#they’re both particular in the kitchen

[luveline]

Can I please get the aftermath of a fight with Hotch? Maybe they’re both stressed after a particular case and things got a little heated?

ty for requesting !! fem, 1k

You hate when Hotch shouts. 

Morose, you lay in a slouch on the couch with your hand between your face and the armrest, knuckles aching from the pressure. You’re attempting to self soothe, but your misery is worsened by your own ministrations, your thumb a useless thing on your cheek. You can’t do it like Hotch can. There’s no second meaning. 

You assume him to be in the kitchen where you left him. 

Nobody likes to fight, but you think you might be the most unwilling participant for any argument with him. He’s patient, and mellow-headed the majority of the time, so when he does get heated you can’t help thinking you’ve done something really awful.

You get the worst of worries sitting there. That you’re too much effort for him, that you don’t fit. That he’s going to realise these things and cut you loose. 

Your tears are lazy. Your shoulders shudder with your breathing, but there isn't a sound to them, just heat where they well at the corner of your eye and drip over your nose. You sniffle, pressing the back of your hand to your top lip. 

It’s cold in the living room. Immediately hotter when Hotch sits down beside you. You lift your head on instinct, surprised at his sudden presence, tears jolting down your cheeks like flash floods. When you realise it’s him and what you’re doing, you turn your face back to the armrest with held breath. 

He hesitates for a moment.

“Please don’t be mad at me,” you mumble. 

He drapes himself over your contorted frame. Arm weaving under your stomach, face pressing firmly to the nape of your neck, his right hand on your shoulder. “Don’t cry,” he says, hand working into your tense shoulder blade lovingly, his thumb drawing lines. “Don’t cry.” 

“Are you still angry?” 

“No,” he says, his voice ladened with a light sincerity, “I’m not angry.” 

You feel like he’s holding back. Upset again, you attempt to find his hand where it’s cupping the space just below your chest and hold it weakly, smaller fingers on his, looking for a better forgiveness. It doesn’t come. You cry so much it starts to make you feel sick, and concern your weary partner, his frown getting deeper where it’s pressed to your neck. 

“I’m not mad,” he says quietly. “I’m sorry for yelling, honey, is that what’s upset you?” 

You just hate the idea that he could feel against you. It’s like a mixture of regret, anger, and now frustration, because you hadn’t wanted to cry at all, much less be comforted. Although, admittedly, the comforting is holding you together. 

“Come on,” he says, kissing your cheek between words, “let’s sit up before you hurt your back.” 

He sits back and pulls at your arm until you're sitting upright on the sofa. Your gaze falls to your legs, your hand curled uselessly on your thigh, your tears slowly pooling and falling in succession. You scrunch your face up as another wave of misery hits you. 

“I’m s-sorry,” you say. 

“For what?” he asks, far less emotional than you, and yet not completely stony, either. 

“I didn’t mean to cry.” You bring your hand to your face to wipe at your tears and runny nose, irked, not wanting him to see you. 

“It’s okay,” he murmurs.

Hotch leans down to kiss your shoulder, which works to calm you down. Another kiss to your neck and your horrible cloud of emotion starts to clear. 

He can’t hate you if he’s kissing you. 

“I’m sorry I made it a fight,” Hotch says, “I never would have if I thought you’d get this upset.” 

“We can’t not fight just because I might cry.” 

“That’s exactly why we shouldn’t. I never want to make you cry.” 

“I hate when you–” You cut yourself off, the confession sure to make you look small. 

“What?” he prompts gently.

“I hate when you yell because– because you never do.” 

He’d only raised his voice for a few words, and it hadn’t been to your discredit, he’d been telling you to leave it alone. Perhaps if he’d been insulting you it would make sense for you to cry this much, but yelling is part of any argument. You can’t work out why it’s affected you. 

“I feel so stupid,” you confess. 

“I’m sorry, honey,” he says, wrapping his arm behind your back to pull you flush to his side, “I don’t know how it got so out of hand. You’re never stupid, I’m just stubborn. I shouldn’t shout.” 

You twist to be facing him. He frowns at your wet cheeks. 

“Do you want to kiss and make up?” you ask tentatively. 

Hotch doesn’t roll his eyes or laugh at your question —he can tell you’re being serious. “Can we?” he asks, cupping your cheek in his hand. 

He rubs a loving line into the side of your face, and every tight string in you is cut. You kiss him quickly, worried it’ll be a bad one, but find yourself encouraged for a longer one by his hand, your eyes squeezed closed in stress relaxing the longer it goes on. He’s gentle with you, his lips parting atop yours. 

He pulls away. You hide your face in the curve of his neck. 

“Can you forgive me for being cruel?” he asks quietly. 

“You’re not cruel, Aaron. I hate being on a different side from you, that’s all.” 

His first name makes all the difference to him. He sneaks a couple of kisses into your temple and begins to relax as you have, two sad lumps on the couch who only want the comfort of the other. 

You rub loving lines up and down his side, finally feeling better as he breathes his own sigh of relief. 

[moonstruckme]

Dizzy

summary: when your roommate James comes home after a night out with his friends, he's acting even more affectionate than usual

cw: alcohol

modern au

roommate!James x fem!reader ♡ 2.7k words

You can always hear when James’ friends come over. The door opens and the sound of them comes pouring through into your flat, the boys always in the middle of bickering or joking or telling some incredibly animated story. 

When you hear their noise late on a Friday night, you pause the movie on your laptop and head for the door, drawn towards their loudness. James’ friends are rowdier than anyone you hang out with, but it’s a happy sort of ruckus. They’re fun and hilarious and surprisingly kind, and you enjoy chatting when they come over. 

“Hi, gorgeous,” Sirius sing-songs, spotting you as soon as you emerge from your room. You laugh at his scratchy, worn-out voice. He sounds like he’s probably been singing at the top of his lungs all night. Dark eyeliner has transferred to the skin under his eyes, but Sirius is the only person you know with his particular ability to make dishevelment look rock-and-roll instead of slobbish. 

“Hi,” you say back, grinning at him. Your eyes search behind him to find Remus, just coming through the doorway. As always, he looks completely different from his other half; whereas Sirius has unmistakably just gotten home from a night out, Remus could just as easily have been at the library in his jeans and t-shirt, except for the faint black smudge where Sirius’ eyeliner has seemingly rubbed off on his cheek. Then you catch sight of James, drooping like an overwatered flower with his arm slung around Remus’ shoulder. “Is he okay?”

“Yeah, he’ll be alright,” Remus grunts, heaving your roommate through the entryway. He tries to send you a smile of greeting, but it’s more of a well-meaning grimace. “He just needs to drink some water.” 

“I won,” Sirius says giddily, stumbling over and grabbing your arm. “I outdrank James Potter.” 

There’s a nervous edge to the laugh that bubbles out of your throat. “That’s great, Sirius, congratulations.” You cast an alarmed look towards Remus. “You all had a competition?”

Remus shakes his head. “They had a competition.”

“I won,” James says suddenly, picking his head up as if revived from a deep sleep. “Don’t listen to him, Y/N, I’m the winner.”

Sirius makes a derisive sound. “You can’t even walk, Potter.” 

“I can,” James defends himself, and slips his arm from around Remus’ shoulder. Both you and Remus put your hands out cautiously like when a toddler takes its first steps, but James totters safely to the couch, leaning against it like he’s just finished a marathon and directing a smug smile towards Sirius. “Suck it, Pads.” 

Sirius’ lips curl impishly. His unsteady gaze settles on Remus, still hovering by the door. “Gotta get home to do that.” 

“Alright,” Remus says quickly, stepping forward to take his boyfriend by the shoulders and steering him towards the door. “We’re gonna go home and get to bed—to sleep.” He’s blushing something fierce, and you do your absolute best not to smile. “Prongs.” James looks up from where he’s been toying with the fabric of your couch throw. “Drink some water, and then go to sleep, yeah?” Remus raises his brows, waiting for confirmation, and James presses a solemn hand to his heart. 

“Your wish is my command, Moony-boy.” 

Remus rolls his eyes but turns to go, sending you a quick goodnight with an apology embedded in his voice before he shuts the door behind him. You lock it, and turn back around to find James performing a lazy somersault over the back of the couch and onto the cushions. 

“James,” you laugh, and he smiles up at you like he doesn’t know what’s so funny but is happy to be a part of it anyway, “do you want to come into the kitchen to have some water?”

James turns pensive. “Is that where you’re going?”

“Mhm.” 

“Then sure.” He hops up a bit too fast, and has to put his arms out in front of him to regain his balance. 

You take his forearm in your hand, knowing you won’t be able to support his weight if he really falls but hoping you can at least slow his descent, and begin walking him toward the kitchen. “Are you feeling dizzy?” you ask him.

James hums. “A bit. But in a good way, you know?”

You don’t, but you nod anyway. “Well,” you say with certainty you can’t feel, “that’s good. Chill here for a second, okay?” You prop him up against the counter, and James melts against it instantly in that easy way he has, leaning back on his elbows and crossing his ankles in front of him. The edge of the counter has to be digging into his back, but James makes it look like the most comfortable spot in the flat. 

You start to grab a glass from the cabinet but then think the better of it, opting for a less destructible plastic cup. You fill it with icy water from the tap. 

“Alright.” You pass it to him. “Don’t drink it too fast.” 

James takes the cup with a smile that’s really much sweeter than your tiny gesture warrants. Then he proceeds to slide the rest of the way down the counter, until he’s sitting with his legs spread out in front of him on the floor. After a moment, you decide to join him, crossing your legs under you and letting your back rest beside his. The floor just seems like the place to be right now. 

For the first time since you’ve known him, James seems content to sit in silence, sipping at his water. Neither of you are looking at each other, or really anywhere in particular. It’s definitely a Friday night, more of the noise of voices and traffic making their way up to your flat than you hear on most days of the week, but your home itself is quiet. The light in the kitchen is dim, coming in from the lamp you’ve left on in the living room, and your body relaxes instinctively in the peaceful dark. 

James has nearly emptied the cup when he says, “Hey,” as if he’s just remembered something important.

You look at him. “What?”

“There’s no ice in here.”

You raise your eyebrows. “Did you want ice? I can put some in, I just thought you preferred drinks without ice.” 

Even in the dim light, you can make out enough of James’ eyes to see the brown in them go absolutely molten. He turns toward you more fully, his shoulder and cheek squished up against the cabinets. “Aww, you knew.”

You laugh at him, his smushed cheek pushing his glasses up on his face and his bottom lip jutting out slightly. The effect is that he looks both worryingly drunk and decidedly endearing. “Of course I know,” you say. “We’re roommates. I’m bound to pick up on things.” 

Your words do nothing to curb James’ adoration. “Still, you noticed,” he says, maudlin. “Thanks, sweetheart.” 

Sweetheart. The word resounds in your head like the happy chime of a bell. James is always calling you that, but usually it seems thrown away, a light little endearment he tacks onto his addresses without thinking. This feels different. It lingers on his tongue like caramel, soft and sticky sweet. Sweetheart. 

“Of course,” you say again, and you’re grateful for the poor lighting that’s hiding your blush. “Ready to go to bed?”

James looks at you like you’ve asked him to solve a calculus equation, thick brows knitting together. Maybe it’s the endearment still ringing in your head, but you really want to smooth the crease from between them with your thumb. You don’t. 

“I dunno,” he says after a moment. “Are you tired?”

“A little,” you admit. “Aren’t you?”

He shrugs. “I could be.” And then he’s hauling himself up, an overly complicated process that involves getting his feet underneath him while he’s already using the counter to pull himself off the floor. You have to bite back a smile as you watch, and when he’s done James extends a hand to you. As if you’re the one who needs help. 

You take it but don’t actually put any of your weight on him as you stand, grabbing his empty cup from the counter. James’ hand is big, engulfing yours easily, and the condensation from the cool water still lingers on his palm. He doesn’t let go as you start towards his bedroom. You tell yourself it’d be mean to pull away on your own. 

“Oh!” he exclaims, once again like he’s discovered something fascinating. “I haven’t even asked—how’s your night been?”

You laugh again. You can never seem to stop laughing around James. “It’s been good, thanks. Not as eventful as yours, I take it.” 

James hums in unhappy affirmation. “Lucky you.”

“Well, seems like you got the true night-out experience.” You bring him to sit on his bed, bending to untie his shoes for him and setting them by the door. “Do you wanna sleep in that or change into pajamas?” you ask, fighting the urge to tack on the honey that pushes at your lips. 

There’s no deliberation there. “Pajama pants, at least. I can’t wear jeans in bed, m’not a monster.”

You smile to yourself, locating a pair of pajama pants on the floor and holding them up for him to see. “These okay?”

“Yeah, thanks.” 

You toss them to him. James starts to strip, and you turn around quickly, going into the bathroom. “So, aside from the drinking contest, did you have a good time tonight?”

“Yeah,” he says lightly. You fill the cup with water from James’ sink and find a bottle of ibuprofen in the drawer underneath. “It wasn’t bad. Remus is so busy lately, it’s good to get to see him at all, and beating Sirius is always fun.” He gives a little laugh. “He’s such a sore loser.” 

“He seemed to think he’d won,” you say, your tone teasingly dubious. 

A harrumph. “If Remus doesn’t set him straight on that, I’ll do it tomorrow.”

You chuckle.

“You’ll tell ‘em, won’t you?”

“For sure. Do you have your pants on yet?”

“Oh. Yeah.” You go back into the bedroom to find James comfy under the covers, smiling sheepishly. “I didn’t know you were waiting for me to tell you, sorry.” 

“No worries.” You smile. He looks so sweet like this, curls splayed out around his head on the pillow the way a kid draws rays around the sun. You set the cup and pill bottle on his nightstand, using your proximity to study his face. His pupils are huge and unfocussed, and the smile he’s aiming at you is a bit too dopey for your liking. “You said you were dizzy…do you think you’re going to be sick?”

“No.” James starts to push himself up as if to make his point, then decides against it, resting his head against the edge of the mattress with a tiny grimace. “Maybe.” 

“That’s okay,” you reassure him, grabbing a wastebasket from under his desk. “Here, I’m going to put this by the bed just in case, okay? And you’ve got water and ibuprofen on the nightstand.” 

James doesn’t respond. He’s looking at you dazedly. 

“James.” You tap his cheek lightly. “Do you understand? You need to use the wastebasket if you feel sick.”

His hand emerges from beneath the covers, fingers braceleting your wrist. “Stay with me,” he mumbles. You’re glad he’s definitely too out of it to feel the quick bumping of your pulse beneath his fingers. When you hesitate a second too long, James tightens his grip beseechingly. “Please, sweetheart?” 

There it is again. Your brain buzzes in response. 

“Alright,” you whisper, brushing a soothing touch against the inside of his forearm, and James releases you. “I was watching a movie before you got home. Want to finish it?”

He agrees, and you go across the hall, retrieving your laptop. You climb over him on the bed, pretending not to feel the brush of a big hand across your hip as though meant to steady you. You settle your laptop between the two of you and press play on the movie.

James leans over, resting his head on your shoulder. “You’re always watching this,” he murmurs. “You don’t get tired of it?”

“Not really,” you reply. “It’s my favorite. But if you are, I can change it.”

He makes a humming sound, and you feel the vibrations in your shoulder. “No, s’alright. Bet you can quote half the film, though, can’t you?” 

You grin. “I’m scared,” you say, in time with the actress on your screen. “I don’t wanna get hurt.” You can feel James smiling, his cheek smushing against your shoulder. You lower your voice into a gruff mockery of the male actor’s intonation. “I’m not gonna hurt you.”

James makes a soft sound of amusement. “Cute,” he murmurs, more to himself than to you. 

You fall into an easy silence, blue light cast over your features as the familiar scenes play out quietly on your laptop. You keep sneaking glances at James, thinking he’s either about to fall asleep or be sick, but he’s watching the movie contentedly, head a solid but welcome weight on your shoulder. He’s evidently decided to discard the shirt he’d worn to the bar, and the skin of his bare shoulder is warm where it presses against your arm. He adjusts his head a little, and his curls tickle the underside of your jaw. You don’t know how he gets them so soft. Not through any strict regimen or product, apparently. One good thing about having a guy for a roommate is that he’s never the one who runs out the hot water; he’s in and out of the shower in ten minutes every time. And yet, if you look closely enough, you can usually find at least two or three perfect coils in his hair. Genetics, you suppose. James was blessed with a good lot of them. 

The movie’s not half done before you’re yawning, your eyelids feeling like someone’s sewn fishing weights into them. You try not to shift, but your shoulders rise with the involuntary inhale, and James looks up at you. You yawn again, covering your mouth with one hand as a tear forms in the corner of your eye, squished out when you blink. You wipe it away. 

“Wait,” James says. You go still, looking over at him curiously as he adjusts against the headboard of his bed, pushing himself further upright. He tilts his head. The back of his index finger brushes gently under your lashes. “You always get teary at night,” he says softly. 

You know you should get out from under his touch, but you can’t make yourself. “I tear up a lot when I yawn.” 

Just thinking about it has you yawning again, and James takes your face in his hand, catching the tear that falls from one eye. 

“Don’t cry,” he begs you. “If you cry, I’ll cry.” 

You take his wrist in your hand, giving him a small smile. “I’m not crying, James. I’m just tired.” 

“Okay,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss, feather-light, just next to your eye. You freeze, but he doesn’t seem to notice. “Okay, m’sorry. You’re tired? Wanna go to sleep?”

You have to clear your throat to make sure your voice comes out right. “Sure.” It’s still a bit hoarse. “Wake me if you need anything, okay?”

James takes your hand, a willing captive between two of his as he draws it into his lap. He settles his head back onto your shoulder. “Okay. You’re too nice to me.” 

“I’m not,” you say, before you can think the better of it. “You’re the nice one.” 

James only hums.

You swallow. “Goodnight.” 

You’re waiting for a response, the movie on your laptop just now getting to the scene where the love interests give in and confess their feelings for each other, when you feel a wet spot forming near the collar of your shirt. Slowly, careful not to jostle him, you tilt your head to look down at the source of the drool puddle. 

James already asleep.

[i2sunric]

I KNEW YOU WERE TROUBLE (s.jy)

pairing: rich boy!jake x reader (f)

summary: you knew jake was trouble as soon as he walked into the party, and despite that, the moment he proposed a deal to you, you sold your heart as you signed the contract.

warnings: making out, kissing, fake dating, bad relationship with parents, smut (pussy eating, fingering, masturbation), fighting, alcohol consumption, mentions of weed and drugs, jake is rich as hell, reader has a nasty personality, curse words, pet names (baby, ma chérie, love), lmk if more. PROOFREAD → READ PART 2

published: 10th May 2024

wc: 6.1k

taglist: (permanent) @stolasisyourparent @jaeyunsbimbo @heelvsted @jwnghyuns @seunghancore (one shot) @anittamaxwynnn @jvjsssnaa @minniejenseo @slut4hee @kgneptun @nyxtwixx @laurradoesloveu @star4rin @capri-cuntz @eneiyri @samouryed @heyniki @ineedsomezzz @nanamongmong @aishigrey @naurrjakeu @ak-aaa-li @sjakewrld @nikiswifiee @koralira-kira @daisycottage @yunhoswrldddd @smisworld [BOLDS COULD NOT BE TAGGED]

a/n: here it is the long awaited jake fic! i don’t really like how it turned out but i thought i already made you wait enough <//3 please LIKE & REBLOG to share! i’d really appreciate that 🎀🎀 also, let me know your thoughts, comment!

You stared at your own reflection in the full-length mirror, the dress you wore was riding a little too high, showing more skin than you usually did.

The fresh polished black nails matching with the inky colour of the dress, a few bracelets and nice earrings made the whole outfit even better.

“Girl, you look amazing.” Your best friend, Yunjin, commented as she wore a matching dress with yours, just in white.

“You look stunning as well.” You complimented her back, blowing her a kiss.

“So, what’s tonight’s plan?” She asked, putting some lipstick on. You sat down on her bed, stretching your limbs “Mh.. Find a nice guy to make out with?”

Yunjin hummed “Thought you were in a situationship with Heeseung?” She asked, mentioning the guy who hosted the party.

“I just needed someone to get us to a nice party.” You smirked cunningly, “You’re truly a bad bitch.”

You shrugged “You need to be smart to live in this world.”

Yunjin popped her lips and turned around, throwing the lipstick at you so you could apply it as well “Yeah, but be careful.”

You raised a brow “Of?”

“The games you play,” She stated, sitting beside you to put her heels on “They are going to backfire on you, someday.”

You just scowled at her, cause why on earth would the Y/N get hurt by a boy? That wasn’t going to happen.

“Jesus..” Yunjin’s eyes widened as she took in the house of the party. It was huge, probably bigger than both your houses combined, the amount of people inside was shocking, all drunken teenagers trying to take a break from the boring world.

“We don’t really belong in this side of the city.” Yunjin nudged your shoulder, “They’re all rich kids here.”

“So?” You entered the house, swaying your hips, already putting your charm to use “Nobody will know.” You winked at her.

The whole house was packed with people, some already drunk and stumbling around. You and Yunjin stayed together, knowing better than accepting drinks from strangers.

You went to the kitchen and stole one cup of punch, the bitter liquid burning your throat— Someone must’ve put more alcohol than it was supposed to.

A few drinks later, your ginger-headed friend was already starting to get out of her comfort zone and she dragged you to the dance floor.

You moved to the sound of the music, your eyes occasionally scanning the room to search for an attractive someone.

As you danced with Yunjin, your gaze fell on one particular guy leaning against the wall, his aura so attractive. He met your stare and didn’t even hide the way his eyes scanned your body, lingering a little longer on your curves.

There it was, your potential interest of the night.

Though, like you had learned with age, you needed to act as if you didn’t care to get boys to care enough. So, you just kept staying by Yunjin’s side, dancing with her and moving sensually, the alcohol in your system making you bolder than usual.

𓆩♡𓆪

You had noticed the way he was eyeing you, occasionally licking his lips or biting his bottom lip. His stare was hungry, so lustful— And you liked it. You enjoyed such attention, so you did your best to maintain them.

Occasionally swaying your hips a little too close to someone else, holding eye contact just to look away before he could. Needless to say, he was as shameless as you, giving you that stare that spoke volumes about how much he craved you.

So, you decided to give him one last, long stare as you smirked before detaching yourself from your best friend and walking upstairs to the bathroom.

You opened the door and loudly closed it behind your back.

Five, four, three— You miscalculated his eagerness because in just three seconds the door already opened behind you.

You saw his reflection from the mirror, his body towering over you, like a dark aura. You smirked “What are you doing, following a lady to the bathroom?”

His lips curved into a small, cunning smirk as well “Don’t act like you didn’t want me to.” His voice was so husky, a heavy australian accent lingering on his tongue, as sweet as honey.

You turned around, the small of your back resting on the countertop, near the faucet. You tilted your head, giving him a fake innocent smile “What’s your name?”

“Jake,” He then asked “What’s yours?”

“Y/N.” You answered. “Well, Y/N.” Jake nodded and stepped closer to you, slowly. He placed both his arms on each side of you. You could feel his warm breath hitting your face “Looks like I’ve got you all for myself.”

You chuckled, a dangerous one “Are you sure it ain’t the other way around?”

Jake raised a brow at your statement, a laugh escaping his lips. So joyful and intoxicating “Maybe it is.”

His finger started caressing your skin, barely touching it, just enough to leave you wanting more “What do you want from someone like me?” He asked, his dark eyes meeting yours “I’m a bad bet, Y/N.”

And lord, if you didn’t love the way your name rolled off his tongue, with the voice of an angel but devil intention.

“I’m not exactly good either.” You stated, your arms wrapping around his neck, your lips so close.

“No?” Jake raised a brow, his big hands settling on your waist, “No.” You stated and brought your lips on his.

He let out a surprised growl and kissed you back right away, so hungry and desperate, like he needed that to release some sort of built stress.

Jake lifted you up, your bare thighs landing on the cold porcelain sink, but you didn’t have time to hitch your breath since his tongue swirled inside your mouth, tasting all of you.

“I’ll ask again,” He murmured on your lips “What do you want from me?”

You caressed the back of his neck, your palm tracing over the little hair he had there. “What do you want from me?” You asked back.

He gently bit your bottom lip, letting a moan escape from you “Hear those pretty sounds.” He answered.

You wrapped your legs around his waist and moved against him, basically jumping him. He let out another deep groan, his lips claiming yours once more.

His whiskey-flavoured tongue licked your lips, one of his hands groping your breasts through the thin fabric of your dress— You had to admit he was rather skilled.

Jake knew where to touch and when to touch, he knew how to drive you insane, leaving your body burning in desire.

Your hands blindly went to undo his buttons, clumsily snatching his shirt open. You let your palms wander on his sculpted figure as his own fingers found your panties.

“Jake,” You breathed out, rocking your hips on his fingers “So eager.” He tsked, letting you grind his hand

But as soon as he was about to pull your underwear to the side, loud knocks were heard from outside.

“Open up!” A male voice said, sounding desperate.

“Fuck off!” You answered, frustratedly letting your head rest on the mirror at your back.

“I need to puke,” The guy outside knocked some more, harshly “Open the damn door.”

Jake cursed under his breath and let go of you, walking to the door before turning around again. He helped you down the counter and winked “Need to help a lady out.”

He then opened the door and the drunk guy threw himself in, reaching the wc. You didn’t want to witness whatever was going to come out of him so you quickly stepped outside.

“What a way to cockblock me.” Jake scoffed and you laughed, patting his shoulder “That’s a shame.”

You started to walk away when Jake hurried after you and took your hand “Where are you going?”

You frowned “Downstairs?” As if it was the most obvious answer.

“So, you’re going to act like I didn’t just stick my tongue in your mouth?” Jake scoffed

“I thought you just wanted a hook up?” You said, titling your head “And I ain’t going to have sex in some stranger’s bedroom, that’s nasty.”

Jake chuckled “But the bathroom is alright?” You shrugged “Better than dirty sheets.”

He then shook his head, the charming smile still on his lips “No, I don’t want just sex.” He pulled you closer by your head, brushing your hair to the side “I can settle with making out.”

You bit your bottom lip and fisted the collar of his shirt, “Bring it on.”

𓆩♡𓆪

A lot more kisses later, you and Jake sat on the grass of the backyard garden. The cold breeze hit your bare skin but even with your thin dress you weren’t bothered one bit, the alcohol in your system serving as a heater.

Your shoulders brushed against each other while you both sipped on two cans of beers— At which number you were, you weren't really sure.

“You go to a private school?” You asked as you were having a small chat with him. You two had been attached to the hip bone the whole night, getting to know the other.

You found out his family was originally from Australia, which explained the heavy accent— and that he was painfully rich.

“Yup,” He answered, popping the ‘p’ “With a uniform.” You grimaced “Don’t tell me you ever wear a blazer.”

The silence following your question made you widen your eyes “No fucking way.”

“Yes fucking way.” Jake chuckled, leaning back on his hands “It’s so ugly, I don’t look as attractive with that on.”

You laughed, “I’d like to see you.” Jake beamed back at you “Maybe one day.”

You got closer to him and whispered “Is your toilet paper made from fifty dollar bills?” At that, Jake let out a heartfelt laugh “I hope you’re not serious.”

“I’m joking.” You waved your hand, taking a sip from the can.

“What about you?” He beckoned at you, “You go to the public school? The one with the weird kids?”

“At least I don’t have blazers.” You gave him a sheepish smirk “And yes— When I go, it’s not like I attend it a lot.”

Faint music was heard from afar, but the only sound you could concentrate on was the giggle of the guy sitting next to you. His dishevelled state did little to hide the handsomeness of his face.

"You really don't give a single shit about the world?" Jake asked, shaking his head as if he could not believe you.

You just shrugged "Life's too short to give a shit." You took a sip from the can of beer "Besides, I'm still a teen only for." You counted mentally "Like, two years, why should I care about anything now? Better partying."

Jake laughed once again, perhaps the alcohol in his system making him feel better about the meeting he had to attend the next day— Shoot, he had completely forgotten about it.

The moonlight shone on your figure, making your skin seem brighter, your hair softer. Jake stared at you like you were a piece of art at a museum, to be worshipped.

His eyes fell on your small dress, a smirk spread on his face; despite knowing you for not over three hours, he felt a deep connection to you, like you could get him.

"Want to go on a date tomorrow?"

Your browns knitted "Wo, wo, wo." You said, placing your hand between the two of you, "Aren't you running a little?"

Jake licked his bottom lip, chuckling "Nothing serious, I just need you to fake being my girlfriend."

At such a statement, your brow raised "Why?" You asked and he stole the can from your hand, taking a sip as well.

You watched as he chugged down the liquid, his Adam apple in plain sight, making you feel a little light headed. He sighed and cleaned his mouth with his sleeve "You're reckless, a free spirit and you look like you smoke weed in your free time."

"Well damn, you got me." You joked, snatching the can from his hands, "You're everything my parents wouldn't like."

"Is that supposed to be a compliment?" You laughed and Jake got closer to your ear. "Oh darling, you bet it is."

You gulped, a shiver running through your spine "So, you just need me to meet you again tomorrow and be your fake girlfriend?" Jake nodded, "At least my acting classes won't go to waste."

Jake chuckled and nodded, caressing your thigh, his thumb brushing against your sensitive flesh "So... Will you help me anger my parents?"

You had no business accepting a drunken offer from the hot guy you made out with at a frat party, getting involved in his family matters and even fake dating him— But what could you do? You loved challenges.

"Deal."

Jake raised a brow “Really? You’d do that?” You just shrugged in response “Not like I have anything better to do.”

“That’s great,” Jake beamed, “And are you planning on going to school tomorrow?”

You raised a brow “Why?” Jake answered, “I’ll come pick you up.”

“You don’t even know what school I attend.” Jake smirked and stole your can again “Guess you’ll have to give me your number to text me the address and your schedules.”

You rolled your eyes “Just say it you want an excuse to fuck in the back of your car.”

“You don’t consider that nasty?” He raised a brow, recalling your previous comment, “Depends, if you can make me forget it with your skills.”

“Want to find out?”

𓆩♡𓆪

“You’re kidding.” Yunjin’s mouth fell agape as she took in the sight of the crimson sport car parked outside your school. You smirked knowingly as Jake waved his hand to you.

“I ain’t, baby.” You raised your brows to her, showing off. Yunjin patted your shoulder “I take back all the bad things I told you when you left me alone— I would’ve done it too.”

You laughed quietly, and was about to step further when your best friend stopped you, taking your hand. You turned around “What?”

“Are you sure you want to go?” She eyed Jake warily, scanning him, “Do you trust him?”

You let go of her hand and gave her a gentle smile “Weird, but I do.” You stated

“You were pretty drunk last night..” She trailed off “Not as much as you, I know what I did and I can tell you, he’s not dangerous.”

She looked at you a little reluctantly before nodding “Okay… Just be careful.”

You blew her a kiss and waved “Call ya later.” And then walked toward Jake. You laughed as you saw his uniform “Not the blazer.”

Jake opened his arms as if to show you his school uniform better “I promised to let you see it.”

You eyed him and then looked at the car, “What a show off.” Jake shrugged “What can I say? I wanted your friends to talk well about you.”

You rolled your eyes at his comments. Jake opened the car door and motioned you to enter it “After you.”

Jake followed right behind and got the car going, “You haven’t told me where we’re going since I need to meet your parents at dinner.”

“To buy a pretty dress for a pretty girl.” He answered, placing one hand on your thigh. The skirt you were wearing exposed your bare flesh — not as much as the day before — and the contact of his cold palm made you shiver.

“You don’t look that bad with the blazer.” You commented, settling yourself better inside the car. It was spacious, the seats were beige leather, and it felt as if the whole car had cost more than any expense you had made in your life.

“No?” He asked, the same sweet tone of the previous day returning, “No.” You stated.

“Why do I need a new dress?” You asked, “I think I have a few in my wardrobe.”

Jake chuckled “Oh, Y/N.” He shook his head, “The restaurant where we’ll have dinner is very… fancy,” He informed you, “And you’ll need a fancy dress.”

You crossed your arms on your chest “So, you just assumed I don’t own one?”

“Do you?” You answered, “No, but it’s rude that you just assumed I don’t have one just cause I’m not as rich as you.”

“That’s not what I meant.“ Jake sighed “I didn’t—“ He tried to explain but you had already looked out of the window, your mood ruined.

Silence fell in the car until Jake parked in the parking lot of the mall. You were about to exit it when you heard a ‘click’. You turned around and raised a brow “Why did you lock it?”

“So you’d listen,” His whole body was turned to face you “I did not assume a single shit, alright?”

You rolled your eyes, not wanting to hear him “Don’t bullshit me.”

“I’m not.” He stated, his stare so serious “I honestly don’t even care if you’re not rich, but I care the stares people will give you if you come wearing something normal.”

“I don’t care about them.” You frowned “Believe me, you will.” He seemed bothered by something. “They’re just… so mean, and I don’t want you to become their victim.”

You tilted your head to the side “But I need to piss them off.”

“My parents,” Jake said, “Not the people in the restaurant.”

You stayed silent a few seconds before nodding “Okay, I’ll let you buy it.”

Jake smirked, “Good girl.”

𓆩♡𓆪

You got inside a shop you had never even dared walk in front of, it smelled like a fairytale and all the assistants wore suits or elegant dresses. They all had the same forced smile and no matter how harsh a client was treating you— The assistant was always wrong.

You bit down your tongue to prevent yourself from commenting on one particular demanding lady who kept shouting at a poor guy who was obviously new and inexperienced and followed Jake into trying a few dresses on.

“Why is this so tight?” You commented, stepping out of the dressing room for what felt like the nth time.

“It’s supposed to be,” Jake said, glancing at you up and down, not even bothering to hide his hungry stare from the worker that was assisting you.

“But I can’t breathe.” You hissed, trying to move in that white dress “Maybe I should change the size?” The assistant suggested but Jake just dismissed him with his hand “No, try the other one.”

You rolled your eyes “Just another one, and then we’re going away.”

Jake raised a brow but then agreed “Fine…” He scanned the dressing room which was packed with so many dresses it looked like a princess’ wardrobe “Try the burgundy one.”

You let out a deep breath and went back into the cabin, fighting to get out of that tiny dress. You stood in your underwear, glancing at the burgundy dress that Jake suggested you wore.

It was fancy and elegant, sleeveless and short, but not too much. You had to admit it was the best one you’d seen so far, so you quickly changed into it.

“Here.” Jake said as he entered the dressing room, closing the curtain so no one could peek.

He helped you zip it up, maintaining eye contact with you from the reflection in the mirror. It felt like a dejavu of the previous night, his gaze so primal and dark.

He fixed your hair back and nodded “You look stunning, ma chérie.”

You widened your eyes at the nickname, Jake lowered to the height of your ear and whispered “Don’t you like it? We need to start acting as a couple if we want to be convincing.”

You turned around “I like it very much, baby.” You added the pet name with a smirk, making Jake chuckle.

His gaze fell on the curves of your body, the dress seeming as if it was perfectly made for you, “Damn Y/N.” He let out a deep groan “You are perfect.”

“Enough with the compliments or I might start to believe it.” Jake ran his fingers on each side of your waist. “You already do.”

You smirked, loving the way he already knew you well “Yeah, I already do.”

Suddenly, he pushed you so your back was pressed against the mirror, making you gasp. He put one hand in front of your mouth “Shh.” He demanded and you nodded.

Jake slowly sank to his knees, his palms grazing the bare flesh near your thighs. The contact made you shiver as you watched with knowing eyes what he was doing.

He slowly hooked the fabric of the dress up, so it rode just above your waistline “Jake..”

“Mh?” He hummed, his nose between your thighs as he smelled your sweet scent “What, love?”

You let out a shaky breath, “Is this some sort of pay back?” Jake chuckled quietly “You could say that.”

He hooked his fingers on the waistband of your panties and dropped them to your ankles, the air of the room hitting your bare core, making you hum.

“Can I taste you?” He asked and you nodded frantically, butterflies filling your stomach as the filthy thoughts of his following actions clouded your mind.

That eager consent was all it took him to lick a long stripe from your clit, tasting your juices. You gasped out and quickly placed a hand to muffle your sounds, not wanting the poor workers to hear the corrupted things you two had going on.

He gave kitten licks to your sensitive clit, teasing your wet folds with his free hand. Your own hand went to grasp his hair, pulling him closer to you, “Hurry.” You whined.

“Yes, ma’am.” He said before attaching his lips to your pussy, sucking on your clitorids. You let out quiet moans, still muffled by the hand you were biting, clearly some marks would appear later.

You pulled his hair and Jake stuck out his tongue, his doe eyes looking up at you. You took the hint and started grinding his tongue, the spongy texture sending waves of pleasure through your whole body.

“Oh yes,” He incited you, “Fuck my tongue, baby.” You gave up on trying to stay quiet and grasped his hair with your other hand as well, not like the filthy sounds coming from him eating you out could be blocked out.

Jake inserted two fingers inside of you, the sudden intrusion causing your body to jolt, if it wasn’t for his strong grip keeping you still you would’ve fallen over him.

Jake took one of your legs and hooked it over his shoulder, your whole pussy stretched all for him as he rubbed your sensitive bud with his tongue.

He started thrusting his digits, speeding his movements to match his tongue and damn, it felt heavenly.

“Jake—“ You gasped out, your moans loud enough for the whole shop to hear “Shh.” He shushed you, pinching your inner thigh.

You let out a soft whimper and chewed on your bottom lip to prevent yourself from moaning. Jake’s movements along with the pornographic scene unfolding in front of you was what took you to the edge, falling apart on his tongue with a loud gasp.

Your body quivered and Jake helped you riding out of your high. He detached his lips from your pussy, a string of saliva keeping them connected. Spit and your juices coated his chin as he got back on his feet, cleaning his face with the sleeve of his suit. “That was amazing.”

You smacked his shoulder lightly, still panting “You’re crazy— They heard us.”

Jake pulled you into a heated kiss, his dirty fingers wrapping around your throat, not adding any pressure, but enough to keep you still.

He rubbed his hard bulge on your stomach, needing to ease the aching feeling coming from it “Don’t act like you didn’t like it.”

You eyed him as he pulled away, your stare falling down to the evident hard on he had. You felt a little pitiful. “Let me help you.”

You were about to get on your knees when Jake stopped you, a warm smile on his face “No, don’t.”

You tilted your head in confusion “Why? You clearly need to fix it.”

Jake hummed “And I’ll do it in the bathroom, because if you want to help me, I wouldn't use your throat, baby.” His fingers traced the outline of your jaw “And I’m sure you don’t want it here.”

𓆩♡𓆪

As Jake helped you get ready and drove to the destination of the mission, you started to believe that was some kind of mockery.

The houses in your neighbourhood were half of the ones in Jake’s, all of them had at least one swimming pool and useless expensive cars.

You scoffed as you drove past them, making Jake smile. He put his hand on your thigh and caressed it “Let’s review what we said.”

You rolled your eyes “Act like a couple and make your parents believe it, just be me and use my sharp tongue to piss them off, possibly have sex later.”

Jake raised his brows in surprise “I didn’t know about the last point.”

You smiled proudly, “I just added it.” You took the hand he had on your thigh and slowly accompanied it higher, almost near your dangerous zone “Like it?”

“I’m driving, Y/N.” He scolded with the same deep voice he used to flirt. Damn, if it didn’t turn you on “And I ain’t doing anything.”

Jake placed his hand a little further “There won’t be any sex if we die in a car crash.” You crossed your arms on your chest “You’re so dramatic.”

He just let out a small chuckle and you two continued the drive in a comfortable silence. As soon as he reached the location, he killed the engine and got out of the car, reaching your side and opening the door for you “After you, ma chérie.”

You shook your head at his pet name and took his hand, walking out the door “These heels are killing my feet.” You complained, stumbling a little.

Jake wrapped one arm around your waist, supporting you. He leaned down to whisper in your ear “You look amazing.”

You shivered at his deep voice, his breath hitting your sensitive skin. “You look like someone I want to give head to.”

Jake let out another deep chuckle and you both made your way toward the fancy restaurant.

He stopped you before you could put foot in it, spinning you around so you were facing him. You tilted your head in a puzzled way, “What?”

He let out a small sigh “Promise me you won’t take anything they say by heart.” You stayed still for a moment before bursting out, laughing “Are you actually worried?”

Jake clicked his tongue “I’m serious Y/N. Whatever they say, don’t mind it.”

You just shrugged “I don’t even care what they say,” You wrapped your arms around his neck, mumbling on his lips “I’m here to help you, you don’t worry about me.”

His grip on your waist tightened, just a little “I just feel like I dragged you here… You were drunk when I asked and—“ Before he could even finish his sentence, you shushed him with your lips on his, licking his bottom lip.

Despite the sudden action, Jake kissed you back, one hand holding your scalp so he could deepen it.

However, you were interrupted by someone clearing their throat. You both pulled away and Jake widened his eyes “Father.”

You gulped down, noting the way his father didn’t even resemble him at all. Jake wasn't tall, but that man towered him by a lot. Jake’s features were soft, his eyes warm as a hot chocolate in winter— while his father’s were sharp, cold as ice.

He took hold of your hand, Mister Sim’s dark gaze falling onto your intertwined hands. “You’re late.” He just stated, monotone.

“Traffic.” Jake answered back in a voice you’ve never heard before— uncomfortable even.

“Seems like you were busy with something else.” His father’s gaze fell onto you, probably trying to intimidate you. You just raised a challenging brow in response.

“Your mother and I have been waiting for you. Hurry.” Mister Sim turned around and walked ahead of you. Before following him, you squeezed Jake’s hand and gave him a warm smile “Mission start.”

The whole restaurant screamed rich, with all those big chandeliers, candles and even a piano in the middle of the room, where a pianist was playing some classical music you had never even heard before.

As you arrived at the designed table, Mister Sim sat down beside his wife. Your eyes fell on the petite woman, looking like the copy-paste of her son.

“Mother.” Jake greeted, bowing slightly out of respect. You did the same, flashing a fake smile “Pleasure to meet you.” Miss Sim just nodded, beckoning you to sit down.

After ordering some food, Jake’s parents started questioning him while your gaze went to the table, noticing the amount of forks on it.

“Useless.” You commented a little too loud, because his father asked “Pardon?”

You raised your gaze to meet his “What do you need so many forks for? Just use one.” You raised one from the table, making him see

Jake chokes down a laugh, earning a warning stare from his mother “You’ve never been to a fancy restaurant, dear?”

You just shrugged, placing the fork down “Not my go to. I prefer some nice burgers, cheaper.”

Jake’s mother made a shocked, almost offended expression “You’ll get fat if you eat such rubbish.”

“So? Fat but happy.” You commented, patting at your stomach. Miss Sim eyed you as if you had just personally offended her.

Fortunately, the waiter interrupted you as he served the plates. In front of you there was a steak (something you couldn’t usually afford), but that same steak was the size of a nut. Literally, it was so tiny.

Jake noticed your expression and leaned down to whisper “We’ll buy a burger later.” You smiled and whispered back “I’d rather you eating me.”

“Whispering at the table is rude.” His mother commented, cutting a small piece of the already small steak.

“What was your name again, dear?” You mentally prepared yourself to be as rude as possible and answered “Y/N.”

“Right, Y/N.” Miss Sim nodded as if she had known your name before, which you knew she hadn’t “How old are you?”

“Just turned eighteen, Ma’am.” You said, placing down the fork “Oh, so you’re the same age as my son.” She flashed you a fake smile, looking like one of those dogs that seem so sweet but bite as soon as you try to pet them.

“I’ve always told Jake to date older girls, you know, they’re… wiser.” You raised a brow “So, you’re saying I’m dumb just because I ain’t older than him?”

Jake’s mother widened her eyes, “Not at all.” You gave her a fake smile “I was just joking.”

She laughed as well. “Of course, you have such a playful personality.”

“Too playful.” Mister Sim commented, clearing his throat “And where do you live? Your parents, what do they do for a living?”

You replied with your neighbourhood and your parents' jobs, earning some concerning stares from the two adults at the table, who were as mature as a two-year-old.

“We will have to start thinking about marriage, Jake will inherit our company.” Jake sighed, “Mother..” Miss Sim started, cleaning the corner of her mouth with the tissue “Do you want to get married? And kids?”

His father then added “Are you two sexually active?”

At such words, Jake fisted his hand under the table. You noticed and put one of your hands on his.

“Why—“ Before he could say something, you talked over “What does that even matter?” You asked, raising a brow.

“That’s my life, if I wanted to get married or have kids, that’s my choice to make. And that counts for Jake as well.” You frowned. Jake took your hand in his and squeezed it to give you support.

“You are two stereotyped jerks, and I’m being nice.” You earned a scoff from Mister Sim “How dare—“

“No, I’m the one talking now.” You snapped, “I’ve been sitting here for one hour, hearing all your bullshit. You rich people disgust me.”

You got up, receiving all the attention of the people in the restaurant, “You’re so stereotyped, you only care about money, get a fucking grip.”

Mister Sim’s eyes widened at your sudden outburst “Don’t you use such ugly words.”

“I do what I want, and I say this dinner is done.” You turned around, but Jake stayed put.

“You choose her?” Miss Sim asked with her best victim voice, ready to guilt trip her own son.

Jake had stayed silent the whole time, watching the scene unfold in front of his eyes. He gulped down, slowly raising his eyes to meet his parents’ “I don’t choose anyone, mother, because I am not ungrateful to turn my back to you.” He said, a sparkle of pride in your chest, “I agree with all she said, though.”

Jake smirked, “Yes, I’m a disgrace, but I don’t give a single shit about it.”

Said that, he took your hand again and dragged you outside.

As soon as you were out, you both stared at each other before bursting into a big and heartfelt laugh “Did I overdo it?” You asked and Jake shook his head “You did a great job.”

He drove you to your neighbourhood, the difference between the place you had just been and the restaurants in your side of the town was huge. It almost made you feel a shame, but then again why would you even need to be? That was your life and you loved it.

After having some burgers to your favourite street food place, making Jake taste your most treasured guilty pleasure, he parked the car in a nearby parking and helped you get out, holding your heels in his hand since you took them off, being too uncomfortable for your used-to-converse feet.

He walked you until your house, stopping as you reached its front. “I should go inside.”

Jake nodded and handed you the heels, “Seriously Y/N. Thank you so much.” He said sincerely, “I don’t even know why you agreed to this, but you said all the things I was too afraid to say.”

He brushed a strand of hair behind your ear, then caressing your cheek with his thumb “And you keep this dress. Maybe you’ll need it someday.”

“It costs more than my house.” You commented, making Jake chuckle “But it looks great on you.”

“So… no crazy sex in the car?” You asked and he shook his head “Isn’t that nasty?” He teased you.

“Hey,” You said, faking being offended. “Said the one who wears a blazer to school.”

“Oh.” He raised his hands in surrender. “You win.”

Jake took a hold of your waist and dragged you toward him, pressing his lips onto yours. The kiss was slow, much deeper than a normal goodbye one. It held so many emotions and care, you almost melted right there.

He then pulled away, licking his lips as if to take all the taste of you “Get inside, it’s getting cold.”

You looked up at him, your eyes sparkling “I’ll see you again?”

“Of course, ma chérie.” He smiled, kissing the corner of your lip “I still have to show you my bed skills.”

You chuckled and pushed his chest playfully “I’m much better than you.”

“Can’t know until you show me.” He winked and watched as you headed inside, his smile never leaving his face.

And neither did yours leave, for once you felt the happiest girl in the world, kicking your feet under the blanket and dreaming of the sensation his kisses brought you.

However, you should’ve listened to Yunjin’s warning about you getting yourself hurt in the end, because the next Saturday, when your eyes met Jake’s again at Heeseung’s new party and you smiled ever so sweetly at him— his stare diverted, smiling at another pretty girl, too pretty for your own likings.

And that was where you realised your heart was the shattered one.

[writtenwhalien]

jump then fall (into you) | part 3

banner by the talented @jimilter​ 💖

pairing ↠ jungkook x reader

genre ↠ cruise AU, fake dating AU, best friends to lovers AU | fluff, angst, smut

word count ↠ 52k (pt 3. 14k)

18+ | warnings ↠ swearing, drinking, sexual content: foreplay, oral m. and f., protected sex etc.

summary ↠ bringing Jungkook along as your date to your ex’s lavish cruise wedding seemed like a perfect idea at first — all of your family and close friends together, nothing can go wrong… then Jungkook’s ex shows up and all of a sudden you’re in a years long relationship with him. You don’t mind though, really, how hard can sharing a cabin and pretending to be deeply in love with your best friend really be?

note. asdkjlfdsgh it's the final part, i hope you're enjoying! 🥰 don't forget to interact please xo

part 3 (final)

“Black or red?” Sophia held the two dresses against herself in turn, eyes scrunched as she considered each carefully. 

“I vote red.”

“No, black.”

Elisa and Shay, two of Sophia’s closest friends looked at each other in disapproval after both giving their choice. 

“Wait, what are you wearing again, Y/N?” No answer prompts her to turn around. “Y/N?”

“Huh?” You look up, slightly confused. “Sorry, dress, yes, I like both but I think the black will go with the Harry Winston your dad just got you.” The answer rolls off your tongue and you’re grateful that you already had this conversation with Thalia a few weeks back before you’d left for the cruise. 

She narrows her eyes at you and you can’t blame her. You’ve been zoning out on her all day.

“Sorry,” you wince, giving her a smile. 

“Something on your mind?” Sophia asks, having witnessed this earlier too. 

“Not really,” you answer. “Just tired.” It’s not true but you don’t particularly fancy sharing your current dilemmas with the girls despite how great they are at advice. Besides, it’s less than two days till the wedding and you’re not trying to make your problems everyone else’s problems. 

Sophia just gives you that look before carrying on as though nothing happened. “What dress are you wearing again? Wasn’t it the same red as this?”

You nod. Your dress for Thalia’s dinner tonight is a simple wine red dress with a tie up back. 

“Alright, I’m going for the black one then.” Sophia throws the red one on the bed and hangs the black one up on her mirror. 

“Now heels,” she says excitedly. The girls follow her into her closet and you get up too but not to follow. 

“I’m gonna go get some water,” you tell them, sticking your head into the door of the closet. 

“Can you get me some too?” Sophia asks, eyes scaling the shelves for the perfect heels. 

“Sure.” 

You walk away from the girls and towards the closest back staircase which would take you directly to the kitchen. It’s on the opposite side of the house, past many of the bedrooms on the third floor, one of which belongs to Alias. A part of you hopes to hear voices in the room, one voice in particular, but you’re only met with silence as you pass. 

Deflating a little, you go downstairs to the kitchen. As you approach, you hear voices, Thalia and Alex. They’re standing by the fridge, talking softly to each other as Thalia takes a few drinks from the shelves and Alex places them on a tray behind them on the island. 

Alex looks up and smiles when he sees you. “Hey, Y/N.” 

Thalia turns around, placing the last of the bottles on the tray. “Finally managed to escape Sophia?” 

You laugh, approaching the fridge. “Not yet. I’m just here for some water.” 

“She’s still choosing her outfits?” Alex asks, brows raised.

“Yep.”

“But she took forever when she was buying them, why is she still choosing?”

Thalia laughs. “She’s your sister, surely you know better than that by now. She’s got at least three new buys for one event, then she’s got to choose between them and don’t forget about the jewellery, shoes and hair choices that go with them.”

Alex puts his arm around Thalia’s waist. “I think you’re just as bad though.”

“Well why not?” Thalia answers smugly. “It’s just self love.”

“And that’s why I love you.”

You don’t cringe as they smile at each other all smitten, but surprisingly feel a small pang of pain in your chest. Looking away, you take three bottles of water from the fridge. 

“Are you going back up there?” Alex asks. 

You nod. “She’s almost done.”

Just as Alex nods, another voice enters the conversation.

“Need any help guys?” Jungkook pauses in the doorway the moment he sees you, meanwhile Alex and Thalia exchange sly glances. 

“Actually, yes.” Thalia puts down the drinks she’s holding. “Bring the drinks please,” she says, pulling Alex by the hand. “As bride and groom we don’t want to risk any injuries from all the heavy lifting,” she adds, with an air of humour and absurdity which her fiance shares and they don’t wait another second before disappearing from the kitchen. Just like that, you’re left alone with Jungkook.

He looks at you from across the island. “Hey.”

“Hey,” you smile, feeling your lips purse awkwardly.

For a moment, neither of you move and the air is ripe with hesitation. A hundred thoughts cross your mind but not one leaves your mouth. If Jungkook’s mirrored expression is anything to go off of, he’s feeling the same.

Eventually, it’s Sophia’s voice coming from somewhere in the house that snaps you out of it. “Y/N, we’re doing hair now!” she calls, followed by a faint giggle from the girls.

“I’ll just…” you dumbly don’t finish your sentence, instead opting to just point towards the staircase as you turn around and head back towards them.

“Your water.”

Turning around, you see Jungkook is pointing at the three bottles Thalia was taking out for you, left on the corner of the island.

“Oh, right.” You feel your cheeks warming up as you take the bottles, that was silly of you.

Jungkook steps around the island. “Need a hand? I can take them for you.”

“No, I’m good,” you answer, noticing the way he stops immediately in his tracks. 

When you look at him, his lips are pursed and he just nods, looking down. You realise he was probably just looking for an excuse to talk and you just shot it down. 

Stupidly, you hesitate, and just when Jungkook looks up at you, one of the chefs walks in, greeting you both as she places down a big basket of freshly picked tomatoes right on the island.

Without another word, Jungkook starts placing the drinks on the tray and you turn and retreat back upstairs.

That was so stupid, you think, trudging your way up. Since when has it ever been this awkward between you both? Sure, the last time you spoke wasn’t a good conversation but this is the first time you guys haven’t been able to get past it and it’s becoming almost agonising.

“Worst headache ever.” Alias just manages to raise his head from the table to have a sip of his coffee. 

“Take some anadin,” you say, just about managing to sip on your own iced coffee. 

“Here.” Elisa puts a blister pack in front of him and Alias groans as he swallows two together. 

The whole room around you is a similar scene. Kelce and a few of the other guys are knocked out on the lounge, while you, Alias, Thalia and a few of the other guys are holding strong and knocking back some coffee to help with the hangover. Last night got a little crazy for both parties involved. As expected, Sophia called in the strippers and when the last stripper finally lost his clothes, it was straight tequila shots for the rest of the evening and even Thalia got wasted. 

“This is exactly why I don’t drink,” she moans, resting her head on your shoulder.

You laugh, remembering just how many shots she took last night. It’s true that she barely drinks as much as she did, but when Thalia gets drunk, she gets drunk. 

“A hen night only happens once.” You remind her of her words and she groans in regret. 

“Maybe we should all go dry for a month,” Alias says. 

“Oh come on,” Dillon says, taking the Anadin and nudging Alias. “Give it a few hours and you’ll be ready for another round tonight.” 

“No way.”

“Yes way.”

“Whatever.”

Thalia laughs from beside you. It’s true, he’ll definitely be knocking back the rounds again tonight. After years of friendship, you know that all it’ll take is a coffee, a balanced meal, a cold shower and two to three hours for the anadin to kick in and Alias will be right as rain for tonight. The same goes for yourself and ideally you’d like to be your best tonight. 

This evening is the rehearsal dinner before the big day tomorrow. The house is full of excitement and jittering nerves from some but for the most part it’s just the excitement. 

“My sunshines,” comes Alex’s voice from around the corner before he appears. Honestly, all the excitement could be coming solely from him, you haven’t seen him so happy and carefree like you’re experiencing now. 

A wide smile plastered across his face, his eyes meet his finances as soon as he comes into view. They share a lingering glance, one full of adoration and content. Since arriving at the house, it was the job of the bride and groom parties to try to keep the bride and groom apart as is the Cirillo family tradition, but it hasn’t been going so great. For starters, the bride and groom parties should’ve been separate since arriving at the house and although none of you have been hanging out together much, you probably shouldn’t all be mingling together right now. No one’s really keeping check though, and Alex and Thalia seem to be doing well to keep to themselves. 

“You’re all finally awake,” Alex continues just as Jungkook joins him from around the corner. 

He catches your gaze just as Alias replies. 

“You actually drank the most last night, why are you so cheerful?” Alias asks in disbelief. 

“Maybe because he’s getting married tomorrow,” Elisa laughs. 

“Oh, yeah.”

“And I know how to hold my liquor, big brother.”

“And who taught you, little brother?” Alias sasses back. 

You’re not paying much attention, still looking at Jungkook. 

He smiles at you, a timid smile and he looks away before you can even smile back. 

Forcing yourself to look away, you rejoin the conversation that follows but Jungkook takes a seat on the futon on the far end of the room where your back is turned to him.

The next half hour passes in conversation about the plans for tonight; what everyone’s wearing and the weather for tomorrow. With it being summer, the sun is really sun-ing and it’s been perfect. A bit unbearable at times but it’s nothing a portable fan and some shade couldn’t help. 

Soon, the clock turns closer to 2pm and you know you ought to start getting ready, as does everyone else since dinner is at 7 sharp tonight. The room starts to empty and you decide to head up too. This way, you can squeeze in a nice nap and have enough time to get ready too. 

As you get up from the table, you notice that Jungkook is no longer in the room but you don’t think about it. Maybe after the wedding, you’ll get a chance to speak to him about everything that’s happened between you guys but for now at least, you decide to focus your efforts on Alex and Thalia. 

Sophia is still conked out when you get upstairs to her room but you wake her up knowing she’ll want time to freshen up before she needs to start getting ready. Groggily, she sits up in bed and frowns when she sees you back in your pyjamas. 

“I’m taking a nap,” you say, answering her question prematurely. “Wake me up in an hour please.”

“Sure,” she croaks, reaching for her stanley. 

As she sips on the water slowly, still sitting up in a sleepy haze, you get comfortable beside her and ask Alexa to play some white noise to help drown out everything else. As always, it works like a charm and you’re fast asleep after only a few moments. 

“Wine.” Mrs Cirillo glances around, eyes narrowing as she looks at the tables. “We need wine.”

“Are you sure, mom?” Sophia asks, looking around. “There’s plenty to serve already.”

“Sweetheart, have you forgotten what guests we’re serving? There’s lots of family coming too.”

“Oh, right,” Sophia nods. “It’s been a slow day, mom.”

Mr Cirillo isn’t paying attention though, still looking around and she counts something under her breath before releasing a sigh with a frown. “I definitely ordered wine too, where is it?” She pulls out her phone. “Have either of you seen Charlie?”

“Charlie?” you ask. 

“He’s the guy in charge of the catering,” Sophia answers for you before answering her mom. “Last I saw he was in the kitchen checking on the canapés, and mom I saw some crates when I was coming down earlier, maybe they’re still there?”

“Would you mind checking, darling? And please ask someone to bring them over if they are?” Mrs Cirillo says, still scrolling through her phone and looking concerned. 

You’re sure there’s still 101 other things she’s worried about right now since guests are supposed to be arriving any moment and the wine is just one of those problems. It probably would have been easier if this was a more traditional rehearsal dinner but considering the majority of the guests are from out-of-town, the families thought it discourteous not to invite them tonight.

“We can bring them,” you offer, getting up from your seat. 

“Oh, thank you, Y/N. Yes girls, if you could please it would be amazing.” She looks around once more but you can only see the house guests scattered around and no catering or even decor staff in sight. “Actually, find Alias” she says, looking back with a nod. “He can do it, I’m sure he’s in the kitchen stuffing his face anyway.”

“Sure, mom,” Sophia says, getting up with you. “Let us know if you need anything else.”

“Thank you girls,” she answers, attention returning to her phone as you both walk back towards the path that goes around the house to the front. 

“I’m calling Alias,” Sophia says, pulling her phone out of her purse. “That doofus is around her somewhere.”

“I think the kitchen probably is our best shot but let’s find the wine first.”

“I’m gonna kill him when I see him though, he should be here already.”

“I’m sure he is,” you laugh, “he was down here two hours ago helping with everything.”

“Still, he knows how stressed mom gets.”

Just as you come around the corner towards the driveway, you spot Alias, sleeves rolled up and helping some of the caterers already. 

“Yep, he does,” you answer as you and Sophia come to a pause. 

Sophia just shrugs. “It’s the least that’s expected of him.”

“Fair enough,” you shrug too. 

You know if Alias was getting married, Alex certainly would’ve been front and centre making sure everything was prepared and perfect for his brother's big day and Alias doing the same is, as Sophia put it, the least that’s expected of him.

Taking a crate of wine from one of the caterers unloading the van, Alias turns and smiles when he sees you both approaching. “Hey, Y/N, and hello princess,” he greets his sister as you both approach. “You finally decided to help.”

“It takes time to look this good,” Sophia says with a tut. 

“This is supposed to be good?” Alias teases his little sister. 

She simply rolls her eyes, taking a crate herself and you take one too being extra careful with the fairly heavy load. “Just take that inside. The guests are supposed to be here and mom is gonna freak if the wine isn’t sorted.”

“Yeah, caterers were running late but I’ve got some of the guys helping out here and there.”

Right on cue, Jungkook comes strolling out of the house and just like Alias, his sleeves are rolled up too. Why is he so damn good looking? You must really miss him because seeing him now has you feeling a desperate longing to at least just speak to him. 

He gives a small smile as he comes out but he could just as easily be looking at Sophia or Alias who are both standing right in front of you. 

“Good,” Sophia nods before glancing back at you. She purses her lips and looks back at Alias. “Come on then,” she says, brows raised. I’ll go check on the kitchen if they were all late.”

Without a word, Alias follows and suddenly it’s just you and Jungkook standing still in between the rush of a few panicked catering staff. 

Now you’re certain he’s looking right at you and just like that, you can hear your heart beating in your chest. It’s that cursed Jungkook Effect again but this time it feels worse.

“Hey,” he steps forward, smiling hesitantly.

“Hi,” you answer. Consciously, you try to smile but your nerves seem to be running high. Gosh, you hate this. Jungkook is your best friend, it shouldn’t feel like this. 

Jungkook steps forward again, walking until all that separates you is the crate you’re holding. You don’t miss the way his gaze skims your figure, looking back at your face by the time he’s in front of you. “Let me take that?” He asks it as a question but takes the heavy wooden box from you anyway, it’s one effortless motion and you feel his fingers brush yours as he does. 

He’s looking at you carefully, searching for any clues he can use to dissect how you’re feeling. It makes you self-conscious even though you know Jungkook never has a bad word to say about you, but still, you have so much more to lose now and you’re already at a loss. 

“Thanks,” you smile, unable to look away from him despite how you’re feeling. You really have missed him and the past few days have proven to you just how much. 

For a moment, neither of you say anything – a thousand unspoken words pass your mind and you feel your pulse rising, ushering you to say something but what? You wouldn’t know where to start, even though you know you want to say something. Anything.

“You look beautiful.” Jungkook’s gaze remains rooted on you as he says it, soft and sure.

Releasing a small breath – perhaps one of relief – you smile. “Thank you.” And just like that, your pulse slows down, your nerves subside and you’re calm. 

Focused entirely on you, Jungkook notices the change and reciprocates. His lips curl into a smile, not so big but enough for it to reach his eyes but it’s familiar to you and it’s unexpectedly comforting.“You’re welcome,” he says.

The train of thought in your mind slows down and something about the way Jungkook is looking at you now tells you everything is going to be okay. This must be why, you think, feeling all your worries melt away – it’s no surprise that you’re in love with him, with the way he’s looking at you now, you wonder if he’s always looked at you with this much care and adoration.

For the first time, you see Alex’s point and now you think, was he right?

As though he can read your thoughts, Jungkook’s expression changes and he says your name, pausing with bated breath.

“Yes?”

“Can we talk?”

Suddenly, you’re flustered. “Well, yes, I–now?”

“Um…” Jungkook turns around, looking at the hurried staff and back at the house. “Later,” he says, looking back at you. “After dinner?”

You nod. “Sure.”

“Okay.” He nods too, smiling. “I should probably take this inside now,” he says, still not looking away from you. “But I’ll see you later.”

Again, you nod, and this time you can’t help but laugh, feeling so relieved that things feel more normal than before. His smile grows when he hears you laugh, and he nods once more before turning away and walking back into the house.

“Thank you all for coming tonight and please enjoy the rest of the evening!”

A loud echo of cheers and conversation follows after Mr Cirillo closes off the final speech, with you and your friends included, all raising your glasses before taking a sip of your champagne.

“I can’t believe my baby brother’s getting married,” Alias says, having already emptied his glass. A flute of champagne is a mere two sips to him at most. 

“Feeling sentimental big brother?” Sophia asks, smiling.

“You know what? I think I am,” he says, turning to her with a smile. “You better not be next, I’m not ready for you, okay?”

She laughs. “I’m not even dating anyone.”

“Good, keep it that way.” He looks ahead again but puts his arm around his little sister and kisses her forehead. 

Neither of them say a word but Sophia lets him pull her in, a grimacing smile on her face. As siblings, the Cirillo’s are rarely physically affectionate with each other, especially these two, so it warms your heart to see it. 

“Seems you're not the only one feeling sentimental.” Sophia points at their mom who is hugging Thalia and wiping away a few tears as Alex laughs, no doubt teasing his mom. 

“Alright, they're not married yet so no tears tonight guys…” Alias looks at you guys and you all agree. 

You look around the table and at Jungkook who sits a few seats away from you on the round table, noticing how he seems so much brighter than before. He looks your way too and you exchange smiles, still timid but no longer anxious.

Just then, ABBA plays loud on the speakers and Alias is ushering everyone up and to the dance floor. 

“Okay, hang on,” you laugh as he drags you out. “I need to pee!”

You feel a little bit tipsy having had a few to drink now but Alias holds you and pulls you onto the dance floor. Sophia and Jungkook are right there behind you, as well as Kelce, Shay, Elisa and some of the others. Sophia takes your hand as the pre chorus starts and you all belt out the lines in unison.

There’s not a soul out there, no one to hear my prayers! Gimme, gimme, gimme a man after midnight Won't somebody help me chase the shadows away?!

You get carried away with the chorus, dancing and spinning along as you always do, and just when the chorus plays, Alias takes a hold of you as you dance, swaying you together left and right while you laugh gleefully. Laughing with you, he then not so subtly twirls you in the direction of Jungkook and with a little push, you end up bumping into his chest.

He looks down at you, smiling wide. Still mid-sentence of the song, you laugh and he joins you as you finish the chorus. As the music slows into the next verse, Your friends are still singing and dancing but now, you can only focus on the feeling of Jungkook holding you, one hand on your lower back and the other on your arm. 

You know it must be the lights around you but the way his eyes twinkle have you feeling weak in the knees. With a smile still gracing his lips, he tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ears and that’s all it takes for you to feel shy. It would feel silly if the context were different but then his gaze drops to your lips for a second and you suddenly feel butterflies in your tummy as he locks eyes with you again. 

The moment is brief and from next to you, your friends start to shout out the lines again and Jungkook and you join in. You feel his hand let go of your arm and as you step to the side, one stays on your lower back but only for a moment.

Sophia catches your eye immediately and grins knowingly before she nods in the direction of the house. You know what she means and as the song comes to an end and the next one starts, you excuse yourself. 

“Hey!” Alias calls over the loud music. ”This is your favourite, where are you going?!” 

“It’s not mine, it’s my dads,” you laugh.

“Ah, yeah.” Alias, nods, undoubtedly remembering your dad’s 45th birthday party. “Let me find him,” he grins, walking off in the opposite direction.

Jungkook is looking your way as he dances with Dillon and Shay, and you smile before following Sophia as she tugs your hand again.

Many people have had more than a few glasses of wine so you have to excuse yourself as lots of guests bump into you, no doubt enjoying the evening as much as you are.

“What was that?!” Sophia asks excitedly as you both walk up towards the house.

“I don't even know,” you say. Still giddy from all the excitement. 

“Has he spoken to you yet?”

“Not yet. He said he would after the party, so I guess I'll just wait for him to come to me.”

“Well, he totally looked like he was gonna kiss you.”

“Sophia!”

“What?” She laughs. “We all know he wants to.”

“Actually we don’t,” you say, somewhat soberly. 

It’s true, he said he wants to talk to you but he didn’t say what about. It feels easy to be hopeful that he's going to say what you want him to say and Sophia isn’t wrong – he did look like he wanted to kiss you back there, but still, there’s something stopping you from feeling hopeful.

“Oh, come on, this is the moment we've all been waiting for,” she says excitedly, squeezing your arm.

“Maybe,” you laugh, trying your best to push it to the back of your mind. “But let’s just focus on tonight and make sure you drink some water please.”

‘Oh yeah,” she nods, “can’t be looking glum for tomorrow!” 

“No, you can’t.”

She sighs, stopping outside the main bathroom on the ground floor, one of many in the grand estate. “Okay, go, I’m gonna go upstairs.”

“Okay.”

After a moment, you’re drying your hands and stepping out of the bathroom. Sophia’s still not here so you walk towards the staircase just around the corner. Just as you do, she comes down, adjusting her dress as she walks. 

“You look lovely,” you reassure her.

“Thanks, boo,” she says, jumping down the last two steps now that she's exchanged her heels for flats.

“Ooh, wait.” You hold her still as you fix her hair parting for her, carefully moving it back to where she initially styled it… 

“She’s not here tonight but she’ll be here tomorrow, of course.” Two quiet voices grow louder as they probably walk in the direction of the loo.

“I wonder if they’ll announce themselves as a couple. Jungkook has always seemed to be the more private type.”

Hearing Jungkook’s name makes you pause and Sophia frowns at you but her question is answered as the conversation outside is continued, and she too, goes still as she listens.

“Well, yes, Jungkook is private, but Valentina? She would announce it to everyone if she could.”

What?

“Ah, yes, it’ll probably be all over their social media pages, whatever it is they’re using today.”

“Instagram I believe. In fact, she’s probably already published something. With the way they were kissing for all the world to see as she took him up to her room.”

Your heart drops.

“Oh, I heard, Josepehine said she walked past them as they went into her room and she had no shame, even laughing in front of her as pulled his tie off.”

Now you start to feel sick and the anxiety comes rushing in.

“Kids these days, so different from us.”

“I remember I had to hide it from my parents for months!”

“And they still caught you, ha!”

Together, whoever they are laugh and their voices grow more distant as they pass by.

Sophia’s expression has dropped and she whispers your name.

You stare at her blankly, still processing what you’ve just heard. 

“Hey,” Sophia says hushedly, taking your arms, “they don’t know what they’re talking about.” She looks around the corner before looking back at you. “It was just Mrs Morgan and her friend, they’re stupid and love to gossip about anything.”

You can tell she’s trying her best to make you feel better but it won’t work.

“You know what they’re like, they get a tiny hint at anything and they run with it, it’s not true–”

“It is.” Your voice sounds hopeless, even to you.

Sophia pauses, confusion written all over her face. “What?”

“I’m sure of it.” You look up at her, the memory coming back to you. 

You were at the party and Alias told you Jungkook was downstairs at the lounge where you'd seen Valentina kissing some guy in the elevator. When Alias told you Jungkook was last at the lounge around the same time, you thought of the possibility then but stopped yourself because how could it be? You could almost laugh at yourself now you’ve heard it from someone else – it must've been true because Jungkook didn't show up once that night, nor did Valentina after you saw her.

Relaying the memory of the night to Sophia in somewhat of a haze thanks to the drinks you’ve had, she simply stares at you for a few seconds before shaking her head.

“No, that doesn't mean anything, Y/N.” She says it so surely and you want to believe her.

“But it would make sense.”

“No, well yes, but even then, actually no,” she says, conflicted, before taking your hands again. “Look, it can't make sense because there is no way Jungkook slept with Val, he’s in love with you.”

You wish you could believe it, especially because you want to. She’s right that it makes no sense and that's considering Jungkook’s character alone – he wouldn’t do that, not to himself and not to you. But right now, tonight of all nights, you don’t want to think about it.

“Let’s get a drink,” you mumble, taking her hand and walking back towards the party.

She follows but her concern remains. “I’ll go talk to him, I know it’s not true–”

“No, not tonight,” you say, shaking your head. “Let’s just focus on the wedding, okay?”

She hesitates before giving in. “Okay, fine.” 

It’s a quiet walk back to the garden but Sophia takes you through the house towards the kitchen to get you a drink and then to the path that leads to the poolhouse, avoiding the party. You can still see everything as you walk and you catch a sight of Jungkoook and Alias dancing together. There’s a happy smile on Jungkook’s face that makes you feel a deep sense of longing and just like that, everything hurts again.

Tearing your eyes away from the scene, you keep walking and stop with Sophia by the sunbeds. You sit down, putting your purse next to you as you take a big sip of your drink and she sits in front of you, watching you. “I don’t want to believe it,” you say quietly, after a moment.

“Then don’t. I know I don’t.”

You look at her and see she means it. Tears well unbidden in your eyes and you have to take a deep breath and look up at the night sky to compose yourself. You absolutely refuse to cry any more – it’s stupid and annoying that things keep going in circles like this.

“Oh, Y/N, babe. “ Sophia pulls out some tissue from her purse to give to you and you use them to carefully get rid of the tears.

With another deep breath, you look back at her. “I’m fine, this is all just stupid.”

Just as she’s about to comfort you again, two giggling voices come out of the pool house and you look up to see Alex and Thalia, holding arms and cooing each other as smitten as ever as they walk out.

“Heeey!” Alex calls happily as he sees you both but he halts almost immediately, noticing that you’re not okay. “Hey,” he says again, now with much worry and confusion in his voice as he comes and sits next to you.

Thalia shares the same expression as her fiance and she sits on your other side. “What happened?”

You feel stupid and annoyed at yourself now. The last thing you want is to worry the bride and groom the night before their big day but you also know that they won’t let up now that they’ve seen you. Wordlessly, you look at Sophia and she tells them in a short summary what you just heard.

“I don’t believe it,” Alex says as surely as his sister did.

Thalia takes your hand. “Neither do I. Do you?”

“I don’t know,” you answer honestly.

They all stay quiet for a moment and all you can hear is the music closeby, with your favourite song now playing. You wonder if Jungkook is looking for you, having always known you love to dance when it comes on.

Then Alex gets up. “I’m gonna ask him.”

You get up straight away. “No, please don’t.” You look back at Thalia too. “It’s the night before your wedding, I don’t want to think about it, we can deal with it after.” You look back at Alex. “Please.”

He sighs and Thalia squeezes your hand. “Of course,” she says, reassuring you as you sit back down. In doing so, you miss the look that Alex gives Sophia and the silent exchange that the two siblings share as she nods her head in the direction of the party.

“Alright, but I’ll get you another drink,” he says.

Mindlessly, you nod, too distracted to realise that your glass is still half full. As he walks off, Sophia moves next to you too.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Thalia asks, rubbing your back soothingly.

“Not really,” you say. “I don’t think I should even be upset over it, it’s completely one-sided and he never said anything for me to believe otherwise.”

Thalia is about to say something and you’re sure she’s about to use the same argument that Sophia gave earlier – he’s in love with you so he wouldn’t sleep with someone else – but she stops herself and you’re kinda grateful for it. You don’t need to hear that he loves you when he hasn’t even said it to himself. 

The look on his face when you danced together returns to your mind and you feel your chest tighten. You really thought that was the look of someone in love but you must’ve been wrong.

“You’re allowed to be upset,” Sophia says, “but don’t be until you know what actually happened.”

Quietly, you sigh.

“She’s right,” Thalia agrees. “I know what you heard makes sense to you but it’s not something Jungkook would do.”

“I know,” you exhale, confused and now tired. “But how could I know for sure? He’s barely been talking to me since that night with Lawrence.”

“True,” Sophia nods. “That’s kind of silly of him.”

“Right?” you say, feeling a multitude of emotions now. “And even then, I did try to make things okay but he wasn’t listening to me.”

“You mean when he kept saying you should go out with Lawrence?”

“Yeah, like, why would he not just listen to me?!” you ask, now adding irritated and exasperated to your exhaustive list of emotions.

“True,” Sophia agrees. “Honestly, guys are just dumb.”

“They are,” Thalia agrees. “And truthfully,” she adds, glancing at you. “They’re even more dumb when they’re in love.”

You look at her as Sophia just hums in approval. “Whatever,” you sigh, shaking your head. “Thanks guys but I’m just not gonna think about it until after tomorrow.” You smile at them.

Although they can see right through you, they don’t press it further.

“You still wanna dance?” Sophia asks, a playful lilt to her voice as she nudges you.

You’re about to say no but the last thing you wanna do is be the reason your friends don’t have fun tonight. Sophia is the groom’s sister but she’s also your best friend and you know if you choose to retire she would join you so you don’t have to be alone, and Thalia would worry about you all night too.

“Sure,” you nod with a bigger smile. “But another drink first,” you say, downing what’s left in your glass now that the blissful effects of your previous drinks seem to have worn off.

Sophia laughs, getting up. “Of course.” 

Together, you walk back up the path, Sophia changing the subject to what Thalia was doing with Alex in the pool house.

“We didn’t do anything,” she laughs. “We just wanted some alone time.”

“You’re about to marry the guy, that’s the rest of your life with him.”

Thalia smiles. “Still couldn’t be enough.”

Sophia laughs. “Okay, I don’t know whether to be cringed out because that was actually cute.”

“It is cute. I’ve put it in my vows too actually,” Thalia says, proud.

“I can’t wait to hear them,” you tell her. “I’ll probably cry too.”

“Not more than my brother,” Sophia says. “Alex almost cried seeing you today, Thalia.”

“He told me, but honestly I think I’ll be crying myself, I just hope I don’t ruin my makeup.”

“Who did you book for it?” you ask.

The conversation shifts to makeup artists and hair stylists as you all take a few more drinks and together make your way over to the dessert table. You don’t have much of an appetite so you’re about to reapply some lip gloss only to realise you left your purse on the sunbed.

“You want some, Y/N?” Thalia holds out a plate for you but you decline.

“I’m alright, I’m just gonna go get my purse, guys, I left it on the sunbed.”

Sophia looks back at you as she takes a macaron. “Want me to come with?”

“No, all good, I’ll be back in a minute,” you say, already walking off in the opposite direction, past the crowd surrounding the desserts table and onto the path that leads away from the party.

“Tell me it’s not true.”

Alex’s voice is the first thing Jungkook hears before he even turns around.

“Hey,” he smiles, holding out the drink he’d just picked up for himself, only to frown when he sees his friend's expression.

“Please.”

Jungkook has only seen Alex annoyed a handful of times over their decade long friendship and right now, Alex looks pretty close to being annoyed. “What are you talking about?” he asks, concerned.

Alex glances around. There’s no one nearby who could overhear since they’re standing at a drinks table close to the house with only servers around, but Jungkook moves himself anyway.

Putting his glass down, he walks away from the table and Alex walks with him. After a few yards when there’s definitely no one in earshot, Alex stops.

“On the cruise,” he starts, looking straight at his friend. “Did you sleep with Valentina?”

Jungkook looks startled and equally offended. “What? Of course not!” he answers immediately, now with increasing concern.

Alex shares the same concern, evident in his tone. “Then why do people think you did?!”

“I don’t know! Where is this coming from?!”

“Some of the other guests were talking about it.”

“Which guests? How would they know anything and why would they lie?!”

“I don’t know,” Alex sighs, shaking his head. “They must be confused.”

“How did you hear it? Who said it? I can talk to them,” Jungkoook says, already looking around at the people scattered across the expanse of the garden.  

Alex pauses, biting his lip. “Sophia overheard them.”

Jungkook goes still. That means… “And… has Y/N…?”

Alex nods, lips pursed before Jungkook even finishes his sentence. “They were together.”

Jungkook stares at his friend completely confused as a hundred thoughts race through his mind – all of them stop at you. “Fuck,” he sighs. “Did she believe it?”

“I’m not sure, but she said she saw Valentina in the lounge, kissing someone going into the elevator. She couldn't see their face and then a few hours later, she was looking for you and some of the guys told her you were in the lounge… the same time–”

“The same time she saw Valentina,” Jungkook exhales slowly, feeling deflated. “I keep fucking up,” he says quietly after a moment. “I should’ve just told her the truth.”

“Which is?” Alex asks, despite already knowing the answer.

Jungkook finds a small smile on his lips even given the direness of the situation. “I love her.” He says it once and then smiles a bit wider.

Alex finds himself suddenly grinning. “I knew it.”

Jungkook chuckles. “Was I that obvious?”

“To everyone but her, my friend.” Alex looks at Jungkook, brows raised.

Just like that, Jungkook knows what he needs to do. “Help me find her.”

You’re grateful you’re only wearing kitten heels as you walk along the path but it would’ve been a better idea to change into flats like Sophia did, especially since tomorrow you’ll be in high heels for the better portion of the day. 

“Y/N!” 

Someone calls your name and you pause, turning around.

It’s Jungkook. He’s jogging to catch up with you from the rest of the party. He must be coming to talk to you now that the night is coming to an end soon. Given how fast he is, it’s only a few short seconds before he’s in front of you, breathing a bit faster but not out of breath thanks to his perfect stamina.

You don’t know how you should be feeling right now. A part of you is angry at him for everything that has happened – you didn’t ask to start a fake relationship with him only for him to be the one to tell the truth about it because he thought you should be talking to Lawrence instead. And sure, you agreed to the fake relationship, but you’re not the reason for everything that came after and even though Jungkook had good intentions, he did disregard your feelings when you told him multiple times that you don’t like Lawrence romantically at all anymore. Sure, he couldn’t know it was because you have feelings for him instead, but that doesn't mean it was justified.

Another part of you just wants to have things go back to how they were because you really do miss your best friend and there’s nothing more you want than to have him back.

Then there’s the part of you that wonders if he really slept with Valentina. You could believe it, it all adds up and despite how unreliable the source is, you did see Valentina with someone, who now when you think about it, looked very much like Jungkook. The thought of it makes your stomach churn.

“Jungkook, I don’t wanna talk right now,” you mutter, turning away. 

“Wait, I really–”

“What?” you say, turning abruptly and stopping Jungkook from reaching for you. Immediately, you recoil, feeling bad. “Sorry.” You didn’t mean for it to come out like that.

“It’s okay,” Jungkook says, now hesitating.

The look on his face makes you feel even worse than before and you swallow hard. You’re still mad at him so without another word, you turn and walk away, and this time, Jungkook doesn’t stop you. With every step you take a deep breath and calm yourself down, and then–

“Do you honestly believe it?”

You stop in your tracks. Slowly, you turn around. “What?”

He watches you carefully. “Do you really believe it? That I–,” he pauses, sighing. “That I slept with Valentina?” 

You notice that he sounds hurt that it’s something he even has to ask you, and still, hearing it from him hurts far more. “What else am I supposed to believe?” you ask, feeling your walls crumbling but your tone remains rather defensive. “You never said anything otherwise.”

After your many years of friendship, Jungkook knows you and he knows that right now, you’re mad at him but you just need an answer. He knows you have every right to be annoyed at him because he hasn’t been honest with you about anything and it’s because of him that all of this happened in the first place.

“I’m telling you now,” he says, taking a step forward. “It’s not true.” He sees your expression flicker but nothing more. “Nothing happened, I literally spoke with her for five minutes that night before she went back to her room with some other guy.”

Relief — that’s the first thing you feel as you exhale a breath you didn’t even know you were holding. “Okay?” You shrug, suddenly not sure what to say or do now he’s revealed the truth – you didn’t think this far ahead, having only thought of the worst. “Good for you,” you carry on, crossing your arms. “I don’t care anyway.”

“Yes you do,” Jungkook says, plain as day.

You flare, albeit lightly. 

Traces of a smile appear on his face and he carries on. “You do care,” he says, stepping forward slowly, this time without stopping. “And I’m sorry you had to hear it how you did, I know I’d feel shit if I heard the same thing about you.”

What? You’re trying to figure it out – does he know?

Jungkook sighs, smile growing and he stops close to you. You almost step back but stop yourself. He looks down at you with a familiar adoration in his expression.

Softly, he says your name. “You’ve been my best friend for years now, how long has it been since I’ve even looked at anyone else, yet alone slept with them?”

Saying nothing, you shake your head with a small shrug. A long time.

“Heck, I don’t even know myself,” Jungkook laughs softly. “All I know is that for me, my attention was always somewhere else.” 

Your head tilts, brows creasing just slightly. “What are you saying?” you ask, feeling your heart rate speed up as you wait for the answer you want more than anything to hear.

Jungkook’s eyes roam your face for a second, the smile still carved on his lips and he exhales. “I’m in love with you.” You feel his fingers curl around your palms as he takes your hands. “I’m in love with you and I have been for a long time, longer than I even know.”

You say nothing, lips parted as though you want to but nothing comes out as no complete thoughts form in your head. You just feel your heart hammering in your chest and a fuzzy wave of warmth rushes ripples through you.

“I…”

“You don’t have to say anything now,” he says, “I just had to tell you, and again, I'm sorry.”

You’re grateful that you’re standing close enough to the dance floor because if it weren't for the music playing you're sure he would be able to hear how loud your heart is beating in your chest.

“Y/N!” Another voice calls your name from close by. It’s your mom. 

Jungkook turns around, letting go of your hands and she waves when she sees you, smiling as she approaches. “Darling, come take a photo with your father and I,” she grins, completely unaware she’s interrupting anything. “Jungkook, you look dashing,” she smiles at him as she takes your hand. “Nice to see you two have made up from whatever you were arguing about too,” she says, looking at you in question but she doesn't wait for a response from him. Her giddiness tells you she’s had more than her usual liquor intake.

Still reeling from what Jungkook just told you, you just nod and follow wordlessly as she pulls you towards your dad.

“Ah, there she is, my beautiful daughter,” he beams, “come here.”

You wish you could be more present as your parents share a sweet moment of appreciation for you, but you just smile and nod, hugging and kissing them in return as you all take a bunch of selfies together. Your smile is genuine enough though, Jungkook’s confession replaying over and over in your head as it becomes more real.

He loves me.

“Mom, dad,” you say, interrupting them both as they play around with some filters. 

“Yes, honey,” they respond in unison, still slightly distracted.

“Um… Jungkook told me he loves me.”

Both your parents' heads snap up together and you see the biggest smile on your moms face and a look of pure surprise on your dads.

“That kid finally did it,” you hear him say quietly to himself as his expression changes to a smile.

“He did?” your mom cries excitedly, squeezing your arm. “What did you say?”

“Well, you called me then to come here–”

“What?” your dad interrupts, disappointed. “Oh, honey, we’re sorry.”

“It’s okay, I can find him now, but dad…” you frown, thinking about what he just said to himself. “Did you know?”

Your dad shrugs with a smirk. “I had a feeling. A strong one.” He nods in your moms direction and she smiles proudly. “Your mom did too.”

You can't help but laugh. “Everyone apart from me it seems.”

“Well go find him now then,” your mom ushers.”Want me to help you?”

“It’s okay.” Getting up, you kiss both of their cheeks before turning away to go and find Jungkook.

Many of the guests have returned to their hotels or homes now and it’s much easier to find someone from across the garden. As you get closer to the house, you see Thalia and Sophia sitting on the veranda and they grin when they see you coming.

“So,” Thalia says as they sit on the seats in front of you. “Jungkook found you?”

You look at her and Sophia, unable to contain your happiness. “He said loves me,” you say out loud.

They look surprised for a split second before squealing in excitement.

“He finally told you?” 

“This is so exciting”

“Mhm,” you nod, laughing. You’re sure they must’ve already heard it from Jungkook first, given their expressions when you approached, but you appreciate their excitement nonetheless.

“What did you say?”

“I didn’t.” I should have. “My mom came.” 

“Oh.” Their expressions have dropped ever so slightly and you feel it.

“I should have, right?”

“Well, maybe something but your mom came so it's fine,” Sophia says. “Find him now.”

You’re just about to spring into action when THalia stops you.

“The guys have all gone upstairs, Jungkook too,” she says, frowning apologetically. “We’re not supposed to see any of them until the ceremony tomorrow.”

“That's a family tradition,” Sophia says, waving her hand. “But we have an exception here.” 

You wish more than anything to see Jungkook now but you also don't want to disrespect their family – you know the kids won't mind but perhaps Mr and Mrs Cirillo, and Thalia’s parents.

“No, it's fine,” you say, smiling reassuringly. “It's just one day, and at least I know the truth now.”

“Fair enough,” they agree.

“Wow, we might have another wedding again next year now,” Sophia grins, winking at you.

You laugh, feeling a wave of joy as you lean back into the cushions and tell the girls exactly how your conversation with Jungkook went. 

“You may now kiss the bride.”

Laughter and cheer erupts around you as Alex ever so sweetly kisses his bride, cheeks cupped in his hands. It’s a lingering kiss, a sweet one and it has your heart about to burst with joy. 

Across from you, Jungkook is laughing too, cheering for his best friend and he catches your eye for the nth time now and grins, making you smile even wider.

As the bride and groom depart for their photographs, Sophia drags you to the bar and you both get a drink while recapping the events of the morning and then she gets summoned away for the family photos which must mean that the groomsmen are done with their pictures too.

“I’ll come with you.”

“Of course you will,” she laughs, knowingly. “Does this mean you're finally gonna tell him you love him too?”

“I think so,” you grin. “As long as I don't chicken out.”

“You better not, otherwise I’ll tell him for you.”

“Don't worry. I don't think I will.”

“Well definitely not, I know you're so gonna get laid tonight.”

“Hey” you laugh. “I mean it would be nice but I don't care either way.”

“That's sweet, she says, “but please, don't be coy. After all this waiting it would be an injustice to not get laid.”

Suppressing a laugh, you nod. “Okay, noted.”

As you approach the quiet gardens, you spot some of the other groomsmen, Alias included, but not Jungkook. Alias sees you and answers your question before you can even ask it. “He went to look for you.”

Ah,” you nod. “Thanks.”

Saying a temporary goodbye, you walk in the opposite direction away from the gardens and back towards the venue. It's so beautiful here with tall oak trees spread across the lush and perfectly manicured grounds surrounding the elegant mansion. You’re momentarily distracted by the views that you don't notice jungkook as he walks out from around the mansion, smiling as he approaches. 

When you do spot him, he’s stopped in the path ahead of the fountain, holding his own bouquet of flowers in front of his chest. Smiling, you approach him slowly. “Hey.”

“Hey,” he says, unable to fight back his smile.

You stop in front of him, as close as he was to you yesterday and gaze at him.

“You look beautiful,” he says quietly. “Again. You look beautiful everyday,” he adds with a shake of his head.

“Thank you. You look pretty handsome today too.”

“Thanks.” He looks down shyly, lowering the bouquet. “These are for you.”

Looking down at the bouquet, it’s full and in bloom of all your favourite flowers and you know that’s not a coincidence. “They’re lovely.” Taking them from him, you admire them a little longer before looking back up. 

“I'm glad you like them. He takes them back from you and places them on the bench beside you. 

You’re confused for a second but when he turns back, he wraps both arms around your waist and pulls you into him, head burying into your neck. Muscle memory serves you well as you melt into his embrace, his scent engulfing you as your arms wrap around his neck as his chest presses flush against you.

He hums softly and you reckon you could stay here forever. Now you wonder, how did you never realise you were in love with him? Why did it take all of this unnecessary awkwardness and distance for you to know why you’ve always been so unavailable to others? Jungkook has always been the one person whose company you've craved when no matter what the occasion and the only one who really feels like home.

“I missed you,” you murmur, fingers gently moving across his neck as you move.

He keeps you close, arms tight around you. “I know, me too.” His eyes dip to your lips.

“Let's never do that again.”

“Agreed,” he nods, smiling with a wince. “Even though I know it was really my fault.”

“Oh, 100%” you say, feeling the space between you grow smaller and smaller. “All your fault.”

Now, you're looking at his lips.

Jungkook notices and he moves his hand up, slowly sweeping your neck until he’s cupping your cheek in his broad palm, the other arm still holding you tight. He smiles ever so slightly, and when you look up, you can see he’s waiting for something for you. So you nod, and that's all he needs.

He closes the space between you, lips meeting yours in a gentle brush once. Lips parted, you pull away briefly, moving your hand up to cradle his jaw before leaning in again for a more deliberate kiss. He hums, softly, and returns for more, one by one getting longer and more keen. The seconds melt away into minutes and you don't quite know how long you were standing here for, you only know that it feels perfect.

“I love you,” Jungkook murmurs, pecking your lips once more, then your nose and forehead.

You squeeze your arms around his waist. “Say it again.”

He chuckles, sweeping your hair back to kiss your cheek. “I love you,” he murmurs low into your ear, hot breath warming your skin. “I love you, I love you, I love you so much, princess.”

Biting your lip, you find yourself suddenly feeling something you haven't felt in a long time, except recently that night in bed with him on the cruise – a feverish desire for more.

Holding his face in front of you, you kiss his lips. “I love you too.” 

He blinks, endearingly. “I was waiting for that.”

You sigh with an air of amused disappointment. “Why couldn't we have just realised sooner? It would have made our lives so much easier.”

“I think I always knew actually.” He takes your hand and you sit down at the bench. “At least for a long time, I knew there was something.”

“Really?”

He hums, putting his arm around you and you lean into him. “I just didn't really let myself think about it much though, I didn’t wanna change things in case you didn't feel the same, which Ii don't think you did.” he thinks out loud, honestly.

For a moment, you're quiet. “I did.”

He looks at you.

“I don't know from when, but I think I just didn't realise.” Playing with the ring on his finger, you smile. “I probably should have just listened to Alex from the start.”

“Alex?”

“Mhm,” you nod. “He’d been telling me for months that you were into me, I just didn't see it.”

“Ah,'' Jungkook nods, pink tingeing his cheeks as he looks down.

“But now we’re good,” you say, cocking your head and smiling.

“Now we’re good,” he repeats, sealing his sentence with a kiss.

The evening reception goes on late into the night, later than you expect it to. It’s 8pm by the time all the guests turn up and within the next two hours, you've gone through all the emotions thanks to a round of heartfelt speeches from all the family and friends. Alias and Sophia’s speech made you tear up the most and you didn't even dare look in a mirror knowing your makeup is probably already so far beyond repair but luckily Sophia has magic hands and has a technique to apply concealer over powder, so not all was lost.

Except now you can feel yourself tearing up again as Alex and Thalia have their first dance, gazing lovingly at each other while Etta James’ At Last plays in the background with a live band. 

“They’re so perfect together,” you murmur, leaning your head back against Jungkook’s shoulder as you watch them from a raised platform close to the band.

He wraps his arms a little tighter around your waist. “Are we perfect together?”

“Of course,” you grin, looking up at him.

He wrinkles his nose, about to lean in to kiss you when someone coughs quietly next to you. Turning around, you see Valentina with a drink in her hand, coughing again as though she was just choking.

“Are you okay?” You take her drink from her.

“Fine,” she says, waving a hand as she clears her throat and straightens up. “I was actually coming over here to congratulate you since you’ve evidently made up now and have finally realised you’re both stupid in love with each other.” 

Jungkook and you smile sheepishly.

“Then I heard you talking and gosh…” Valentina winces, although her eyes twinkle with amusement as she looks back and forth between you. “You really are disgustingly cute together.”

You let out a snort of laughter. “Thanks, Val.”

You feel Jungkook caress the small of your back. “Thanks.”

“Yeah.” She swiftly retrieves her drink from you. . “I’m glad you worked it out. See you later, guys.” She struts off, as perfect as she always is and disappears into the crowd.

The band closes off the song and everyone applauds, cheering for the happy couple.Then, the familiar melody of Elvis Presley Can't Help Falling In Love starts to play.

“Wanna dance?”

Scanning the crowd, you consider it. Mrs Cirillo is going around, inviting people to the dance floor, pulling some too. 

“I feel kinda shy.”

“What?” Jungkook steps next to you, taking your hand. “Why?”

“I don't know,” you laugh. “It’s fine, lets go.”

“You sure?” Jungkook furrows his brows. “We don't have to.”

“No, I want to,” you reassure him.

Just then, someone approaches from behind Jungkook. “Just who I wanted to see.” Mrs Cirillo is beaming as she approaches you. “I knew you two would fall in love eventually.” She takes your hands and pulls you to the centre of the dance floor. “I just don’t know why it took you so long,” she says before kissing your cheek, then Jungkook’s. “Bless you both,” she grins, before she’s off again.

“I guess we have no choice now.” You step closer to Jungkook and he pulls you in by the waist as your arms hang loosely over his neck. Neither of you say anything as the song plays, the words speaking volumes for you instead – as cheesy as it may seem.

Take my hand Take my whole life, too For I can't help falling in love with you

Fittingly, Jungkook breaks out into a cheesy smile and you both laugh. He pulls you in and together, you share your first dance as a couple. “So,” Jungkook clears his throat, “just to clarify, in case it wasn’t clear, you’re my girlfriend now.”

You feign surprise. “I am?”

Jungkook pouts his lips, his expression a mix of amusement and mock annoyance. “Don’t be mean.”

Giggling, you kiss his cheek.”Ask me nicely.”

Jungkook sighs dramatically but plays along with a smirk. “Princess, would you please do me the honour of being my girlfriend? So I can love you and spoil you forever?”

With a smug grin, you nod. “Of course.”

“Just don’t be that annoying couple who do everything together,” Alias’s voice comes from behind you. Turning around, you see Alex, Thalia and Sophia having gathered too, all wearing knowing smiles. 

“Weren’t they always that annoying couple?” Alex says, brows arching as he smiles as smug as when he first saw you and Jungkook walking into the hall together holding hands. Being the groom on his wedding day, he never got to say anything to you then, but you knew he knew as he nudged Thalia and gestured to your direction. She looked like she was about to cry when she saw you together, though you suppose she was already feeling emotional from the ceremony prior. Still, it was heartwarming to see your friends so happy for you.

“That’s true,” Thalia agrees. 

“At least this time they won’t be sulking around and pining over each other,” Sophia banters.

Alias cringes in jest. “No, instead they’ll be wearing matching pyjamas, or worse yet, slippers.”

He’s definitely referring to the matching sweaters you got for Jungkook and yourself last year – and that was before you were a couple.

“Can’t forget the His and Hers mugs,” Jungkook amuses them as they all groan playfully.

Entertained, you join in. “Oh and the keychains,” you add. “Jewellery too.”

“I’ve already ordered matching charm bracelets,” Jungkook winks.

“Alright, we’ve heard enough,” Sophia laughs.

Alias clicks his tongue. “I definitely know what you two are getting for Christmas this year.”

“But–” Sophia wags her finger between you both, “–just give us a heads up if there’s any proposals on the horizon, I can’t do another wedding cruise single.”

Alias raises a finger. “I second that.”

Jungkook takes the lead as he responds. “Will do, but don’t take too long.” He has a mischievous glint in his eye and squeezes your hand. ‘I know I’m not.”

The fact that you’re not surprised by his answer is what actually surprises you. Smiling, dazed, you simply close your eyes as he pecks your cheek.

Meanwhile, Thalia squeals, excited, as Alex pats Jungkook’s arm, laughing as he encourages him. 

His brother on the other hand, groans, though there’s a heavy tone of cheerfulness in his voice as he pretends to complain, “they’ve already started.” 

Sophia blinks, “I wish I could be grossed out but damn it, I’m not.”

If it weren't for you being on cloud nine right now, you might actually feel sorry for making your friends put up with all of this cringeness, but as it so happens, you're revelling in it. “You might wanna get used to it, guys.” You pull Jungkook in closer, returning to a slow dance as the next song plays. After exchanging a few more playful words, Jungkook and you are left alone again, dancing to the music. 

“You meant that?” you ask.

Jungkook doesn’t miss a beat. “Yes. If you’re sure you want it too.”

Gaze locked on him, you nod. “How could I not?”

As Jungkook's smile lights up, he places a soft kiss on your lips, so soft that it barely feels like it happened. Hand on the back of his neck, you push down and keep him three for another. He obliges, letting you kiss him freely for all the world to see and quite frankly, you probably forget about your surroundings a bit too soon.

“Mm, wait.” You pull back, taking a deep breath. “Let’s pause,” you say, continuing to dance along with everyone else.

Jungkook’s eyes go round. “Why? You okay?”

“Yeah, I just… um…” You press your fingers into your palm, exhaling as you look down. “I’ll want more if we keep going.” You feel slightly embarrassed as you mumble out your response but Jungkook’s immediate reply makes you look up, surprised.

“Me too.”

“Really?”

“Of course,” he chuckles, pulling in his lower lip with his teeth as he comes to a slow stop and looks at you.

“What?”

“Let's get a drink,” he says, not even waiting for you to respond. There are more people dancing now so he weaves you through them, over to the mostly empty tables. Then towards the double doors leading into the rest of the mansion.

Huffing, you try your best to keep up. “I thought we were getting a drink.”

“No, I just said that.” He continues leading you as he walks through the corridors you hadn’t previously seen.

“Where are you going, Koo?”

“I went past it somewhere,” he says, talking more to himself as he keeps walking past a few doors, peering in each one as he does.

“Where?”

“Ah.” He stops, pulling you through a door. He lets go of your hand as he goes to close the door behind him.

Looking around the dimly lit room with only a small window on the far right, you narrow your eyes in confusion. There’s tall racks with coats and hats and other items, lined up along the walls and two others in the centre of the room. A single desk and chair is in one corner, multiple tags arranged in a box amongst a few other neatly placed items of stationary. “A cloak room?” you ask, dubiously, turning around. “Why are we–”

Jungkook kisses you – hard. Hands circling your waist, he’s stepping forward until you're backed up into a wall. One hand finds your cheek, thumb caressing your cheek sweetly while he tugs on your lower lip between his teeth. 

“Oh,” you sigh out loud, now realising. “Cloak room,” you say, dumbly.

“Uh-huh,” he purrs, lips moving to your jaw. “Couldn’t help myself.”

His hot breath sends shivers down your spine, hips arching against the wall. “That-that’s totally okay.”

“You sure?” His tongue swipes just under your jaw, close to your ear, oh so delicately.

“Absolutely.” Grabbing his face, you kiss him hard again, taking pleasure in every second that passes with his lips on yours. 

Opening wider, his tongue darts across yours, the salacious act leaving you desperate for more. You deepen the kiss, fingers curling in his hair as your hips involuntarily push forward again and this time, Jungkook reciprocates, pressing hard against you so you can physically feel just how bad he wants this. His bulge gets you right where it feels good and you falter, knees going weak as one gives way.

Jungkook holds you tight, laughing softly, “That good, huh?” 

“Duh.”

He kneels down, taking your ankle and lifting your heel to his thigh. “You're so pretty,” he says, more to himself than you. He takes your shoes off, right one first, then the left. With your foot still resting on his thigh, he looks up at you, hand slowly caressing your skin as he moves towards your inner thigh.

Even without the heels, you still feel your knees going weak but it feels so good. He watches your lips part, breaths picking up as you try your best to stay patient. “Please do something, Koo.”

“Patience, princess,” he teases and you whine, prompting him to laugh. “Okay.” Acquiescing, he turns his head, placing a rousing kiss on your skin. “So soft,” he murmurs, between kisses. “So perfect.” You want him so bad. “All mine.” With every touch of his lips, his mouth inches closer to where you want him, slowly but surely. Goosebumps prickling your skin, you release short soft breaths and will yourself to be patient.

Jungkook hums, nipping you with light force. “Feel good?” His tone tells you he’s tortured by his own pace as much as you are.

“Yes.”

He looks up, eyes glazed over with a hunger for more. “Tell me what you want.” His fingers brush your sex, barely. 

“Touch me, please.” 

He brushes you again, fingers working their way over your damp underwear. “Like this?” He revels in your soft whimpers.

“More.”

In one swift motion, he pulls your underwear down and reveals everything. You don’t feel shy in the slightest, especially not with the way he’s looking at you. “So pretty.” Fingers sliding over your wet lips, he exhales before he smacks you lightly. “And all mine.”

You whine, moving your hips again to remind him of your needs and he doesn’t make you wait this time. Collecting your slick on his fingers as he moves them back and forth, he then uses his thumb to stroke your clit, the contact making your knees buckle again.

Jungkoook grabs your left leg and places it over your shoulder as he repositions himself for better access. “Such a pretty girl,” he murmurs. “Bet you taste so good as well.”

“Why don't you find out?”

“Mm, I will,” Jungkook chuckles, sliding one finger inside you. “Not just yet.”

“Oh.” Your hand falls to his shoulder, digging in hard.

He stretches you,  watching as you react. Once he’s sure you're good, he adds a second finger, stroking exactly where it feels good.

“Please don’t stop.”

He grips your thigh, holding you up well. “I won’t.” Leaning in, his mouth makes contact with your clit and you mewl under his touch. He’s slow with it first, sucking and circling lightly and you want more. Under the soft silk of your dress, your nipples harden and you reach for one, toying with yourself. Seeing this, Jungkook groans. “That's it baby, touch yourself more.”

Obeying, you pull the straps off your shoulder and let the top of your dress fall, gathering around your waist where you hold it out of Jungkook’s way. His soft moan as you touch yourself tells you he’s enjoying it and as his fingers grip you harder, he starts to flick your clit.

“Oh, that’s it.” It's all you need to feel yourself reaching an orgasm, teetering on the edge as he adjusts his pace. “Please, I’m so close.”

“Yeah?”

“Yes.”

“I wanna hear you.” He fingers you harder as his tongue works overtime to get you to come and it works — in a rippling wave, your orgasm washes over you and all you can do is moan as pleasure courses through you. Jungkook keeps you up, slowing down once the peak has passed. He withdraws his fingers and you make sure to steady your legs as he stands. “You're so hot,” he says, looking at you in complete adoration and lust.

Feeling flushed, you manage to smile. “Thanks. Now my turn, please?”

Jungkook chuckles, stepping forward. “I don't think I can be that patient, princess.” As he presses against you, you can feel him a lot more than you could before.

“Oh.”

He tilts his head, hand brushing your chin as he pulls your lips to his. You can taste yourself as he kisses you, tongue stroking yours in tandem motion while he uses his other hand to caress your breasts, moulding the soft flesh before pinching your nipples between his thumb and forefinger. It rallies up arousal for more but your first priority is him. 

“Why are your clothes still on?” You question out loud, having just now realised.

Jungkook suppresses a chuckle, lips quirking into a smile as you make quick work of his tie and shirt.

Your hands roam the expanse of his broad, muscular chest. “Much better.” You only take a moment to appreciate the tattooed eye candy before pulling him back in for another sensual kiss, driven by your desire to make him feel good now, Fingers deftly undo his zipper and within seconds, your hand is slipping past his boxers and gripping his length. The girth alone has your pussy throbbing again. Jungkook releases a low sigh, his kisses becoming more insistent as you pull his cock out of his pants and play with him. 

With a slow swipe of your thumb over his head, Jungkook moans, teeth tugging on your lips and you drag your hand up and down his length, faster each time.

“Let me have a taste, please.”

“Fuck,” he sighs. Looking at your pleading face, he agrees.

You drop to your knees in an instant, letting your dress fall entirely as you go. Without wasting any time, your mouth is on his cock, tongue swirling his red, leaking tip before you move your head. 

“You’re gonna kill me,” he says, voice strained as he looks down at your naked form below him.

Focused on his cock and eager to please, you just hum in response and keep going while he gently moves your hair back, gripping it behind you and you have to squeeze your thighs together in an attempt to ease yourself to the sound of his soft grunts and groans. As they get louder, you grip his thighs and take him as deep as you can. Despite trying not to choke, you cough a little and Jungkook moves back, pulling himself out of your mouth. 

“You good?”

“Great,” you nod, trying to go back in.

Jungkook chuckles, pulling you up before you can get there. “I can’t wait any longer.” His pupils are blown out with carnal desire but his tone is otherwise gentle and affectionate. “Can I please fuck you?”

“You don't have to ask me twice.”

He pulls a condom out of his pocket, tearing the wrapper with his teeth.

Seeing this, your brow arches. “How do you have that?”

Jungkook pauses, looking slightly embarrassed. “Alias,” he says, more in a hushed whisper.

Pursing your lips together, you refrain from laughing. “Alias?”

Jungkook nods, placing the condom on while he explains. “He gave it to me just when we got here before you guys did. He said, and I quote, if there was ever a good time to declare my love for you in its physical form, it's a wedding.”

Shaking your head, you laugh again. “He would know.”

“Oh I know,” Jungkook nods. Alias has a bit of a reputation for being a womaniser on steroids when it comes to weddings.

“I’m glad he gave it though,” you shrug, pulling Jungkook closer. 

“Me too.” His lips find yours again, starting off sweet and slow. Hands circling your waist, he lifts you and your legs wrap around him instinctively. He takes his shirt from the rack you’d flung it towards earlier and walks you towards the desk in the corner and you use the chance to tease him, breaking away to kiss his ear and nibble his lobe.

“You sure you wanna do that?” he chuckles darkly.

“Very.”

He throws his shirt down on the desk before placing you on top. “You sure?” His fingers find your sex, gliding through your cum.

Dazed, you nod.

He takes his cock in one hand and spreads your legs with the other. With a small step forward, he pushes his head into your clit and you whine, wanting more. Deliberately, he slides himself down your pussy, coating his length in your cum. 

“Koo, do something,” you plead, fingers gripping the edge of the table hard.

Unable to resist any longer, Jungkook swears under his breath, pushing himself into you in one steady motion. You gasp, feeling the entirety of him fill you up so good. Jungkook doesn't move, eyes pressed shut as he acclimatises himself to the feeling of being inside you. 

The gratifying burn from being stretched out makes you tense in anticipation. As a result, Jungkook inhales, fingers gripping your thighs harder. Opening his eyes, he looks down to see both of you joined and slowly pulls out, watching his cock glisten with your wetness. Back and forth he goes, moaning at the sight of it.

“Fuck me, properly,” you huff, growing impatient with need.

He rolls his tongue on the inside of his cheek and smirks. In one quick motion, Jungkook shoves his dick back inside of you. “Done.”

You brace yourself, moving your hands back behind you on the table and you’re right to do so. Jungkook fucks you with no inhibition, hammering your sweet spot every single time. You always knew he was good at everything — cooking, golf, rugby, gardening, fixing things, running, heck any sport, singing, even poetry when he tries — but the way he fucks you goes beyond any expectation you could’ve had. 

You can do nothing but sit there and take it, jaw slack as your legs spread wide for him. Crying out for more, he gives you what you want and takes you to orgasm. A blissful sensation ensues, heightened by the fact that you’re with Jungkook and you cry his name as you climax. Holding your trembling frame secure, he follows closely himself, coming hard and hot into the condom. 

Heavy breathing is the only sound that fills the room for a moment. You’re basking in all of Jungkook’s post-sex glory, his chest glistening with a sheen of sweat as a few strands of hair now stick to his forehead. He lowers your legs to the desk, kissing you lazily on the forehead before he pulls out and disposes the condom in the trash can under the desk. 

He takes some tissues from the box behind you and attempts to clean himself before zipping up. “You okay?”

Exhaling, you push yourself off the desk. “Never been better.” Your legs wobble as you stand and Jungkook holds you still.

“Best sex I ever had,” he says as a passing comment, helping you clean up.

And you agree. “We’re definitely doing that again.” it’s just now, you realise you’re completely naked in the middle of the cloakroom.

Jungkook is already crossing the room, picking up your dress and heels. Together, you make sure you both look presentable enough to rejoin the wedding. 

Running your fingers through his hair, a smile graces his lips involuntarily. His happiness is infectious and you grin. “Happy?”

“Words can’t even describe it. Especially with you messing my hair up like that.” His eyes twinkle with mischief.

You laugh, swatting his arm gently. "Hey, I'm going for the tousled look. It's called fashion, Jeon, look it up.

"Of course," he says, nodding sagely. "My mistake. You're clearly ahead of your time.

"Exactly!" you say, with mock seriousness. "Now, are you going to kiss me or keep critiquing my hairstyling?"

Leaning in, he places a tender kiss on your lips before his expression shifts, carrying a hint of solemnity. “I am sorry for everything that happened before though.”

“It’s fine. You already apologised. Besides, so am I.”

“You didn't do anything wrong.”

“I could’ve been more honest with you.”

“I should have been first. It’s because of me everything happened that way. If I’d been honest, you wouldn’t have been hurt in the process.”

Sighing softly, you grasp his chin with your thumb and forefinger. “But we’re here now, it happened for a reason. And honestly, I wouldn't have it any other way.”

He smiles and nods. “I love you.”

“Love you too.”

6 months later.

“Finally!” Pushing the back of your earrings in, you step onto the landing. “We need to leave soon.”

Jungkook puts down his carry bag by the door, a wide grin on his face. “Are those the earrings I got you last week?”

You nod, smiling. “I’ve been so excited to wear them, they’re so perfect.”

“They’re perfect on you.” He kisses your cheek, still admiring you.

“Alright, I’ll be ready in 15 minutes.” Your dad steps in the front door, putting his own carry bag down next to Jungkook’s as he catches sight of you. “Oh, Y/N, dear, you look beautiful.”

“Thanks, dad,” you grin. “How was golf?”

“Your dad doesn’t like to lose, I’ll tell you that,” Jungkook chuckled, glancing at your dad with a playful smirk. “Although he almost beat me this time.”

“Almost being the operative word," your dad retorted with a grin, giving him a friendly pat on the shoulder.

“Yeah, He's definitely got some tricks up his sleeve.”

“Coming from you.” Your dad looks at Jungkook, definitely impressed. “You really surprised me today.”

Jungkook shrugs, a quirk to his lips. “What can I say? I’m full of surprises.” 

Their cryptic conversation goes unnoticed by you as you check you’ve got everything in your purse. “That’s fab, guys, now hurry up. We need to leave or Alex will never invite us to another party again.” 

“Alright, I’ll just put these away.” Jungkook picks up the carry bags while you rush back upstairs, having remembered to put perfume on. Watching you go, Jungkook feels a wave of nervous anticipation washing over him. He hears footsteps behind him and turns to see your mom come through the kitchen.

“Ah, there’s my beautiful wife,” your dad beams, giving her a kiss on the cheek.

She smiles and turns to Jungkook. "Excited for tonight?" she whispers, her voice filled with barely contained excitement.

Jungkook’s heart skips a beat as he nods. “She still has no idea right?” 

“Not a clue.”

“Good.”

Twenty minutes later, you’re all gathered by the front door, ready to leave as your dad sets the alarm. You step out into the driveway, met by a gust of warm evening breeze. Looking at the horizon, the warm glow of the setting sun paints the sky in hues of orange and pink, casting a serene ambiance and you feel a wave of contentment. 

Jungkook appears at your side, looking at you like he’s falling in love for the first time all over again. Smiling, you lean in and give him a kiss.

“What was that for?”

“I just love you… lots.”

Something in Jungkook’s expression shifts. “Me too.

Your hand finds his and your fingers intertwine. “Ready?”

Jungkook nods, thumb circling your bare ring finger, which, unbeknownst to you, will soon be holding the most perfect princess cut diamond as a promise of forever with him.

“Ready.”

note. thank you for reading! i really hope you liked it! ✨ please share + let me know your thoughts <3 more fics coming soon ;)

[cindyss]

Theodore nott × reader (book reader)

They go to the mall together Theodore trying to find ways to spend on his girl because she keeps rejecting everything (growing up her parents didn't have money so she finds buying stuff for no particular reason is unnecessary).

But she's on her phone looking at some books she really wants, she's been saving for them but still doesn't have enough to buy all 5. Theodore looks at her phone wondering what she's so interested in, when he notices that you want the books, he leads you to the book store and buys those books and 4 more. When at the till, you see how expensive it is and try to tell him to not pay he quickly dismissed you

— you know ill do anything to see that pretty smile of yours -theodore nott

- pairing: theodore nott x reader (book)

- word count: 1.08k

- note: absolute cutest idea ever 🥹

you and theodore had hit the three month mark of dating, and to celebrate your anniversary, you decided to go out together to the mall and after it you would go grab lunch together.

you put on a cute yet casual outfit and got picked up by theo. as soon you got in his car he greeted you with a kiss, “hii bella, you look so beautiful”.

you face turned red, your boyfriend not once failing at making you blush, not missing a chance to compliment you. “thank you baby”.

he started the car and drove the both of you to the mall. on the way there, you talked about a few things, exchanging laughs and smiles. suddenly, his phone started ringing, “sorry i have to take this, enzo is staying over at mine and he was trying to cook pasta before i left, so i just wanna make sure he hasn’t burnt my house down already.” you chuckled “of course take your time.”

you opened your phone while he spoke on the phone, scrolling through instagram, you came across a recent reel of your favorite author, talking about the release of her new book. from next to you, theodore took a glance at your phone, wondering what you’re so interested in when he saw a last holding a book.

“berkshire, the cheese is in a white container in the freezer, how many times do i have to tell you that? i have to go now, take care and don’t burn my kitchen”.

With that, he ended the phone call, he turned to look at you before then turning his head to keep his eyes on the road, “isn’t this the book you’ve been telling me you want to read?” he questioned.

“yes it is, she released it a few days ago. ive been saving up for it and a few others im going to buy soon”. to that, the boy nodded before turning the car to the parking lot of the mall.

after a few hours of walking around the mall, you only a bought a small amount of clothes as theo wouldn’t let you pay, your stomach grew more hungry.

“i think its tike to leave, im starving and our reservation is in around 25 minutes” you told him.

“okay, just, one more place, come” he said holding your hand, leading you to a shop. as you got close, you found yourself standing in front of a book store

“oh theo, i’ll come back later, i didn’t save up money for all of them yet” “who said anything about you paying?” he said leading you in.

“oh no, i cant baby, they’re expensive.” “please cara mia let me do these for you”. he smiled at you. “now lets go find these books of yours.” he added as you walked through the shelves.

after finding the correct isle for the genre of your book, you scan the shelves looking for the newly released book. “there it is!” theo exclaims grabbing it. “thank you theo now can we leave”.

he came closer to you taking your hands in his “cara there are 4 more you wanted didn’t you?”

“how did you know?”

“it wasn’t hard to find your good reads tbr list” he said earning a smile from you.

theodore was the most careful and thoughtful boyfriend ever, he could tell when you were uncomfortable just by your behavior, sad just by meeting your eyes.

“thank you but i promise ill have enough money saved for these by the end of the month” “no bella its our anniversary today and so i will buy these for you as a gift”

growing up poor wasn’t exactly a story from a kids book, you didn’t have each and every shoe you’ve ever dreamed off, you didn’t have your own room, bathroom, not even privacy, all had to be shared with your family members.

Therefore, someone spending money on you made you feel so guilty, and especially something like this, your boyfriend wasting money on something for you was unnecessary and unfair as you couldn’t give back something in return.

As you tried to protest, theo just pulled you, leading you everywhere. He managed to find 2 of the books you wanted , however, 1 he couldn’t find, and as you refused to cooperate, he walked up to a worker there, “i’m sorry where can i find the book shadow and bone?” “come with me” the woman led you to one of the isles

“we currently aren’t selling them separately so you’ll have to buy the whole 6 books” “theo no! these are way more than i need right now.”

he turned his face to look at you then turned back to look at the women, “yes ill take these thank you”.

with that, he took the box from her, and went to checkout. as the lady was checking the books, theodore never once bothered to look at you as he knew you were probably fuming by now.

“it’ll be $123”. your boyfriend then pulled out his credit card as you gasped “theo no seriously,” you stated in a serious, angry tone. “this is for my own entertainment and i told you I’m saving money for it, this isn’t any of your business to buy it for me.”

the boy next to you then let out a sarcastic exaggerated sigh “your business is mine okay? you know ill do anything to see that pretty smile of yours principessa”.

your heart absolutely melted at his words, you wanted to cry yet scream at him for not listening to you.

the lady then handed back his credit card and the bag containing your books. “how long have you been married for?” the woman asked, smiling, she looked quite old, early 60s perhaps.

“not yet, no” theodore said “but as soon as we graduate I’m putting a ring on it” he smiled as the lady chuckled. he carried the bag in one hand and held your hand in the other as you walked out,

“thank you so much for all of this seriously, but i am mad at you so dont ever think about doing that again.” “oh i will” he teased,

“lets go eat some food right now before i resort to eating my better option.” he spoke “which is?” you asked

“you.”

cutest request ever, i need a boy like him who will buy all the books on my tbr list fr 🙂‍↕️ .

[charnelhouse]

safe house

Pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x F!Reader Wordcount: 3.1k Warnings: semi public sex. rough smut. pain kink. size difference. ghost is a simp. sex on a couch. cum play Summary: “Kid,” he husks. “I wouldn’t give a shit if they all came in and watched.” Simon 'Ghost' Riley Masterlist

Of all the risky shit you've participated in, deciding to sit with Ghost post-mission takes the cake. Things just happen. Out of your control.

You can't not listen to him.

Even your teammates give you nervous glances when Simon barks at you to come see him for a "debrief."

You're screwed, lass.

Eat a dick, Soap.

So here you are, forced to brush shoulders with your hulking lieutenant while the others shower or scrape cold chili out of cans in the tiny safe house kitchen.

Everything is secure.

Ghost smells like fireworks. There’s snow still melting in his boots. He’s managed to remove all his gear aside from his gun on the coffee table, but he’s just as enormous. Burly. Rippling with that animal aggression, he can’t shake off after a mission. 

“You should shower,” you suggest sweetly. You’d gotten first dibs, but you’d been unable to scrape off the blood wedged under your fingernails and mud crusted to your hairline like sea barnacles. You feel dirty, as if the job had left you withered and full of dust. There’s the particular flavor of guilt clinging to the underside of your mouth. 

“You didn’t listen to a direct order,” Ghost utters in a voice so quiet it could flicker into smoke. He was screaming at you earlier, demanding that you return to him instead of toward the USB drive with the intel. Red Fox. You take one more bloody step, and I’ll suspend your ass.

“It would have been for nothing had we not gotten it,” you protest. Deny. Deny. Double down. Invent excuses, even though the scariest man alive is speaking to you like he may just break your neck. 

He shifts on the couch. The sounds of your teammates seem very far away, although they’re only in the next room. Simon is angry, and it’s not the familiar hot-headed fury he favors. No. It’s chilling. He’s holding himself back. Out of the corner of your eye, you see his gloveless fingers curl around the edge of the couch. They’re enormous hands. They can wrap entirely around your bicep, the nape of your neck, or the crown of your skull.

He leans back, thighs spread open, stealing space and shoving you toward the end of the couch without even moving a muscle.

“I’m sorry,” you offer rather pathetically. Your voice is audibly weary, utterly subservient. Ghost runs a tight fucking ship, and everything can collapse if you step a hair out of line. 

He presses his arm against yours, lowering his head closer to your ear. “I don’t give a fuck.” 

His hand finds your hip, and before you realize it, he’s got one arm banded around your chest while keeping you pinned to his front. Hee slides behind you until you’re both horizontal, your legs tangled together, his covered mouth puffing warm air against your jaw. You could be spooning if his embrace wasn’t so carved with aggression. 

“You know it’s not about bloody fuckin’ orders,” he growls as he shoves your sweats down your thighs.

“Wha-”

You choke on a gasp as the muscular forearm around your cotton-covered tits squeezes, sealing you into him until you can’t budge an inch. You can hear him fumbling with the button on his pants. There’s blood on his boots. The denim and his sweatshirt irritate your bare skin. You’re damp from your shower, and he’s coated in a thin film of battle. “Simon,” you warn. “They’ll - they’ll come in.”

Unbothered, he continues, and you can feel him, heavy and hot against your lower back. “What did I tell you?” he mutters into your hair. “Before we left...when I had you on your knees?”

Your mind is sprinting on overdrive. The blood rushing under your skin is flaring to an almost unbearable heat. Yesterday morning? You’d snuck into the bathroom with Simon...gotten on the cold tile floor, and sucked him off until he’d nearly punched a hole in the cheap plaster wall. He’d been surprised. It’s not like you hadn’t screwed before, but anytime you ever gave him pleasure when it was only about him, he’d get totally weird. 

Like he didn’t deserve it even though he -

Without warning, he breaches you with a thick finger. You bite down on your lower lip, swallowing a grunt. Your sweats are caught around your knees, and his tree trunks for legs spread you open and stretched like you’re latched into an intricate web. He lazily thrusts into your soaked cunt, drawing his finger out to the tip before sinking it back to the knuckle. 

“Jesus, Riley,” you moan, and the arm across your breasts lifts just enough so he can cover your mouth with his hand. 

“What did I say, love?” 

Your brain isn’t working. Your entire focus has narrowed to the overwhelming sensation of him finger-fucking you from behind. It is a rare show on his part. It’s risky, but Simon Riley is a super soldier, and his hyper-fixation is now firmly on the task of ruining you.   

He lowers the hand from your lips to allow you to speak.

“Swallow it?” you try, and he pauses before an unsettling, baritone noise reverberates within his massive chest and he withdraws his finger only to bury two inside you. 

You jerk, keeping silent but dangerously on the brink of a damn orgasm. You’re drenched, and Ghost’s slow, drawn-out movements squelch with every perfunctory pump of his hand.

You can feel the hard shell of his mask against the crown of your head. “You’re going to be the death of me, kid,” Ghost sighs.

He sounds...exasperated. Perhaps, you had, admittedly, fucked up. You shouldn’t have done it. You should have listened to him. Escape had been narrow and made even more narrow by you wasting precious seconds to grab the intel. Even if Ghost had the countenance of a bull shark, he cared more than most. He was staunchly loyal. He wouldn’t lose people under his watch. 

But you aren’t just people.

Fuck buddy? Sure. 

More than that?

You weren’t entirely oblivious to how he touched you outside their secret trysts. His gaze lingered, his presence curled around you like an oversized shadow. 

What had he said yesterday morning?

“Stay alive,” he husked as his palm enveloped the top of your skull, those sleepy, ink-filled eyes searching yours. His thumb traced your cheek as you rested the side of your face against his thigh. The salt of him coated your throat, the nape of your neck still tingled from his iron grip when he finished in your mouth. “Please.” 

Gingerly, you tug an arm free to grasp the hand silencing you. You pull it away, and Ghost, Simon, allows it. Shooting him a desperate, aching glance over your shoulder, you press your lips to his fingertips. “I’m sorry,” you repeat. “I’ll stay alive for you.” 

You give his words back, hoping it’s enough. 

See? I was listening. I was listening as you throat-fucked me. 

Pleased, he murmurs your name as he presses closer before you force two of his fingers into your mouth and suck. He goes rigid, and the other set of fingers inside you become still as if he’s trying to assess this startling development and figure out the next strategy. It is only a moment, a few seconds, and then he draws away from your cunt to grasp the underside of your thigh. He eases it up before shifting his hips forward, and there he is: his thick, unforgiving length crudely gliding through your folds. The pleasure comes in bursts. Tiny pricks. Stars. Each time the head of his cock grazes your clit, it sends sparks unfurling in your belly. You shove your ass back into him, demanding and needy. 

You started this, you want to say when you know he’d turn it around with: You did when you didn’t fucking listen. 

His hand returns to your hip, his thumb rubbing small, tight circles into the flesh. “Desperate, are we?” His voice is rough - all gravel and artillery smoke and so low it sweeps like a tongue against the seam of your pussy. “I thought you were scared the others would see us?”

You release his fingers with a slick pop, and he, once again, wraps his forearm around your chest in order to anchor you to him. You can just imagine the scene the team would walk in on. 

Ghost, fully clothed, with his tattooed arm snug around your tits. You’re in a flimsy tank top with your sweats tangled around your knees. His mask-covered face is notched over your shoulder. To anyone, he’d look untouched while you were ruined. Bare thighs glistening with your own arousal. Humiliating.

“Do you care?”

He chuckles, and it vibrates against your back. “Kid,” he husks. “I wouldn’t give a shit if they all came in and watched.”

You shiver, involuntarily clenching around nothing. “Right,” you croak as you feel his hips draw back again, the fingers holding your thigh in the air, are digging into your skin. Blunt nails. Dirt. “Because...because then they’d know I’m yours.”

That must do something to him because he sucks in a breath and suddenly, without hesitation, slides into you until his groin is nestled against your ass. You black-out. Your vision swims and blurs until you can’t distinguish between the dark fireplace and the shitty armchairs. His cock is too big. That’s a stone-cold fact. The first time he’d fucked you had been more than a challenge. He’d prepared you with his tongue, fingers, spit and lube you filched from Soap, but it had still been difficult. 

He’s breathing steadily as his heart thumps against your back. His hand falls to your stomach, where he can, undoubtedly, feel the head of his cock nudging one of your internal organs. You feel full - crammed to the brim and feverish. Sweat collects at your hairline as you endure the pressure of him inside you. The girth. The weight. Every time Ghost fucks you, it’s a lesson in endurance. He can go for hours, and you take it like his well-trained soldier. The two of you are an HR nightmare.

You squeak when Ghost presses his balaclava-covered mouth to your neck. “Good girl,” he soothes, clucking his tongue. “Good girl...just take it like you are. Fuckin’ perfect.”

Well-endowed fuck. 

It’s only painful in a good way. Your body accommodates him, allowing him to squeeze an inch deeper as his hand slides down from your belly to your clit. He presses it gently before drawing circles. He retreats, his cock dragging through your walls until he’s halfway out before he plunges back in. The pace is unhurried. He’s grinding into you as if he’s savoring every part of your pussy. He cups your tits, grasps your throat, and explores the sensitive flesh stretched around his enormous shaft. 

You’re never having anal. 

Unless he asked really nicely. 

“I want to mark you,” he muses through long, deliberate strokes. “If I come in that lovely cunt, you’d keep me in there, yeah?”

“Of course,” you reply immediately, even though you sound like you’ve been drowned and spit back onto the beach. You’re so sick with him, overwhelmed and a little in love and how did this fucking happen? “Anything you want, Luitenant.”

He delivers a sharper thrust that nearly propels you off the couch, but his grasp on your waist is unforgivable. His strength. His presence. He smells like sweat and packed dirt and a forest fire. “You’re bloody obedient when I’ve got my cock in you.”

Obviously. 

“I know,” you murmur as you bite your lip again when he strikes something tender. He’s rubbing your clit in time with every snap of his hips, dick pistoning inside you as your lower muscles buckle, your thighs quivering as your pleasure hangs precariously over a steep drop. His legs wedge yours open, keeping your cunt spread as he manipulates your body like one of his precious guns. If I move this, what will this do? Let me make it better.  

“I’m so - so fucking easy,” you slur. 

“No,” he grits as his pelvis begins to stutter against your ass, his breathing ragged. “No, you’re the most difficult thing I’ve ever had beneath me - ever - ever had to fuckin’ handle.”

God - that has double meanings. You’re his subordinate. You’re his lover. You’re on your knees for him, but it goes both ways. It had been Ghost who had turned the lights off the first time and removed his mask. He’d trusted you enough to shut your eyes and let him lick your pussy until you were in tears. 

I wouldn’t look, Riley. That’s something I won’t take unless you give it. 

You had felt his face, though. In the pitch blank, you had touched his full lips, the defined lines of his cheekbones. You’d felt his thick, silky hair and the bumps of various scars. 

You feel sexy.

You’re trying to butter me up. 

The sounds from the kitchen startle you. The men are taunting each other. A pan clatters. The volume turns up, and you suddenly realize that you and Ghost are making quite a bit of noise. The couch is creaking. Your cunt indecently squelches with every spear of his cock. He’s grunting into your hair, the skin at his groin smacking the full flesh of your ass as he bottoms out. 

“They’re going to hear us,” you warn. You’re on the cusp of exploding, breaking into fragments. 

“They probably already do,” he quips before fucking you harder. Your hand flies up to clutch at his burly forearm, your other hand rises higher to grasp the back of his head. You want his hair, you want to fist it and hurt him just a little. “Easy, love,” he urges. “Relax...relax...you’re getting too tense.”

He’s right. Your orgasm has fluttered away because now you’re fully aware that your teammates have probably created a racket to drown out their Lieutenant, their stiff, cold enigma of a Lieutenant, railing their comrade into the couch. 

“Focus, kid,” he orders bluntly as if he was chastising you on a mission. He ducks his head and nuzzles your cheek to coax you back into his fold. “They won’t come in,” he drawls in a low, piercing rumble. “They won’t say a goddamn word because they know I’d murder every one of them if they tried ripping me away from this cunt.”

Holy. Fuck. 

Everything has climbed up your throat. Your head is on backward. The pressure of his cock, his fingers on your clit, and his massive body wrapped around your own is causing the air to crackle. 

“Simon,” you gasp as he readjusts his grip and forces you forward. He shifts his hips so he’s thrusting down, and it’s impossible to know when he’ll be done. He rides your ass until his pace falters and his cock twitches and throbs before he abruptly settles, douses out the fire, and continues at a more even, lazy rhythm. 

“I need you to come for me, darling,” he encourages softly. It’s dipped in a tenderness that surprises you. His voice remains deep and gruff, but there’s a gentleness behind it. You’ve never seen his face, and the intimacy with which he handles you is nothing you have ever experienced. It is too much. 

Ghost gives you his history in patches. There are brief moments where finishes and rolls off you, and you both just stare at the ceiling, fingers brushing in the dark. “There’s this pub by the Irwell that I think you’d fancy,” he remarks. “Jesus knows if it’s still around, but I reckon you’d like it.”

It’s not just sex. This is not just sex at all. 

Stay alive. 

Please. 

You know it’s not about bloody fuckin’ orders.

Simon is coaxing you into your climax. He’s buried so deep that you can feel the tip of him nudge against your womb. You feel swollen and raw, and his muscles twitch against you. You’re throbbing like an open wound as he maneuvers your ragdoll body on his cock. It should be overwhelming, but his fearsome rough voice is full of yearning when he motivates you to find your pleasure. 

The tang of your climax builds until there’s nowhere else for it to go. It roars forward, jolting through your limbs as it forces you to curl into a fetal position, but Simon is right there. He holds you in place, his mask grazing your cheek. “C’mon, love,” he says. “That’s it. Good girl.” 

As his palm clamps over your mouth, you erupt, and you bathe his cock in your climax. Hot and flooded as the punch of a tropical storm. “Bite me,” Ghost demands, instinctively thrusting into your soaked, fluttering heat. “Do what you need, love. Take it out on me.” 

He groans when your teeth nip his palm. You bite harder, and he nearly chokes.  

You don’t understand how this has gone from him enraged to riding you to a full gallop to allowing you to use him for your own pleasure. As he fucks you through it, jamming into the searing, wet clutch of your spasming sex, he hits his end. His hands on you tighten as he makes a deep, grating noise from his chest, filling you up. It’s warm and somewhat soothing. Shuddering, Ghost has to brace his arm on the couch to keep himself from collapsing on top of you. 

“Fucking hell,” he mutters as he buries his face into your neck. “Jesus.”

He slips out, and there is only emptiness. You’re aching and sore, and he pets at your cunt, pressing his come deeper so it doesn’t drip. You shift onto your side to face him, his hand still nestled against your pussy, his eyes black and heavy-lidded as they regard you with subtle affection. 

“Keep me in there,” he reminds you. 

Hesitantly, you snag the edge of his black ski mask and slowly lift it. He stops breathing, his heart beginning to thump wildly as his gaze widens. However, he doesn’t stop you, and it’s a test you predicted. 

“Red,” he warns. Your call sign. The bite of his authority rippling between you. 

You hitch the mask just a centimeter above his top lip. You sit up awkwardly, your sweats still knotted around your knees, your lower half gone to jello. You grasp his stubbled jaw and kiss him tenderly. He stiffens, making a startled noise in the back of his throat before he decidedly returns it, licking into the cavern of your mouth as he forces you onto your back and wedges himself between your legs. The pointed edge of his skull mask digs into the top of your cheek, but you’re past caring. You can feel his cock filling against the crease of your thigh. 

Again? You can’t go again. You’d surely split in half. 

“Don’t worry,” he says as if he can read your mind. “I just want this.”

Just this. The couch, the safe house, and their teammates only a room away. 

He breathes against your mouth, the sliver of his secret skin scratching your own. You nudge your thumb along a scar and kiss him harder. 

[ghcstao3]

something about the disparity between ghost and soap’s morning habits when they’re on leave

soap is always up at the crack of dawn to go for a run or lift weights or some form of exercise. breakfast is always some protein-filled thing, be it egg-white omelettes or breakfast sandwiches or shakes (whatever it is, ghost is happy with reheating leftovers). he’ll get the things he needs done soon as possible, just so he doesn’t leave room for himself to forget in spite of the reminders he leaves around.

ghost is the exact opposite—though particular about routine when not at home, where he can let his guard down is the only time he’ll drop the tension from his shoulders. he’ll sleep in til late morning, shuffle to the kitchen, shovel whatever soap had made earlier into his mouth. he’ll shower, brush his teeth, do one thing he needed to accomplish before taking a cat nap or pestering soap for attention (both habits of which soap finds amusing).

sometimes soap might drag ghost out for a run—or a walk, at the very least—and sometimes ghost might rouse and pull soap back to bed for another hour or two, but for the most part they remain content in their separate routines. it isn’t often things get to be in their control as such, so it’s nice having that break.

even if their ideas of control are vastly different.

[glossysoap]

price is a thigh man (no i’m not projecting again) and loves using your thighs as a stress ball. will squeeze and knead and poke and kiss and bite your thighs mindlessly.

sitting on his lap, he’s kneading your thighs. laying with your legs across him, he’s running his hands up and down just enjoying the smooth skin. sitting in bed with your legs out, he’s flopped beside your legs so he can nip and kiss your thighs. they’re his favourite pillows and he can’t keep himself away from your thighs.

touchy ; john price | o’ captain challenge

OH HE SOOOO FUCKING IS. he cannot keep his hands off you. inspired by both my convos with you and my convos with @loveyhoneydovey <3

note: 18+, afab, some use of fem pet names, face sitting, oral (f receiving and m receiving), 69, this kinda got away from me and became not limited to just thigh worship LMAO it became price being down bad for you in every way possible <3 also my first entry for @glitterypirateduck’s price challenge! using the prompts:

word count: 3k

69. 69ing happens (it’s my first time writing that, so pls be gentle lol. also keep in mind that that isn’t the focus of the piece, so that particular scene isn’t super long.)

83. Face sitting

93. Breast worship

It’s like a magnetic force, honestly. He sees you and he has to touch you. He sees your breasts and his arms are itching to snake around your chest. He sees your hips and the meat of your thighs and he can’t help but reach for them.

It doesn’t matter what you’re doing, he will be touching you.

If you’re in the kitchen, standing at the hot stove, he’ll come up behind you and press himself up against you.

His body flush against yours, warm chest pressed against your back and his face nestled in the crook of your neck. His beard scratching at your skin as he leaves open mouthed kisses along the span of your neck, moving down your shoulder. You can feel him grinning against your skin as he hears your breath hitch and gasp. The wooden spoon fell from your hand onto the stove with a clatter.

“Shhh, I got you.”

He even leans down a bit so he’s face level with your back, making it even easier for him to grope and grab at your thighs. Squeezing at the plush flesh that’s so fucking soft, so fucking warm against his rough and calloused hands.

“Love these fuckin’ thighs. Just wanna grab ‘em all day long. Wanna mark em up.”

More often than not, if there were no pressing matters, he would reach around you to turn the stove off. Then he would turn you around so you were facing him, his gaze burning into your face. He used one hand to cup your chin and tilt it up, making you look up at him. He was so close to you, you could feel his breath fanning against your skin. You feel your cheeks burn as you see his mouth quirked up into a grin, his eyes crinkling at the edges. His stormy blues were filled with mirth and mischief as his hands moved to trail down your back.

“Pretty girl.” He murmurs, voice sending shivers down your spine, only intensified by his warm hands on the small of your back. Your hands instinctively found their home on his abdomen, resting against the hard muscle covered in a layer of fat. All warm and soft against your palms.

His eyes flit from your eyes down to your lips, watching as you bite your lip between your teeth. Before you know it, he brings one big hand to cup your cheek as he presses his lips against yours. He holds your face, keeping you close and using his thumb to caress small circles on your skin. While he’s busy kissing you breathless, his other hand has slid under your shirt.

His hand is warm and comforting against your skin as he holds you close to him, so secure. So safe.

Your mouths slot together perfectly, as if they were molded to the other. The way his rough, slightly chapped lips fit perfectly against your soft, plump lips as his tongue dipped inside your mouth. The way your tongues mingled as he tasted every bit of you that he could.

He pours every ounce of love into the kiss, every nip and lick and peck. He wanted, needed you to feel how much he loved you. How determined he is to come back to you every day. How he would crawl back to you if that’s what it took.

As you slipped even further into the kiss, your hands slid up past his abdomen, stopping at his chest. You nipped playfully at his lip, moaning into his mouth as you felt the hand on your back pulling you in further. As you nipped his lip, you felt his heart race even quicker under your hand - a telltale show of how his body was affected by you.

He smiled against your mouth, eyes peeking open briefly to glance at your blissed out expression, before he reluctantly moves his hand from your cheek and down to join his other hand at your back. You gasp into his mouth as his hands trail lower, lower and lower, until his big hands are cupping your ass.

Before you knew it, you’re yelping as he’s lifting you up and setting you on the counter. You lay back on your propped up elbows and watch as he lowers himself down until he’s face level with your legs. You watch as his expression transforms from one of passion to one of pure hunger, his lips curling into a smile smirk. His stormy eyes darting up to your face before darting back between your legs, and with just that single look you felt your legs spread apart on their own.

He laughed at that, a rumble from deep in his chest. With nimble fingers, he tugs on the band of your panties and pulls them down your legs, all the way off of you. He absentmindedly flings the pair of panties to the floor. He gently takes your calf in his hand, hiking it over his broad shoulder. His eyes darken at the sight of your wet cunt all exposed for him, all soaked and begging for his attention.

“So fuckin’ good for me. Y’ don’t even have to think about it, huh? Being obedient just comes naturally, hm?” He murmurs against your calf, his beard scratching your skin. He presses a kiss against your leg while keeping his eyes on you, drinking in your blissed out expression. He loves seeing your brows knit together and your pupils blown wide with lust. Your chest heaved as you panted in anticipation.

“Mm-hmm! Wanna be good for you.” You whine, absentmindedly bucking your hips, desperate for him to touch you.

He chuckles, his other hand finding your other leg and hiking it over his other shoulder.

“Oh, you have,” He croons praise into the crook of your knee, pressing another kiss to your skin. His big hand squeezing the plush skin of your thigh so gently, enjoying how soft it is beneath his calloused skin. His eyes bore into yours as he continued kissing up your knee, slowly trailing to your thigh. He leaves wet, open mouthed kisses on your inner thigh, paying special attention to your stretch marks. His tongue left wet stripes of saliva along those stripes, before sucking the skin with a moan. The closer he got to your cunt, the more you could feel his breath fanning hot against your pussy with every kiss, lick and bite.

“Don’t worry, sweet girl. I’ll take care of you,” Is all he says before devouring you.

His mouth is gentle and slow on your cunt, all languid and planned strokes of his tongue along your folds. Lapping up your juices as his strong hands grip your thighs, holding you impossibly closer to his mouth. He moans into your cunt at your taste, sending vibrations straight to your core.

“Fuck, John,” He hears you moan out his name, and he smiles against your cunt.

He flattens his tongue and leaves wide licks over your entrance, before pressing open mouthed kisses on your slit. He’s teasing in his ministrations, never fully dipping his tongue inside you, just licking along the entrance. You don’t know how long he spent cruelly teasing you with his methodical licking, it could’ve been two minutes or ten — but either way, it was driving you mad.

You whine and buck your hips into his mouth, desperate for him to stop teasing you. Those little licks and kisses made that heat grow in your core but it wasn’t near enough to make that knot come undone.

He grins as he hears moans and whimpers fall from your mouth with every lick and kiss, but it’s not enough. It’s never enough. He needed to feel you absolutely fall apart on mouth, he needed you to drench his tongue and soak his beard. He needed to hear you wail and scream his name.

So he didn’t hesitate to dive in, dipping his tongue inside your hole and lapping at your juices. “Fuck, fuck—,” He heard you cry out. He licked along your warm walls, moaning with every lap of his tongue. He savored your taste with fervor, eating you out sloppily with no care for how loud he was being or how many wet sounds he was making.

“Fuck, you taste so good.” He moans into your pussy, wrapping his arms around your thighs and holding you still. “Want you to soak me, c’mon.”

The wind was knocked out of you as he began paying special attention to your swollen clit. He heard you mewl as he began giving delicate licks to the sensitive bundle of nerves, feeling your hand bury in his hair and hold him between your thighs.

Your hips bucked against his face as you chased your high, feeling that bundle of warmth and tightness in your stomach grow with every passing second. What he did next pushed you even closer to the edge, leaving your legs twitching and your hips jolting. He let his tongue trail around your bud, circling it with a satisfied hum.

“Fuck! That’s it, that’s it—,” You all but shout, feeling yourself teetering just on the edge, so fucking close to gushing all over his tongue.

“Yeah? Like that?” He teases, his voice muffled against your heat. Not even waiting for an answer (as if you could give a coherent response) before he wrapped his lips around your clit and sucked.

He watched with a grin as your back arched and your face contorted in pleasure, a wail falling from your lips as your pussy spasmed against his tongue. He growled against your sensitive flesh as you gushed all over his tongue, your delicious juices soaking him.

“Attagirl.”

If you’re just relaxing in bed, you’ll find him laying his head on or between your thighs with a content grin. Most of the time, that cuddling will escalate to skin slapping against skin, moans and panting echoing throughout the room.

Only a few hours after you were devoured in the kitchen, you were laying on your spacious bed (where he would soon have his way with you again).

He started out by climbing into bed and crawling on top of you, nudging your legs apart with his knee so he would have space to lay between. He wastes no time in laying on top of you, nuzzling his face in your stomach and laying his arms next to you. He was all warm and heavy on top of you, a welcome grounding force against you.

You think it’s innocent cuddling, but you’re proven wrong when his hands slide under your thin top and move to cup your tits. He grins into your stomach as he hears you gasp, his thumbs working to tweak your sensitive nipples. He enjoys hearing you whine and feeling your chest heave as he rubs the hardened nubs with his calloused fingers. Every once in a while, he’ll give your breasts a good squeeze, humming against your stomach in approval.

In one hand, he keeps teasing the sensitive bud and rolling it between his thumb and forefinger, while the other hand is working on pushing your shirt all the way up, fully exposing your tits to him.

Before you know it, he’s moved up your body so he was face level with those same breasts he was busy teasing.

“Mmm, there you go.” Is all he murmurs before wrapping his lips around your nipple, staring up at you all the while. Your breath hitches as you feel his tongue lap at your sensitive bud, his lips suckling and teasing at the flesh. You watch with lust blown eyes as he licks and sucks at your skin, all while still teasing your other nipple with his hand.

He leaves your nipple alone for a minute in favor of littering bites along your breast, sucking the soft flesh into his mouth with a moan before releasing it. Every bite is followed by his tongue laving over the teeth marks, his beard scratching your skin.

With every bite and lick and suck, you feel yourself grow more aroused and hungry for his touch. He grins against your nipple as he feels you buck against him.

“Y’ needy? Hm?” He asks, all muffled against your breast but you understand him all the same, nodding with furrowed brows.

He takes his time, he doesn’t rush to make you come.

He keeps sucking and pawing at your tits, as if he had all the time in the world. Moaning into your flesh, licking at your skin and savoring the taste. Biting and nibbling at your skin, leaving teeth marks with every suck and nip. Your hand flew up to clutch at his head, tugging at his hair as you held him close. He hummed against your nipple at the slight tingle that he felt as you pulled his hair.

Slowly, you feel a ghosting touch of his free hand (the one that wasn’t busy teasing your other nipple) trailing down past your waistband and into your panties. Your eyes flutter shut and your hips buck into his hand as you feel his fingers trace over your entrance, gathering your juices and spreading it along your folds.

“So fuckin’ wet, doll.”

His mouth goes back to work on your hardened bud, flattening his tongue to lick wide stripes on the sensitive skin. While his tongue is lapping at your flesh and sucking and biting, he’s using two fingers to dip into your folds.

“Oh, look at that. Just.. slides right in for me.” He murmurs muffled praise against your nipple, tongue laving over the hardened bud.

He tries to go slow but they slide right in on their own because of how wet you were, and he can’t help but chuckle. They easily slide in all the way to the knuckle, soaking his digits in your juices and making wet noises every time he pumped his fingers in and out.

“Mmm, fuck,” You whimper at the combined feeling of his fingers pumping in and out, and his mouth worshipping your breast. Your shaky hand fell from his head as he moved to worship your other breast.

His tongue immediately started licking the soft skin of your breast, grazing the flesh and leaving kisses in his wake. As his tongue savored the sweat on your skin, his fingers were savoring the warmth of your cunt, pumping in and out of your tight hole. He smiled against your skin as he heard you moan out his name like a prayer, dripping off your lips like honey.

“Please, please, John. Need more—,” You whined, voice cracking from pure desperation and anticipation. You needed to be full. Full with more fingers, full with his cock. Preferably the latter.

He let go of your nipple with a pop, grinning up at you with his eyes crinkled at the edges.

“Be patient, love.” Is all he croons before he’s reluctantly pulling his fingers out of your pussy, and sitting up from your chest. Your pleading eyes follow him as he moves off of you, lips even pouting a bit as it seems like he’s going to leave you hanging.

You quickly realize that he’s going to do anything but leave you hanging.

He wastes no time in laying down beside you, his head resting comfortably on his pillow.

“Up.” He nods over to himself, gesturing for you to get up with two slick fingers (the same fingers that were just buried in your cunt). “C’mon, get up. On my face. Now, love.”

You crawl out of bed before booking your fingers around the waistband of your panties, then pulling them down until they’re pooling around your ankles. Your legs feel like jelly as you step out of your panties, before turning back to climb into bed once more. You crawled over to him on your hands and knees, still hearing your heartbeat pounding in your ears from how aroused you were.

You gulp once you’ve crawled over to his chest, suddenly feeling antsy to sit on his face with your full weight. He notices your slight hesitation and sits himself up on his elbows to look at you.

“You’re in your head again, doll. Come over here so your Captain can fuck those thoughts right out of your head.”

Your heart skipped a beat at his words, his promise to fuck those bad thoughts right out of your head. Before you knew it, you were closing that last bit of distance and crawling next to his head.

He beckoned you onto his face with those same two fingers once more, looking up at you with an eager expression.

You swallow as you carefully swing your leg over him so you’re straddling his face. Not yet putting your full weight on him, just barely hovering over his face. You place your hands on his abdomen to hold you steady, enjoying the warmth and hard muscle under your palms.

Almost immediately, John’s big hands are groping at your thighs and squeezing the plush flesh in his calloused grip. His thumbs rub hot circles into your soft skin as he lifts his head up, so he’s able to press soft kisses against your thighs. He wants you to feel every bit of love and appreciation as he leaves wet, open mouthed kisses on your inner thighs, littering small bites every now and then.

He moaned into your skin when he left a particularly hard bite, lapping at your skin afterwards as a balm. He especially focused on your stretch marks, tracing them with his tongue and peppering them with kisses.

Every bit of attention and praise he paid to your thighs and stretch marks slowly helped build your courage to fully sit your weight on him.

But he wasn’t a patient man. You were hovering above his face, keeping your his cunt just out of his reach and he didn’t like that at all. He didn’t like that he couldn’t lick up every drop of wetness that he could see soaking your cunt. He didn’t like that you weren’t letting him suck on your clit, or stick his tongue inside your heat. He wanted you sitting on his fucking face, smothering him with your soaking cunt, and he wanted it now.

“I didn’t say hover, I said fucking sit.” Is all he growls before his arms wrapped around your thighs and pulled you down to sit on his face.

He was so fucking sloppy and messy and passionate that you couldn’t help but immediately let a moan fall from your lips. Your hips started rocking against his mouth, any inhibitions completely melted away as his tongue absolutely devoured you.

He flattens his tongue against your entrance before taking wide, greedy licks of your juices. He moans in approval against your entrance as he savors how fucking perfect you taste.

“Taste so fuckin’ good. Can’t get enough of you.” You hear him all but growl into your cunt, his husky muffled voice sending vibrations to your core.

“Oh, fuck!” You cry out, feeling that bundle of warmth build back up in your stomach. You were already close to your release when John had withdrawn his fingers from your cunt, so it wouldn’t take you long at all to return back to that peak.

As you leaned forward on your hands that were planted on his abdomen, you saw his hips bucking into the air. It seemed like he was doing it unconsciously, like his body was chasing its’ own high as he was determined to yank yours out of you.

Before you knew it, you were leaning forward so your tits were pressed up against his stomach. Then your hands moved on autopilot to slide under the waistband of his boxers and pull out his throbbing cock.

The moment you did, his hips jerked and bucked, and you felt his tongue start worshipping your swollen clit. You moan brokenly, voice cracking as his name falls from your lips. Your hips keep grinding down onto his face as you take his cock in your hands. It’s angry and throbbing, with pearlescent liquid dribbling from the bulbous tip. You were practically drooling at the sight.

You didn’t waste any time in taking him in your mouth, starting with sucking the head of his cock and leaving small licks on the tip. You felt him gasp against you, before his tongue dips and curls into your pussy. You moaned at both the feeling of his tongue penetrating you and the taste of his pre, sending vibrations to his core. Those vibrations made him moan into your cunt and him buck his hips into your mouth.

“Mm-hmm,” You moaned praise around his cock, wanting him to feel just as good as he’s made you feel the entire day.

You wanted him to just let go. You wanted to hear him moan your name unabashedly while his hips bucked into your mouth. You wanted to taste his warm spend and feel him filling your mouth, you wanted everything he could give you.

You started bobbing your head, stroking his cock at the base while your mouth works on the head of his cock. You suckle the head of his cock to focus the stimulation on where he’s most sensitive. If the way he groans and clutches your thighs to pull you impossibly closer was any indication, it worked.

Minutes passed with you laying on top of him, your cunt soaking his beard as he devoured you, and his cock sitting in your throat. It could’ve been five minutes or fifty. (Neither of you would complain if it was even longer.)

With every moan that one of you let out, it pushed the other even closer to their orgasm. It was a never ending cycle, until it wasn’t.

Until his lips wrapped around your swollen clit and sucked, and his tongue curled inside your cunt at the same time. Until you took his cock all the way to the base, where you could feel the tip hitting the back of your throat, and swallowed.

©️ glossysoap 2024. please do not steal, copy, plagiarize, translate, or repost any of my works without my permission. do not steal any elements of my theme without permission.

🏷️: @vgilantee @loveyhoneydovey @divine--serenity @ghastlybirdie @violet-phantoms @lordlydragon @jumbojazzcats93 @warenai @viylikescats @cassiecasluciluce @lilpothoscuttings @krakenbabe @bunnyreaper @blackrose4242 @ansaturn @luvmeijii @luvecarson @kenqki @zittles3000 @theloneshadow24 @moonriseoverkyoto @stargirlrchive @itzzjxlyn @blissful-bunny @damnirina @claymorexpunisher @mandalover2023 @kiroshang @ivymarquis @wolfieisacat

[icarryitin]

Effortless

spencer reid/gn!reader

coming into this from a fandom where my last fic got literally 11 notes (half of which were my own self-rbs) the reception for workplace hot was heartwarming, pls accept more pre-relationship work crush goodness as thanks🧡🧡

series masterlist

word count: 1.6k// warnings: absolutely hopeless pining, this man is so so clever but so so oblivious

summary: Taking care of you just comes naturally to him.

“Chicken.”

“Did you know, the origin of ‘chicken’ in reference to someone who’s afraid can be traced back to the use of ‘hen-heart’ as a synonym for ‘fainthearted’? Its first documented use was in the York Mystery Plays - which are considered to have been written prior to 1450.”

“Chicken.” Morgan repeats.

“Shut up.”

While his second response is decidedly less eloquent, Spencer’s pretty sure he can’t fact-dump his way out of this particular conversation.

It’s not exactly a secret - his giant, all consuming, world ending crush on you - at least, it’s not a secret from anyone except you. He’s past being embarrassed about it when one of the others brings it up, as long as it’s not around you. That’s happened exactly once, and Spencer’s automatic response was to chatter about the migration patterns of a specific type of bird he’d read an article about the day before. Ceaselessly. No matter how much everyone else had begged him to stop, until the previous subject was well and truly forgotten. So when you’d asked a leading question about another kind of bird? He was more than happy to oblige. You’ve always done that, listened to him. It’s nice.

It’s probably what got him in this mess in the first place.

Somewhere along the way, a routine developed itself. He remembers the first day you asked him to elaborate on something he’d started on earlier in the day, trivia about the fluctuations in the popularity of a specific make of car. It had ended up being useful in the context of the case anyway but, more importantly to Spencer, the tidbit had you cornering him in the kitchen to ask him about it. And now it’s just what happens. You potter around to make your lunch, he chatters about the most recent paper he’s read like your own personal podcast.

It’s a comfortable friendship, solidified by little things like that. Though they’re not all that little to him, if anything they’ve only deepened his feelings for you - he doesn’t let on, for your sake, he tries not to.

But his affection sneaks out in other ways.

He gravitates towards you without realising it, just to exist in your space. At the round table, on the jet, at crime scenes, in whichever office the local PD have cleared out for the team. He’s never hovering, but he’s not not hovering. Just working parallel to you. It’s why he likes the bullpen, for all its hustle and bustle, because he can look at you out of the corner of his eye whenever he wants to. He can spin his chair to face you, stretch his legs out across the aisle, and let a wave of sheer steadiness wash over him. Sometimes it’s you, reaching over to hand him something or abandoning your post completely to perch on the corner of his desk. Spencer thinks that’s what it might be, the peace you seem to exude that quiets his busy mind - the kindness you extend to victims and their families that flows through your very veins. It follows you like an aura, there’s very little he won’t do to be bathed in it whenever he can. It’s all led to a unique dynamic that means you’re paired up together more often than not.

You move around each other unconsciously now, leaning over maps and files and evidence. Swapping pens and ducking under one another’s arms as you both scribble away at the board. It’s almost choreographed, natural. Everything is with you, and that’s what gets him. There’s a part of Spencer Reid’s brain that is dedicated to considering his actions in relation to the people around him, running in the background like a computer programme, but he doesn’t have to run it around you. He doesn’t think, for once. He just does.

It’s effortless, second nature, to make space for you. The same as it is to leave a seat open for you, even if it’s the only one. To nudge you gently when you’re too far in your own head to realise you’re picking at your skin. You’ve started nudging him back in recent weeks when he does the same, chewing on the inside of his lips and paying absolutely no mind to the damage he’s doing. You notice, you care enough to stop him. Just like you’ll leave an empty space on the nearest desk for him to hop up on. He’s not sure if you realise you’re even doing it. Clearing perfect Spencer-sized spots at every precinct and office you’re set up in, because you know he prefers it to the chairs. Which makes his own actions feel a little less overt and, in turn, lets him breathe a sigh of relief. Maybe this is just what good friends do for each other. He can call you that, at least, if his own fears won’t afford him the chance to call you anything else.

Though, he’s not sure he could stop himself from taking care of you in his own way if he tried. Mostly because he’s not trying in the first place.

He didn’t even realise what he was doing, the first time he turned to you to double check your protective vest was secure. Narrow fingers tugging on straps, barely even processing the inviting warmth of you underneath them, he’d been too focused on making sure you were as protected as you could be. And then he’d walked into the Unsub’s home ahead of you anyway.

Spencer never walks ahead of you, anywhere. He’s always ushering you in first, something drilled into him by some unknown force, his basest of instincts - you’re ahead of him into the office, into precincts, into crime scenes, even into the elevator. But in a hostile situation? He’s first through the door every time.

So much so that it’s routine now, wherever the case, whoever is around. He grasps the shoulders of the thick vest and wiggles it, he rips the velcro straps off at your waist only to secure them again. A little tighter, and he’s quietly grateful that you let him. The heat of you at his back is reassuring when scenes aren’t secure. To know that, based on his experience anyway, the Unsub will more than likely jump out ahead of him - and he’ll be the one between you and the bullet. Which is maybe a little dramatic, but it’s the truth.

“Ready, boys?”

Doctor Spencer Reid has never claimed to believe in any god, but he makes sure to thank something for the interruption. Anything to get himself and his giant crush out from under Derek Morgan’s microscope.

It’s Emily who speaks, Emily who tosses protective vests at him and Derek, but Spencer’s eyes are focused on you entering the office behind her. You’re concentrating on your own vest, securing straps that’ll only be repositioned in a minute or two. But you still do it yourself each time, as if you’re not expecting him to come over and double check your work. There’s no way you haven’t noticed by now. That he’ll do it every time, that he doesn’t do it for anybody else, that he spends twice as long checking on your vest than he does securing his own. FBI emblem emblazoned on his chest, Spencer crosses the room dutifully to conduct his little ritual.

Velcro isn’t quiet. It pierces through the background noise when he undoes the buckle at your side and tears it free, but his eyes don’t move from the task at hand. Yours are heavy on his face, the way they always are when he gets this close. He pretends not to notice.

“Thank you.” You whisper softly. So softly that between the chatter and gun checking behind him, only the two of you can hear.

It’s only now, now he’s certain your vest is snug as possible, that he allows his careful gaze flicker to meet yours. He struggles not to take a step back with the force of it.

“Of course.” He replies, reluctantly pulling his cold fingers out from the warmth beneath the shoulders of your vest. His smile, small, self-conscious, is returned tenfold and beaming. The same way it always is. He doesn’t know how you do it - see the things you see every day and still manage a grin wider than the Río de la Plata. Maybe he can’t explain everything.

He catches a movement over your shoulder, it’s Morgan. Arms folded at the elbow, fists tucked close to his chest, as he makes the exaggerated movements of a chicken. Head bobbing and all. The teasing support, because that’s all it is, is nice to have - but there’s not one member of the team who understands exactly why he’s so afraid to say anything to you. In an ideal world, he wouldn’t be. He’d be able to pull you aside and tell you exactly how many days it’s been since he’d met you, started crushing on you, fallen absolutely hopelessly in love. It kind of all started at once, if he’s being completely honest. And in that ideal world, you would smile that billion kilowatt smile and tell him you love him too, and even the paperwork from the bureau wouldn’t matter. This isn’t an ideal world, however. He knows that better than most.

Spencer’s been rejected before, more than even he would care to admit, by friends and lovers and parents and colleagues and strangers. But he’s not sure he could take it from you, not while you hold his heart so tenderly in your hands. Even unaware of the responsibility, you’re gentle with him.

He’ll keep you close, regardless, as much as he can without arousing your suspicion. He’ll keep making space for you and double checking your vest until every ugly confession claws its way out of him.

That’s enough, for now.

if you’ve made it this far, pls know i am kissing u gently on the forehead🧡🧡

i’m also thinking about opening requests for all things pre-relationship spencer bc mutual pining and obliviousness is my fav fav fav thing, in case anyone was interested👀

[blindmagdalena]

The Drug In Me Is You

18+ 3.2k vampire!homelander x supe f!reader. dacryphilia, noncon, p-in-v, blood drinking, possessive homelander, vampire bites as an aphrodisiac, cunnilingus, fingering, kidnapping, reader is held captive, gaslighting, abuse. dead dove!

Ever since Homelander got his cold dead hands on you, you've been the answer to his every prayer. You exist solely for him, kept safe in his home, delicious to the point where he refuses any blood that isn't yours. He isn't conscious of the extent he's grown to rely on you until the day he comes home to find you gone.

written for Monsterlander Mania! thank you @staarboyyy for the incredible vamplander gif. 🖤

There are few things that Homelander despises more in this world than summer. While the heat doesn’t bother him even beneath the thick layers of his suit, the rest of the world isn’t so lucky.

The meet and greets are by far the worst; a crowded collection of sweaty bodies piling in against one another like directed cattle, stewing in their own filth just long enough to reek of their own humanity by the time they’re touching him with clammy hands.

He’s never more grateful for his suit–especially his gloves–than during these occasions.

On top of that, these sardine can buildings become an echoing cacophony of juicy, throbbing hearts, every single one of them pounding in eager anticipation. Indoor events are better for blocking out the sun, but worse for every other aspect when it comes to his senses.

By the end of the day, his skull is throbbing and his stomach is twisting itself into knots. He needs quiet. He needs home. He needs to eat.

It’s dark by the time he lands on his balcony, the hour late. While he does prefer flying at night, he doesn’t like coming home so late. He tugs off his glove to use the thumbpad, which unlocks his automatic door. Stepping inside, he then hits a switch that triggers his blackout blinds to close behind him alongside the door.

“What a fucking day,” he grouses, making his way to the kitchen. “Twelve hours of this shit. I hate summer,” he says, tossing both of his gloves onto the kitchen counter. He reaches into the fridge and pulls out a bottle of water and a dark, thick green slurry in a tall lidded cup. It’s packed full of everything he both needs and likes, but perhaps most important is the iron content.

He goes through a fair amount of that.

“But I’m glad I’m home,” he says, carrying both beverages to his bedroom. “Because it looks like someone didn’t drink their shake.”

Homelander stops dead in his tracks, staring blankly at his empty bed. Standing perfectly still, he listens for the familiar cadence of your breath. The beat of your heart. Anything to tell him where the fuck you are. When he hears nothing, he drops the drinks unceremoniously to the floor and spins on his heel, instantly tearing through the penthouse.

He doesn’t smell blood or death, but the thought of you dead seizes him anyways, hurling him instantly into a panic. He scans through every wall and ceiling, but you’re not here. He calls your name, shouting it down each hall, but he’s met only with the reverberations of his own distraught voice.

At the front door, Homelander moves to input the code to open it, but halts abruptly. The panel is green. It hasn’t locked. Pulling it open, a thin piece of plastic falls away from the mechanism. It had been blocking the lock from securing.

Wednesday is grocery day, he recalls distantly. A staff member came to restock the fridge. They must have had the door propped open, and you…

Left. 

You left.

Homelander rips the door open, nearly yanking it off the hinges, and storms down the hall, fangs bared. You must have waited until it was late and the guard presence was scarce, otherwise someone would have reported you. You can’t have gone far.

When Vought realized that the continued development of Homelander’s powers came with a particular quirk that necessitated the consumption of human blood, they began the process of ensuring he always had a steady supply to keep him from eating his adoring fans. He never really cared about where the blood came from until he tasted yours.

Yours was special. It did something no one else’s ever had; it made him feel alive. He could taste the world in ways he never could before, and if he drank enough, he swore he could feel his heart start to beat. None of the scientists knew why. It didn’t matter to him. From that point on, he wasn’t interested in drinking from anyone other than you.

That was when he decided to keep you close at hand. Cut out the middleman.

You belong to him, and you have for months. He’s taken the utmost care of you, ensuring that you could have everything you need within the confines of his penthouse. The finest foods, every form of entertainment one could dream of, exquisite service at your fingertips and most compellingly of all, the love and adoration of the world’s greatest hero.  

So why the fuck would you leave?

Homelander rips through the tower. He’s furious, wounded and hungry. Those few security guards smart enough to get out of his way evade his rampage while a couple of unlucky ones wind up with their own personal craters in various walls.

He can smell the intoxicating allure of you trailing a path through the halls, but the combination of his hunger and his rage makes following it disorienting. He’s in no condition to hunt–he’s become sickeningly complacent in your time together, more reliant on you than he ever would have admitted freely. He’s grown to love the wait, letting himself feel his hunger so that you taste all the sweeter on his tongue.

Now the churn of it in his gut burns like fire.

Nevertheless, he is relentless, and within minutes he finds you in the garden just outside the tower, locked in by looming steel gates. You aren’t even properly dressed, garbed only in the thin loungewear he keeps you in, barefoot and combing your fingers through a tall hedge full of flowers just beginning to wither, their pink petals curled and browning.

You don’t even notice him until he’s upon you, snatching your wrist and whirling you around so sharply, the hedge behind you drops its wilting petals in a flurry. He must be a fearsome sight if your expression is anything to go by, your eyes wide and panicstricken.

“What the fuck were you thinking?” He hisses through his teeth, fangs fully protracted. You take a breath to speak, but he doesn’t want to hear it. He jostles you by your shoulders to cut you off, fingers biting into your arms.  “Do you have any idea how fucking worried I was?”

Your pulse is racing. He can hear it, feel it in your wrist beneath his thumb. The sound of it is nearly enough to throw him to the ground, to shred the thin veneer of humanity he wears and give in to the bloodlust. His thumbnail tilts ever so slightly, biting a crescent mark into the supple flesh of your wrist. Never have you felt more tender in his hands. Never has he come so close to tearing you apart.

One slip, and you would be spilling red all over his tongue. 

“I just–” you begin, but he pulls you sharply up into his arms, seething so furiously that he can’t stand to hear you speak. He’s too far gone. Too fucking hungry.

“We’ll talk at home,” he grits out, and with a sonic boom that rips the remaining blossoms from the hedge in a flurry, he launches into the sky, purposefully flying too fast to allow for conversation. He holds you to his chest as tightly as he dares, landing back on his balcony with a thud. He uses the thumbpad and damn near tears the door off the hinges pulling it open. 

Homelander doesn’t have time to waste. You bounce a few times with the way he drops you onto the bed. Glancing up, he catches sight of himself in the myriad of mirrors. No wonder you looked at him the way you did. He looks crazed, lips parted around his fangs, his usual bright blue eyes shining pure crimson.  

It’s fine. It’s fine. Everything will be fine after this.

You scramble up the bed, moving backwards on your hands, but he catches you by the ankle and yanks you back down it, climbing on top of you with a frustrated noise that fades off into a sigh. “Y’see what you do to me?” He asks, voice low and frayed. You yelp when he rips your shirt clean apart, exposing your top half completely.  Your skin is adorned beautifully with the history of your night.

You bruise easily for a supe. Your blood just loves to rush to the surface for him, vessels full and bursting under his grip. The memory of inflicting these marks is so intoxicating that even in his frenzy he can’t help but lean down and drag his tongue over one of the bruises that mottle the pretty skin of your chest. Under his tongue, you feel like ripe fruit yearning to be bitten into.

“Please, Homelander, stop,” you plead prettily. He can hear your tears in the tremble of your voice, practically taste the salt in the air.

Good, he thinks viciously. Cry. Regret. Never do this to me again.

“Played a dangerous game tonight, sweetheart,” he tells you, that pet name dripping with affection and venom in equal measure. He forces your legs apart and settles between them, tearing what little clothing remains on your body like paper and tossing it aside. He presses his palms down against your thighs, and the heat of you compared to the chill of his fingers nearly burns. He pushes your legs up and apart, soaking in the sweet smell of your cunt.

Sex and feeding have always gone hand in hand for Homelander. Vought tried for years to satiate him with plastic blood bags and artificial alternatives, but it never fed him the way a meal he could fuck does. Still, all of them paled in comparison to you. Your inner thighs are a mixture of both new and faded punctures that dot your body in matching pairs, scars that he hopes never fade. They mark you as his.

Neither of you will ever settle for another ever again. “I didn’t mean to make you worry, please–please let me explain,” you weep, trying to squirm out of his grasp. With a predatory growl he yanks you back into place, unwilling to listen.

The hunger is driving him to madness. He can feel your pulse like it’s his own, the sound of it thundering in his ears until it threatens to split his skull in half. His nails bite into your skin while he leans in, deaf to your begging as he closes his eyes and opens his mouth wide, sinking his fangs into the soft, succulent meat of your inner thigh.

Your blood spills into his mouth like rich ambrosia. He moans loudly, losing himself to the taste and the heat. Your blood is transcendent, going beyond nourishment. Your pulse reminds his heart to beat. The more he drinks, the more the warmth of you fills his frigid body, thawing out his sanity alongside it. Your heat courses steadily through him, the fervor of it vanishing that nauseating pound from his skull until the only throb he’s left with is the one between his legs.

He sucks in a wet breath when he breaks away from you, panting his delirious pleasure. There’s nothing in this world than the high that comes after being satiated from a frenzy. It’s like he’s floating, his tongue and throat tingling with your sweet nectar.

He isn’t the only one tingling. He can smell the heady musk of your arousal. Your fearful tears are no match for the effect his bite has on your body, how his saliva mingles with your blood and makes you ache for him.

Without his hunger deafening him to the world, he can focus again. He takes a moment to lap at where he’s bitten you, cleaning up the blood that dripped from the wounds. He trails his blood-warmed tongue inward, far from placated. 

He pins your thighs down flush to the bed and nestles into the sweet core of you, plunging his tongue eagerly into your cunt. Your body jolts, but he holds you steady, eagerly swirling his tongue, collecting the taste of you to drink down. He sucks hungrily at your clit, pulling off of it with wet little pops, kissing and licking and sucking until you’re writhing beneath him for all the right reasons.

Devouring you like this is working him back up into a different kind of frenzy. He slips one finger into you, then two, mouthing your clit while he fucks you with his fingers, coaxing more and more from you. Your walls feel so fucking soft and velvety around his fingers, and his need to feel you quivering around his cock is rapidly outpacing his hunger for the taste of your cunt. With one last deep plunge of his tongue, he lifts himself over you, reaching down to hurriedly unclasp his belt, staring down at you with lust glazed eyes.

You’re a mess. Your whole body is flushed with heat, and you’ve barely stopped moaning since he bit you. He’s heard the effects of his bite described like a fever, a delirious experience that robs you of your senses and leaves you desperate for more, for anything of him. Even so, you haven’t stopped crying. It makes you look sweet. Vulnerable. Fucking delicious.

“Mmm, you’re pretty when you cry, baby,” he says, running his tongue along his teeth, over the sharp juts of his fangs. He gets his cock free and adjusts himself between your legs, laying over you. “This your way of saying sorry? Because it’s working,” he tells you, bracing one hand on the bed next to you while he uses the other to hold the base of his cock, dragging the head of it up and down through the wet mess of your pretty pussy lips. “Show me how sorry you are, sweetheart. Be good for me,” he murmurs against your skin, nuzzling at your throat.

Opening his mouth, Homelander bites into your neck at the same time he thrusts forward, letting out a muffled, ragged moan as he sinks into you on both fronts, shuddering with how fucking good it feels, tight and wet and hot as sin. Between that and the fresh rush of your blood down his throat, he ascends to a state of goddamn euphoria.

You make a noise somewhere between a sob and a moan. He drinks you up, savors the sound of you as much as he does the taste. He snaps his hips, wastes no time fucking you deep, holding you still with the lock of his jaw while he pounds you into the mattress.

“Oh, ffffuck,” he groans, lips bloodied. He laps at the blood on your neck, the sound of it as wet as his cock hammering your cunt with the relentlessness of a machine, utterly inhuman in the way he takes you. “So good to me, aren’t you? Feeding me, taking me. Mmm, fuck, m’close,” he says, nuzzling at your skin, enamored with the warmth of you.

With the ravenous insanity of his bloodlust fading, his thrusts become less brutal. He hikes your thigh over his hip and holds it there, sliding into a rhythm that’s something closer to making love. Your cunt quivers all around him, and by the noises you’re making he knows you’re electrified, out of your mind with the haze of pleasure that his bite induces. “M’gonna take care of you, too. You know that, don’t you? Yeah, y’do, and you won’t ever fucking leave me again. Don’t know what I’d do if I lost you,” he pants, mouthing at the shell of your ear.

It’s a lie. He knows what he would do. He would punish any world that dared take you from him. The thought alone would be enough to enrage him all over were he not so deeply soothed by your iron on his tongue and your soft body giving into him. If he had breath to give, it would be stolen by the way you seize up against him, orgasm taking hold of you like a possession, capturing your voice and rolling your eyes heavenward.

This is love. This undying hunger, this obsessive compulsion to keep you close. He craves you not just for the ambrosial taste of your blood, but for your soft lips against his and the timbre of your voice. He brought you into his life to satiate his bloodlust, but never could he have fathomed the greater emptiness that you would fill. Knowing you were here waiting for him has made him understand for the first time in his life what it means to come home.

He’ll ruin you before he loses you.

Homelander comes with a low, wrecked moan, kissing you fervently as he stops to empty himself into you as deeply as possible, forehead pressed to yours.

You’re panting, letting out pitchy little wisps of sound with every breath. He gently kisses them from your lips, hushing you. “S’alright, sweetheart. I’ve got you,” he murmurs, kissing your cheek, licking the salt of your tears from his lips. He cups the other side of your face and strokes it with his thumb. You’re shaking all over. He slips an arm around you to draw you close, to comfort you as you come down from your high. “Ssshhhh. Everything’s alright. M’right here, and I love you.”

That wrings a tight little sob out of you. He smiles, dazed on his own lingering ecstasy. “Hey, hey, it’s okay. No one’s going to hurt you,” he assures you, kissing your forehead. “Can’t imagine how scared you must’ve been, wandering alone in the dark like that,” he says, stroking your cheek with the back of his knuckles. “Just happy I found you before anything happened to you.”

What if someone else had found you like that? Confused and vulnerable. He would have found you eventually, but had anyone been unlucky enough to lay their hands on you before then, they wouldn’t have hands for much longer. He kisses you again, firmer, possessive. “Don’t cry, baby. You’re safe now. You’re home.”

Gingerly, he slips from the wet heat of your body and adjusts himself, getting you both situated under the covers. He spends a while soothing you, rubbing your back while you lay in his arms, kissing the top of your head every so often.

“You alright?” He asks eventually. You aren’t shaking anymore, but you haven’t said a word. It makes him a touch… anxious.

“Yes,” you whisper. It’s not very convincing, but he wants to believe it enough that he accepts the answer anyways.

“Good,” he purrs, slipping his hand over the back of your neck. His fingertips brush your menagerie of scars, each bite a reminder of how thoroughly you have allowed him to love you. “That’s my good girl. I love you,” he says with a smile, tipping your head back to kiss your lips.

He waits.

“I love you,” he says again.

“I love you, too,” you finally respond.

His smile broadens. He draws you closer to him, listening to the lively thrum of your body. You are the warmth in his own veins, the beat of his heart.  This, too, is love. Kissed lips, bitten limbs, hungering teeth and bodies intertwined. It’s sweeter than anything he has ever known. The need in him is a monstrous thing, he knows. He hadn’t known how monstrous it was until he thought–even for a moment–that he’d lost you.

It won’t happen again.

[elexaria]

living with ghoap was nice. two big burly fellas to keep you company, to reach the top shelves in the kitchen for you, to absolutely plough you into the mattress when you couldnt itch your own scratch for once. they were good lads.

but there were countless times where they’d be away for work, so you knew you couldnt be fully dependent on them. they knew that too, so they weren’t exactly going to object to you having fun without them. so long as you were happy and safe, they were content.

but fuck, the men out there are absolutely horrible to deal with. sleazy, there’s just… no ability to have any kind of banter with these things that think only with their cocks.

until you meet kilgöre alexander.

he’s gigantic, his shoulders probably share the same width as mount everest’s base. easily, kilgöre is the tallest man you’ve ever been with. he dwarfs simon in size, which is very telling in itself.

it’s hard to pry away at who kilgöre is as a person. he’s austrian, likes keeping himself to himself. absolutely refuses to tell you what he does for a living, because it’s on a need to know basis. “sounds like something a terrorist would say.” you jokingly coo one night at dinner, smirking as he rolls his foggy blue eyes at your comment. “har har, very funny.” he mockingly says, the corners of his lips twitching ever so slightly.

he’s one of the best things that’s happened to you in a while. he doesn’t know about the particular living arrangement you share with simon and johnny— like he says, it’s on a need to know basis. plus, you haven’t boned either of them since you met this fella. ghoap know what’s up, but they’re not bothered by it. they’re just glad to see you doing well for yourself. “ye have a glow about ye, love.” johnny coos in your ear one day, smirking as he watches you fluster and flounder around the kitchen, trying to make excuses. “it’s the vitamins i’m taking” this and “i’ve quit dairy” that. he knows the truth, simon know its too.

but there’s one thing that makes the attachment to this man absolutely unbearable.

he disappears from time to time.

some days it’s only a couple of days, maybe a couple of weeks at a push. absolutely no contact.

he swears it’s to do with his line of work, that one day he’ll be able to tell you everything. but for now, he asks just for one thing.

“just… wait for me.”

it’s been almost a month with no contact from kilgöre, and it feels like every morning with no text, no nothing, you have a growing pit inside of you that can’t stop gnawing at you, eating you up whole. what the fuck? what could he possibly do for a career that makes it so he goes days without checking his phone? it makes you feel sick to your stomach. what if he’s in a gang or something?

besides, how the fuck can you keep on waiting for someone who you don’t even know is even alive? for all you know, this behemoth of a man has been hog tied and dumped at the bottom of a lake with cinder blocks strapped to his feet. how are you supposed to wait for someone who shows no signs of leaving or coming back?

“that light in yer eyes has dulled.” johnny remarks one evening, a sad smile on his lips. your eyebrows knit together, feigning confusion. “huh? oh, yeah. uh… it’s the gluten intolerance i reckon.” you murmur to yourself, flashing a weak smile to consolidate his inquisitive gaze. “i’m fine, though.”

simon huffs as he leers next to you, skilfully flaying pieces of fish with a pensive look. both you and johnny glance at him, which only makes him grunt in response. you furrow your eyebrows at him, urging him to elaborate on what the pressing issue is.

“we reckon shit’s hit the fan with that new bloke of yours.” simon bluntly replies as he wipes off the chopping board with a damp cloth, hands gently scooping up guts, scales and delicate fish bones to dispose of. you scoff, eyes never leaving the cuts of fish meat that rest on a plate, waiting to be delicately battered and fried up.

“whatev—“

“and i know you, you’ll try and refute the truth that i know what’s going on. that we know what’s going on. so, none of this nonsense, alright? what’s up?”

johnny and simon silently watch you, their simultaneous waiting for any reaction from you making your skin crawl. at first, you scowl and huff. shifting your weight from foot to foot as you become defensive. simon cuts you off again, “none of that bollocks. tell the truth.”

you give in. on bated breath, you explain the whole situation. how kilgöre is the kind of man you had never expected to fall for, how he had managed to steal your attention even while being so elusive and secretive. how you desperately want him to come back to you, like he said he would.

johnny frowns, and simon nods in your direction, wiping his blood stained hands with the damp cloth. “fishy hands.” he murmurs, wiggling his fingers to prove he can’t comfort you with a hug. johnny nods, swiftly making his way around the kitchen island to come give you a warm hug. it’s a solid hug, one you’d never object to having. johnny’s large hands rub circles to your back, his bearded chin resting against your shoulder as he sways gently.

simon stands behind johnny, holding eye contact with you as he continued to carefully clean his hands. he raises his eyebrows in thought, before glancing down at his fingernails as he begins to meticulously clean underneath them to rid his skin of all things fish.

“this… kilgöre bloke. i reckon if he’s the one, he’s worth waitin’ for. but don’t think for a second he should get away with leavin’ you this long without so much as a text, yeah? rip ‘im a new one when he comes back.” he advises, glancing back up at you with a slight smirk when he hears you chuckle, your laugh strained with emotion.

he steps closer, carefully tilting your chin up so you can meet his gaze better. he gently wipes a stray tear from your cheek. “if he’s the man you think he is, he’ll explain everything if you ask him to. and if he does? great. if he doesn’t?” you wince at the idea, frowning.

he sighs, pressing a gentle kiss to your brow.

“then he’s a bloody eejit, as our johnny boy would say.”

[nottsangel]

frustrations — j.m.

pairing: enemy!jj maybank x kook!reader

warnings: smut, enemies to lovers, unprotected vaginal sex, arguing, praise kink, fingering , creampie

word count: 2.7k

summary: you and jj never got along. you both blamed the hatred on the differences between kooks and pogues, but it might be rooted in something different than that.

requested by @thegreatsimpforlife

nav. // m.list // taglist

“I don’t know about this Sarah” you said hesitantly. “Come on, it will be fine!” Sarah reassured as she dragged you by your arm with a tight grip, making sure you had no other choice but to follow her to the chateau. Her hair flowed beautifully in the evening’s summer breeze, causing you to forget about your worries for a brief moment as you gazed at her in awe. They quickly came back to mind once the chateau, along with the pogues, came into view.

Sarah invited you to hang out with the pogues and you had a strong feeling she hadn’t asked them beforehand, which made you feel uneasy. The pogues didn’t accept you. JJ in particular was very against it, and he made no effort to hide his disapproval from you. He claims kooks shouldn’t hang out with them, because they’re too different from one another. That was his biggest, but also his only reason. It was always the same pathetic story which he couldn’t seem to support with more reasonings.

Sarah insisted on you coming with her— she simply refused to pick a side. It clearly pained her, even though she tried not to show it. You were her best friend for years since she was a kook, and she tried to include you as much as she could. But you were still a kook, and Sarah was a pogue now.

Sarah waved at the pogues as the two of you approached them, and you warily followed her. They waved back at her before realising that you were with her, their excitement quickly waning. The two people who appeared to be most agitated were JJ and Kiara. JJ sat down again as his good mood instantly vanished and he angrily muttered something to the others. Pope and John B. weren't as opposed to it as the others were. Especially John B. remained silent. It would’ve been hypocritical of him to get angry at the situation, and as for Pope, he merely had more important things to worry about.

“What is kook princess doing here? Daddy didn’t bring you on his yacht today so you decided to annoy us?” JJ yelled as you came closer to them. Here we go again. You bit the inside of your mouth in hesitation, wondering if it was too late to just turn around. But you took a deep breath and decided to stay, for Sarah.

“Shut up, JJ” Sarah yelled back at him, giving him an angry glance. John B. worriedly eyed Sarah, Pope glanced at the ground, Kiara did not even acknowledge you and JJ’s enraged gaze wasn’t leaving you for even a second— the air was extremely tense.

Sarah eventually sat down on the bench and you followed her gesture to take a seat next to her. It was painfully quiet— the only sounds were a few still-awake birds chirping softly before JJ broke the silence, causing you to wince a little as you were lost in your thoughts.

“I’m gonna get something to drink. Anyone want something?” JJ asked as he stood up, seizing the empty can from beside him. Your throat felt dry, and you slowly raised your hand in desperation for a drink. “Yes, pl-“ “Nope. Not you.” You stared at him indignantly as he asked the others what they wanted, completely disregarding you before he headed back inside. Dickhead. You got up right after him and decided to get something yourself.

JJ grabbed several cans out of the fridge as you stood behind him, pondering what to say. You recoiled as he gripped the cans with annoyance and slammed them on the kitchen counter, a loud noise erupting with each can. It made you feel uneasy and you felt the need to talk to him slowly subsiding within you. The situation was difficult for you. You wanted to get along with the pogues, but no matter what you did— you could only do wrong in JJ’s eyes. Even though you weren’t particularly fond of him either, you could at least pretend to like each other for Sarah's sake and the harmony within the group. But JJ was too stubborn— it was hopeless.

You could hear incoherent whispers coming from outside just as you were about to speak before the door shut and the lock turned. Both your heads snapped to the door before JJ hurried to it, cursing as he frantically attempted to open it. When you peered out the window, you saw everyone scurrying from the chateau before getting into the twinkie and leaving.

“Fuck. You’ve got to be kidding me” you said once the realisation hit you. Sarah had mentioned something to you before about them locking Sarah and Kiara in the boat— now they’re doing the same to you and JJ.

JJ desperately tried to open the door before moving on to the windows, checking them one by one. He was persistent, but he also seemed quite stressed, which you couldn’t seem to understand. Why did this seem like a total nightmare to him? All you had to do was makeup, even if you were just pretending, and they would let you out. Easy. But JJ evidently had a different view on that matter.

“They’re locked, smartass. You really think they didn’t think this through?” you said as you lay down on the couch, closing your eyes to think the whole situation through. “Shut up. I will get out of here”

A few minutes have passed of JJ trying to escape, without any success. You hadn’t moved an inch since and weren’t planning to either until you heard your stomach growl, the sound amplified by the eerily quiet room. “I’m hungry” you grumbled as you let out a sigh. “I’m hungryyy” JJ repeated mocking you, giving you a nasty look. You turned your head to him in disbelief, letting out a small chuckle, “So at what point do you become mature, JJ?” JJ scoffed as he sat down on a chair, his head in his hands.

“You know, princess, if you had juuust stayed in your palace, none of this would have happened.” JJ sneered, annoyance and rage lacing his voice— it shifted the entire atmosphere in less than a second.

“Oh, so it’s my fault now? If you just learned how to grow the fuck up, we would actually be getting along right now” you snapped back as you quickly got to your feet and JJ did the same. He was marching towards you now as raw anger shot through him.

“Well, maybe if you weren’t such a stuck-up princess, it would actually be easy to get along with you” he responded and you felt the anger overtaking you. Rage flowed through you like lava as your faces were merely inches apart. It was unfair. This was not your fault and he was certainly not going to tell you it was.

“Stop acting like this is all my fault because you know it’s not! God, you’re so fucking stubborn, JJ! And stop calling me pri-“ before you could even finish your sentence, two strong hands cupped your face and you felt his lips against yours, kissing you roughly as your eyes widened. What the hell. As a reflex, you pushed him away and looked at him with utter shock all over your face.

“What the fuck!” you blurted out. He swallowed hard, surprised by his own actions as his mouth slightly parted but words were barely coming out, “I- sorry, it’s just- I don’t know why I-“

Fuck it— this time it was you cupping his face, kissing him even more roughly than he did. You weren’t completely sure why. But you felt desperate for him and you couldn’t feel yourself able to pull away. He kissed you back and you slowly felt all the frustrations from the months prior subsiding with each passing second. You hadn’t realised how much you were longing for this until this very moment. And the kiss— it was the perfect combination of rage, passion and desperation.

After a while, he drew his head back slowly, gazing at you as he murmured, “I’m sorry for being such a dick”, the regret and guilt evident in his eyes. Holy shit. You had been waiting, hoping, for an apology for months, which you eventually gave up on since you were certain he wasn’t even capable of saying the word ‘sorry’ to anyone. Surprisingly though, you didn’t fucking care. You didn’t want to hear some sob story about how sorry he was. At least not now. All you needed at this moment was him. All of him.

“Just shut up and fucking kiss me” you pleaded before hungrily kissing him again. You could feel him smile against your lips while his hands travelled from your waist to your ass, squeezing it as you moaned into the kiss. He swiftly lifted you, causing you to let out a small squeal, and set you down on the table with his hands exploring your body. Even though you tried to enjoy this moment, there was still one question that you couldn't get out of your head.

“JJ, why do you dislike me so much?” You blurted out, separating your face from his as you met his blue eyes. He licked his lips, unsure how to answer your sudden question. “You really wanna know?” He asked. You nodded cautiously, not sure if you were ready for the answer. “Because…” he paused briefly before continuing, his eyes avoiding yours, “because I hate the way you’re so perfect and smart and cute but you… you are a fucking kook and we shouldn’t-“ “Awhhh.” you interrupted and he instantly looked up at you with wide eyes. “You think I’m cute, Maybank?” JJ rolled his eyes, but you could see a small smile appearing on his flushed face. “But I think… I feel the same way about you, JJ. I just wish you would’ve shown me it in a different way” you admitted, feeling your heart pound out of your chest at your confession. “Don’t worry. I will, now”

He gave you a quick peck on the lips before removing your shirt as well as yanking your shorts off. He paused for a moment to take in your beauty, eyeing you up and down with a smirk, revealing his dimple. He had been secretly fantasising about this for months— groaning your name as his hand slowly pumped down on his cock night after night, wishing it was you. But you looked better than he ever could’ve imagined. He was in awe. The more he looked at you, the more his boner was visible as harder and more prominent in his tight shorts. You could tell he was big even through his clothes.

His hand moved along your thighs as his eyes met yours, not breaking eye contact, his fingers hovering over your wetness. He pushed your panties to the side before dragging his fingers along your slit, causing you to bite your lip.

“This wet already? For me? That’s cute.” he said cockily, making you feel even more impatient. "Fuck you, JJ" you snarled. "Well, we're already on it, aren't we, sweetheart?”

Your mouth opened slightly and your head fell back as two fingers slowly entered you. After a moment of stillness, his fingers started moving inside you, curling up and hitting that one spot inside of you that caused you to grab his arm tightly, nails digging into his skin. It was odd— he knew exactly how to make you feel good, how to move his fingers and where to find your sweet spot as if he had done this a million times before. His fingers increased their speed as his mouth moved to your neck, leaving soft kisses on your skin.

“You’re so fucking beautiful like this, baby. Lemme take care of you, show you how sorry I am.” He felt you clench tightly around his fingers the moment he whispered those words and he let out a chuckle. “Your praise kink is showing, pretty girl” he whispered into your ear, his hot breath on your skin sending shivers down your spine. “I don’t have a- oh shut up” you felt your cheeks heat up as you looked him in the eyes and there it was— a smile. The first time the both of you smiled at each other— genuinely smiled at each other. For a split second, it felt like time stood still, but that didn’t last long when he continued moving his fingers and made you a moaning mess in front of him once again. You were so close to your release, and you were ready to let go when JJ suddenly withdrew his fingers from you, making you whine at the sudden empty feeling.

“Dickhead!” you yelped as you eyed him with an irritated look. “Not yet. I want you to come around my cock” he said as he placed his hands under your butt and lifted you, walking the both of you to the bedroom. To your surprise, he carefully lowered you onto the bed before giving you a kiss on the forehead. You weren’t used to this gentle and sweet side of him, but you savoured every moment of it, eager for more.

Your mouth opened slightly at the sight in front of you as he completely undressed, his boner slapping against his abs. He looked gorgeous— his abs were covered in sweat and his cock was dripping with precum. Your expectations were more than right— he was huge, the veins on his hard cock prominent, making your cunt ache.

He walked over to you, anticipation raging through your entire body. He kissed you roughly as he hovered over you, his hand moving slowly from your leg to your upper body, before unclasping your bra skilfully with one hand. He threw it across the room before his hand moved down to your panties, feeling yourself melt under his touch. He discarded you of your panties too before tossing them to the side as well.

He gazed at you as he placed his hand on the side of your face, stroking your cheek with his thumb. “You sure about this?” JJ asked one last time, wanting to make sure you were completely comfortable. “God, yes, please” you urged, not wanting to wait another second. He positioned himself between your legs before he pushed in in one quick thrust, causing you to moan out loudly. You felt so tight around his cock and it took everything in him to refrain himself from coming right then and there as his hands firmly gripped the sheets in an attempt to control himself.

“Fuck. You're so tight” JJ groaned as he started moving slowly, completely stretching you out. You took hold of his shoulders with all the might you had, fingernails dragging down his muscular back and low grunts leaving his mouth.

“Oh my god, f-feels so fucking good, J” you moaned out as you wrapped your legs around his torso, allowing him an angle to go even deeper. He gripped the headboard with one hand to support himself as his pace quickened, causing your eyes to flutter shut. You could feel his hot breath on your skin as he continued to pound into you at a brutal pace with his face merely inches away from yours.

“Gonna make you feel like this every day, princess, over and over again” he groaned, causing you to smile— suddenly, you didn’t mind him calling you princess anymore.

The pleasure was getting too much when his hand came down between your bodies to draw quick circles on your clit, your release nearing. You could sense he was close too, as his thrusts became sloppy.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, I’m gonna cum!” you cried out, holding him even closer to you as he kissed your neck. “Me too, baby, me too. Fuck. Cum for me”

You clenched around him when he hit that one spot inside you, shaking as you reached your high. A few more deep thrusts before he groaned in your ear, filling you to the brim with his warmth as you came all over his cock and moaned out his name loudly.

You were both attempting to catch your breath as he lingered inside you for a moment, admiring your beautiful, fucked-out face with a big smile. He eventually pulled out and lay down beside you, his eyes not leaving you.

“Still hate me?” You questioned, facing him.

“Oh, definitely” JJ replied with a smile as your brows furrowed, “Just as much?”

“Hmm…maybe…”, he said as he pinched his fingers, “a little less. But uh… I think round two can fix that”

comments and reblogs are very much appreciated since they keep me motivated to write more!!

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[miwsolovely]

dad!ghoap au | ghoap x gn!reader

what could be

tw: suggestive themes of you squint just a little bit …

a/n: unedited … enjoy the crumbs dee !! wrote this in one ish sitting be proud of me

They’re here.

Of course they are, this is where they live, it’s cozy and domesticated, and intimate. You’re in their house, in their kitchen. Their daughter is sleeping upstairs.

You look at the man in the doorway. All too big and all too broad, taking up the height of the door. “Mr. Riley, how are—”

“Simon.” He says. He steps up to you and you find yourself taking one back, not ready to face this Goliath of a man. Not yet. “Call me Simon, love.”

Your mouth opens and closes expecting words to escape but none surface. If you were underwater, bubbles would be flying out your mouth, words upon words upon words trapped in them, floating up to the surface and popping before reaching the outside world.

You swallow a thick lump down your throat and look away from him, at anything but him. The cute, messy drawings of a family strewn across the fridge, perched in frames on the kitchen island, the set of keys in a bowl. The wet jacket that was just added to the coat hanger. “Mr. Riley,”

He places a large hand on your waist, almost where your hips curve and right where your heart pounds.

His deep voice sent vibrations from where his hand is placed all throughout your body, stopping air in your lungs, stopping your heart and then pumping it all by himself. “You don’t like to obey, do you pet?”

You let out a shaky exhale and try to keep your eyes from meeting his. His that evoke luminosity. Eyes that like the earth, hold mysteries in its depths, mysteries that you wish to pull from his deep caves and unknown mysteries and shine them with a blinding light. “I’m not—this is. . .”

“This is what?” He breaths, placing his thumb and forefinger on your chin with the gentlest of touches, the type of gentleness that he only graced with Johnny and Teddy. Now you. He guides your face towards his and you catch the gaze of his soft eyes.

“This—this isn’t right, it’s not—” You stammered, placing your hand on his, the one on your waist, the one that fit like it belonged there. The one that has his wedding ring on it.

“‘S not right?” He teased. Thumb playing with the fabric that wrinkled at your hip. Sending shivers that shook you to your absolute core.

Your breath shallows. “It’s not,” you think for a moment, removing your hand from where his is placed so delicately. “professional.”

“Oh really?” His eyes squint as he smiles. He smiles and it nearly sends you into cardiac arrest, nearly sends you plunging into his deep brown eyes in search for something, anything that could stop you from this, this bad idea.

You take two steps back, his hands falling off your skin live waves on sand. In response he takes one closer to you. You already miss the warmth of his palms on your skin.

“Mr. Riley—”

He says your name in response.

“Mr.—”

He places both his hands back on the dip of your waist. Back where they belong, your subconscious thinks. Firm and grounding. You suck in air as if it’s the last you’ll ever breathe.

“S-Simon,” You breathe and he smiles a smile that warms your heart. A smile that is only supposed to warm Johnny’s and Teddy’s hearts. Not yours. “This, your—your husband is—”

He shushes you. “My husband is the one that proposed the idea of us.”

Us? Johnny wants you? Is okay with the three of you, together?

You ignore his confession. “Your—your daughter is upstairs and,”

He takes another step forward when you take one back and his palms stay planted where they are.

You take one step back, not two.

One, because you felt the familiar heat of a particular man behind you. One, because if you took another, God himself couldn’t bring you back to the land of the living. The land of these two men.

“Upstairs an’ sleepin’ Bonnie.” A pair of gentle hands find their home on your hips, right below Simon’s. “Ye needn’t worry.”

You forget to breathe when between these two. Feel your heart clenching and your muscles tensing in want when you feel Johnny’s front press against your back, Simon just a hair away.

His nose presses against yours softly and you can feel Johnny’s soft lips on the side of your neck placing butterfly kisses on your skin.

You look up at the man before you, the man who forgets his glasses are atop his head most everyday, the man who smiles bright just for his daughter, the married man, whose husband is right behind you, whose daughter is, completely unaware.

“You. . .” You whisper. “You’re married.”

“Not officially,” Johnny confesses. When he speaks you can feel the tickle of his stubble on your neck and the repeated featherlight kisses delicately placed on your jaw. “We want ye, hen. Know that. Yer special to us. To Teddy.”

You feel Simon’s forehead gently bump against yours, redirecting your focus from the names spelt on the fridge to him and Johnny.

You’re special to us.

It feels like a thousand ton weight is pressing on your heart. Rich blood not able to access your brain making you start to feel dizzy, your hearing ringing in your ears. You’re dizzy from the spell they unknowingly put on you, a spell that makes you feel like you’re hallucinating when you feel one of Johnny’s hands travel low until it rests on your stomach, slipping underneath your shirt and pressing you further into him.

You close your eyes, biting harshly on your lip, enough to create a crescent indent in your lip, crimson bleeding out ever so gently, you do this so you can try to ignore the pulsing heat you can feel press against your ass. The heat of hands all over your body, soft but strong all the same.

“Kiss me.”

Your eyes snap open and you feel your breath catch in your throat. “What?” You mutter, your voice box barely able to form the notes to sing this little song they’re stringing out of you.

“He’s givin’ ye a choice Bonnie.” Johnny assures from behind you. Hands pawing at your hips slowly.

You swallow your dignity. “You’re not giving me a way out,” you counter, trying to twist your neck to meet Johnny’s eyes, but Simon’s hand on your jaw turns it back do you face him again.

Simon reaches up and swipes his thumb on your lower lip. He does it painfully slow so you can feel it. Feel the pain of your lip so you feel not even a fraction of the pain him and Johnny feel wherever you look their way and disappear among the crowd. “Do you want a way out?”

You blink away the fogginess that they guide over you and feel your blood run hot in your veins.

The rational part of you scoffs, but the you in control, the real you, internally smiles in joy. You feel yourself leaning up to Simon and you reach a hesitant hand to the side of his face. Simon meets you halfway and you feel along the jagged scar that raised skin on his jaw.

Two waves colliding in the vast expanse of the sea; thats what it feels like. Time standing still as you lost yourself in the way Johnnys hands felt on your skin, the way his lips felt against your neck and jaw. You imagine the salty breeze mingling with the sweetness of your kiss. All three of your hearts beat in harmony, echoing the rhythm of the ocean’s waves.

Johnny grunts and starts an assault on your neck, biting and creating marks that you find yourself wishing that they’ll last forever.

With a gentle smile, Simon parted from your lips and chuckled when he saw how your lips sought after his, the way Johnny’s lips stuck to your neck until he pulled him away with a gentle hand on his jaw. The warmth of your kiss was lingering in the air like a gentle caress.

You pressed your lips together and ran your tongue over your bottom lip, the sweet liquid of your blood melting on your tongue. You suddenly felt parched and your mouth felt dry. The effect of their spell.

You breathed out a heavy exhale and glanced up at Simon once more.

Your mouth was opening and closing, not knowing what to say, how to say it, how to say anything.

You took another deep breath and you’re sure they both felt it through your shirt. Through your skin. “. . . Us?”

Simon’s eyes brightened and Johnny pressed a long kiss near your ear.

“Wake up.” He whispers; and with a gentle kiss caressing your neck, they’re gone.

You come to on a groggy groan, bringing your hands to your face and wiping away the remnants of your dream; your unconscious wish.

You scoff and wipe away the tears stinging your eyes. “What am I doing? “Us” my ass.”

It had been a few months, a few months of longing looks and confessions left untold, and suggestive hand placement that you forced yourself not to dwell on.

That stupid dream; showing you, tempting you, with what you want and ripping it away from your clutched hands.

The remains of of it clung to your consciousness, begging to be made reality.

If it was reality, it would have been perfect. Every moment infused with an unearthly tranquility and joy and love.

But as the truth set in, when the real world woke you up with its cruel truth, your heart ached with longing, and the dream slipped away like sand through fingers, leaving behind a bittersweet yearning for a world that felt more real than the one you awoke to.

- please do not plagiarize, copy, or repost my works to other platforms !

- likes, comments, and reblogs are very appreciated <3 !!

©miwsolovely

[dira333]

Cupid on a mission - Sugawara x Reader

Featuring: @screamin-abt-haikyuu x Asahi and @6okuto x Akaashi

Tagging: @lees-chaotic-brain can you spot the fic exchange I put in here?

"Whatever you can do, I can do better," you say, chewing at the straw of your drink as you flutter your eyelashes up at Sugawara and Sawamura.

Daichi groans. “Don’t start,” he mutters under his breath, but Koushi’s already leaning in, teasing smirk dancing on his lips.

“Oh? You think you’re better than me? Please.”

“Tanaka and Kiyoko? That was me,” you beam, pointing at yourself with your thumb. “What do you have to show for yourself?”

“Going to Nationals?” Daichi asks only to raise his hands when both you and Koushi turn to send him an unimpressed glare.

“Listen, hotshot,” Koushi’s putting an arm around your shoulders as he speaks. With anyone else, you might think he’s trying to flirt, but this is Koushi. You’d know if he flirted with you.

“Why do you think Kageyama is the favorite Volleyball player in all Karasuno? Among the girls, at least.”

You furrow your brows and pout. “That’s not that hard. You’re working with a quiet canvas here. As long as he doesn’t try to smile, he’s pretty good-looking.”

“You want something ha-”

“Asahi,” Daichi interrupts, “You could try and set up Asahi.”

You turn toward him and Koushi follows, his arm still snug around you. He’s wearing one of those ridiculous cardigans today that make him look like the sweetest little librarian ever, although you’ve learned to fear the prankster behind the facade. It’s also ridiculously soft and you want to curl into it, not that you’d ever try.

“With whom?” Koushi asks, one step behind you. You’ve had your eyes set on a particular pair for a while now, but Asahi is already anxious enough. You don’t want to give him a heart attack.

“I think he has a crush on-”

“Already ahead of you,” you interrupt Daichi and pat Koushi’s hand, slipping out of his grasp. “Watch and learn, young Padawan.”

You feel his eyes on you as you walk on, slip through the open door from the kitchen into the living room, where Nishinoya has challenged Hinata to a dance battle. 

It’s not that hard to spot Asahi when you know what you’re looking for. A quiet spot, away from the spotlight, but where he can keep an eye on either Nishinoya or… ah, there she is.

Zaira’s chatting with Yachi and Kiyoko, wearing a cardigan not unlike Koushi- whelp, no time to think about him, you’ve got work to do.

“Hey,” you greet your friend with a smile, “Sorry, I got distracted. Daichi brought his mother’s Pizza Pockets. Can you play along for a moment?”

“Play along?” Zaira asks, a little confused, but takes your hand. 

“Sorry,” you say to both Yachi and Kiyoko, “I gotta steal her for a second. I’ve got something to prove.”

Yachi’s mouth is hanging open - but Kiyoko just grins, probably because she’s already figured out what this is all about. She knows the Third-Years better than anyone else.

“Where are we going?” Zaira asks as you make your way through the room toward the door to the backyard.

“Asahi, Hi!” You smile, “Wanna come along, get some fresh air?”

He blushes, but nods, eyes flickering between you and Zaira as he steps out into the chill of the evening.

“Oh,” you say as if you’ve forgotten something, “Could you hold this for me, Asahi?”

You look into his eyes and drop Zaira’s hand, small and warm, into his.

His hand closes around hers and they follow along for a few steps until it registers.

Asahi’s face bursts into flames and Zaira stutters like the fool in love that she is. 

“It’s really nice outside, don’t you think?” You say, walking toward the trees in the back where the leaves have turned red and gold. From the corner of your eye, you can see that they’re still holding hands, looking in opposite directions, unable to speak.

And behind them, illuminated by the lights in the house, Koushi’s leaning in the doorframe, arms crossed over his chest. He looks cozy and warm and like he might admit that he’s lost this bet.

“I’m sorry,” Zaira rips her hand out of Asahi’s grasp at that moment, ruining your little fantasy of rubbing your win into Koushi’s face. “I didn’t- that wasn’t- I didn’t…”

Asahi’s staring at his hand, completely missing the look of betrayal Zaira throws you as she storms away.

“Why did you do that?” Asahi asks, his voice strangely broken. He blinks at you. 

“I…” 

“Because she knows that you like Zaira,” Koushi announces, stepping closer. “And she’s not above using steamroller tactics to get you two together.”

“But I don’t want that-” Asahi croaks and Koushi has the audacity to wink at you as he wraps an arm around his friend. “I know, I know. Come on, let’s get inside and we’ll talk about it. I do have an idea…”

-

“Koushi’s still in bed,” his mother announces when you show up at his house the next morning. 

It worries you a little that she’s not the least bit concerned about you barging in on her son. Has she too already picked up on the fact that Koushi’s not into you? But who could he be into? Yachi? No, she’s too timid. 

You’re still debating that question when you hammer your fist against his door, wait one second, and then burst through.

Koushi blinks at you, shirtless, hair a mess, with a crease on his cheek from the pillow.

“Am I dreaming?” He asks, voice raspy from sleep.

You stare at him, speechless for a good minute before you catch yourself.

“I need to know what you told Asahi last night.”

“Mhm,” he hums low in his throat, curling into his blanket again. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

“I do.” You step closer. 

His room is unusually tidy for a guy his age, not that you don’t know that already. You’ve spent more than enough hours in here, studying for exams. 

On the chair by his desk rests a jacket that looks oddly familiar.

“Is that mine?” You ask, walking over. 

“What?”

“The jacket.”

“I think so. You left it here last time you came over.”

“And you didn’t give it back to me?”

“I was going to, but I forgot about it,” he waves it off like it’s nothing.

“We see each other every day in school and you forget about it?”

“I had other things on my mind.”

“Like what?”

“Graduating, for example?”

You press your lips together. You can’t argue against that.

“What did you say to Asahi, Koushi? Are you sabotaging my plan of getting them together just so you can pretend you’re better than me?”

“I am better than you. At least at this game.”

“Please,” you scoff. “Name one couple you made happen?”

He smiles, clearly pleased that you asked.

“Oh, gladly,” he slips out of bed, grinning when your eyes immediately shoot to his face. It wouldn’t be the first time you saw him in just his boxers, but the last time happened so long ago, it doesn’t really count.

“Takeda-Sensei and the cute Journalist.”

You scoff. “That was too easy. She was basically throwing herself at him.”

“Coach Ukai and his childhood friend.”

You bite down on your tongue. That one was a hard one, you had to give him that.

“Fine, that one was good,” you begrudgingly give in, “But so was-”

“Ah,” he grins, holding up one hand. He’s halfway in his pants and you roll your eyes as you wait for him to continue. 

“Akaashi and that girl that went to Nekoma… what was her name again?” 

“Nia. And it doesn’t really count if you don’t even know her name.”

“Please, they both needed that push.”

“Still-” He interrupts you again.

“And there’s that really cute couple… ah, no, I can’t tell you about that yet.”

“Yet? What does that mean? Who are you- Koushi! Are you planning on setting someone up? Who?”

“Not telling,” he smirks and pretends to close his mouth and throw away the key.

“You’re a menace.”

“You love it.”  You grimace behind his back. He’s right, but you’d rather die than admit it.

-

“Where are we going?” You ask half an hour later when he steps out of the bathroom, hair now just as messy, but in a different way. You wanna drag your hands through it, but you’d rather chew off your fingers one by one than admit that.

“Follow Asahi around as he confesses his feelings to Zaira.”

“What?” You’re on your feet in a heartbeat. “When? Why? How did you manage-?”

“I told you,” he preens, “I am better at this than you.”

“You’re not.”

“Am too. Mom, we’re going out.”

“Okay, stay safe you too.” She pops her head around the kitchen door. “And come over more often. It’s nice having you here.”

“Oh, erm, yes, thank you,” you stammer. This invite might have been cute when you were kids, but now it just feels weird. 

-

“Why are you staring at me?” You ask Koushi. You don’t know where you’re going and he’s refusing to tell you, but that doesn’t mean you won’t notice if he keeps looking at your face for over five minutes. If he’d been anyone else you might have thought he’d finally noticed your beauty or found some hidden feelings for you in the back of his ink-black heart. But this is Koushi, and you know to expect the worst.

“Nothing, just… are your eyebrows uneven?”

“They’re not!” You exclaim on instinct, though grabbing your phone to check. 

“Take a picture,” Koushi orders, and the tone in his voice has you follow through, starting the timer. Usually, when his voice sounds like this, something fun is going to happen.

He leans in, face serious, so you keep yours similar. Then, right when the countdown runs out, he presses his lips to your cheek.

Your heart lurches into your throat and you have half your mind to turn your phone away, not yet ready to examine the face you made.

“What was that about?” You all but whisper-yell, trying to be conscious of the people riding the train with you even though your heart wants to lurch out of your chest and slap him in the face.

Koushi grins and rests his head on your shoulder. “Not telling,” he hums low and even though you try to push him off, he’s staying exactly where he is. A menace, clearly.

-

There is no sight of Asahi whatsoever.

“We’re pretty early,” Koushi guides you toward a coffee shop, the colorful pastries literally screaming at you to get one. “Let’s get breakfast first.”

“I just had breakfast.”

“And now you’ll have it again. You still drink Chai Latte?”

“Yeah, but-”

“Let me guess, the lemon pie?” He points at an adorable little creation, the yellow color brightening your mood just by being in your field of vision. You pout.

“I don’t like it when you know me that well.”

“Sorry, not sorry. What do I like? You know that?”

“Of course,” you boast, “I’ve been forced to be around you for far too long not to know that. You like everything spicy, so I’d get the chocolate chilli parfait for you. And you’re a wuss, so you drink Hot Chocolate.”

“I do drink Hot Chocolate,” he confirms with a smile, “but I think I’d prefer something sweet today.”

“Ah,” you cock your head to the side to look him up and down. “That doesn’t sound like you.”

“Well, but it is me. - Yes, we’d like one Chai Latte, one Hot Chocolate, the Lemon Pie and the Unicorn Roll please.”

“The Unicorn Roll?” You ask him, voice dropped low. 

He smiles in a way that leads all attention back to that awful mole next to his eye. It looks like it’s winking at you.

“Yes, The Unicorn Roll.”

It’s a monstrosity of cream and marshmallows, decorated in colorful sprinkles and topped with a tuft of rainbow cotton candy. You’ve wanted to try it ever since it came into fashion, but just looking at it has your teeth hurt and you can never betray your loyalty to everything lemon flavored anyway.

But looking at it now, sitting in front of Koushi as if it’s just a normal dessert, it wipes everything Asahi out of your brain.

It almost makes you miss the fact that Koushi’s paying.

“I can pay for myself,” you insist, a little too late, but he’s already pushing you forward, a warm hand at the small of your back.

“Can I try yours?” Koushi asks and you’re still a little out of it, pushing your plate toward his.

“You wanna try mine?”

“I- yes…” You blink, before digging your fork in, taking out the left eye of the poor little Unicorn.

“I don’t think this qualifies as breakfast,” you groan once your mouth is empty again, thinking fast how you could possibly get another forkful of this delicacy.

“Doesn’t matter though, right?” Koushi digs his fork into your lemon pie and you take that as an invitation to take out the right eye as well.

-

“You know…” you ask between bites, now taking freely from both plates, “I apologized to Zaira. I said I was sure Asahi was going to confess now, and that I’d give him a little push. I still need to know what you told him so I don’t lose a friend as well.”

“Mhm…” He puckers his lips as he’s thinking, now slightly tinted pink by the cotton candy. “I suppose I could tell you.”

“I suppose you could.”

“I told him I’d confess my feelings if he’d confess his.”

Your fork drops loudly onto the table and you almost toss your cup off it as you try to grab it, trying to look as if you didn’t care about his words at all.

“Pretty… uh, pretty bold of you, don’t you think?”

“Well, not really. I’m pretty confident she feels the same way.”

“Oh, but does Asahi know that too?”

“Well, yes. He said it wasn’t a fair exchange, but he’d still try.”

“And how is he going to do it?” You ask, hand curled around your fork in a tight fist. You don’t want to talk about Koushi confessing. Asahi confessing is a much safer topic.

Koushi checks his phone. “He’s doing it right now. He’s meeting up with Zaira at that little park across from her house.”

Your mouth falls open.

“At the park?”

“Obviously,” Koushi smiles, eyes twinkling. “Do you think he’d confess in the open? Where all the people can see him? No way.”

“But… but why are we here then?”

Koushi’s smile changes to something softer and your heart lurches, slipping into your throat. Breathing is suddenly impossible.

You need to get out of here, fast.

“I need to go,” you manage to push out, grabbing your bag from beneath the table.

You don’t look back, but all the way down the street you don’t hear him follow you. 

Well… it’s settled then. You’ll have to move to Tokyo. 

No way you can show your face again after booking it out of there like this.

Now he’s surely going to think you like him.

-

The swings are vacant, the ground covered in leaves.

You pull your phone out of your bag, not surprised to find a flurry of messages from Zaira, each one of them more ecstatic.

And even though you gave them a push, it’s pretty clear that you’re not the one responsible for her happiness. At least not this time.

“Chai Latte, slightly chilled for the Miss?” A voice asks behind you.

“I’m not in the mood for jokes,” you tell him, not surprised when he still settles on the swing beside you.

“No jokes, I promise.”

You huff, but accept the paper cup of Chai Latte, sipping it instead of looking at him.

For a while no one says anything.

“If you’d confessed first, I’d have won a bet,” Koushi announces eventually, making you halt your movement to turn to him.

“You bet on me confessing to you?”

“First. I bet on you confessing first.”

“With who?”

“My mom,” he admits, blushing slightly. “She called me out on my crush during Junior High.”

Your jaw falls open. “That was when you used to pull on my hair!”

“It looked really cute!” Koushi defends himself. “And you always got all huffy and paid me more attention than anyone else.”

“That’s disturbing.”

“It’s honest. But I… I really like you. And you are better than me in some things. Not all things, but some things.”

You purse your lips. “For example?”

Koushi smiles. “Wouldn’t you like to know? I’m better at kissing though.”

“Prove it,” you hiss and his smile turns into a grin.

“Gladly.”

-

-x-

Dread’s creeping up your spine. 

“Oh no,” you announce to the table, interrupting Yachi and Zaira’s quiet conversation. “Koushi’s getting bored.”

“How can you tell?” Yachi asks.

“Can’t you?” You ask, just as the door opens.

“Baby?” Koushi asks, dragging the syllables, “You’ve not paid me any attention for at least fifteen minutes, that can’t be healthy.”

“You’re a big baby.”

“And you love me. What does that say about you?”

“That I have no taste?”

“No, you have a lot of taste.” He grins, propping his head on your shoulder and squinting down at the table. “Oh, I like that color for your nails. I saw some shoes that would fit really well the other day.”

“We cannot buy another pair of shoes.”

“Mhm, we cannot, but I can.”

You huff and roll your eyes. “You’ll never save money that way.”

He grins and presses a kiss to your cheek. 

“Girls,” he addresses your friends then, “I have to take her away for a minute or two. Important business, you understand. Zaira, Asahi’s in the kitchen. You should join him, maybe, because Tanaka’s trying to talk him into cutting his hair. Oh and Yachi, Tsukishima is-”

“Tsukishima is being annoying?” You interrupt your boyfriend, sending him a glare. He will not ruin your plans for Yachi. “We already know that. You can stay here if you want, I’ll be back shortly.”

“Mhm, not if I have anything to say in that matter,” Koushi announces, dragging you out of the room. The giggling of your friends follows you, but you don’t really think too much about it.

There are other things on your mind. 

Koushi’s hand in yours, or the smile he’s throwing at you, or the fact that he’s not pulling you into the living room or an empty bedroom, but outside, where it’s freezing..

You might love him, but you’ll shove his face into the snow for that.

Tip me?

[lustfulslxt]

can you make a fic where reader has a secret tumblr account and she’s a pretty popular writer for the sturniolo fandom (matt fics only). she also happens to be dating mr matthew 🤭🤭🤭

anyway she gets a shit ton of reqs from an account (u can pick the username lol) and PPL EAT THEM UPPP they’re dirty filthy naughty requests. one day she’s on matt’s phone and sees the tumblr app and confronts him ab it and they both figure out the other one’s lil secret 🤭

Mr. Wrinkleton - Matt Sturniolo

warnings : freaky freaky freaky

—

Looking through my recent activity, I can't help the wide smile that covers my face. Writing on Tumblr has honestly been so fun and exhilarating. I'm only in the Sturniolo fandom, specifically for Matthew, my boyfriend. I came across this app while I was scrolling through comments on TikTok. Just from the way people were talking about it, I knew it was a NSFW type of ordeal.  Me being me, I was quick to download it. Let's just say, I do not regret it.

After a couple of weeks of browsing through the Sturniolo hashtag, I decided to go ahead and write something of my own. Simply to say, people ate it up. I find joy in writing half imaginative, half true experiences with my boyfriend, and the love I get makes me proud. Nobody knows Matt and I are together, and even if they did, my account is completely anonymous. I would be mortified if it somehow got out. Matt would probably think I'm a freak, and not a good one.

I have a few 'fans' on my account, some that request a lot of fanfictions. There's one in particular that I love, Mr.Wrinkleton. They send in so many good requests, ones that I love fulfilling. They have a very peculiar imagination, some things I'd love to try with Matt, and some I have tried with him. Thinking back on those moments brings a smile to my lips, those were great nights.

As I lay sprawled out on the bed, Matt sits at his desk, buried in his PC, playing the game with his brothers. He has his headset on, so loud that I can hear the commotion from across the room. Saying that, he can't hear my continuous giggling. Tumblr has definitely become my favorite app, my guilty pleasure.

Setting my phone aside, I saunter over to my boyfriend, placing my hands on his shoulders. He slightly jumps, removing his headset from one ear and shooting me a quick glance before directing his eyes back to the screen in front of him.

"What's up, baby?" He asks, his attention solely on the game. "You good?"

I chuckle, shaking my head. "Yeah, I'm fine."

I plant a short kiss on his cheek, rubbing his chin a bit, and walk towards the bedroom door. With my hand on the doorknob, I turn back to him just before he places his headset back over his ear.

"Do you want anything from the kitchen?" I ask him.

"What?" He asks, only shooting me another quick glance. A second later, he's yelling at the game. "Bro, you're trash! That was such an easy kill!"

Simply rolling my eyes, I walk out the room. As I walk down the hall, I can hear Matt calling for me, but I just head into the kitchen to grab something to drink. I grab me a bottle of water and Matt a can of root beer before making my way back to the bedroom. I walk in, softly shutting the door, and place the can of soda in front of Matt. I'm about to head back to the bed when his hand catches my wrist, halting me in place.

"Thank you, gorgeous." He says, kissing my hand. "Sorry, I'm super invested in this. We're doing so good right now."

"It's all good." I say, placing a kiss on his head, then make my way back to the comfort of our sheets.

As I lay back down, ready to pick my phone up and continue with my naughty secrets, Matt's phone, on the nightstand table beside me, flashes with a couple of notifications.

"Matt, your phone." I say, only to be ignored. "Matt?"

He doesn't budge, so I pick his phone up to give to him, only to freeze when I see the icon on his screen. I know that icon all too well. There's absolutely no way, I must be seeing things. I dramatically wipe my eyes, glancing back on the glowing screen. It's definitely the same. I unlock his phone and read the notification.

Tumblr @flowerxbunnie liked your post: "wow."

My jaw drops, shock evident on my face. Without a second thought, I click the notification. Once it loads, my jaw drops even more. It's one of the fanfictions I wrote. I'm so confused. Matt has a Tumblr account? There's no way. I hesitantly click on his profile, and if it were possible, my jaw would quite literally be on the floor.

Mr.Wrinkleton.

Is this real life? Am I imagining things? Have I been spending too much time on Tumblr? I close the app and it's still there. I open the app, going back to his profile, and it's still there. Matt is Mr.Wrinkleton. Matt's been sending me dirty requests to write fanfiction about him.

Before I can even stop myself, I'm shrieking, "Matt!"

His head snaps to me, confusion ridden on his face. He takes his headset off and turns towards me.

"What's wrong?"

I can't even form words, so I hold his phone out. He sets his headset down and walks over to me, completely unaware of why I screamed his name. Once he grabs his phone and glances at the screen, every ounce of color drains from his face. His eyes are wide as he stares down at the opened app on his phone.

He looks up at me, his mouth formed into an 'O' shape. "Oh my god. Uh-"

"You have a Tumblr account." I state, as if we haven't established that.

"You weren't supposed to see that." He cringes, sheepishly rubbing the back of his head. "Did you read any of that?"

"I didn't have to." I say, because I already knew.

That's when I start hysterically laughing. What are the odds? His face suddenly flushes with a deep red color, his eyes still wide, only now from embarrassment. I can't even form any words because of how hard I'm laughing. I just pick up my phone and open my Tumblr app, handing it to him. His eyes read over the screen, before his head snaps over to me and his mouth is wide open again.

"Are you serious?" He asks, "Am I being pranked right now?"

"Matthew!" I laugh, "You're such a freak!"

Getting over the initial shock, he's now laughing with me. "I'm the freak?! You're the one writing everyone's dirtiest fantasies!"

"Everyone -- including you!" I tease, my laughter growing more.

He nudges my shoulder, his face still beet red, "Shut up!"

Once my giggling subsides, I pull him into me. "So, you like that stuff?"

He swallows, whispering, "Yes."

"Which one's your favorite?" I ask him, my tone soft and sultry.

He shakes his head, an embarrassed smile pulling to his lips. "You're gonna laugh at me."

I pull him onto the bed with me, us sitting side by side. I shake my head, "I would never." Receiving a pointed look from him, that causes me to laugh again, I continue, "Okay, that was different. I just never expected that. But I would never laugh at your fantasies. From what you've requested, they're pretty hot."

He bites his lips, looking down at me, his voice low and husky as he speaks, "Um, that so called witchcraft."

My mouth fell open, surprise taking over my features. I can feel the desire growing between my legs. I love that story, specifically that detail. A sly smirk pulls to my lips as I stare at him. I can tell by the cheeky grin on his face that he can read it all over me, I want to recreate it. He nods his head, beckoning me over to him.

"What about your game?" I ask, standing in between his legs.

"What about it? It'll be there tomorrow." He mutters, running his hands up my shirt.

His cold fingertips trail over my skin, causing me to shiver. He holds my shirt up, peppering soft kisses along my stomach, his tongue trailing in between his lips. His hands run along my back, easily finding the clasp to my bra and unbuckling it. In one swift motion, he pulls my shirt over my head and lets my bra slide down my arms, onto the floor. The cool air hits my nipples, hardening them instantly.

"Such perfect tits." He mumbles, taking them in his hands, massaging them.

"Love your hands on me, baby." I softly moan, indulging in the way he touches me so effortlessly.

He continues groping my boobs and begins kissing all over my stomach, and up my chest. He sticks his tongue out and drags it between the valley of my breasts, causing me to pull my bottom lip between my teeth to minimize the noises threatening to escape. My hands tangle in his hair, softly tugging every so often.

"You don't understand the power you have over me." He groans against my skin, his hands gliding down my body. "Every little thing you do drives me absolutely insane."

A soft moan leaves my mouth at his words. His hands go around to my ass, squeezing my cheeks through my shorts, massaging them in circles. He grabs the waistband of my bottoms and swiftly pulls them down, leaving me in nothing but my panties. His hands trail up my legs, rubbing them from the outside in. The closer he gets to my core, the more desperate I become. The outside of his hand firmly presses against my clothed center as he grazes along my thigh, and I'm suddenly very aware of the damp patch in the cotton fabric.

"Always so easy to get you going." He says, his voice holding a rasp to it.

All that leaves my mouth are small, breathy moans as he continues putting pressure right where I need him. He suddenly stands up, now towering over me. One of his hands wrap around my throat, his other hand full of ass, and he yanks me into him. His lips slam against mine in a hot and needy kiss. Our teeth clash as our lips surround one another, then he shoves his tongue in my mouth, exploring every nook and cranny.

It's always so easy to get lost in his kiss. He never fails to make me feel like I'm floating on clouds, whether it be soft and delicate or wet and sloppy, like right now. It's as if he's sucking my breath from me, and I'm left in a hazy daze, high from the feeling he bestows upon me. Time seems to be standing still around us. After a moment, he pulls away, both of us breathless, strings of saliva connecting our mouths.

"God, I can't wait to make a mess of you." He whispers, his warm breath fanning my face.

He plants a few more kisses on my lips, pulling away to remove his shirt. I gently tug on the waistband of his sweats, indicating I want them off, to which he obliges and strips from them. His hand comes to my face, connecting our mouths once again, his other hand guiding me onto the bed, never breaking our kiss once. He straddles my legs; I can feel his hard on pressing into me. There's only two layers of clothing preventing us from succumbing to our needs, and I know it's only a matter of time before they're lying on the floor with the rest of the discarded items.

Matt pulls away from my mouth, his going straight to my boobs. His lips envelop my nipple, sucking and taking turns between the two. The sensation from his warm, wet mouth on me has me clenching around nothing. Desperate for more, I reach down and grab at his constricted erection. I can feel him throbbing under my touch, and knowing he wants me as bad as I want him turns me to putty.

"Matt." I moan as he grinds his hips against mine, his dick adding much needed pressure to my core.

"Haven't even done anything yet, and you're already a mess under me." He tsks, smirking. "Don't worry, baby. I'm gonna give you what you want."

Without another word, he pulls his boxers down and places his dick on my pussy. He moves back and forth, rubbing over the soaked fabric. My eyes roll to the back of my head as he brushes over my clit, and I can feel myself practically oozing juices. He pulls my panties to the side and continues gliding his dick through my glistening folds.

"So wet and warm for me." He moans.

"All for you. Only you." I agree, my hands gripping the sheets.

Suddenly, he pulls away, causing me to whine at the loss of friction and warmth he provided. He quickly pulls down my panties, throwing them across the room. Sliding up and down my folds a few more times, he's slowly sinking into me. He tosses his head back, a groan emitting from his throat. I squeeze my eyes shut from the pleasure, subconsciously clenching around him.

Placing a hand on my stomach, he starts thrusting in and out, his speed increasing with every stroke. I can't help the moans that fall from my lips, my entire body overcome with ecstasy. He always knows how to make me feel so good. His hand travels up my torso, applying just the right amount of pressure as he goes. His fingers hook into my open mouth, pulling my jaw down, almost as if he was using me as leverage. The moans coming out of me are now broken and muffled seeing as my mouth is now stuffed with his fingers. I take advantage of this and wrap my lips around them, my tongue sliding all around them as I harshly suck.

He bites his lip, suppressing a loud moan, "Fuck. You make me wanna do very dirty things to you."

"What's stopping you?" I moan as his thrusts grew fiercer.

He instantly leans back from me and lifts my legs over his shoulders. He places his hands beside me to hold himself up as he starts drilling into me. The sound of skin slapping echoes around the room, and you can hear how wet I am. He's reaching places only he's ever been, leaving my legs quivering atop of him. My hands grip onto his biceps, my fingernails digging into his skin, surely leaving crescent shapes behind. One of his hands travels between my legs, rubbing fast circles into my clit, causing me to spasm beneath him.

"Oh god." I whine, feeling the intense knot build in my abdomen.

With my repeated clenching around him, his thrusts grow sloppy, and I can tell he's close. Lewd moans leave both of our mouths, our states of mind clouded with bliss. A throaty groan emits from him, before he quickly pulls out and releases his hot load all over my pussy. It feels so good, especially when he rubs his tip over my clit, then pushes back into me.

He only got a few more pumps in when he pulls out with a hiss, "Touch yourself."

I eagerly do as he says, my fingers easily finding my center. Once I come in contact with his cum, I drag my fingers through it, spreading it into my folds. My fingers brush over my clit, causing me to convulse with pleasure. I rub my clit in slow circles, enjoying the feeling of his seed all over me. Gathering more of his nut, I plunge two fingers into my entrance with a loud moan.

Matt's gaze hasn't left me this entire time, his dead eyes full of lust. I notice him repeatedly lick his lips, as if he wants to dive in and devour me, watch me come undone on his tongue. I fuck my fingers into my pussy, eliciting pornographic moans from me. Like he can't take it anymore, Matt removes me hand and replaces it with his own. Two of his fingers pumping in and out of me while his thumb rubs my clit. My entire body is shaking underneath him. He always knew how to make me feel good, better than I ever could. He knows my body inside and out, knowing exactly what to do to make me unravel. And sure enough, the pressure building in my stomach grows until it ruptures.

"Oh, my fucking god." I moan out, my back arching from the bed as I release onto his hand.

He continues fucking his fingers into me a few more times, before pulling out, "Such a pretty sight."

I am spent. Falling back into the bed, I attempt to catch my breath. Watching Matt with tired eyes, I see him slip his two fingers into his mouth, sucking our mix of fluids off. He leans over me and takes me in for a deep kiss, his tongue sliding all over mine, our blended concoction melting into my mouth. I can't help but moan into the kiss.

He then collapses next to me, immediately pulling me into him. "How about whenever we have something new in mind that we want to try, we just give it a shot rather than searching for it in fiction?"

"Agreed." I breathe, weakening into his embrace. 

Thank god for Tumblr. 

—

a/n : quick shoutout to my baby for the witchcraft idea 🫶🏼🫶🏼 enjoy, love u bunches xx

[beenbaanbuun]

meet me in the woods w/ Mingi

words - 3.5k

genre - fluff, friends to lovers, college!au

warnings - emo!mingi, drummer!mingi, pink!mingi, fangirl!reader, kissing, mentions of seasonal depression, mentions of a broken ankle, reader is down bad, so is mingi, they’re both idiots in love, kind of groping but not really sexual

————————————————

there’s still a chill in the air as the seasons flip from winter to spring. it shows in the way the air around you fogs up with every breath you exhale and the way the skin of your exposed thighs pricks up in little bumps. realistically you should’ve worn a pair of jeans rather than a skirt, but that would defeat the point of this whole thing you had going on. a sort of good-riddance-to-winter protest, in which you try to ignore the fact that winter was very much still in play.

although you have to admit you may have been a little too eager. you claim to have your reasons to pretend that winter is already over, but even those reasons seem a little obsolete as you sit on the picnic table awning, shivering every few seconds. perhaps your way of saying goodbye to your particularly bad bout of seasonal depression will have to be shoved to the back of your closet for a few more weeks. just until you're sure you won’t get frostbite.

you shuffle back a few inches, just enough to give yourself room to swing your legs back onto the awning. you have to go down the way you came up; that was a lesson you’d learned the hard way. a broken ankle and a particularly long lecture from your mother about making ‘sensible decisions’ was not something you care to repeat. she, of course, would blow a fuse if she knew you still frequent this spot years later, but what she doesn’t know can’t hurt her. besides, you’re well trained in how to get up and down from your favourite thinking spot, now.

you already have one leg up when you hear a creek coming from behind you. your neck twists in time to see a hand slam itself down on the wooden surface, fingers splayed as they work their hardest to pull the attached body higher up. you recognise the rings like the back of your hand and as you watch mingi struggle, you can’t help but sigh.

“how many times have i told you how to get up here?” you grumble, loud enough for him to hear over his own strained grunts. the single hand that you can see moves until you can see a middle finger pointed in your direction, and you have to laugh, “you seriously can’t remember? right hand on the roof, left foot on the fence, and push yourself up.”

even without seeing his face you can tell he’s rolling his eyes at you. he’s heard this lecture from you a bajillion times before, and yet he never learns. it’s always right hand, right foot and pull with him - almost the exact opposite of how you instruct him.

“have you considered that i’m, like, twice the size of you?” he says as he corrects his form and finally manages to raise himself up. he swings his right knee onto the platform and rolls his gangly form onto it. you’ve seen more grace from a new-born horse, but you keep that to yourself as you watch him sit himself up and shuffle closer.

“if anything that would make it easier for you, y’know, since you don’t have to jump to reach the roof.”

you turn your body back to how it was, dropping your legs again so you can swing them over the ledge. the platform looks out over nothing but forest, and you quickly find a particular branch to focus your eyes on as the giant sits in his spot next to you. your hands subconsciously brush over the pair of initials that have been scratched into the wood when you were both teenagers. a small, neat set done with a whittling knife stolen from your father, sitting just beneath a much larger, much messier SMG that mingi had done with the biggest kitchen knife he could find. his mother never did discover how her carving knife missing for a few hours only to return to the knife block covered in moss and dirt.

“yeah, yeah,” he mutters as he drops his legs down to swing them at the side of yours. your pink sneakers look a little out of place besides his platform doc martin’s that he always wears, despite not needing the extra height, but somehow the contrast feels natural to you, “i thought i’d find you up here. went to your dorm to search for you but your roommate said you were out.”

“and you assumed i was here?” he nods, not bothering to look at you. he too has found a distant branch to focus on.

“where else would you be?” he nudges you with an elbow, “god knows you don’t go to your lectures…”

he’s right about that. you’d given up on college very early into freshman year, and yet you’re somehow still passing. not well, you have to admit, but enough to get a degree at the end of the year.

“my classes suck, mingi,” you clarify as you rip your focus away from that one specific branch. looking at the same thing was getting kind of boring, you realise, so instead you lay down on the dirty wood and stare up at the canopy. the february sun only just pokes through the fir-canopy, dousing you in just enough light to make your skin a little warmer. there was that heat you were hoping for earlier, “why would i go to them when clearly i can pass without?”

“fair point.”

you close your eyes, basking in the light that bathes you. there’s still a slight breeze that makes the fir needles rustle above you, a few of them raining down whenever a particularly strong gust comes along. one lands on your thigh, but it’s quickly brushed off and replaced by mingi’s warm hand. he must’ve been keeping it in the pocket of his oversized korn hoodie, you think to yourself as he squeezes your thigh.

the hoodie is an old favourite of yours. you’d bought it for him a couple of years ago, and it had soon joined what you like to call ‘the elites’ - the small collection of about three hoodies that he had in permanent rotation. it fit him better now than when you first bought it for him. he’d bulked up a lot, after all.

you still couldn’t get the sweet image of him opening the gift with a wide grin on his face out of your head.

he kissed your cheek on that day.

you always seem to blush at the memory.

“why did you come searching for me, anyway?” you say after a few moments of silence. his hand remains firm on your thigh, fingers drumming a rhythm against your leg gently, “don’t you have cooler people to be hanging out with?”

he hums, “all the cool people i know are busy today,” you swing your foot to the side to kick his shin. he lets out a laugh at the little tap - he knows you can kick harder than that - before giving your thigh a gentle tap in return, “besides, maybe i want to hear about all your little kpop groups.”

you scoff at him.

“no, you don’t.”

“no,” mingi agrees, “i don’t. but i do want to spend time with my favourite little fangirl.”

you giggle at him, opening your eyes just in time to see him turn to you with a wonky grin on his face. it seems he’s bored of staring at his branch too since his gaze doesn’t go back to it after a few seconds. it remains on you, boba-pearl pupils staring into your own as the rays of sun make them glisten.

he looks cute like this, you think to yourself. his short pink hair rustles as the wind blows it about. for a man who made so much fuss about the colour when you first dyed it, it has taken him a long time for him to go back to the bleach blonde that he loves so much. part of you likes to think it’s so he can match your own pastel pink hair - that’s a normal thing for best friends to do, right? - but you also know that he’s fiercely protective over his hair and definitely wouldn’t keep it just for your sake.

it needs a trim, you think to yourself as you watch it brush against his eyebrows. you wonder if he’ll let you do it again. he hated it the last time, so you assume the answer will be no. then again, there’s no harm in asking, right? you make a mental note to do so later, wanting nothing more than to see the same cute pout he wore last time you butchered his hair. it’s an expression that he only ever wears around you, much like that sweet smile he’d had moments prior. it’s a softness that he keeps close to his chest, a far cry from the cool exterior he tries to keep when he’s around everyone else. not that you mind the tougher side of him - it’s hot… really hot - but the sweet giggles and adorable nose scrunches will always be your favourite things about him.

“you said everyone else was busy?” you mutter, not bothering to break eye contact to go back to sunbathing. he takes the hint, and brings his legs fully onto the platform so he can face you fully. it’s much better, you think, this way you can see him more clearly, “what are they doing?”

he shrugs.

“i don’t know,” he begins to rub your thigh up and down subconsciously. he does it a lot when he’s talking. if it’s not your thigh - which it usually always is - then it’s his own, or the arm of a chair. it’s just something to keep his hands busy, you suppose, “i think some of the guys wanted to go over melodies, which they don’t need me for. jongho was saying he thinks it’d be cool if there’s a section where his voice and san’s guitar are kind of in sync? i don’t know, it sounds cool in theory but i don’t know if san’s guitar style necessarily matches jongho’s vocal style well enough to do that.”

you watch as his face lights up, just like it always does when he talks about music, or his band. he could talk about their newest ideas for hours, and most of the time you let him. you like to listen to the way his voice rises an octave when he gets excited, and watching his facial expressions never gets old. you love the way he talks with one hand, all while keeping the other firmly on your thigh; or his, or the arm of a chair. it’s nice to see him still so passionate about all the same things he was as a teenager. sometimes you’re even sure you can feel his excitement for him.

it feels an awful lot like butterflies in your stomach.

“and i mean, i know i’m just the drummer but,” you quirk your eyebrow at him and he stops himself talking. a pink flush rises over his face as he realises his slip up, “i didn’t mean just the drummer, i just meant that as the drummer, i don’t know as much about the music theory side as the guitarists do… i hit things, y’know?”

“you hit things very well, though,” you tease, using a manicured finger to poke at his knee. he catches it with the hand that isn’t occupied by your thigh and just holds onto it. its another thing he does a lot; not quite holding your hand, but definitely toeing the line, “and that’s coming from me!”

he rolls his eyes at you, and you were sure that if both his hands weren’t occupied with some other part of your body, he’d make the effort to lean forwards and place a finger over your lips to shush you. again, touching your lips like that it’s just something he does with you, just like almost holding your hands, and playing with your thighs. it’s all completely normal best friend stuff…

except you weren’t this touchy with any other guy. the last time you let a man get this close to you was when wooyoung tried to teach you guitar by moving your fingers into the correct positions for you. there was barely any contact between the two of you, and yet mingi sulked for days. part of you wanted to call it strange, but when you spotted him giving a pretty emo girl his drumsticks after a show, you gave him much of the same attitude.

you wouldn’t call it jealousy, per se, although maybe there was a little bit. mingi was your best friend after all. you have something special with him. something different that you have with no one else and you feel a way that you feel with no one else and-

oh.

oh.

suddenly the hand on your thigh felt very heavy, and you noticed the way his fingertips gently dip under the hem. had they been doing that the whole time? and you couldn’t help but feel like the way his thumb rubbed against the tip of your finger so softly had some type of further meaning behind it. not to mention the neutral yet unbelievably gentle look that took over his features, making him look even more pretty than usual in the scattered rays of light.

his lips were parted every so slightly, revealing that single wonky tooth that you found oh-so adorable. for a second you wondered what they would feel like against your skin, but you soon shunned the thought away as you remembered, oh yeah, the korn sweater. you’d felt them before. you know just how soft and gentle they are. it’s something that often plays on your mind and every time it does, you feel that same burst of excitement built up in your stomach. the one you get when mingi speaks about his passions. the one that feels like butterflies.

it is butterflies. fuck, it’s the whole damn zoo! a stampede of elephants charging though your body each and every time he does something that you find even mildly endearing. it just so happens that you find damn near everything he does endearing. you’d think those elephants would be tired of running by now…

“mingi,” you sigh, breath coming out in a plume of mist. you’d forgotten how cold it was in his presence. being around him just seemed to warm you up, “mingi, come here.”

he furrows his brow, but shuffles a tad closer. you almost groan in disappointment as he takes his hand away from your thigh, the skin immediately growing cold at the lost contact.

“what’s up, sunshine?” you feel em your eyes go wide at the nickname. you don’t know why; he uses it for you all the time.

“mingi, i’m confused… and a little scared,” you admit, although you didn’t know whether it was necessarily the truth. it was probably the closest word to describe how you were feeling though. with the way your heart was threatening to beat through your chest, and the way your stomach churned with nerves and the way your stupid brain had only just managed to catch up with how you had felt all along. it hurt, and it was painful and confusing and yeah, scared was probably a pretty good description.

“scared?” his voice grows serious as his eyes scan you up and down. once he sees that you’re fine physically, they return to your face. he looks just as confused as you feel, “what are you scared about? are you okay? hurt?”

you shake your head, taking in a deep, shaky breath. you let it out in yet another cloud of fog and watch at it floats away into nothing. you wish your butterflies, elephants, would do the same. it would make this whole thing so much easier.

“i’m fine, mingi,” you say, “just scared.”

“can you tell me why?” you nod, although it takes everything in you to do so.

“i want to kiss you,” you admit.

“kiss… me?”

you nod again, feeling a familiar heat rise to your face. the same one you get whenever mingi compliments you, or touches you. you can't believe it’s taken this long to finally figure it all out. it all feels so obvious now.

“i mean… yeah?” he stutters, “kiss me, yeah… yeah that sounds okay- i mean good! it sounds good… kissing, that is.”

if you weren’t feeling completely and utterly out of your depth, you’d have giggled at him. cutie pie you think to yourself before the heat in your body immediately gets more intense, and the elephants not only increase in number but in size too.

it’s now or never. before you can talk yourself out of it, you need to kiss him. because talking yourself out of it could be so easy. you could hop off of the awning, run back to your car and drive back to your dorm. sure, it would hurt when you would inevitably have to lock yourself away in embarrassment and never see mingi again, but time heals all wounds, right? and by the time you’re 50, the pain and embarrassment will have definitely almost healed over…

“so?” he mutters, pulling you back from the fantasy your brain had created, “are you going to do it?”

“i, uh…”

“i mean, i can if you want me to,” he shrugs, trying his hardest to play it cool as if he hadn’t been stuttering seconds prior. as if his face wasn’t just as pink as the mop of hair that sat atop it.

there is nothing cool about this man, you think to yourself as you push yourself into a sitting position. maybe that’s why you’re so attracted to him. his nerdy tendencies had tugged you in, and he’d worked his dorky little ways on you until you were hook line and sinker for him.

down bad, as the kids say. down so horrifically bad…

“i can do it,” you whisper as you look up at him with wide eyes. your lips are mere inches from his own, and his hot breath fans across your cold face. his eyes are on yours just briefly before they flicker down to your lips. they rested there for a second before making their way back up to yours, “i can kiss you,” you whisper.

“you can,” he mutters back, bringing his own face close enough to yours that you’re not even sure a sheet of paper would slip between the two of you. his tongue darts out to wet his own lips, gently brushing against yours too. your breath hitches as your last sliver of resolve vanishes. that’s it, you tell yourself, you can’t hold back anymore.

the tiny gap is closed as you press forwards, slamming your lips against his. your fingers shoot up to lace themselves in the hair at the nape of his neck, and his find a home on your waist. his eyelashes flutter against your face as he shuts his eyes, and you follow his lead, doing the same. it’s nice, you realise, the darkness letting you focus on how his lips feel moving slowly against your own. they fit perfectly, like they were always meant to be there.

he deepens the kiss briefly, tilting his head ever so slightly to get a better angle. it’s a little rougher at this angle, but you can’t find it in you to mind as he takes control. the desperation you feel from him as he moves his lips harshly against your own was something you feel yourself, so you let him take what he needs, taking just as much in return.

and by the time he pulls away, you’re both panting. rapid and hard and together. his lips have barely left your own as he catches his breath, but you don’t pull back either.

“fuck,” he mumbles against your lips, “that was… nice?”

“yeah,” you agree. ‘nice’ seems the best way to describe it, although it was so much more than just that, “it was nice, wasn’t it?”

“so nice, sunshine,” he says. a few beats of a silence pass before he presses his lips against yours again, this time for a much shorter, much more innocent peck. you can’t help but giggle as he pulls away. there’s a grin on his face too, “wish we’d done it sooner, though.”

you nod, “yeah, me too.”

“but we have all the time in the world, right?”

he pecks you again. this one lasts a few milliseconds longer than the last, not that you’re counting. when he pulls away, you chase it. another peck, this time led by you, but equally as brief as the other two. it’s his turn to chuckle.

“cute,” he grins, “you’re so cute.”

you get shy under his words and pull back just a tad. the grip he has on your waist refuses to let you go too far from him. you don’t mind; not at all. the fact he wants you so close actually sends the elephants feral. you feel them reach up to your heart to work their magic on that too. it probably isn’t healthy for it to beat at the speed that it is, but you really can’t help it. the elephants seem to respond to mingi and mingi alone. you don’t mind that either.

not at all.