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queers-gambit · 8 months

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Curiosity Killed The Cat

prompt: after rescuing you from kidnappers, you overhear your boyfriend-turned-savior complain about how clingy you've become.

pairing: Mafia!Bucky Barnes x female!reader

fandom masterlist: Marvel

word count: 5.1k+

note: author wants things out of her drafts! also don't take this fic too seriously, it's not much at all - just me writing for the fuck of it until i'm ready to focus on my bigger projects.

warnings: modern AU, Mafia AU, obvious cursing, small hurt and comfort, brief depiction of physical violence and self-destruction in the form of: loss of appetite, lack of sleep, other symptoms of depression. NOT edited! author is ashamed because she knows she can give you something better but oh well.

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Your feet planted, jarring you to a halt the moment you heard your name in a conversation you were not apart of.

You heard the hammering of your heart, echoing beats of your blood pumping with harrowing desperation. Hands turned cold and clammy, sweat breaking out on your brow and then freezing, feeling as if your throat had swollen to a new restriction and you were anchored in you in place.

Rooted.

But for now, all you could identify was the paralyzing anxiety that anchored you to your spot and made your heartbeat thunder in your ears. You stood outside the lounge, unable to comprehend relevant thought; still listening to low, docile tones continue their conversation, but you couldn't hear real words.

You were stunned. Panicked, confused, hurt - so very hurt. That seemed to register, too; you were really, really hurt.

This was perhaps why curiosity killed the cat.

You reprimanded yourself for listening in - transporting back to childhood during all the times your parents would scold you for eavesdropping. You knew it was wrong, you knew this was a private conversation meant to be shared between trusting confidants, but you couldn't help it - you heard your name and stopped. It was natural, right? To feel curious regarding a conversation seemingly about you that you, yourself, was not apart of?

Curiosity, indeed.

Blinking rapidly, you remembered the only other time you felt such mounting, pressurized fear, and while it might be dramatic, the only other time you could remember this level of anxiety was from about two months ago...

"Yes, baby, I got the bacon."

"And the jalapeños?"

"Uh-huh, the biggest they had."

"Cream cheese?"

"Do you know who you're talking to?" You laughed into the phone. "I'm a professional housewife by now, you can relax. I got all you needed for your fancy little dinner experiment."

Bucky laughed down the phone, "Oh, please, like I didn't see you salivating when we watched the segment on Top Chef."

"Hush," you laughed, too. "I'm leaving the store now," you told him, pushing out of the heavy glass doors, "and should be home in, like, 10 minutes?"

"Lemme pick you up."

"I have legs to walk with, so, no thank you."

He sighed, "Well, I'll open the wine to let it breathe. Red's still good?"

"Let's do a white tonight, please."

"Good deal," he mused softly. "Hey, I was thinking earlier - "

"Hang on," you pleaded.

"What's wrong?"

"No, nothing. There's just a van slowing down, I don't want to get hit," you chuckled some, looking up and down the street before crossing. "Sorry, so, what were you thinking?"

"We haven't been to Paris in months."

You smirked, "I'm sure our plants in the apartment are dead by now."

Bucky laughed, "Oh, I am, too. But, look, how 'bout it, Peach? You, me, all the croissants we can consume this weekend. I'll take Monday and Tuesday off, we can leave tomorrow night."

"Oh, that sounds nice," you moaned. "Paris in the spring? Baby, that's so dreamy!"

"So, is that a yes?"

"It's a hell yes," you grinned. "Do you know the weather?"

"Supposed to be nice and sunny, not too warm or cold. Figured this would be ideal," he chuckled. "But does the weather matter if we're in bed the whole time?"

"No, we're not wasting our time!" You laughed. "We're gonna go do shit, okay? Stereotypical tourist-couple shit."

"I'll bring the camera."

"And I was hoping we could have dinner at that little place we love?"

"I wouldn't take you anywhere else," he mused.

"I think it's - FUCK!" Bucky froze when he heard the screeching of tires; a van coming up to a skidding halt, flurry of voices all yelling but he heard yours clearly. "No, no, no, hey, hey, what the hell's happening? Hey! What's this - hey, hey! Don't touch me! Ow, shit! No! Hey! Fuck's sake - oh, my God! Ow! Hey!"

"Baby!? Peach! Hey! The fuck's going on!?"

There was a thudding over the phone, and Bucky listened to more struggling - more fidgeting and fighting - and then the slamming of a car door. Still calling your name, Bucky heard a scrape over the line before a different voice answered your phone, "James Barnes. On behalf of HYDRA, you're overdue on your payment and we warned you there would be consequences. Deliver the full amount of 17 million - "

"It's 15," he growled.

"Two million more for the inconvenience of stalking your woman."

"If you even so much as touch her, I swear to God - "

"17 million at midnight, at the pier, or every minute you're late, she'll receive the brunt end of our frustration."

"Don't hurt her - "

"Midnight, Mr. Barnes, at the pier - you know where. Don't be late, she looks like she won't last long."

The line went dead after he heard your screech of pain, confusion, and fear. The moment the line cut, he dropped his phone and slowly lowered himself to sit on the kitchen floor, shock coloring his system. It wasn't that he didn't have the money, quite the opposite - but he and his men had a plan in motion to take out HYDRA, their org's competition, and this was totally against all they anticipated. After a minute to sit in his own worry, Bucky jumped to his feet, grabbed his phone, keys, wallet, and two handguns; holstering them both before shrugging his suit jacket on.

He made every phone call he could, gathering the men he trusted most to (one of) his warehouse(s).

For hours, you were strung up by your wrists in a joint-pulling position while the Brooklyn Mafia formulated a plan of attack. It was the most pain you've ever known, but then the abuse started and you were blinded by this new pain. You had bruises most places, cuts that wept blood; scars that would never heal, wounds that wouldn't ever close. You were delirious, miserable, confused, just dazed and confused; praying to a God who didn't listen.

"Oh, look at that," your captor mocked, holding a thick-bladed hunting knife in hand, "it's one minute til midnight, and I don't see your loverboy anywhere."

You sniffled, unable to respond.

He stared out the lone window, tisking and narrating, "Nope, I see not a soul - and with how protective he is over you, you'd think he'd want to ensure your safety. Not leave it to chance, huh?"

You whimpered as the clock struck midnight, your heart hammering in heavy-hung worry. You had tears in your eyes, heart nearly beating out of your chest, feeling incredibly nauseous. The desire to scream never lessened, just fearing what was to come; the men in the room making you fear for the state of your life, their knuckles cracking. You only begged, "Please. Don't."

The main captor laughed, "You can do better than that! C'mon, give me the satisfaction of tellin' ol' James you begged for mercy - but it wasn't enough to sway me. I'll lie, for sure, and say it happened but it will be so much sweeter if you actually do it."

"Please," you shook your head, avoiding eye contact. "Just don't do this, please."

"Oh, honey," he mocked, "it's not our fault he's late. Lads! Have at her, but leave her face for now - she's still real pretty."

You listened as he gave commands in Russian, understanding after the years at Bucky's side; whimpering when the first blow landed to your gut and knocked the wind out of you. The minutes drug by and you felt your resolve crumbling, heart still hammering to a never-before-felt speed that made it feel as if it were jumping out of your very body at every single pulse point. You struggled in your restraints, but it was futile by how tight you were bound; unable to protect yourself.

At 12:03 am, the doors blew open in a resounding blast; concrete crumbling and sprinkling the floor. You cried out as the smoke choked you, coughing through the haze; only barely able to make out certain figures to know Bucky had brought his best men. However, despite the sting to your eyes from the swirling dust and smoke, you saw a lone man stalk through the blasted wall, through the fray, and straight up to you.

"Bu-Bucky!" You choked in relief as he reached to untie your feet first. You dangled for only a moment as his metal prosthetic ripped off whatever held your wrists to the torture contraption. "Oh, my God. Oh, my God, Bucky, holy shit, baby, please, please, please," you rambled as he freed you and instantly caught you on his broad shoulders.

"I got you, Peach, I'm here, I've got you," he promised in your ear, hoisting your legs around his waist so they latched and then wrapping his arms around you securely. "Don't let go and don't look up, okay? Hear me, Peach?"

You nodded into his neck, only able to cry.

Bucky jolted and jerked slightly as he moved through the fight again, but not a minute later, you were stepping outside into the sobering, brisk spring air. This was the moment you understood how dangerous and fleeting life with Bucky could be, making a promise to yourself that if he says take the car, you'll take the fucking car.

And now, here you were, outside the high-rise apartment's lounge (which was just a converted bedroom), listening to your boyfriend complain about you some 2 months after the whole fiasco. HYDRA had been all but wiped out, and in the weeks since, Bucky's men had gone on smaller missions to eradicate the HYDRA members they heard rumor of being local. Yet you didn't feel safe, yet.

You didn't feel safe if you weren't around Bucky.

Everything made you jump: the beep of the done-dryer, that spritz of the automatic fragrance mister in the bathroom, the "duh-dunnn" of a loaded-up Netflix. Keys jingling, car horns, the barking of the dog in the apartment a floor below you... Everything.

Being around Bucky was just like holding a safety blanket. He would always protect you, and for about a week after your rescue, he laid in bed and around the home with you; being lazy; time off work to simply hold you and assure you were safe. Safe in his arms. Safe in his embrace, his presence.

So now... To hear this... You were devastated.

You didn't mean to eavesdrop, it just sort of happened. It was still earlier in the morning, but Bucky hadn't been in bed beside you and based on the feel of the sheets, his body hadn't been there in a while. So, you made some coffee and then ventured around the home in search of your lover; coming upon the lounge and hearing voices from within.

You knew it was common for Steve Rogers and / or Sam Wilson to stay late or visit early, so, you weren't shocked by that, but did falter in announcing yourself when you heard Sam ask how you were doing since the kidnapping. He used your name specifically, making Bucky sigh, and for your curiosity to peak.

"She's different, man."

"How so?" Sam wondered.

"She doesn't like being without me now," he chuckled without humor. "I'm serious, she won't go to the gym until I do, waits to have meals together, won't leave the house if I'm out, and," he scoffed to himself, "you can forget going to the grocery store or anything - she's even stopped going to work - "

"You told her to stop working, like, two years ago when y'all first moved-in together," Sam deadpanned.

"I know," Bucky shrugged, "but it feels tenfold now that she's so reclusive."

"It's normal," Steve sighed gently.

"Yeah? Is it normal that I can't even go take a shit without promising her I'll be right back?" Bucky snapped in exasperation. "It's that bad, she's that fucking clingy, man. I go in the kitchen to make dinner, she's in there 30 seconds later to 'help' me. I take a shower, she finds a reason to linger in the bedroom, but that was better than before, when she wouldn't even shower by herself. It's just a lot, she's everywhere I look. I'm starting to find new reasons not to come home, man, she's always fucking here - and when I walk in the door, she's on me. I need to fucking breathe, but I can't tell her to stop, she'll get her feelings hurt and then I'm the bad guy."

"Man," Steve laughed, "you can't be the bad guy if you go to her in a calm and collected manner, but it's only been two months. She's still recovering."

"Exactly why if I say anything, no matter how calm and collected, I'm the bad guy. I get she's hurting and tryna recover, but Goddamn, does she have to be in every room I'm in? Do everything with me? How do I tell my traumatized girlfriend to back off? Let me breathe?"

Sam laughed, "You don't! You just said it - she's traumatized! Cut the girl some slack, she's got a lot to fuckin' deal with!"

"I'm not negating from that fact," Bucky argued, "I'm just trying to say, the way she's clinging onto me like she can't function without me is just grating at my nerves. I just need to breathe and recharge, but I can't tell her that - fuck's sake."

"Buck," Steve smirked, "you're worried Peach isn't gonna listen, but that's her literal superpower. Just communicate, she can't read your mind, but you need to remember how traumatic all of that was for her to experience - she's scarred from that kidnapping, man. So, sure, you need to recharge, but she needs the support."

"Is it wrong to ask for a day here and there to do that? To recharge?" Bucky asked quietly.

"If you communicate, it's perfectly reasonable to ask for," Sam assured softly. "And whatever you do, don't tell her you think she's clingy. Chicks hate that, that word is, just, like, taboo or something. Real heavy, negative connotations."

"But she is," Bucky growled quietly, "'s like she's afraid to let go 'cause I'll disappear or something."

"Oh, noooo," Sam mocked, "I'm Bucky and my girlfriend loves me too much and trusts me too much and actually feels safe and dependent on me too much - ohhh noooo!"

There was a thump, Sam's cried, "Ow!", and Bucky telling him to shut up. You slowly backed away from the door, trying to settle your breathing as you made your escape down the hall. When back in the kitchen, you whimpered and let the first tears fall... The first of many you shed in the hour it took you to prepare breakfast for everyone; doing your best to eat as you cooked so you didn't have to linger around the men. You took Bucky's words to heart, and maybe you were too sensitive, maybe you should venture outside again.

So, when the lads came out, you set the table without making eye contact with any of them. "Here," you directed, setting the pancakes down, "I made breakfast, come eat, it's still hot."

"Wow," Sam smiled brightly, "thanks, Peach!"

You hummed, still avoiding their eyes as you just set the abundance of food to the table. "You... Cooked without me?" Bucky asked you with skepticism.

"Mhm," you hummed, setting the coffee pot down to a hot pad, "and I'm going out shopping with Nat, so, eat up, lads, I'll do the dishes when I get home. Love you, boys, bye," you waved them off, snatching your keys and then moving to the door to stuff your feet into your sneakers.

"Woah, woah, woah," Bucky left the table, approaching you urgently, "hey, what do you mean? You're goin' out?"

"Yep, figured I've stayed in too long, might as well get out and remember life doesn't stop just 'cause I'm sad."

"Peach - "

"I'll see you when I get home, Buck, okay?" You mumbled, slinging your purse on your shoulder.

"Well, here, here, hey, wait, hang on," he pulled his wallet out, handing you over a wad of big bills. "Spend it all, okay? Have fun, call or text if you need me, yeah?"

"Sure."

Bucky leaned in to kiss you but you just opened the door, ready to leave. He frowned, watching you, barely managing to call a quick, "Love you!"

You didn't return the sentiment, feeling hallow and all too silly to return the affection. In your purse was your laptop, headphones, chargers, and whatever else, so, instead of meeting your friend, Natasha - being just a ruse to avoid Bucky - you started small and just went to the local café. You used to frequent it back in the day, but times were changed, and yet, they were all the happier to serve you the same as before. Getting cozy in the corner, you set up camp and ordered your favorite coffee basically every other hour - letting the day waste away as you caught up on work emails.

Might've wasted time on Instagram and Facebook and Pinterest. Got shopping done on Amazon. Browsed through Target's online selection. Checked out the sale items at Kate Spade. Perused Fenty Lingerie because you could.

Before you knew it, a message was coming in over your MacBook from Bucky, asking where you were - why had you turned your location off?

You packed up and with a to-go cup, made the short trek back home. When you got back, Bucky was pacing in the living room; staring at his phone and typing, then deleting, retyping, groaning, glancing up, typing again, then doing a double take. "Where've you been, Peach? Huh!?" Bucky demanded. "You're late!"

"Out with Nat," you eased.

He huffed through his nose, nodding slowly, "You have a nice time?"

"It was okay," you answered. "I'm gonna go to bed after I shower."

His brows furrowed, "I have a meeting tonight."

"I know."

"O...kay?" He let you go, wanting to ask why you didn't ask him to join like you had so often in the past few weeks.

And it didn't stop there, in fact, it got worse. When Bucky got home from his meeting, he was actually shocked to see you nestled in the bed; teetering on the edge of the shared space while snuggling a weighted body pillow.

When he tried to give you a snuggle, you stirred to life and pushed him back, muttering, "Too hot."

The following morning, he was relatively surprised to see you up and about before him; barely getting a word in before you were slipping out the door to go on a morning jog. He was confused by how all of a sudden, where you were once everywhere he looked, now, you were disappeared and distant and gone. You worked out alone, cooked alone - but always left him a plate, but long gone were the cute little sticky notes you left for him. You once haunted the apartment by never wanting to leave, and now, ghosted in and out of it on a daily basis.

You never bothered to go far from home. You liked hanging at the coffee shop and luckily, your job let you work from home most days, and the rare time you were due back in the office, it was only about a 20 minute walk. You got better at lying, couldn't even remember the last time you and Bucky had sex, and even now, the last time you had a meal together. You didn't text him about your day; where you once might've told him about an adorable dog you saw on the street, now, you only ever texted him if he asked a direct question.

Food lost appeal, your appetite vanished.

Sleep evaded you, plaguing you with nightmares when you did rest.

Interest dulled, passions were snuffed, and only fearful, confused anger remained. It showed in the way weight seemed to shift around your body, thinning; the lack of sleep creating dark rings and bags under your bloodshot eyes.

After two weeks of this, Bucky grew irritated and short with everyone around him. It reflected in his work, the way he spoke to everyone; even Steve and Sam getting the brunt end of his anger. Without you to assure him, Bucky was off his rocker; losing his cool; his patience stretched far too thin. So much so, the two mates approached an outside associate, Natasha Romanoff, after a particularly snappy meeting to plead for her to talk to Bucky.

"James," Nat greeted as she strode into his office without knocking.

"I know you're my oldest friend, but you don't have that privilege yet," he mused, never looking up.

"What?"

"Not knocking. What is it, Nat?"

"Just came to check on you, you know, like friends do."

"Hm," he chuckled without humor, "and what did Peach say to you?"

"About...?"

"Me."

"Nothing, I haven't gotten ahold of her for weeks."

Bucky paused, slowly lifting his head in confusion; brows furrowed and mouth set in a firm, straight line. "What?" He grit.

"Huh?" Nat wondered.

"She's been telling me that she's hanging out with you for the past two weeks," he revealed.

"Nope, not since the incident with HYDRA."

Bucky's (right) flesh hand crushed the pen in his grip, taking a long breath. "All right," he sighed, "so, why come today?"

"What's really going on, Buck?" She worried softly. "Is it really whatever's going on with Peach? You're this pissed off? What'd she even do?"

"She just..." He cut himself off with a long sigh. "It's nothing."

"Bucky," Nat gave a pointed look.

"She's just avoiding me," he muttered. "It's like she's barely home, almost like a ghost."

"Isn't that what you wanted?"

"Yes, and no," Bucky snipped, rolling his neck out. "I'm just worried about her now, she's never not communicated before."

"Something's bothering her," Nat shrugged. "She probably needs you right now, Buck."

"I can't do it all," he whispered. "I can't be who she wants and run this organization at the same time."

"She doesn't need that, she just needs you to be her partner," Natasha spoke softly. "She needs to feel loved and supported, and surely, she maybe felt weird about whatever you were projecting. Instead of taking it out on your men," she smirked, "why don't you just talk to her? 'Cause I hear you're bein' a more-than-usual asshole lately. You need to ease up or get laid, 'cause you're taking it out on good, loyal men, and that's entirely unfair."

"They can take it."

"Sure, but they shouldn't have to," Nat rolled her eyes. "Look, since you won't answer me, I'm assuming the sour mood is in regard to whatever relationship issues you have right now?"

"Sure," he tossed the pen away, opened a skinny drawer to his right and select an identical one.

"Bucky," she growled.

He sighed, "She's lying to me, Nat. Saying she's with you when she's not... Is this an affair? She's gone all the time now."

"No way," Nat laughed. "Baby girl doesn't have the energy to entertain anyone - let alone two men. You're just the exception."

"Why lie, then?"

"Maybe she didn't want you questioning her..."

"No shit."

"Well, did you get into a fight?"

"No."

"Any reason she doesn't want to be home?"

He shook his head with a sigh, "Not that I know of."

"You had to do something."

"Honest, I haven't. She was being all clingy, but then one day, a switch flipped."

Nat frowned, "You think... Your girlfriend is being clingy... Because she was kidnapped and beaten up... Because of your fucking job... And is probably scared...out of...her mind...? I get that correct?"

Bucky paused for a long moment, muttering, "Oh, my God."

"Yeah, you asshole. Think of it that way! She's afraid!" Natasha snapped. "And probably picked up on your energy, so, she made herself scarce."

"I didn't mean - "

"I don't care, go home, apologize to that sweet angel - she doesn't deserve this."

Bucky paused, "What is 'this' exactly?"

"James. Focus on the present - your woman. Go make this right. We all know you're this big, bad dude - but it's okay to be a little sensitive towards the woman who loves you without condition!"

Bucky relented, figuring the redheaded Russian mobster was right.

The entire drive home, Bucky considered the ways you had changed in the few, short weeks since he vented to Sam and Steve about your clinginess. You didn't take meals with him, didn't cook, work-out, or do anything you used to do together. Sex? Forget it. Dates? Nope. Cuddling? No, you're always 'too hot'. And when he thought about it, he remembers seeing the wads of cash he'd leave for you stuffed in his sock drawer - surely trying to make him think it was just another emergency fund he had hidden. You never spent his money, feeling humiliated by his choice of words.

Clingy...

You didn't text or call him when he was gone, you hadn't even so much as kissed him in what felt like ages... Well, more like you hadn't initiated any kisses...

His heart weighed in his chest as he realized he hadn't even so much as hugged you in days. You were rarely in the apartment together, and when you were, you were just silent and busy with chores. It was as if you operated on the exact opposite schedule as he did, went to new extents to avoid him, and his heart clenched in his chest.

When he got home, you were caught cooking in the kitchen - being obvious that you weren't expecting him. The door slammed and his baritone voice snapped, "Peach!"

You gulped, holding the sauce-covered wooden spoon to your chest. When he rounded around the corner, he found you and slowed down, sighing in relief. "What's wrong?" You worried in a timid tone.

He panted lightly, relaying, "Needed to find you."

"I'm here."

"I know," he relented, charging up to you and engulfing you in a tight, heavy hug. "I needed to talk to you, Peach," he whispered.

"What's wrong?"

"You. You're what's wrong."

"What the fuck does that - "

"No, no," he pulled back to stare down at you fondly, "I don't mean it like that, just that... You're struggling. I can see that. But you're not alone, I'm here with you, and I got a little caught up in my head when I realized someone was so very dependent on me - it fucking scared me. But then... Then you just shut yourself off and hid away from me, and oh, my God, it's so much worse, baby. Don't do that," he breathed, "okay? Don't ever shut me out - don't stop loving me, don't stop talking to me, don't give up on us. I can't read your mind, you can't read mine, it's not an excuse - but we understand better when we trust each other enough to communicate what's required. I'm so sorry I got caught up in myself, I didn't know what you needed - but I'm here now, I'm here - I'm not leaving you."

You collapsed into his chest, taking a shuddering breath.

"Don't ever stop talking to me, Peach," Bucky whispered, kissing the top of your head; keeping you close. "I'm so sorry, baby, if I - "

"If?" You snapped, pulling back to glare at him through your tears. "I heard you, Bucky. I heard you talking to Sam and Steve, and about how clingy I am."

"I was wrong," he insisted. "I was overwhelmed and tired and just stretched thin, the easiest thing to do is attack those closest to me, and that's you. It's not right, it's the worst I could do to you after all you've been through, and I'm so sorry. I was wrong, you're not the person to take this out on - and I'm so sorry, Peach."

You sighed, "I don't mean to be... I don't mean to cling - "

"Nah," he chuckled, caressing your cheek, "you cling as much as you want. Cling as tight as you want, baby, don't let me go. I'm sorry for what I said and the way it made you feel, it was wrong - so fucking wrong of me, and I see that. When you pulled away from me, I just... I couldn't think. It felt so wrong, and I knew it was my fault." He took your face in both palms, promising, "I'm so sorry, Peach."

You shrugged meekly, "It's okay."

"It's not."

"No, but apologizing is a step in the right direction."

He nodded, "What else can I do?"

"Nothing - "

"Peach."

You paused to think, smiling shyly, "Movie night?"

"Whatever my pretty girl wants," he nodded.

"Hmm... Get a bath with me?"

"All right... Sure, okay..."

"And face masks."

He sighed, "Okay."

"And mani-pedis."

"Baby."

"You said you were making it up to me, right?"

He smirked, "That's right... All right, yeah, sure, fine, we can..." He sighed again, "We can do all that, Peach, whatever you want."

"I just want you," you told him softly. "I didn't mean to be so clingy. I was just afraid... I felt afraid everyday, just so very unsure in this life. You're the only thing that makes sense to me, Buck, and when I heard you, I just... I guess I realized how dependent I'd been and wanted to give you space. Last thing I want is to smother you, to drive you away from me."

"Not ever gonna happen," he promised softly. "I just didn't handle it like I should've. I'm sorry, Peach, but I'm here now - for whatever you need. Want me to take a few days off, just be together? I'll arrange it. Want to get away for a bit? We can go."

"I just need you," you whispered. "Only you and I should be okay - I can be okay if I have you, but feeling like I lost you? Even a fraction? Buck... James, it was such a harrowing feeling, I wasn't sure what to do to move forward. So, I think I just panicked, shut down; thought if I could just get back to normal, you'd love me again..."

"I never stopped loving you," he swore, "I just had a bad lapse in my own judgement. Nothing against you, baby. Nothing."

You nodded again, letting him tuck you into his chest; perfectly snug under his chin as he coiled his arms around you. He let out a long sigh, his guilt swelling to new heights, but for that present moment, everything seemed okay.

Felt okay.

Appeared okay.

And you'd both do whatever it took to remain as okay as you possibly could.

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bookishdreamer28 · 4 months

Text

You and Mattheo were laying on the couch inside the common room, with no one else around but just the two of you since you skipped another class today.

Mattheo had your body cradled in his arms, as he softly ran his fingers through your hair. He was watching you in admiration as you read your book and he felt his stomach flipping as you looked up at him to give him one of your tooth-rooting smiles, a warm light reflecting in your eyes. It was still unbelievable to him how he got so lucky to have someone like you, loving him the way you do and making him the happiest he could ever be.

The light from the fireplace was hitting your face just right. So beautiful Mattheo thought to himself as he kept his gaze on you, feeling so hypnotized by you.

No words were needed, because just the way you looked at each other alone, was enough to understand what and how the other was feeling. You moved up a little and captured his lips into a love filled kiss, which Mattheo melt into the kiss and hum with satisfaction. After a while, you pulled away and when you looked at each other, you let out a small laugh which made Mattheo's smiled wider.

"Gosh you're so beautiful" he whispered and kissed you again, with more passion. When you were done with your make out session, you just stayed there, snuggled up closer to each other and enjoyed each other's company.

"You know at some point we should tell them" you murmured against his neck and turned to look at him.

"You kidding? They'll start tormenting us about not telling them and they won't Ever, leave us alone again. And trust me the last thing I want, is to want to have my moments with my gorgeous girl, and having the guys eavesdropping"

He placed a kiss on your forehead and laid back as he looked at you with a smirk. You shook your head as you laughed and laid your head on his chest.

"I love these secret moments together. We don't need anyone else to know. Now that I finally have you, I want to cherish you every minute of the day" you giggled as he laid you now on your back and he got on top of you.

He kissed you hungrily and his hand traveled up to your thigh, squeezing the soft flesh. You softly moaned as he bite your lip and you wrapped your arms around his shoulder, pressing him closer to your body.

You suddenly heard a weird thudding sound coming from outside and you stopped kissing. He looked at the door and then down ar you.

"Whoever it is they'll leave. I can't stop now" he growled and was about to kiss you again but this time the sound was a bit louder.

"Who ever the fuck is out there you better get lost or else-" The door opened and slammed on the wall by the impact, and two bodies were laying on the ground.

"What. The fuck?" You and Mattheo said and two heads looked up at you.

"Annoying presences? Do you really find us annoying?" Theodore aksed with furrowed eyebrows.

"I'm sorry, were you eavesdropping the whole time?"

"I wouldn't call it eavesdrop-"

"Oh shut it " Mattheo said to Enzo and then turned to you ready to kiss you again but then he noticed how Theodore and Enzo hadn't left from the room yet.

"You're not going to watch me kiss my girlfriend pricks" Mattheo angrily said to them and the boys hurriedly stood up and just left the room.

"Well that was easy-"

"And just so you're know we're not annoying. Y/N loves me" Enzo's face appeared behind the door and smirked at you.

"Berkshire you have one second-"and before Mattheo could finish the sentence, Enzo was already gone.

You laughed and Mattheo turned his head to you when he heard the joyful sound, smiling too.

"And now, where were we?" He leaned down and started trailing deep kisses along the nape of your neck, making you forget about everything.

💚 🙌

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pucksandpower · 1 month

Text

Best Laid Plans

Carlos Sainz x Vasseur!Reader

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

Warnings: 18+ content and manipulation

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He grins back unrepentantly. “Is it working?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

1K notes · View notes

reidmotif · 2 months

Text

For the Love of Lace

Summary: Reader decides she doesn't want to pine for her best friend, Spencer, anymore, but still needs his help deciding what lingerie to wear for her upcoming date.

Couple: Spencer Reid/Fem!Reader

Category: Smut

Content Warning: breast and nipple play, fingering (r!receiving), lingerie talk, unprotected penetrative sex, no implied breast size, couch sex, best friends to lovers, possessive Spencer

Word Count: 3.7k

Masterlist

Pining for your best friend definitely has its lows. There’s a certain sense of pathetic-ness that comes about when your friend is simply speaking, and your mind is occupied with the yearning to bridge the gap of distance between you two, and kiss them senseless. I think perhaps the biggest low that I’d hit, however, in the two years I’d been pining for Spencer Reid was the sexual frustration that came with being unable to see myself with anyone else.

I’d never meant for it to play out like this. I thought it was an innocent crush, a byproduct of all the time we’d managed to spend with each other divulging into our personal lives and sharing the ordinary comings of the day together. However, there came a point where I looked at him and could see my future laid out so perfectly with him. A future of love, and laughter, and God, so much sex. And no matter what I’d tried, the thought was too good to let go.

It didn’t help that not only was he oblivious, he clearly didn’t return my affections. There were no signs of longing that I could deduce from his actions, and I’d decided to be reasonable about this. His actions were always remnant of a good friend, but a lover? No. There were no longing stares. No stolen brushes of fingers, or hushed whispers. It seemed that anything romantic about our relationship only emanated from my fantasies of what I wish we could be.

And so here I was, unable to get past the mental block of wanting anyone as much, and it’d resulting in a long, exasperating two-year stint of celibacy. And Jesus, did it show. The tiniest thing Spencer did would set me off in a frenzy, and it left me feeling nearly perverted at a certain point. There’d been a day that he ran his finger down a page, attempting to locate a passage to display to me and all I could think about was how badly I wanted that finger in me. My mouth. Me. Anything. And then I realized I was lusting over my best friend’s hand, and considered the possibility of this being a serious problem on my end.

My only block to getting laid was my own self. And I certainly didn’t relish in the debauchery I’d clearly stooped low enough to indulge in, and so it was decided. This Valentine’s Day? I wasn’t going to watch rom-coms and wonder if Spencer and I could ever have a happy ending like them.

I was going to man up, and go on a date. Easier said than done.

I’d found the date, that bit was easy enough. Trying to find someone to hook-up with on Valentine’s Day is like trying to find sand on a beach. Plentiful and simple.

What wasn’t easy? Feeling ready for it. I hadn’t been like that with anyone for nearly two years, and found myself worrying that my sexual skills had deteriorated with lack of practice, even though the thought was rooted in some ridiculous notions about myself. I knew that logically the sex would be fine, and hopefully, exactly what I needed to get over Spencer, but still. I wanted to ensure the best possible experience.

I found myself going through the motions of date preparation. A manicure and pedicure. A facial. I even bought a fancier perfume to wear the night of. And of course, a trip to procure some new lingerie for the night.

I’d always been indecisive, and with the choices presented in the shop, I found myself overwhelmed. I’d decided and picked up 3 possible pieces, and instead of determining between them whilst buying, I bought all of them, with the intention that I’d be able to make a choice in the comfort of my own home.

Except now, it’d been a week, my date was tomorrow, and I still couldn’t figure out what would work for me. All three were equally as appealing, but which one was the best? The question haunted me, and continued to haunt me as Spencer and I hung out. Despite my date tomorrow, I’d promised to keep up our tradition of binging episodes of Star Trek on Friday night together, except my head was clearly elsewhere, which he quickly noticed.

Damn profiler best friend.

“Alright, what’s up with you?” Spencer asks, reaching for the remote and pausing on some random frame of Spock’s face, the show taking less precedence than my lack of attention.

I sigh apologetically, quirking my mouth to the side. “I’m sorry, Spence.” I say, taking a deep breath. “Just a lot on my mind.”

Spencer tilts his head, his expression a little more worried. “Something important?”

I shake my head quickly, not wanting to disclose the reasoning for my distraction tonight. Especially to him, considering my date tonight had the sole purpose of me getting over the man currently sat to my right.

“No, no.” I say, softly. “Just.. stuff.” I voiced, quickly.

“Stuff?” Spencer inquires.

“Stuff.” I affirm.

Now it’s his turn to sigh, making a slight groaning noise whilst he did so. “Come on. I’ve known you for years. I know there’s something on your mind, and it’s clearly distracting you, so.. Please? Tell me?” He asks, giving me those eyes. A look that would make anyone weak in the knees.

I find myself hesitating, and bite my lip, and in the end, it’s the way he’s looking at me that does me in. I opt to stay vague, but give him a bit more insight into my wandering thoughts.

“My date tomorrow? I don’t know what to wear.” I say, shrugging. “It’s not very important, but I want to make it work, you know?” I continue.

“Why don’t you just show me your dress then?” Spencer inquires. “I’m not a fashion expert, but it’s not like I’m unable to have taste.”

I laugh a little self consciously, shaking my head quickly. “Oh no, no. It’s not a dress. It’s okay, Spencer. I couldn’t ask you to do that for me.”

“Shoes? C’mon! I’m your best friend. I’d do anything for you.” He protests, coming closer to me now.

“Not shoes.” I say, still shaking my head. “And no! I mean, seriously. There are some things you can’t do for me, and it’s fine. I’m fine.”

“Jewelry? Hair? Makeup?” He implores continuously. “I’m all ears.”

I realize there’s no way in hell he’s ever going to let this go, so I blurt out with little thought, “It’s lingerie!”

He goes a bit quiet in thought, and then raises an eyebrow. “And that poses a problem?” He asks, softly.

I blink a little. Yes. Of course that’s a problem. I love you so much that it makes me feel weak, and I can’t be even more vulnerable in front of you. Not like that.

But instead I shrug, running my hands through my hair.

“I just.. Wouldn’t that be weird?” I say, hesitantly.

“Not really.” Spencer replies, nonchalantly. “You’re my best friend. And I want to help you in any way I can. Nakedness doesn’t really bother me, and if it doesn’t bother you, I’d love to help you decide.”

“Spencer..” I mumbled, still incredibly hesitant.

“I’m your best friend!” Spencer articulates. “And logically, I can provide you with insight that only another guy could give.” He points out. “In a purely platonic, and logical sense.”

I had to give him credit for that. It’s true. Spencer did have insight that none of my friends could provide, and I’d always entrusted him in helping me make decisions for myself and my life. And honestly, it was starting to get suspicious with how much I’d been objecting to this. The man had helped me decide bikinis, clubbing dresses- this couldn’t be any more different, could it?

“Okay. Okay. Fine.” I give him a resigned nod, getting off the couch. “Alright. Wait here.”

He plants himself more firmly on the couch, his eyes trained on where I’d disappeared into my room, rummaging through the shopping bag until I’d found the first lingerie piece.

It was a simple black lace bra and matching panties. The bottoms were a bit cheekier than a normal pair of underwear, and my legs were on display in full. My hair framed my pushed-up breasts, and I looked at myself in the mirror, slightly self-conscious at the fact that I was about to present myself this way to Spencer.

How did I get into this mess?

I slowly twist the doorknob, calling out to him. “Spencer! I’m coming out with the first one.”

“I’m here.” is his reply, and I know he’s waiting, and so I slowly push open the door and come out in the light, a little more in his view. I give a half-hearted 360 degree turn, and look at him.

“So?” I ask, my eyes finally meeting his, but the sight I’m met with is a lot different than the one I’m expecting. He’s slightly red in the face, his hands fidgeting in his lap- quite different from the more composed version I’d seen of him.

“Is there something wrong?” I ask, quickly, feeling even more vulnerable as I stood there, half naked in front of a blushing man.

“No, no!” He sputters. “I’m sorry. This is normal.” He gulps a bit and gives me a quick once over. “Sorry, I’ll be normal.” He clears his throat again and nods more definitively. “This one is nice. It’s simple.” He replies, as diplomatically as I’ve heard him. “Black works well with your skin and hair, and I feel like it brings out your eyes.”

I nod, biting my lip. “Anything I could do to make it.. more than nice?” I queried.

He narrows his eyes in thought. “It’s already really, really nice, but I feel like stockings, or even a garter would even the attention from your breasts, more to your legs- which already look really nice, by the way.”

It's my turn to blush and I nod quickly. “Stockings, got it.” I say. I blow out a breath of air. “One down, two to go.” I say, absentmindedly.

“Better go back and try the other two, then.” Spencer says, with a smile.

I attempt to return his smile and disappear back into my room, putting on the next piece. It was red, and a bit more showy than my previous piece. It was a criss-cross, cut-out lingerie. Lines of maroon fabric danced around my skin in a way that exposed the curve of my breasts, and connected to a simple, red thong. I walked out quicker than last time, a little less nervous now that the initial nervousness of appearing naked in front of him had faded.

Despite my nervousness fading, it seemed like his had only increased. I’d only caught a glimpse of it in my hurried departure from my room to his line of sight, but had he.. been adjusting his crotch area?

No. No. I mean, maybe he was turned on, but that was a completely normal reaction to a half-naked girl in front of a man. To my knowledge, Spencer hadn’t dated anyone in 2 years either, so it was completely possible he also had pent-up desires. This was normal. Spencer Reid did not feel the same way for me, not in the same way as I did for him.

He quickly looks up and his hands are by his side in record speed. “This one is.. Wow.” He marvels, his eyes boring into my body. “Your breasts. They look great.”

I can’t help the giggle that escapes me, a part of me secretly delighted that even if this was friendly, Spencer was enamored with my body in the way I’d always wished he would be.

“Was that too much?” Spencer questions, upon hearing my laugh. “I’m only being honest. Your breasts look nice in this one. My eyes immediately went there with this piece.”

I smile. “No, no. That’s what I need from you, anyway. That’s what I want my date to do too, anyway.” I say, dismissing his worries.

“Right. Your date.” He says, curtly.

I raise an eyebrow at the snippy reply, but don’t think much of it. “So.. the last one then?”

“Yep. The last one.”

“Right..” I mumble, going back to my room, slightly confused by the sudden change in demeanor, but ready to get this over with nonetheless.

The last piece was a lot more revealing, in the sense that my nipples were exposed from the get-go with this one. A lavender slip, with transparent lace covering the breasts, and the silky fabric stopping right below my crotch. It was a bit more daring, but I still enjoyed the way it framed my curves, my hips, and my breasts. I wondered what Spencer would think, and out of modesty, I placed both my hands over my nipples, wanting to show the lingerie without fully exposing myself to him.

I walk out, and this time, his gaze is intense. More so than I’d ever seen him in our years of friendship.

“Spence..?” I ask, when he’s silent for a beat too long.

“Turn around.” He says, firmly, and I find myself listening instantly, baring my back to him, and no doubt he’s focusing on the way the fabric wrapped around my ass, leaving me slightly flustered and more on display than I’d ever felt tonight.

“Spencer? Come on. Say something. Feeling a bit like cattle right now.” I voice, laughing a little nervously.

When I hear his voice again, I nearly jump out of my skin because he’s right behind me, his hands ghosting across my bare shoulders.

“Don’t go.” He whispers, his hot breath fanning around my neck, sending shivers up my spine.

I’m too nervous to turn around, so I keep my hands planted firmly on my breasts and murmur out my confusion.

“What?”

“Don’t go.” He repeats, more firmly this time, and I can feel his hand moving to grip my hip, orienting me to face him. “Please.”

“Why not?” I ask, softly, my eyes wide as I try to read his expression. His pupils were dilated to the size of saucers, and I could feel his hands moving to cup my face, bringing us even closer.

“I’d be an idiot to have not at least tried.” He whispers. “I’m sorry for doing this now. I’m sorry if this ruins everything. But I couldn’t live with myself if I didn’t try.”

I feel my confusion bubbling up, my eyebrows furrowing a little bit. “Why.. what is this? Is this because of the lingerie?” I ask, my lips parting slightly.

“No. God no.” I can see him emphatically shaking his head at my rumination. “This has been coming for a long time.” He murmurs. “I thought I could ignore it, but I can’t. I can’t physically stand the thought of someone worshiping you the way I’d like to.” He rasps out, and I feel my heart jump, my breath coming out faster.

When I’m silent, unable to respond, his fingers run across my lips. “Can I kiss you?” He whispers.

I nod, and it’s like he’s been waiting all night, and then some. His grip on my face tightens and he brings me in for a searing, earth-shattering kiss. His lips move over mine desperately, and I feel his grip shifting to bring my hands off my breasts, and to replace them with his own, his hands now pawing and squeezing at the flesh, which draws a soft moan from me.

He throws his head back at the noise, leaning to kiss my neck. “Fuck yes.” He mumbles, seemingly goaded on by the noises slipping through my lips. “I’ve wanted this for so long.” He groans out, to no one in particular, just wanting to get the words out there somehow.

I nod rapidly, and his hands are on my hips again, guiding me to the couch and laying me down. I move easily in his grasp, a slight gasp escaping me as he climbs on top. His thumb goes to graze my jaw, leaning in for another kiss. It’s less rushed this time, slow and passionate. His tongue darts out to swipe over my bottom lip, and I open my mouth easily for him, reveling in the sweetness of how he tasted.

He breaks off the kiss and moves down, kissing my breast between the lace. His tongue goes out to wet the fabric, and I’m arching my back at the sensation of the rough lace and the warm wetness now rubbing against the sensitive skin.

“You taste so good.” He mumbles. “God. Why did I wait so long?”

“No clue.” I whimper out, desperately. “But don’t stop.”

“I’m not stopping.” He says, gruffly, moving to bunch up the fabric of the slip until it pooled around my waist, exposing my dripping cunt to him.

“I can’t stand the thought of another man touching you like this.” He whispers, his finger running up and down my wet folds, causing me to moan out needily.

“Shh, shh, baby.” He murmurs. “You’ll get what you want soon enough.”

Without warning, he easily slides two fingers inside me, and I can’t help but wonder if he was made for me. Given the way he effortlessly reached that spongy spot so deep inside me, I was compelled to say yes. The action prompted me to release a string of desperate moans and whimpers, increasing in octave with every second he pumped the digits in and out of me.

“Yeah, you like that?” He mumbles, almost entranced with the way my cunt was sucking him in, tightening around his finger with each second he continued.

“Yes. Yes, oh God.” I moan out, my eyes squeezing shut.

“Open your eyes.” he demands, his thumb now darting out to rub harsh, tight circles on my clit. “I want to see your face when you come on my fingers.”

My eyes snap open, and I can’t help it when I release another moan and feel my orgasm absolutely shred through me. My hips raise in an attempt to move off Spencer’s fingers, but he manages to follow my movement, nursing me through my orgasm, and watching every second of it.

When it's over, he removes his finger and brings it up to his lips, sensually tasting my release right in front of me, never breaking eye contact- and the sight itself makes me need him all over again.

I pull him in by the collar of his shirt, and my hands move to remove his buttons, wanting to feel his skin on mine. He laughs a bit and admonishes me, removing my shaky fingers.

“Let me.” He mumbles, leaning back between my spread legs, and removing the clothing, before moving to his belt.

I bite my lip as he hovers over me, and kiss him again. I can’t get enough of him. He’s all I wanted for so long, and here he is- mirroring my desire in the way I’d always hoped he would.

“No man-” He breathes out, in between kisses, “could do this for you.”

I nod in affirmation, continuing to kiss him. No argument there.

“No man deserves to.” He adds, possessively, and it’s enough to make me clench around nothing, and I know at that point I’m more desperate for him than I had been the whole night.

“Spence, please.” I groan out. “Need you.”

He understands immediately and wastes no time, pulling himself out from his boxers, giving himself a few tugs before pushing inside of me, groaning as he feels my warm, wet walls grasp onto his cock.

He remains there for a second, allowing me to adjust to his size. When he looks at my face again, and I nod, he starts to move, pulling out until only his tip remains inside of me, before slamming in. My jaw drops in a silent scream, and my hands go to grip his shoulders, and with the confirmation I was enjoying myself, he set on a ruthless pace, snapping his hips over, and over again, until I was reduced to a babbling mess in front of the man.

He’s all I can feel at this point. His hands on my breasts, my hips, before he eventually rests both hands on either side of me and envelops me in his being. I can smell him, and the familiar scent only serves to tighten the coil in my stomach, reminding me that this was someone I’d loved so deeply for so long. Someone who was interwoven into the fiber of my being, and I know this is all I want, and all I’ll ever want.

As we both feel our releases coming on at an alarming pace, he leans up to kiss me one more time, moaning against my mouth. I feel myself whimper before I feel my walls contract around his cock, my orgasm causing my back to arch even closer to him. The clamping of my cunt seems to drive him to finish too, and a warmth fills my deepest point as he groans into my ear, pulling out and lying against me. The two of us are panting, sweat sticking to both of our bodies and hair, lost in the post-sex haze and enjoying the proximity.

He kisses my jaw and I giggle out and give a soft moan. “God.” I whisper.

“Yeah.” He murmurs against my skin, and I can feel his smile. “Are you canceling your date then?” He says, a slight bit of glee in his voice.

I giggle a little, finding his delight adorable and endearing. “Yes, Spencer. Obviously.” I murmur.

“Good.” He whispers, laying his head on my chest. There’s a lull of quiet as my hands stroke through his hair, smoothing it out from our illicit activities just a moment ago. I can hear his grin as he breaks the silence.

“Guess you could say I liked this piece the best.”

hiii!! omg. this took a while. yes this is more of a valentines day fic and its a bit late but hey!! got it out in february. this was actually written for @imagining-in-the-margins new beginnings challenge, so go ahead and check that out when you can. i hope you guys like this one. as usual, please reblog, like, comment, and show your support any way you can. thank you for reading, and i hope it was enjoyable <333 ty ty ty!!

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parkerflix · 11 months

Text

—cielo en la mente

miles morales x gn!reader

genre: fluff, angst

wc: 4.5k

synopsis: miles morales had you seeing double. but what if it wasn’t your eyes playing tricks?

warnings: atsv spoilers! canon divergence

taglist: CLOSED as of 6/19!

part of my 1k celebration! & part two to this fic!

You had been ignoring Miles lately. It wasn’t that you wanted to see him, but you were confused. Nothing seemed to make sense, or add up.

You sighed, sweeping up the last of the hair on the ground. You mom had already packed up and gone home, telling you to finish the last of the cleaning while she got dinner ready. You went over to the wash bowls, rinsing the hair brushes from the barbicide.

The front door had been locked, and music was playing from the speakers. A bang came from the front door, and you turned around to see Miles standing there.

His hair was out of braids again, and he seemed to be wearing the baggiest jeans and sweater you’d ever seen. He waved at you awkwardly, and you walked over, standing in front of the lock. His eyes were pleading with you to open the door, and you sighed, knowing you wouldn’t be able to leave him outside.

You unlocked the door & opened it so he could come inside. The silence between the two of you was awkward, but neither one of you knew what to say.

“Hey.”

You fiddled with the keys, and went to lock the door, stopping when he asked you a question.

“Could you do my hair? Please?”

It was such a simple question, but it still caught you off guard. Miles normally never asked you to do his hair, he’d just show up during regular hours or text you in the middle of the night and you’d do his hair in your room.

You steeled yourself, and nodded.

“Yeah. Follow me.”

Miles quietly followed you to the washbowls, and sat down at a clean one.

“Do you want me to use a different shampoo & conditioner?”

He was quiet for a moment,

“Can you use the ones you like the most?”

You hummed in agreement and pulled the mint scented shampoo and conditioner. You eyed the deep conditioning treatment, and grabbed that off the shelf.

Returning back to Miles, you leaned his head back into the wash bowl before starting the water.

“Let me know if it’s too hot or cold, okay?”

“Ah!”

You quickly turned off the water and panicked before you heard Miles let out a laugh.

“I was joking. The water is fine.”

You started up the water again and flicked some towards his face.

“Ack!”

“That’s what you get for scaring me like that!”

You both laughed, and soon it turned into a comfortable silence. Grabbing the shampoo, you made sure to lather his hair & rise it out. Miles was secretly a cry baby when he got shampoo in his eyes, so you covered his eyes with your hand.

Grabbing the deep conditioning treatment, you placed it in his hair, making sure to really get his roots. His hair had definitely seen better days, and you were confused how it got to this state when you were the last one to do his hair.

You finished with the deep conditioning treatment and went on with the regular conditioner, the minty scent hitting your nose as the cap opened.

“Smells good.”

Miles had been quiet up until now, and you genuinely thought he had fallen asleep.

“Yeah. Mint.”

He hummed.

“I like it, it seems to be very you.”

You felt your cheeks heat up at the comment, and nodded, knowing he couldn’t see you nodding.

You rinsed the last of the conditioner out of his hair, and wrapped it in a towel, tapping his shoulder to let him know you were done.

He opened his eyes and stretched out, reminding you of a cat.

“That was nice. You should do this as a profession, I think it would suit you.”

You rolled your eyes.

“Har har. You act like I haven’t been doing your hair and the neighbor’s hair since I could walk.”

Miles gave you a small smile and walked over to your station.

You got your tray ready with all your supplies, not noticing Miles was watching you.

You were different from Miles. He wasn’t sure if you existed in his universe, but he hoped that there was a version of you, hopefully near him. He had seen how you treated him, so gentle but had an edge with your words. He wondered what his counterpart in this universe meant to you.

“You know,” he started, catching your attention when he paused.

“You’re pretty special. You have a cool heart.” Miles inwardly cringed at that, wondering what the hell a cool heart could be.

“Mmm. Thanks.”

“Also, thanks for doing my hair.”

You nodded, ignoring the way something in your stomach flipped.

Miles was never one to outwardly express his gratitude, he was always the type to just show his gratitude and appreciation in smaller ways. He was more reserved with his words in that sense, and this change was different to you.

The rest of time you were doing his hair was relatively quiet, Miles asking you small questions here and there. You enjoyed the atmosphere, happy that you got to spend some quiet time with him.

You finally finished the braids after a little while, showing him the end result. It was the same style that you had done before, but you just thought he looked good in them.

Miles got up from the chair, and got closer to the mirror to inspect them.

He looked at himself in the mirror, unable to shake off a feeling of happiness that swam through him. His hair had never really been in braids before, it was something that he just assumed didn’t suit him, but here he was. He could tell that you put so much effort and love into them, it made his heart swell with joy.

He turned to you, and engulfed you in a hug. He wasn’t one to be affectionate with people he just met, but there was something about you that drew him in, and made him comfortable.

You froze for a second, before hugging him back, ignoring the nudging questions at the back of your mind.

“Thank you.”

“No problem.”

You had asked Miles that day if he wanted to come over for dinner, but had declined and said he had a few things to do. You understood, but felt a little sad that he wasn’t going to come over.

The rest of the night had gone by pretty unceremoniously, giving you time to think about Miles and his weird behavior.

You sighed and texted him, seeing if he was willing to meet you for breakfast in the morning at your spot. He quickly responded with a yes, and a small pit of anxiety formed in your stomach, nervous for the morning.

The next morning your alarm went off and you groaned, not wanting to get up. Turning your alarm off, you closed your eyes for a moment, before remembering you were meeting Miles for breakfast.

Swearing under your breath, you quickly got up and threw on a sweater and jeans, not even bothering to worry about anything else.

Your mom seemed to still be asleep, so you slipped out of the front door, quickly switching your slippers for shoes at the door.

Your spot wasn’t far from either of your houses, and the walk was always nice in the mornings.

Yosi’s diner was the place that you’d been going to even since you were little kids, back when there were 5 of you coming. Even after your parents stopped coming, you and Miles made it a tradition to only have breakfast there. It held memories of you guys sharing good news, and bad.

Miles had seen you cry because a date had stood you up the night before, and you had been his support when his dad passed. Yosi’s diner meant everything to you both.

You finally made your way to the entrance, the flickering sign feeling like a signal that you were home. Opening the door, the soft tinkling of the bell along with the smell of pie placed a smile on your face.

Yosi was standing behind the counter, telling one of the servers some instructions. She was slightly older than you & Miles, with an aura that made everyone comfortable around her. Her parents had opened the diner, naming it after her when they found the place, hoping for her to inherit it.

She glanced at you and smiled. Shooing away the server, she rounded the corner of the counter and came to give you a hug.

“It’s so good to see you! Donde estabas escondida? It feels like I haven’t seen you in so long.”

You chuckled, embracing her.

“I’m sorry. El salón está tan ocupado, toda la gente quiere su pelo arreglado. I’m sure quiñce season is right around the corner.”

She laughed a parted from you, turning her head to the booth at the end of the right side of the diner.

“He’s been waiting for you.”

You hummed.

“He’s in a mood, good luck.” She walked away after that, going back into the kitchen.

You took a deep breath and walked over to the booth. Miles had been watching you since you walked in, eyes never leaving you until you sat down.

“You’re late.”

You rolled your eyes.

“We never agreed on a time.”

“We always meet at the same time.”

Before he could respond, food came to your table, your usual and his usual.

He always got the same chocolate chip pancakes with some whipped cream and a few cherries on them. He never mentioned it, but you knew he got it because his dad used to get them and share with him. You assumed it helped him feel closer to his dad, and understood it was his way.

Both of you tucked into your food, not saying anything until he broke the ice.

“So, que quieres?”

“Damn, what’s with the attitude?”

“There’s no attitude here mamí, just asking a question.” He said, taking a big bite of his pancakes.

You dropped your cutlery, glaring at him.

“Seriously, qué te pasa? What the hell did I do to deserve this weird ass mood?”

Miles didn’t want to say what he was thinking, but he was jealous. He hadn’t seen you in forever, and he had passed by the salon the night before, seeing you doing someone else’s hair when you were closed. He could tell that you seemed comfortable with whoever the guy was, your smile the same you normally only gave him. He hated feeling this way, especially because you weren’t huge on jealousy. Previous partners of yours always were jealous of Miles, and you’d go to him and tell him how annoying it was, not knowing they had reason to feel jealous. He knew you better than anyone, and he wasn’t shy to show it.

“Nothing.”

You raised a brow, not buying his words.

He glanced up at you, seeing your eyes already trained on his face.

“What?”

“Seriously, what’s with you?”

“Nothing, mamí. How was your night last night?” He had hoped that switching up the topic would divert your attention.

“Well, mi mama hizo pupusas, she left some for you. She missed you at dinner, you know.”

“I miss your mom too. Tell her I’ll try to come over one of these days for dinner. Did you miss me at dinner?”

Your face heated up slightly, and you cleared your throat.

“I-no.”

Miles’ face had a huge grin on it, and you knew you were in trouble for it.

“Oh so you did miss me? Mamí, if you miss me that much, you always know where my house is, we could remedy that.” He winked at you, making you roll your eyes.

“First of all, you know I hate when you call me mamí. Makes me feel like those groupies Jaime has. Secondly, you wish I missed you. I haven’t climbed up your window since you decided you'd rather spend everyday with me, papi.”

He laughed at that, he knew you knew he hated being called papi by anyone but his mom. Somehow, whatever tension that had grown between you two had dispersed and left you both pushing away any budding feelings. The rest of breakfast had gone without addressing it anymore, and Miles was thankful.

When it was time for the bill to come, Miles stopped you before you could even pull your card out. You thanked him, and he waved you off, not too worried about it.

“Well, thanks for breakfast.” You said, grabbing your things and getting ready to leave.

“Can I walk you home?”

You nodded and you both got out of the booth, waving bye to Yosi when you left the building.

“So, what’s with the gentleman act?”

Miles clutched his chest like he was wounded and gave you the saddest look he could muster.

“Amor, cómo puedes decir eso? I’m always a gentleman.”

You pushed him slightly, making him burst out into a fit of laughter.

“The only time I’ve seen you be a gentleman was when you were dating that cute enby.”

“Which one?”

“The one with glasses??? God, I can’t remember their name but they really were like your polar opposite, I have no clue how you managed to date them.”

Miles thought about it, and nodded his head.

“Ah, I know who you’re talking about. They were cool. Liked science, and wanted to major in it. We still talk now and then.”

“Mírate, keeping friends who aren’t just me! Rio should be proud.”

“You’re annoying, you know that?”

“Yet you still hang out with me. Admit it, me amas.”

You were too busy looking around the neighborhood to notice Miles’ face get flustered, and he shrugged it off, knowing you didn’t have any hidden meaning behind it.

“Yeah, yeah. I’m stuck with you.”

You glanced at him and smiled, before realizing you guys had already made it to your apartment building.

“Well, this is me. Te veo mañana?”

He nodded and you gave him a quick kiss on the cheek before walking into your building.

Once you had disappeared into the building, Miles groaned and ran his hand down his face. His feelings for you were going to be the death of him.

The next day you regrettably had school.

Both you and Miles went to different schools, him getting into Visions and you going to the local highschool.

You slipped into your uniform, never quite getting used to how annoying the polo shirt looked on you. Fixing your hair a bit, you ran to grab your shoes from the doorway before Miles showed up.

Your mom was sitting at the dining room table, sipping a cup of coffee watching you frantically grab all of your stuff for the day.

“Llevaste comida?”

You grabbed an apple from the counter & a couple bucks off your piggy bank in your room.

“Yeah, totally.”

“Don’t be lying to me. No puedes ir sin comer, te vas a enfermar.”

“I’m not! I’ll see you when I come home?”

She nodded and you gave her a peck on the cheek, running over to your window and making your way down the fire escape.

Miles was already waiting for you, a shit eating grin on his face.

“Don’t-”

“Two days in a row, I’m starting to think you’re hiding a boyfriend up there.”

“Oh shut up.”

The walk to your school was fairly the same except today he bought you a breakfast sandwich. You gave him a questioning look, and he just ignored it.

Making it to your school first, you both stopped at the entrance, shuffling to the side to not block the doors.

“So, any big plans for today at school?”

Miles shook his head.

“Nah, there’s a bunch of lectures and maybe a lab or two. The school’s not that much different than yours.”

“Mmmm, well. Don’t forget to make friends!”

Before he could respond, someone behind you called your name and wiggled their brows.

“Nice boyfriend! Maybe that’s where you sneak off to all the time!”

You flipped them off & took a deep breath, turning back to Miles.

“Maybe you should be worried about making friends.”

“Nah, they just know you and I are close.”

“What’s that about though?”

“What?”

“You sneaking off?” Miles tried to hide the jealousy that was creeping into his voice.

“Oh that.” You scratched your neck and gave him a bashful smile.

“Everyone thinks I’m seeing someone but I go out and grab lunch nearby and then come back. We’re technically not supposed to leave campus so…”

Miles laughed and you felt some pride in your chest.

“That does make more sense.”

You both idly chatted for a little longer before the first bell rang, and you knew he had to go.

“I’ll see you after school?” You said, hopefully.

Miles shook his head and gave you a sad smile.

“Sorry amor, I gotta help my mom and my uncle with some stuff at home.”

You nodded, understanding.

He ruffled your hair and you swatted his hand away, annoyed.

“I’ll see you around then!”

He saw you walk into his school and checked his phone, seeing he was late for school. He didn’t really care though, knowing he would rather spend time with you than be on time.

On your way home from school, you decided to stop in at a bookstore.

You were strolling the aisles, trying to find something that you were interested in. You had found a book, and someone accidentally knocked into you.

“Sorry!”

You turned around and saw Miles there, in a completely different outfit from when you saw him leave for school.

“Oh hey! I thought you were helping your mom with something at home?”

Miles scratched his neck awkwardly and nodded.

“Yeah, turns out she didn’t really need my help.”

“Oh did Aaron have it under control?”

“Yes!” He coughed and glanced around the store.

“Yeah, she had him helping so there wasn’t that much for me to do.”

“So you decided to come to a bookstore?”

“Yes?”

You hummed and turned around again, looking for the book again.

You could tell that Miles was still hovering behind you, hearing the shuffling of his Jordan’s.

“Miles,qué quieres?”

“Uhh… I was wondering if that book was good? I’ve been trying to find something new to read that isn’t an action type of book.”

You whipped around, stumbling into him not realizing how close he had been behind you.

“Are you asking me for a book recommendation? Because if so, we should do a book swap!”

“Book swap?” He tilted his head and gave you a confused look.

“Yeah! We can find books from our favorite genres for each other! I know they have a little cafe area and we can read them there!”

“Yeah, that sounds good.”

“Great! Do you wanna meet up front in like 15 minutes?”

He nodded and you clapped and walked off to a different section of the store.

15 minutes later you both met up at the front, both with books in your hands.

Getting to the register, you plucked Miles’ book out of his hands and paid for both of them. He gave you a look and you just shrugged.

“Think of it as payment from breakfast yesterday.”

You thanked the cashier and both of you had made your way to the cafe.

Miles watched you order a drink, and declined your offer for anything. Both of you sat down at a couch, and you put the bag with the books in the middle.

Pulling out both, you handed him the one you picked out for him.

“Six of crows?”

“Yeah! It follows like a group of thieves and you get to see all the different perspectives, I really enjoy it.”

“Oh, sounds cool.”

You smiled and looked down at the book you held.

“Oh hey, Lord of the flies!”

“You’ve read it before?”

You shook your head, a small frown tugging at your lips.

“No, you and I used sparknotes to write my essay on it?”

Miles’ eyes widened.

“Right. Right.” He cleared his throat.

“Well, after that, I decided to read it and I think you’d enjoy it.”

You hummed and nodded, opening the book and beginning to read.

Miles opened his book as well, and was reading, until he felt your head on his lap. He looked down and you and you smiled, seemingly not thinking anything of it.

Miles on the other hand, his heart was racing and he was hoping you couldn’t hear it. He wasn’t uncomfortable per say, he just didn’t know if it was normal between you and his counterpart. You didn’t seem to notice his inner turmoil and were fixated on the book.

A little while had passed, and Miles had seemingly got more comfortable, mindlessly playing with a strand of your hair. You were halfway done with the book when your phone had gone off. You sat up, Miles’ hand dropping down to his side.

Picking up the phone, you saw your mother had texted you to come home, she needed you to run an errand for her.

Packing up your stuff, Miles stood up when you did.

“I gotta head home, my mom needs me to run a few errands for her.”

“Want me to help?”

You looked at him and smiled.

“Sure. I know mom would love to see you anyways.We can talk about the books on the way there.”

You both quickened your pace, and you grabbed Miles’ hand dragging him along with you.

Neither of you had realized the whole way to your house that you were still holding hands, fingers intertwined.

Miles had told you what he thought about the book so far, and he was interested in it. You explained some things he wasn’t sure about, and gave him some fun facts about the characters and the author.

In turn,he told you about the book he had recommended and about the movie that they had made based on the book. He hated the movie.

Finally getting to your apartment building, you climbed up the stairs to your apartment, dropping his hand to look for your keys.

You opened the front door and the smells of cinnamon permeated your senses.

“Ya llegué! Traje a Miles también!”

You kicked off your shoes and Miles followed suit, staring at the photos on the walls. The walls were covered in pictures of you and your mother, of you and him, and your families together. He pulled his attention away, following you into the kitchen.

You gave your mother a hug from behind, kissing the top of her head. She let out a laugh and shook her head. She would always say you’re her favorite child (you were her only child).

“Dónde estabas? Necesito que lleves esto para mi.”

“Estábamos en la tienda, quería otro libro para leer.”

Your mother turned to Miles, giving him a big hug. He hugged her back awkwardly and you snickered at his eyes pleading for your help.

She parted from him and pointed to the fridge.

“Te dejé algunas pupusas, llévalos a tu mamá también.”

“Uh gracias, I’ll make sure to take them to her.”

Both you and your mom shared a glance and she shrugged, before walking over to hand you a package.

“Just this?”

“Yes, and then no getting sidetracked, you have to come home straight after. I trust you will be with them, right Miles?”

“Si!”

He didn’t miss the way you bit your lip, trying to hold in a laugh. You both bid your mother farewell, and went to deliver the package.

The walk to the place was quiet, Miles had no clue where you were going. You cleared your throat, eyes still forward.

“What was that back there?”

“What was what?”

You stopped walking and Miles stopped a moment after, turning to look at you.

“That accent, Miles!”

“Huh?”

“My mom literally side eyed you, she was definitely confused as to why you were trying to pull a joke on her…”

“Oh, right.”

“I found it funny though, mainly because I do that to her all the time.”

“Right.”

Miles started walking again, and you followed behind him, grabbing his hand that was just swinging.

“Estás enojado conmigo?”

Miles stopped and looked down at your hands that were intertwined. He had a strange feeling in his stomach, he wasn’t sure if he could pinpoint it. He was trying to get home, to figure out how to even get back there, but he didn’t even know how long it had been. Time was relative and he wasn’t sure if he was too late.

He also didn’t know why he felt attached to you, a sense of comfort while being around you. He secretly hoped, that even at home, you would be there.

“I’m not mad.”

“Good. I’m sorry if I hurt your feelings.”

He squeezed your hand, giving you a small smile.

“Nah. You’re good. Don’t worry about it.”

“Hm, okay. But let me know if I do okay?”

“Got it.”

The rest of the walk to the place was filled with you two talking about different things, laughter from the both of you, once again never letting go of the other’s hand.

Miles realized that the area you guys were going to seemed familiar. It was his uncle’s place. His hands started to get sweaty, and he was panicking. He had actively avoided his family, watching from afar.

You, on the other hand, seemed perfectly fine. You hadn’t seen Aaron in a while, and you always wondered if he was doing okay. Miles always seemed on edge when you asked what he and Aaron did, which made you suspicious but you also knew he didn’t have to tell you everything.

You both made it to the hallway, and Miles squeezed your hand once more. You assumed it was an unconscious thing, but Miles did it to reassure himself.

“Why don’t I wait here for you?”

“Come on, I’m just gonna knock on the door and if he’s not there, we’ll leave it on his doorstep.”

He nodded and took a deep breath following you.

You knocked on the door, fully assuming no one would be home. Miles told you beforehand that he was helping Rio, so you just did it to reassure Miles. You weren’t sure if they had fought beforehand, but you didn’t want him to feel uncomfortable.

You knocked once more, hearing a voice on the other end yell for someone else to open the door. You straightened yourself up, plastering a smile on your face. Miles rubbed the back of your hand with his thumb, taking another deep breath.

The door creaked open, and when you made eye contact with the person at the door, your heart fell to the floor. Miles Morales stood in front of you, still wearing his uniform, his smile slowly dropping as he looked at your hand, being intertwined with someone. He looked at the person, eyes growing wide and jaw clenched.

Miles next to you felt his heart stop for a second, unsure what to do. He was staring at himself, who if looks could kill, would have him 6 feet under.

You dropped your hand from Miles’, thoughts going a million miles a minute. The main thought though was:

What the hell is going on?

taglist! @nameless-beanie @carmendanny2 @kukigirli @rayendrop @lovefks @anuncalledbridge @immortal-t @riki-gf @shuriri4life @starboychanyeol @sakura-onesan @the-smut-plug

if your name is in bold i was unable to tag you!

#miles morales x y/n #miles morales x reader #miles morales angst #miles morales #earth 42 miles morales x reader #miles morales prowler #e42 miles morales #miles morales x you #miles morales fluff #across the spider verse spoilers #spider man: across the spider verse #paris writes

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luxaofhesperides · 4 months

Text

Soulmate AU: First Words + End of the World ; requested by @justwannabecat!

Duke has long since accepted that he doesn’t have great luck. Most things in his life tend to go wrong very quickly, or complicate situations he was already struggling in (see: being a meta and getting his powers in the middle of a fight). Having an incomprehensible soulmark is an unpleasant discovery on the morning of his nineteenth birthday, but not entirely unexpected.

He had been hoping for something simple, a common one like hi it’s nice to meet you or sorry, didn’t mean to bump into you.

What Duke gets instead isn’t even words.

Scrawled across his left hipbone is a string of symbols glowing a faint green. They’re not in a language he recognizes, and the symbols seem to move, shifting ever so slightly so they look different every time he blinks.

“Well,” he says after a solid five minutes of staring into the mirror, unable to rip his eyes off his soulmate’s words, “I hope theirs looks nicer than mine.”

He spends his birthday in a bit of a daze, enjoying time spent with the Waynes and his friends. It’s hard to be fully present when he’s all too aware of the soreness on his hipbone flaring up each time he moves. It’s hard to keep his mind off of it, wanting nothing more than to search for answers, unravel the mystery of his soulmate’s first words.

“Something on your mind?” Jason asks, as the attention shifts off of him for a brief moment as Harper and Cullen get ready to leave and everyone rushes to give their goodbyes,

Duke shrugs, carefully keeping his hands still so they don’t drift to where his soulmark is hidden beneath his clothes. “Yeah. Nothing you need to worry about, though.”

Jason looks him over critically, then nods.

Duke resigns himself to being investigated by the rest of the Bats. If he’s off enough that Jason had to comment on it, then that means everyone’s noticed and are trying to figure out what’s happened. They’re not going to ask him, because they think he needs space to work through whatever’s got him so distracted, but they’re also not going to just do nothing.

This won’t be the first time they’ve done this. Duke expects it. Frankly, it would be stranger and much more concerning if they didn’t try to dig up all his secrets the moment they caught wind of him hiding something.

He’ll tell them about getting his soulmark soon. Soulmarks can appear on any birthday between the ages of thirteen to twenty five; they might suspect he got his, but they won’t be able to confirm.

For now, Duke can keep his soulmate’s first words (whatever that gibberish means) to himself.

He makes the decision then and there, as his birthday party winds down, to tell them in a week.

And because his luck is abysmal, a world ending threat hits five days later and suddenly there is no time for soulmarks and first words.

Duke is the last to arrive at the Fortress of Solitude, hitching a ride from Superboy to get there. The biting cold and the harsh winds keep the place far from the reaches of the rest of humanity, surrounded by nothing but deadly white.

Desolate as the landscape is, it’s still in better shape than the rest of the world.

Things would be better if it was alien invaders. It would be more bearable if some sort of cosmic colossus tried to eat their solar system. At least then there would be something physical that they could fight.

Instead, the world is breaking apart, the sky and earth both fracturing to reveal glowing green faultlines. Timelines are getting mixed up and muddled; just yesterday, Duke had to evacuate a building that had been demolished forty years ago, then stop a gang leader who wouldn’t be born for another eight years from taking over a neighborhood block and holding the residents hostage. Strange creatures are appearing out of nowhere, crawling out of shadows and tide pools and from beneath the roots of trees, all horrible, monstrous things that go after people with teeth and claws.

The Flashes and the rest of the speedsters are nowhere to be found. The last time anyone get communication from them, it had been Impulse sending Red Robin a glitchy, barely audible video chat saying something along the lines of “trying to fix—unstable—keep us here—never been alive before.” All things that are very concerning to hear, made worse by the fact that no one had been able to contact them at all.

The quiet loneliness of the Fortress of Solitude is a welcome change from the constant screaming, death, and destruction that’s taken over Gotham as well as the rest of the world. Last he heard, even Justice League China was at the end of their rope.

“In here,” Superboy instructs, guiding Duke through the halls. There’s no time to look around at Superman’s secret base. All his focus is stuck on staying conscious for another few hours to see if this gathering of heroes is able to find a solution to the world breaking apart.

Batman stands besides Superman. Both nod at Duke when he enters the room. Wonder Woman is watching over John Constantine as he writes something on the floor, muttering under his breath. The rest of the Justice League lean against each other, visibly exhausted as they wait for Constantine to finish up what he’s doing. A few other heroes are here too, and Duke goes to join them where they lean against a wall, fighting to keep their eyes open.

“Hey,” he greets, voice low. “Hanging in there?”

Wonder Girl sighs. “Somehow. I don’t know how much longer we can do this. There’s just too much…”

“We’ll get through this. I mean, even without us out there, plenty of civilians have formed rescue and relief groups to help with keeping things under control,” Speedy says, gently knocking her arm against Wonder Girl’s. “We just gotta keep going. No giving up.”

“What’s this plan, anyways? I just heard that they needed me here to some attempt to fix things.”

“Well, without the speedsters, you’re kind of the only one who can help with time and power related stuff,” Speedy says.

“That’s definitely a stretch. My powers don’t really have anything to do with time. It’s all just light and shadow.”

Speedy shrugs. “Well, you’re here, aren’t you? Too late to complain about it now.”

Duke doesn’t get a chance to say anything else when a loud clap catches his attention. The entire room goes still and silent as Constantine stands up and surveys the circle and symbols he’s written, taking up an entire corner of the large room.

“Alright,” he says. “Time to get started. Remember, let me do the talking. If you have to speak, it’s only to back me up or when a question is directed to you.”

Batman nods to the other Justice Leaguers, and suddenly everyone is falling into formation behind Constantine. Duke hurries to join them with Wonder Girl and Speedy, taking a place on the edge of the group where he’s a little closer to the circle than the others.

Constantine begins chanting. His voice is steady though none of the sounds make any sense, refusing to form themselves into recognizable words, and the air the in the room feels heavier. The chalk circle glows a blinding white and Duke can see magic swirling through the air, his power kicking in the let him watch as reality tears and a glowing star in the shape of a boy comes out of it.

Duke blinks, forcing his power down. The hypnotic swirls of magic fade from sight, but the boy still glows, bright and terrible as he floats above the circle and surveys them all. A crown engulfed in blue flame hovers above his head and the fabric of the cosmos is draped over his shoulders as a cape.

Just from presence alone, Duke can tell that this figure is now the strongest existence in this universe. He hopes this boy king is kind; no one, not even Superman, would be able to beat him in a fight.

The boy king opens his mouth and speaks, but it’s not words than comes out. A strange static like sound emerges, but light and almost melodic.

His left hipbone burns.

Duke gasps, hand flying down to it, and the boy king’s gaze snaps to meet his.

The world stands still. No one moves. No one dares to breathe.

And then the boy king drops to the floor and walks out of the circle.

“I thought you said that would hold him!” Batman hisses at Constantine, who is looking more and more distressed.

“It was supposed to! I wrote it specifically to hold the King of the Infinite Realms!”

The boy king glances at Constantine. This time, when he speaks, it’s in smooth English. “Did you name the king in your circle?”

“Yeah, I named Pariah Dark… Bloody hell, you ain’t him, are ya?”

“No,” the boy king smiles, “I’m Phantom.”

The cape and crown fade away, and suddenly it’s not an all powerful, terrifying king standing before them, but a young man with white hair and green eyes who looks Duke’s age. Like he could be any other new generation hero in the room.

“Phantom,” Duke repeats lightly, just under his breath, but it makes Phantom look at him again.

He walks forward, ignoring the other heroes’ aborted attempts to stop him, coupled with Constantine’s frantic back off motion happening behind him. Phantom leaves the circle and the Justice Leaguers behind to stand before Duke, a soft smile on his face.

“Hi,” he says softly, “I dreamed of you.”

“You—what?”

“I dreamed of you. I have for years now. To think that being summoned was what made us meet—” Phantom breaks off into a breathless laugh.

Duke swallows, then drops his had from where it had been pressed against his hip. “So we’re really—? You have my first words too?”

In the corner of his eye, he sees Batman stiffen up. Maybe he should have just told them the day after his birthday, but in Duke’s defense, this is the definition of extenuation circumstances.

“First words?” Phantom repeats, “Is that… Do we have different soulmate connections?”

“I think so. Here, everyone gets the first words their soulmates say to them appearing somewhere on their body.”

Phantom’s gaze darts down to Duke’s hip, then back up. “Oh. I get dreams. Where I’m from, we dream of our soulmates, and the closer we get to meeting them, the more we remember the dreams.”

“And you dreamed of me.”

“I did.”

“As touching as this is,” Constantine interrupts, and Duke gets to watch as Phantom rolls his eyes, “We summoned you here for a reason. Our world is falling apart at the seams and we need someone powerful, from the Realms, to help us fix it.”

“Okay.”

“...What do you mean ‘okay’?”

“I’ll help,” Phantom says.

“Just like that? No deal to be made, no price to be paid?”

“Just like that. I’m not one for deals anyways. If I can help, then I will. But I do want to see what the problem is with my soulmate by my side, if you don’t mind.”

Batman steps in, fixing Duke with a steady gaze, a barely noticeable tilt of his head. “Signal?”

“Yeah I’ll go with him. Of course I will. The sooner the better, in fact, because everything’s gone to shit.” Duke turns to Phantom, taking hold of one of his hands. “It is really bad out there,” he warns, “If you need help—”

“I’ll ask for help from others in the Realms,” Phantom says. “No offense or anything, but if it’s really that bad, I doubt living mortals will be able to do much to fix things. It’s why I was summoned, right?”

“Right. Let’s get to it, then.”

There’s a flash of mischief in Phantom’s eyes, and cheeky grin stealing across his face for a moment, before he says, “Aye aye, captain!” and picks Duke up like he weighs nothing and flies up through the ceiling.

Duke is able to hear everyone’s surprised, panicked shouts before they’re outside the Fortress of Solitude and Phantom is flying them away. He only needs a few directions from Duke before he finds the first of the large fractures in the sky.

“Yikes,” is all he says, which is not a great thing to hear. “I think I know how to fix it, though. We’ll need to do a little investigating as to who, exactly, started messing around with reality, but once we find the source, it’ll be an easy fix.”

“That’s the best news I’ve heard all week.”

“Even better than meeting your soulmate?”

“I haven’t slept for more than four hours all week. Knowing there’s an end in sight beats everything else.”

Phantom laughs, throwing his head back and Duke can’t help but drink in the sight of him, so ethereal and bright and full of life. “Fair enough! Got any ideas as to where we should start?”

“I’ve got an entire crew of detective vigilantes,” Duke replies. He’s not taking any more chances. No more waiting to talk about important things; he messed up by keeping his soulmark to himself, so he needs to make sure everyone meets his soulmate before shit goes south again.

“Let’s go find them, then!”

They take off again, soaring through the skies that are barely holding themselves together.

The world is still ending, and every hero is being stretched thin, but held carefully in Phantom’s arms, racing head first into a solution, Duke can’t help but feel that everything’s going to be alright now.

He’s had enough bad luck. Now, his soulmate with him, bearing the title of King with grace, things are finally starting to look up.

#ghostlights #dc x dp #dp x dc #dpxdc #dcxdp #dc x dp fic #prompt fill #my writing #when its the end of the world but youre soulmate is here and ready to help fix it #meanwhile constantine had gone ON and ON about how dangerous summoning realms beings are #and all the precautions they have to take and how to be specific when making deals etc etc #it was supposed to be only the justice league but with the world ending they wanted their proteges and allies with them in case things #went wrong w the summoning. and with the rest of the bats helping out in gotham and around the east coast #signal gets to join batman. plus hes got his meta powers that could help in the worst case scenario #NO ONE predicated signal and the GHOST KING being SOULMATES #batman leaves for gotham immediately. updates the rest of the team w 'ghost king successfully summoned. he's signal's soulmate.'#and does not respond to ANYONE after dropping that bomb on them lol #they do all get to meet phantom when they join forces to find whatever doomsday cult caused all this #and the world gets saved!!#also. semi related to all this. the speedesters are gone bc time went wacky and they tried to fix things. but then the speedforce kinda #came to life and trapped them. so they have been lowkey eaten by the speedforce bc the speedforce is the true eldritch monstrosity here #anyways. thanks for the prompt!!#working on ur other two prompts now :)

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wandagcre · 5 months

Text

push it for the pleasure | wanda maximoff 🔞

(College!Perv!Bestfriend Wanda Maximoff x Innocent!Fem Reader)

Wanda’s perverted thirst gets the best of her. You were irresistible and simply for her taking. And what does she do? She doesn’t resist. Instead, Wanda feeds the gnawing, filthy, and hungry monster inside of her by having her way with you even while you’re unconscious.

WARNING: heavy dubcon/noncon themes, fingering, perverted actions such as implied stealing undies, staring, touching and taking nonconsensual nudes, daddy kink (W), corruption kink, somnophilia | 18+ men & minors dni. Words: 3.6k Note: part of the perv!wanda series. you can consider it as a backstory that happened before this oneshot ;)

[perv!wanda series] | [masterlist]

Wanda had an affinity for your tedious nature. Whether it comes down to your personal interests or university workload; not solely rooted by your clear determination written in your adorable face that she admires, but rather, how it leaves you exhausted to your very bones. Tired meant the manifestations of neglect — one that left you comfortable on your bed as the aftermath.

You were so lucky to have her, not only Wanda has slid a bottle of water or a snack on your side, but on a good day with a less constricting schedule of hers, she's got the privilege of pressing firm around the strained muscles of your shoulder — feeling you succumb into the comfort and her ears being rewarded of your soft moans.

A purr escaped your mouth. "That feels so good Wands..." Your body slumped in a relaxed state.

Wanda bit her lip at the innocent play of your words. "Anything for you, dorogaya. Do you want me to press harder?"

"Ah... yes, if- if it's alright with you," came a meek response out of your lips.

Wanda knew the effect of her native language on you. She couldn't help but lightly pinch your burning cheeks.

As Wanda kneaded the kinks out of your tired muscles, she couldn't help but thirst for more. The tendency of her insatiable want when it comes to you only grows impossibly bigger every day. Whether it was her dying need to touch you or your attention fixated on her - Wanda needs it all.

"It would be better if you took off your shirt. It’s more direct and effective," She murmured at the shell of your ear. Excitement coursed through Wanda's body as you squirmed in your seat.

You turn your head to the side in question. "Wouldn't that be too much of your time?"

"Nonsense. I love doing this for you."

Wanda wolfishly grinned as she saw you eventually nod in agreement.

Oh, you were so pliant and ready for her.

Your bestfriend had to stop her scandalous thoughts of wanting to bite and mark your back as you undressed your top in front of her. She admires the view of your back and its dimples, her mouth-watering and well-awareness of how soft they were. Wanda didn't waste any time on touching you — the breathy innocent moans and soft tilts of your head as you succumbed to her touch whenever Wanda hit a satisfying spot made her mind go haywire. Her thumb applying pressure over the bottom of your trapezius; just where your nape rests upon particularly was a sweet spot.

You looked lost; wrapped in complete bliss.

"Can I touch you whenever?"

"Like this?"

"Yes," Wanda doesn't miss a beat. It was risky and ambiguous, and so she adds, "I love your skin and how soft it is under my touch. It’s so… comforting.”

She decides to take more than she should've and ran her hand across the expanse of your back to caress — how you shivered was hard to go amiss for the woman.

You know nothing can go wrong especially when it's Wanda. She's the best at attending to your needs, a thought that mildly scared you of how attuned she was, but you knew it was always rooted in benevolence and affection.

Therefore, you couldn't help but recall how come this woman stuck out negatively to other people — having alleged issues of her temperament combined with her altruistic nature. They felt nothing more than a made-up childish rumor in the playground to you as to how Wanda easily conversed with you on that first week when you'd approached her brazenly.

Wanda had figured it out not so long ago; how the double-edged sword trait of yours was how you always believed to see the goodness in the people first. It was a debatable display of strength and flaw.

Besides, you liked having her attention for some reason. Wanda's perfect smile was often so reassuring for you, effortlessly putting you at ease.

"Okay, Wands." was your good-humored reply. Your bestfriend couldn't help but press her lips against the top of your head. You smelled wonderful. Wanda really couldn’t get enough of you.

Your unwavering blind faith-filled Wanda with so much pride.

The cherry on top of it all was how Wanda has taken care of your pretty princess parts; one between your legs and the occasional massages on your breasts.

It was so easy.

Wanda thrived on seeing your beautiful irises filled with innocence and gleam as you met her mischievous emerald ones. You've given her the opportunity of a lifetime and she intends to relish every given chance that she can get. It took her baby steps to get here – once she figured out where your affection levels lay, she initiated simple touches – whether it was a hug, tugging you close to her proximity, or now her intentions that stood morally corrupt; Wanda will find a way to accidentally brush against your private parts.

While you lay on one of her arms, Wanda gently ran her fingers through your soft cheeks as you faced her. She soaked in the sweet smell of your shampoo and the distinguishable scent of yours that Wanda could not get enough of. You looked angelic and waiting to be cherished. Soon enough, Wanda seeks for another type of comfort; her hands descending underneath your shirt, tiptoeing almost, with an unstoppable grin on her face — two fingers pushing under the band of your bra.

"Daddy's here. She'll always be here for you. I'm going to take care of you, dorogaya." Wanda whispered voice lilted with pure desire before her naughty hand came to cup one of your breasts. The recessed night glow that came from your dorm’s window was the only source of light, her actions being done in the darkness amplified the thrill in Wanda’s actions.

A suppressed moan came out of her lips. God, you were so fucking full — supple and fitted perfectly to her palm. One squeeze was followed by a dozen more that inevitably led to pinching and enclosed her fingers from your areola to your now perked tip.

"All for Daddy..."

Her thumb came to play for more, in circular motions around your nipple. Your breathing pattern was nuanced although still haven't shown clear evidence of you waking up anytime soon. Wanda rolled the sleeves of her sweatshirt, knowing she had a whole night ahead of her.

Eventually, it wasn't enough. She needed more.

And so Wanda will make sure to get more.

Careful not to wake you, she pulls out her arm that served as your pillow from earlier. You now lay on your back, still unphased, Wanda raised the hem of your shirt to reveal your indoor bra. Her eyes darkened at how pure and dainty you were presented in front of her, your blemishes and moles make up a beautiful constellation in Wanda's eyes.

Because of this, she's somewhat still in disbelief at your admission that no one has taken you yet.

But fret not, Wanda thought, because she's here and she's certain that you won't need anyone else other than her anytime soon.

"Daddy's going to play with you dorogaya, trust that it will be so much fun."

Wanda carefully rolls and pushes up your bra and now reveals your delectable breasts, cushiony and hanging free. This simply calls for another photoshoot.

She quickly retrieved the Polaroid camera that was atop your nightstand, just beside her rings. She's always brought it for a good reason.

Wanda had three subjects; one was nature and the other was you and no one else. What can she say? you've got her wrapped on your finger as much as she does over you. Her last subject was more risqué and controversial, it was still you — although it was a special one — meant for Wanda's eyes alone.

Wanda had placed her lips on your buttery soft breasts and wet them as she suctioned, her tongue coming into play to swirl them around. Her open-mouthed sucks and kisses filled your skin with red and purple marks. Wanda almost had a heart attack at the hoarse, high-pitched timber, a little trait of yours that you randomly let out before you sleepily stretched your limbs.

You were so cute.

"Dorogaya? Dorogaya..." Wanda hummed in a sing-song, checking if you were still unconscious.

Once sure that you're in deep sleep again, Wanda doesn't waste a moment to point her camera at your goodies — another one of the latest artworks she had done over you.

Soon as Wanda wrapped up and brought your bra and shirt in its unrattled state, here she was — pensive and debating whether she should ruin your pussy next.

Her greed over you took over with ease. Quickly, Wanda gathers her cascading hair in her hand and ties it up. She masterfully tugged down your shorts and as it reached your ankle, threw it away somewhere in your room. You even wore the red socks she gave you years ago! Wanda swooned at the cute sight. She caressed gently the expanse of your smooth legs where childhood scars and a few more moles came into better view.

You weren't wet just yet, of course. Wanda immediately wanted to change that and feel the heat you've been hiding away from her — to feel you around her fingers.

"You're so ready for Daddy, dorogaya. You don't know how much I want to eat you right now... to get a taste directly from its source, my tongue against your pretty and puffy pussy," Wanda knew you couldn't hear her, but it doesn't stop the wanton monologues of her feverish desires over you. "You're just for Daddy, aren't you?" She ran her fingers sultrily across your lower tummy, down to your pelvis.

It simply made her journey worthwhile. She somewhat wanted to communicate how fuckable your virgin self was for her. It was no longer the case as crossed this bridge a few months ago, but her filthy soul relished in corrupting you — with Wanda in complete control and taking you.

Luckily for Wanda, you've raised one of your legs — caught in a folded position, enough for her to pry you open.

Setting your ribbon-designed undies aside, Wanda’s mouth watered at your inner walls coming into view that she could not help herself and immediately inserted two fingers inside of your velvety walls.

"Fuck, you're so warm for Daddy!" Wanda rasps out, her body burning. As though in a cue in response, you huskily moaned in your sleep as well. "You love this, don't you? This won't take long, don't worry, dorogaya..."

Your bed rocked and creaked slowly, as Wanda fucked you asleep. The wetness came pouring and coated her until she was knuckle-deep in you. She stretched your now sopping hole, and the breathy moans tumbled out of your pretty lips now and then.

How you did not wake up yet was a miraculous thing for her.

Before Wanda gets carried away in roughly fingering you enough to rouse you out of your consciousness, she pumps and curls her fingers inside of you once more before reaching for her camera. She spreads your inner thighs apart — the viscous wetness that she loved to see was there. The repeated clicks reverberated and the white flashes of her camera came in the knowing four walls of your dorm.

She even inspects your wetness, rubbing and playing with them with her pinched forefinger and thumb.

A wicked smile breaks out of her in glee and satisfaction as Wanda admires for a moment the mess she has made; successful once again as she looks at the polaroid photos she recently took of you.

She pressed a soft kiss on your temple. "You did so well for Daddy."

Almost half an hour later, you wake up confused. You were wet — your cheeks burned. This was becoming a frequent occurrence and you were too old to pee in the bed. You're more than sure that your bladder was well-adjusted. But was there anything else that was wrong with you down there? You tightly crossed your legs.

Wanda appeared from your bathroom. Right, she stayed the night. She was beautiful even if the constant turning in bed had ruffled her appearance. Although, there were much more pressing matters — this is nothing but humiliating for you, surely this spot did not go amiss for your best friend...

"What’s the matter?" Wanda approaches your side.

You were hesitant, quick to try pushing her away. "Don't come close! I'm wet... I don't know how it happened. Goodness, I know for a fact I didn’t pee myself. Or did I?"

"You did not, dorogaya. Dummy, it was my fault." Wanda gave out a hearty chuckle at your immovable confusion.

"How was it your fault?"

"I spilled my drink on the bed," Wanda played with your hair and you immediately folded. You were so easy to please. "I was just about to wake you so you can change your shorts and underwear."

You let out another relieved sigh. You were happy to know that it wasn’t your bladder acting up.

"Oh, that kinda explains it. But I think it wasn't your drink that caused this the other nights…”

“Other nights?” Wanda echoed in feigned confusion.

“I-I often find myself wet down there," You confided to Wanda who nodded attentively.

Like a lightbulb moment, Wanda seemed to understand. "It's normal. Our vagina does it by nature, as a way of cleaning itself. It's called a discharge, dorogaya."

As you digest Wanda’s words, confidently assuring you, you take one of her hands and lace it with yours — giving it a comforting squeeze.

"I don't know what I would do without you, Wands. All this time I thought something was wrong with me." You nervously chuckled, beyond glad that the case was sorted out.

"That's why I'll always be here for you." Wanda shoots you a pearly smile. She tilted her head, "Now, why don't you change your clothes?" She brought her other hand that carried your clean panties and shorts.

Though you were grateful, embarrassment filled you again as you took it from Wanda with your head down and moved away from to bed to start changing.

Wanda sat quietly at your bed and peered curiously over your timid movements. Unbeknownst to you, she was waiting for whether you'd instruct her to look away as you strip down your ruined shorts and undies. She orchestrated the whole thing after her secret session with you, after all.

"C-Can you look away for a bit, Wands?" You requested, but your timid voice cracked in the process.

Wanda raised an eyebrow. "We have the same parts, dorogaya. Besides, I also change in front of you – why does it matter?" She counters and you can't rebut anything else because it is the truth. "I won't judge you. I'm just... impatient to cuddle with you again."

There isn't harm in it, you suppose. Wanda has always been there for you and has proven herself worthy of your trust. So, you affectionately smile at Wanda's needy self.

Your whole back view almost faced your bestfriend, much to her delight — only that her jaw slacked as she got a brief glimpse of your bare ass. Wanda was certain that it was buttery soft just as your hypnotizing breasts were.

You saw the clear, gooey, and viscous substance that left a mark in the center of your underwear. Your face curled up in a slight grimace. Even if you knew better about it now — all thanks to Wanda — it was somehow still icky for you to look at.

Wanda hands the clean replacements and before you can tug up your new shorts, she pulls you in her direction unexpectedly and brash to your liking.

"Wands– what?" Wanda didn't speak, touched you gently as though you were going to break. Her hand remained on your hips.

"Hush now, dorogaya. I need to check something." Her tone sounded serious so you let her. Although it felt too intimate, blood immediately came rushing to your ears and cheeks. "I think you need to replace some of them..."

You try to protest out of timidness, "But—"

"Let me inspect you first. Promise I'll be gentle. It won't be weird," Wanda gave you a condescending smile and you easily caved in.

You feel Wanda everywhere in your body. Her touch was electric on your lower back, the other was too close to your private parts — all wandering. Wanda's fingers came to trace underneath the garter of your underwear. From your pelvis to your innermost thighs, you almost closed your legs shut in reflex.

The air felt ambiguously thick.

Her hands continue to roam around the material — excruciatingly, it was underneath your buttcheek and the pubis area especially, where Wanda’s hands gravitate and wander back onto — doing motions as though smoothening it out.

You let out a sharp inhale and your stomach twitches each time in sync.

"This shouldn't be too hard and tight for you. Not only does it leave marks, but it's uncomfortable, isn't it? The material also is too thin. It's bound to tear off soon." Wanda lists out and all you can think is holy shit, she's right. You weren't confident with your picks when you shopped for them, in all honesty.

"Yeah. I wasn't sure what to pick..." You admit with your eyes looking at your sock-covered feet and your hands clasped in shame.

Besides, you somehow keep on misplacing them. You were baffled by now because you were getting understocked with the amount of undies you had. Where have they all gone?

"Tell you what," Wanda calmly calls your attention and tilts your head up with her hand, "I'd take you to shop some and help you throughout the process so I can teach you too. Don't worry, it's all my treat dorogaya."

Your eyes beamed. You need as much help as you can. "You'll do that for me? But... isn't it too much? I can’t ask that of you.”

"I don't mind, it's not like we do it often. I’m personally offering." Wanda shrugged. She had a point. You'll stop her the next time she insists... maybe in return, you'll do something nice for her.

Sneakily, one of her hands that rested on your lower back descended to your ass cheeks and came in contact to slap them. You sharply gasped and flinched upon the sudden contact, giving Wanda an unamused look. You hoped that she wouldn't detect the fluster in your appearance underneath it.

You didn't understand how it was somewhat satisfying for you. It was a mere play, an act that was nothing more but to tease you — but it felt good against your ass.

You whisper-yelled, calling out her outrageous act.

"Wanda!"

She sports a mischievous smile, her perfect teeth biting down her lower lip. Wanda shook her head and finally raised her hands in defeat.

"Come on! I thrive on riling you up. It's essentially my duty. Now come back and get comfy here in bed. You deserve more sleep. I'll take care of these," She points to the clothes you stripped out of. "And no complaints. I don't mind, I've seen all of you now dorogaya."

"You will be the death of me."

"I love you too," She teasingly replied before disappearing into your view and the words of your best friend made your heart jump.

You groaned in the soft pillow in surrender although it was too much for you — you knew that Wanda's intentions were coming from a good place. She's nothing but thoughtful to you. Soon, the harmony of cold and warmth of your sheets and duvet became too comfortable. You have proven Wanda right and easily succumbed to sleep once again.

Meanwhile, Wanda gathers the polaroid photos she took just a few minutes ago. She closes the door and threw your shorts to the hamper. But your pretty and soaked underwear? It's coming with her.

With the still-damp material of your undies, Wanda strips out her bottoms and sat to the closed toilet seat. She places the fabric over her now exposed pussy; not wasting any time rubbing it against her wet cunt, starting slow, and even thrusting it inside to stimulate and tease her filthy fantasies of you even more.

God, here she was, touching herself at the thought of you and the photos she had taken of your pretty princess parts.

Wanda took a good look at it; albeit with much effort as her eyes were threatening to shut at the sensation. It was easy to recall her indecent touches — the feeling of your folds ridiculously soft and unearthly, stretching your labia so she can insert her fingers inside of your opening and how it sucked her in slowly — fuck, you were so tight!

These thoughts spurred Wanda to rub herself with harder pressure and dared to tug and play with her clit — all while covered with your soaked undies. It was somewhat rough against the vulnerable lines and ridges of her labia and provided the undeniably irresistible friction that she craved, doing it repeatedly until Wanda stretched herself out.

It was your cum coating her own pulsating and clenching pussy. She can't help but moan at the thought as she touches herself inside these four, cold walls. How Wanda can only wish instead of her fingers, it was your dainty ones. Even better, you're on your knees for her... eyes wide, expectant, and obedient to her orders. You always looked at her in a certain way that made her stomach flip in adoration and glee. In her filthiest imaginations, Wanda is calling the shots, ordering you to go flatten up your tongue like a good girl and to lap her faster—!

Wanda finally cums hard, a guttural low moan tumbling out of her lips.

Fuck, she got so wet that it seeped out, the woman was sitting in her mess. Gripping and glancing at the jerking-off materials, she couldn't be more proud of herself today.

Another for her beloved and favorite collection — all thanks to you.

do not repost/translate on other sites. © wandagcre

#gg.writes #wanda maximoff smut #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x female reader #wanda maximoff x fem reader #wanda maximoff x y/n #wanda maximoff x you #wanda maximoff imagines #wlw #lesbian #perv!wanda #requested

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sluttywoozi · 1 month

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Starry Eyed | kmg x reader

Ten months together and every moment still feels brand new.

Rating: T | WC: ~2.6k | Genre: romance, fluff | Pairing: kmg x reader

Warnings: kissing, food

Reader Notes: wears a dress, gets lifted by mingyu, referred to as ‘miss’ (forgot to add before, my bad!)

You’re not always ready when Mingyu rolls up to your house and knocks on your door, but on nights like tonight, you are.

You’ve got your prettiest dress on, the one that he said makes your eyes sparkle, and you have a small container holding the cake you baked him just this afternoon. There’s a blanket, some battery powered fairy lights, and a bluetooth speaker in your bag, and as soon as you hear his timid raps on the wood, you’re on your feet and across the room. You don’t bother to slow yourself down as you open the door, long past pretending you do anything but sit on the couch waiting for him on nights like these.

Especially since it’s his birthday. Well, almost.

The smile that lights up his face when you appear has you fighting a swoon, though you know he would catch you before you hit the ground, his clumsiness absent when it comes to protecting you.

“Hey baby,” he says softly, already leaning in for a kiss. You happily grant it, pressing your lips to his and feeling that familiar spark in your stomach, the one you’ve only ever felt with him.

“Hi Mingyu,” you whisper, feeling oddly shy as he looks you up and down, taking in the bag on your shoulder and the box you carry. Normally, you’re empty handed, content to spend the hours just listening to music and talking about everything and nothing, like you always do.

But you want him to feel special tonight, to feel the love that you foster for him, to see the roots of the flowers that grow in your heart, watered and fed by him and him alone.

“Ready?” He asks, holding a hand out and waiting for you to take it, as if you could ever deny him.

“Ready,” you grin, giggling as he pulls you through your garden gate and around to the passenger seat of his truck. He opens the door for you and holds your waist as you climb up, making sure you’re securely inside before closing your door and running around to the driver’s side.

“Where are we going tonight?” You wonder, resting your head on the back of the seat and gazing at his profile, his sharp jawline and perfect nose and adorable ears.

“I thought I’d take you to the lake, the stars are crazy this time of year,” he glances over at you, laying his hand palm up on your thigh. The corners of his lips quirk up when you lace your fingers through his and he brings your joined hands to his mouth for a kiss, like it’s just instinct by now.

After ten months together, maybe it is.

This will be the first of Mingyu’s birthdays that you’ll get to be with him for, and you’re honored and slightly nervous that he wants to spend the time leading up to it with you. It’s barely 9 pm, there’s still three hours until it’s actually his birthday, but he was adamant that he wanted you with him for the transition and you’ve never been one to tell him no.

So here you are, driving down backroads and nodding along to the soft music playing on his radio, soaking in his lovely singing voice and stifling a smile at his lisp. He squeezes your hand when your song comes on, the one you decided together best matched your relationship, and you feel his ivy in your heart grow just a bit denser, just a bit greener.

It’s not long before you pull up to the lookout, Mingyu parking on the gravel with not a single other car in sight. If you were with anyone else, you’d be nervous, scared of every shadow and the dark lake stretched out in front of you, but with Mingyu, you know you’re safe.

He turns the truck off and unweaves his fingers from yours, jogging around to your side to open your door and help you down. You hold tight to your bag and the box of cake as he wraps his hands around your sides and helps you step down. You don’t mean to but you end up in his space when your shoes touch gravel, and there’s a split second of tension, one where you’re sure he’ll kiss your lights out. He just pulls away and takes your hand again, though, and you take in a deep breath and hold it long enough to blank out the dizziness he evokes.

Mingyu is quick to unlatch the tailgate when you get to the back of his truck, and even quicker to hoist you up into the cargo bed, his hands respectful and his handling of you utilitarian. You know it’s just because he’ll get distracted if he lingers, but you wouldn’t mind if he wanted to dawdle a teeny bit more, not that you’ll ever tell him that.

He hops up into the bed with you, walking over to the large metal storage box and pulling something out with a flourish.

“Look, baby,” he grins, his eyes somehow brighter than his smile.

You can’t quite tell what it is he’s holding, but then he unravels it and you realize with a gasp and a skip of your heart that he’s brought a bedroll. He must have packed it just for you, after you told him your back ached the last time you laid in the bed of his truck for hours.

“You’re so sweet, I could cry,” you beam up at him from where you sit, rising to your feet so he can arrange the padding. You take the time to set up your own things, winding the fairy lights along the inner edges of the truck and powering on your bluetooth speaker, starting your mixed playlist at a volume low enough for you to talk over. The blanket was meant to go under you but now it can go over, and you’re even more grateful for his thoughtfulness when you feel the chilly spring breeze ruffle your dress.

Perhaps it wasn’t the most practical choice of clothing, but you wanted to dress up for him a little bit, and you can’t fault yourself for that.

“You look so pretty, I should have told you earlier,” Mingyu says as he settles on his back on the padding, reaching out for you with open arms. You kneel carefully and curl up next to him, grabbing a corner of the blanket and drawing it over both of your bodies as you lean back and rest your head on his outstretched arm.

“Thank you,” you smile and tilt toward him for a kiss, your lips pressing against his softly before you pull away and snuggle into his chest. You feel a pressure on the top of your head and know he must have kissed you there too, eliciting a flurry of butterflies in your stomach.

Ten months together and every moment still feels brand new.

You turn your eyes to the sky and take in the blanket of stars above you, their light striking on such a cloudless evening.

You know the visible constellations in this area thanks to countless nights spent like this, but you let him point them out to you anyway, just because he gets so excited to tell you about their stories.

He can summon them from memory by now, having lived in this small town his whole life. You moved here only two years ago, and met Mingyu before you even moved in.

After hours of driving, your sweet little car broke down a mile from the city line, with all of your earthly possessions packed in the back. You were close to tears, sitting on the side of the road trying to get in touch with your insurance when he pulled up behind you and hopped out.

You were nervous at first, he’s such a large man and he has such a large truck, but then he smiled at you and asked in the most gentle voice you’d ever heard, “Need some help, miss?”

You, obviously, fell in love immediately, but you were sure a guy like him would be taken already so you kept your feelings to yourself and tried not to let your eyes linger on his muscles as he loaded your things into the bed of his truck.

You had to look up your own address when he asked, and offered to give him directions but he just turned to you and said softly, “No need, miss, I know how to get there.”

And he did. Fifteen minutes later, he was parking in front of your new home and offering to bring your belongings in if you’d run ahead and get the door. All of your city-bred instincts told you not to let him into your house, but you decided then and there to put your faith in him, and to this day, he’s never made you regret it.

Mingyu asks you a question, pulling you out of your reverie, and you feel your cheeks heat as you realize you drifted off in thought while he was speaking.

“Sorry, I missed that. What did you say?” You ask, looking up at him with your most apologetic eyes.

He just grins and shakes his head, knowing you get lost in your head sometimes.

“I asked if you believe in soulmates,” he repeats in a nonchalant voice, the circles he swirls on your back the only sign that he’s nervous about your answer.

You hum, contemplating carefully. You never believed in fate or destiny growing up, and the concept of soulmates always seemed to be so far-fetched, but you have to admit that Mingyu has made you think differently.

He hardly ever leaves town, what were the odds of him being sent over to the city for a one day carpentry workshop? What were the odds of him coming back right after your car broke down? What were the odds of you even moving here in the first place?

There were hundreds of small towns to pick from, why did you choose this one?

And how in the hell was he single when you finally worked up the guts to ask him on a date?

“Baby? You don’t have to answer, I know you don’t really believe in that stuff,” he forces a laugh, shifting under you.

“I didn’t until I met you,” you confess, looking up to face him because you can feel his eyes on you.

He searches your face, hope and nerves warring on his own until his gaze clears and his lips stretch in a shining, ardent grin.

“I love you,” he whispers slowly, the words carrying more weight than they usually do. You know he always means it, but this time feels different, more like a promise.

“I love you,” you send him a wobbly smile, your feelings bubbling up in your chest until you fear they’ll spill out of your eyes as tears.

His hand comes up to cup your cheek, drawing you toward him just as you start to lean in. You’re happy to meet him in the middle and even happier to feel his lips on yours, to feel him breathe his love into you.

You kiss for what feels like hours, always keeping the gentle, languid pace. There’s no urgency, no blaze of desire, just a warm, comforting feeling overtaking you, something like sinking into a hot bath after a long, freezing day.

When you finally pull away, it’s because an alarm goes off, one that you completely forgot you set in the first place. You reach into your bag for your phone and you’re shocked to discover it actually has been hours since you started kissing him, your sense of time completely skewed when it comes to Mingyu.

In just five minutes, it will be his birthday, and if you didn’t have the forethought to set an alarm for 11:55, you would have kissed him right through midnight.

This gives you just enough time to get everything ready, and though he pouts when you peel yourself off of him, you know he’s excited for what you have in store.

“Close your eyes,” you instruct him softly, waiting for his eyelids to flutter shut before springing into action.

He didn’t ask you to do anything but spend time with him, and while you’re happy to do that, you still couldn’t stop yourself from preparing just a little something.

You dig through your bag again to find the utensils, birthday candles, and lighter buried at the bottom before grabbing the container you stashed by the tool box. Wishing, hoping, praying the cake hasn’t been ruined, you take off the lid and breathe a sigh of relief at the sight of unmarred frosting.

Mingyu is no stranger to your baking, but this is the first cake you’ve specifically made just for him, and you want it to be perfect.

With the clock ticking, you carefully push the 2 and 7 candles in, setting the container down next to him and lighting the wicks just as your second alarm goes off. There’s only one minute till midnight now, and you leave your phone clock on so you can watch the time go from 11:59 to 12:00.

“Okay, open,” you tell him, kneeling a foot from where he lays, your lips bitten between your teeth and your hands clasped together in excitement.

When he blinks his eyes open and you see his face in the candlelight, the sheer love and devotion that floods your chest takes your breath away. You couldn’t exactly hide the cake container so you know he was aware you were planning something, but his eyes still grow wide in joyful shock, the beam that spreads his kiss-swollen lips enough to send your heart galloping away.

“Baby, you did all this just for me?” He asks, his voice just a bit watery and his eyes only slightly glassy.

“Of course I did, Gyu, I love you. Now, make a wish and blow out the candles, it’s almost midnight!” You urge him, watching as his eyes squeeze shut and his lips move, like the wish won’t come true if he doesn’t actually spell it out.

You don’t try to decode his words, even though you’re sure he won’t tell you what his wish was. You’ll let him keep it, you think, and make your own wish that his will come true.

His eyes open before he purses his lips and pushes out a breath, extinguishing the candles and grinning up at you with a secret in his smile. You can only surmise the wish involves you, and curiosity sinks its claws deep into you, down to the bone.

“You’re not going to ask what I wished for?” Mingyu gleefully teases you, reading you like you’re a book he’ll never put down.

“Nope,” you shake your head magnanimously, faking serenity even though you know he can see right through it.

His face softens into something fond, and before he can even reach for you, you’re leaning down and pressing your lips to his. It’s just a chaste, loving peck this time, mainly because you can tell Mingyu is itching to taste the cake. “Happy birthday,” you murmur into his lips before pulling away and pushing the cake closer to him.

“Have at it,” you giggle as you hand him a fork, watching as he digs in with gusto, his eyes closing and his face scrunching in delight at the flavors you chose.

He lets out a pleased hum, then garbles through a mouth full of cake, “Thank you, baby. Best birthday ever.”

You won’t even beg him to swallow before speaking like you usually do - it's his day, after all.

AN: happy birthday to the darling boy! sorry i'm a day late 💖

For mingyu and @bbychocolat

thank you for cheering me on @the-boy-meets-evil 💖

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azlrse · 1 month

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➳ unintentionally (a boothill x gn!spouse!reader oneshot)

cw: major angst w/ open ending, reader has a bruise (unintentionally) from their ranger husband, accidental slap (also unintentional), established relationship, married au, lots of apologies and crying present here, ooc boothill (first time writing for him)

a/n: alright, as soon as i saw boothill for the first time, I was like "bet lemme write something for him". he's gonna be ooc cause 1. i didn't play the game yet (cries incompatible tablet) and 2. i am still learning the roots of this game's lore (and him once he's released) lol

!! fic contains sensitive topic, steer clear if this fic ain't your piece of cake !!

"darlin'?" a voice called out in the side of the storage room. "please come out, i-i didn't mean to hit you and im really sorry.." your husband called out for you softly to avoid scaring you further. his constant knocking and coercing you to come out lasted for 5 minutes, making you curl up further within the corner of the walls. "leave me alone.." you meekly spoke, voice still hoarse from your earlier cries as you held your bruised, swollen face.

his constant knocking just faded away as you sobbed, using your free hand to wipe away your snot and tears dripping from your face. if you just steer clear from him and not pestering him because of his anger, you wouldn't be hit and to be screamed by boothil to just leave him alone. you knew that your husband is like a dynamite, ready to explode at any moment due to his occupation. boothill assures you that he will never lay a hand on you, even when the both of you are either arguing or disagreeing over something that's simple and stupid.

but this day, he broke that one promise that kept you safe since the day he asked you out. just because of his anger towards that one outlaw who's on the run for weeks. almost captured but alas, his luck ran out once again as the prisoner kept on taunting him that he will never be caught by him.

boothill, on the other side of the door, won't give up as he waits for you to open the door and letting him treat your bruised lip and swollen cheek. he knows that it's not an excuse for him to let out such anger towards his spouse. guilt kept on creeping through his system, hearing you sobbing telling him to just leave you alone. "im sorry, sugar.." he sadly spoke, reluctantly returning to the sleeping quarters that the both of you shared.

at around 4:30 am, he quietly opens the door of the storage room and looks around to see if you are sleeping soundly; tear stains on your face, a bruised and swollen cheek, and using a rolled towel as your pillow. his heart shattered what he has done to you and knew that he doesn't deserve your forgiveness. he feared that there will be a day that you would leave him all by himself, all because of how he acted towards his own emotions and anger.

boothil scooped you into his arms as your head leaned towards his warm body. he knew that you liked it when you huddled close towards his chest as he placed a chaste kiss on your head. placing you on the shared bed, he cleans your bruises and places an ice pack on the side of you. he stared at your sleeping face for sometime before he murmurs soft apologies to you, even promising that he will never do again.

the soft light from the curtains woke you up from your sleeping slumber after the ordeal last night. 'strange..' you thought to yourself as you saw the ceiling of the bedroom you shared with your husband, not the plain white ceiling from the storage room where you seek safety during your husband's anger episode. you placed a hand on your bruised cheek and felt a small gauze on top of it and a bit of cold from the ice pack he placed on the side of your face last night.

you tried to get off the bed but felt a robotic arm wrapped around your waist. "no, no..." boothill softly murmurs. "five more minutes sugar, needin' you here right now.." a wave of anxiousness just came rushing towards you as you saw your husband on the bed with you, snuggling as he finally woke up from his sleep; his cropped jacket is gone and only had a pair of short as his sleeping attire, his hair smells like newly lit cigarettes from his trip to the saloon yesterday.

if you aren't anxious, you would be flustered of his appearance.

"mornin' sugar.." he softly spoke as he leans in to give you a kiss. afraid, you quickly jumped off the bed and quickly make a beeline for the storage room once again. "w-wait!" his quick reflexes caught your arm. "don't leave me, let's talk it here my love. I know what I did is unacceptable and I'm really sorry for hitting you." Silence looms within the bedroom as you eyes avoided his. "Please.." He pleaded, his eyes soften as guilt crept on his back.

it's up to you to decide of you should stay for him or choosing your own peace...

a/n: not my best work but hopefully you guys liked my take on boothill (⁠ ⁠◜⁠‿⁠◝⁠ ⁠)♡

Do not republish, edit, or repost to other websites. Reblogs and likes are appreciated! 💕

#cw slight violence #cw angst #hsr x reader #hsr x you #hsr x gender neutral reader #hsr boothill #honkai star rail #hsr angst #boothill x reader #boothill #boothill x you #boothill angst

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totaly-obsessed · 2 months

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The Weight of Expectations

Alexia Putellas x reader

-> Happy Birthday to my darling @greynatomy, love ya!

-> Alexia struggles through the IVF journey and turns mean

-> Talk of pregnancy, alcohol and abuse

➳ Masterlist

•─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────•

“¡No puedes hablar en serio!”

Oh. Alexia was home, something new. You were currently in the bathroom closest to the bedroom, heaving up anything that you had eaten, even the light soup.

For a couple of days, you had been like this, and two days ago you had finally done a test. A pregnancy test. This was the last IVF round before Ale and you had to start considering other options like adoption. The first 2 rounds had failed.

Positive. The goddamn test was finally positive.

Immediately you had made an appointment for a blood test to get done. You just had to be sure before telling Alexia. The blonde already blamed herself, thinking she had waited for too long, hesitant to have a child while in the midst of her career before she finally committed to it.

You had been so incredibly happy when she came to you after a game. Tears streamed down your face when she told you that she was ready to have a child. With you.

The disappointment of two failed attempts weighed heavily on Alexia. She desperately tried to console you as you cried, hiding her own tears in her pillow when you finally passed out. How could she be sad when you had to go through the physical aspect as well?

She shouldn't have waited that long, maybe 29 was too old.

After that things changed. She had left for Spain camp, and after that, she threw herself back into work in Barcelona. Her surgery was healing well and she was getting better and better by the day.

Meanwhile, you were sat at home, trying to understand the change in your wife. Did you do something wrong? With the previous tries the footballer had been so involved, checking in on you multiple times a day when she was at training.

And now? Nothing.

Alone you had gone to the blood test yesterday, not even needing an explanation for your wife, who came home after you had gone to bed and left before you woke up.

Eight Weeks. You were already two months along. In Alexia's absence, you had completely forgotten to test, wanting to do it with her.

As soon as you had gotten the confirmation, the morning sickness hit ten times harder. Who even decided to call it that? Morning sickness… What a stupid fucking name. The whole day was filled with sudden cramps and vomiting.

And you had done it all alone until now.

But Alexia was here now, yelling in the kitchen, before she stomped up the stairs to the bathroom, looking into every door available on her way. She was looking for you.

She hesitated for a second, seeing you crouched on the floor, head over the toilet, and pale as the white wall behind you.

“¡No puedes hablar en serio!”, she yelled again, now in your face.

“I am serious Ale, what's up?”

This was the first time you had seen her in a couple of days, her roots were starting to show, as did the bags under her eyes. But the rest of her body looked stronger than ever, the countless hours in the gym paying off.

“The kitchen is a mess, you didn’t do the laundry and you didn't mop the floors either. Look how filthy it is in this house!”

Wow.

You didn't know what you had been expecting. But definitely not this.

With slow movements you pushed yourself up, using the sink to help balance yourself. Fuck were you dizzy.

“W- What did you mean?” You hated how meek your voice sounded after your wife practically yelled at you.

Her face was red, and her eyes looked like she had been bitten by the devil, spit gathering at the corners of her mouth.

Crazy. She looked really fucking crazy, and it was terrifying.

“¿En serio?”

“Let’s just go downstairs, I made dinner and we can talk about it.”

With a scoff the blonde turned on the spot, stomping down the stairs, leaving you in the bathroom. Tears threatened to fall. What has happened?

With your nausea, it took you a bit longer to navigate the stairs. Every step hurt, but Alexia couldn’t care less about your pain-filled noises. She was busy stabbing a fork into her dinner, already scarfing a plate of your favorite pasta dish down.

“Finally. God, you always take so long.”

The words were filled with hate as she spat them at you, not even noticing that a bit of the sauce was flung onto her cheeks.

You couldn’t help but smile a bit, she had never managed to eat without making a mess of herself and the table. With a damp cloth, you tried to wipe the spot away, but when she hit your hand away from her, the cloth sailed to the floor as you looked at her. Eyes wide in panic.

“I am not your goddamn child. I can take care of myself.”

Your wives' usually warm eyes pierced your heart even more. Was this really the same woman who would carry you to bed every night, even after grueling training and rehab sessions?

The tears you had breathed away were back, a painful sensation in your eyes as Alexia continued to devour the meal you had prepared with so much excitement to tell her as if it didn't mean anything.

“This tastes like shit. Not even good for cooking.” She threw the fork on the plate, the clattering sound ripping you out of your shock-induced trance. “Do you want me to make you something different?

Your wife looked terrifying. Her eyes were wide open with small pupils that moved around quickly, looking you up and down before making their way through the house. The rest of her face was stoic, a facade she had perfected over the years. One that she didn’t usually use with you.

“No. I don’t want new food. I want you to get yourself together.”

The room filled with a heavy silence that nearly made you gasp for air. What did she mean?

“Amore I don’t know what has gotten into you, but maybe we should just go for a quick walk? Get some fresh air?”

That was the final nail in the coffin for the footballer, who stood up with such force, that the chair slid back and toppled over with a startling noise.

“Fresh air? You want fresh air?” She was getting in your face now, hunching a little to really get close. “Do you know what I want?”

Her breath was warm as it hit your nose.

Alcohol. You could smell alcohol.

She was a mean drunk, snapping at anyone who dared to get too close to her, her dog, or you. But just like her stern face, you were usually safe from her drunken attitude. Your wife always pushed you behind her as soon as anything looked like trouble.

This was new and you hated it.

“What do you want Ale?”

the defender had emptied your cup of coffee in one go, slamming the mug down on the counter.

“What do I want? I a housewife that can actually do her fucking job!” She was yelling now, some of the words accentuated with harsh hand movements and slight pushes to your shoulders.

“And look at how you let yourself go. Fucking pathetic! How can I even show myself in public with you?”

Shit that hurt.

You were finally pregnant with a very much wanted child, and she acted like this after leaving you alone for such a long time.

“Gained so much weight it’s-”

“I’m pregnant.”

You didn't yell. You didn’t shout. You said it with a normal voice. Well as normal as you could with tears threatening to spill.

But it was enough to quiet the drunk blonde.

“Pregnant? You’re pregnant?”

It felt as if she was looking at you for the first time when her eyes softened and her whole body slumped. She fucked up. And she knew it.

In a frenzy you started packing things, throwing stuff into a suitcase while your wife tried to stop you. “Where are you going? Amore, please! I am so sorry!”

But it was too late.

With a suitcase and Alexia’s car, you made your way to Eli’s house, you had no one in Spain, all your family back home, so you decided to turn to your wife's mother who loved you to no end and had spent a lot of time at your house while Alexias had been ‘busy’ the last few weeks.

Alexia watched as you left. You were pregnant with a child that she wanted so badly, and she fucked it up.

Tomorrow she will make up for it. She really will.

#woso #woso x reader #woso imagine #woso imagines #woso community #alexias putellas #alexia putellas x reader #alexia putellas imagine #barça femeni #barca femeni x reader #barcelona femeni x reader #barcelona femeni

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distantdarlings · 2 months

Text

BENEATH HIS SHIRT // t. nott

RATING: PG-13 / 3.7K WORDS

Theodore Nott x Female Reader Insert

+ SUMMARY - *Requested, based on this* When Theodore Nott discovers an old artifact with interesting properties, known as a Time Turner, he comes up with the idea to use it to perfect his asking you out. (Romance)

+ WARNINGS - Language, using Time Turner, lots of thinking about reader, fem reader insert, not proofread! nothing else (lmk if I missed any)

+ MUSIC (listened to while writing) -

All My Love - Noah Kahan

- - -

(Note: Hello there, all you beautiful people! I am finally back and ready to knock out the rest of your requests! I am so sorry I was gone for so long but I’ve had a lot going on in my everyday life. Thank you all for being so patient and please enjoy the story!)

Theo’s leg bounced beneath the desk, the wooden floorboards creaking every so often. His fingers nervously drummed against his notebooks. His eyes darted around. The teacher droned on and on.

Every so often, he felt his hand raise to his chest to gently nudge the cold weight that rested beneath his shirt. He figured it was a bit of paranoia stemming from the valuable thing around his neck, but he couldn’t stop it. He wasn’t even supposed to have it.

He’d found it when rooting through Professor McGonagall’s office last week. He knew how bad that sounded, but, in his defense, he didn’t mean to grab it. He was trying to grab the small chain he’d gotten at Hogsmeade last year—he’d been playing with it during class, and McGonagall had become annoyed with him. She had said he could have it back at the end of the month, but he wasn’t going to wait that long. He’d spent his money on that necklace, and he’d wanted it back.

The realization that he’d grabbed the wrong necklace hadn’t hit until he’d finally gotten back to his dorm. He’d run the whole way and failed to look down even once.

The item he’d held clenched in his fist was a golden chain with a single spherical charm at the end. It was golden, as well, with intricate carvings encasing it. He didn’t know what the hell he’d grabbed and figured it was some girl’s that McGonagall had snatched up, just like his.

He had rolled his eyes in annoyance, promising to head back tomorrow to go grab his necklace and return the one now settled in his palm.

Except he hadn’t gone back the next day. In the midst of getting ready for bed in the empty bathroom that night, he’d begun to mindlessly fidget with the golden object whilst brushing his teeth.

His fingers had traced the end of it, watching the rings around the charm twirl in on each other. The minty suds had spilled over the edge of his bottom lip, and when he had gone to catch the mess, his finger had jerked against the side of the charm just barely, and he was standing straight up again.

The suds still sat on the edge of his lip. They slid slowly, slowly, then pushed over and hit the ground with a wet splat. His eyes stared forward at the reflection of the necklace in his hand.

He didn’t know what the hell happened. It felt like his body had glitched out of reality for a moment. Surely it was just a coincidence, and he’d just had some more minty mess dribbling from his lips than he initially thought. But then, where had the original bit of toothpaste gone? He surely hadn’t caught it. He stepped back and looked around, searching over the stone floor and his person, attempting to find the missing blob of toothpaste. What the hell was going on?

His eyes found the necklace clutched between his fingers. He brushed his thumb over the golden jewelry just as he’d done the first time.

The earth glitched again, and the toothbrush was back in his mouth, and he was a step forward, closer to the mirror. He’d gasped and dropped his toothbrush and the jewelry in the sink, backing away wildly.

And after he’d played with it a few more times, he had decided to research it in the library. And now, as he sat in class, waiting for it to end, he felt as if it couldn’t come fast enough. He needed to get to the library so he could figure out what exactly this necklace did.

If he had to guess, he’d imagine that it turned the world back a bit at a time. Every time he touched the charm in a specific way—a small knob-like detail on the side of the globe itself—the day would jump back, and he’d be standing where he had been a few minutes before.

He was unsure of the extent of its power or if it really even did turn back time, but he intended to find out.

“Class dismissed!” McGonagall’s voice flashed through his mind.

At the sound of her announcement, he quickly gathered his things and rushed off toward the library, not bothering to excuse himself.

His breaths came out in quick, rasping pants as he appeared before the main entrance to the library. The hands that grasped his coat and bag collected beads of sweat rapidly, the small droplets slipping down his fingers.

“Nott? Everything alright?”

He whipped around, searching for the owner of the voice that had just grabbed his attention. Just before him, nearly a foot shorter, was Hermione Granger.

She stared up at him—eyes concerned, lips parted, hair bushy and wild, arms gripping a large number of books. One of her eyebrows quirked as if she was awaiting his response.

“Oh, sorry, Granger,” he chuckled nervously. “I was just trying to get to the library ahead of everybody…I’ve got some studying to do.” Wow, what a pathetic lie. Hermione knew it, too.

“Okay…did you need any help?” she asked. “I am a library ambassador.” Her voice was proud, chest perked out.

Just before he was about to blurt a loud, suspicious ‘no!’, he had a revelation. Hermione Granger was a Gryffindor and a tad annoying, but she was also one of the smartest students in the entirety of the castle, perhaps even in the Wizarding World. If anyone was able to help him at this moment—who wasn’t a professor and/or blatant snitch—it was her. He swallowed thickly.

“Actually, yes,” he said, nervously toying with the shoulder straps on his bag.

“Perfect, let’s get set up at a table!” she smiled widely, gently pushing past him and leading the way.

Theo had not been wrong in recruiting Granger’s assistance. She was bloody brilliant. The only information he’d given her, as suspicious as it had sounded, was he was doing a project about “magical objects—specifically jewelry” in his Defense Against the Dark Arts class. As dumb as the cover was, it seemed to work.

She’d set to work instantly, selecting tens of twenties of thickly bound books that had to be at least a hundred years old. When she pulled them from the shelf, her fingers fell away from them, allowing them to fall down to about waist height, where they would catch themselves in mid-air. As she scanned the shelves, they floated alongside her.

Theo was in awe of her incredible knowledge; he actually found himself interested in the millions of side tangents she went on. It was clear she was very intelligent.

The two of them had sat at a quiet table and set to work, with Hermione leading the way. She had pored over each book she’d decided upon, choosing between a number of fantastical objects, including a goblet that never let itself empty and a collection of garden tools in Sweden that did their own work without ever having been tweaked by a Wizard. It was fascinating.

Theo had even started working his way through one of the books when he’d spotted it. On a dusty, yellowed page, he saw a near-perfect sketch of the object now strung around his neck. Time-Turner. A small gasp left his lips, and his hands went to clutch against the necklace. It was an involuntary reaction, but one that hadn’t gone unnoticed by Hermione.

“Interested in the Time Turner?” she asked. “Would you like to use that one for your project? It’s quite brilliant.” Her eyes glanced down to his clutched fist, fingers still curled around the Time-Turner through his sweater. He let go and dropped his hand to his lap.

“I just thought it sounded very cool…” Theo said, sounding very unsure of himself. “Do you have any more books on it?”

“Um, I could search about if you wanted to look over that one a bit more,” she offered. Theo nodded, his eyes avoiding hers. Despite his obvious avoidance of her gaze, she set herself back down at the table and forced his eyes to find hers once more.

“Theo?”

“Yeah, what’s up?” he asked, trying to appear nonchalant. He felt as though he was sweating profusely.

“I’m going to ask you a question, and it’s not meant to upset you, but…are you currently in possession of any school-banned objects?”

His eyes flickered up to hers in shock. He hadn’t expected her to ask that if he were being honest. She hadn’t even skirted around the subject or anything. He paused for a moment, trying to find the words.

“No,” he breathed, his chest tight. He could barely look at her.

“Okay,” she said, expression unconvinced. “Well, so that you know—for your project—Time-Turners can be dangerous if not used properly. Your past self can never see your present self.” Oh. That was good to know.

She nodded her head slightly, eyebrows still furrowed tightly, before turning to walk away. She left Theo staring blankly at the open book before him. She definitely didn’t believe him. He hoped she wouldn’t rat him out.

He got to his feet and quickly exited the library.

***

Once back in his dorm, a thought washed over him. He could use this Time-Turner to benefit himself in an extreme amount of ways. He could go back and fix tests he’d failed, he could correct arguments with his family, he could—

A knock came at the door. He quickly shoved the object back beneath his shirt, shouting a brief invitation at the door.

The first thing he saw was your eyes as they poked through the door. He sat up, tugging the comforter over his naked chest.

“Oh!” you giggled, stepping back behind the door. “You’re naked!”

“No, not naked! Just need to grab a shirt!” Theo said, frantically searching about his bed for a stray tee shirt. He noticed one strewn over the back of his desk chair.

“Accio!” he hissed. The gray fabric tossed itself towards him, allowing him to sling it over his head and down his torso. “Come in!”

You pushed back through the door, a sly smirk printed on your lips.

“Shut up,” he laughed, patting the bed beside him. You jogged over to his side of the dormitory and hopped into his bed, sliding your legs beneath the covers. Your cold skin raised with chill bumps at his warmth.

Theo asked you about your day, and you asked about his, and he contemplated telling you about the Time-Turner for over two hours before you finally disappeared back into your dorm. In your absence, he realized something he hadn’t before.

He could use the small golden jewelry rested around his neck to finally confess his feelings for you—and he could make sure it was perfect no matter what. He just had to make sure his past self did not see his present self.

---

And that mission consumed the rest of his week—or the rest of his Monday. At the start of the first day, he’d found himself approaching you and then flaking out; or starting to tell you, then changing the subject; or telling you he loved you! (but as a friend). He groaned and rolled his eyes at himself.

At this point, there were going to be ten little Theos running around Hogwarts. Now that it was Tuesday, all of them should have been swept away with the passage of time, but he wasn’t certain he’d gone completely unspotted by everyone around him. He could’ve sworn Mattheo, a close friend of his, had mentioned how impossibly fast he’d gotten from one side of the castle to the other.

With a clenched jaw and stern eyes, Theo told himself he wasn’t going to push this little journey past Tuesday. He was going to get it done today.

In the midst of his repeated attempts, he’d gotten creative to avoid being seen by his past self. He’d snuck little tips written onto notes in his dorm, pretended that students could not go into certain rooms so his other self could be alone with you, etc. He knew that that could be dangerous, and he definitely didn’t understand the full capabilities of the Timer-Turner, but he realized that if there was one thing he truly wanted at the moment, it was you.

This was the last time.

He pinched the Time-Turner’s little knobbed bead and turned—24 times. That should put everyone back on Monday morning, at exactly ten o’clock in the morning.

Theo watched as the air around him in the boys’ lavatory began to shift—little flashes of passersby sped around him; Professor Snape even pushed through the door at one point. The day became darker and darker until the whole bathroom was plunged into an inky blackness. Then, it began to leave quickly, becoming lighter and lighter until the rushing stopped. The lavatory was silent. It was ten o’clock on Monday morning.

He had Potions right now, but he’d already written a note to Professors Snape and Dumbledore, asking to be excused from all of his classes due to a raging stomach ache. He’d gotten unfortunately detailed in the letter and hoped they’d leave him to attend the hospital wing on his own.

He watched before him as ten Theos seemed to step out of his body and walk toward the lavatory entrance. These were his previous attempts trying to make you his.

An idea popped into his head—one that may not work the way he planned. He had failed to ask Hermione how exactly any incidents would affect his present self, but he figured he’d come out alright.

“Petrificus Totalus!” he hissed, then watched as all ten of his other bodies froze suddenly and collapsed to the ground, falling like dominos. He pulled the hood of his cloak over his head, dragged them over to one of the stalls in the furthest corner, and propped them up against the wall. Despite their eyes still staring right through him, they were not able to see his face. He was appalled at the way he was treating himself, but he figured if he wasn’t able to remember it, it didn’t really matter. It wasn’t like he’d killed himself or anything like that; he’d likely just be a bit sore in the morning.

Still, perhaps he should have thought that through a bit more… It didn’t matter. This was the last time he was going to create more of himself for no reason. He should have successfully asked you out the first time, but, for some reason, he kept seeming to screw it all up. He was pathetic, using a magical object to ask someone out.

If any of his mates knew about this…he’d never live it down. He took a deep breath, straightened his tie and robes, and stepped out of the bathroom.

You were in Defense right now and would be going to your free period directly afterwards. He knew this because this was his eleventh time trying.

He pulled himself behind one of the enormous stone pillars holding the castle up and waited for your voice to come. Every single time, you walked out of your class, your laugh jingling like a chime through the halls and melting Theo’s heart down into his stomach. He anticipated the start of the sound.

When it began, Theo poked his head around the corner and saw you there—arms clutched around books, gorgeous hair framing your gorgeous eyes, your beautiful body on display as your group of friends turned to walk towards him. He gulped, standing back slightly.

“…and I was just wondering if he was, you know—”

“Hey,” Theo stepped out of his hiding place, interrupting you. Your shining eyes met his. “Can I talk to you for a minute?”

Your mouth slacked open for just a moment before you blinked a few times and nodded slowly. The two girls on either side of you seemed to be suppressing smirks and eyeing you intently. He took a shuddering breath, hoping that these girls would not be making fun of him some time in the future.

Theo had told himself that this was the last time, so if he fucked this attempt up, that was it. He would throw the Time Turner away.

One of your friends offered to take your books and bag back to your dormitory. You turned back to Theo and smiled shyly.

Gently, he led you away from the gradually increasing wave of Hogwarts students and down a mostly empty corridor.

You followed him in silence until he turned the corner, and brought you out into a silent courtyard. The sun above twinkled over the fountain in the center of the blooming area.

Theo saw you smile a bit.

“Uh, I’m sorry to have pulled you away from your friends, I just wanted to talk to you about something…” he trailed off nervously, his palms already beginning to sweat. Your eyes watched him so closely—it was becoming hard to breathe.

“I wanted to tell you that I’ve developed feelings for you—ones of, uh, a…romantic…nature—wait, that’s awful… I meant I think you’re absolutely gorgeous…uh…” he stuttered endlessly, his perfect plan drowning. “I’m sorry, can you just please forget I never said any of this?”

“Theo, why would I want to forget any of this?” You chuckled gently, a small well of tears in your eyes. “You’ve been nothing but sweet and romantic and loving these last eleven days.”

“Yeah, well, I’ve just wanted to ask you out properly—hey, wait. What did you say?” Theo stopped, blood draining from his face.

“Oh,” you frowned a bit. “I wasn’t going to tell you, but…”

You reached beneath your sweater and slipped a silver chain over your head. At the very end of the links, glistening in the sun, was a deep emerald stone, hard-cut and encapsulated in silver linings. A rough breath left Theo’s lips.

“It’s a Reversal stone,” you explained, “a stone meant to protect me from any charms, curses, or illusions placed on or around me. There’s only a few of them in the world but my family happens to be the ones who originally discovered them and their immunity to magic.”

Theo wanted to throw up. He was sure he had glimpsed one of these in one of the books Hermione had brought to him. He had never been so embarrassed in his life.

“So, you’ve seen everything?” he asked, wincing a bit.

“And remember it all—but don’t worry, no one else will.” You flashed him a dazzling smile.

“So, I guess you know about the—”

“Time Turner?” You answered. “Yeah, I do. But your usage of it was very impressive; it’s almost like you’ve used one for years. Where did you get yours—oh, wait, I’m sorry. I’m getting ahead of you. Go ahead!” You urged him along with your hands.

Theo chuckled at your natural curiosity. His eyes traced over your small smile as you awaited his prepared speech.

“Do you even want me to go through with this?” Theo asked.

“I’d love to hear it again,” you said sincerely. Theo refrained from cringing at the ‘again.’

“It’s going to be the same thing you’ve heard every time,” he laughed nervously. “Is your answer going to change at all?”

“Well, to be fair, I didn’t get to answer the first times. You always cut me off and got to work spinning on that necklace of yours.”

Theo paused and thought back to each instance he’d reversed time and attempted to ask you out. He slowly realized that he'd never actually waited for your answer. He’d gotten too embarrassed and walked away.

“If you would have let me finish the first eleven times, you would’ve known that I couldn’t have cared any less about how you asked me out,” you smile flirtatiously. “All I cared about was the fact that you were asking me out.”

“So, does that mean…?” Theo trailed off.

“I’d love to be yours, Theo,” you laughed. “I’ve been waiting for you to ask for forever and—while I didn’t think you’d need an infamously enchanted object to ask me out—I would never have said no to you.”

Theo’s eyes lit up and his lips parted in a giddy smile. Despite his nerdish attempts at proposing the perfect question to you, you still wanted him. Had wanted him for a while. At least that was what you’d implied. Theo could barely force the words from his lips.

“So, we’re dating, then?” Theo asked dumbly. “You’re my girlfriend now?”

“Of course…if that’s what you’d like to call me, that is,” you smiled, sending a wink towards the tall boy. His cheeks flushed slightly as he slowly slid his hand towards you. You accepted the invitation by sliding your fingers against his, intertwining them lovingly.

Theo thought his heart might explode. He was already thinking of kissing you. Your lips looked so perfect and lush… He imagined you’d taste like the sweetest of fruits in the summertime, like the entirety of Honeydukes, like—

“Would you like to kiss me, Teddy?” You asked. Theo swallowed thickly. Could that damn necklace of yours allow you to read minds as well? “I’d just very much like to kiss you, and thought that I’d ask.”

“Uh, I’d love to,” he smiled nervously.

“Theo,” you breathed, resting your lips just above his. “Relax. You don’t have to be so nervous. Is this the first kiss you’ve ever had?”

“No, but—”

“Then you’re alright,” you laughed.

His eyes were wide and frightened, his lips parted in a perpetual sigh. He could barely contain himself as your hand trailed up and along his chest before sweetly reaching his face. Your soft fingers caressed the flesh around his ear and then across his mouth. Theo’s breath caught in his throat at the sensation.

You gave him a small smile before lightly dragging your fingers under his chin and disappearing back through the entrance to the courtyard.

Theo remained standing, amongst the stone and the vines, with only his breathing and the trickle of the fountain behind him. His deep exhales brought him back to the present. He blinked sharply and laughed a bit at your boldness.

He was going to get you back.

*Tag List: @mypolicemanharryyy, @lilymurphy03, @clairesjointshurt, @bunbunbl0gs, @acornacreacure, @niktwazny303, @thestarlithideout, @sarahskakskskskajakwwnwjw, @yhiiil, @ravenclawprincess33, @xxrougefangxx, @thatblackthorn, @robinyx, @starsval, @jolly4holly, @blvebanisters, @chgrch (If you would like to be added to the tag list for any future works, please comment on this post, dm me, or send me a message in my inbox. Thanks!)

#fanfiction #creative writing #fanfic #writing #reader insert #harry potter #harry potter fanfiction #oneshot #slytherin #harry potter smut #theodore nott x reader #theodore nott smut #theo nott #mattheo riddle #fem reader

741 notes · View notes

beomqu · 2 months

Text

Hoes before bros

╰┈➤ pairings! : dom! haechan, dom! mark x sub! reader (feat. 127)

warnings! : idol! au, cheater! reader, bf! mark, fwb! haechan, porn with plot, pet names, clubbing, multiple sex scenes, masturbation, mutual masturbation, making out, fingering, oral sex (f!), unprotected penetrative sex, creampie, dry humping, voyeurism (hyuck listening to you and mark), exhibitionism

synopsis! : Being bothered by your boyfriend's best friend since you started dating Mark, because you wouldn't fuck him made you tired. You loved your boyfriend dearly, but his annoying little piece of shit friend Haechan could not leave you alone, texting you behind Mark's back begging you to let him fuck you. When you got the opportunity to go on a trip with your boyfriend and his friends, you thought you could get a break from his friend's little antics, but they got worse. His dirty words started becoming reality, promises turning into actions, he got too hard to bear... too hard to resist.

notes! : i wrote the beginning a while ago its not the best lmfao but the end is good imo🤭🤭

˗ˏˋwc! : 12k´ˎ˗

Haechan sighed, dropping his phone down beside him. Laying in an unfamiliar bed, it just felt weird. Looking down and seeing the bulge in his pants, it just wasn't right. "Fuck it," he called it a day, right hand slipping under the waistband of his grey sweats, which placed the spotlight on the outline of his dick. Rubbing himself over his underwear a couple of times before tugging it down to grab his length.

He wasn't planning on jerking off right on the first day of his vacation with him and his friends, but there's just something so exciting about hitting on his best mate's girl, he can't help but get hard at the thought of you. You and him. Getting caught, maybe.

Maybe by Mark.

Preferably by Mark.

You moaning his name and Mark overhearing that 'his' girl is bouncing on someone else's dick, and enjoying it more than ever.

"Fuck-" spat Haechan as the thoughts circled his mind, his hand fast on his dick. "___-"

"Haechan."

Said somebody from the outside of his room, knocking on the door. Haechan's hand flies out of his pants, the waistband slapping loudly against his skin, he sits up and pulls the covers over him as he still panics about the situation. "C-come in," he said before the door opened and Mark stepped in, peeking into the room. "Wanna come down to the pool? We wanna start the opening party," he informed the boy who was blushing to the roots of his hair.

"Yo dude, you aight?" Mark raised his brow, noticing Haechan's unusual body language. Haechan just nodded relieved when Mark left after telling him he's welcome at the pool anytime. As the door closed he laid back down with a thud, looking down at his crotch and noticing a wet patch on his sweats. Ruined. He sighed heavily, a smirk on his lips thinking how it would have gone with you stroking his dick instead of his own hand.

After leaving, Mark went straight to your shared room with him, checking up on you if you were ready. "So, which swimsuit are you wearing?" he snuck up behind you, hands wrapping around your waist. "I'm not sure. Which one do you like more?" you leaned your head back, trying to clear your mind after Haechan texted you for the fifth time this week, and it was only Wednesday.

Mark kissed the side of your head, thinking for a second before responding with "The black one." you smile, nodding your head slightly. "You have a nice ass in that one," he commented, making you chuckle a bit then you reach for the chosen swimsuit. "Then I'm wearing this one," you smirk as you face him while slowly slipping down your pants, stepping out of it, and kicking it to the side. Mark glanced at your legs, watching as you took off your shirt next with a wide smirk on your lips. He rubbed the back of his neck glancing at your hands as they pinch the side of your panties and pull it right down, taking your sweet time with stepping out of it and putting on your bikini bottom. Mark sat on the bed, eyes still on you watching as you changed your clothes.

"Please tell me you're gonna wear like a cover-up or something." begged Mark, "How are you going to see my 'nice ass' if I'm wearing a cover-up?" you laugh as you try to tie the back of your bikini top, Mark immediately noticing and standing up to help you tighten it up for you. "You can surprise me with it tonight, I don't know. Dude, I'm not sure if I can handle the others looking at this here." he jokes, sitting back down after helping you. "I'll wear one of your shirts, but you best believe I'm taking it off in the pool." you turn around to give him a peck, before going through his stuff to wear something over your revealing outfit.

Finding a white button-up, you swing it over your shoulders, looking at Mark who just put on his swimwear, asking if he was ready to go. As he nodded you both finally headed out to the private pool the house, you all rented for Summer, came with. Everybody was already out besides Haechan to your relief.

"Want something to drink?" Asked your boyfriend, before going to the white plastic table set by the pool, the top covered in alcoholic drinks and different types of sodas. "None right now," you tell him before settling down on an also plastic sunbed, enjoying the warm air. You feel comfortable in such weather as you wear barely any clothes, thankful there is a pool next to the house. It was quite big, taking up most of the backyard of the Summer house, but there was still enough space for some tables and chairs by it.

Mark nods as he leaves to pour himself something. You take out your phone from the shirt's pocket and check if you got any notification, but when you see none you set your phone down next to you and lay back fully to enjoy the warmth of the Sun.

"You look great." you hear quietly from beside you, but when you squint your eyes to see who said it, no one was there. You shrug leaning back and closing your eyes. "I know you said you didn't need anything, but I did bring you some water in case you got thirsty." said your boyfriend setting down a cold cup of water next to you on the floor. "Thanks, Mark." you smile at him, your eyes noticing Haechan outside as he takes a sip of his drink. He was probably the one complimenting you. "What did you get?" you ask with closed eyes, letting yourself tan. "Just a beer. You want one too?" he asks immediately, ready to get up and get you something you like. "No, it's alright. I was just asking." you chuckle at his kindness, peaking a bit and looking at everyone else. "What are the others doing?" you wonder as you ask the man beside you. "Oh, uh they're..." he looks over, squinting just like you because of the sun. "Just talkin'," he turns back. "Not for long though probably, they were really excited for tonight. Probably have something in their mind." he sips from his drink again.

"Wanna go in the pool?" you ask suddenly, having enough of the weather, and wanting to cool down a bit. "Yeah," he replies, chugging down his drink before getting up and throwing himself in the pool. "What the..." You laugh in surprise, but are quick to join him as you throw the shirt off of your back and jump in the pool similarly like Mark. "Oh, it's a bit cold." you yelp as you come back to the surface. "You'll get used to it," he says and splashes you with water. "Oh, you-" and with that you both started splashing each other uncontrollably, laughing between the splashes. Mark ducks underwater, just as you think you've won you feel something under you lift you up in the air, throwing you in the water. You come back up inhaling loudly, Mark laughing at you. "Mark!" you call out his name, trying to wipe your hair from your face. "I'm getting another beer," he says, quick to get out of the water before you could take revenge. As he jumps out of the pool you splash him one last time, which doesn't catch him. "Come back here and see what happens," you yell as you rub your eyes.

As you rage in the pool you hear the others jump in the pool around you, someone purposely jumping next to you so you get even more wet. "Bro are you..." you turn around only to see Haechan smirking at you. "What?" he asks innocently swimming up to you. "You better keep a distance," you warn him, floating to the edge of the pool. "Why? Are you scared?" he teases, making you smile a little, but you immediately go back to a blank expression as you remember his texts this morning. "Don't want you to do anything stupid." you roll your eyes, looking over and seeing Mark go inside for another can of beer as it looks like the others already drank the ones that were brought out. "I wouldn't, you know I wouldn't." he stops in front of you before swimming on his back and kicking as much water on you as he can. You're quick to turn around, letting the water hit your back. "Not again," you sigh, already fed up with him and Mark. "Not again!" he mocks you as he swims around in the pool enjoying the way you get annoyed. You push yourself up on the edge of the pool and get out, before anybody could splash you again, making Haechan whine. "Why are you scared, don't be scared it's just water." he watches you as you walk around and sit on the sunbed you were lying on before. "I had enough, thanks." you roll your eyes again, drinking from the water Mark brought you before. You hear Haechan swimming over to you, squinting at you as you drink, his eyes following every move of yours.

"I had to jerk off today. Because of you," he says, elbows resting on the pool's edge, his left hand rising to brush back his wet strands. You grip the cup, ignoring him and looking for your boyfriend to come back out. "Why are you ignoring me?" he speaks again after you don't respond. "What do you want me to say?" you get serious, gazing over at him. "I don't know, maybe just feel bad?" you scoff, shaking your head and him smiling a bit. "I don't."

Mark finally appears again, excited when he sees the others playing in the pool, jumping in and out, pushing each other and just being incredibly loud. "Oh I'm getting back in," he says to you as he gets back in the pool after he puts the beer can down on the ground. "Alright," you say looking down, Haechan still standing in front of you. "I'll pay attention to you, that he can't." he jerks his head in Mark's direction. "He does pay attention to me." you're quick to object. "You know you're just wasting your time, Donghyuck." you tilt your head as you look at him. "If it's you it's worth my time," he says nonchalantly. "Stop, or I'm telling Mark and I know you don't want that." you roll your eyes laying back on the sunbed and closing your eyes. Haechan was not listening, at all. All he could see was your still wet body, water droplets dripping down on your skin, his eyes wondering to every exposed part of you. The way you just laid there, all he wanted to do was to get out of the water and pin you down right in front of everybody. He wanted that so bad.

You could feel his eyes on you, but you tried to ignore the feeling. Your eyebrows furrowed at the weird, uncomfortable feeling, making you squirm a bit, hoping the one who caused you to feel this didn't notice that. You pulled your legs up and then crossed them while lying down to cover your face from Haechan. Little did you know you actually gave a way better view to him.

"Are you doing this on purpose?" his lips agape, eyes wide at the perfect view of your cunt that was barely covered by the bikini bottom. You tilt your head to the side confused at Haechan's words. "What do you-" couldn't even finish what you wanted to say he got out of the pool and forced your legs down straight, hiding everything that was exposed a second ago. "Showing your barely covered pussy to me after claiming you're Mark's?" he scoffs smirking at you. You panic, looking over to the others if anyone noticed. "Such a whore." he says as he grabs your face, making you look at him, his eyes lingering on your lips.

"What the fuck?!" you push him away. "You're out of your fucking mind, Donghyuck," you yell almost but fix your tone in worry of others overhearing. Your face red, completely flushed to the ear. You get up before he could notice and left to your room.

Haechan sighed and stood up to jump back into the pool. "Dude, where's Y/n?" Mark asks Haechan after he noticed him but not you. "Left." Haechan shrugged swimming a couple of laps around the pool right after.

The others were playing around, throwing balls around, pushing each other, enjoying their time while you tried to calm yourself, pacing around the bedroom thinking about what just happened. 'I have to tell Mark.' you think to yourself, cheeks still red. Why did this get you so nervous? Why can't he stop? Why did he look so... good?

You grabbed a towel to dry yourself and went back out to the yard, this time grabbing yourself a drink. "Let me pour you something," says Johnny who was standing next to the outdoor table next to you. "Thanks, I'll get whatever you do." you shrug, shooting a grateful smile in his direction. "You alright though? You look a bit stressed," he asks as he grabs a bottle of whiskey and two glasses. "I'm just feeling hot." you fan yourself with your hands, still thinking about what happened with Haechan. "Alright then, I'll put some ice in there for you." he winks as he hands you the glass. "Thanks, Johnny." you clink your glasses together, cheering before you both take a sip.

"Is there anything else to do besides swimming?" you ask as you walk over to the chairs with him. "Of course! We can set up the stuff for table tennis. We can play that while drinking." he says pointing behind you where was a folded blue table. "Oh I'm really good at that," you say proudly, sipping from your drink again. "We can play now if you want to." he offers. "I mean we can set it up, but I still want to swim too," you reply, putting your drink down. "Then let's set it up and we'll play when we want." you nod, standing up and bringing the table over to fold it out. You placed the net on top, and it was already ready to play. "Nice, I'll go back to the pool and we'll play soon." Johnny agrees and sits back down where the two of you were chatting earlier as you walk back to the pool and sit down on the edge, your legs resting in the water.

You try not to get nervous again, but you're so deep in thought you get startled by Mark swimming over and grabbing your thighs. "Sup, baby." you scoff at him, smiling as you look away for a second. "Do you feel hot? Cause you look hot," he says splashing some water on your legs, caressing them with his hands. "You finished your other can of beer?" you smile again, brushing his wet hair out of his face. "Maybe," Mark says, tilting his head to the side to place it on your right thigh. "Glad you chose this bikini." his right hand caresed your leg that was wiggling around in the water. "You chose it." you laugh at his silliness. "Whatever, still am glad," Mark grabbed your hand, pulling you down a bit so he could peck your lips. "Can't wait to have you all to myself tonight." you giggle, slapping away his hand. "Who said you could?" "It's a must? It's the first day of the vacation, we have to!" he explains enthusiastically. "Alright then," you jump in the water pushing Mark back slightly, "Now let me swim some more before I'll get ready for tonight."

_______________________

You forgot to mention the Haechan situation to Mark, but who were you to ruin his good mood, especially on the first day of the trip? You just couldn't bring yourself to it. You also wanted to enjoy while you could, so you're gonna make the most out of this Summer. The members rarely get to have a rest, especially your boyfriend, and you want him to finally feel relaxed and at ease. You can't feel the same for Haechan, going behind his friend's back to flirt with you, even wanting to sleep with you. It's so obvious, the way he looks at you all the time, his eyes lingering on your legs, burning a hole into Mark's hand whenever he places it on your thigh as a form of affection. It bothers him so much. And you know it. You purposely lean against Mark, boobs squashing against his arms, in hopes of Donghyuck noticing. In hopes, he would finally snap, pull you away and fuck you so good.

You snap back to reality as you stare at yourself in the full-body mirror in the tight dress you chose for the night, make-up and hair done. You bit your lips, feeling strangely nervous. You brush your hair back, searching for a thin jacket you could wear in case the night gets a bit chilly. You chose one of your boyfriend's jackets.

You walk out of your room, heading towards the noise, to the living room area where some of the guys were already talking and drinking. "Not waiting for me?" you ask from Doyoung who was pouring himself another shot of soju. "This is how we wait," said Jaehyun beside him. "I'll pour you one too, that's enough for you to catch up." teased Doyoung. "You haven't drunk enough with me if you think like that." you hop down on the couch next to the two. "You should eat something before drinking if you want to keep up," Doyoung handed you a shot while Jaehyun picked up his own. "Just because you two are the strongest drinkers in the group, that doesn't mean you are outside of it too." you roll your eyes as you tilt your head back to gulp down the drink. "You have a big mouth." scoffs Jaehyun, "Taeyong made some fried rice, grab a bowl." you put down your glass, immediately reaching for the bottle of soju filling up your glass. "Y'all want another?" you ask annoyed at their teasing. "Of course." both of them hand you their glasses letting you fill it up for them. All three of you clink your glasses before gulping down the shots. "I'm starting with two, hope that's enough for you." you lean back after taking two shots, chatting with the two men as you wait for everyone. Slowly more people started coming out of their rooms, some people looking like they'd just woken up from a nap, like Taeil and Haechan, while Jungwoo and Taeyong both came out dancing to some music they got ready to. Your boyfriend came out of the shower popping down next to you, taking up the fourth place on the couch.

"You're not drying your hair?" you ask Mark as you ruffle his wet strands. "Nah, it'll dry by itself." he shrugged pecking your cheek. You smiled at him, your face getting slightly red from the hot Summer night. "Another shot?" you clap your hands, mainly intending the question to Jaehyun and Doyoung. They both nodded their heads, sliding their shot glasses in your direction. "What would you like?" you smile at Mark. "I'll crack another can," he responds standing up to go to the fridge. "Don't, I'll bring you one." you pull him back by his hand, standing up and mouthing a 'wait for me' to your left side.

You stood up, stumbling a bit on your foot, getting laughed at by Jaehyun, but you ignored him and walked to the kitchen, opening the fridge and searching for a beer with your eyes, finding a whole carton of them on the top shelf. "Could you grab one for me too?" says Haechan from behind you, leaning against the kitchen island in the middle of the room. "You can get your own actually," you turn around holding a can tightly in your hand and walking around the man. Haechan caught your hand, turning you around. "I'd prefer getting it from you." he looks at you, expression blank. "Too bad I'm not your maid." you snatch your hand from his hold. He sighs, shifting his hands over your side, slowly pinning you between him and the counter. He leaned in, his left hand brushing against your waist. He looks down, eyeing you up. You start to feel hot, pushing him away by his chest with your hand that's holding the beer. "Here," you look down, legs crossed over one another. His hand reaches for the can, brushing his fingers against yours. "I know you did that on purpose." he takes the beer his left hand sliding down your side to your thigh, fingers circling your skin. You knew what he meant, but he was wrong. It was an accident, one lucky accident "Hyuck-" he steps back immediately as he hears steps towards the kitchen, casually opening up the tab in front of you, looking into your eyes. You let out a breath you didn't know you were holding, bracing yourself on the counter, gripping the top with your fingers, avoiding his eyes.

Yuta walked in, throwing out a coffee cup in the trash, and walking right out without a word as he was staring at his phone. Haechan took a sip from the beer, watching you as you grabbed another one from the fridge and walked right out. More like watching your ass as you left.

You rushed out of the room, flipping your hair and quickly handing Mark the can, sitting on his lap, making him smile and get a tad bit shy. "I'll get the shots ready," you say pouring a round to the two men. "we couldn't wait for you, so now drink two for being late," said Doyoung as he leaned back on the couch. "What the- you're setting me up." you look at your boyfriend who smiled giving away that the older man was lying, but you were trying to prove something anyway so you took two shots right after one another. "Fuck you," you say as you wipe your mouth, taking your boyfriend's beer to wash down the soju. "Slow downnnn," Mark says eyes wide, taking the beer from you. "It's alright," you chuckle kissing his lips. Jaehyun nodded at you, amazed by your boldness, but still doubting your drinking skills. "Just don't get wasted," said the frat boy, sipping on a diet coke. You rolled your eyes, noticing Haechan finally coming out of the kitchen, still sipping on his can of beer.

"Y/n, are we playing now?" you look to your side where Johnny was standing with a table tennis paddle in his hand. "Of course!" you stand on your feet, pulling up your boyfriend too. You feel a bit dizzy, but not too crazy, you feel good finally, all worries are gone from your mind. Johnny dabbed up Mark before you walked outside, Johnny going around the table, standing ahead of you and Mark. "Hold on, that's cheating." the tall man whines, yelling for someone to be on his side. Eventually, Jungwoo walked out, picked up a paddle, and played with you three.

Between each point, whenever you made a mistake, Doyoung brought you, Jaehyun, and himself a shot. "This is just making me better." you shrug as you take another shot. Jungwoo laughs at you and claps his hands, taking a sip from the wine he brought out with himself. "How do you feel?" you ask the two men as they put down their glasses. "Honestly, nothing," Doyoung says looking at his friend. "I feel fine too." Jaehyun shrugs. "Alright." you roll your eyes getting back to the game.

You end up winning, making your boyfriend drink all that was left from his beer as a celebration. He coughed a little, making you chuckle. "Woah- hold on." he holds onto your hand. "Let's go inside!" says Jungwoo, not feeling defeated at all, cheeks a bit red from one glass of wine already.

A bit of time passed, Mark got drunk. not wasted- but he only gets touchy in front of the others if he has drunk enough.

"That's enough for you." you take the new can of beer away from him. "You can have it later," you say while sitting on his lap, making him whine, Mark burying his face in your chest. "Only if I can have you later too." his hand on your ass, squeezing it slightly. "If you can walk in a straight line, maybe." you shake your head, chuckling at him. "Dude- I'm sober!" he throws his head back in distress. He softly pushes you off him, making you sit in his place before standing up showing off as he walks in a perfectly straight line. You shake your head, congratulating him as he hops back down next to you. "Alright, now I can't say no-" You put your hands up in defeat, Mark pulling you in a kiss.

The party was close to its end, Taeil and Jungwoo both flushed red, even when they tried their best to stay sober, Doyoung and Jaehyun were still fine, but them engaging in some random heartfelt conversation, hinting that they also enjoyed the night. Yuta was gone, probably got tired early, and went to bed. Haechan- Haechan was nowhere to be seen for the last couple of hours, putting you at ease and not causing any more disturbance for the night. Taeyong and Johnny, keeping themselves busy, playing table tennis outside even at 2 in the morning.

Mark kept whispering sweet nothings in your ear, hand caressing your thigh. He stood up, holding your hand pulling you to your room saying he was tired now. "Go, I'll clean up, alright?" you smile at him as he whines but leaves just like you told him. You sigh as you start organizing the table, taking all the used glasses and cups to the sink, hoping someone will clean them instead of you. Walking back to the living room area, you notice Doyoung and Jaehyun still talking, both having serious expressions on. "Y'all gone." you push slightly at Doyoung making him flop back, laughing slightly at him. "If we're gone you are too," Jaehyun shakes his head "You can actually handle your alcohol," he adds before you walk away with another round of dirty glasses.

You cleaned up nicely, still having some work to do in the morning, but you were tired too. You went to wash up, taking a very quick shower before walking to your room. You forgot about Mark-

As you walk in you see him on his phone, hair wet again as it looked like he took a shower right before you. "Are you drunk?" you ask as you walk up to him, sitting on the edge beside him. "A bit, yeah," he says putting down his phone. He seems to have sobered up a bit. "You?" you nod with your head, but he could see you felt mostly fine. "So..." he takes a hold of your hand. "I'm down if you are," he licks his lips as he gazes down at yours. You bite your lips, pulling him in for a kiss. He sighed as you placed your lips on his, his hands wandering up your legs, waist, then chest. You moan into the kiss as he teases your nipples. The Canadian smiled into the kiss, confident in himself, but just after, you pushed him down on the bed and climbed on top of him, knees on either side of his hips. "Fuck- you're so hot." he eyes you up as you sit on him, hips grinding down on him. His hands take a hold of your breasts, groping them as his face changes from the friction he gets. You grind down harder onto him, earning deep sighs from him, that the more you hump him, the more they turn into whines. "Want you so bad, want to fuck you so hard." Mark's head pushes into the mattress, his big hands leaving your tits to your hips to help you grind down faster. "I can feel your hard cock, feels so good already," you say, your voice cracking slightly as his bulge brushes against your clothed core, keeping yourself up by leaning on his chest.

You both grunt and whine, trying to keep quiet, but you weren't sure if either of you were succeeding. Mark's right thumb slips to your clothed clit, making you slow down so he has more space. He rubs you nicely with his digit before going to your button. You help him get you out of your jeans, eagerly climbing back on top of him. You were soaking wet already. "So wet... for me?" he almost moans at the sight, you could feel him twitch under you. "Need you inside so bad," you say as you're quick to unbuckle his belt, and pull off his pants, his cock bulging hard in his underwear. As you throw his pants to the side, he pulls off his underwear, his dick slapping hard against his lower abdomen. "Fuck-" he swears, your hand reaching to jerk him a few times before positioning him right to your pussy. He helped, keeping your panties to the side as you slid down on him.

"Oh fuck...." you both moan out, feeling him stretch you out so well. "So tight around me," he gripped the side of your thighs. "Move." he begged, but you could tell he tried to sound demanding.

You may have been a bit loud, but at that time you couldn't care less. You focused on riding Mark and he was lost in the pleasure and your body, neither of you noticing your phone vibrating on the side of the bed.

Texts from Haechan, telling you to keep down because he can hear everything. He rolled his eyes as he heard your moans, tongue kept spitting out Mark's name, telling him all kinds of dirty things he wished you told him. He didn't even notice, his hand already palming his hardening dick through his sweats. He closed his eyes, focusing on the sweet mewls he heard through the thin walls. He could already see you, naked, tits bouncing as you keenly ride him, your tight walls clenching around his cock, your pussy creaming on him while he fucked into you from below. The fabric on his sweats moving up and down as he was already jerking himself off, grunts escaping his soft lips, fucking up into his right hand imagining it's you instead.

Your body language didn't slip over his head, he noticed the way you shook as he touched your waist earlier today, the way you crossed your legs, flexing your thighs while he traced your skin with his fingers. He saw how nervous you got from his gaze, how your breath hitched when he stepped closer than a friend should. He smirked as his hand moved on himself, knowing he was finally in. And he will be in you soon too...

He took his phone into his left hand, unlocked it, and opened your texts back up, all his horny thoughts projecting into messages to you. He smirked as he thought about Mark noticing his one too many texts to 'his' girlfriend. He knew you wouldn't see them yet, because he heard how busy you were... riding dick, but he wanted you to see them tomorrow morning.

His dick was rock hard, pre cum coating his tip making it easier for his hand to move. Wet sounds echoing in the small room, mixing in with your and your boyfriend's sounds from the other room. His eyes were slightly open just so he could text, his finger hardly moving as the pleasure took over his body.

"Fuck." he firmly said, releasing into his hand, his cum soaking into his underwear and the access sliding down the side of his cock. Finally not ruined, Haechan thought while laying in his bed, chest moving up and down heavily.

Sounded like the noises stopped in the other room, which made Haechan very tired. That's when he smirked. He didn't hear you cum.

_______________________

Warm breakfast welcoming you in bed as the Sun shines through the curtains, your boyfriend had prepared a little surprise for you. "Baby!" you smile as he walks into the room, the meal in his hands putting it on the side of the bed for you. "I'm not the best cook, but I wanted to do something for you," Mark rubbed the back of his neck. "Thank you, but aren't you hungover?" you peck his cheek after pulling him down by his shirt. "Yeah, but that's my fault. Are you?" he asks back sitting down on the edge of the bed. "Not really, just feelin' tired a bit," you say as you sip on the glass of water that Mark brought to you with your breakfast. "How are you gonna drink tonight, dude?" you raise a brow, "Dude..." he repeats after you, " Are you gonna drink today too?" he looks at you in disbelief. "I gotta prove some things to Doyoung and Jaehyun." you shrug. Mark widened his eyes while looking away. "Anyway," he turned to you and pecked your lips, "Eat, and we'll do something fun today too."

Turned out the fun he mentioned was going clubbing. Taeyong looked around and found a really popular place in the area, he hyped it up pretty well so most members agreed. Not everybody was coming, though. Taeil, Jungwoo, Doyoung, and Yuta all said they'd rather go out for a late-night meal and some sightseeing if that's even possible at night. Besides these four, the others were all excited and were already talking about it in the morning.

"Let's not get spotted," looked around Taeyong. "I'm not gonna hide," shrugged Jaehyun, "It's not a big deal either." you overheard them as you brought out your dirty dishes to the kitchen. "Of course, I just mean..." the noise gets quiet as you start washing the dishes from the night before. "Why are you cleaning all the time?" surprised you Taeil from behind you, who was munching on some food. "You think it's your job, because you're the only woman here?" you thought he was being sarcastic, but he looked pretty genuine... "...No." you break out into a laugh. "You could be cleaning too, I just know you won't do it." you look back to the sink, rubbing the dirty plate with a sponge. "I cleaned up the living room after you went to sleep." Taeil shrugged his wide shoulders. "No way," you say in fake excitement and he approvingly winked at you then took another bite of whatever he was eating. "You're not coming tonight?" you bring up another topic, feeling more productive while talking with the older male. "Not a party person." he goes around the kitchen island now in front of you as he sits down on a bar chair. "Also, Doyoung will probably pay. Who am I to reject free food?" you laugh at him again, pretty entertained by his thinking. "True, Doie has a big heart and a thick wallet." he nods in agreement. "If you want I can finish this up for you." he points to the still big pile of dishes in the sink. "You can cook or do your makeup or something." ...silence. "I'm just kidding. Obviously." he crosses his legs. "You can call over Jungwoo, he promised to help me with something," you respond after a while. "You got tired of me or what?" he says as he stands up. "Yes."

Jungwoo walked in after Taeil, happy to be helping you. "I promised help with like beating someone in a game, but cooking works too." he skips into the kitchen, sitting where Taeil earlier was, the said man sitting next to Jungwoo. "Are you helping too?" you ask Taeil, "No, I'm just hungry."

Jungwoo helped with cooking up something, and by the end, Taeil ended up joining too as he eventually got bored. "Alright thanks, guys," you say turning off the stove, letting the food sit bubbling under the lid for a bit more. "Anytime," they say, leaving the kitchen with you. The whole day went by with you waking up late and cooking something that could last a bit for the others. By the time you three finished up, it was already time to get ready for tonight.

You couldn't decide what to wear for the night, you didn't ask for help either not being sure if it would be helpful at all. Turned out you should've done so earlier as when Mark stepped in the room, noticing your struggle he was quick to beg you to wear his favorite dress of yours. "My everything is out in that dress, Mark." you worry, whether it would be a comfortable option. "I know, you don't have to if you don't want to, but I'm not drinking today, wear whatever you want Baby." he came closer to you pressing a peck to your head. "I can protect you."

You chose Mark's favorite dress. His promise meant much to you, making you confident enough to step out in that tiny, tight dress that bricked up your boyfriend multiple times before. Sharp glances coming from the other men in the room, you weren't so sure Mark thought about his friends seeing you in this dress. Or maybe that was exactly what he wanted?

No one seemed to dare say anything as it could've sounded wrong coming from them, they settled on starring. Jaehyun watched as you walked up to them sitting down on the couch where you chatted with him and Doyoung the night before. You carefully sat down, holding the hem of your dress hoping it wouldn't slip up and expose more of you than intended. "So... who's coming?" you look around the silent room, "Me, Taeyong, Johnny, Haechan, and your boyfriend," replied Jaehyun, his eyes lingering on your thighs before making eye contact with you. The way he emphasized the last words sounded like a reminder to himself.

You nod and lean back in your seat, legs crossed.

"Who are we waiting for?" stepped in Mark, breaking the silence and seeing upbeat about tonight. "Haechanie," yelled Taeyong to the mentioned man. Immediately he stepped out of his room that was right around the corner right next to yours, looking at his phone before his hands slipped into his pockets. "Let's go," he said already heading out to the front of the house. Mark took a hold of your hand as he pulled you in front of him, slapping your ass. You looked back with a smirk, knowing he would regret letting you out in this dress. You will make him suffer tonight.

Mark would've driven to the club as he promised to stay sober, but the car was one person too crowded, and he wanted you to sit on his lap so Johnny drove there. You weren't sure how it would go on the way home, but the night was long you didn't want to worry about going home, and hopefully, you will be too drunk to remember.

_______________________

Back facing Mark, looking in the dark crowd flashed by colorful lights while the stupidest club song was playing in the back, but the atmosphere made it sound good. Your boyfriend's hand holding onto your waist, ass pressed up against his crotch, boldly dancing together hoping he wouldn't get seen. Wearing a cap and a denim jacket he looked like any other frat guy at the party, he was confident in not looking recognizable. "Want a drink princess?" he leaned closer to your ear, making sure you heard his question. You nodded already feeling a bit dizzy, but you wanted more, it was too early to stop. He twirled you around, pulling down your dress and clicking his tongue before leading you to the bar. He took out some money from his pocket, asking the bartender whatever you were drinking last time, which you couldn't remember. "Here," he handed you the glass, watching as you licked the side of it before gulping it down in one go. Looking at your lips the whole time, he felt his grey sweats tighten up. The burning taste of the alcohol and the salt mixing on your tongue made your throat tighten up a bit, Mark noticing your struggle he put the piece of lime between your lips that came with the drink order. You quickly sucked on the fruit, but before you could spit it out Mark leaned in and took the lime skin away from your lips with his teeth, spitting it in his hand before pulling you in a kiss. Hand immediately grabbed behind you, groping your ass with his big hand while his tongue licked in your mouth, lips roughly brushing together. You pull away smirking at his needy behaviour. "Watch out, I didn't fully swallow. You might get tipsyyy," you tease him making him grab onto your ass tighter before letting it go. "Come dance with me." probably meant more dry humping in the crowd. "I'm so hard for you," he whispered in your ear, pressing his bulge against your thighs. Rolling your eyes, he pulled you back to the other guys, some of them jumping to the music, some of them gone, probably on a smoke break.

Continuing to dance with your boyfriend, you were surprised he didn't cum in his pants from the way he was grinding against you. Hands sneakily slipping under your dress, grabbing at your bare butt, and playing with your underwear, making sure only he could see it. He was acting up seeing you in the dress, you were a bit surprised at the switch-up at the club from yesterday. "Mark what the fuck?" you widen your eyes standing up straight and pulling your dress down. He smirked as he pecked your neck from behind. As he leaned closer you grabbed behind you, taking hold of his rock-hard cock, his smirk washing off his face and letting out a loud hiss behind you. You smirked proudly before reaching into his pocket and stealing some money to get yourself a drink. "I'll be back!" you said, sending a flying kiss to your boyfriend before walking up to the bartender.

You wanted to get it over with so you asked for a shot of vodka. You were about to hand the bartender the money when somebody behind you did before you. "Let me pay for you, pretty girl." said a random man you've never seen before. You were about to decline, but you were far too drunk to care and you just saved Mark his money so you accepted it. "Thank you," you said kindly tilting your head back to take down the shot. You were about to slide back into the crowd, but the man who paid for you started talking to you. "No need to thank me," he smiled at you. "How's the party?" you turned to him, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. "Erm, uh pretty good um.." you were a bit disoriented after the shot you had to process the words from the tall man. "Sorry I'm just a bit drunk," you said and explained you came with your boyfriend and friends. "Oh I'm not bothered by that," he replied, but you weren't sure to which part he did to, either way, he wasn't super appealing.

"What's taking so long, Baby?" the voice came from behind you. The man in front of you clicked his tongue before turning away from you. "Haechan?" you turn, almost rolling your eyes as he sneaks an arm around your waist. "I have to go back to Mark," you emphasized Mark's name trying to pry yourself from his hold. "Go back to who? Your boyfriend who couldn't even give a shit about you being hit on?"

"God, why are you so fucking jealous?" you whine pushing away from Donghyuck. "So fucking annoying all the time." his eyes softened while dropping down to gaze at the floor.

"Fuck, I'm hard..." you almost felt bad...

You broke into a smile that turned into a full-on laughter. He's so pathetic. "You're such a loser, Hyuck."

"There it is."

"What?" you raised a brow.

"You called me Hyuck." you rolled your eyes. You wanted to leave and go back to Mark on the dance floor, but as you took a step you started feeling the consequences of the vodka. "You should sit down for a bit. Your boyfriend can wait." he pulled you back slightly, making you sit on one of the bar stools. "And we can talk about why you're avoiding me." you held onto his arm as you tried getting comfortable, the dizziness turning down a notch. "I think it's obvious why I don't want to be around you." you shake your head, the alcohol allowing you to speak your thoughts. "No?" he failed to agree while he asked for a beer. "Yes." you sigh. "Look Hyu-, Haechan. I like you, as a friend. Mark also trusts you and-"

"I don't give a flying shit about Mark, and you don't either, you just feel bad, ____." you get quiet, seeing his frustrated appearance. "I see the way you look at me, the way you act around me. You don't think I see how much of a slut you are whenever you act up around me, but Mark eats it up, thinking you're his. You're smart ____, making everyone think you're innocent, but you want me just as much as I want you." you opened your mouth, "Don't try to deny. I heard you. This morning." he suddenly calmed down, lips forming a slight grin. "I know you saw my texts," he gulped into his can of beer. "You were getting off to them."

Fuck.

"Did you cum hard? Did my texts get you off better than Mark?" he leaned in, lips dangerously close to yours. "Because you sounded louder, than when you were with your boyfriend."

"W-what are you doing?" you pulled back a bit, face heating up, but you weren't sure if it was because of the alcohol or because of Dong fucking Hyuck in front of you. Your heart felt like it was soon going into cardiac arrest, beating out of your chest, you were worried he could hear it even with the loud music in the background.

"And this dress..." his finger slipped under the hem of your tiny dress, caresing the side of your thigh. "Do you really want me to go insane?"

"Baby." Haechan sighed as he slowly pulled back, not to raise suspicion, turning towards the bar with his hand gripping the beer can. "We're leaving soon it's almost 4 in the morning, wanna come and dance with me a bit?" Mark stepped closer to you, kissing your lips. Oh, how you wish that was Haechan instead...

"Woah your face is hot! How much did you drink?" he said concerned, putting a hand over your cheek. "Thanks, dude for looking out for her," Mark said to Haechan who turned around with an innocent smile.

Mark dragged you back to the middle of the club, dancing for the rest of the night. By the end of the party, Mark drove home with you as his passenger princess, and the rest talking in the back. Taeyong had to sit on Johnny's lap on the way home so all of you could fit in.

Walking back into the house Mark doesn't waste a single second before pulling you with him in the shower, and spending some highly anticipated time with you.

"Let me wash your back," he said turning you around before he started rubbing your back with his huge hands. "It was so good with you today Baby. I had so much fun." you relaxed into his touch, the hot water mixing with flowery scent clearing your drunk mind, leaning into your boyfriend a bit. "You looked so sexy." you hummed while closing your eyes, Mark's hand wandering over from your back to the front, massaging your chest between his fingers. Your back flat against his toned front, you reached behind you grabbing his hard cock that has been strained against your ass since the club.

"Fuck," he moaned at your touch, probably so needy for you by the feel of his dick, Mark hummed in your ears as you started stroking him. The right hand slowly speeds up on his length, dick twitching from your grip, his kisses on your neck leave you breathless making you sigh heavily from the soft lingering feeling. His fingers started trailing down, soapy hand quickly slipping down to your cunt. Spreading your folds with his finger he began rubbing on your clit while you jerked him off.

"Your hand feels so good baby, keep jerking me off," he whispered in your ear, while your mind wandered around a bit. His fingers were so skilled, rubbing at just the right places, noting where you needed him most. "Just like that." he praised, biting the end of his words at the pace of your hands.

"Bend over for me, yeah?" the lack of friction left you unsatisfied as his hand slipped to your back, pushing you forward. You obeyed, leaning down, holding yourself up by the cold, tiled wall. The Canadian took hold of your ass to spread them apart, taking a nice look down before slipping in his cock.

Your thighs flexed, tight walls capturing him inside of you. "Fuck Baby, relax for me a bit, yeah?" he hissed and stopped pushing in further scared he might cum too soon. He was eager to finally release the pent-up tension, but he wanted to enjoy you for a bit longer.

You tried to grab onto the flat surface, almost hitting your face on the wall as he finally pushed in fully. You spread your legs wider for your boyfriend and arched your back, trying to relax while his big dick stretched you out for the second time since the vacation started. "Just like that..." he mumbled as he started moving behind you, not fast, but making sure to connect his hips to yours each time he pushed in. Your mouth agape, eyes closed shut again.

All the frustration from your boyfriend all night, then his best friend taking teasing to another level. Haechan got you worked up so well just with his words, putting you in an almost hypnotic state as the only thing you could think about while getting fucked by your boyfriend is it being Haechan instead.

Mark's hand that was spreading your ass before now slowly made its way to your wet hair, taking hold of it and pulling your head back with it. "God..." you sighed as you were forced to straighten your posture, back slapping against Mark's chest. He had already picked up on the speed, his cock moving inside of you quickly, you were almost gasping for air. The hot shower fogged up, making it harder to breathe.

"I'm almost there. Take it for me?" he grunted out, his moves getting sloppier by each second, you knew he was close. This position made it easy for him to hit your favorite spots inside of you, he got you closer to your high.

Eyes shut close, ears picking up on the sound of your hips slapping together, moans leaving both your lips, but you weren't as close as Mark was. Mind wandering off, suddenly the picture of Haechan standing behind you, holding your hair in a fist while he pounded into you appeared. Your sweet and dirty fantasy getting you closer to your orgasm, making your body move on its own, backing up on your boyfriend's dick, making the movements deeper and rougher.

You mouthed Hyuck's name, taking everything in you not to moan it out loudly, so everybody could hear, even Mark behind you. "I'm cumming," his breath hitched, pulling you up against him and releasing inside of you. While he came down from his high, your fingers moved on their own, running to your slit and rubbing your clit to catch up to him with your climax. Your body shook as you moaned out, also making you stumble back from the alcohol still lingering in your system. "That's my pretty girl..." Mark whispered in your ear, sucking on the soft skin of your neck.

"Fuck, I'm still drunk as shit." you held onto your boyfriend, acting oblivious to the fact that you just came to the thought of Haechan. "Let me help you." he chuckled and pulled out of you, making you feel empty after him being in you for so long.

Mark was a gentleman, he helped you finish washing up and brought you back to your room. He helped take off your smudged makeup and made you drink a shit ton of water so you wouldn't dehydrate. He took care of you so well and praised you before tucking you into bed then got comfortable himself while hugging you close to him. He fell asleep rapidly, while your thoughts and dizzy mind kept you awake. You weren't sure when you drifted to sleep.

_______________________

"He's insane..." You rubbed your head as you had just woken up, - and your hungover headache was killing you - eyes barely open while you listened to Haechan's voice message. It looked like he called you at 6 a.m. and you didn't pick up.

"____, fuck. It hurts so bad, you made me so hard." you listened to Haechan whimpering into the microphone as he moaned your name. He called while you were sleeping and jerked off to you.

You wanted to turn it off, still feeling guilty and ashamed after last night, because you didn't forget a single moment that happened. You and Haechan flirting, Mark fucking you in the shower while all you could think of was Hyuck... a lot to take in. All you could do was sit in bed and listen to him. And now you were feeling worked up over Haechan whimpering out your name while you could clearly hear him jerk off on the other side of the line. You wonder what would've happened if you picked up the phone.

You sighed as you stopped the voice message and deleted it. You gently threw your phone on the nightstand to your left, only now noticing a white pill and a cup of water propped up on there. Mark is so sweet... your boyfriend is so sweet.

You immediately took the medicine, gulping it down with water hoping it would ease your headache soon. You were the drunkest out of all the guys, they were probably already awake, discussing last night. If we overlook the details the club was actually pretty cool. Good music and good company, you enjoyed it, but you were just exhausted.

All you wanted was to lay in bed all day. One reason is to relax, second reason is to save yourself from the embarrassment when seeing Haechan. Fuck, was he really serious?

_______________________

"You haven't come out all day, are you that tired?" Mark came in to check on you every once in a while, laying down with you for a couple of minutes, bringing you all your meals and any beverages you asked for, making you feel worse.

"The medicine didn't work?" he asked worriedly, lying under the covers next to you. You shook your head, still feeling sick. Next time you should think twice before drinking two days in a row just for validation. "Mark, I love you." you look up at him, seeing him smile softly. "I know dude, I love you too."

Guilt.

Crazy amount of guilt.

He felt so right up against you, hugging you tight with his strong arms, body hot from him. You placed your hand on his as he crept closer to you, chest pressed up your back and lips close to your neck.

"You were so good last night." you blurted out, praising Mark. "Yeah?" you could feel him smile against your neck, "Sorry for getting you so worked up in the club, we could've gotten caught." your eyelids feel heavy, "You were drunk, I was the one messing around. Like seriously dude."

you don't respond.

"___?" he leans over your relaxed form, meeting with closed eyes. He looked at his wrist, checking the time on his watch. "17:37, good night I guess."

_______________________

23:14

It was not a good choice to sleep again, but you just couldn't help it. Anyway, you woke up energized, Mark in a deep slumber next to you. You haven't even taken a shower yet.

You stand up quietly, slipping from under the covers, Mark's arm falling over nothing while you tip-toe out of the room. Coming out of the room for the first time today, immediately turning the corner to the bathroom.

Bump.

"Oh, you can be seen besides when you wanna get fucked?" looking up you see Haechan with gamer headphones hanging from his neck. "What?" you don't even comprehend his words, not expecting to run into him like this, hoping you wouldn't run into him. "What are you doing anyway?" he rolled his eyes at your confused form, how was he so casual after what he had told you in the club?

You zone out, only snapping back when Haechan spoke again, "Are you still drunk from last night, pretty?" his eyes scan your face. "You seemed a bit... out of it." his hand comes up to your chin. "Don't you remember?" it sounded like he was sizing up the situation, contemplating whether you remember what happened or not.

His soft hands grab onto you, tilting your head up. "I do." is all you manage to get out, body automatically leaning into his hold. Fuck.

Haechan leans in, lips connecting to yours for a moment. You break free from him stepping back, eyes wide and body completely frozen from the shock. Haechan steps forward pulling you to him, your neck stretching to meet his lips again.

What the fuck are you doing?

You think, but then your arms wrap around his neck, deepening the kiss as his tongue brushes against yours. Haechan's hand sneaks around your waist, pulling you even closer. You gasp as his right hand squeezes your ass, making you push away from him. "Fuck- you know we can't. I can't," you whisper to Haechan who is smirking at you, seemingly entertained by your inner conflict. "No one's here Baby, you can give in."

Mark gave you his all, you had everything, but you wanted more than everything. Greedy for temptation that Donghyuck gave to you so well. The game he played with you, provoking you for months until you would give in. He knew you would.

"I know you want me, come on." Haechan clicked his tongue, pushing you up the wall knee positioned between your legs. You finally respond, lightly nodding your head. "Words."

"I want you." "I know Baby." he teased, his palm placed on your neck as he pinned you against the wall, now mindlessly touching you, toying with your sanity. "Hyuck," you bite your lip as blood rushes to your cheeks. "What? Isn't this what you wanted?" his knee pushed up to your core, and you gasped at the friction.

Your legs almost gave up from the feeling, this situation felt so unreal, mostly because it wasn't right. "Think only about me," it was like he could read your mind, Haechan leaned down to whisper on your lips, suddenly biting on your bottom lip. His hand slipped up your shirt, caresing your bare waist before reaching under your thighs to pick you up.

You grabbed onto his wide shoulders, gripping the material of his shirt between your fingers. Eye contact was carefully held by him, all you could look at was his face as he brought you into the kitchen and placed you on top of the counter which was the closest surface he could prop you up by. His lips found yours once again, now kissing you more passionately, the need visible in the way he held your waist.

"Want me to kiss you until you can't fucking breathe?" chest rapidly moving up and down to catch your breath as he pulls the shirt over your head, arms in the air so he could slip you out of the clothing easily. You eagerly nodded your head, waiting for him to kiss you again, chasing his lips with your own. He stood between your legs, thighs wrapped around his hips, pulling him close to your core. He took your hand and guided it to his bulge, "All because of you." he was big.

You gulped hard before he pulled you towards him by your legs and pushed you back on the counter, goosebumps appearing on your skin from the cold. Haechan was harsh, almost ripping the shorts off you, smirking at the view of your pussy through your underwear. The way he looked at you reminded you of the pool incident, but now it was on purpose.

"I always wondered how you tasted here," he came back up to your face kissing you for a moment "And here." you whimpered out when Haechan leaned down and licked over your underwear.

"Fuck, Mark never does this," "What does Mark even do?" Haechan scoffed before focusing on your clit, making you drool a bit at the unfamiliar feeling. Your legs hung over his shoulders, his big hands holding your thighs in place next to his face. The way he looked up at you from under, his tongue pushed up against you, he was so hot, your fingers tugging at his dark brown hair making him hum against you.

"So pretty," his finger grabbed at your panties and pulled it to the side before getting messy, licking up from your entrance to your clit, carefully circling around the sensitive area. Your thighs clasped around his head, but he forced it open again, left hand pushing down on your inner thigh and right hand grabbing at your chest through your bra.

Mouth agape at him eating you out so well, nose buried between your legs while his tongue swiped across your clit, your hand left his hair to take off your bra. Bit clumsy with your hands as you were trying to do it quickly, eyes focused on Haechan who was making direct eye contact with you, eyes darkening when you threw your bra to the side. "So desperate, huh?" his lips curving into a smirk before focusing on your cunt, now a finger replacing his tongue. His cold finger sent shivers down your spine as he finally slipped it in.

"Hyuck, I need more than this..." you gasped at the curve of his finger hitting your walls. "I was patient with you, now you'll have to be patient too," he said as he dove back in, tongue now licking at the sensitive bundle of nerves while his finger trusted in and out of you, curving it upwards just at the right places. "I need your cock, Hyuck." his movements sped up getting you closer to the edge, you had to lay down on the counter, hiding your view of his pretty mouth placed on your pussy.

Palm placed on your mouth, scared of letting out an unexpected moan, you tried to hold back, but small whines still escaped your lips. You felt it, his tongue soon pushing you over the edge, "D-don't stop." you bit your lips, toes curling at the sensation, a moan slipping from between your lips. "Hyuck, Hyuck, Hyuck..." you repeatedly said his name as he guided you through your orgasm, his movements slowing down until you calmed down.

You laid on the cold countertop with your eyes closed, Donghyuck pulled away from your still dripping pussy, your underwear gliding back to its place as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "You were so goddamn loud moaning my name you better come in my room before someone sees you spread out like this for me." his eyes glided over your uncovered tits, and he held your leg to calm you down. He wasn't in a hurry even if he sounded like it, you knew he would enjoy it if some one walked in on you like this.

It was almost midnight, no way anybody could've heard you, but you were willing to follow him wherever. He took hold of your hand to help you off the counter, pulling you towards his room. Haechan enjoyed controlling you like this, because you were stubborn, but now it was like you were wrapped around his fingers, listening to him so well.

You walked into his room, realizing there was now no way out of this, you're cheating on Mark.

He walked up behind you, arms wrapping around your half-naked form as he whispered in your ear, "I'm gonna fuck you." you gasped slightly, mouth agape at his dirty words, "You want me to fuck you so bad, don't you?" he teased. "Fuck-" You should've thought this over, but that's all you want right now. You'll think about this when you care, which is not right now. "Yes, I want you to fuck me, please," you almost mewl as he reaches between your legs, finger in your panties.

Before you could enjoy it too much he pushed you down on his bed. You landed with a thud and before you could turn around he pinned your arms down on the mattress. "That's all I want to do to you," he pushed his bulge against your ass, humming at the feeling. He let go of your arm just to throw his headphones away from his neck, but not stopping his movements, shamelessly humping your ass. Your back arched to make it easier for him, but he stood up straight, leaving you on the bed still at his mercy.

Haechan reached into the drawer of his nightstand, pulling out a box of condoms. "Why the fuck do you have that?" you lifted your head and furrowed your eyebrows, "Were you so sure this was going to happen?" Haechan ripped up the package with his teeth after taking one from the almost empty box, spitting it out next to you. "I hoped,"

"You don't need it though," you looked back at him, seeing his eyes widen "You sure?" you nodded your head, seeing him happily throw out the already opened condom. He pulled down both his pants and boxers, his dick slapping against his lower abdomen. He was exposed to your gaze, grinning at you while you watched him. "Am I big?" he teasingly asked, watching your reaction carefully. "I have to feel it to tell," you got confident, but it was quick to disappear when he pulled your panties aside and glided his cock inside you.

It went in smoothly, your wet pussy swallowing it, while he stretched you out. "Oh my-" you bit the end of your sentence, fingers curling into a fist. "Now, am I big?" he pulled out of you until his tip was barely in you, then slapped his hips against yours, making you choke on your words. You just nodded your head and squeezed your eyes shut, unable to form coherent words.

His hands spread your ass, giving him a better view of his cock slipping in and out of you, each thrust making you moan out his name. You looked so pretty, and your pretty face matched with your pretty pussy, all he could think of was you, you, and you. "Louder, Baby. L-let the man next door hear how good I'm fucking you. Let him know... God..." his head fell backwards for a second before composing himself.

"You made me work for this," he said through gritted teeth, his thrust speeding up to his liking. "A-and made me wait so long." you squeezed around him, making him stumble on his words. "I'm sorry..." you cried out, feeling him hit a spot inside you, making it hard for you to focus on anything other than his cock buried deep in you. "I know you're not, pretty." he leaned over your back, arms on each side of your head so he could reach even deeper into you.

"I should punish you, but you listened to me so well," he groaned after he spoke, unable to hold back, both of you high on the pleasure. His hips slapped into yours roughly, the tip of his dick hitting spots that were never reached before. "Is my dick bigger than your boyfriend's, huh?" you didn't even think of it, yes it was bigger. Mark himself wasn't small, but besides having a big dick he couldn't use it as well as Hyuck did. You knew it, you felt it because you knew you weren't going to last for much longer.

You nodded your head once again as response, making Haechan scoff. "Speak princess. I want to hear you say it," his soft tone paired up with his rough movements pushing your head into the mattress, pushing you closer to your orgasm. "I'm so close!" you cried out, making Haechan stop his movements. "Wrong words."

You let out a whine as the closeness disappeared, leaving you with just a feeling of him stretching you out alone, which wasn't nearly enough. "Your dick is bigger than Mark's..." you breathed out quickly, moving your ass back to feel him slip a bit deeper in you. "So desperate for my big dick, yeah?"

"Please..." he reached over to your face, pushing the pieces of hair that had fallen over your face. Hearing your pleading words, he couldn't hold back. He took hold of your waist before relentlessly thrusting into you selfishly chasing his high, but by your sounds, he knew you enjoyed the way he used you. "So pretty... so so pretty, fuck." he mumbled under his breath, his groans turning whinier by each thrust.

"I'm gonna cum," he hissed as his eyebrows furrowed on his face, his grip on your torso tightening. "Me too," both of you panting loudly, none of you spoke anymore, only one goal in mind; to finally release.

His groan sent you over the edge, making you moan his name loudly, he cursed in reply watching as your body shook from the release. Soon Donghyuck stopped his movements, pushing all his length into you, spilling his cum inside you "Fuck-" he cursed again, watching you all fucked out from him. He was shamelessly loud, he couldn't care less about being heard, or maybe he wanted to be heard. You could hear him breathe, tired from how good he fucked you. Donghyuck pulled out of you, reaching for his pants and boxers and putting them on while he watched you, lying on his bed as his cum dripping out of your cunt, panties getting dirtier by each second.

"So pretty," he slapped your ass before hopping down on his bed next to you. "Fuck Hyuck, I-" you bit your lips, turning around, now lying on your back. "Are you gonna tell Mark about this?"

Oh my god, Mark.

Words got stuck in your mouth, tongue pushing against the side of your cheeks. You covered your chest with your hands, making Haechan get up and take a shirt from his closet, "I'm not wearing that." he sighed and shrugged still throwing the clothing piece next to you just in case. He took a tissue paper from his nightstand, softly reaching down to clean you up as much as he could.

"I can't believe I cheated..." you mumbled to yourself as you pulled the blanket over your half naked body after Haechan threw the soaked tissue out and sat down next to you on his bed. "Was it good?" he looked at you with innocent puppy eyes, acting like he didn't just fuck his best friend's girlfriend. "Hyuck..." you say disappointed, but more in yourself than him. "It's no big deal, don't feel bad." you sighed in distress, looking at Haechan. "I'm horrible..." "No, you're not. It's not your fault Mark can't fuck you. And you deserve to be fucked. Good."

You stood up and left quickly, you needed time to process everything that just happened. Donghyuck called after you, but you didn't bother stopping, you tip-toed to the kitchen grabbed your shirt, and sneaked back into your room where Mark slept. You couldn't even look at him, but you laid down next to him, turned to the side, and stared at the darkness in the room.

_______________________

"Hey... wake up." Mark pushed at your peaceful form, making you slowly sit up in the bed. "Dude, how did your bra end up in the kitchen?" he asked as soon as you opened your eyes. You sat up fast, snatching your pink lacey bra from him. "Uh..." your eyes widen, not being able to find the right words. "I must've.. sleepwalked?" it sounded more like a question than a statement. "Now that's scary!" Mark said, completely oblivious to your lie.

You sighed in relief when he left, plopping back down on the bed, heart beating fast in your chest. Your phone buzzed next to you on the nightstand so you reached for it, eyes widening at the contact name.

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kithtaehyung · 11 months

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busted (3tan) (m) | myg

title: busted pairing: 3tan!yoongi x reader(f) , jungkook x reader(f) series: masterlist | three tangerines | fireworks | house party | basketball | stay | sidewalk talk | friends | dalo | like that | anytime | sundress season | yoongi’s interlude | forfeit | flutter | video call rating/genre: m (18+) ; angst , fluff , smut ; brother’s best friend au, implied age gap au summary: when things go a bit south at your house party, decisions between you and yoongi have to be made. note: well. here we are, y’all. it’s been quite a long time, but we are back to regularly scheduled programming :’)) thank you to everyone that has supported and encouraged me throughout this whole process – and series, for that matter. i couldn’t have done this without y’all and the next part is already in the works. also i cried a lot writing this lol have fun! note 2: happy birthday, hedgehog! and to colourless and nicki and whoever else had birthdays recently, consider this my gift to y’all! warnings: language, the amount of content itself fck i’m so sorry, parties, alcohol consumption, tense situations, shoving, abandonment mentions (parental), obligatory yoongi on the phone, ch*king, head/hair pulling, reader has a pain kink and it shows oops, angst, overthinking :((, penetrative s*x, chains but come on now, protective s*x, cowgirl, or*l (m/f rec), edg*ng a ha ha, thro*tf*cking, kissing :’))), kissing D:, did i say angst?, bro😵‍💫, but also bro😭, jungkook gets a warning too, yoongi’s jeans are as ripped as he is heyo, hitting from the b b back, yoongi king of consent sheesh, multiple org*sms, spitting lmfao, sl*t/wh*re mentions, yoongi jfc lol, the aftercare y’all i–😭, the ending🧍 drop date: june 9th, 2023, 7:17pm est word count: 18.8k gdi

Here goes nothing and everything.

It was fifteen years ago when you first met Jungkook. When the sidewalks in your neighborhood were fewer and the occupancy in your house was higher.

A tiny boy, he was immediately ready to stay by your side, despite the limited amount of time he got to hang around before his parents corralled his energy back inside their car.

Later on, he would tell you that had something to do with them not wanting him influenced by your brother and his group. But you didn’t know that at the time.

Ever since the two of you met, you became the best of friends. And as you grew older, it was only natural that feelings bloomed with everything else.

In the midst of an ever changing garden, you found something that never wavered, vibrant in color and immovable at its root.

Which was strange. You’d never compared people to flora before him.

But, because of Jungkook, you couldn’t help but see everyone as such—lilies, buttercups, the ones that trap to survive.

And he was the prettiest, strongest flower of them all.

There was rain. There were storms. But with them came hope, and a pair of cheap rings that the two of you bought nestled nicely in boxes, waiting to be unearthed when you were ready.

However.

What also came was a lesson. One that you would learn again when two of every seat remained unused in your household.

A lesson that people are more like seasons than flowers.

They change with or without you.

And they pass by.

“We can go somewhere quieter if you want,” Jungkook offers. And you know he’s going to suggest your room before he even utters the words.

But of course he adds a small, “If I’m allowed in there anymore.”

When he laughs, your smile is as slow as your head shake, a few memories of old tasting bittersweet on your tongue. “We can.”

“Okay.”

When you make your way to your room, you hear the thumps of music and rhythms of conversation—both casual and loud—echoing throughout the house. Some people are sharing laughs, others are scooting just a bit closer, and a lucky one is cackling before demanding that everyone hand over their money.

All of them oblivious to the fact that you’re about to rip off a piece of your heart.

Well. That may not be the case. But based on the conversation that you had with Jungkook before your interview, this wasn’t going to be an easy one in the slightest—not for him, nor for you.

But if he’s gonna keep pushing forward, this is a stop you need to put up regardless.

During a party isn’t what you had in mind, though. Much less one in your own house.

You don’t know if anyone sees you open your door for Jungkook to pass through, or if they notice the slump of your mood, but you figure no one will care anyways.

Until you see someone out of the corner of your peripheral.

And the skip of your heart tells you who it is.

Occupying one of the hallways a ways away, you can tell he’s very aware of you despite being in the middle of a chatty group.

But what’s on his mind? Is he worried? Is he gonna ask what this is about?

Damn it. You’re just gonna have to tell him later. You can’t exactly do anything now.

A voice peeps from behind your tense shoulders,

“You okay?”

Fuck.

Turning, you nod to the boy in your room before shutting your door, giving one more look to the man whose last text you couldn’t read.

And the way he stares makes you wanna bolt from everyone entirely.

When your door clicks shut, you slowly swivel, only the bass of your brother’s music pushing the walls in closer.

Jungkook’s doing exactly what you knew he’d do, wandering around your room and either leaning in to observe, or lightly touching things that he remembers.

The soft puff of a laugh snaps you into focus. “I can’t believe you still have all his medals up.”

Ah. He even remembers the way you have all your brother’s trophies and achievements displayed—all because you liked seeing them shine, and he didn’t want them in his room.

Sweeping your gaze along two of your walls, you let out a tiny sound of amusement while agreeing, “I can. Too lazy to take them down.”

“I can do it,” he immediately responds. “If you need me to.”

If it had been five years ago, you would’ve been enamored that he even offered.

But five years ago is when he shattered any hopes you had for the two of you, so you turn him down yet again. “It’s okay.”

“You sure?”

“We’re here to talk, not decorate, Jungkook.”

He stares before nodding in dejection, eyes finding something other than you. “It’s still weird to hear you say my name.”

It’s weird to say it.

But you can’t let him know you agree, so the sound you make is half-cautious and weakly lighthearted. “You think so?”

“Ah, yeah.” He flashes a smile that still squeezes air from your lungs. “I’d gotten too used to all the names you had for me.”

“Oh, god.”

“But I guess someone else gets to hear them now.”

Goddamn it. He’s not gonna give up, just like he said right before your interview.

“Who are you seeing?”

“Kook…”

“I wanna know.”

“Why?”

He walks over to your nightstand, picking up a picture of you and your friends from years back.

And your heart pangs at how big his back has become.

Without turning, Jungkook lifts his head to stare at your ceiling. And if he’s wondering whether the glow stars he stuck all over it are still there or not, you don’t know if you’d admit that you never took them down.

“So that I’d know if I still have a chance.”

“You already had yours,” you whisper. “Remember?”

And when you look up, he’s already staring at you with regret.

Memories start to come back, but you shove them away with force, trying to empty your sinking boat with a teaspoon.

Every time he had walked back from school with you, every time he would make you laugh when you felt alone, every time he stayed at your place when your brother had to be out—all of them competed with each other to punch you in the gut and push you to your knees.

“I do,” is all he says before softly placing the frame on your bed. “I fucked that up, didn’t I.”

The times he said he’d be there when you needed him, the times he said it was gonna be okay when you struggled with your seemingly deepest darkest secrets.

All the times you knew you’d have a long future with him.

“You did.”

Everything leading up to the time he said you should break up before you left for university.

Right before you were going to tell him you loved him.

Your heart hasn’t beat in awhile, but you don’t notice until Jungkook starts walking towards your planted feet. Was he really so far away? How did he cover the distance between so fast?

With a sigh occupying your chest, you muse that he looks so different, but also not different at all.

And just like the time you saw him downtown, your brain doesn’t know how to separate the Jungkook you knew from the one you see in front of you.

Because they are still the same.

You don’t budge as he stands resolute, inches away but encasing you in his familiar presence. When his hand comes up to your face, he almost touches—but the slight hesitation has you holding your breath before he surrenders his hand at his side.

“I was an idiot,” he admits, throat seemingly small and making yours the same size. “I never should’ve… I can’t believe I…”

You watch as he flips his head up, and you hate how you know exactly what he’s trying to hide.

But your soul still remembers the wound it was dealt. So while you don’t want him feeling this way, you’re perfectly okay to fight back.

He doesn’t get to cry when he’s the reason for all those tears.

“And yet you did,” you remind him, proud of how stable your voice leaves lips that used to seek his. “And you left me so fucking confused.”

“I know.”

“Do you really?”

He flickers regretful eyes your way, giving you all the room to talk.

And you’re going to.

“Do you actually know, Kook? How fucked up that made me feel right before going where I knew nobody. No one.”

His nostrils flare while eyebrows flinch.

You expel a tough breath, everything that happened before bubbling up to the surface. The nights you spent wondering what happened, the days you spent feeling unwanted, the times you felt so fucking alone.

“Is it true that you even loved me?”

“Yes,” he finally shatters, face contorting and eyes welling at their rims. “Of course I did.”

Did.

“I still do.”

Liar.

“I thought I was the only one.” You search his eyes, hating how you would comfort him in an instant if this were any other circumstance. Hating, hating, loathing that this is how you find out your love wasn’t unrequited. “Why did you push me away?”

“I didn’t—I didn’t mean to…” He turns, unable to handle the loud silence streaming from your bones. Voice shaken, he flounders, “I don’t know. I’ve—”

When he pauses, it’s to keep his lips from shaking. You just know it.

“I’ve regretted it every day since.”

“Bullshit.”

“I have!”

“Really. So all those texts you never sent were full of regret, too, huh?”

“No, I—”

“All those calls you never made.”

“I wanted to call!”

“You wanted nothing to do with me!”

“No! That’s not true—”

“Liar!”

He digs palms into the soaking divots of his face, tense at all angles and making you so, so angry that this is what the both of you have come to.

“I’m not lying!”

“You are!”

You thought it would feel better seeing him cry.

But it’s not, it’s not, it’s not. You hate this.

Because Jungkook made sure your tears were short-lived. Made sure to chase them away every single time—

There’s a rapid twist of your locked doorknob before you hear a shout,

“What the hell’s going on in there!”

Shit, your brother. Were you both yelling?

…Were you both that loud?

“We’re fine!” you shout back, embarrassed that your fight somehow managed to outperform the aux. “It’s okay.”

“Open the door.”

“No.”

“You better be serious—”

“Promise!” You look toward the shouts. “We’re okay.”

“…Okay.”

And then it’s completely silent.

But you know he hasn’t left.

Fuck, he can’t hear the rest of this. He shouldn’t have heard any of it in the first place, and you can feel the heat of his questions coming later tonight.

Which, you are fine answering when it’s just the two of you. But you cannot have anyone hovering right now so you go to open the door and tell him off,

“Dude, I said I’m—”

Oh, fuck.

Yoongi’s right there with him.

And your heart fucking lurches.

Fuck fuck fuck they both see your tears and you’re getting moved aside before you know it now there’s—

“The fuck are you doing making them cry?”

“Wait, it’s not like th—”

“You come into our house after years—”

“Stop!”

“And pull some shit like this?”

Alarmed, you squeeze yourself between him and a very wide-eyed Jungkook, having to wrestle an angry wrist off a captured bicep. “Seriously, relax!”

You and your brother have a thousand differences.

But one thing you two have in common?

He’s just as stubborn as you are.

A strong swipe moves you back so fast that your feet can’t keep up, and you find yourself stumbling until firm hands and familiar cologne keep you upright, voices springing up all at once.

“I’m not—”

“Hey—!”

“The fuck—”

“What’s wrong with you?” you question, commanding attention and snagging both your brother’s and Jungkook’s stares.

Barely even caring if they see where you are and who’s holding you.

Because this is all stupid. It’s not fucking high school and you aren’t some kid that needs their useless, shitty, good-for-nothing parents to stand up for them.

Resisting Yoongi’s grip until he lets go, you stalk up to rip your brother’s hand off your ex’s arm, voice darkened and sharp, “Get out.”

Breath hard, the reply you get is directed more at Jungkook than your own pinched brows,

“Why should I.”

“Cus it’s fine,” you shoot out, sparing a glance at Yoongi and regretting it immediately.

Because he’s not looking at you. He probably wasn’t ever looking at you.

No. Based on that look alone, he’s been eyeing Jungkook with an energy that sends chills straight through your veins.

It’s so unmoving, so infernal that your throat dries, forcing you to swallow before laying more reassurance on three pairs of tense shoulders. “It’s alright, okay? We’re just talking.”

“…So it’s like that?”

Jungkook immediately replies to your sibling with a monotone, “Of course it is.”

To which he moves forward again before you stop him with a hand and a shout,

“The fuck it isn’t—”

“It is! Fucking hell, dude...”

You force an exhale, hating how your room is overflowing while you’re still drowning in the conversation prior.

Because now one talk is gonna sprout into three, and you already dread what each one is going to look like when it develops.

You hope Jungkook understands that you’re done.

You hope your brother understands that you’re tired.

And, above all the others, you hope to any high power out there that Yoongi understands that you are anything but finished.

When the tension doesn’t budge, you sigh and shift your weight.

“Look. We’re just talking. But I need to speak to him alone.” You breathe with finality, eyeing your sibling and his ride or die—hating and loving how ready they are to do whatever they need to, together.

But they don’t have to do anything.

Except let you do this yourself.

“Please.”

After a moment, they both look over your shoulder before your brother watches your face again.

But Yoongi seems to have finally caught Jungkook’s attention, because his eyes haven’t broken their lock until you say something,

“Trust me.”

Two weighty seconds pass before both men nod. And they leave without a word, emotions toppling on each other as soon as your door shuts.

When you walk up to lock it shut, you stare at the knob in silence.

While that was massively uncalled for, it could’ve gone much worse. You can already think of over a hundred outcomes, because that’s a look you’ve seen on your brother many times.

However. That’s not what has you lost in thought.

What keeps you frozen is the fact that you have never seen Yoongi like that.

It almost scared you, but somehow comforts you all the same. You can still feel the way he subtly squeezed you in assurance, pressing you into him when you really didn’t fall that far. There’s a jittering in your chest that hasn’t simmered, and it makes you feel like you’re halfway floating back to where Jungkook stands.

But you’re promptly grounded when you rejoin him, voice soft when you ask if he’s okay.

“He hasn’t changed,” is all he whispers.

And you look at the door with a sigh of disappointment. “He has a little. Still uptight as ever, but. At least I can leave the house.”

“Yoongi was a surprise.”

Oxygen abandons your lungs before you quickly catch yourself. “They’re best friends.”

Jungkook glares at the floor in thought before exhaling, and his silence seems charged. Almost off.

“Right.”

…Well, what the hell is that supposed to mean?

Is it because he saw when Yoongi caught you? Or the fact that he showed up at all?

“Hey,” you whisper, hoping to rope him away from whatever scary things he could be pondering. When he flicks his attention to you, it takes a lot to not flinch at his watery eyes. “Ignore them. We aren’t finished here.”

“I know. I’m sorry,” he murmurs, and your conversation jumps right back to where it was. “For everything.”

“I know.” You close your eyes before sadness lowers your gaze. “But it’s gonna hurt for awhile.”

Even if you get this closure, it can’t cover all the years he made you doubt yourself. Made you feel like everything you went through was a lie and that love was something you just didn’t deserve. Confidence vaporized as a result, leaving nothing but issues and manufactured intimacy for years.

Maybe that’s why everyone said you were a bad lay before. Because you actually were.

Through your thick haze, you hear a faint, broken,

“You loved me?”

“I…” Don’t say it. Don’t tell him. “I still do.”

“What?”

Fuck.

It’s true. While he broke your heart first, he still cared for it more than anyone else after him had—until recently. The only grief he gave you was the breakup, which was why it threw you for an absolute loop.

As you grew up, though, you started to rationalize that the split was a good decision. He was moving, and you were leaving for college. How would you both have fared with the long distance? It probably would have ended one way or the other anyways.

So while the resentment burned your heart, it didn’t quite rid you of affection. What you feel as a result is similar to before, but so very, very different. Subdued. Faded. Like jeans you wore constantly but haven’t touched in years.

In all honesty, what broke you the hardest was losing a dear friend.

“I do,” you finally admit, not looking at him because of your next words, “But not the way you want me to.”

Jungkook doesn’t respond, letting the outside world bleed into the room like a bitter interlude.

When he still makes no sound, you lift weary eyes to check on him.

And your chest constricts at the way he looks utterly and totally lost.

When you call his name, his gaze doesn’t leave the floor. When you whisper it again, the tear that falls makes you weak. “Kook, what’s wrong?”

He finally looks up, and you feel your eyes quickly reflect his. “I was so stupid,” he sniffles, wiping his nose. “I really didn’t know. Honestly, I knew that was impossible.”

For some reason, this makes you chuckle, and a new mood starts to paint the walls. “Why?”

“Because you were so cool.” His smile hasn’t changed. And that’s what cuts the deepest. “And I was just there because I always was.”

“What?” You start to join him in bittersweet recollection, albeit from a different perspective. When you reach forward to point at his necklace—because you will not touch the ring—you softly laugh. “Then what were these for, silly?”

When he sighs, you can feel the cracks in his curve. “I’ve been told that I’m clueless.”

“You are,” you say with a sagging grin. “Extremely.”

He laughs again. So do you.

And the both of you break all at once.

He’s crushing you in a hug and you’re crying into his clothes, hands gripping at his jacket and shoulder feeling the weight of his world.

While he repeats that he’s sorry, you choke out that you are, too. When he says it was never your fault, you cry even harder.

You fucking hate this. Now that you know the truth, it hurts that much worse. You hate, hate, hate that this is what everything came to. Everything that you both went through, destroyed by one mistake at the bitter end.

But you need to move on. You need to sacrifice the past for the future.

“I still love you,” he whispers, and you tense when he tightens his arms. “And I’m still sorry.”

“You idiot,” you cry into his chest, and you hear him hold back a sob before burying his head again.

And the two of you stay like that. One last embrace that you both needed.

Reminiscing over everything that doesn’t matter anymore.

When you both calm, you feel like it’s been hours.

But you move to step away first, confused at the way he doesn’t let you leave.

What’s he doing? Why is his mouth hovering over yours? You need to move. You need to move away.

But all you can do is plead, “I can’t.”

Still, Jungkook moves in.

Leaning to kiss just next to your lips instead.

What once would have lit your soul on fire now feels like a tempered flame, the smallest light of a candle before it burns out. And you’re grateful that he respects you enough to not push in a time of weakness.

You move away again, and he lets you go this time. But not without last words, “Promise me this person is alright.”

“I promise.”

“Only alright? I have a chance then.”

“Kook.” When you give him an empty glare, dying stars still linger in his eyes. “Friends?”

His lips give away his breaking heart before he nods. “I’m not leaving you again.”

Swallowing, you spread a thankful smile. “You better not,” you sniffle. “I need to decorate.”

He huffs, giving you one more teary stare. “If they ever hurt you, let me know.”

“I’ll be okay.”

After a noncommittal nod, he stands until you politely tell him you need a minute. When he leaves, you wait until the door shuts before wiping nothing from your cheek.

Wondering why this closure doesn’t make you feel better in the slightest.

You don’t know how long it’s been. Time doesn’t exactly flow when you’re caught between the past and the present.

But when you open your door, Dom is watching you with pure, unadulterated focus.

And your face scrunches in pain before she ushers you back inside.

She doesn’t say anything as you sit on your bed, offering her shoulder even though she doesn’t prefer physical contact.

While you’re grateful—so, so thankful for her presence—intermittent sniffles are the only sound you’re capable of.

Until you stabilize and come up for air, fishing words from your river of grief, “Remember what I told you. When he broke up with me.”

Anger simmers in her reply as her shoulder moves under your chin. You assume by the movements that she’s typing something on her phone—or prepping for revenge, either one of the two. “I do.”

“He said he still loves me.”

Your first thought is proven correct as a device plops onto your comforter. “Bullshit.”

“Dom…”

“What? Like he loved you then, too?” She scoffs. “You were the one that loved him and he cut you out. He needs to get over that.”

“He said it was a mistake.”

“It sure as fuck was.”

“I dunno. Something just doesn’t sit right.” You swipe at your nose. “He looked so.. I just…”

“Uh uh. It’s too fresh.” She gently lifts your heavy cloud off her person, firm fingers squeezing out rain. “You gotta get out of your own damn head right now.”

“I know.”

“Now.”

You break into another sob, hiccuping before nodding. “It just sucks, Dom. I d—”

“Look, I get that. But everything you’re thinking about already happened. It’s done.” A glance is thrown behind her back before she swivels around. “Focus on what you have now.”

In your moments of weakness, you ask the dumbest things,

“What do I have now.”

As always, Dominique is quick and to the point. “A man that’s waiting outside your door.”

Huh?

Your eyes flash up to hers as she stands. “Wait, what?”

What did she say? What does she mean? How does she know that what’s going on—

“One minute,” she warns, far away and not to you. “Then you’re on your own.”

“K.”

Wait, what.

You don’t even realize you’re vacating your bed as you see him walk in, nodding back at Dom closing the door before regarding your wreck of a face.

His name is molasses on your tongue.

What is he doing? Isn’t the party still on? Why is he walking closer?

He’s not supposed to be in here he can’t be here and you’re telling him that but he pulls you in so tight that the rest of your tears rain down in sheets.

“Fuck,” is all you can manage now, and he crushes you in even harder, as if he wants you pressed against all of him forever like a keepsake leaf on a journal page.

Your voice writes words into his clothes, silence his only reply but the only one you need.

Even if you only get a minute, this is enough. It’s enough, not enough, enough.

When he holds you at arm’s length, his question comes out a bit fast-paced, “What happened?”

Damn it. As much as you should probably tell him, you use precious seconds to pause, not really knowing if you want to or not.

“Don’t sweat it,” he quickly understands, kissing your forehead just as chaste. When he moves again, you catch the tension in his shoulders, notice the ruffles in his hair. “You gonna be okay?”

“Yes. No.” Fuck, he kinda looks as rattled as you feel. What is happening right now? “I just, umm. I need a minute.”

“You don’t have to go back out there, you know.”

“But you do,” you counter. “And I just wanna see you.”

Finally, Yoongi stops, and his whole upper body relaxes at once. A beautiful sound to your ears, amusement huffs out his nose before he mutters, “You can’t keep saying shit like that.”

“But it’s true.”

His chuckle is light, and mischievous eyes find the ground before they lift to yours,

“Makes me wanna take you home.”

Well. You swiftly realize why he doesn’t want you to keep saying certain things. The zing of emotion through your body was definitely uncalled for.

Any other day, you would want this type of conversation to keep going. And maybe you’d be a little coy about it.

But right now, all you are is tired, and your barriers are crumbled enough for a truth to escape.

Resigned, you step closer to wrap his waist in your arms, not caring if he can feel the rapid beats of your heart. “I want you to do that,” you admit, breath warming your face on his already warmer shirt. “All the time.”

“Take you home?”

“Mmhmm.”

Yoongi runs fingers along your arm. “You know I’d do it if I could, doll.”

If you were someone else. If you didn’t have to hide.

If you didn’t have to wait.

At least you don’t have to wait for much longer. Definitely can’t say anything to your brother tonight, but you and Yoongi agreed on after this party. So things will be better from here on out.

But why does he seem so—

You’re spooked by a warning knock on your door, and you flicker eyes to see his filled with something you don’t like.

And the air suddenly shifts to something alarming.

“Listen.”

“Hmm?”

“I know we said we’d say something.”

Oh. You shake your head, already on the same page and liking how in sync you are. “There’s no way. At least, not tonight. Jungkook—”

“It may need to be a bit longer than that.”

Huh.

What does he mean by—

“So you probably won’t see me for awhile.”

You freeze.

So does time.

A minute is no longer enough.

“Yoongi, please—”

“Can you do that?”

Your heart slams against your ribcage, banging and banging and screaming that what he’s asking is not possible.

Because he isn’t asking what you want to do. He isn’t even asking how long you can wait.

There’s a reason why he’s risking all sorts of shit to say this in person. Why he seems so restless.

And you’re already missing him so hard it hurts.

Truthfully? You can’t do this. Not now. Not when your heart is bleeding out on your own bedroom floor. There isn’t even enough time to process Jungkook’s talk and now you need to deal with this?

“Babe?”

But despite what you feel, even if your throat is seizing and your chest is caving in, your answer will be what he needs.

Because seeing Yoongi look like this—torn and frayed at the edges—renders you powerless and protective all at once. For fuck’s sake, he looks slightly panicked and this is the second new side of him you’ve seen tonight.

And yet he found a way to be with you one last time.

Sacrificing seconds just to say goodbye.

So you give up something, too. Your wants and needs because you don’t think you can do this, but it seems way too important to him to not try.

You get it. That whole confrontation probably snapped all sense back into him. He doesn’t want to hurt his best friend. Or disrupt his work environment. Or both. Whatever whatever whatever. You should’ve seen this coming.

If distance is what he wants, you’ll give it. Instant karma because you just told someone else to give you some, too.

Of course you lose someone as soon as you gain back another.

“Doll, let me know because—”

“Anything,” you rush out, and yearning taints your voice on the descent. “I’ll do it.”

He pans from one eye to the other, and you weakly reveal a crack in your resolve,

“Anything for you.”

That answer was a lot more than what you meant to say. And the next look he gives rips you into shreds. Shreds of the bigger truth you just told him with moments left of his time.

“For us,” he corrects, swooping in to give you one more soul-shattering kiss.

And with that, he pulls away, turning to retreat into the real world that proves absurdly cruel.

You don’t know when you’ll get to be alone with him again. It could be a day. Or months. Or even longer.

But watching him go, you know you can get through this. You know you can do it.

Because this is nothing new. Just another person leaving. You’ve gone through it before and you’ll go through it again and this time will be different, right? Right? He’ll come back. Of course he will.

And yet there’s still a part of you that questions.

If people are like seasons…

Which one will Yoongi be?

Fuck.

Your body is moving before the rest of you does, and you propel forward to tug him in, flooding his lips with saltwater and longing and a deluge of reluctant trust.

And he responds in an instant, swallowing you in an embrace you’ll cherish forever and willingly giving in to your desperate tugs on his jacket.

“Yoongi, I—”

You hear another insistent knock before he slings you into the nearest wall, and he grips the back of your head so hard you sob into his mouth.

“I know.”

His name rattles around your mouth.

“It’ll be okay.”

You wanna believe him.

“Okay?”

But you only nod, eyes filled with oceans but gaze unwavering. Because you need to see him. Because you need to see him.

“Fuck.”

He smashes his lips on yours once more, capturing every soft plea for him to stay and holding you so tightly that your heart splinters. And while you know this is his way of telling you everything will be okay, you have a sinking suspicion that he is fighting to believe it himself.

It’s not fair.

None of this is fucking fair.

If he was anyone else, if you were anyone else, if your brother wasn’t the way he was, if Jungkook wasn’t in the position he’s in now.

It was just nights ago that you cradled all his moonlight in your palms.

And now you’ll be farther apart than stars.

Yoongi finally pulls away right as Dom opens the door, and a myriad of emotions slosh into your brain when his eyes never leave you.

“I got us,” he vows, finger on your chin the sole thing keeping you afloat, and you suspend in disbelief that someone you know is witnessing his lips press your forehead in real time and no explosions or helicopters are crashing onto the scene.

Just a panicked “Hurry up, for god’s sake!” to indicate your friend is not amused or phased.

Yoongi finally steps away, slowly backing up before slipping out, and the door closes with only you inside—hand clawing deep into your chest.

Because you know him well enough.

He was committing your every feature to memory.

And the desperation in his reddened eyes hunches you forward in pain.

The rest of the party goes on. Music booms, people laugh, conversations sparkle.

And you hear them all through your door.

Unmoved from the spot everyone left you in.

Idiot🙄 [1:34am]: Hey

Idiot🙄 [1:34am]: You up or nah?

You [1:40am]: yeah

Idiot🙄 [1:40am]: Help me clean up

You scoff at your phone, letting it fall from your hand before resting tired eyes between your knees.

When it buzzes again, you reluctantly read it with vision unreflecting.

Idiot🙄 [1:42am]: Left food for you, too

That you will leave your room for. You may have just cried out your weight in tears alone.

You🙄 [1:46am]: ok

Idiot🙄 [1:46am]: 👍

Cleaning is a quiet event, with you both doing the chores you’ve defaulted to over the years. While he clears the floors and deals with the trash, you steadily get through the dishes, scrubbing them as well as you can before placing them in the washer to dry.

A plate. A bowl after that.

Two whisky glasses even though there were plenty of solo cups to use.

You needed this. Needed a way of going through the motions and letting your brain fly on autopilot. If you sniffle, the water drowns it out, and only the dishes get to see any lingering tears.

And unluckily for you, there are plenty of both.

“Hey.”

You hum.

“Do I need to beat his ass?”

Well, that didn’t take long.

Frustration tears its way up your throat on all fours, “I should kick yours for what you did back there.”

“And I’d deserve it.”

You pause.

“But I still wanna know.”

Sighing, you shake your head, knowing that neither of you are angry enough to fight anyways. “No, okay? I was serious. We talked.”

“I know you talked but he still hurt you.”

Your lip stings under your teeth.

“And I can’t just let that go.”

When he stops, you place another dish on its rack. “Let’s just finish and I’ll tell you everything in a sec.”

He sets down the last of his trash before retiring in the living room, the thump of weary weight squeezing a sigh out of the couch.

And you eventually join him, water cutting off with a squeak before you shuck off your gloves.

As you walk through the cleaned-enough rooms, you keep hearing afterimages of conversations, wondering how many revolved around your shouting match with Jungkook, or how many speculated who Yoongi is or isn’t seeing.

All these pretend scenarios mock you from all sides.

But the conversation you’re about to have with your brother is gonna be real. And a long time coming, quite frankly.

You take a breath before crossing into a space that’s seen and heard many things. While you take residence in your regular spot on the sofa, your brother doesn’t deter his gaze from a television that’s not on.

But as soon as you blurt out your confession, he slowly closes his eyes.

“He broke up with me. Before I left for school.”

“...Why didn’t you tell me.”

Brows scrunched, you waste no time in pinning him with your response, “Did you see yourself back there? Imagine if you found out back then.”

Silence.

“Besides,” you continue, deflating back into the cushions, “He was moving, remember? And you had enough going on. I didn’t want you to worry.”

“I always worry.”

“It’s whatever at this point. I didn’t even know he was back until Yoo—you told me.”

Shit, that was close.

“I shouldn’t have made it a surprise.”

“Not your fault. What’s done is done.” When you observe the blank screen, you can see your brother aim a look your way. “Just made the whole uni thing miserable at first.”

And the years after, too, but he doesn’t need the same details that Yoongi got.

He sighs, hand scratching the side of his head before free-falling. When it’s quiet, you think he’s preparing for war. Prepping a vow to go after Jungkook and dealing with a problem that’s not yours anymore.

But he doesn’t do that. What he says catches you completely off guard.

An apology.

“I’m sorry I’m always gone. Or not really here when I’m back.”

Where did that come from? Are you already done with a talk you dreaded for years?

This can’t be it.

Blinking, your mouth slowly opens before you respond as level as possible. “It’s okay. I can pretty much fend for myself at this point.”

“I know. But I’ll try to be better.”

He’s gonna what? “Why?”

“Cus I feel… Uhh.” He moves his lips around in thought, as if the next sentence takes strategy to arrange. “I feel like we don’t really talk anymore.”

“…Oh.”

You’re thoroughly thrown. Because who the hell is this person you’re talking to right now? What’s up with him? He doesn’t need to try anything better except calm the fuck down sometimes. And let you be an adult.

And frankly, you feel like you talk a normal amount anyway. At least, you didn’t think anything was off about it.

What the hell happened after he left your room?

Suddenly, you see him laugh at the ground before asking it a question. “Remember when we’d go get our own food?”

Alright, he’s definitely drunk or a clone.

But you’ll take it. This switch in what you expected this conversation to be is a welcome one, and you softly entertain memories that aren’t supposed to be this funny. “Yeah. We’d get told to come back with our parents.”

“Until they realized we kept going alone.”

A memory makes you smirk. “You even tried dressing like a grown up.”

He chuckles again, elbows resting on his knees as he watches your coffee table. “I really thought I did it, too.”

“You did.” Thinking about all the shit you both went through, it’s truly a wonder how you’re both still here. Living and existing and doing big things.

A rueful chuckle leaves your lips, floating to the floor. “We’re fucked up, huh.”

“Very,” he agrees. “But who isn’t.”

True. “It could be worse, I think.”

“How?”

You play with some of the frays on your sofa, wondering when this piece of furniture started to resemble thin lines of too-soft polyester at its edges.

Did it start to give up around the same time your parents did? Or had their patience worn thin way before the threads on this cushion began to fade?

Whichever truth remains, at least it’s still here—witnessing all the struggles and triumphs, the highs and lows, and all the times the two of you had sat in puffy-eyed silence.

Together.

“They could’ve left us somewhere else.”

“Ah,” he nods, slowly shaking his head and twisting the watch on his wrist. “Nah.”

Silent, your eyes find his side profile in due time. “No?”

And his glare burns the path ahead. Just like it always has. “I wouldn’t have let them.”

“Oh, really.”

“I got them to leave us all this, didn’t I?”

Wait, he did what now?

…You didn’t know that.

“Hold on,” you breathe slow. “That’s what happened?”

“We had a deal.” He sighs before leaning all the way back, hands joined at the knuckles on his stomach. “If I graduated with full marks and, uhh. Got a starting salary high enough, they’d pay for your tuition.”

The pause he makes weighs a ton.

“And leave this to us when you came back.”

So… He…

Holy shit.

You were just fucking relieved you didn’t have to pay any loans. For once, you thought your parents really had your best interests in mind and did something out of kindness before peacing the fuck out.

But it’s all because your brother negotiated and pulled off the near impossible?

…Is he paying loans?

“I didn’t know any of that,” you whisper, finding yourself on the verge of tears again.

He simply shrugs, looking down at his cherished piece that he rarely takes off. “You didn’t need to. You were just a kid.”

“So were you.”

Your brother purses his lips, and you wonder what words he could be holding back. What thoughts he has that he won’t say out loud. If any of them are things he wants to say but can’t.

“It’s whatever.”

He had to grow up fast so that you didn’t have to.

And you don’t have the heart to tell him that university fast tracked that anyways.

So, while grateful as hell and knowing you’ll be thinking about this conversation for years, you switch the subject. You’re already overwhelmed as is.

And you suddenly understand what Yoongi might be struggling with, too.

Because if he did all this for you, what lengths has he gone for his best friend?

Shoving that thought into a far corner of your brain, you rest your head to mirror your sibling, letting your tears slide back to where they came from. “I, umm. Was wondering why they left us the house. But I figured they just didn’t wanna pay for it.”

“It was already paid off,” he explains, seemingly just as happy to talk about something else. “Don’t ask me how I know this, but it’s how I was able to negotiate in the first place. They had four other properties, and a condo on some island.”

“What.”

“That’s why they were rarely here. Work trips, my ass.” He scoffs before bouncing a leg. “And they had us in this place.”

“I like it here, though.”

“I do, too, but…” You hear a shuffle of his feet before he stops. “I just. I dunno, it’s just us here. It feels...”

“Empty?”

“Maybe. More like something’s missing? I dunno, that’s probably lame.”

You inhale before assuring him. “It’s not.”

And with that, you’re both left to stare at the same ceiling, conversation stewing and simmering around the whole room.

Usually, this is when you leave. Because you don’t wanna talk about shit like this, or you simply feel like doing anything else.

But tonight, you want to stay. You didn’t know these things about your brother and what he did, and it’s making you realize a lot of things.

And regret others.

A question rolls off your tongue before you can overthink it, “Do you ever wonder what we did wrong?”

“All the time.”

“When I think about it, I always end up thinking the same thing.”

“Hmm.”

You tilt your head his way. “We weren’t the adults. But neither were they.”

And you both huff in tandem after he grins. “Damn.”

You don’t know how the two of you got here. But it was much better than talking about anything else, and you silently thank him for not making you more miserable than you already were.

Truthfully, you feel a little better instead.

He just needs to know for sure that you really are past the whole situation. Mostly. A healthy amount, at least.

So you tell him. “I mean it, thou—”

“I’m sorry.”

“Huh?” You look over to see regret fill his side of the couch.

“For what I did. I was outta line.”

“Oh.” You swallow, surprisingly emotional that he’s even owning up to it. You know it only happened because he was being protective, but hearing this from him is huge. That had to be hard. “Thank you.”

“I just.. I love you, okay?” He turns to look at the ceiling again, and you quickly have to do the same because you know how that was even tougher to say. “You and my brothers.. You’re all I’ve got.”

Liquid emotion runs down your cheek, never having been told that more than once in a single day.

It’s a shame how foreign it sounds when you say it back.

But that doesn’t make it any less true.

“Love you, too.”

An hour later, you find yourself in bed, clutching your phone while a single question loops through your brain.

…Calling should be okay, right?

Even if you can’t see him, or really be in the same room, this should be okay. At least, in the dead of night when even birds are asleep. When no one is awake to judge you both for lying to the people you...

Your chest squeezes when you press down on your decision, the talk with your brother repeating in your ears.

Yoongi: Outgoing Call

It’s ringing.

Still ringing.

…And you feel your chest cave when you hear it go to voicemail.

Fuck.

Maybe he’s sleeping already. Unforeseen circumstances like emotional turmoil tend to slow down your getting ready for bed process, so it took a lot longer than usual. Maybe he isn’t actively avoiding your calls and is just face down in a pillow you miss using.

And maybe you need to get used to this god-awful feeling as quickly as you can.

This hollow, aching, painful feeli—

Yoongi: Incoming Call

Your chest booms when you see his name, and you try your absolute hardest to answer normally even though instant tears blur the screen.

“H—”

“Sorry, I was showering, fuck.”

His breath sounds so rushed, and you immediately wonder what he looks like if he didn’t take that long to answer. Imagining him in only a towel or less, you let out a pained chuckle before whispering, “You okay?”

“Shouldn’t I be the one asking that?”

Of course that’s his answer. “I’m not. Just wondering if you were.”

“Why would I be if you aren’t? Ow.”

Body alert, you only focus on that last syllable. “Wait, are you hurt?”

You hear a low grunt before he responds.

“Just hit my fucking knee getting out.”

Ouch. How the hell did he do that? “I’m sorry. You got ice, though, right?”

“It’s not that bad. Just stings.”

“Okay.”

There’s some crunching sounds before you hear footsteps and hisses, and a thump before other noise crackles through.

“Spoke to Kook.”

Shit.

“And the guys.”

Oh. About work. “What’s up?”

“We’re gonna be busy as shit for the next month or two, so.. Guess that came at a good time.”

Ah. No finish line in sight.

But he didn’t hide that information from you, so you appreciate the honesty. Better than him leaving you in complete darkness.

“Yeah, do your thing,” you support. “I need to prep for this interview anyway. And figure shit out if I end up getting the job.”

“When you get it.”

You exhale, shy. “When I get it, yeah.”

“Where is it again? That blue building, yeah?”

“Mmhmm. But where I’ll be is like, third floor.”

“See? Claiming shit already.”

You realize right as he says it, but you meant something completely different. Your laugh is soft. “I meant for the interview.”

“Mm. Well lemme know where you post up after they hire you.”

“Yoongi.”

“Fine.”

“Did you, umm. Did you and Kook talk about anything else?”

“Just work stuff.”

“Okay.” Your eyes lower. If he’s telling you everything, you gotta reciprocate.

Even the stuff you don’t wanna mention. “He tried to kiss me.”

“What.”

Swallowing at his tone, you whisper, “I told him I couldn’t.”

“…I see.”

Fuck. He does not sound okay with that in the slightest. Disappointed with yourself, you apologize, “I’m sorry.”

“Huh? Don’t be.”

“You sound mad.”

There’s another moment of silence, and you don’t think you breathe until he responds,

“Not at you, doll.”

Well, shit. You don’t wanna cause any friction between them, especially after the energy Jungkook gave off earlier. It’s still bugging you to hell. “Nothing happened, baby. But he felt really off after y’all left, so.. I dunno. Be careful.”

“I will. But that means I can’t talk when he’s around.”

You bury your head, watching the hours that you get with Yoongi dwindle away. Knowing Jungkook, he’s gonna immerse himself in whatever keeps him distracted. So he will most likely be at the studio just as much. “At least you were there today,” you whisper.

“Mm.”

“Honestly, I didn’t expect that.”

There’s a breath on the line, and you can tell he’s hesitant just by the way he moves his phone. So when he finally speaks, your jaw goes slack.

“I was there first, doll.”

He what?

“Wait… You were?”

He was at your door first? He has to know how that looked, right? Your brother clearly saw him if he was the one to shout, and yet there was no mention of it when the two of you spoke.

Maybe that’s part of why Yoongi decided what he did. A decision to help you came with consequences he knew were coming. But he did it anyway.

Your breath is suddenly short. And your head is starting to spin with information overload.

“The plan was to only check for a sec, but he had the same idea. Showed up right behind me.”

“So… You both heard—”

“Nothing until the yelling.”

They were there the whole time. Both of them. Yoongi first? Your brother joining him?

Nope. This is too much. All of this is way too much for one night and your head is bursting at the seams.

Just another reason why this separation could be a good thing. Other than the fact that Jungkook seems weird and you can’t see Yoongi at all and him and your brother really are more than friends and you wedged yourself right in between everybody—

Information. Realizations. Guilt. You’re spiraling.

Run.

“I’m, umm. I’m gonna get off now.”

“You okay?”

Say yes. Say anything but “No. I’m… I don’t know, I really don’t know—This is a lot and—”

“Wait—”

“I get it and I’ll stay away for as long as you want—”

“Babe, talk to—”

“Bye, Yoongi.”

And you immediately hang up before your dam floods.

He doesn’t need to hear your grief over the past, your regrets of the present, your fear of the future. He doesn’t need to know how pained you really feel dealing with everything at once. How harsh his departure is because this is when you need him most.

Yoongi: Missed Call

All he needs to know is that you’ll do this for him. Because he would do the same for you.

And he’s done enough for everyone other than himself.

But goddamn if this doesn’t hurt like nothing else you’ve experienced before.

And you’ve been through hell.

Yoongi: Missed Call (2)

Why is he calling? Won’t this just make it harder?

Why does he keep trying if you need to stay away?

Yoongi: Incoming Call

With a heart so busted you don’t know where all the pieces are, you finally reach up to acknowledge his effort.

And his greeting sends a pang through your chest.

“Knew you’d answer on the first try.”

Sniffling, you say his name so, so softly.

“You didn’t let me say bye.”

When you don’t respond, he trudges on.

“So now, you get to hear the longest good night ever.”

Huh?

“And no hanging up this time.”

What the heck does he… mean…

As soon as you hear the light strums of a guitar, your heart shows signs of life. And you let everything out while he gathers the scattered shards with every chord. Every note.

Every second he doesn’t say goodbye.

A river flows into your pillow until it runs dry, and the Moon outside your blinds casts a silver blanket over your defeated shoulders.

And it’s only when you and your phone are dead to the world that the Sun steps in to peel it off with calm palms.

For the first time in a long time, you plan a sleepover at Taehyung’s.

And after getting a rundown of what happened, he completely agrees that you both need it.

It’s been a minute since you slept over there, and rolling onto his driveway makes you remember the first time it happened.

Your brother was outright flabbergasted you even asked.

But after some arguments from you and very clear energy from Tae, your brother waved you off and just demanded no funny shit better happen.

And you’ve spent so many nights over there since then that Taehyung’s one of the people he calls if he’s looking for you.

Being reminded of something else interesting, you think back to the first time you went to Yoongi’s, spending enough time there that he ended up on the list of people to call about your whereabouts.

As hot as he was picking up with a cheeky arm around you, it was surprising he was on that list in the first place.

Well, maybe not. They’re best friends. But why would he—

“You just gonna waste gas in my driveway or what?”

Snapping your head up, you see Taehyung looking bored, hands on his hips and wearing the most comfortable clothes you’ve ever seen.

Your glare in return is empty when you finally get out, circling around to grab your stuff and take-out from the passenger seat.

“You’re lucky I like you,” you joke as he goes to grab the food. Locking your car, you follow his grumbles into the house with a laugh, feeling a little okay already.

“How’s Jimin?”

“Still complicated, but that’s not what we’re here to discuss.”

You sigh before you poke your noodles, knowing you have quite the catch-up to get through. If only your attempt at procrastination worked.

“Eat,” Taehyung orders before taking a hearty slurp of his meal. “I don’t care if you’re sad, this wasn’t cheap.”

“Excuse you.” He’s lucky you resist the urge to fling saucy food all over his shorts. “Also, I paid for it, the hell?”

When your friend blows air through his nose, you scoff before silently doing as he says, pouting at the beginning credits onscreen.

“How long has it been?”

Ah. That’s a good start.

As you peer down at your food, emotion and appetite abandon your palate,

“A month.”

“...Damn.”

Taehyung already knows all about what happened. But even if he didn’t, you think he would’ve caught on to your increasingly depressing song choices. And the way you barely watched Yoongi during the last intramural game.

“How’s the new job, though? Good distraction?”

That you can talk about for hours. “Thank fuck it is.”

“That’s good, at least.”

As your meal progresses, you continue to catch him up on everything, including the way night calls are the only thing keeping your hopes afloat.

Because Yoongi was right. Ever since the party, weekdays have been radio silent, and you soon got accustomed to looking forward to his late texts saying he’s home.

And you’ve been okay with that. Landing the job and getting swamped with training has kept you busy, and your friends have been a wonderful salve for persisting wounds.

It just stings when you know the studio is close by. Because even though Yoongi extended invitations before, you avoid that area like the plague.

“But enough about me,” you huff. “Still complicated with him, huh.”

If Taehyung knows you’re too sad to keep talking, he doesn’t show it. His response simply comes after a few chews. “Yeah. But”—he swallows—“Not in a way I’m mad about.”

“What do you mean?”

Taehyung settles back into the sofa right as a ball of fluff hops on, and you watch the movie roll by while he gently orders him to get down. “He’s not as flaky. We just haven’t really labeled anything yet.”

That’s surprising to hear. Tae doesn’t strike you as the labeling type at all, so your question is genuine, “Do you need one?”

A huff is what you get in return, and you can hear the smile in his tone. “He seems to want one more than me. Which is why I don’t get the hesitation.”

“Mm.”

That makes more sense. Knowing what you know about Jimin, you aren’t shocked he would be conflicted about something he really wants.

Why he’s skirting around the point is the question. It’s clear to you that they would be so cute together. And sickly annoying in public.

“Maybe that’s a good sign,” you blurt, roping your friend’s gaze and attention. Spotlight on you instead of the characters bustling about his television, you smile. “It’s like he’s scared because he cares about your feelings.”

Not unlike what’s happening between another pair of friends you know.

Taehyung blinks, and you’ve always liked the way curiosity widens his eyes.

But he’s so quiet that you shift. “What?”

He keeps staring before biting an incoming smile. Before you can question him again, something brightens his expression. “You’ve changed, you know that?”

Huh. “Me? How?”

Your friend just grins before resting his head on the top of his cushion. “I’ve always known you were amazing. But now you look like you know that, too.”

All thoughts fizzle out before your jaw dips. When you try to present arguments, none materialize, and Taehyung laughs at the way you physically buffer.

“Not even denying it. I like this.”

“Shut up,” you finally pout, embarrassed and shy when he laughs again.

The rest of the film continues with nothing else but your commentary, and Taehyung clicks out of the queue screen before another one can start.

“Break? Or what do you feel like?”

You feel Yeontan’s fluff at your feet. “We can keep going.”

“Mmk.”

Both of you contemplate which one to pick when you feel your phone vibrate a ton. And when you see the notification, your heart leaps before crashing back down to the ground.

Yoongi [5:02pm]: Just got booked for another week

Yoongi [5:03pm]: Can’t talk now but

Yoongi [5:03pm]: Letting you know

Right.

You slowly let your hand drop with a sigh, and you can feel Taehyung’s pitied stare without moving.

“I know,” you whisper. “I shouldn’t be upset.”

“You can definitely be upset.”

You lift weary eyes to see that your assumption was very wrong. There’s no pity evident at all.

Only warmth. And understanding.

“Cus knowing him? He’s probably more frustrated than you are.”

There’s a pinch in your chest, a sharp one that cuts your breath for a small second in time.

Him? Being more upset than you?

You only thought about that possibility once, but you quickly dismissed it. There’s no way.

But hearing Tae say it from a guy’s perspective—and someone that knows how Yoongi can be—gives you pause.

It just didn’t make sense before because he sounds fine when you call, and he doesn’t really talk much about his own shit unless you ask. Which is strange considering he was fine doing so after your huge breakthrough at his place. Granted, it was mostly about good things.

Does he only hold back when it’s about stuff that stresses him out? That’s not ideal. You’ve told him before to tell you what’s bothering him, so if he’s still hesitant to let you in…

Taehyung’s honeyed voice brings you into the present,

“What are you gonna say?”

Blinking, you push your lips together in thought before looking at your phone again.

If Yoongi really is more upset than you are, then you should tell him something that you would wanna hear from him. Even if you aren’t feeling so hot.

You [5:07pm]: how’s ur back feel from carrying everyone so hard🥴

You [5:07pm]: jk its ok<3 you’re getting recognized and it’s about time

When you send those, something strange happens to your shoulders.

They’re lighter.

How is that possible? You’re still sad.

But your mind seems to clear some junk out, instead feeling a little okay about the whole thing.

Hopefully Yoongi receives them well. If he doesn’t, you’ll figure something else out.

Yoongi [5:09pm]: Lmaoo I’m saying. They better run me my check and cover my hospital bills.

You laugh with teary eyes, soul feeling like it’ll live despite plans being pushed back again.

The lingering sadness remains, but it’s dwindled for now. An afterthought to the slight happiness you feel from lifting him up instead of dragging him down.

Another message slides into the thread before you click your phone shut, so when Tae gets more food, you catch what it says.

Yoongi [5:11pm]: Fuck I miss you

And your heart beats extra loud, mouth slightly curved and wobbly because you agree but it’s okay, okay, okay. You can both do this.

You [5:12pm]: i miss you too.. but focus now and tell me all about it later

Of course you want to cry. Of course you want to curl up into a ball and sob.

Yoongi [5:15pm]: Thanks doll

But just like there’s strength in being strong, there’s just as much strength in being gentle.

Because as upset as you feel, it’s better if you don’t show it. While you aren’t completely resolute, you push forward in silence. Even if you can’t see the finish line.

The lingering feeling of anxiousness remains; the what-if’s batter your mind from the inside. But you choose to stay optimistic for him, and even you have to admit that’s admirable.

But the yearning still packs a fucking punch.

Your shoulders must be slumping to hell because you feel a warm presence settle against you, slinging an arm around and holding you close.

The only sound you make is a quick sniffle, but you don’t move as Taehyung reads the thread on your phone.

“You see what I see, right,” is all he whispers.

And when you slightly shrug, he leans his head against yours.

“You will.”

Nodding, you feel more tears follow the paths of their predecessors, and you don’t move to wipe them away. “You’re a good person, Tae.”

His chuckle sounds like a hearth, and you welcome Yeontan’s sniffs on your legs.

“Jimin’s lucky you’re even giving him a chance.”

“Ah.” After squeezing your bicep, your friend reaches down to pick up his baby. “He’s lucky I gave him more than one.”

“Oh? The luckiest then.”

“You can do this,” he murmurs. “He’ll be ready before you know it.”

With heavy eyes, you glance down at your still unfinished food.

“Maybe you’re right.”

One week turns into three.

Then two more pass.

And Taehyung might be less correct than you thought.

“Fuck,” you groan, clutching under your stomach. “Sorry, I’m a mess.”

“It’s okay.”

“At least you don’t have to see me this gross.”

“So?”

“You better stop.” Another eruption of pain shoots through your lower body, and you exhale into your pillow. “This is only making it worse.”

“You got a heating pad?”

A what? How does he know about—

Oh. Right.

…You probably shouldn’t tread waters you don’t know the depths of.

“Yeah. But it’s too far and I’m lazy.”

He laughs in pity but doesn’t show any in his words,

“Go get it, doll.”

Because being reminded of his last relationship also makes you wonder why it ended. And wonder if that also has anything to do with his decision.

Now hurt in multiple ways, you childishly retort, “You get it.”

“I would if I was there. But I’m not, so you’re gonna.”

“Fine.” You huff into your pillowcase, knowing you’re gonna get up because his perfect mix of support and command is annoyingly attractive. “How much longer?”

Yoongi’s too quiet for your tastes.

“I’ll figure it out tomorrow.”

Eyes closed, you’re silent for eons.

“Okay.”

To your confusion, you get a food delivery at your office the next day.

Inspecting the contents of the bag, you’re cautious until you notice a takeout box of mandu under some sweets and a few all too familiar fruits.

And at the note inside, you promptly proceed to the least used bathroom to compose yourself.

Soon.

Soon and Almost are somewhat similar.

Both can give people a bit of hope.

But they can also be the most dangerous words to play with.

Because soon is hilariously arbitrary, and you almost believed it meant something good.

“Going to Yoongi’s.”

“K.”

“You wanna go? He’s having a few people over.”

You bite down so hard your jaw hurts. “Nah, I already have plans tonight.”

“K. Have fun!”

When the door closes, you keep your eyes on the television.

Arms falling at your side because you know you aren’t going anywhere.

On a random Tuesday, you finally get a package you’ve been waiting on for what seems like months, and you rush to your room to check if it’s exactly what you wanted.

When it looks so beautiful, and feels smooth to the touch, you clutch the material in sorrow.

It’s perfect.

And completely useless for the time being.

Calls have been the one thing getting you by.

But over time, even those have virtually stopped.

It can’t be helped. He’s working far too late into the night for you to stay awake, and is passed out by the time you need to wake up.

Spending time with friends helps distract from the drift, especially when one of them keeps snapping you into the present, but they’re getting busy, too.

However. Despite all the obstacles, you keep waiting. A season has passed, yet you stay grounded.

Hoping, wishing, choosing to believe that Yoongi’s not gonna do the same.

You accidentally spill your drink.

And you sob.

One chilly night, you take more of Taehyung’s advice, going to Jimin’s determined to have a good time.

But despite the manufactured confidence you had while getting dressed up and the way you were totally fine walking in and conversing with people and the admittedly perfect vibes of the party…

There’s a hole in your chest that won’t decrease in size.

No matter what you feed it—food, drinks, the compliments of others—it refuses to budge, and this emptiness holds weight. Heavy. Melancholic.

Painful.

As you suddenly find yourself on Jimin’s windy balcony, one with a slightly different view than the one you’ll remain on forever, dull eyes lower to your solo.

If you forget this one on the railing, too…

Will he finally show up to hand it back?

A sharp ache spreads as the hole expands, new tears too powerful to ignore. You know your vision swims, but you don’t move to stay afloat at all.

Three months.

Ninety days.

Eight million seconds.

It only took sixty for you to miss him. And it only took sixty-one for you to feel something else.

How many more will you end up counting? How long until you get to count down instead of up?

You keep asking yourself that. When you know for damn sure that you don’t want to know the answer.

A breeze wraps around your limbs as you sip, the chill cutting through your dress and making you teeter in your heels.

Because it seems like Yoongi doesn’t know, either.

To the point where it’s starting to scare you.

Has he been perfect otherwise? Sickeningly.

But something in you keeps wondering why the wait keeps extending, anxious that he could be flat out stalling.

Prematurely saddened by the possibility that he’s reconsidering entirely.

It makes sense. At least, more sense than him actually wanting something with you. Maybe this time apart has given him the clarity to realize how rose-tinted this whole situation has been. How unrealistic and laughable.

But that night in his kitchen…

It’s getting harder and harder to stay positive.

On the verge of defeat, you hold out your phone, clicking around until your finger hovers over a certain Call button.

You can’t.

He’s working. Someone could see your name, if he has it saved as normal as you have his.

Your finger moves a bit closer.

What the fuck are you doing? Stop. Don’t screw up everything you’ve had to endure with one impulsive decision.

But your mind is fucking bad tonight and you have no clue why.

When the screen lights up with the call screen anyway, ice water rushes through because you totally didn’t mean to call and you need to end it now.

Hold on, it’s an incoming call?

Oh fuck, it’s an incoming call.

Your throat sears as your eyes shut tight.

How the fuck did he know? How the fuck does he always know?

Tears burning, you try your hardest to calm the hell down before you answer, wondering why he dubs you his good luck charm when he puts guardian angels to shame.

You can’t even say hello.

“Hey.”

Fuck. Get it together. Gentle, silent, strong.

“Hello?”

But you can’t. Not this time. Just hearing his voice for the first time in weeks has you crumbling, and that damn hole in your chest is unquenchable.

As soon as your greeting is nothing but a weak sniffle, his change in tone seizes your soul and squeezes.

Because it plummets.

“Where are you.”

There’s quick shuffling and a door opening.

“What’s wrong.”

Damn it there’s keys jangling and you can’t help but sob even harder knowing exactly what he’s doing.

Goddamn it, Min Yoongi. He doesn’t have to go home just because you’re what, sad? Pathetic.

You feel way too many things for this man and it fucking sucks that eight million seconds have gone by after you finally acknowledged them.

However many you get with him now, whenever that may be, you’re not taking a single one for granted.

“Babe, tell me. Now.”

“Jimin’s. Outside,” you choke out, sniffling and wiping both cheeks. “But nothing happened, Yoongi, I just—It just—”

“Gimme twenty. Can you do that?”

Lowering your head and expectations, you huff in sad amusement.

Of course you can. Twenty minutes is nothing to you now. You can wait until he’s free. “Guess so.”

“K. Go back inside and grab a bag.”

Huh? Knitted brows get aimed at your cup as you question him.

“Chips, doll. Jimin has some in the pantry.”

That doesn’t answer anything, so you remain thoroughly confused. “I’ll be okay,” you respond after a moment, simply assuming he wants you to replenish sodium. “I’m not hungry.”

“I am.”

You freeze.

So does time.

And the next three seconds are enough.

“But you better bring the good shit or I’m not letting you in the car.”

After camping in the only unoccupied bathroom, you finally get a text that he’s somewhere around the corner.

And your chest has never felt lighter.

Texting Tae, you let him know that you’re leaving and that you don’t apologize to Jimin for raiding his kitchen. When he responds, that’s when you slip out, your departure a mess of crinkling and racing heartbeats.

If anyone sees you walking out with chips, you pay them no mind. Because you only care what one person thinks.

And seven minutes later, when you see him doubling over at the bazillion noisy bags in your arms, you laugh along at the absurdity of it all.

It’s almost enough to distract you from what he’s wearing.

But to your credit, you don’t exactly see the damn rips in his jeans until he opens a back door for you to throw your haul in.

As if the black top wasn’t already disrespectful enough. His hair has even gotten longer, and you really, really like the new length.

“Fucking hustler.”

No second is wasted as you grab his shirt, positively melting at the way he doesn’t resist or shy away at all.

In fact, he does the exact opposite, crushing you against his warm car so fast he has to brace himself. You welcome the way air leaves your lungs, because you’re giving it all to him with each pass of his lips over yours.

Both of you know you’re outside, in public, somewhere you can be seen. But, mirroring the last time you kissed under a starry sky, neither of you act like you give a shit.

Just like that, everything that has haunted you fades. The worries, the fears, the doubts. It doesn’t matter how many days have passed, because it feels like he never left.

And you suddenly know Yoongi is summer.

Endless.

“Get in,” he rasps through a smirk. “Thief.”

With a grin spread so wide your cheeks hurt, you respond right as your foreheads meet,

“Anything for you.”

With nothing but the road ahead and him beside you, everything is right with the world.

“You still have to gimme chips.”

Maybe not quite everything.

Smile ruining your attempted pout, you reach behind your seat to pick a random bag, settling on the easiest one to grab. “You really made me get these just for you, huh? Are you eating?”

“Yes, my love. And I never said that.”

Well. That first sentence will never, ever, ever be unpacked.

As you shakily open the bag, you hope his music hides your shiver, “Such a smartass.”

“You’re the smartass.”

“Don’t act like you aren’t smart, too,” you laugh, tugging down your dress because he has his car pretty cold tonight. “I know you are.”

When Yoongi reaches to grab some crisps, his blatant stare on your thighs makes you squirm. “Why?”

“I just… You read.”

To your chagrin, he laughs in surprise, forcing you to look out the window.

Which makes you miss the way he turns down the fans. “I’m smart cus I read? How do you even know?”

“You have books under your coffee table,” you answer without doubt as he digs for more chips. “And you don’t have decor just to have it, so…”

He cocks a brow before focusing on the road, licking his fingers and giving you grief. “I moved those, by the way.”

“Em”—you cough—“Embarrassed?”

“Proactive.”

“Huh? For what?”

He can barely contain his spreading curve. “The next time you decide to fuck up my place.”

Your heartbeat skips as you gawk, and the current song is overshadowed by your playful shouts and tickle attempts. “Oh, bullshit!”

“You soaked—aish—my whole apartment!”

“That was you!”

“No?”

“Yes? I was nice and only got your head wet!”

Yoongi glances at you then, head tilted up in cockiness and wide smirk slicing through your every thought.

And you glitch when you realize why.

Settling back into your seat with arms guarding your shyness, you sniff upward. “Ugh. Whatever… I’m right.”

He chuckles a bit before making a turn, and the scenery starts getting familiar.

Way too familiar.

Wait, he’s taking you back to your house?

No no no. Why is he taking you there?

You got into his car fully prepared to go back to his place, consequences and shit be damned. Everything else be damned. One night is all you want right now, and there’s no way you aren’t going without a fight.

All sense of the current mood dissipates when you grip his forearm. “Not there.”

He flicks his gaze, rolling to a stop at an intersection that’s frighteningly close. And his expression falls when he shifts into park with a sigh. “Babe… We can’t.”

“I don’t care.”

“I was only gonna bring you back.”

“Baby, please.”

“He’s home—”

“Do you still miss me?”

He freezes.

Which gives you a chance.

Eyes glossy, you use all the seconds you have to say everything you’ve kept to yourself.

Almost everything.

“Because I get it if you don’t. I do. But I really… I really fucking miss you. And not just because of, whatever. But I consider you a friend and fun as hell to be around, and I haven’t”—you inhale, hating how it shakes—“I haven’t been this happy in weeks. And we aren’t even doing anything.”

Yoongi is completely silent. But that’s okay because you aren’t done.

“I know you said I wouldn’t see you. But after getting to know you? The real you? …That sucks.” You can’t look at him when his hand slips from the wheel. “I’m not gonna make you change anything, just. Telling you what’s on my mind. Like you said. I’m gonna do that a lot more now.”

He doesn’t say a word as a tear cuts one of your cheeks, and you’re brave enough to look his way again. “But it’s been three months, Yoongi,” you whisper. “Is that still not enough for you?”

Time ticks as you hold your breath, oxygen depleting and lungs nearing collapse as you watch his eyes close.

You laid everything out on the table. Your words, your thoughts, your pain.

Whatever he decides, though? You’ll respect it. You said what you wanted to say and you won’t take any of it back. If he wants to prolong this, you won’t stop him. If he doesn’t want this anymore… the home in your heart will need repairs, but you’ll live. Somewhat. You don’t know how but somehow. People are like seasons. You’re used to it.

Yoongi’s still way too quiet.

So, giving up and getting the point, you reach up to open your door.

“Stop.”

You do.

And the way he flexes his jaw shoots magma through your veins before he wrenches the car into drive.

The universe spins as you burst into Yoongi’s apartment, running, bumping, slamming into furniture until you get thrown against his bedroom door.

Welcoming the pain, you devour his scorching lips, fingers digging into his hair with a desperation that frightens you. All you feel is him him him, barely recalling the manic drive over and the way he all but busted into his own place.

If there were any lingering doubts to your question, they’re left out in the chill, not allowed to witness the way he hitches your leg up before pinning you firm with his pelvis.

“Shouldn’t be fucking doing this—”

You moan at the way his jeans feel on your skin, shivers running rampant when you more than feel his hardness poke through. “Please,” you pant, sticking to your word and ready to tell him what you want.

“Please what.”

Everything you want.

Tugging his head back, your admissions rub right against his mouth, “Choke me. Use me. I don’t care, do it all.”

“Huh?”

A breath whooshes out when he yanks you forward with a growl, and you cannot seem to stop, “Don’t be nice. Spit in my mouth. Make me beg like a fucking slut, I need it.”

All the other times, you’ve seen Yoongi break in different ways.

But this is the first time you’ve felt him legitimately snap.

“The fuck.”

Lightning strikes the dark as he slams you backward, teeth clinking against yours when he smothers you with saliva and lust. When he shoves his door open, you stumble back, more unholy plans in mind than he imagines.

You don’t know what’s coming over you.

Even as you force him sideways to shove into his rolling chair, the piercing look he gives is no match for your inner storm.

“Babe—”

Impatient, you drop to your knees, the pain nothing to you as your fingers twitch over his zipper. As you tug his pants down with force, Yoongi’s outright shock is another first for you.

“Are you su—”

“Let me do this,” you plead upward, and you feel highly motivated when he doesn’t do a thing except let out a low, gritty hum.

Grabbing at his cock, you already moan at the way it feels in your palm…

Softly, oh so softly, a large hand closes over yours, and you hear your name in a whisper, haze temporarily receding.

What’s wrong? Does he want you to stop?

When you ask without a word, Yoongi leans forward to capture your lips, and this gives you a warm sort of deja vu. “You drank tonight, yeah?”

“Yeah…?” Oh. He totally tasted alcohol. And your frantic behavior. He thinks—Oh.

Understanding what he’s getting at, you reach up and caress his cheek. “I’m not drunk, baby,” you chuckle. “I just missed you.”

Again, he looks at your eyes, one after the other. When you say it once more for good measure, he kisses you in acceptance.

“So are you gonna fuck my throat or nah?”

He falls back with a groan, raking his hair and legs spread wide. “What are you doing to me.”

“This.”

Without prompt, you dive head first, leaning forward to take his tip and swirl your tongue all around. Commanding his every drop of attention, you don’t let up as you tug your dress downward, breasts spilling out before you stand just enough to claim his lips.

He takes full advantage with a devilish curve, smacking your tits before ordering, “Get the fuck back down there.”

And you obey with a proud smirk of your own, hoping he’s liking this new side of you, too.

Back between his knees, you worship his length in earnest, swallowing him again and again and lathering him in saliva so your hands slide easily on him, too. When you feel his veins rub both your palms, you hear a symphony of lustful baritones.

“Holy fuck.”

You quickly discover you can’t get enough. Lapping, sucking, sheathing your head on his cock so far your brain smushes upward. He feels so familiar at this point that you realize you missed him even here, knocking the back of your throat and burdening your tongue with heavenly, sinful weight.

And you feel more familiar palms grip your head, eyes opening to see him staring down with reverence and something you can’t quite decipher.

“So fucking filthy...”

You chuckle, the rumble making him hiss and throw his head back against his chair.

“Don’t do that.”

You gladly disobey, laughing even harder around him before releasing with an expert pop to suck on his balls.

“Fuck!”

There’s a slight squeak before he grips you again, and you can tell he’s slipping by the way his moans devolve into breathy, short hisses.

Breaking, he pushes your head into his sack before slapping your cheek with his cock, and you hum as it slips back inside your grin.

Yes yes yes. You want him to enjoy this just as much as you do, steal this time together and run with it, need him to hang on the brink of mania where you currently reside. Because even though he’s saying things, you can’t hear them over the wholly impure sounds slopping out of your esophagus.

“Fucking hell, baby,” he praises, thrusting up slow as you keep him slathered. “Missed that fuckin’ mouth.”

You finally come up for air, gulping in air and letting him see you in all your panting glory. When you lock eyes, his lidded gaze is loaded, aimed only at your taunting stare.

Drool coats you in globs. Your chest, the floor, hanging from your lips as you stroke him with wet fingers before swallowing another time.

And you think you can do this until your jaw falls off.

But suddenly you’re hoisted upward before being thrown onto soft sheets, legs roughly shifted to one side as you paint the dark with your hoarse giggles. Before you know it, his lips attack your chest, and he’s setting butterflies wild as you arch in record time.

“Take this off,” he growls, tugging at your dress with sweaty fingers that you want lodged in multiple places. “No more hiding.”

You mewl, undressing as fast as you’re able, tearing the garment off and flinging it away. But your heels are still on, and whether he’s just as deft at removing those, too, you’ll need to hit pause. “What about my—”

“Don’t,” he grits with brows pinched, and his next vow is absolute, pure sin,

“I’m fucking you with them on.”

“Oh, fuck.” Your whine is high as you throw your head back, the next groan guttural as you feel a hand smack the side of your ass with force. Your jaw comes loose, soreness shooting through its curve as your legs are erotically parted to give Yoongi a view of everything.

You know your panties are soaked.

You know he’s gonna wreck your shit.

But seeing him eye the whole mess on display before lifting his hungry gaze your way? You’re damn sure you aren’t gonna survive the night.

Perfect.

“Please fuck me, baby,” you let out with a tone so soft that you think he doesn’t hear you.

He does. “I’m gonna do a lot more than that, doll.”

You tilt your head, confused and wondering what he means.

But he ignores your wordless question, sliding fingers along your ankle before holding your leg to kiss that same spot.

The action alone is enough to rewire your brain, but it’s the way he looks so confident, so unbothered, so determined that has your insides churning with want.

He plants lips there again before shifting his hand down to your calf, yanking your leg back wide and pulling a tiny help out of your throat. When he shifts to grip your other leg, he growls under his breath,

“So fucking perfect.”

“No, you,” you counter with a pout, and flinch what the fuck his slap to your cunt felt good. “Hey!”

“None of that,” Yoongi orders with finality. “Not after all that shit you said at the door.”

“I dunno what happened there,” you admit, inevitably shy under his commanding presence. Your cheeks sizzle before your teeth grip your lip, temporarily brought back to normalcy at his confession,

“Almost made me come.”

“Be for real.”

“Damn serious.”

The cheshire cat would be jealous of your grin. “Then I should keep going?”

“Uh huh.” He cups your whole cunt, and the possessive nature it exudes pushes a whine against your teeth. “Tell me.”

“Fuck me like you missed me.”

A groan rips through his room before he swoops down, lips bruising yours on the landing before he shoves his mouth against your neck.

Tingles erupt over your skin as he laps at your throat, so hard that your entire upper body slides across his rumpled sheets. When you feel his cock rub across your thong and his jeans grazing your skin, his name flies out of your chest. Moans, sighs, everything in between.

“Careful,” he warns low before another toe-curling lick. “You won’t leave if I did that.”

“I don’t want to,” you grit in return, reaching to sink claws in his hair and tug. “Wanna stay.”

Strong arms wrap around you before you feel him spread liquid fire up your shoulder, and he reaches to nip at your ear before deft fingers flick a nipple.

His voice rasps against your cheek, but the words sound reluctant to even leave. “You shouldn’t even be here, babe.”

Fuck. You know that’s true but your heart is rattling like a monster starved.

“Just tonight,” you plead your case. Because you don’t want to be shooed away before it’s over, but if this is all you get, he needs to do something now. “But if you really don’t want this then please kick me out before—”

“Fuck that.” After greedily tweaking your other nipple, he rolls his body against yours, making you fiend for the weighty cock wedged against you with only thin material between. “Fuck all of that.”

He rushes upward before nudging your leg over with a strong hand, and you fixate on the way his chains hit his chest. Just like always. “Don’t move.”

You don’t even get to breathe twice as he drops from sight, and you yelp to his roof as soon as you feel teeth nick your inner thigh. At your flinch, you feel him grip your leg with force, ordering you even harsher,

“I said. Don’t move.”

“But—Yoongi!”

You don’t notice him yank your underwear sideways before flattening a hot tongue against your folds, sucking so good you have to back away from the stimulation. Immediately, both your legs are seized before he tugs you back to him.

“Uh uh.”

And he keeps your legs apart before diving deep, and you’ve never devolved into a quivering mess so fast in your goddamn life. The way he licks, sucks, kisses just where you need—everything sends thunder through your chest, lightning across your cunt, rain into your eyes.

You can do nothing but squirm, squeals and whines and high moans leaving arrowheads in his ceiling.

Holy fuck, did you sound this loud when you worshipped him? Even now, spread wide and willing to give Yoongi the world, you find a moment to be embarrassed in the best way.

If the neighbors hear, you don’t care. They’re gonna know how well he’s feasting on you, how gorgeously corrupt you feel. How you’re his and his alone and ready to scream it to the rooftops.

When you feel a finger alongside his tongue, the sound you make borders on inhuman. You think it’s his name, but even you aren’t quite sure.

All you know is that you’re close. Your thighs are burning and your fingers swipe at his locks but he refuses to let you go. “Yoongi—I’m—”

Suddenly.

He stops.

And every nice thing you have to say to him falls to the wayside. “No no no! Please, fuck—”

The light tap to your cunt makes you quiver, and your chest heaves when he chuckles without pity,

“What’d you say?”

“Plea—Baby!”

“Huh?”

Every fucking time you speak, he taps again. And every time he gets you close, he edges with aggravating control. Again. And again.

And again.

You exist between reality and fiction, somehow seeing yourself unwinding, winding, spiraling out of control. Words start to form abstract blobs of syllables, your mouth hanging open as he peppers lazy, unbothered kisses on your thighs.

In your foggy vision, you think you see him stand. And you’re pretty sure he grabs his cock before he’s rubbing his thick head between your folds oh fuck—

“This is what you wanted, huh.”

Your breath hitches with a whine as you nod.

“You gonna be a good little slut?”

Oh, you’re gonna be whatever he fucking wants. So you nod again, not without a smile lopsided.

“Then fucking beg.”

He smacks his cockhead against your cunt, springing your back in an arch and tugging strings of incoherent speech from your depths. You make hard lines of his sheets as you grip them in both palms, and you don’t wanna know what you’re saying because the way Yoongi’s staring with a smirk has you blacking the fuck out.

To the point where you’re nothing but a quivering, shaking, restless mess on his bed.

You somehow closed your eyes at some point, because they fly open when you feel his lips on yours, and you tug at his stupidly attractive shirt that he didn’t bother to pull off. “Please,” you whisper, brain floating oceans away. “I need you.”

“Need you, too.”

He breaks away to grab a condom, and this is when you realize how intertwined you feel because even this distance is too much to bear. You’re spilling nonsense and breathing harsh and you attribute that to the sole fact that you crave release. It’s aching. Consuming.

Yoongi’s already naked and prepped by the time he positions himself between your sore legs, and you give in without resistance again when he descends on your lips.

When you whisper his name, he kisses it away, and you briefly wonder why his hands shake running up your sides.

Finally, finally, finally, he gives exactly what you want, the initial connection stretching you sore because it’s been way too long. And you feel emotional when you don’t even doubt it’s been too long for him, too.

Because his eyes speak volumes.

They hold onto your every move, watch your every reaction, hesitate when you blow out air accommodating his size.

But you lock yours with him when you relax, weakly grasping his jewelry before sliding fingers up his shoulders. When you nod, he pushes in further, both of you sighing in tandem.

And as soon as you whisper you’re ready, all niceties fly out the window.

You’re thrusted up his bed with a determined stroke before he sets a pace, and your head kicks back as soon as a hand captures your neck.

“Look at me,” he commands, and he gives you a light pat on the cheek before squeezing your jaw. “Open up.”

When you do, spit flings from his mouth into yours, and you already sprint to the edge feeling the weight of your heels and the strength of his body. “Fuck!”

You get pat again—rougher this time—before Yoongi goes to choke you a second time. “What do you say?”

“Me?” you pant, tearing the first thought from your throat when he grits it again. “Thank—”

Fuck, his dick is hitting every spot you need it to. It takes you a second to repeat your garbled guess in full, knowing it’s something you would’ve said anyway. “Thank you.”

“Now swallow.”

As soon as he shoves inside, your obedience is your undoing. The skies open to welcome you as your body locks, thighs squeezing his taut sides as he moans through your release. Waves tug you unbelievably far, and you almost lose yourself in the swell before you crash onto shore again.

“Such a whore for me,” Yoongi praises, kicking you back to the very first night and making you melt. When you peel eyelids open, you notice his smile matches yours, and the shared, cherished memory smoothens your gravelly laugh.

“Love when you do that,” you admit, shaking your head at your own strange preferences. “Don’t know why.”

“Me neither.” He spears you again with a cheeky lip bite. “But it’s so fucking hot.”

Your grin can’t be contained, and this is where you wanna be. Right here. Nowhere else in the fucking universe.

“I’m ready,” you pant, and he gives you a brief look of affection—which you shatter with force. “Fuck the shit out of me.”

Yoongi twitches madly inside your core as he expels a pained, breathy laugh. “Goddamn, this isn’t good for me.”

“What?”

“Nothing.” He doesn’t waste a second gathering your calves while you ponder what he says. “Hold these pretty legs up for me. There you go.”

When you find the easiest way to do so, you marvel at how shaky and slippery your thighs are, wondering if the rest of you is faring any better.

It’s not.

But you can’t dwell on that now because Yoongi is holding on like he’ll lose you, resuming a delicious pace and smacking your hips into his with the most indecent sounds.

Your whines soon join in, and his hums of satisfaction fuel your ever going flame. Heaven and earth could move and you would remain here, suspended in time as he fills you perfectly with every fast stroke.

“Feel so good—”

When he leaves your cunt, you mewl before he grunts, “Fucking—Get up.”

What is he—

You’re hoisted upward so quickly that you see starlight, not even registering the clanks and shifts of items before he’s spinning to pin you down on a solid surface. Your heels find purchase on the floor but your knees prove unbelievably weak.

What’s—

Oh fuck, are you on his desk?

Your hands retreat until they find an edge to grab, and you moan outright when you feel his fingers slide up your cunt, shoving your thong farther over one side of your ass.

“Yoongi—”

You feel full in an instant, jaw going slack as he shoves you backwards on his cock, praises washing down your back as he pushes down any arches you instinctively make.

“Uh uh. Stay like that.”

“I wanna—” Your words are cut off with a whine as you feel a sting on your ass. “Fuck!”

“There you go.”

The rock of the desk is so strong that every bang against the wall booms loud, equipment sliding back and forth and making you briefly worry if anything will fall.

But this is the most turned on you’ve ever, ever felt, and you have no fucking clue why.

You wonder if he feels the same right before his dark laugh consumes you.

“Goddamn.”

Your hands are grabbed before he shoves you forward, letting more of your body lie on the surface so that he can pin sweaty arms at your back.

Oh, fuck!

Your moans glide across wood as he doesn’t let up, and you don’t even want to know how much drool will exist on his desk when you’re done. Maybe you’ll never be done. Maybe he really will keep you here forever, and you’ll soak his whole—

“Come here.”

He gathers your wrists in one large palm before reaching to grip your chest, hauling you up and securing you against his body by the throat.

And you think your soul just left your earthly vessel.

Pressing you further into him, he grits in your ear,

“Never fucking kicking you out.” His tight stroke launches you across space. “Don’t even think about saying that again.”

When did you— You said— Why don’t you remember—

You go limp when he shoves into you again, but your heels wobble and you focus damn hard on staying upright.

But Yoongi doesn’t give a shit. “You hear me?” When you let out a breathy confirmation, he still isn’t satisfied. A hand pats your cheek before he asks again, “Say it louder.”

“Yes!”

“Good.”

He drops all talk, pistoning in from behind while you take it and take it and love it. Mercifully, he lets your sore arms go to pin you down again, gritted words and curses dancing with your high-pitched sighs.

Fuck, his strokes are so deep that you see into the next universe, and you don’t think your mouth has been shut ever since you made contact with his desk.

Maybe he was more frustrated than you were. He’s using you as stress relief like you intended, and his roughness is a fantastic surprise.

It’s just what you need. Which kicks you into a whole other level of want and the beast inside you transforms yet again.

When Yoongi yanks himself out, you’re quick to spin and shove him backward. As he flops onto the bed, he laughs like sin incarnate when you pounce, his hot hands grabbing at your hips and encouraging your behavior in the nastiest way.

“Let’s go then, pretty bitch.”

“You already fucking know.”

“Show me what I’ve been missing.”

“Don’t fall in love.”

When you sink onto him, Yoongi’s already groaning. But when you start to swivel at a pace that will render you sore, he begins to lose it.

“Fuck.”

His head kicks back, eyes shut and brows pinched to hell. After holding your waist, he has to slap his sheets to squeeze even tighter, chest marred with red under pretty silver.

You make sure every rotation is full, slowly rocking with each circle you make and gritting teeth at how fucking big he is.

Soon, his hisses devolve into groans, and he snaps his head back up to slap your breasts—one after the other before gripping your hips so hard you welcome the pain.

“Fuck, I missed this pussy,” he confesses with husk, and you whine in response as you lower yourself to kiss him deep.

“It missed you, too.”

Coming back up, you dig one of your hands in his mattress while bracing on him with the other, and you close your eyes in bliss as you arch your tits toward his hungry lips.

Just like you want, he chuckles in satisfaction as he suckles, lolling his tongue all around before giving your nipple a hard suck. His noises remind you of lollipops, and you briefly think of a few fun things you could do with those for next time.

But a hand juts up to seize the back of your neck, forcing you to arch in place as he starts thrusting hard.

“Yoongi!”

“Uh huh.”

Before you can talk again, his other hand joins in to choke you just enough, and you find yourself teetering on a precipice. Holy fuck, holy fuck, you’re close again.

“You gonna come?”

A frantic nod.

“Then come.”

As soon as you hear the words, you do exactly that, windpipe released just as you pulse around him incredibly hard. The waves prove tsunamis, and you dangle from their crests before plummeting and tumbling below. Your moan extends as he thrusts erratically through your quivers, encouraging you and digging rough fingers into your hips.

“Again.”

Somehow, that’s enough to make your body obey, and you cry out as you flutter around his trembling cock, hearing him talk you through it but not quite understanding what he’s saying.

Maybe you also choose not to listen because of what you think you hear, and you don’t want to be haunted if you realize later on what you thought you heard wasn’t true.

The world rotates up as Yoongi sits up, and you sling arms around him as he leans back on his hands. Your breath hitches at the new angle he’s filling you at, and your eyes swirl when he coolly, confidently commands,

“Again.”

You can’t you can’t you can’t but you can. Holy fuck apparently you can, and this time, it consumes you so hard your eyes roll back enough to see the past. Past you, insecure and meek and scared to say what they want.

Oh, if they could witness you now.

You shudder impossibly hard around him, coated with his deep chuckles and dashing, ego-ridden grin. It’s all you see before you slump against his chest, heartbeat pounding against yours when you can’t feel any bone in your body.

One breath.

Two breaths.

Two hearts.

One night is enough.

“So fucking perfect.”

“For you,” you wisp out, lost in galaxies. “Only you.”

He can only kiss the side of your head in response, gently lowering you both onto spent cotton and helping you straighten out your muscle-locked legs. When he asks if you’re okay, you can only nod, and he plants another kiss on your temple before sliding off his protection.

Both of you take time to calm down, breaths heavy from what felt like a marathon. But a much better marathon than the one you’ve had to endure over the last three months.

When you lie against his chest, you silently thank him for giving you tonight. It’s the riskiest thing you’ve ever done with him, but you won’t worry about it. Not right now. Not when you feel more at home here than your own house.

Your brother is right. Something is definitely missing over there.

It’s when your pants have relaxed into soft breaths that you nudge your head against Yoongi’s chest, eyes shut in peace as he lazily draws circles on your back.

And the first words he says in minutes inject sparkles into your eyes,

“I need to re-up this damn cat’s food.”

Oh, shit!

Your outright squeal is surely coming out too loud but you don’t care. Don’t care don’t care don’t care not when Yoongi just gave away so many different things.

This man leaned right into the whole thing.

“I knew it!” You proclaim in triumph, smacking his thigh while hearing a very elongated ‘shut up’ at your side. “Tried to hide it from me all these months? Somebody’s getting soft.”

“First off.”

“Uh huh.”

God. If only you both could go on one of those late night shopping trips he talked about before. Maybe you could’ve gotten plenty of things. Like some little cat toys, or extra storage cabinets for your clothes.

Yeah. Stuff like that.

“I’m her favorite.”

Your scoff is immediate as you hoist yourself up, leaning on your hand and regretting the burn in your arm. “Only because you gatekeeped her.”

A soft disagreement precedes a more prominent, “Won’t even matter.”

Yoongi looks so at peace when you stare, and your voice calms to match as it floats down, “You took care of her.”

When he only smiles, you decide that this is how you want him to be all the time. Content and outright glowing, fireflies dancing in his eyes.

Does he feel at home, too?

“She was gonna be your surprise,” he finally murmurs. “For getting the gig.”

Heart and tear ducts full, you lower yourself to tenderly press lips to his. And, since it seems to work for you, his forehead is what you decide to kiss next.

Then you pull away.

Wondering why he’s not smiling anymore.

“Come here.”

You blink, lying back down to snuggle against his side. When his arm wraps around your shoulder, it's only then that you’re aware you still have shoes on. A clean person, you hope Yoongi doesn’t mind them touching his sheets.

But maybe it’s a tad too late for that concern.

“How are you gonna get home?”

Oh, right. You use his chest to scratch an itch in your nose before responding, “I’ll call a ride in the morning. He’ll be out cold until noon at the earliest.”

“K.”

“Did I keep you from anything?”

A puff flies out his nostrils. “Kinda late for that, huh.”

“True,” you sigh, berating yourself for thinking a lot of things too late. “Sorry.”

“But no, we were finishing up when I called.”

“Okay… Did I scare you?” You lift your eyes then, because you need to know for sure.

When he levels a look, you curse at his quiet confirmation. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what came over me.”

“S’ok.”

“I just… It hurt tonight.” Emotion washes over your face before you bury it. “Really hurt.”

After a light squeeze, Yoongi gently rolls you over, resting his head exactly where your hand clutches your chest. When you move your fingers, he kisses that same spot, and your heart stops. “How about now.”

Feeling the deepest pain you’ve ever felt in your life, you cradle his head with a whisper,

“Maybe try that one more time.”

And he does, not looking at your tears as he sits up to peer down the bed.

When he scoots down to the edge, your breath catches as he holds a heel in sure hands, his back beautiful even with the scars. While he works through leather straps, he starts to speak,

“I always do, babe.”

Blinking, you ask what he means as he slips your shoe off with ease.

“Miss you.”

As he tenderly holds the other, you gulp in oxygen to quell the sear around your eyes. “I just… Wasn’t sure,” you admit, voice wavering.

His hair falls forward when he sighs, and his palms feel way too relaxing to just be taking your heels off. Even now, it feels like he’s revering you. And you truly don’t know how you deserve any of this.

“That’s my fault.”

Throat small, you’re swift to reassure him. “No, no. I need to just suck it up. I’m sorry.”

After freeing your other foot, he rubs it without prompt, and you don’t know how to deal with someone giving you this level of care.

“Just a little bit longer, doll,” he says, and you admire his profile when he turns. “I’m sorry.”

“You gave me tonight.”

When he swallows, you reassure him with all the support you can give,

“A little longer is nothing.”

A moment passes by before he finally moves, and you catch a hint of a smile right before he faces his disheveled to hell desk again.

Deciding that conversation has concluded, you crack the atmosphere with a joke, “You liked whatever happened over there, huh.”

Immediately, Yoongi’s shoulders bob with a laugh before he admits, “Fucking you on my desk? I’ve wanted to do that for months.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.” He leans forward. “There’s a lot of shit I’ve wanted us to do for months.”

Us.

Thoroughly giddy and full of life again, you egg him on. “Oh? Like what?”

Finally, he looks over his shoulder with a grin, and you scoff in frustration at his answer,

“What’s the fun in telling you?”

“Ass!”

While you’re getting ready to shower, he leans against the doorframe of his bathroom.

“We have a game next week.”

As you fetch a towel from his cabinet, you clarify, “The championship, right?”

“Mmhmm.”

“I’ll be there,” you confirm, walking away to slip the thick cloth over its rack. “I can’t believe it’s still going.”

“Same. But there’ve been a lot of delays, remember?”

“Oh, yeah.” Your hand feels out the water, satisfied with its temperature. “I meant your win streak but whatever.”

And you squeal when he rushes forward, shutting the glass with a wobbly thud before he can get to you. When you stick out a childish tongue, you laugh under the spray, curve slowly, curiously, softly fading when he simply keeps staring.

What’s he doing?

You don’t move as he slowly slides the entrance open again, and you don’t dare breathe as he leans inside to kiss your wet lips.

When you tenderly take one of his wrists and pull, he obliges without hesitation, and you take another shower with the man that sets fireworks off in your soul.

An hour later, filled with food and laughter—and slight disappointment when you couldn’t find your surprise near his door—you occupy his bed with full bellies and fresh minds.

As he lies on your chest, you think this is better, because it gives you time to think about things. And tell him about others.

You finally tell him what all happened with Jungkook, to which he listens without a single word. When you can’t seem to shut up about your job, he doesn’t stop you, and you adore the way he cuddles you under faint moonlight cutting through his window.

“Oh, wait,” you stop, feeling like you’ve talked his head off by now. “What did you call about?”

“Huh? Tonight?”

“Yeah.”

“We finally have a confirmed date. For that album,” Yoongi rumbles against the shirt he let you borrow. “I was gonna invite you to the release party.”

Whoa, what the fuck? “Me?”

He chuckles soft, and you wonder if he can guess how shocked you look. “Yes, you. All of y’all.”

At least it’s everyone. But at the same time, you still hesitate. “That won’t be weird?”

“Nah. You can bring anyone you want, so. I was assuming you’d bring your friends.”

“Ah, I see.”

You didn’t mean to sound disappointed. You truly aren’t. But Yoongi pushes up to comfort you anyway, planting kisses along your skin, your neck, and finally your lips.

“It won’t be the only one,” he promises. “We got time.”

“Duh,” you giggle. “And I’ll be at all of them. Whether you like it or not.”

Yoongi regards you before laying his weight back on your chest. And you find it strange how familiar his body already feels. How you’re already attuned to every way his legs fit against your own, or how you would know it’s him solely based on how his chest molds with yours.

You start mindlessly caressing his hair, fingers weaving through a dark sea of strands before smoothing over its surface.

And you start to hum.

It’s not really any song, just notes you start stringing together at random. You build up before you dip back down, staying in a comfortable middle range and dancing between similar tones.

You stop from time to time, trying to figure out what would sound best next and changing up the cadence. Always coming back to a central theme because it’s what you deem best.

And you’re so comfortable that you completely forgot he’s lying right under your chin.

“Shit, was I too loud?”

He just shakes his head, arm pressing a bit more into your side.

“Not at all.”

So you keep going, humming more familiar tunes and phrases, softly giggling when Yoongi huffs at the way you drum on his head.

And that’s how the night goes on, with you at peace and him in your embrace.

Never noticing how the shirt you're wearing collects rain.

When dawn breaks, you part with one final, heavenly kiss.

Yoongi watches until you get in the ride he politely called for you, and you spend the whole drive with eyes filled with light.

You can do this. Just a little longer, he said.

For him, you can do anything.

But when you get home, your brother occupies the foyer as soon as you open the front door.

And you feel the world shatter and crash at your feet.

“I think,” he states, “There’s something you wanna tell me.”

—

tbc. :)

—

a ha ha... what do we think/like! | wanna support with a 🍊?

A/N: i’m so swirly-eyed that i don’t even know what to say here other than i’m sorry for throwing that ending at y’all! busted pt. 2 is gonna be its own huge part at this point so i had no choice but to end it here (originally it was gonna end before they went back to yoongi’s but i love y’all too much dlkfjdsklf) A/N 2: gonna say this again: enormous thank you to everyone supporting this whole journey, whether that’s liking/commenting/reblogging/messaging, recommending this series to people, telling me how it makes you feel or what it means to you, or even wanting a physical copy of the series like😭 that’s surreal to me and makes me wanna keep working harder. A/N 3: as far as feedback, i would absolutely love any type y’all wanna give. this chapter took all of my brainpower and the next one is gonna take just as much haahahahdksfks so any encouragement would be wonderful! ++ feedback box: ⇥ of course, any reblogs/comments/messages are appreciated! ⇥ for the ones that are too shy to reblog with a review, comment on this, or send a message, i went ahead and made another anonymous form where you can send in what you think! ⇥ no emails collected, no need to put in a username. it’s literally just a comment dropbox :D feedback can be as short/sweet or as long as you’d like! ⇥ here! ++ more links: ⇥ three tangerines masterlist ⇥ masterlist

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