark to the next across his back. It’s like one of those connect the dot pictures, except the finished drawing wasn’t anything recognizable. But surrounding each beauty mark is a pair of red lips, and as you look down at your hands, you find that you’re the culprit who must’ve drawn on this man.

What the fuck happened last night, you think.

Another groan escapes the man’s lips and he turns over again. You pull up your side of the duvet, further covering yourself, and the smallest gasp comes out. It’s none other than Jeon Jungkook, an old college buddy.

The duvet is pulled down, covering his bottom half, revealing his taut chest and not one, two, three, four—but an eight pack set of abs. Is it humanly possible to even have more than six?

How did he end up in Vegas? And specifically in your room?

“Jungkook?” you whisper. “Are you awake?”

“Mmm…”

You move closer, feeling the warmth from his body. “Jungkook, it’s time to get up.”

Still half asleep, he wraps his arm around your waist, bringing you flush against him. “Just five more minutes, Ro,” he says, nuzzling into you.

“Jeon Jungkook! What are you doing?”

He chuckles, smiling, finally peeking his eyes open. “You don’t remember anything from last night, do you?”

“I…remember things…” you say, lying through your teeth.

“Oh yeah?” Jungkook moves into a sitting position, turning to you. “So you know we got married, right?”

Your jaw drops and eyes widen. “Oh my god, please tell me you’re lying.”

“You’re the one who suggested it!”

How could you let yourself get married in Las Vegas? And at your best friend’s bachelorette party? It’s not like you’re trying to steal her thunder, quite the opposite, really. This was supposed to be about her, not you. Fuck—Lottie’s going to hate you, isn’t she?

Jungkook quietly watches you freak out. Wonders how long he can let this continue before telling the truth. He thinks you’re cute when you’re all flustered.

“No, we can't be married! I don't even know you and how would this even work? We live like 3000 miles away from each other? And would you move to New York? Or would I move to LA? What if your family doesn't like me? Your friends even? Wait–do you even like me? Oh–Jungkook, how did we let this happen?” you ask, burying your hands in your face.

Question after question runs through your mind and Jungkook is sitting there with a smirk on his face.

“Why aren't you freaking out?” you question, raising an eyebrow.

Jungkook chuckles, leaning over toward you. “You're really cute, you know that?” he says.

Your eyes follow his finger as he tucks a strand of hair behind your ear. Clearing your throat, it's time to get down to the important things. “Kook–please! This isn't the time to tell me I'm cute. We have bigger things to worry about. We're married!”

He sucks in his lips, trying to hold in a laugh.

You knit your brows and narrow your eyes. “Unless…we’re not married…”

Jungkook lets out a soft laugh, his finger gently caresses your cheek. “Maybe one day, pretty girl. If we ever get to that stage of course.”

A smack against his arm reverberates throughout the room. “Aye! I'm gonna kill you. You really had me worried.”

He rubs the ruby red spot that's imprinted on his arm. “Why? Because marrying me would've been horrible?”

No, you think, quite the opposite.

“Of course not. It's just, we don't know each other and I wouldn't want you to feel trapped in a marriage,” you explain.

You'd at least wanna go on a real date and get to know him before strapping him down forever.

He nods in agreement. “Well, I had fun last night. Hence all the things I let you do to me.” Jungkook points out the badly colored arm and connect-the-dots on his back.

“Oh, I'm so sorry about that.”

“I'm not. I'm glad you had fun even though you don't remember it.”

“Please tell me I didn't act like an idiot.”

Jungkook laughs, shaking his head. “Nah, you're fine, but uh, I should get going since you have a flight to catch.”

“Oh, shit. My flight.” You reach over to find your phone. It's already 9 AM, and thankfully the airport isn't far away and TSA Pre-check has been a lifesaver.

With another glance, you see your clothes and Jungkook's scattered on the ground. He reaches to grab his shirt and sweats.

“I, um, I was pretty bold last night. Wasn't I?” you were referring to the pair of lips covering his back.

Jungkook snickers. “Yeah, just a bit, but I didn't mind it at all,” he says, slipping his shirt on. He stands, putting his sweats on and you can't help but stare at his peachy ass in his black Calvin Klein–the tight kind. “Do you remember anything else from last night?”

Your mind thinks back to the whirlwind of last night. There was definitely alcohol involved because you only act with confidence under the influence of Tequila.

But a recollection of soft lips and entangled hair between your fingers flutter back into the present just for a fleeting moment.

You shake your head, wanting to keep this memory to yourself.

Jungkook's lips thin into a smile as he ruffles his bed head hair. “Call me next time you're in town?”

You stand to meet him. “Or you can call me when you're in the Big Apple,” you reply, handing him your phone.

He dials your number, so you can have his. “Mm, looks like that confidence hasn't left yet.”

“Mm, I have a smidge of it left.”

“Yeah?” He draws closer, and you nod in agreement.

“Yeah,” you whisper, taking in his warmth and scent.

Last night was hazy but bits and pieces are coming back. You're not sure if a lot of these moments with Jungkook are real or just a dream. You'd like to hope he enjoyed spending time with you as much as you did with him.

“It was really good to see you, Kook.”

“Good to see you too, Ro. Don't be a stranger, okay?” He turns on his heel to open the bedroom door, but turns around to say one last thing. “Oh, and don't worry too much about the right person. Who knows, maybe you’ve met them already.”

You wonder if he's referring to himself. You have to admit, he's been making you smile and laugh more than usual, even making you blush.

“Mm, I'll keep that in mind.”

He flashes a smile, opening the door.

“Jungkook?”

He hums, turning to you again.

You reach up to kiss him on the cheek. “What happened in Vegas, can it not stay in Vegas?”

[jjkilll]

-————---✫ ROS | JJK ✫---—————-

— pairing | CEO jk x Y/n

— summary | Jungkook is obsessed with you in every way possible and would take the moon and the stars out of the sky and gift them to you if he could.

— warning | smut, fluff, mentions of rough sex, hair pulling, jk proposes to y/n, unprotected sex (please use condoms i'm begging), creampie, oral (m receiving), idk some cute shit I was thinking of.

— word count | 1.8K

— song | ROS - Mac Miller

Jungkook met you when you came in to interview as his secretary. Ever since then, he's craved you. He knew he had to have you. So, he asked you on dates, which at first you declined. You tried the workplace romance thing and dating your boss didn't seem like the smartest idea. But after he asked the fifth time, you figured why not? Hot rich boss buying you food? Deal. He charmed you, he was funny and smart. He talked so dearly of his mother and he really made you fall for him. What you didn't know is that he fell harder. Your smile that night is burned into his brain. Your giggle made it easier to breathe. You smelled of flowers and fresh air, your voice was soft like honey and you were the most beautiful girl he'd ever laid eyes on.

After a few months of dating, he asked you to be his girlfriend. You of course said yes. He made it his top priority to find out everything you've ever loved or hated. He watched and listened being the most caring boyfriend in the world. Anything you wanted he'd find a way to get it. Anything you'd touch in the store he'd take a picture of and surprise you with something special every other night. He made you feel like a princess. "My love" he'd call you. He was always so gentle with you.

Except when he was fucking you. He didn't have an aggressive personality, but he loved fucking you until you couldn't take it. Jungkook was hands down the best dick you ever had. He had a huge dick and knew how to use it. He'd never seriously hurt or make you do something you couldn't handle. You and your safety were always his top priority. After a rough round, he'd kiss your face and ask "Was I too rough my love, I'm sorry if I was, I will be more gentle." He had never hurt you and you loved it when he fucked you like you were a little ragdoll, but you loved that he always considered you. Jungkook never came first. NEVER. You were always the first to come, and he made sure of it. You were sure if Jungkook looked at you and told you to come you could. He knew you just that well.

Jungkook was never the type to get nervous around you. You always made him feel comfortable enough to be himself. So why was he shaking right now? Oh, he was gripping a small ring box in his hand and was praying you'd say yes to marrying him. He didn't really think you'd say no, but maybe you saw someone hotter than him yesterday and wanted to leave him. You didn't and you don't, but what if you did? He stood behind you with his hand in his pants pocket gripping that box like it was your ass while you rode him.

You were in the Louvre, one of your favorite places to be in the world. He rented it out, which cost a shit ton of money but no amount of money would be worth your reaction, well at least he hoped.

Your back faced him are you admired the piece you loved so much. Psyche Revived by Cupid’s Kiss, reminded you of you and Jungkook. Your love always felt fresh and new, it felt soft and sweet, and it was something you knew you wanted to feel forever. So when you turned to face him and he knelt before you with a ring in his shaking hands you felt like the world stopped spinning and you two were the only people on earth.

"Please..." He started. Suddenly the long speech he had talked himself through slipped his mind. All he knew was that the girl he wanted forever stood before him and he wanted more than anything for you to say yes.

"I knew the moment I met you that I wanted to marry you. I never shut up about you. I could write so many books about you and our love because our story is one that is so beautiful that it has to be shared. I'd rather die than not be with you because loving you is like breathing air. I need you and more than anything, I want you Y/n. Will you marry me?" He said everything his heart felt, it was like his heart spoke for him.

You dropped to your knees in front of him. Your eyes brimmed with tears and you began to sob. He was quick to grab and hold you as you cried. "Are you okay my love?" All you could do was nod. You look at him and he smiled, he couldn't help it. "What did I do in my past life to deserve someone like you?" you sniffled and all he could do was pout, "If I could take the moon and all the stars in the sky and give it to you, I would," Jungkook responded. You kissed him softly but deeply. "I would marry you a million times over." You say kissing him again. He felt like his heart was doing jumping jacks. You said yes, those three letters sounded like the sweetest coming from your lips. He pecked your lips one last time before showing you the ring. Holy shit it was beautiful, you couldn't even imagine what it could be worth. He slipped in on your finger and you held your hand up to watch it sparkle. "Pretty right? It's custom. I had some jewelers in France make it for me, well for you." He smiled watching you.

"I'm going to give you the best head of your life," you say so suddenly. Jungkook laughs at your statement his eyes never leaving you. He stood and reached for your hand to help you up. You took his hand and stood. You kissed him again. "Thank you Jungkook," you said. "Anything for you my love." He spoke softly.

"Anything?" You look up at him. He nods surely. "Absolutely anything." You smiled. "Okay, then can we go home?" You ask. "Are you sure you don't want to look more? It's just us here." You looked at him with your fuck me eyes. "No, because what I really want to do is have you fuck me until I can't stand." You whisper lowly to him. He stiffened, "Let's go," He said simply grabbing your hand and nearly started running out with you.

It was something about the sex you and Jungkook have. It was like you were made for each other. So when his girl wanted to fuck, he was going to dick you down like he had to start a journey of celibacy the next day. Whatever you say goes.

✫ -----------------------✫

You arrived at the vacation home Jungkook surprised you with a month prior. Sloppily you shuffle through the door shedding each other of your clothes. Making out passionately you back him up the wall in your foyer. His eyes are dark and hungry. He needed you so desperately. You suck his neck while your hands undo his pants. His hand grabs at your waist. You stroke him over his clothed cock. He groans kissing your lips again. You break the kiss, "Let me suck your cock, please." You say it almost begging him. He nods quickly and surely. You grab his hand and drag him onto the couch.

He sits and you kneel before him. He watched your every move. You shuffle his pants and boxers down to his ankles, watching his cock spring free. You bite your bottom lip which turns him on to no extent. You pump him a few times before making eye contact with him and you put him in your mouth. His breath hitches and he groans as you bob your head your hand resting on his pelvis he glances at the ring and then back to your eyes. You're driving him crazy you take your mouth off him, still looking at him you collect the spit in your mouth and let it slowly drip on the tip of his cock. You are the hottest sight he's ever seen. You stroke him again before taking all of him in your mouth. "Fuck baby, just like that." He tosses his head back uncontrollably. He quickly sits his head up and he can feel the tip of his cock touch the back of your throat, he grabs a handful of your hair pulling it gently. You moan on his cock and it sends him into a spiral. "Fuck stop I'm going to come." He says breathily. "Come in my mouth," you say simply.

"My love you know you always come first," he moans struggling through his words as you stroke him. "This one time? Please? I thought you'd give me anything I want." You pout. He smirks at your cheekiness, using his own words against him. He nods for you to continue. You smile putting him back into your mouth. You suck him a little more and you hear his breath quicken. "Fuck I'm coming baby, fuck fuck" He moans before he empties his load into your mouth. You keep your lips wrapped around his tip making sure you get every last drop. You open your mouth to show him his mess. You look him in the eyes as you swallow.

"God, you are so fucking hot," he says with a chuckle. "Take your panties off and get up here." He demands. You stand take off your panties discard them and straddle him. He strokes your pussy with his index and middle fingers. "Sucking me off got you this wet, Jesus?" You smile kissing him once. He lined up his cock with your entrance and slowly you sat on his cock. You moaned as he stretched you out. You never really got used to his cock, he was so thick and long it drove you crazy every time. He grabbed your ass, slapping your left cheek before gripping it once more. "Shit, baby." You moan. "Fuck me, baby," You say softly. He grabs the underside of your ass and helps you bounce on his cock. He is losing his mind in you. He slides down a bit so he could fuck you a little deeper. Good call on his part because as soon as he starts fucking into you he hits that spot that drives to you nuts. You moan as he fucks into at the same pace, "Fuck there, Kook, right there!" you scream out. "God, I'm coming." You shake as you come undone on him and he empties himself into you.

"Thank you...Thank you." you shutter coming down from your high. He smiles when he looks up at you. He kisses your nose lightly. "You okay my love? I wasn't too rough right?" you nod. "You were perfect baby" you say looking at him lovingly.

"My pretty fiancée coming on my cock, You're so perfect." you blush. "Come on baby, Let's get you cleaned up." He said sweetly. He got his dream girl and couldn't be happier. “I was thinking round 2 in the shower?” You suggest. “If you can handle it.” he teases. Him and his pretty fiancée had the brightest of futures ahead.

✫ -----------------------✫

a/n: just a lil something something hehe. thanks for reading if you made it this far. feed and request are appreciated!! mwah!!

[seraphinitegames]

I hope it's not too much but me and a few ppl were burning with curiosity about this bcs of the weaver! If you're too busy it's completely fine if you don't want to answer! I was wondering which RO, if given the choice to change the timeline, would choose to back and keep the MC safe from the supernatural world (i.e. they get Murphy bcs now they know and wrap up the case). Just for scientific purposes, they remember and everything happens all over again? Thank you so much for taking the time to read it!

Oh, what a good question! I guess just catching Murphy before he even takes interest in the MC would mean not actually meeting the MC and not being part of their life either, but the LI would still know how in love with the MC they are if they remember but the MC wouldn't...

Oh man! I love this! So angsty and dramatic, hehe!

Let's see...

I think A would be very torn, but in the end they wouldn't. Deep down, they hope for the MC and that love too much and would be selfish for it!

N probably would...if they would be able to stay away from the MC after that however would be a different thing entirely! A much less intense meeting and more of a natural one where N might just ask the MC on a date, lol.

F wouldn't. It's not they wouldn't want the MC to be safe, but messing with time magic is always risky and something drummed into them majorly by their mother!

M also wouldn't. Again, not because of not wanting the MC to be safe, but what's happened has happened and wanting to change the past is ridiculous (in their view).

Thank you so much for the interesting ask! :)

(For those that don't know, weavers are supernatural beings who can 'weave' time and change it to their whims. They resemble humanoid frogs in a way and are often selfish beings and very dangerous. Thankfully they are incredibly rare!)

[choism]

Jester's Game | b.tc

Captain Buggy x Pirate!afab!Reader

Genre: smut, angst, fluff (If you squint)

Summary: Trying to overtake Captain Buggy's ship leaves you asking questions, and surprisingly, getting answers

Word Count: 2.7k

Warnings: top!buggy, afab!reader, unprotected sex (pls dont), cunnilingus, fingering, creampie, squirting, rough sex, gentle sex (yeah wild), inappropriate use of detached limbs, spit as lube (also a no no), overstimulation, pet names (sweetheart, princess)

A/N: WOOHOO ITS MY FIRST NON KPOP FIC!! I knew I would write for other stuff eventually but I definitely did not expect it to be a recent hyperfixation. Buggy just has me bricked up okay! Anyway I hope y'all enjoy, don't forget to let me know what you thought of the fic in the tags !

It’s a rather unfortunate series of events, really. Sure, you could’ve told your navigator to sail away from the ship with the giant clown crossbones flag. Yeah, it might’ve helped if you had told your crew that they were about to fight some of the toughest pirates in the East Blue. But where’s the fun in that? As their captain, it’s your job to seek the adventure, and well, this was an adventure all right.

It started with you telling your men to approach, cannons firing, your crew hopping their ship, the infamous ship commandeered by none other Buggy The Clown. Yes, the ship your measly crew has decided to board. Listen, it was strategic! Buggy had somehow gotten the map to the grand line back, and your ship just so happened to be within the vicinity of his, so why not seek the opportunity to take it? Well that was your first mistake.

Now, you find yourself here, hands bound behind your back and kneeling with your crew in front of Buggy’s stupid, dumb throne in his stupid, dumb circus tent cabin.

“You all truly are fools for thinking you could take on my band of freaks,” Buggy lazily sprawls over his throne, seemingly unimpressed by your, in his words, ‘lackluster crew’.

“It’s funny actually, how pathetic it was, I mean even Mohji got in a few punches! Ha! Truly a fine show.” The man you assume being the Mohji that Buggy had just poked fun at, slumps his shoulders sadly at his jab. “Now, time to get to the good stuff…” Buggy trails off, standing up and taking a few strides in your direction, his dirty boots stopping directly in front of you. He detaches his hand and uses it to lift your head, pointing your chin up to look him in the eye.

Looking up, you spit and it lands on his cheek, he simply swipes it off with his attached, gloved hand. “So what if you defeated us, it doesn’t make you any better of a pirate, and doesn’t get you any closer to the One Piece.” You tilt your head and smirk. He may have overcome your crew, but he will never overcome your overwhelming ego and pride. It matches his just as equally.

“Ah, that's where you’re wrong, princess,” His grin is just as wide as yours, and briefly you’re confused, what could he mean? “Given your set of thieving skills, probably some of the best in the East Blue, I’ve heard, you’re gonna join my band of freaks, and I’m not giving you a choice sweetheart,” Buggy removes his hand from your chin, and it floats to his arm, re-attaching itself.

“Boys, throw their crew overboard, we have no use for them.” He rolls his eyes and sits back on his throne, “Oh! And go show them to their new quarters, make them feel at home.” Buggy laughs a deep boisterous laugh, one that genuinely sends shivers down your spine.

The pirates lead you into, what is actually, quite a nice room in the lower deck of the cabin, lit by a few candles, and a cot in the corner. Surprisingly, they cut you out of your ropes, and shut the door without locking it. What’s their deal? Don’t they know you can escape at any time if you wanted? Sneak out and steal one of their emergency boats, and sail to the nearest Island? Granted, you aren’t sure where the nearest Island is, you’re a thief, not a navigator.

Instead of worrying about escaping, you roam the small room, admiring your surroundings. The whole ship is clown themed, front he flags to the cabin to everything, but this room is different. Not a single sign of jester-like decorations anywhere. In fact, it’s as if this cabin was decorated specifically for you. Before you can think more of it, the door opens suddenly.

Buggy enters, and closes the door behind him. When he enters you’re sitting on the cot, legs crossed and unamused.

“Not thinking about escaping? Not that you could anyway, we are miles away from the nearest island, and realistically it would take you days to get there on one of our measly boats.” He rolls his eyes, as if annoyed by how small and fragile the boats are, before sitting backwards on the chair at the short desk next to the cot.

“So what do you even need a thief for? Why am I here?” You blurt, already growing impatient from the lack of information being given to you.

“I need you for many reasons, being a thief is only one of them, sweetheart.” Buggy grins and removes his hat, setting it on the desk. “You already have connections at the grand line, and while I know you need my map to get there, I know that you know the people I need to talk to, to gain safe entry without slaughtering half the fucking pirates there.” He leans back and relaxes a bit, observing your facial features.

“And why do you think any of the people I know would want to help you? You’re just some lowly pirate.” You spit at him, angered by his casualness. In what world would you even willingly help him? Who does he think he is?

“Ha…Me? A lowly pirate? This coming from the literal captain of a crew is hilarious! Tell me another joke, please.” He grins knowingly, he knows how to get a rise out of you for sure. You look over his facial expression, smugness overtakes his face and it makes your stomach twist, not with disgust though for some odd reason, with another feeling you don’t quite recognize. 

This whole situation has you feeling all kinds of anxious. How did you just happen to raid the ship of a pirate who just happened to need you for this specific thing, and why is his presence making you feel so…weird? Something isn’t right here, and it can’t be because of your connections to the grand line. No, he’s hiding something. 

“What are you hiding, clown? There’s something you aren’t telling me.”

His face drops, and he gets suddenly very serious, “Listen here, princess,” Buggy gets up from the chair and gets close to you, leaning down, your noses almost touching. “You’re gonna get me to the grand line, I don’t care if I have to torture it out of you, got it? No more questions tonight.” He gets up and suddenly grins very brightly, as if nothing ever happened. “Night night!” Buggy walks out and slams the door, then you hear a locking sound.

Fuck, he locked you in your room. You should’ve expected this, honestly. The way he reacted to your question was so strange. You knew there was something fishy, but you didn’t think whatever it was could’ve prompted that kind of reaction out of him. 

***

The next day you wake up to yelling outside of your cramped room. Yawning, you get up and put your ear to the door,

“I’m sorry Captain Buggy! I didn’t know that was their ship I swear I promise!”

You hear what sounds like a kick to the jaw and a yelp,

“Didn’t know? Didn’t know?! You couldn’t tell by the giant crossbones flag that very obviously bares their symbol? I’m tired of you, someone go throw him off the deck.”

You hear screams and pleads of “No please!” and “I didn’t know I’m sorry captain!” before hearing water splash, then silence, then- oh shit footsteps coming towards your room. You scramble back to your cot and lay down, pretending to sleep. You hear a couple of knocks before hearing a feint “What the fuck am I doing, I go where I want!” Before Buggy barges into the room after unlocking it.

“Get up, I know you heard everything.” He spits gruffly, sitting back in the chair again the same way as yesterday. You sit up abruptly. Last night you couldn’t shake this feeling, of what you felt when Buggy had gotten so serious, and it’s just gotten worse being in his presence. Your abdomen feels hot, your ears feel hot, everything feels hot. It’s like butterflies in your stomach if the butterflies were armed with knives.

“Yes, I did hear, what do you mean by my symbol? I thought bumping into you was a coincidence?” Buggy smiles faintly, and chuckles.

“Yes, it was, I wasn’t informed of what ship we attacked, just that my men captured you all, oh but when I saw you…I knew.” Buggy stands up and motions for you to do the same, getting so close to you, your chests almost touch. He brings his hand to your arm, caressing down the length before gripping your wrist harshly, causing you to wince. “Do you….” he trails off, “Do you really not remember me?” He brings his eyes from your arm to your face, making direct eye contact.

You struggle to find words, what does he mean, remember? Yeah, he gives you a strange feeling everytime you're near him, but you’ve never met this man in your entire life. You think. Honestly you can’t remember anything before the age of seventeen.

“I– no, no I don’t…”

His smile fades, and he lets go of you, “I thought you would remember once you saw me, we were on Gold Roger’s crew together years ago, but you went missing after a particularly tough battle.” He pauses, thinking carefully about what to say next, “You– We– We were close, and I was devastated, I thought you were dead.” He’s being surprisingly vulnerable right now, and it’s kind of scaring you.

“I don’t really remember anything before I turned seventeen, All I know is one day I woke up on an island, a group of pirates took me in, I left, and I’ve been on my own since. The only reason I am where I am today is because I wanted to find who I was, and I figured I could find that out at the grand line.” You feel overwhelmingly sad. Why are you sad? You don’t even know him.

There’s a long silence between the two of you, it’s uncomfortable, tight, and makes you want to leave, until he says, “Let me show you.” He says abruptly, and you think you see a blush across his face.

“Sorry, I mean, please,” Buggy steps into your space again, this time his eyes flit between your lips and your eyes, back to your lips. “I’m sorry we couldn’t find you, I’m sorry you had to go through that, I missed you so much y/n” That was the first time he’s said your name this entire time, but it’s not one you recognize.

“Is that my name?” Your lip quivers, he’s so close now, your lips are inches apart.

“Yes it is, y/n, sweetheart, princess, I’ll call you whatever you want, just let me show you.” The thick air has disappeared and is now replaced with tension. Something deeper, heavier, fills the room. But it’s not a bad thing.

“Let me show you who you were to me.”

You let his face drop to yours, and your lips finally connect.

The kiss is slow, languid. It’s like his lips were meant to connect with yours. Buggy wraps his arms around your waist. Pulling you in closer, and kissing you deeper. His tongue slips into your mouth, and you let him kiss you as deep as he wants. The pace quickens and he slots his leg in between yours, rubbing against your pants and providing much needed friction.

You moan into his touch and he walks the both of you backwards until the back of your knees reach the bed. He lowers you onto it and hovers above you, kissing you again before departing. “Is this okay?” Buggy asks, brushes his hands underneath the bottom of your shirt, slowly lifting it.

“Only if you return the favor.” He chuckles and lowers his head to your neck, sucking and biting gently while riding up your shirt until your chest is exposed. You sit up briefly to take off your shirt and as promised, he does the same. He isn’t overly ripped like most pirates are, but he’s still well toned. His muscles flex as he shifts lower, kissing down your chest, down your stomach and stopping just above the navel.

“When I saw you were the one my men captured, it took my breath away,” He lifts your hips so he can remove your pants and undergarments, “I was scared, anxious, I didn’t know what to do, so I pretended I knew you for your skills, not for your past.” After removing everything, he pushes back, kissing your thighs before sitting up, taking his gloves off with his teeth and throwing them to the side. Man that was hot.

Buggy detaches one of his hands and lets it roam up your torso, reaches your neck and gives it a gentle squeeze. Before leading his fingers over your mouth, asking for entry. You grant it and his index and middle finger slip into your mouth, swirling your saliva around and coating them generously. “When you suspected I knew more, I didn’t know what to do. When you boarded I just knew you by name, not face, there was no way I could’ve expected this.”

He removes his hand from your mouth and moves it down to your center, rubbing through your folds gently and inserting two fingers, scissoring you open and prepping you for what's to come. Buggy uses his still detached hand to remove his own trousers, his cock springing free from its confines. He strokes it slowly, clearly getting off to his detached hand fingering you open.

“Buggy…” You moan, you can’t even reply or form a sentence, the pleasure too good.

“Shhh just relax sweetheart, I’ll take care of you.” He brings his hand away from your now dripping cunt, reattaching it and leaning down. You feel his breathe over your core, he kisses your clit before taking it in his mouth, lapping up your taste and fucking you onto his tongue. You can feel your orgasm approaching quickly as he flits between sucking on your clit and tonguing inside of you, but he pulls away.

“Fuck! Why’d you–”

You’re interrupted by his cock entering you and your legs being lifted by his hands so he can enter as deep as possible. You don’t think you’ve ever felt so full before. His cock fits so nice and feels so good and he hasn’t even moved yet.

“Fuck you’re so tight and wet for me, so fucking good huh? Letting me fuck you like this.” His pupils are so blown out, he watches his own cock pull out and start to thrust into you, it just fuels your arousal further. Buggy starts out slow, just getting you used to his size before he picks up the pace, fucking into you even deeper and faster.

“Shit, gonna cum Buggy please.” He moves your legs to prop onto his shoulders and he grabs onto your waist, pushing down and holding you in place as he fucks into you roughly.

“Gonna cum for me? Go ahead sweetheart. Cum all over my cock.” He moves his hand over your abdomen and presses down, the pressure making you feel dizzy. You feel white hot, the band finally snapping as you come. “Fuck, gonna cum soon too, gonna fill you up so good.”

Buggy relentlessly fucks into your cunt, overstimulating you and causing a pressure to build that’s unfamiliar. “Wait Buggy I, fuck I feel weird it feels good.” Soon, with a loud cry you feel a wetness rush between your legs, causing you to let out a loud string of moans and curses.

“Squirting for me already? God you’re full of surprises. Shit, I’m coming.” A few more snaps of his hips and you feel his hot cum fill you up, as promised. It feels so good. He slows down and pulls out, his load leaking out of you and onto the sheets below. “So good for me.” He whispers, leaning down and kissing you gently. He cleans the both of you up quickly and gets dressed, ready to go back to his quarters for the night.

“Wait Buggy, before you go…” You trail off and he turns around, listening intently. “If you don’t mind, can you tell me more about my- about our, past? I need to know where I came from, what happened.” Buggy smiles gently, walking up and kissing you on the forehead.

“Of course princess, later”

© Choism 2023. do not repost or translate.

[forteafy]

You Think, You Know | CL16 & CS55

Summary: Some bridges are due to burn, whilst others are destined to mend. Charles wants to lead you into a traditional happily-ever-after, whilst Carlos is still adamant that he can always treat you better. Part 3 of ‘A House, A Home.’

Word Count: 11.3k

Warnings: angst, shouting, a lot of swearing, mentions of cheating and divorce. SMUT. Non-protected sex, oral (M&F receiving,) squirting, degradation, aftercare always.

Note: Thank you all so, SO much for being so patient with me. I really wanted this to be something special and I hope you all enjoy it. Please don't get mad at me because this one is emotional. A massive thank you to my biggest cheerleaders, @oconso, @formulaforza, @a-distantdreamer & @silverstonesainz - I love you all so much.

PART 1: A House, A Home | PART 2: Where Do We Go? | PART 3: 'You Think, You Know'

You loved your sleep.

There was never too much that could wake you from your slumber. Currently, with the combined sensations of crisp sheets tucked across your frame, soft sunlight drawing through the transparent curtains of the bedroom and snug, strapping arms encircling your waist, it would have to be some form of miracle to awaken you.

The form of this came in the body pressed tightly into your back; smoothly, a pair of lips are drawn to your cheekbone, satin kisses being dropped against your skin. Was it possible to awaken to such a soothing interaction? Your face is drawn to the feeling, turning in his interlocked arms, the side of your face nuzzling into the cushion as your eyes meet the deep, dark pools of his. 

“Good morning.” Carlos whispers, joyful at your rise from shuteye. He wasn’t sure how long he’d been lying there himself, simply basking in the pleasure of holding the girl of his dreams against his firm body. The man was constantly on a lifeline; each time you interacted with him, he’s certain it would be his last, that one day, you’ll be violently ripped from his arms and his heart. 

Suspended in thought, the Spainard is drawn back to reality with the glowing touch of your palm on his skin. Immediately, one of his arms draws away from your waist, resting his own larger hand atop of yours. You look alluring like this; sleep still decorates your eyes, hair tangled from the deep sleep, yet perfect in every sense of the word. 

“Morning.” You respond, allowing yourself to set your gaze upon his face for a little longer. It’s a sin, settling in your stomach at how that same face had lifted from between your leg’s mere hours ago, the remanence of your arousal ever-present atop his stubble. You were certain he had a mouth crafted by the angels, the way his lips had toyed with your most sensitive parts and the way they currently pulled into an enticing smile in the present. 

Two bodies, two souls were entwined in that bed; you weren’t too sure how long you lay there alongside him, reveling in one another’s morning appearances. All you know in that moment is Carlos is overtaking your mind, sprinting through every vein in your body. Every unanswered question from the previous night rendered numb as the man leant forward in your touch, his lips gaining space on your own. 

There’s a sudden, sharp buzz from the other room, causing you both to retract from one another, bodies deep in the king-size mattress. A chuckle leaves his own mouth, running a heavy hand across his face, heart still pounding from the sudden jump of sound in the silent apartment. Something in your heart told you that buzz was for you. Whining from the sudden loss of warmth, you remove yourself from the bundle of blankets and body heat, bare feet padding into his living room, aware of your mobile phone, resting atop of the counter. 

The device gave a heavy buzz once more before you had the realization to pick it up, the battery barely there. You absent-mindedly call out to the man in the bedroom, asking if he had a phone charger you could borrow for a little while. There's clutter from the other room, clearly trying to find a space for your own phone. Whilst that incurred, your eyes flickered across the darkening screen, skin turning cold upon reading the text notifications. 

02:51: Charles Leclerc

I’m in love with you.

02:53: Charles Leclerc

I’m so sorry she was there – I had no idea. She’s gone now, can I come and collect you? Where are you?

03:25: Charles Leclerc

Please let me know you’re safe as soon as you can. Can I come and see you in the morning, please?

08:47: Charles Leclerc

Good morning, my love. How are you feeling today?

Guilt washed through your stomach, not for the interaction you had shared with Carlos; Charles had done substantially worse to you for the past twelve months. No, you knew what it felt like to have no response from somebody you cared for, terrified for their well-being. Even when Charles hadn’t cared for you, you had still nursed him, waiting up for his return in the early hours of the morning. 

With the remainder of your phone battery, fingers fly over the keyboard. Did you want your husband to come and collect you, specifically from his teammates home? He was aware of your building friendship with the Spainard, even if it wasn’t entirely platonic. There wasn’t a huge choice; you especially didn’t want to demand or pry a lift off Carlos, especially after he had come to collect you so late the previous night. 

08:58: You

Good morning, I’m at Carlos’ place. I’d really appreciate a lift back to the house, if that’s okay. 

The message barely had time to send before it’s marked as ‘read’. Immediately, the blue speech bubble pops to the lower corner of your phone, signaling a response was being formed.

09:00: Charles Leclerc

You don’t need to even ask. I’ll be there in fifteen minutes. 

Fifteen minutes was not enough time to conceal everything which had happened in the previous hours. Feet now cold, legs now littered in goosebumps, you’d scrambled back into his bedroom, the man now on his own feet, those damn gray jogging bottoms hanging on his hips, a visible outline ever-present. It took your entire soul to remain strong, knowing how tempting this man could become in a matter of moments. 

“Charles is on the way.” You state, suspecting that it would cease all his movements, and allow yourself to get ready for your husband’s arrival. Instead, he’d stepped closer to your frame, leaning his toned torso towards you, locking you in his muscled arms, hiding his face in the skin he’d licked and bitten across the previous night. His mumbles are incoherent, littering across your neck in broken Spanish. He’s saying something. Something you can’t understand but is undeniably a plea for you to stay in his arms. 

Carlos stays pretty much attached to you the entire time you’re preparing for your departure; his body is pressed against yours, littering kisses to the crown of your head whilst you brush your teeth. His scent is so dominating on the hoodie he insists you borrow, slipping that atop of your frame whilst pulling on the bottoms you had wiggled out of the previous evening. The man’s heart explodes upon seeing you bundled into his clothing, a possessive streak striking through his body and soul. 

When your bag is packed, face washed and phone charging, now on the counter of his kitchen, you spend the last few minutes waiting for your husband’s adamant arrival by bundling into Carlos’ side on his plush sofa. It feels entirely natural by this point; his arms encircle your waist, letting you lie against his sternum, soothing yourself to his naturally steady heartbeat. A snippet of your heart desires to take this sole moment and capture it for a lifetime. Safe. Warm. Happy. 

The moment is wafted away from you both with the sudden rapping of knuckles on the front door. Whining, your eyes trail on the Spaniard, focused as he presses a final, fleeting kiss to your temple, pulls himself up from the couch and paces towards the hallway. Your own ears strain to hear the latch lift of the front door, Charles praises for looking after you the previous evening falling over his lips, two pairs of footsteps drawing into the front room. 

Your husband, despite his usual god-like appearance, looked terrible. His hair pushed to the front, clearly in need of a wash and brush. His skin was rubbed raw, face bloodshot; clearly, he hadn’t got a single moment of sleep the previous night, still dressed in the clothes he’d traveled home in the previous night. Despite the heavy lids of his eyes, they still light up when falling onto you. 

“Good morning.” He gives you a smile, only you. You can feel Carlos’ disappointment, even if you can’t see his eyesight at that moment. A pocket-sized smile from your own lips is offered in return, pulling yourself up in that moment, reaching for your bag which remained on the floor, slipping into your soft sneakers.

“Are you ready?” You’d asked softly. Charles’ mouth opened, hesitating before he spoke. He was thinking clearly. 

“I just need to speak to Carlos quickly. Something…private.” He tries to explain his standings, tries to make you feel less awkward as he reaches for the car keys resting in his hoodie pocket. “Are you okay to wait in the car?” He asks softly. He feels in no power to demand your movements, yet he requires one private word with his teammate. 

Your eyes don’t bother to meet Charles, instead immediately flying to meet the dark ones of your unofficial lover. What on god’s earth was your husband about to ask, and why did he want to do it out of your earshot? The look that you give the man says a thousand words, asking if he needs you to stay, hold your ground against Charles. The warm eyes of him give everything you need, silently promising he could handle this man. An entire conversation through looks alone, a skill the two of you had developed so naturally. 

Silently, you take the keys from Charles’ outstretched hand, skin flinching when being pressed against the cool metal. You don’t so much as glance in his direction when you’re walking to the counter, picking up your phone and stuffing it into the pouch of your borrowed hoodie. When turning on your heel, you pace back to Carlos, pressing a surprising kiss to his right cheek, murmuring a ‘Thank You,’ just for his hospitality, of course. You had done all the thanking for the number of orgasms you were granted the previous night. 

The walk towards your husband’s car, the SUV rather than his identifiable Pista, your mind clouded, clotted with an array of questions. Why did Charles need to speak to Carlos alone? Was he aware of the relationship the two had been sharing for an undefinable amount of time? Who on earth was the blonde woman giving you a death stare as she walked up the pathway to the complex, red lips practically hissing at your appearance, storming past you within half a second?

When you turn back to take in her appearance from behind, a sense of sickness settles into your stomach. You’d seen the back of that blonde head before; not in person, but rather on a phone screen. Your phone screen, held between white knuckles as you’d watched the man you had begun to fall for wrap his arms around another woman's lips meshed in a private nightclub, unaware of the multiple cameras capturing their searing moment. 

That was the same woman, identical in her mannerisms. You felt your tummy curdle into pain, into your vague realization that the only reason Carlos had offered you a place in his home, and subsequently his bed that evening, was because he was trying to fill a void until she returned to the scene. Your stomach wanted nothing more than to empty its remaining content in sheer shock. Instead, you breathe deeply, unlocking the door to the car, climbing into the passenger seat and closing your eyes, relaxing into the plush leather of the upholstery. 

You’re not sure how long your husband takes, eyes growing heavy as you await his return. It’s only realized when the driver’s door clicks open, rolling in your seat to watch as Charles climbs into his own, a frown resting at the bottom of his face. However, it’s immediately vanquished when his eyes latch onto your own, grinning at your presence, so close to him. A warm hand reaches out, brushing over the back of your head, sheerly enjoying the comfort you radiated. He'd been lost without you for the past twelve hours. 

Your eyes begin to feel heavy again, though you’re determined to get through the car ride alert, even if the soft scent of his cologne and the gentle lulling tunes from the morning radio are drawing you back to your previous state. Instead, you think of that woman. No, not the mistress you had grown numb to; the blonde woman, the one pressed against Carlos’ chest and lips mere hours after you had been. The glint in your husband’s eye is telling as you go through your endless thoughts, he knows something. 

“The blonde lady going into Carlos’ apartment.” Your voice is completely out of pocket, echoing through the front of the SUV. “Who was she?” There’s no beating around with the question you had asked; there’s no trying to sugar coat what you needed to know. Charles knows it, too. He knows he can’t hide the truth from you, you’re too smart for lies and manipulation, a year married with a mistress had taught him that.

Instead, he emits a deep sigh from his lips, knuckles tightening on the steering wheel as he focuses on the road. “Natasha.” The name falls from his lips, he can’t meet your gaze, not when speaking about another woman to his wife. “She used to work for Ferrari’s PR but left just under a year ago. Carlos and her used to-“ 

“Date?” You’d cut him off without realizing, eyes widening when he’d shaken his head. 

“No, not date.” He responds. “They just had…a thing. Something.” He finished his train of thought, still not mentally ready to turn to you. In a comforting way, you were glad he hadn’t; Charles was unable to see the tears pooling at your lower lash line, the desire to rip off the hoodie now suffocating your body. You learnt in your heart that moment, you were apparently nothing special to Carlos. No, he had a thing. Something, with any woman who passed his way was as a wandering fancy. 

The tears decorating your eyes and desire to relax into the leather seat eventually overpowers your emotionally drained body, pulling you back into a slumber. 

You loved the sound of music.

A faint tune, one you were certain you’d never heard before lured through your ears, drawing you back to consciousness. You couldn’t remember getting home, let alone getting out of the car and tucking yourself into the comfort of your own bed. Groaning, you’d sat yourself up, rubbing the sleep from your eyes and stretching the twinge in your back simultaneously. 

The music wasn’t coming from your room; the sound was beautiful, you just needed to locate its source. Your feet twinge when they touch the floor, cool floorboards easing the temperature of your socks. Opening the ajar door to your bedroom, the music grows louder, sound clearly emitting from downstairs, your feet carry you to the staircase with no hesitation. However, when reaching the top of the staircase, eyebrows crease together in confusion, taking in your once-ragged appearance in the crystal mirror. 

Your hair had been braided, albeit not elegantly, but at least out of your face, something you did almost religiously before sleeping. Your attire had changed, too, once you were dressed in Carlos’ sage hoodie. Now, your body was engulfed by Charles’ charcoal jumper, sleeves too long but an entire comfort for your drained mind. Is this what it felt like, to be nurtured and cared for by your husband? The pit of your stomach felt airy; this had been everything you desired for so long. And yet, now you had experienced somebody else, despite the heartbreak, your mind was utterly torn. 

Music grows louder, your mind is suddenly focused back on its original target. With no hesitation now, you began to walk down the flight of stairs, noting your bag and phone resting by the front door. Even with as many notifications as you’d missed in your time asleep, priorities overtook, making your way towards the lounge, eyes transfixed on the figure by the French windows.

Charles Leclerc sat, comfortably and quietly, gentle fingers dancing over the keys of his piano. The soft lights of the room illuminated the figure, a tune you had never heard was fluttering around the open space. 

Of course, you had heard him play the instrument multiple times; during his time spent at the house rather than on the track, he remained transfixed, creating new songs, finding some way to pour every emotion into some kind of melody. You’d lost track of the times you’d come downstairs to get a drink, put the washing into the machine and had instead pushed your body into the doorframe, eyes fixed upon your husband as he created the most beautiful sounds. 

The last time you’d done that, his mistress had been present, leaving over the piano as Charles played her an elegant tune. When she had gone to lean over him, her own fingers wanting to press down against the keys, he’d rested a firm hand on her arm, insisting that she sit on the sofa and listen, instead. The sweet moments of silently viewing your husband had turned sour; you’d silently vowed that day you would never enter the room when he was playing again.

You’d broken that promise mere seconds ago, eyes transfixed upon your husband. You can feel the tension beneath his fingers, as if he’s trying to take the sheer thoughts of everything that had been embedded into his mind in the past twenty-four hours and mesh them into some kind of audible release. Underneath the layers of music, your footsteps can’t be heard as you hesitantly walk towards the end of the living space. His tune reaches a climax, but before the piano can take any more notes, you cough lightly, Charles’ hands ceasing in mid-air. Arching his body weight, he sees your frame standing next to his piano, eyes still sleepy from awakening mere moments ago. The breath catches in the back of his throat; did you always look so perfect in his soft jumpers?

“I’m sorry.” He eventually offers, taking in your sweet, soft appearance. “Did I wake you?” 

“No, no.” The reply tumbles from your lips before you even realize. “It was…beautiful, actually. Is it a new piece?” You ask, entranced by the music which had been flowing freely.

“I’m not sure yet.” He can’t help but smile at the end of his sentence. “I just sort of started playing and this is what came of it.” The explanation is valid; like many creatives, sometimes a free flow form was the simplest way to go. His next movement is almost a shock to your system. “Why don’t you come and help me?” The offer is completed when he shuffles up on the piano stool, patting on hand on the available gap. There’s hesitation in your movement, before his hand trails upwards, leaning to clasp one of your own, guiding you towards the stool. 

There’s an overpowering smell of his cologne, a scent you were slowly drawing yourself towards. The body heat from his frame radiates into your own. Shyly, you reach out, pressing down on one of the piano keys, a tone spouting from the instrument. Charles can’t help but smile upon your interaction, eyes questioning as you analyze the instrument.

“Do you know how to play?” He asks gingerly, watching as you shake your head in response. His actions exchange, resting one of his warm palms over your own. The next moments are filled with your husband guiding your hands over the piano, teaching you the tune to old nursery rhymes. When you reach the end of the piece, he cheers in delight at the achievement. 

“Play me something now.” You ask carefully, head becoming heavy, heavy enough to rest on your husband’s shoulder. When you feel his body tense, you immediately sit back up, convinced you’ve overstepped a line. That thought is soon relinquished when Charles’ hand flies out, wrapping around the back of your head and pulling you back down to his shoulder, your breath hot on his neck, it’s enough for him, hesitant to overstep the boundaries you were adamant upon currently. 

His fingers move back, continuing the song he had been conducting earlier. The piece had started out slowly, almost sad-like, before building, building towards a romantic counterpart. In his mind, it was the perfect song to punctuate the relationship he maintained with his wife. They both sat there, barely any moment as the music was the only sound present in their house. 

When the song finishes, neither of you move, relishing in the soft touch you’re both sharing. Charles’ own head falls atop of your own, letting his cheek rest against your hair. There’s no form of time between you both, simply enjoying being alive, alive with one another. It’s interrupted when you feel Charles’ take an exaggerated breath, removing his keys from the piano. One of his hands rests upon his side, the other slides between the minute gap between you both, wrapping a toned arm around your waist. The movement causes you to lift yourself from his firm shoulder, catching those beautiful eyes from your glance. 

“I’m traveling to Monaco tomorrow.” He says it so casually, as if it’s as normal as entering or leaving the building. You can feel his heart race in anticipation of what he was due to say, his body temperature raising dramatically, radiating through his hoodie. You offer him a warming smile. You really didn’t want him to leave, not when you were growing so unnaturally fond of his presence. 

“Oh really, what for?” Is the eventual reply. In this moment, you simply can’t hold his eye contact, he’s staring into your soul, it’s as if he can sense every thought which is currently trekking through your mind; does he know how much of a hold he has on you, even if your marriage was entirely staged, at least in his eyes. 

“I’m off to see my mother” He clarifies. “It’s been a while and I just want to check in.” It’s a lie. You can tell from the way his body language changes; his hands are suddenly clenching tighter, his grip on your waist firm as if he’s terrified, you’ll run away. He can’t admit it, he’s not strong enough. If you step away, he will fall back to the way he was the previous night; eyes bloodshot, unable to sleep unless he knows you’re safe. 

“Give her my best.” The response is blunt, short. You’re on entirely different wavelengths, different planets. He never told you of his reasoning for things; a golden rule you had learnt at the beginning of this era. Just…you’d never question him; you would simply co-exist. What he says next makes your blood run cold. 

“Why don’t you come with me? I’d really appreciate it.” Why on earth would your estranged husband want you to come on his travels, presumably when the entire point was to spend the entirety of it wrapped in the arms of another woman. Yet, a feeling in your stomach settled. Did you actually want to spend hours in this empty house alone? Now that Carlos was no longer a welcome distraction, anything would be better than wallowing in your silence. 

“I will.” You eventually respond. “On one condition.”

“Anything.” His eyes are wide, so willing. He’d scooted tighter towards you, as if he could hold together this entire conversation, stopping the whole world from crumbling around you. You must be the one to take a deep breath this time. You had to remain firm with your choices, with what you needed to know. 

“What was in the white envelope that your mistress gave you yesterday?”

You loved the glow of candlelight. 

Having never entered Charles’ study, his fingers interlocked with your own as he guided you through the heavy door, you didn’t realize how many candles he had resting around his office. They laid upon his windowsill, on his desk, he even had a mulberry-scented candle resting next to his racing simulator. 

There was only one candle which was lit, he had obviously forgotten to extinguish it whilst you were deep in your slumber. Despite the fact you hadn’t ever been given access to this room, you’d have to make a mental note in order to check for any fire hazards the next time you were in the building alone. 

The envelope resting upon the desk stuck out like a sore thumb; his computer, stationary, it was all a cool gray tone whereas the envelope stuck out in a bright white glow. 

“I need you to know before you look at this, it’s a lot worse than it comes across.” Even in the candlelight, his face had turned pale, barely able to keep his fear from dancing across his emotions. You need to remain strong. You need to see what was left in the envelope. 

Staying firm, your grasp reaches out towards the desk, taking the card into your own hands. “I want to see it.” You clarified, letting your finger trace under the flap of the envelope.

You don’t let your husband’s words overpower you, distract you in any way. Instead, your hand reaches into the envelope and grasps around a stack of…something. It feels like multiple pieces of paper pressed together, though one side remains glossy, as if printed onto a special sheet. Hesitantly, your hand pulls from the envelope, eyes immediately widening upon seeing the content in question.

It's photographs. Multiple photographs of Charles and his mistress. Some of them are casual, taken from her phone, smiling selfies and dinner dates. Others are…compromising, verging on pornographic. You can feel the lump in your throat tightening, tears are forming on your lower lash line, but you must keep strong. You cannot show any weakness when you ask to see this.  

“That’s her, isn’t it?” Your voice betrays you, weakening as your words continue. “Your…girlfriend.” You don’t want to use the other word; it’s clear from these photographs it was more than sex, it was more than just an escapade. 

“She’s- she’s not anymore.” Charles pauses, his eyes don’t focus on the photographs, only on you. His wife, who he has hurt so badly and now must see the pain littered across her face. “She hasn’t been since your mother passed away.”

Your heart stops at the mention of your mother, a sharp spike of longing for the woman suddenly danced through your chest. Then, you were angry. How dare he pity you, you didn’t want it, not from him. But…you still wanted him. He’d clouded your emotions, nothing was black-and-white with your husband, just a cacophony of colors. 

“That was your reason for dumping her. Sympathy?” You don’t care how harsh your voice comes across, instead just aggravated you were growing to care about his reasoning. Life had been simpler weeks ago, when you simply stayed at home, minding your own business whilst he got on with his. By the look on Charles’ face, he wasn’t expecting the hostility, either. 

“No! I dumped her because it was wrong, because I have a loving wife who I would give anything for.” The room goes silent, giving you time to process the words that had come from his lips. You had been so certain for so long that he didn’t care about you; that everything he did was for his own gain and pleasure. Yet…he had given up his mistress for you. He’d given up something that made him happy because you were not. 

Stressing, you run a hand through your hair, placing the photographs back into the envelope, speaking to your husband as you place the card back onto his desk. You feel sick. These photographs exist and it was a perfect way to destroy the two of you, it was perfect ammunition to a metaphorical pistol. “So, what does she want you to do with these photographs?”

“Nothing.” Charles leans over your own body, reaching for a second stack of papers resting upon the desk, one you had considered would simply be notes from Scuderia Ferrari. Warm seeps through your body at his close contact, one hand almost trailing against your back as he grasps to the stack of crisp sheets, barely touched.  “She’s threatened to publish them if I don’t sign…this.” 

You took the stack of ivory papers into your palms. It was sprawled with a size twelve font, you were uncertain of where to begin until two words in bold took your attention, printed formally across the top of the page. 

“Divorce Papers.” Your voice is barely a whisper, heart dropping to your stomach. 

“That’s the other reason I’m going to Monaco.” He’s explaining his own status now, eyes glassy with the fear of you walking straight out of the office. He wouldn’t blame you, of course. He couldn’t blame you for anything anymore. Charles reaches out to your grasp, wiggling the paper from your fingers and placing them back against the desk.  “I’m filing for a lawsuit against her, a restraining order for manipulation and stalking.” 

A scoff falls from your lips; the mere contrast of the events from a few weeks ago compared to now. He truly intended to file a lawsuit against a woman who he’d happily let warm his bed whilst you went to bed each night with nothing but regret and bloodshot eyes. “Do you…do you want a divorce?” You can feel your voice cracking. “I mean, if she’s sent you these, you must have mentioned wanting one-”

“I did.” Charles doesn’t miss a beat. “I mentioned how I didn’t want a divorce because despite everything…I do care for you.” The room goes silent, not even the flickering of the candle or the soft wind from the French windows can pierce the tone of the room. 

A huff escapes your lips, arms resting by your side as you formulate a response; “You had a really weird way of showing it.” Your response is blunt, it clearly warrants the sad look on your husband’s face. 

“I know. That’s why I’m going to make it right. Please come to Monaco with me. She won’t be there; you don’t have to come to the lawyer with me. But…I need to be able to come back to my wife.” His hand reaches out, cradling your own in this moment. Gently, he lifts your palm to his cheek, resting it upon his stubble and letting his lips trace a kiss across the soft skin. 

He truly does know how to make your heart flutter, despite everything. 

“Okay.” You eventually respond, focused on his gaze when his eyes turn wide in anticipation. 

“Yeah?” His heart is picking up in happiness, reaching to hold you in his own grasp, but instead falling short when you raise a finger, ceasing his movements towards your body. 

“But…you need to give me tonight, alone. To process that.” Gently, you take a step forward, leaning gently towards him. You can’t leave him, not before you gently press a kiss to his cheek, turning on your heel, your figure illuminated in the corridor by the soft candlelight. “Goodnight, Charles.”

“Goodnight, beautiful.” 

You loved the feeling of warm water.

There is only a slender picking of moments in your life where you have felt truly relaxed; sitting by the lake in the rolling fields your family had owned for generations, lounging in the bed of the Madrid-Based apartment your friends had hired for a holiday in the early spring morning. 

You had never thought one of those relaxing moments would be as your mother-in-law massaged her hands through your locks, lathering an expensive shampoo into the roots of your hair. She was gentle; no tangles fell through her fingers as her rhythm stayed perfectly relaxing, hitting all the spots which would send a flood of relief through your scalp. 

You’d arrived in Monaco early that morning, immediately being transported to the luxurious hotel your husband had booked you into. Most of the trips he’d book you wouldn’t attend, and when you did would be ignored by him altogether. This time, he’d remained present, willing. Your hands had entwined the moment you had left the privacy of the jet, nestling into the back of the car, eyes heavy from the early rise.

Not much is remembered after you’d arrived outside the opulent building; bags were removed and transported to your room by the bellhop, both you and your husband were given hotel cards, an older lady at the desk explaining the functions dotted around the high-end establishment. All you could remember was the door to the room opening, your tired body making a beeline towards the emperor bed, nuzzling into the soft furnishings with sleep overtaking you in a matter of moments. 

Charles hadn’t been able to help the tug on his heartstrings as he’d seen you tumble into the mattress. You’d been so thoughtful; dropping everything back at your house and accompanying him to Monaco, promising to be there for him as he promised to fix the wounds from his previous mistakes. He’d give anything to crawl into the bed alongside you, wrap his frame around your own and fall back into his own slumber, one he had despised the night before simply because he wasn’t able to hold you in his arms. He was learning to respect your wishes; after all, he had a lot of repairing to do-so. Even after recent conversations with his Ferrari counterpart, he could never bring himself to hate you. 

His phone buzzes from his back pocket and upon inspection he sees the reminder, he’s due with his lawyer in less than forty-five minutes, but he doesn’t want to leave you, not alone. A thought sparks into his head, fingers flying through his contacts and dropping a message to one, asking if they could take you over to his mother’s salon later in the afternoon. By the time he’s returned from changing in the en-suite and brushing a comb through his hair, the responses from both Joris and his mother had lit up his screen, confirming his plans for later in the afternoon. 

Your husband had allowed himself one more look at you, so peaceful wrapped up in the comfort of the bed. Silently, he leans over your frame, running a gentle hand across the back of your head, pressing a soft kiss to the top of your forehead, murmuring his sweet words to your sleeping form.

When you’d awoken, there was a message clarifying that Joris would be taking you to his mother’s salon a little later and he would come to collect you once he was finished with his lawyer. That’s how you had ended up walking into her salon earlier that afternoon, her delighted smile present after seeing her daughter-in-law.

Pascale wasn’t stupid, that much was clear. She was aware of the strain in her middle son’s marriage, just not to the extent that he had been toying with a mistress for the better part of a year. However, she had grown to adore you; your mannerisms, laughter and the fact that you clearly held a candle for Charles, despite the dwindling flame of the marriage. If she had a daughter, she’d want her to be just like you. 

“Are you and Charles up to anything this evening?” Her voice is gentle, motioning for you to stand up from the basin chair and walk towards the mirrors, resting yourself in one of the seats. Your reflection bores back into you, focused as Pascale adjusts your head slightly, brushing the tendrils of hair through her comb. 

“I’m not sure.” You respond. “I know he has some business this morning.” It’s an understatement. When Joris had collected you from the hotel, he’d tried to give you what information he could – Charles had arrived at his Lawyer’s office, ready to file the case against his mistress. He wasn’t too sure how long it was going to take, though he had told Joris to be on hand for anything you needed when he couldn’t. 

“You make him happy; you know?” Pascale mentions, tilting your head to angle your hair correctly. “I know he hasn’t always been…the greatest.” You’re not sure if she’s aware of everything, but her tone seems to stand where you need it to do so, “but you make…such an impact in his life.” 

Not much else is said whilst the woman continues to trim your hair, adjusting your face as she does so. It was nice, not to be cooped up into a hotel room for the entirety of the day, nor to be sitting in Charles’ driver room whilst he walked around, finger entwined with his mistress. You’re so engrossed in Pascale drying your hair, setting the locks into soft rollers that you don’t realize when the door chimes open, another figure entering the quiet salon. The woman’s eyes brighten, and you hear her cooing before your own face turns, taking in the figure of your husband in the doorway. 

Charles looks breath-taking. He’d clearly showered and changed since you had last seen him bundled in his travel gear that morning. Your deduction would be correct; the man had hastily returned to the hotel to jump into the shower, changing into a power blue shirt and white trousers. His hair, free of styling products curled in an unruly way, one that made his whole face structure elevate. 

In his hands, he held both a soft white dress over his arm, one you had packed in your case fleetingly the evening before; it had been steamed and washed, the fabric clear and petticoats of the skirt floating gently. In his other hand, a vibrant bouquet of roses. His smile never faded, walking over to his mother and pressing a kiss to each of his mother’s cheeks. Once his attention turns towards you, his eyes only brighten. 

“Hello, beautiful.” You can’t tell whether he’s playing up the affection in front of his mother, or whether it’s genuine. However, when one hand comes to rest on your cheek, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. He’s being respectful; making sure not to cross a boundary. 

“Hello, handsome.” The response falls from your lips without realizing, the grin on your husband's face only rising. Fuck. Did you mean to say that? Regardless, you had done, and by the look on his face he not only didn’t expect it but had instantly grown to love it. Charles had completely forgone the flowers in his grasp, only remembering them after your eyes had darted down towards his palms. 

“Oh-“ His mind finally catches up with the present situation, raising his hand to present you with the flowers. They’re colors are soft, delicate, as if etched by crayon. You can’t help but smile at the gesture, even if it was entirely a false pretense in front of his mother. You can’t see her face, but you know she’s smiling, seeing her son present to his wife in such a sweet manner. Now, your gaze isn’t fixed against the flowers in your grasp, but the dress from your suitcase.

“Something tells me that won’t fit you, Charles.” You tease the garment laying over his forearm, only to cause a smile to appear on his lips again. 

“I want to take you out for the afternoon. If that’s okay with you.” His voice is low now, hoping to avoid any prying of the conversation from his mother, though her attention was now turned to locating the hair dryer, still needing to complete your own treatment. “Would that be…okay?” He’s nervous. Fearful that after everything, you could now reject him and feel no remorse.

You’re not a cruel person, it has never been in your nature. Instead, you match his own smile, nodding as you take the garment from his grasp, Charles’ eyes widening in confirmation. 

“Trust you to pick out my favorite dress, too.” You mumbled. 

You loved the sound of the ocean. 

You loved everything about the sea, truly. The reflections from the moonlight caused shards to reflect over Charles’ boat; the new yacht had barely had time to stretch the waters, though it seemed to float as if it had been nurtured its entire existence. 

The afternoon of a late lunch had expanded into expensive, late-night wine on the boat as your husband had guided you into deeper waters. He knew what he was doing, after all; the waters of Monaco were a comfort to him, a lifetime had stretched out from jumping into the ocean as a child to yacht parties during the Grand Prix. 

You’d seemed entirely at home, and it made his heart warm. Charles wasn’t a stupid man; he saw how you kept yourself small, your setup at the house barely spanning over two rooms. He’d wanted nothing more than to break the walls you had put up for oh-so-long and entwine your lives together.

Then he would reprimand himself, remind himself he was the sole reason those walls existed. 

Conversation had spanned naturally into the events of the day; you thanked him for thinking of you, he’d responded with a mention of you deserving that form of treatment every single day. Your mind can’t take the anticipation; when your lips lift from the glass of wine, you can’t help but ask what his lawyer had recommended about his mistress. Your husband’s grin had fallen a little, running a hand through his dark curls. 

“It’s a difficult one.” He explains. “There’s enough there for a case, considering we haven’t had contact in a while. But…” He doesn’t need to finish his sentence; you do for him. 

“The photographs are counted as evidence.” You finish, and he can only nod. He’s created such a mess, something he could never forgive himself for doing so. A web of lies and mistreatment surrounded you both; he so wanted to break each thread and simply cradle you, be in a bubble for the rest of eternity. 

He’s expecting you to stay silent, then. Maybe that’s where the evening should have ended, with silence upon the realization that this case will not be easily solved. Instead, you place the glass of wine down on the ledge of the stairs, easing his own glass from his grasp. Charles is confused, even more so when you walk back towards him, wrapping your arms to close around his neck. 

“What are you doing?” He whispers. His hands raise hesitantly, as if touching you would break you into a million pieces. His grasp only falls to your waist when you press closer towards the man, resting your gaze on his own eyes. He’s hurt you, broken you to such an extent, and yet you can’t help but draw closer to his touch, to his eyes. 

“Being your wife.” You respond, before pressing your lips to his own. This is the first time, the first time in so long that you had been the one to initiate a kiss. Naturally, Charles’ hands wrap tighter around your waist, pulling you into his chest, deepening your touch, your kiss. This. This is the moment he wishes to bottle forever, to live in the comfort of his wife’s touch, no outside means, no other commitments being hung over his head. 

You’re not sure how long you both stand there, wrapped in one another, hands fleeting over each other, desperate to find some touch, some form of skin. It isn’t until your fingers reach to unbutton the top of his powder-blue shirt, that his own come to rest atop of yours. He knows he’s made a mistake when he sees the look you shoot him, immediately assuming the worst. 

“No, no.” He promises, both hands flying from where they had grasped yours, cradling each side of your face. It feels…warm. It feels so similar to the way Carlos had cradled your head once, when you were both on a boat, much like this. You think of those dark eyes, the whispers drawn into your ear as he had sharply thrusted into you that evening. Then, you think of the blonde appearing outside his apartment mere hours after you had been tangled in his arms. 

“I want to.” Charles’ words draw you from your endless train of thoughts. “Sweetheart, I want to more than anything, but I need you to know how much it means-“

You don’t let him finish; instead, you press your mouths back together, forcefully. There are whispers from your own lips, pleading that he take you, that you want nothing more than to feel your bodies atop of one another. 

And who is he to deny his wife? 

You’re not sure when he scoops you up into his arms, guides you inside of the boat and to the soft bed that had been freshly made mere hours ago, but he never lets your lips leave one another for less than a moment.

He’s everywhere; he’s pressing into you in the most delicious way, he’s drawing your body of the most intense sounds, and then you’re coming, harder than you ever thought was possible, it hits you in the most delicious way. 

Your fingernails pressed crescents into his skin as he continued to push into you with that perfect rhythm. Feeling your hot breath dance against the shell of his neck, the sweet whimpers of your overstimulated orgasm falling from your lips. Charles feels you clench around him, dragging you into him deeper, and it's all over.

His head immediately falls into the joint of your neck and shoulder, his pants getting heavier, thrusts rougher as he chases his own release. Teeth escape from his lips, biting down atop of the red marks he'd left earlier in a passion; the gasp you let-out, the roll of your hips against his own pushes him over the edge, a moan falling out from his own lips, hands flying to grip at your forearms pinned above him. You can feel every inch of him buried inside of you, warmth spilling into you.

Heavy hips press into yours, your thighs still pressed around his waist when he lifts his head from the warmth of your skin, pressing one final deep kiss to your lips, a profanity of words escaping from his mouth.

He kisses you again. And again. He keeps doing it whilst slowly rocking his hips, still jittering from his own orgasm. Senses come through, those eyes you had been entranced in so many times fixing to your own, drinking you in, looking so beautiful underneath his own frame.

"You still want somebody else?" The teasing is natural, almost, inflicting you to roll your eyes and playfully push his arm. God, your laugh is the most adoring sound in the world to him, it had been so long since he'd heard it, even then, it had never been due to his own actions until recently. The adorned look in his eye is soon replace with confusion when he feels you wiggle underneath him, soft blankets rubbing against your back.

"Are you going somewhere?" He questions, one hand coming up to trace against your jawline. You want to lean into his touch, it's something you'd been attracted to recently, though the mess between your legs and sweat trailing down your skin seemed to tell you something different.

"I need to clean up." You whine, pressing your body into the plush mattress. "I'm all gooey, Charles."

"I've got it." He murmurs, pressing one soft kiss to your cheek, another to your neck. You expect the weight from above to release you, but the warmth radiating from his body remains. You feel lips trace against your chest, his untamed curls tickle your stomach as he traces down a direct line.

"What are you doi-" You never get to finish you question, the fourth word cut off with a soft gasp, those lips which had pressed to yours, now pressing down against your clit, a soft praise towards your body whilst his tongue traced around the sensitive bud, drawing a slice through your wet lips, pressing deeper and deeper into your entrance.

The room is illuminated with your whines, hips bucking against his stubble as he fulfills his promise of cleaning you up.

You loved the feeling of being held.

You’d been unfathomably happy to walk into the paddock that evening, fingers interlaced with Charles’ as he guided the two of you through the fans and photographers alike, buzzing to be starting on Pole Position when his wife would be watching in awe of his achievement. 

You hadn’t been there on qualifying day; you were still trying to keep your distance where you could, to prove to your husband he couldn’t instantly win you back overnight. It had only been when he’d come into the en-suite of your room the evening before, hands wrapped around your waist as he pressed a soft kiss to your cheek, pleading you came to watch him race the following night.

“I’ll win.” He promises, voice quiet as he rests his chin on your shoulder. “I’ll win it for you.” 

His sweet words had not only lured you to the race track the following day but had also drawn you to sleep in his bed that evening, curled up into his toned chest as he murmured words of appreciation in French; only a few you were able to pick up and understand the meaning of as you drifted into a comfortable sleep, arms cradling your body underneath the bed sheets.

There was a collective, loving aura that evening when the two of you had stepped into his garage, the team in awe of seeing that their Prince of Monaco and his beloved Princess had been reunited, here to support one another. However, one figure remained quiet, eyes transfixed on your every movement. He felt his knuckles turn white when Charles had changed into his race suit, placing his cap atop of your own head and had lovingly pressed two kisses to either of your cheeks.

Carlos Sainz was a jealous man; he’d been infuriated when his blonde fling had appeared on his doorstep, instantly realizing the kind of man he must have been made out to be when you’d seen her appear on your departure. He’d hoped and prayed you hadn’t seen her, but from the radio silence he received over messages and calls, to the way you had purposely avoided speaking to him when arriving in the paddock, he could tell you were not that naive.

Emotions had played a heavy part on both of the Ferrari Pilots during the start of the race. One, determined to keep his promise and win whilst his wife was present. The other was so clouded with sadness and rage that all he wanted to do was push his counterpart off the track. The lights snapped off, 20 engines revving in unison as the cars blitzed down the first straight. 

It doesn’t take long for emotion to overcome; Charles’ P6 soon creeps towards a P3, whilst Carlos begins to drop. A violent turn into Oscar Piastri not only takes the young rookie out of the race, but the Ferrari driver, too. Nobody misses the swears as he switches the engine off, nor the scowl on his face as he removes the steering wheel, ready to be escorted back to the garage. 

When the blur of red comes through the paddock, you can’t help but feel guilty, telling yourself that if you had spoken to him, he would have been able to keep a cool head. Silently, you slip the headphones from your temple, murmuring about going to the bathroom before taking a direct beeline towards Carlos’ room, catching the door just before it’s due to slam closed. 

He was seething. Pure rage flicked across his eyes; the warm smile reserved for you replaced with a harsh scowl. This may have been a mistake. 

“What do you want?” His words are venom, spit towards you. He cannot stand to see you right now.

“I just-“You pause, clearing your throat. “I wanted to check if you were okay.” It’s a pathetic answer, really. One that didn’t sit right in your mouth, even after you had spoken. 

“I’m alright?” He scoffs, shaking his head. “You ignore my calls, go away and fuck that pathetic man and then come back to me?” He’s pissed, undoubtedly so. “You whore. I understand it all now.” He shakes his head, missing the fire which had begun to burn in your own stomach. 

“You have no right!” You’d shrieked so loudly you’d startled yourself; one finger was still pointed into his infuriated face, your finger mere millimeters from the bridge of his nose. Hot air engulfed both of your bodies, the only sound present was the deep and heavy breathing flaring from your nostrils. 

Without a thought, Carlos had slapped your finger away from his face, lunging forward dramatically to seize your face into his rough palms. His lips are on yours, roughly seeking the wet trace of your tongue. You can’t fight him; not when his lips feel so flawless against your own. A rough palm encases the back of your neck, the other wrapping around your waist as he holds your frame tighter against his own. 

Your breath barely had a moment to catch when he forcefully pulled his lips from you, emitting a white from your breath. That innocent sound is soon replaced by a sharp gasp, his fingers tightening against your scalp, pulling on your locks. 

“Don’t fucking whine.” He spits, ghosting his lips over your own, never letting them touch yours. Warm breath tickles the shell of your ear when his grip pulls tighter onto your hair, tiling your ear to meet his mouth. “I’m sick of your whining, about your horrible excuse for a husband. I will treat you how you should be treated.”

There’s no time to react as his pink tongue pokes from his lips, a stripe tracing from the corner of your ear, across the sweetest spot of your neck. You’re reveling in the wetness, the sinful way his words litter through the air before teeth sink into your skin. He doesn’t bother to cover your mouth, mute the sweet sounds falling from your lips. There’s no decency anymore, Carlos doesn’t care who sees the marks he engraves into your skin. The ring on your left hand means nothing more than a reminder that he could be better. 

“Carlos-“ You struggle to connect the two syllables together, hands gripping through his hair, pulling at the brown locks in your fingers. “Fuck-“ 

“What did I just say?” He grunts from the valley of your neck, one hand sliding from your waist and flying out, smacking on your clothed butt. The shock simply causes you to gasp out loud, pushing your own throbbing crotch into his hard one. A smirk forms against your neck, clear as day when the man pulls himself from your neck. His lips are wet, saliva from his own mouth tracing around your lips. 

One hand finds your face again, grasping at your chin tilting your head backwards to hover below his own. A single finger taps at your lips, signaling for you to open wide for him. He’s sinful as he lets his spit fall across your lips, eyebrows raised as he wraps a hand around your throat, clearly overpowering your stance in this moment.

“Swallow.” He commands, hand resting on your cheek firmly. The tone of his voice sends a shock of energy down your chest and between your legs, cunt throbbing at his words. Of course, you comply, swallowing the remanence he had given you. “Good girl.” 

The sweet nicknames in this moment have evaporated; Carlos is nothing short of animalistic, his presence all too understanding as one hand takes its place around your neck, the other grabbing firmly onto your wrist as he guides you backwards, softly falling onto the sofa of his driver’s room. The pitying looks the man gives you sends a thousand messages through your brain. 

“No, no. Dirty little girls don’t get to sit on my sofa.” He teases, both hands clasping your waist, sliding you off the plush furnishings and resting on the cold floor, kneeling for the Spaniard. “You need to be on your knees, you need to be taught how to behave.” 

Eyes widen as his tanned fingers pull at the knotted arms of the fireproofs resting on his waist. Even through his underclothes, the shape of his hard length is clearly visible, even more so as he removes his underlayers and briefs, letting himself spring freely, one hand rubbing his shaft a few times, the other knotting in the back of your hair. 

He loves this; cock in his hand as he taps the tip against each of your cheeks, trailing himself against the parting of your lips, having to hide the shiver from his own body when the wetness of your mouth. His eyes are sparkling when he uses his firm cock to press through your mouth, relishing in the warmth of your lips wrapping around his length. 

“That’s it, be a good girl. Take it.” He coos as you struggle to take more of his length, attempting to give small, tentative licks to his cock whilst he slides between your lips. It sends him feral, wild. He thinks of nothing else as both hands grip tightly in your hair, shoving your face into his crotch, your gags music to his ears as he continues to take control of the situation.

When your eyes adjust, look up from his groin, he almost feels sorry for you. They’re wide, glassy, snuffles falling from your lips as he continues his forceful attack. One hand slowly removes itself from the strain on your locks, tracing over your cheek, thumb rubbing underneath your eye, removing the salty tears as your breath remains heavy through your nose. 

“Oh, poor baby.” He teases, pace never relenting. “This is what you need, someone to put you in your place, remind you what you deserve for teasing me, making me jealous.” He can’t help but chuckle at the pathetic sound coming from your lips. He can feel his stomach tightening, the warmth drawing an imminent release from his cock. This isn’t how he wants to finish, he can’t yet. 

Your mouth feels empty when he pulls out, giving you no warning, the gasps falling from your lips at the sudden gain of air. He doesn’t give you time to respond, a heavy hand pushing your front to the floor, lifting your hips, ass straight back in the air. No warning, the skirt of your dress is lifted, the wetness of your cunt seeping through your panties. The anticipation kills you, until a warm finger slides into your folds with no warning. Your body can’t help but react, clenching around the warmness without even realizing. You also don’t realize the sounds you’re making, until the finger removes itself, a palm harshly smacking on your behind. 

“What did I say about noises?” He grunts, leaning around to push the wet finger into your own mouth. “Do you like it? Taste what I do to you?” Hurriedly, he presses his finger in and out of your lips a few times before returning it to your wet hole, wiggling in the air. This time there’s two; stretching you out, your palms trying to find anything to grip, to hold on to as he carelessly thrusted, tickling a sweet, sweet spot deep in your stomach. 

“I- Carlos I can’t-“ You whine through raspy breaths. He can feel you clenching, swelling around his fingers, and is rewarded when he hastily pulls them out of you, a long moan and a squirt of arousal pushing from your cunt. A sheer shock of arousal floods between his own legs, rubbing his fingers against your wet folds, letting your wetness trail onto the tips of his hand.

“Oh, your husband can’t make you do that, can he?” He’s proud; proud he’s able to draw such a reaction from your body. “Come on, baby, up we get.” His arms are suddenly firm, present around your waist as he pulls you to stand on two shaky legs, still reveling in the feeling he had granted you moments ago. 

Hands retract from your waist and come to hold your face, pressing kisses to your scarlet lips as he guides you from a standing position towards his couch, finally allowing himself to sink into the cushions. You want nothing more than to join him, feel his warmth and aura around your own body, but by the finger he’s raised as he situates himself into the sofa, you can tell you’ll have to wait. 

The moment he sits down, a tanned hand comes to his crotch to rub his length a few times, your eyes widening as you plead for it; mind clouded by lust, all you want is for something warm to fill you up, make you feel as good as he had done so many times before. Carlos’ finger beckons for you to join him, and you know what he’s insinuating. 

Your movements are commanded by the Spaniard; immediately, there are two firm hands on your body, pulling you into his touch and sinking you down onto his cock. You don’t miss the way his lips quirk into a grin, oh-so-happy to see your reaction to the pleasure he had granted you. It’s no match for when he starts moving, bouncing you up and down on his lap, fallen gasps from your lips as your faces draw closer and closer.

You were sinking into one another’s skin; he wanted nothing more than to entwine your bodies for eternity. One hand was firm around your waist, guiding your movement with the strength only he could. The other guided a gentle trace across your face, pulling you closer, closer to his own face as his thrusts got faster, erratic. 

“You’re mine.” He grunts, never once breaking eye contact as his hips grew tighter, his cock making your cunt squeeze in a way you didn’t know was physically possible. “You’ve always been mine, tell me you’re mine.”

His eyes go soft, thrusts pausing for a second as he notes the tears pooling in your eyes from the sheer euphoria running through your body. A whine falls from your lips as you feel his strong hand tug at your neck, pressing your foreheads towards one another, hips slowing for just a moment, letting your breath catch up to your aching body. 

“I’m yours.” You’d whisper, mind clouded. You were his. There could be a thousand cars, an ocean or a wedding band between the two of you and you would still always find your way back to Carlos. Whatever that relationship would form, you would always be a part of him. 

The murmured confirmation was enough to send a shot of energy through his spine, his thrusting becoming deeper, passionate. It barely takes five thrusts before he’s groaning, throwing his head back and letting out a low moan as he spills himself into you. The warmth is enough to send your cunt into flutters, clenching so tightly as your body falls into his chest, whining as you feel a gush of wetness drip onto his crotch. 

Undoubtedly, Carlos Sainz is now a part of you. Time seems to flicker between seconds and minutes, at some point you’ve shifted your weight, turning around to fix your eyes onto the television screen of his room, eyes wide as you watch your husband continue to battle out on the track. It felt almost sinful; watching Charles battle for his podium whilst his teammate stayed buried inside of you. 

His touch goes soft; one hand remains tight around your waist, though your back is warmed by the way you’re pulled back into his skin. Feather-Light kisses dance across your shoulder, he’s never been this soft, cradling you as if the world would be held together by your content. If the universe was to implode, he would be happy with the fact you were pressed into him in that very moment. 

The laps of the race begin to dwindle; a promising second-place is looking pretty much secured for Charles. You’re certain that your silver trophy will be sitting proudly in the hotel room later that evening, until Max Verstappen suddenly begins to slow down, commentators beginning to roar as an unexpected engine issue splutters into the RB19. 

“Holy shit.” Carlos murmurs, sitting up from his relaxed position, both arms now tightly around your waist as he shifts the balance of your bodies. “What happened to Max?” His voice becomes a murmur, your attention drifts, focused on the cars beginning to pick up their speed against the current world champion. 

Goosebumps litter your skin, you immediately pull away from the warmth of Carlos, eyes wide as you see the scarlet red car glide into view. He’s going to overtake Max. Not only that, but your husband is about to win the entire race. 

An audible groan comes from both of you when you slip yourself off his length, searching around for the panties which had been discarded oh-so-long ago; the man rests a hand on your shoulder, one hand tracing across your jawline as the other reaches down, gently smoothing the skirt of your long dress. 

“We’ll find them later. We need to go and congratulate your husband, after all.” You can’t miss the cockiness in his voice, still content with the fact his cum is buried deep inside your pussy, panties are left in his driver’s room as a sheer prize for being able to make you feel euphoric. A tinted blush decorates your cheeks as he slips into his old jeans and a Ferrari polo shirt, one hand resting on the small of your back as he guides you out of his driver’s room, never once bothering to fix his hair when you had been the one to grab onto it so tightly.

People wouldn’t think that of him, after all. 

You love to be loved. 

Your eyes are brimming with tears as you reach Parc Fermé, Carlos finally catching up with you, standing right behind you at the barrier, eyes transfixed onto his teammate, standing atop of his livery, cheering towards the endless roars of the crowd, passing a congratulatory message towards his fellow drivers, Lewis patting his back, Lando cheering on his behalf.

He’s already removed his helmet when he sprints towards his team; the losses don’t matter, not when he can celebrate the win he had been craving for so, so long. There are praises passed, pats on the back as he works his way down the winding line of his team, red in their clothes and their cheeks, it means the world to everybody. 

And then, Charles is facing you, his wife. He’s so transfixed upon your gaze, the sheer elation you have for his victory that he doesn’t stop to think when he takes two of his hands on either side of your face, cradling your cheeks as he presses his lips to yours, grinning into such a sweet kiss that you can’t help but kiss him back. 

“I told you.” He whispers when he pulls away from you, resting a gentle hand on your cheek for just a moment. His eyes finally turned to where his teammate was standing. Both of them have to forge a smile as they reach out to clasp hands, a firm grip in celebration of scoring points for their team. 

You don’t see him again, not until he’s left the cool-down room and is bounding towards the podium. Carlos, having not been called to his post-race interview yet, still stood behind you, though one hand had snaked its way around your waist, as if it had to be there. Nobody notices, of course. The team is too focused upon their driver lifting his golden trophy, in awe of the achievement they had built for seemingly the entire season.

Charles doesn’t miss it, of course. Maybe that’s why his gaze is so fixed on you when he releases a splash of champagne, purposely aiming his bottle towards the man behind you, his heart only crushing further when he sees the Spaniard pull your frame behind his own in protection. 

And then, it’s all over. Both Carlos and Charles are rushed away to complete their post-race interviews. You’re left alone, simply taking a slow walk towards the Ferrari Hospitality. Even as you pace through the crowds, you can’t help but feel…sick. Dizzy. Out-of-body. 

You cared for your husband greatly, and somewhere during it all, you believed his apology was genuine, that he truly wanted to fix the previous mistakes of the year. But how long would his tether last until his mistress came trailing back, regardless of a court ruling?

And Carlos. The sweet man who had proved to you time and time again, you were worth more than a simple name on a piece of paper. He’d been your soul, you truly were set to drop an entire marriage to live in his arms until his blonde counterpart came along, a knife to the chest after one of the most intimate nights you could fathom. 

Your breathing gets faster, the world begins to turn on an axis. From somewhere, you hear a voice asking if you’re okay, if you need help getting back to the hospitality. And then, the world goes black, your body slumps to the floor of the paddock, with only one sentence drifting through your unconscious mind.

Who do you love? 

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