#and it just makes her feel better when she looks at it

[bwere]

HOW THEY E4T YOU OUT !

feature: choso, nanami, gojo, geto, sukuna, toji

content: 3.3k+ wc — pssy eatin, spnking, degradation, sqrting [request are always open] mdni + not proofread

CHOSO KAMO ꔫ

Devours you every chance he gets as if he’s going to die if he doesn't. 

His eyes were tired and his back was slumped when he arrived home like usual. On the days when he needs to leave for work and return once more, his muscle memory always searches for you before anything else.

He came in, forgot to take off his shoes, his phone in hand and an exhausted look on his face. 

“Bad day Cho’?” you asked. 

“M’just tired.” He hummed out. 

“Aww i’m sorry Cho’ how can I make you feel better?” 

“Can I see her?”

                                                  ୨୧ 

“Mmngh can never get enough of your pretty pussy, baby— please.. she’s sho’ mghn delicious..” 

Choso is a man who makes you tremble while he cries as he proceeds to eat your soul out. A man who cums in his pants just by looking at your pussy as if it were his first time seeing it. Because he doesn’t want to do anything but eat your pussy and make you feel good.

It was over the moment you allowed this man to taste you. His only desire now—was to have his face permanently pressed into your folds. 

Choso keeps his face inside your pussy as if he were scuba diving, fuck the goggles. He thinks eating you out only ended successfully based on how messy he was when he finished. 

With both palms keeping you spread open nice and wide for him. Like there’s a reward beyond the coma inducing orgasm destined to be achieved for the both of you when he’s done. He wants to see your cunt in full view, and access to every nook and cranny possible.

He’s needy and messy, he’ll stuff his face like he lost his house keys in your cervix. And doesn’t see himself done until, your juices are soaking more than just the bedsheets. He aims to see the mixed cum and saliva dripping down his chin and far past his stomach.

He just can’t help it, he wants to make you feel so good he's a pussy pleaser. 

“F-fuck baby mmnghm, am i doin’ ghud p-pretty?..” he whines, his eyes hazy and lusted as his tongue makes rounds on your clit. Sucking and mumbling with his mouth full.

“y-yes jus’ like that cho’ so good f’me mmm…” you struggle, your palms ruffling through his hair for support.  

“S-so good..thank you–mnuh thank you..” He slobbers sweet nothings to himself as the thousands of taste buds on his tongue individually roam in and out of your folds. Leaving no bare of your skin un-sampled. Tasting everything there is to taste without fail. 

“Uhng, cho’ r-right there m’so close..!”

Abusing your clit with ease as he promptly twists and prods his fingers out and back in. “you gonna come? n-not yet, m’ not done—keep going just a little more..baby pleashh~” 

NANAMI KENTO ꔫ

Caresses you with one goal in mind, that is the satisfaction that comes with making you finish.

When you knocked on his door and made your way inside, he was in a virtual conference.

The mere sight of him making your pussy excruciatingly wet.

His arms were visibly exposed, and his sleeves were rolled up. His clothing appeared tighter, especially with the veins on his skin throbbing. The buttons on his shirt could have easily burst from the way they were begging to be undone.  

He glanced at you and motioned silently for you to come sit on his knee while he muted his call.

"baby, what's wrong?" he asks, sliding a hand to your waist to hold you in place on his thigh.

“Nothinnn’ just miss you is all,” you lie, leaning down to give him a quick kiss to his temple.

“Is that so?” he questions, his glasses slipping down just enough to reveal his content eyes.

“Mhmm I reaaally missed you ken’” 

"I can feel you rocking your weight on my thigh, so don't lie to me." 

                                                  ୨୧ 

“Sit on my face baby—let me take care of you”

Although Kento Nanami is always pent-up, he is able to maintain his composure. He can, has, and will keep going for hours. He will drop to his knees and encircle your thighs with his huge arms the moment you ask him to. With his face burying deeper into your cunt as if he were employed on a graveyard shift from 9 to 5. 

After all, he's a gentleman, which means that he's hooked on seeing your body shake just by making out with your cunt. The boulder in his pants twitching with every lustful movement the scene in front of him causes.

He’d never stop until you finish, making sure you emptied all you had on his tongue, before he makes you do it again on his dick.

“Umngh– that feel good sweetheart?” He goes on, your shaky legs being forced apart by his grasp so they are unable to get in the way of his view.

“Mhmm–keep going ken’ feels soo good..” you moan.

Kentos a clit lover. He never concludes these sessions until your clit is puffy and your pussy is gaping from his fingers. 

And every time you are at a loss for words, frantically seeking for something to cling onto, he leaves a mental note that makes you whimper when he does it again. 

He stones both his middle and ring fingers inside of you despite never once letting go of that puffy clit he deems so tasty. He sucks, strokes, and makes out with your pussy like a natural. 

He’s the type to have an area 51 lockdown on your thighs, the type to let you grab a fistful of his hair and let you ride his face at any tempo your little heart desires. His palms rubbing circles on the inside of your thighs—leading you to your final destination. 

“You’re doing so good—that's it, make me taste how good im doing love...” 

GOJO SATORU ꔫ

Loves the way you give up under his touch, fighting against the orgasm he’s gonna take from you.

“Satoru Gojo, knock it off..!” you huffed out. you had enough of him toying with you all day. 

He asked to go with you on your errands and promised not to get in the way.

Yet he’s been teasing you all day, telling you how good he’s gonna fuck your brains out. Putting his hand on your thigh in the car, just to play coy and ‘accidentally’ slip a finger through the hems of your panties.

Even as you were trying to reach an agreement on a new game for you and him to play, he made attempts to grind your ass against him.

"Huuh? Satoru Gojo? Who’s that? M’names toru," he chuckles.

"We’re in public, Satoru. You’re being so annoying." you groan rolling your eyes at him, before moving on to the next row.  

"Whattt, a man can’t love on his girlfriend nowadays?” he exaggerates, following immediately behind you, copying your steps. 

                                                  ୨୧ 

“P-Put it in already toru’…!” you whined.

“You weren't this eager for me earlier…” he gasped dramatically, kissing up your thigh, pulling your panties down in the opposite direction.

“Quit teasing Toru’ jus’ need you in me...” 

“If you wan’ it inside, gotta show me how eager you are to cum on my face baby...”

You won't believe how sloppy and vulgar this man is when he's eating you out.

Your eyes will be drawn to the back of your head by him. He'll put his blindfold over your eyes and make you only able to see stars.

His thick and lengthy fingers have enough ability to take the wind right out of your lungs and reach farther than any toy could alone. 

“Hah..c-can’t toru’,” struggling to catch your breath, you try to push his face away. 

He’s a man who makes sure to pleasure you first. And makes you cum no less than twice on his tongue. He swallows everything he can, and makes you cum again if he didn’t get it all the first time.

"C'monnn baby—mmnm, know your pussy got another one in her, tell her to give it to me.." he laughs.

Satoru loves to watch your body unfold under him. He adores the way your throat reaches the highest octave you can afford to give. The way he pulls countless moans out of your throat, causing your voice to crack. He loves to hear how much your ‘can't take it toru’” fuel his ego just so he can get ready to show you just how much he’ll make you take it.

He finger fucks you like crazy. Maintaining the pad of his thumb on your clit while stuffing your cunt onto his fingers in a rhythmic motion. He never wastes time to put his mouth to work.

“Too much toru’ gonna squ—nghmm..!” you yelp, getting cut off by the way he scoots your ass closer to his face—allowing him to focus on the deep areas within your pussy, causing you to squirt then and there without the ability to stop. 

“Good fuckin’ job baby–wouldve mmhp- brought an umbrella if I knew it was gonna rain today,” 

“...”

GETO SUGURU ꔫ

He takes his time eating you out, he just wants to see how desperate you can get for him.

"You were moving so much, love. What's the matter? Had a nightmare?" Geto asks out to you.

Gaining consciousness slowly, you watch the strands of his hair fall, concealing his half open eyes, before he pushes them back over his head.

Initially he turned away from you in an attempt to cool down your side of the bed since he believed you could have been feeling too hot. But when you kept shuffling under the blankets, he decided to wake you up. 

"Mmm, no, it was more like auhh..." you pause, pondering on what you’re going to say, sitting up to rest against the headboard of the bed.

"Like what?" he inquires, positioning himself to align with your stance.

"You know..." You feel a little ashamed at the thought, but you avoid his gaze until you hear his laugh fill the room. 

“Aw my pretty girl havin’ wet dreams about me?” 

Throwing a pillow at his face as you huff out, “It’s not funny Sugu’, I genuinely couldn’t sleep…!”

“Why don’t you show me what I did in your dream then, hm?”  

                                                  ୨୧ 

“Go on uhmngh, let’s make your dream come true–as much as your pretty mmh.. pussy desires,”

Geto wants to see how horny you really are for him. He adores nothing but to see how desperate you really are to get off. 

“uhhuhnn r-right there baby..” your breath hitching, while you ride up and down his mouth.

He watches you mindlessly use him like you’re the one in control. He’ll let you fuck his fingers—your nails clenching the strands of his hair, undoing the bun he wrapped up prior. 

He feels the way the heels of your feet are snug deep in his broad shoulders. And he doesn’t care, because all Geto can care about is the way you’re haphazardly slamming your pussy in his face without loss.

He’ll agree when you say you need a moment, only to slam you back down on his face when your movement starts to slow. He’ll latch around your waist with the fore of his arms, and shove himself deep between your thighs.

“Sugu’ mnghn—slow down p-please..!” Playing dumb on how your vindications for him slow down fall on stone-deaf ears. 

“Mmmnghm you said faster? sure thing baby..” Smirking into your clit while he devours you—his grip only gets tighter, mocking the same way your fingers begin to tighten against his scalp.

“Mmmn sugu’…don’t stop…c-cummin’ nghh-guh!” 

Geto damn near inhales your cunt at this point, giving himself no air as he breathes and digests everything that comes out of your pussy, emphasising the slurping noises his lips bring as they're mingled in your folds while you squirt in his mouth. 

“Atta girl..Can’t sleep now though, might as well keep goin’ till sunrise.” 

SUKUNA RYOMEN ꔫ

He wants to drain the thoughts from your mind and watch you falter under him.

“Why are you ignoring me?” you press, but get an annoyed sigh in response.

You’ve asked him to let you accompany him multiple times so you could watch him box-train, and while usually he says no–today he said yes as an excuse to show off his pretty fiancé. Yet, he was pissed when he watched a group of shirtless scumbags surrounding you with brags about their meager accomplishments.

He saw you giggling up a storm but you weren’t laughing because of him and that thought alone made his blood boil.

"I was just bein’ nice Kuna’, so I'm not sure why you have an attitude."

"Maybe it's caus' you wanna go around flirtin' with every guy in the damn gym." Sukuna scolds, pulling his duffel bag out to put away his gloves—rolling his eyes in advance as he slams his locker door.

"I did not try to flirt! They came up to me, asked about you and then the talk continued. A cordial discussion some might say," you joke.

“Oh yeah? What were they sayin’ then?” he scoffs, raising an eyebrow at your remark, leaning against the locker doors, an action forbidding you to walk away.

                                                  ୨୧ 

“t-they we’re just sayingnn t-that you..—you mghn!” 

Sukuna either goes all out or doesn’t, and when it comes to you, going all out is just the tip of the iceberg. 

He’s a man who hates getting dirty, but when it’s your cunt? You know it’s ate right when your mattress is stained through like a sponge. 

“I-I what brat? Spit it out." he spites, making fun of your efforts to speak—his fingers breaking and entering you with ease. 

Sukuna's cruel and wicked, if you will. He has your pussy leaking and accessible to him completely. Eating and finger fucking you enduringly.

The filthy squelches and slurps fill both your ears whilst he fingers you till your internal juices coats his fingertips.

“that you–hah…w-win lots mphm…K-kuna pleash..!..can’t breathe..please..” you begin to writhe beneath his lips, swallowing in shock at his ruthless touch.

You can tell him to let you breathe and that you can no longer cum, all you want, but he doesn't bother to listen. 

The palms of his hand repeatedly make contact with your ass, torturing the skin below them and causing acute pain on your cheeks, leaving no place for pity.

“Yeah? s’that why you were gigglin’ and given fuck me eyes?” 

He makes it his mission every time to eat you so good no matter what you do it’ll never be enough. He’ll make sure those half assed attempts to get off alone don’t result in a happy ending without him.

“Mmgnh n-no! I wasn’t–ah..promise–I p-promise k-kuna’ please it hurts..!” 

“You wanna play bimbo while I’m trainin’, but actin’ all innocent when we’re alone?” he hisses. 

With his tongue stretching deeper than any man could ever hope to, he gives himself the advantage to tongue-fuck you all over by moving his palms under your lower back, titling your pussy deeper on his face.

“N-no!...g– mmm g-gonna’ cum..! so—close kuna..”

He finds it amusing how sensitive you are. “mnnguh …cum brat—since that's all y’wanna be good for.”

“K-Kuna m-mmmngh—!...”

Only allowing you a few moments to return to consciousness before he's prepared to fold you again like an expert origami master at work.

“Who said I was done? Open your legs n’ give me another one whore.”

TOJI FUSHIGURO ꔫ

Wants to humiliate you as you squirm and watch him violate your folds.

Toji didn’t play when it came to his gym routine and to have you with him every night as his gym partner was even better. He said he would take care of it for you, when you looked into what to wear to the gym, and he did just that.

He got you a matching colored windbreaker and Nike biker shorts. He wasn't giving it any consideration at first, merely noting that it'd be more breathable.

Up until the moment he realised he was staring at your ass each time you got on the treadmill. Addicted to the way the material made your ass appear, as you passed by his station. 

His cock tensed because of the way the dark velvety material flaunted every curve of your pussy when you moved.  

Sensing you approaching him as he was finishing up a set on the weighted arm raises—he dwelled more on the way your ass seemed to converse with him while he watched you slip into his line of sight.

"Hmm?" he hums, completing his final rep. He goes to get a complimentary wipe from the cleaning station and walks back to wipe down the machine. Leaving it sanitised and ready for it’s next use.

“Toji baby, sorry to interrupt but can you spot me next?” 

"Oh, I see," a sneer lifted on his scarred lips as he continues; "finally doin' it today huh?"

You put on a smile and take over his former position. “indeed, I decided to give some new workouts a go today! I’m pretty excited y’know?” 

He nods, "there's no rush, jus’ go slow, lemme know if it's too much."  

“Yeah yeah yeah…I got this [...] wait Toji, aren’t you supposed to be by my arms?”

                                                  ୨୧ 

“Thought you were excited a minute ago, all that energy go to your pussy?” 

Toji Fushiguro, experienced and tongue-talented. You'll be cruising to the finish line like a race car thanks to him. He takes good care of your pussy—forcing you to understand how much he will always know your pussy far more than you and anyone else could.

Especially how the tiniest of friction from him that causes your walls to spasm on his taste buds—confirmation in itself.

He’ll force you to keep your eyes open and watch—as he makes love with your cunt. 

“Keep your eyes open doll— m’ tryna see them turn white”

“Hmmph! T-Toji…What if someone comes in?...ngh, ah—“

“The only one cummin’ is you,” he retaliates.

With his left hand, he pulls back both of your legs as he utilises his right. Your whole-body quivering amid him from his constant clit assaults.  

He finger fucks you swifter than previously, and immediately senses your insides clenching around his fingers, forcing you with no choice but to be filled to the brim, and disoriented due to his tongue.  

“The thought of you bein’ caught spread open on a weight bench got ya’ pussy pulsatin’ huh?”

“Mmngh a-absolutleey..not…!” 

Studying as a wave of humiliation passes over your expression, he puts a couple harsh palms to your ass with a SMACK. Making the area sting over and over, as the air creeps to irritate the burn. 

“Denyin’ with a straight face as if I can’t feel you smotherin’ my fingers? Fuckin’ slut,” 

“M’ not a slu-ngh–! Toji’...mmmh”, whimpering—you reach for the edges of the weight bench looking desperate for support.

“Wan’..mmm wanna cum Toji…please,” 

“You wanna cum?”

“Mmhm!—” you cry out, your voice wavering in response. 

“Only sluts get to cum—mmmh, ptuih—but yer not one of em’ are ya’?” he tests you, spitting on your clit as though your sopping pussy hasn't already caused enough fluids to run down his throat.

“Mm–m’ n-not–nnmugh!"

 “You know what I wanna hear ma’ say it.” he demands, adding another finger to the two, fucking you fuller.

“I-Im a s-slut toji…mgnhm a slut—a slut for you, please let me cummmngh!—” you babble out, not even sure if it's for him anymore; the words bring nothing but a warning to anyone who hears—unable to stop. Feeling yourself reach your limit against his tongue. 

“So needy—mmngh cum like a good lil’ slut then,”

#@𝗕𝗪𝗘𝗥𝗘 . . 𝗡𝗢 𝗣𝗟𝗔𝗚𝗔𝗥𝗜𝗦𝗜𝗡𝗚 #jjk smut #jjk x you #jjk x fem!reader #jjk x reader #jjk x y/n #toji fushiguro x reader #toji fushiguro #toji smut #toji fushiguro smut #choso kamo #choso x reader #choso smut #choso kamo smut #nanami smut #kento smut #kento nanami smut #kamo choso smut #fushiguro toji smut #gojo smut #geto smut #geto suguru smut #gojo satoru smut #sukuna ryomen smut #sukuna smut #gojo x reader #sukuna x reader #toji x reader #kento nanami x reader #gojo x female reader

[elia-the-bibliophile]

Hey I have this Charles x reader request in mind where they're in a backstreet relationship and someone is being rude to her while she's in Monaco? the rest of how the story goes is up to you:)

Protective Boyfriend Mode (Charles Leclerc x Female Reader)

Genre: Fluff Word count : 2,8k

Dating Charles Leclerc in secret has its perks.

For starters, Y/N doesn’t have to dodge the metaphorical tomatoes hurled by the public just yet. The judgment, the microscopic scrutiny, and the sky-high expectations that come with being a WAG? She’s more than happy to keep those at bay for now.

Y/N doesn’t mind that the world has no clue she's dating Charles. What really counts is how he treats her when they’re away from prying eyes. Who needs the world to know when she gets the best version of him, away from the cameras and the chaos?

His family, of course, is in on the secret and backs her decision to stay incognito. Honestly, Y/N doesn’t need the publicity circus that would erupt if they went public. She enjoys her peaceful, average life, free from paparazzi ambushes and social media execution.

Sometimes, Y/N can’t help but indulge in a little harmless online stalking of Charles’ exes—Giada Gianni, Charlotte Siné, Alexandra Saint-Mleux. These women look like they’ve stepped straight out of a magazine cover, and she has zero shame in admitting it. Envy is one of the seven deadly sins for a reason, and let’s face it, she’s only human.

What really gets her is trying to figure out why on earth Charles latched onto her after dating these goddesses. It’s like he stepped out of a sleek Ferrari and decided to cruise around on a humble bicycle.

She swings between feeling like the luckiest girl alive and wondering if he might need a stronger prescription for his glasses. The whole situation leaves her scratching her head and laughing at the absurdity of it all.

────────────────────────────────────

Today, everything grated on her nerves. Her hair looks like it could fry chips. Her skin is dull enough to blend into the wallpaper. The toaster has chosen today of all days to go on strike. To top it off, her co-workers keep bombarding her with Teams calls without even checking if she’s available. If she could rate this day, it would get a solid 0 out of 10.

“Can this day get any worse?” she mutters to herself, glancing at her reflection. “Y/N, you’re one bad hair day away from looking like Bellatrix Lestrange.”

Her laptop buzzes with another Teams call. She groans and answers, forcing a smile. “Hi, Harvey. Can I help you?”

“Hey, Y/N! Quick question—”

“Harvey, quick question for you: Did you check if I’m available?”

“Uh, no?”

“Exactly, so please, next time, do me a solid and check if I'm available before hitting that call button, okay?”

Just then, her phone buzzes with a text from Charles.

“Hope your day’s going better than mine! My helmet decided to play hide and seek.”

She snickers and types back.

“At least your helmet’s hiding. The toaster just gave up on life.”

“I'm really sorry about your day, ma chérie. But I promise to make it better. I'll swing by your favorite bakery and bring back a ridiculous amount of cakes just for you.”

That earned a smile out of her. Trust Charles to know exactly what she needs.

As Y/N tries to shake off the day's frustrations, she decides to distract herself by scrolling through Instagram. Among the posts, one catches her eye—a recent upload from Jasmine Tookes, her celebrity crush since forever. Jasmine looks stunning, as always, flaunting a gorgeous Yves Saint Laurent bag in cherry red that's absolutely to die for.

Y/N can practically feel the allure of the bag through the screen, and an idea sparks in her mind. The YSL boutique is just a short walk away.

“Maybe a little retail therapy is just what I need to salvage this day,” she muses aloud.

Without giving it a second thought, she grabs her purse and heads out the door.

────────────────────────────────────

As Y/N steps into the YSL boutique, she's greeted by the scent of a distinct perfume mingled with a hint of leather. The store is relatively empty, save for a few tourists browsing the shelves. Undeterred, Y/N scans the display case, her eyes searching for that coveted cherry-red bag she spotted on Jasmine Tookes' Instagram.

From her peripheral vision, she notices a couple of sales assistants giving her a once-over, but no one approaches her. She shrugs it off, relishing the freedom to browse at her own pace. Finally, she spots the bag she's been dreaming of and makes her way over to it.

“Excuse me,” she calls out to one of the nearby sales assistants politely. “Could you tell me about the stock availability and the price of this bag?”

The sales assistant approaches, but when she begins speaking in French, Y/N's heart sinks. She's not fluent in French, and she quickly apologizes, asking if they could switch to English instead.

There's a momentary hesitation from the sales assistant, who seems to be holding back an eye-roll, before reluctantly switching to English. The demeanor, however, turns chilly, and Y/N can't shake the feeling of being judged.

“I'm sorry, but that particular item is not available,” the sales assistant replies curtly, her tone dripping with condescension. “Perhaps you should try checking other stores that may be more suited to your purchasing ability.”

Y/N's cheeks flush with frustration, her jaw clenching as she tries to maintain her composure. She can't believe she's being treated this way in a store she loves. Taking a deep breath, she forces a polite smile, trying not to cause a scene.

“Excuse me,” she says as politely as she can muster, her voice trembling slightly. “May I ask what made you say that to me?”

The sales assistant's gaze hardens, her tone dripping with disdain. “Maybe you should look into a mirror and see your own appearance today.”

Y/N's eyes widen in disbelief. So what if she's just dressed in a plain t-shirt and linen pants? Is minimalism suddenly not cool anymore?

Y/N retorts, her voice edged with disbelief. “Are you seriously judging me based on how I look? Last time I checked, being a customer wasn't contingent on wearing a designer outfit.”

As she speaks, Y/N notices some discreetly filming tourists nearby, their expressions mirroring her shock and disbelief. She feels a surge of vindication knowing she's not the only one appalled by the sales assistant's behavior.

Y/N's fists clench tighter at her sides, her nails digging into her palms as she struggles to contain her rising anger. The sales assistant's dismissive wave and condescending tone only serve to fuel the fire burning within her.

“Madame, this is a respected establishment,” the SA says, her voice dripping with thinly veiled contempt. “Please take your leave.”

Y/N's jaw tightens, her frustration reaching its peak. She opens her mouth to retort, to unleash the torrent of words building up inside her, but then she stops. What's the point? Arguing with someone who clearly lacks any sense of professionalism would only waste her energy.

With a deep breath to steady herself, Y/N turns on her heel and strides out of the store, her head held high despite the humiliation burning in her chest. She refuses to let this one encounter ruin her day, but she also knows she won't be returning to that boutique anytime soon.

────────────────────────────────────

By the time Charles arrived home, juggling two bulging shopping bags filled with an assortment of delectable cakes, he could practically taste the sour mood emanating from Y/N. Despite her attempts to shrug off whatever had bothered her, Charles refused to let it slide.

He set the bags down on the kitchen counter with a soft thud, his brow furrowed in concern as he approached Y/N. “Hey, bébé , what's wrong?” he asked gently, reaching out to touch her shoulder.

Y/N forced a tight smile, trying to brush off his concern. “Oh, it's nothing, Charles. Just a little hiccup. Not worth your energy, really.”

But Charles wasn't about to let it go that easily. He could sense her distress, and he wasn't one to stand idly by when someone he cared about was upset.

Before he could press further, Charles' phone rang, signaling an incoming text message. His eyebrows shot up in surprise as he glanced at the screen, seeing the name Lorenzo flashing across it. The text sounded urgent, almost concerned, and Charles felt a knot form in his stomach as he read the words: “You need to see this.”

Curiosity mingled with dread as Charles opened the message, his heart sinking as he watched the video attached to it. There, playing out on his phone screen, was footage taken by a tourist earlier at the YSL store. His jaw clenched in anger as he watched Y/N being treated with such disrespect, her humiliation on full display for the world to see.

He curses under his breath, his fists clenching at his sides as he paces back and forth in the living room. His mind racing with thoughts of how to address the situation.

Charles then gently takes Y/N's hands in his own, his expression softening with concern as he looks into her eyes. “Why didn't you tell me about this right away?”

Y/N's smile falters slightly, and he can see the sadness lurking behind her eyes, but she quickly masks it with a playful tone. “Ah, you know me, always trying to avoid unnecessary drama,” she says, attempting to brush off the seriousness of the situation. “Besides, sometimes people are just assholes, right?”

Her attempt at humor falls a bit flat, and Charles can't help but feel a pang of guilt for not being there to protect her. He squeezes her hands gently, his voice filled with determination. “You shouldn't have to deal with this alone, Y/N. I'm here for you.”

Y/N gives him a small, grateful smile, but he can tell she's still trying to downplay the situation. “Hey,” she says, her tone lightening, “at least people will think it's just a video of some random person being treated badly in a luxury brand store. They won't know it's Charles Leclerc's girlfriend, right? So, let's just let it go and move on.”

She tries to lighten the mood with a joke, but Charles can sense the underlying tension beneath her words. He knows she's just trying to protect him from the inevitable media storm that would follow if the video gained more traction.

But Charles can't shake the feeling of anger and frustration bubbling inside him. He wants to defend her honor, to make sure she never has to endure such treatment again.

Reluctantly, he nods, forcing a small smile of his own. “Okay chérie. Let's just focus on enjoying these cakes, shall we?”

────────────────────────────────────

The very next day, unbeknownst to Y/N, Charles decides to pay a visit to the YSL store. With a determined look in his eyes, he discreetly asks for the service of the sales assistant who humiliated Y/N.

Colette, the SA in question, practically beams with excitement and arrogance when she learns that Charles Leclerc has requested her personally. Straightening her posture, she approaches him with an air of self-importance.

“How may I be of service, Monsieur Leclerc?” Colette asks, her tone laced with enthusiasm.

Pathetic. Charles thought to himself.

He adopts a casual demeanor, pretending to browse the store as if looking for a gift for his girlfriend. “I'm looking for something special for my girlfriend,” he says casually, noting the way Colette's eyes light up at the mention of his romantic status.

Colette tries to contain her excitement, feigning nonchalance as she responds, “Oh, I wasn't aware you had a new girlfriend since your breakup with Alexandra Saint-Mleux. She is also a regular customer here.”

Charles decides to play along, a dangerous glint in his eye as he says, “Yes, my current girlfriend is a very private person. She prefers to stay out of the spotlight.”

Curiosity getting the better of her, Colette can't help but ask, “May I see a picture of her? Just in case she happens to come by, I'd love to be able to assist her.”

Charles smirks inwardly, knowing this is his moment to turn the tables. “Sure, why not?” he replies, pulling out his phone and scrolling through his gallery.

As he shows Colette a picture of himself and Y/N together, he watches with satisfaction as the color drains from her face, her eyes widening in shock and recognition.

Colette's apologies pour out in a torrent, her voice trembling as she stammers out excuses. “I-I had no idea, Monsieur Leclerc! If I had known, I would never have acted that way. Please, forgive me!”

Charles maintains a cool and collected demeanor, but his words are razor-sharp as he addresses Colette. “Your behavior reflects poorly on the brand,” he says icily, his tone dripping with disdain. “Perhaps they should consider terminating your employment for such unprofessional conduct.”

Charles's threat hangs in the air like a storm cloud, and Colette's eyes widen in alarm as she realizes the gravity of her mistake. She scrambles to salvage the situation. “Monsieur Leclerc, please, I assure you, this is not how we typically treat our customers. I'm deeply sorry for any inconvenience I've caused.”

But Charles remains unmoved, his defensive stance unwavering as he delivers his next line with a sharp edge. “I suggest you think twice before treating customers so disrespectfully in the future,” he says, his tone leaving no room for negotiation.

Colette can only nod, her eyes downcast in shame as she mumbles yet another apology.

Seeing the tension escalate, the store manager, who has been discreetly observing the commotion, rushes over to where they are. He offers his own profuse apologies, his tone filled with urgency. “Monsieur Leclerc, I am terribly sorry for the behavior of my staff. This is unacceptable, and I assure you, Colette will be disciplined for her actions.”

Charles raises an eyebrow, his expression skeptical. “Disciplined, you say? Well, I suppose that's a start. But perhaps I should take my business elsewhere, like Dior or Chanel.”

The store manager's eyes widen in alarm at the suggestion of losing such a high-profile customer. “No, Monsieur Leclerc, please, we value your patronage! I assure you, this will not happen again. Please, allow us to make it right.”

Charles offers a tight-lipped smile. “I appreciate your swift action, but I do hope this serves as a lesson for your staff moving forward.”

He then gestures towards the display. “Now, if you'll excuse me, I'd like to purchase the bag my girlfriend had her eye on.”

The store manager nods hurriedly, signaling to a nearby assistant to fetch the bag. As they scurry to fulfill Charles' request, the manager returns with a bouquet of peonies wrapped elegantly.

“Please accept these peonies as a gesture of our sincere apology,” the manager says, offering the flowers to Charles. “We hope this helps to make amends for the madame.”

Charles accepts the bouquet with a nod. “Thank you,” he says, his tone clipped. “I'm sure my girlfriend will appreciate the thoughtfulness. She's far more forgiving than I am, fortunately for you.”

────────────────────────────────────

Y/N is furiously typing away on her laptop when the front door swings open. She squints at the figure entering the room, only to catches sight of her boyfriend holding something suspiciously behind his back.

“Baby, what are you up to now?” she teases, a grin spreading across her face.

He feigns innocence. “Oh, just a little surprise for my favorite woman.”

Y/N's eyes sparkle with anticipation as she eagerly stands up, her curiosity piqued. “Oh, do tell!”

In a dramatic motion, Charles presents her with the unmistakable YSL bag. Y/N's jaw practically hits the floor as she exclaims, “Oh, no, you didn't!”

Charles chuckles, unable to contain his amusement. “Oh yes, I did, chérie. And just wait until you see what's inside!”

Excitedly, Y/N opens the bag, her eyes widening in awe as she pulls out the coveted item. She tries it on with exaggerated walk, striking poses as if she's on a runaway.

Charles watches her with a mixture of adoration and amusement, his heart swelling with love for this wonderful person.

But then, amidst her excitement, Y/N's expression turns serious as she asks about the sales assistant.

Charles adopts a mock serious tone, his eyebrows shooting up in faux concern. “Well you know, she's just taking a little timeout to contemplate the error of her ways.” he replies, his gaze flickering with a hint of satisfaction.

Y/N's eyes widen in surprise, but before she can inquire further, Charles pulls her into a warm embrace, his arms wrapping around her tightly.

“And also,” Charles adds, “they threw in some peonies.”

“Peonies? Are they trying to bribe me with flowers now?”

Charles chuckles, shaking his head. “Well, considering the ordeal you went through, I'd say they owe you a bouquet or two.”

Y/N playfully rolls her eyes. “I hope they at least remembered to include a card with a heartfelt apology from the SA.”

Charles raises an eyebrow, feigning surprise. “You mean the 'Sorry we were jerks, here are some flowers' card?”

They both dissolve into laughter, the absurdity of the situation not lost on them. It's moments like these that make even the most frustrating experiences worth it.

#f1 fanfic #f1 fic #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #f1 x you #formula 1 #f1 #f1 blurb #f1 fandom #formula 1 x female reader #f1 one shot #formula one oneshot #charles leclerc #charles leclerc x female reader #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc x reader #cl16 #cl16 x y/n #cl16 one shot #cl16 imagine #cl16 x you #cl16 x reader #cl16 fic #cl16 fluff

[lemoncrushh]

bad idea

short lil summary: harry styles is back from uni and he looks better than you remember. problem is, he's your ex's brother.

warnings: smut, fingering, oral sex, dirty talk, multiple orgasms 18+ ONLY!

word count: 7k+

a/n: it's almost 4:30 am and i just finished this lol. no need to wait, right? hope you enjoy!

Twelve years. Twelve years you’d been in love with David Styles. Ever since that day in the middle of your sophomore year of high school when he’d shown up as a new student in your Geometry class. Immediately, you’d recognized how cute he was - much cuter than any boys you’d known. And when he’d sat down across from you, and Mrs. Jacobs had asked him a question, to which he’d replied in a British accent, you were a goner.

But your love then had only been the unrequited kind. He was nice enough. He was never mean to you or talked down to you. In fact, you could even say you were friends, albeit the “at-school” kind, not the kind who hung out outside of school.

And you had been fine with that, for the rest of high school. He’d had girlfriends, most of them much prettier than you considered yourself to be. David was outgoing, popular. So you’d just resolved to being happy with whatever it was you were.

That is, until last year when fate took a twist, and you’d somehow become more than friends. You’d run into David at a mutual friend’s party and hit it off. You could say it was as if you’d picked up where you’d left off in high school, but that would be a lie. You hadn’t seen David since graduation, and you’d doubted you had even been on his mind. But he’d been on yours. You hadn’t stopped thinking about him.

The breakup had not been pleasant. That is to say, it hadn’t been mutual. After dating for several months, David decided it was time to see other people. You took that to mean he was already doing so, and was finally ready to let you go. You’d cried for days, unable to sleep or eat. The love of your life had broken your heart and crashed your dreams.

You think it was Marcie, or maybe your friend Deliah who finally got you out of bed and out into the world again. Though you hadn’t dated anyone since David, you had begun to feel much better about yourself, and realized there were other fishes in the sea.

Going to this party at Trevor’s loft hadn’t been your idea. But Marcie was seeing some guy named Ian who happened to know Trevor, and she insisted you come along. While you didn’t really know Trevor well yourself, he had been part of David’s circle of friends in high school. He apparently now owned a loft in the city that housed a bar. After some persistence, you finally agreed to go, hoping to God David wouldn’t show up.

The drinks were flowing, the chatter filling the room as you stood beside Marcie and Ian in a conversation about who knows what. For the last half hour, your eyes had been scouring the loft for your ex. Not because you wanted to see him, but because you didn’t. And if you got so much as a glimpse of him, you had already planned out your exit.

Trevor had greeted you at the door, welcoming most everyone who entered before making the rounds and making sure all hands were holding beverages. Deliah had come as well, with her long-time boyfriend Shane and they were currently at the bar for their second round.

“Ready for another?” Ian asked Marcie, noticing her glass was nearly empty.

“Sure,” she beamed at him.

“What about you, Y/N?”

“Oh, um, no…not just yet,” you replied. “I think I’ll make a stop at the ladies’ and then maybe walk around a bit.”

With a nod, Ian took your empty glass and you made your way to the restroom. Once you’d freshened up, you decided to make the rounds and check out the rest of the loft. You liked the ambiance - the exposed brick with industrial lighting and chrome countertops. Loud rock music permeated through the sound system, thumping through your veins. As you turned left, you noticed another extension with tables along the walls. Several people sat with their drinks in hand, chatting. Your eyes scanned the perimeter, taking in the various framed vintage posters, and you were just about to turn around when a set of male eyes caught your attention. They were staring right at you, a hand grasping a glass of beer. When you gave a gentle smile, he smiled back, full lips curling up to expose a set of dimples.

He was cute. Really cute. But probably too young for you. While his handsome features adorned a bit of facial hair, he still had a baby face. He wore a plaid button-down, and a cap set backwards on his head. He was probably some frat boy, you mused, barely twenty-one.

You saw him bite his lip as his gaze roamed down your body. To escape the feeling it gave you - chills, the good kind, right down to your core - you thought turning around and heading back the way you came would be the best idea. But fate wasn’t having it as you bumped into someone, nearly spilling the drink in his hand.

“Oh shit, I’m so sorry!” you exclaimed over the Bon Jovi song that currently played through the speakers.

“It’s okay,” the guy chuckled. “I was trying to go around you but you turned. No harm done.”

You smiled with a sigh, grateful that he wasn’t an asshole. As you made your way back to the main part of the bar, you considered taking a sneak peek at the frat boy, but decided against it.

“Hey!” Deliah called out to you when you strode up to the bar. Wedging herself between you and another woman, she leaned into your ear. “Did you see him?”

“See who?” your eyes popped. “David’s not here, is he?”

“No. His brother Harry is though.”

Blinking several times, realization came to you. You’d forgotten David even had a brother. Harry had been younger than the two of you, a freshman when you were seniors. By the time you and David had become an item, his little brother had gone back to the UK.

“He just got back from college,” Deliah added. “Or uni as they call it over there.”

“He’s back from England?”

“Yeah. Apparently he’s super smart, got some kind of masters or something. He’s already gotten job offers both here and there.”

“How do you know all this?” you chuckled.

Deliah shrugged with a wink. “I’ve heard things.” Then she leaned forward again. “No, actually I saw him come in, and I thought he looked kind of familiar. I asked Trevor who he was.”

“Oh,” you nodded. Though Deliah had gone to your high school as well, she was two years younger than you, and you hadn’t really known each other then. You’d finally become friends after school. But it made sense why she would have recognized Harry since they were closer in age. You doubted you would recognize him. In fact, you hardly remembered what he’d looked like.

“Anyway, he looks really good now,” Deliah continued, smiling sheepishly, somewhat answering your inward question.

“Really?” you quirked a brow. “Where is he?”

“I saw him go that way, soon after he got here,” your friend gestured to the other area you’d just returned from. “But I haven’t seen him since.”

Just then, Deliah’s boyfriend came up behind her and poked her in her sides, making her squeal.

“Shane, you dork!” she exclaimed, playfully slapping him.

“Hey, I thought you said you wanted to do shots,” Shane smirked.

“Oh, I do! Y/N, go get Marcie and Ian so we can do them together!”

Turning your gaze around the bar area, you didn’t see your friends, so you decided to make your way to the other side. The cute frat boy was still sitting in the same spot, although he seemed to be interested in something on his phone. You found Marcie and Ian in the far corner, and you waved them over.

“We’re about to do shots,” you announced.

“Oh God, I don’t know if I wanna get shitfaced tonight,” argued Marcie.

“I’ll do one,” said Ian.

Marcie rolled her eyes, then grabbed your arm. “Okay, fine, let’s do one as a group. But I can’t promise anything else.”

You smiled at her, looping her arm through hers. Before you turned, you caught the frat boy staring at you again.

“Alright, we’re all here,” you cheered when you met back up with Deliah and Shane who immediately handed you a shot glass filled with golden liquid.

“Ugh, we’re doing Cuervo, seriously?” whined Marcie.

“Would you rather the harder stuff?” you quipped. “I thought you were a lightweight.”

Giving you a face, Marcie accepted her shot glass and on the count of three, you all swallowed your tequila. You were the only one who didn’t grab a lime wedge, however, because just as you lowered your glass, your eyes were glued to the tall man who’d just walked in.

“Motherfucker!”

Deliah glared at you in question as Marcie muttered, “Oh shit!”

“What’s wrong?” asked Ian.

“Her ex.”

You immediately thought the tequila would make its way back up as you sat there squeezing your glass. Marcie was kind enough to take it from your hand before you broke it.

“Did you know?” you swung to face Deliah.

“Me? No! Why would I?”

“Because you said his brother’s here,” you gritted your teeth. “And Trevor obviously knows both of them.”

“I swear, I didn’t,” Deliah shook her head. “I know it sounds stupid, but I didn’t even think to ask.”

You groaned as you watched David stop to chat with people, a blond on his arm. Damn, he still looked good, too.

“I’m so sorry, Y/N!” Deliah cried.

“It’s not your fault,” you sighed. “I just…I gotta get outta here.”

“Do you want us to drive you home?” asked Marcie. She and Ian had been your ride.

“No,” you argued. “You shouldn’t have to leave for me.”

Marcie sat up straight. “You know what I think? I think you should stay, show him his presence doesn’t bother you. You shouldn’t have to leave either just because his ass showed up!”

“Yeah!” Deliah agreed.

Chewing the inside of your cheek, you nodded. “Yeah. You’re right. I do need some air though.”

Rising from your stool, you felt Marcie squeeze your hand before you made your way through the crowd. That one shot was already getting to you, making you light-headed, your temples pounding and your skin hot. Or maybe that had simply been David’s doing.

Slipping past the line at the bathroom, you found the glass doors that led to a deck, pushing them open, the warm air hitting your face as the music was immediately muffled. The area was small, only a couple of tables and outdoor sofas which were occupied, but that was just as well. Running to the railing, you gasped, prepared to hurl the contents of your stomach. Instead, you took several deep breaths, trying to calm your nerves.

Fuck him for coming here! You cursed to yourself. My first night out and he has to show up!

You heard his voice before you saw him. “Hi.”

Turning around, you were met with the cute guy with the backwards snapback. Flustered, you fiddled with the long necklace around your neck. “Oh. Hi.”

For the first time, you noticed he had tattoos peeking from underneath his shirt on his chest, as well as some on his arm where the sleeves were rolled up. He seemed to stare at you again, even longer than he had from his table inside, almost as though he was trying to speak to you telepathically. Finally, he opened his mouth.

“Do I know you? You look really familiar to me.”

“No, I don’t believe so,” you said. “I’m Y/N.”

His lips spread into a charismatic grin, his dimples appearing again. Then he held out his hand. “I’m Harry.”

You felt your stomach plummet to your feet. Of fucking course. Harry Styles. David’s brother. You should have known.

God damn it.

Standing before him now, you could see the resemblance - the sharp jawline, the straight nose, the way his eyebrows perfectly framed his eyes. Only David had blue eyes, and Harry’s appeared to be green. And David didn’t have those dimples, nor any tattoos.

Obviously Harry didn’t know who you were. Deciding not to let your shock or disdain be known, you shook his hand. “Nice to meet you, Harry.”

“You as well. I um…saw you earlier…inside. You seemed to be…looking for someone.” As Harry said the words, he stepped to your right, leaning his elbow nonchalantly against the railing, his gaze never leaving your face.

“No, I wasn’t,” you conveyed.

“That’s too bad. I was kinda hoping it was me.”

Feeling the color rise to your cheeks, you quickly looked away and chuckled. So he was a flirt. Alright.

“I see,” you smirked. “Sorry to disappoint you, Harry. I was just checking out the rest of the bar.”

“Hmm,” he nodded. “Find anything you like?”

You rolled your eyes at his second attempt at a flirty joke. “Is this your usual method?”

“Method?” He raised a brow.

“For pursuing women. You seem pretty sure of yourself.”

Harry shrugged, “I thought confidence was key.”

Letting out a louder chuckle, you shook your head. “Stop.”

“Only if you let me buy you a drink first,” he grinned.

You stared at him with pursed lips. He was still really cute, you had to admit. And so what if he was your ex’s brother. He had no idea who you were. And you were already enjoying the attention. With a sigh, you licked your lips and shrugged. “I suppose I can allow that.”

You caught the twinkle in Harry’s eyes under the light glow of the outdoor string lights as his dimples deepened in his cheeks.

“Uh, you want it out here, or…”

“No, let’s go back inside,” you suggested.

Harry held the door open for you as you made your way back inside. The chill of the air conditioning brought goosebumps to your skin, but it felt nice, especially on your face which you were certain was still flushed. When you stopped and turned slightly to address Harry, he bumped into you.

“Oop, sorry,” he said in your ear, his hand resting on your hip. You noticed immediately how warm it felt, a spark igniting from within.

“‘S okay,” you smiled. “I was just gonna ask if you’d like to sit at the bar, or did you prefer a table?”

“I have no preference, love,” he replied. “You lead the way.”

After Harry’s hand slid up from your hip to your lower back, you headed for the bar, a bit relieved to find your friends gone. You found a lone empty stool near the corner which Harry insisted you take.

“What’ll you have?” you heard him ask, his breath in your ear.

“Tequila shot,” you answered.

“Really?” Harry raised a brow.

“Yeah, anything wrong with that?”

“No,” he smirked. “Just surprised is all.”

“Hm, well I feel like letting loose. Actually, better make it two.” Flipping your hair off your shoulders, you gazed around the bar. No sign of David yet. You hoped he was nowhere near.

Harry placed the drink order, surprising you this time by ordering two shots for himself as well. As soon as the bartender laid out the row of glasses, the couple who was next to you got up, freeing one of the stools for Harry. Sitting down, he smiled at you, taking one of the shot glasses and raising it. You grabbed one for yourself, not forgetting a lime wedge this time, and mirrored his grin.

“Cheers,” you said as you clinked your glass against his before downing the warm liquid.

Harry did the same, swallowing both shots in record time. Crossing your legs, you swiveled on your stool before licking your lips seductively. With a smirk, Harry eyed you.

“You gonna take that second one, sweetheart?”

“Yes,” you playfully rolled your eyes. “Give me a minute. Clearly I don’t move as fast as you.”

“Seems to me you do,” he remarked as he watched you lick the salt off the rim of the glass.

You chuckled at his words. He had you pegged already. You had to admit it was a turn-on. Grabbing a second lime wedge, you took your second tequila shot and sucked on the green fruit, your eyes on Harry’s.

You liked how he watched you. He was more than just a flirt. His eyes told you what he wanted. It had merely been a few minutes and you already knew his intentions. And you were completely okay with it.

“How was it?” he asked, his gaze now on your mouth as you pulled out the lime wedge and licked your lips.

“Delicious,” you replied, dropping the fruit on a napkin. “Good things are worth taking time with.”

“Is that right?” he grinned.

“Mmm,” you nodded.

“You want another?”

“Oh Lord, no. At least not right now. A beer maybe? Whatever it was you were drinking earlier.”

Harry’s smile grew as he nodded. “You got it.”

As he placed another order with the bartender, you took a moment to examine just how attractive he was. While he resembled his brother, he really had his own way about him, a sense of beauty that David had lacked. You couldn’t believe you were even telling yourself that, but you couldn’t deny it. The man was really handsome. You found yourself wanting to reach out and touch the tan skin on his neck and jaw.

“So, Y/N,” he said, his attention turned back to you, “tell me about yourself.”

“Me?” you blinked. “Believe me, there is nothing you wanna know about me.”

“Oh, I beg to differ,” he grinned. “Let’s start with why are you here tonight…alone?”

“I’m not alone. I came with some friends.”

“Who are attached,” he added. “I saw them.”

“Oh.” So he had definitely been watching you, checking you out. Noticing you were alone.

“You’re way too gorgeous to be by yourself, Y/N.”

You felt a weakness in your knees even though you weren’t standing. “I could say the same about you,” you muttered, surprising yourself.

Harry’s dimples appeared again as the bartender set down your glasses of beer.

“Saved by the bell,” he commented, grabbing his drink.

You reached for yours as well, but before you could take a sip, your gaze flew up to a couple making their way to the bar. Shit.

“Um, let’s take these to a table,” you hastily said as David and his girlfriend got closer.

“Oh. You sure?”

“Yeah. Bar’s getting crowded, and I’m sure people are waiting to get up here. Plus, we can talk more at a table.”

Harry smiled at you. “Okay.”

Taking his glass, he quickly helped you off your stool and followed you to the other area where you had originally seen him. Sliding into a circular booth, you sighed, happy you had avoided running into your ex.

“This better?” Harry asked when he’d slid in next to you, very closely.

“Mmm, much,” you grinned.

“Not trying to avoid your friends are you?”

“What? No. Why would you think that?”

“I saw one of them walking up to the bar, then stop and turn around.”

“Oh! Really? I didn’t see them.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Harry shrugged. “I’m still interested in hearing more about you.”

“I told you, there’s nothing to tell.”

“Well…no boyfriend obviously,” he said.

“No.”

“What about work or school?”

“I work…” you teased. “A very boring job. And…I finished school long ago.”

“I see,” he smirked, his eyes never leaving your face. “How long ago?”

“Doesn’t matter,” you said, repeating his words.

“No,” he chuckled. “It doesn’t. I just finished though.”

“Oh?” you shifted in your seat, glad he brought it up himself.

“Yeah. Just got back. I was studying in London.”

“Oooh! Is that where you’re from?” you pretended to be intrigued.

“Manchester, actually, or at least originally. My family moved here when I was a kid.”

“I see! That’s interesting!” Even though you technically knew all of this already, it sounded different coming from him. You watched him guzzle a little of his beer before asking the next question of which you were actually interested.

“So what were you studying?”

“Engineering. Got my masters.”

With wide eyes you sat up. “Damn, that’s impressive, Harry!”

“Thanks,” he snorted.

“What do you plan to do with that?”

“Dunno yet. I have a few prospects…both here and in London. I’m just not sure which road is best for me yet.”

“I see,” you nodded. Then with a grin, you playfully slapped his arm. “And here I thought you were just some frat boy.”

Harry chuckled. “Sorry, did I disappoint you?”

“Fuck, no!” you shook your head, sliding closer to him. “Not at all.”

Suddenly thirsty, you drank almost half of your beer in just a few gulps. Feeling Harry’s eyes on you, you looked up at him and licked your lips. He stared at you for a moment, and just before you were about to say something, he lifted his hand to slide a finger down your cheek. Goosebumps erupted on your flesh and you parted your lips to let out a gasp.

“You’re really pretty,” he said. Or at least you think he did. It was hard to tell over the loud music, and his tone was so soft.

“Thanks,” you mouthed.

Sitting up a little, Harry leaned forward and reached for your necklace. “This is pretty too.”

“Oh, thanks,” you half-giggled, looking down at the amulet. “It doesn’t really mean anything, I just like the color of the stone-”

Before you could finish the sentence, Harry lifted your chin, his gaze focused on your mouth. Then leaning even closer, he took a split second to look into your eyes for reassurance before pressing his lips to yours.

So soft. Clouds. Pillowy. Sweet. These were words that invaded your mind, as you could not possibly think of anything else. Nothing else but that kiss. His lips.

You felt his hand on your knee before your brain processed it. His fingers found the hem of your dress, pushing it up slightly just as your tongue felt an electric sensation when it was met with his. Your own hand reached for his chest, somehow of its own accord, for surely you had no control. The warmth it was met with was intense, and the zealous beating of his heart underneath matched your own.

The sudden way he separated the kiss, however, was unexpected.

“Oh!” you gasped, finding his face still inches from yours. Blinking, you tried to read him.

“Sorry,” he said, his mouth quivering into a smile. When his dimples appeared, you relaxed a bit. “Sorry, sweetheart. I think…I’m pretty drunk.”

His chuckle didn’t quite reassure you, nor did the wipe of his hand down his face. Sitting up straight, you pursed your lips and shrugged. “So am I.”

With a gentle grin, Harry said, “I’m not usually one to take advantage of girls when we’re drunk.”

You tilted your head and eyed him before letting out a loud guffaw. “Seriously?”

“What?”

“You don’t have to give me a line, Harry. If you’re not into me, just say so.”

“Fuck, that’s not it at all! I’m so into you!”

“Really.” Your sarcastic tone was apparent as you reached for your glass. Harry stopped you, taking your hand.

“Yeah. I was just worried you would think…”

“That you’re just looking to get laid?”

You weren’t sure what made you do it, perhaps it was the alcohol or your own desire to get fucked, but when you brought his fingers to your mouth and began to suck and nibble on them, Harry’s jaw dropped and he shut his eyes. You watched his throat as he swallowed hard, and when he opened his eyes again, his thumb between your teeth, you could read the passion in his eyes.

“You wanna get outta here?” he asked with a growl.

“Thought you’d never ask,” you grinned. Gulping the rest of your beer, you started to slide out of the booth. “Just let me freshen up in the ladies’ room.”

“Okay. I’m getting an Uber, and I’ll meet you downstairs.”

“Perfect,” you beamed. Then giving him a quick kiss, you headed for the restroom.

You weren’t in the stall ten seconds when you heard your name.

“Y/N, are you in here?”

“Uh, yeah?” you called out.

Heels clicked closer to your stall and stopped. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” asked Marcie.

“Oh hey, I’m getting ready to leave, so I won’t need a ride home, okay?”

“Uh huh. And just who are you leaving with?”

“Okay, it’s a guy,” you said, flushing the toilet.

“Y/N!” Marcie yelled.

Opening the stall door, you were met with her fuming, scowling face.

“What?” you pretended to be oblivious.

“Deliah saw you with Harry Styles. Are you out of your mind? He’s your ex’s brother!”

“So?” you shrugged, walking to the sink

“So? This is a bad idea, Y/N!”

“Why?”

“Because! You’ll regret it!”

“I don’t know,” you argued, reaching for a paper towel. “Maybe, maybe not. All I know is, right now I’m drunk, and he’s so fucking cute, and he’s into me.”

“Does he even know who you are?” Marcie cried.

“No. And he doesn’t need to. Just let me have my fun, alright?” You tossed the paper towel in the garbage and reached your arms out to your friend. “Please.”

“I’m not hugging you, Y/N,” said Marcie. “This is one time I don’t agree with you. You’re only doing this because you saw David here tonight. I already helped you pick up the pieces after he broke your heart. I’m not doing it again.”

With a tight jaw, you headed for the door. “Fine.”

The Uber ride to Harry’s place was quick. He explained he lived in a furnished apartment for now since he’d just returned from the UK, so you were kind of expecting something that looked like a motel, but you were pleasantly surprised when he opened the door to a really nice place.

“Can I get you anything?” he asked when he tossed his keys on the table.

“Maybe just some water,” you replied.

“Of course, love,” he smiled. “Follow me.”

You stood in the doorway of the small kitchen as Harry retrieved bottles of water from the fridge, handing you one. Thanking him, you took it and quenched your thirst. At least the hydrating thirst. A different kind of thirst had started taking over as soon as he’d kissed you at the loft.

Setting your bottle on the counter, you stepped closer to him. He smiled when you ran your hand up his arm. Lifting your chin again with his finger, he gazed down at you with his amazing eyes. Eyes that spoke volumes.

This time as soon as your lips collided, you immediately felt the need to touch him. Pressing your hand against his chest like before, you were happy to feel the rapid speed of his heartbeat. When his tongue met yours, you moaned against his mouth, earning one from him as well. Your other hand joined the other where they hastily unbuttoned his shirt, spreading the fabric open to reveal more ink. You let your fingertips dance down his pecks and abs before reaching the waistband of his jeans. His mouth left yours momentarily as Harry shoved out of his shirt, letting it drop on the floor. His hat fell off in the process, some of his brown curls falling forward and framing his features. Then he cupped your face, his lips open and swollen from the kisses.

“You’re driving me crazy, you sexy thing,” he growled.

“That’s good, because I’ve been going mad for you all night,” you remarked, a little proud of your quick wit.

A smirk threatened to quiver on his lips before they crashed into you again. Moaning against him again, you slipped your hands around his neck, letting his soft curls thread around your fingers. Though you tried not to let it remind you of David - he’d had curly hair too - you allowed yourself to be captivated by all that was Harry.

Harry. Harry. Harry…

As you reveled in the sensation of his soft lips and hungry tongue, your fingers in his hair, you felt his hands leave your face and travel down your shoulders. His kisses on your mouth were soon replaced by kisses on your neck, which you leaned back to give him full access to.

“Mmm, you taste so good,” you heard him mumble against your skin. “Bet you taste good everywhere, hmm?”

“Would you like to find out?” you teased.

“Fuck, yeah baby,” he swallowed, raising his head to look at you. “Let’s go to the bedroom.”

He took your hand and guided you through the living room to the back room, a lovely bed in the center. Kicking off his shoes, Harry quickly lifted you onto the bed. As he hovered over you, you took in his beauty, his gorgeous physique and toned arms. The sexiness was enough to make you wet, and you knew as soon as he touched you, you would fucking lose it.

“This little fucking dress,” Harry tutted, shaking his head as he slid a strap down your shoulder. “As soon as I saw you, stood there like a lost little angel in her little black dress…I knew I needed to somehow be the one to take it off.”

“Really?” you chuckled nervously.

“Mmm,” he nodded. “I reckon I was right.”

Sitting back on his knees, Harry slipped his hands up your thighs and underneath your dress. You gasped when his fingers reached the edge of your panties, but he stopped and ran his hands down again to the edge of your dress. Then grabbing the hem, he lifted it up. You raised your hips to assist him, then sat up to pull it over your head.

“Fuck me, look at you,” he groaned, letting your flimsy dress drop from his fingers and onto the floor.

Laying back down, you watched him as he hovered over you again, his eyes taking in every inch of you. You suddenly felt a bit nervous, though you tried your best not to let it show. His head lowered to your chest, as he cupped your breast and gently sucked on your nipple. Your breaths quickened as the heat rose in your core. You could already feel it tightening as he moved to the other breast, his soft, warm tongue tasting your delicate skin. Raking your fingers through his hair, you secretly hoped he would move faster, just to let you feel a quick release. You reached down to grab hold of your necklace when he lifted his head.

“Oh, let’s remove this too, sweetheart,” he suggested. “Don’t want it to get in the way.”

Gently slipping the amulet around your neck, Harry laid your necklace on his nightstand.

“Where shall I taste you next?” he asked with a smirk. He chuckled low at your wide eyes before he slid his hand down to your panties.

“Maybe…here?”

Your chest heaving, you nodded. “Yes.”

“Mmm, I think so too,” Harry agreed. “But first…”

Sitting up again, he grabbed the sides of your black panties and pulled them down. You watched him as he seemed to ponder how or what to do next. Then guiding your legs open a bit more, he swiped his finger up your center. With a gasp and a moan combined, you trembled.

“Hmm, looks like my angel is wet already,” he commented.

“You have no idea,” you cried.

“Oh, and maybe a bit needy.”

You groaned, wanting Harry to get on with it, make a move. Your pussy was throbbing so badly, you thought surely he could tell. When he slid his thumb across your clit this time, you nearly came undone.

“Oh God!”

“Aw, baby. You need to be touched?” Harry cooed.

“So badly, Harry…” you breathed. “Please.”

“How can I refuse when you ask so sweetly?” Harry laid down beside you and lifted your thigh to rest against his. Then licking his fingers, he pressed them against your clit, gently moving in a circular motion.

“You like this?” he asked as you began to breathe faster.

“Yes,” you replied as you looked at his face. It had been a while since anyone had touched you like that. It almost felt like high school, like you were doing something naughty with the risk of being caught.

Harry leaned forward and kissed you, his fingers still doing their magic. When he slipped his tongue in between your lips, you began to suck on it, earning a moan from his throat. You weren’t sure if it was his excitement that turned you on more, or the quickening of his fingers, but you suddenly felt yourself reaching the edge, the familiar tightening in your belly. Gasping against his mouth, you had to let go, his fingers continuing in the perfect rhythm as you rode out your climax.

“Wow, sweetheart, that was fast,” said Harry. “Been a long time, yeah?”

You shut your eyes as you blushed. “Maybe.”

“Hmm, then I’m gonna have to do that again. Make it count. Don’t you think?”

“Touch me again?” you asked, opening your eyes.

“No, make you come again. As many times as it takes.”

You stared at him as he slithered his body down the bed and situated himself between your legs.

“I still get a free taste, right?” he wiggled his brows.

You chuckled, throwing your arm over your eyes. “Yes.”

You felt his breath tickle your flesh just before he kissed each inner thigh. When his mouth met your cunt you puffed out a loud breath. His lips surrounded your clit first, then his tongue met the delicate bud, circling the way his fingers had. With a moan, you opened your legs wider, running your hands down your breasts. Harry looked up at you and noticed, ran his hands up your stomach and met your fingers.

You liked that, Harry’s eyes on you as you both circled your hands around your tits and nipples. It felt sexy and intimate. When you began to moan louder, however, Harry released your hands and lifted your hips. One finger danced around your opening first before entering. Grabbing hold of the bedding beneath you, you felt your legs shake. But when he inserted a second finger and his mouth returned to your clit, you thought you might come.

“Oh, fuck! Harry!” you shouted.

“Feel good, baby?”

“Yes! Right there. Oh, God!”

Harry hummed against your cunt as his fingers fucked you, beckoning you inside your walls, touching exactly the right spot, urging you to come all over them.

You weren’t sure you’d ever come so hard in your life. Your fingers dug into his hair. Your legs trembled on either side of his head, your toes curled into the bed as you cried out his name and a few expletives.

When he lifted his head and slid his fingers out, you half expected him to laugh. But instead, he crawled up your body and kissed you with fervor.

“I knew you’d taste good,” he said.

You stared at him, half wondering where the hell he’d come from. Obviously you knew, but figuratively speaking…he must have learned this shit in London because his brother had never made you come like that.

Before you could think anymore about David, Harry asked you a question you hadn’t expected to hear.

“Do you need a minute before we try again?”

“Try again?”

“Yeah,” he grinned his dimpled grin. “I know it’s a bit selfish of me, but I really wanna fuck you.”

You couldn’t help but cackle, which only made him grin wider. “That’s not selfish at all,” you said.

“No? Good.”

Fuck! He was so cute and charming and giving. Maybe you’d had a thing for the wrong brother all along! You played with his hair a bit as he stared at you. Then you shook your head.

“No…to answer your first question. I don’t need a minute.”

With another grin, Harry rose from the bed and unbuttoned his jeans. You watched him peel them off, followed by his underwear, his erection springing free. Then opening a drawer in the nightstand, he retrieved a condom. Crawling back onto the bed, he handed it to you.

“Would you?”

Smiling, you sat up, happy to oblige. Grabbing the condom packet, however, you paused.

“Just a second…”

Situating yourself in front of him, you grabbed hold of his shaft and stuck out your tongue. You heard him hiss when it grazed his cock, your mouth then enveloping it. You let the saliva in your mouth produce enough to lubricate his head, and when you popped off, you used your hand to glide the wetness. Then you did it a second time.

“Fuck, babe,” Harry groaned. “That’s so good, but…you don’t…have to…”

“Mmm, I want to,” you said, sliding your tongue across his shaft. “Just for a minute.”

Hollowing out your mouth, you sucked on him while your right hand moved up and down, and your left reached for his balls.

“Shit, Y/N,” he breathed, grasping your hair. “Honey, please. I want…”

“My pussy?” you looked up at him.

“Yeah.”

Letting go, you adjusted your position as Harry ran his hands down your shoulders. “Is that okay? I don’t-”

“Of course, Harry,” you beamed at him. “I just wanted to taste you too before we got started.”

His smile was incredible as he watched you put the condom on. Then he kissed you passionately before laying you back down on the bed. His eyes on you, licked his fingers and ran them up your pussy.

“Still wet,” he commented with a raised brow.

Then he aimed his cock at your entrance and thrust slowly. You could feel him stretching your walls, a sweet sting as he entered fully. With a low cry, you held onto him.

“Feel okay?” he asked.

“Yes,” you nodded.

“Tell me what you like, baby. I wanna do it all.”

“I’m pretty easy to please,” you replied. “Fuck me how you like.”

“Jesus Christ, you’re so hot,” he chuckled before moving his hips faster.

You clinged to him as he fucked into you, already reaching the spot he’d reached with his fingers. You weren’t sure if you could come again so soon, but it felt incredible. As he moved faster, you heard the squelching sounds of your wet cunt and his balls hitting you. You began to moan, tiny little whimpers at first.

“Yeah…” moaned Harry. “God, I love the sounds you make. So fucking sexy.”

“It feels really good,” you cried.

“Yeah it does. Your pussy’s so warm and wet.”

You continued to whimper as Harry thrust harder, holding down your hands. Your legs wrapped around him as he looked into your eyes. When he began to moan, he slowed a bit, his thrusts sloppy.

“C’mere, baby,” he said, sitting back on his knees. “Ride me.”

Though your legs were weak, you did as he requested, holding onto his shoulders. As you slid down his cock, you could tell you were close.

“Yeah, just like that, angel. Ride my cock.”

You bounced on him a few times before calling out, “Oh, fuck!”

“You gonna come for me again, sweetheart?”

“Yes,” you gasped.

“You feel me deep inside?”

“Yes. Oh, God! Oh, it’s so fucking deep!”

“Yeah. Come for me, honey. I want you to come all over my cock.”

You cried out then, doing just as he asked. Every nerve inside your pussy contracted, and you came even harder than before.

“Fuck!” you exclaimed, falling like a rag doll on his chest.

Harry chuckled, lifting you up. “Hang on, angel, we’re not done.”

“I…I can’t, Harry. I can’t come again.”

“You sure?”

“Yes.”

“Hmm…we’ll see.”

Laying back down on the bed, Harry still inside you, he began to move again. You whimpered again, not under duress, but simply fatigue. But you wanted Harry to come. For all he’d done for you, he deserved it.

He moved slowly at first, and the longer he continued, the more it started to feel good, until finally you started to moan louder.

“Fuck yeah, baby,” Harry moaned with you. “God, you’re so fucking wet.”

“It’s because you turn me on.”

“Yeah?” he asked as he thrust faster.

“Oh my God yeah, fuck me like that!” you cried.

“Yeah, you gonna come again?”

“Yes, baby!”

“Good girl.”

Harry’s groans were getting louder as you felt your fourth orgasm hit you. You cried out his name as he pounded you hard, calling you good girl. Then his own climax came, his body trembling over you as he moaned deeply in your ear.

“Fuck…” he exhaled with a chuckle. “That was so good. Wow.”

He kissed you hard after you both caught your breath.

“You’re so sexy, Y/N.”

“So are you.” You traced his mouth with your finger before giving him a smile.

“You wanna stay the night? I mean, I’m sure you’re exhausted.”

“I am…” you said, considering his offer.

“So…yeah?”

You nodded. Maybe it was a bad idea. But you were so tired, you didn’t think you could even get up.

Harry did help you up, though, so you could clean up in the bathroom. But as soon as you were underneath his covers and he wrapped his arm around you, you were off to dreamland.

The next morning, you woke up while Harry was still sleeping. Tiptoeing to the bathroom, you did your business and returned to a buzzing sound. Realizing it was probably a phone, you found Harry’s in his jeans he’d discarded the night before. Curious, you looked at it and noticed five missed calls. One from his brother, David. And four from someone named Melanie. Plus a text from the same number that simply said, Can we talk?

Fucking great.

Hi, if you enjoyed this, please let me know as I'm considering a part 2 :).

tagging: @daphnesutton, @freedomfireflies

#harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fan fiction #harry styles fan fic #harry styles fanfic #harry styles x reader #harry styles fic #harry styles smut #harry styles one shot #harry styles blurb #harry styles imagine #harry styles x y/n #harry fanfiction #harry fan fiction #harry fan fic #harry fanfic #harry x reader #harry fic #harry smut #harry one shot #harry blurb #harry imagine #harry x yn #fratboy harry #but not really

[ambskas]

could've been- leah williamson

seeing leah for the first time since you'd broken up couldn’t have fell on a better night, your sisters wedding.

5.3k words shes longggg

first fic please be kind. should i have been completing a 7000 word essay and not this? yes.

leah williamson x mead!reader

here you were, in the back seat of a very expensive car sat next to your sister, holding a bouquet of flowers pulling up to a large stately home. only it wasn’t your wedding, it was beth and viv’s. once upon a time, it might’ve been your wedding, but that dream had long been pushed to the back of your mind. you were here to support your best friend on the happiest day of her life, and that’s it.

“you ready?” your head turned, and beth was already smiling at you, lip between her teeth. “she would’ve been so proud of you bethy, she would’ve loved to be here.” you say, taking beth’s hand in your own, feeling the tight squeeze she gave it as a thank you.

“let’s do this, before viv changes her bloody mind.” beth tries her best to lighten the mood and it works, slightly. she knows what’s on your mind and it isn’t just the thought of your mum not being present today. 

you both exit the car, walking towards the doors of the large manor. it made you feel so small walking through the large double doors and into the ceremony room, with beth just behind you. as the procession music began, all eyes turned to you. the huge building was nothing compared to how small you felt when you saw a certain pair of blue eyes watching you. even after all this time, they refused to blend into the crowd making this short walk down the aisle feel hours long.

you were stood at the front as you watched your sister make her way after you. vivianne’s eyes lit up as the love of her life made her way towards her, and you could’ve sworn you saw her wipe away a tear at one point, which she would vehemently deny to both you and beth later. you took the opportunity to glance around the room at the people who’d been invited to share this day. those same baby blue eye’s catching you off guard when you found them looking straight at you instead of at beth. a small smile was sent your way and a blush emerged on her cheeks as she realised shed been caught admiring you, you simply sent her one back.

on the outside you were calm and cordial, this was your sister’s wedding day. the inside was a whole different story. you felt a pit in your stomach, and you couldn’t tell whether it was simply gut-wrenching anxiety or if it was much worse, butterflies. thoughts that this could’ve been the two of you swirled your head, making you dizzy, but they soon got pushed away when your sister reached you and viv. you sent her a final smile and a squeeze of the arm as she handed her flowers to you, and you took your seat. 

beth and viv stood and exchanged their vows. their love exuded from the words they spoke to each other; you were quite certain everyone in the room could feel it. your heart swelled with pride and adoration for both women stood before you and you could feel the tears welling in your eyes as much as you tried to keep them at bay. 

beth was your role model, always. you put her on a pedestal from the moment you knew how to talk. she could do no wrong.  as much as your parents had been amazing all through your childhood and up to now, it was beth that you had always truly admired. she was your older sister; how could you not want to be like her? it sometimes came out in lightly annoying ways though. like when she was 15 and you were 12 and you wore her favourite t-shirt to own clothes day at school without asking because you wanted to be just like her and ended up spilling pasta sauce all down it. when beth found you in the school bathroom frantically dabbing at the top with a wet tissue, she was livid, but she took one look at the pout on your face and tried her very best to help you get the sauce out and when it didn’t work, she wrapped her jacket around you to save you any further embarrassment. 

you and beth held each other up always, being each other’s rocks when your mother passed away last year. you’d both been there through everything. you held beth up when she tore her acl, with a little help from viv, and beth held you up when you lost who you thought was the love of your life. you knew you’d put beth in an uncomfortable position, but she didn’t care, it was always you over anyone. although, you had a little competition with viv in that department these days.

the ceremony went off without a hitch, your sister and viv were now married. as they both left to have their photos taken, you were now left with beth’s teammates and closest friends. you were always close with the girls from arsenal and england ever since your sister started playing for both teams. you were her little shadow following her to training or cheering the loudest in the stands.  you’d withdrawn from your old friends, not wanting to put anyone in an uncomfortable position, only interacting through an instagram comment or an occasional dm when things went well. 

“hi chick!” steph approached you, giving you a tight and comforting hug, “you look as beautiful as ever.” you thanked her, telling her she did too, and it was only a matter of seconds before the rest of the girls noticed that steph was speaking to you, rushing over themselves.

you were overwhelmed by how many happy faces you saw and the number of questions that were launched at you all at once. you tried your best to keep up with them all as they asked you question after question about your move and your job. 

“oh this is kyra!” alessia introduced as you gave kyra a quick smile and wave, “and this is emily.” you repeated the same action youd just made towards kyra. “heard a lot about you both its lovely to finally meet you!” the smile that was present on your lips quickly faded as a certain blonde returned from the phone call she had to make.

“well i better go, bridesmaid duties to attend to.” you sent a polite smile towards the group and promised to find some of the girls later, hoping the conversations and question would feel a little less awkward after one (or several) drinks. 

“well jesus leah, she definitely doesn’t like you.” kyra let out a loud chuckle at the obvious uncomfortable tension between yourself and leah, not knowing the history that went back four years. leah shoved her away from her as she watched you walk away, over to your best friend.

“oh my god, i think im going to be sick.” you held your stomach as you finally reached your best friend. “why the fuck did i think i could go the whole day and just be fine?”

“you’re okay. you didn’t even speak to her.”

“well if i did speak to her i might actually throw up so that’s probably for the best.” 

“look, its done now. just speak to the other girls when they’re not with her, then you’ll be fine. oh, and you should most definitely have a shot.” she pulled a flask out of her bag, never failing to surprise you. 

“youre joking me, right?” you scoffed but still taking the flask out of her hand and very quickly taking a swig before pulling it back and wincing. “definitely needed it.”

“lets just not talk about her and you can stop thinking about her.” you tried to listen to her as she messed around with putting her flask back into her bag and taking her lipstick out of her bag to reapply but your eyes glanced over to the group you were just standing with.

you watched as leah kept quiet, her hands firmly in her pockets. you wondered if she still had the ring you’d given her on your first anniversary, if she still wore it maybe. she loved that ring, never took it off even once when you were together unless it was football related. whenever you came to a game and they won, she’d subtly kiss the spot where that ring usually lay and you’d melt every single time.

“hey, what did i just say?” your friend nudged you and you shrugged. “no talking about her and no thinking about her, now lets go. we have some partying to do. actually, do you know if any if beth’s friends are single?” you laughed loudly as she linked your arms and dragged you into the room where the reception was taking place and more importantly, where the bar was.

leah’s head raised at the laugh she knew all too well. her favourite sound in the world to this day. what she would do to be the reason you laughed like that again. you’d laughed like that at her reaction to the gift you’d bought her for your first anniversary. you and leah had agreed to no presents and both of you obviously ignored that. she’d pretended to be shocked at the expensive, thoughtful gift but the love and adoration she felt for you and it were real. that same expensive and thoughtful gift still lay on the hand nestled in her pocket. she tried not to wear it too much these days but some days her finger just felt bare without it, especially today.  

slowly but surely all the guests made their way through to the reception room. you were sat at the head of the table and it was just your luck that the table directly opposite you housed beth’s teammates. your gaze did not falter once, you kept it focused on your meal and whoever was speaking on your table, you did not need another slip up with leah today. 

“hi everyone, thank you for coming.” viv announced through the microphone. it was speech time. you felt your palms sweat as you mentally prepared to pour your heart out in front of this many people. “we didn’t really want to do much if the sappy stuff so we got y/n to do it for us. lets give it up.”

you giggled at viv and stood up, taking the microphone from her as the room cheered and clapped. this time you had no choice but to glance at the table in front of you as you heard katie chanting your name, sending her a quick grin.

you cleared your throat before you started speaking. “hi everyone, it's lovely to see you all celebrating beth and vivianne's special day. for those of you that don't know, i used to be beth's favourite person but i think i've been pushed to second place as of late so thank you for that viv.” beth rolled her eyes as the room laughed. “but seriously, i'm beth's little sister.” you took a mini bow. 

“i've seen people come and go out of beth's life, some i was grateful for and some i wish would've stuck around but there's no one i'm more grateful to for sticking around than viv. seeing a light on my sisters face that i haven't seen in years makes my heart swell every single day so thank you.” you shot viv a smile as you glanced from your paper to the couple and around the room. your gaze caught direct contact with leahs but you shook it off and drew your attention back to your speech.

“i remember the day beth burst through the doors of my flat panicking that viv was never going to ask her out and she was absolutely adamant that she wasn't going to be the one to do it, that she was going to wait for viv. so you can imagine my surprise when a week later, beth rang me to tell me she'd got a little bit impatient and ended up asking vivianne out.” you reminisced fondly. what the audience didn’t know was that leah was with you experiencing the same memory. her and beth were the only ones on the room that knew it was a shared conversation between three, not two. the corners of leahs mouth twitched as she recalled beth’s frantic state. it was you that seemed like the older sister in that moment, not beth.

 “i had the same conversation with beth about 9 months ago, only this time she was talking about a much more serious question that needed asking. trust me when i tell you that beth was doubly adamant she was not going to be asking this question, so obviously i expected her to let me know in a couple weeks’ time that she'd done it again, that she'd bitten the bullet and asked. and lo and behold i did get a phone call from someone telling me they'd asked the question and thank god that it was viv instead of beth because i don't think she would've ever let you live that one down vivianne.” you look down to your left where beth was sat and saw her chuckling to herself and nudging viv as if to agree.

“beth has always been my biggest inspiration in life.” you cleared your throat again as you felt your voice waver and a tear form in the corner of your eye. you wiped at your eye, composing yourself quickly. “i’ve always been her biggest admirer for a lot of things but right now the thing i admire most is that she's truly herself. i've only ever seen beth truly be herself around a handful of people in my life, our family, her teammates and you, viv. she is truly marrying her best friend, which is so important. you're marrying someone who makes you laugh, and its the really ugly laugh beth has where she starts snorting and crying. you're marrying someone who wants to be there for you through your best and worst times, and has been and has somehow made the worst times that little bit easier just by being there.” beth squeezed your hand.

“that's all anyone can really ask for in life, and you two have found it. what people wouldn't give to have a love like yours. a love where you feel safe enough to be vulnerable, where you can truly be yourself and where you are loved for exactly that. i used to daydream about what my wedding would look like one day but now all i would want is just to have the same love that you two share.” you look up from your paper to peak at the audience. you found leahs eyes immediately. the both of you knew what you meant when you spoke about dreaming of your wedding. the wedding you thought you’d be one day sharing with leah, that never came to be.

“i'm a very firm believer in everything happens for a reason, and it's when i get to experience days like this and witness pure and true love that it really embeds that phrase into my mind even more. a person i knew who would've given anything to witness this day, would've said the same thing as me, my mum” you felt beths hand tighten around yours as yet again your voice wavered. “oof, im sorry, emotional day.” you spoke out to ease the emotion in the room at the mention of your late mother and dabbed at the tears slowly falling from your eyes. “she would've said ‘you two were meant to be together, everything that’s happened has led you two to be together. i knew from the very start that you'd be together forever’ and she would've been right as per usual. she would've been so proud of both of you as am i but i know she's watching and probably cursing dad for the shoe choice he's made today.”

you composed yourself for a moment. between speaking about your mother and the love that beth and viv shared, it was all becoming a lot for you. you once thought that you and leah shared this same love, in fact you were sure of it. her obvious gaze felt heavy on you as you continued your speech. 

“beth has tried to teach me a lot of things over the years but this might be the one thing i take away and actually listen to for once. that when you find your someone, you don't let them go. if you find your safe space in a person, you should keep a hold of them forever and some people don't” leah felt her heart drop as you looked directly at her. “but thank god the two of you have. i'd like to raise a glass, and i'm sure there will be several more raised through the night so pace yourselves everybody, but for now a toast to my two sister's beth and vivianne.”

you grabbed a tissue from your bag and wiped under your eyes. "right, that was extremely soppy of me. i promise you i'm normally hilarious and a lot less emotional. cheers!' you grabbed your flute of champagne and necked it as everyone raised their glasses and you sat back into your chair.

“that was perfect y/n/n.” beth spoke to you.

“yeah thank you, y/n. there was obviously no better woman for the job.” viv reached over to squeeze your shoulder in thanks. 

“y/n/n? are you okay?” beth questioned as youd yet to react to their words other than a small smile.

‘yeah, i’m fine bethy don’t worry about me, i’m just going to get some air though.” you shot her a smile as you removed yourself from the room to step out into back gardens of the house. 

beth wasn’t stupid, she knew today wasn’t easy for you. as she married the love of her life, you were coming face to face with yours again for the first time in around a year and a half. seeing leah again and under these circumstances was clearly having an effect on you. beth wanted to follow you but she knew you would’ve scolded her and sent her right back inside, not wanting to draw any attention away from either her or viv on their day. 

you stepped outside and made your way to a little patch of the gardens you’d seen earlier, wanting to take a seat amidst the trees and flowers for a moment. you just needed to compose yourself for a minute then you’d go back inside, back to avoiding leah at all costs. 

“you always did have a way with words.” a voice appeared behind you, a voice that still sent a shiver down your spine, despite not having heard it in person for over a year.

you sucked in a breath, not even turning to face her as you shifted on the bench. “what do you want, leah?” you felt her sit next to you. she wasn’t close and you could still feel the heat radiating off her but you still refused to look up. “just wanted to see if you were okay. i know todays been a lot”.

a scoff and laugh escaped your lips, “you don’t know anything. i haven’t seen you for a year.” you finally turned to look at her.

leah knew you’d be emotional today and seeing her probably didn’t help but she couldn’t help herself, she needed to talk to you. she missed you. “i know but that doesn’t mean i don’t still know you.” she waited to see if you’d respond, maybe jump down her throat again and when you didn’t she continued. “your speech was beautiful by the way, even shed a tear or two of my own.”

maybe you’d been a bit harsh on her, i mean here she was trying to make you feel better. you could handle a friendly conversation with her, right? “thanks, not like you to cry so i must’ve done something right.”

the wind blew slightly, blowing your hair out of your face as a silence enveloped the two of you. leah couldn’t bare the thought of the conversation coming to an end so she did what the two of you never had to do, she made small talk.

“how’s barcelona then?” she inquired, not knowing whether to broach the subject or not. you didn’t seem to mind her bringing it up as you shrugged, “it’s fine, its good. it’s far from home and i miss everyone but its okay. at least the weathers better.”

“and the job?” you’d decided pretty early on in life that you wanted your job to be involved in football, but unfortunately you weren’t as talented as your sister in that department so you settled for the next best thing and fell in love with it. you’d been a physiotherapist at arsenal for nearly as long as beth had played for the club, obviously taking a couple of years to get your degree first. even into your adult life and your career you remained beth’s little shadow and loved every second of it. “same old, same old. plenty of injuries to keep me occupied.” the universe and its timings seemed to have aligned when not long after your breakup with leah, lucy bronze had let you know there was an open position for a physiotherapist for barcelona femeni and before you knew it and with a helpful reference from lucy and kiera, you were on a one-way flight to spain without thinking twice. 

“speaking of physio, how’s your knee?”

“its doing good, i mean i had a different physio than the one i was used to but,” she nudged you as a blush presented itself on your cheeks. leah had over exaggerated injuries quite frequently when you were working at arsenal. “yeah i’m getting there.”

“good.” you paused. “i’m sorry about the world cup, i know how beth felt so i can only imagine how you did. i was gonna text you, but i thought that might not be such a good idea.” 

“you should’ve. i would’ve answered.” leah sent you a soft smile. “everyone misses you too, by the way.”

“hm?”

“earlier you said you miss everyone.’ she reminded you of what you’d said only a couple of minutes ago. “well all the girls miss you too. they talk about you all the time, always asking beth about you and how you’re doing.” you could see where this was going, now terrified that leah was about to ruin your perfectly cordial conversation with words you didn’t need to hear from her right now.

“oh yeah, i haven’t seen them in a while.” you brushed off, “life gets in the way sometimes i suppose.” by life you meant leah. you wouldn’t want to put her teammates and your old friends in between the two of you, so you took yourself out of the equation altogether. 

“i miss you too, a lot.” there it was. she did it, she just opened up a box she wouldn’t be able to close.

“leah.” you sighed, “don’t”

“what? i’m not allowed to miss you?” leah became defensive, half expecting you to just say it back to her because you always had.

“i didn’t say that, just stop.” you scooted to the other end of the bench, needing some space between the two of you.

leah lowered her defences and tried again to make you understand what she was telling you, thinking you didn’t believe her or didn’t understand. “we were together for nearly 3 years, y/n/n. i miss you all the time.” you understood her perfectly. you’d felt exactly the same since the day you walked out the door. “leah please, don’t do this.” the difference was, you knew how unfair it would’ve been to leah to tell her how much you missed her and still loved her because you weren’t in each other’s lives anymore. 

“don’t do what?” she questioned you. “tell you the truth?”

“le-“

“because it is the truth. i’ve missed you every single day since you walked out the house and left me there.” leah’s voice began to raise and she stood from the bench to pace in front of you. she wasn’t sure why you were blaming all of this in her and refusing to even have a conversation about it. you broke up amicably, right?

“well i missed you for a lot longer than that.” you spoke up.

“what?” leah caught what you said, but she didn’t understand it. or maybe she did and just didn’t want to face the facts that maybe this wasn’t the mutual, friendly breakup she thought. 

“at least you’ve only had to miss me for this year leah, i was missing you for months before that and you were still around, except you were around everyone but me.” you stood up, as she had. it was your turn to raise your voice. “so you don’t get to sit here and tell me you miss me now when i was trying to tell you for months”

leah reached for your hands, to comfort you. “we were both busy y/n/n-“

you audibly laughed at her comment, interrupting her. “no you were busy. do you know why i wasn’t busy?” you paused, not that you wanted an answer you just needed to take a breath before you started shouting and attracting attention from inside. “because i put everything on hold for you. my job, my friends, my family and i helped you grow and flourish in everything. i held your hand through the euros, through every game, i was the one in the crowd when there was only 100 people in the stadium. but you always forgot that part.”

“i know you were and i was grateful for it every day.” 

the nerve she had. “grateful? maybe in the beginning.” you couldn’t help but scoff at her words. “but you had a weird way of showing it towards the end, leah. you show gratitude by fucking off to events and awards and different countries without so much as a second thought towards me, towards what i wanted. you left me at home, alone. in the home that was supposed to be ours after i sold my place to be with you more, but you just left anyway.” you wiped a tear from your face, quickly as leah sat back down. 

“you’re not being fair, y/n. i thought you wanted to be with me and live with me.” her head dropped into her hands as she balanced them on her knees. as far as leah was concerned, this was all new information. sure you’d spoken when you’d broken up but all leah knew was that you thought the pair of you had grown apart and she knew you were right, but she didn’t know it was her fault you had. 

“i’m not being fair?” you choked on your own words as your lip quivered and your cheeks felt damp. “do you know what’s not fair leah? sitting here telling me you miss me after i’ve been trying so hard not to miss you for a year. what have you been doing since we ended leah? because i had to move away from my friends and my only sister. i had to get another job, make different friends so i could try and get my old self back because everything here is you.” for the first time that day, both you and leah were looking straight at each other. “you’re everywhere and i used to love that, it used to make me feel safe but there became a point where all it did was make me feel sad, le. all you did was make me feel sad.” you slumped back down onto the bench.

“y/n/n, im sorry.” leah slid over to you, pulling you into a hug. for a minute, you let yourself indulge, you let yourself be comforted by leah again until you remembered why you even needed consoling in the first place.

you pushed her away slightly. “i don’t know why we’re rehashing everything anyway. i told you all this when we broke up so please, just stop.” you wiped at your cheeks, not that it was doing much good at this point.

“you didn’t y/n/n. i would’ve made it better if you’d told me this, if i’d have known.” your face was a mess, cheeks red and eyes bloodshot. leah’s hair was ridiculous, pulled in every which way from running her hands through it over and over.

“yes i did, leah!” as much as you tried to keep your composure through this conversation a shout finally rose from you. “maybe not in that last conversation but i told you that i felt like i was all on my own so many times. every time you were away i told you how lonely i felt.”

“and every time i came back home, to you, we were fine.” she tried to grab your hands again. “i had my y/n, my home with me and everything was fine.”

“you were fine! i wasn’t happy, i haven’t been for a while.” you let out in a whisper, voice tired from the arguing and explaining. 

“i’m sorry, y/n/n. i’m so sorry.” it was leah’s turn for the tears to fall. she’d never want to make you feel like that and it made her physically sick to know that she had. you were the love of her life and she’d hurt you this bad, without even meaning to. “if i could take everything back i would. the only thing i’d want to keep would be you- “

you cut her off, finished with this conversation. your shoulders were feeling lighter with the weight of all you’d had to say finally gone. “leah, stop. this is pointless now, i’m going back inside.” you stood from the bench again, brushing off your dress. “please just drop it. it’s beth and vivs day, it’s not about us.”

you left the garden hastily. you needed to get to the bathroom before anyone had a chance to see you and ask questions, especially if those people were viv or beth. thankfully, no one was in there as you opened the door, taking an opportunity to grasp the basin and let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. 

“i’ve got concealer and alcohol, which one do you want first?” the only voice you wanted to hear right now appeared as your best friend opened the bathroom door, tentatively.

“alcohol. definitely alcohol.” she pulled her flask out with no problem, letting you take as many gulps as you needed. “how did you know i was in here?”

“she came and told me. said you might need a friend right now.” leah. 

after a couple more gulps and a few dabs of concealer, you came back out of the bathroom, hoping to god you hadn’t missed your sister’s first dance as you were reminded if the reason you and leah even had to be in the same room again. 

beth was still sat where you left her, thankfully as you rejoined the table. “you okay, bubs?” you reassured beth you were fine, quickly moving the subject along and asking what you’d missed. 

the dance that you’d been dreading missing happened not so long after. an acoustic version of ‘enchanted’ played through the room as everyone stood to watch the pair dance. you watched with a smile as they shut everyone else in the room out, just staring adoringly at each other. 

leah had long been back in the room and she watched you as attentively as you watched them. you were right. this wasn’t about you two, but it could’ve been. 

#leah williamson fanfic #awfc #awfc x reader #woso imagine #woso x reader #woso one shot #leah williamson #leah williamson imagine #leah williamson x reader #lionesses #beth mead

[ceilidho]

prompt: forced throuple au; Ghost decides that you and Johnny are his (part 6; ghoap x reader) parts 1, 2, 3, 4, 5

-

Johnny cleans up the lamp in the morning.

He might as well, being on second watch and all. Ghost wakes him up at the ass crack of dawn with a gentle kick to the ribs (gentle for him) before rolling over on the couch and going right to sleep. It’s routine for them to fall into sleep like rocks sinking in water, but the waking up is never quite as graceful. Johnny snorts awake and whips his head around sharply from side to side before confirming that he’s just in his girlfriend’s apartment and the asshole that woke him up is just his ornery lieutenant. 

“I better not hear any fuckin’ jabber,” is all Ghost says before closing his eyes. Johnny chews his lip to keep the grin off of his face.

He tries to keep it down after that. For the first couple of hours, he sits up against the wall and scrolls on his phone. That keeps him occupied until any lingering exhaustion is flushed from his veins.

There’s a broom and dustpan in a small closet in the kitchen where his girl also keeps the garbage bags and compost bin that he uses to sweep up the mess, and he tries to make as little noise as possible while he cleans up. The glass makes a tinkling sound as it’s swept up though, just loud enough that it inevitably wakes his girl up.

She comes creeping out of her room late into the morning, the shop not due to open for another hour or two. The late weekend opening hours mean she usually gets to sleep in. 

Weeks back, it used to be something that Johnny got to do with her as well, cuddled until she’d suddenly pull away, then waking up to her swallowing his cock, peeking under the bedsheets to find her pretty head bobbing up and down his length. Groaning and palming her head to press her lips down to the base, eyes rolling back at the sound of her gagging around his length, the base of his dick a mess of come and drool. 

In the present day though, she clears her throat. Johnny blinks and refocuses on her. 

Her eyes flit to Ghost’s still form on the couch and when they dart back to Johnny, he raises a finger to his lips. Let the man rest. It’s the least Johnny can do for him after he dragged him back to his girl’s place to make amends. She hazards another cautious glance at Ghost—his lieutenant lies still as a statue on the couch, motionless like he isn’t even breathing—before pursing her lips, displeased. 

In the light of day, his previous anger feels cleansed. He understands now. They’ve gone about this all wrong, topsy-turvy. He’s been chasing his own tail and making a mess of things for far too long now, but Ghost’s voice is clear in his head now. It settles him.  

So when his girl goes to open her mouth, maybe thinking that she can whisper softly enough so as not to wake Ghost up, he steps forward quickly and covers her mouth. 

She squawks behind his hand. Again, he shakes his head. Any sound would be too loud for the man slumbering on her couch. 

Johnny can feel her swallow behind his palm and it almost makes him salivate. His fingers twitch on her cheeks like he might press them into the soft skin and make her lips pout. 

“Not here,” he murmurs, almost mouthing the words.

He waits until she nods before removing his hand. Then he leaves to go dump the dustpan filled with glass into the trash. 

She corners him in the bathroom after that and it’s all he can do not to come in his pants. It’s not his fault he’s been trigger happy since Ghost tugged them off on the sparring mats and came on his stomach; he’s been pent up since the last time he saw her. There’s still flakes of dried come on his belly. He only half resists lifting his shirt to look. If his girl knew, she’d be mortified. 

He wonders if she’d be more upset that he let Ghost beat off on him or that he didn’t clean up his mess. 

Johnny lets the bird guide him to the toilet, letting her shove him down onto the lid.

“Ah, hen, ye really wanna do this now?” he teases, spreading his legs and wrapping his hands around her waist to reel her in, slipping up her shirt at the same time. 

He almost moans when she slaps him across the face, biting his lip when she gasps right after, surprised at her own actions. “Oh—fuck—I’m so sorry—”

He clicks his tongue, lips curling up into an impish grin. “Dinnae worry, baby. ‘M tougher than I look.”

It’s a small mercy that she’s too agitated to really look him over because if she were to direct her gaze even slightly south, she’d find Johnny’s shaft straining against his fly, hard enough to pound nails the second her hand touched his face. He swallows a groan and his fingers tighten, sinking deeper into her flesh. 

“I didn’t mean to—Jesus, it doesn’t matter.” He loves that when she gets frustrated, her bottom lip juts out. It makes him want to sink his teeth into it. “When your…boss or whatever…wakes up, can you please take him and leave?”

“Leave?” Johnny repeats, blinking up at her innocently. 

“Yes. Leave,” she says, stressing the word. He hums and strokes his thumb over the soft skin of her stomach, pleased that she hasn’t yet told him to take his hands off her. Sweet little bird. “We kissed and made up. That’s what you came for, right? So the two of you can get going once he wakes up.”

“No breakfast?” 

She looks distinctly unimpressed. “There’s a coffee shop down the block.”

“Aye, I ken, baby,” Johnny croons, pulling her in closer, smiling when she squeaks and braces her hands on his shoulders, his face almost cradled between her breasts. He turns his head to kiss one, mouth lingering over the cotton of her shirt, tempted almost to bite and rip it. “It’s jus’ that…seems an awful like the second Simon and I take off, you’re jus’ gonna go right back to cold shouldering me. Sure you’re nae jus’ putting on a little show for me now?”

Her fingers grip him by the fabric of his shirt. “Johnny—” She yelps when he bites the inside of her breast, snarling when she tries to pull away. “Okay, okay, okay, I got it—”

“That’s right,” he says with a content sigh, pulling back just the slightest bit. “You’re nae going anywhere. Not until we’ve talked this out, nice and civil.”

When she stares down at him, wide-eyed, like she can’t quite believe what she’s seeing, it’s a rush like he’s never experienced. He feels right in the flow of things now, his head on straight for once. 

“What’s there to talk about?” she mumbles, and he almost melts. “I’m not mad anymore.”

“Nae mad? Then why’re ye trying to kick us out?”

“Because I’m busy, Johnny,” she snaps. “The shop’s opening in an hour and I don’t have time to babysit the two of you.”

“Ye willnae even notice we’re here, hen, I promise. Fuck, I’ll even help ye out—make some deliveries, go shake anyone down that still owes ye—”

“I don’t shake down my customers, Johnny—”

“Whatever ye need, baby.” He drags his palms up her sides, pulling up her shirt with his hands. Her tits pop out like ripe fruit dangling in front of his mouth, puffy nipples begging to be sucked on. “Simon and I will be right here. Ye can use us however ye want.”

He stares at her nipple while saying that, unconsciously leaning forward until his lips graze her skin and his tongue pokes out. She doesn’t budge, just curses under her breath and lets him rub his tongue over her beaded nipple, shaking in his hold. Johnny bets if he pulled down those little sleep shorts of hers, he’d find a wet little cunt begging for a fat cock to fill her up. 

It’d take nothing for him to pull them down and give her what she’s asking for. The love of his life is tucked away beneath a layer of flimsy cotton and begging for him to give her some love and affection. Johnny hasn’t kissed her in God knows how long—a week? Two? He’d probably find her swollen and aching beneath her shorts; could get her to come just by dragging two fingers up the seam of her. 

He knows what Ghost would say though, so he drags his teeth over her nipple just for the pleasure of feeling her flinch and then pulls back. The bird blinks down at him with hazy eyes when he helps readjust her shirt, pulling it back down to cover her gorgeous tits, a damp spot on her shirt over the nipple he just had in his mouth. 

“We’re not going to…?” she asks, letting the question dangle in midair. She says it without thinking—clearly, because the second it dawns on her that she just asked if they were going to fuck in the bathroom with Johnny sitting on the toilet, she looks horrified with herself. It’s beyond endearing. 

“No’ with Simon in the other room, baby. Wouldnae be fair for him to have to listen in.”

He doesn’t tell her that fairness in this case doesn’t mean cruel. It means that it wouldn’t be possible. 

Still, he needs to shoo her out of the bathroom to tug one out into the toilet bowl. Johnny would be half tempted to jerk off onto her mirror just to leave his mark where she could see, but he has some manners. 

He gives himself a nice, leisurely tug with the help of his girl’s expensive hand lotion. It’s not as viscous as the lube in the gallon tub on his nightstand back at the barracks, but it’s a good substitute; makes his hand glide nicely over his shaft.  If he closes his eyes, it even smells like her, like it’s his girl giving him a morning reach around, and part of Johnny wonders whether he was too quick to kick her out of the bathroom. Ghost wouldn’t begrudge him a quick and dirty jerk.

The thought dissolves the longer his hand flies over his dick though. Hard to think about anything outside the present moment when his hand is braced against the wall and his orgasm barrelling towards him. When he comes, it’s with a deep, shuddering grunt, not even bothering to muffle the sound. He hopes his girl hears him from the other room. He hopes it makes her squirm and ache. 

When he comes out of the bathroom, another voice takes him by surprise.

“Johnny. You’re on breakfast.”

Ghost’s voice is gruff in the early morning hours, abrupt. Rarely could it be classified as gentle, but it’s like chert rattling in a leather bag after hours of disuse. Especially since it comes out of nowhere, the man asleep one moment and awake the next. Johnny’s worked with him long enough to not flinch at the sudden sound of his voice, but his girl hasn’t; she yelps when his voice comes unbidden from the couch, big body suddenly upright like he’s been awake the whole time. 

He’s no cook, but Johnny can rustle up eggs and bacon like any other self-respecting serviceman. On deployment, they used to rotate cooking duty every night, no one skilled enough to take over the post permanently. Still, Johnny eyes Ghost worriedly when he takes a seat across from the bird at her little kitchen table. It’s not a table meant for two grown men, just a small wooden thing with four chairs, only enough for one on each side. It means that Ghost’s knees knock against hers when he takes the chair across from her, forcing her to curl up into herself, tucking her legs under the chair. 

He stares her down. Menacing eyes. Not the kind of man you want sitting across from you, no matter the circumstances. It makes Johnny anxious to turn his back on them when he has to crack the eggs into the pan, checking over his shoulder religiously. The whites go crispy at the edges before he remembers to flip them over.

“You work downstairs in the flower shop,” Ghost says bluntly, breaking the silence. His first words to Bird all morning. Not a question.

“…Yes,” Bird answers gingerly. Her palms are clamped over her knees, sweating likely. “I own it.”

“Since when?” He doesn’t blink before firing off another question.

“Um…two years.”

“Where’d you work before?”

“In…in London. I was a shopgirl there though—”

“Where’s your family from then?”

It goes on that way for a time, an interrogation with no rhyme or reason. Even Johnny has to wonder at Ghost’s intentions—knows that there’s no shot that Ghost hasn’t already done a background check on her. Why interrogate the bird then? Why rattle off question after question in such quick succession? Why make her tremble and look down at the tabletop and stutter out her answers and fidget under his stare—

He notices Ghost’s hand slip beneath the table to grip his length, spreading his legs to help readjust.

Ah. Mean bastard. Of course he’d get off on making her squirm.

The bacon burns. Johnny can’t help it. He listens attentively to her clear voice—softer in the morning hours, still sleep-laden and flowery—whispering out her life’s story, dick getting hard behind the kitchen island. He bites his lip to hold back a moan when she trips over her words. Thrusts forward to rub his bulge against the underside of the island when she chews on her lip, relieving some of the pressure. It drives him mad that there’s a wet cunt going unsatisfied just a few feet away. 

Ghost shoots him a sharp look as if he can hear his thoughts. “Johnny.”

He turns around to flip the burner off.

#there are like 2 more parts to come btw - it's not done yet. im just doing 2k chunks #ceil writing #cod mw2 #cod x reader #ghoap x reader #ghost/soap/reader #soap x reader #soap x you #soap/reader

[moonstruckme]

Hey queen what about a lil fic of reader with one of the boys (u can pick whoever!!) where it's her first healthy relationship and May be she thanks them for being nice and he's just like ummm I don't wanna be mean to u

Thanks for requesting lovely!

James Potter x fem!reader ♡ 1k words

You have a habit of complaining into the void. It’s not the first text you send James griping about your day at work and it likely won’t be the last, but you’re surprised when the result is him turning up at your desk with flowers and a coffee. 

“James,” you say dumbly, looking up in absolute astoundment as he sets the flowers carefully by your keyboard and bends down for a kiss. 

“Hi, angel.” James presses the coffee into your hand. Spots the empty desk next to yours and, with a quick glance around, steals the chair, sitting beside you. “Are you still on your lunch break?” 

“I—yeah.” Your brain can’t quite make sense of him at your work. It’s like being a kid and seeing your teacher at the store. James, with his casual clothes and easy smile, doesn’t belong in this place. “I’ve got twenty minutes left. What are you doing here?” 

“You seemed like you were having a rough morning,” he says simply. “I thought I might see if I could come and make you feel a bit better—don’t worry, I brought supplies.” 

He shrugs out of one strap of his backpack, swinging it around onto his lap and pulling out a small vase. James seems too distracted to have noticed your stupefaction. 

“Do you have a sink around here?” 

You point him towards the break room and he hurries off, returning a minute later to arrange your flowers in the vase. 

“I know it might be silly,” he says, as he works with a care that belies his words, “but I was thinking that if I was stuck in one place all day, it might help me to have something nice to look at. I considered getting you a mirror, but I thought you may have grown used to that particular sight so I ought to mix it up.”

James glances up to catch your reaction to the last bit, dimples appearing when you fluster. As he sits back down, his gaze roams your workspace, largely empty as most of your coworkers have gone to lunch. He swivels the chair from side to side absentmindedly, his knees brushing yours with each pass. It feels like someone striking a match. 

“I didn’t know you had so few windows in here.” He blows out a breath. “We should hit a park or something after you’re off tonight, get you some time in the sun.” 

“That sounds nice,” you say, lifting the coffee in your hand to your lips reflexively. 

It’s not until you register the taste that you think to look at the logo on the cup. It’s from your favorite coffee shop, the one with only one location, which you almost never go to because it’s so far from where you work and live. 

“James,” you say, voice soft with wonder, “did you go all the way across town to get this?” 

“Yeah.” He smiles, tilting his head sideways to rest it on his palm. “That’s the one you like, right?” 

“Yeah, but…” You shake your head, grinning. “You’re crazy,” you say, when you mean to say You’re incredible. 

“Crazy for you.” He makes a disgusted face as he says it, laughing at himself. You can’t bring yourself to do the same. 

You remember a time, not so long ago, when you would have felt lucky if the person you were dating responded to your texts at all. James has responded in person, with kind words and gifts and a thoughtfulness that’s going to brighten not just the rest of your day but your week. You’ve no idea what to do with this much sweetness. 

You shake your head again. “Thank you. Seriously, I—this is too nice. You’re so—” You lean forward, running your forefinger over the stubble on his jaw as you peck him on the lips. His smile leaps up on his face. “You’re so sweet to me, Jamie. Thank you.” 

“I don’t mind, sweetheart, really.” James palms the back of your elbow, his touch trailing down to your wrist as you pull away. “I like doing things for you. You deserve it.” 

You smile at him, letting the sincerity in his voice warm your chest. “Nobody’s ever been this nice to me before,” you admit. 

James’ expression heavies slightly, a divot forming in between his brows. You feel embarrassed for having said it. You don’t mean to sound self-pitying, you only want James to understand how much you appreciate him, how unprecedented he is for you. 

He smooths his thumb over the hairs on your arm. “I want you to be happy,” he says, a carefulness to his words that’s so unlike his usual quick, energetic way of speaking. “Angel, I’ve got no reason to be anything but nice to you, because it makes me happy to see you happy. It’s like—” He glances away from your face for a moment, biting the inside of his cheek as he thinks. “Like I’m getting to see you the way you’re supposed to be, does that make sense?”

He looks to you for confirmation. You can only stare back at him in stunned silence, horrendously in love and falling deeper by the second. James must find whatever he’s looking for in your expression, though, because he gives your wrist a friendly squeeze and goes on. 

“You’re supposed to be happy. You’re supposed to be treated nicely, no matter who you’re with, but I’m happy to be the person who gets to treat you that way.” He lifts his eyebrows as though to be sure you’re listening, lips quirking slightly. “And you’re nicer than nice to me, so I don’t want to hear any of this crap about bringing you flowers and a coffee being too nice. Got it?” 

Your face is a furnace. You don’t know how to respond. 

James grins, looking ten percent smug and ninety percent smitten. “Say okay, sweetheart.” 

“Okay,” you echo, unable to help breaking into a smile of your own. “Thanks.” 

James groans. He grabs the seat of your chair, rolling you closer to him until your knees are on either side of his. “Enough with the thanks,” he chides, more laughter than irritation in his tone. “Those other people sound like assholes, lovely. We’ve gotta up your standards.” 

#james potter #james potter x reader #james potter x fem!reader #james potter x y/n #james potter x you #james potter x self insert #james potter fanfiction #james potter fanfic #james potter fic #james potter fluff #james potter imagine #james potter scenario #james potter drabble #james potter blurb #james potter one shot #james potter oneshot #marauders #marauders fanfiction #marauders fandom #the marauders #hp marauders #marauders era #marauders x reader

[erwinsvow]

what if… rafe ever hit shy reader from built up anger like more of an accident? we lowk need some rafe and shy reader angst😢

this kind of slayed me.. i feel like disclosure i do not condone abuse of any sort i just think shy reader would like getting slapped around and being really roughhoused..

but if rafe reallyyy got mad about it, it might be angsty. like if she really messed up and was apologizing a ton if he actually was mad at her her heart would stop. warning rafe is rlly mean in this

being a little whiney, a little too needy and maybe excessively touchy came easily to you as rafe's girlfriend. he was always coaxing you into being more comfortable with him, and you think you'd finally reached that point.

some of your shyer tendencies seemed to have finally abandoned you when it was just the two of you. and just like you had guessed, a smaller, more possessive side of you had recently emerged from the cocoon—wanting all of rafe's attention, all the time.

it wasn't good, maybe a small part of you knew that, but it was easy to play into it, and you liked how you felt these days, more comfortable in your skin and around rafe than you had been even just a month ago.

like today. you had been a little needy all day, not wanting rafe to leave when he said he needed to go to barry's for picking something up.

"ple-ease rafe," you said it a little singsongy, serious but not that serious. "don't go. i want you to stay." it was more just wanting to hang out with him than anything else—when he left, he was usually gone for ages, and things weren't that fun without him.

"i'll be back, kid. jus' stay here, got it?"

"but you said you would-"

"kid." the way he says it, you should have realized he wasn't in the mood for you to be behaving like this.

"yesterday you said you were free all day. and i get bored-"

"yesterday i didn't know i was doin' this shit. just, please. sit tight. i'll be back."

rafe goes, and though a part of you knows you shouldn't, you blow up his phone throughout the day. really, you're not even that bored—showering and getting ready for the day and then curling up with your book after you make rafe's bed, but you played a little too far into it.

when he comes back, you should have realized something was off—but you let everything else cloud your judgement. the way rafe is never mean to you (despite the stories you had heard), how he always reassures you that he's not mad and that you didn't do anything wrong. you were led to a false belief that nothing you could do would change how rafe acts towards you.

rafe comes to sit on the bed near your feet, and you lower your book to look at him, but don't say anything. when he turns to look at you, you bring the book back up so it looks like you weren't peeking.

"c'mon. y'mad now?"

"no."

"kid, i don't have time for this-"

"you didn't answer any of my texts! or calls. and i've just been waiting here all day-" you don't know what you want—attention, quality time, an apology. you just want something other than what you're getting.

"i told you i'd be back. had shit to take care of-"

"well, i just-"

"why're you actin' like this? huh?"

you think rafe's gonna ask you the things he always does—what's wrong? did someone say something? do i need go have a talk with 'em?

but he doesn't this time.

"spoiled your ass too much and now you wanna talk back? is that it?" you're so taken aback, you think all the air has left your lungs. did rafe really think that? he stands up, so you do too, facing rafe while he paces.

"no, i just-" you're being defensive, like always. you feel like crying—you thought rafe knew you better than that, but it's also not his fault. maybe you were acting too spoiled after all, and maybe despite what he always says, he preferred you how you were when you first started dating him.

"you think m'goin out there to paint nails and gossip with barry? we had shit to do. real shit, so i can take care of you. i thought you understood that."

when you start crying, you think rafe will stop—he always does, stopping to apologize and make sure you're okay.

"tears. great. i'm tryna explain this to you. are you gonna cry everytime i get serious? huh?" it comes out a little more like a bark than a sentence—now you're scared.

"i-i'm sorry," you get out, though it's strangled in a sob and sounds more like a whisper. you don't think he heard you, but your feelings are so hurt—the rush from thinking rafe would be happy to be back home with you crashing and burning quickly, the pit in your stomach that doesn't blame him—but rather blames yourself for your behavior.

you had gotten too comfortable, too pampered, thinking that acting like this was okay—briefly you think it's not rafe's fault at all for getting mad, that it's your own fault for this happening.

you think it's best if you leave, dejectedly heading towards the door, but the second he catches you trying to walk away, he rushes over, pushing you against the door before you can even open it. your back thuds against the frame.

"rafe, you're hurting me-" you cry out, but he seems to be lost in his own anger. "please-"

"didn't say you can leave. what the hell are you doin'? you tryin' to make me mad? huh?"

"rafe, m'sorry, i-"

"actin' like this 'cause you wanna get slapped around? is that it? y'like that too much, don't you? you want me to slap you around now?"

your heart feels like it's just stopped beating. the very idea that rafe would bring up something you had just gotten comfortable with liking, only recently convinced yourself—with his help—that it wasn't wrong or dirty to like those kinds of things with him—slapping and spanking and a whole host of other things you had never even talked about, much less actually done, with anyone other than rafe, in this situation, made fat tears slip down your cheeks.

your boyfriend didn't seem like himself right now. and you were so distraught, if you were a little more clear-headed you might realize his bloodshot, dilated eyes and shaky hands. your arm hurts from where he's holding you tightly.

"rafe, please-" you get out through tears, and he lets you go a little. you slide out of his grip and stay against the door, still crying. before you can even think about it, your cheek is stinging.

he does slap you—not in the light, playful way he does when it's just the two of you somewhere or in the slightly rougher manner reserved for bed—this one is harder, everything hurting.

after it happens, you look up at rafe through glassy eyes. your fingers go to your cheek, pressing down where it was painful, like it would help it go away. but you knew deep down nothing could ever erase this memory.

you look up at rafe and he looks down at you. when you try to turn to open the door, he presses down and slams it shut before you can get out.

#this was hard to write :( #but i hope i did your prompt justice #rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #shy reader #tw abuse #tw dv

[starful-emporium]

that finale made me so emotional. i cried at all of their scenes in Ankarna's realm. anyway, here's some bad kids senior year head canons.

Kristen: Her wish for a sister is filled by Bucky, crying in her room late at night and praying together. After talking to Jawbone they learn that there are grounds to remove Bricker and Cork from their parents' home. Kristen is the only one given the option of emancipation--instead, she asks Jawbone to adopt her as well.

She falls back onto old patterns with Tracker. But they're a little older and wiser, so they see it happening and take a step back. Not a break up, but a readjustment. With her academics finally not reliant on deadlines, Kristen dedicates herself to her pantheon. They work with Lucy to bring Ruvina back to her sister, and Kristen finds herself in awe of the dedication she sees.

Fig: She puts all her time into the Bottomless Pit, something it desperately needs. Often she tells Sandra-Lynn she's sleeping at Gilear's, and vice versa, and stays with Ayda instead. On her 18th birthday her parents sit her down and explain that she can live with Ayda officially, if she wants to. Just as long as she remembers she'll always have a room with both of them.

She brings Sandra-Lynn on Complicated Women, first to interview, and then as a permanent guest host. They talk about womanhood as something living and changing and queer and complicated. It's her mom who encourages her when Lola Embers drops Ruben. They rally all the rock-hating souls and cordon off part of the recording studio. Fig never goes in there, but from what she's heard, his music has gotten better in the absence of Kipperlilly's judgement.

Fabian: Somehow, he ends up being the one to train the new dog. The Hangman is jealous to a ridiculous degree, so he spends a lot of time managing that. He starts looking into a sea-worthy vessel for after graduation, spends hours at the Compass Points Library learning how to navigate. Learning sea shanties is part of all that, of course, and has nothing to do with the way his baby sibling stares at him while he practices.

Mazey teaches dance to kids while he finishes school. She's so kind it almost hurts, and Fabian has no choice but to learn to accept love. He "lets" Gorgug skip Bloodrush under the condition of weekly movie nights, which only sometimes are expanded to the rest of the Bad Kids. The radio in his room crackle to life sometimes, with little messages from Bill when he's close enough to the material plane.

Riz: Appointed as vice president, he quits all but the AV club. He makes a bedtime pact with Sklonda, and for the first time in a very long time, they are both getting enough sleep. Someone mentions ace and aro identities to him, and he's awake enough for it click.

He finds a new scholarship for Aguefort students, and it looks scam-y so he does some investigating. It easily traces right back to Seacaster gold and Fabian. He's thankful for the cover and accepts the money with an understanding that they won't talk about it. He doesn't check, but the scholarship is offered every year after that.

Adaine: She spends the summer with Aelwyn tracking down their mom. She doesn't need revenge, but she needs to know her mom will never hurt anyone ever again. She feels Ankarna in the hot sun and wonders if that's the difference between revenge and justice. They take the long way back to Solace, the Hand-van paddling across the ocean.

When school starts, she works with Kristen to turn her inheritance into resources. Student who can pay for some of their components still do, but everyone gets what they need to learn. On the first day of class, she's asked about her summer prophecies, and tells off Tiberia for relying on her for lessons.

Gorgug: His senior year MCAT is signed on the first day by Lydia, who's teaching barbarian classes for the year. She gives him permission for independent study, and Henry gives him a shop key so he can do classwork whenever he wants. The rest of his time is spent perfecting Barbificer skills and creating a program to run at Aguefort the next year.

Mary Ann offers her quokky pet skills to help remodel his homonculous. The result is much cuter and more functional than before. She still names her highest level pet Cloaca in honor of the original, much to Gorgug's chagrin.

After graduation, the Bad Kids move in trios and pairs, and they always reconvene on the Summer Solstice, the anniversary of Ankarna's resurrection.

Kristen splits her time between Solace and Fallinel and Mountains of Chaos, the places where temples to her pantheon stand. Adaine and Riz rent an apartment in Bastion City, where they both continue school. Gorgug stays in Elmville, teaching at Aguefort and working on the side to start his own school. Fabian takes to the sea, bringing Fig and Ayda and Mazey with him.

They save the world again, a few times, but only when they want to.

#dimension 20 #fantasy high #fhjy #fhjy spoilers #kristen applebees #fig faeth #adaine abernant #gorgug thistlespring #riz gukgak #fabian seacaster #the bad kids #fantasy high headcanons

[vagabond-umlaut]

a battle well begun is the war half won

gojo notices you. you notice gojo. [the boy wants your eyes on him at all times.]

teen!gojo x fem!reader; first meetings; love at first sight[??]; lovesick gojo[??]; mostly fluffy; 1 small discussion on death; reader is in 1st yr whilst gojo is in 3rd yr; gojo has a very... unique definition of romancing in his brain; 'one-sided enemies to lovers' vibes; 2.2k wc

belongs to the series 'fictitious force' but can be read as a stand-alone if you wanna

the og saying is smthng else, yeah... ik. i js tweaked it a bit for fic title purposes, hehe. also, pls no comments on how i named this series... i used to hv a love-hate thing with pseudo-force problems in physics during my hs... and i'm srsly out of ideas :D

header frm pinterest // divider by @/benkeibear // jjk isn't mine

the sky bleeds green, the first time gojo sees you fight.

it isn't anything enthralling. your movements, far from well-practised. your twisted expression screams unease at best, extreme discomfort at worst— you are definitely not one of the best sorcerers the boy has seen so far—

yet he finds himself utterly transfixed.

feet rooted to the earth as an even brighter green beam cuts through the forest. and the second mountain of cursed energy becomes a few wisps of smoke. your form slumping to the ground not long after—

were the boy a better person at heart, he reckons he would've rushed to help you. but he isn't. not really.

so he keeps to his vantage point. blue eyes narrowing a touch behind his shades, as they watch you slowly heave yourself off the mud, face shifting into a scowl as you trudge towards a tree and plop down with no ceremony in front of it—

a barely-there rustle to his left.

followed by the appearance of the steady simmer of a cursed energy, all too familiar.

"yo, nanamin!" gojo greets, wearing a wide beam the second the said kouhai comes before him, feet carefully and soundlessly treading the rugged terrain— the latter's perpetual glower turns into a momentary flicker of surprise.

but it's vanished before the older boy can comment on it.

nanami's face flattens back to its usual state of annoyed indifference.

"the tournament is already over. yaga-sensei wants us all to report to him in another ten..." the boy trails off. rather abruptly. rather strange for him— aha! so nanamin has finally spotted you in the valley below, huh?— gojo wraps an arm around his kouhai's shoulders, allowing his gaze to return to you as well.

you look pretty cute when you're yawning...

"she's from kyoto, isn't she?"

"yes," the younger boy replies, pinning gojo under a curious look. but it's gone all too soon, all too swiftly like the ones preceding. he drops the arm resting on his shoulder.

gojo lets him. simply pouting in response, before he hums, "do you know her?"

"personally, no," nanami is quick to answer, "but from what i've heard from others... she's somewhat peculiar, if i may say so."

this is honestly one of the best opportunities he will ever get to tease that stoic underclassman of his, even more 'cause since when did he, the nanami kento, start gossipping like old geezers!?— but gojo opts to let this chance pass by.

getting more deets on you is way more important for him.

he doesn't bother to hide his burgeoning interest from his tone. "you know her name by any chance?"

nanami does. and as far as gojo knows, your surname doesn't belong to any of the sorcerer clans. none of the major clans, he is pretty sure of that— you might be from a minor one. or, what his gut feelings are telling him, you're from a non-sorcerer background.

not that it matters to him. he is better than the elders of his clan.

"and which year is she in?"

"first year."

wow. you haven't been in school for more than a few months, but you have already managed to make people talk about yourself, huh? quite impressive, gojo thinks as he steals another glance of you.

this time, no longer yawning. just staring vacantly at your keds—

except those muddy shoes are no longer the object of your attention. it is him— really, so very him— your bright, blinding, blindingly bright gaze, every ounce of it focused on him, as your back straightens. and he spots your shoulders tense, brows furrow—

gojo satoru doesn't run away.

he is one of the strongest duo of jujutsu sorcerers. the boy does not, he cannot, he must not run away... yet that's what he does when his gaze collides with you the first time.

grabbing nanami's hand and wasting not one moment to warp them both to the school rooftop, his kouhai's yelp of surprise goes with an ear-piercing whistle of the winds— gojo releases his hold on the boy, the moment his feet touch the concrete— and turns to him, eyes the calmest he can make them seem.

"tell me everything you know about her— like, right now— or i will tell your dear geto-senpai you were the one who finished his melon pan— quit glaring and start speaking, nanamin!!!"

****

turns out, nanami's heart has a very soft corner for gojo's best friend.

also turns out, the third-year need not wait till the breakfast at 10 am tomorrow, to approach you— you amble into his life, dressed in a tad too washed-out set of pajamas and a terrible hairstyle— gojo reckons an angel too would look the same, when you flip the kitchen lights on, making the clock seem a halo-ey thing behind your head.

you stop. suck in a sharp breath.

the boy swallows the last bit of his mochi. and grins.

"heeey! you're the newbie from kyoto, right? heard a lot 'bout you!"

honestly? it was less of hearing and more of extracting info, but gojo decides not to mention it. you don't have any business knowing that, whatever can be the case— ten painfully slow seconds tick by before you return him a response—

a stiff smile.

an even stiffer bow.

followed by you turning on your heel.

were gojo any slower, you would've slipped from the kitchen without any doubt. but he isn't. which is why not even four seconds can pass before he stills you again, this time not by his tall figure lounging in a terrifyingly dark kitchen but by his fingers grasping your wrist.

thumb pressing into the dangerously frantic pulse beneath your skin.

you try to snatch your hand away. and the boy lets you. only 'cause he was too distracted by the furious warmth of embarrassment creeping into your pretty face— no, it is not for how your skin felt a tad too soft beneath the callouses of his palm...

you're the first one to speak this time. voice so quiet... so firm.

"i don't think i can help you with anything, senpai. please don't bother me this way. let me go... please."

no way in hell is gojo bothering you right now— the indignant retort is the first thing the boy can think of. but he resolves to bite it back.

a stupid argument isn't how he wants his story with you to start. sure, there might and will be those later on, but not now. no. he shoots the second grin of his this night, your way.

"aw, i don't need your help with anything— but yeah, you're right. i'm not supposed to stop you like this... you need to sleep enough before tomorrow's one-on-one duels, don't ya?"

"yeah," you agree easily, eyes drifting to your shoes in a small nod.

gojo's grin widens.

maybe like a cheshire cat.

maybe like a victor cat who finally got the rat right where he wanted: in his paws.

"but you won't be needing a lot of rest if you're already determined to lose the match tomorrow— will you now?"

no, you won't. you obviously won't. gojo has learnt enough about you to predict this much accurately; but maybe not too accurately. given you don't show any sliver of shock or fear in return.

just two eyebrows raised, only to slowly descend to their original level a moment later. your tone feels firmer this time. "what exactly are you trying to tell me, senpai?"

"nothing too serious," the boy hums easily, stuffing his hands into his trousers pockets. why do they start being so cold, so clammy now of all times??— "just that it doesn't take a hell lot of work to maintain an image of being an incompetent idiot, like the one you always seem to be— c'mon," the boy coaxes, making his voice seem extra petulant at noticing still no emotion whatsoever on your face, "you do know what i'm speaking of, don't you?"

in retrospect, maybe... he should have handled you with greater care. you're not only new to your school, but also to the world of sorcery in general. pressing you so hard will hurt you, if not break you entirely— but gojo doesn't let such concerns form in his mind. not even for one whole second.

not when he wants to see something, anything come to life in those bright eyes of yours. he is dying to see a spark in them.

you fold your arms across your chest. brows nearing in a mild scowl. gojo doesn't really understand, but loves the sense of joy the sight is bringing him— "what exactly are you trying to tell me, senpai?" your adorable voice repeats, stonier than before.

he resists the urge to pinch your cheeks. or worse, coo at you.

the boy removes his hands from his pockets. copying your stance as he says, "i cannot really tell you anything, y'know— you're almost as smart as me— i mean, tricking those stinking geezers into believing you're just some weakass, with neither a cursed technique nor good fighting skills, despite the insane amount of cursed energy you've..."

"why did you never curb your cursed energy, by the way?" the query slips past his lips into the space in between: horribly genuine. a fact that doesn't escape your eye, he grasps when you reply— in spite of the not-too-little reluctance marking your features.

"the higher-ups were aware of my high cursed energy before i even knew what the hell it was— it was honestly too late," you state in an awfully matter-of-fact tone, "they would have noticed if i tried to do anything to it."

the 'and they would have harmed me or my family' goes unsaid, but gojo doesn't need to hear it to know it. not entirely intentionally, his voice grows softer with the next question.

"but you tampered with something that no one knew anything of yet— you lied about having no cursed technique, didn't you?"

your hesitation overpowers you this time, however. brows furrowing for a beat at him, before they flatten again. you offer a curt nod.

few more seconds borrowed until you speak again, "but my horrible fighting skills weren't a lie entirely... i really am shit at fighting— you saw that today, did you not?"

he did. he so did—

but that very moment, he also saw just how strong your technique is. surely not as powerful as his. but pretty much capable on its own— it frankly won't be a serious issue even if you keep fighting how you did today—

the sound of a yawn breaks his internal musings.

those big eyes of yours blink up at him. so bleary, so bright. he stifles the urge to pinch your cheeks again. deciding to shoo away the sleep in your eyes by throwing the next ask his brain has cooked up. one he knows, has the biggest 'yes!' ever for its answer—

"you're very scared of dying, aren't you? that's why you always make yourself seem so weak— so much so that you aren't assigned to any mission— don't you?"

— only to question his brain when he notes the easy smile twist your lips. it sharpens at the edges as you answer, "dying's rather easy and uncomplicated, senpai. it doesn't really scare me, except maybe, the pain i might have to suffer— but do you know what's scarier??"

"no," gojo says back quietly. honestly. your smile grows something an awful lot similar to pity— the boy detests it usually... but coming from you, he thinks he will take it.

he will take any look you're willing to give him.

as long as it's you on the other side—

your words reach him quieter than the breeze outside. "what's more terrifying is the worry of what is going to happen to your loved ones, should you just die someday— death is inevitable, but i just want to stave it off for as long as i can. just so i may live with my family... you know what, senpai?" you interrupt yourself abruptly, voice becoming the sharpest in these last fifteen minutes.

a feeble sound escapes the boy.

he isn't sure if it's because of that sincere little hum in your words or if it is the gleam of the moonlight on your face. perhaps, both...

yeah, both— it is rather difficult to distinguish between the beauty of your inner self from that of your outer self— the smile simmers down to a subtle twitch of your lips.

something stutters and stumbles inside gojo's chest.

"i know you see me as nothing more than a coward right now, but i believe... it's better to be a coward and alive, than to be a hero and dead— isn't it, senpai?"

[you're pretty bold, however.

far braver than he could ever deem you to be, the boy muses later to himself with a wry smile, an ice bag on the big toe of his right foot— this poor thing swollen and bruised from how mercilessly the heel of your slipper stamped onto it earlier—

okay, fine— the sorcerer concedes to the imaginary angel perched on his shoulder. something between a grumble and a sigh escaping— he shouldn't have asked you out on a date, in return for him to keep your secrets.

it was really inappropriate, he admits. and gojo likes to see himself as a gentleman... yet, yet, yet.

the need to see that placid mask of yours crack— let it be by a glower and not by the smile, he has never seen on you but knows will be just as lovely as you— that need was too overwhelming then as well...

shushing the angel and fist-bumping his guardian devil, gojo tosses the ice bag away. and falls back into his bed—

a very happy, a touch too giddy grin splitting his face into halves:

you really are a peculiar girl, heh!]

hope this was an enjoyable read! pls don't plagiarise, translate or repost this ❤️❤️

masterlist

#gojo x you #gojo x reader #gojo satoru x you #gojo satoru x reader #jjk x you #jjk x reader #kit posts 📝

[coco-loco-nut]

Gen Z

pairing: Max Verstappen x Reader

summary: everyone seems to forget that Max is 26

a/n: not my favorite, but it’s something i’ve been working on for a while

requests open masterlist

—————

Breaking up with Kelly was extremely difficult for Max to do. Despite not being in love with her anymore, he was very aware of what would happen to P. Max knew it was better to break up than stay just because of P, so he bit the bullet. The next few months were lonely, having to readjust to being alone in Monaco with just his cats.

That’s when you came barreling into his life. Only two years younger than Max, you were a breath of fresh air for him. He really didn’t expect to fall for you, not so quick anyway.

You knew a bit about Formula One, but it was more to the extent that your home hosted a race, some drivers lived in the city, and your hairdresser’s son was a driver. It didn’t phase you when Max told you about his career and fame, you just thought the Dutchman was cute.

“Men who own cats are major green flags,” you told him over text when you first started dating. That might’ve been what really made Max fall for you. You made him feel young, understandably so. He was 19 when he first met Kelly, and she was 28.

Max taught you about the races, you helped him connect with his inner Gen Z. He taught you Dutch and how to game, you taught him slang and pop culture. The two of you were sitting on the couch a month before the Monaco GP, watching Cars of course, when Max asked you to join him at the race.

“Of course, anything for Lightning McQueen,” you squeeze his hand. You knew from TikTok that Charles, your boyfriend’s work husband, was Lightning McQueen, but how could that not be Max.

“Kachow,” Max says causing you to laugh. He has been watching the TikToks and reels you send him, usually something formula one or cars related.

Max is watching Cars 2 with you when he points out each driver in the movie. You store the knowledge in the back of your mind for when you watch classic races and Max explains things to you. You feel sufficiently ready for Monaco.

“Lewis, this is my girlfriend, Y/n,” Max introduces you to the Mercedes driver. You look at him, star stuck.

“I loved you in Cars,” you blurt out, causing Lewis to laugh and Max to hide his face in embarrassment. Max isn’t surprised, but he can’t believe this is how your first interaction is going. Lewis is just happy you aren’t with Max because he is a driver.

“Thank you, how old are you?” Lewis asks, ready to feel old.

“24, two years younger than Maxie,” you smile lovingly at your boyfriend.

“I forgot how young you actually are,” Lewis’s unspoken words hang in the air between him and Max. Now that you are dating someone closer to your own age.

Lewis’s statement seemed to be the general consensus when everyone saw you with him. Max looked and acted like he was 26. He was using slang you taught him, he was making pop culture references that he likely wouldn’t have known otherwise. He was getting to experience his twenty’s like he should have been, not as if he was much older than he was.

Lando was the most excited to meet you, not only were you his age, but you brought out Max’s inner child that Lando never could.

“I’m stealing your girlfriend,” Lando tells Max, wanting to claim you as his best friend.

“No,” Max deadpans.

“What if Lando is my bestie?” you ask Max, who can’t say no to you.

“Then I guess that’s okay,” Max kisses your temple.

“OMG, McLaren is doing another hide and seek video, you two should join,” Lando proposes.

“That actually sounds fun,” Max says, looking at you for confirmation.

“I’m in,” you smile, letting Lando lead the way.

The video is a hit, the fans are loving this version of Max. Max is loving this version of him too, for once he doesn’t feel like he has to grow up faster than he should.

“Stay away from her, she’s no good for you. Act like a grown up,” you overhear Jos tell Max as you come back to the garage from hospitality. You have yet to meet Jos, Max made it very clear that he doesn’t want you near his dad. The memes the two of you send back and forth are a good enough reason why, so you hang back.

“What do you mean? I am. I’m 26, why should I act like I’m 40? I am happier with her than I was with Kelly,” Max argues back, you hold yourself back.

“World Champions are serious, mature. Quit acting like Lando Norris and more like an adult,” Jos is seething.

“Ask Max to come back here, say the team needs him or something,” you as an engineer when you notice Jos getting angrier.

“Then why am I leading by a heavy margin already. You just can’t handle that I am putting myself first. What would you even know about being a champion? You never won a race!” Max yells. The engineer quickly cuts in and leads Max to you.

“You gagged him, baby. Are you okay?” Max hugs you, you just rub his back as he regulates his breathing.

“He’s an opp, for real,” Max mutters into your shoulder, causing you to snort with laughter.

“God, I love you,” you can’t contain the laughter. Max joins in, your smile is infectious.

“I did use it right, no?” Max asks between the laughter.

“You did, I just wasn’t expecting it,” you take a deep breath, calming down.

“No cap?”

“Alright, you are using too much. Where is old man Max, this is freaky,” you take a step back, the smile that remains on your face betrays your words.

“You got me into my gen z era, you get the consequences,” Max pulls you back into him as you groan in annoyance.

“I love you too,” he laughs, peppering your face with kisses.

And when a journalist is brave enough to ask about the shift in Max? He’s always eager to talk about you.

“My girlfriend forced me to watch hours of YouTube compilations about formula one memes. We are always sending different memes to each other, she definitely helps me remember to laugh more,” Max gushes.

“I guess we all forget that you aren’t nearly forty,” the journalist nods. Max answers a few more questions before finding you in his drivers room. He lays down on the couch, his head on your lap.

“What’s on your mind?” you run your hand through Max’s hair.

“Have I changed that much?” he asks, his blue eyes looking up at you.

“I don’t think so, I think you’ve just started being yourself around more people. You are still the same Max that I first met and fell in love with, everyone else is just seeing that Max,” you are confused about the question, but answer him. Max doesn’t reply, he just nuzzles closer to you.

“I like this version of me,” he says into your shirt a few minutes later, you keep playing with his hair.

“I’m glad, but I like every version of you, Max. Even old man Max,” you smile as he sits up.

“Old man? How about I show you how far from true that is,” there is a look in his eye that tells you that you just started something.

“And how will you do that?” you decide to entertain him as he slips his hands under your shirt.

“I don’t think I need to tell you.”

#f1 imagines #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 grid #max verstappen #max verstappen imagines #max verstappen imagine #max verstappen x reader

[pinkflower2003]

max verstappen

he’s best friends with someone who plays rugby. she never thought max would like her due to her midsize and short height, but he gets to go to one of her games finally. they have secret crushes on each other

Lucky Charm

Max Verstappen x RugbyPlayer!Reader

a/n: there isn’t a official face claim for this reader these are just female rugby images I found on Pinterest! Thank you so much for your request! I absolutely loved this idea, i’m a rugby league girl through and through!!✨

Send your submissions<3

You always felt a bit out of place in the grand scheme of things. With your midsize frame and short height, you were far from the conventional idea of an athlete, especially in a sport like rugby. But here you were, defying expectations and proving your worth on the field. The Women's Rugby World Cup was the pinnacle of your career, and you were determined to give it your all.

Your best friend, Max Verstappen, had been with you through thick and thin. Despite his fame as a Formula 1 driver, he had always made time for you. Max was your rock, the one who believed in you when you doubted yourself. There had always been an undercurrent of something more between you two, a spark that neither of you had dared to acknowledge—until now.

The final match of the Women's Rugby World Cup had arrived, and the atmosphere was electric. The stadium buzzed with anticipation, and you could feel the weight of the moment pressing down on you. You tied your boots, adjusting your gear one last time, and took a deep breath. This was it.

Jamie, one of your teammates, walked over, a confident grin on her face. “Guess who’s here to watch you play today?”

“Let me guess, another scout?” You chuckled, trying to mask the flutter of nerves in your stomach.

“Close. Better, actually.” Jamie’s grin widened. “Max is here.”

Your heart skipped a beat. Max Verstappen, here to watch you play? It seemed surreal. Max had always supported you, but his busy schedule often kept him away from your games. The idea of him being in the stands for the most important game of your life filled you with a mix of excitement and anxiety.

“Why would Max be here? He told me he couldn't make it, he's meant to be preparing for his race.” you asked, trying to sound nonchalant.

Jamie shrugged, her eyes twinkling with mischief. “Maybe he decided you were more important, you know you've always come first with him.”

You felt your cheeks heat up, and you quickly looked away, focusing on tying your laces. The idea that Max could be interested in you seemed far-fetched, but the thought was enough to send a thrill through your veins.

The game started with a roar from the crowd, and you pushed all thoughts of Max to the back of your mind. You needed to focus, to play your best. The first half was intense, with both teams fighting tooth and nail for dominance. You could feel the pressure mounting, but you thrived under it, making plays and tackles that had the crowd on their feet.

During a brief pause, you glanced towards the stands, your eyes searching for a familiar face. And there he was, Max, leaning forward, his eyes glued to the field. When your eyes met, he gave you a thumbs-up and a smile that made your heart race. You quickly looked away, your focus snapping back to the game, but the warmth from his smile lingered.

The second half was even tougher. The score was tied, and the tension was palpable. With seconds left on the clock, your team managed to push forward. The ball was passed to you, and you saw a gap in the defense. You sprinted, dodging defenders, adrenaline pumping through your veins. You crossed the try line, scoring the winning try just as the final whistle blew.

The stadium erupted in cheers. Your teammates mobbed you, their excitement infectious. Amidst the celebration, you caught sight of Max making his way down from the stands. Without thinking, you broke free from the crowd and ran towards him.

“Max!” you shouted, your voice barely audible over the noise.

He opened his arms, and you leaped into them, your momentum nearly knocking him over. He held you tightly, lifting you off the ground as you wrapped your legs around his waist. “You were incredible!” he shouted, his voice filled with pride and excitement.

“Thank you,” you said, breathless and exhilarated. “I can’t believe you’re here.”

“I wouldn’t have missed it,” Max replied, his eyes shining with pride. “I’ve been looking forward to this.”

Before you could respond, Max grabbed your face, his hands warm and firm against your skin. He looked into your eyes, and for a moment, the world seemed to stop. Then, without another word, he pulled your face towards him and kissed you. The kiss was soft at first, tentative, as if both of you were testing the waters. But it quickly deepened, filled with all the emotions and unspoken words that had been building up between you for so long.

The cheers of your teammates, the noise of the crowd, all melted into the background as you lost yourself in the moment, not bothering who saw the two of you. When you finally pulled away, you rested your forehead against his, both of you breathless and smiling.

“I guess this means you’re my good luck charm now,” he murmured, making you laugh.

“I think you were mine.” you replied, feeling happier than you ever thought possible.

#formula one imagine #f1 imagine #max verstappen #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen imagine #formula one x reader #formula 1 #f1 x reader #mv1 imagine #mv1 x reader #mv1 #f1 fanfic

[foldingfittedsheets]

I’m remarkably bad at food in general. I didn’t come from a household of cooks and my family doesn’t do food in a wholesome way. Food ends up being fuel that’s tiresome but necessary for the most part.

There’s also not like easily accessible classes or ways to really learn about food. So I really feel like I can’t be blamed for this one instance when I was living in Arizona.

I had moved there to be with my then-girlfriend. I ended up doing more of the shopping because she was working 11pm-4am shifts at the radio station and her sleep schedule was disastrously not conducive to daily tasks.

She requested lettuce for her lunch sandwiches. The morning after shopping I awoke to her standing over me in bed.

I sleepily greeted her and she said, “I’m not mad, but did you buy cabbage?”

My tired brain processed this. What was the difference between cabbage and lettuce? Lettuce was round. Was cabbage? I didn’t think cabbage was round. Wasn’t it purple? “No,” I said decisively.

“Come look at this.”

I dutifully got up to follow her to the kitchen. She pulled out the vegetable I’d bought. It still looked vaguely lettucey but I was starting to feel a tingle of uncertainty.

“It’s lettuce,” I stated, proving once again that just saying something doesn’t make it so.

“I ate a whole sandwich with it. It didn’t taste like lettuce.” Folks. It was cabbage. She’d eaten several leaves of raw cabbage. But in my defense why didn’t she know better?

“No, it’s definitely lettuce.” An undercurrent was forming between us. She knew I no longer believed this was lettuce. She’d eaten raw cabbage leaves rather than question me sooner about the purchase. But I was clearly willing to die on this hill.

“Where the receipt?”

What followed was an instantaneous mad dash across the kitchen to secure the receipt first. We flailed and squabbled at each other, both desperate to have our way with the truth of the matter.

My grubby little hands found it first and we wrestled down to the ground over the unassuming slip of paper. I was wily and quick, but she was stronger, and we tussled with our whole hearts over the inconsequential thing.

When it was clear she was moments away from overpowering me I shoved the whole receipt into my mouth like a frantic little Pac-Man, undeterred by the toxic bitterness of the receipt paper.

We ended up in stitches on the ground as I laughed and choked on the wretched thing. I spat it into the garbage and thus won the right to my fiction. It was lettuce.

#ramblies #ffs foibles #funny #writing #cabbage #lettuce #story

[oddinary4bts]

Chasing Cars | ch 3 (jjk)

☆summary: when your brother goes to study on a semester abroad, your life collides with his best friend Jeon Jungkook, who's coincidentally your roommate. Will you survive the collision, or will you crumble into dust?

☆pairings: brother's best friend!Jungkook x younger sister!female reader

☆rating: 18+ (minors DNI, this chapter contains mature content)

☆genre: forbidden love?au, college!au, slice of life!au, smut, angst (as usual a lot of it), fluff

☆warnings: a power outage, Jungkook being a menace as per always, getting stood up for Valentine's Day, falling on a patch of ice, alcohol, curses, peach, OC gets a little jealous, explicit content: teasing?, dom!Jungkook, big dick!Jungkook, sex toy (vibrator), male and female masturbation, praising, cum play (don't be stupid), fingering

☆word count: 13.2k

☆a/n: this is like one of my fav chapters in this whole series, and also the one inspired by jungkook's iconic live with the candle and the white dress shirt and oof :') hope you enjoy it!! Thank you to @moonleeai and @jessikahathaway for beta-ing, you guys are the best <3

☆series masterpost

☆add yourself to the taglist here!

☆☆☆☆☆

If I lay here If I just lay here Would you lie with me and just forget the world?

Chasing Cars, Snow Patrol

☆☆☆☆☆

Thursday, February 14th 

Sometimes, the universe aligns to create such a shitty day that you think your life is a joke. A cruel joke, and you’re just the sitcom character that people use to make themselves feel better.

Today has been one of those days. You woke up late, somehow not hearing your alarm, and got to your midterm so late you didn’t have time to finish. At least you were confident in the answers that you did write down, so you think there’s a chance you’ll still pass. 

Then, you forgot your student ID, and the lady at the cafeteria refused to let you eat even though she’s seen you almost every day of the semester so far. Nabi offered you some of her salad, but you felt bad and barely ate.

Then the rain started – freezing rain at that – and you had to run to the other building for your genetics class, ending with your hair half frozen and the knowledge that you’re going to get sick by tomorrow.

Genetics class in and of itself is fine. Your stomach gurgling all through the class isn’t, and you’ve noticed people looking at you where you’re sitting, every time your stomach thinks it’s a whale and it needs to sing to its fellow mates.

During break, someone offers you a protein bar, and you take it with cheeks burning, thanking them profusely. Though you hate the taste of protein bars, and you struggle to finish it without puking on the desk. You power through, and then the class resumes, and you try to focus. It’s hard, and when you receive a text from Hoseok, you stop pretending that you’re listening.

[2:47 pm] Hobi: have u seen the weather outside? [2:47 pm] You: yeah it’s trash. I think I’m still half frozen [2:49 pm] Hobi: don’t have power at my place anymore [2:50 pm] Hobi: and it looks dangerous to drive

You know exactly what’s coming. It shouldn’t even come as a surprise – you don’t know why you agreed to meet up on Valentine’s Day. Yet, you’ve been looking forward to it all day, perhaps because it’s been so shit even hanging out with Hoseok on this day of celebration of love seemed better.

[2:50 pm] Hobi: any chance I can get a raincheck?

You want to bash your head on the desk, and of course, the professor chooses this exact moment to call you out for being on your phone. You flush a deep red, mumbling an apology as you put your phone face down on the desk. Everyone’s looking at you, and from where you’re sitting at the back of the class you can see that half the people aren’t even taking notes. You think they’re full of shit for glaring at you, but you can’t help the way you turn crimson, and Nabi stifles a laugh next to you.

“Shut up,” you whisper through gritted teeth, elbowing her in the ribs. 

She shrugs innocently, and then her eyes slide back to the professor as he resumes the class. Not wanting to risk it, you focus too, and it seems the shame is what you need to finally concentrate because you find yourself typing away on the computer, describing the pictures in the PowerPoint slides so you can understand them later.

The lights go out five minutes before the end of the class. The projector shuts down in time, a clear indication that the college has run out of power too – something that rarely ever happens unless it’s the end of the world outside.

There’s a series of gasps, and the professor looks so jaded at the front of the class that you wouldn’t be surprised if he’s made of the actual precious stone. He looks towards the door, where you can see that the light has also gone out in the hallway.

Without even a glance at the class, he slams his laptop shut, heaving out a sigh.

“Class dismissed for today, we don’t have enough time left to wait for the power to come back on.” 

It doesn’t even take half a second before everyone is starting to put their stuff away, the class suddenly overcome with a cacophony of sounds, and Nabi turns to you.

“Who were you texting during class?” she asks, wiggling her eyebrows suggestively.

“Shut up.” You put your laptop in your bag, chugging the rest of your water bottle before you stuff it next to the laptop. “Hobi cancelled on me.”

Of course the whole friend group now knows about you two. You have Hoseok to blame for that, and his incredibly good idea to have sex at a party last week, where Yoongi walked in on the two of you. You’ve never seen Yoongi look more uncomfortable before in your life and, to your surprise, he’s been teased about the situation a lot more than you or Hoseok. It’s still a relief because you were afraid the friend group would go to shit if people knew, but now it seems it’s only solidified it even more.

“Bruh,” Nabi lets out. “Why?”

You motion to the dead neon lights over your heads. “The weather. He doesn’t have power anymore.”

“Shit.” You finish packing your stuff and you’re walking out of the class when she continues, “That’s wild though, didn’t think the freezing rain would hit that bad.”

A girl in front of you turns as if summoned. “They’re saying it’s going to be the worst storm of the century.” She points her phone towards you and Nabi, screen first. “Look, tons of trees have already fallen.”

Your eyes widen, because indeed she’s showing a picture from a group chat, of a tree having fallen on someone’s poor car. You wince in time with Nabi.

“RIP to whoever’s car that is,” you answer.

The girl nods, a wistful expression taking over her features. “That would be my boyfriend’s.”

You don’t talk more after that, and she jogs to join her friends closer to the stairs. You take that as an opportunity to finally reply to Hoseok, grabbing your phone out of the pocket of your coat.

[3:59 pm] You: power even went out in college so yeah, np!

Hoseok is quicker to reply than you’ve expected, saying that he’d like to meet up some time this weekend if you can. You don’t promise him anything, though you don’t really have plans as of right now.

You’ve just got a feeling that, if the storm is going to be the storm of the century, you won’t be hanging out for at least a few days. And the moment you step outside, you realize that it might even take more than a few days.

Trees have fallen everywhere. The sidewalk is entirely iced, and just by the time you’ve made it to the bus stop in front of the building, you’ve seen a car accident, both cars unable to stop at a stop sign. You figure taking the bus would be dangerous right now, and you settle on aiming for the pedestrian trail that leads to a park near your apartment, while Nabi parts to head towards the dorm, where apparently the power is still on. She tells you to let her know if you have power at home, and then you turn to head towards home, fishing your phone out of your pocket.

At least it’s not raining heavily as you walk. It’s the only positive thing in your day, and you hold onto your phone, sending a text to Taehyung to inform him of the situation.

You’re two minutes from home when you slip on a slab of ice, and you fall in a puddle of mud that stains your pale pants. You don’t even know how there can be mud when everything else is frozen, but of course, you had to fall in it. You assess yourself for a second, making sure nothing hurts too bad and then you mutter, “Of fucking course.”

You don’t even feel like getting up. If it wasn’t for the fact that the mud in which you’re sitting is freezing, you think you’d sit there until you died. You feel drained, and the weight of the day finally hits you head-on, bringing tears to your eyes.

Or maybe it’s just the embarrassment of walking home with your favourite pair of pants ruined. You don’t even know anymore; too much has happened in just a few hours for your brain to accept to be working anymore. You angrily blink the tears away, knowing you’ll break down the second you step inside your own home.

You can only hope that Jungkook is not going to be there. You hold onto that hope as you get to the building, and when you see the lights are out, the tears win against you. You carefully walk up the stairs – even they are covered in a thick sheet of ice – and surprisingly, you make it to the top unscathed.

You try to unlock the door with shaky fingers, struggling to find the hole through the blurriness of your tears, and you almost consider breaking the door down when it suddenly swings open in front of you.

“Peach?”

You’re aware that you’ve got fat tears rolling down your cheeks. You’re aware that you probably look a mess – you are a mess – but all you can do is stare at Jungkook.

“Is something wrong?” he asks, voice laced with concern as he steps aside to let you in.

You put your bag down, shrugging as he shuts the door behind him carefully, eyeing you as if you’re a specimen of a rare animal that’s going to run if he startles it. You refuse to meet his gaze, refuse to speak lest you embarrass yourself with crying even more. All you do is angrily wipe your cheeks with the back of your hand.

“Hey,” he says, and he puts a hand on your shoulder. “What’s wrong?”

You motion around. “What’s wrong?” You scoff, and out of spite, you force down the wave of tears that is threatening to meet the ones you’ve just dried on your cheeks. “Everything is fucking wrong.”

You glance at Jungkook, and he’s just watching, eyes widened. He seems startled by your outburst, and you think you see him gulp.

“Do you…” he trails off, glancing at the door. You only then realize that he’s clad in his winter coat, and he was probably on his way out when you arrived. “Do you want to talk about it?”

You shake your head no, hating yourself for the way your bottom lip trembles. 

His hand is still on your shoulder, and it slowly slides to your arm. “Did you hurt yourself?” he asks.

He’s only then realized that you’re half-covered in mud.

“I fell on a patch of ice,” you answer.

He makes you turn, assessing the damage. “If you soak your pants in water, I can get the stain out.”

“There’s no power.”

He turns you back around, offering you a small smile as he cocks an eyebrow arrogantly. “Astute.”

You want to punch him so bad, but what you do is laugh, which makes you think you’ve gone crazy.

“Water still runs, though,” he points out. “I’ll take care of it when the power comes back on. Doesn’t even need to be warm. You can save what’s left of the hot water for a shower if you want?”

He says it like a question, and you shrug your shoulders. A new tear rolls on your cheek, and to your surprise, Jungkook dries it with his thumb. He then points to your shoes.

“Take these off. You’re going to take a shower before the neighbours steal the water.”

“I don’t…” you trail off, as he’s just staring at you as if what you were going to say was going to be the stupidest shit he’s ever heard. As much as you want to hate him right now, the way his hand feels on your arm is making the anxiety lessen, until you realize that it’s going to be okay.

You can head to Ria and Nabi’s dorm right after a quick shower.

“M’kay,” you finally accept. “But you can go, you don’t have to stay.”

He shrugs, and when he lets go of your arm, you almost want to grab his hand and put it back there. “I was just going to charge my phone in my car. It can wait.”

You hold his gaze, feeling swallowed by his big doe eyes. It finishes drying the tears on your waterline, and you take a deep steadying breath. “M’kay,” you repeat.

At that he smirks, nodding his head once. He kicks off his shoes as you carefully take yours off, and then he makes grabby hands at you.

“What?” you ask.

“Your coat,” he answers. “I’ll put it in the closet for you.”

You slightly frown. “Why?”

“Because I’m trying to be nice?” When you remain silent, he chuckles. “You think I’m just going to let my best friend’s sister cry when she gets home?”

The words hurt, even though they’re just a statement of what you are to him. “You’re so random.”

He looks somehow offended. “Just give me your coat, peach.” He’s stern, and you have half a thought to mimic him, but you resist. When you hand him the coat, he offers you a grin. “See, that wasn’t so hard.”

Once again you surprise yourself by laughing, and the grin on his lips softens in a way that makes you warm inside.

“You’re annoying,” you whine.

He shrugs as he opens the closet. “Just go take a quick shower. Make sure to soak the pants too.”

“Yes, mom.”

He chokes on a snort. “Oof, no, don’t call me mom.”

You stifle a laugh, but a smile tugs at the corner of your lips. He faces you again, and you startle as he pinches your cheek. You push him off, as all he does is offer you a wide grin that makes dimples appear on his cheeks.

You’ve never really seen those dimples before, not while he’s smiling. You have to force yourself to look away, and as entrancing as they are, you manage to have your gaze drop to a random spot on the floor. “Alright then, I’ll grab my stuff. You can charge your phone while I’m in the shower.”

“All good, I’m at 65%,” he says. “I just checked online, and the power outage will likely last through the night so… figured I didn’t have anything better to do.”

You purse your lips. “Oh.”

There’s an awkward silence before he motions to the bathroom. “Aren’t you going?”

Your cheeks burn, and you nod once before heading towards your room as he snorts behind you, evidently laughing at you. You ignore him, quickly grabbing a change of clothes and bringing them to the bathroom. Jungkook’s moved to the couch, and to your surprise you see him with a book in hand.

“You read?”

The question is out before you realize, and Jungkook’s head snaps in your direction.

“It’s for a class.”

You nod once. “Right.” You then scrape your throat, glance at the bathroom and then settle your eyes on him again. “I’ll be right back.”

He smiles at you, and it’s the last thing you see before you walk into the bathroom, softly shutting the door behind you. Luckily enough, it’s still light enough outside for you to be able to shower without being in the dark, and as Jungkook advertised, there’s still hot water.

You take the fastest shower of your life, not wanting to risk running out of hot water, and then you put your dirty pants in the sink, soaking them in cold water. You put your clean clothes on – nothing impressive, just a pair of black sweatpants with a white t-shirt. You take one look at yourself in the mirror – you look like you’ve gone through hell, but at least you’re refreshed. 

With a steadying breath, you walk out of the bathroom, and your eyes immediately find Jungkook where he’s still sitting on the couch, looking like he hasn’t moved an inch. He glances at you before resuming his attention on his book. You feel awkward, yet you still walk in his direction because, frankly, what else is there for you to do when there’s no power?

“What’s the book about?” you enquire.

He raises it for you to see as you sit next to him. He moves too fast, and all you can see is something about trickle-down economy before the book is back in his lap.

“Looks boring.”

He laughs. “It is. Plus, trickle-down economics is bullshit.”

You nod wisely, even though your knowledge in the economy and business field is little to zero. All you know is that trickle-down economics is what rich people use to defend their actions, which immediately makes it so you don’t trust it one bit.

Eat the rich and all that.

“Right,” you let out.

Jungkook throws you a glance. “Feeling better?”

You don’t know how to answer. Because, yes, you feel somehow better now that you are clean and warmed from the shower, but you’re still very aware that the power is out, you’ve likely failed a midterm, and your date was cancelled.

“Sort of,” you answer, shrugging your shoulders. “Today was just a shitshow.” 

He says nothing, but his big eyes on you entice you to open up to him, making you feel more at ease than you’ve ever been around him.

Maybe because you just need someone to vent to after all.

“Like… I woke up late this morning,” you tell him. “Arrived so late to my midterm that I couldn’t finish. Then realized that I forgot my wallet here and couldn’t eat lunch. Got stood up for a date tonight, and now no power here? This day has been the worst.”

You sit back on the couch after you’ve finished your tirade, and Jungkook just looks at you curiously. You don’t register you’ve called hanging out with Hoseok a date until Jungkook says, “You had a Valentine’s Day date?”

You shut your eyes, pinch the bridge of your nose and exhale loudly. “Sort of. Not really a date.”

“How can it not really be a date?”

You entirely miss the teasing in his voice, mostly because you’re appalled at yourself for the slipping. “It’s just… my friend with benefits, so not a date.”

“Damn, peach,” he says, and he bursts out laughing. You crack an eye open, your heart feeling like it’s been stabbed as Jungkook grins at you. “Didn’t think you were one to have a friend with benefits.”

You narrow your eyes at him. “Why?”

“I don’t know.” He shrugs, and his gaze slides away from you as his brows furrow slightly. “You’re Tae’s sister, and the way he talks about you I just… I don’t know.”

Annoyance creeps into you as you cock an eyebrow. “You shouldn’t listen to what Taehyung says about me. He still thinks I’m twelve.”

Jungkook snorts, and to your surprise, it makes you smile, right as he glances at you. 

“Are you not?”

“Yah!” You punch him in the shoulder, and he laughs as he massages the spot. “I’ll have you know I’m an adult.”

His features turn somber, and he plays with his piercing for a time before he answers. “I’m starting to realize it, trust me.”

In the somberness of his eyes, a spark ignites, and you feel as if electricity is running on every inch of your body. You wish it would run into the building instead, bringing the power back on but unfortunately, you’re the only victim, and all you can do is hold his gaze.

The moment stretches until you grow uncomfortable, and your eyes slide to the Switch under the TV, as if it’ll find solace there.

“Anyway,” you say, scraping your throat. “Apparently there’s still power at the dorms so I think I’ll head over there.”

“You’ll abandon me?” he says, faking offence. “Right when I offered to take care of your pants? The nerves on you.”

You roll your eyes as the awkwardness fades to be replaced by the annoyance Jungkook usually brings out of you. “You’re a big boy, you don’t need me.”

“You sure you want to walk all the way there though? What if you fall again?”

You push him as he smiles wickedly, satisfied that he’s annoyed you. “I hate you.”

“You know what you hate even more than me?”

Your brow creases in confusion. “What?”

He shrugs his shoulders, a smirk growing on his lips. “You’ll have to stay for me to answer.”

You sigh deeply, folding your arms on your chest. You gauge him, watch as his smirk only widens while you ponder staying here. And you don’t even know why you’re considering it in the first place. There’s just something about being able to talk to Jungkook like this, about being comfortable next to him that makes you want to stay.

“Name a single reason why I should stay,” you finally say.

His smirk turns victorious. “I’ll cook something for you.”

“The power is out,” you feel the need to remind him. 

He throws you a no-bullshit look. “Really, peach, you need to find a bit of creativity in your life.”

“What?”

“The stove doesn’t run on electricity, it runs on gas.”

You look up at the ceiling. “How was I supposed to know that, I barely ever cook.”

“I cook!” he bursts, waving the book around. You didn’t realize he was still holding it, and you laugh as the pages flutter around.  “And you usually steal my food, so just let me make something for you tonight.”

You purse your lips, meeting his gaze as he looks at you, faking annoyance. “What do you want to cook?”

“I have chicken that I need to cook tonight if I don’t want it to go bad,” he says. “I can make noodles with it.”

It takes you all but two seconds before you realize that there’s no way you’re going to leave when Jungkook is suggesting to cook for you. “Alright.”

“Yeah?” You nod, and Jungkook beams. “You won’t regret it.”

You laugh, slightly shaking your head as he puts the book away and gets up. He offers you his hand, the one with the tattoos on the back of it, and you furrow your brows. “What?”

“Go get changed,” he says, hand still extended between you. “I’ll give you a Valentine’s Day date, but you’re going to have to play the part too.”

Something stops in your chest – your heart, most likely – and you’re hit with the thought that this is a bad idea. That whatever Jungkook means by that is going to be the mistake of the century, yet you still find yourself accepting his extended hand.

He pulls you to your feet, and he doesn’t let go of your hand for a moment, big doe eyes widening slightly as he looks at you.

“You…” you trail off, scraping your throat as you look away from his eyes.

It’s all you can do not to get lost in his gaze. 

“I?” he presses, voice low.

“You should dress up too,” you mumble, cheeks burning. “So I’m not alone.”

He lets go of your hand, and your fingers twitch as it falls to your side. When his index finds your chin, you think your blood stops in your veins. He makes you tilt your head back, enough so that you’re forced to meet his gaze.

“I will.” His voice is grave, and you don’t miss the way his eyes dart to your lips once as they part. “I’m going to make this worth it. You deserve it after such a shit day, don’t you?”

You gulp. “Yeah?”

He pats your cheek. “Yeah, you do.”

And then he’s walking away. You’re left standing there, heart racing in your chest, feeling so warm you think you’re about to catch fire. You watch him disappear into his room, and it’s only when he’s out of sight that you manage to move, making your way to your own room.

You shut the door behind you, resting against it as you take deep breaths to calm down. You’re not sure if it’s doing you any good, because this is Jungkook. Jungkook, with his tattoo sleeve and piercings, your older brother’s best friend. Your roommate, the man that’s been playing with you for weeks, for months, like you’re just some playdough. You think he’s doing it on purpose. He has to – he’s trying to make your life miserable because you’re Taehyung’s sister. You don’t see what else it could be. Because why the fuck would Jungkook act like this with you?

You’re not stupid enough to believe it isn’t your fault. Because you were there the night of The Incident, and you reckon things have changed with Jungkook since that night. 

You take a deep, steadying breath before pushing up from the door. No matter what it is that is making Jungkook act like this, you’re still curious to see what he’s preparing for you. Spending time with him like this, with no power and nothing else to do than talk…

Maybe it’s going to help you understand what’s happening in that thick skull of his. So you search for something to wear, something warm since the heating is also down. You settle on brown dress pants that you know make your ass look amazing, and you pair them with a pale beige wool turtleneck. You tuck the shirt in your pants, putting a belt on to make sure it stays in place, and then you take a good look at yourself in your standing mirror. Satisfied with your outfit, you make to move out of your room, but you stop with your hand halfway to the knob.

You can hear Jungkook humming in his room, a soft melody that’s making you think he’s taking a long time in there. Is he actually dressing up? It makes something terribly warm and soft settle in your chest, and you turn back around, grab your makeup pouch and head to your desk.

If this is a date, or whatever it is that Jungkook considers dates to be, you want to look good for it. So you put a little bit of makeup on, trusting your instinct to make it look great even though the light of your small mirror doesn’t turn on since there’s still no power. You hear Jungkook get out of his room before you’re done, and you hope he doesn’t decide to come here.

You doubt he would, but you somehow feel awkward as you’re getting ready. Because he’s your older brother’s best friend, because he’s a college fuckboy, because he’s been making you feel too many things lately – most of them you repress as if your life depends on it. And you think, your life does depend on it. Because nothing can happen between you and Jungkook; you wouldn’t do that to Taehyung. And mostly, you wouldn’t do that to Jungkook, because you know Taehyung would hate him if something did happen.

You sigh. It comes out shakily, a clear indication that you’re growing anxious, and you almost want to laugh at yourself. You want to tell yourself to get a grip, to just play along for things are bound to go back to normality when the power comes back. 

You only stop feeling anxious when Taehyung texts you, your phone lighting up where you’ve put it down on your desk.

[5:02 pm] bröther👽: jk texted me the same thing! Glad u won’t be alone tonight [5:02 pm] You: he’s gonna cook dinner [5:03 pm] bröther👽: lmao, jk doesn’t cook for girls, feel lucky

With that you realize that, indeed, you should feel lucky. Because Jungkook can be a friend, if not anything else. It’s reassuring, and you finish getting ready feeling lighter than you’ve felt all day, as if the hell that today was is all forgotten. 

You spray some perfume on the inside of your wrists, dabbing it on your neck before you finally declare yourself ready to head out of your room. You hope Jungkook won’t make fun of you – he’d be the kind of guy to make fun of you for this, you just know it – and you make your way to the kitchen, where you can hear him busying himself.

He’s brought his portable speaker out of his room. The one that also has a projector in it, and it shines northern lights on the walls and on the ceiling of the kitchen, giving it a cozy atmosphere. No music is playing as of right now, yet Jungkook is still humming, voice low yet melodious.

You rarely hear him sing, but anytime you do, you feel like your ears are blessed by an angel.

He reappears from where he was hidden in the fridge, and his mouth falls open as he catches sight of you. 

He’s wearing a white dress shirt. You think it’s made of linen – it doesn’t look particularly fancy. Yet the way he’s rolled it on his forearms is weirdly attractive, even though he’s only wearing grey sweatpants with it. It’s a look, a look you think only he can pull off. He’s taken the time to style his hair back, and he’s put on earrings you’ve only seen him wear a couple of times during parties.

He eyes you up and down, his doe eyes crinkling in appreciation. “You look good, peach.”

The compliment makes you blush, and you offer him a small smile. He echoes it right away, and he holds up a bottle of rosé that you bought two months ago and forgot all about since then.

“Wine?” you let out as you stop in front of him. You feel awkward because, obviously, it’s wine, but you still hold his gaze as he nods.

“It’s yours but…” He shrugs, glancing at the label. “I figured it’d work well with the chicken.”

You nod once. “Sure, we can drink it.”

It makes him happy. You can see it in the way he beams, and then he puts it down on the counter with the rest of the ingredients. When he moves, you catch a whiff of his cologne, and you feel your cheeks burn again. You glance outside – the rain has stopped, but grey clouds are still looming in the sky as the world slowly darkens. You wonder if they’ll go away some time tonight – without the light pollution, you reckon you’d be able to stargaze.

You end up helping Jungkook with the cooking, chopping some vegetables as he takes care of the meat. You’re not particularly hungry, so you take your time, talking about everything and nothing. Jungkook is good at this, you realize. He’s good at changing your mind, at making sure it doesn’t wander back to your midterm and to the rest of your shitty day. He makes you laugh, cracking stupid jokes whenever you do something, smirking at you when you roll your eyes.

Being with him like this also makes you understand why he’s Taehyung’s friend. He feels more natural this way, less fuckboy-ish, and it’s a side of him you’ve never really seen before.

You sit at the kitchen table, sharing a glass of the rosé wine while the food simmers on the stove. Jungkook’s put on an indie music playlist before you started cooking – something you teased him about. Who knew Jeon Jungkook likes indie music?

“How was Tae before college?” Jungkook asks all of a sudden when there’s a lull in the conversation. “He barely talks about high school.”

You know the exact reason why, and her name is Youna. Taehyung’s ex, his high school sweetheart. The one that moved to the other side of the country without ever once looking back.

“He was an idiot,” you answer, and Jungkook laughs. “No, seriously. He dated the same girl all through high school. Was convinced he was going to marry her.”

“That sounds on brand with Tae,” Jungkook says, nodding his head wisely. “He said that about every girl he’s dated in college, but most of them don’t last more than a few weeks.”

You wince. “Remember Hailey from last semester?”

She lasted about three weeks, but she spent most of those at the apartment. It was the only three weeks where Jungkook and you had talked more than just small talk – or his usual teasing. Mostly because you kept complaining about her, and Jungkook kept saying you were cute when you were mad.

Come to think of it, it still was teasing.

“Fuck, her voice,” Jungkook lets out, shaking his head. “I’m sure she was faking having such a high voice. I don’t know how Taehyung could deal with that.”

It’s your turn to laugh, and Jungkook smiles as he watches you. “I swear to God, I was about to kick Tae out of the apartment,” you say. “I’m glad she didn’t last.”

“Agreed.”

There’s another silence as the song switches on Jungkook’s speaker. You take a sip of wine, appreciating the taste, and Jungkook gets up to check the food on the stove. He comes back a moment later, sitting back next to you.

You think he’s closer. He feels closer, and the smell of his cologne fills your nose again. 

“You put on some cologne,” you state, and it startles you somehow. You weren’t expecting to say that and, clearly, Jungkook wasn’t expecting it either.

“Yeah.” He looks down at himself as if the cologne is visible on him. “Do you like it?”

You gulp. “Yeah, you smell good.”

He smirks, nodding his head. “You too, peach. I love the vanilla scent.”

You don’t know what to do with the compliment. You mutter a thank you before taking a large sip of wine, and Jungkook chuckles before following your lead.

“Do you think Tae and that girl in France will last?” you ask. “He still hasn’t told me who she is.”

Indeed, he’s remained evasive whenever you’ve asked. You stalked the people that are with him on the semester abroad, and you think two of the girls could be your brother’s type, but it’s hard to tell.

“Oh,” Jungkook lets out. He grabs his phone, resting his forearms on the table as he opens it. He goes on Instagram, and as it loads, he glances at you. “He’s told me. Let me show you.”

“What!” you exclaim. “How come he told you and not me?”

Jungkook chuckles. “No idea. But here.”

He shows you the girl’s profile, and you take his phone as you scroll through the pictures. To your surprise, she’s not one of the two girls you stalked. She looks shy, barely showing her face in her pictures, most of them being of nature anyway. Come to think of it, you do get a romantic vibe from her feed, and you reckon that would work well with Taehyung. 

You’re about to give Jungkook his phone back when it vibrates in your hand, a notification appearing at the top. 

[6:05 pm] Shelly 💦🍒: are u gonna be here soon?

It’s not your fault that you read it, and your gaze widens as you look up from the device. Jungkook hasn’t noticed, and he smiles at you, seemingly expectant.

“So?” he asks.

“You had a date tonight?”

His mouth falls open. He looks guilty, eyes widening and taking a sheepish expression. He remains silent, and you can almost see the cogs turning in his head as he thinks of what to answer.

You don’t know how to feel. You feel bad for the girl – Shelly – who’s clearly waiting for Jungkook somewhere. You feel bad that he chose to stay with you because you were upset, but mostly you feel strange that he’s doing all of this for you when there’s someone waiting for him. 

The emojis next to her name are enough of an explanation of what she is to Jungkook. Still, you feel increasingly uncomfortable, even more so as he says nothing.

“What the fuck, JK?”

“She’s no one,” he says when you get up. “Trust me, I’ve only hung out with her a couple of times.”

You laugh, and it’s somehow void of joy. “Why would I care?”

He looks at the glasses of wine, and then at the food on the stove. “I don’t know… because we’re…” He motions between you, and then at said glasses of wine and food. “I just forgot to tell her I wasn’t going to come over.”

It’s enough of a reminder that Jungkook, for all his current kindness, is a renowned college fuckboy. It reminds you of all the times you’ve heard him fuck – was Shelly one of the girls? You feel disgusted, and you walk out of the kitchen, not wanting to look at Jungkook right now.

“Peach,” he says as he follows you out in the darkness of the living room.

The living room is also strangely cold, and you shiver as you turn towards him. “What?”

“I’m sorry,” he apologizes. “But why are you even reacting like this?”

You scoff. “I don’t know, Jungkook, you tell me.”

You can’t see his expression. But when he takes a step closer to you, you feel the heat of his body radiating in the space between you.

“Are you jealous?” he asks, and you hear the smirk in his voice.

“No,” you say, and you scoff again. “I’m weirded out.”

“Because I was going to fuck someone tonight?” It’s his turn to scoff when you remain silent. “Weren’t you going to fuck that dude? Hoseok?”

You don’t know how he remembers Hoseok’s name, but he’s got a point. You wet your lips, tongue poking your cheek next. “Right.”

“Come on, peach, just come back in the kitchen,” he says. He grabs your hand, and your breath gets caught in your throat as he escorts you back to the chair where you were sitting. You begrudgingly follow, and when you’re seated he towers over you.

You tilt your head back. “What?”

He flicks your nose, and you dodge a second too late. “You’re cute when you’re jealous.”

“Fuck off,” you grumble. “I wasn’t jealous I was just weirded out.”

He smiles at you wickedly. “Of course, peach. Of course.”

He sounds so cocky you want to hate him, but all you can do is glare at the table. He pushes your wine glass towards you as he sits back next to you and you wordlessly take it to chug it.

“Now that that’s done,” he says once you’ve put it back on the table, “what do you think of Tae’s girl?”

You had all but forgotten why you were holding Jungkook’s phone in the first place. You recall her Instagram to the forefront of your mind, pursing your lips. 

“She looks chill,” you answer.

Jungkook pouts. “Just that?”

You shrug. “What else am I supposed to say?”

“Well,” Jungkook starts. “For one I can’t believe she’s Tae’s type. She looks nothing like the girls he dated here. Like just think about Hailey?”

You just nod, because in truth you fully agree with him. 

“Her Instagram is a vibe though,” Jungkook continues. “Tae is big on vibes so… maybe it works?”

You nod once more, tilting your head to the side as you really think about it. Because frankly you’d like for Taehyung to find someone that lasts. As much as you know he’s been having fun in college, you know his happiness usually lies in a healthy relationship like the one he had with his ex. 

“Hopefully it does,” you finally say. “Tae deserves it.”

Jungkook looks at you, somber expression on his features as he plays with his piercing. It makes your heart cease in your chest, and you busy yourself with refilling the wine glasses as he remains silent.

“He does,” Jungkook eventually replies. “He actually really does.”

He sounds so serious you throw him a questioning glance. “Yeah?”

He blinks once, as if stepping out of a daze before flashing his infuriating smirk at you again. “Definitely.”

There’s an awkward silence, and you watch as he takes a sip of wine before getting up to check on the food. He deems it ready, and makes two bowls, one for you and one for him. He sets yours in front of you, a proud smile on his lips.

“Smells good,” you compliment him as he sits.

He winks at you. “Wait till you taste.”

You have to resist the urge to roll your eyes, and you take a tentative bite, holding his gaze as he expectantly waits.

“Shit,” you let out, and you fan your mouth with your hand. “Why is it so spicy?”

“Don’t tell me you’re like your brother and can’t stand spicy food,” he complains as you take a long sip of wine.

You put your wine glass back down, wincing as it clinks against the bowl. It fortunately doesn’t break, and you push it away from the dish as you chuckle. “What’s wrong with not liking spicy food?”

He pouts. “You guys are so weak.”

You fake-glare at him. “This shit is so spicy it would wake the dead.”

He snorts, stifling his laugh until you meet his gaze and you burst out laughing at the same time. You think it’s the first time you’ve ever heard him guffaw like this. His laugh is contagious, pretty, and you’re convinced it can have healing effects.

You’re convinced it has healing effects. Indeed, in that instant, you finally really forget about the day, the heaviness it left behind dwindling into nothingness. It’s replaced with happiness, and chatter with Jungkook becomes easier, more natural. 

You realize he smiles a lot. You make him laugh a lot too, and whenever he does you feel your heart flutter in your chest. You don’t like the feeling, know it’s a mistake, but with the wine, all you can do is try to make him laugh some more, and smile whenever he does.

You’re on your first beer after finishing the wine – and the overly spicy food, which Jungkook congratulated you profusely for finishing. You’ve talked about every subject that’s come to your mind so far, none feeling taboo with Jungkook. He eventually tells you about Shelly – she is indeed one of the girls you’ve heard him sleep with – and you laugh as he admits he’s really happy he didn’t have to see her tonight.

You can’t help but snort. “Jeon Jungkook, saying no to sex? I’ve heard everything.”

“Bruh.” He laughs, shaking his head. “Is your opinion of me so low you think sex is the most important thing to me?”

His eyes are gleaming with mischief in the light of his speaker, which will apparently run out of battery soon. You both don’t care, and you’ve lit a candle in case it does die. Its sweet fragrance has been chasing the smell of the food away, and it’s been giving the kitchen a homey vibe, even as it’s growing chilly.

“Is it not?” you tease.

He rolls his eyes, shaking his head at you. “Not at all.”

You throw him a no-bullshit look that makes him frown cutely. 

“How long can you go without having sex?” you ask him, holding in a laugh.

He narrows his doe eyes at you. “At least a few weeks.”

“A few weeks? That’s nothing!”

“Yah,” he bursts, and he laughs as you snort. “Peach, just because I have casual sex doesn’t mean I can’t stop if I want to.”

“Then stop,” you challenge him.

He cocks an eyebrow. “Give me one reason why I should.”

“To prove a point?”

His eyes narrow further, but if you’ve understood one thing about Jeon Jungkook, it’s that he doesn’t step down from a challenge. No, as competitive as he is, you’re pretty sure he’ll do it.

“Peach,” he purrs, and it has something warm form in the pit of your stomach. “Is it really about me proving a point, or is it about you being jealous?”

You choke on the sip of beer you were taking, which only makes him laugh. You think it’s a little condescending, but you know he doesn’t mean it in a bad way. You still punch him in the shoulder for it, unable to resist.

“Why would I be jealous?” you ask. “Hobi fucks me good.”

Jungkook shuts his eyes and his nose scrunches. He shakes his head once before looking at you again. “I didn’t want to know that.”

You smile as if you’ve never done anything wrong in your whole life. “Your loss.”

He laughs at that, gaze dropping to the table. Silence grows between you, but it’s comfortable, not like what silence with Hoseok feels like. With Hoseok you feel the need to speak whenever there’s a lull in the conversation but, right now, you’re content with just sitting back in your chair, sipping on your beer.

To your surprise, Jungkook starts singing over the song, gaze lost in his own glass of beer. His voice settles deep inside of you, resonating in your soul, and you just look at him, awe clouding your mind.

You’re not sure he’s realized he’s singing. Because when he meets your gaze, he lets out a small laugh. “Why are you looking at me like this?”

“You have a beautiful voice,” you whisper.

It’s hard to tell in the dim light, but you’re pretty sure his cheeks have turned pink. “Nah.”

“No, I’m serious,” you insist. “I often hear you hum and… you sing really well.”

His nose scrunches up again. “Stop it.”

“Just take the compliment,” you say, laughing as he plays with his piercing.

You reckon it might be the first time in your life you’ve ever seen Jeon Jungkook shy. Because he clearly is, and he looks away from you, running his hand through his hair. It undoes the hairstyle, and a strand falls on his forehead.

You’ve never felt such a visceral need to brush your hand through someone’s hair before. You manage to resist, busying yourself with holding your beer instead.

“M’kay,” he lets out. “Thanks, peach.”

His voice is soft. Softer than the fur of a puppy, and it makes the warm thing in you grow. You gulp, wetting your lips. You don’t miss the way his eyes glance at your mouth, and he looks conflicted for half a second before he smirks again.

“We should have hung out like this before,” he declares.

“Yeah?” is all you can answer.

You feel yourself leaning in. You haven’t even realized how close you’re sitting to him until you’re leaning in. He does too. He leans forward, tilting his head to the side slightly. He looks surprised, even more so when one of your hands finds the back of his neck, pulling him closer until you’ve erased the distance between you.

You both didn’t close your eyes. And you both look startled from your lips touching, so much so that you let go of him, straightening away from him. He, on the other hand, hasn’t moved, and his gaze goes fully serious before he grabs your arm gently, pulling you closer to him again.

This time, when your mouths meet, you shut your eyes, sighing softly as he kisses you. His piercings press into your lower lip, and as his mouth moves against you, you feel the warm thing inside of you grow so big it bursts. It bursts the same way fireworks do – in an explosion of colours that leaves you waiting for more.

He doesn’t disappoint. He tilts his head to the side, deepening the kiss. His hand on your arm moves up until it rests on your shoulder before he decides better and moves it to the side of your neck. His thumb swipes at your jaw, gently, and it’s his turn to sigh in the kiss.

When his tongue darts out of his mouth, you meet it with your own. For a reason unknown, you expect it to make you both grow horny, but the kiss remains soft, slow like you have all of eternity stretched out in front of you.

Even though it’s languid, even though it’s soft, you grow dizzy, head spinning as you taste the beer in Jungkook’s mouth. As his hand moves to the nape of your neck, pulling you closer. You rest one hand on his chest, right above his heart, and you feel the organ racing under your fingers. It makes you grab a handful of fabric as if that will anchor you in the present.

As if that will make you forget that you’re kissing your brother’s best friend. 

It does, though you reckon it might be the way Jungkook shifts in his chair, moving so that you can straddle him. And he pulls you in, softly, tugging on your arm until you let go of the shirt and drape it over his shoulder. You sit on him, legs on each side of him, your toes barely even touching the floor. Still, your mouths move in unison, his lips petal soft against yours. 

Your other arm circles his neck too, until you’re holding him against you. His large hands land on your waist, gently, and his thumbs stroke you, barely even grazing you over the thick fabric of your wool turtleneck.

You don’t know how long you kiss. It just seems like you both don’t want to stop, like you both know the moment you stop will be a wake-up call, one you’d rather avoid while you get stuck in this bubble of eternity with him. The fireworks keep on shining bright, warm summer sun blooming in your heart as if this, this was always meant to be.

Oxygen is futile when you’re kissing Jeon Jungkook. Not needed, as if he breathes air into your lungs. You think he does, and you sigh once more as your hands get lost in the hair on the back of his head.

The next swipe of his tongue is sharper, carries more intent, and you both startle, finally parting from each other. Though you remain a hairsbreadth away, longing for his lips the moment your mouths aren’t connected anymore.

Immobile, you breathe in shakily, and you hear him do it too. He’s still stroking you, gently, and he wraps his arms around your waist to pull you in. You rest your head on his shoulder, breathing in the clean laundry smell of his shirt, along with the scent of his cologne as you turn your face towards his neck.

The moment stretches some more, as you listen to the music. His grip around you loosens as you press a soft kiss on the mole you’ve discovered on his neck. He pushes you back, gently, until your back is against the table. Your gazes meet then, and you wonder if his eyes always shine like this. Do they always hold the light of the universe in them, or did you set fire to his gaze?

He gulps and his mouth falls open. His pupils fill with something you can’t quite put your finger on, yet it has clouds taking over the summer sun in your heart until the beating organ goes cold.

“Now you’ve had a fake Valentine’s Day kiss,” he murmurs, and the fireworks burst into a void that tastes like ash as you interpret his gaze.

He’s regretting this. It takes over all of his features, turning his big doe eyes into hearths of remorse. It finishes dousing the sun in your heart until the star goes to sleep, and all that’s left is the echoes of what once was.

“Fake?” is all you manage to let out.

He shuts his eyes, eyelids fluttering close softly. He looks like an angel repenting as he rests his forehead against yours, forcing your own eyes shut from the proximity.

“We shouldn’t be doing this,” he reminds you, reality sinking into his words. 

You nod against him before pulling away. You try to get up, but his hands on your waist hold you in place.

“Let me go,” you whisper. 

He does so, albeit reluctantly, arms falling to his sides in a defeated manner. You try to not let yourself think about it too much, try to forget what just happened as you stand up, moving away from him.

Without his body heat you shiver, and you hate yourself for the next words you say.

“We should share a room tonight. It’s going to be cold.”

His eyes shoot open as he turns his head towards you, surprise replacing the reality. As if he thought he ruined everything, and you think maybe he did. Maybe he did ruin everything, but you don’t even want to be thinking about it right now. You just want to go to sleep, to let the night pass.

Maybe the insanity will go with it.

“Are you sure?” he asks.

You shrug your shoulders. “You know, Taehyung doesn’t have to know everything.”

Jungkook slowly gets up, facing you. You gulp as he pushes a strand of hair behind your ear, hand going to your chin again. He leans in, forcing you to tilt your head back until his lips find yours again.

It lasts a fraction of a second, yet it leaves you scrambling for breath as he takes a step back. He nods as you meet his gaze, an eyebrow cocked in question.

“We can sleep in your room,” he says. “It’s smaller, it’s going to be easier to keep it warm.”

Right as he finishes his sentence the battery of his speaker dies, and silence surrounds you as the northern lights go to sleep. The light flickers in time with the flame of the candle, and you glance at it.

“Sounds good,” you agree, and you wet your lips as you look at him again. His big doe eyes still shine even with just the candlelight, and you wish the world was different. Wish that he wasn’t Tae’s friend, that you could just grab him and have him kiss you stupid again. But he’s right. You shouldn’t be doing this.

Sharing a bed is only practical. Only because it’s cold, and you have to survive the night. A voice at the very back of your mind tells you that you could head over to the dorms, but you don’t want to.

You want to remain here, in this instant outside of the linear timeline of your life.

“Maybe you should get your bed covers?” you suggest. “So we don’t get cold.”

He smiles, so far from his usual smirk and grin that you feel a pang in your chest. “Yeah. Yes, that’s a good idea.”

All of five minutes later, he meets you in your room. You’ve changed into your previous outfit, and he’s swiped his dress shirt for an oversized white Nike t-shirt. He’s holding his bed cover to his chest, just a white bundle that he offers you as if he’s trying to make peace with you. You motion to your bed, and he nods before walking over to it.

You shut the door behind him, turning to look at him as he debates for a few seconds where to sleep in your bed. He starts by putting his bed cover over yours and then chooses to sit at the foot of the bed, on the side that’s against the wall.

He then turns to meet your gaze, his profile cast in the flickering light of the candle from the kitchen and the few others you’ve lit while waiting for him.

“I think this is the first time I’ve been in this room since Jimin moved out,” he tells you, and his lips stretch into that same soft smile.

You glance around, pursing your lips. “Hope it doesn’t disappoint.”

“It doesn’t,” he reassures you as he imitates your action, observing your room. “It feels like you.”

Not knowing what’s that supposed to mean, you cock an eyebrow. “Does it?”

“Yeah.”

He doesn’t explain further, and you shrug it off as you move closer to your bed to sit on the edge. The moment you’re in his vicinity your heart picks up in your chest. It’s hard to believe that Jeon Jungkook is in your bed right now, and you have to remind yourself that it’s purely because it currently is freezing in your apartment. 

“Should we…” you trail off, motioning at the bed.

He chuckles, a sweet sound that forces you to gaze at him, eyes widening as your heartbeat picks up even more. “You want me in your bed so bad, do you?”

You short-circuit, flushing fully red as you struggle to find something witty to reply with. Falling short on words, you end up shrugging your shoulders as you move under the covers, hoping he won’t tease you further. 

You highly doubt you’d survive him teasing you more.

To your relief, Jungkook ends up chuckling again, but he remains silent as he slides in next to you, keeping a safe distance between the two of you. You lie on your back, while he turns to face you, and you feel the weight of his gaze on your profile.

It makes you turn to look at him, and he offers you the same kind smile.

“Shouldn’t we blow the candles out?” he asks, and his gaze darts to where you’ve left the candles on your desk and night table. “Just to make sure we don’t burn the building down.”

“You want to go to sleep right away?”

You hate yourself for saying that. Indeed, a smirk grows on his lips and he jumps on the occasion to say, “You want to do something else?”

Something grows hot inside of you, and it’s not that same summer sun he ignited in you earlier. You wet your lips, burning from the inside out as you remind him, “We shouldn’t.”

He chuckles again. “Didn’t you say he doesn’t need to know?”

You meet his gaze, find the mischief behind his big doe eyes and roll yours. “You’re annoying.”

Right on cue you shiver. It takes you by surprise, because you feel your insides burning, yet the temperature in your room is low, winning against the warmth.

“Are you cold?” he asks, no traces of mischief left in his eyes. Only concern can be found in his pupils, and you want to hate him for it.

“A little,” you admit. “The covers are just cold.”

They actually are, as your bodies have yet to warm them. To your surprise, Jungkook sidles closer to you. 

“I can hold you, if you want. I’m always too hot.”

You burn a thousand shades of red as you wet your lips. “You don’t have to.”

“Come on, peach, I won’t let you freeze while I’m right here.”

Yet he doesn’t do anything, waits until you’ve nodded your head to slide even closer, and he loosely wraps his arm around your waist. His warm breath fans the side of your face, and you do your best to ignore it.

“Better?” he asks, voice low as he whispers in your ear.

You shut your eyes as electricity courses through your whole body. “Yeah.”

“Good.”

Your brain zeroes in on the weight of his arm on you, and when his fingers start tracing random figures on your waist, you let out a small yelp.

“That tickles,” you tell him.

He does it again, and you try to push him away. Only, Jungkook is far stronger than you, and all you manage to do is end up with your back against him as he holds you firmly to him.

“Stop,” you beg, a little breathlessly.

“It’s warming you up, is it not?”

You roll your eyes, though you reckon it is. You don’t feel nearly as cold anymore, and you can feel the heat growing in you again. As an attempt to get away from him, you shuffle, and it earns you a breathless chuckle from him.

Just to make sure you didn’t imagine the whole thing, you move your hips again. Something twitches in his sweatpants and your mouth falls open.

“You’re…”

“Consequences of the position,” he’s quick to say. “Don’t worry about it.”

You don’t know how you possibly can not worry about it. It’s all your brain can focus on as you shift again, and this time he hisses.

“Maybe you should not do that.” His voice is low, husky, and it sends shivers all over your body. 

You bite your lips. “Why?”

He pulls you back in, flush against his chest. His lips ghost on the side of your neck, and you think you’ve been struck with lightning. “Because we can’t do anything about it.”

“Right.”

He rests his head on the pillow behind you again, sighing deeply. His hand holds you against him, forcing you to feel every inch of his hard body pressing into you.

Of his hard dick too, where it pushes into your ass.

“Maybe we should go to sleep,” you say, eyes fluttering shut.

He nods. “We should.”

“I need to blow out the candles.”

His arm loosens around you before he fully lets you go. You prop yourself on an elbow, leaning towards the night table. You blow out the candle you’ve left there, and before you can move you feel Jungkook’s palm resting on your hip.

“Shit, peach,” he whispers.

You look behind yourself. Your position is explicit, as if you’re angling yourself to fuck yourself on him better. It makes you move your hips, and you see the moment something snaps inside of him.

“Why don’t you lie down next to me before we blow the rest of the candles out?”

There’s something stern, authoritative in his voice, and you immediately obey him. 

“On your back,” he adds.

You exhale shakily as you turn, not daring to disobey. His hand lands flat on your stomach, and he starts drawing circles around your navel. You inhale sharply as he nudges your cheek with his nose.

“You look stressed.”

“What are you doing?”

You hear the smirk in his voice when he says, “Helping you fall asleep?”

“Jungkook…”

“Peach.”

You fall silent as he keeps tracing circles. He sighs next to you, almost longingly and he rests his forehead against your temple. His lips are so close you think you feel their softness on your cheek.

“You’re driving me crazy,” he whispers. His fingers still on you, under your navel. Some inch or so over the band of your sweatpants and he pushes your shirt up before resuming his actions directly on your skin.

“We really shouldn’t…” you trail off.

“Are you going to be able to sleep?” he asks.

It’s rhetorical – he knows just as well as you that you won’t. “No.”

“It could help you sleep.”

You don’t want to know what the ‘it’ refers to. “Yeah?”

He wets his lips, or maybe he plays with his piercing. But from the proximity, you feel his tongue and you think you’re going to die right then and there.

“Doesn’t it help you sleep when you touch yourself?”

You’re soaking your panties. You’re burning up, caught on fire by every strike of lightning that Jungkook’s words ignite in you.

“Does it help you?” you counter-back, remembering when you heard him watching porn two weeks ago.

“It does. Always sleep soundly after.”

You slowly nod, gulping as his lips close on your jaw, and he sucks gently. 

He’s danger in human form. And he knows what he’s doing, he knows how to weave words to cause your undoing. You think he’s already started weeks ago, the night of the Incident. 

Taehyung is miles away from your thoughts when you say, “You want to touch me?”

He smirks against you, licks at the spot he just sucked on. “Why don’t you show me how you touch yourself?”

He moves his hand away from your stomach, and you moan softly when he parts your thighs open, resting his palm on the one closest to him as he presses it against his hard dick.

“Shit, Jungkook.”

“I know.”

You hate him. You hate him so much you slide your hand between your legs, pressing a circle on your clit.

“Good girl.”

You moan again, yet you stop your ministrations on yourself. “I want to watch you touch yourself too.”

He grunts, grinds his dick in the side of your thigh once more. “You want to see me come?”

“Want you to finger me with your cum.”

You’ve gone insane. You think there’s an asylum out there for you, yet Jungkook only chuckles manly against your jaw. “Peach, I won’t touch you tonight.” You whine, and he sucks on your jaw again. “You can do it yourself.”

He’s mad. So are you, and you untie the knot of your sweatpants so you can slide your hand in. You moan softly as you find your clit, and you dip two fingers inside of yourself before moving back to the bundle of nerves.

“Jerk yourself off,” you tell him. You try to sound commanding, dominant, but your voice is whiny. It earns you a smirk from him as he turns on his back. He takes off his pants and underwear, clearly not as shy as you. You can’t see his dick when you look down as he’s still under the covers, and you gulp as you imagine it.

Feeling bold, you push the covers off, needing to see him. And the sight doesn’t disappoint. His dick is large. Not excessively long, but the girth makes you understand why he’s got girls screaming whenever he fucks them. His tip is glistening with precum, and he runs his thumb on the slit before spreading the precum on his shaft. Large veins run along the length, from base to top, and you’re struck thinking he’s got the prettiest cock you’ve seen in your life.

“Like what you see?” he teases as he strokes his dick once, slowly but with a firm grip.

“Do you want to see me too?”

You really are bold. Far bolder than you’ve ever been with anyone before. Maybe because all of tonight Jungkook has put you at ease, and you think there’s nothing embarrassing about finally living out your fantasy. Especially not when he’s so pliable to it, willing to follow you into the land of insanity.

Scratch that – he’s the one leading to madness.

“It’s only fair if I see you too, no?” he teases with a smirk on his lips as he looks at you with his dark, intense gaze.

“Yeah.”

It’s all you say before you shimmy out of your pants. You don’t miss the way his eyes go to your hip, where you have a large dragon tattoo. He curses under his breath. “Didn’t know you were tatted.”

“Got it last semester,” you answer with a shaky voice.

He smirks up at you. “Hot.”

You gulp, unable to hold his gaze for longer than a few seconds. Shier than him, you keep the panties on. To your surprise, he sits up, runs his hand on the inside of your thigh before he lies down on the other side so he has a view of between your legs. His feet are next to your head, and you angle yourself away from them so that they aren’t in your face anymore.

“Touch yourself, peach.”

You nod, and you draw circles on your clit through the fabric of your underwear. It’s a plain black thong, yet you feel immensely sexy when Jungkook’s doe eyes narrow dangerously as he watches you touching yourself, stroking his dick lazily.

You watch how he touches himself, heart beating out of your chest. You’re on fire, a wildfire raging through you, and you moan softly as you press harder into you.

“Why don’t you touch yourself under your panties, mmh?” he asks, gaze sliding up to meet yours before he goes back between your legs. “Won’t it feel better?”

You can’t resist him. You push your panties to the side, holding them with one hand as you go back to your clit. Your thighs instinctively want to close together, but he holds them open.

“Put your fingers in.”

You do. You push two digits in, arching them as you rub at the sweet spot inside of you. He watches, licking his lips as he increases the pace on his dick. You moan right as he grunts, the sound making shivers course up and down your spine.

“Why don’t you use your vibrator instead?”

You entirely stop moving, digits deep inside of you. “Huh?”

“I’ve heard you use a vibrator,” he explains. “I want to see you bury it in your tight little pussy.”

Your walls clench around your fingers at his crude words, and it doesn’t take any more for you to roll towards your night table so you can grab said vibrator. When you’re settled back in your previous position, you click it on, and the soft buzzing fills your room.

“Wait,” Jungkook says, stopping you before you’ve pushed your panties aside again. “Take this off.”

He pinches the fabric on your hip, over the tattoo, and all you can do is nod once before you do. He licks his lips, looking at you appreciatively through half-lidded eyes. He looks between your legs, where you just know he can see your juices glistening. Before he says anything else, you put the vibrator on your clit, legs twitching as harsh pleasure courses through you.

To your surprise, he moans, a low sound that has your pussy clench hard. Of course he sees, and he’s quick to say, “Put it in, peach.”

You obey, and you let out a breathy sound as you immediately rub your clit with your other hand. The next few minutes are a world of bliss, of pleasure and of Jungkook’s praises and grunts, entwined with your moans. You think your room is burning hot, or maybe it’s just his eyes on you. His balls are tight as he jerks off harder, faster, eyes never once moving away from the spot between your legs, where your vibrator makes squelching sounds as you push it in and out of you.

“You’re doing so well,” Jungkook tells you after you’ve moaned loudly. 

You’re nearing your high, but for some reason, you haven’t been able to hit it yet. His words bring you closer, yet it remains just barely out of touch.

“So fucking well,” he adds, breathlessly, and you notice he’s gripping his dick harder, moving so fast you barely can see his hand, except when it slows on his head with a flick of his wrist. He moans, grunts loudly. “You’re so hot, I’m going to come.”

“Fuck,” you curse as you watch him push his shirt up, and you catch sight of his defined muscles. They contract as he jerks himself off, and you think you’re drooling.

Maybe because you’re so close to hitting an orgasm that you can’t do anything other than drool.

He glances at your face once. You meet his gaze, blood boiling as you see his eyebrows almost touching over his eyes, his mouth slightly agape as he breathes loudly. His eyelids flutter close as his eyebrows bunch up over his eyes even more, and then he moans out something that sounds like your name.

Not ‘peach’. Your full name. It makes your eyes water as you observe him, as you watch how he looks in pain. And then he curses, and your eyes fall to his dick to see white spurts of cum coming out, covering the tattoos on the back of his hand as he keeps moving, never once faltering.

Your walls clench tightly around your vibrator. You think you’re about to come, but the orgasm doesn’t want to hit, evading you frustratingly. Your motions grow inconsistent, the push and the pull of the vibrator clearly not enough for you.

As Jungkook comes down from his high, he surveys you once more, features blissed out from coming. He watches you struggle as his hand stops at the base of his dick.

“Look at the mess I made because of you,” he says, and you moan. He tilts his head to the side, pulls at his piercing, and then stops you. Puts his hand over yours between your legs as the vibrator rests deep inside of you. “Do you need help?”

You feel some of his cum as it spills from his hand to yours. You keep rubbing on your clit, meeting his gaze as he awaits your answer. “Yes.”

He smirks, and you let him grab your vibrator. He pulls it out of you, watches your juice on it with a hungry look on his features before he hands it to you again. “Put this on your clit.”

You obey, and you sigh in pleasure as he covers two of his fingers with his cum, even picking some up where it fell on his abdomen, decorating his defined abs. You know exactly what he’s going to do before he does, and it makes you curse.

He meets your gaze. “Are you on the pill?”

“IUD.”

He smirks. “Good girl.”

And then he pushes his cum-covered fingers inside of you, arching them to expertly play with your g-spot. You cry out, throwing your head back in pleasure. He fucks you with his digits for a while, and you press your vibrator hard on your clit, as if it’s going to make you come faster.

All it does is make you close your thighs on his wrist. He pulls his fingers out, forces you to spread your legs wide open again, and then circles your entrance with one finger.

“It’s so hot, to watch my cum dripping out of you.”

His digits are in again before you can reply, and he fucks you so well, you crash right into your orgasm, walls spasming around his fingers. You moan, loudly so, and tears prick at your eyes as the waves of your orgasm drown everything in you, making you shake with pleasure.

You ride the high for a long time. Longer than you’ve ever had before, and Jungkook whispers filthy praises to you all through it, until you cringe with oversensitivity and turn off the vibrator. You put it down next to you, and Jungkook pushes in and out twice more before he pulls his fingers out of you.

You remain silent for a while, both of you regaining your breath. Once you stop feeling like you’re seconds away from passing out, you prop yourself on your elbows, watching him. He’s still looking between your legs, and you instinctively close them.

His eyes shoot to your face, and he smirks. “You have no idea how hot you are with my cum dripping out of you, peach.”

You bite your lip, so hard you think you taste blood. “Shit.”

“I know.”

“What did we do?”

He shrugs, sucking on his piercing. “We made sure we’ll sleep well, that’s all.”

You sigh, nodding once before you lie back down on the bed. “Shit,” you repeat.

This time he laughs. It’s a soft sound, something that makes your heart squeeze in your chest. For some reason, it reminds you of the kiss in the kitchen, and butterflies flutter in your stomach.

Even more so as he says, “Let me go get something to clean you up with.”

He pulls his boxers up and then gets up. You miss the way he winces as his feet hit the cold floor, and he’s back with a washcloth before you’ve had time to realize he was gone.

“I’m sorry, there was no hot water left.”

“Oh,” you let out.

He chuckles as he sits next to you. “Do you want to do it or…?”

You nod, and you grab the washcloth out of his hands before cleaning yourself up. It really is cold, and you wince, one eye shutting as you make sure you’re clean before handing it back to him.

“What do you want me to do with this?” he asks, a teasing tone in his voice.

“I don’t know?” 

He laughs, still grabbing it before throwing it in your hamper. “Did you want to pee before going to bed?”

You nod again. “I should.”

“Are you okay to get there?”

You roll your eyes, finally finding some of your usual defiance. “You didn’t fuck me, Jungkook, I can still use my legs.”

“Right,” he lets out before chuckling. “I’ll wait for you here then.”

The trip to the bathroom is the worst you’ve ever experienced, with how cold it is in the rest of the apartment. You’re pleased that your room is warm when you come back, and your heart squeezes in your chest as you see Jungkook lying on his side, looking at you as you enter and shut the door behind you.

He smiles warmly at you. “Better?”

“Why is it so cold?” you complain, which makes him laugh that cute, giggly laugh of his. You immediately look away from him, not wanting him to see the blush on your cheeks.

You blow the rest of the candles out, and in the dark, you make your way to your bed. You slide under the covers, sighing at how warm they are now.

“I’m glad you stayed,” Jungkook says as you settle next to him.

You gulp. “What?”

“You said you were going to go to the dorms,” he reminds you, even though that was an eternity ago. “I’m glad you didn’t.”

“Oh,” you let out. You’re happy it’s dark because your cheeks burn so much you imagine you’ve turned purple. “I’m glad I stayed too.”

He sighs, and you feel the mattress move as he shifts. “Do you want to cuddle?” he asks. “For warmth.”

You snort, and even though you’re in the dark, you nod. 

“Sure.”

A few seconds later, you’re the small spoon again, and he holds you close to him. He sighs once more, and it ends with a yawn that has you laugh softly.

“Tired?” you tease him.

“Yeah.” He chuckles, nuzzling his face in your hair. “I’m going to sleep like a rock.”

So are you. Even if you shouldn’t, even if you and Jungkook probably committed a big mistake tonight, you still know you’re going to sleep soundly.

Especially as his breathing evens out behind you, interrupted by soft snores here and there. It forms a melody that lulls you to the land of dreams, to a land where you can forget that he’s Taehyung’s best friend, and where you can imagine that he’s yours after all. It’s idyllic, unreal, yet your sleeping form clings to it like it’s a lifeline in a storm.

You just know that reality is bound to hit again soon.

Prev | Next

☆☆☆☆☆

Oooooof yep. They really did that hehehe. What did you guys think? Did you like it? Let me know!!

All rights reserved to @/oddinary4bts, 2024. Do not copy, repost or translate.

#chasing cars ch 3 #jungkook smut #jungkook angst #jungkook fluff #jungkook x you #jungkook x reader #jungkook fic #jungkook #jjk smut #jjk angst #jjk fluff #jjk x you #jjk x reader #jjk fic #jjk #jeon jungkook #btswritersclub #chasing cars #chasing cars series

[healcunt]

i have a fantasy where i meet a girl when i start classes this fall. i sit next to her because she’s pretty and seems quiet, and we start talking. slowly at first, but after a few weeks she invites me to hang out at her apartment.

we start off doing some homework with some dumb show on in the background, but after a couple hours she asks me if i want to smoke. it’s been a little while since i’ve gotten high so i know my tolerance is going to be shit, but i want her to like me so i agree. she pulls out a bong, packs a bowl and holds it out to me, not handing me the lighter. i reach out for it but she pulls back. “let me,” she says, “i wanna be a good host.”

i agree, putting my mouth on it and sucking, looking at her as i do. she doesn’t make eye contact, just sparks the lighter and holds it there for longer than i want. when the whole bowl is gone, she pulls out the stem. i inhale, because i don’t want to waste someone else’s weed, and she apologizes as i cough my lungs out. she hands me a bottle of water and i take what feels like hours taking small sips. in reality, it’s probably two minutes, but i’m further gone than i’ve ever been.

“are you, um, going to smoke?” i manage to get out. she cocks her head.

“i already did, i took a hit before you.” i don’t remember that but i don’t want to argue with her.

“oh.” i reply. i lay down on the floor, still listening to whatever she turned on the tv. i turn to her, not sure why, and i see her looking at me with a tent in her skirt. again, i want to be a good guest, so i don’t say anything.

she lays down on the floor with me, and we both kind of stare at each other for a minute before my eyes start unfocusing. i’m not paying attention at all but i notice her hand on my tit when she pinches my nipple. i wince, but she rubs it after and it feels nice. “i’m surprised you told me i could grope you,” she tells me. “you didn’t seem like the type.” i don’t remember telling her that, but she seems like she can handle her weed a lot better than i can.

“i uh,” i pause. “yeah, it feels nice.” i’m starting to get a little bit wet, and i can’t help but rub my legs together.

her hand is on my thigh before i can even say anything. “i can help you, if you want.” her other hand is gently kneading my tit, pinching my nipple lightly every so often.

i can’t really get words out anymore but i spread my legs to give her better access and she runs her hand up to cup my pussy. she rubs lightly on my underwear for a second (wasn’t i wearing shorts underneath my skirt this morning?) before she dips her fingers in. she rubs my clit for a second before she pushes two of her fingers in my cunt. her fingers are longer than mine, and she seems to know what she’s doing better than i ever did. the squelching sounds coming out of me would be embarrassing if i didn’t feel so good.

she has me cumming in a minute, rubbing her thumb on my clit as i squeeze around her fingers. once i’m done, she pulls out, scissoring her fingers for a second to admire the cum she collected on them before she pushes them into my mouth. i’m almost surprised but i suck them without hesitation. she pushes them further into my mouth until i gag, just a little bit, before pulling them out again. without a word, she gently takes my hand and puts it under her skirt, on top of her bulge. she’s throbbing under my hand.

“you’re gonna help me, right?”

i blink at her, slowly, trying to wet my dry eyes. “what do i need to do?”

“just relax and take it.” she rubs her cock in my hand for a second before she pulls my hand off her again. she moves herself so she’s over me now, pulling my underwear off me and spreading my pussy lips with the two fingers that were in me just a minute ago. “are you a virgin?”

i nod, still too high to be embarrassed. she just smiles at me.

it’s too much of a strain to look down, and i find myself staring at her ceiling. i feel the blunt head of her cock push into me, and even though i’m wetter than i’ve ever been, the stretch still burns. she keeps pushing into me at a slow pace, rubbing my nipples with her thumbs as i feel myself clench around her. when she’s finally all the way in me, she stays still a moment. i look back at her, and she’s staring at my stretched out cunt, nearly drooling.

she doesn’t look at my face before she pulls out almost all the way and pushes back in again, faster this time. she does it again and again, going from gently pushing in and rubbing my tits to fucking me as hard as she can with a death grip on my chest. i can’t keep track of how many times i cum but my orgasms bleed into each other as my eyes close. when i’m finally able to open them again, her eyes are narrowed and staring directly at my face.

“you’re gonna let me cum inside you, right?”

“uh -“ i don’t know if it’s the weed or how hard she’s fucking me, but i can barely think. “i um -“

“i helped you with your homework and let you smoke my good weed, it’s the least you could do.”

“uh - uh -“ i’m trying to get words out, i really am, but i can’t say anything. my tongue won’t cooperate.

“fuck…of course you’re gonna let me. you’re enjoying this too much to make me pull out.” she’s pounding into me as fast as she can at this point, one hand has left my tit and is back to massaging circles on my clit. my cunt is clenching around her as she pushes her cock into me as far as it’ll go, kissing my cervix and she finally cums, twitching and pulsing in me. she moans, loudly, and stays in me for another minute.

she pulls out when she’s softening with a loud squelch, and i feel some of her cum dripping out of me. i can barely feel my legs but i can feel her fingers back inside me, collecting some of her cum. she uses one hand to force my mouth open and the other one to fuck her cum into my throat. i swallow it without thinking. she smiles at me, patting my cheek in a way that i would usually think is condescending but makes me clit twitch now, and lays down next to me, breathing heavily.

i don’t know when i fall asleep, but when i wake up, i’m back on her couch, sober. she’s watching something on the tv. “oh,” she looks at me when she notices me awake. “you fell asleep when we were studying. are you sleeping okay at night?”

i feel my cunt drip but i don’t know if it’s her semen or my own arousal.

#idk how to end this sorry #this got SO LONG #intox #trans supremacy #trans superiority

[martinpilled]

Emily engstler hc about an insecure reader

emily engstler x insecure!reader hcs

– warnings : a lil nsfw under the cut

– summary : emily x insecure!reader hcs

a/n : hope you enjoyed this anon <3

⭒ sosososooo reassuring, always telling you how beautiful you are and how much she loves you

⭒ knows the perfect way to make you feel better about yourself (body worship)

⭒ very very protective of you

⭒ your number one fan and always there for you, no matter what

⭒ touchy asf ("you just look so good all the time i dont know how to keep myself away from you")

⭒ she'll come up from behind you and whisper "mine" in your ear A LOTTT, makes you all blushy and she loves that

⭒ you'll catch her staring at you and she'll just say "youre so beautiful" when shes caught

⭒ secretly a lover girl tbh

⭒ catches an attitude with everyone except you

#emily engstler x reader #emily engstler #wbb #kal.fics #washington mystics

[cameronspecial]

Helping rafe to use a fleshlight🫦

Helping Hand

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x Reader

Warnings: SMUT and Sex Toys

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 1.0K

A/N: I didn't research for this and an info video for a fleshlight had me giggling. Like, tell me why it has erectile dysfunction aid.

Masterlist

Rafe wasn’t a prude. He liked to fuck just as much as the next guy; however, before Y/N, he had never used sex toys. His arrogance made him think that only guys who couldn’t get it up would use them. 

She, on the other hand, loves the tools that can help heighten the pleasure for both of them. So she has been working toward getting him to bring the toys into their sex lives. It began with having him watch her use a vibrator. She used it to stimulate her clit, but when it came to penetration, Rafe stopped her and brought her to her release himself. The next step was being able to use a dildo to penetrate herself. It took everything in him not to take it out of her and throw it out the window. As she used the imitation dick, he got turned on by the sight. Maybe, letting her use the toys wasn’t so bad. 

Rafe’s upcoming business trip has her scanning an adult toy website she can use while she is away. Her eyes land on a particular object and it catches her interest. This could be the perfect next step in her plan. 

———

The night before his trip, he is folding clothes to pack. She tip-toes into the room in her purple silk nightgown that he leaves and her hands are behind her back. Déjà vu comes over him. He is familiar with this view. He rests the pants in the suitcase with a sigh, “What am I going to watch you fuck now? Is it one of those full dummy things? Please tell me it’s not that, they freak me out.” She giggles with a shake of her head. Her hair falls over her shoulders as she does. “Nope. Actually… it’s something for you,” she confesses, raising her hands to reveal the toy. His eyes narrow at the object. 

It’s a black cone-shaped object. One end is rounded and the other is flatter with a bump as well as a red scoop-shaped thing attached to it. “What is that?” he questions. She steps forward with a bashful smile, spinning it around so he can clearly see the end with the scoop. “This is a fleshlight. One of the best on the market, Baby.” She hands it over to him so he can inspect it. He identifies the bump as an imposter labia and clit. In between, folds is a hole and looking inside of it shows tiny bumps. He moves on to the red scoop, which also has the same bumpy surface as the inside. “It’s a fleshlight,” she says, wrapping her arms around his neck to place a kiss on his lips to butter him up. His eyes widen and he throws it onto the bed. “No, no way. I’m not using that.” She pouts and plays at the hair at the base of his neck. “Aww, come on. I bought it just for you, with my own money. Are you telling me you aren’t going to use my gift to you, Baby?” she whines. She looks up at him through her eyelashes and bats them in the way she knows gets him to do anything for her. 

His bottom lip nestles between his teeth and he surrenders. “Fine. I’ll try it out.” She jumps up with small claps of her hand, “Yay! I promise you’ll love it. It will make phone sex so much better.” He doesn’t say anything and just strips down. He settles onto the bed with his back against the headboard. His head tilts to the corner of the bed across from him and she hops on. She rests her feet under her bum, spreading her legs so he can see her pantie-less pussy. “I wanna watch you use it.” 

He obeys. His hand grabs the toy and he spits into his hand to help with the friction. After he rubs the saliva over his shaft, he replaces his hand with the toy. The silicone feels strange against him, unlike the warmth and wetness he is used to. It doesn’t feel pleasant, yet it doesn’t feel amazing either. He pumps himself a few times while staring right at her. He quickly gives up and throws the toy to the side. “There I tried it and I don’t like it. So, can you come here to take care of this,” he whines. She plays along, crawling over to him and throwing her legs over his hips. When he reaches down to line himself up, she leans over to his bedside table and pulls something out. She straightens up and shows him the bottle of lube and a remote control. “That’s because I was hiding one final piece of the puzzle.” She pours the liquid on his length, cupping it to spread it all over. Then, she guides the fleshlight onto him. He moans at the re-entry. She reaches between them and places his balls onto the red silicone.

She shifts so she is straddling one of his thighs and presses a button on the remote. It begins to vibrate. The intensity near his balls and tip has him thrusting slowly upward. She smirks at the motion. This is working. His eyes flick to her vagina and she begins to ride his thigh. Her moans add to his enjoyment and he doesn’t bother to hide his anymore. His hips speed up, causing her to giggle. “If you think this is good, wait until you feel what happens when I press this button,” she teases. Her finger hovers over it before applying pressure. The trinket works on its own to suck him into its grasp and the bristles brush against him. “Oh,” he lets out, grabbing onto her waist to give him something to do. She lets him help her move, “See, you like this.” 

The muscles in the Adonis belt spasm and she knows what that means. She presses the button three more times, speeding up the pace of the toy. His thumb falls to her bud and he circles it at the same speed. She collapses onto him with her forehead against his shoulder as they are both brought over the edge. They both pant in silence while they come down from their highs. She leans back to look at him with a grin, “So, what do you think?” 

“I think that maybe it doesn’t hurt to have a helping hand.”

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