#worked for 18 hours and got like 1% of my work done

[kookooluvr]

Teach Me How To Love - Part 8

jeon jungkook, a fellow professor at yonsei university, is your friend, co-worker, and secret bed buddy. you have rules set in place to make sure there are no misunderstandings in your little arrangement. the #1 rule is as clear as day; no catching feelings. simple, right? wrong. let's see how un-simple it gets when a certain economics professor falls for an emotionally unavailable political science professor.

pairing: professor!jungkook x (fem) professor!reader, fwb to lovers

genre: fluff, angst, smut, fwb au, economicsprofessor! jungkook, politicalscienceprofessor!reader, slow burn, some emotional constipation, some sappy moments, lots of sexy moments.

rating: 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!

w/c: 13.8k

warnings: jk's mood starts out kinda down, oc pours her heart out on a long ass voicemail, the long awaited reunion (yay yay yayyyy), lots of tears (happy tears, don't worry guys), loads and loads of fluff, love confessions, mentions of oc going to therapy, mention of jk's kiss with hana (🙄), talks of oc's past relationship trauma, explicit sexual content; lots of kissing, nipple play, oral sex (f. receiving), fingering (f. receiving), unprotected sex, missionary, morning sex, brief cowgirl, doggy, post-sex shower and breakfast.

a/n: AHHHHHH !!!! WAR HAS ENDED !!! i'm so happy for my babies y'all, they're so in love 🥹🥹 pleasssseeee let me know all your thoughts because i'd love to hear them. do all the lovely things (like, comment, reblog) because it really helps me, and enjoy !! 🫂🫶🏼

taglist: @rpwprpwprpwprw @livinluvl @puppybunnyjkay @mimi1097 @bumblebee-21s-blog @koosluvss @sou-17 @svnbangtansworld @junecat18 @shrek-the-destroyer @tastykookoonut @sturniolowrld @palomanazareth @chimmisbae @daskewl @ramyun-h @heyitsroshni @matryoshka-poetry @almatiarau @gukkie7 @ambiee3 @blueberriesm @milkk1400 @yuriouki @lovelovethebeatles @somehowukook @deedeeps @emily-hung @jkaxl @bhonbhon @bearchermer @annafarrr @in-out-inbetween @mar-lo-pap @lilacstellar

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The snow falls in quiet, gentle flakes outside his office window, blanketing Yonsei's campus in white. It's beautiful in that cinematic, melancholic kind of way. It's the kind of snow that makes you wish you had someone to hold hands with, someone to snuggle under a blanket, someone who would gently brush their fingers over your eyes and say, "It's sticking to your eyelashes, dummy."

But all Jungkook has is silence.

The campus is mostly empty, buildings shuttered for winter break, windows no longer glowing with office lights. The buzz of the semester has finally burned itself out and so has Jungkook.

His office is warm but sterile, lit by the dull buzz of fluorescent lights. He could have left by now, just like everyone else. The last of the faculty had filtered out hours ago, eager to escape into the arms of winter break, laughing in wool coats and boots as they made promises to unplug, to rest, to spend the break baking and sleeping in and binge-watching dramas.

He could've gone home too, should have, honestly, but he stayed. Not because he has to, but because there's nothing waiting for him at home except a fridge of neglected groceries, a sleeping Bam, and a bed that feels cold and lonely to sleep in. He barely sleeps in his bed. Most nights, he just falls asleep on the couch after drowning himself in work. That must be why he hasn't noticed anything missing from his home, anything that would be incredibly valuable to him, like a box filled with his heart written out on paper.

Taehyung hasn't said anything about the box he stole that night. He's done what he could do and all he can do now is wait and see what you choose to do with what you were given.

Jungkook hasn't gotten a chance to speak to Taehyung in the past week because he's been spending his time grading the last of his students' exams and spending his free time with Jihyo. He's happy for him. At least one of them got their girl.

Life has started to feel like it's moving again, and he can't decide if that's a good thing or not. It's not to say that his life has been meaningful in any way because that would be a lie. He goes to work and goes home to Bam, who he pours all of his affection into. He goes through the motions of eating and sleeping because he has to or else he won't survive, but it doesn't feel as burdensome as it used to.

Does that mean he's starting to move on from you? He can't lie and say yes. He doesn't know how to do that.

Move on.

A part of him still holds onto the hope that it'll all end with you. The other part of him feels like four months is too long a time to keep hoping. Something inside of him, that petty little thing gnawing at his brain, wishes you would come crawling back and beg for his forgiveness for breaking his heart, the forgiveness he stupidly already gave you without you even having to ask for it.

Most days, going home means stillness, and in stillness, you return. Home is where the walls still remember your voice, whether it be laughing at something he said or moaning as he explored your body. Home is where Jungkook lies awake in bed thinking about the day he finally told you he loved you, and you couldn't say it back. Not because you didn't feel it, he knows you felt it, but because you didn't feel safe enough to say it.

It still hurts, but some days work takes his mind off of things for a while and it hurts just a little bit less. Like today.

He leans back in his chair, rubbing his tired eyes with the heel of his palm. The last batch of admin forms is finally filed, course evaluations uploaded, and emails answered. His brain feels like static on a tv screen, his body running on bitter, re-heated coffee. He didn't eat lunch. He barely had time for breakfast because he accidentally overslept and had to fly out the door without even a glance at the mirror.

He heaves a deep sigh and glances at the clock on the wall.

6:57pm.

"Shit," he mutters under his breath, gathering his things. He shrugs on his coat and slings his satchel over his shoulder before flicking off the office light.

The hallway echoes with his footsteps. For the first time in months, he doesn't turn his head in hopes of catching a glance at you in the hallways.

Outside, the snow crunches beneath his boots as he makes his way to the parking lot. It's basically empty, given everyone already left to enjoy the start of their winter break. He'd normally text Taehyung to ask if he's still on campus, maybe suggest grabbing a coffee, but his phone is sitting right on his kitchen counter at home. Of course. That's the result of forgetting to set an alarm in the morning.

Today's apparently just not his day. And now, the final cherry on top: two hours' worth of traffic.

Jungkook groans as his car crawls along the main road, brake lights stretching endlessly ahead of him like a red river of holiday misery. The snow isn't helping, but neither is the wave of exhaustion crashing over him. He stares out the window, chin resting against his knuckles.

He should be excited to have time off. Everyone else is. All he can think about, however, is how much emptier everything feels now.

By the time he finally pulls up to his driveway, it's well after 9pm. The snow is still falling, covering the sidewalk in a thin white coat, his foot almost slipping when he gets out of the car. He slams his car door shut, trudging up to the front door, shrugging off his coat and kicking off his boots in the entryway. Bam greets him at the door, tail wagging, whining excitedly as he rubs his head against Jungkook's leg.

"Hey, big boy," he murmurs, dropping his bag to kneel down and scratch behind the dog's ears. "I missed you too, buddy."

Bam licks his cheek and bolts to the living room, expecting their usual post-work playtime, but Jungkook's energy is spent.

He heads straight for the kitchen, pulls out a can of beer and stares at it for a few seconds before cracking it open with a sigh. The first sip tastes bitter but he drinks it anyway. Then he sinks into the couch, his shoulders slumped, and stares blankly at the black tv screen. The beer does nothing to warm the hollowness inside him.

He leans his head back against the couch, closing his eyes, letting the low hum of the heater fill the room. Now that he has no work to keep him busy, he's left with a dull ache in his chest.

His beer is halfway finished when Jungkook hears the buzz of his phone coming from the kitchen counter.

He doesn't feel like speaking to anyone right now, but he reluctantly drags himself off the couch and pads over to get the phone from the counter, letting out a sigh as he unlocks it to see who's bothering him.

It's a text from his mom.

Mom [9:46]: Jungkook, please make sure you're careful out there! I read something about a man who slipped and cracked his skull open in the snow. Dead instantly! Love you. Wear proper shoes!!

Jungkook stares at the screen, blinking. He lets out a faint chuckle, his thumbs flying across the screen to let her know that he is in fact alive and well, and that she should stop reading those Facebook posts.

He goes through his missed notifications and doesn't find anything out of the ordinary. That is until he sees it.

Missed call. One voicemail.

From you.

His entire body goes stiff, and for a moment, all he can do is stare at your name on his screen, his heart thumping painfully in his chest. He doesn't press play. Not right away. He stares at the little play button like it might bite him. In fact, it might just kill him.

You called him after months of radio silence and he can't figure out why. He doesn't even realize he's pacing around the living room until Bam lets out a small huff of confusion. Jungkook runs a hand through his hair almost a million times, his phone clutched to his chest.

What if it's closure?

What if you're saying goodbye for real this time?

What if you're trying the fix what you broke?

He doesn't know which of those scares him more, if he's quite honest with himself. But then he remembers your face. The way you looked that morning when you broke things off. You didn't look angry, just...scared. Wounded.

He has to listen to the voicemail. He can't not listen to it.

He takes one deep breath, a really long, drawn-out breath, and hits play.

Your voice crackles softly through the speaker and his legs almost give in.

"Hey...it's, uhm...it's me. I, uhh...I know it's been months...and you probably don't want to hear from me...and I wouldn't blame you..."

There's a long pause before you continue, and he stands frozen, waiting with bated breath.

"I know you're hurt...and angry...and uhm..."

There's another pause before a deep sigh.

"You said you wanted to get to know the...the real me, so, uhm...I wrote some things down and I wanted to read them to you. It's kinda stupid, I know...and if you just want to put the phone down right now, I understand...but..."

Jungkook chews on his bottom lip, hearing the shakiness of your voice. It makes his stomach churn with nerves.

"I grew up very shy...kinda nerdy. I was bullied a lot in elementary school, so my parents had to put me in another school because girls would call me ugly names and lock me in the bathroom during break. I have a close relationship with my parents. They're the people I hold most dear to me, and my sister, Yuna, who you already know about. My parents worked really hard to provide the best for us. My mom was a seamstress, and my dad actually worked as a lecturer at SNU for almost thirty years. I think I saw how passionate he was about his job, so I followed in his footsteps," you chuckle.

"I took ballet from the age of five to thirteen, and piano around twelve, but I forgot most of it, so please never ask me to play. I had braces at thirteen and I had a 'Dora the Explorer' haircut for most of middle school," you sigh.

As the seconds tick by, the ache in Jungkook's chest swells. With every word, every pause, every breath you take on the other end of the line, something in his unravels. He sits down on the couch and closes his eyes, listening with a smile on his face, his eyes stinging with emotion.

"I love spicy food, even though my stomach hates me afterwards. I love it, can't stop eating it. My mom always scolds me and says I'm hurting my body, but...oh well," you scoff. "I know you always make fun of me for liking matcha, so shut up, I don't wanna hear it, Jeon Jungkook. I like matcha, okay? Sue me. My favourite flavour of ice cream is vanilla, boring and basic, I know. I love baking, which you already know because you've gotten a batch or two of cookies on your desk at work from an unknown source, even though I know that you know it was always me. I love chocolate cake, the really fudgy kind that's almost too sweet and you have to drink a glass of milk with it. I had two pets throughout my childhood and Miso is my third. I might be biased but she's the best. Okay, uh, what else? Uhmmm...I have a fear of heights...and snakes...and clowns. Fucking hate clowns. I'm allergic to pollen and get really stuffy and sneezy during spring, but you always give me your little pack of tissues, which I never actually see you use, so I think you only buy them to give them to me. I've never travelled outside of Korea, but I'd like to someday. Maybe to Barcelona or Paris. I love romcoms and all the cliché, sappy stuff that's way too unrealistic to actually happen in real life...and my embarrassing guilty pleasure is Love Island. Don't make fun of me because I know you will!"

There's another long pause while you brace yourself for what's to come. Jungkook hangs onto every word, the phone clutched tightly in his shaky hand.

"I was in a seven-year relationship with my ex, Sunghoon...the one I told you about in Jeju. We met when I was sixteen...and...I thought I was going to marry him and have babies...grow old together..."

Jungkook feels his face burn hot with suppressed emotion. This is it. This is what he's been waiting for. You're finally giving him the missing puzzle pieces he never had before. You're finally telling him why you could never fully give yourself to him.

"Sunghoon proposed to me and, naturally, I said yes because...I thought that he was...my person," you sigh. "He told me that I was the one true love of his life and that he would never do anything to hurt me. And then he...cheated on me. He cheated on me with a friend of mine and...I packed up my things and I left."

Your voice is shakier now, like you're willing yourself not to cry, and this almost breaks Jungkook completely.

"I cried on Jihyo's bathroom floor for God knows how long. It took me almost two years to stop hurting. I blamed myself. He blamed me too. I let him convince me that it was somehow my fault that he cheated, that I just wasn't good enough for him. And I was so depressed for such a long time because of what he did to me. I promised myself that I would never let anyone in like that again...I would never allow myself to be loved by a man because that would give them the power to hurt me. And then I transferred to work at Yonsei and...and then I met you. And we became friends...and you were so...kind...and so welcoming...and you made me feel comfortable. And then we got drunk at that staff Christmas party last year and had sex, and maybe I was stupid enough to think that no one would end up getting hurt in the end. And when we kept doing it, I needed those boundaries to keep me safe from being hurt by the cute economics professor I was secretly hooking up with. Those stupid rules and boundaries would protect me from you and the feelings I knew I was starting to develop for you. I knew that if I let you stay the night...if I let you kiss me whenever you wanted...if I fell asleep in your arms every night...I knew that I'd fall in love with you. And yet...stupid me, and my stupid heart...I didn't care about any of that because I still fell. I fell in love with you."

You let out a soft sigh, your voice trembling.

"When we started hooking up, you made me feel like a woman again instead of an empty shell. You made me feel desired and...sexy...and beautiful. You made me feel like I wasn't the problem all along...like Sunghoon cheating on me wasn't because of anything that I did. And when you told me you loved me it all just became a bit too real, and I freaked out because Sunghoon loved me too at some point, and he still betrayed me. And if I told you that I loved you...it would be opening myself up to be hurt again. And I get it if you never want to speak to me again because I wouldn't either if I were you. I'm a mess and I run away when I get scared and I hurt people before they can hurt me...and...and I punished you because of Sunghoon's actions. I hurt you because he hurt me and I'm so, so sorry, Jungkook."

It's as if time stands still for Jungkook. He almost thinks that's the end of it, but your voice comes through right at the end in a soft, shaky murmur.

"You are...the sweetest, kindest...most amazing man that I have ever met...and I love you, Jungkook. I'm so utterly...madly in love with you...and you deserve so much better than me...but if you give me the chance...I swear I'll never hurt you like I did before. So...yeah...that's all. Please call me back. Bye."

Jungkook doesn't move for a while after the voicemail ends. He just sits there, staring down at the phone in his hand as if it still holds your voice, like if he listens hard enough, maybe he can hear you right here with him in his living room.

He doesn't realize he's crying until he hears his own broken sob slipping from his throat and harshly stabbing his ears. It startles him. It sounds raw. Uncontrolled.

His head spins as the weight of the voicemail finally crashes into him. Everything you said, everything you gave him in that voicemail, it was real. It was all of you.

You're finally letting him see the real you.

You gave him everything he thought you'd never trust him with; your pain, your past, your fears, your truth. And it wrecks him.

He sinks onto his back on the couch, the phone clutched like it holds all the most precious secrets in the world. The only thing wracking through his brain is your voice. It echos in his ears, every confession whispered with shaky breath.

You really love him.

He presses a hand over his mouth as another sob escapes, muffled and aching, tears slipping hot and fast down his cheeks. It's quiet devastation. It's relief and love and hope.

He has to get to you. Now.

Jungkook rushes to stand up and gather his things. His hands shake as he looks for his keys. Where the hell are his keys? He pats down every pocket, rushing from the living room to the entryway, looking frantic, his heart pounding so hard it feels like it might tear through his ribs.

He yanks on his boots, almost falling over in the process. He doesn't even care to put his coat on because he finds his keys and rushes to yank the front door open, but he freezes at the sight that greets him.

There you are. Standing on his porch.

Your hand is raised as if you were about to ring the doorbell, but you freeze, caught mid-motion. Snow falls around you, gathering in your hair, on your shoulders, soft and shimmery in the porch light. You're clutching something against your chest.

The box.

His box.

Jungkook's heart lurches into his throat, so hard and so fast it's almost painful.

Neither of you say anything at first. You both just stare at each other with wide eyes and ragged breaths, cold snowflakes melting on heated cheeks and old tears drying as new ones form.

And then you speak, soft and steady.

"I read your letters."

His stomach twists sharply, his hands trembling where they hover uselessly by his sides.

He blinks at you, completely stunned. "W-What?"

You tighten your hold on the cardboard box as if it's the only thing anchoring you there. The lid almost falls off, which feels quite like your emotions as you stand before him, just begging to spill out at the seams.

"I read all of them. Every single one. Even the ones from as far back as four years ago."

Jungkook's mouth opens but nothing comes out at first. His eyebrows furrow, a million questions running through his head. When he finally does speak, his voice is breathless, almost too quiet to hear. "How did you get those?"

You shift the box in your hold, steadying it under your arm while you wipe your damp cheek with the sleeve of your sweater, fresh tears falling.

"Taehyung," you croak out, your chuckle shaky and broken. "He...he must have stolen them if you didn't even know I had them."

He scoffs, his eyebrows shooting up. "That little-"

You cut him off with a shaky laugh, stepping forward, the snow crunching under your shoes.

"I'm glad he did, Kook," you murmur, your voice wobbling with your emotions. "Because if he hadn't...I never would've known..."

He stares at you, his heart hammering with every inch that disappears between your bodies. "Known what?"

You swallow thickly, your tears glistening in your lashes. "That you loved me even when I didn't deserve it. Even when I insisted on keeping you at arm's length. That...you saw me, even the parts I tried to hide."

You let out a breath, your voice quivering, your eyes welling up until everything spills over and runs down your face.

"That you waited for me to be brave enough to love you back."

You step closer, your words spilling out, desperate and earnest like you have to convince him of your true feelings.

"I read every word, Jungkook. I read about all the little things you noticed about me when I thought no one did. I read about all the nights you got close to confessing your feelings for me but didn't because you knew I wasn't ready to receive it. How much you hoped that I would choose you someday. And it made me realize that I was never scared of you hurting me. I was scared because...because you loved me so deeply and...I didn't think I deserved to be loved like that by someone as good as you."

You sniffle, laughing weakly through heavy tears. "But you loved me anyway. You loved me so...patiently. And I was too much of a coward to let myself have it."

Jungkook's body buzzes with adrenaline, his muscles trembling, his emotions boiling so violently inside him that he feels as if he might fall to his knees. But he remains firm. He owes it to himself.

"I'm so, so sorry, Jungkook," you whisper. "I'm sorry for pushing you away and I'm sorry for making you think you weren't enough. You're everything. You always have been."

He can't take it anymore. He can't bear to stand here anymore and not have you in his arms where you belong.

In one swift motion, Jungkook steps forward and grabs the box of letters from your hands, tossing it somewhere inside without a care before cupping your cheeks in his trembling hands, pulling you to him.

And then he's kissing you. Hard. Desperate. He kisses you like he's trying to pour every unsaid word, every lonely night, every broken piece of himself into you, where he feels safe.

You whimper against his lips, your hands clutching the fabric of his shirt like you'll drown without him. The snow falls even heavier, but neither of you notice. All he knows is that you're here now. You're home.

"I'm sorry for hurting you, Kook," you mumble against his mouth, pulling away to look at him.

He shakes his head, his eyebrows furrowing. "Don't apologize. You're here now."

"Still. I shouldn't have hurt you just because I was still hurting from my past. It wasn't your fault. You didn't deserve that."

He hears the genuine remorse in your voice, sees the guilt in your eyes, and it twists his heart. He wants to argue and tell you that he knows you were just protecting yourself, that it's all okay, but he doesn't. He can't deny that it hurt, the silence you gave him, the cold shoulder.

He takes a deep breath, reaching for your face and gently stroking your cheeks with his thumbs. "I understand why you did it...but I'm not your ex. I wouldn't...I'd never..." he trails off, his words getting caught in his throat.

You nod, offering him a soft smile, your eyes growing glossy. "I know."

He swallows, his throat feeling tight. "I couldn't hurt you like that. I care about you too much."

"I know, baby," you whisper, gently pecking his lips.

The pet name sends a shiver down his spine. It has never sounded better than when it rolls off your tongue.

He kisses you back, closing his eyes as he savours the feeling of your mouth on his, your tongues moving in a slow dance. He wraps his arms around you, keeping you against his chest, his hands trailing up and down your back.

He breaks the kiss only long enough to press his forehead against yours, his breath coming out in ragged gasps, his thumbs gently stroking your back through the wool of your sweater.

"I missed you," he chokes out. "God, I missed you so much, ___."

His mouth finds yours again. It's softer now, slower, tasting the saltiness of your fresh tears, the sweetness of your lips on his, the warmth of having you, really having you this time.

He drags you inside, kicking the door shut with his foot, not once letting you go.

Bam barks excitedly somewhere behind him, but Jungkook barely hears him. His world has narrowed to the feeling of you in his arms, the weight of you real and warm and finally his to love.

"Don't leave me again," he whispers into the kiss. "Please."

You wrap your arms around his neck, kissing him harder. "Never," you promise, your voice breathless, thick with emotion. "Never again."

Outside, the snow falls, blanketing the city with the finality of the year past, but inside, your kisses hold the promise of everything that's still waiting to begin.

Jungkook doesn't break the kiss as he walks you backwards down the hall, pausing every few steps just to murmur your name against your lips like he still can't believe you're really here.

Your back hits the doorframe of his bedroom, and he smiles against your mouth, his hands tightening on your waist as he guides you inside. The room is dim except for the glow of the snowfall filtering through the curtains, silver light dusting over the bed, the walls, you.

He kicks the door closed to make sure Bam doesn't interrupt because he can't afford to stop at a moment like this. He keeps moving until he stops in front of the bed and pulls away from the kiss to look at you properly, looking at you like you're something holy, something he's afraid to touch too quickly and ruin.

His hands drift down from your waist, slow and reverent, until they find the hem of your sweater. His fingers brush teasingly along the strip of skin just above your jeans, and you shiver under his touch.

You reach for the hem to help him, but he gently shakes his head, his lips brushing against your temple. "Let me. Please."

You nod, your heart pounding, your eyes shining as you look up at him in the dim light of his bedroom, the moonlight making everything feel that much softer and sweeter.

With infinite tenderness, Jungkook lifts your sweater, bunching it higher inch by inch. His hands graze over your sides, your ribs, the underswell of your breasts. You raise your arms for him, and he pulls the fabric over your head, tossing it aside without ever taking his eyes off you.

His breath hitches, his hands skimming back down to cradle your waist. "You're so goddamn perfect," he murmurs, like a secret meant only for you.

Your fingers find the buttons of his shirt, desperate to feel more of him. Without speaking, you undo each one and slowly pull the cotton off of his shoulders, watching it fall to the ground. His skin is warm and solid under your touch, and your palms flatten against his chest, feeling the pounding rhythm of his heart.

Jungkook captures your mouth in a slow, passionate kiss, his hands sliding down to your hips. You clumsily kick off your shoes and he gently walks you backwards until the backs of your knees hit the edge of the bed, and then, with a careful push, he lays you down among the pillows.

He hovers over you, just staring, his gaze drinking you in like you're the most precious thing he's ever seen. His thumb strokes lightly across your cheekbone.

"Hi," you whisper, smiling up at him, like two lovers meeting after an eternity apart.

"Hi, baby," he whispers before dipping his head to kiss you once more. But he doesn't stay at your mouth for too long.

His lips trail lower, across your jaw, down the curve of your throat. He worships every inch of skin he comes across in his path, kissing slowly, desperately, down to the hollow between your collarbones, the soft curve of your breast, his fingers reaching behind you to unclasp your bra.

He gently tosses the material to the floor and dips his head to swirl his tongue around a nipple, giving it a nice, slow suck before pulling off with a pop, moving on to the other nipple.

Your fingers thread through his hair, gently scratching his scalp as he licks and sucks on your breasts, leaving them glistening under the moonlight.

With a lingering kiss to the underside of your breast, he moves lower, trailing his wet lips down the dip of your stomach.

He pulls away to sit back on his knees, reaching for the button of your jeans. "Can I take these off?"

You nod, appreciating that he asked, even though you would never say no to that request.

"Yes," you breathe out, lifting your hips to let him pull the denim from your legs, the weight of it hitting the floor with a dull thud. His lips are back on you in an instant, teasing your hipbones.

You arch into him, soft whimpers leaving your throat with every brush of his mouth. Your hands bury themselves further into his hair, needing to anchor yourself somehow, needing to hold onto something in case you float up to heaven. That's how good his lips feel on your sensitive skin.

Jungkook kisses lower, slower, until he's kneeling at the edge of the bed between your legs. He looks up at you one last time, his hand stroking up your thigh, a silent question in his eyes.

You nod, your voice breaking as you whisper a soft, "Please, baby."

And then he removes your panties and places them with the rest of your clothing on his bedroom floor, his eyes locked onto your waiting core. "You're so beautiful, ___," he sighs, his voice taking on a blissful, almost dreamy tone.

He leans in, placing a feathery light kiss to your mound, his breath brushing against your skin.

The first drag of his tongue through your folds is enough to make your back arch off the bed, an airy moan spilling from your lips. He is devastatingly slow, deliberate, like he has all the time in the world, like your pleasure is the only thing that has ever mattered to him.

He slowly licks up and down between your folds, collecting your essence on his tongue, his hands softly squeezing your thighs.

"You taste amazing," he breathes, pulling back so he can look up at you, his gaze meeting yours, his tongue trailing over his lips before diving back in.

He licks from your slit up to your clit, your eyes fluttering shut, your fingers gripping his hair.

You've never had a man know your body the way he does. He knows you inside and out, and the thought is enough to make you clench around nothing.

"Fuck, baby," you moan breathlessly as he focuses on your clit, swirling his tongue around it before sucking slowly, your thighs trembling in his hold.

Jungkook groans against your pussy as he feels you writhe beneath him, as he tastes the depth of your need. His hands grip your thighs tighter, holding you open for him as he works you with his tongue, giving your clit slow, patient strokes, never rushing, never letting up.

He pulls back only briefly to kiss your inner thigh, whispering, "I've got you. I'm not going anywhere."

You sob his name, your fingers tightening in his hair, pulling him closer as his tongue trails lower to tease your entrance, gently pushing inside.

He smiles against your wet folds, burying his tongue deep within your velvet walls, thrusting the muscle in and out while his nose rubs against your swollen clit, devouring you with the kind of tenderness that feels like a prayer. It's passionate. It's overwhelming. It's everything you've both been aching for.

"Does that feel good?" he mumbles, his voice muffled against your pussy, looking up at you through his lashes. He trails his tongue back up to your clit, licking and sucking it with more vigour and determination to make your eyes roll back in your head.

"S-so good, Kook," you whimper, arching your back as he laps at your clit, spreading your things wider, your stomach clenching as the pleasure flows through your veins. "Just like that, baby..."

He hums against your core, the sound sending vibrations through your body. He brings two of his fingers to slide through your folds, getting it wet before slowly pushing into you, feeling how tight you are for him. It makes something within him ache, makes the fire in his veins grow hotter.

"Tell me if it's too much," he mumbles between licks, always considerate of your needs and your pleasure.

"N-no, it's...it's not too much," you mutter breathlessly, moaning as he curls his fingers inside you, the feeling twisting in your gut. "Feels...s-so good...I'm almost there," you gasp, feeling him flick his tongue a little bit faster.

He laps at your pussy like a starved man, his fingers pumping in and out of you faster, wanting to bring you the pleasure only he can give you.

You cry out in pleasure as he curls his fingers at just the right angle, rubbing against your sweet spot, his tongue flicking at your clit with toe-curling precision.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck...!"

And when you cum on his tongue, crying out his name into the air, Jungkook holds you through it, murmuring soft words of love and praise against your pulsating core.

Your grip on his hair is almost painful, your vision going black as your orgasm washes over you. He gives your clit a few gentle licks to help you through it, slowly pulling his fingers out of your entrance, now glossy from your slick.

"Oh my God," you whisper under your breath, slowly catching your breath as he presses wet, lingering kisses to your folds, your body going completely limp against his mattress.

"Are you okay?" he asks, his voice hoarse from how hard he's breathing, his eyes flicking up to yours.

"I'm...amazing," you chuckle softly, watching as he crawls back up your body, hovering over you to make sure you're feeling good. You watch with heavy-lidded eyes as he licks and sucks his fingers clean, your pussy clenching at the sight.

He leans in to kiss your lips, his tongue gently pushing into your mouth, feeling you sigh out against his lips. He licks over your bottom lip, sucking it into his mouth before gently biting down and giving it a slow tug, watching it bounce back in place with a soft smile on his face.

"You're the most perfect woman," he whispers tenderly.

You look up into his eyes, feeling like it's now or never. "I love you, Kook," you murmur, gently cupping his face in your shaky hands.

He smiles and tilts his face in your hands, softly kissing your palm, his eyes never leaving yours. "You love me?"

You nod sincerely, smiling as you watch him rise from the bed. His hands move to the button of his pants, working it open with slow, deliberate movements, his dark gaze trained on you. There's something intense about the way he looks at you, like he's letting you see all the hunger, all the love, all the devotion he's carried for you for so long.

He pushes his pants and boxers down his hips in one fluid motion, letting them fall to the floor.

And then his hand wraps around his cock, slow and sure, stroking once, twice, his eyes burning into yours, his fist twisting at the tip.

Your breath catches in your chest. You can't move, can't look away, feeling hypnotized by the sheer beauty of him, by the tenderness that lingers behind the lust in his eyes.

He groans softly at the feeling of his palm wrapped around his cock, the sound deep and rough, his muscles flexing under the soft glow of the moonlight.

But he doesn't leave you waiting for long.

Jungkook lets go of his cock and it stands fully erect, the tip a faint red, oozing a clear pearl of precum. He lets out a shaky exhale and crawls up the bed toward you, his hands planted on either side of your head as he cages you beneath him.

Your legs part instinctively, your knees bending to cradle his hips between your legs, his forehead resting against yours, his eyes slipping shut as if the closeness alone is almost too much to bear. He presses a tender peck to your lips and lowers his hips just slightly, grinding down against you in a slow, dragging motion.

The feeling of his hard length pressing against your sensitive core makes you whimper into his mouth, your hands trailing down his toned chest and stomach, up to his shoulders, over his back, touching every inch of skin you can reach.

Jungkook takes ahold of his cock, trailing the head through your soaked folds, lightly pressing the tip against your entrance. He swallows thickly as he looks down at your body, your thighs spread wide for him, offering yourself to him.

You tangle your fingers into his hair, pulling him down into another kiss, slow and deep, tasting of second chances. You pull back, your noses brushing against one another, your breath mingling in the tiny space between you.

"I love you," you whisper, your voice trembling.

Jungkook's hand cradles the side of your face, his thumb stroking your cheek with devastating tenderness.

"I love you too," he breathes, pecking your lips. "I've loved you for so long."

And when he finally starts to push inside you, he does it slowly, like he's savouring every second, like he's memorizing the feeling of having you wrapped around him after so many long, torturous months.

Neither of you can stop the soft, broken moans that fall from your lips as you become one again, in every way possible.

His hand slides up the side of your thigh as he slowly sinks deeper into you, his chest tightening at how good it all feels, how right it feels to make love to you.

He presses his forehead to yours once he bottoms out, his lips hovering just above yours for a moment before he kisses you, his whole being aching with love, his hips pulling back only to thrust back inside, burying himself in you as deep as he can go.

The rhythm between you builds naturally, slow thrusts of his hips against yours, gentle kisses that grow deeper, heavier, more desperate. You cling to each other like you're afraid to let go, the emotion between you too much to hold back, too much to contain.

"Fuck," Jungkook chokes out, his voice raw. "You're...you're everything to me..."

You wrap your arms around his neck, threading your fingers through his hair, your lips moving against his so passionately you almost don't register the fresh set of tears wetting your lashes.

He rocks his hips into you in the slowest, most tender rhythm you've ever felt. Each thrust is deep and languid, every roll of his body against yours speaking more than words ever could.

"I'm sorry, baby," he breathes against your lips. "I'm sorry I let you go. I should've fought harder."

You shake your head, tears slipping down your temples into the pillow. "No, Jungkook...I'm sorry. I should've been braver. I should've-"

He kisses you again, swallowing your shaky apology. "It's okay. We're here now," he murmurs, his voice quivering. "We're here."

You nod, clinging to him tighter, your arms and legs tightening around him.

The world outside blurs into nothing. Only the slow, rhythmic joining of your bodies remains, the gasps, the whimpers, the whispered 'I love you's between desperate kisses.

He's everywhere, his mouth mapping your jaw, your neck, your shoulders, his hands roaming your sides, your thighs, your hips. Worshipping you. Reassuring himself that you're here, that you're his.

"Baby, tell me if it's too much," he mumbles, his lips softly pressing to your cheek, his cock pumping in and out of your heat at a devastating pace.

"It's perfect, baby," you moan, cupping his face in your hands, feeling him thrust deeper, faster. "Feels s-so perfect."

His muscles tremble above you, his heart pounding in his chest. "God, I'm so in love with you," he groans against your skin, his thrusts growing more intense, his body craving more of you.

He makes love to you like no one ever has before, his fingers intertwining with yours against the sheets. Your bodies fit together like you were made for one another, like you were meant to do this for the rest of your lives.

He wants you like this forever, wants to spend the rest of his life with you, exactly like this. He loves you so much that it aches, his chest full, his mind spinning.

"Fuck, you feel so good," you moan, pushing your head back into the pillow, your walls clenching around him, your chest heaving. "I'm so close..."

"I know, baby," he mutters, pressing his face into the crook of your neck. "I'm right here. I've got you, my love."

He slides one hand down between your bodies to rub circles over your clit, thrusting his hips harder, that thick, heady feeling growing in your lower belly.

"Oh my God...f-fuck, baby, I'm c-cumming..!"

When you reach the peak of your pleasure, when your legs tighten around his waist and your walls clench desperately around him, Jungkook doesn't speed up.

He stays with you.

He carries you through it.

He presses his mouth against your shoulder, murmuring soothing reassurances, feeling you tremble and sob beneath him from the intensity of your second orgasm.

And when he follows you over the edge seconds later, it's with a low, guttural groan of your name, his arms shaking with how tightly he holds onto your body. His muscles shake, his cock twitching as he coats your insides with thick, white ropes of his cum.

It's been a while since he's felt such an intense pleasure. Sex with you always feels amazing, but making love and knowing that you love him back is something that he doesn't know how he'll ever get used to.

Neither of you lets go. Even when the aftershocks fade and your breathing evens out. He stays inside you, his forehead resting against yours, his breath mingling with yours.

The snow falls quietly against the bedroom window, but inside, everything is finally still.

You're safe. You're home.

"I'm never letting you go again, ___," Jungkook whispers against your damp skin, kissing the corner of your mouth. "Never."

You nod, tears slipping silently down your cheeks. "I'm not going anywhere. I promise."

He kisses your tears off your skin and whispers sweet promises into your ear, pulling soft giggles from your lips. It's not long before his cum starts to dry between your legs, so he reluctantly pulls out of you to go and get a warm, wet rag from the bathroom. He cleans you up between your thighs, making sure to be as gentle as possible as he drags the rag through your messy folds.

Jungkook quickly goes to toss the rag back in the bathroom and crawls back in bed. He pulls the covers over the two of you without breaking contact between your bodies, wrapping you up so tightly in his arms that you can feel the steady beat of his heart against yours.

He rolls onto his back, welcoming your head on his chest. His fingers trace slow, absentminded shapes along your back, his other hand tangled with yours under the covers. Your legs are draped over his, your cheek resting just below his collarbone, where you can feel the soft rise and fall of his chest with every breath.

You both bask in the silence for a while, just breathing each other in, your hearts syncing back into rhythm. But eventually, you shift, angling your face up toward his. "Can I tell you something?"

He hums. "You can tell me anything."

You pause, your fingers toying with the edge of the blanket draped across his chest. "I recently started going to therapy."

Jungkook's brows raise. He shifts so he can see you better, gently brushing some of your hair out of your face. "You have?"

You nod. "Yeah. I started going about two weeks ago. I didn't know what else to do after everything. I felt like I was stuck in this loop of blaming myself and not letting go of what Sunghoon did, of how it ended. So…I'm trying. You know, to start fresh, I guess. Learn how to not self-destruct every time I get scared."

His eyes soften, his lips spreading into a gentle smile. He presses his lips to your forehead and keeps them there for a moment. "I'm so proud of you, baby."

You let out a breathy chuckle, but your voice is quiet when you respond. "I wanted to be better. Mostly for the girl who believed she wasn't worthy of love. I owe her that much."

Jungkook kisses your cheek, your nose, your temple. "You've always been worthy. And I'm proud of you for taking care of yourself. I'll support you through it all."

Your eyes sting with a combination of emotions. You lean into him, your voice coming out smaller, softer. "I want to be someone who's capable of loving you the way you deserve."

He presses a kiss to your lips, his arms tightening around you. "You already are that person, baby. You always were. You just had to believe it."

You nod, a small, shaky exhale falling from your lips. "I do now."

There's a long pause. You feel his fingers still against your back. He shifts slightly beneath you, as if something's weighing on him.

"There's actually something I want to tell you too," he murmurs slowly, his tone sounding rather nervous. "Because I promised myself I'd never lie to you, not ever."

You tilt your head slightly, your heart giving a cautious thump. "Okay."

He takes a deep breath, brushing his thumb over your bottom lip. "One night...a little while ago...Taehyung dragged me to a bar. I was…not in a good place."

You nod slowly. "Okay...? Go on."

Jungkook swallows thickly, hesitating. "Hana was there. And...we, uhm...we kissed."

Your breath stills.

His grip on you tightens ever so slightly. "I was drunk. And really...really sad. She kissed me and I kissed her back. It was for, like, a second. I wanted to feel anything that wasn't…the feeling of losing you."

Your chest tightens, but you remain silent, letting him finish.

"I stopped it," he says quickly, urgently. "It got...heated for a second, and then I realized how wrong it felt. I told her I loved you, that I wasn't going to use her to forget about you because I didn't want to forget about you. I could never, I swear."

You nod slowly, absorbing it, letting it settle.

His voice cracks slightly, his nerves peeking through. "I didn't mean for it to happen. I hate that it did, but I promised myself that if I ever got you back, I'd tell you everything. I don't want to start over with anything hidden between us."

There's a long pause, the air in the room feeling tense.

And then you sigh softly, reaching up to cup his jaw in your hand. "Thank you for telling me."

He blinks, clearly not expecting that response. "You're not…mad?"

You shake your head. "I mean...I can't lie, it hurts a little, yeah...but I get it. I pushed you away. I left you with nothing. You don't owe me perfection, Jungkook. All I ask for is honesty and you gave me that. That's more than Sunghoon ever gave me. You chose me, and that's what I'm holding onto."

Relief floods his whole body, and he leans in to kiss you softly, gratefully.

"I love you," he whispers against your lips. "So much it makes my chest hurt sometimes."

You kiss him back, cradling his cheek in your hand. "I love you too. Thank you for choosing me. And I don't mean choosing me over Hana. I mean...thank you for choosing me...in general, just me, for who I am and all the shit I come with..."

His expression softens, gently flipping you onto your back, hovering above you, his hair falling into his eyes as he leans in.

"I'll always choose you," he whispers, kissing your cheek.

"Even on your worst days." A kiss to your jaw.

"Even when you try to push me away." A kiss just below your ear.

"Even if you eat the last slice of pizza and deny it."

You burst out laughing. "Oh, so that's your love language? Eternal devotion, but with conditions, huh?"

"I never said eternal," he scoffs, feigning seriousness. "My letters said I'd love you for at least fifty years, and then I'll reassess based on your behaviour."

Your mouth drops open in mock offense. "Fifty? That's it?"

He grins and nuzzles his face into your neck, chuckling softly against your skin. "Okay, okay. Maybe fifty-one. Maybe."

You giggle, tilting your head back as he kisses a warm trail down your throat.

"But seriously," you murmur, your eyes searching his. "Those letters…they broke me...in the best way. You wrote about things I didn't even realize you remembered. Like the cardigan I lost in the library."

"The blue one with the frayed cuff," he says instantly. "You said it felt like a hug."

Your throat tightens. "How do you remember all that?"

He kisses your nose, your cheeks, your lips. "Because I loved you for four years, baby. I memorized you."

You pull him down into another kiss, slower this time, more intentional.

You break the kiss with a soft giggle, as if realizing something. "You wrote a three-page letter about my eyes."

He groans, rolling onto his back and covering his face with his hand. "I was down bad. Shush."

You're full-on laughing now, your cheeks sore from how hard you're smiling. You roll onto your side to face him, leaning up on your elbow.

"And the one where you wrote 'Sometimes I pretend to forget stuff just so you'll explain it to me and look at me all proud when I understand'?"

Jungkook grabs a pillow and covers his face completely. "Okay. That's enough. This is character assassination."

You peel the pillow away, still smiling, and cup his face. "No, baby. This is love. And I'm keeping those letters forever, so get used to the emotional blackmail."

He laughs through the embarrassment, his cheeks burning but his eyes are so full of affection and admiration. "As long as you're staying, you can blackmail me all you want."

He rolls onto his side so you're facing each other, your noses almost touching, your smiles matching, both of you curling inward like two magnets finally allowed to rest.

"I feel like I can finally breathe again," you whisper.

"Me too." He presses his lips to your temple. "And this time, I'm not letting anything get in the way."

You bury your face in the crook of his neck, his heartbeat echoing against your chest.

There's still healing to do. There's still work to be done, but you'll do it together. And for now, that's more than enough.

The world is quiet outside, and for once, both your head and your heart match it.

You wake up slowly, sleep-drunk and tangled in warmth, your legs tangled lazily with Jungkook's under the warm covers. His arm is heavy across your waist, his chest rising and falling steadily behind you, and you feel the soft brush of his breath at the nape of your neck.

Neither of you talk at first. There's no need. You're both wrapped in the kind of silence that only comes after a storm, the peaceful kind, the kind that says 'we made it'.

Eventually, you feel him shift slightly behind you. A soft kiss lands on your shoulder, then another.

"Still here," he mumbles, voice thick with sleep, his lips brushing over your bare skin. "Was worried I dreamed the whole thing."

You smile to yourself, your eyes still closed. "If this is a dream, don't wake me up."

He chuckles lowly, curling in closer until his nose nuzzles behind your ear. "Don't tempt me. I'll keep you here forever."

You stretch slowly, turning in his arms until you're facing him. His hair is a mess, his eyes are puffy with sleep, and there's a tiny crease on his cheek from the pillow. He's devastatingly handsome, and yet, utterly adorable.

You're so in love. You can admit that out loud now and know that it's not scary.

"You drool a little," you whisper, brushing a finger under the corner of his mouth.

He furrows his eyebrows, his lips puffing out into the faintest pout. "I do not."

"You do," you grin.

He rolls onto his back, dragging you with him so that you end up sprawled half on top of him, legs tangled and bare skin pressed to bare skin. "Fine," he sighs. "But you love me so you'll overlook it, right?"

You smile, rubbing your hand up and down along his chest. "Mm. I do."

He catches your hand, bringing it to his lips, kisses it softly. Then again. And again. His voice softens. "Still can't believe I get to wake up like this. With you."

Your smile melts into something softer, more vulnerable. "It feels different, doesn't it?"

"Yeah." His fingers trail along your arm, his nails lightly tickling your skin. "Like everything finally fell into place."

"It's crazy that Tae kinda made this happen. I mean, you confessed and I was a dick about it but if he didn't give me those letters, I wouldn't have known how sincere you really were."

"I owe him," he scoffs. "Remind me to thank him for completely violating my privacy and saving my entire life in the same breath."

You grin, your fingers dancing lazily over his chest. "He knew what he was doing. He always knows."

"That cheeky bastard," Jungkook murmurs affectionately. "I'll call him later. Tell him he's officially off the hook for every embarrassing story he's ever told about me on drunken nights out."

"Even the one about you bending over and your pants ripping mid-lecture?" you chuckle.

Jungkook groans. "Especially that one."

You laugh again, melting deeper into his embrace. You bury your face in the crook of his neck, kissing the warm skin there. "So…what now?"

He hums thoughtfully, eyes fluttering shut. "We enjoy the holidays. We get snowed in together. We raise Miso and Bam together, which might be a challenge at first but they'll grow to love each other. I make you breakfast in bed every morning. Bam learns how to make coffee."

You laugh, your voice muffled against his skin. "Very realistic plan, professor."

He lifts his head just enough to kiss your temple. "Okay, but really?" He looks up at you as you pull away. "I want to take you on a date."

Your heart flutters. "A date?"

He nods. "A real one. Not just grocery shopping or late-night convenience store runs. I mean...dressed up, picked up, nervous butterflies, 'walk you to your front door and kiss you goodnight' type of date."

You pretend to think about it for a moment. "When?"

"Next Friday," he says confidently. "Dinner. Just you and me. Somewhere special. Our official first date."

You bite your bottom lip, smiling so hard it hurts. "That sounds…kinda perfect."

Jungkook grins. "Good, because I plan on wining and dining you and then making you cum so hard that you-"

You cut him off with a laugh, playfully pinching him. "Jungkook!"

"What? I'm being romantic!" he laughs, warm and hearty and carefree. "I think my girlfriend deserves both a five-star meal and a few really good orgasms in one night."

Your face burns red as you bury it in his chest. "We're not calling me your girlfriend yet," you mumble, slowly looking up at his face.

He leans in, his mouth ghosting over yours. "Says who?"

You blink up at him, lips brushing, breath mingling. "Says me. Just for now, until after the first date."

He grins wickedly. "Then I guess I'll just have to make sure it's the best first date of your life."

You kiss him again, slowly, sensually, your tongue licking into his parted lips. He tastes good in the morning. He's not as minty fresh as he normally is, but it's that 'I like kissing you even if you didn't brush your teeth yet because I'm so utterly in love with you' type of taste.

Your lips don't part as you swing a leg over his hips, straddling him, your hands on either side of his head on the pillow. The room is chilly but the look in his eyes and the feeling of his semi-hard cock nestled between your legs warms you from the inside out.

You sit up straight, revealing your bare breasts to him, your messy hair falling down your shoulders and back.

His hands rest at your hips, touching your skin with tenderness and reverence, looking at you like he's seeing the sun rise for the first time.

"You're stunning," he whispers, almost like he still can't believe he gets to have you like this. "You look like an angel."

You feel heat bloom across your cheeks. "An angel?" you tease, raising your eyebrows at the comparison.

He nods, his jaw clenched, his fingers digging into the flesh on your hips. "The kind that...ruins men..."

You let out a breathless laugh, your head tilting back, exposing more of your neck to him. Before you can respond, his hands slide up your sides, large and warm and steady, until they cup your breasts with delicate care.

"They're so perfect," he sighs, his thumbs brushing over your nipples, feeling them harden to stiff peaks.

You smile as he sits up just slightly, leaning back on his hands as he presses open-mouthed kisses over the soft curve of one breast, then the other. His mouth is warm and tender and adoring, and it makes you arch into him without even thinking.

He groans softly, one hand splaying over your back, drawing you even closer. "How do you expect me to survive this?"

You wrap your arms around his neck, your eyes hazy. "You're doing just fine, baby."

His mouth is greedy as it worships your breasts, licking and sucking your nipples in all the ways he knows you like, his chest tight and his breathing deep as he feels his cock grow harder between your legs.

He finally pulls away and slowly lifts his head to press soft kisses up your neck, his voice deep and rough when he speaks.

"Best tits in the world," he mutters, a lazy grin spreading across his face.

You chuckle softly, gently tugging on his soft strands of hair, your bottom lip caught between your teeth. "Best in the whole world?" you tease, your nipples glistening with his saliva.

"Mhm," he smiles, leaning back against the headboard, his fingers pinching your nipples, his tongue running along his bottom lip. "Gorgeous."

"You're gorgeous," you whisper, leaning in to press your lips to his. "You don't even realize how gorgeous you are, Kook," you whisper, trailing soft kisses down to his neck.

He lets out a quiet, breathy little laugh, his eyes half closed as he feels your lips on his skin.

"You're ridiculous," he grins, his hands slipping under the covers to cup your ass.

"I'm serious, Jungkook," you murmur softly, kissing over his cheeks, the little mole under his mouth, the tip of his nose and each eyelid.

"I could spend hours writing love letters about how beautiful a man you are," you whisper against his skin, pouring all of your love and affection into your kisses.

He smiles lazily, his hand giving your asscheek a firm little tap. "Are you making fun of me for my love letters?"

"Mm-mm," you shake your head, your lips trailing down his jaw, your hips sensually grinding down on him. His cock slots perfectly between your pussy lips, feeling thick and ready.

"They were sweet. Made me cry a few times. I might write you some of my own someday."

His stomach clenches, inhaling sharply through his nose, his brows furrowing at the feeling of your wet heat gliding along his cock, your clit brushing against the head with every tantalising drag of your hips. The friction feels delicious, your bare skin soft and warm against his.

"Yeah?"

You nod, slowly reaching between your legs to align his tip with your entrance. "Yeah...later. Wanna make love first."

His eyes shine with excitement, his hips aching to lift up into you. "Fuck. Please."

You slowly sink down on him, your warm inner walls enveloping him whole. You both moan when you reach the base of his length, his fingers digging into your hips as you take a quick moment to adjust.

"Feel good?" you breathe, watching his eyes roll back in his head.

"Fuuuck," he groans, his chest heaving with labored breaths, his head dropping back against the headboard, his nails digging into your skin.

"Move, baby...please. I need you to move," he mutters through gritted teeth.

You roll your hips in a fluid motion, riding him nice and slow, just how he likes it in the morning.

"Fuck, you feel good," you moan, working up a steady pace, resting your hands at the back of his neck.

He lets out a sharp, shaky moan, his lips parting in ecstasy.

"Y-yeah, just like that," he breathes, his hands sliding up your back to your neck, pulling you towards him. "Kiss me, baby."

You lean in to kiss him, sliding your tongue into his mouth, tasting the man you love. You moan into his mouth as you ride him faster, your walls fluttering around his shaft, squeezing him like a vice.

"Turn around for me...get on your hands and knees..." he mutters into the kiss, his voice thick with arousal, his strong hands gripping your hips to slow them down.

A jolt of excitement shoots through you, obeying without a second thought.

You do as he says and get on your hands and knees, your ass up in the air.

"Like that?" you tease, looking over you shoulder as you shake your ass for him, knowing how much he loves to see it jiggle.

He lets out a soft groan, his eyes running over your ass, his hand pumping his wet cock, your slick coating his skin.

"Yes, just like that, my love," he scoffs, his hands running over your ass, gently squeezing, his gaze growing even darker. He sits up on his knees behind you so he can get himself aligned with your dripping entrance, his hands trained firmly on your ass as he thrusts into you from behind.

You press your face into the mattress as he fucks into you from the back, your hands gripping the sheets.

You moan desperately, feeling him so much deeper like this, your eyes rolling back in your head as he hits that sweet spot over and over again.

"Ohhh f-fuck, baby," you whimper, your toes curling, your head feeling fuzzy, feeling his presence surround you.

He looks down at your ass, watching the fatty flesh shake with every thrust of his hips, the little puckered rim winking at him, making his cock twitch.

"Goddamn, baby," he groans, landing a hard smack to your right asscheek, leaving a red handprint. "So fucking sexy."

He leans forward and drapes himself over your back, one arm wrapped around your waist as he hovers his mouth next to your ear, his breath hot against your skin, his voice deep and husky in your ear.

"Tell me you love me," he mutters roughly, thrusting harder, his pelvis slapping against your ass.

You can barely focus on anything other than the pleasure he's giving you, your body feeling like it's on fire.

"I...I love you, J-Jungkook," you moan pathetically, sounding desperate and needy for him.

"Say it again..." he mutters, his lips pressed to your neck, his thrusts growing rougher.

"Fuck, Jungkook," you whine, feeling him thrust faster, deeper, harder. "I love you, baby..."

"That's my good girl. I love you so much," he whispers, his free hand sliding up your spine and grabbing a fistful of your hair, pulling it back and exposing your neck, his lips soft against your skin, feeling your pussy pulse around him.

"Yes...yes, baby...!" you moan, your voice growing breathless as he pounds into you, the sound of skin slapping skin bouncing off of the walls of his bedroom.

His pace gets a little messy, a little sloppy, and you start to feel your high rapidly approaching. He's very rarely rough like this, and when he is, it does magically things to your body. The passion overtakes both of you, getting lost in the sensation of his thick cock drilling into you.

"Oh my god, baby...l'm gonna cum s-so hard," you gasp, gripping the sheets as the pressure builds in your lower stomach, threatening to unravel.

"That's it, baby," he mutters breathlessly. "Cum for me, ___," he growls, pulling your hair harder for him to bring his lips down to the side of your neck, sucking and nipping at your flesh.

Your body tenses up as the coil within you unravels, letting out an airy whine, your muscles trembling underneath him.

He quickly pulls out of your throbbing pussy, giving his cock a few quick tugs before cumming all over your ass, his stomach muscles flexing and relaxing repeatedly, his head thrown back, his eyes screwed tightly shut. His moans sound like something out of a porno as he paints your skin with his release.

He slowly opens his eyes and looks down at his masterpiece with a proud grin before plopping down next to you on the mattress, both of you panting as you catch your breath, your bodies glistening with a thin layer of sweat.

He turns to you and wraps his arm around you, pressing a kiss to your shoulder, grinning innocently. "Have I mentioned I love you?"

"Once or twice, yeah," you chuckle weakly, slowly coming back down to earth. You lay flat on your stomach, the side of your face smooshed against the bed.

You feel his hand trail from your waist to your ass, lazily rubbing his cum into your skin.

"Kook, what are you doing?"

"I'm just rubbing it in. It's like lotion," he murmurs, gently squeezing your ass cheek in his hand.

"It's good for your skin..." he adds with a grin, his eyes sparkling with that playful, mischievous glimmer they get when he's in the mood to tease you.

"Good for my skin?" you laugh, leaning up on your elbows. "You're an idiot."

He grins, letting out a breathy little laugh, leaning in to place a couple of soft, lingering kisses to your shoulder.

"Just let me rub it in for you," he repeats softly, continuing to massage his cum into the skin of your ass.

Eventually, you manage to peel yourselves out of bed. Jungkook groans in protest, but you tug on his hand and lead him into the bathroom with a teasing, "Come on, loverboy. We smell like sex and I have your cum all over me."

The bathroom is cold, the tiles cool beneath your feet. You turn on the shower and step inside together, the steam quickly wrapping around you both like a comforting hug.

It's not rushed. It's not even particularly sexy. It's intimate and raw and unfiltered.

He lathers shampoo into your hair, careful and slow, his fingers massaging your scalp until you're practically melting under his touch. You rinse off, giggling when the water drips down your face, and you help him wash his hair in return, watching the suds slide over his firm muscles.

He kisses your shoulder when you reach for the body wash, and you return the favor when he turns to rinse, your lips pressing over the back of his neck, over the curve of his spine. Neither of you say much. You don't need to.

Once you're clean and warm and thoroughly pruned, he hands you a towel and wraps one around his waist. You smile at his damp hair sticking up in all directions, and he playfully shakes his head to flick water at you in return.

The two of you move through a shared routine like it's the most natural thing in the world. You brush your teeth side by side at the sink, giggling like teenagers. Jungkook leans over and kisses your foamy mouth mid-brush, just to make you squeal and shove him away.

When you rinse your mouth and reach for the hairbrush, he kisses your cheek and disappears into the bedroom to get something to wear.

You stand at the mirror, brushing out your damp hair and massaging moisturizer into your face, while the distant sound of kitchen cabinets opening and Bam's excited barking fills the house.

He talks to Bam like a child, "Yes, I know it's breakfast time. You've mentioned it seventeen times in thirty seconds," and the clatter of dog food into the bowl is oddly comforting.

You smile to yourself, your eyes trained on your reflection. Your skin is glowing. Your lips are kiss-swollen. Your heart feels full.

There's something so deeply romantic about all of this. Not just the physical intimacy, not just the sex, but the normalcy of it. The routine. The quiet. The way the spare toothbrush, which now belongs to you, sits beside his, the sound of his voice floating in from the kitchen, the coffee starting to brew.

This is what you've always wanted. Not grand declarations or cinematic gestures. Just this. The everyday softness of being loved.

The smell hits you first, something buttery and warm and just a little sweet wafting from the kitchen, curling into the hallway like a ribbon. You step out of the bathroom, towel wrapped around your body, your hair still slightly damp.

The house is quiet except for the low hum of Jungkook's Bluetooth speaker playing in the kitchen and the sound of Bam's paws clicking excitedly on the hardwood floor.

You put on the oversized sweater you find in Jungkook's closet. It hangs off your frame ridiculously, the sleeves almost swallowing your hands completely, but it's so warm and soft and it smells like him. You pair it with a clean pair of his boxers because your panties are still ruined after last night. It's a look that definitely says 'I'm someone's girl now', and you smile at the thought as you pad barefoot down the hallway.

"Bam," you call gently, and the Doberman immediately runs over to you, his tail wagging like crazy. He nuzzles his head against your thighs, and you scratch behind his ears with a soft laugh.

"Good morning to you too, handsome."

"He's only been asking where you are for the past ten minutes," Jungkook jokes from his spot at the stove.

He looks like the picture of domesticity in nothing but a pair of grey sweatpants that hang low on his hips. His hair is still damp, curling slightly at the ends, his bicep flexing subtly each time he flips something in the pan.

You hop up onto the counter, legs swinging as you watch him.

"What's on the menu this morning, Chef?"

"Pancakes," he smiles down at the pan. "With syrup and strawberries. Also eggs and bacon. You know, for balance."

You hum in approval. "Look at you. A man of muscles and meal prep."

He chuckles and leans in to peck your lips before dumping the pancakes into a plate, moving onto the eggs.

Bam, with his tail wagging excitedly, walks over and sits before you like a good dog, clearly hoping for a piece of bacon to fall from the heavens.

You reach over to the plate already filled with fried bacon and carefully peel off an extra crispy piece, holding it out to Bam with a playful whisper.

"Don't tell your dad."

Bam gently takes it from your hand, his tail thumping against the floor as he enjoys his little treat.

Jungkook glances over his shoulder, his eyebrow raised. "Are you corrupting my son?"

"He said he was hungry," you shrug innocently, popping the last bite of the bacon into your mouth. "Plus, he used his puppy dog eyes on me."

Jungkook snorts, scrambling the eggs and adding salt and pepper. "Must have learnt that trick from you."

You hop off the counter while he plates the food, and the two of you sit down to eat, knees brushing beneath the kitchen table. For a moment, you both just eat silently, occasionally glancing at each other with small, almost shy smiles.

It's blissful.

Quiet, but not awkward. Comfortable, not rushed.

Jungkook wipes a bit of sweet syrup from the corner of your mouth with his thumb, quickly popping it into his mouth. "You're really staying calm about this whole thing. The old ___ would have laughed in my face if I made love to her and then cooked her breakfast afterwards."

You chuckle, picking a strawberry off of his plate and taking a bite. "What can I say? I've matured."

"Mmm. And the therapy." He nods, resting his elbow on the table with his chin in the palm of his hand. "You're emotionally stable now, huh?"

You chuckle. "Mostly."

He leans in and kisses your cheek. "I like you in every version."

You set your fork down in your plate, letting a moment of silence pass before you speak again, more softly this time. "So…you're really okay after everything that happened?"

Jungkook meets your gaze, thinking it over.

"I'm not okay with the fact that you were hurt like that to make you cope the way you did," he sighs. "But I am okay that we took the time we needed. And I'm okay because you're here now."

You look down, your bottom lip caught between your teeth. "It still kinda scares me. How easily I shut down. How quickly I let that fear control me."

"Hey." He nudges your foot under the table. "You're working on it. That's all anyone can ask. And now, when that happens again, which it might because healing isn't linear, I'll be right there. I won't let you carry it alone."

Your eyes sting a little, but not with sadness. Just...relief.

"Thank you," you whisper.

"For what?"

"For loving me even when it was difficult."

Jungkook leans across the table and takes your hand in his, his thumb stroking over your knuckles.

"I never stopped," he murmurs softly. "Even when I thought I should have. You were still it for me."

Then, just to lighten the air a little, you tease, "Well...you did almost let Hana become your coping mechanism."

He groans and drops his head to rest his forehead against the table. "Baby, please, don't remind me."

"But you kissed her," you shrug teasingly.

"It was barely a kiss," he scoffs, sitting up straight.

You raise an eyebrow. "You said it got heated."

"I was vulnerable! She ambushed me by the back alley of the bar like some deranged rom-com villain."

You try to keep a straight face. "That sounds romantic. What stopped you? The smell of garbage coming from the bins?"

He glares at you but there is zero heat in his eyes. "You, obviously. I kept seeing your face in my head and realized she could never be you. Not even close."

That shuts you up for a second.

Your playful grin fades into something softer, your eyes dipping down to your plate before finding his again. "Good...because I don't think I could've handled seeing you move on like that. Even if I told myself it was for the best."

Jungkook leans in closer, resting his elbows on the table, his voice low. "I didn't want to move on. That was the point. I was drunk and lonely and stupid, but I wasn't trying to forget you. I just wanted to stop hurting."

You nod slowly, his words hitting you in the chest. "Yeah. I get that."

He reaches for your hand again, threading his fingers through yours. "But I'd rather hurt with you than pretend I'm okay without you."

You let out a shaky exhale, giving his hand a squeeze. "You won't have to do either anymore."

His smile is soft and crooked and so full of affection. "Promise?"

You nod, pulling him closer by the back of his neck with your free hand, your nose brushing against his. "I promise," you whisper, pressing your lips to his in a tender kiss.

You kiss him once. Then again. Then again, this time with a lazy little sigh against his mouth.

"I thought we were finishing breakfast," Jungkook mumbles between kisses, his lips curving into a smile.

"We are," you whisper, tugging him closer by the back of his neck. "I just needed a little dessert first."

He groans into your mouth, grinning like a lovesick fool when he finally pulls back. "You're evil."

You both finish the last of your breakfast, soaking in the winter sun that shines in through the frosted kitchen windows.

Unfortunately, all good things must come to an end, at least temporarily, and reality sets in when you glance at the clock on the wall, letting out a sigh.

"I should probably get going."

Jungkook blinks, like the words take a second to register. "Already?"

You nod, offering him an apologetic smile. "Yeah. I need to go check on Miso. I don't want her thinking I abandoned her for a man."

He grins. "Right. She's the jealous type, huh?"

"Very," you scoff, knowing your furry baby is probably plotting her revenge for not getting her breakfast yet.

"Can I borrow some sweats? My jeans are in the laundry hamper."

"Of course," he smiles. "Check in the bottom drawer."

You make your way to his bedroom, wearing his oversized sweater and a flush on your cheeks. You tug open the bottom drawer of his dresser and grab a pair of grey sweatpants, one that's extra soft and worn-in.

When you turn around, he's there, leaning against the bedroom doorframe, arms crossed loosely over his chest, watching you with the softest smile.

"You wanna watch me change?" you tease, your eyebrow raised.

His lips twitch. "Just admiring my girl."

You roll your eyes and try to ignore the butterflies in your stomach at being called his girl as you slip into the sweatpants. They're big on you. You cuff the ankles and tie the drawstring tight to keep them from slipping, and still, you look like you're drowning in him.

"You wear my clothes way too well," he mutters under his breath.

You shoot him a grin as you put your shoes on and walk past him, brushing your shoulder against his arm on your way to the front door. "Don't compliment me too much, I won't wanna leave," you chuckle.

"Then don't," he scoffs under his breath as he follows you down the hall, his hands stuffed into the pockets of his sweatpants. As you reach for the doorknob, you feel it, his fingers curling around your wrist, pulling you back just before you can open it.

His voice is soft, his eyes even softer. "Wait."

Your chest tightens. "Yeah?"

"I just…" He moves closer. "Can we pause time? Just for a second? I'm not ready to let you go yet."

Your heart squeezes. "I'm coming back, baby. I'll see you on Friday."

"I know. But that's so far from now."

You smile up at him, your free hand coming up to cup his cheek. "You gonna miss me?"

"I already do," he murmurs, leaning in to kiss you.

It starts soft, just a brush of lips, a promise in the making. But it lingers. One kiss turns into another, his hands cupping your face, his nose nudging yours as his teeth tug at your bottom lip, his tongue moving against yours in a languid rhythm.

When you finally part, breathless and smiling, he presses his forehead to yours.

"Friday night," he reminds you. "I'm picking you up. Real date. No takeout or Netflix."

You grin. "I'll wear something nice."

"You always do." He brushes his lips against your cheek, trailing his hands down to grab ahold of yours, your fingers intertwining. "Even when it's my clothes that are far too big."

You shake your head, giggling softly, before you lean in to press one last kiss to his lips. "I love you, Jeon Jungkook."

"I love you more," he whispers, reluctantly letting go of your hands and stepping back to open the door for you. "Drive safe, okay? Text me when you get home. And tell Miso I said hi."

You roll your eyes with a fond smile. "She probably won't care."

"Tell her anyway."

You take one last look at him before stepping outside, snowflakes gently floating in the air around you. He stands in the doorway, bare-chested and soft-eyed, completely smitten.

You don't even mind the cold air or the snowflakes brushing along your cheeks. His clothes are warm, but it's his affection that burns fiercely beneath your skin. And as you leave, with rosy cheeks and a racing heart, snowflakes catching in your hair and melting on your lashes, you realize something simple and sure:

This is how love begins again. Not with loud fireworks and a spectacle, but with the quiet certainty of someone waiting at the door for your return. With borrowed sweatpants and soft goodbyes, with the warmth of a kiss that lingers longer than it should, and the promise of a date that already feels like forever. It begins in the hush of winter air, in the way your heart aches less now, and in the way his love doesn't ask for anything but your presence.

As you drive away with snow settling on your windshield and his scent still clinging to your skin, you know this is the start of something worth staying for.

< Part 7 || Part 9 >

[bi-writes]

Ooo ooo ooo know what I think Simon in MOB would love?? a fashion show after he picks up his girl from shopping. I mean she seems like the kinda of girl to show off what she got, cuz simply she’s just so excited and he’s just so grateful for a show from his little love

mail-order bride (18+)

it's always raining lately. the weather has been cooling as the winter months get closer, and the rain has been a constant reminder of the days coming that would be spent inside.

simon didn't mind spending time inside. he liked being inside, in his house, away from others. when he was home, it was just you there. thing 1 and thing 2 occasionally appear, but it's you that takes up the space in the kitchen watching your dough rise impatiently, you that takes up that corner spot on the couch with your favorite knit blanket with a terrible movie on. the sight of that, he'll never get over it--he'll never get used to the pretty girl that lives in his house and wears his ring and sleeps in his bed and says his last name when they ask her, "your name, ma'am?"

his phone buzzes in his pocket as he ducks his head to get into his truck. he pulls it out, sighing, starting up the car when he reads your message.

all done! waiting at the corner.

when he turns onto the main street, he sees you standing at the corner with your umbrella, waving at him with a big smile. he can't help the one that blooms under his mask; fuck, he's beaming whenever he looks at you.

he puts the car in park, coming out to greet you. you hop on your toes as he comes around the car, and he dips his head under the umbrella as you stand high on your toes and kiss him over his mask.

"simon--"

"missed ya."

"it's only been a few hours--"

"'s too cold ta be out 'ere, baby, let's get ya inside."

you hum as he smooths his hands over your jaw, giving you another kiss through the mask before picking up the shopping bags that you're holding. he takes the umbrella from you, holding it as he guides you off the curb and into the passenger side of the car. he smacks your ass gently as you hop up, and you squeak when you sit down, giggling as you push at his chest.

"simon!"

"wot? wot did i do?"

"you're a dog, i swear."

"dunno wot y'mean, baby, tha's my wife in my car, and she looks bloody lovely."

you bite your lip, shaking your head.

"get in the car, simon, jeez..." you whisper, but your mind is running, and simon is looking way too good in this leather bomber jacket get-up he decided to pull out today. fuck, his arms have never looked so big, have they? has he been working out more?

just as he leans in for more, you put a hand on his chest, smiling down at him.

"slow, down, simon..." you touch your nose to his. "i got a surprise for you. let's go home, hmm?"

simon always skirts over the speed-limit, but you hold his hand extra tight as he swerves a little more than usual on the way home.

when you make it inside the warmth of your house, simon helps you take your jacket and boots off, hanging everything by the door and ripping his mask off so he can bury his face in the crook of your neck and kiss you there, his words muffled as he tries to talk between kisses, as if not kissing you might deprive him of something as necessary as breath.

"wot's the surprise?" he whispers, and you turn around to face him, giggling as he cups your cheeks and kisses you firmly, on the mouth, feverish and eager. "taste like chocolate, buy some sweets while ya were out, did ya?"

"simon--"

"fuckin' hell, don't say my name like tha'," simon groans, backing you up until you hit the wall with a gentle thud. his hand slips into your hair to cushion it, his hand taking the weight of the wall as he kisses you again, harder this time. "so pretty, tell me--"

"simon!" you laugh, "just go sit down...sit, you're so impatient--"

he can't sit still. his knee is bouncing as he sits on the couch, and he sucks on his teeth as he watches the door of your bedroom. it's closed, and he can hear you moving around behind it. a few moments later, you open the door just slightly, poking your head out with a sheepish smile.

"ready, simon?"

"fuckin' hell, ready since the day i was born."

you swing open the door, bouncing into the living room. simon raises his fist to his mouth, biting on it, and he curses under his breath when he sees you wearing the most adorable dress he's ever seen.

it won't see the light of day for a few months since it's nearing winter, but you could wear it at home all you like (he hopes you wear it every fucking day).

it's cherry red. big fluffy skirt, made up of many layers. it's made of linen, with a sweetheart neckline and short sleeves, and it is perfectly tailored to you. simon closes his eyes for a moment, fuckin' get it together, mate, and when he opens them again, you're standing there in the living room, very sheepish, hands behind your back.

"do...do you like it?" you ask. "i...they had this dress there when i went a couple weeks ago, but none of them fit, so i...i asked if we could take my measurements, and..."

"jesus fuckin' christ," simon breathes, leaning his head back against the couch. "baby, please stop talkin'. just for a minute, olright?"

"oh...okay."

simon takes a deep breath. he raises his palms to his eyes, and he rubs them hard. he keeps his eyes closed as he shifts his hips, smoothing a big palm down his stomach before taking a look at you again. he groans a little when he sees you again, standing there all shy, timid, nervous.

"give me a spin, luv," simon murmurs. you take the hem of your skirt and do a small twirl for him, spinning on your toes in the living room. simon clenches his jaw as he watches the skirt flutter a little, the layers underneath swishing and then falling over your thighs again. simon adores a good skirt; it's his favorite thing in the world to put his hands up them, to fondle the lace or cotton of your panties underneath it, to watch your chest rise and fall in panting breaths when he takes you apart with his fingers. he's in love with the way your breasts will fill the neckline of your dress, practically spill over when you bend at the hip and present yourself for him.

christ, he needs to fuck you.

simon cups himself through his jeans, and he relishes in the way your eyes widen. he unbuckles his belt, popping the button and shoving his jeans down until they sit just low enough that he can take himself out. your knees buckle a little as you watch him, your lips parting as you stare at the way he spits into his hand and spreads his wet palm over the tip of him.

"simon," you whisper, your hands wringing together as he tilts his head to the side and smooths his hand down his length. he grunts, shaking his head.

"pull y'r dress down," he murmurs, and you grow warm all over. your toes curl a bit; he's so big, tip nice and wet and pink. the girth of him shocks you, but it's always felt so nice in your mouth. you know how good it'll feel inside you, when you sit on him finally, when he-- "pull it down, baby."

you swallow hard, slipping the sleeves down your shoulders a little. you push it down just a little, just until your tits fall over the neckline and spill out. simon groans loud, his hand moving just a little faster, his head shaking a little more.

"come 'ere, baby," he says lowly, patting his lap. "come 'ere, let me put my mouth on ya."

you walk over shakily, making your way to him. you put your hands on the back of the couch before you settle with both knees on either side of him. as soon as your tits dangle in his face, he's leaning up and sucking one of your nipples into his mouth. you gasp, arching your back, and even with your skirt covering your laps, you can still hear the wet slap, slap, slap of simon's wet palm frantically pumping his cock.

"fuck--fuck," simon croaks, letting your go. there's a bit of drool pooling along the side of his mouth, and he swallows it down before nodding towards you. "sit back, sweet'art, let me see--"

you put one palm on his knee, leaning back, and use your other hand to gather up your skirt and lift it. simon sucks on his teeth as he sees your cunt, wet panties sticking to it, and he moves his hand a little faster.

"please cum, simon," you beg, your fingers pushing your panties aside. his face falters a little, his hand moving just a little sloppier, and you whimper. "please--please give it to me--"

he lets out a low breath as he cums, aiming at your cunt and watching as he paints your folds. you use your fingers to spread it, dipping your fingers inside yourself with a whine before moving them against your clit gently. simon uses his other hand to grip your hip, drawing you just close enough that he can smooth his cock through your folds, spreading your slick and his own cum and making a mess between your thighs. he chuckles, hearing you cry out, and you meet his eyes with tears.

"just the tip," you beg, moving your fingers along your clit faster. simon grins, so mean, licking his lips. he makes no move to help you, but he doesn't put himself back in his pants, either. "simon, j-just the tip--c-can i have just the tip?"

"oh, just the tip, luvvie?" simon murmurs. "think ya can take it? just tha'?"

"please--!"

your fingers are in a frenzy. it's so close, you can feel it, that beautiful mountain, you're climbing it, clawing your way up, and you just need a little more.

"simon!"

you nearly fall backwards. if it wasn't for his hand gripping your hip, you would've, but he catches you easily, his brows furrowing together as the tip of him slips inside of you nice and easy. your hips jerk a bit, rolling as you use just that much of him inside of you to bring yourself closer and closer and closer--

"fuck," simon breathes when he feels you cum. you tighten, sucking him in just a little more as you spill around him. globs of sticky slick pool along his cock, and you use a shaky hand to grip him gently and keep him there. even with just the tip, it feels so nice to be connected to him, to have him inside you, even just a little. your brain feels fuzzy and warm, your legs feeling blissfully weak as your spine melts a little into his hand just enough. he leans you forward until you're resting on his chest, and you squeak when he slips out of you. simon wraps his arms around your waist to keep you close, and your eyes flutter shut as you mouth at his neck absentmindedly.

"can't wait for it," you whisper against his skin. he's hot there, a little sweaty, and you lick timidly up his jaw to taste him. he grips your hair tight, smiling, and he pulls you back just a little so he can look into your eyes.

"and wot are y'gonna wear when i finally have ya, aye?"

you smile back, giggling soft.

"absolutely nothing, of course."

[writtenwhalien]

jump then fall (into you) | part 1

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 (split into 3 parts | pt 1. 24k)

18+ | warnings ↠ swearing, drinking, sexual content: foreplay, oral m. and f., nipple play, 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. i'm backkkkk...?! with a disclaimer too:

I’ve been writing this on and off for pretty much two years so 1. it's not proofread bc i have not got the attention span to do that for 50k+ and I never got to read over what I previously wrote before working on it again so it might be a bit mismatched…?  2. I can’t say I’m hugely happy with this fic because it wasn’t a continuous workflow, it just doesn’t match the standards I have for myself but i tried and I’ll do better for the next ones which I’m excited about ;)

please interact and tell me how you find it! <3 it's been forever and i've missed you all 🥺

due to tumblr text post limitations, I’ve had to publish in three parts — links for part 2 + 3 can be found at the end.

 ↠ a part of the seven seas collab hosted by the wonderful yannie @ressjeon 🌊🥰 two years late but I made it :’)

part 1

“Gosh, Y/N, it’s a three week trip, you’re not going for a year!” 

The frustration in Jungkook’s voice has you whipping around, a pair of Valentino’s in one hand, Manolo’s in the other. “It’s Alex’s wedding cruise, Jungkook. Everyone and their parents are going to be there, mine included!” 

“Not mine!” he huffs, putting the last of your swimsuits into the suitcase open in front of him. You don’t blame him for being so frustrated, after all, he has been folding your clothes for the last hour while his single suitcase sits ready to go downstairs in the foyer. 

“Actually in case you’ve forgotten,” you start, stepping carefully through the piles of clothes in your massive closet to go towards him, “my mom has fed and even bathed you once after that time you wet yourself, so technically she’s as good as yours too.”

“That was one time, and I barely even remember it so it doesn’t count.”

“I do,” you smile, coming to stop in front of him. 

He sighs, looking down at the stilettos you’re holding. “We’ve been packing for hours already, you should’ve done this nights ago if it was gonna take this long.”

Now it’s you who’s sighing. “It’s been an hour not hours, besides we’re almost done now.”

Jungkook arches his brow, folding his arms in front of him. “Then what’re all your clothes doing on the floor?”

“They just need to go in one of the suitcases,” you smile. “See, we’re almost done.”

Unconvinced, Jungkook looks around at the mess but eventually nods. “Fine, but you can finish yourself, I’m going to eat—“

“No, wait, you can’t leave me!” you exclaim, reaching for Jungkook as your eyes go wide as a doe.

Telltale traces of a smile on Jungkook’s features let you know he was expecting this. He looks down at you, a loose curl hanging over his forehead. There was once a time when you were the taller one, but that only lasted a few years before Jungkook got in a good few inches between you. 

Both of you were just turning six when you first met although it always felt like Jungkook was a little younger to you in the first few years of your friendship, probably because of his naturally introverted nature which he more often steps out of when he feels comfortable to do so. But back then, he was just a wide eyed six year old who hid behind his mother as she came to work on her first day at the estate you call home. 

Knowing Jungkook was the same age as you and from a single parent household, your mom suggested that he could stay with you instead of his mom needing to hire someone to look after him while she worked. That was probably one of the best things that ever happened to the both of you. Jungkook became a better friend to you than many of those at your private school full of elementary school kids who wished they were ten years older than they were, and as the years went on there was nothing you didn’t do together. 

Naturally, your family got to know Jungkook well and being the little smartass he’s always been, Jungkook impressed your father so much that he helped him to apply for a scholarship position as you moved into high school. Of course Jungkook got in, and though it was only a partial scholarship, your father insisted on paying the rest of his fees which his mother found hard to accept but Jungkook promised your father to pay him back in the future. Fast forward a little more than a decade and Jungkook has paid back all of the fees thanks to being CEO of an affluent software company developed from his love of gaming. 

He struggles to fight his smile and you can see he’s contemplating going down or not, having to choose between food or you.  “What do you even need me for?” he asks, taking the smallest step closer, so small you don’t even notice. 

“Fashion advice?” you shrug, keeping an iron-like grip on his arms. 

He narrows his eyes. “You told me my fashion style is shit.”

“Was,” you correct, sliding your hands up his arms and down his chest with a satisfied smile. “Now is different though, I’ve rubbed off on you.” You glance down at his figure too, checking out his outfit. 

Jungkook chuckles as he follows your gaze. “Why would you need my help when you have yourself then, hm?”

Pouting at him, your arms slip around his waist and squeeze him in a hug. “You’re Mr Muscle, who else is gonna help me carry all this stuff?”

He pouts back sarcastically. “Is princess gonna break a heel if she carries her own suitcase?”

As you shrug, your brows remain furrowed. “Maybe, or a nail,” you say, letting one hand off his waist to show off a fresh manicure. As you wiggle your fingers ahead of him, he breaks into a smile. 

“You know you have a bunch of dudes in suits downstairs, just waiting to help you with this stuff. I’m pretty sure it’s their job.” 

“Yes, but they don’t give me fashion advice like you do,” you respond with a cheeky wink.

Jungkook takes the heels you’re holding off of you. “Here’s some advice — pack light.” He throws the heels behind him somewhere in your closet, earning a frown from you as your eyes follow where they land in the middle of your blown out closet. 

“Fine,” you sigh, looking back up at him. “I’ll lose the heels if you promise you’ll stay with me now.”

As a small smile grows on his lips, Jungkook’s arms find their way around your waist too. “Only if you promise you’ll make me a sandwich before we go?” His smile grows knowingly as he gives in to your charm — you’ve always found it’s easy to encourage Jungkook to go along with whatever you want, he just can’t seem to say no to you. 

“PB and J?” you ask with a smile that matches his.

He nods once, eyes shimmering as he still gazes at you. 

“Of all the foods you could ask for, it’s always PB and J,” you laugh.

He shrugs, letting go as you move to finish packing. “There’s nothing else I want.”

Arching a brow, you throw a few pairs of linen pants towards one of the suitcases in your closet. “We literally have a live-in chef, you know, Frederico, the guy you have a secret handshake with?”

“Yes, what of him?” Jungkook says huffing. 

“And you still want PB and J when he can make you anything?”

Jungkook steps towards your suitcase and picks up a pair of pants to roll. “I know that, but I just need some food in me and quick, so the simple option is best.”

Stepping forward, you take the pants off of him and roll them yourself. “If you would be patient enough to wait a few more minutes then you could have a sandwich that’ll fill you up for longer than half an hour.”

“And if you didn’t have more clothes than half the country combined then we would probably already be on our way to the airport,” Jungkook responds sassily, cocking his head.

“Don’t get smart with me or I won’t make your sandwich,” you sass back.

“I’ll just ask Freddie to make it for me and you don’t get Mr Muscle.”

Grumbling, you shove the rolled pants back into his hands as he laughs, taking them to place in one of the open suitcases. Not long after, all of your suitcases are packed and in the car, ready to go. 

The drive to the airport takes a little under an hour and upon arriving, the car takes you straight to the jet. Apparently you did take a little too long packing as your mom so pointedly lets you know after arriving, but luckily for you there’s a few others missing from the families you’re taking the jet with. With time to kill, Jungkook and you have a few idle chats with the others, most of whom you went to school with so the conversation comes easily but eventually you settle into the seats opposite your parents. 

“How was your drive here, darling?” your mom asks while closing her bag after a little skin TLC. 

“It was fine,” you answer, pulling out your own bag full of the skincare you deemed necessary to carry for the plane trip. 

“And how did you find it, Jungkook?” 

Jungkook shrugs. “It was good.”

“Lovely,” she smiles. “It’s going to be a wonderful trip.”

From beside her, your dad sighs, putting away his tablet. “Do we know how long the flight is to Marbella?”

“Oh, honey,” your mom frowns disapprovingly. “Don’t be such a grumpy lump before we’re even in the air.”

Jokingly, your father looks at Jungkook and you, and then gives your mom a side eye. “I just had a few important meetings that Chris accidentally scheduled for today so I’m wondering if I could still make them online.”

Dismissively, your mom waves her hand. “No work talk, we’re here to enjoy ourselves.”

“Alright, you’re right,” your dad concedes. “Maybe to start we could get a few drinks then, eh?” He raises his brow at Jungkook who approves with a big smile and both of them flag down a flight attendant. 

Once there’s a drink in everyone’s hand, your parents settle into conversation with Jungkook and you. 

“So are you excited to see Alex, Y/N?” your father asks. 

“Absolutely,” you smile. “Though I think I’m more excited to see Sophia and Alias, it’s been a long time since I’ve gotten to spend time with them.”

“Oh, Jungkook, you must be excited to see Sophia too,” your mom says with a bit of a cheeky smile.

Jungkook chuckles nervously, glancing at you though you’re sporting the same smile as your mother. “I mean, yeah, we’re good friends.”

“Well if you weren’t, things would be pretty awkward,” your dad laughs before helping himself to some food he ordered with the drinks. 

“Yeah,” Jungkook mutters, managing a small laugh.

“Oh come on, guys,” you laugh, nudging him. “She’s happy you’re coming too.”

He nods appreciatively before taking a sip of his drink. “It’s her parents I’m more worried about.”

At this, your mom laughs too. “Oh, Leon and Helena love you really, dear, it’s all just for a laugh.” She leans forwards and squeezes his hand with her usual tender smile. “Though if it really bothers you, we could have a word with them, without letting on it’s coming from you of course.”

Smiling, Jungkook shakes his head. “Thanks, that’s really sweet of you but it’s alright, I can take the daggers I get from them,” he chuckles. “After all, what I did was pretty awful.”

“You were sixteen,” you say, patting on the last of your moisturiser. 

He shrugs. “I know, but she’s their little princess.” He looks across at you and then glances at your parents. “It’s like someone doing that to you, your parents would be mad.” 

At that, your father hums in agreement.

“Heck, I’d be mad,” Jungkook adds. 

Looking at him, he shrugs again and smiles. Before you can say anything, he carries on. “Sixteen or not, I literally left Sophia on one of the most important nights of her life.”

“Yeah, it was pretty awful at the time,” you sigh, remembering the night as clear as day.

Almost ten years ago now, the night of both yours and Sophia’s entry into society, the debutante ball. For you, the night was a bit of a blur with it being the first night Alex and you made things official in your relationship, sealing it with a first kiss and many more that evening. It was a magical and whimsical night, and although Alex and you didn’t last, your love for each other still remains as best friends and you couldn’t be happier for him getting married to his dream girl now. 

For Sophia, the night went a little differently... She'd had a crush on Jungkook for a while since, being Alex’s younger sister, she’d seen him often with you. After he found out, he asked her to be her escort to the ball. She of course said yes and everything seemed to be going perfectly until the moment Jungkook was supposed to escort her down the stairs but he had completely disappeared. Sophia was left all alone and completely embarrassed, even after Alias, the ever caring older brother, stepped in and acted as her escort. Jungkook still hasn’t told you the reason he left so abruptly that night. All you remember is not being able to reach him the whole weekend, even when you tried going to his house he was never home. When you finally saw him, he told you he didn’t want to talk about it so you didn’t. 

Of course, everyone else forgot about the incident and even Sophia forgave him after he apologised profusely and endlessly, but Mr and Mrs Cirillo were less forgiving for a while, but after many years it’s just become a joke between them. The fact that he’s invited on the cruise just shows it’s all in the past now. 

However that doesn’t mean Mr and Mrs Cirillo ever pass up an opportunity to remind him of the past… 

“It’s lovely to see you, Y/N, dear,” Mrs Cirillo says, bringing you in for a hug. 

Mr Cirillo stands behind her, taking your hand as soon as his wife lets go. “How was the flight here?”

“It was good, I slept for most of it really.” Stepping away, you turn to look at Jungkook as he approaches them with a meek smile.

Mrs Cirillo smiles back, her words carrying a playful lilt. “There he is, the heartbreaker.”

Jungkook lowers his head at that and you can see his nose scrunching a little. “That’s me, unfortunately,” he says, stepping into Mrs Cirillo’s arms for a brief hug. 

When he takes Mr Cirillo’s hand to shake, the older man shows the same playfulness as his wife. “Nice to see you again, Jungkook. My favourite and least favourite man on board.” 

Jungkook chuckles and Mr Cirillo pulls him in for a hug. “Stay out of trouble, yes?” 

“Of course,” Jungkook smiles, stepping away to stand next to you as your parents walk out onto the main deck.

Their eyes light up as the old friends all greet each other and you take Jungkook’s hand and slip away together before you get roped into a conversation. 

“You alright?” you ask casually as you scan the people all on the deck.

“Good, thanks,” he responds with a gentle squeeze of your hand. He knows that you know how he finds it a little tedious sometimes every time Sophia’s parents mention the past, but he knows he messed up so he doesn’t ever complain about it. In a way, it annoys you when the Cirillo’s always mention it but you know it’s not your place to say anything, especially if Jungkook hasn’t said anything. 

Looking around, you take in many of the familiar faces while scanning the crowds for Alex or one of his siblings. There’s no unfamiliar faces on this part of the deck, and seeing all the waiters walking around offering canapés and drinks, you realise the Cirillo’s must’ve rented out this part of the deck. The excited buzz amongst everyone extends to you as you turn to look out past the balcony towards the sea, stepping towards it and taking Jungkook with you. 

Taking a deep breath of the fresh sea, enjoying the warmth glowing from the sun as a steady breeze blows. Exhaling, you turn around to Jungkook beaming. 

It seems like he was already watching you, waiting as though he knows you’re gonna say something now. Seeing you smile, his corner of his lips turn too. “It’s pretty, isn’t it?”

“Very,” you nod, turning around to look out again, lowering the sunglasses from your head to stop from squinting. 

“Y/N!” A familiar voice calls your name and you turn around, breaking into the biggest smile when you see Alex approaching, his arms outstretched. “Jungkook!” 

You meet him halfway, excitedly skipping into his hug. He hugs you tight, releasing a sigh as he lets go and hugs Jungkook. “Gosh, it’s been so bloody long, I’ve missed you guys.” 

“Missed you more, buddy,” Jungkook smiles, patting Alex’s back before he lets go. “Congrats on the wedding too, we’re well excited to be here for you.”

Alex laughs, flashing his perfect pearly smile. “Honestly, I’m happier to have you guys here. Half of the people here haven’t even spoken to me in years.” He glances around before adding, “you know how it is.” 

“Mhm,” you nod, squeezing his arm. “You’ve got us though, we’re here for you every step of the way.” 

“Thanks,” he responds, taking two drinks from a passing waiter to give to you both. “You were allowed plus ones though, when do I get to meet them?” He looks across at both of you expectantly, though you see a subtle raise of his brow matched with a small smile that seems to hint he already knows the answer.

“Well, we didn’t really get the chance to ask anyone,” Jungkook answers, looking sideways at you. “So we just thought we’d come with each other.”

“Ah.” The smile on Alex’s lips grows. “Why am I not surprised?”

“Because you know how busy we’ve both been,” you say, shrugging lightly before taking a long sip of your drink.

“Hm, that’s it,” Alex says quietly. 

“BOO!” Large hands tap your shoulders before the man himself jumps in front of you. 

“Alias,” you squeal excitedly, returning the hug he’s already given you. Slightly more wild albeit still as focused as his younger brother, Alias is the eldest of the Cirillo siblings and has become more of an older brother to you over the years.

“You look like you’ve grown,” he says, moving back and beaming as he pulls Jungkook in for a hug. “Both of you.”

“We literally saw you like a month ago,” Jungkook chuckles. 

“Really?” Alias raises his brows in surprise. “Damn, you kids grow fast.” 

“I could say the same thing about that moustache of yours,” you say. 

He smiles smugly. “Looks good right?”

Shrugging, you lean against the balcony. “I think you looked better without it.”

Alias frowns, hand coming up to stroke his moustache subconsciously. “Really?” he asks, looking at you in time to see you raising your glass to your lips to hide your smile. 

“I knew you liked it,” he laughs. “Apparently a lot of people do.”

“Ah, Alias, no one wants to know,” Alex grimaces at his older brother.

Before Alias can defend himself, Jungkook says, “I do.” Alex and you both look at him and he shrugs. “Might grow mine out.”

Alias laughs, throwing his arm around Jungkook’s shoulder. “C’mon buddy, I’ll tell you all about it.”

As Alias pulls him away, Alex steps to stand next to you and both of you watch them walk away with Alias talking in a hushed tone as though no one else can find out. 

As you watch them walk away with a fond smile on your face, Alex turns to you.  “So, how have you been?”

Still absentmindedly watching Jungkook and Alias, you hum. “Great.”

“How’s work?”

“Mm, I actually just secured a deal with Park Motors last week.”

Glancing at Alex, you see his brows raise. “Impressive.”

“Yeah, it was a pretty big win for the company and dad was proud of me.” 

Alex smiles. “And were you proud of yourself?”

As Jungkook’s head disappears from the crowd, you turn to face Alex too, taking another sip of your drink. “I know people think I’m just riding off my parent’s success, which yeah, it’s true for the most part, but after doing this all myself I was pretty proud.”

“Good,” he grins. “You should be. You may be one of the most princess-ed girls I know,” he adds with a teasing lilt, “but you’re also one of the most hard working.”

Laughing, you nudge him lightly. “Thanks, I appreciate it.”

“You’re welcome.” He leans against the balcony too, pulling down his shades as he turns towards the sea where the sun shines down on the horizon. “What about things with Jungkook?”

Shrugging, you take a small sip. “He’s good.”

Alex glances at you from the corner of his eye with the curve of his lips growing. “Hm, anything else?”

Levelling his face, you break into a smile. “Oh, Alex, you’re never gonna let this go are you?”

He smiles, shaking his head. “Not as long as I see it’s there.” 

Straightening your expression a little, you tilt your head. “But there’s nothing there.”

“Y/N, there’s everything there,” he says, matching your tone. 

“Alex, come on,” you say quietly, traces of a smile returning. 

He shrugs. “I make a perfectly valid point.”

Turning towards the deck again, you sigh. “I don’t see it.”

“I do!” Alex almost exclaims excitedly. “And I have for the longest time.” Letting out a small laugh, he puts his arm around you and squeezes gently. “His big doe eyes used to torture me all the time when I was dating you.”

You can’t help but laugh at that. Jungkook does have doe eyes but you don’t remember seeing them often while dating Alex. 

“Seriously,” Alex says, fighting his case onwards. “I dated you for what, almost a year I think and I’ve never seen anyone sulk for that long.”

“He wasn’t sulking.”

“Listen, I’m almost a married man now, Y/N, and I can tell you all the looks of love…”

When you arch a brow quizzically, Alex sighs and continues. “That boy was sulking for weeks because he hated seeing you with someone else.”

“Oh come on, maybe he had a crush in the past but he’s a grown man now and has had plenty of his own romances.”

Now it’s Alex who’s looking at you with his brow raised. “Like who?”

It takes you a moment to think of a name but a few still come to mind. “Remember Alia, the intern from my dad's company?” you ask rather smugly, although Alex’s reaction shows no surprise. 

“The girl who he went out with like five times.”

You shrug. “That counts for something.

“It really doesn’t,” Alex says matter-of-factly. “Anyway, who else?”

“Hmmm… ooh, Rachel, that super hot secretary!”

“Y/N, that was a one night stand, it literally doesn’t count.”

Sighing, you rack your memory for more, and then comes the answer. “Valentina.”

Alex almost snorts, prompting you to frown at him.

“What?” you question. “That was a real romance, there were feelings there.”

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Alex almost snorts again. “The most real thing about that relationship was the Chopard watch Valentina tried to use to bribe Jungkook back to her.”

Wincing, you remember the finer details of that supposedly real romance. You turn back out to face the horizon, pulling your own shades down. “Alright, I guess I see your point.”

Gently pushing his point, Alex carries on. “Not to mention that I was your last serious relationship, which was how many years ago now?”

You simply shrug. “I’m not looking for anyone.”

Alex hums thoughtfully. “Or you’ve already ‘found’ your someone.” This earns a glare from you but Alex ignores this. “He’s practically your boyfriend already!” 

“In what way?!”

“You do almost everything together!” Alex exclaims back. “I wouldn’t be surprised if you’ve had sex already!” 

“Alex!” Something in your stomach curls unbidden at the thought. “We haven’t had sex!” you whisper hotly, glancing around to make sure no one heard. 

“Sorry,” Alex mumbles, looking over his shoulder too. Luckily there’s no one nearby, everyone seems too busy engaging in their own excited conversations about the weeks to come. 

Everything you’re hearing now isn’t news to you, you know plenty of people have questioned the relationship between Jungkook and you, and you totally get why, but you’ve been friends since such a young age and that’s perfectly okay. Neither you nor Jungkook have made a move to take things further and maybe that’s just how things are meant to stay, despite what Alex seems to think. 

“Also, what friend agrees to come on a 3 week long cruise for you, knowing full well my father doesn’t miss a single opportunity to roast him.” 

“Here’s here for you, not me.”

“Actually,” Alex raises a finger, “I invited him before you and he said he would meet us in Italy because things were busy with the company. I invited you after him, and the next thing I know is Jungkook is calling me telling me he’ll be coming with you from the start.”

As your eyes narrow, you start to think of how that happened. After Alex invited you, you texted Jungkook straight away to ask if he’d come with you as a date to the wedding. As soon as he said yes, you started waffling on about how fun the trip was going to be and it must’ve been after that that Jungkook told Alex he’d come sooner than he previously planned. 

“Well, any best friend would do that,” you say simply. 

Alex pushes his lips out, brows raised. “I’m your best friend and I wouldn’t do that for you.”

“Hey!” You shove him hard but he barely moves. 

“Oh c’mon, you wouldn’t do it for me either.” Alex looks at you with a smile. 

“Yeah,” you relent. “I probably wouldn’t unless you really needed me.”

Just then, you see Jungkook walking towards you, holding a platter of something. He simply beams when you frown at him in confusion. 

From beside you, Alex raises his glass to his lips. “I’m telling you, the boy is whipped,” he says quietly before taking a sip. 

Jungkook comes within ears width before you can say anything.  “Y/N, look,” he holds out the tray he’s holding, “they have those little cracker things you like with capa, uh, capa-something.” He pushes it closer, gesturing for you to take one while looking pleased with himself.

Looking at the platter, your lips curl mindlessly into a smile. “Caponata,” you say, correcting him gently. 

It’s when Jungkook remembers the little things like this that his place in your heart grows and you’re grateful for having him as your best friend. 

“Yeah, that’s the one,” he smiles. “Here, I got them for you.”

Your brows furrow together as you look down. “The whole platter?”

“Well, yeah,” he says looking down too. “You like them and I’m sure there’s more going around for everyone else.”

From beside you, Alex starts coughing and you’re more than certain you hear the word “whipped” coming out of his mouth. One glance at him proves you’re right as he raises his brows before looking away. 

Jungkook, not having noticed the word Alex let slip, is eating one of the canapés before holding one out for you too. Smiling and thanking him, you take it. 

“Good right?” Jungkook asks, his mouth full as you also eat one whole. 

“So good,” you mumble, brows furrowed as you keep eating. 

Jungkook holds the tray towards Alex. “Want one?” 

“I’m good,” he smiles. “I’ll leave you two to it though, I’ve still got some guests I need to greet.” His smile seems weary though you don’t blame him, sometimes the supposed family friends in your circle don’t seem very much like friends. After saying a temporary goodbye, he takes his leave, leaving Jungkook and you to continue devouring the canapés. 

For a moment, you’re both quiet, save the sounds of pleasure from eating, then Jungkook speaks. “Sophia’s not coming with us by the way.”

Eyes wide, you turn to look at him. “What?!” you question, mouth half full. 

Jungkook takes one glance at you and chuckles. His thumb comes up and wipes something close to your lips. “She’s joining us later, from Nice.”

“Oh.” Your lips turn into a pout. “Who am I gonna hang out with?” 

“You-bo-me,” Jungkook says with his mouthful again.  

“No,” you sigh. “I don’t got you. As soon as Alias is about, you and him turn into Tweedledum and Tweedledee.”

A small laugh escapes Jungkook's lips and you frown at him.

“I’m sorry,” he laughs again, placing the mostly empty tray down on a nearby table. “Look,” he takes your hands and squeezes them, “I promise I’ll stay with you, we can just hang out with Alias too.”

“Yeah, I know,” you say looking up at him. “It’s fine though, you can hang out with whoever you want. You don’t have to stay with me.”

Jungkook hides an amused smile. “I’ll stay with you, we can’t have our princess being alone,” he chuckles again, letting go of your hands to squeeze your cheeks. 

“Mm, my makeup,” you mumble, prying his fingers off your cheeks. “And you can stay with me if you really want to,” you shrug, hiding your smug expression. 

Jungkook scoffs, laughing as you put your sunglasses back on. “I changed my mind.”

“Hey!” you exclaim, and before you get another word out, Jungkook is laughing, wrapping his arm around your waist to pull you in.

“I’m joking, now let’s go say hi to the Morgan’s, they’ve been looking this way since Alex was here.”

“They’re probably just judging us,” you grumble. 

Jungkook smiles, turning you around and walking with you. “More reason to say hello.”

Most of the first day is spent the same way, greeting some families who you like and some who you don’t but at least you get to do it with a glass of champagne and Jungkook by your side. By the early evening, everyone is settling into their cabins and exploring the cruise ship which feels more like a palace. 

It’s well past midnight when Jungkook is walking you to your cabin which unfortunately is on another level to yours – Alex mentioned he couldn’t get your cabins closer since Jungkook was supposed to be joining later.

“I am so ready to knockout,” you yawn, pulling out the keycard.

“Make sure you don’t forget to take your makeup off,” Jungkook says as a gentle reminder.

Turning around at the threshold of your door, you look at him as he leans against the wall opposite. “I won’t, and you don’t forget to shower, you still stink of chlorine.”

Jungkook chuckles quietly, careful not to disturb any of the neighbouring cabins who are most likely asleep. Alias and him decided it would be fun to cannonball into the deck pool during prohibited hours and subsequently ended up running away from some of the cruise crew and you just happened to be with them even though you refused to jump in because it’s breaking the rules.

“I’m making you join us next time,” he says.

“That’s never gonna happen.”

Smiling slightly, Jungkook tilts his head. “That sounds like a challenge.”

Laughing, you step out of your room towards him. “I wouldn’t try, Jeon.” Raising your hand, you pinch his nose. “You’ll just fail.”

“Or,” Jungkook raises his brows, taking your hand into his, “it could be one of the best nights you spend here, plus running away is fun,” he grins. 

“You call that fun?” you laugh. 

“Tell me it wasn't.”

You shrug. “I have fun whenever I'm with you anyway.” 

Jungkook smiles, and so do you. It’s not hard to be honest around him, it never has been. That’s probably why you’ve been best friends for so long. “So all the time?” he says. 

“All the time,” you repeat, laughing. 

Lips still holding a gentle smile, Jungkook looks down at you and for a second you wait for him to say something but he doesn't say anything. Instead, he releases a small sigh and pulls you into a hug. 

You feel your body relax in his embrace, the weariness of today’s jet lag and socialising and cheeky antics slowly melting away as you breathe in the comforting smell of his cologne. Even though it’s tainted with chlorine, his arms around you seem to make it worth putting up with. 

His hands slide up your back, patting you softly. “I’ll see you in the morning, hm.”

“Just don’t wake me up before noon,” you mumble.

He laughs, pulling away. “Breakfast ends at 11.”

Groaning, you step towards your door again. “I wish Freddie was with us.”

Chuckling quietly, he starts to make his way towards his cabin. “Good night, Y/N.”

“Night,” you wave, seeing him disappear from view as the door closes. You almost collapse onto your bed but manage to trudge to the bathroom to wash off your makeup and get into your pyjamas before finally sinking into bed and falling asleep.

Knock knock knock

Knock knock.

“Y/N?"

Knock knock knock. “Y/N!”

Grumbling, you pull your pillow over your head.

There’s a few more impatient knocks before you hear Jungkook. “Come on, or I’m going down without you.”

“Go,” you groan, tossing in bed. “I’ll eat later.”

Then you hear a series of whining outside the door. “It's already almost 11, it's embarrassing going by myself you have to come with me, please.”

With one final groan, you force yourself out of bed and open the door. “I said not before noon, Koo.”

“Please,” he says, lips forming an effortless pout. “I’m hungry.”

Well you can’t say no now. Sighing, you step aside for him to come in. “Give me twenty minutes.”

Jungkook slumps onto your bed, already dressed casually in a white tee and black shorts. “You have ten.”

With Jungkook rushing you, you meet halfway and manage to get ready in 15 minutes instead. It seems the Cirillo’s spared no expense and managed to keep an entire upper deck private for all of the meals served on sea days. There’s a breakfast buffet laid out inside but before you can even grab yourself a plate, you see your mom frowning at you from her seat outside. She raises her brows and points to her wrist, her not so subtle way of reminding you you’re late.

With a big smile, you mouth sorry and she just laughs to herself, shaking her head. 

“Y/N,” Jungkook calls your name. You look over at him and he’s already standing behind a few people up for seconds, waiting his turn. Walking over, you take a plate and glance down at the table ahead of you. 

“This looks good,” you think out loud. 

“It does, doesn’t it?” Jungkook says, glancing around. He frowns at something, moving his head to get a better look. 

“What? What’s wro–?”

His eyes widen and suddenly he’s crouching enough to remove the inches difference between you, hands gripping your arms. “Hide me.”

“What?” 

“Hide me,” he repeats, the insistence in his voice clearer than before. 

Putting your plate down, you push his shoulders lower. “I am,” you whisper harshly. “But why?” you say, glancing around. 

“No, don’t look,” Jungkook says, his tone becoming something like a whine. “She’ll come over if she sees you.”

“Who?”

Jungkook groans, eyes closing. “Why is she here?”

Ignoring his request not to look, you turn around and scan the room, looking for any familiar faces while your mind goes through a mental list of names of people who could make Jungkook want to hide before a whole breakfast buffet. Just as your name arrives at a potential suspect, the woman herself comes into your view.

“Oh.” 

Tall, glamorous and even graceful, Valentina Forero struts her preppy, perfect figure, dressed head to toe in designer and a handbag so small you’re sure not even her phone can fit in there. 

Immediately, you look away from her and down at Jungkook. He’s already looking up at you with a weary expression. Your lips form an apologetic smile and he sighs, a string of curse words coming out from his mouth in the form of a hushed whisper while he stays pressed against your side trying to hide himself from view.

Of all the things that could possibly go wrong, this has to be the single worst thing.

Valentina is Jungkook’s ex friend with benefits of almost a year. They met shortly after college at your grad party and they started off as casual and eventually there were some feelings involved but they never really bloomed. 

When Jungkook tried to end things after some months, Valentina had a lot to say and for some reason just didn’t want to let him go even though she wasn’t looking for something real. 

You don’t blame her, Jungkook attracts people like a magnet, but their relationship was a little more on the toxic side with some jealousy and so many stupid arguments no doubt stemming from the feelings that budded but never grew. It was better for both of them to call it quits, so they never made things official but to call Valentina anything less than an ex would be an injustice to some of the things they went through.

Stealing a glance at her again, you watch for a few seconds as she makes her way through the families, greeting each one with a bright smile.

As she moves, Jungkook moves too, trying to stay hidden from her view behind you. His head presses against your arm, cheek almost against your left boob.

“Um, Jungkook,” you say, smiling. “I get you’re trying to hide but uh, I don’t think this is a good look…”

“What?” he says, still distracted as he glances towards where Valentina is.

“We’re standing at a breakfast bar on a family cruise and your face is pretty close to my boobs.”

He looks up at you, eyes widening when he realises. “Oh, sorry.” He stands straight, turning to face the bar instead. 

“It’s cool,” you answer, picking up your plate again and nudging him to move forward. “”I’m sure we’ve given the Collins something to talk about for today.” Turning to your right at the eyes ogling you, you smile plastically at Mr and Mrs Collins.

“Sorry,” Jungkook mutters again absentmindedly as he slowly fills his plate.

“Jungkook,” you say, nudging him again as you fill your own. “It’s gonna be fine, there’s so many people here I’m sure you won’t see each other that much, and even if you do, you have me.” You’re already beaming when he looks at you, and his own eyes crease in the corners and he smiles too. “Thanks. I guess you’re right but please don’t ever let me be alone with her.”

“I won’t,” you laugh. “Although once she knows you’re here, I’m sure she’ll try to hookup with you at least once.”

“I hope not,” Jungkook sighs. “She’s not a bad girl but I just don’t wanna go back there, y’know?”

“Mhm, I know,” you say, turning towards the table your parents are seated at. “But what I don’t know is how we’re gonna get to sit without her seeing you.” You nod in the direction of your parents.

Jungkook glances around. “Let’s go sit with Alex and Thalia,” he says, nodding in the opposite direction.

Stealthily, the two of you make your way out onto the deck and approach Alex and his fiancee unseen.

“Oh, Y/N,” Thalia beams, leaning in for a hug as soon as she sees you. “You look beautiful.” 

You snort. “I woke up half an hour ago, I definitely look awful.”

“Absolutely not,’ Thalia says with a gracious wave of her hand before Jungkook gets up to greet her too. “You both look lovely and I'm so happy you’re here!”

“Of course,” you say, smiling at both her and Alex. “We’re even happier to be here and so excited for you.”

“Thank you, angel,” she winks.

“Jungkook, are you okay?” Alex asks quietly, frowning as he watches Jungkook carefully. Glancing to your right, you also notice Jungkook is hunched over his food.

“You’re just drawing more attention to yourself like that,” you let him know before turning back to Alex. “Valentina is here,” you say with a small raise of your brow and both Alex and Thalia immediately let out a little “ah”.

Thalia winces apologetically when she glances back at Jungkook. “I do believe that may be on me. My mother is in the same club as her mother so it seems an invitation was deemed non-negotiable, unfortunately,” she adds, placing subtle emphasis on the last word.

Jungkook shakes his head. “Don’t worry about it, I was gonna end up seeing her again eventually at some point.”

Alex coughs, his expression changing. “I do believe that time is coming sooner than you want though.”

Jungkook frowns but you understand what Alex means, as does Thalia as you both look up just in time to see Valentina a few feet away, approaching your table.

With a smile that’s far too innocent for her, she stands at the edge of the table closest to Jungkook. “Well, hello there.”

Alex, being the sweetheart he is, is the first to respond to her greeting, and without surprise, Thalia follows quickly. “Thank you for coming,” Alex says as he gives her a quick hug.

“Thank you for having me.” Valentina steps to the side to greet Thalia too. “And congratulations, I’m so happy for both of you!”

“Thank you,” Thalia says with a genuine smile. As she takes her seat, you get up to greet her too. 

“It’s nice to see you again, Val,” you say as you meet her in a brief hug, although you can’t say you mean it but you hold no animosity towards her. 

“You too, Y/N,” she winks. 

Before she even releases you, Jungkook is getting up and already avoiding eye contact with her. “Hey,” he says, just as she leans towards him too. 

“Hello, Jungkook.” When she gives him a hug, it’s a little longer than your own but Jungkook doesn’t push away despite his expression looking like he wants to. 

Alex, Thalia and you have to fight to keep your smiles contained.

“Gosh, it’s been so long, hasn’t it?” Valentina says as she steps back and takes a seat. 

“I guess,” Jungkook says, showing little expression as he sits back down and resumes eating his breakfast. 

“Oh, come on, it’s been almost two years.” She gives him a knowing expression before flicking her hair behind her shoulder with a flamboyant flair that’s signature for Valentina. “I’m sure you missed me.” She leans her elbows on the table. “I know I’ve missed you.”

Seeing Jungkook’s constipated expression, you step in to help him out. “We all missed you, Valentina,” you smile. “It’s impossible not to.” That’s not a lie either, although she was a big personality to deal with sometimes, she still knew how to have fun and was great to talk to. 

“Thank you, Y/N,” she says, returning your smile before turning her attention back to Jungkook. “You still look as good as you always have too, Kookie.” She leans forward and squeezes his bicep, maybe one too many times. “You’re still going to the gym I see.”

Jungkook stiffens next to you, meanwhile, your eyes are fixated on her hand on his arm. In a gesture of support, you discreetly slip your hand behind his elbow. 

Sitting across from you, your friends both notice this. Then, the cogs in the brilliant mind of Alexander Cirillo turn and he comes up with what can only be a genius idea. Perhaps it's all the romance he’s been experiencing recently with his own fiancee, but Alex is convinced that this can only have one outcome, the only possible outcome – the one that’s been written in the stars since Jungkook and you met so many years ago, he’s sure of it.

Beaming, Alex looks at Valentina. “Don’t they look so good together?”

She pauses then frowns. “Together?”

Your own expression matches Valentina’s as you glance at Alex too. 

“Yes, together,” he repeats as a fact, smiling at Jungkook and you before looking at Valentina.

“You’ve heard, no? Jungkook and Y/N are together.”

From next to you, Jungkook swallows hard and your hand subconsciously tightens around his arm. Both of you are staring at Alex and he just gives you a subtle raise of his brow. 

“Oh, my,” Valentina smiles, and although there’s some kind of genuinity to it, there’s more you can see but haven’t got the mental capacity to try to decipher right now when you’re still trying to figure out what Alex is doing.

 “I should’ve known this was gonna happen, you always were inseparable,” she says with somewhat of an eye roll. 

Jungkook laughs awkwardly, but he’s not stupid and he knows Alex isn’t either. This is one surefire way he can keep Valentina and any of her advances away from him for the next three weeks. All he has to do is pretend to be dating you… how hard can that be?

“Yeah, I guess it was meant to be,” he says, sounding a little stilted. 

You’re still sitting a little dumbfounded but Thalia also gives you an expression that tells you to improvise better. The most you can manage is a meek smile. 

Jungkook responds almost as awkwardly, putting his arm around you which makes Alex laugh.

“Oh, don’t be so coy,” he says, sneaking in a wink to you as Valentina’s eyes remain locked on you both. “It’s been almost what? Eight months?”

“Uh, yeah, almost,” you answer, suddenly feeling shy with the way Jungkook’s hand is gripping your waist. 

It’s not like he’s never had his hand on your waist before — his face was all up in your boobs only fifteen minutes ago — but the feeling remains. It makes your cheeks go warm, your heart races a little faster and your fingers go fuzzy. 

You’re sure it’s showing on your face but Valentina doesn’t seem to notice, or if she does, she must think it’s down to you finding this awkward. 

“Well, congratulations to you too then,” she says, wearing a smile that doesn’t actually seem anything less than genuine, but you’re aware there’s more to her words.

“Thank you,” Jungkook and you say in unison. 

Valentina nods, taking it as her cue to leave. “I’ll see you all around, and except for the engaged couple who get a pass, let’s keep the pda to a minimum please,” she adds airily, words directed to Jungkook and you as she saunters off. 

“Can’t promise anything with these two,” Alex calls out after her.

When he looks back at you, he’s grinning like the Cheshire Cat. Thalia purses her lips in a smile that resembles a child trying not to laugh while they’re getting told off. 

Turning to them, you burst. “What the hell was that?” you say hotly, seeming more flustered than anything else. 

Alex shrugs. “Sorry, it was the best thing I could think of.” 

“It could be worse,” Thalia adds with a smile that’s supposed to be apologetic but the gleam in her eyes tells you she’s finding this just as amusing as her fiancé. 

Then, Jungkook shifts from beside you and only now do you realise you’re still holding his arm. “Well,” he says, briefly glancing down as you let go, “I guess we’re dating now.”

With a small raise of your brows, you shrug lightly and try not to show any signs of how flustered you’re feeling. “I guess so.”

When you meet his gaze, for a second you go still and think of what it means, how might you be expected to act with Jungkook — but really, it doesn’t seem that much different from how you already are now. Except of course, if you ever had to indulge in any public displays of affection, cheek kisses, lingering hugs, maybe even a peck on the lips…  

The thought of it all sets loose a swirl of butterflies in your stomach and only then do you realise that your gaze is still locked on Jungkook, and he too, is still staring at you. 

With those butterflies still swarming, you abruptly break away from his gaze and notice the tips of his ears are turning pink. You wonder if he’s thinking the same as you right now. 

“See, already believable.”

Alex’s voice interrupts your thoughts and when you turn to flare at him, he’s got a smug smirk on his face. 

“You’re supposed to be smart,” you say with a sigh, pushing down the butterflies that it almost seems like Alex knows all about. “Couldn’t have come up with something smarter?”

“This is smart,” Alex says with a hint of sass.

“How?” you sass back. 

Leaning back, he puts his arm around Thalia as his smirk grows into a smile. “You’ll see, just give it some time,” he sighs, punctuating his sentence with a wink. 

The end of the first night in Cartagena is celebrated with a formal dinner at a private venue with the most beautiful view of the coast. 

The Cirillo’s had a special menu created of authentic foods from the town and the dishes were nothing less than exquisite. So much so that Alias and you are both slumped on a hammock on the balcony with bellies full and happy. A few of the guests walk past and side eye you both, probably because Alias has ungraciously undone the top button of his suit pants but it doesn’t bother either of you. 

“Probably shouldn’t have eaten so much,” you mumble, looking up at the night sky.

“We’ve still got dessert,” Alias sighs, patting his belly. 

“Well sitting there isn’t going to help,” Jungkook’s voice says from behind you. 

Turning your head, you smile when you see Jungkook with two dessert plates in his hand. He comes and sits next to you, handing one to each of you.

Alias still manages to devour his serving in silence, but you take a little longer to eat, wondering if Valentina might be somewhere near now that Jungkook is here; you’re certain she’ll be keeping a closer eye on you both so you ought to be making a conscious effort to act more like a couple but you’re not really sure what else to do. Jungkook bringing you dessert seems couple-ish enough, even though it’s what you would do on a usual night anyway.

The three of you fall into a comfortable silence and you give Alias the rest of your dessert to finish as you collapse into the hammock again. As you do so, you feel Jungkook’s hand brush against yours and immediately you glance down at your hands, noticing how your arms and thighs are touching too. Again, it’s nothing unusual for you, but you start to wonder why it feels a little different now you’ve noticed it.

“Don’t look now,” he says, voice barely a murmur, “but she’s watching us.”

When you hum quietly in acknowledgement, his fingers brush the back of yours tentatively again and for some reason unrelated to the wind that’s blowing, you feel your skin prickling. Releasing a small breath, Jungkook curls his hand, fingers slipping between yours. The pads of your fingers press against him and you return your focus to the night sky above rather than the weird way your heart is beating now.

From your other side, Alias lets out a satisfied sigh before sitting back beside you. “So,” he says without missing a beat, “what’s up between you guys?”

“Hm?” You look at him with a small frown.

“You heard me,” he repeats with the signature boyish grin that he and his brother share. It’s enough to let you know that he knows.

“We’re, uh, together,” Jungkook answers.

Alias snorts. “You gotta sound more convincing than that, Jungkook.”

“I’d like to see you pretend to date someone,” you say, nudging his side.

Shifting to face you, Alias raises a brow. “That’s easy, watch and learn, lover boy.” He leans closer, arm moving across your chest to touch some hair behind your ears.

You get his point – Alias is close enough to lean in and kiss you if he wanted to, and the small action seems intimate enough since you’re almost laying down with him beside you.

His hand gently traces down your cheek and you giggle, finding it funny as he keeps glancing at Jungkook who shoves him back before he goes any further.

“Alright, I get it,” Jungkook says, somehow shifting even closer to you.

When you glance at him, you can’t help but giggle at his expression. He looks a little annoyed, and although you don’t think it, anyone else might think he’s crossed the fine line to jealous — Alias certainly does. 

“Alright, I know, hands off your girlfriend,” he says, raising his hands in surrender. 

Rolling his eyes, Jungkook mutters, “Yeah, whatever.”

Alias just chuckles, leaning back and resting his palm behind his head but unlucky for him, his moment of rest is short lived. 

“Oh for goodness sake Alias!” The hushed whisper of Mrs Cirillo has all of your heads turning. She appears out of nowhere beside the hammock, a look of shock and horror on her face. “Is there a reason you’re basking in the sunset with your trousers half undone?” 

“Actually,” Alias says unbothered, holding up a finger, “only the zipper is undone, so by the length of the trousers, mother, they’re nowhere near half undone.” 

Frustrated, she glances around. “People must be thinking all sorts.” She looks at Jungkook and you who smile awkwardly, sitting up straight as you hope not to get scolded. 

Mrs Cirillo is no stranger when it comes to teaching etiquette and given the many years of friendship between your families, she’s definitely not a stranger to teaching you a few things, and over the years, Jungkook too. 

She sighs when she looks at you. “Darling, you look beautiful. Jungkook, you too, please teach my son a thing or two.” She sighs again impatiently and Alias grumbles next to you as he does up his zipper. “Now, when you’ve made yourself decent, please come with me, your father wants you to meet someone,” she says, not waiting for a response.

Alias groans. “Who? I thought I had met them all.”

“Not this one,” Mrs Cirillo replies airily as she’s still walking away. “He’s just joined us tonight.”

Like the dutiful son he is, Alias gets up and follows his mother, though not without groaning about it some more.

Jungkook and you watch him go, but just like Alias, your moment of rest is short lived.

“Um, Y/N…” Jungkook’s voice sounds apprehensive and when you look at him, his expression seems the same. He’s stretching his neck and looking out towards the opposite direction of the balcony towards the main hall. “Is that… Valentina, with your parents?”

Standing up to get a better look, you realise that Jungkook is right. Valentina is mid-way greeting your parents, your mom leaning in to give her a hug. 

Looking down at Jungkook, you both realise at the same time – your parents don’t know about the two of you. 

Jungkook doesn’t wait for you to say anything and instead – with zero regard for the high heels on your feet – he grabs your hand and rushes you towards them.

“Ow, wait, Jungkook, slow down!”

“Can’t,” he says, although you feel his pace slow down a little. “She’s gonna say something, of course she is.”

Jungkook isn’t wrong and the look on your parents face as you’re less than a few feet away from them tells you that Valentina has just said it. Your dad looks confused and your mom is frowning, her head tilting in the way it does when she’s not sure she believes something.

“Mom!” 

She turns her head to the sound of your voice, as does Valentina and your father.

“Dad,” you smile, catching your breath as Jungkook and you stop in front of them. 

Jungkook chuckles awkwardly next to you and you feel his hand go around your waist. “Sorry to, uh, interrupt…” he purposely avoids Valentina’s gaze. “We just, uh,” he glances at you, “we had a question.” 

“Well, so do we,” your dad starts, looking at you with the same confused expression. “What—”

“The dresses for the couple dance!” you blurt, knowing exactly what your father was about to ask. It would totally blow your cover if it seemed like your parents didn’t know about Jungkook so you need to come up with something fast. “We need to know the colours of the dresses for the couple’s dance, for the wedding.”

If your dad looked confused before, he looks almost dumbfounded now. “A couple’s dance?”

“Y/N, what couple dance?” your mom asks somewhat impatiently and you’re certain she wants to ask the same question your dad was about to, which is most likely about Jungkook and you.

“The one for the wedding,” Jungkook answers for you. “All the couples are doing a dance after Alex and Thalia, you know? At the wedding.” He squeezes your waist gently and you chuckle.

“Exactly,” you say, taking your mom's hand discreetly. “Since Jungkook and I are dancing together, well, he needs to know the colour of my dress and I’ve forgotten.” You say it with no hesitation but with the way you’re squeezing her hand repeatedly, your mom still seems confused.

She glances at Valentina who is now staring at Jungkook’s hand right around your waist, before glancing back at you. 

Taking advantage of Valentina’s momentary lapse in attention, you give her a subtle raise of your brow and hope that mother-daughter telepathy is a real thing. 

“A couple’s dance?” your father asks again. “Honey, I didn’t know about this,” he says to your mom. 

“Well, yes, I suppose I forgot to tell you,” she says, squeezing your hand back and you let out a grateful sigh of relief, as does Jungkook. 

“Y/N, your dress is periwinkle blue for the party,” she says to you before looking at Jungkook. You can see the apprehension in her expression though it’s only noticeable to you. “Jungkook, sweetheart, I’ll make sure your suit is matching with Y/N’s of course.”

“Thank you,” he nods, lips pursed. 

Together, you glance at Valentina who already seems bored. 

“Well, I’ll come find you later, Mrs L/N,” she says, already turning to step away. 

Your mom says a quick goodbye before Jungkook and you are left alone with her and your dad. 

“Is there a reason I didn’t know about this couple's dance?”

Letting out a small laugh, Jungkook pats your dad's shoulder. “Sorry, we made that up, there isn’t a couple’s dance.“

“There isn’t?”

“No, there isn’t,” your mom answers, her brow raises as she looks between Jungkook and you. “But what I would like to know is why we just had to lie and why on earth is Valentina congratulating your father and I about you two and your relationship?”

“It’s because of me,” Jungkook answers immediately which prompts a look of surprise from your parents. “I just wanted an easy way to keep away from Valentina and saying I’m with Y/N was the best way for me to do it.” He lowers his head looking a bit ashamed. 

“Well it was actually Alex who said it first,” you say, stepping forward. “He pretty much roped us into it with Valentina right there, we were clueless.” You take Jungkook’s arm and smile at your parents. “It’s just a little white lie and honestly as long as Jungkook and I are okay with it, then it’s harmless.”

“And you are okay with it?” your dad asks. 

“Sure.”

Your mother frowns, the apprehension still not having left her expression. “And Jungkook… you’re okay with it too?”

Jungkook nods. “Very okay with it.”

“Alright then, but just be wary.” Your mom glances between you both. She opens her mouth as if to say more but shakes her head instead. “Who else knows?”

“Alex, Thalia, Alias, and now you both.”

“Hm, if you want to keep it a secret then I would keep it to that. The more people who know the more likely it is to come out.”

“Yes, I agree,” your dad says, frowning as he thinks. “Although I do think it would make sense to tell Leon and Helena.”

Your mom agrees with him. “I suppose it does but it���s up to you both.”

“Are you sure?” you ask, brows raising. It’s not unusual for your parents to share something with the Cirillo’s, but when it’s something like this, a lie, you don’t imagine your parents telling them.

Jungkook shuffles awkwardly. “Uh, they’re coming over now.”

Your mom looks up, smiling as they come over. “Yes, Y/N, after all it’s not really such a big lie. Jungkook and you do everything together anyway, how much more different can this be?”

“Right,” you nod, confused by the sentiment those words make you feel — perhaps Alex isn’t so wrong, maybe you do do everything with Jungkook. It must be giving the wrong idea to people… 

Though that doesn’t matter now since you need to seem like you’re dating him. 

“Just who I was looking for,” Mrs Cirillo beams as she approaches, but instead of looking at your mom, she’s looking at you.

“Me?” you ask, surprised. 

“Yes.” She looks at Jungkook too. “And you.”

Jungkook shares the same expression as you. “Me?”

“Oh, yes, and don’t act so shy either of you.” Her smile seems rather cheeky, as does Mr Cirillo’s who stands beside her. “What’s this I hear about you two dating now, hm?”

“Oh.” Smiling hesitantly, you prepare yourself to tell them the truth as well. This feels a bit different though because you can see the excitement in Mrs Cirillo’s face, even in Mr Cirillo. 

“I mean it’s about time,” Mr Cirillo says with a deep chuckle, looking at your parents to agree. 

Jungkook looks rather pained as he looks between them both. “Who told you?”

“Alias, of course,” Mrs Cirillo says. “He said you’ve been keeping it a secret for some time though I don’t see why, this is wonderful news!” 

She waves her hand with the statement and with it, a part of you suddenly feels like you’re being let down by yourself. It’s odd to see them so happy for Jungkook and you, only for it not to be real. 

You don’t blame them though — you’ve only been pretending to date Jungkook for a day but you’re already starting to see Alex’s point a little bit more. Having Jungkook by your side just feels right. 

Come to think of it, if anyone else asked you to pretend to be their girlfriend for a few weeks, you’d definitely say no. It would be hard to act so close with someone not only emotionally but physically, whereas thinking of the way Jungkook was so close to your side just a little while ago on the hammock, fingers curled around yours, you feel yourself coil at even the thought of being with anyone else. 

That’s not unusual though, right? The only reason you can’t imagine it with anyone else is because Jungkook is your best friend. He’s the guy you’re most comfortable around and so you feel safe with him. Thoughts pausing, your gaze drifts to him as you briefly zone out from whatever joke Mrs Cirillo is making. 

Jungkook still looks on hesitantly and the way his bottom lip moves, you can tell he’s waiting to say something. As soon as he sees his chance and quickly gets a word in. “Oh, well, actually, Mrs Cirillo, it’s not really real.”

She looks towards him and frowns a little. “What do you mean?” There’s disappointment in her tone that you (for some unknown reason) can relate to.

“It’s more of a make believe relationship, if that’s one way to put it,” your dad answers albeit looking confused himself. 

Mr Cirillo appears to be on the same brainwave as your dad as he looks confused too. “That’s absurd. I believe it very much.”

“Yes, yes,” Mrs Cirillo says, nodding. “Who wouldn’t?”

Pushing aside your own confused feelings, you help clear up this mess. “What we’re trying to say is that it’s not a real relationship.” You glance at Jungkook who looks at you and nods. “We’re just pretending to date.”

“Oh.” Their expressions fall, small frowns replacing the excitement in their eyes. 

“Why would you do that?” Mr Cirillo asks. 

“My ex is on the cruise,” Jungkook answers. “You probably remember her, Valentina?” 

There’s a few seconds of quiet until Mr Cirillo finds the name familiar. “Ah, yes, tall girl, Forero if I’m not mistaken?”

Jungkook nods, lips pursed. 

“So she’s the reason you’re doing this?” Mrs Cirillo gestures between Jungkook and you. 

Jungkook nods again. 

She sighs quietly. “Honestly, it all seems a bit fuddy duddy, Valentina is harmless. There’s better ways to keep someone away, Jungkook, wouldn’t it be better to just ask her to stay away from you?”

“That might come across as more rude than this,” you say with a shrug. “Also, we ought to mention that this was all Alex’s idea.”

“Alex?!” Mrs Cirillo exclaims. “Did he even ask you first?”

“Nope,” you shake your head with a smile having absolutely no qualms throwing your best friend under the bus. 

“Oh, why didn’t you say so sooner?” Mrs Cirillo turns and reaches for her husband's hand. “Leon, I do believe that boy is getting almost as troublesome as his older brother.”

Mr Cirillo laughs. “Oh, it’s just a little fun, besides, having Jungkook and Y/N pretending to play house can’t be all that bad.” He turns to Jungkook and you and winks.

You return his cheek with a smile. “It’s actually easier than it looks.”

“I’m sure it is,” he quips with a quick raise of his brow. His smirk seems telling but you don’t think anything of it at the moment as you feel Jungkook’s hand on your arm.

“Just don’t tell anyone please,” he says, chuckling nervously.

“Of course not,” Mrs Cirillo says. “I think Alex may have been onto something anyway.” She glances towards your mom and they share a smile. “Let’s get something to drink, hm?”

Your mom laughs, taking her arm. “Yes, please, I need one.”

Together, they walk off and to you it looks like they’re high schoolers sharing secrets again — you’re sure they’re going to have lots to talk about again today. 

Mr Cirillo chuckles as they go off. “Three guesses what they’re talking about,” he says quietly to your dad who shares a smile with his friend before they both turn to Jungkook and you.

“Well, I think I’m going to go and look for more dessert,” you say, slowly taking a step back to excuse yourself and Jungkook. 

“Yeah, I’m gonna do that too,” Jungkook says, nodding his head at your dad and Mr Cirillo.

“Of course, I’ll see you later on,” your dad smiles. His eyes fall to where Jungkook’s hand is holding your arm and his smile grows just a little wider but before you can think anything of it, Mr Cirillo makes a comment.

“That’s a nice suit you’re wearing, Jungkook.” He nods, looking visibly impressed.

“Thanks.”

Mr Cirillo continues. “I remember when you would wear your suits from those high street stores with the cheap labels but look at you now, kid.”

Pausing in your slow retreat, you blink. You’ve known Mr Cirillo all your life so you know that the comment really holds no ill intent, and also bearing in mind the fact that you know just how much he has come to admire Jungkook and cares for him as much as he does for you, but that doesn’t mean it’s okay for Mr Cirillo to make a comment like that.

Jungkook only smiles, though he doesn’t need to say anything for anyone to see that the backhanded compliment isn’t appreciated. He continues to step away but now you’re rooted firmly in the spot.

“Well with a personality like his and far more brains than most people combined, Jungkook has never needed material to make him look good, wouldn’t you agree, Mr Cirillo?” Your expression is friendly enough but your tone? Not so much.

He smiles awkwardly, immediately having understood his mistake. “Does that mean the opposite for myself?” he asks lightly.

“Oh, I’ve never thought so,” you say, smiling plastically. “Those words came from your own mouth.”

Mr Cirillo laughs. “You’re a sharp one, Y/N. That's why I like you a lot.”

“Likewise, Leon,” you wink, reaching for Jungkook’s arm. “Now we’ll be off.”

Mr Cirillo still chuckles and you catch your dad smiling at you as you walk away with Jungkook.

“Did you just call him ugly?” Jungkook asks with a small laugh once you're out of earshot. 

“I didn’t call him anything,” you shrug.

He laughs again, coming to a stop with you near the dessert table where you both browse the selection. “You know I could’ve answered myself though,” he says after a moment. 

Taking your pick, you turn to him with a small pout. It’s not the first time someone has made a comment about Jungkook that has annoyed you more than him, and you know that Jungkook prefers to pick and choose his battles wisely, unlike you always feeling as though you have to say something. 

“I know, sorry,” you wince a little. “Force of habit.”

“It’s okay,” he smiles, taking a bowl of Eton mess. 

Together, you start walking towards the same hammock you were previously sitting at.

“I actually think it’s kinda cute,” he adds.

Your brows raise inquisitively. “Having me as your knight in shining armour?”

He shrugs, taking a spoonful into his mouth as you both sit down. “More like my princess with her many privileges.” His lips curl into a smile as he says it.

Laughing, you lean back comfortably into the hammock. “Well, of course, Mr Cirillo wouldn’t dare say anything to me.”

“And no one else other than you would insult Mr Cirillo to his face.”

Holding up your fork, you laugh again. “I only implied, there’s a difference.”

Jungkook hums, leaning back next to you. He takes a big spoonful into his mouth, eating this slowly while you steal some of his. Swallowing, he sits up a little beside you. “You know, you don’t have to do this if you don’t want to.”

Looking up at him, you frown. “Do what?”

“Pretend to date me.”

“Why wouldn’t I want to?”

He shrugs. “If it makes you uncomfortable, or even if you just don’t want to.”

“I don’t mind,” you say, sitting up with him.

He doesn’t say anything for a few seconds, watching your expression for any signs of a lie. “You sure?”

“I’m sure,” you repeat.

With those words, Jungkook seems to relax. “Okay.” Faint traces of a smile appear on his face as he leans back. 

“The soap here smells amazing,” Thalia says, bringing her hands to her nose to sniff again a few times after drying them. 

Tossing your used hand towel in the hamper, you take a sniff too. “Mm, it does. I smell coconut.”

“And yuzu,” Thalia says, still inhaling the smell. 

Laughing, you pull her hands away from her nose as you walk out of the washroom together. 

The corridor is dimly lit as you walk back towards the restaurant but you’re very impressed by the interior, the burgundy and golden interior of this part of the venue complimenting each other well, especially with the many plants lining the corridors. 

“Where’s Alex?” you ask.

“Somewhere around here,” Thalia answers. “Honestly I lost him an hour ago after he went to check out the golf course here.”

“There’s a golf course here?” you ask, surprised. Though really you don’t know why you’re surprised, walking to the bathroom was a mission on its own, this place is huge. 

“Yeah they have everything, tennis courts, basketball, there’s even a riding school.”

At that, your ears perk up. “Are the horses available to hire?”

Thalia turns to you with a smile. “You wanna go for a canter?”

“Can we?” You ask, eyes lighting up too. “Oh, it’s been so long since I’ve been riding.”

“We’ll have to ask but I’m sure my dad could sort something out for us. Although we have booked a resort for when we get to Barcelona and later on in Malta too. They’re renowned for their riding instructors.”

Laughing, you walk around the next corner together. “How have you booked resorts while we’re on a cruise? I bet Mrs Cirillo had something to do with it,” you add, knowing that she always has to have everything and the best of it for her kids.

Thalia nods with a smile. “My mom and yeah, Helena. They’ve been planning this for a year, of course there’s going to be something for everyone.” 

“Strippers?” you ask, brows raising.

“Except that.”

“Hm, fair,” you say, frowning as you walk around another corner. “Anyway, I don’t really care for the instructors but it’ll have to be Barcelona. I just wanna ride, it’s been so long since I last went.”

Thalia agrees. “Sure, I’ll ask my dad, I’m pretty sure he’s already friends with the owner of the one in Barcelona so it should be easy.”

“Great,” you smile, excited by the thought, though your smile turns into a frown as you realise you’re walking by the same door you just walked out of a little while ago. 

At the same time, Thalia slows down. “Are we lost?” she asks.

Looking up at the women’s washroom sign, your frown deepens. “Yeah, I think we’ve just gone in a circle.” You look up and down the corridor, taking a few steps in the opposite direction from which you just came to follow a different path. “Maybe we should try going left from here instead?”

“There really should be a clearer exit,” Thalia huffs. “My feet hurt.”

Laughing, you glance back at her. “I don’t think anyone was taking into account the fact that people might be walking in 6-inch heels down these corridors– oh.” Mid-sentence, you bump into someone as you’re walking around the next corner. “Sorry,” you say, looking up at the guy as you feel steady hands on your arms to stop you from stumbling. 

“I’m so sorry,” he says at the same time, looking down.

Oh. 

His brows knit together before a smile breaks out on his face. “Y/N?”

“Lawrence!” A smile appears on your face embarrassingly fast. “Hi!”

He chuckles softly, taking a step back and taking his hands with him. You don’t know whether to appreciate the sweetness or be sad they’re gone.

Lawrence Goldman is one of the most beautiful men you’ve ever laid eyes on with a personality to match, and he was your high school crush for years. He was everyone’s crush to be honest, but even in uni, you never were able to stop swooning over him, but that’s all it’s ever been, a crush. For some reason, you could never let yourself take it further despite him showing interest a few times. 

“It’s been so long, my gosh, how are you?” he asks, eyes skimming your figure. “You look absolutely amazing,” he adds without a second thought.

“Hey again,” Thalia says, appearing beside you.

Lawrence gives her a smile, his attention quickly returning to you.

“I’m great,” you beam, “how are you? I’m surprised to see you, I thought you were working in Singapore?”

“I am,” he nods before looking at Thalia. “Well I was, but there was no way I was gonna miss this one’s wedding.”

Thalia laughs, putting her arm around him briefly. “Love you for it, Goldie.”

Lawrence rolls his eyes at the nickname and you smile. Thalia and Lawrence attended the same prep school before reuniting in college, and it’s through Lawrence that Thalia was introduced to Alex and the rest of you — your world is apparently a very small world so Lawrence being here really shouldn’t be a surprise to you, but with everything else going on, you may have forgotten about Lawrence. 

“I’ve only just joined because I had a meeting I couldn’t miss yesterday,” he adds, eyes skimming down your figure once more while he thinks you’re still smiling at Thalia but you definitely don’t miss it. 

“Ah, I see.” You can’t help it when you mirror his actions, noting how the top two buttons of his shirt are undone, giving a peak of the chain he’s always worn since he Longbottom-ed — he clearly knows the effect it has. “So you’re joining us for the rest of the cruise?” When your eyes meet his again, his lips curl into a smirk. 

“Yes,” he nods. “I’ll be here.”

Noticing Thalia glancing between you both, you realise you ought to stop whatever weirdness is going on right now before she thinks there’s something between you, not that she won’t ask you herself anyway. 

“Well that’s great,” you smile, taking a step closer to Thalia’s side.

“Mhm, I’m looking forward to spending time with you,” he says.

Your response is on the top of your tongue — “so am I” — and you intend to say it with a flutter of your lashes, but before you can say anything, Thalia answers for you. 

“We all are,” she grins, hand winding around your waist where she squeezes with a light force when she says the next words. “Including Jungkook and Alex.”

For a second you’re confused but the mention of Jungkook sparks your memory and you remember everything that’s happened in the past few days.

Jungkook and you are dating — you realise now why Thalia interjected and she was right to do so, otherwise you might’ve made a silly mess by opening yourself up to flirting with Lawrence. 

“Oh, yes,” you answer, perking up. “Jungkook will definitely be happy to see you I’m sure, it’s been a while since we all met last.”

“Yeah?” Lawrence casually responds. 

“Of course,” Thalia says with a wiggle of her brows. “Y/N is his girlfriend, she would know of course.”

As you smile dutifully, you catch the confusion briefly show on Lawrence’s face before he quickly disguises it as surprise. “You and Jungkook?” he says, lips turning into a smile. It’s the kind of smile that could mean many things. 

“Yep,” you nod, lips pursed in a smile. 

Something resembling a sigh leaves him. “You guys will have to catch me up on that for sure,” he says.

“There’ll be lots to catch you up on,” Thalia grins, “but right now, can we figure out how to get out of here?”

Lawrence chuckles, stepping to the side. “Of course, I know the way.” He gestures towards the left, waiting for you and Thalia to pass. 

As you fall into stride with Thalia on one side and Lawrence on the other side, you can’t help but feel some kind of disappointment at Lawrence’s reaction, though what did you expect? 

Of course he’s not going to say or do anything differently, and as long as you’ve agreed to be Jungkook’s girlfriend, you shouldn’t want him to react any differently. You’re lucky Thalia stepped in when she did or you might’ve completely forgotten you’re supposed to be in a relationship with someone else and would’ve ended up blowing the story for Jungkook entirely. 

“Ah, here we are!” Thalia skips forward out into the late evening night.

The view on the balcony now is even more beautiful with fairy lights adorning the trees along its perimeter. Everyone you recognise seems to be congregating towards one area as it’s almost time to leave to board the cruise ship again. 

“Oh there you are.” Jungkook appears from the middle of the crowd, not seeming to have noticed Lawrence who’s more closely following Thalia. “We’re leaving soon, here.” He hands you your purse you left with him a while earlier. 

“Thanks,” you answer, taking it and checking you haven’t left anything else. “Sorry, we got a bit lost inside.”

“Mhm, that’s fine, I was just about to come look for you anyway,” Jungkook says, looking at Thalia and only then does he notice Lawrence. The lines expressing concern in his face deepen into confusion.

Seeing this change, Lawrence smiles. “Hey mate.”

In a split second Jungkook’s confused frown changes to a smile. “Lawrence!” Reaching forward, the two share a pleasant exchange. 

“It’s been a while, how’ve you been?”

“Not bad, yourself?”

Jungkook nods. “I’ve been alright.”

“Better than alright from what I hear,” Lawrence says, brow raising as he glances in your direction. 

Jungkook’s gaze follows and you smile with a little shrug, subtly nodding at Jungkook.

“Ah.” Jungkook chuckles, taking a step towards your side. “Well, yeah, better than alright,” he confirms with a very believable smile. 

Lawrence laughs, looking between you. From behind him, you catch Thalia standing beside Alex as they watch the interaction play out. 

“I think it’s amazing,” Lawrence says, patting Jungkook’s arm. “You two are great together.”

“You’ve only just seen us again,” you say with a smile. 

“Hm, I’ve seen it for years,” Lawrence replies with a nod of his head and a small sigh as he looks at you. He’s still smiling but when you look at him, the brightness in his eyes has faded. “Trust me,” he says quieter than before, “I was always watching.”

Pursing your lips, you smile but you still feel self conscious as his gaze on you doesn’t budge. “That sounds a little stalker-ish, Lawrence,” you chuckle. 

Laughing, he shrugs. “Might’ve been. I always was a bit of a recluse.”

“I wouldn’t say you were a recluse.”

He arches his brow, lips morphing into a cocky smile. “Then what would you say I was?”

Mirroring his expression, you scoff. “What d’you want me to say, huh? Tall, handsome and mysterious?”

“Took the words right from my mouth,” he says smugly. 

“Ha,” you laugh. Despite it being somewhat true, you respond to say otherwise. “You wish.”

Lawrence smiles. “Ah, I guess those words are reserved for this one, huh?” He nods towards Jungkook. 

“Hm…” you look towards Jungkook who smiles with his lips pursed. It’s not his usual full smile and behind it there seems to be a reservation that tells you he’s being more quiet than usual. Nudging him gently, you beam when he meets your eyes. “Nah, I’ve got better words for this one.”

He nods and chuckles quietly but only briefly. 

You wonder what’s caused the shift in his mood since he seemed so bright only a moment ago when greeting Lawrence. 

“Oh, you’ll have to tell me all about it, I’m interested to hear how things happened between you,” Lawrence says.

Humming quietly, you nod as your attention remains on Jungkook. “Some other time, I think we need to get moving now,” you say, nodding towards the crowd of moving guests ahead of you. 

“Ah, yes,” he answers, turning to look behind him. “I’ll see you around though, yeah?” He places his hand on your arm. 

You don’t pay much attention to it but feel Jungkook pull on your hand gently. 

“Yeah man, we’ll see you around,” he says, reaching to pat Lawrence’s arm. 

Lawrence nods, throwing you a smile before he turns and joins the rest of your party. 

As he walks away, Jungkook turns to you. “Shall we go too?”

You nod, allowing him to lead the way, hand still in yours. There’s a hum of conversation around you as everyone makes their way back towards the cars to take you to the port, but you’re grateful no one interrupts the two of you as you walk alone, a little behind the rest. 

“You okay?” you ask after a quiet moment. 

Jungkook answers almost right away. “Yeah. You?”

“Mhm.” You watch him as he kicks some of the sand beneath his feet with every step. “You sure though?”

He turns to look at you, a smile on his lips though his brows furrow a little in the middle. “Yeah, why?”

“Just,” you shrug. “I thought you seemed a bit quiet back there with Lawrence.”

Jungkook turns away and shrugs. “I’m all good, no reason not to be.” 

It’s not exactly convincing to you, but you take his word for it. If it’s something he wants to tell you, he’ll tell you in his own time if he wants to. Or, it’s actually just nothing and you’re overthinking this for no reason. After all, there is no explanation that you can think of for Jungkook to be upset with Lawrence, especially when he was so happy to see him just now. Yes, you’re just overthinking it. 

“Y/N, Jungkook, please be on time for breakfast tomorrow and not an hour late like last time,” your mother scolds airily as she waves her hand behind her. 

“Yes, mom,” you smile as she turns into her cabin. 

“Will do,” Jungkook nods, raising a hand to say good night to your parents. 

Once their door is closed, Jungkook continues to walk with you towards your cabin. 

“You better wake up earlier this time,” you yawn, pulling out your key card. 

Jungkook scoffs, coming to a stop next to your door. “Me?!” He rests his hand against the door frame, leaning closer. “You’re the one who was still sleeping when I came down.”

Smiling, you shake your head. “You have no proof.”

He matches your smile, cocking his head. “Alright, I’m recording you tomorrow morning, don’t get mad at me when I get your bed head and dried dribble face on camera.”

“Hey,” you pout, leaning against the door frame. “I don’t dribble.”

Jungkook shrugs, smiling. ”Tomorrow I’ll have proof.”

You narrow your eyes at him, internally vowing to wake up early so you can be ready before he comes to you. “There’s no—“

“Oh, Jungkook, Y/N!” 

The sickeningly sweet cotton candy voice has your smile faltering. Jungkook winces, his face hidden from Valentina as she approaches from behind you. 

Slowly, you turn around to face her.

“Well isn’t this just perfect,” she beams, coming to stop beside you both. “We’re neighbours here!” 

Chuckling, you nod your head. “That really is perfect.” 

Valentine smiles again, glancing between the two of you before shrugging. “Well,” she sighs, opening her purse to look for her key card. “Don’t mind me, I was just grabbing a few things. You two enjoy your night.” She waves airily but doesn’t move. 

“Mhm, you too,” you nod. 

As she pulls out her key card, she’s just about to walk away before she pauses to focus on Jungkook and a delicate frown appears on her face. 

Glancing at him, you’re not surprised to see she’s frowning. Jungkook hasn’t said a word and he looks rather pained right now.

“Jungkook, are you okay?” She tilts her head. “You look a little…” She steps closer, frown deepening as she moves until all of a sudden she stops. “Oh.” Her eyes widen, an apologetic pout appearing on her face. “I see, was I interrupting something?” She asks, pointing between you both. 

For a second you’re confused — yes, she interrupted your conversation with Jungkook and she knows that already — but then you remember that you’re supposed to be in a romantic relationship with Jungkook, and the expression on Valentina's face tells you she thinks she’s interrupted something else. 

Jungkook is obviously just as confused. “Huh?”

“You’re both going to bed now, are you not?”

He frowns. “Uh, yeah…”

“Yes, I thought so. Apologies then…” She glances down towards Jungkook’s crotch as the words that follow imply it — “oh, sorry, I must’ve put that fire out.”

A strangled noise escapes Jungkook’s throat and he looks relatively mortified. “What?— no!” He takes a step closer to your side while you somehow pull him closer to your side protectively in an attempt to hide him from her. 

Valentina doesn’t respond to the expressions on neither of your faces and only sighs disappointedly, flipping her hair behind her shoulder. “I remember there was a time when I was the one to ignite the fire in your loins.”

The same strangled noise comes from Jungkook and you have to stop from bursting out into laughter. 

“Val,” Jungkook says, “were you not going somewhere?”

“Oh, yes.” She perks up, smiling brightly again. “Well you two lovebirds go ahead.” 

Just when you expect her to walk away, she doesn’t. In fact she stands there waiting for Jungkook and you to go into what she thinks is your shared cabin. 

“We will,” Jungkook says with the fakest smile you’ve seen on him.

Valentina only nods, still waiting.

Jungkook is about to say something again but you know there’s no point. Unlocking your door, you pull him into your room with you. “Bye, Val.”

“Good night,” you hear her respond as the door closes shut. 

Turning around to face Jungkook, you look at him with an expression crossed between shock and amusement. “Oh my God, how did you ever date her?!”

Jungkook groans, collapsing face down onto the end of your bed. “I swear she isn’t that bad, she’s doing it on purpose,” he says, muffled into the sheets.

Humming, you sit at the end of your bed beside him. “I guess so.” You lie down so you’re level with him.

Lying beside him, it’s quiet for a moment as you replay the exchange in your head. “So, she must’ve really been something if she was igniting the fire in your loins.” You can’t help but snort after saying it and Jungkook laughs beside you too, head still buried. 

Now that Valentina isn’t here, you allow yourself to laugh at it and you’re glad Jungkook does too. By the time you’re done laughing at it, you’re wiping away tears.

Lifting his head, he shakes his head. “This isn’t gonna be easy,” he says. 

“Yeah, she really doesn’t make it easy,” you respond quietly. 

Both of you fall silent for a moment again, listening carefully to see if you can hear her footsteps. 

“I can’t hear her anymore,” Jungkook says.

“Me neither.” You turn to look at him. 

He props himself up on his elbows. “So what now?”

“Well, we could wait till she goes away and then you sneak out,” you think aloud. “But how are we gonna do that every night?”

Jungkook nods, understanding. “So I should just stay?”

“I’m cool with it if you are,” you shrug.

For a moment, Jungkook doesn’t say anything, then he looks at you with a soft frown creasing his forehead. “Are you sure?”

“Totally sure,” you nod, rolling onto your side to lean on your elbow. “Besides, it’s not like we’ve made things easy for ourselves,” you add with a laugh. 

The lines seem to have disappeared from Jungkook’s face but when your eyes search for some kind of clue to his feelings, you find something you can’t decipher hiding behind the brown of his eyes. 

He smiles, releasing a soft breath as he does so, and only now do you realise how close your face is to his. 

“Promise me you’ll tell me if you feel uncomfortable?” he says. 

Nodding, you lift your pinky finger. 

He raises his own hand and closes his own pinky finger around yours. 

“I will,” you promise him.

His smile grows and oddly, you feel your heart do a little flutter in your chest as a warm feeling spreads through you. You’re suddenly reminded of how you felt earlier on in the evening as you lay on the balcony with Jungkook… has he always made you feel this way? Before you can let yourself think about it, Jungkook is leaping off the bed and with him, the feeling disappears. 

“So, I don’t plan on having your mum tell me off tomorrow morning so I’m going to sleep.” He turns to look at you, placing his hand on his hips.  “Slight problem though, my clothes are in my cabin.” 

“Then go get them, duh,” you answer.

“What if Valentina is still outside?” he says, pointing to the door. “It’s only been a few minutes, I wouldn’t be surprised if she’s trying to eavesdrop on us right now.”

“Hmm…” you can’t deny he has a point. “Well I guess,” you say, dropping your voice to a whisper, “you won’t know until you try.”

“Alright,” Jungkook sighs, grabbing his phone from the bed. 

You follow him to the door and you’re actually almost surprised when he opens it to reveal no one is there. Jungkook turns to look at you sporting a similar expression on his face and shrugs before stepping out. 

“I guess that makes things easier for us—“

You’re interrupted mid-sentence as Jungkook immediately turns back into the room with a slightly panicked expression, barging into you. 

“Jungkook!” Losing your balance, you feel yourself falling backwards with Jungkook stumbling forward. Your ass hits the floor first and you just manage to bring your arms behind you in time but your head still hits the carpeted floor behind you, and Jungkook who seems to fall in slow motion with you, eventually lands on top of you. 

“Oh I’m sorry,” he mumbles, pushing himself up onto his forearms.

“That really hurt,” you groan, squirming on the floor. You’re grateful the floor is carpeted but both your head and ass still hurt. 

Jungkook looks down at you with concern replacing any previous features. “Where?” 

Rubbing the back of your head, you frown at him. “Everywhere. Why’d you turn back?”

“She’s right there!” Jungkook suddenly whispers instead. “She was practically having sex against the wall with some guy.”

Still recovering from your fall, you look at him confused. “What?”

Jungkook grimaces. “She was outside her room with some guy.”

“But we just saw her!” you respond in a hushed whisper. 

“I know! He must’ve been close by and they were making out like their lives depended on—” 

“Well, this is interesting.”

Rolling your eyes at the sound of her voice, you let your head drop back onto the floor while Jungkook scrambles to move off of you. Moving beside you, he reveals Valentina standing at the door, her lipstick smudged and her hair a bit messier than it was a little while earlier.

She narrows her eyes, placing her hands on her hips. “Foreplay on the floor is new to me, and leaving the door open…” She looks directly at Jungkook. “I didn’t know you were into voyeurism.”

Jungkook visibly freaks out, getting up and pulling you with him. “No, gosh, it was an accident.”

Valentina frowns. “I don’t judge, Jungkook,” she says matter-of-factly.

“I wouldn’t care if you did,” he replies almost exasperatedly. “But this was just an accident, we fell over.”

“Hm, okay,” she says with a shrug as she glances at the bed. 

You know she doesn’t believe him but really there’s nothing else you can say to make her think otherwise. Besides, you don’t really care what she thinks while your head still hurts. 

“Well, anyway, I’ve got to go.” She looks back at you with a smirk. “How about we both do our best to keep it down tonight, hm?” she winks before turning and fluttering her fingers. “Ta-ta angels, see you in the morning!”

As soon as she’s disappeared from view, you go shut the door behind her, leaning against the wood. 

“Okay, she is so doing it on purpose.”

“I know,” Jungkook agrees almost immediately. “I don’t get why though.”

“I know why,” you say, raising your brows. “She probably still isn’t over you.”

Jungkook shakes his head. “If anything, she’s just not used to people moving on from her. Her exes were always all over her when we were together.”

“So she expects you to go crawling back to her?”

“Pretty much,” he shrugs. “She’s really not helping herself though. Maybe I should talk to her, tell her to just give me space…” He looks at you, raising his brow in question.

“You could, but I reckon she’ll just act innocent and pretend she has no clue what you’re talking about.”

“True,” Jungkook sighs.

“Look, it’s fine,” you say, walking over to the drawer. “It’s just Val, nothing we haven’t dealt with before.” Throwing a set of satin pyjamas on the bed, you turn around to face him again. “Besides, I’m tired now, my head hurts and I’d like to sleep.”

The frown on Jungkook’s face doesn’t disappear. “It still hurts?” he asks, coming over to you. 

“Yeah, you knocked me over pretty hard, my ass hurts too,” you pout.

Jungkook chuckles, hands coming to rest on your shoulders and he squeezes gently. “Want me to massage it?” he jokes.

“Ooh, good idea. Let’s leave the door open too,” you laugh.

Jungkook smiles, still giving you a shoulder massage and you feel yourself letting go slowly. 

“Mm,” you hum softly, head relaxing. Jungkook steps closer and you let your forehead rest against his chest.

You don’t realise as Jungkook’s hands stop working and gently make their way around your waist, holding you up as you get lost in the warmth of his embrace.

“Should we go to bed before you fall asleep here?” Jungkook says after a moment. 

Pulling away from him, you smile with tired eyes. “Dibs on the bathroom first.”

Jungkook obliges and sits down on your bed while you go first. When it’s his turn, he goes quickly since he has the most minimal night time routine, one of which you’ve always been envious of. 

You’re just finishing brushing your hair when he’s coming out.

“What time is it?” he asks, stepping out as he dries his face. 

“Almost two,” you respond, getting up to walk over to your pyjamas on the bed. 

Jungkook turns around without being told, facing the opposite direction. “D’you think I could go get my clothes from upstairs now?”

You pull on your pyjama bottoms. “Probably not. I don’t think I have anything that would fit you either.”

“What do I do then?” Jungkook asks, his confused tone making you laugh.

“Don’t act like you don’t sleep naked half the time, Jeon.”

“Well when I’m alone, yeah. I don’t wanna make you uncomfortable,” he says.

“I’m not, don’t worry.” You clamber into bed, pulling the sheets up to your shoulders as you get comfortable. “Just get into bed.”

Still facing away from you, Jungkook shrugs before pulling off his top. You don’t realise you’re staring at him strip until he starts pulling down his pants.

Abruptly, you pull the covers up even higher so you can’t see him. You hear him shuffling and then he stops but you can’t feel him getting into bed.

“Really?” he says. “My abs offend you that much?”

You can’t help but laugh, still keeping your eyes closed as you move the sheets down but place your hand in front of your eyes instead.  “Actually, they make for pretty good eye candy.”

Jungkook gasps scandalously, still shuffling about the room. “Have you been checking me out, Y/N?”

Cocking your head, you smile. “Now what kind of best friend would I be if I didn’t appreciate you and your God given looks, hm?”

“A terrible one.”

“Exactly.”

“So why are you covering your eyes?” he asks, his voice growing louder as you feel the covers move beside you. 

“Because there’s another friend of yours that I don’t think I should be seeing as your best friend,” you say, ignoring the way you feel your cheeks go warm when you say it, and especially the way Jungkook’s deep chuckle sounds as you notice the bed dip beside you.

“He’s covered,” he says quietly.

“Not enough.”

Jungkook laughs again and this time you can feel his body beside yours. “That friend is hidden safe and sound, Y/N. You can look now.”

Peeking your eyes open slowly, you see Jungkook right beside you in bed. He’s sitting up, smiling down at you with his abs eye level to you. You’ve seen Jungkook topless before plenty of times, but being this close and being in bed with him is new to you. You’re sure it’s the reason you feel your heart rate rising. 

“Good,” you say, turning away. “Now hide the eye candy please. It’s bedtime, I’ve brushed my teeth and I’m not trying to get a cavity.”

Jungkook laughs, sliding down further into the bed to cover himself up to his shoulders. 

“They’re that sweet, huh?”

“I’d be disappointed if they weren’t, all that time in the gym would just be a waste.”

“Now that’s true,” Jungkook says with a smile, shifting in the bed so he’s more comfortable.

You hum quietly, staying still as Jungkook moves. Only once he’s found his comfortable position, then you do the same, turning onto your belly facing him. 

Jungkook happens to be facing you too and he smiles sleepily as his eyes close. “Good night, Y/N.”

Your eyes remain open for a few seconds as you look at him a little longer. “Mhm, night Koo,” you whisper, smiling even though he can’t see you. 

He looks pretty when he sleeps. You take in every one of his features, unaware that there is still a smile on your face as you do so.

Catching you unaware, Jungkook winks an eye open. “What’re you looking at, hm?” he asks softly with a teasing lilt to his voice. 

You feel flustered, eyes going wide. “There’s something on your face,” you say quickly, brushing nothing off of his face. “Eyelash or something,” you mutter, subconsciously shifting away from him a little since the close proximity definitely isn’t helping. 

“Uh-huh,” he nods, hiding a smile. 

You’re not sure what it is about his smile that makes your heart skip a beat and your senses go fuzzy like they’ve done so more than once now because of Jungkook. It’s odd, he’s not doing anything different, yet you feel different. Mentally, you officially dub this The Jungkook Effect. 

There’s not much you can say to defend yourself so you press your eyes shut and fight back a smile yourself. “Well, anyway, good night.”

“You sure you wanna sleep?” Jungkook teases. 

“Oh shut up,” you say with a laugh, you pull one of the pillows out from behind your head and place it in the small space between your torsos. 

Jungkook lifts his own head off his pillow and looks down at it with an amused smile. “Is this really necessary?”

Lifting your own head and resting on your palm, you arch your brow at him. “I’ve read enough books to know what happens when two people who aren’t dating share a bed.”

Jungkook mirrors your expression and dares to move an inch closer. “And what’s that?”

Smiling like the little know it all you are, you answer, “They wake up in the morning with someone’s cute ass, which would be mine in this case, conveniently pushed up against someone’s dick.”

Jungkook clicks his tongue and the smirk on his lips is clear as day. “Ah, which would be mine,” he says, briefly looking down. His lips look wet when he says it and for some reason you find yourself wanting this conversation to continue on the same wavelength it is right now… but it’s also at this moment you realise you’re lying in bed and practically flirting with your best friend.

“Exactly,” you say, letting out a small breath as you fall back into your pillow, looking up to the ceiling.

Pursing his lips, Jungkook hides a smile. “Well I guess we definitely don’t want that to happen.”

You stifle a laugh as you lightly whack him with the pillow between you before putting it back in its place. “Shut it, Jeon.” 

He chuckles, falling back into his pillow. “Just kidding,” he murmurs, sliding further beneath the covers and getting comfortable. “Good night, Y/N.”

With a tired smile, you hum. “Good night, Koo.”

The stops at St Tropez and Nice both pass as quickly as the first few cities in Spain and before you know it, you’ve visited all the cities scheduled for France too. The stop in Barcelona has been your favourite so far though — the resort the Diamindis’ booked for the families on the cruise most definitely did not disappoint and the riding you got to do was just a big bonus, especially watching Alias struggling with his mare. 

The whole Jungkook situation has been pretty easy to navigate too. Now that the important people in your life know it’s not real, it makes it easier and Jungkook and you only need to behave as you normally do so you’re both happy. On top of that, you’ve noted that you haven’t had any more experiences with the Jungkook effect, though you’re not sure you can say that pleases you. 

It’s also been a while since you’ve hung out with Lawrence. He seemed to stay close in the first few days but you figured it must be his parents encouraging him to socialise with some of the other families since he’s not at home much. This became true enough when you saw him stuck at a table in some fancy restaurant in Nice with the Maddison’s. 

Although you did hope to get to spend some more time with Lawrence, at least for old times sake, you can’t say you care much, especially since Sophia has finally joined you. 

“Why don’t we go to the pool?” you say, raising your brows at Sophia. It’s almost midnight but you’re still lounging on a quieter deck with Jungkook and Alias. Since it’s a sea day tomorrow, you don’t need to be up early and it seems like it’ll be more fun than the last time now that Sophia is here too.

She perks up at that, turning towards you. “It’s closed right?”

“Yep, but that just makes it better,” you smile, ignoring Jungkook and Alias scoffing at your change in opinion — last time you were adamant that you should be following the rules. 

“Okay, let’s do it.” She looks at Jungkook and Alias. “You guys joining us?”

“Sure,” Alias hops up. “It’ll be fun to see Y/N break the rules,” he grins at you.

Sassing him, you get up too. “This time I’m pushing you in.”

“I’d like to see you try.” Alias tenses, flexing his biceps. “I’m 73 kilos of this,” he nods.

It’s no secret that Alias has an impressive figure, but unwilling to cave, you just roll your eyes and playfully swat his arm. “Whatever.”

“Alright, let’s meet at the top deck pool in ten minutes?” Jungkook says hopping up from the lounge. 

“Make that fifteen,” Sophia says. “I don’t know where I put all my swimsuits.”

Agreeing, you all head towards the upper decks, only splitting up to go towards your respective corridors to your cabins. Sophia and Alias go right towards the corridor where their family cabins are situated, while Jungkook and you still need to walk a little further to get back to your shared cabin.

Surprisingly, it’s been easy to share a cabin with Jungkook. Most days you come back from whatever activity you had that day and knock out easily since you’re so tired. On top of that, your pillow idea seems to be working perfectly and you haven’t experienced any awkward or uncomfortable moments. There have, however, been a few times you’ve mistaken the pillow for Jungkook and in the split second it takes you to realise it’s only the pillow, you can swear your heart skips a beat and your pulse races. The disappointment that follows is something you can’t seem to explain to yourself. 

“So Sophia comes and all of a sudden you’re Little Miss Daredevil, huh?” Jungkook says, as you walk together. 

You glance at him and note how handsome he looks today. After spending some time in the sea while in Nice, his dark locks are curled and framing his face perfectly. He walks with his hands in his short pockets and the linen material of his shirt blows in the evening air giving the occasional glimpse of his lean figure. It occurs to you that this is going to be coming off in a short while when you go to the pool—

Oop. You pause your thoughts, realising that the little flutter you just felt down south was definitely due to picturing your best friend topless. A part of you feels guilty wondering if Jungkook would be embarrassed, but you also know that Jungkook knows what you think of his physique. You pretty much said it all the other night and he’s caught you looking plenty of times before that, even making jokes about it when you did.

“She brings out that side of me,” you sigh, smiling as you descend the steps that lead towards your corridor.

“Alias and I aren’t good enough for you, huh?”

“Don’t take it personally,” you joke, and Jungkook just laughs quietly so he doesn’t wake up anyone as you walk past some cabins. 

Once back at your own, you quickly change into a bathing suit and throw on a hoodie and shorts so in case any staff see you, they don’t suspect you’re planning on going to the pool.

Alias is already waiting at the top deck and you can also see he’s brought some drinks along with him. He’s chosen not to cover up and is revealing his washboard abs for the whole world to see, and let’s not forget those killer thighs of his. 

“Beat you here,” he says without even thinking.

“Who was counting?” Jungkook says, bumping shoulders with him on purpose. 

“I was,” Alias responds, and quickly the two resort to their childish antics as Jungkook pulls him into a headlock. You choose to sit and watch, dipping your toes in the pool as you throw your hoodie to the side. 

“Guys, shut up, we can hear you from a mile away,” you hear Sophia’s voice from behind you as she climbs the steps to your deck. 

Jungkook and Alias stop mid-wrestle and you get up to pull your shorts off. 

“Huh?” Alias frowns, pulling himself free from Jungkook. “We?”

Once Sophia is standing on the deck, you see someone else coming up behind her. 

Lawrence. 

Sophia steps to the side as he steps up. “Yeah, we,” she repeats. 

“Hey guys,” Lawrence says with a harmless smile, glancing across at you all.

“Hey,” you smile back.

“Oh, hey man,” Alias waves. 

Jungkook smiles too with a nod of his head. 

“I saw Lawrence on the way so I thought I’d ask him to join us,” Sophia explains as she too pulls off an oversized hoodie. 

“I hope that’s alright,” Lawrence chuckles awkwardly.

“The more the merrier,” Alias says with a shrug. “So,” he looks at you, “who are we pushing in first?”

“You,” you smile. 

Alias spreads his arms, inviting you. “I’d love to see you try, babe.”

Glancing to his right, you subtly raise your brow at Jungkook who smiles back at you. In a split second, Alias is being lifted from the ground and tossed into the pool. 

Sophia and you jump into the pool right after, surfacing close to Alias.

“I thought we were friends,” he laughs at Jungkook splashing water towards him. “Gosh, I forgot how whipped you are.” 

Jungkook just laughs and shrugs. “Sorry, man,” is all he says.

“You getting in?” Sophia asks Lawrence as she joins you next to the pool, dipping your toes first. 

He nods. “I guess.” He glances around looking at the empty surroundings. This top deck is pretty big considering it’s wholly private.

“What?” Alias holds out his arms. “We’re not good enough for you?” he jokes. 

“Of course you are,” Lawrence says before he shrugs, lips curving into a smile. “I just think with all this space, we could do something more.”

“Oh.” Sophia raises her brows, intrigued. “Like what?”

She speaks for all of you as you all look at him.

“I risk sounding like a five year old,” he says with a small laugh, “but how about hide and seek.” He looks around again. “We’re on a ship, we’ve got plenty of hiding spaces.”

The rest of you glance at each other and it’s clear that you’re all in agreement.

Alias jumps out of the pool. “Alright, but it’s hide and seek chase.” He grabs a towel and dries himself off. “I’m it first,” he adds with a devilish smile.

“Even better,” Lawrence says, pleased that everyone is on board. “Are we splitting up or staying together?”

“I’ll go with Y/N,” Jungkook says, approaching your side as you get up from the side of the pool. The air is chilly to your wet skin but you quickly warm up as Jungkook helps you pat dry.

“I’ll stay with Lawrence,” Sophia says, walking over to his side.

“Alright let’s stick to the top two decks when hiding, but if I’m chasing you, we can go anywhere,” Alias says, pulling on a linen tee.

“Where’s the base?” you ask, covering yourself up too. 

“Here?” Sophia proposes.

“Or only inside the pool,” Jungkook adds to the suggestion with a shrug.

Lawrence nods in agreement, as do the rest of you.

“Alright,” Alias smirks. “Ready?” He doesn’t wait for an answer before starting to count down, “one hundred, ninety nine, ninety eight…”

The rest of you bolt immediately knowing that 100 seconds with Alias will only be 50, if that.

Sophia doesn’t even wait for Lawrence’s confirmation before running in the direction she came from but he follows her anyway.

With a tight hold on your hand, Jungkook pulls you in the opposite direction, already running faster than you can keep up with. 

“Slow down,” you laugh, squeezing his hand.

“C’mon,” he says without turning back and without slowing down. “We gotta get away first, he’s only gonna count to ten.”

Just as you suspected, even with the distance that’s been put between you already, you can hear Alias yell out for you all to hear.

“Ready or not, here I come.”

You’re just grateful there’s no cabins near here. 

It feels like you’re running for a mile, starting outside before Jungkook takes you through a door and down multiple corridors and even two smaller staircases you had no idea existed. He’s slower now which comes and a relief to you, but you’re still panting from all the sprinting.

“Koo, where the hell are we going?” you ask, tugging on his hand to make him stop.minutes, you find yourself on a part of the ship you’ve never been to before.

“You’re lost, aren’t you?” you say, not really caring about being lost because you’re just glad Jungkook stopped running.

“No, I’ve been here before.” Judging by the way he’s walking, it does seem like he knows where he’s going. “We’re near our cabin.” 

“Really?” You look around, frowning at your surroundings. “I don’t recognise it.”

“Yep,” Jungkook takes your hand as he taps his pass on a door to go down a corridor which you still don’t recognise but from the smell, seems to be near the kitchen. 

“Wait, Jungkook…” you pause, looking back at a small sign above where Jungkook tapped his card. Staff only. “How?” you ask in bewilderment.

Jungkook just pulls you forward with a smug look on his face “Alias gave it to me. He got one for himself and Alex too.”

Of course he did. “He’s trying to get us kicked off, I swear.”

“It’s just for a little fun,” Jungkook grins. “Besides, this way, we can win the game.”

“Yeah, except Alias can get in here too then.”

Coming to a split in the corridor, Jungkook stops. “Oh yeah,” he mumbles. “Well, 

“Hey!”

Jungkook and you both turn on the spot to the sound of a voice from ahead of you. It’s a member of staff, the same one from the night Alias and Jungkook jumped in the pool. He seemed pretty mad at the time and seeing his expression now as he starts walking towards you, he seems the same. You don’t blame him, he was chasing you guys for the better part of ten minutes.

“Run?” Jungkook whispers, his fingers clasping yours tightly.

“Run,” you nod.

Before you know it, your legs are moving as Jungkook leads you down the closest corridor.

“Hey! Stop!” 

You almost feel bad about running away, but at the same time, you know that the guy is only trying to stop you to feed whatever power trip he’s on, so you keep running as fast as you can to try to keep up with Jungkook.

“Do you know where you’re going?” you huff, looking over your shoulder.

The guy is right behind you. 

“No,” Jungkook laughs, slowing down as he sees a corridor to his right. 

“Keep going,” you laugh too, pulling him down the corridor before the guy can catch up. 

“Oi, I said stop!” he yells.

“What d’you think, Y/N?” Jungkook asks, though he shows no sign of stopping. “Should we listen to him?”

“Never,” you respond, glancing back again. He seems to be slowing down but you don’t stop yet. This time, you take the lead and go down a smaller corridor which you realise leads to a staircase.

“Up,” Jungkook ushers you, letting you go first. Luckily it;s a short one and Jungkook comes up close behind you.

“Left or right?” you ask, glancing down the corridor. The left leads to a door which heads outside, the right leads to a door which seems to hide a dimly lit corridor.

Jungkook takes your hand again, going left. As he pushes the door open, you hear the guy is still coming close behind you. “Stop,” he yells.

You’re honestly surprised he’s still chasing you but you’re also tired now and really just want to stop. “Koo, I think I have asthma,” you breathe out, feeling your steps slow down.

Jungkoook chuckles, looking back at you. “Y/N, we’ve been through this before, you don’t have asthma.”

You would pout because you know he’s righ and you still want to stop but you also don’t want that guy to catch up to you. 

Still, Jungkook glances around while jogging as though he’s looking for something. “Ah, there!”

You’re too tired to ask what, only letting Jungkook lead you across the deck to a door which takes you back inside. As you enter, you see the staff still coming behind you. Gosh, he’s bothered. After only a few yards, Jungkook uses the staff pass to open a door on your right. Inside is a small room with a few shelves lining the walls and one big one in the middle; it’s full of rescue equipment.

“What the hell, Koo?” you laugh, letting him take you inside as he closes the door quickly. 

He takes you to hide behind the biggest shelf in the middle of the room. With your back pressed against it, he stands close in front of you so he can still see the door.

When you look up at him, you see a massive grin on his face and that mischievous gleam in his eyes that you love.

“You’re crazy,” you murmur, restraining a laugh.

“Shh,” he whispers, placing his hand beside your head as he takes the smallest step closer, one that’s enough for you to feel the warmth of his breathing as his chest rises and falls so close to you. 

The sensation makes you fall quiet anyway and you’re sure that even if you did speak, no one from outside would be able to hear you, but you’re rather enjoying the feeling of having him this close to you. The smell of his perfume – your favourite – fills you with every heavy inhale as you catch your breath too, and suddenly, you find this feeling familiar.

That damned Jungkook effect. 

Since you’re stuck here hiding for a few moments, you can do nothing but just embrace it as it comes. Apparently you’re embracing it a little too much as you don’t realise your eyes close and your head slowly moves closer to his chest. It just feels so good being this close to him – feeling his warmth, smelling him… his body is so close to yours, you wonder what would happen if you just took another step forward and–

“You okay there?” Jungkook’s voice comes out low with a humorous lilt.

‘“Hm?” Your eyes go wide as you realise your head was resting on his chest. “Sorry,” you mumble, suddenly feeling your cheeks go warm. “I’m tired, it’s late.”

“Mhm, that’s okay.”

Looking up, you see the mischievous gleam in his eyes has changed to something playful. 

“You can use me as a pillow anytime,” he adds with a wink.

Scoffing, you poke him in the chest. “Well I gotta put these pecs to use somehow.”

He laughs quietly before poking his head out to the side. “Come on, I think he’s gone and we’ve got a game to get back to.”

You follow him to the door and find the corridor empty, thankfully. “Alias has probably already found the other guys.”

“That would make us the winners.”

“Mm, I’m pretty sure we’re supposed to get back to base first.”

“Oh, yeah.” Jungkook pauses, looking around. “Where is the base from here?”

“Um…” Stopping beside him, you look around too. It’s hard to tell when it’s dark but there’s some parts of the deck which look familiar to you. “I think we keep going forward.”

“Actually, I think we’ve passed the way up.”

“What?” you frown, looking up confused. 

“Well the pool was at one of the top decks and there’s one way up which we missed, no?”

“I don’t think so.”

Jungkook looks down at you, his brows raised. “Really?”

“Really,” you say, taking his hand to tug him along, except he doesn’t move. When you look back at him, you see he’s got his brows raised with a smile, one that only spells a challenge. 

“Oh, c’mon, Koo,” you sigh. 

He shrugs before swinging your hand. “Let’s see who gets there first then,” he says in a sing-songy voice.

“Fine,” you shrug, already turning away from him. “Just be careful Alias doesn’t get you on your way.”

“I’ll be fine, just look out for yourself,” he responds as he already starts skipping back the other way. 

Shaking your head, you turn back to look at your surroundings. You’re sure there’s a small staircase somewhere near here that you’re supposed to go up which should be close to the pool. It’s when you’re glancing around now that you realise it’s actually quite scary being alone on an empty deck late at night with no company but the sea.

Taking a few steps back, you look down the way you came to see if Jungkook might still be there but of course he’s not – he’s probably running to make sure he gets back before you.

Sighing, you continue down the path that seems familiar to you, only to hear a small bang from somewhere in front of you. Immediately, you’re relieved to see Lawrence coming around the corner ahead of you.

He smiles when he sees you. “Hey,” he says, voice hushed. 

“Hey,” you answer, looking behind him. “Was that bang you?”

He looks back, confused for a split second before he nods. “Oh, yeah, I just jumped down the last few steps when I was coming down.”

“Right. Where’s Alias and Sophia?”

“Well Alias tried to get me just a little while ago but I lost him,” he says, looking proud of himself before he frowns. “Where’s Jungkook?”

“We split up,” you answer with a smug smile. “He thinks the base is back this way.” You point in the direction that he went in. “But I know it’s this way.” You point in the opposite direction.

Lawrence chuckles, looking at you somewhat endearingly though it goes unnoticed by you. “Uh, Y/N, it’s the other way.”

“Huh?” you frown, looking back. “Really?” 

“Yep,” he nods, hiding an amused smile. “I can show you the way if you like?”

Sighing in defeat, you agree to go with him. “It’s not like I have any chances of beating him now.”

“Ah,” Lawrence sighs as he falls into stride beside you. “Still got the competitive streak I see?”

“Me?” you laugh quietly, glancing at him.

“Mhm, you,” he says matter-of-factly, still sporting a smile.

Looking at him now, you note how relaxed and care-free he seems. You’re not sure whether it’s because his usually swept back hair is now falling freely, or if it’s because of the glow on his face from the light sheen of sweat from the humidity of the evening air. It’s nice to see him like this, even the smile is a difference – growing up he always seemed so mysterious and quiet which no doubt had to do with the pressure he faced as an only child and a big family name to live up to. 

“Well, it’s good you remember. I won’t be losing today either,” you say with a playful nudge.

“Oh, don’t worry,” he laughs. “If we bump into Alias, I’m ditching you fast.”

“I hope so, you’re dead weight to me.”

“Hey!” He nudges you back as he still laughs, loosely running his hand through his hair.

“Mm, remember when we were kids?” you say, suddenly reminiscing. “We used to do this stuff all the time.”

Lawrence nods. “I do,” he says with a smile. “There was one Christmas, we all went up to that chalet in… oh, where was it?” he frowns, looking at you. “Courchevel?”

“Hm…” You shake your head as it rings a bell. “I don’t think so, there was only one year we celebrated Christmas abroad all together and it wasn’t in France.”

“Switzerland?”

“Yes!” You say, pointing your finger at him as you suddenly remember the finer details of the trip.  “At St Moritz, we had that massive suite at Kempinski.”

“That's the one,” Lawrence says with a smile matching yours. “D’you remember those nights we would always want to go out but our parents never let us? So we used to run around hiding from them.”

“Mhm,” you nod. “I remember Leon and Helena would get so mad, even I was scared of them but their own kids never even cared.”

“My parents got mad too but we still did it every night,” Lawrence laughs, his walk slowing down as the two of you approach the bow. “I wonder how he were so brave,” he continues, “I bet it was Alias’s idea, all the fun stuff was always his idea.”

“Mm, actually, I think it was yours,” you say, tilting your head towards him. 

“Really?” Lawrence questions, brow raised as he walks closer to the ledge overlooking the tranquil evening sea though you can’t actually see much besides a distant glittering coastline. 

“Mhm, really,” you nod, coming to stand beside him.

Lawrence turns so he’s facing you, a thoughtful expression on his face but his lips are still curved in a smile as they have been this whole time. “I’m surprised you remember.”

You shrug. “I remember a lot of things.”

Lawrence opens his mouth as though to say something before closing it. 

“What?” you ask, turning to face him too. 

He shakes his head. “I was about to ask something but it’s probably gonna sound stupid.”

“Stupid questions are my favourite to answer,” you say with a smile. 

He arches a brow, his smile changing to something more timid. “D’you remember a lot about me or just everything in general?”

You laugh, not having expected that. Lawrence isn’t really the conceited type so you don’t think it’s coming from a place of vanity, and the shy hesitancy he says it with almost makes him seem cute — like he wants you to say him.

“Both I guess,” you answer honestly. 

He laughs too, one that reminds you of the days you spent daydreaming about him. It feels almost nostalgic, certainly not the same. If this was a few years ago you might’ve gotten butterflies from just hearing that laugh but now you only feel happy to see him letting his guard down and smiling which is a rare occurrence with him.

“Are you surprised?” you ask.

“Well, yeah,” he says, still with a shyness. “I thought I just went unnoticed in school.”

“Unnoticed? You were without a doubt one of the most popular guys in school.”

He shrugs. “Never felt like it.”

You scoff in amusement. “Yeah, because imagine being the one to receive almost 100 cards on Valentine’s Day every year, not to mention the endless notes in your lockers.”

“Ah,” Lawrence laughs softly. “Okay I see your point.” He glances towards you. “Never got one from you though.”

“I was too shy,” you say, trying to hide the truth a little with a tone of sarcasm. 

“Probably would’ve said yes if it was from you,” he says with a playful smirk.

“Thanks for telling me this late,“ you laugh. “But wait…” You look at him in amusement, having just processed some of what he’s said. “So you’re telling me you had no idea that I had a crush on you in school?!”

Confusion is the first and only emotion you manage to catch on Lawrence’s face, the rest passing in a second. “I had no idea!” he says, half laughing while still in what can only be surprise. “You liked me?” He looks at you and you notice a tinge of pink colouring his cheeks.

“For a long time,” you laugh. “Though I don’t know why, you never paid me much attention until college.”

Lawrence doesn’t skip a beat when answering. “I had to! I’m two years older than you, any attention I wanted to give you throughout school might’ve just caused problems and I didn’t want that for you.”

“Well, how thoughtful of you to not want me to be the subject of stupid rumours, meanwhile I was left to pine over you,” you say somewhat sarcastically but still humourful. “If only I knew that you were being so considerate…” only now do you realise exactly what it is that Lawrence has just said… “Hang on.” You pause, brows creasing as you turn to look at him. “You what?”

Lawrence suddenly hesitates, timidly. “I had a thing for you,” he mumbles after a few seconds.

“You did?”

“Mhm, for a while. It’s always been there… still is.”

Your head is reeling… you could’ve had Lawrence. You still could have Lawrence – he’s telling you as much – but…

“Why didn’t you ever say anything?” you ask softly, still dumbfounded.

“I wanted to,” he admits with a small smile, just about managing to look at you now. “Your first year of college, but you seemed so carefree and I didn’t wanna be the older guy tying you down. Even though it’s just one year, everyone has fun in first year so I wanted you to have that too.” He purses his lips before releasing a small breath as he looks away. 

“I wouldn’t have cared about that,” you say quietly with a laugh. 

To your relief, Lawrence laughs too, albeit awkwardly. “Really?”

“Yeah,” you shrug.

“Well, for what it’s worth, I tried again in my last year, your third.” He glances at you before shrugging. “I don’t think you cared for it though.”

It’s easy to remember what he’s talking about now — there’s no way you wouldn’t remember all the times Lawrence tried to shoot his shot with you, especially because you could never figure out why you denied it to him and yourself.

Lawrence continues in your moment of silence. “I always thought it was because of Jungkook.”

All the thoughts come to a standstill in your mind… 

“Now I know I was right,” Lawrence says with a wistful smile. 

Is this your answer? The reason you never wanted to pursue Lawrence even after having a crush on him for so long — because of Jungkook? 

It’s even crazier to you that right now, it doesn’t seem so bizarre. 

Jungkook has always felt right. Maybe you do care about him in more ways than you realised, maybe everything Lawrence is saying is true, and maybe everything Alex has been saying for months now is true. There’s obviously a reason you’ve started to feel differently around him, not to mention you’re always finding any and every excuse to be with him.

Lawrence continues, unaware of the thoughts unravelling in your head. “I just wish I’d had the courage to say something sooner, but it’s my fault.” He takes a step closer and the feeling of his hand brushing yours draws you back into this moment. 

Looking up, you meet his gaze to see soft eyes and furrowed brows. 

“Now it’s all out there though,” he says in a voice quiet enough to be a whisper, “I have to know…” 

His eyes search yours and he hesitates for a brief moment before you feel his fingers lace between yours. “It is too late, right?”

note. please interact with all parts and share your thoughts with me! <3 part 2 here

[pillow-coded]

To Have and to Hold — Chapter 1

Summary: finding a lost toddler's mother in the library wasn’t how Spencer expected to spend his afternoon. Later, when her mother arrives—panicked, breathless, and beautiful—Spencer starts to forget how to breathe. Couple: Spencer Reid/Fem!Reader Category: Slow Burn Series (NSFW, 18+) Content Warning: Brief depiction of a lost child, mild panic from a parent, emotional vulnerability word count: 5.3k

A/N: This is the first work I had the guts to post (genuinely scared lol), slow updates! (so sorry, but uni is killing me), and lastly, English isn't my native language, so please do let me know if i got any grammar mistakes! (also not proofread cause i'm too embarrassed to show any of my friends)

Series Masterlist

Libraries have always been a great comfort for me. It’s a place full of knowledge, warmth, peace. Maybe it’s the smell of old books and how I can easily link that smell to the amiable parts of my childhood.

Those Autumn nights when everything was fine, where my wires were still intact. Mom was doing well back then. She’d read to me those old books she collected from all her years of teaching. That’s how I saw them back then... Old, decrepit books that contained the most fun stories... At least, I found them fun. Like Shakespeare’s Tales Retold – child-friendly versions of Shakespeare’s works.

Nowadays, they’re more than just fond stories or old books. Those books are relics and a memory of when my mother was... well, more lucid.

What I loved most about libraries was the quietness of it all. I spent a couple of hours of my day when I could, basking in the quiet. It was nice not to have to hear the gruesome details of some innocent woman murdered in cold blood.

Days like these only made the quietness feel even better. Soft Autumn day, nearing Winter already. We had just come back from a tough case, children were involved. Thankfully, we managed to get on time.

I had watched that boy while JJ tried to talk to him, trying to understand what had happened to him. He was barefoot, his hair disheveled, and he looked achingly thin. We later found that the boy’s parents held a “discipline ring.” According to his parents, it was a “behavior modification” experiment—one they claimed was “research-backed,” designed to “train” their child into being the perfect prodigy. The boy was denied food, affection, and even basic care when he disobeyed. But worse? The parents live-streamed it all on private forums for a group of like-minded “disciplinarians.”

It didn’t matter that we caught his parents. That the live-stream was shut down. That the others in that so-called “discipline ring” were going to prison. None of it mattered when he looked up at me with those eyes—hollow but obedient. Like love was something he still thought he had to earn.

I don’t think I’ve ever hated anyone more than I hated those people.

I’ve done a lot of pretending in my life. Pretended I wasn’t scared. Pretended I wasn’t lonely. Pretended I didn’t want a family of my own. But that boy—he didn’t know how to pretend. He didn’t know how to fake normal. He just waited patiently in that hospital bed for someone to love him back.

I couldn’t stop thinking about it, which is why I had decided to come to the library instead of resting after the case like a normal person. I needed a moment of peace, a moment of quiet.

That moment of quietness was rudely interrupted—torn apart by high-pitched, desperate sobbing. I turn to my left, and there's a girl at the end of the long corridor full of bookcases. A tiny one at that, since the whole corridor looked gigantic compared to her.

She couldn’t have been more than five, barely tall enough to brush the second shelf. A statistical outlier in this ocean of silence, suddenly very, very loud. There was something unsettling about how her tiny fists rubbed at her eyes. Children cried in a language everyone understood.

“Are you lost?” I ask hesitantly, not moving from my spot in the corridor. The little girl stops crying for a brief moment. Well, not stop, but slowed down. Her big eyes are still so full of fear and tears, but they open wide to look at me as if she hadn’t been expecting someone to help.

She doesn’t say anything.

Just looks at me—eyes still shimmering, lips trembling, chest stuttering around hiccuped sobs. She’s scared. That much is obvious. But it’s the way she clutches the fabric of her little coat that really gets me. Like it’s the only thing tethering her to the earth right now.

I walk towards her. I'm not close—just close enough to show I’m not a threat. A non-threatening stranger in a cardigan and tie, kneeling among the books like I’m part of the furniture.

She stares, still trembling, still silent.

“It’s okay,” I murmur gently. “I’m not going to come closer unless you want me to. I just want to help.”

Her little hand scrubs clumsily at her cheek. She sniffles, her shoulders curling inward. Still holding it in. Still trying to be brave.

Then, finally—after a moment that feels like something unspooling—she shakes her head. And her voice, when it comes, is a soft, crumpled thing:

“I can’t find my mommy.”

I nod, matching her quietness. “Okay. Thank you for telling me.”

A pause.

“I’ll help you find her, alright? No rush. We can check the kiddie section together. That’s probably where she’ll look first.”

I didn’t offer my hand. It felt like too much for both of us. Instead, I walked beside her, slow and steady, letting the silence settle between us like soft dust. She kept sniffling quietly the whole walk down.

I desperately needed a way to make the little cries stop.

“What's your name, sweetheart?” I asked softly.

She tilted her head back to look up at me—really look this time. She was so small she had to crane her neck to find my eyes. Her expression still carried that flicker of uncertainty, her trust not quite earned yet.

“I’m Spencer.”

She doesn’t answer right away.

Just stares for a second, like she’s still deciding whether I’m safe. Then, in the tiniest voice—barely above a whisper—she says:

“...Maddie.”

Maddie.

I nod, repeating it once under my breath to make it real.

“That’s a beautiful name, Maddie.”

She says nothing, but her fingers curl tighter around the hem of her coat. She’s still scared, but she’s not looking away anymore.

Progress.

I scan the rows of shelves ahead. The kiddie section’s not far now—colorful bean bags, tiny chairs, picture books splayed on wide tables.

“Do you like magic tricks, Maddie?”

She nods her tiny head, her eyes warming up to me at the thought.

I felt something in my stomach… I wasn’t sure what it was. Maybe yearning?

She nods—just once—and I see it. That flicker of trust, like a light turning on behind her eyes. Not quite safety, but something near it.

And something stirs in my stomach.

I don’t know what to call it. It’s not adrenaline, and it’s not fear. Maybe it’s yearning. Not for her, necessarily—but for what she has. What she’s lost. What she’s looking for.

For someone to come back for her.

For someone to call her name.

“Okay… how about I show you some magic tricks while we wait for your mommy to get here? that sound fun, Maddie?”

This time she nods enthusiastically. Her big eyes excited to see what sorcery I had planned to show her.

I dig the pocket of my pants, my movements slow and deliberate. I pull out a simple quarter. It’s nothing special. Just a plain, shiny quarter that for some reason, I’ve held on to for way longer than I should’ve.

“Behold,” I announce, holding it up between two fingers like it’s enchanted. “A perfectly ordinary quarter.”

She leans in, captivated—eyes locked on the coin like it’s something rare. A small smile starts to tug at her cheeks.

“It’s your everyday quarter,” I say, twirling the tiny thing between my fingers, doing my best to keep this unfamiliar girl comforted—as if her calm is the only thing keeping me steady.

“Watch closely.”

I place the coin on my open palm and slowly close my fingers around it. Then, with my free hand, I give the air above my fist a little wave—like I’m stirring something invisible.

“And now… it’s gone.”

I open my hand. Empty.

She gasps.

I see it—the way her mouth falls open, the way her eyes light up like I’ve just rewritten the rules of the universe.

I lean in, just a little. Not too close.

“Huh. That’s strange…” I murmur, pretending to look around her, behind her, above her. “Where could it have gone…?”

And then, with a slow, deliberate motion, I reach behind her ear, and pull the coin free like I just plucked a star from the sky.

Her breath catches. She stares at the quarter in my fingers like it’s a miracle.

“It was behind your ear this whole time,” I whisper, grinning.

She beams at me, her fear momentarily forgotten. Her laughter is soft but real, bright and bubbly and innocent in a way that makes something sharp tug behind my ribs.

“Are you a sorcerer?” She asks, her big, curious eyes staring into my soul, trying to get answers out of me.

I blink, “A sorcerer?”

She nods, completely serious, “like the ones in Harry Potter.”

I chuckle fondly at her question, “Well… I don’t have a broom. Or a wand. Or an Owl.”

“But you made the coin vanish…” She pouts slightly, and although the sight of her minor pout was adorable, I would’ve given anything to see her smile again.

I didn’t know why. Maybe it was the case that had me feeling so fond of a child I just met. Maybe it got all the loose wires within me, all frayed and sparking from things I still hadn’t worked through. But there was something about this moment—this tiny human with tear-streaked cheeks and a Harry Potter reference—that made something ache deep in my chest.

I felt it so sharply it almost hurt.

This... this mattered.

And I hated how much I wanted it—interactions like this. Not just the comfort or the connection but the permanence. The possibility of something that was mine.

Kids of my own.

I glance down at her, still wide-eyed, still waiting for more magic. Her little hands twitch with excitement like she’s ready to believe anything I say.

“Yeah, but it’s only a magic trick, sweetheart,” I murmur, trying to offer the truth gently, without breaking the illusion. Without hurting her feelings.

But maybe I shouldn’t.

Maybe I should let her believe in it a little longer. Let her live in the dream. Give her what I wish someone had given me at that age—a reason to believe in wonder.

So I sigh, dramatically, like I’m about to confess something world-altering.

“Okay… you got me. But you can’t tell anyone, alright?”

She leans in, eyes shining.

“I’m actually a wizard.”

She gasps, delighted. A smile blooms across her face so fast it nearly knocks the air out of me.

“I knew it!” she squeals.

“Yeah, you did,” I grin back. “You’re a smart one, aren’t you?”

She looks like she’s about to burst with thousands of questions. Eyes wide and shining with a special curiosity. I just hope her parent doesn’t murder me for fueling these wizard dreams that she has.

“Are you friends with Harry?”

I try my best to suppress a warm chuckle, but I can’t help the smile that shines through.

“Harry Potter?” She nodded so hard at my response that I worried her head might pop off. “Well… I haven’t seen him in a while. He’s mostly busy these days. But yes, we’ve met.”

She gasped and covered her mouth with her hands, and this time, I couldn’t subdue the fond chuckles that her reactions got out of me.

“Can you show me more magic?”

I smile, helpless to deny her. “Alright. One more, but you gotta sit down for this one.” I say, holding up a finger like I’m laying down a rule neither of us will actually follow.

She hurries to a small chair in the kid tables. Wiggles in place, hands clasped in front of her like she’s bracing for something incredible.

I reach into my pocket again, fingers brushing against the familiar coolness of the coin.

“But you have to pay very close attention, okay? This one’s advanced wizardry.”

She nods like she’s preparing for a test at Hogwarts.

“We have, the very same coin from earlier,” I move the coin to the center of my palm, “But if I place it right here… and you keep your eyes on it…”

I curl my fingers over it, give them a little dramatic wiggle.

“This simple quarter will just…”

Disappear. Or—it’s supposed to.

Everything was going fine. The coin’s in my palm. My fingers close around it. I make the usual gesture—slight misdirection, a practiced flick of the wrist, the classic illusion.

Except this time… something goes wrong. There’s a soft metallic clink followed by—

“Ow!”

Not me. Behind me.

The little girl’s eyes go wide, delighted at first by the trick. But then her head snaps toward the voice—the one behind me, the one that just yelped in surprise.

And just like that… the magic disappears.

“Mommy!” She takes off running.

I stand and turn instinctively, ready to reassure the parent—let her know her daughter’s safe, that I was only trying to help. Maybe even apologize for the quarter that, somehow, made impact.

But then I see her.

And for a moment… I forget what I was about to say.

She’s standing there, breathless, eyes wide with relief, and the softest kind of panic still clinging to her expression. The kind that says she’s been searching—not just through the aisles, but through every possible worst-case scenario in her head.

And yet, despite the tension in her posture, despite the flurry of emotion on her face...

She’s—God, she’s beautiful.

Like something from another lifetime. Light catching in her hair. Autumn caught in her breath.

An angel.

I’ve always thrived on routine. Wake up, brush teeth, get dressed, go fulfill today’s duties… It wasn’t anything exciting, but it was dependable. Familiar.

That all changed when I had her.

My Madelyn.

Now, my mornings depend on a dozen unpredictable factors. Maybe Maddie wakes up before I do and cuts my desperately needed seven hours of sleep short. Maybe she had a nightmare. Maybe she wet the bed. Or—more often than not—she’s just too excited for the day and bursts out of sleep like it’s a celebration.

It’s exhausting.

But she’s my entire world. My sun. My moon. And I’d sacrifice every ounce of sleep or peace of mind a thousand times over if it meant making her life feel safe and full of joy.

Still, we do have one day of the week that rarely breaks pattern.

Saturdays.

Every Saturday, for as long as I can remember, I wake up early, make pancakes, get dressed, and head to the library—the one place where time slows down, where stories open like doorways and the world feels just a little quieter.

Bringing Maddie into that routine was surprisingly easy. I started taking her when she was just a month old. I would’ve done it sooner, but I was still figuring things out—how to be a single mother to a newborn. Just surviving those first few days was its own kind of story.

She loves our Saturdays.

Every Saturday morning, once the pancakes are ready, I head to her room—and without fail, she wakes up with the biggest smile.

She always knows it’s Saturday because of the smell. Like clockwork, the scent of warm batter reaches her tiny nose, and her whole body just springs to life. She throws off her covers, races into the kitchen barefoot and beaming, already asking for her syrup before I can even plate the first stack.

This Saturday morning was different.

I should’ve known things would go wrong the moment I decided to step even slightly out of routine.

“Good morning, princess,” I sing, beaming as I step into her bedroom—blueberry pancakes in hand. “Brought you breakfast in bed. Aren’t you a spoiled little princess today?”

Her face lights up like it always does. “Good morning, Mommy!”

She spots the pancakes, and her eyes sparkle. She bounces a little beneath her blankets, already reaching for the plate. “Blueberry?”

I nod, smiling. “Well, I know how much you like them, so I decided to change things up,” I say, brushing a strand of hair from her forehead. “Alright, eat up. The library’s waiting for us.”

She hummed as she ate, little legs swinging off the edge of the bed, syrup smeared near the corner of her mouth. It was such a small thing, but I remember thinking—this is what happiness feels like. A plate of blueberry pancakes and a five-year-old who thinks I hung the stars.

We left a little later than usual.

Just ten minutes. That’s all.

She insisted on picking out her own outfit—a striped shirt and a pink coat—and I let her. Another tiny detour from routine. Nothing dramatic. Nothing dangerous.

The nearest library, which we were used to visiting, was a three-story building. It was old, but they kept it clean. The library had a huge variety of books, from Children’s books to cookbooks.

It was just as it always was. Quiet. Warm. A kind of sacred.

We walked in together. I remember holding the door open while she skipped inside.

I remember telling her—“Stay close, baby.”

she nodding.

And then…Then I blinked. I looked up from the shelves. And she was gone.

I’ve never lost my Maddie before. She’s a curious child, and she loves to wander off on adventures. She probably inherited that from me. This need to find whatever’s glowing. I understand it. We’re moths, both of us. Fragile, flitting things, always blinded by the glow, unaware that it might hurt us.

But I’ve gotten better at spotting the danger.

At least… when it comes to her.

I watch everything. Every step she takes. Every handrail she climbs. Every crack in the sidewalk I gently guide her around. Not even the tiniest fruit fly gets near her without me noticing. I make sure of it. I always make sure.

So how did I miss this?

how did I lose her?

“Maddie?” I called out, trying to keep my voice steady. “Maddie, where are you, sweetheart?”

No reply.

Just silence. Just shelves. Just the sound of someone flipping a page somewhere far away.

I couldn’t see her.

I couldn’t hear her.

Panic bloomed in my chest, sharp and fast. I started moving—too quickly to think, too slowly to matter. I scanned every row, every corner of the first floor, spinning in half-circles, eyes darting, throat dry.

Think. You have to think. Breathe.

I forced myself to stop. Just for a second. Inhaled. Shaky. Exhaled. Useless.

That’s when I saw it.

A sign hanging above the staircase in soft, colorful letters:

Children’s Section – Second Floor.

I don’t think I’ve ever taken stairs that fast in my life.

I practically leapt two steps at a time, nearly tripping—twice—but I didn’t stop. Couldn’t. My heart was pounding too hard, my breath caught somewhere between a prayer and a scream.

As soon as I reached the top, I heard it. Laughter. Soft, bubbling giggles echoing from the back corner of the floor.

Maddie. My sun.

I followed the sound like it was oxygen, rounding the shelves toward the children’s section—and there she was. She was fine. Smiling. Whole. Lit up with joy I hadn’t seen since breakfast.

I was so blinded by the sight of her—so completely caught in the gravity of that relief—that I didn’t see the small, shiny object flying straight at my face.

Thunk.

“Ow!” I yelped, instinctively pressing a hand to my forehead where the coin made impact.

“Mommy!” I blinked, still holding my forehead, and finally looked up to see my daughter running full speed to me.

I dropped my hand and opened my arms just in time, catching her as she flung herself into me.

The force of her little body nearly knocked the breath out of my lungs—and I didn’t care. I clutched her to my chest, my hands smoothing over her hair, her back, her arms—like I needed to physically confirm every part of her was still here.

Still mine.

“I was looking for you,” she mumbled into my shoulder.

“I know, baby,” I whispered. “I know. I’m here.”

I pressed a kiss to the top of her head, and only then—only then—did I let myself breathe. Let myself relax and look around with a clear mind.

And that’s when I saw him.

A man—tall, gangly, cardigan-ed, and completely mortified. His wide brown eyes darted from the coin in the floor, to my face and back again like he wasn’t sure which deserved more immediate attention.

“I am so sorry, I didn’t—I mean, the coin wasn’t… is your forehead okay?” His voice cracked halfway through the sentence. He reached down and took the quarter in his hands.

He was nervous. The poor thing couldn’t even get a full thought out without stuttering or switching pitch. He looked like a deer caught in headlights—in the most endearing way possible.

I adjusted Maddie in my arms and slowly rose to my feet, brushing a hand over the spot where the coin had hit.

“Yeah,” I said softly. “I’m okay.”

“Mommy, that’s Spencer. He’s a wizard, but you can’t tell anyone. It’s a secret.” Maddie’s little voice cut in, muffled by my shoulder. Her tiny hands clung to my shirt like this secret was sacred. Like this moment mattered.

“Is he now?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.

The poor man looked like he was about to spontaneously combust. His cheeks were flushed a deep pink, and he kept shifting like he wanted to disappear behind the nearest bookshelf. He was clearly mortified for making my daughter believe he was an actual wizard.

Meanwhile, Maddie looked like she might explode from sheer joy.

“He did magic, Mommy!” she beamed. “He made the coin disappear! And he’s friends with Harry Potter!”

I looked at him again—this tall, blushing stranger in a cardigan, holding a rogue quarter like it was evidence from a crime scene—and for the first time since the panic hit…

I smiled. No, not just that. I giggled.

“He’s friends with Harry Potter, sweetheart?”

“Yeah!” Maddie chirped, her little head nodding furiously against my shoulder. “He told me so!”

I glanced down at Maddie, still glowing with excitement in my arms, then back at him—this stranger with a guilty expression and a coin pinched nervously between his fingers.

“So you’ve met the famous Harry Potter?” I asked softly, more amused than anything else.

His mouth opened… then closed again. He looked completely out of his depth, like he wasn’t sure whether to defend himself or disappear behind the nearest bookcase.

“I… may have implied we’d met,” he said, almost apologetically. “In a—fictional sense.”

“Fictional,” I repeated, raising an eyebrow.

He nodded, eyes flicking anywhere but at me. “She asked if I knew him, and I just couldn’t say no. Plus, it calmed her down.”

My heart twisted, gently. Of course it did.

I crouched to set Maddie down, brushing a hand over her curls. “Don’t wander off, sweetheart.”

She nodded seriously—too seriously for someone who just believed she’d befriended a wizard—but she stayed put, her wide eyes still bouncing between me and the man standing awkwardly by the bookshelves.

When I stood, he was watching me. Not in a weird way. Just… watching. Like he wasn’t sure if he should say something, or leave before he embarrassed himself further.

I finally broke the silence.

“Thank you,” I said. “For keeping her calm. And for the magic tricks. Even if one of them involved hitting a complete stranger in the face.”

His eyes widened. “Oh my god—yes. I’m really sorry about that. That was not part of the trick. I swear it usually disappears. Like, away from people.”

I smiled again, gentler this time. “I believe you.”

A beat passed.

“You’ve got a very brave little girl.”

My chest squeezed.

“Yeah,” I whispered, looking over at Maddie, who was now spinning slowly in place, humming to herself like nothing had happened.

“She really is.”

I looked back again, and of course—despite being told not to wander—she had already drifted toward the toy shelf, her tiny fingers trailing along the edge of a plastic castle.

Moth. Always drawn to whatever glows.

He hadn’t stopped staring.

He kept looking at me like he wanted to tear me open—not in a violent way, but in that quiet, curious way. Like he needed to understand what made me me. Like he was trying to read my soul the way other people read books.

I hadn’t even noticed—Not until I turned my gaze back to him, and when I did, I nearly forgot how to breathe.

There was something behind his eyes—something searching. Gentle, but sharp. Not the kind of stare meant to intimidate. No, it was worse. It was the kind that saw. Saw too much.

The kind of look that made you feel like maybe you weren’t a collection of masks and moments. Like maybe you were a story he’d just opened to the first page.

It made my skin warm.

I looked away first. Not because it was uncomfortable—But because it wasn’t.

Because I didn’t know what to do with the way he looked at me like that. Like I was worth reading.

“So… she read the Harry Potter series?” he asked, breaking the silence.

His voice jolted me back to reality. I blinked a couple times, trying to shake myself free from whatever trance those hazel eyes had pulled me into.

“Has she read—? No, no. She still struggles a bit with reading. The only books she’s managed on her own so far are Frog and Toad Are Friends and The Tales of Oliver Pig.”

His lips twitched at that, like he was trying not to smile too hard.

“Do you mind me asking… how old is she?”

“She’s turning five in a couple weeks.”

He blinked. “And she’s reading at a first-grade level? That’s impressive.”

I smiled, soft and proud. “She’s always been a quick learner. Loves stories. I think it’s how she makes sense of the world.”

He nodded, like he understood that. Like maybe he did the same.

“So I take it she’s only seen the Harry Potter movies then?” he asked, circling back to his original question.

“Oh—no. I read to her a lot. We actually went through the entire Harry Potter series last summer.”

His eyebrows lifted, impressed. “All seven?”

“All seven,” I nodded. “It took us a few months, but she was completely obsessed. She didn’t want me to put the books down, not even to sleep. Had a million questions. Wanted to know why Harry had to live in the cupboard, how the time-turner worked, what butterbeer tastes like.”

He chuckled softly. “She sounds like someone I would’ve been friends with at her age.”

“You read a lot as a kid?”

He hesitated—not because he didn’t want to answer, but because he seemed to be sorting through too many memories at once.

“Pretty much all I did,” he said eventually. “Books were easier. Made more sense than people did.”

There was something in the way he said it—like it wasn’t just a fun fact, but a truth he’d learned the hard way.

I didn’t push. I just nodded, quietly understanding.

“Maddie’s the same,” I offered. “She talks to books like they talk back.”

He smiled at that. “That’s the best kind of kid.”

I was about to reply—to agree with the praise of my daughter, to maybe say something more—but then she came barreling back toward us, beaming.

“Mommy, Mommy! Look!” She held up a Rapunzel doll.

“Can I have her? Please? She has real brushable hair!” Maddie clutched the box to her chest like she’d just been entrusted with state secrets.

I chuckle, “That’s yarn, sweetie. You can’t brush it.”

“Can I have her? Please, Mommy?”

I looked at him, then at my daughter’s wide, pleading eyes. The panic from earlier was still fading in my bones, but the joy on her face grounded me again.

“Fine,” I said with a knowing smile. “Let’s check her out and ask if she’s ready for a new home.”

Maddie squealed and ran ahead toward the counter.

He straightened, glancing at me with the softest grin.

“She’s something else,” he said.

I met his eyes, the warmth still lingering between us.

“She really is.”

He smiled—soft, sheepish. A little unsure.

There was a pause.

My eyes flicked between him, the floor, and Maddie standing at the counter, rocking on her heels with the raggedy doll held up against her chest.

I didn’t know what it was about him. Maybe it was the way he spoke to her, so tender.

Maybe it was the way he panicked when I first approached them—all flustered and apologetic, tripping over his words like he hadn’t spoken out loud in days.

Maybe it was his eyes—big, toffee-colored, and far too curious. The way he kept looking at me like I was a puzzle he genuinely wanted to solve.

Despite everything in me that usually resisted introducing new people into our lives, I felt it—that pull.

I wanted to know him.

“I should get going,” he said, his voice low, like he didn’t really want to.

I nodded, even though something in me quietly hoped he’d stay just a little longer.

“Of course. Thank you again. For everything.”

He looked down, then back at me, like he was still trying to memorize something.

“It was… nice meeting you. Both of you.”

“It was nice meeting you too.”

He took a step back, then paused.

“I hope she keeps believing in magic,” he said, glancing toward Maddie with something almost wistful in his eyes.

“She will,” I said, smiling. “She has a good reason to.”

He didn’t say anything after that. Just smiled once more—brighter this time—before turning and walking away.

And even though I knew I’d just met him… I wanted to call out after him. Maybe invite him to eat with us, I had the pretense of him keeping my daughter safe. It would be so easy, just go, “hey wait!”

But I didn’t. I couldn’t.

Because despite having every reason to call out to him, to try and integrate him into my life, the fear in me always ended up eating my intentions up.

Still. I had a feeling that wouldn’t be the last time I saw him..

I stayed still for a moment, just watching him leave.

It wasn’t until he disappeared from view that I finally moved—walking to the counter where my daughter was waiting, still cradling her new doll like a prize.

“Where did Spencer go?” she asked, as soon as I appeared beside her.

Spencer. So that's his name.

It fit him, somehow. A little old-fashioned, a little too soft around the edges for someone who carried so much weight in his eyes. But now that she’d said it out loud, I couldn’t imagine him being called anything else.

“He had to leave, sweetheart.”

Her little face fell just slightly. “Will we see him again? I want to see more magic.”

I crouched beside her, brushing her hair back behind one ear as I pulled her into my arms. The weight of the day finally caught up to me—settling in my chest like something too big to name.

“Who knows, Maddie,” I murmured, holding her tight. “Maybe someday.”

I pulled back just enough to look her in the eye.

“I need you to promise me something, okay?”

She blinked up at me, her Rapunzel doll dangling loosely from one arm.

“Don’t ever wander off like that again. Spencer was kind, and he kept you safe. But not everyone is like him. You could’ve gotten hurt.”

She nodded, serious now. “I’m sorry, Mommy.”

“I know, baby,” I whispered, holding her again. “I just need you safe.”

“I promise, Mommy.” She murmured.

“Thank you, honey.” I kissed her temple. “Now… let’s buy you this doll and go get something to eat.”

She grinned, her earlier worry forgotten, clutching Rapunzel to her chest like she’d just made a new friend.

We walked out hand-in-hand, the late morning sun spilling through the library doors as they shut behind us.

And even though I told myself it was just another Saturday…

I couldn’t shake the feeling that something else had quietly begun.

Next Chapter

[cressidagrey]

I would marry you with paper rings

Pairing: Max Verstappen x Colette Leclerc (Original Character)

Summary: 

May 2016

How Max Verstappen wins his first f1 race and goes home to show his girlfriend his trophy…and maybe something else too...

December 2024: 

Max brings his family home from the hospital and finally gets to give his fiancée a proper ring. 

Author Notes: Huge thanks to @llirawolf for holding my hand through this!

May 2016: 

The roar of the crowd was deafening, but Max Verstappen barely noticed. His ears were ringing, his chest felt tight, and his grip on the steering wheel had turned his knuckles white. He barely registered the voice of his race engineer crackling through his headset.

“Unbelievable. Unbelievable, Max.” 

The words didn’t feel real. 

“You are a race winner!”

It felt like they belonged to someone else’s story, someone older, more experienced—someone who wasn’t an 18-year-old kid still trying to figure out the enormity of it all. He blinked hard, trying to process the magnitude of what just happened.

The pit wall erupted in cheers as he drove toward the podium, his hands trembling on the wheel. It wasn’t just any win—it was the win. At 18 years and 227 days old, Max Verstappen had become the youngest race winner in Formula 1 history.

He had done it. 

As the team crowded around him in parc fermé, he couldn’t stop the grin spreading across his face. Christian Horner was there to hug him, Helmut Marko clapped him on the back, and Daniel Ricciardo tousled his sweat-soaked hair. The cameras flashed relentlessly, capturing every angle of his historic moment.

And still…the most important person was not there. 

Colette was back in Monaco. 

Hours later, once he finally got to his phone…after he was back in his hotel room, there was a message from her waiting for him. Of course, there was. 

I am so proud of you, Maxie. Soak up every moment, enjoy it. You deserve this, so, so much. We’ll celebrate when you are back home, mon coeur. You were amazing out there today and I love you so much. 

Somehow these 5 sentences meant more to him than any other accolade ever could. 

He stared at the trophy perched on his nightstand. The weight of it—both physical and symbolic—was overwhelming.

He’d spent years working for this moment. His entire life had been shaped around the pursuit of success, of proving he belonged on the top step of the podium. But now that he’d done it? He would give anything to share this moment with the girl he loved. 

Colette had been his constant long before Formula 1 entered the picture. She’d seen him at his worst, supported him when no one else believed in him, and always reminded him of who he was outside the car. 

She was his staunchest supporter and the first person that woul dcall hi out for being an idiot. 

She grounded him, cosetted him, cared for him, cheered for every win and held him after every failure. 

She was the one thing in his life that he could trust unconditionally…that loved him for who he was and not what he could do. 

Of course he had driven this car to victory. And Colettte would never take credit for any of his wins…but Max knew the truth. 

This win wasn’t just his—it was theirs.

The idea hit him in the early hours of the morning, somewhere between the adrenaline still coursing through his veins and the exhaustion pulling at his eyelids.

He needed to show her how much she meant to him, how much he wanted her to be part of this journey—not just as a girlfriend, but as his partner in everything that came next.

But how do you capture something so big?

By 7 a.m., Max was wandering the quiet streets of Barcelona. The city felt different in the early morning light—calm, peaceful. He had no real plan, just an address for a small jewellery store he’d googled hours before.

His Spanish wasn’t great, but he figured he could manage. He needed something. Something to show her just how much she meant to him.

He had bought his sister a handbag the first time he had scored points in F1…but handbag didn’t even come close to being enough for Colette. 

So there he was…in that jewelery store. 

The bell above the door jingled as he stepped inside, and a man behind the counter greeted him warmly, raising an eyebrow at the young man who looked like he hadn’t slept.

“You’re here for something important, aren’t you?” the man asked knowingly, his accent thick but his tone kind.

Max hesitated, glancing down at the glass cases filled with glittering jewellery. He’d never done anything like this before. He had never even bought Colette a pair of earrings on his own. He had bought her other stuff, of course he had. Birthday gifts and stuff for christmas but… “Yeah, uh... I need something… special. For my girlfriend.”

The man smiled knowingly and pulled out a tray of rings. “Something like this?” he asked, gesturing to a selection of delicate designs.

Max’s eyes landed on a gold band with a small, heart-shaped diamond. It wasn’t flashy or oversized—it was understated, elegant, and perfect.

Just like Colette. 

***

Hours later… Max was back in Monaco. 

The trophy tucked under his arm, bag thrown over his shoulder as he unlocked the door to their apartment. 

He wasn’t sure if Colette was already home from work…he hadn’t called ahead telling her either. 

“Max?” and there she was, already dressed in her pyjamas as she stared at him wide-eyed, coming out of the kitchen. 

“I won,” he blurted, grinning like a kid showing off a school project. 

THat was all he needed to say, before she was throwing herself in his arms. His bag hit the floor, as he hugged her and she kissed him, cupping his cheek, rapid fire french that he would never learn to understand as quickly as she spoke it, intermixed with english and her horribly accented dutch. 

And for just a moment Max got to hold his girlfriend…the best trophy he had ever won. 

“I am so proud of you, mon coeur,” Colette whispered and he leaned his forehead against hers, her words a balm to something that he didn’t even know. 

“I brought you something.”

Before she could say anything, he plopped the Pirelli cap on her head, by now dry, though it had been drenched in champagne by Kimi and Seb and he adjusted it until it sat crookedly over her brown curls. “There. Perfect,” he said, his voice raw. 

Perfect. 

Colette laughed, patting it down, and then pulled him into another kiss. “I am so proud. You were incredible this weekend,” she told him fiercely. “Shouldn’t you still be celebrating?” she teased him. 

“I am,” he said, his voice softening. “With you.”

Any celebration with her was better than any other. 

“You want to see the trophy?” he asked her, feeling like a little boy that dragged his karting trophy to Colette for her approval again. 

And just like she had suffered through every time of 12 year old Max showing his trophy off to her…18 year old Max did the same, handing it to her. 

She took it, a metal on metal clink rattling around the inside. 

“What’s...?” she started, tilting the trophy to look inside. Her breath caught, as she fished out the ring from the bottom of it. “Max...”

“It’s not an engagement ring,” he rushed to explain, his cheeks turning pink. “I mean, our fathers would probably kill us both if we got married right now. But it’s... it’s a promise.”

Colette carefully set the trophy down, her hands trembling as stared at the delicate gold ring in the palm of her hand. 

“I wanted you to know that it’s always going to be us,” Max said, his voice steady despite the nervous flutter in his chest. “Through everything. You and me. This is my promise to you.”

It was always going to be them. Always. 

“I don’t need a fancy piece of paper to tell me what I already know,” Max said softly. “I love you. And I’ll spend the rest of my life with you. In Sickness and In Health and however that whole thing goes.” 

Tears filled her eyes as she looked up at him, her lips trembling with a smile. “You’re ridiculous, you know that?”

He grinned. “Yeah, but you love me anyway.” 

Colette just looked at him, brown eyes warm and loving…and filled with tears. 

“I do. God, I do,” she promised him fiercely. “Go on then. Put it on me,” she teased him. 

His fingers were trembling when he picked up the ring and slid it on her finger. A perfect fit. Like he had somehow known. 

“This is going to be hard to top one day, you know,” Colette told him, wiggling her fingers, the diamond sparkling on her hand. “You do have exceptional taste in rings.”

Max chuckled, pulling her into a hug. “Challenge accepted.”

December 2024: 

The late December air was crisp as Max carefully carried the baby carrier through the front door of their apartment, his movements uncharacteristically slow. He was used to the precision of controlling a 200-mile-per-hour machine, but carrying his newborn daughter… was an entirely different level of responsibility.

Colette watched the whole thing with some amusement and a whole lot of love. Max had already driven so slowly home from the hospital that there had been multiple blaring car horns behind them, but Max hadn’t cared one bit about that. 

She was tired, her body aching from the delivery, but her heart was so full it threatened to burst.

“Welcome home, ma lutine,” she murmured softly, brushing her fingers over the baby’s tiny hand, as Max set the carrier down on the living room floor. 

Max crouched to unbuckle their daughter, who was snoozing peacefully despite the excitement of the day. “I think she’s already a Verstappen,” he said with a chuckle, glancing up at Colette. “Sleeps through the chaos, just like her dad.”

Colette laughed lightly, shaking her head. “We’ll see how long that lasts,” she teased him. “You gonna get the cats?” she asked.

Max nodded, moving towards the bedroom where he had put them just minutes before. 

Colette heard the door open and seconds later, she could feel two sets of feline eyes were already watching from the bedroom doorway —Jimmy, usually, the more laid back boy…and Sassy, the fierce girl with a name that fit her personality far too well.

“Okay, guys,” Colette murmured. “Be nice. She’s your baby sister now.”

Max crossed back over to them, crouching down beside the seat, unbuckling Charlie with ease, his movements careful and deliberate. “You think they’ll be jealous?” he asked, casting a quick glance at Jimmy and Sassy, who hadn’t moved but were clearly observing every detail.

“They’ll get over it,” Colette said with a soft laugh. “I think Sassy’s already plotting her strategy.”

Sure enough, as soon as Colette lifted Charlie into her arms, Sassy bounded down the stairs, tail high and ears forward. She paused a few feet away, her nose twitching as she sniffed the air. 

“Hi, Sassy,” Colette cooed, kneeling down to let the curious cat get a closer look. Sassy tiptoed forward, her tiny paws making no sound on the marble floor. She stopped just short of Colette’s knees and craned her neck, sniffing cautiously at the bundle in her arms.

Charlie let out a soft coo, her tiny fist waving in the air, and Sassy’s ears twitched forward in fascination. Then, in a move that made Colette’s heart melt, Sassy stretched up on her hind legs and gently tapped at the edge of the baby blanket, as if to say, What’s this?

“See? She’s already making friends,” Colette said, grinning as she stroked Sassy’s head.

Max, meanwhile, was coaxing Jimmy towards them. The cat was watching the scene with a skeptical look, his yellow eyes narrowed. “Come on, mate,” Max said, holding out his hand. “She’s not going to steal your spot. I promise.”

Jimmy hesitated for a moment before coming the last few steps. Unlike Sassy, who had no sense of personal space, Jimmy kept his distance at first, circling wide around Colette and Charlie as if evaluating whether this tiny human posed a threat to his kingdom.

“Jimmy, it’s okay,” Colette encouraged, holding out her hand toward him. “Come say hi.”

Eventually, Jimmy padded closer, his movements slow and deliberate. When he finally reached Colette, he sat down primly and stared up at Charlie, his expression one of cautious curiosity.

“She’s not so bad, right?” Max said, crouching down beside Jimmy and scratching behind his ears.

Charlie let out another soft noise, and Jimmy’s head tilted slightly, his ears swiveling to catch the sound. Then, to everyone’s surprise, he leaned forward and gave the edge of the baby blanket a tentative sniff, followed by a single, gentle nudge of his nose.

“Oh, Jimmy,” Colette said, her voice thick with emotion. “You’re such a good boy.”

Max laughed, the sound warm and full of love. “I think they’ve decided she can stay,” he said, wrapping an arm around Colette’s shoulders.

Later that evening, after Charlie had been fed and settled into the bassinet they’d placed in the living room, Colette found herself staring at the collection of trophies they kept on the shelves over the TV. Max’s career was neatly cataloged there— All the important wins, each moment of triumph immortalized in gleaming metal and glass.

Charlie stirred softly in her arms, and Colette pressed a kiss to the baby’s forehead before stepping closer to the shelves. “Do you see all these trophies, Charlie?” she whispered, swaying gently. “See? these are all Papa‘s,“ Colette cooed. “He has more. These are just the ones that are the most important to him. Your tonton Cha has some too…”

Her eyes slid over the championship trophy from last year…over to the very first one. It was a little scuffed from being handled so many times, but it still gleamed in the soft light of the room. “And this one…this one is extra special. This is from when Papa won his very first race. And do you know what else?” She smiled, her voice dropping conspiratorially. “This is where he hid a ring for me eight years ago.”

She glanced back at her daughter, but Charlie had already drifted back into her newborn sleep, oblivious to her mother’s musings. 

“You didn’t check, did you?” Max’s voice broke the quiet, startling her.

She turned to find him leaning casually in the doorway, his arms crossed and a knowing smirk on his face. He was still wearing the same hoodie and sweats he’d changed into after coming home from the hospital, but somehow, he looked effortlessly handsome.

“Check what?” she asked, feigning innocence.

“The trophy,” he said, nodding toward the one in her hand. “I’ve seen the way you’ve been eyeing it ever since we came home.”

Colette raised an eyebrow. “You tell a girl you hid her engagement ring in there, what did you expect, Verstappen,” she teased him. 

“You are right,” Max agreed seriously, with a nod, plucking Charlie from her arms to put her in the Moses Basket they had put next to the couch.

And then he plucked that trophy from the shelve, only to upend it until a velvet box came tumbling down. 

Colette’s breath caught as he flipped it open to reveal a stunning ring—a delicate gold band, not unlike the one he’d given her all those years ago, but this time, the diamond was much larger, more brilliant. It sparkled in the light, catching every angle perfectly.

Her free hand flew to her mouth as her eyes welled up with tears. “Max…”

“Shush. Let me do this right,” he teased her, as he got down on one knee. “I had this for months,” he told her. “I thought about giving it to you after the Monaco Grand Prix, then after the championship celebration, but none of those moments felt right. This—bringing Charlie home—this feels right.”

Colette could only nod, too overcome with emotion to speak.

“I know we’ve been doing things our own way,” he said with a small smile. “And I wouldn’t change a single thing. But this... this is my way of saying I’m all in, for the rest of my life. With you. With Charlie. With everything that comes next.”

Tears spilled down her cheeks as she finally found her voice. “You didn’t have to do this. You already gave me everything I ever wanted.”

“And now I’m giving you a little bit more,” he said seriously. “So. Colette Marie Eugénie Veronique Leclerc, will you do me the incredible honour of becoming my wife?”

“Yes,” she whispered. Max reached for her left hand, his fingers brushing over hers as he carefully slipped the ring onto her finger. It fit perfectly, just as she knew it would.

“You even got the order of my names right,” she teased him, as he stood up and he snorted as he pulled her into a hug. 

“Hush,” he gave back, pressing a kiss to her temple. 

They stood there for a moment, wrapped in each other’s arms, the trophy forgotten on the shelf and the ring gleaming on her finger.

In the bassinet, Charlie let out a tiny squeak, and they both turned to look at her, their smiles growing.

“She approves,” Colette said with a laugh.

Max chuckled, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. “Of course she does. She’s a Verstappen.”

As they sat down together, Colette resting her head against Max’s shoulder, they couldn’t help but marvel at the life they’d built. 

It had been a long journey to get here, but every step had been worth it.

[whore-ibly-hot]

"1-800-HANDY-YAN"

Yandere!Handymen (Tucker and Billy) x Fem!Reader

18+ Minors DNI

Warnings: Oral sex, yandere behavior, Dub-con, perverted thoughts, misogynistic comments (mostly tucker), class economic divide? Spying, obsession, stalking, double trouble yanderes, mention of female genitalia and breasts on reader

A/N: Yeah, maybe this is eight hundred weeks late, I got super motivated then super not. But trust me, this piece is 👌

Metal tools clink together, the sound of screws and the occasional drip of left over water fills up the space beneath the sink as Tucker works on the clogged drain.

"Wrench." He sticks his hand out of the cabinet and extends his fingers while his mullet-haired friend whose sat just outside. Bill hands him the wrench, sighing as he cranes his head to see around the doorframe and into the living room of this nice suburban home.

"Alright, gimme the bolt." The skinny wife-beater clad handyman asks his broad set and chubby friend. After a few moments, he calls again. "Bill, bolt. Cmon," He groans as he slides out from the sink cabinet and look at his distracted coworker. Smacking him upside the shoulder he shakes his head. "Get your fuckin' head outta the clouds, or I'll have your fatass get stuck up under this sink tugging on the hair and shit in here." He grumbles. "What the hell are you even-" He leans forward against the tile to see forward at what's captured Bill's attention, and then sighs.

"Stop looking at the homeowner if you ain't gonna do anything, Billy. You've got a limp dick crush on her, why won't you do anything about it, huh?" He nudges his friend. "She's always calling us for little home repairs, and she never has anyone over. I mean, her beds always made too." He whistles lowly as he sees you watching the TV in the living room, eyes raking over your tits and ass as he bites his lip back a bit.

"What does her bed have anything to do with whether or not she's got a fella?" Bill asks weakly, and Tucker rolls his eyes.

"Please, no one is ever here, and her bed isn't made. She's not exactly getting rolled around and pounded in it, is she? Shit, I dont even remake my bed after I jerk it."

Bill shushes him and shoots a panicked look back towards you. "She could hear you, just... don't talk about her like that. She's trusting us to be good to her house and to, uh, to her."

"Well-" As Tucker finishes up with the drain and reattaches the pipe, flipping the sink water back on and letting it run for a minute, he pulls out of the counter. "Why don't we let her know the jobs done, yeah?"

Walking into the living room, Bill has always tended to be quiet around you. You'd seen the scruffy men around the suburb you live in before, they appeared to be everything men. They work on plumbing, fix lights and wiring, mow lawns, and they got good reviews from your neighbors. It's obvious they don't really fit in in the neighborhood. The men are scruffy, usually in dirty clothes with unkempt beards and a beaten up old van. They're from the poor end of town, a rather rough trailer park. They are treated as useful workers, but poor company by your wealthy neighbors. Still, they've been nothing but nice to you, sweet even.

"Hey guys, is the sink fixed up?" You ask, perking up from your spot on the couch and casting aside the tv remote.

"Sure thing, jobs all done." Tucker sniffs, rubbing at his chin and putting a hand on his hip. "We figured it was a super quick job, so Bill suggested we give you half off since it didn't take the full hour." He nudges his friend, who seems shocked at his attempt to get you to speak to him.

"Y-yeah." He mumbles out, swallowing harshly. "Didn't want to charge you for anything extra." He explains quietly.

"Thank you guys, that's so sweet, but you dont have to do that." You sigh and out your hand on your hip. "Well, let me go grab the money I owe you." While you get up, Tucker makes himself cozy on the couch, spreading out like hes always lived here.

"So, missy. We've helped you out quite a bit, fixed things here and there, haven't seen a fella around." He says. "Surely you'd have an easier time fixing this stuff with a more permanent solution."

"Knock it off-" Bill spits under his breath, but his friend just smile mischeviously and sinks deeper into the fabric.

"Yeah, I just haven't met a guy I'm interested in." You explain, talking over your shoulder as you get the money from your bag. "Or any guys whove been interested in me."

"That can't be true-" Bill starts, his sudden outburst makes the attention in the room focused on him. "I just mean, you seem like a real nice lady, sweet." He explains, hands fiddling with the edge of his flannel top.

"That's really sweet, thank you, Bill." You tilt your head with a soft smile and he just nods in acknowledgement, blushing a bit. "What about you guys? You two have anyone special?"

Tucker clicks his tongue and shakes his head. "Hell naw, it's a bachelor pad in our trailer. I mean, we bring girls back sometimes, but you know-" he shrugs. "Bill's kinda hopeless with the ladies, and I'm never satisfied." He winks.

Sitting up, he puts his hands on his knees. "You know, you're a real nice gal, I mean, most people won't even look at us while we work, to busy keeping an eye on stuff and making sure we don't steal. So nice in fact, my friend here's got kind of a crush on ya."

Your eyes widen as your head quickly swivels to the now sheet-white Bill, his hands out in front of him as if to show he means no harm. "N-nah, it's not like, not like that!" He exclaims, looking mortified. "Please, Tucker's talking outta his ass, don't listen to him. Really, I have nothing but professional feelings for you." He says. Hes removed his hat from his head and holds it to his chest, both as a nervous movement and a stress fidget.

"He's lying. Everytime we come here to work, I practically bruise his arm trying to get his attention. He just sits and gawks. I'm being a good friend, telling him to man up."

You set aside your wallet as you slowly approach him, every step feels heavy as you walk up to the broad-shouldered gentle giant. "Is that true, Bill?" You ask. "Do you... are you really interested in me?"

He sighs deeply, refusing to meet your gaze. "I do. I'm sorry, I tried to keep things professional, and respect your boundaries." He begins to ramble as you smile a bit. "I mean, I-I support women and their safety, I know you put a Lotta trust in lettin' us into your home. I'm a feminine!"

"Feminist, stupid." Tucker snickers, and you shoot a warning glance at him. He puts his hands up.

"Its alright, Bill. You've been nothing but sweet and respectful to me, and you guys always come when I call." Crossing your arms, you rub just above your elbow. "Its been hard adjusting to the neighbordhood, people are kinda stuck up or unkind, but you're both so real. And sweet, and-"

"Extremely sexy, right?" Tucker coos, slinging a boney arm around your shoulder. Bill seems shocked at his friend sudden physical contact with you, a boundary he's never dared cross. "She's offering you a compliment, Bill. Come on, return it. Tell her all the nice things we've said about her, like how she's got a great rack." His scratch stubble rubs your cheek a bit from where he's stood behind you. "You really do have a great pair."

"I never agreed with what he was saying, I would never, um- talk about a girl like that, my momma would be so upset with me. Tucker was the one sayin' all that dirty stuff about you." Bill explains. "I would just say you looked prettier than a peach' and he'd make it all gross."

"So..." You grin a bit as your eyes slowly trail over his body and up to meet his gaze. He's trying hard to avoid yours. "You don't like the way my tits look?"

A wild, toothy grin flashes across Tucker's face, he knows where this is heading, and his friends reaction is even more amusing.

"No, I- I do. They look, they look great. Round..."

"Round? What the fuck is wrong with you, that's how you describe her girls?" Tucker shakes his head and turns back to you, his mouth close to your ear so he could whisper in. "Tell you what, before Billy-boy says something that dries out your puss, why don't we take this up to your room? I have the advantage of knowing the way." He ever so slightly grind the front of his jeans to your ass, the growing erection obvious. "Cmon baby, we're handymen, let me clean those pipes."

You immediately cackle and lean forward, gripping your stomach. Tucker looks confused and offended as he puts a hand on his hip. "Sorry!" You exclaim, still laughing. "Sorry, that was just such a stupid line, I'm sorry."

"It wasn't stupid, it was sexy." Tucker scoffs. "Really fucking sexy, you know how many panties get dropped at bars because of 'stupid' lines like that. Don't dance around it, if you don't wanna bone just tell me." You perk up at that, seeing a rare moment of insecurity in Tucker's face. Face flushed, he seems embarrassed, actually wounded. Bill moves to stand a little closer to him, trying to put a hand on his shoulder before it's swatted away with a quiet 'fuck you, don't touch me'.

"No, I... I do. I do, you're both attractive and I haven't had anyone in a long time. You've always been good to me, but I-" You sigh. "I dont know if I can be what you want? I'm not exactly a freak in bed, and I've never been with two guys before." You begin.

Excitement reunited, but still softened by that moment of vulnerability, Bill speaks up for once. "You're perfect." He says, steadying himself. "Really, you don't have to be experienced or nothing, I'm a big clutz but trying your best is what matters. And we'd go as slow or as gentle as you wanted. And as for two guys-" He sighs and swallows harshly. "If you just wanna do it with Tuck, I'll wait he-"

"No, no, it's not that at all. I'm getting caught in my head, I want this." You hold out a hand brush over his flannel shirt buttons, fiddling with one. "I want you. Both of you, as appreciation for how hard you've worked." Looking over at Tucker, you smile. "You seem the most eager to get started, why don't you lead? I imagine you know what you're doing."

"Damn right I do, sexy mama." He gropes your waist as he plants a feverish kiss on your neck. "Glad you're finally giving some attention to lil' ol' me. Go upstairs and get all pretty, lay that pretty body out on your bed while me and Bill pack up and grab a couple rubbers from the truck."

You quickly summit the stairs, and make the most of your time by stripping down to a simple pair of underwear, you didn't figure they needed to be impressed with any lingerie, and you could see Tucker getting annoyed and ripping one of your nicer sets when it came to untying ribbons. Sitting on the bed now, you can see them through the window loading up their. They seem to be loudly arguing about something, and you can't help but laugh. Eventually, Bill comes up.

"Sorry, we forgot we had another job on the docket, I didn't wanna cancel but Tuck is being a real hard ass about all-" He stops when he sees you, in nothing but panties, sat on the bed with a slight smile. You're skin all soft and bare, pretty lights outside dimming as it grows closer from evening to night. "Geez, um, you look beautiful." He mumbles, closing the door behind him.

You tuck your knees under your chin and look at him. "Thanks, that's so sweet. So, you guys are gonna stick around, right?"

Snapping out of his, Bill clears his throat and nods. "Yeah, yeah, Tucker's on a call out there rescheduling." He taps his foot nervously.

"Well, get cozy. Cmon, take off your boots and hat, I'm sure you're tired from working." He obeys quickly, eager to please. He stops after removing his hat though, and you furrow your brows. "Its gonna be hard for us to have sex if the rest doesn't come off too, silly." You tease, but his slightly sad demeanor gives you pause. "Whats wrong?"

"I just, I don't really know if you'll like what you see. Most people think of handymen and folk as all muscular, and I've got some muscle, but I'm not really anyone bodybuilder by any means. And I'm not skinny like Tuck, I'm-" His head fully tilts to the floor. "I'm a big guy. I don't want that to bother you."

You immediately shake your head and move to the edge of the bed, holding out a hand. He shyly takes it in his own, and you run a comforting thumb over it. "Nothing is wrong with that, Bill. I think you look plenty handsome, you look soft, and sweet. And everyone has some pudge." You put his hand on your stomach. "See, I've got a bit of a tummy, and sometimes I don't like my legs, but do you think that makes me less attractive?" You ask.

"I don't think anything could make you not look pretty." He admits, moving his hand to your shoulder.

"I'll undress you, how about that?" He offers no resistance, so you slowly undo his flannel shirt, eyes trailing hungrily over his hair chest and slightly pudgy stomach. "Very handsome." You kiss his collarbone and he sighs. He works on getting his jeans and belt off, before sitting beside you on the bed.

"Can I touch ya? I mean, feel up on your chest and stuff?" He asks. When you nod, his large, callous hands come to rest over your breasts, extremely gentle in their movements. "They're gorgeous, really. And I meant what I said, as much as I love the way you look, and how kind you are, I never said no dirty things about you. It was all Tucker, he' a horn-dog."

"Some men are like that, unfortunately. Hes lucky I think it's flattering when it's him." You chuckle, making Billy laughs as well as he continues groping, a little more confident as he tweaks at a pebbled nipple.

"He's always been a jackass, but he's just trying to seem tough. He really likes you." Bill begins to explain. "Tucker isn't nearly as upfront with his feelins' as I am, but I can't tell he likes you. He don't always stick to making dirty jokes about one girl, but you've been all the talks about lately. And he always beats me to the phone for work now, he used to always make me answer, but I know he's hopin' you'll call." He's clearly packing, and the sight of his erection makes your mouth water in anticipation.

"Hey, Tell you what. Tucker might be a bit, and I'm sure he'll want to be inside me the moment he gets through the door-" Bill laughs at that. "So why don't we get you feeling good first so he can have a go." Sliding off the bed, you put a cheek on his knees, hand on his hairy inner thigh as he swallows.

"Geez, you can do that, b-but only if ya wanna. I lost the remote one day, and they had this talk show with all these ladies in-in suits, and they said that blowjobs were demeaning-"

Ignoring his continuous, (if not sweet), ramblings, you tug at his boxers until his thick, leaky cock springs loose. "Shit, nearly took my eye out." You say, trying to lighten the mood. He's thick, a bright red tip and a firm base. His balls are large, but he did admit he was backed up. He's absolutely huge, you have to admit you're worried he's a choking hazard.

"I'm gonna start slow, yeah? Just kiss the tip?" You ask, and the flushed redneck just nods his head, eyes wide as he's looking down at you. You place a soft kiss on the leaking tip, making him suck in a breath as you slowly take it into your mouth to the back of your tongue. What you can't fit in, you work with your hand.

"Shit, am I too big?!" He asks when he hears you making a sloppy gag, but you gently squeeze his thigh to calm him. You just want this poor big man to relax. Humming a bit, the lights vibration seems to soothe him. "Feels, god, your mouth feels really good, missy." His hands grip the pretty floral sheets of the bed which he had admired so many time when working on your house. "You're so pretty, um, with me in your mouth, but also- I mean, you're pretty all the time, ah~"

He can't decide what's actually getting him closer to climax, actually getting his cock sucked, or just seeing you on the floor in front of him, so lovingly tending to him. Each movement is deliberate, and to feel like you care so much to do this, and act which the educated women on the tv said was degrading, means you must really care. He threads a shakey hand in your scalp, but not to tug or push, but rather to gently pet at your scalp. He lets out a groan which ends high pitched, adjacent to a whimper.

"So pretty. You're so pretty, m' lucky. Lucky you wanna... lucky you are making me feel good, s-shit." You can feel his length twitching in your mouth. "I'm gonna finish, I know it's early, sorry, m' sorry, I gotta finish. Pull me out, can I-" he rambling. "Can I finish on your chest, or I can go finish off in the toilet, or-" You just give him one last good suck, and with a swirl of your tongue you can feel a thick, warm substance filling your mouth. "Shit! Why didn't you, I didn't mean to, uhh~ fuck..."

When you pull off, making a shoe of swallowing, you might as well have taken a puritan to a strip club. Bill looks as if it's the most scandalous thing he's ever seen. Petting his limp cock slightly with your palm, you lean your head on his knee. "Was that good for you?" You ask, and he nods.

He's clearly speechless, and can't bring himself to say much about how good he feels. "It was good." He mumbles out. Biting your lip, you sit by him on the bed, hoisting yourself up. Now, it's your turn to feel unsure.

"Are you sure? You don't seem confident about that." You mumble, hand rubbing your arm. "I haven't given one of those in a long, long time. I'm sorry if it wasn't good. Was it cause you couldn't cum on my chest, I-"

"No, no!" He exclaims. "No, it was perfect, I'm just tired. 'Tuckered' out." He jokes, then clears his throat. "That was dumb. But, that was amazing, really, m' just not good at fancy words n' stuff." Taking a deep breath, he rather boldly puts a hand on your cheek. "Can I kiss ya? I mean, least I could do. I wanna show you really how pretty and nice I think you are, and that feels more proper than getting down there and kissing you on your-" He trails off, flushing again. "Unless you'd like that, I'd do it. It's the least I could mmph-!"

You press your lips to his, and as soon as he stops tensing you feel a large, calloused hand cup your cheek, practically palming your head. He's so gentle, as if afraid to break you. When you eventually break for air, he almost chases your lips. "I-"

"What the fuck!" Tucker stands in the doorway, hands on his toolbelt and hat turned back. "I take one call and yer' already all limp dicked? Shit, Billy, horny little fucker."

"Leave him alone, Tucker." You tease, leaning on Bill's shoulder momentarily. "I offered it to him. Don't listen to him, you were great."

Billy just shyly smiles and kisses your head once more as Tucker dumps his toolbelt and wifebeater at the door. "You already got yer dick wet, Billy, so clear the fuck out. I'd let you watch, but you were a slippery snake and slipped her yer fucking snake when I was going first, so git." Tucker orders as he flops unceremoniously onto your bed and crawls up towards you. You blow a kiss to Billy as he smiles and shuts the door, hearing Tucker mumbling some stupid line about 'cleaning your pipes'.

A few minutes later though, he's ashamed. He knows he shouldn't be doing this, it's dirty. Wrong. But as he sits in your bathroom, wiring up a little camera identical to the ones now in your kitchen and closet, he can't help but remember what Tucker had told him, just before he went out to make that phone call.

"She's gonna let us fuck her, she's okay with us seeing everything in person! If anything, a cameras less invasive. Shit, just set em' up, yeah? We know this neighborhoods full of rich assholes, and her locks are shit. Think of it as keeping that hot little piece of suburbanite ass safe."

[astraljedi]

No one's ever had me, not like you (Joaquin Torres)

This wasn't requested but I just had to write something about these two again. It's mundane, cute and smutty.

Part 1 here

Warnings: Contains spoilers from Captain America: Brave New World, SMUT, 18+ only

Pairing: Joaquin Torres x Female OC

Word Count: 3,561

Song: So High School by Taylor Swift

A/N: I will always include a Taylor Swift song for every single thing I write 🤪 -

Why does moving have to be so stressful?

I brush back a few stray hairs, already done styling it for the day. The bathroom counter is a disaster—mine and Joaquin’s everyday essentials scattered everywhere. Somewhere in the mess is my makeup bag.

“I hate moving,” I mutter to myself, stepping out of the bathroom to check the bedroom.

The whole apartment is in shambles—more opened boxes than packed ones, clothes draped over furniture, and random belongings scattered across the floor. Ever since Joaquin got the all-clear from his doctor after the accident, we’ve been trying to pack as much as possible. The fixer-upper is nearly done, and moving day is a week away. But between my long hours at work and him easing back into his routine, packing has been slow.

I spot my floral makeup bag on the floor next to the dresser and grab it before heading back to the bathroom. Our mornings have looked the same for the past month—Joaquin wakes up early for his run, I make him breakfast, and then I get ready for work. By the time I’m almost dressed, he’s back with my first coffee of the day.

“Baby, ya llegué,” Joaquin calls from the front door. I hear him moving around the kitchen before the familiar sound of footsteps on the stairs. A few moments later, he appears with two coffees in hand.

I close my mascara tube and press a quick kiss to his lips before taking my cup.

“How was your run?” I ask, savoring the warmth between my hands as I lean against the counter.

Joaquin leans against the doorframe, cradling his own coffee. “It was good. You should come with me sometime.”

I snort. “Sorry, baby, but if there’s one thing you will always fail at, it’s convincing me to run for fun. I only run when I have to.”

Joaquin huffs a dramatic sigh, taking a slow sip of his coffee. “You know what I never fail at?” He pauses just long enough for me to raise a curious brow before smirking. “Pleasing you.”

I let out a sharp laugh, shaking my head. “Wow. That was smooth.”

He grins and steps closer, pressing a teasing kiss to my neck. “It’s also true.”

I press a hand to his chest, pushing him back playfully. “Go take a shower before you get too cocky.”

Joaquin chuckles but obeys, leaving me to roll my eyes and finish getting ready with a smile on my lips.

Before I leave the bathroom, I attempt to organize the counter, but it’s useless. I walk out and head downstairs to prep my work bag while Joaquin showers. “Babe, have you seen my binder?” I call out once I hear the water shut off.

“I don’t think so,” he responds.

I search the cluttered dining table and the living room, but the green binder is nowhere to be found. Joaquin comes down the stairs, hair still damp, a towel wrapped around his waist.

“Did you find it?” he asks.

“No, but I know I brought it up from the car last night.” I sigh, scanning the room again. “We really need to tackle this mess. I’ll try to leave work early today.”

Joaquin smirks. “When I asked you to move in two years ago, I didn’t realize you came as a package deal with decorative pillows and an insane amount of mugs.”

I narrow my eyes at him. “Are you saying this is my fault?”

“Found your binder.” He steps out of the kitchen, holding it up with a smug grin. “It was under the box labeled ‘mugs.’”

I reach for it, but he pulls it behind his back. “Joaquin, I’m going to be late. Please.”

“Kiss me, and I’ll let you have it.” He puckers his lips.

I roll my eyes but step closer anyway. It’s criminal that he’s standing here in just a towel, and I have to leave for work. Pressing against him, I slide my hands around his neck and kiss him. Joaquin instantly melts into it, parting his lips to welcome me in.

I tug on his hair, teasing, and he groans.

My hand trails down his biceps, squeezing as I move lower. I let my fingers skim over the edge of the towel at his hips. The binder hits the floor beside us, long forgotten. Joaquin lets out a low moan as I undo the towel and wrap my fingers around him, stroking slowly.

His grip tightens on my waist, pulling me closer.

Just when he’s fully lost in it, I pull back with a smirk, grab the binder, and press a playful kiss to his hip. “Have fun without me,” I tease, giggling as I step back to grab my bag.

Joaquin lets out a dramatic groan, running a hand through his hair. “I’m going to get you back for this.” He reaches for the towel, trying to cover himself, but the smile on his face betrays him.

“I love you.”

“I love you too,” he murmurs, shaking his head. “But you’re evil.”

I shoot him a wink before heading out the door.

At work, the pace of the day drags a little too slowly for my liking. Flight training is always something I look forward to; being in the air and handing the other pilots their asses is always fun. Something that’s not fun? All the paperwork that has to be done before leaving the base.

I manage to leave my office at 6 p.m., which is better than yesterday when I left at 8:30 p.m. After I pack my bag, I turn off all the lights and lock my door behind me. I say my goodbyes quickly and make my way to my car before anyone can stop me with more paperwork that can wait until tomorrow.

All I want is to get home to my boyfriend, have a glass of wine, and try to pack the apartment. Maybe Joaquin was right—I do have a lot of mugs, but at the new house, we have plenty of storage for them.

When Joaquin got into his accident, we ended up hiring a contractor to help with the house since he was going to be unable to help me with our DIYs. It was expensive, but at least it’s done.

I arrive at the apartment and unlock the door. “I’m home! I know I said I was going to be home early, but it’s only six-thirty. We can still tackle the boxes,” I call out, turning on the lights to the darkened apartment. When the living room lights up, I’m left in shock. The whole living room—no, the whole first floor—is clean, and the boxes are taped off.

I drop my things on the floor as Joaquin walks down the stairs, a wide smile on his lips. “Surprise.”

“H-how?” I stutter, in awe and shock that he managed to do this in twelve hours. “B-baby…”

“You took care of me for months, took time from work to stay by my side and support me through it all,” he begins. He grabs my hands into his and walks me toward the stairs. “It’s my turn to take care of you. It’s my time to show you how much I love you.”

I can’t even form words to say; I just stare at him, teary-eyed, as he pulls me into our also-cleared room. “Take a shower, and when you’re done, we’re going to get your favorite takeout, and then I have another surprise.”

“Thank you,” I manage to say. He presses a gentle kiss on my lips and leaves me to take a calming shower. It feels like a heavy weight just lifted from my shoulders the moment I saw everything packed.

Once I’m clean and wearing my comfy clothes, Joaquin locks the front door of our apartment and opens the car door for me, like he usually does. “I called ahead and ordered from your favorite Italian place; I just have to get it, and we can eat once we get to your surprise.”

“What are you planning, baby?” I say, my hands resting on the back of his neck, twirling his hair while his hand rests on my thigh.

“All I’m planning is showing you how much I love you.”

The food pickup only takes a few minutes, but Joaquin doesn’t let me get it. He goes, and soon enough, he’s walking back with two full takeout bags. I admire him as he drives, my fingers finding their way to the back of his neck again. His hair has grown in, the curls I love so much finally making an appearance.

“I love it when you let your hair grow like this,” I admit, twirling a soft curl around my finger.

“I know,” he smirks. “You love pulling it, too.”

I roll my eyes, but before I can fire back, I realize we’re already parked—right in front of our house. Our house. The words still feel surreal.

Joaquin is out of the car in an instant, rounding the hood before I can even reach for the handle. He opens my door and grabs my hand, helping me out. His touch lingers, thumb brushing along my wrist before he lets go to grab the takeout bags.

“Come on, I have something to show you,” he says, dropping the food on the kitchen counter before lacing our fingers together.

“Another surprise?” I giggle as he tugs me down the hallway.

We pass the half bath, then my office—except the door is shut. Joaquin steps behind me, covering my eyes with one hand as he pushes the door open with the other.

I let him guide me in, my pulse picking up in anticipation.

He drops his hand. My eyes adjust to the sudden clarity before settling on the stunning built-in bookshelves mounted along the back wall. My desk is already in place, centered perfectly in front of the shelves.

I gasp, too stunned to move.

“I know you wanted your own built-in library,” Joaquin murmurs, pressing against my back. His arms wrap around my waist, his chin resting on my shoulder. “Javier and I started on it right after the paint dried.”

My heart clenches, overwhelmed by the thoughtfulness.

“I also laid out some blankets,” he adds, turning me slightly toward the floor. A nest of blankets, pillows, and battery-powered candles fills the space, glowing softly in the dim room.

“Ay, perdón. You give me my dream library, and all I noticed were the shelves,” I tease, turning in his arms to press a lingering kiss to his lips.

I slip from his grasp, fingertips tracing the smooth wood. “You know, some people just get a gift card. You decided to build me an entire library.”

Joaquin steps closer, sliding his hands around my waist. His voice is low, rough with intent.

“You deserve this and more.”

His hands slip beneath my shirt, calloused fingers dragging over my skin. I shiver at the contrast, my body already aching for him.

“What you did this morning?” he murmurs, lips brushing my throat. “Pure evil.”

A whimper escapes me as his hands drift lower, gripping the waistband of my sweatpants before sliding them down.

“But I forgive you.”

He sinks to his knees, pulling my underwear down with slow movements.  “We have to check the quality of these shelves,” he muses, pressing a soft kiss to my inner thigh. “Make sure they can hold all your romance books.”

His fingers squeeze my hips as he lifts one of my legs over his shoulder.  “Hold tight, baby.”

Before I can grasp the shelf, his mouth is on me, and I moan loudly. Not a care that our new neighbors might hear from the echoes in the barely furnished house.

Joaquin doesn’t waste any time. His tongue moves against me, teasingly slow. My eyes shift down, and I meet his dark chocolate gaze staring back at me. Savoring every reaction he pulls from me. My fingers grip the edge of the shelf, my knee threatening to buckle as his tongue works wonders, need simmering in his eyes.

“Baby,” I gasp, my free hand burying itself in his curls, tugging just the way I know he likes.

He groans against me, the vibration sending another wave of pleasure up my spine. His grip on my thighs tightens, holding me in place as he devours me like he’s been starving for this—starving for me.

“Tell me what you need. I need your words, baby.”

“I need you, please, Joaquin.” I’m already close, my body coiling, every nerve alive with need.

And then he stops.

A desperate whimper escapes me as he pulls back, lips glistening, eyes dark with heat.  “Not yet,” he murmurs, dragging his mouth along my inner thigh, leaving soft, open-mouthed kisses in his wake. “I want to take my time with you.”

“Joaquin, please,” I breathe, but he just smirks, hands sliding up my sides as he stands.

I barely get a chance to catch my breath before his lips crash into mine, hot and hungry. The taste of myself on his tongue only makes me needier. I release my hold on the shelf, my hand roaming down to his pants. I need them off—now.

Joaquin bites my lower lip and smacks my hand off his cock. With little effort, he spins me around and pins me against the shelves, holding my arms behind my back.  “So desperate for me, huh?” he murmurs before nibbling on the sensitive spot on my neck.

“Please, baby.” I whine, my cunt already dripping. I press my ass to his groin, grinding on him, trying to get some friction. I think I have him, feeling his grip loosen on my hands, but he spins me around to face him and places me on my brand new desk.

“I thought we might break in the new desk.” He smirks, pulling my sweatshirt over my head and laying me gently on the cold wood.  “Touch yourself.” His voice is a low, but demanding growl.

I watch, breath hitching, as he pulls down his pants, his hard cock springing free. He strokes himself, spreading the precum as I lower my hand to my own heat. My fingers circle my clit a few times before sliding two fingers into my cunt. I gasp, pumping in and out, stretching myself out.

“Good girl,” Joaquin praises. “Does that feel good?”

“Yes.” I moan, running my free hand over my hardened nipple before bringing it back down to circle my clit. My hips move in sync with my hands as the familiar coil builds up. I squirm on the desk, my eyes falling shut close off the edge of pleasure.

“I can’t let you have all the fun.” Joaquin grabs my wrist, stopping me. I cry out, my body thrumming with frustration, and he brings my fingers to his mouth, sucking hard on my juices. The warmth of his tongue against my skin draws a deep moan from me before he lets them go with a pop.

He grabs my ankles and pulls me down so my ass rests on the edge of the desk. His torturing touch soothes the skin of my inner thigh, skipping my heat and landing on my waist, holding me in place.

“You’re so damn beautiful,” he murmurs, pressing kisses down my chest, lingering at the swell of my breasts before he takes one into his mouth.

I arch into him, fingers clawing at his back, desperate to feel more of him.

He groans as I push at his shirt, and in one quick motion, he pulls it off, tossing it aside before settling between my legs. His skin is hot against mine, every shift of his body making me dizzy with want.

“Baby,” I pant, nails digging into his shoulders as he rolls his hips against mine, teasing, torturing. “Please stop teasing.”

He grins, breathless. “Impatient, baby?”

“Ya cállate,” I mutter, pulling him down into another kiss.

He chuckles against my lips but doesn’t push me further. Instead, he reaches down, lining himself up with me. His forehead presses against mine, his breath heavy, and then he’s pushing into me, slow and deep, every worry and thought gone from my head.

A sharp gasp escapes me as I cling to him, every inch of me stretching to take him in. Joaquin stills, his lips ghosting over mine as if grounding himself.  “God, you feel perfect,” he groans.

I barely have a second to adjust before he moves, slow at first, dragging out every sensation until I’m trembling beneath him.

The desk creaks with every thrust under us. Needing something to anchor myself to, I grip his shoulders tighter.

Joaquin chuckles. “Guess it’s sturdy,” he murmurs, his voice strained but with a teasing edge.

I laugh breathlessly, but it quickly dissolves into a moan as he thrusts deeper, his pace picking up, his name slipping past my lips. 

It’s dizzying, overwhelming in the best way, and when his hand slips between us, fingers finding that sensitive spot, it’s enough to send me spiraling.

I cry out, my body tightening around him as pleasure crashes over me in waves. Joaquin isn’t far behind, his movements growing erratic before he groans, burying his face in my neck as he comes undone.

For a moment, all I can hear is our heavy breathing, the faint flicker of the battery-powered candles casting soft shadows around the room.

Joaquin presses a lazy kiss to my collarbone, then my jaw, then the corner of my lips.  “So,” he murmurs, grinning. “Building quality approved?”

I laugh, still breathless, still dazed. “Yeah,” I manage. “Twelve out of ten.”

He hums, picking me up from the desk. He walks toward the blankets and lays me down on a pillow.  “Good. We can test the kitchen counters later, just to make sure they installed them correctly.”

I smack his arm playfully, but my smile betrays me. “You’re ridiculous.”

He kisses my forehead before pulling away to fetch his boxers. “Dinner might be cold, though.”

“I don’t care, just bring it up. I’m starving.”

Joaquin disappears for a moment, and I expect him to come back with just our dinner, but instead, he returns with a warm washcloth in one hand and the to-go bags in the other. He kneels between my legs, the teasing smirk from earlier replaced with something softer, something quieter.

We both stay silent as he cleans me up, his touch impossibly gentle. My heart aches in the best way, love and appreciation swelling in my chest.

I watch him, warmth creeping up my neck, and when his eyes meet mine again, the words slip out before I can stop them. “I love you.”

His gaze softens even more. “I love you.” He presses a kiss to my temple before settling in beside me, pulling the extra blanket over us. He closes the space between us, legs tangling with mine as he grabs the takeout bags. “I don’t think they’re that cold.”

I snort, taking the container he hands me. “I told you I didn’t care if it was cold.”

“You say that now, but the second you put that sad, cold carbonara in your mouth, you’re gonna blame me for ruining your favorite dish.”

I roll my eyes but take a bite anyway, and okay, maybe he’s right. Cold carbonara isn’t amazing, but I don’t care.

For a while, we eat in comfortable silence. But the thought that’s been lingering in the back of my mind refuses to stay quiet. I set my fork down, debating if this is the right moment. I don’t want to ruin the night, but I also can’t keep spiraling over it.

“I don’t think I’m re-enlisting when my contract is up.”

Joaquin stills, his fork halfway to his mouth. His brows lift slightly, but he doesn’t look surprised—just waiting, listening.

“You’re serious?”

I nod, exhaling slowly. “Yeah. I’ve been thinking about it for a while now, but…I don’t know. It doesn’t feel like my future anymore.” I glance down, tracing a seam in the blanket. “I want to open a romance bookstore.”

Joaquin doesn’t say anything right away. He just watches me, studying me in that way he does when he’s working through something in his head. Then, slowly, a small smile tugs at his lips.

“A romance bookstore?”

I look down at my food, suddenly feeling shy. “Yeah. I’ve been looking into it. I have some savings that could be enough.” I shrug, tucking my hair behind my ear. “I love flying, and it’ll always be a part of me. But…I want to settle down. I want to enjoy our home, be with you, and build something that’s mine.”

Joaquin sets his food aside and shifts closer, his warm hand covering mine. “That’s what you want?” His voice is steady, but there’s something else in his eyes—concern, maybe. Not doubt, just worry.

I nod again. “Yeah. I know it sounds crazy, leaving the force to open a bookstore. But I think I can do it.”

Joaquin’s thumb brushes over my knuckles, slow and thoughtful. “It doesn’t sound crazy,” he murmurs. “It sounds like you.”

I blink up at him, my chest tightening.

He squeezes my hand. “And I think you can do it, too.”

[planete777]

BAD INFLUENCE 2・⁠｡♪ LN4 [+ OP81]

( lando norris x fem!reader ft. oscar piastri)

READ PART 1!

IN WHICH. oscar never knew getting high with lando and y/n entailed... this. but he's not complaining.

WARNINGS. 18+, MINORS DNI!, threesome, oral sex (m & f rec.), referenced tit job, face sitting and anal (m rec.), a bit of sub!oscar because it's my roman empire, high hotness pt. 3574144, unprotected in v sex, reverse cowgirl, doggy style, squirting, realisations (they love each other, your honour), they're just nasty omg what have i written 😭

NOTE. PART 2 HAS ARRIVED!!! many of you asked and so i have to deliver amirite?!?!? credit to @mariahcarreyyy for the main smut scene idea!! i hope it's good enough for ya <3 enjoy luvss.

has now been edited.

‧₊˚✩彡 taglist @laciijane @ferrarrigirl @norrizzandpia @mimi-luvzyu @multifandomwhore-003 (use askbox if you'd like to be added!)

"gonna suck you off so good, osc," lando moans in his ear, breath warm and words dirty, "you like that?"

and as oscar begs him to, he thinks that maybe getting high with lando and y/n isn't so bad afterall.

-.-.-.-.-

oscar feels fucking spent.

his cock lays limp, yet tingles with the undercurrent of arousal, and honest to God, if he fucked once more, he may never cum again.

thing is, he had thought the same 2 orgasms ago, and roughly an hour prior, but, as if the weed trickled a steady flow of dopamine into his bloodstream, the more they fucked, the more he hungered for another orgasm.

had his cock sucked completely dry by his teammate (how the fuck is lando this good at giving head?) as y/n sat on his face and he had all his prayers answered, before another climax was scooped out of him when y/n gave him a good tit job. never had he thought seeing his cum drizzled upon a girl's boobs like icing would be that cathartic, but it only gets worse when lando, the fucking nerve of that man, licks every drop like it were the remnants of a melting popsicle.

"your mouth, lando," oscar had whined out in absolute despair because, one day, it's gonna wipe him out like he never existed.

his teammate only smirked, lips oiled with spit and cum, before dragging his tongue up his girlfriend's neck, eyes hooked to oscar's, and shoving his tongue down y/n's throat. the noises were downright pornographic, pumping more blood to oscar's dick, and they ended up fucking, reverse cowgirl, as the girl wanked oscar off. he swore his dick would fall right right there and then, everything felt too good that there had to be a compromise, but he was yet to figure what that was. if there even was one.

wished he could say they were done, sated to the point where alarms for their flight tomorrow would be like whispers in a rainstorm. however, no matter how many breaks in between they took (consisting mostly of getting more high and sharing one spliff, which made it all hotter), a seemingly innocent make out would lead to one's mouth on another's crotch, or one's cock deep inside another (oscar had never, you know... bottomed, but fucking hell, lando's got some cock on him).

with a throbbing hole, and an equally throbbing dick, inert just minutes before, oscar has the dire need to squeeze one more orgasm before he allows himself to lay at fate's mercy.

a clammy body, flush against his own pink skin, wrings themselves out of his gentle hold and sits up, "you're hard again, baby?"

it's not really phrased as a question, but rather an interesting observation, and y/n trails a hand to grab his dick. it hurts, a dull pulse of ache bouncing through the skin, but it feel so so good and oscar's head is thrown back, mouth open as a heavy moan breaks through.

lando, from y/n's other side, watches intensely as she slowly jerks oscar off. his sternum elevates and sinks in a rapid succession, legs open wide to fully accomodate the hand working between them, and lando is fully mesmerised by it all.

shy, quiet oscar, who could have a man compelled by his hole alone, and besotted by the wonders of his mouth. lando wouldn't mind a throuple, not at all.

a sloppy kiss is left on the skin of y/n's jugular, "you want him?"

he can see the curve of his girlfriend's smile, pushing against her smooth cheek, and she knows what he means.

you want him for us?

"yeah," her hand slows, and oscar whines, lando giggles at that. so desperate. "not letting him go now."

then she's taking her hand off oscar completely, pushing her body into his to whisper, "wanna fuck me while i suck your mate off?"

and oscar's eyes glitter as they snap open and his head nods so fast, it nearly tumbles off his neck, lando's sure.

he's moving, sitting up and looking at the both of them with red, lidded eyes, and they hold so much, that lando wonders how one could retain it all.

y/n is smiling and wiggling onto her front, and it galvanises lando to bare his legs wide, cock hard and weeping precum. she gives it a small teasing lick and sparks zap through his dick, causing a hand to fly to her hair. he pulls ever so slightly, just as a warning, and she's smirking, giving the head a kiss.

"how do you want it?" oscar asks from behind her, calculative. she opens her legs more, pussy glistening, "any way you want to, baby."

he hums, kneading the flesh of her ass softly in confirmation, and grabs his dick to prod at her hole. it's tentative, almost adoring, before he slides in fully, soft and slow. he's so sweet, so gentle, as if it's his first time doing such a thing, and y/n can't withold the moan that pushes past her lips.

"oh fuck, oscar."

he's whining, hands tight around her waist.

lando pushes her down on his dick, saliva lathering his skin beautifully, y/n's nose deep in the tamed bush of hair. she allows herself to breathe, eyes shut tight, but then oscar's moving, so slow and slow deep that she choking on her moans, and lando's cock.

he pulls her off just slightly, but she slides him back in, dick thick and hot in her throat, and lando's moans are whorish.

"yes, baby," he's whining, "just like that."

oscar feels his orgasm creep on him too quickly, tries to think of anything that would slow it down, but the sight before him is so nasty, he loves it. lando is completely gone, fucking into y/n's throat like it's his last ever head, two hands in her hair. he's redder than oscar's ever seen him, curls stuck to his forehead like glue and muscles straining as he pulls his girlfriend on and off his cock.

"fuckkk— shit, i'm gonna cum," he groans out, hand moving to rub into y/n's clit. she's writhing, legs shaking as she slobbers all over the dick in her mouth and lando's face turns pained with pleasure, unmoving, as his eyes roll to the back of his head.

oscar can't stop his orgasm anymore, and it tumbles over him like a tsunami, hips snapping as he fills y/n deep. the sound of high pitched moans cry from lando's mouth, body trembling with the intensity of his climax and just as oscar slowly dwindles from his high, y/n is clenching around him so tightly and a gush of wetness splashes against his thigh.

his head whips down to see his legs drenched and oscar— he's mesmerised.

"shit, y/n," it's an awed whisper, "you're squirting?"

his voice sounds fucked out, and lando's eyes are sliding open, curious. the sound of liquid falling onto the bedding is so damning, and oscar pulls out to watch as her pussy clenches and pushes more out.

it's beautiful, what he's seeing.

"oh my God."

lando gently pushes her mouth off his dick and y/n's sobbing, back arching as she convulses.

"let it all out, baby," lando caresses her cheeks, "look at you being so good for oscar."

and at that, oscar figures he could get used to this, for as long as times wills.

[w4ndal0ver]

The Art of Submission (1)

[minors don't interact, 18+]

pairing: wanda maximoff x fem!reader

summary: As a growing author, you're grappling with a frustrating writer's block while trying to craft your next lesbian erotic novel. With a lack of personal experience holding you back, inspiration seems just out of reach. But when a captivating neighbour steps in, offering unexpected support and a tantalizing invitation to explore the depths of desire, you find yourself on a journey that blurs the lines between reality and fiction, leading to a discovery that you definitely weren't expecting.

content warnings: lead up, talk of submission and sadomasochism, flirty touches and conversation.

note: This is the first chapter of a new story that I'm writing, any ideas or inspiration would be appreciated so if you have any ideas feel free to drop them in my requests, other than that buckle in! (I will try to get the next part out as soon as possible)

The Art of Submission - Chapter One 

The soft glow of your laptop illuminated the cluttered desk, your cursor blinking impatiently on an empty document. You stare aimlessly at the screen, your fingers hovering above the keys waiting desperately for inspiration to strike. It had been hours since you sat down, hoping to squeeze out something, but your mind felt trapped and foggy, yet every time you wrote a sentence, you only sank deeper into it. The end result had started to feel completely out of reach.

Your last book had done okay. It wasn’t groundbreaking or a bestseller, but it was just enough to remind you that you could do this. You could write and publish your writing and make some level of a name for yourself in the world of lesbian erotica. Not that it was hard considering the low level media attention that your field rarely gained. The reviews had been mostly kind and the sales had trickled in steadily enough that you were managing to stay afloat, but nowhere near the level of success that you first imagined when you wrote your first novel. 

Your apartment is a mess, the evidence of your creative block scattered pointlessly across the room. Empty coffee mugs crowded your desk, some still holding the cold remnants of yesterday's caffeine-fueled desperation. You’d also not left the apartment in days, time becoming a blur of restless nights and sluggish mornings, avoiding stepping outside. You found it was easier to stay here, trapped within the confines of your own thoughts, hoping something would come to you. 

You lean back in your chair, groaning in frustration. You thought about getting up and attacking the massive pile of laundry that had sat abandoned in the corner for days, but you quickly pushed that aside, realising that there was no point until you at least got another page written. The cursor was blinking furiously at you and you felt yourself going slightly insane. You wanted to smash your head into the keyboard, but instead you imagined yourself doing it which brought a small smile to your lips. 

It was at this moment that a sharp knock sounded at the door, you spin in your chair, frowning as you try to glance over at the entrance to the apartment. You wracked your brain trying to remember if you’d ordered something, but you couldn’t work it out and you knew you definitely wasn’t expecting company. You push yourself out of the chair with a deflated sigh, stretching your legs out as you go towards the door. The knock came again, firmer this time. Whoever it was, they weren’t planning on leaving. 

Shuffling to the door, you don’t bother to smooth the wisps of your hair or fix the crumples in your shift, you just swung it open. 

“Hey, I hope I’m not intruding, but I thought you could use a break.”

You blink in shock, momentarily stunned. Wanda stood in your doorway, her familiar yet distant neighbour from across the hall. You knew her as the woman who you occasionally exchange small talk with in the corridor, but there she was holding a bottle of wine like she’d been planning this all along. Her reddish-brown hair flowed over her shoulders, perfectly catching the dimming light of the room, the colours of her striped blouse almost too cheerful for the cluttered mess that she would soon walk into. 

“I can basically hear your sighs from across the wall. Writer's block?” Wanda smiled, her green eyes warm but with a hint of darkness behind them, as if she knew something that you didn’t. She stepped further inside, her presence filling the small apartment yet you didn’t move to stop her, you didn’t feel the need to. 

“Yeah no of course, come on in.” You say, brows furrowed in confusion. You hadn’t told anyone that you were trying to write again, come to think of it, you hadn’t even told her that you were a writer in the first place. Suddenly, your cheeks flushed pink in the realisation that she knew who you were. 

Wanda set the bottle down on the counter, next to a half empty cup. The sound of it landing felt louder than it should, cutting through the quiet tension that was arising around the pair of them. 

“You’ve been in here too long, I thought wine might be a good excuse to step away from the screen for a bit.” Wanda spoke with a caring tone beneath her soft voice, yet you found it unsettling in how she acted so naturally, offering up solutions to problems that you hadn’t even told her about. 

Wanda always seemed to have a way of appearing when you least expected it, offering little moments of relief, like that time she helped carry groceries up the stairs. She was friendly, sure, but there was an edge to her friendliness. A knowing look, like she was always a step ahead of you, just waiting for the right moment to weave her way into your life. You didn’t know why, but you weren’t exactly complaining about it. 

“You know, I’ve read some of your stuff.” There it was, you freeze, your heart skipping a beat. Your eyes dart to Wanda’s face, as if you were searching for any hint of a joke but instead you’re met with a calm, confident smile. That wasn’t what you were expecting. You’d always presumed that your audience was horny teenage girls, but Wanda was a mind-blowingly gorgeous woman, the exact opposite of who she was expecting. Besides that, your books lived in a cosy corner of the erotic fiction world, usually flying under the radar, definitely not the type of thing a neighbour casually brings up over wine. 

“You have?” You ask, trying to sound casual but your voice comes out a little more strained than intended. You walk around the kitchen counter where Wanda had perched herself, your hands almost shaking from the unexpected social encounter. You reach into the cupboard, finding two wine glasses and placing them down between the two of you. 

“Mhm.” Wanda leans against the counter, an almost playful spark in her eye, “You’re good. The way you write about submission, it’s real, raw. It’s incredible.” 

You feel your cheeks warm up, unsure on how to respond. This was the first piece of praise you’d received from inside your own kitchen. You felt your pulse quicken, the fact that Wanda had read those words, the intimate fantasies that you’d put into your stories was making this situation way more intimate than deemed necessary. 

You literally were stuck in a state of speechlessness, but Wanda was acting like she expected this. She lets you stand with your back against the counter opposite her, fiddling with the ends of your hair while she pulls up a stool. “Corkscrew?” 

“Oh yeah, of course.” As you turned you wanted to slap yourself, why were no words coming out, you are absolutely embarrassing yourself, yet the redhead was still gleaming at you as if you were adding something to the interaction. You rummage through your drawers to find what you needed before handing it over to her. 

“You know, when I first picked up one of your books I wasn’t sure what to expect.” She chuckled, tilting her head thoughtfully as she worked on opening up the bottle. “But then, well, I couldn’t put it down. Dangerous stuff.”

This time you manage a small laugh, still processing the idea of Wanda - the beautiful and put-together woman from across the hall - curled up reading the things you’d written. “I guess it’s not what most people expect from their neighbours.” Once again you’d tried so hard to sound casual that your voice was wavering in response. 

“Well maybe we just don’t know our neighbours as well as we think we do.” With that, she pulled the cork from the bottle and filled up the two glasses, leaning in a little closer as a smile grew into a smirk. 

You glance down at her as you reach for the glass, “I never really imagined someone like you reading my books you know.” You say sheepishly, taking a sip of the wine hoping to mask the nerves that were creeping up your spine. 

Wanda raises an eyebrow, her smirk more prominent now. “Someone like me?”

You shrug, avoiding her gaze as you fiddle with the stem of your glass. “You know, my audience is usually different. Younger maybe.”

She chuckles softly at your response, “Are you saying I’m too old for erotic fiction?” Her tone is teasing, yet there's a glint in her eye that makes your palms sweat. Her comment about submission still lingers in the air, your cheeks continually growing warmer. 

“No! No, I just-” You stammer, flustered by how casually she was controlling this conversation, “I didn’t think you’d be into, you know, that kind of thing.” Your voice is desperately pathetic and all you can do is smile shyly, trying to lighten the tension that was twisting in your chest. 

Wanda takes a slow slip from her glass, her eyes never once leaving yours. “Don’t assume you know what I’m into,” she comments, voice soft but full of unspoken meaning. There's that look again, the one that says she knows more than she lets on. “But seriously, I thought your writing was refreshing. You don’t hold back and that's what makes it compelling.”

You feel the blush rise again, her praise catching you off guard. “Thanks, I guess.” You mumble, feeling a little more exposed than you’d like. 

She waves a hand in the air, brushing off the awkwardness as she crosses her leg over the other. “I could tell you were stuck though,” She adds, swiftly changing the topic with a casual flick of her wrist. “So I figured I’d rescue you from yourself for a bit.”

It was your turn to raise an eyebrow, “Rescue me?”

She nods, her eyes twinkling. “I’ve been hearing you pace around for days, It’s not hard to guess you’ve got yourself into a block.” 

You can’t help but laugh, the conversation switching to something that was making you more comfortable to talk about. “Yeah, something like that. I’ve been staring at that god stupid screen for hours.” 

Wanda shakes her head, mock disapproval on her face. “That’s no way to get inspired, sometimes you just need to step away.” She gestures to the wine and the dim, cosy lighting of the room. “This is your moment to relax.” 

You take a deep breath, feeling the weight on your chest lighten ever so slightly. “I guess I have been driving myself crazy.” This would usually be an overstep in a first proper conversation, but the curious look behind Wanda’s eyes made you feel like she was making you say all of this, like she was dragging the vulnerability out of you. 

Wanda smiles at your openness, a knowing, almost secretive smile as she lifts her glass to her lips again. “There's a reason they say inspiration strikes when you least expect it, maybe you just need to stop expecting it.”

The laughs were more relaxed now, “Oh, is that how it works?” You tease playfully, finally getting to a point where your nerves have stilled out. You could feel the tension in your body loosen just a little, but Wanda’s gaze still never faded.

She grins at your response, swirling the wine around in her glass. “Well sometimes it helps to just let go.” Her eyes sparkling as she watches you. “So what’s this book about anyway? What's got your pretty little head in a spin?”

You hesitate for a moment, unsure how to respond. There's no easy way to explain what you’re writing without dipping into something personal and intimate. But the way Wanda is watching you so intently, waiting, you decide to just go for it. You’re thinking maybe talking about it will help you sort out what’s been blocking you. 

You clear your throat, and look down at the glass in your hands. It’s, uh well, it's another one in the same genre as the others.”

Wanda cocks her head at you, leaning in again. “Mhm, go on.” She pulls out the stool next to her, tapping on the top of it. You smile in the safeness of her space, walking round the counter and sitting down next to her. 

“It’s about sadomasochism actually. I’m trying to explore that dynamic, the balance between pleasure and pain, trust and submission.” You feel your face flush, realising that there's no backing out now. This is supported by Wanda’s lips curling into an all too well knowing smile. 

“So you’re digging into the darker side of submission? That’s bold.”

You nod, your voice barely above a whisper. “Yeah it’s more about the psychological aspect of it - how it feels to surrender completely to someone else but it's hard to get it to feel real rather than just something for someone to get off on.”

There's a brief pause, both of you deep in thought, but you can feel Wanda’s gaze like a weight on your skin. Her eyes darken, just for a moment, as she processes your words. “Sounds intense.” She murmurs, her voice dropping a little lower. 

You let out a nervous laugh, trying to break the tension that you’d created. “Yeah well it’s not exactly an easy thing to write about. I want to portray it with respect.” 

The redhead has now turned in her chair to face you completely head on, her head tilted as she rolls her lips together. “Maybe that’s because you’re overthinking it.” She pauses, then adds, almost as an afterthought, “Or maybe because you haven’t experienced it enough yourself.” 

Your breath catches in your throat at her suggestion and you can’t hold her stare anymore, quickly glancing away with a small cough. “I- Well I’ve written about it plenty.”

She chuckles gently at your answer, her tone life but her words heavy with meaning. “It’s not quite the same thing though is it?” Wanda’s fingers gently brush against yours as she reaches for the wine bottle to refill her glass. The touch is light, fleeting, but she doesn’t pull her hand away immediately. Instead her fingers linger just long enough to make you wonder if it was an accident or something more deliberate. 

You attempt to laugh it off, but your voice falters slightly. “I guess not.”

She meets your eyes again, her gaze almost daring, “You know, sometimes the best way to get through the writer's block is to immerse yourself in the subject matter.”

You swallow hard, praying that she didn’t hear the gulp that erupted in the back of your throat. The air between you had grown thicker than before. “Yeah I’ve heard that before.”

She smiles, leaning just a little closer, her arm brushing against yours as she picks up her glass. “So what’s tripping you up? The emotional stuff, or you know the physical details.”

The way she’s looking at you, so calm yet so confident. It’s like she’s pulling the words out of you without you even realising it. “Both. It’s hard to get the balance right, making the dynamic feel believable.”

Wanda nods thoughtfully, biting the tip of her finger as she indulges herself into your problem. “Have you thought about how you’re building the dynamic between them?” She shifts closer and in the process her knee scrapes past yours under the lip of the counter top. You’re hyper aware of every small movement now and it's impossible to be an accident. “Like what does submission look like to you? What does it feel like in the story?”

You blink, caught off guard by the directness of her question. “God, I don’t know, It's like surrender, like when you trust someone enough to give them complete control.” You pick up your glass again, taking a massive chug in order to keep your hands steady. “It’s like you know they won’t hurt you, even when you’re in your most vulnerable state.”

She nods understandingly, leaning ever so slightly closer to you. “Okay so what does that look like physically, how are you going to write that?”

Your pulse is going crazy now, you’re convinced that Wanda can hear your heartbeat quicken from just her words. “It’s about touch,” You say, your voice almost wobbling, “The way they respond to each other. The way a person can take control with just a look or a gesture.”

As you speak, Wanda’s lips turn up into a smirk, her gaze still unwavering. She’s so close to you now that the warmth of her body is radiating off of your skin. Her hand rests slightly above your knee, the touch intimate, sending a shockwave up the back of your spine. “Show me.” 

Your breath hitches, heart racing as her fingers begin to trace a small circle against your leg. The motion is almost absentminded, yet it feels nothing but deliberate. She maintains her eye contact, her expression open but charged with a spark of something playful and dangerously enticing. 

You freeze, caught in a whirlwind of sensations as the room feels smaller now, the air thick with unspoken tension. You know exactly what she’s suggesting without her having to say it.

You open your mouth to respond, but immediately close it, earning a small chuckle from the redhead. “If you can describe it so well, you shouldn’t be stuck here right.” The dangerousness in her tone makes the words evaporate and you become acutely aware of the heat radiating from her body, the way her thumb brushes softly against your skin, drawing you in deeper. 

Wanda pulls back just slightly, but her hand lingers where it is, a gentle weight that feels both reassuring and electric. Her eyes lock back with yours, searching, waiting for your answer. “It’s okay.” She whispers, her voice soft yet commanding, as if she's completely in control in this delicate moment, “I’m just trying to help you get… unstuck.”

You can’t look away from her, caught in her captivating gaze. Her confidence is wrapping itself around you, urging you to step closer to the edge of your own desires. The space between you is charged, the possibilities suddenly hanging thick in the air as you contemplate what she could do next.

“Have you thought about drawing from your own experiences?” Wanda questions, still attempting to find a solution to a problem you couldn’t tell whether she was actively helping or not. “You know, sometimes personal stories can ignite that spark of inspiration.”

You swallow hard, feeling a mix of excitement and apprehension. “I wish I could.” You admit, your pulse is still racing from her touch that she has now released, yet her body still remains just as close. “I’ve never really had anything that intimate.”

A playful glint flickered within the green of her eyes, her gaze sharpening. “Really? Nothing? Not even a fleeting moment that made your heart race?” She tilts her head slightly, studying your face as if searching for unspoken truths buried inside of you. 

You shake your head, feeling the embarrassment paint itself across your face. “Not like that, I mean I’ve had relationships, but nothing that’s ever made me feel like I was completely out of control, everythings always felt so safe.”

“Safe can be good, but isn’t there something thrilling about stepping outside of your comfort zone?” Her face leans closer to you once more, the feeling of her leg permanently resting against yours now. 

You nod, the thought resonating with you, but you’re still hesitant. “I just don’t know how to write something so raw and believable if I haven’t experienced it myself.”

Her expression softens, shifting her weight slightly. Her gaze drops to your lips for the briefest moment before locking back onto your eyes. “Kiss me,” She whispers, the command both shocking and exhilarating. 

Your heart races, a jolt of electricity coursing through you at her words. You can’t look away, caught in the depths of her stare. The space between you feels impossibly small, filled with a tension that pulses with possibility. “Just one kiss,” She adds, her voice a sultry invitation. “It might just unlock everything you’ve been trying to write.”

With her eyes gleaming into yours, the world around you fades into the background leaning only the two of you in this moment. You’re drawn to her, every instinct telling you to surrender to the rush of desire coursing through your veins. You lean in, heart racing as you connect your lips together. The kiss is soft at first, a small tentative exploration, but it quickly deepens, igniting something almost primal within you. Wanda’s hand slides from your knee to the back of your neck, pulling you closer as if she wants to consume every part of you. You pull back, the softness of her lips still lingering against yours. You’re panting slightly, taking in the depths of what you just happened. 

Wanda’s eyes gleam with satisfaction, her finger touching her lip and you can’t help but smile widely at her. “See.” She murmurs, her tone low and teasing. “Just a taste of what it feels like to let go.”

[transboyswitchytales]

Busy Woman

Governor Claire DeBella (Alpha) x Student Fem Reader (Omega)

Part 1,I'm so mature, collected and sensible Except when I get hit with rejection To turn me down, well, that's just unethical

Part 2, But if you need my love My clothes are off, I'm comin' over to your place

Part 3, I could accommodate, I'm flexible, so just tell me what you like

Sugar Mama Claire DeBella is in trouble with her mate, can she be forgiven?

SMUT WARNING (MDNI) 18+

My Masterlist

Alpha/Omega/ Mommy kink/ Power kink/ Sugar Mama/ SMUT / Possesive kink / Jealousy Kink / G!P / Scenting Kink / Licking / Knotting/ Cum Kink / Lack of Control Kink / Power Kink / Manipulation / Porno talk - AI / Coming Out / CNC if you squint / Vouyer kink / Cum Kink / Fictional Cum Inflation Kink / Impreg Kink / G!P /

(Glass Onion Fandom)

My Masterlist

Maybe for you, though, I could accommodate

I'm flexible, so just tell me what you like

You’d started to nest a little and you kept trying to stop yourself. You didn’t want to nest. But it was futile with this much Claire smell around you. 

Claire had taken you back to the townhouse on Tuesday night. 

On Wednesday: Claire had one of her lawyers handle the breaking of the lease and somehow you got an apology from your landlord and your full deposit. Which was fucking unheard of, you’d never gotten a deposit back. You didn’t ask Claire how they’d done it. You’d told Claire you would pay rent and she’d denied every chance you’d attempted.

All of your things were moved in faster than you could say ‘Political Crisis.’. Claire had an empty in-law unit down on the basement level where your furniture was now stacked…. and forgotten about. Boxes of nicknacks now felt empty and meaningless. But they were stacked in the forgotten part of the house next to a Peloton bike and a dusty row machine.  

Claire moved fast, she had opened a joint bank account before lunch. And the number in it was terrifying, more comma’s in a bank account than you’d ever seen. And you’d refused to use it, much to Claire’s continuous displeasure. Claire’s housekeeper had stocked the fridge to your alpha’s specific instructions. All your favorite foods and comfort snacks were packed in the house. It would be sweet if it didn’t happen so fast. 

You hadn’t broken things or run up her card. Claire wished you had done any of those things. 

You were being cold and a bit aloof; distant was an understatement. And it was driving your alpha absolutely nuts. Claire didn’t know what to do. You’d never been mad at her like this. And she didn’t know how to fix it. 

You stayed in your (and her) favorite room of the townhouse, her library. You read and write, and kept out of the rest of the house. 

Claire told her team she’d be working from home all week, she’d been in her office for most of the day. She’d been scared even after being around each other, that your health would regress and get sick again. Even after you assured her you felt fine again.  

But every few hours, she’d come in and check on you. You felt her worry, smelled the pheromones. You didn’t push your own back to calm her.

 Claire would open the door, and you were reading in her favorite spot. Just like she’d dreamed of so many nights in the hauntingly quiet house. While she missed you.

You sat like everything she’d ever wanted when she’d dreamed of meeting her mate. She’d even bought that chair, hoping none day you’d sit in it with her. 

And here you were, in the plush seat in the corner, surrounded by books.

 Claire would walk over to you, and you’d flat out ignore her. But your mate would bend down and kiss your head. 

You could tell Claire wanted to say something each time, but she’d turn around and walk out, always leaving the library door cracked open. 

She also kept her office door open right next to the library, so you both could smell each other. You could hear her taking conference calls, zoom meetings; chattering about legislation and new problems. Her typing continues through the day, a gentle constant.

The pitter-patter of her fingers on keys filled the still mansion. It’s little clicks like Gene Kelly walking down a street in the rain. But you didn’t allow yourself to enjoy your mate's closeness. 

You did feel a little guilty, ok, a lot guilty. During the calls, you could also hear the strain in Claire’s voice. The anxiety and longing didn’t leave her body for a moment. 

She’d never had you this close to her, and yet you were so emotionally far. It was driving her crazy. 

You held onto your irritation still. 

Around five pm, you heard Claire’s office door creak. She padded down the stairs, opening the front door. You figured she’d ordered dinner. 

You weren’t surprised when she walked back into the library. One hand holding the big plastic bag. The other, two upside-down wine glasses pinched together and one of her more favorite Napa Red bottles of wine. Setting it all down on the coffee table that had your cold mug of tea, the one Claire made for you at lunch. You hadn’t eaten the sandwich she’d made for you either. And Claire eyed it for a moment before pushing it aside. 

The alpha dragged one of the other large-backed reading chairs across from you. 

Your Claire was smart, she knew you’d not eat downstairs with her. So she’d cornered you in the place you were nesting. No running now, Omega. 

Claire plopped down with more exhaustion than grace. Opening the small drawer in the coffee table she used the back up cork screw and opened the wine with practiced ease. Pouring it into two glasses and then setting it aside. 

Claire opened the plastic bag, she was so damn smart. She’d calculated this. 

 She didn’t speak, just moved around the space. You did notice her inhaling a little deeper, and having a hard time not looking at you. It was bittersweet, her home finally smelled like you. 

You were in her favorite room in the house. You were hers. And yet you were punishing her. 

Claire opened one of the white cartons of chow mein pushed it towards you and you noticed she’d gotten it with the sweet pork.

Governor had attention to detail that was for sure. She’d gotten your favorites; dumplings, and her least favorite crab rangoons. You were curious now and you looked into the bag to see she’d bought two orders of the rangoons.

Yeah she was groveling. Claire was desperate. You had to hand it to her, it was better than flowers. 

You reached into the container and ate one. 

Claire tried to keep her face neutral, but you saw the little shift of relief and victory at you eating. 

The two of you ate and drank in a combined quiet. Claire took it as a win, you didn’t push her away, you ate. 

And she found the smell of you was intoxicating. 

Thursday was your press conference. 

You were told in advance by Claire what everything was going to look like. But it was still uncomfortable to say the least. Claire had never had other people around you while she was around. You both didn’t know how to act. 

Claire and you were in your master bedroom, and people had sent over a lot of dressing options. You heard her employees and CNN reporters downstairs setting up lighting, camera, and sound. 

You’d taken a shower and your hair was still wet. You were standing in a towel, staring at the rack of clothes next to the bed.

You looked at the clothes nervously. Not sure what to wear from the options. Your anxiety was growing as you wondered what outfit didn’t say ‘gold digging whore?’ but you weren’t sure if that outfit came in blue? 

Claire came up behind you and grabbed your hip. You broke turning and throwing your arms around her neck. You put your nose on her bond scar and inhaled her alpha scent. She was sending comforting Mommy scent out, and it was doing the trick. Your heartbeat slowed, and you got dizzy and euphoric.

Claire was in her fluffy robe, no make up, her hair was blown dry. She looked raw and scared of what you were thinking.  

Claire didn’t say anything, she just held you against her. You missed her hugs. You cuddled in the bed at night, but you hadn’t been as physically affectionate outside of that. 

“You do not have to do this, I can tell them to leave right now,” Claire said, and it sounded sad, like she was making herself say it. But you heard the fear, felt it, smelled it. You knew she was afraid you were going to run, to leave her, to break it off.

 The ultimate heartbreak for Claire DeBella.

And bond marks weren’t something to be undone…Claire would always be longing for you. In every room, her instinct would be to look for you, to smell the air for your signature scent. 

 Every omega would smell and taste stale like dead flowers on a grocery store tile floor. Nothing would ever come close to making love to you.

 She’d never truly find love, it would be connections, but not like this. Nothing like this, not the intensity and the fever in which you loved each other. In truth, Claire knew she’d not date if you ever left. She’d probably have someone trail you, she’d lie to herself and say it was to protect you. To keep you safe, but she’d want photos…for proof she’d tell herself. 

She’d look at the photos at night with a bottle of 30-year-old scotch. DeBella would turn deranged like Miss Havisham. Like a crazy stalker, she’d spend the rest of her days missing you. 

Claire knew she wouldn’t let someone touch her after you, she’d masturbate to videos the two of you made. She’d inhale the clothes she’d steal of yours. Claire would never be whole again. Always wishing and wanting you.

You whimpered at the intensity of the change and Claire realized her pheremones had switched from comforting to downright terrified.

“I’m sorry, my love. I didn’t mean to, I’m sorry.” She said, and you knew what she was thinking of. Worst case scenarios. 

 You pulled back, and you felt her body grow tense. Like she believed this may be the moment her life fell apart. You couldn’t stand it one more minute.  

“Claire, I’m not leaving you. We are forever bonded. I want to marry you. I’m not afraid of coming out on CNN. I’m not going to be mad at you forever. I’m just mad at you right now. I love you, you know I love you, right? You know I’m committed and won’t leave, right?” You ask, and Claire chews her lip, and you realize she might not. “You silly alpha, you know I’m yours.” You tell her, and Claire moans involuntarily at the statement. 

The smell in the air changes once more.

“Say it again.” She whispers the command, and you smirk for the first time since your fight. 

“Claire DeBella, I’m your omega. I’m your mate, I’m your whore. I’m all yours.” You say, and it’s got no nervousness, it holds conviction. It’s a fact, not something you’d just decided lightly. Something that stood tall in a forest for centuries or hard in stone in some foreign museum. You were strong in your love for Claire. And her body responded to you, to your declaration. 

The older alpha grabbed you by the hips and walked you backwards until you were on the bed. You yelped but it was quickly cut off by feverish kisses. 

Claire kissed you like she needed to bite you again, like one claiming scar wasn’t enough. Like she might need to call the camera crew in here so everyone knew who owned you. 

You grabbed her thick, dark hair and pulled her closer. 

Claire was all too eager to agree, closer was non-negotiable. Claire guided your body back further, until you were lying in the middle of the bed. 

You broke the kiss as you felt her erection against you now, oh boy. Her robe parted and rode up to her upper thigh as she held you against the Tempurpedic twenty-two thousand dollar bed.  

“Claire, we don’t have time-and” She kissed your bottom lip and then your chin and your jaw. She opened her mouth, and it was hot and we,t full of so much desire. Her breath tickling your skin before her lips seared your nerve endings. 

You were powerless to resist her. How could you? When she was touching you and kissing you like that?

“Don’t care-” Claire said as she got to the spot just under your ear. Your hips bucked up, and she pulled the towel open, and you were bare under the Governor of Connecticut.  

“I-I” You whimper, and your thighs betray you as they open. Claire smirks as she moved down the bed and licks your labia, not paying attention to your clit. Just tasting the slick you make for her, that you can’t seem to ever stop making for her. 

Her mouth is creating obscene noises as she drinks from you. Your thighs open further and you are spread for her. 

She pulls back and her mouth and chin are glistening and sticky. But Claire isn’t bothered, in fact the taste of you has her cock painfully rubbing against the rough fabric of her robe.

You cry out at the feeling of cold air against your cunt once more, her warm mouth was so good and you miss it instantly. 

“My gorgeous girl, I need you. I miss you. I crave you. I’ll go fucking crazy if I can’t have you baby girl. Let Mommy drink you. Won’t you be good for me?” Claire says, and it’s deep in her throat with frenzied appetite. 

You moan and whimper and it’s noises that a director would pay extra for an omega porn star to do. You don’t mean to, it’s natural, and it’s all for Claire. And her hips buck against the mattress. Pre cum oozing out onto the blankets and robe. 

You see the movement, and your hands go to Claire’s neck and you push your hands under the robe. You are moving it over her shoulders, and she grins at you. Claire likes you needy, always needy for her. 

“Tell Mommy what you want. I’ll give you everything, I’ll give you anything you ever ask. Just ask Mommy.” Claire says and you know she means it, if you asked for an island she’d buy it. If you wanted to adopt the late Queen of Englands corgi’s she’d have her team break into the fucking palace. Claire would do anything for you. 

You bite your lip and make a whiny noise of frustration. You don’t know why, but sometimes you got so wantonly horny you had a hard time asking for things. It gave Claire great pleasure to coax the words out of you. She’d work you up and coo her Mommy voice at you until you were puddy.

 Begging and lost to the sound of her cock making slapping noises against your body.

“Use your words hon. I’ll give you it, Mommy always gives you what you want. You have to say it.” Claire says and she goes higher in your inner thigh and she sucks hard at the skin. You bite back a scream and grab her pillow and muffle it and bite it hard. 

Claire leaves a large hickey on your right thigh. When she’s done sucking she grabs the pillow and pulls it away from your face. Claire had never been ok with you hiding in the bed to stop the noises you made for her. Claire liked your desperate, filthy cries, and she wouldn’t be robbed of them. Not even with CNN downstairs, able to hear you. She didn’t care. 

She was your alpha. 

You were Governor Claire DeBella’s omega, her bonded mate. And she had every right to impregnate you right here. 

You tried lamely again to tug at the robe. But Claire just shook her head and bent down and let her hot breath tease at your swollen cunt. 

“Mommy, please, don’t do this.” You beg, and Claire smirks, she likes this game. You didn’t mean to give her exactly what she wants.

 But that’s the thing about being mates, you just couldn’t get enough of each other. And you fit like two puzzle pieces, so when you moved one way, Claire instinctively moved with you. It was endlessly gorgeous and annoying. Your hips lift off the bed, and Claire wraps her arms around you and pulls you against her mouth. 

Letting her flat long strong muscle wipe against your hole, up your slick heat and push your clit against her tongue. Before moving away. You grind your teeth and make a pathetic noise of disbelief. 

“Don’t do that? Don’t do what, baby? You have to be more specific, my gorgeous omega. Don’t lick you? Well, that’s my right. I don’t know if you have much of a say in that. Besides, you are always so slick for me, your arousal just drips down your thighs. As your Mommy and alpha, it’s my job to clean you. I can’t let anyone else smell what you make for me, and me alone. You think that while we are on TV you will be able to keep yourself from ruining your dress? Or do you think you’ll leave a wet spot on the chair?”

You try to cover your embarrassed face, and Claire growls, it’s deep, it’s menacing, it’s a warning. You uncover your face and look at Claire’s flushed cheeks.

“I think I wasted time yesterday. I should have done this all along. You are mine, I take you when I want to. You lost the right when you let me bite you. I think I’m going to throw away your birth control.”

Your knees jolt and then almost close. Not from fear, but from overwhelming arousal. You need your thighs closed so your clit stops throbbing and you stop producing so much fucking wetness from your aching pussy. 

Claire knows what she’s doing. She’s getting you desperate for her so that you beg. She didn’t need to wait long. You needed her just as bad. And these threats were just making your brain fog over, too horny to think. 

“Is that what you want, little omega? You want your powerful Mommy to knock you up and not tell you? I think they can hear us downstairs, don’t you? Your cute little noises, I wonder if they’re recording. Do you think they know the things I’ve done to you? The places you let me lick and touch? Should I talk louder? Do you think they want to know about how I use the dildo you made from the mold of my dick to double penitrate you? That my knot swells from the very scent of your dirty thong in the hamper.”

You are humping the air and Claire’s cock is holding all of the blood and adrenline in her body. But the more she speaks the more thick the smell of arousal gets. 

The towel underneath you is soaked but not from water. Claire has never tasted anything more delicious. It was like you were made for her taste buds. No wine, no food, no drug would ever be this good. 

She couldn’t help herself, Claire dove her mouth back against your clit and she sucked. Before you could get close to any relief, she moved her tongue back into your tight hole. You claw at the blankets, and Claire grabs both your hands with hers. Threading your fingers she feels your bond ring and her cock twitches. 

You were hers. 

You gasp and then work very hard to make words come out of your mouth. 

“Mommy please fuck me. Take your robe off, please, need your skin. Need you everywhere, all over me. Fuck me Mama, I’ll be so good. Please, I need to have your seed deep in my womb while we sit on TV. I can’t be without it one more second. Don’t do this, give it to me. I need your cock. I’ll behave. Please, please, please, please, Mommy please, please, Mommy please, please, please, please, please Mama.” You chanted, and Claire couldn’t tease you one more minute. She tore at her robe and threw it behind her. 

Before grabbing the pillow you’d just used to try to quiet yourself. She stuck it under your ass so she could be sure to get the right angle. 

You grabbed at her forearm to tell her not to use her nice pillow under your cum soaked pussy. But Claire smirked and you realized…..she wanted it to smell like your cum. God, you two were filthy, and you loved it. You smiled and blushed, but she didn’t have the strength to talk about it now. 

She grabbed her dick and stroked it twice before smearing the tip up and down your puffy cunt. You grabbed her shoulders and pulled, and your nails bit into her creamy skin. But Claire didn’t listen to your dangerous hands. 

She didn’t care that CNN was waiting for you both to go downstairs. No, Claire was going to fill you with her semen. She’d gone a day without being inside of you, and it had been a day wasted. 

She pushed slowly until her mushroom tip head was engulfed in velvet heat. Claire tried not to roll her eyes back at the extreme tightness that had her cock feeling more loved and at home than anything ever had. 

“Mama, go faster. I can’t wait. Please, I need you.” You beg, but Claire just rocks her hips slowly and pushes little by little inside. 

“Mommy has to stretch you. Baby girl is so tight. But you live with me now. I’m going to train your holes to take me. You will always be ready to be filled by me. You are so wet gorgeous, no one gets this wet.” Claire puts one hand on your clit and collects more slick and puts her fingers in her mouth. Like she’s gone four seconds without the taste of your cum on her tongue and it’s torture, she’s famished. 

“Please fill me, I want your cum to leak out of me. I want to smell like your cum. I can’t - I ne-” You ramble, and Claire knows what will help her mate. She pushes the rest of the way and your mouth opens wide. Claire bites her lip hard as she focuses on not losing her control and rocking into you like she’s feral. 

Someone knocks on the door. 

Claire doesn’t shush you, doesn’t help you. 

“Governor, we are ready down here for you two to get your makeup done. What time do you think you’ll be down? Do you two need any help?” The polite person said through the door. 

Claire grinned like a primal animal. She leaned down so that her nose almost booped yours. Your eyes met and she talked into you. 

“Should I tell her we need help? Have her come in and see you like this? You do look like you need help baby, but not something anyone else can provide. Only me, your alpha, your Mama. Only I can ease this ache in you. But I think I should invite her in. Everyone should see what power really looks like. It’s having my sweet omega’s cunt forced open. It’s having you speechless as I force my cock deeper inside, in places no one else can touch. You are mine. She should see it, you look so pretty for me. Everyone would be so jealous.” Claire says, and it’s not quiet. And your body blushes all over and Claire rocks forward and the noise of your soaking wet pussy is LOUD. 

“Claire, tell her to go aw-away. Please don’t let her see this.” You beg because, realistically, you know Claire wouldn’t let anyone come in….right? She was the most possessive, jealous person you’d ever met…But also, you wondered if part of her wanted an audience. To see how only she could touch you. 

Claire used one hand and grabbed your throat, and you moaned entirely too loudly. 

“Claire isn’t what you call me when you are begging me to impregnate you in our bed. Claire is what you call me when you push your thong in my suit pocket when we go to dinner. You aren’t allowed to call me that here. I’ll tell you what. I’ll answer her, if you moan out Mommy. I’ll give you my seed too.” Claire said, and it was a terrible deal. But you didn’t care. 

“Hello, are you two in there?” The woman outside your bedroom door knocked again. 

“Last chance, moan ‘Mommy’ or she’s going to see where babies come from. She’s going to see how the Govenor of Connecticut abuses her wifes sweet cunt with a room full of reporters a breath a way. I think she’ll take a picture, I hope she does. I hope she get’s to see the face you make when I do this-” Claire cut off her own rant by hitting your cervix and you gasp and tears fall as you scream out. 

“MOMMY!”

That’s all Claire needs and she fucks you fast and hard, the sound of her balls hitting your body is so loud. You are sure the poor person is no longer outside the door, right? 

You grab the sheets for help, but Claire grabs your hands and you hold on. It’s gorgeous, its raw, it’s primal, it’s romantic. 

It’s fucking love. 

Claire pants and her body tensens every muscle, and she pushes into you with unrelenting power. Claire knows before you do that you are going to cum. 

“MA-A mMAA-” YOu try but she leans down and kisses you as you squeeze her cock so tight she can’t pull out all the way. You both cum form the intensity of your bodies colliding.

 It hurts so good and Claire cums with almost the force of a pressure washer into you. It pushes against your walls and fills every bit of you. White hot and warm with that sticky feel. Your stomach bulges a bit at the pressure and volume. 

Claire’s knot starts to swell. You tap her twice to alert her. Claire’s licking her top lip, and her body twitches with aftershocks.  

“We-w-” You are shaking as you stutter out a warning. 

Claire nods once in understanding. 

“It’s so ha-hard not to knot you baby. I don’t-don’t even know hh-. It just starts to build and I can’t stop it. But you are right, we don’t-don’t have time. Which is too bad because I love being tied to you for hours. I have to pull out of you now.”

Your bottom lip automatically turns to a pout. Claire pecks your lips three times and lingers on the last kiss. 

“I don’t like it either. It’s gonna hurt to not be inside you. Plus, the swelling won’t go down while we are sitting there either. You need to wear a pad, between the slick and cum it’s going to be hard for it not to fall down your leg.” Claire warns you, and you nod and shiver at her words. It’s true. 

Claire’s knot is getting bigger, and she isn’t even thrusting into you. Her body just can’t help itself when it has you. You know she was stalling for you both, but you nod again, and she closes her eyes and grimaces as she pulls out. 

You both clench your jaws as cold air and tightness make you both uncomfortable. White semen starts to ooze out of you, and Claire sighs at the sight. She leans down and kisses your pubic hair. Like she’s paying respect to her favorite deity. 

You smile warmly and then throw your arm over your eyes. 

“We’ll be down in a bit!” Claire yells loud enough that people can hear her downstairs. Claire grabs her robe and wipes up your thighs and then carefully uses the terricloth material to wipe around your swollen pussy lips. 

She’s gentle, because Claire doesn’t have a bone in her body that would ever do you harm. Your body jolts every now and then without your permission. Claire goes over to the rack of clothes that were delivered for you both. 

She pulls out a pair of trousers and a button down for you, setting them out onto the bed next to you. Before she goes into the bathroom and comes back out with a pad and more wet wipes. 

It’s gonna be a long interview. 

Friday

You were lying in bed with CNN on in the background low, the light illuminating the dim room. It was late enough that the room had a dusk glow. You were earring Claire’s boxers and an old warn hoodie. Your laptop and phone kept dinging with notification noises.

It was a good thing Claire had a security team because you couldn’t even open the blinds in the front room. Reporters were camping out outside the townhouse. That wasn’t the only new annoying thing.

You were being hounded online, Claire’s media team had been proactive, and you’d taken down most of your accounts via their recommendation. But you didn’t think they’d find you on Twitter. You’d been wrong. 

Some comments were sweet. You didn’t realize how much the queer community was excited to see you both.  

You’d expected the negative stuff, that wasn’t surprising. Lots of threats of violence, which was obnoxious. Claire had people filtering some of the more intense or creative threats. 

But the amount of people who wanted to see you two fucking was ridiculous. The things they said were absolutely filthy. 

Someone you’d worked with on a project in class had emailed you to ‘warn you’ about some tasteless websites.  

Which is where you’d been for the last ten minutes. 

One of these website had made a porno of you and Claire. Someone had used AI to put your face and Claires on two people fucking. 

Your head fell to the side as you watched pretend Claire bending you in ways you weren’t sure were possible. Then she grabbed a bullwhip, your mouth opened in surprise. 

You didn’t even hear Claire come in. She stopped dead in her tracks at the sight of you curled in bed like you’d always been there. But before she could appreciate you she’d heard moaning coming from your laptop. 

Her anger flared and she walked over to the bed and grabbed the electronic and turned it to see what the fuck you were watching. 

“What in the world?” She screeched and you jumped. Claire watched holding the laptop like it was offending her. 

“I can explain!” You shrieked and Claire didn’t look at you but she stared at ‘fake you’ who was getting her clit whipped. 

“You are watching AI porn in our bed with our faces on it?” Claire said but her tone was now more curious than angry. 

“Uh yeah actually that sums it up. This isn’t even the worst one.” You said and Claire dropped the laptop and it kept making porno fake moans and she looked at you now. 

“You’ve watched more than one?” Claire asked and her eyebrow arched. 

“Yeah, it’s one of many. I was curious- AI is nuts! There’s one where I-”

“You remember our rules, right?” Claire interrupts.

“Claire! It’s not even real porn!”

Claire just shakes her head unimpressed and she bends over the bed and closes the window on your laptop before she slams the lid down and puts it onto the dresser. Before slipping onto the bed in front of you. She grabs both your hands. 

“You are in trouble for what I just walked in on. But more importantly, are you doing ok?”

Claire had spent a lot of the day putting out the media fire that was her announcing your relationship. You’d been alone for a lot of the day. 

“I’m totally fine!” You say too quickly and she tilts her head to the side and you cave. 

“My love.” Claire says gently and you move so that your forehead rests on hers. 

“Hold me?”

Claire hums satisfied, like the question is the sweetest thing she’s heard all day. She pulls back and lifts the fancy orange blouse off of her body before unzipping the pencil skirt. So she’s just in expensive lingerie. Before she crawls further onto the bed to her side and pulls the blankets back and you go to move ontop of her and she grabs your throat. 

“Fuck.” You moan at the feeling of her firm grip on your neck. Stopping you in the hottest way. 

“My omega gets so responsive. I was just going to remind you; no clothes in the bed. But if you moan like that, I won’t be held responsible for what I do to you.” Claire's smile is naughtily as she takes in your response. 

You remember and you move back and pull the hoodie off and you didn’t wear a bra to bed. And Claire eyes your nipples before you give her the chance to tease you more you lay ontop of her. 

Claire moves one arm down your back and puts her hand under your boxers so she can palm your ass cheek. She kneads your butt like a cat would a blanket. You find it comforting and close your eyes.

“Tell me about your day.” You say and it’s not a question and Claire clears her throat before she starts to tell you her day in order. You like the rumble of her voice against her chest as she tells you everything. 

It takes about thirty minutes before she pauses. Your eyes are still closed and you are so relaxed she asks now:

“Baby are you even awake?”

Moving one of your hands to the back of her bicep letting your fingers trail over her strong arm. 

You lick your bottom lip before you answer her. 

“Lionel called and told you Birdie wants to design my wedding dress but she’s only ever done leisure wear and Lionel doesn’t want to be the one to tell her you said that. CNN wants a follow-up interview but you can’t believe that they cut the piece about climate change and you think one of the editors on their website is secretly a flat earther.” You repeat the last thing she told you and she snorts. 

“You are a good listener.”

“I like you a lot. It’s easy to listen to you.” You say and yawn as Claire keeps one hand on your ass and the other goes to your hair to brush out the knots. 

“You like me? Well, that’s handy, because you are stuck with me.”

“Not stuck, my giddy-up is happily hitched to yours. Also you are the one who’s gonna get sick o of me.” It was a thing you thought about every now and then, of course. The great politician with her Ivy League degree. She had a large fortune, a giant collection of expensive alcohol. Hell Claire could have someone assasinated if she so pleased. She was powerful and brilliant and endlessly funny. And you had to pinch yourself often. 

Sometimes it didn’t make sense to you.

“Not remotely possible. Also if you actually believe that you haven’t spent enough time in Washington. But that’s beside the point. I crave you, gorgeous girl. I’ll never get tired of you. You are too smart and funny for us to ever run out of things to talk about. And you taste far too delicious to ever get tired of kissing.” 

You loved teasing her. 

“I thought you were saying my pussy tasted good. I guess you don’t like my pussy anymore.” You tease keeping your eyes close you smirk and Claire yanks your boxers down and slaps your ass cheek hard. You yelp in suprise. 

“Blasphemy, little girl.” Claire says and you chuckle and she hugs you tight against her. Her nose buried in your hair and she presses kisses to your head. 

“What are you going to wear?” You ask as she holds you close your thumbs fall to her hips and you rub little circles. 

“In this bed, we wear nothing.” Claire is being purposefully dense and you lean down and bite her. Claire just laughs at the feeling, she likes your teeth on her skin. 

“Are you going to wear a dress or are you going to rock a suit when we get married?”

“You’ll just have to attend and find out.” Claire says not giving you an answer and you pout. 

“I don’t know.. I don’t know when it is, I don’t know I could be busy. Besides I don’t know if you’ve seen the front of the townhouse but all my social outings are postponed.” You tease and you feel Claire sigh exhausted under you. 

“They’re gonna be out there for a while baby girl. I’m sorry. If you need to go somewhere I have security detail for you and a-” She says and you kiss her smooth skin under your head. 

“I don’t have any social outings baby. I already had my finals. I’ve got nothing on my agenda. It’s really not a big deal. Besides, I don’t know if you figured it out after a few days of living with me. But I’m cheating on you with your library. I’m in love.”

Claire gave a deep chuckle and both her hands splayed on your naked back and she scratched you lightly and it was so good you were practically purring. 

“I don’t share my omega. But seeing you curled up in a room full of books I’ve collected over the span of my life is worth all the heart ache to get here.”

You opened your eyes now and looked up at her. Claire was staring down at you with so much tenderness you felt like you might explode. 

“You Governor, are a hopeless romantic.”

“Don’t tweet it.”

“Tempting.”

Claire made a play growling noise and you beamed a big smile at her. 

“Well if your lifetime of books ever run out I have a new hobby of AI porn to keep me busy.” You sigh like you live in a Jane Austin book and everything is so very dramatic. Claire squints at you through her lashes like she’s going to decide if you need a punishment. 

“Do I need to put a child lock on your computer?”

“I don’t know, Mommy, do you?”

“Baby,” Claire warns, and you smile. 

“It was purely educational, I just learned about a new position, even! And I have been doing yoga. I’m very flexible. I think you’ll like it!” You say like you are being a good girl and not watching porn in Claire’s bed. Your alpha eyes you before answering in a serious matter; 

“I’m going to overnight from Amazon one of those big kink cages that go under the bed. And I’ll keep you in it while I’m on conference calls. I’ll only let you out when I’m off work and you can warm my cock while I read emails.” 

You shiver in delight and Claire’s eyes widen slightly not expecting you to like it as much as you did. 

“I mean, no don’t, stop what a terrible idea.” You say monotone and you both are smiling at your shared kinkyness. 

“You are banned from the internet. No more, even if it’s AI of me railing a pretend you. No more porn, repeat after me Angel?” Claire grabs your chin to make you look into her eyes. Which was ridiculous because they were such a gorgeous blue why wouldn’t you look at her eyes?

“But you had a bullwhip!” You say like that makes it better and Claire moves to grab your now bare ass cheeks with her nails and you yelp. 

“Repeat after me; ‘I, Mrs. DeBella will no longer watch pornography because my wife will spank me until I can’t sit on my butt for a month. Then she’ll only fill my ass with cum.”

You smile and she looks at you sternly, but her lip twitches and you read her easily. But you put up your fingers like Girl Scouts and you repeat it. 

“I Mrs. DeBella, first lady of the united states will not watch pornography without the sexy Madame President unless of course she leaves my cunt empty of her cum and then everything is fair game.” You say, and Claire flips you so fast you are laughing and gasping in tandem. 

She pins your arms. Then leans down so your mouths are close but not touching. So you can feel her words against your lips. 

Claire just doesn’t lose. Not in politics, not in negotiations, and now, not in love. 

But your alpha was enjoying your little game and it showed with the hardening cock pressed against you now. 

“You are laughing a lot for someone who’s about to receive a punishment.” 

You pushed up and kissed Claire hard enough to bruise, and your alpha moaned against you. It was a needy noise and it made both of you start to hump each other with desire spilling over. 

A phone started vibrating, and you felt Claire growl in frustration.

Two more rapid notification noises, and you pulled away from her kiss and she tried to chase your lips back to hers. But you avoided her and then grabbed her face to still her. 

“Claire, baby it could be important-”

Claire forcefully moved from your hand and bit your neck and made unimpressed sounds. 

“Nothing is more important-”

Then it was clear that it was her phone from the ringtone and Claire’s body went rigid at the sound. 

“It’s Lionel.” You say knowing the ringtone that she saved for the people she despised, it was the sound of the classical Mussorgsky’s ‘A Night on Bald Mountain’. It was a stressful sound that perfectly encompassed how she felt about the group.  

“He can wai-”

“You know that’s not true, go.” Because it could be Lionel making a social call, or it could be arbout their Billionaire friend Mr. Bron. Who funding a lot of Claire’s lifestyle. If it was Miles, then it could mean trouble. Seeing as how Miles didn’t own a cellphone, he would fax Lionel, and then Lionel would pass it along to Claire. Lionel felt the whole thing was beneath him because Claire could just get a fax machine. But this was all irrelevant as the ringtone signaled possible trouble. 

You squeeze her butt and her hips shift up to make friction from her crotch to yours. But you pull away and move out from under her. The weight of Claire’s body lingering against you as you go down to the ground and grab a hoodie. Lifting it up and yanking it over your head and down your naked chest and tummy. 

 You go to collect your laptop and Claire moves faster and snatches it. You laugh at her antics but she keeps the MacBook under her arm and grabs her phone, answering it.  

“Lionel, you have exactly one minute to make this call worth interrupting me.” She says, and you roll your eyes, grabbing your cellphone and leaving the bedroom. You hear Claire calling you back, but you move around the house to the library. 

It takes about an hour and a half.

You are reading the book ‘Manchurian Candidate’, you loved politics. Even conspiracy theory novels on politics were fun, if not a little terrifying. You’d already re-read ‘1984’ since making a home in Claire’s den of books. You had found her copy and it had little notes in the margins from when she was in college. You enjoyed the old staining on the page from highlighter and ball point pen scribbles. It felt like she was talking to you about it. 

But you were now to the point in the book where you read:

“Her ambition was an extremely distressing condition. She sought power the way a superstitious man might look for a four-leaf clover.”

You mulled over the sentence for a minute thinking of Claire. Before you realized you were no longer alone. Claire walked in carrying two Waterford tumblers full of scotch. You put the book down and look at her sullen face. She hands you a glass and you take it. Before she grabs your wrist and pulls you gently but firmly up out of the chair. Your alpha moves easily behind you to sit in your seat. It’s warm from where you’d cuddled up and then Claire pulls you back onto her lap. 

You liked this better. 

You swung your legs over the side of the chair and threw an arm around Claire’s shoulders. Claire sighed more contently but you saw the stress still lingering in her face. She took a long swig of the scotch. You smelled it and then sipped, she’d opened the old stuff, not a good sign. 

You didn’t ask your politician what was going on, you waited.

Claire collected herself before answering the unsaid question. 

“They want you to come to the island.”

You let the truth hang in the air, and Claire didn’t look at you, but she stared like she’d seen a ghost. Before taking another long gulp of the smooth scotch. 

“But- Was it the news or?”

“Lionel told them we were already bonded mates. That marriage was just the last formality, that we are already together permanently and Miles wants to size you up.”

You took a long gulp of your drink and then cupped Claire’s cheek until she turned her face to look at you. 

“We knew they’d want to meet me eventually. That coming out to the public would be uncomfortable at first.” You state the obvious just so it can be said out in the air, Claire of course knew that like you.

Claire was an expert chess player. Had been since she was a teenager. She’d been taught strategy by her politician father. One of her favorite books was Sun Tzu ‘Art of War’ and she read it once a year. Even though you made fun o fher for doing so.  

So you knew your partner was thinking the long game. 

In the long game and short game…Miles Bron was dangerous. He’d always be dangerous. Claire knew that he’d covet you. You were her weakness and the thing that got her up in the morning. Miles would try to find out how to-.

“Baby…I know you are busy playing Battleship in your mind. And you are so close to sinking someone’s battleship, but…I’m going to interrupt your beautiful brain to state what you are thinking too ..Which is we haven’t been around a lot of people besides CNN for an hour….and you had to fuck me so hard and then..when they left we fucked for another four hours…Do you think as an alpha you can be tame enough around your crazy group?  You don’t like it when people look at me. How are you going to introduce me to other alphas?” You finish biting your lip but your thumb is tracing the edge of Claire’s jaw. 

Claire’s body is tense and you move the hand that was around her shoulders into her hair and you play with the little baby hairs on the back of her neck. 

Claire’s body started to relax as your talented fingers eased some of her stress. 

“I don’t have a choice it seems,” Claire said frustrated and she stared at your lips. You answered her by moving up and kissing her slow and full of devotion. Before you leaned your forehead against hers. It seemed to do the trick and Claire sighed. 

“Not very nice of Lionel to tattle on you. I’m sorry, Governor.” You kiss her twice on the lips as an apology for something you didn’t do. Claire leans her forehead against yours and tilts to the side. 

“Your apology is sweet, but oh-so unnecessary. I have a very loyal, adorable partner. I’m doing very well in politics. You and I will end up purchasing a vacation house once we decide where this quarter. I don’t need Lionel to make me a friendship bracelet and gab about ‘The Real Housewives of Atlanta’. He’s trying to survive in this world of rats trapped in a barrel. I don’t blame him for using me as a pawn. He’s got to chew on someone to survive. I’d be disappointed if he didn’t, to be honest. He’s the one I trust the most out of all of them…That’s not saying a lot, baby... I told you, I’m a woman in politics, and I don’t have friends. They are all out for themselves, and you need to know that. This weekend, they will try to manipulate you. You can’t let them. Think of this like a bunch of house representatives, and you are their meal ticket. They want you to fail, they want information.”

Claire’s jaw is tense as she talks about how these people will see you. You want to make her feel better. But you know she’s telling the truth. And it’s a gross, ugly, naked truth indeed. 

“You don’t need to-.” You tell her but she disagrees grabbing your hand on her face to kiss your warm palms. 

“You are my everything.”

“Claire.” You tell her but she doesn’t listen. 

“You mean the absolute world to me. Nothing these people say or do or think about you is true. They don’t know you like I do. And they’ll never take the time to, which is their loss and my gain. Because I’m greedy for you baby.” Claire says and her eyes are shining with something so very trade mark DeBella and you smile. 

“I know you believe that, which is insane-”

“No what’s insane is how Bron thinks he can shake us. Nothing could ever get my teeth to release from your throat.” Claire jokes and goes to bite your neck playfully. You attempted to stay on topic but her teeth nipping at your skin and then planting open mouth kisses was so delicious. You grabbed both Claire’s shoulders and tried to bring her back. 

“Claire, you don’t need to-“

You started and Claire kissed your cheek and looked into your eyes very serious again. 

“I will say it every-damn-day until I’m worm food. But I’m going to repeat it a lot this weekend so that those leeches don’t get in your head. Because if this comes down to you or Brons money it’ll be you everytime, got it?” Claire used her manicured nails to pin under your chin so that you couldn’t look away from her. You had to agree with her. But you were concerned. 

“I’m more worried about you then me, DeBella. Are you going to be able to play nice in the sandbox? Especially if someone plays with me?”

Claire used her thumb lightly under your lip to softly touch you. Keeping your chin locked so you couldn’t run from her.  

But you were trying not to smirk at Claire grimacing at the idea of someone ‘playing’ with you and the unease stuck to her facial features.

“Hmm.” She said and you know she was trying to take stock of herself now.

“Claire, it will be fine. I will be next to you the whole time. If we both keep our hands on each other, I’m sure it’ll be fine.” 

Claire hummed in agreement and you knew she liked the idea of her hands never leaving your body. Her eyes were far away now, though, you knew she was making lists. 

“We leave tonight, and we’ll get in early tomorrow. Miles already bought the tickets, I’m afraid.” Claire said it was silly and trivial. But both her hands were holding your face tenderly. Claire was almost pacifying herself by touching your face. 

“What if you get…feral? Or attack someone?” You ask gently, and Claire grabs your drink and holds it up to your lips, and you take the last swig. She puts the glass down on the coffee table. Before she cupped your jaw and kissed you, you gasped at the intensity of it, and she used that as leverage to taste the alcohol in your mouth. Claire seemed to think her expensive drink tastes better licked off your tongue. 

You broke the kiss much to Claire's dismay, but you were panting and blushing. Claire licks her lips as if she can still taste you, and she doesn’t want to waste a drop. But she answers you now. 

“If it were anyone else, I’d say of course I wouldn’t…I’m in politics for goodness' sake, I can contain my instincts and be cordial… But if Duke so much as looks at your breasts, I may commit murder in a room full of people. So you’ll need to keep my alpha pheromones in check and be a sweet omega.” Claire teases you, and you roll your eyes.  

“This is going to end with someone in the ER.” You mumbled and you moved off Claire. Who was grabbing at your hips, but you just turned to straddle her. Blue eyes look relieved and entertained at the same time at you moving onto her lap again. You felt Claire pulling you down so that your legs bent and you can feel her dick through her expensive boxers. 

“I know. But look at it this way. You were going to be in the public eye with me sooner or later. This is a trial run for us. With people who are vipers, just like politics.” Claire teases, and you put your hands on the back of her neck. It’s warm, and the little hairs tickle your hand. 

“Ya know, I have some nice people we could have done this with first.”

Claire laughs, and you wonder if she wants to get into a fight with these people. Or if she just likes the idea of owning you in front of an audience who could never touch what was Claire’s.  

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Pent Up 1

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, virginity loss, age gap, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: you seek validation through online correspondence with incarcerated men, only for one to lock you down in turn.

Characters: convict/excon!Thor (silverfox)

Note: It's an addiction now.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

'I never thought I'd be writing to someone like you, but you've shown me a different side of things. I hope that my emails give you comfort and can help you through. Even on the other side, they get me through my day. I'm always excited to read when there's a ding in my inbox.

I hope you also enjoy the little bit I could put in your commissary. If I lived closer, maybe I could bring you something homemade. At the moment, bus fare is a bit too much for my pockets.

Anyway, signing off.

Yours,

Diamond'

You add a whole line of heart emojis to the email then hit send. You giggle and click on the next. You don't have the heart to copy and paste so you add a bit of variety to the next.

This one is... Thor? That's his name. He's a funny one. Considering he's in the pen, you're surprised by that. The others are so dire; pushy too.

You hit reply on his last email. Something about a fight and apologising for not replying earlier. He says he was in solitary for a whole week. That sounds miserable. The thought is enough to scare you straight. It's why you've never done anything wrong in your whole life. Until now.

It's not really wrong. It's allowed. It's legal. You're just sending messages. If anything, it's a community service. These men don't have much more contact than each other and that's a recipe for chaos.

You won't admit that other reason aloud. That tickly feeling in your stomach. When they compliment you, when they say they missed you. You can't help but smile, even giggle sometimes. It's nice to be appreciated, even if it's all a fantasy.

You'll never meet these men. That's the fun part. You don't have to worry about any of this. Maybe that helps. Maybe you think too much when you're face-to-face. That explains why every cute guy you talk to sees past you.

'I forgive you, sweetie. It must have been so hard in there. The important thing is you replied. I got so worried! I hope that after all that, my email can bring a bit of comfort. I have to be honest, I never thought I'd be chatting with someone like you. That I could find this type of connection. Please, take care and email soon.'

Another parade of emojis follows and you send it off happily. Now you just have to wait and see who gets back to you first. If it's Ernie, you're not sure you'll respond. He's been fixated on his cell mate and his emails are getting a bit scary. That's the other great part. You can always just delete and block.

The response comes an hour later. You're sleepy and ready to pass out. You read it anyway.

'You are so kind, my queen.' You giggle. Yeah, he calls you that sometimes. If only he knew you were sitting in bed with an ice cream sandwich wrapper and your cell phone. Definitely not queenly behaviour. 'I got through it by thinking of you, of dreaming of the day when we can talk face-to-face. Wouldn't that be lovely? For all my mistakes, I think they will mean something if you and me can be together.'

You make a face. He's so cheesy. You can't help but laugh again. You're not trying to be cruel, you do empathise with his situation, you can't imagine being in prison, but like anyone else, he earned his time. There's one last light.

'If it isn't too much trouble, would you kindly send a picture so I have a face to admire in my lonelier moments? I've attached my own. Forgive me as it dates a few years back.'

You're not smiling anymore. You haven't sent any of the men pictures. They haven't offered theirs but you can look up their mug shots easily. You hate to ruin the fantasy but curiosity has you tapping the attachment.

Oh. You're surprised. He's older than you in this picture and by his own confession, is more so now. But he isn't repugnant. Anything but. Tall, blond, thick! You don't know if you've ever seen a man that size.

Even in a suit, it's obvious that his arms are bulging and his chest is ripe to burst out as the jacket button clings for dear life. The photo is cropped so that whoever he took it with is out of frame. His blue eyes sparkle above a defined smile. Has prison worn down all that?

You squirm. Guilt needles in your chest. You could close out and worry about it in the morning. You shouldn't be that sympathetic. He's still a criminal. You can say no. Easily. What's he going to do about it?

What could it hurt? If he saw your face. It's not like anyone would know. That anyone would recognise you or that he could find you anywhere else. You keep your social media anonymous. You aren't like the influencers who get attention just for being pretty.

It's that that gives you pause. You aren't anything but average. It's easier to pretend you're some pretty thing as you message these faceless men. Well, maybe that's a good thing. Maybe once he sees you, you won't have to worry about all that other stuff. He'll cut you off at the pass.

The thrill of it overwhelms your reluctance. It's like gambling, it could go either way.

You start a new message. More meaningly rewording of previous sentiments. Nothing new. Then you scroll through your photo roll. You take a breath and press down on a photo you think isn't half bad. It's from market day you went to with your aunt. Not exactly cutting edge but fun. She snuck in the shot as you smiled down at your gooey cinnamon roll. The impromptu snap is better than most of your posed ones.

You send and quickly lock the phone. You shove it under your pillow and swipe up the wrapper beside you. You leave it on your night stand and sink down, your insides swimming with anxiety. You're going to regret this in the morning.

🎀

'Will you call me?'

The question makes you sweat. You don't know why you feel bad. You've said no before. To him. To all of them. You draw a thick line between your secret little hobby and your real life. You shouldn't have ever sent that photo.

Despite your regret, you smile. His response was more than you could expect. The praise! You don't know that anyone ever even called you cute but he as good as wrote you a poem about your beauty. You have to remind yourself, given his circumstance, he's starved. He'd probably think your nan is sexy.

Still, you're having a hard time typing those two letter; N-O. Thor is so nice. And he asked so sweetly. But you can't do that. What if someone found out?

This whole thing is starting to feel like a big mistake, but it's so much fun. When in your life will men ever be this into you? When have they ever?

'I could call' you type without thinking. What are you doing? 'Let me know how to do that and we can set a time maybe.'

Don't hit send. Don't hit send.

Email sent.

Shit. Oh gosh. Why did you do that?

You close your laptop and leave it on your desk. You need to get ready for work. You can't be worrying about a man you'll never meet. It's all virtual, it's not real. You'll be okay.

You get yourself together and brace yourself for work. You don't really like your job. You work the counter at a tech repair shop. Independent so it's small and slow. Your boss is a bit strange too.

The only benefit is it's close and it pays a few bucks more than the alternative. You're even allowed to work on your online courses at the service desk. Really, it's perfect. You guess you're just not happy with things being boring.

You blow over the lid of your Sailor Moon travel mug and knock on the door. Jensen lets you in with a grin and stifles a yawn in his elbow. You step past him with a sheepish smile.

"If it isn't the champion of justice," he greets smugly and locks the door. You won't open for another half hour.

"Huh?" You go to the counter and slide your bag onto the shelf underneath.

"Your cup," he crosses the shop. “I am Sailor Moon, the champion of justice. In the name of the moon, I will right wrong and triumph over evil… and that means you!”

"Oh, right," you snort at his cheesiness. "You have espresso or something?"

"Red bull," he admits guiltily.

"This early?"

"Early? I never went to sleep," he comes around and goes back to typing on his glowing gaming computer. "Couldn't let my crew down."

You could roll your eyes. All he does is play Fortnite or Halo. He looks like he does too. Yet, he's in here moping after every rare stunner that walks through the door. That's why you'er there. He gets all tongue-tied with women. Well, all of them but you.

"You should join the party," he suggests.

"Well, I don't really play anymore," you shrug. "It was only for fun. My siblings... like it."

"Oh yeah, how's the family?"

"Good, I guess. They don't really call."

Your mom's too busy rebuilding her life with your step-dad. Rather, building the perfect life she never had. You sigh and open up your laptop. You grab your coffee and sip. You're tired of being forgotten.

"Jake," you say, he winces at the use of his first name, "Jensen," you glance at him, "you're a dude."

"Yeah, I am" he answers uncertainly.

"Well, you might know more than I do. You know anyone in prison? Any guys?"

"What?" He exclaims. "Where did that come from?"

"Mm... I was watching a documentary last night," you lie. "About prison or whatever."

"Oh?"

"Yeah, and about you know," you sway and look at your laptop. You're terrible at lying. "The women who like write to them or whatever."

"Ew, like the Ted Bundy weirdos?" He scoffs.

"Not exactly. I mean, none of them were murderers. I think," you shrug. "But... like, if you were in prison, you'd need that, right? I mean, it's just to get you through."

"I don't know. It'd be lonely, yeah, but like... what about after?" He scratches his neck. "I got a buddy who was in for a while but he's a good dude. He was only selling... stuff."

"Really?" You perk up, "he went to prison?"

"Well, he doesn't like to talk about it," Jensen says. "Why are you talking about this?"

"Making conversation. I was just thinking about the show," you sign into your laptop. "Just thinking... I mean, how do you even end up there?"

"Bad things. I learned my lesson when I was sixteen. I broke into the high school on a dare and the cops put me in cuffs for two hours. They let me go once I cried... I mean, I was a kid so..."

You nod and try not to show any judgment. That sounds about right. A notification pops up in the corner as Jensen goes back to the fluttering over his keyboard. You click on the email.

'I've been granted call-time at noon. You can call the number below and request by my inmate number...'

You quickly minimize and hide behind your cup as you slurp. Shoot. You didn't think he'd be so fast. A call at noon? You can't say no. Not now that he got approved.

Well, this is the only time it's happening.

[faggotbeloved]

Cold Metal Biting Soft Flesh | Yandere!Curly x Captain!M!Reader

1: Sanitized (~1k words)

Cw: Canon typical violence, my headcannons for post-crash Curly's wounds, no beta we close our eyes, body horror, lots of painkillers

This work does not contain smut but is 18+. Minors and fem-aligned people, please do not interact. AN at the end.

└───────────────────────┘

It had been only a few hours after saving a man from a three decade old craft when you’d determined that he was going to be under your primary care, aside from medical, from now on.

The man, as you’d discovered, was in fact the captain of the Tulpar. Upon inspection of his wounds, which only occurred back at the ship and with him sedated, Rhodes discovered the harrowing truth that he’d been in a state of third degree full-body burns for over four months. Worse still, he had one half-functional eye with the eyelid burnt shut though the other was severely dry, eyelidless, but still in surprisingly good condition.

Immediately, Rhodes ordered someone to get the passenger’s company issued bio-fabricator, a critical technology with the ability to take biological elements and grow genetically similar (but not identical) copies.

Technically, it was reserved for creating more plants or animals in a biosphere lacking most of the required succession elements, but it’d be easy to grow supplemental skin, hair, and blood to perfectly match the burnt man’s body. He also ordered silver sulfadiazine cream to soothe the initial burns, and for the first time since the man was in the accident he seemed to not be in agony.

──────────────────────

You sat beside the man. He still had his tongue and vocal cords, so he could talk (with much effort), but he was fully deaf so you had a captioning machine set up for him to read your words. Once he awoke, you silently showed him your badge with your name, picture, and title, which he read and nodded once he was done.

“Are you able to talk, sir? We need your name,” you said softly, watching as your head doctor, Rhodes, finally replaced the sticky, deteriorating bandages that practically cemented to his raw flesh. Luckily, the man was unable to feel it with how numb his entire body was.

He nodded weakly, eye never straying from you for long, and coughed. He spat up blood and saliva, to which you gently swiped a rag across his chin to remove it. “It’s okay. Take your time. This is Rhodes, he’s your doctor for now, but one of the passengers here is also a cosmetic surgeon and can start skin grafts once you’re ready.”

You sat back to give the man some space and idly wondered if the bio-fabricator could make enough connective tissues, nerves, and muscles to give him back his limbs. Rhodes left after replacing his arms and legs bandages, and soon the man tapped your resting hand with one of his handless arms and you looked back at him.

“C…url…y,” he rasped out. His volume was lacking, but he couldn’t hear himself so it was to be excpected.

“Curly? Is that your name?”

He nodded weakly. You spoke again, “Curly. Okay, and can you answer a couple questions for me? Shake or nod your head, if you can’t talk.”

Curly nodded, and you began questions. “Were you the captain of the freighter I found you on?” Nod. “Were there exactly five people, counting you?” Nod. “Did the crash do this to you?” Nod.

“Was the crash on purpose?”

He hesitated, then nodded very minutely.

“Did you–” you were cut off. “Jim…my,” he croaked. Well, it sounded more like ‘Jenny’ on account of his lack of lips, but you got the gist. “Jimmy crashed the ship?” Nod. “Did the crew know that?” Shake.

“Shit.” Nod. You chuckled at the nod and he looked up, like he was proud of making you laugh.

“So… do you have your ID with you?” you asked, and he produced a fresh ID from a lanyard under his gown. “Huh. Did Jimmy put that on you?” You asked, to which he nodded. “Was he your friend?” A weak nod. “Do you know why he went batshit? I mean, he’s the only one who could have killed all of your crewmates.” Curly tilted his head like he was wondering what you were asking. You rambled too fast for the machine to pick up. “Oh, yeah. Do you know of a motive?” Shake.

You glanced from the ID card to his face. There’s no mistaking those eyes. You notice there’s something written on the back, but the handwriting is awful. “Um, it looks like Jimmy tried to give me instructions and told a five year old scribe. Can you decipher this?” You asked, showing him the text. Shake. “Fine, I guess. It’s good you have this, facial reconstruction can probably get you pretty close to your face from then.”

He shrugged and laid back, gazing at you. “Wait…” he gasped. “‘lease.” Please.

“Yeah?”

“Stay?” He pleaded, using what remained of his forearm to lock around your arm and keep you (only barely) in place. “’m… s…cared."

“Scared?” You echoed, settling back into your chair and placing a hand on his thigh. “You’re safe here. Everyone who goes in and out of here has high clearance and I know them all personally.” Even still, Curly shook his head. “‘lease,” he echoed.

“I… suppose I could get Sealegs to move my desk into here. Would that be good?” Nod. Nod. Nod. “This is Captain to Sealegs, Sealegs, do you copy?”

“I copy. Whatcha need?” Sealegs hummed. The sound of a familiar video game caught your attention.

“Quit playing Snake on government computers, first of all. Wheel my workbench to the medbay,” you requested, only endearingly annoyed at your nephew. After a few minutes, a young boy with the same eyes and hair as you came in with a rolling desk equipped with robotics equipment, soldering items, and more. Curly seemed to relax once you situated beside him and the two of you slipped into a comfortable silence.

“Hey, Curly, can I take some measurements of you?” You asked after a couple minutes. “Arms and legs,” you added. Nod. Curly lifted up a handless arm and waited for you to start, to which you took diameter and circumference of his arm, approximate length, shape of the amputation, and more. You did the same for the other arm and both legs, then you sat back down to work.

──────────────────────

In a few minutes, you put your higher education to use and attached a crude prosthetic to his leg, but since he was numbed to hell it wasn’t causing him any pain. You worked, he watched, and soon he fell asleep painlessly for the first time in probably a half of a year or so, for him at least.

Once he stopped coughing every time you looked away for too long, you were able to get some work done and sent off an update to your boss–you told him that you had a new crew member on board, that you authorized the use of the bio-fabricator, and that you’d pay for his medical costs. Of course, you wouldn’t tell Curly that. Feeling indebted to someone is a terrible thing.

You were in for a long night. You wanted to give him the most mobility possible, but it’d be up to him ultimately to use them. The least you could do is build him the choice.

┌───────────────────────┐

I’m not happy with this, but if I didn’t get it out now it’d rot forever :( thank you to everyone who’s left kind words and reblogs and likes!! It means so much and if youve left any asks I’m so sorry but tumblr SAYS i have 6 asks but none show up :(((

[asphaltsugar]

somewhere south with fruits sweeter

logan howlett x fem!reader — 6.6k

(s). with your mother smitten during your visit, he was bound to taste her cooking soon. sharing food is an intimate act, and you weren’t expecting to offer something to him, too.

. . . extras: 18+ minors dni; written with origins!logan in mind; one (1) mention of drinking; reader is slightly shorter than logan; no use of y/n or she/her pronouns, only described as a daughter; pet name ‘sweetheart’; descriptive touching and kissing; very brief thigh riding; implied sexual content: oral (r receiving); a lot of fruit & food symbolism—do with that what you will; this is my first longer-length work so comments are much appreciated! x

────────────── gif from @ultrviolecnt

Maybe the fruits tasted all the more ripe, a real pleasure to eat, due to his hands now arranging their shapes in the weathered, woven baskets; you hadn’t seen him when you visited last year and such a change in the apples, peaches, pears would’ve surely made itself known. 

He was one your mother brought into casual conversation sitting on the front porch or working simple chores, and she insisted others were doing just the same; who could place blame on them when such a man was sure to bring about hushed dialects and connotations, a secret of sorts kept in the confines of the town’s acres. 

Because of your visiting for the season, it was you instead of your mother who drove the half an hour to the familiar wooden shop that rose with the respective fall of the leaves. 

It was becoming something of a bore in the years past, but a little less so now with him around, his presence and rather effortless strength admittedly easy on the eyes. Your mother spoke of him with high regard; only a few minutes after stepping out of your car and onto the gravel of the market’s driveway was enough for her praise to turn tangible in the summer heat that first morning, it now being replaced with a push of a breeze.

You noticed that even with the broad stretch of his shoulders, the trecks his boots left behind from mud crawling in the back, he somehow still managed a sort of ease about his figure as he worked. Anything he started in the chill of the morning he got done right as the sun rested its bleary eyes, leaving with a nod and a cigar in between his lips—all without speaking much. When he would carry in fills of crates with jams or fruits and vegetables, he wouldn’t stop to make talk with the customers, instead searching for another task that whispered his name once as wood warmed from the sun, now as a twirl of leaves browned and reddened scuttling against the exterior. You figured he didn’t do so from irritation at the others he worked with—you had known them since you were little and they were nothing if not welcoming—but as a means of simply getting work done; talk not adjacent to his doing must’ve been fruitless. 

You didn’t dwell on the fact, instead revelling—as much as you hated to admit—in meeting hazel with an unintelligible finish to the color in the teasing cold the times you had walked with a slow gait through the aisles, brushing past weathered gingham a dusted color from years past.

Tonight you were to be greeted with an infamous cherry pie, having been told to get as many cherries as you pleased, along with anything that seemed ‘good on the soul’. (She might as well have been hinting at him, written his name big and bold, with hearts curving over the letters.)

When you stepped through the doorway and atop the makeshift floor of scuffed wood underneath homemade rugs frayed at the edges, you only barely caught denim shifting out the back, presumably to bring in more boxes with whatever was to be displayed alongside a handwritten note detailing a new price for eager hands and acquired tastes. You stepped around tables with thin cloths acting like decor, embellishments to distinguish one from another, and stopped short when the usual spot for your mother’s preferred cherries was implied with folds in gently disheveled plaid.

At the furrow of your brows and your leaning over adjacent boxes and barrels to see if perhaps they were hidden someplace nearby, a lady to your side gestured to the spot with a jut of her chin. 

“Logan just went to grab a new batch, hun. He’ll be back in a second.”

You nodded at her words, involuntarily crossing your arms over your chest to the best of your ability with a basket in your hand. Broken conversations slipped in one ear and out of the other as you waited, talk of food to be prepared or how distant children were growing taller by the day. Shuffling of feet with a deep groan brought your attention back to the space prior, Logan now standing with a crate in his hands, a stitched cloth draped over the top. His tongue prodded at his cheek—the skin there, the bridge of his nose, the knuckles of his hands, beginning to flush pink from a gentle biting of the air outside—as he set it down, taking the covering off and tucking it into the back pocket of his jeans after hitting it once against his thigh, the dust trickling down the denim to the floor, the creases in his boots.

You muttered a ‘thank you’, not expecting much more out of him in return. He simply nodded, but a clearing of his throat dragged your eyes to his.

“Your mom the one making the pie?”

He continued talking at the quick flicker of slight confusion that washed over your features, that made your palm pause as it reached out to pick the nicest ones, reds shiny and seductive around inedible pits. “Someone came around last week, told me her daughter was coming to stay for a little while and she wanted to bake something nice.” A pause, a narrowing of his eyes, your own drifting upwards to brown strands undone from their styling, now brushing above his brows in light curves.

Knowing your mother spoke of your person to him brought a smile to your lips. “She loves to gossip,” you admitted with a nod to confirm his ask. “Especially over her cherry pie.”

He let out a hum, eyes following the hand that held a bunch of said fruits from their stems. He stayed that way for what felt like a while, though it was really only a few seconds; his gaze was soft, but bore into your basic movement, as if assessing which of the fruits he had brought you so kindly you were to pick.

A call of his name directed them someplace behind you with a lean of his upper half and a hand to his hip. 

“Nice meeting you,” he said, catching your eyes as he brushed past your figure, smell of smoke and freshly picked fruits stuck to his skin, mimicking a wanting to bite innate to your psyche, to savor the source at your lips and teeth, though they were all laid out in front of you; perhaps that was the point.

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The next week, with a complaint of the chill that crawled into the crevices of her jacket and a harsh adjusting of the heater, your mother sat in the passenger seat eagerly awaiting an order she had placed with the owner days prior. Turning onto the gravel lot that rocked the interior, you found a vacant spot with a curse at how uneven the small plot had gotten. She let out a gasp and nudged an elbow to your arm as she unbuckled her seatbelt, hand already opening the door.

“Look who’s working today.” She knew he worked everyday they were open, but you rolled your eyes with a smile at her teasing nature—she could have her fun, you figured as you followed her out, slamming the door behind you.

Logan, much to your amusement, played into her harmless comments. He worked at the front, adjusting the panneling of the signs welcoming passerby, a carpenter’s belt wrapped around his waist and a nail inbetween his lips. At the shuffling of your mother’s feet coming closer to where he stood, he looked over with a charming smile.

“Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes,” he mumbled, nail a mimic of his cigars as he spoke, dipping his head as a hello to the both of you when you stepped to her side.

Your mother dismissed his words with a swat of her gloved hand in the air, flattery evident as a smile. “You’re talkin’. Just here to pick up a few things for dinner tonight.”

He furrowed his brows, shoving the nail into a pocket of his belt, adjusting its hold on his waist. “I might’ve packed them all earlier”—he began to make the way inside, gesturing his chin for you to follow—“but I’ll have you check.”

Not long after, he was carrying crates to the trunk of your car at the insistence she needn’t lift a finger—even with the slight cold becoming familiar with the skin of his own hands. You offered after her, but he repeated his words with a threading of his hand through his hair. There were quiet huffs and groans leaving his lips as he did so, his breath mocking smoke. Your mother instead headed inside, while you stood at the trunk, leaning against the chilled exterior; there wasn’t any harm in looking for a little longer, hearing more evidence of his voice a little closer. 

He spoke first, an octave lower and with a lilt of amusement.

“Dinner must be good tonight.” He met your eyes for a split second before placing a hand ahold of the trunk above his head. “Seems like you’re having…” he pinched a cloth from the crate closest to the edge, lifting it with a dramatized slowness, leaning over with a raised brow—something of a defeated breath left his lips. “Why don’t you mind tellin’ me.”

You leaned over for yourself, hands pushing similar cloths for a peek at what it was your mother had bought. The two of you were so close, or so it felt, as if keeping the contents of your trunk hidden from all but the hazel of his and your own. There wasn’t a need for your peripheral; a simple knowing he was near was enough, a certain spark in your nerves for the scene felt intimate, this unveiling of what you were to eat—you knew, of course, what was to be served that night, and he most likely knew that, too.

──────────────

Surely they would be sick of seeing you when the sun had dipped with a lazy arch, pulling underneath the horizon. And yet, there was an ache in your mother’s stomach that she insisted could only be softened with one of their homemade pastries, something she shared with you when you were little, and as she focused on dinner—which you’d assume would only make such an itch worse, even given the contrast of savory to sugar—you flipped on the headlights into the last hours of the evening.

You gave something of a guilty nod to the woman at the counter as you made your way to the shelving in the back corner that held the familiar packaging, alongside others. All that was on display was shrouded in thin, gentle slits of white, the moon offering its own of what the sun had given prior. The fruits looked misty eyed, the jars as if filled by a dreamy hand.

Just as quickly as you had pulled into the lot, you were twisting the keys once more; yet this time, a weak sputtering from your engine sounded rather than its usual dull rumble.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” you mumbled, one hand gripping the wheel and the other getting ahold of the key once more, this time with a slower insertion and turn, it’s cold against your palm a mimicry of the early night air. The same cough, akin to a sickness in a body, invading the steel and screws of your car.

With a groan, you threw the door open, circling to the hood and, with a steady grip, lifting it above your head. 

It was now far too dark to tell where one part ended and another began, it simply a blend of shadow you certainly did not feel like combing through with the chill as an accomplice. 

You smelled the burning end of a cigar before the scraping of gravel along soles. 

“You alright?” Logan asked, voice leaking smoke like a lure for both your eyes and ears. His skin was accented with a soft gold from the flickering bulbs of the market as he stopped a few feet away, holding the cigar lazily at his hip. The lighting was bewitching, a natural distraction, and you cursed the way your eyes dragged at the outline of his shoulders, the narrowing at his waist, silver of a buckle glinting for a moment as if catching you in the act. 

At your not answering, he took another drag, peering into the hood for himself, though you were sure he could guess your response at the knitting of your brows, the irritated grip of your hands to the front bumper. 

“C’mon.”

You simply stared as he gestured with his chin, cigar to his lips, front half already turning the other direction. “I’ll take you home”—smoke curled at his cheeks, the hair that was cut shorter to the skin, when he glanced over his shoulder at you having not moved a muscle—“unless you’d rather stay out here.”

Much like when you both had been eyeing the insides of your trunk, it was as though your body knew of his presence just as much as your mind; sitting in his passenger side stiff against the seating, some unconscious reminder that tugged at your joints to keep them still, as if there was an awareness that preceded him in the form of tensed muscles and intrigue, a nipping at your eyes to even just look at him when he was this close, wanting that satisfaction, whatever it was, that came as a consequence to curiosity, infatuation, more like. 

“Never seen you this late at the market.”

You cleared your throat, explaining the pastry you bought for your mother. “I think this is just my car’s way of telling me not to.”

A laugh disguised itself as an exhale through his nose. “‘m not that bad.”

Your eyes caught his own when you furrowed your brows in amusement at his words, a barely registrable hint of a smile on his face.

“I didn’t said that,” you argued, though your tone was anything but. He angled the hand resting atop the steering wheel and the palm at his thigh upwards, feigning defense.

The drive wasn’t too long; neither was conversation. He asked about your mother, how long you were staying for, but more as a means to ease the space in between simple directions from you.

He slowed to a stop in front of your doorstep, shoving the stick into park as you began to get out, opening the door and stepping onto the ground, pastry in hand. You placed a hand against the cool exterior, offering a smile and about to utter a thanks—not entirely dismissing the way he was looking over at you, leaned over to grab a cigar from a case stowed in the glove box, a necklace of some sort having loosened from beneath autumn layers and swaying in tandem with the column of his throat—when your mother’s voice called instead. 

“Logan, is that you?” she sang, voice sounding pleasantly surprised and a harsh cut through the relative quiet of the night.

His brow raised in amusement; you rolled your eyes in a silent apology. 

He answered nonetheless.

“Yes, ma’am, it’s me.”

Immediately at his simple confirmation your mother was ushering him in for dinner. And who was he to decline such an offer.

It was far too casual: the way he let you in first, a ghost of a palm over the small of your back; taking off his boots at the front door; nodding at your mother and asking her how she was as he eyed two plates she had already filled with whatever she had made for dinner that night on the countertop. You placed the pastry in her hands, to which she gave a quick kiss to your cheek and insisted the both of you sit and eat before the food got cold.

Without a word he took the two plates in his hands and walked over to the dining table, setting them opposite each other as you stood at your mother’s side, her face implying an explanation as to why you were in his truck, as well as a teasing response to his manners. You merely muttered an ‘I’ll tell you later’ as you filled two cups of water and grabbed two forks and knives.

He nodded as a thanks as you put the glass in front of him. The overhead light was warm, dipping down the slope of his nose and the hair that curled upwards at the nape of his neck—it almost didn’t look like him seated in your home, taking the silverware from your hand, the tips of his fingers brushing again the skin of your hand. It was someone who needn’t falter at the door, who memorized which floorboards creaked their complaints, who muttered ‘good morning’s and ‘good night’s to a lover in time with the celestial company.

Watching him eat food from your mother’s hand felt like he was indulging in a part of you, this meal that you’ve eaten time and time before now being offered to him.

“It’s really good.” His voice was practically a whisper, the quietest you’d ever heard it, as if only you could be told such a thing—you hadn’t any part in the plate already nearly scraped clean in front of him, your mother feet away, unwrapping the pastry for dessert.

You nodded, a smile on your lips even with the fact. “Family recipe,” you simply said.

He hummed, eyeing you over the rim of his glass. It met the wood with a gentle clink after a generous sip, tongue darting briefly across his lips. 

His eyes drifted to her at the counter, crossing his arms on the tabletop.

“You’re a wonderful cook.” 

She turned her head with a smile. “Thank you, Logan.” You hadn’t missed the way she gestured towards yourself with a fork donned with crumbs and raspberry jam. “Though I might have competition soon, what with the pie that’s supposed to be made this week.”

You furrowed your brow in mock irritation, your voice spoken through a smile nonetheless. “Who’s to say it won’t be the worst thing you’ll ever taste in your life?”

She raised her own brow, questioning your words. “If I’ve taught you anything, it’s how to make a damn good pie, hun,” she retorted with conviction in her tone as she averted her attention to her pastry once more.

You rolled your eyes in a lighthearted manner, catching Logan’s as your knife’s teeth dragged along what little you had left on your plate; the barely-there smile on his lips told you he was amused by your shortlived banter.

“That a family recipe, too?” he asked.

“It will be, once I figure out how to make it.” You paused to finish your plate, the knife and fork resting nicely atop the porcelain. “Though I’m thinking of a blueberry pie rather than cherry.” 

With a nod, he gathered his own plate, reaching over to take yours as he got up from his seat, his way of insisting you need not get up and clean after him nor yourself.

Hazel slightly hooded held the color of yours as he did so. “I’m sure it’ll be just as good.”

At this point, it almost seemed proximity was an arrangement made from whatever guided your limbs to his, and that same culprit threaded itself in his, for your mother handed you the dish towel when she hastily remembered she needed to call her sister. Whether it was true didn’t matter: here was an excuse to stay close, revel in contact that was teased by the lack of it. He stood at the counter, sleeves rolled to below his elbows, hair corded at his forearms wet from the tap water, the lather that coated his palms and knuckles. Lavender was a foreign scent to be attached to his skin, not one to prettily mingle with cigar smoke, but your nose got used to it regardless.

It was a quiet process, his washing and your drying. Your eyes would wander to his hands, stay for just a little while, the shine from the warm water accenting the skin something almost seductive with the performance of such a domestic task—if he noticed, he didn’t say anything.

Over beer you had found in a back cabinet growing lukewarm under the dining lighting, you learned he had gotten the job at the farmer’s market just as the sun opted for a few more hours, offering as a trade deep oranges that shrouded the landscape and any roaming warmth that stuck to wood and grass and skin. He was in the area and needed work, there had been a sign posted near where he was staying of the address and basic requirements, and, in his words, ‘he could use the free food’. Though it made you wonder where exactly it was that he was staying, you didn’t pry. He instead recounted the morning your mother came in and they—though mostly her, he admitted with a smile at your small laugh—had engaged in friendly talk as he carried her groceries to her car.

“She hinted at saving a slice of that cherry pie f’me, for the help.” His lips tugged ever so slightly as he leaned back comfortably, stretching the denim at his thighs taut with a shift in his legs, arms crossed and all the while keeping his eyes on yours. “But I prefer blueberry.”

And how cliché it had been when you first saw him, a rugged yet quiet stature of a man with sweat at his brow and the dents of the muscles lining his arms, blue denim to the dirt of his boots, a worn baseball cap keeping the sun from his eyes, and how cliché it was now that he was in your home and you didn’t mind.

There was a mention from your mother, standing just at the end of the hallway to face the kitchen and the two of you, of a shelf and drawer that needed fixing in the old guest room as you walked him to the door, a calloused hand already wrapped around brass.

“I’ll take a look at it in a few days,” he reasssured her with a soft smile, to which she told him you could offer a few slices of pie in thanks, all with a grin on her face that she also adorned when quoting others’ words of amusing connotation. 

He chuckled, a low sound that came from his chest. The old creak of the door was paired with a ‘have a nice night’ as she retreated around the corner into the hallway. You stepped out before him onto the front porch as he swung it closed, though just enough so it didn’t click into place with the frame; the porch light adjacent to it casted a similar color against his skin to the one when he ate.

You didn’t really know why you stood there in the chill that lay stagnant around your home, but he didn’t ask. 

He shoved his hands into his pockets, nodding to the door. “That better be a promise.”

You crossed your arms across your chest. “Depends on how good of a job you do.”

A chuckle, same as before, this time his breath appearing in between the two of you. “Are you doubting me already?”

“There’s only one way to prove me wrong,” you said, raising a shoulder. 

He hummed in , barely audible, tilting his head.

Your body wasn’t as stiff, your mind as clouded with nerve as it had been in his passenger seat, though you blame it on his figure having been surrounded by comfort, familiarity, food he had eaten with your cutlery at your dining table and with a good word.

Perhaps that was why it had leaned the small distance towards his own, lips meeting the skin of his cheek and the stubble adorning it. The small smile that he reciprocated was something almost satisfactory, albeit a little bashful, as you put a hand against the door, not missing the brief dart of his eyes from yours to your lips and back again.

“Good night, Logan.” 

“G’night.”

──────────────

It served as a harsh reminder, the honk that met your ears rather than the usual gentle birdsong. You cursed, shoving the window open with one hand and yelling a ‘give me a minute!’ as you hurriedly dressed in the dwindling dim of your bedroom; the memory that he was picking you up to get your car from the market came far too late for your liking as you made your way to the front door, grabbing the keys and about to say a rushed ‘goodbye’ when the absence of your mother made itself known, as well—she had left to visit her sister, and you noticed the familiar yellowed sheet lined with grooves from cherry staining fingertips placed at the counter. 

He gave you an apologetic smile as he stood leaned against the passenger side, eyes following your rushing down the stairs, uncrossing his feet and opening the door for you. 

“Too early?” There was humor in his words and the way he eyed the buttons left undone at your sternum.

“You told me you don’t work today,” you reasoned after he circled the hood, closing the driver’s-side door and adjusting the heating, catching your eyes as he did so.

“Early bird get’s the worm, or whatever,” he shrugged. “The worm’s your car.”

You rolled your eyes, though a tired yet amused smile was already at your lips. “I already own it.”

“Regardless.” He rolled out of your driveway, the morning sun through the windshield catching the silver of a ring at his pinky finger. “Don’t want anyone stealing it, do we?”

“No, sir,” you said, eating into this side of him like teeth against a sweet.

A smile akin to the one he adorned at your doorstep hours previously came across his face, and you returned one of your own, despite his eyes on the small bit of gravel road. 

He worked as you watched from the wooden fencing behind him. “A simple fix,” he had deemed it, eyeing into the hood of your car. “Shouldn’t take longer than half an hour.”

Beneath gray cotton the plane of his back shifted and stretched. Though it wasn’t as cold as days prior, you noted the pink coming to at the shells of his ears.

“‘s it alright if I come by this afternoon to take a look at that shelf your mother was talking about?” He turned his head just enough to see you nod. 

You told him you were going to walk around the market, just to see if there were any new jams or pastries shelved; he watched you leave.

Given the sun had only made its tired arrival a few hours prior, some items were still being arranged nicely atop the patterned cloths, labelled with notes marking the price. The jams were put with ribbons at the lids with their respecting fruit. 

There were a few wildberry, a number of blackberry. As you read the labels on some of the fresher desserts, someone carried a crate of needed vegatables behind you; not before they asked if you were the one that came with Logan. You confirmed, wondering for a second if maybe he had work and simply lied, but they spoke before you could with a singular, almost dumbfounded laugh.

“You must’ve put him in some sort of spell,” they said, dropping the crate at a table in front of them and shoving it to the edge. They turned to face you, clapping their hands to dust off chips stuck to thin gloves. “I don’t think we’ve even heard more than a ‘good morning’ from him.”

You couldn’t figure out how to respond to such a blunt way of reiterating something you already knew, but perhaps it was because others had noticed it was you he chose to speak to, and you who implicitly invited him in your home, and you who were to do so again.

──────────────

That afternoon, you indulged in the sun that was filtered through the lace curtaining as you gathered cutlery and tins and bowls and plates. The quiet of the house was something you liked every once in a while, as it allowed you to imagine you were cooking for yourself rather than for two; something about only your word and teeth influencing the taste when you were to set up the dining table for yourself, lighting a candle to present a dinner for one was nice to admire. 

But you weren’t, for the hammering persisted rooms over once more, a reminder that something sweet was to be offered to him this time.

You might have felt more at ease if he was your lover; you’d have enough tries at that point, perfected a recipe already perfected by your mother. Instead he would be second to cut the lattice for his own pleasure with a fork you would hand over to him—a part of you did not want to disappoint.

Blueberry had since settled into the skin of your fingertips, the backs of your hands, and it made you sigh. Logan, alongside yourself, was to be given this performance of sorts, an edible delicacy that you hadn’t even tasted yet. He might as well gauge sweat in the crust, nerved blood in the filling.

It was not that serious, you told yourself. Yet the fact that it was him made it so. 

Something your mother had said to get a rise out of your tired state the night he had taken you home made you roll your eyes at the mere cantation in your head: ‘I saw the way he looked at you when he led you through the door, sat at the dining table; I’m sure he didn’t mind your car breaking down’. 

The tin was placed into the oven, out of sight, out of mind. It was a little while later when he had stepped around the corner, familiar carpenter’s belt around his waist. 

“Shouldn’t cause her any more trouble.” His voice was quiet as he ran a hand through his hair. 

You turned to face him, gathering utensils and jars dirtied with ingredients and tossing them into the sink. “Thanks—let me get you a drink, hold on.”

Opening the upper cabinet, you hoped he didn’t catch the sigh that left your lips seeing the only glasses left lining the back of the wood. 

But he did, and ever the gentleman, he was at your side with a clear of his throat.

“I’ll get it.” It came out in a near whisper, only for you to hear; not the already setting sun, not as a cue for the moon to bleed the kitchen a gentle white.

You let him. You felt the warmth of his figure as it stood close, akin to all the times prior, a hand just above the small of your back, not making contact but close enough, and the other reaching overhead. The glass chased the last streams of sunlight from the kitchen window, and rather than handing it to you, he set it on the countertop, the soft clink deafening in your ears. 

He repositioned himself so he leaned against the counter, hands splayed behind him atop the surface, gesturing to the oven with a tilt of his head. “How’s the pie?”

You caught his eyes, hooded hazel, brushed your hands along your apron as a means to ease the wanting to guide his own back to where it was. “It looks good. Don’t know if you want to wait a little longer to eat it here—if anything you could always take it with you.”

He gave you a smile that was so sincere, so unashamedly forgiving, though for what, you thought, if not to insist you could stay for however long. “I can wait, if it’s alright with you.”

If you did as you wanted—keep your eyes on his—your knees were bound to give underneath you with the way he looked at you, a gentle accepting to waiting alongside you in your kitchen, such a sacred place. “Of course.”

He stayed in place, eyes following as you walked around him to put any last dishes into the sink and leaving them be, not feeling like touching anything else with a smooth finish. 

“You can leave those in there,” you told him when you noticed him shift. “Rest for a while.”—directed at him and the dirty dishes. You reached behind yourself to grab the knot at your back, desperate to take the thing off with reasoning much like the pie in the oven—you hadn’t realized just how tightly you had wound the string. 

And there he was, ever so reliable, behind you once more as he uttered an ‘I got it’ under his breath, putting his hands over yours and already beginning to unravel the knot himself. 

Your previous thought still rang true, like a delicate synth prettily reverberating in your mind: this would be so much easier, bearable, if he were a lover, simply something more than a frequent acquaintance.

And perhaps he heard you, for his hands went to the strap around your neck, fingertips gently grazing against the junctures of your neck and shoulders.

“You should rest, too,” he mumbled as he lifted the fabric above your head, held it out for you. You took it in your hands, staring down at the fabric, what was left of the sun for the evening slithering through window and lace, joining flour and rich violet. 

You muttered a ‘thanks’, a sigh. “I know.”

The kitchen fell quiet, not silent, for it contained the two of you; your passing breaths and pulsing heart comparable to the clatter of porcelain beneath familiar conversation.

Water from the tap directed your attention to the sink, where he suddenly stood pouring himself the glass, taking a sip; water hitting the sides of the house came like an afterthought. 

It might as well have been his doing, such perfect timing, with the way he raised his eyebrows in surprise. “D’you know it was s’posed to rain?”

You shook your head. You took it as an attempt to cover the tension that how hung heavy in the air, a rhythmic tune to combat the beat of your pulse and the itch that resided in your hands.

──────────────

Blueberry bubbling warmed in pastry spilled into the wood of the kitchen and his nose; he let out a hum at the smell from where the two of you sat on the floor against the cabinets across from each other, his body next to the oven. He pushed his sleeves up, similar to when he stood at the sink with hands of lavender, from the heat that crept as company to the finished taste. 

“You ok with me being the first to taste it?” he asked with a nod in your direction, something adjacent to surprise, or disbelief in his voice.

You furrowed a brow—“I never saw what you did to that shelf.”—in reference to the hint your mother had made.

“Feel free to take a look for yourself,” he crossed his arms as if to imply he wouldn’t be here with you if he hadn’t done a perfect job.

You hummed. “I better not have to call you back here in a week, then.”

“I wouldn’t mind.”

A flush betrayed your skin; you hated its response. “So you made it worse, is what I’m hearing.”

He tongued at his cheek, fighting a smile yet narrowing his eyes and shrugging a shoulder. “Define ‘worse’.”

“It’s definitely what you’ll be feeling after you leave without that pie you want so bad,” you said, standing up to check on the oven, adjusting the dish towel that hung from the handle. You let out a small hum at the golden color that blossomed along the crust. 

You took it out with delicate hands, the metal of the tin clattering with the stovetop. 

“We’ll let it cool.” A declaration implying more wait—though he didn’t seem to mind, if his following your actions and standing behind you with hooded eyes was any indication. 

“Looks good.”

You gave him a small, satisfasfied smile, though not necessarily from his words but at the dessert in front of that did, much to your relief, look good. You stayed admiring the work made from your hands to be eaten by them, alongside another whose familiar cigar smoke slowly paired with blueberry; it made a nicer blend than lavender. 

It was similar to when he had spoken to you first, the smell of other fruits stuck to his clothing enticing you to reach out and distinguish which ones were where—you were close to acting upon intrigue. You figured he was too, for he did not move—except for one part you could see out of your peripheral.

His voice was soft as he asked: “Is this okay?” He was referring to the hand smoothing over the countertop to rest next to yours, the skin just barely meeting.

You nodded—“Yeah.”—hated the breathy delivery of your response; he hadn’t even done anything, but you wanted to put the same hands that made a necessity sweet upon him, a blunt want and nothing more than to satiate an ache not riddled in your stomach. 

His voice was much closer, a little deeper, almost timid in its hushed delivery. 

“Can I kiss you?”

You didn’t hesitate. “Yes.” 

His kisses were slow, trailing up, up to just below your ear. The hair cut at his cheek left a delicate burn along the skin, yet you leaned your head back to his chest without a second thought. 

“Here?” His question was asked along the skin of your cheek, your head tilting as if lured, enchanted by his words. One hand set itself on your hip.

You mumbled an ‘mhm’, resting a hand atop his own; he draped the one on the counter over yours, lacing the fingers. His fingertips were calloused, a welcomed touch akin to natural skin encasing an apple, rough yet promising. 

He placed a kiss to your cheek, the corner of your lips; you could feel a small smile stretch across his.

You spoke before he could ask, eyes shut and a gentle nod: “Don’t be such a tease.”

He let out an exhale, amused at your words. “My bad, sweetheart.”

At his lips on yours, you turned around, putting the hand alongside his at your hip to his cheek; he threaded the other in a similar fashion atop the counter. He kissed with a gentle fervor, a low hum coming from his throat when you combed a hand through the hair at the nape of his neck. Denim slotted between your legs, an offering to the lust leaking into your blood. 

His nose pushed at yours as he tilted his head, quickening to placing pecks to your lips so you could catch the breath he had taken from your lungs. The moon peeking as if with curiosity from behind roaming clouds and lace shrouded his figure in alluring white, accenting the beginnings of a flush to his skin.

He bowed his head to your neck once more, biting the skin and leaving a kiss in its place. 

With fog from his touch contaminating your brain, the blueberry baked into pastry snuck into your nose. 

Logan put his hands underneath your thighs and lifted your body without hesitation, pressing a kiss to your sternum and mumbling into the skin a claim that he hoped you wouldn’t mind him indulging in something sweeter.

And you didn’t, laying back as he bit and kissed at skin like a man starved, holding you down against your sheets with gentle drags of his palms. The insides of your thighs burned, sweat dotting the fabric underneath you; he insisted a second with praise for the first.

[casualhedonists]

✩ it don’t need your loving, it just needs attention ✩ (chapter two)

pairing: Coriolanus Snow x reader

chapter: 2/?

MASTERLIST

warnings: NSFW (18+), snow being snow, themes of sex work (not the reader), cuckolding, eventual smut, fake relationship, unprotected sex, themes of voyeurism & mild exhibitionism, murder mention (but no actual murder) (not yet at least?), MAJOR manipulation/gross power dynamics + generally darkish themes, some power play, oral sex, thigh riding, eventual piv, i’m new to full on smut bear with me here (and pls tell me if i forgot anything!)

i do not give permission for my work to be reposted/translated anywhere, under any circumstances.

a/n: first off, THANK YOU for the love on chapter 1. wasn’t sure how I’d fare since I’ve done a lot of writing in my life but little to no smut. with that said! longer chapter incoming. also I just know he’d give insane head okay i just do,the guy looks like he fucks and he definitely does

You weren't sure exactly how you slipped away from Snow’s room that night, but you could somewhat piece it together in flashes. First a head rush, then the fire in the pit of your stomach practically having gasoline thrown on it.

You remembered a quiet gasp escaping your lips, then panic, a flash of white, and suddenly you were stumbling away, head spinning as you tried to catch your breath, pacing unevenly down the hallway, any chance of a stealthy escape long thrown out the window.

Back in your room, once the door was bolted and your back was against it, making sure nobody could get in if they tried, you had your first shot at clear-headedness since you’d heard heels scuffing the hardwood.

You’d soaked your panties through and were dripping down your thighs, but you’d be damned if you could get into the headspace to take care of it. Panic flooded your veins, ice-hot as you tried to catch your breath. you slid down the door and sat there, legs numb against the cold wooden planks.

Who was she? A million questions filled your head all at once. Was she from the Capitol? Could she be one of Snow’s friends, one of your friends? The thought made you sick. What if you’d dined with her before? Talked to her? How long had this been happening? Who knew about it? Were you being played?

Had he seen you watching him?

Unable to help yourself, your one-track mind took you back to the way he’d groaned your name, though you were half sure that had been a fever dream of some kind. Still, you kept replaying it. Over and over, like a broken record.

It didn’t make any sense, you were so fucking confused. All this time you’d been hoping he would make a move, you’d practically begged him to. Why hadn’t he? When you were clearly on his mind, and yet he made you believe he didn’t think of you that way at all. Was he just respecting your agreement?

You fiddled with the lace on the hem of your slip as you mulled it over. You stayed sat like this for almost an hour, trying unsuccessfully to wrap your head around it. When you ended up right back where you started, and you were sure enough time had passed that if someone was coming to get you, they would’ve already, you finally stood up. Your caution led you to drag a chair from across the room, propping it up by the door to jam the handle. That left you with the sliver of peace of mind you required to shower off this cold sweat you’d formed.

The next morning, you dreaded breakfast. But you knew you had to face him, as well as the fact that this could very well be your last meal. You should at least try to eat well.

You made your way downstairs, a few minutes later than usual, enough for Coriolanus to already be sipping coffee, a few pages through his newspaper. You’d not got fully dressed yet, not wanting the contrast to be too obvious, but you’d wrapped a silk dressing gown around you so you were a little more covered up. You knew one thing for certain, you wouldn’t be trying any more of your tricks until you knew just what you were dealing with.

He didn’t look over at you, which you took as a good sign. The urge to hide from him, from what you’d seen and what you now knew, overwhelmed you. You didn’t say a word, and picked silently at your breakfast, but despite your best efforts, not managing to keep more than a few bites down.

“You’re quiet today.” He muttered, and you started.

“Um.”

He lowered his paper.

“Something wrong?”

How about everything?

“Oh, no, I’m okay. Just uh…” you glanced up at him, and met his sharp gaze. Fuck. You’d hoped you’d go unnoticed. You felt like a deer in headlights, like he could read your mind.

“Well?” He prompted, gaze unwavering. You blinked.

“Headache.” You managed to breathe, faking a small, pitiful smile.

He brought his paper back up in front of him, crisply turning the page. You both thanked the new barrier between you for cutting off his stare, and resented it as you looked at the tiny printed words you couldn’t make out from where you were sitting.

“I’ll have Lucille bring you up something.”

“Thank you.” you said quickly, almost too quickly, and you feared he might lower his paper again to watch you as you stumbled over another excuse. But you fell lucky this time.

The week seemed to pass in a blur, Monday’s gala being one of the only times you really left your room when Snow was around, other than meal times, which you spent in a similar state as that first breakfast. You cursed yourself for throwing out your longer dresses, and settled for the least suggestive of them, the white one you’d been thinking of pitching to Snow as a backup plan in your panicked state outside his bedroom. That all felt worlds away now. What you’d seen had shifted the tides, marking a solid, definitive line in your head between the before and after.

The gala went as well as it could given the circumstances. You danced, Snow was charming to you in front of the guests, but held your gaze no longer than usual. It was simultaneously terrifying and thrilling to feel his hands on your waist, knowing what you knew. It felt like you’d been tapped with a cattle prod and had to hide it every time his hand brushed yours on top of the dinner table, as unsuspecting guests smiled at you, the happy couple.

If only they knew that in the same breath, you were scanning the crowd, wondering who the blonde could’ve been, how close she was to Snow, if at all, and hating the way every touch he placed on your hands and waist served as a reminder that he’d been touching her instead of you.

Your stupid brain had formed a highlight reel of what you’d witnessed behind Snow’s door, and it tortured you with every passing moment. To know he was thinking of you. To think that maybe, he wanted you there instead. It put a strange sense of possessive pride into you, that weaved between your jealousy. Because yes, you’d seen another girl on her knees with her mouth around him, but you hadn’t heard any name other than your own while it happened.

You carried this strange hope, dwindling to start off, and then building each day that you were left un-hanged and very much alive, slowly chipping away at your fear of the worst. And yet, you knew the game, unbeknownst to Snow, had been fundamentally changed. You’d stopped your antics altogether, now barely meeting his eye as you passed each other in the hallway, covering up more at breakfast, and only talking just enough to avoid another interrogation. Avoiding touch, and conversation, and all-around keeping yourself away from him.

You were quieter still at night in your room. After a few days, you’d finally felt safe enough to move the chair away and sleep with the door locked as you normally would. But while your games had stopped, your want for him had only been amplified. Fuelled by jealousy and frustration, you had to bite down on your hand so that not even the slightest noise made its way out as you pictured him, not as you used to in your fantasies, but as you’d seen him that night, undone with your name on his lips. It was much easier, in your head, to picture yourself as the one on your knees. Any other fantasy just failed to make the cut now you’d seen the real thing.

Thursday rolled around and you’d made a new habit of pacing the downstairs library when Coriolanus was out of the house. That way, if he got home and stepped inside, you could pretend to be lost in a book. But the hours seemed to stretch out and you became bored, and with no Snow in sight, you decided to head down to the servants’ quarters.

This wasn’t a common occurrence, but it wasn’t unheard of. You were known for your gentleness among the house staff, less harsh than Snow, but firm nonetheless. It had led you to a respectful friendliness with the maids and servants, and once every so often you’d check in on them.

Today’s objectives, however, were purely self-motivated. You found Lucille, who dressed you, at the kitchen table, chopping vegetables.

She stood upon seeing you, and curtseyed (Snow was rather old fashioned that way). You nodded, then took a seat at the foot of the table.

“Do you need any help with that?” You glanced at the cutting board.

Lucille’s eyes widened. “I wouldn’t dream of it, Ma’am.”

You laughed. Lucille chopped and diced, and you asked questions. At first, they were after her family, her brother was sick and despite your offers, she wouldn’t accept help. So instead you listened, and slowly but surely, your questions got a little more directed toward the object of your interest.

You were good at playing the long game, so you started by asking about the company he kept. What she thought of them, with the promise that it would stay between the two of you, cross your heart.

She wouldn’t say much but she knew a little more than you; Snow kept very similar company as you did, and rarely went out for social visits. Any trips were strictly work-related, and when you eased into the topic of his past, Lucille mentioned, in very polite terms, that he had left a small trail of women heartbroken after a short period of time. That not all of them had been pleasant, and that she was pleased you seemed to have a positive effect on him.

She knew about your arrangement, practically the whole staff did, but they were kept on a very tight leash and were thoroughly reminded to not say a word acknowledging it, not even to you. It was with a knowing glance that Lucille told you she was happy you’d stayed around.

You smiled. Knowing that was likely all you were going to get for now, you let her be. By then, it was late enough to have gone dark, and you headed up to bed.

You awoke to creaking outside your door, and the shadow of footsteps from underneath it. You’d been tossing and turning for the last - you checked your watch - two hours. Excellent. You rolled onto your back wondering who it was, and then you heard it again. At first you wondered if it was just a sleep-deprived hallucination, or a sense of deja-vu, but then you focused, and there it was. The sound of heels. Again.

You sat up in bed, pushing your hair out of your face. You were enraged the first time, but if this was becoming a Thursday night tradition, it would be a serious problem. You were tired, you reasoned, you could just try to go back to sleep. Ignore it. Not let him have this power over you, a power that he didn’t even know he had. All the more reason to ignore it, and make it tomorrow’s problem.

But you just couldn’t let sleeping dogs lie, no matter how hard you tried. Your mother used to say it was a problem, always sticking your nose in places it didn’t belong. But it had got you this far, hadn't it?

You knew you were going to follow her to Snow’s room again, it was just a matter of time. You had to at least pretend you had an ounce of self-control, whereas really your head was thrumming and you knew it would take getting hit by a high-speed train to send you back to sleep now.

So you held off. Five minutes passed. Then ten. You had to know, at least, what they were doing. Maybe you could get a look at her face, see who it was, and answer some of the questions you had.

So you went. With a purpose this time, knowing full well what and who you’d end up seeing, trying to take steady breaths and focus on your plan. Check who it was, then leave.

You’d never been that great at execution. Call it hedonism, call it a morbid fascination, or living vicariously, but when you walked up to the door - which was ajar again, strangely even more than last time, by at least an inch or two - you looked inside, and your feet planted. The last shred of your self-control allowed you to take in the room first, the desk and chair that was right within your sight, and as you tucked yourself into the room, half hidden behind the door, you finally looked back at the bed where you’d seen Snow with his blonde girl last time.

Neither of them were sitting now.

Thirty seconds ago, you would’ve believed the hottest thing you’d ever seen was what played out in this room last week. But that was before you saw Snow turned away from you, still fully dressed with his sleeves rolled up, stomach on the bed and face between the blonde’s thighs, eating her out like he was on death row and she was his last meal.

You’d gotten head before. You knew it felt good, but the boys you’d slept with before your arrangement with Snow were selfish and inattentive. They would try, but they were far more interested in getting their dicks wet than showing you a good time. But Snow - you’d never seen anything like it. You didn’t know it could feel that good, or at least, not as good as the blonde girl - who you noted in the back of your mind, wasn’t anyone you recognised - was making it look. Her hips were bucking so hard he was having to pin her down with both hands around her waist.

She was just moving so much, wriggling and crying out and gasping and - you didn’t think you’d ever truly known jealousy until that moment. You couldn’t look away, knees weak and hands shaking, letting yourself get sucked into this headspace again, losing all trace of rationality. You’d think she was playing it up for him, but you knew what that sounded like. You’d faked enough orgasms to know if she was, but this? This was real. As she got close, grinding into him, writhing, running a shaky hand through his hair then getting louder, you managed to snap out of your trance.

In a flash, you ran back down the hallway.

If you thought you were avoiding Snow before, this week was about to give you a run for your money. You took breakfast in your room, and kept only to the parts of the house you knew he never entered. You only touched yourself in the shower, silent cries washed away by the water and steam, paranoia backing you into a corner.

You feigned illness the one time Snow sent a maid to inquire after you. Nothing too major, but enough to put him off. When he left the house, you snuck into the library to smuggle books back to your room, a pile forming as you tried ceaselessly to distract yourself.

You wrote home, you studied art and history. You attempted a few terrible sketches. You tore apart your room, then put it back together.

Before you knew it, Thursday rolled around again. On longer days like this, when Snow had been away working for hours at a time, you’d doubled down on your efforts to get information, and after chipping away for just long enough, you finally managed to squeeze some tidbits out of Lucille. Namely that there was a certain gentleman’s club in the city that he used to frequent before his election as President. Snow’s old driver might know its name, she said.

“But that was long before he met you, ma’am, rest assured.” She added hurriedly.

“Of course. Thank you, Lucille. I think I’ve kept you for long enough. Goodnight.”

Snow had been gone for the whole day, and you weren’t sure if he’d come home yet, so as you headed up to your room, you quietly wandered a little further down the hallway, to check if there was any light beneath his door. There wasn’t. Good. You were glad he wouldn’t be continuing this routine of his. Maybe this Thursday night, you could sleep peacefully.

With a sigh, and mulling over what you’d learned today, you returned to your room, poured a drink, then collapsed into bed.

This night was as sleepless as the rest, and you’d been drifting - not uncomfortably - in and out. A storm was brewing outside, and the sounds of howling wind began to keep you alert. You rolled onto your back and stared at the ceiling, then glanced towards your door. Snow must’ve come home at some point, and very late at that, because dim lights had been turned on in the hallway. Paranoia crept into your mind, slowly poisoning your thoughts and turning you inside out.

It didn’t take long before the feeling pushed you to roll out of bed, slide on a dressing gown, and crack open your door. This time, you couldn’t hear footsteps, or anything that might arise suspicion. You closed the door again. Waited. Then looked around your room, at the messy sheets and the half finished glass of liquor on the nightstand. You rarely drank alone, but these past few weeks had been getting to you, fucking with your head. Coriolanus Snow had driven you to this.

The wind got louder, and you knew you were too wired to sleep, so you stood by your window and finished the glass.

You’d never been good with mysteries. You wanted to know everything, all the time. Know who had power over you, know precisely how to take it away. Know exactly what was happening around you at any given moment. But most of all, you didn’t like being played for a fool.

And sure, the ethics of it had never been discussed between the two of you. Your business was strictly professional, but when you weren’t allowed to sleep around, why could he?

In fact, how dare he?

You poured another glass, straight whiskey. Downed it, pacing your room, back and forth between the door and the window, running your fingers along the ridges of the crystal glass. You thought about him, comfortably in his room, not a care in the world.

How dare he.

You weren’t sure if it was the drink or the buildup of your situation that had your blood boiling, but it didn’t matter. You were incensed. His behaviour was an insult to your name, to your family’s name. Sure, this relationship was a sham, but all the more reason for him to act with basic fucking respect. Sleeping with - and very obviously, at that - a whore, who had a bad habit of leaving the door cracked open, was unacceptable.

You were running hot, and if you knew one thing for certain, it was that when Snow met with fire, he was going to melt. You’d make sure of it.

Your feet took you into the hallway, with the decidedness that this would be the last time.

You rushed down the corridor with a tightly bottled rage that was about to burst, words hot on your tongue and demanding to be spoken, until you turned the corner and saw Snow’s door half open. You stopped in your tracks. Reassessed, then stepped closer, slowly, steadily. Remembering what you were there for.

Then, as you got close enough to see inside - right there, without you even having to step past the threshold, were the two of them, lit by a table lamp, Snow sat on the desk chair as the girl rode him to high heaven, obscene noises getting louder. As you approached you saw Snow’s face again, eyes shut, breath laboured, and you couldn’t believe that anyone just walking by would be able to see this. They were fucking like animals, out in the open. You didn’t know how or why you drew closer still, closing in on them. The girl’s head was dropped down to his shoulder, back facing you, and couldn’t see you unless she turned, but Snow? He was practically facing the door, almost as if he’d been…

No. It couldn’t be. Could it?

But you didn’t have time to think it through, because Snow’s eyes blinked open, and you knew. He was looking right at you, blue eyes piercing into yours, sharp and dangerous like he was going in for the kill. You stood there, jaw dropped, unable to look away. In what world could you walk in on someone like this, and feel like they held all the cards, and you none? That was how he looked at you; like you’d been there watching the whole time, and this was all a show, playing out exactly as he’d planned it. Like somehow, despite all your best efforts, he’d landed on top.

It was like he read your mind, because he wet his lips, unblinking as the blonde writhed on his lap, and fucking smirked.

a/n: can’t wait for them to hate fuck after this (oh sorry forgot i’m the author for a sec) thanks for reading &lt;3

taglist: @superchatnoir07 @itsrainingreid @nycweb-slinger @lookclosernow @etfrin @resibunn @serving-targaryen-realness @harmfulb1tch @demonsnangels @superb-icarus @julesandro @gracieroxzy @slyhersophia @shadowsepiphany @ben-has-arrived @unclecrunkle @zerotwo-sciencequeen @itsleniiilosers @thesiriusmap @ooooglymoooogly @darkqweenn @going-through-shit @loverw1tch @stinkii-boii

if you’d like to be tagged, please leave a comment on the masterlist!! 💌

[lamentationsofalonelypotato]

Chapter 1: Are You Always Like This?

Pairing: Soldier Boy x f!reader, Reader POV

Summary:  When you decided to work with Butcher and his merry band of supe hunters to take down Homelander, you never expected to be saddled with a sullen, grumpy, jerk like Soldier Boy when the job was done. The more you’re around him the more you hate him, but you can’t help but wonder, is he really as big a jerk as you think? Reader is a supe with plant powers. This takes place in an AU about a month after the end of The Boys Season 3, in which Butcher has let Soldier Boy continue to work with him on his team. (I'm real bad at summaries, please forgive me!)

Tropes: Enemies to Lovers (Implied/Eventual), Age Difference (Reader is in her 20s), Protective Ben/ Soldier Boy, Fake Dating

Word Count: 7.4 K (OOPS)

Warnings: I'm going to label this 18+/Mature because Soldier Boy (he's a warning and everyone knows it), swearing, mentions of sex, sexual innuendo, sexual tension, violence. Ben/Soldier Boy might be a little bit OOC.

Note: This is told from Reader's perspective. Any references to the reader is made using you or your. There is minimal use of y/n. I tried my best to proofread, but nobody's perfect. If you don’t like, don’t read, but if you do like, you’re my favorite!

Internal monologue is in italics and is in first person.

A/N: I know I know, I should be working on "You Call It Madness But I Call It Love," but this idea was swirling around in my head and I had to write it.

Spotify Playlist 🪴

Masterlist

Take A Chance On Me Masterlist

You Call It Madness But I Call It Love

"Alright Butcher, I'm done." You sigh closing the file in front of you and standing from the worn wooden table covered in empty Chinese food containers and stacks of papers almost as tall as you. "If I read another word about trying to stop an electrical current, I'm going to commit toaster bath and I'm taking you with me."

It was late, past two in the morning, but Butcher had a lead on a B-list supe that had been using his electrical powers to steal cars and run a chop shop business downtown. You had been close to catching him yesterday, so close in fact that your eyebrows were still a little crispy from when he shot a bolt of lightning at your face that you only dodged in the nick of time when Soldier Boy grabbed the back of your shirt and yanked you out of the way. Unfortunately, your shirt hadn't survived, it had ripped and you spent the rest of the day wearing one of Butcher's oversize Hawaiian shirts all the while Soldier Boy told you that it was a waste to keep a pretty little figure like yours covered up.

I hate him so much.

When Butcher had initially asked you to join his team a month ago you were excited, but then you found out that you were going to be stuck with Soldier Boy. The supe, that despite Annie's arguments should be given back to the government and put on ice, was allowed to join Butcher's team after he took down Homelander. Who was currently frozen on ice, somewhere. As long as Homelander was far from you, you didn't care. The guy gave you the creeps.

But the team still couldn't figure out where the electricity manipulating supe was hiding or where he was dropping the cars, which meant you had spent the past twelve hours staring at files and a computer screen so hard that you felt like your brain going to melt out of your ears.

"Do whatever ya want kid. I'm not ya damn babysitter." Butcher grunts, his face hidden behind his own file. His boots were on the table and he was leaning back in his chair so far that you were tempted to tip him over, all it would take was a good solid kick.

You smile at him. Butcher was adept at pretending that he didn't want you around, of course you knew how antsy he got when you weren't there to offer your opinion. You figured that he just liked pushing people away and given his history you understood that.

Annie sits up from where she and Hughie are cuddling on the couch. "Why don't you stay?" Her brow furrows with worry. Annie was big on the whole, "women not walking at home alone at night thing," which normally you didn't, but you figured that whatever was waiting outside the apartment was probably less intimidating than Homelander. And you could handle it.

"Because I'd like to sleep in my own bed tonight and not that godforsaken rickety cot in the corner that Frenchie got. Can't stand that one spring that always seems so happy to see me." You pull your leather jacket off of the back of the chair and whirl it around your shoulders, before bringing your hair out from under the collar.

Hughie snorts.

"Hey, that cot is an antique!" Frenchie crows from his highbacked chair spewing a mouthful of smoke into the air. Kimiko was sitting at the coffee table in front of him working on her writing, a thick black marker clutched in her hand. MM was taking the night off, but you thought he was probably trying to avoid Soldier Boy.

"Yeah well, that cot is about as old as grandpa over there." You gesture to where Soldier Boy is sitting in another one of the armchairs in the corner watching you while puffing on a joint.

He was always watching you and due to your inability to read his mind it made it difficult for you to gauge what he was thinking, but you assumed that it was the usual macho crap he spouted 100% of the time. But he wasn't checking you out, well this time he wasn't. You had caught him staring at your butt more than once, and he'd made several comments about exactly what he'd like to do to you, but right now an emotion glimmered behind his eyes that you couldn't place.

Soldier Boy stands from the chair. He was wearing a dark t-shirt that stretched over his chest and a pair of blue jeans that fit him just right, well, if you were looking at that. You were, but it was easier to pretend that you weren't. It was easier to pretend that he wasn't the most attractive man you'd ever seen in your life.

Damn it, why does someone so attractive have to be such a dick?

 "A lady like you shouldn't be walking home alone this late." He frowns at you.

"Like me?" You arch an eyebrow.

"Good thing she ain't a lady." Butcher chuckles at his joke

You punch him hard on the arm, not enough to break it, but enough to make it hurt.

“Bloody hell woman.” Butcher rubs his sore bicep shooting you an angry look.

Not many people could look intimidating while wearing a Hawaiian shirt, but Butcher pulled it off. Not many people looked good in a Hawaiian shirt either, but Butcher pulled that off too.

"I'm serious." Soldier Boy's eyes narrow.

"Oh now you're so chivalrous?" You cock your hip to the side, planting your hands on your hips. "Didn't you try to kill me last month?"

"To be fair, you were trying to kill me-"

"Because you were trying to kill Annie. Where was the chivalry when you tried to tear me apart with your bare hands?"

"There are plenty of other things I'd like to do to you with my bare hands sweetheart." His grin turns wolfish. "I'd be happy to show you sometime, perhaps you'd like some company?"

"I'd rather spend an hour with that ancient spring than roll around with you." You tap your lip thoughtfully. “Then again I’m sure that cot is the same age as you and it can at least get it up.”

Annie muffles a snort behind her hand.

“Last time I checked everything was working, perhaps you’d like to see for yourself?” Soldier Boy smirks.

 "Can't you keep in your pants for once?" Butcher sighs, tilting the file downward to glare at Soldier Boy.

You can't help but smile at Butcher's response. Butcher might have tried to push you away, but even you could see his protective instincts. That became wildly apparent whenever you went out on a mission alone and although you would think that it was annoying for someone to think they needed to protect you, in Butcher's case you made an exception.

Soldier Boy rolls his eyes. "She shouldn't walk home alone."

You wave your hand over the wilting fern on the kitchen counter, eyes shifting to green for a moment as it perks up. It was the only plant in the house and although six people lived in this apartment, not one ever remembered to water it. "And you shouldn't butt into my business."

Soldier Boy opens his mouth to speak, but Annie interrupts his train of thought.

"Wait y/n. Coffee tomorrow?" Annie asks ignoring them. She's sitting up from the couch, her body turned towards you with both of her hands on the back cushions. 

She was one of your best friends, well, really one of your only friends. You'd grown up together and when Annie moved to New York you had decided to move and take some college classes in the city while you worked at a small garden shop after class part time.

The owner still couldn't figure out why nothing you cared for seemed to die.

You usually kept your status as a supe on the down low, and only used your powers when you really had to, which wasn't often before you joined Butcher's team. You'd only lasted two semesters before Annie came to ask you for help finding Soldier Boy and after that, Butcher asked you to join his team for shit pay. You accepted but you still worked at the garden shop part-time, also for terrible pay, but you loved it there.

Your powers made it easy to make sure nothing died and sometimes it felt like home being surrounded by plants. Caring for them was the one thing you seemed to be good at, and sometimes they felt like family.

You didn't have much family left, beside your grandmother and your older brother who still lived back in Des Moines, and sometimes it was lonely in the city. Annie was the only person who you'd been able to connect with since you moved, and now that you weren't going to classes the friends you made in college didn't really understand what you were doing with your life.

And telling them "oh I hunt down supes for a living and sometimes kill them" didn't really sound like something you could say in passing. It also did wonders for your dating life… NOT.

"Sorry babe, I'm at the shop tomorrow. But I'm off at 3 if you want to get coffee after?" You hold open the front door of the apartment, looking back at her expectantly.

You hated blowing Annie off, especially since the two of you hadn't been able to hang out outside of missions mostly because she was spending all her time with Hughie.

"Sounds great!" She beams.

And with that you disappear out down the hallway and into the night.

It's raining as you walk down the desolate streets. Cars splash water over the gum covered sidewalks that soaks through your tennis shoes and makes every step against the ground squish. But you ignore it.

You usually loved when it rained, loved to feel the cooling water pool against your skin, loved to hear the soft patter of it against the windows of your apartment, loved the earthy smell that came with the drops, but not tonight. You were still thinking about Soldier Boy.

You don't know why you let him get under your skin so much. You'd met men like him in the past and it was usually easy for you to brush them off, but not him.

I mean yes he is gorgeous, and maybe kind of charming when he's not trying to get into my pants, but I don't want just a one night fling. I want what Annie and Hughie have.

You think about your best friend and her loving boyfriend. You tried not to be jealous, but it was hard when the last time you had a lasting relationship was your first boyfriend back in high school who, when he found out you were a supe, was only interested if you had the power to shape shift into someone 'a little more busty.' The relationship ended with you locking him in a tree and the fire department having to come cut him out. He was fine, maybe a little more green than a normal person, but...

You'd heard that he got a job from the Green Giant Vegetable Company doing cameos as the Jolly Green Giant. So if anything, you helped him have a career?

Annie and Hughie were both head over heels in love with each other, knew everything about each other, didn't have any secrets, and it wasn't just sex, it was a close relationship with someone else who understood every part of you. You wanted that; and as much as you had avoided relationships in the past due to your supe status, you still hoped to find a supe that was kind and didn't think that they were a god for what they could do.

Why do so many have a god complex?

You think again about Soldier Boy. That wasn't the first time he had tried to coax you into bed and it wouldn't be the last, that was for sure. At first you had hoped that he would give up, it had been a month since you'd met, but he was still going strong, despite having a different woman in that apartment almost every night.

Maybe he's just really horny after being trapped in a lab all these years. Then again- You remember all the articles you read about him from the 80s, the ones that recorded his numerous escapades and think about his founding of Herogasm.

Maybe he's always like that, but he never comes on to Annie or Kimiko, only me. And I've threatened castration multiple times. You'd think he would care more about that than anything else.

You consider with a frown, clutching your jacket tighter around you. Rain trickled down from your hair and under the collar of your jacket to soak into your t-shirt. Your once light blue jeans were soaked to a dark navy with the amount of water that splashed up from the road and dripped down your back. For the first time in forever, you wished that it wasn't raining.

Probably should have just gotten a cab, but it's so expensive and-

"Hey baby." Someone calls from behind you.

Can't I just walk home without being hit on? One time?

"Not interested." You shout back, continuing to squish down the cracked sidewalks.

Three shadows peel off the wall of shops to your left blocking your path forward. Each is wearing a dark colored hoodie hiding their faces from view.

Is my luck really this bad? I never hear about Annie getting mugged or Hughie. And Hughie definitely looks wimpier than me.

"Don't be like that baby." The man behind you says.

You half turn your body so you can see all your supposed attackers at once. There are actually two men behind you, both wearing similar hoodies to the three now standing on your right.

Oh look they color coordinated their outfits… cute.

The man opens his mouth again.

"I'm gonna stop you right there." You hold up a finger. "I've been dealing with a horny 104 year old  geriatric man all day long. Please don't push me right now." It was an attempt to warn them, but you knew they probably wouldn’t listen to you.

No one ever does.

"Sounds like you need someone to relax with." The man smirks steeping forward to grab your arm. "I'd be happy to ease some of that tension baby."

"Look. I'm going to give you a chance to walk away. To avoid making one of the biggest mistakes of your life. Because honestly you all have the worst luck in the world." You jerk your arm away from him.

"I like em feisty.” He purrs stepping forward again while the others laugh. “Come on baby-“

He doesn't get to finish his sentence. You grab him around the throat, lifting him in the air like he weighs nothing, your eyes beginning to glow a brilliant green.

“I did try to warn you.”

"She's a supe!" He shouts struggling against your grip.

You throw him backwards into the other man standing to your right before facing the men on your left. Each one has pulled out a knife preparing to rush towards you.

"I get it. Y’all are out late, you bought matching outfits, but do we really have to-“

The first one rushes you, waving his knife through the air in a frantic dance. He doesn't get the chance to make contact with your arm. Vines erupt out of the pavement, breaking through the cracks in the concrete, binding themselves around the man who lets out a savage cry, quickly silenced while the vines continue to wrap around his body until there's nothing left but a mass of struggling green foliage on the pavement and some muffled screams.

He's lucky, could have had him dragged back under ground.

His friends stand there for a moment, eyeing one another as if they're not sure what just happened. You can practically see them trying to decide if you're still worth the trouble.

“Anyone else?”

The battle that follows is swift, the sound of cracking bones and the soft thud of punches landing echo over the soft patter of rain in the night as you dodge their blows and land your own against them. The vines continue to spread outward snatching up the men who fall to the ground in front of you, dragging each one up the street light above that sends yellowed light over the desolate streets. By now each bound body hangs from above like a sack of meat in a meat cooler, moving with the struggling men inside while the muffled cries shatter the still silence of the night.

Sometimes it's really too easy.

And as you begin to turn back someone grabs you by the hair, yanking you into their sweaty embrace. The leader's hot breath sticks to your cheeks, the cool metal of his switchblade pressing down so hard on your throat that you feel the pinprick of blood begin to form under the tip.

“What are you gonna do now bitch?” He snarls in your ear.

"Give you one more chance to surrender." You spit.

Like I'm going to give him the satisfaction of me begging for my life.

"I'm gonna enjoy this-" The man begins to say, pressing the knife deeper into your throat, but the rest of his sentence is cut off with a strangled cry as he's pulled away from you.

 What the hell just-

You turn around, freezing in shock.

Soldier Boy is crouching there in his t-shirt, jacket, and jeans over the man who just had a knife to your throat. His fist rising and falling as he punches the man in the face.

"Don’t you ever touch her." Soldier Boy snarls. His fist is already covered in blood, the man’s face a mass of bloodied tissue and bone.

"Stop you're going to kill him-" You run forward to stop Soldier Boy, but he doesn't stop even when you try to grab on to his hand.

"I said STOP." You shout louder, this time manipulating a vine to wrap around Soldier Boy's arm and restrain it.

Fuck he might already be dead.

"Let me go." Soldier Boy's eyes narrow. The usual green was replaced by a darkened pit with his rage. You'd only ever seen him this mad a handful of times, one of which was when the supe tried to zap you like a fly in one of those insect traps two days ago.

Why is he angry?

"I'm not going to let you go, until you promise not to kill him."

"I should." He snarls back at you.

"What are you talking about?"

He stands from the body, eyeing the last attacker who runs full speed down the sidewalk and vanishes into the darkness.   "I should kill him for trying to hurt you." Soldier Boy says simply.

You wave your hand allowing the vine to let go of his arm. "Where do you come off so high and mighty? You literally tried to kill me last month."

"That was before I-" He shakes his head angrily, eyes still blazing.

"Look I don't need you to protect me. Given what I've had to deal with all day I was looking forward to kicking some ass."

"You did." He smirks nodding his head in the direction of the men hanging from the streetlamp above you. “I just thought that you were outnumbered.”

"Why are you here?" You sigh pinching the bridge of your nose.

"I wanted to go for a stroll." Soldier Boy shrugs. He flexes his hand, before wiping the blood on the front of the sweatshirt of the man on the ground.

"Uh-huh. Well I don't need you to protect me." You say again, crossing your arms over your chest. "I had this handled."

"You sure doll?"

"Look I get it- you think that you're some knight in shining armor because you have this macho complex. But I'm fine on my own." You begin to step around the bodies of the men on the ground moving in the direction of your apartment, but Soldier Boy follows you.

"Where do you think you're going?" You turn to look at where he falls into step beside you.

"You shouldn't be walking home alone."

"Well you're sure as hell not going home with me."

His lip turns up in a smirk, towering over you. Soldier Boy is easily a foot taller than you, so broad that it's impossible to look past his imposing figure. It would be attractive if he wasn't so damn annoying. "Come on sweetheart, I know you want me to go home with you." He purrs with a smile. "I think you'd really enjoy it if I did. And I'll even let you tie me up with those pretty vines of yours." Ben leans in towards your face and you take a step back.

"Hard pass. So what? Is this your big move? Acting all chivalrous just to get a woman into bed with you?"

"That depends, is it working?"

"No. Now go back to the apartment, before I send you there in pieces." You turn back to squish down the sidewalk at a faster pace, hoping he will get a hint and leave you alone. But you knew he wouldn’t stop. He practically thrived on teasing you, had been the bane of your existence since you met him. And nothing seemed to dissuade him.

"What is your problem with me?" He jogs to catch up. "And don't say that it's because I tried to kill you, that was last month-"

"I think that's applicable to this week and the week after that and the week after that." You count out with every finger to further emphasize your point, but you know that Soldier Boy won't give up that easy.

"Are you always this fucking angry?" He almost laughs.

"I don’t know. Are you always this fucking annoying?" You turn to face him narrowing your eyes.

Soldier Boy chuckles at your look, running a hand through his hair that has darkened in the spray of water, his green eyes watching you curiously. They were shinning now, not the blacked pits of hate they were when he was beating the guy two minutes ago. For a second, just for a second, you see how handsome he is all over again.

"Come on, give me a real answer and I'll leave you alone." He's smiling at you now, giving you one of those boyish grins that, if it were anyone else, would make your heart stop.

He just wants sex. He doesn't care about you. He won't ever care about you. Breathe.

"Fine." You sigh. "You might say you're a supe, but you're not a hero. People like you and Homelander, you don't care about anyone but yourself. You use your powers for you and on your own terms. You were going to kill that guy-" You gesture back towards where the body is still on the ground, the man's heart beat is dangerously low.

"He was threatening you. A thank you might be nice." Soldier Boy's cheeks flush as he glares down at you with darkened eyes, his anger surging back in his chest.

"Yes he was threatening me, but I'm okay and you could have just taken him to jail. You didn't have to beat his face in."

"So you're saying if he had been attacking someone else you wouldn't have done the same?"

"I would have subdued him and then waited for the police to get there. The men hanging from the streetlight aren't dead. We aren't the law-"

"Right so those guys can get off with a warning and then go on and do the same thing over and over again." He scoffs rolling his eyes at you.

"It doesn't give you the right to kill them."

"I suppose you don't believe in the death penalty either."

"I believe in the death penalty Gramps. I just don't believe it is our job to carry it out." Your temper was flaring against your skin distracting you from the chill of the rain as it soaked into your clothes.

"Do you have any idea how many women would love to be saved by me?" Soldier Boy asks. He shakes his head as if he can't understand you.

You didn't blame him, most people didn't, that was why you spent most of your time alone.

"I'm not one of them. So leave me alone." You turn to go.

Honestly, why is this the kind of guy I attract? You roll your eyes to yourself. Oh you mean, tall, dark, handsome, gorgeous- The other little voice in your head whispers in your ear. NO. You tell yourself. Please I just want one guy who's not a total dick. Why is that so hard?

"I still don't think it's a good answer." He huffs.

"Of course you don't." You roll your eyes and begin to walk again. The streetlamps above send an eerie yellow glow over the parked cars along the road and over the crackled pavement. If Soldier Boy wasn't here bothering you, you might have stopped to admire the water as it splashed underneath the suspension bridge beyond the crowded buildings, but you wanted to get home. Without him if possible.

You glance over at Soldier Boy again. He looks normal right now, always does when he's not wearing his suit. And when he shut up you could see why people were so in love with him. It was when he opened his mouth that it reminded you exactly why you didn't like him.

You stop in front of your apartment building and force yourself to smile. "Thank you for walking me home." You say through tight lips, hoping that the false sincerity will make him leave.

He gazes up at your building with a frown. "This is a pretty shitty apartment building."

"Thank you. Not all of us inherited millions of dollars from our parents."

He pauses for a moment continuing to look up at the building, before he sighs loudly. "Look, I-." He sighs again. "I can't take listening to Annie and Hughie fucking. They go at it every night and she always makes the power go off."

You knew that already. It was another reason why you didn't like staying at the apartment, because listening to your best friend get railed by her boyfriend was not your idea of a good time.

You look up at Ben, and for a second you see a glimmer of the truth, just a flash of something that wasn't like the misogynistic attitude he usually had and it made you pause. He almost looked, sad and it made you feel bad for him. Of course you felt bad for him before, when you found out his entire team just gave him away to be experimented on and when probably the woman that he'd come the closest to loving really didn't care about him at all.

It must be incredibly lonely to come back to a world where almost everyone you know is dead. Guilt builds in your chest at the thought. I had lost my fair share of people, but not everyone in my life and I certainly didn’t learn about it on the same day.

"You know I think that's the first honest thing you've ever said to me." You say quietly shifting from foot to foot.

He half-smiles. "Maybe."

You chew on the inside of your cheek considering. You weren't afraid of him. You knew that with your powers you could take him. You were stronger than most and harder to kill. And despite the bad things you thought about him and knew about him, you kinda thought he was relatively harmless, well, you didn't think he was a rapist.

"Fine. But you're staying on the couch. And if I wake up and you're anywhere near my bedroom, I'll castrate you." You warn as walk up to the front doors and type in the code to unlock them, with Soldier Boy following behind you.

When you make it to the third floor, you raise one hand to stop him from going any further. It falls against his muscular chest and you fail trying not to admire how it feels beneath your hand.

Why am I so thirsty?

"If you wanted to grab my chest doll, all you had to do was ask-" Soldier Boy begins to say, but you raise the hand to cover his mouth.

"Shh." You hiss. "We have to be quiet or Mike will come out-"

"Who?" He asks, muffled against your hand.

You hear a door down the hallway creak open, spilling yellowed light onto the dark blue carpet of the hallway. "Shit. Too late."

Mike steps out of his apartment with a wide smile as soon as he sees you. "HEY y/n!" He crows, waving his free hand enthusiastically. "I didn't know you were getting in so late, but I wanted to give you this." Mike holds out a giant casserole dish filled with something that you can't identify. It's multi colored with multiple layers, one of which looks suspiciously like rice and the next layer looks like cake.

There's no way I'm eating that. Maybe if I force feed it to Soldier Boy he'll leave me alone.

Mike was your neighbor, your neighbor who had lived next door to you for the past 2 years and was shamelessly in love with you. And as sweet as he was, there were a few things that you couldn't get past, most namely that he lived with his mother and that he had a mullet.

One time you'd had a nightmare about it ripping itself from his head, breaking in to your apartment, and smothering you in your sleep.

Not fun.

"Hey Mike." You smile tightly at him, dropping your hand from Soldier Boy's mouth. "Yeah I'm sorry I was out with some friends."

"You should have asked me to come! I love your friends." Mike smiles so wide you're afraid that it's going to break his face. “Especially Butcher. He’s so funny. Always joking-"

Poor Mike.

Every time that Butcher had come over to talk shop, he would mock Mike endlessly. And Mike was just too sweet to realize it. Hughie was the only one who actively tried to be nice to Mike, but even he found it difficult. Annie was the worst though, she'd tease you constantly about what your children would look like and had taken to photoshopping mullets onto pictures of babies and sending them to you at inopportune times.

"Maybe next time." You cough out an awkward laugh while Soldier Boy snorts behind you.

You continue down the hallway towards your apartment, the door next to his, and hope that he'll go back into his home, but no such luck.

“My mom made this for you!” He holds the dish out towards you.

“Oh um that’s so nice of her. But I can’t except that-“

Mike's mother comes to stand in the doorway of their shared apartment. She was wearing a bright purple Mumu, her makeup caked thickly on her face and her eyes accentuated with bright blue eye shadow. “Sure you can sweetie. You’re Mike’s special friend.” She winks before trailing her eyes up and down your body. “And you’ve got such a cute little figure.” His mother does a little shimmy as if trying to get you to do the same.

Kill me now.

“That’s what I keep telling her.” Soldier Boy purrs behind you.

“Don’t make me kill you.” You mutter back, knowing full well he can hear you with his super-hearing.

Oddly enough Mike does look suspiciously like his mother, they are both the same height, exactly three inches under you, and have the same mullet, but hers is a shocking blue-gray and his is jet black.

He blushes at her words. “Aww mom.”

Soldier Boy muffles a laugh before disguising it into a cough. You elbow him hard in the stomach.

“Well thank you.” You take the casserole dish with one hand, hoping that you can open the door and usher Soldier Boy in before he makes a comment. "I've had a long day and it's really late-"

“I helped her make this one.” Mike interrupts scooting closer to you, so close that you get a lungful of his terrible cologne, the one that the super sells for four dollars and smells like baby powder and Cheez-its.

“A man who can do it all.” Soldier Boy whispers to you.

Mike looks above your head as if noticing Soldier Boy for the first time. “Who’s that? I thought I knew all your friends.”

“He’s certainly very handsome-“ Mike's mother blushes from the doorway.

“Your brother?” Mike offers.

You can see his expression turn hopeful.

Probably thinking about how he can become friends with "said brother" and that will escalate our "relationship." 

“I’m Ben.” Soldier Boy says, stepping around you to shake Mike’s hand. “I’m y/n's boyfriend.”

Your cheeks bloom a bright pink, unable to respond to the ridiculous statement that he just made.

Murder. That's what sounds good right now.

“Oh.” Mike’s face falls. “I didn’t know you had a boyfriend.” His eyes flick back to you, disappointment swimming in the irises.

You watch Mike’s hope begin to circle the drain.

“Well actually-“ You begin, but Soldier Boy interrupts you.

“Sorry I’ve been out of town for a while. We've been trying to do this long distance thing- you know how it is, late night phone calls-“ Ben trails off with a wolfish grin before dropping an arm around your shoulders. “But I just couldn’t take the long distance. Missed her too much. Phone call isn’t the same as sleeping in the same bed. Definitely not as satisfying. Not to mention there’s only so much my hand can do.”

Your cheeks bloom an even brighter red at his insinuation.  That’s when Soldier Boy does something even more unforgivable, he pulls you tighter against him and kisses you right there in front of Mike and his mother. The kiss is searing, making everything in your mind go blissfully blank. It had been so long since someone kissed you, since someone had held you this close to them without trying to kill you. His tongue teases your bottom lip and before you can stop yourself you open your mouth wider to let him in sighing softly against his lips, while you grip the front of his jacket.

For a moment you can’t remember why you didn’t want him to kiss you, why you denied yourself of this for so long. And then Soldier Boy's hand slides from your back to grab a handful of your ass.

Right.

You slap him so hard across the face that you're sure it would have broken the cheekbone of anyone who wasn’t a supe.

But Soldier Boy only grins wider, squeezing your butt again. “She knows that I like it a little rough.” He turns his lazy gaze back to Mike.

You open your mouth to cuss him out.

“Well we should probably get going.” Soldier Boy breezes. “Probably going to be a long night. If you know what I mean. But we’ll try to keep it down. Then again my girl's a little loud.” He winks at your poor neighbor who looks like he might cry, while his mother stands behind him fanning herself like Soldier Boy is everything she wants in a man.

He's ten for ten with the older ladies I'll say that.

“Oh right. Well I guess I’ll see you around y/n.” Mike turns to go.

“Mike wait-“ You try to say but he’s already vanishing through the door.

“Nice to meet you Mark.” Soldier Boy calls at his retreating figure, getting his name wrong on purpose.

You don’t even use your key to open the door you're so mad, the plants inside let you in. As soon as it opens, you haul Soldier Boy by the front of his jacket through the doorway and pin him to the wall just inside.

The casserole dish lands on your counter and by some miracle doesn’t break.

“What the hell is your problem?” Your hand is fisted in the front of his shirt, eyes blazing with anger and embarrassment.

He only grins. “You didn’t want me to play along? Sounded like that guy had been trying to get into your pants for a while. Unless he already has been or you want him to?"

You flush a deeper shade of crimson. "That is absolutely none of your business!"

“Well if we’re going to be living together doll, I’m pretty sure it is my business.”

“WE AREN'T LIVING TOGETHER I'M JUST LETTING YOU CRASH ON THE COUCH TONIGHT AND THEN YOU'RE GONE.” You shout.

“I think you’re gonna get pretty attached to me sleeping here. Maybe even  you let me sleep in your bed and even fu-“

You knock him back against the wall again. “If you finish that sentence I’m going to throw you out the window.”

“If you keep knocking me around, Mike's going to think you’re into some pretty kinky stuff.” Soldier Boy smirks down at you. “It’s actually turning me on a bit. Is it turning you on?”

“I don’t have to let you stay here.” You growl, releasing him.

“I think it’s because you like me.” He teases.

“I don’t.” You frown grows. “Okay couch is there goodnight.”

You point in the direction of the worn leather couch. You'd hauled it up three flights of stairs with Annie when you first moved in after you found a guy online selling it for nothing. And when you showed up to get it, he presumed to say it would be free if you let him take a picture of your feet. And after, when he had a black eye and a fun story to tell his wife, he gave you the couch for nothing as promised.

“No kiss goodnight?” Soldier Boy pouts his lips innocently.

“You already had one of those.” You snap thinking about slapping him again and trying hard not to think about how much you wanted to kiss him again.

Get a grip.

“Right. You liked it.”

“No I didn’t. And the next time you shove your tongue into my mouth I’ll bite it off.”

“You’re really violent for such a little thing.” Soldier Boy eyes you up and down as if sizing you up.

“And you’re really dick-like for someone who’s supposed to have the wisdom of the ages.” You turn towards the hallway intent on going to bed to avoid any more conversation with him.

"Whoa." You hear Soldier Boy say as he looks into your living room.

It was the reaction that everyone had when they entered your apartment. You had a small one bedroom apartment on the third floor of a building that you believed might be older than Soldier Boy. The kitchen and living room was mostly one room, the kitchen to the left with outdated appliances and a small circular wooden table with three chairs that served as your kitchen table and desk, and was separated by the large leather aforementioned couch that faced the wall that held two large windows. Beyond the front door was a small hallway that held the only bathroom in the apartment and your bedroom.

But that's not what was surprising.

Every open space in your apartment was covered in plants. There wasn't a single piece of unused space in your apartment. There were large standing monstera and fiddle leaf figs shoved into every corner and pots of dark green pothos bolted into the walls trailing vines to the ground so that every wall looked alive. Jasmine crept along the wall behind the tv that sat on an antique credenza between the two windows, sending the bright scent into the living room.

There was a large rectangular box bolted in the space above your sink where herbs and tomatoes hung down, probably a fire hazard, but you didn't care. The vibrant smell of mint, the spicy smell of rosemary, and soft tones of oregano and basil fused the air in your apartment with a life force that was impossible to ignore.

A large apple tree grew in a pot as big around as you next to the couch, with brilliant red apples hanging from it's branches, while a lemon tree and a tangerine tree intertwined their branches just behind the kitchen table.  The refrigerator, once white, was covered in the tangled vines of blackberry and raspberry, hanging with full fruit, while a potted strawberry plant sits prettily on top of the kitchen table, the bright red fruit enticing.

It was a lot. You knew it was a lot, but helping plants grow was the only thing you were good at, the only thing that felt right. One day you hoped that you could move somewhere and open a farmers market, but today you were stuck here, with Soldier Boy, who probably thought that you were crazy.

"I mean. I knew you had plant powers but this is-" He begins to say.

"A lot. I know." You roll your eyes. "The bathroom is down the hall." You gesture with your free hand towards the darkened hallway. "I guess I'll get you a pillow."

Ben is still looking around the room dumbfounded, as if he's never seen anything like this in his life, and he probably hasn't.

He's been in a Russian Lab for the past forty years, I mean he's probably not used to seeing anything this green.

You find the extra pillow in the linen closet along with one of the crocheted granny square blankets you made last year when Annie and you had a Jaws movie marathon, and a towel, before you move back into the living room.

Ben is still standing awkwardly by the couch as if he's not sure what to do, and it's the first time you've seen him look lost.

"Here." You throw him the pillow and the towel before you drape the blanket over the back of the couch. "One night."

"Why are you working for Butcher?"

"What?" The question catches you off guard. You were expecting him to make another pass at you, maybe check you out again. He was looking at you, but it was different, his gaze was softer, curious.

"You don't seem like you-" He gestures around the room. "Like you fit."

You blink for a second. "Um."

"I mean Annie used to be one of the Seven, Hughie does whatever the fuck Butcher tells him, but you you're different." His brow furrows together as if he can't figure you out.

"I really don't want to do this with you."

"This?" He looks confused again.

"Opening up with one another. You're here for one night. That's it." You force yourself to say, but the reality was you were still surprised, surprised that he actually seemed to care.

Stop. He's changing tactics because nothing else worked. He's pretending to care about you because he still wants to sleep with you.

"Please."

You can't answer for a second. It was the first time that he'd said that word in front of you before, or acted this way. It was also the first time that it had just been the two of you, before Butcher had been there or Frenchie or Annie and Hughie, but this was the first time that the two of you had been left alone.

Maybe that's why?

You hesitate before you answer, he was the last person you really wanted to open up to.

"I don't know, it's not all that bad." You shrug. "Before I didn't really use my powers all that much except like this." You gesture around the room for emphasis. "And when I went to college everyone was so serious about their futures and I didn't really like any of the classes. The only thing I enjoyed was using my powers at Please Don’t Die, the plant store I work at. And then Annie asked me to come help her out-" You bite your cheek. "She's my best friend and maybe I wanted to spend more time with her."

"But is it what you really want?" He cocks his head to the side, holding the pillow in one hand and the towel in the other.

You'd never seen him look so calm before, relaxed, like being here with you was washing away any anger or frustration he still had about the past. It was confusing, and at the same time you could feel your heart beginning to betray you. It was hard not to fall for him when he looked so good, eyes soft, dark hair falling into his eyes, clothes still dripping rain on your hardwood floors.

No. I will not fall in love with him, I will not fall in love with-

"Goodnight Soldier Boy. I'll see you in the morning." You turn to go, ignoring his final question.

"You can call me Ben." He almost whispers it, the sound of his voice a low rumble that sends a shiver down your spine.

"What?" You look back at him.

"You never call me Ben. But you can, if you want." He shrugs his shoulders, before he shakes his head as if he's annoyed with himself for suggesting it. "Never mind, just fucking forget about it-"

"Goodnight Ben." You feel the end of your mouth twitch up into a smile and with that you disappear into your bedroom, locking the door behind you.

And deep down you know that it's not to keep him out, but to keep you in.

As always, thank you so much for reading!

If you liked this story be sure to read my follow up fic that takes place in the future:

Open Mic Night!

Or if you'd like to read another series please try:

You Call It Madness But I Call It Love!

If The Stars Wish It So

A/N: I know it's crazy to start another series right now, but I'm kinda feeling this reader and Ben together? What do y'all think about it?

A/N: Update I've made a huge mistake and started another series.

If you'd like to be added to the taglist please let me know!

(Photos for series picture from Pinterest)

Taglist: @roseblue373 @mrsjenniferwinchester

[glxzsyy-r0xie]

Heyyy idk if you’ve done this before or not but if you could write something about sevika making the reader ride her abs and/or her happy trail thanks!!

Ride it

A/N: Yippie my first ask <33 anyways i did this at 4 in the morning so i hope you enjoy!

Sevika x fem!reader

summary: due to Sevika's work you were left needy. Dragging her home in the middle of her gambling to ride her abs

MEN DNI

Warnings: dry humping(bring it back), riding abs, Sassy reader (in the beginning), weight/height not mentioned, size kink(if you look hard enough), age not mentioned but your over 18, hickeys, kissing, soft Sev at the end.

word count: 6.3k

time: 1 hour, 47 minutes

Sevika sat calmly, her arm wrapped around your waist and her hand resting on your thigh as she studied her cards with intense focus. Her poker face remained impeccable, even with you perched so comfortably on her lap. A cigarillo rested between her teeth, which she rolled around with her tongue as she considered her next move. After a moment, she placed a set of cards on the table, causing the men she was playing against to groan in frustration. A smug smirk spread across her face as they all slammed their cards down, defeated—she had won.

Because of Sevika’s work, she hasn’t been home much, and it’s starting to make you feel impatient. The lack of time spent together has you growing more needy, longing for her presence.

When she finally wins, you smile softly, a sense of pride and warmth filling you as you watch her.

Sevika smirked, feeling the way you leaned into her side. She loved having you close like this, even if she rarely ever said so. After pocketing her winnings, she carefully set down her cards and turned to face you. Her arm was still wrapped tightly around your waist and she gently pulled you closer, her hand running up your body in a possessive manner. Sevika’s touch was always possessive, as if she was marking her possession for all to see and know. Once you were close enough to her she smirked lazily up at you. 

“You’ve been restless all day, princess.”

You nod your head slowly, a hint of frustration in your voice. “Can’t help it, you’ve just been so busy,” you murmur, pouting as you look up at her, your bottom lip sticking out slightly in a way that’s both endearing and vulnerable. The need for her attention, her touch, lingers in the air between you.

Sevika watched the way your lip stuck out. It was damn adorable, and it took all her self-control not to immediately claim your mouth. 

She smirked lazily, taking a slow drag of her cigarette. Her hand squeezed your waist gently, her eyes trailing over your face. 

Sevika loved seeing you needy. It seemed to stir up a primal possessiveness inside of her, a need to pin you down and take you, letting you know you belonged to her.

You bite your lip, heat rising to your cheeks under Sevika’s intense gaze. The way her fingers tightened on your waist sent a shiver down your spine, anticipation coiling in your stomach

”Sevika…” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper

Oh, she loved it when you said her name like that. It was needy and soft, a sound that drove Sevika crazy. The possessive hold she had on your waist just got stronger, pulling you just a little closer against her. She turned to face you in her lap better, taking the cigarette from between her lips. 

A lazy smirk appeared on her lips as she took a long drag off it, slowly exhaling the smoke out of her mouth. She always looked good when smoking, but there was something about seeing your small body sitting on her lap that made the image even more striking.

“Can we go home?” you ask softly, your fingers gently gripping her upper arm, feeling the firm muscles beneath your touch.

A soft grumble escaped her as she felt you touch her arm, the muscles underneath. Your smaller hand was just barely able to wrap around her bicep, but god did Sevika love when you did it.

She let out a sigh, knowing damn well that she was in no position to keep playing cards. Not with you practically whining in her lap. Damn did Sevika hate leaving a card game unfinished, but she also hated denying you anything.

She nodded her head slightly, her arm releasing your waist slowly. 

“Yeah, we can go home, princess.”

You smile softly, a warm, contented expression on your face as you carefully slide off her lap, the movement fluid and gentle. You linger for a moment, feeling the weight of her gaze on you, before fully standing, a small spark of playfulness in your eyes.

Sevika let you go, a soft grumble escaping her at the loss of your body heat. Her eyes darkened as you moved, her grip letting you go. That possessiveness flared in her, and she bit her lip to keep from pulling you back. Once she thought she had herself under control, she finally spoke. 

She stood up, grabbing her jacket and throwing it on over her tank top, hiding those pretty muscles you loved to touch. Her eyes still hadn’t left you. 

Sevika grunted, cocking her head towards the door. 

”C’mon then, princess.”

You reach for her hand, your fingers brushing against hers before you gently intertwine them, feeling the warmth of her touch. As you start walking toward the door, you can feel the subtle pressure of her hand in yours, grounding you as you guide the way. The familiar comfort of her touch sends a sense of calm through you, even as you move forward together.

Sevika let you pull her forward, unable to resist. Once you grabbed her hand, that possessive desire flared further, a low grumble escaping her. 

She intertwined her fingers with yours and followed along behind you. Her eyes glued to your backside as you walked. 

When you pushed open the door, she followed you outside, tugging on your hand to pull you back against her.

Once you were close enough she wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you tightly against her with a satisfied hum.

You let out a soft gasp as your back pressed against Sevika’s solid frame, her warmth seeping into you. Her grip was firm, unyielding, as if she had no intention of letting you go anytime soon

You swallowed hard, your fingers still laced with hers, feeling the strength in her hold

Sevika smirked as you gasped and pressed back against her. She loved the way you fit against her perfectly, that deliciously soft body contrasting perfectly against her muscular one. If she had her way, she'd never let you go. 

As you both walked, she remained like that. Pulling you flush against her, feeling your body against the hard muscle of hers. Her mouth hovered by your ear, just far enough that you could feel her warm breath on your neck. 

Sevika grumbled, her fingers gently squeezing your hand. 

"You're driving me crazy, princess."

A shiver ran down your spine at the roughness in her voice, the way it dripped with barely restrained desire. You tilted your head slightly, just enough to brush against her lips, teasing her with your closeness

“Am I?” you murmured, a small smirk playing on your lips. You squeezed her hand back, your fingers tightening around hers as you leaned into her warmth

Your question and the way you tilted your head made her breath hitch. The way you brushed your neck against her mouth. The hint of a smirk on your lips as you squeezed her hand, your body molding against hers.

Oh, you knew exactly what you were doing to her, and Sevika loved every moment of it. It made her heart thump in her chest, made her crave you even more. 

Her eyes darkened further as she felt you tease her like that. Sevika growled slowly, her mouth going to your neck. Soft kisses, gentle bites. 

"Yes, you are."

you ended up getting home faster than normally. Maybe it was the need coursing through your body or maybe it’s because you weren’t paying attention. Only ever paying attention to Sevika

The walk home was torturous. All she could think about was getting you home and pinned underneath her. 

The way you paid absolutely no attention to anything but her made Sevika feel like she was going insane. Knowing you were always watching her, only focused on her and no one else, had a certain possessive flare up in her chest. God, she was going to wreck you once she got you home. 

When the door finally shut behind you, she grabbed you by the wrist and pushed you against the door, towering over your smaller frame.

A gasp escaped your lips as your back hit the door, Sevika’s towering presence caging you in. Her grip on your wrist was firm but not painful—just enough to remind you who was in control

Her eyes darkened as she loomed over you. The way you gasped and hit the door made those possessive instincts flare further. You looked so damn small against her. Trapped. Nowhere to go, nothing you could do except accept whatever she wanted to give you. 

Her hips pinned you against the door, her free hand reaching up to grab your chin, forcing you to look up at her. 

God goddamn, she wanted you so, so bad.

Your breath hitched as Sevika’s fingers gripped your chin, tilting your head up until all you could see was her. The intensity in her gaze sent a thrill down your spine, heat pooling low in your stomach

You swallowed, your hands instinctively reaching for her, grasping at the fabric of her shirt as if grounding yourself

Sevika leaned down, bringing her face just inches from yours. The way you reached out to her, your fingers gripping the fabric of her shirt, sent a feral hunger flaring in her chest. She loved the way you desperately grabbed onto her, as if you were afraid of falling. The needy, wanting look in your eyes made Sevika almost groan. 

She took a deep inhale of air, her eyes roaming over your face and down to those pouty lips. 

"Goddamn, princess. What you do to me.."

Your breath was unsteady, heart hammering against your ribs as Sevika’s words sent a fresh wave of heat through you. The way her eyes lingered on your lips, the roughness in her voice—it made your knees feel weak

You swallowed hard, fingers tightening in her shirt as you pressed closer, needing more of her, needing her to close the agonizing distance between you. “Then do something about it,” you murmured, voice laced with challenge and want

The way you challenged her, the soft, needy tone in your voice as you spoke, it sent a jolt straight down to Sevika’s core. 

She groaned lowly, her hand on your chin tightening its grip as her free hand grabbed your hip, pinning you against her harder. 

She leaned in further, her face just a breath away from touching yours. Her warm breath washed over your neck with every exhale, sending a shiver down your spine. 

"Watch your mouth, princess. I'll have you begging in no time."

A shudder ran through you at her words, your fingers twitching against her chest as you fought to keep your composure. But it was useless—Sevika had you exactly where she wanted you, pinned and pliant beneath her hold.

You swallowed, tilting your head just enough to brush your lips against hers, barely touching, just enough to tease. “Maybe that’s exactly what I want,” you whispered, voice dripping with lust

Oh, you goddamn minx, Sevika thought to herself. The way you challenged her, the sly look in your eye. It awoke something feral in her. It made her want to put you in your place. 

As soon as you brushed your lips against hers, a low, guttural growl escaped Sevika’s throat. She pinned your hips harder against the wall, her hand leaving your chin to grab the back of your neck. Her thumb dug into the skin on your neck, pulling a strangled whimper from your lips. 

"You're testing my patience, princess."

A sharp gasp left your lips as Sevika’s grip tightened, her dominance washing over you like a tidal wave. The heat in her eyes sent another shiver down your spine, your body instinctively pressing closer despite the warning laced in her words

Your hands slid up her chest, gripping at her vest for balance as your breath hitched. “Maybe I like testing you,” you whispered, your voice shaky yet defiant, daring her to do something about it

The way you spoke to her, the defiant tone that dripped with desire. It drove Sevika insane. She wanted to show you exactly what happens when you test her. 

She growled slowly as she tightened her hand on your neck even more, a warning of what she was willing to do if you didn’t back down. 

"You really should be careful, princess. You're playing a dangerous game with a very possessive woman who is far less gentle than she looks."

A shaky breath left your lips, your pulse fluttering beneath Sevika’s grip. The weight of her words, the sheer dominance in her tone, sent a thrill coursing through you—but you weren’t about to back down now

Your fingers curled tighter in her vest as you met her gaze, your lips parting slightly as if considering her warning. Then, with a slow, deliberate smirk, you whispered, “Maybe I don’t want you to be gentle.”

That smirk, those sinful words leaving your lips, it almost made Sevika snap. 

She growled slowly, her head tilting as she studied your expression. The way you gripped her vest, your chest pressed flush against hers, looking at her like that. 

She could feel the way your heart was racing, how you were still pressed against her, waiting for her to make the next move. She tightened her grip on your neck, her mouth coming down by your ear as she spoke. 

"Oh, princess. You have no idea what you're asking for."

A shiver ran through you at the heat of her breath against your ear, her voice thick with barely restrained hunger. Your pulse pounded beneath her grip, but you didn’t waver—you held your ground

Your lips curled into a teasing smile, your fingers tightening in her vest as you whispered back, “Then why don’t you show me?”

Sevika let out a low, rumbling chuckle, her grip on your neck flexing just enough to make you gasp. “Oh, sweetheart,” she murmured, dragging her lips down the side of your neck, her voice dripping with dark promise. “You’re going to regret saying that—when you can still think straight.”

The way you didn’t back down, the challenge in your tone and expression—it drove Sevika absolutely insane. Your scent, those soft gasps—she loved everything about it. 

She nipped at the skin of your neck, her tongue and teeth marking you, claiming you as hers. Sevika wanted to make you squirm in her grip, to lose your composure and fall apart beneath her touch. 

"You're going to regret teasing me, princess." As she spoke, her free hand slid under your shirt, the cold of her bionic hand making you gasp as it found your skin.

A sharp, breathless gasp escaped your lips as Sevika’s teeth grazed your neck, the sensation both painful and intoxicating. The way she marked you, staking her claim, sent a rush of heat straight to your core.

Your body shivered under the cold of her bionic hand against your skin, the contrast almost too much to handle, and your grip on her tightened instinctively. “I don’t regret anything,” you breathed, your voice a mix of challenge and desire.

Sevika’s smirk deepened, her fingers trailing over your skin as she leaned in, her breath hot against your ear. “You will,” she growled, her bionic hand pressing just a little firmer against you, sending another wave of shock through your body. “And I’ll make sure of it.”

The way you gasped and shivered under her touch only encouraged Sevika. She loved the way your body trembled and arched against her, desperate for more. 

She nipped at your neck again, her tongue tracing a path down your pulse. The way you held onto her, pressing against her in desperation, it stoked the fire within her. 

She chuckled lowly at your defiant words, her hand squeezing your hip almost painfully. 

"You're a damn menace, princess." Sevika murmured against your neck, before biting down on your pulse point hard.

A loud gasp escaped you as Sevika’s teeth sank into your pulse point, a rush of heat flooding your body at the delicious mix of pain and pleasure. Your grip on her tightened, nails digging into her shirt as your chest rose and fell with rapid breaths.

”You make it too easy,” you whispered breathlessly, your voice shaky but still laced with defiance.

Sevika’s chuckle vibrated through your neck, sending another shiver down your spine. Her hand on your hip remained firm, squeezing you with a possessiveness that only made your desire burn hotter. “You think this is easy, princess?” she growled, her lips still pressed against your skin. “I’m just getting started.”

Your gasps and the way you clenched her shirt sent a primal satisfaction through the dark-haired woman. She loved seeing you like this, needy and overwhelmed by her touch. 

The defiant words that left your lips only fueled Sevika's possessiveness, making her want to show you exactly who you belonged to. 

She nipped and sucked on your pulse point, marking you with hickeys that would be visible for days. Her hand slid further up your torso, her cold bionic fingers trailing over your skin, sending another wave of shock shuddering through you.

A soft, strangled moan slipped from your lips as Sevika’s bionic fingers sent sparks through your body, the cold metal a stark contrast against the warmth of her touch. The marks on your neck throbbed with a possessive heat, and your body reacted without thought, pressing further into her, needing more.

“God…” you breathed, the words barely escaping as you clung to her. “What are you doing to me?”

Sevika’s grip tightened, her lips brushing over your ear as she whispered lowly, “I’m showing you who you belong to, sweetheart. And trust me, you’re going to love every second of it.”

Her hand continued its slow, deliberate journey up your body, sending a fresh wave of heat crashing through you.

Your moans and gasps were like music to Sevika's ears—it showed just how easily she could unravel you, making you come undone under her touch. 

The way your body arched and pressed into hers, desperate for more, was like a potent drug, and Sevika couldn't get enough. 

She growled against your neck, her lips trailing down to your shoulder as she sucked and nibbled at your skin, marking you in more hickeys. 

"You belong to me, sweetheart," Sevika growled slowly. "And you're going to forget everything but my touch."

Your body trembled under her, each mark she left on your skin only deepening the desire that swelled within you. Every nip, every kiss ignited something wild and uncontrollable inside you. The heat of her breath against your shoulder sent a shiver down your spine, and you couldn’t help but melt further into her, unable to resist.

“Only you,” you whispered, voice shaky but full of need, your fingers gripping her shirt tightly as your chest pressed harder into hers. “I want you, Sevika.”

The words that left your lips, the raw need in your voice, it hit Sevika like an electric shock. Hearing you say her name, the way you clutched desperately at her shirt—it was almost maddening. 

She growled slowly, her hands gripping your hips as she pulled you flush against her, her body pressing intimately against yours. The heat between you was almost overwhelming, her lips trailing up your neck to your ear as she spoke, her voice thick with desire. 

"You have no idea just how badly I want you, princess."

The shiver that ran through you at Sevika’s words made your entire body tremble, her heat and dominance consuming every thought. The way she pulled you closer, the raw intensity in her touch—it set your skin alight, igniting a fire you couldn’t contain.

“Then show me,” you whispered, your voice barely a breath, filled with aching need. You could feel the tension, the hunger in her as she pressed into you, her body melding against yours.

That whispered demand, the aching need in your voice—it was like adding fuel to the fire already burning inside Sevika. She couldn't hold back any longer; she had to have you, right here, right now. 

With a low, possessive growl, Sevika gripped your hips tighter, lifting you up against the wall, her bionic arm flexing with ease. Her mouth found yours, devouring your lips with a fierce hunger, her body pressing against yours possessively. 

"You asked for it, princess," Sevika growled against your lips. "I'm going to ruin you."

A gasp tore from your throat as Sevika lifted you effortlessly, your body pressed against the wall with her strength. The intensity of her kiss, the hunger in it, sent shockwaves through you, and you melted into her with no resistance.

”Do it,” you breathed, your voice desperate, full of need. “I’m yours.”

The way you surrendered to her, the way your body responded with such wild desire—it made Sevika’s head spin. The possessive animal within her roared with satisfaction, desperate to claim you fully. 

Her mouth devoured yours in hungry, bruising kisses, her body pressing against yours with a primal determination. Sevika's bionic hand found the skin of your waist, her fingers digging in possessively as her other hand tightened in your hair, pulling your head back to expose your neck. 

"Mine," Sevika growled between kisses. "You're mine and no one else's."

A breathless moan escaped you as Sevika’s words sank in, her touch igniting a fire within you that you couldn’t suppress. The way she marked you, the raw need in her kiss, made you feel as if you were completely consumed by her.

“Yours,” you gasped, your fingers curling into her shirt as you pressed yourself deeper into her, craving more. “I’m yours, Sevika.”

The sound of the admission falling from your lips—that you were hers and hers alone—sent a jolt of electric desire through Sevika's body. She growled against your neck, biting and sucking at the skin, marking you so everyone knew just who you belonged to. 

Her hands roamed over your body, rough and possessive, holding you in place against the wall. "Say it again," she commanded, her voice a low, guttural growl. "Say you're mine."

”I'm yours,” you moaned out. You could feel the muscles of Sevika’s abs under where you needed her the most causing her to buck your hips against her abdomen in need

The sound of your moan, the way you writhed against her, desperately seeking friction where you needed it most—it sent a possessive thrill through Sevika. Her hands tightened, her fingers digging into your hips as she rocked against you, providing the delicious pressure. Her lips found your neck again, sucking and nipping at your pulse point, marking you as hers. 

She bit down sharply, a low growl escaping her as she spoke against your skin. "That's right, princess. You're mine. All mine."

A sharp gasp left your lips as Sevika’s teeth sank into your skin, the sting melting into a wave of pleasure that had you pressing into her, desperate for more. The way she held you, the possessive edge in her voice—it had you completely undone.

“Yours,” you whimpered, your fingers tangling in her vest as you clung to her, your body arching into her every touch. “Only yours.”

The desperate way you gasped and whimpered, the way you clung to her, it made Sevika's possessive instincts flare wildly. Hearing you say she was the only one you wanted, the only one you belonged to—it was intoxicating. 

She growled slowly, her lips trailing down your neck to your chest, her teeth nipping at your collarbone, marking more of your skin with possessive hickeys. "That's right," she murmured against your skin, her hands squeezing and gripping your body in a possessive grip. "I'm the only one who gets to have you.

You're mine."

”Sev,” you gasped, your voice trembling with pleasure as you pressed yourself harder against the firm, unyielding muscles of her abs. The friction sent a shiver down your spine, only fueling the aching need building inside you.

Your fingers clutched desperately at her shoulders, your breath coming in ragged pants as you looked up at her, eyes dark with want. “Please,” you whispered, your voice thick with desperation. “Let me ride your abs—I need it.”

Your gasps and whimpers, the way you desperately pressed yourself against her, the pleading tone in your voice—it ignited something primal within Sevika. The way you called her name, the need in your eyes, the desperate plea for friction against her abs—it had her body reacting in an instant.

A feral growl escaped her lips as she shifted her grip, lifting you up higher against the wall. “Go ahead, princess,” she gritted out, her eyes dark and intense as she looked at you. “Ride me.”

A shaky breath left your lips as Sevika’s grip tightened, her sheer strength making your body burn with anticipation. Your fingers dug into her shoulders as you adjusted, positioning yourself against the hard ridges of her abs, the sensation sending a shudder through you.

“God, Sev…” you whimpered, your body instinctively rocking against her, desperate for the friction she was offering. The heat in her gaze only made it worse—made you crave her even more.

The way you gasped and whimpered and trembled in her arms had Sevika's possessive side igniting like a wildfire. Your fingers clutching at her shoulders, the sound of her name leaving your lips, the way you pressed against her abs, desperate for more—it was overwhelmingly intoxicating. 

She growled slowly, her hands gripping your hips as she watched you rock desperately against her, your body seeking friction it could only find with her. "You're so damn needy, princess," she murmured, her voice thick with desire. "So responsive. So desperate."

A shuddering moan escaped your lips at her words, your body burning under her intense gaze. The way she held you, her strong hands guiding your movements, made your desperation spike even higher. Every roll of your hips sent a delicious wave of friction through you, your breath coming in ragged gasps as you clung to her.

“Only for you,” you whimpered, your nails digging into her shoulders as you met her gaze, eyes clouded with need. “I— I need more, Sev.”

The sound of those words, the way you trembled and gasped for more, it fueled the primal beast within Sevika. Her body reacted instantly, her muscles flexing and bunching beneath you with every movement of your hips against her. She could feel the heat radiating from you, the desperate need in your voice driving her wild.

A guttural growl escaped her lips as she watched you, her eyes burning with possessive desire. "You're so beautiful when you're desperate, princess," she murmured, shifting her grip to press your hips down harder against her abs. "And so damn needy."

A choked moan slipped from your lips as Sevika pressed you down harder against her, the rigid muscles of her abs sending a shockwave of pleasure through you. Your body trembled in her grasp, completely at her mercy, and yet you couldn’t stop yourself from chasing more, from rocking against her with growing desperation.

The sound of your moan, the way your body trembled and quivered in her hands, it only spurred Sevika on further. The primal part of her thrived on seeing you like this, completely undone, utterly desperate for her touch.

She shifted her grip again, her fingers digging into your hips as she guided your movements, her eyes dark with a primal hunger. "That's it, princess. Ride me harder," she growled, her voice thick with desire. "Show me how needy you are."

A broken moan tore from your throat as Sevika’s grip tightened, her strong hands controlling your every movement, forcing you to take what you so desperately craved. Your body burned under her touch, every roll of your hips sending white-hot pleasure coursing through you.

“Sevika—” you gasped, your fingers tangling in her vest as you clung to her, your legs trembling with the effort to keep up with the relentless pace she set.

The sound of her name on your lips, gasping and broken, drove Sevika wild. The way you clung to her, the desperation in your grip, the way you trembled and quivered like a goddamn live wire—it was like gasoline to the fire burning within her.

She growled slowly, her hands tightening their hold on you, increasing the pace, the friction, the intensity. As you cried out her name again, she pressed you against her abs hard, her own breath coming in ragged gasps as she watched you unravel before her eyes. 

"Just like that, princess..."

A series of loud, desperate moans spilled from your lips as a wave of pleasure crashed over you, leaving you breathless. Your body trembled in Sevika’s grasp, your fingers clutching at her desperately as your head tilted back. Your eyes fluttered shut, rolling back as the overwhelming sensation consumed you, leaving you completely at her mercy.

The sight of you completely coming apart before her eyes, your body shaking and writhing with pleasure, was a delicious sight to behold. The way you moaned her name, the sight of your head tipping back, lost in ecstasy, made Sevika’s heart thunder in her chest. 

She growled slowly, her grip on you tightening even more, her breaths coming in ragged gasps as she watched you ride out your climax against her abs. The possessive part of her, the part that yearned to mark and claim you, was thrumming with satisfaction. "That's right," she murmured, her voice a low, gutt

You were so close, so painfully close, that you could feel it building deep within you. Your stomach tightened with each passing second, a wave of tension coiling in your core. Your legs, wrapped around her waist, trembled uncontrollably as the pressure mounted, but you didn’t stop. Driven by pure need, you kept moving, desperately chasing that release, your body unable to resist the pull. The friction, the sensation, all of it pushing you closer to the edge.

The sight of you writhing and trembling in her arms, so close to the brink of ecstasy, made the possessive side within Sevika burn with intensity. The way you clung to her, the desperate, broken moans escaping your lips, it pushed all the right buttons, driving her own desire higher.

She growled slowly, her fingers gripping your hips tightly, applying more pressure, increasing the friction, determined to push you over the edge. "That's it, princess," she growled, her voice thick with desire. "Let go. Let me watch you come undone."

Your body trembled uncontrollably, every muscle coiled tight as Sevika’s grip on your hips increased, the pressure sending waves of sensation crashing through you. The sound of your broken moans only seemed to fuel her, and you could feel her desire burning through her touch, pushing you further toward the edge.

*“Sev… I’m—” you gasped, barely able to form the words as your body ached for release.

Sevika could feel it in the trembling of your body, in the way you gasped for breath, the way your muscles coiled tight. She could see the desperate plea in your eyes, hear the broken, pleading gasps, feel the tautness in your body as you teetered on the edge of ecstasy. You were so close, right there, at the precipice, and she was determined to guide you over.

She tightened her grip on your hips, her fingers digging into your skin as she growled lowly, her voice thick with need, "Come for me. I want to watch you unravel."

The intensity of Sevika’s grip, the deep growl of her voice, and the unrelenting pressure on your hips sent a jolt through you, pushing you even closer to the edge. Your body was trembling, every inch of you yearning for release, and her command made it impossible to hold back any longer

“Sev,” you gasped, your voice barely a whisper, but the desperation was clear. You could feel the waves of pleasure crashing against you, and her words were the final push you needed.

With a broken moan, your body gave in, shuddering in her arms as you fell apart, every ounce of tension in your body finally giving way to the bliss she’d been guiding you toward.

The sight of you unraveling in her arms, the way your body trembled and shook, the sound of your broken moan as you finally succumbed to pleasure—it was intoxicating. It was everything.

Sevika drank in the sight of you, completely undone before her eyes, your body riding out the waves of ecstasy. With a satisfied, possessive growl, she held you close, supporting you through the aftershocks, reveling in the feeling of having brought you to that point.

"That's it, princess," she whispered, her voice thick with satisfaction. "So damn beautiful."

Seeing you come undone in her arms, your body trembling and shaking with the aftereffects of pleasure, sent a surge of possessive satisfaction through Sevika. Your broken moan was like music to her ears, and the sight of you riding out those waves of ecstasy made her heart race.

With a low, possessive growl, she pulled you closer against her chest, her arms wrapping around you tightly as she supported your trembling body. The possessive part of her revealed in the sight of you completely spent and undone, knowing that she was the one who had brought you to that point.

She pressed her lips against the top of your head, inhaling the scent of your hair, her grip on you firm and unwavering. "You're so damn beautiful when you're all messed up like this," she murmured, her voice thick with satisfaction and desire.

You’re in her arms, completely spent and trembling, but you don’t want to be anywhere else. Sevika’s grip on you is firm, steady, like she’s grounding you, making sure you don’t fall apart even more than you already have. The weight of her presence is overwhelming in the best way, and her body feels like the only safe place you can be right now.

Her growl vibrates against your chest as she pulls you closer, her warmth wrapping around you. You feel her lips press gently against the top of your head, and her breath, slow and steady, sends a shiver down your spine. You know she’s taking in the scent of your hair, the smell of the moment, as if she’s marking you with it.

With you trembling and spent in her arms, Sevika can almost feel the satisfaction radiating from her very core. There was something so deeply intoxicating about seeing you, usually so composed and put together, completely undone and vulnerable before her. It was a sight she would always treasure.

She held you close, her grip firm and steady, wanting to be the one to support and ground you. As she felt your body trembling against hers, she growled slowly, her fingers tracing patterns on your skin.

"You did so well, princess," she murmured, her voice deep and husky with satisfaction. "So damn perfect."

You gave a tired nod, your body heavy with exhaustion as you leaned into her, letting your head rest gently on her shoulder. The warmth of her skin against mine was comforting, and you let out a soft sigh, allowing youeself to relax in her presence.

As you leaned into her, tiredness radiating from your body, Sevika’s heart swelled with a mix of satisfaction and possessiveness. The way you rested your head against her shoulder, seeking comfort in her presence, was almost overwhelmingly endearing.

She tightened her grip on you, cradling you closer against her chest. She could feel your exhaustion, the weight of your body against hers, and she wanted to hold you like this forever, to never let go.

"Are you alright, princess?" she murmured, her voice gruff but tender. "Did I tire you out?"

You nestled closer into her, the comfort of her strong arms around you grounding you. Her warmth, her scent, everything about her felt like home at this moment. You could feel the tenderness in her touch, even as she held you tightly, and the softness in her voice made your heart flutter.

“I’m fine,” you whispered, your voice still thick with exhaustion. “Just… tired. But I’m safe with you.” You gave a small, contented sigh, letting yourself relax further into her embrace. “You always know how to take care of me.”

The sound of your voice, soft and raspy, whispering that she made you feel safe with her, sent a wave of possessiveness and satisfaction through her. The way you nestled deeper into her, seeking comfort and safety in her arms, made her heart ache in the best way.

She gently tightened her hold on you, one hand sliding up and down your back in a soothing gesture. Her chest rumbled with a low, protective growl, her lips pressing gently against the top of your head.

"Damn right you're safe with me," she murmured, her voice gruff and tender. "Always."

I smiled sleepily, my body too drained to do anything but melt into her embrace. As Sevika held me, her warmth and steady presence were all I needed. I was too tired to ask her to take me to bed, the words caught in my throat as I slowly succumbed to the pull of sleep. My eyes fluttered closed, and I let the exhaustion take over, resting against her as I drifted off, feeling safe and protected in her arms

As you drifted off in her arms, she watched you slowly succumb to sleep, a mixture of contentment and protectiveness washing over her. The sight of you so completely at ease, your eyes fluttering closed as your body relaxed against hers, was a sight Sevika treasured.

With a gentle touch, she brushed your hair back from your face, then adjusted her grip on you slightly so that she could hold you even closer. She knew you were exhausted, that you needed sleep, but she couldn't help but relish the feeling of having you so close, safe and sound in her arms.