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megamindsecretlair · 3 months

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The King and I, Part 4

Pairing: King Ghezo x Virgin!Black!Fem!/ Plus Size reader

Warnings: 18+, Minors DNI, You are in charge of your own reading experience. Intentional use of AAVE. SMUT AND ANGST. Mentions of violence, forceful touching. PIV, Fingering and oral (fem receiving) , all consensual. Doesn't follow canon of the movie.

Summary: You hid in your room unwilling to witness any budding love between King Ghezo and his new bride. You hid in your room until you could not take the loneliness anymore and decided to not let this define you. An unexpected conversation allows you to see things differently.

Word Count: 5,636k

A/N: What a way to come back from being sick, I hope I still got it LOL. This one definitely had to marinate because he needed to come correct! I hope you enjoy! Please, please consider commenting and reblogging to help support writers! And please put ages in bios! Or get blockt!

Masterlist | Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 5

Taglist: @planetblaque @browngirldominion @notapradagurl7 @honeyoriginalz @gg-trini @eggnox @naj-ay444 @sheepywritesfics @westside-rot @twocentuar @pinkpantheris @tchallasbabymama @sevikasblackgf @slippinninque @abeautifulmindexposed @neawarren @monaeesstuff @blackerthings @melaninpov @1-800anklebully @mogul93 @softimgyu @henneseyhoe @blowmymbackout @softscorpio17 @theunsweetenedtruth @we-outsiiiide @thecookiebratz @badassdoll @kinginwithbreezy-blog @chrishy973 @skyesthebomb @blackelysian @yayasworldview @wakandamama @thadelightfulone

You hated her. You hated everything she represented. You were sick to your stomach at the mere thought of her hands all over him, her laughter making him smile. At the thought of her sitting in “your spot” with the King, watching the sunrise that she’s probably seen a hundred times by now.

You spent the majority of your days in your room avoiding them. You took your meals in your room and spent your days reading or looking out over your balcony. You didn’t care what people thought.

You were a mountain and no one could scale it if you didn’t wish it so. You were unyielding. You were…lonely.

The King had been a saving grace from that loneliness. You finally belonged to someone and that feeling was invaluable to you. Someone would actually care if you fell off the face of the world. Or so you thought.

Tomorrow was the wedding and you were expected to attend, just like the first wife. Was this why she was so silent? Did she silently hate you that whole time? Forced to concede her spot at the table to someone newer, younger?

You sat on your bed with your knees drawn. You stared at the dress you were expected to wear at the wedding. You hated that dress. You wanted to rip it to shreds and throw it at the King’s feet.

The anger and hate felt better than the burning sadness in your chest. How it burrowed. How it ate at every vein and cell in your body. The sadness took everything. It stole your breath, your dreams, and your very will. You cried yourself to sleep every night this week.

Every morning, the King knocked on your door and begged you to listen to him. To talk to him. He asked you if you would kill him today. You were too sad to entertain your little game.

In one fell swoop, he gave you the greatest night of your life and the worst morning you ever lived through.

You couldn’t get over the embarrassment and shame. How everyone stood and looked at you while he introduced…her. They were all in on it, meeting her, and talking to her. No one ever did anything like that for you.

You were tossed like garbage at his doorstep. There was no grand welcoming. Just a sassy eunuch who saw you for the common village girl you were.

Fresh tears fell from your eyes but you wiped them away. Fuck this. You did not break.

You did not break under your Father’s cruel hands and words. You did not break when your Mother begged you to accept the latest farm owner, sheep herder, or market owner who dared ask your Father for your hand in marriage. You did not break when men put their hands on you when your Father wasn’t looking. You did not break when girls in the village would spit on you, tear your hair, or call you names to your face. You did not break when they would trip you and make you spill buckets full of water. You did not break when you had to turn around and go back to the river to fill them up again. You did not break.

You got out of bed and called for your servant. She entered a moment later, eyeing you wearily. You had been icy towards her and her attempts to help. You apologized and she helped you get dressed in a bright orange dress and wrap your hair up in a scarf. You left the room, breathing fresh air for the first time all week.

You did not care if you ran into the King and his new little bride. Let her have him. You only wished he planted a baby inside of you already so that you fulfilled your duty as a wife and he had no more cause to touch you.

You kept your head held high as you made your way to the training grounds. The sounds of clashing swords met you first as you rounded the corner. Even with all these people in the palace, you were still alone.

You took up your post and watched the Agojie run through their training drills. You watched as they sliced up straw dummies. As they practiced with swords. As they drilled, taking each other down. Their ferocity gave you chills.

After they dueled, they always helped each other stand with jokes and a smile. Through sweat and tears, they continued through, bonding in ways you could only look at. Never participate in.

The sun reached its peak, so you decided to move on. You needed to stretch your bones. Feel the grass beneath your feet. Remember that you were somebody before the King and you remain somebody after.

In the palace gardens, you circled the wide space looking at all of the exotic flowers. They bloomed and stretched towards the sun. You walked around the path, scrunching the grass beneath your toes. As far as sensations went, you preferred the sand. Maybe you could visit the sandy beach tonight.

No one cared where you went or what you did. That thought still made you sad but you could also think of it another way. No one was watching you. There was freedom in that. You could move through the halls with no one to gauge your every footfall.

You rounded the base of a thick tree and nearly stepped on the first wife’s hand. “Oh! I’m sorry!” You stepped back and she looked up at you.

She was sitting in the grass with a baby in her lap. Her other son toddled after a butterfly.

“I’ll leave,” you said.

“It’s okay to love him, you know,” she said. You turned back around and looked at her. She adjusted the squirming baby in her arms. You finally recognized that she was breastfeeding.

“What?” You asked.

“It’s okay to love the King.” She continued to adjust the baby until it latched onto a nipple and settled down. She cooed to him and encouraged him. You looked at her face. She still looked as calm and blank as she ever did. This was perhaps the first time you ever heard her speak.

She was silent during the council meetings. Silent at breakfast. At least this answered your questions on if she could even speak.

You dropped to your knees beside her and absently picked at the grass. “How can you not hate me?”

She smiled at the toddler as it giggled and fell back on his butt. He climbed to his feet, little face concentrated as you’d often seen the King look, and then chased after the butterfly again.

“I have no hate in my heart for something I cannot control. I knew I would not be his only wife, the only bearer of his children. He is a King. He is expected to have many wives to show how rich he is. How prosperous. He is to be surrounded by it,” she said.

“Didn’t you want to tear my eyes out at breakfast?” You asked.

She giggled and it was a light, tinkling sound that made you smile with her. You didn’t feel like you were being mocked or talked down to. In a lot of ways, she made you think of your best friends back in the village. You’d give anything to talk to them right now.

“You were enjoying your marriage. You are supposed to kiss your husband,” she said and shook her head. “Kissing him takes nothing from me. Being in his bed does not mean he will not still come to mine.”

You were not as gracious. The thought of him being in anyone else’s bed made you sick with anger. Like you wanted to light the whole place on fire and let it burn. What she was saying was no different than what the King had told you. He had a special relationship with her as he hoped to have with you. As he will have with…her.

“Why are you speaking to me now?” You asked as you continued to pick at the grass.

“Why did it take so long for you to speak to me?” She asked and shrugged. “In a lot of ways, you are still young. Your emotions pull you through the world. You had to experience all of it before you were open to anything I had to say,” she said.

She moved the baby to her shoulder and placed a cloth there. She tapped on the baby’s back.

A fire boiled in your gut and you wanted to call her names. You wanted to scream and rage that she didn’t know you. She had no idea what all you’d been through to bring you to this point. It wasn’t her damn business what you did with the King. But you swallowed it all back down.

You needed this connection to someone else. To someone who’d been through this already. “Alright then, what is it that you have to say?”

“It is okay to love the King. You may think that you only get a piece of him because he gives pieces of himself to the land, to the kingdom, to the council, to the Agojie, to the Oyo, to me. He gives all of himself to the land, the council, to me, to you. He is who he is,” she said.

You laughed bitterly and rolled your eyes. “Did he put you up to this?”

She smiled. “The King cannot make me do what I do not wish to. I wish to not live in a bitter household with slammed doors and a sad King. I like my King happy. You make him happy,” she said.

The toddler fell forward and began crying. You moved to get up but she held out her hand. “He will be alright,” she said and waved him off. You watched as the baby cried and cried, looking towards the first wife. When he realized that she wasn’t getting up, his cries slowed. Then he sniffled and hiccuped until he wiped his eyes, stood up, and kept moving.

“How can you be so calm about this?” You asked. You were about to explain further, that she seemed so knowledgeable about…everything. But she looked at you and smiled.

“I will spare you the details of how I got here, but you can picture it,” she said. She held out her arm. There were gouges, scratches, and burns marring her skin that made you hiss as you looked at them. “I’ve already survived the worst things men can do to women and I’m still here. I’m happy, I’m fed, I have two beautiful sons. I’m safe.

“But do not think for one second that I am calm. I am expected to push these children out for a man in constant danger from enemies. To political rivals or discontent in the palace. One hint of weakness and they will come for my babies. Or, they will grow up and be expected to give their lives for this kingdom. They will be cut down or full of holes from those bullets the devils brought with them. I am the furthest from calm. Because if I lose my babies, as it stands, the King will lose his hold on this kingdom. You have not given him sons. This new bride may or may not, remains to be seen. And he is the best king we have seen in a long time.”

“So I am to be a broodmare no matter what,” you spat.

“You are to be a wife to your husband! And the only one making it difficult is you! And your childish notion that you are supposed to be the only one he cares for. It is not all or nothing! You cared for your Mother and Father, didn’t you? Your friends? Your family? Some knot-headed little boy who smiled at you from time to time? Did you expect to be the only one they cared for as well?”

It may be childish but it wasn’t a stupid notion. After being picked last your whole life, it was difficult to conceive of a world where you weren’t the only person in your husband’s life.

It was not uncommon for regular men to have more than one wife. The really wealthy ones took more wives to basically create a labor source for their businesses. Some chose to only have one partner, like your parents, and look how miserable your mother was. Perhaps she would have been better had your father had multiple wives.

Then again, your father was so evil, it was a wonder he managed to trap your mother in marriage. He was not capable of love in his heart. And you would not wish him on anyone else. You would have liked to have siblings though. Perhaps you would have learned to share better.

“You’re an annoying older sister I never had,” you told her.

She laughed and it transformed her whole face. She looked much younger and softer as she did so, throwing her head back. “You are a stubborn younger sister I wish I had,” she said.

Your chest swelled with an inexplicable feeling of closeness. She held out her hand and you took it. She squeezed it. “It can start with us. We don’t have to be enemies,” she said.

You told her your name. She smiled. “I’m Ayi,” she said.

Topics moved on to much better things like her children, the Agojie. You did mention some things about your upbringing. Your story became much clearer once she realized that you were an only child. It wasn’t by choice. In fact, it was a constant source of irritation with your father.

The sun was starting to disappear in the sky. You had been out with her all day long and hadn’t realized it. Her sons were growing sleepy and it was time for them to eat and go to sleep. She asked that you at least kept an open mind. She didn’t like seeing her husband pouting into his breakfast.

You did take some pleasure in that. You didn’t doubt his feelings towards you, you only wished that he had been more upfront with you. This self-imposed exile was more for you to get a handle on your emotions. To have time to sift through your thoughts and feelings so that you could examine each one with care.

But you’d be a liar if you weren’t grateful that he hurt, even just a little. It was a rotten thing to wish for your husband, but it was true. You wanted him to feel a fraction of what you felt this past week. The pain, hurt, and shame at being made a fool of.

As if your thoughts summoned him, King Ghezo stood outside your room. His head was down and pressed against the door. His hands were planted on either side. He wore dark blue robes today filled with intricate square designs. His hair looked soft enough to sleep against and your fingertips ached with the memory of running your hands through it.

You stopped short to look at him but he must have heard you because he looked up. He faced you and took a few steps forward but you stepped back. You weren’t ready to face him. You weren’t prepared to see him just yet. You thought you’d see him tomorrow, during the wedding as you tried not to puke through the whole thing.

“I thought you were inside,” he said. His voice was soft. Your chest ached. His voice was one of the things you’d grown to look forward to hearing. Not hearing it these past few days hurt more than you were willing to admit.

“If I interrupted a speech, continue,” you said.

“That was not how I intended you to find out.”

“Did you know that you had already procured another wife while you were fucking me?” You asked.

His face twisted up and he sucked his teeth. “Don’t say it like that,” he said.

“Like what? Isn’t that what it was? Were you not fucking me while you were thinking of getting a new wife as soon as we were done? Fucking a baby into me so that you could move on and make more?”

“Do you want this conversation where everyone can hear?” He asked.

“They hear everything else.” You folded your arms across your chest and wrapped anger around you like a cloak.

The King took a few strides forward and you stood your ground as long as you could stand it. When he got within arm’s reach, you stepped away.

“Will you not even let me touch you?” He asked.

“Answer my questions,” you said.

“After everything we shared, do you think I was only fucking you? Is that really what you believe?” He asked.

It was hard to look him in the eyes because he looked so genuine. So genuinely hurt that you thought so little of him. But words meant nothing to you. They never did. Actions always spoke louder than words.

“How long did you know that she was coming before you climbed in my bed?”

“I have been in negotiations with her father for months before you came into my life. But we had months still before we could come to be allies against the Oyo. When he heard that I married you, he panicked. We tried to assuage his fears but he is…a strange man. He sent her anyway. I had planned to tell you while we were at the beach,” he said.

“So you waited until she was here to tell me?”

“How was I supposed to know that she’d show up the next day or that you would let me touch you that night? What can I say to make you believe me?”

“I want the truth!” Tears were starting to burn in your eyes. You hated this. You hated feeling like you were on opposite ends again when you had found your way to trust him. To love him.

“Have I not given you everything you wanted, eh? You asked for space, I gave it. You asked for patience, I gave it. You said I earned your love and you won’t even let me kiss you. You hid all week from me. I am your husband!”

“You are my King!”

The King reared back as if you’d slapped him. “I am your husband!”

“You are my King!” You stepped away and he followed you until your back hit a wall. You thought you were stepping back in a straight line, but he had backed you into a corner at an angle. Your hands dug into the stonework, hands trembling.

“You want the truth? The truth is that I did not know she would arrive so soon. I thought I had more time. I thought I could spend more time with you, while you looked at me with love still in your heart. I did not know that you would let me touch you, let me take you to bed. That you would share your body with me. If I am guilty of anything, it is being selfish. Selfish with every little bit of yourself you’ve given me. I want more. I want to know your every thought, every smile, every word that crosses your lips. If you wish to kill me, then go ahead,” he said.

He stepped back and took off his robes, throwing it on the ground. His chest heaved with the passion of his words. He opened his arms and looked at you.

“Finish the job we joke about too often.” He slapped his chest. “Stab me in the heart that beats for you. Stab me in the chest so that I can have a wound outside that matches the wound inside at the thought of never touching you again. Never kissing you. I have changed so much about how I do things, for you. I am a King. I do not have to explain myself to anyone. And yet I will explain it all to you if you wish!”

Tears flowed freely down your cheeks as you watched him and listened to him. You didn’t even know why you were crying. He was offering you everything on a platter and you did not know how to cross the gap to him. As if there were invisible hands wrapped around you, pulling you from him, keeping you from just flinging yourself into his arms.

Your Father always said that you made things difficult. Ayi said the same thing. You didn’t trust when things were easy. If things were, it could be taken away just as easily.

The King got to his knees at your prolonged silence. Flickering candles in the hallway danced across his skin. His eyes were narrowed and focused on you as he looked up at you.

“Do you wish me to beg? To plead? To send her away? Ask me. Ask me to send her away and I will spite a kingdom for you. I cannot explain why you affect me in such ways. But I am here on my knees the night before a wedding, wanting you.”

You got to your knees as well. You scooted close to him and looked him in the eyes. “I want the truth from here on out. I…will get used to you having more wives or children. I won’t like it. But I don’t like to be blindsided and made a fool of. Can you promise me that?”

You were tired of fighting. Tired of trying to remain so strong that no one could knock you down. There was no one here to tear you down. There was no Agojie waiting in the winds to kill you. If you were lonely, it was because you made yourself lonely. And it didn’t have to be like that. You had Ayi and you had the King.

“I promise,” he said. “I vow to you as your husband.”

You kissed his cheek. “Then I will choose to forgive that you waited until the morning after loving me to tell me you’re getting married,” you said.

He sighed and dropped his head. “Can I make it up to you in a different way?” He asked.

You raised an eyebrow at him. “How will you do that?” You asked.

A mischievous glint entered his eyes as he pressed his lips to yours. You sighed, instantly melting into the kiss. You missed his lips on yours. His arms wrapped around your body as he held you closer, tighter. Your arms wrapped around his neck and clung to him while he kissed you. While you felt just how much he missed you with every pass of his tongue against yours.

You didn’t know how long you stayed there kissing him, but you never wanted to get up. Your knees protested otherwise. You shifted one too many times and the King finally picked you up, never breaking your kiss. He pressed your back into the wall, holding you up and kissing the absolute breath from you.

His hands cupped your ass, squeezing you. You moaned into his mouth. He never failed to ignite something deep within your core. A hunger that simmered just below the surface until you were able to draw it out with his lips on yours. His hands on your body. You’d only had him once and it wasn’t nearly enough.

He moved you, somewhere finding the energy to open your door and push inside. He closed the door with his foot and then walked you to your bed. He placed you onto it, your back hitting the soft cushion.

“Let me give you the wedding night we should have had,” he whispered.

Your balcony was open as it usually was, blowing a soft breeze into your room. It felt amazing over your feverish skin. The candles were lit, thanks to your servant, the covers turned down just waiting for you to get inside. You were thankful that you weren’t in here alone.

You nodded. “Please, I’d like that, husband,” you said.

The King smiled and covered you with his body. He was heavy and you made an oof sound underneath him, but you clung to him so that he wouldn’t let up. You liked being crushed by him. You rubbed your body against him like a cat, needing to feel him everywhere.

He took his time kissing you, content to just lay there with your legs wrapped lazily around his hips. His hand cupped your jaw, his thumb lightly rubbing your cheek. Your hands grazed his back, feeling the wide expanse of him. The broadness. You lost yourself in just touching him. Feeling him. He was as close as possible and he was yours.

It could have been hours you spent there kissing him yet it felt like none passed at all. Your lips turned numb from the brutal heat of his kisses. His lips moved downward, trailing liquid fire down your jaw and neck. He planted kisses there as well as his hand moved lower to grab your ass again. Squeeze your thigh.

Your chorus of moans seemed to only pitch higher as he moved his hand back up to unwrap your dress and reveal your breasts. He took his time worshiping them. Squeezing them and suckling them into his mouth. His tongue flicked over your nipples causing your thighs to tighten around his hips. If it weren’t for his body in the way, you’d be squeezing them shut needing some type of relief or friction.

Your clit throbbed the longer he took his sweet precious time with your nipples. He rolled one between his fingers and you couldn’t help moving, stretching, needing him to do more.

“Is there a problem, wife?” He asked.

“More,” you moaned.

He smiled against your breast, licking the underswell of it. He pinched your nipple and you cried out at the unexpected bite of pain. “I think I like you twisting like this,” he said.

“Husband,” you moaned in warning. You would not last like this. This was too much. Too much sensation and teasing and he hadn’t even touched your wet pussy yet. You felt the arousal slowly leaking from you. You needed to feel him inside of you, filling you up.

“Wife,” he mocked by mimicking your moan. He kissed his way down to your stomach. His hands left your breasts, moving further south to tease at your entrance. His hand played with your damp curls and you hissed, loving and hating that he was finally touching where you wanted him to.

He nibbled on your lower stomach and you moaned, your hands digging into his curls. He lifted his head and looked at you as his fingers moved between your folds and found your clit. Your mouth dropped open as he played with it, swirling your arousal all around sloppily.

“Love that face you make, wife,” he said.

You fought to look him in the eyes and let him see you. See how he was making you feel. You didn’t know what to do or how to make him feel just as good. But that would come in time. You had many years with him. Many years to learn each other’s bodies.

You bit your lip and moaned as he rubbed his thumb around your clit. It was slow and lazy as if he had all night to bring you pleasure. The stirrings of your climax tighten your belly and you flopped onto the bed, unable to keep eye contact. You let yourself feel his hands on you. His lips returned to your belly as you tensed up and let go.

You let go of all that tension and anxiety you had been carrying the past week. The sadness and loneliness that hung around you like a demon. You shed the anger and shame as your eyes rolled back into your head and your back bowed from the bed.

Your breaths shuddered as you calmed down. The King kissed his way down your body and spread your legs open. You didn’t know what he could see, but you did see him smile. The hand he used to finger you, he placed it on your titty and began to massage your nipple with your juices.

“Ouue,” you moaned. Crisp, lightly salted air blew into the room over your wet nipple and your thighs tingled.

“Louder, my Queen,” he said.

His lips descended on your pussy like a cat lapping up milk. His tongue swiped against you slowly, taking long swipes from your entrance to your clit. You moaned and yelled to the ceiling. Your fingers dug into his curls, pushing his face in. You hoped you weren’t hurting him, but you didn’t know how you could stop.

You cried out when he suckled your clit. You felt like you were dying and being rebuilt brick by brick. Every pass of his skilled tongue notched your climax higher and higher, reaching the peak of the tallest mountain.

You pulled on his hair as you came once more, gushing all over his mouth and the sheets. You whined as your legs shook, body moving uncontrollably. The King chuckled as he kissed your thighs, your belly, in between your breasts, and up your neck.

“Are you alright, my Queen?” He asked.

It took you a few deep breaths before you trusted your voice not to break. “That would’ve been our wedding night?” You asked.

He grinned and kissed your cheek. “Every night since then if you’d have let me,” he said.

You melted into the bed. You shook your head. “Liar,” you said. But there was no heat behind it.

“I wish to feel you, husband. All of you,” you said.

“Are you not tired?” He asked. But he was already moving his trousers down, off of his hips. The fabric hit the floor and he was pushing himself up off of you.

“Not of this. Not of you,” you said. You pulled him into a kiss, tasting and smelling yourself on his tongue. It only made you want him more. You liked claiming him in such a small way, only between these kisses.

“I love you, wife,” he said.

“I love you, husband,” you said.

He moved in between your legs, sliding his knees high under your thighs. He pushed you wider than you expected, guiding the head of his dick to your slick folds. He got the tip of himself wet and then slowly pushed into you.

Your hand flew to his chest. “Slow, slow, slow,” you moaned.

He slowed down, slowly pushing his way inside of you. Your body relaxed, letting him slip inside with ease. “You’re so beautiful, wife. Filled up with me,” he said.

“Shit,” you moaned. Your legs shook on him as he began to slowly fuck into you. You were outside of time as he moved inside of you. You stared into each other’s eyes. You were pure feeling.

He kissed you in between strokes. You couldn’t keep your lips off of each other. Whispering in between kisses. How you missed each other. How you loved each other. How you wanted this to work in between you. How he wanted to plant babies inside of you and watch your belly grow with his children.

“I want to keep you, wife,” he whispered against your lips.

The glide of his dick moved easily inside of you. Like he fit there. Like you were made for each other. And for this moment, you let yourself believe it. You were meant to be here in his arms.

Your mouth dropped open, limbs weak, as a powerful climax ripped through you. You cried out to the sky and heavens. You didn’t care if you woke up the whole palace. You cried until your voice went hoarse. You squeezed around the King’s dick.

“I’m yours, my husband,” you said.

He looked into your eyes while he moaned and finally climaxed himself. His dick pulsed inside of you and you savored the closeness of his body. The heat of him. The feeling of him on top of you. He was yours and you were his.

When he was finished spilling inside of you, he dropped to one side panting. He slipped out of you and pulled you toward him. You faced him and he pulled you closer, pulling your leg over his hip. You were completely enveloped into his warmth.

You talked until the morning light. Both unwilling to allow something as small as sleep interrupt this time together. He made you tell him all about the books you read while you were hiding. He tried to make you talk about every thought you had but it was impossible to remember every single one.

You giggled well into the morning, kissing in between, and talking about the things you missed as well. All too soon, it became increasingly obvious that he would have to leave to get ready for his little wedding.

The thought still pierced your heart with an arrow. But you’d try to get over it. You’d try, for your sake and for the sake of the household. Ayi was right. You didn’t want to live in a broken household full of tension and unsaid things. You had enough of that growing up.

“Go, go get ready,” you said.

“Are you sure?” He asked.

You took a deep breath. “No. But you are a king. Who am I to get in the way of that?”

He kissed you, his lips lingering against yours. His thumb caressed your cheek. “My beautiful Queen,” he said. “Will you kill me today?”

“The day is young, husband.”

The Secret King Ghezo Files | Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 5

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carakook · 1 month

Text

Bloom. °˖✧✿✧˖°

“Yeah? You think we’re done? We’re not done.”

→ Chapters list ←

⚘6. Planting the Wrong Seed

🔞For Mature Audiences Only🔞

╔══ ❀•°❀°•❀ ══╗

⚘Pairings: Jeon Jungkook x fem!reader

⚘Synopsis: You prepare to go to the potluck with Seojoon but find that your day is not going the way that you planned, thanks to a certain someone lingering in your thoughts… if only you knew the shit that was going to unfold.

⚘Genre:Forbidden love

⚘Word count: 12k+

⚘Warnings: 18+ for mature audiences only, MDNI, emotional, mentions of anxiety, mentions of sex, heavy kissing, angst, CANINE POETRY I REPEAT CANINE POETRY, religious metaphors (the story is not religious but makes references to a higher power, karma, fate, etc.), mentions of anxiety, mentions of nightmares, subtle arguing, jealousy, bullying? (Sort of, there’s a bitch in this chapter who makes cunty comments), mentions of alcohol, mentions of cooking (I know this is triggering for some people), heavy tension, cheating, mentions of cheating, mentions of falling out of love/breaking up. Let me know if I miss anything!

⚘Disclaimer: This story in no way reflects the characters of those who are mentioned. It is pure fiction and for entertainment purposes only. Please don’t take it seriously. Nothing is real in this story.

⚘A/N: Chapter 6 is out! I really hope you enjoy it. Please don’t be mad at me. 😀 lol I told you it gets dramatic. I can’t wait to keep writing, shit gets soooo messy but also some very important lessons get learned. DON’T CHEAT AND DON’T BE AFRAID TO LOVE WHO YOU LOVE OK!!! Also, men are stupid sometimes. 🥴 ok love you!!!

╚══ ❀•°❀°•❀ ══╝

↻ ◁ II ▷ ↺ ᴺᴼᵂ ᴾᴸᴬᵞᴵᴺᴳ :

♪Glimpse of Us - Joji

♪Bad Habit - Steve Lacy

♪Miss Understood - DPR Ian

♪Hopelessly Devoted To You - Olivia Newton-John (this one is VERY important)

♪Cop Car - Mitski

♪I Bet On Losing Dogs - Mitski (again)

♪Love Me Again - V

♪I LOVE YOU HOE - Odetari Ft. 9lives

✧━。゜✿ฺ✿ฺ゜。━✧

Unfortunately for you, when you wake up after your not-so-peaceful slumber, you have this feeling deep down in your gut that something bad will happen today.

You wake up sometime the next morning, a bit delirious at first because you didn’t get as deep of a sleep as you normally would have. Seojoon is gone already, which isn’t abnormal. He works early mornings so often times he’s gone before you even wake. And in typical Seojoon fashion, he left a little note and cup of coffee that he picked up for you at the convenience store across the street before he left.

You pick up the note and your coffee, take a sip as you read it;

Went to work, text me when you wake up, and don’t forget about tonight.

-Seojoon, aka your boyfriend :)

The usual note he leaves… except the sign off leaves you feeling a bit off. Because normally, it’s just his name. But this time, he added the joking ‘boyfriend’ to it. This should be considered a cute gesture, because he basically is your fucking boyfriend.

But it doesn’t feel cute. Not after the amount of times he talked about being not-boyfriend-girlfriend last night. In fact, as you stare at the note, you realize he is starting to seem bit persistent about it, but its so subtle that you didn't catch it until now.

Maybe he’s getting tired of waiting… it’s been months, so you can't blame him. But also, you can’t help how you feel, and you don’t really feel ready to add the label. So simple for most people, but for you… it’s not simple at all.

It’s like planting a fucking seed, and you aren’t sure if you want him to plant that seed yet.

You aren’t sure if you want to plant his seed, or anyone else's ever again.

It’s too early for this shit, so you decide not to overthink it. You’re off of work today, and you have to figure out what the fuck to cook for this potluck full of people you don’t know. You’re nervous enough as it is, you don’t need to overthink some silly little note your not-boyfriend left. He was probably just being playful.

You’ve become very good at denying things… pretending that you're fine when you really aren't fine. Something you haven’t realized yet.

So you get up and get yourself ready for the day. You do your skincare, brush your hair, brush your teeth, drink your coffee… a normal day, just like any other.

But you begin to realize that the feeling from last night, the same one that you went to bed with and woke up with, it lingers. That little zap feeling you felt when you dreamt, and when he left, that feeling impending doom that you can't quite shake, it's still very much there.

It’s like a little fluttering in your stomach. Something between butterflies and worms, maybe. Subtle, but there. It could be because you dreamt of him again, because you’re meeting Seojoon's friends, or because he has started bringing up making it official all of a sudden… or maybe your gut is trying to tell you something.

Nah, anxiety, surely. Not denial, not intuition… it's just a bad case of anxiety that was triggered by a bad dream. You're sure of it.

After getting yourself dressed and putting on some light makeup, you know you need to calm your shit if tonight is going to go well and be enjoyable for you and everyone else. So you make a little list of ingredients you need to cook something nice for his friends. A way to a man’s heart is food, as they say, it’ll be a nice gesture that you add to the potluck. You decide to cook two things since Seojoon probably won't have time to make something to bring himself. You'll make something sweet and something savory; chocolate chip cookies, a crowd fav, and classic American mac and cheese, because everyone loves cheese. Both things are easy to make, and you’re sure everyone will like them because they’re simple classics.

You’re totally not subconsciously making flower boys past favs. You’re totally not still thinking about him or that dream. You're absolutely-positively-totally not doing little things that remind you of him… not at all.

After you make your list, you grab your bag and wallet, send Seojoon a little text letting him know you’re awake and preparing for tonight. You know he was probably waiting on it, and he was waiting for it. He was actually anticipating you trying to make an excuse not to go tonight, so he feels a bit giddy knowing you’re actually putting not bailing on him. That's my girl, he thinks to himself when he reads the text.

The rest of your day sort of melds together. You do your best to stay on track, even as you pass the floral department at the grocery store. You linger there, looking at the array of autumn flowers that are bright, warm, and blooming... You also look at the array of wilting bouquets that are marked down in price, on sale because no one wants them...

Before you can talk yourself out of it, you reach down and graze the tip of one of the flowers petals. Your heart pounds so hard you swear it might break through your chest, because although it seems like such a simple and curious touch, it isn’t. You’re afraid that just like in the dream, the petals will start turning brown and dry, and the flowers on the shelf will start dying. You’re afraid that your touch is indeed poison.

But nothing happens. They merely stay in place as they did before you touched them, they don’t die any faster, but they don’t stop wilting either. These flowers are neutral to you, and your touch isn’t poisonous as you suspected it may be… not to them, anyway.

You aren’t thinking of him. Not today. You can’t. You won’t. You don’t know why it’s so hard all of a sudden after months of working on yourself, but today of all days cannot be the day that you start reliving memories and asking yourself what if I stayed?

And even though you tell yourself you won’t think of him today, you buy one of the wilting bouquets. Because you feel bad for the flowers that no one seems to want. You feel like you relate to them in some fucked up metaphorical way, or did in the past, at least. You wonder if you can nourish them and nurture them to health, much like you did a certain Bearded Iris many months ago.

Dangerous thoughts for a girl who swore she was moving on and healing just fine.

After you’re done at the grocery store, you make your way back home. You make sure to blare music as soon as you walk in the door to prevent your thoughts from becoming too loud, and you very carefully avoid any love songs that seem to try to make an appearance.

You get to work making the cookie dough, following the ‘secret’ recipe you’ve known since you were a teenager. It’s very rich, contains lots of butter and sugar, probably not the healthiest choice, but every time you make them people go crazy for them. You even won a baking competition back in school using this recipe.

If only they knew this was a recipe on the Betty Crocker website.

You mix the ingredients with familiar motions and fill up several baking pans full of little nuggets of dough. Once every pan is full and there's no dough left, you start baking two sheet pans full at a time because your oven can't fit anymore than that.

You try to ignore the memories that surface when you smell them baking.

“Please Y/N, just a little taste, bet you taste sweeter than these cookies… I need to test it, for science n’ shit.”

“No, you’ll get sick! It has raw eggs. Also isn’t that cannibalism? Kookie eating cookies?”

No. Stop. Fuck.

You make quick work of the mac and cheese after every sheet pan of cookies is finished baking. You let the cookies cool as you boil the elbow noodles and make the creamy cheese sauce, which thank god calls for intense focus, otherwise it’ll burn or become too thick and clumpy.

The mac and cheese recipe is pretty simple, it just requires your full attention up until the last step. This is a recipe you learned online as well, and so far every time you make it everyone loves it, even those who don't really like cheese.

One person specifically was very overdramatic about loving it the first time you made it for him.

“Fuuuck. I should marry you. If I marry you can I have this every day?”

“I am NOT marrying you, dummy. And you’d get diabetes. Do you know how much cheese is in here?”

“Don’t care, blah blah blah, marry me and make me this shit every single day.”

Back when times were simpler, before you knew of him being married. You wonder what would have happened if you played along, said you would marry him and make him mac and cheese every day for the rest of your lives... Should’ve accepted his offer.

You start to become irritated. Because this hasn’t happened in months. You’ve coped, you’ve moved on, you have a not-boyfriend now and you’re supposed to be thriving. Before last night, Jungkook was not consuming you anymore... whereas today, you cannot fucking shake him.

That’s what you thought, that this shit was done. Did one nightmare really fuck it all up? Or is it something deeper?

It doesn’t help that the persistent feeling in your gut continues to linger. It won’t go away and it’s fucking annoying. Like a goddamn fly. Maybe it isn’t butterflies, but a bunch of fucking flies fluttering around in your stomach making you feel nauseous and uneasy. So disgusting.

The zaps never fully went away. In the beginning, after the night he left, it was like it continued to happen after the first time. You’d have panic attacks and feel these zaps in your chest, which Sohee witnessed a few times and told you was normal when having when dealing with loss and change mixed with anxiety She recommended you see someone professional about it, but you didn’t take her advice. It was heartbreak, not a fucking psychotic break…

Ok, maybe almost a psychotic break, but it never got to that point. And with time, the zaps went away for the most part. Just like the lingering feelings he left behind. It all dimmed down to a very dull buzz that was barely noticeable.

Until today. Until last night. Until he decided to invade your dreams again like a fucking intruder.

You shake your head at yourself. Because this is fucking ridiculous. He isn’t here, he isn’t coming back, and you’re supposed to be fucking over it. For fucks sake, you’re making junk food for your new mans friends. You need to get a grip.

Ignore it. Deny it until it goes the fuck away and you forget about it. Maybe if you pretend, you won't even notice it by the time you need to leave tonight.

You finish up the mac and cheese and put it in a large casserole dish, top it with even more cheese and your garlic butter bread crumbs, and then pop it into the oven on medium heat to get all gooey inside and crispy on top. While it bakes, you pack up the cookies in a portable Tupperware container. Now all you have to do is get yourself ready.

You hope like hell you can make yourself look as good as the food, because the dark circles under your eyes are prominent even under the makeup you put on today. This is why you need your goddamn beauty sleep.

While the mac and cheese finishes baking, you fuss over an outfit in your room. It’s a potluck, so you're sure it's casual… but you don’t want to dress too up or down. Normally, you don’t really overthink these things... but again, your nerves are wrecked today. So everything feels worse than what it really is. You're overthinking things far more than normal.

After making your room a damn mess and covering the floor in failed outfits, you decide on wearing a simple floral dress that doesn’t show too much skin, but is still fun. The base color is a deep red, speckled with little white flowers all over. It’s chilly outside due to the changing seasons, so you pair it with some thick thigh high socks and boots. And of course you need a jacket.

A certain jacket that you’ve told everyone you bought for yourself as a treat, but what they can’t see is that it’s covered in an invisible purple and white floral pattern, too.

You touch up your makeup, do it as you always do, and decide to leave your hair down, but pack a hair tie in your bag just in case. You check the clock, and it’s right around 6:30 pm so you know Seojoon is showing up soon, probably in the next thirty minutes or so. You're surprised at how fast time flew today, but also thankful that its nearly over.

Fuck. You feel sick.

After doing one last onceover of yourself, you walk into the kitchen, only to freeze when you see Seojoon is already here… that damn spare key. Maybe it was a bit fast moving to give him your spare key... You were just so used to someone else having it, so you didn't think twice before offering it to Seojoon.

Funny how you gave him a spare key to your apartment but won’t be his fucking girlfriend yet.

He must have gotten off of work early today, because normally he’d be here around seven after going home to check on Simba and change out of his work clothes, but judging by his casual attire, he’s already done all of that. You’re unsure as to why he didn’t text you and let you know… or, fuck, maybe he did and you just didn’t notice. You haven’t exactly been paying attention to your phone thanks to the thoughts plaguing you tonight. You've been all over the place. You’re surprised he didn’t immediately seek you out, but then you see the look on his face… and he doesn’t look very happy.

“Secret admirer?”

He arches a brow that is disguised as playful, but the twitch in his jaw gives him away. At first, you’re confused… until you see his fingers dancing around the petals of the forgotten, wilting, bouquet of flowers that you bought at the grocery store.

You have no fucking clue what comes over you, but you have the urge to scream at him... tell him not to touch what doesn’t belong to him, tell him to get away from them as if he’s the poison. It’s totally irrational, especially when he’s the one who seems to need reassurance here. You aren't sure why he automatically jumps to that conclusion, but you don't think too much about it.

It’s that damn dream. It’s corrupting you. Fuck, maybe you’re possessed. Possessed by the ghost of Jeon-fucking-Jungkook and its causing you to nearly bite Seojoon's head off over touching some dying flowers... You don’t know, but you almost want to laugh at yourself.

You swallow your outburst before it can escape and disguise it with a weary laugh as you make your way over to him.

“What? No, I got these myself. They were on sale and looked sad, wanted to see if I could bring some life back into them.”

This irks Seojoon. He also feels irrationally about it, but sort of regrets immediately jumping to conclusions. It nearly revealed his insecurities… or maybe something deeper than just insecurity. Projection, perhaps, but he’d never admit that.

He feels less of a man knowing you bought yourself fucking flowers, especially ones as pitiful as these. He thinks if you want flowers, he should be buying them for you. He buys them for you often, it's just that you never seem very interested.

He doesn’t like it and neither do you. You wish he’d get you something else, anything else, not flowers. Anything but flowers. It's such a sweet gesture, but as you have said to yourself so many times before, flowers are reserved for someone you refuse to talk to him about.

You grab the bouquet almost protectively and walk over to the sink, get on your tiptoes to start rummaging your cabinets for a proper vase to put them in.

“Should’ve just asked me for flowers, babe. You know I’d get you anything you want... those are just so fucking ugly.”

He laughs when he says it, shakes his head and walks over to where the cookies rest. He takes one from the container and starts nibbling on it, makes a face of almost disgust because fuck, why’re they so rich?

You don’t notice the face he’s making because you’re stuck on the fact that he called these flowers ugly. They aren’t. They’re just sad. Maybe you’re being oversensitive about something so fucking mundane, but it really rubs you the wrong way that he would call them ugly just because they’re wilting.

You wonder if he’s ever thought of you similarly, considering it was no secret when you met him that you weren’t flourishing like you once were. You were recovering from heartbreak, you were as wilted as you could get... much more wilted than these discount flowers.

“They’re not ugly, just need some TLC…” you mutter under your breathe as you fill up a vase full of water.

He doesn’t respond because he disagrees. These flowers are dying, there’s no saving them, that’s why they were marked down in price. No one wants dying flowers.

No one but you.

“Are these the cookies you’re bringing to the potluck?”

You glance at him as he asks. He’s starting to piss you off, which is just making your mood so much worse, you’re already nervous and anxiety-ridden, is he really going to choose today to be picky and pessimistic about shit?

“Yeah, why? Something wrong with them?”

You try to hide the bite in your tone as you place the flowers in their new vase. You fluff them up a bit, sprinkle some plant foot into the water and set them on your windowsill, hoping they’ll get some Sun in the morning.

He snorts at your comment about the cookies and shakes his head, “No, they’re just really… sweet. But you’re a sweet girl, guess I should’ve expected that, huh?”

He’s buttering you up now, because he can tell his comments are bothering you. He’s unsure which one of you are acting extra sensitive tonight, but he silently blames you. Maybe she’s on her period, she didn’t fuck me last night so would make sense, he thinks to himself. Such a man-coded thing to think...

That’s the good thing about Seojoon though; he thinks to himself. He often closets those little comments inside of his head. You’ve yet to have a real argument. The honeymoon phase is inevitably waning, but it’s still there. He doesn’t want to ruin that… because that’s normally when the women he dates start to grow tired of him.

But he wants to keep you. His little wildflower. His little stray cat.

If you knew half of the shit he thought to himself… he has a feeling you would grow tired of him quickly.

You don’t respond to his kiss-ass comment, instead you just shake your head at him. You don't want to argue, especially when you are the one feeling butt-hurt. After fussing over the flowers, you pull out the mac and cheese from the oven and cover the top with tinfoil. You find yourself hoping that tonight passes by quickly because you’re just not in the mood to pretend to be fine.

But you must. Pretend, deny, ignore, just for a little longer. It’s just a bad day, you tell yourself. You’re just sensitive, that’s all. This isn't his fault, it's yours for digging up dead flowers.

As you put the food inside of a bag, Seojoon grabs his coat. He can tell you’re not amused with him at the moment, and doesn’t want to push it. Wants to avoid pissing you off further because he’d be so fucking embarrassed if the first time he brings you around his friends is also the first time you guys argue.

So he does as he should and keeps his mouth shut. No reason to poke the bear.

“Ready to go?”

“Mhm.”

You also want to avoid arguing, obviously. This day has been bad enough, and tonight is supposed to be fun. So you keep your mouth shut just like him.

The communication is lacking.

You both walk down to his car after you lock up your apartment, and begin making your way to the potluck. The drive is silent, other than the music playing subtly in the background. At some point, Seojoon's shuffled playlist plays Hopelessly Devoted To You by Olivia Newton-John from the OG Grease soundtrack. And of course Seojoon starts fucking belting it to the top of his lungs as he drives, putting on a whole ass concert for you to try and cheer you up.

“But now… there's nooowhere to hiiide, Since you pushed my love asiiiiide, I'm ooout of my head, Hopelessly devoted to yoooooou!”

And despite your sour mood and the flies in your stomach, it does cheer you up. It’s silly. He looks ridiculous, a grown ass man singing to you like a damsel in distress while driving. You’re thankful he did it, because your giggles are a good distraction from the lingering thoughts of the man from your past haunting you today.

You barely register the lyrics, Seojoon drowns out what the song is saying entirely with his very off-key terribly singing and the way he dramatically grips your hand like a microphone.

But if you did notice the lyrics, you’d have gotten the sinking feeling that this song is foreshadowing your night.

Thank god you didn’t notice the lyrics.

After this, the mood lightens significantly. You find yourself chattering with him along the way, making little playful comments as you always do. You’re still nervous, but you have a false sense of security now. You were just in your head, that damn dream messed up your entire day and it was causing you to nearly take it out on Seojoon. There’s nothing to be nervous about. You’re meeting new people, this will be fun. A step in the right direction to your possible relationship with him.

This is good. Everything is going to be fine, surely it will. Just a bad day.

At exactly 7:10 pm, you arrive at Taehyung's house. It’s very lovely. It isn’t some sort of luxurious mansion or anything, but it is much nicer than your own small apartment. You can tell his friends must be well off; the various nice cars parked around show that they all must work hard for what they have, which makes sense because, as far as you're aware, they're all a bit older than you. The house has a nice sized front yard, and the outside is clean looking, minimal furniture on the porch, but it still looks cozy. Doesn’t look too big or intimidating. Just a typical house for guys around Seojoon's age and status.

Makes you feel less nervous about lacking something. You’ve always thought of Seojoon as an humble guy, but his job is very well paying and he doesn’t want for anything, so you assume his friends are the same. It was a bit intimidating to think about because your job isn’t exactly bringing you riches, but it does make you happy.

You just want to impress them. Maybe a little too much. It seems silly because you're an adult who has nothing to prove to anyone. This isn't high school, you aren't here to try and fit in... but if Seonjoon's friends decide they don't like you, you may as well end it tonight. Relationships never end or even begin well if those surrounding you don't get along who you are dating... or not-dating-but-sort-of-dating in this case. That's why the pressure feels a bit much at this moment. No, you don't care what they think of you, but also, you kind of do. Because you want things with Seojoon to work.

Seojoon parks at an empty spot on the side of the street, and pats your thigh as he says, “You ready? Or you gonna make a run for it when you get out of the car?”

It’s only meant as a joke, but he really shouldn’t tempt you. He’s lucky he knows how to make you laugh.

“Don’t tempt me.”

He snorts at thatbut holds his hands up in mock surrender. He gets out of the car and opens your door for you as he always does—such a gentlemen. He would have carried the bag of food, too, but you insisted you do it. You want to make sure they know that you came bearing treats, that you made this for them and for Seojoon.

Once you get on the porch, he knocks on the door. You feel those flies in your stomach swirling around, and you wish so badly that you never thought of them as flies, because it makes the feeling a lot more intimidating. Butterflies are much more appealing than flies.

The door swings open, and you see a tall man smiling fondly at Seojoon. His smile is boxy, and you immediately recognize it as the smile Seojoon described as belonging to Taehyung. You love him already.

“Joon, come in. Ooooh and you’ve brought a pretty girl with you too!”

Of course, Taehyung knows who you are. You’re Seojoon's girl. Seojoon wasn’t joking when he said he talks about you often, always bragging about you and maybe exaggerating things a little too much in his excitement.

As you walk in, you say kindly, “Its nice to meet you finally, I’m Y/N.”

Taehyung smiles down at you as Seojoon removes his jacket, “Likewise, I’ve heard so much about you. Joon is fucking whipped for you.”

Seojoon immediately swats Taehyung on the head and gives him a scolding look. You find it funny how he seems to be embarrassed about that comment. Cute, even.

Seojoon isn’t embarrassed, though. He just doesn’t want Taehyung to say too much… doesn’t want him to slip up and call you his girlfriend before he has the chance to do it himself. Then it would be evident that he’s been referring to you as his girlfriend all this time. Can’t have that. Not yet.

“Hey! It’s true, you got hearts in your eyes n’ shit!” Taehyung gestures dramatically to Seojoon's face, and Seojoon rolls his eyes.

“Don’t listen to him, he’s being dramatic.” Seojoon retorts as he moves to take off your jacket for you.

You shake your head and subtly nudge his touch away… because you don’t want to take this jacket off. At the moment it’s like a security blanket. A warm hug in a moment when you’re feeling unsure. Safe. Safe like—

Nope. Not here. Stop.

“Ah, it’s ok, gonna keep it on. Thank you though.”

Seojoon's jaw ticks but he smiles to hide it. Doesn’t like that you didn’t let him act gentlemanly in front of his friend. But he reminds himself that you're an independent girl... even if it irritates him sometimes.

“Joonie! Ah! You’re here!”

You barely have a moment to think when you see a woman rush over to Seojoon like he’s her long-lost lover, wrap her arms around him, and hug him hard.

Oh, you don’t like that. You’ve never really been the jealous-possessive type, those feelings only occur when trust is lacking in a relationship. And as of now, you have no reason not to trust Seojoon...

But something about how comfortable she was being blatantly clingy like that really does not sit well with you.

You smile a bit awkwardly at Taehyung, who looks just as bewildered as you are in the moment, and then you turn to Seojoon and give him a silent look that says who the fuck is this?

Seojoon does look a bit tense as this woman embraces him. He hugs her back awkwardly and gives you an apologetic smile as he pulls away from her.

“Sena, hey, yeah I’m here. Brought my girl with me, too. Sena, this is Y/N. Y/N, this is Sena... we work together.”

You smile politely at her as she turns to face you. Her smile looks just as fake as yours does. Sickly sweet, all teeth, but her eyes scream judgment.

It’s odd, though, because she looks so fucking familiar. You rack your brain quickly, trying to figure out where you know her from, but you come up empty. Maybe you’ve seen her when bringing Seojoon lunch or something.

“Nice to meet you Sena.”

She nods at you, reaches out and touches your jacket, which you nearly recoil from. She clearly lacks boundaries. You start to feel a bit more at ease seeing that she’s just a naturally touchy person, no need to read too much into why the fuck she just hugged Seojoon like she loved him.

“Y/N! I’ve heard so much about you, Seojoon talks about you aaaall the time. I love your jacket by the way, did you get it from the thrift?”

Did you... get it... from the thrift?

Now, there’s nothing wrong with thrifting. In fact, you shop at the thrift often. It’s better for the environment, you find unique pieces, and it saves you money. Better than buying fast fashion or blowing money on shit like Gucci that’s overpriced and not as cute as the vintage pieces at the thrift.

But the way she said it... it’s not a compliment. You know damn well you’re not the only who noticed either, because Taehyung is looking at Seojoon like what the fuck, and Seojoon is looking at Sena like shut the fuck up.

What upsets you most is that this jacket is one of your most prized possessions. Will anyone ever know why? No. Absolutely not. But it’s precious to you, and you hate that she just tried to make you feel bad about it.

Regardless, you smile at her and shake your head, because you didn’t come here to cat fight with some woman who doesn’t have a filter or a sense of when to stop.

“Ah, thanks. No I didn’t get it from the thrift, was a treat for myself last autumn.”

You lie easily. You could just as easily tell her that it was a gift from someone near and dear to you, make her feel bad, but you already told Seojoon a long while ago that you bought it for yourself. Can’t get caught in your white lies.

She merely nods at you in response, reaches down to tug on one of the sleeves and you have to fight the urge to fucking backhand her for touching you without your permission again. Who does this bitch think she is?

“Oooh ok. My husband had a similar jacket last year but he threw it in the trash. Cute, though.”

Before you can even take in what she just said or come up with some sort of rebuttal, Seojoon cuts in. He gently wraps his arm around your waist and says, with a bit too chipper of a tone, "Right, well, I wanna introduce you to everyone else, Y/N. The guys are dying to meet you. It was nice seeing you, Sena."

He quickly drags you away from the infuriating woman just like that. Part of you wants to scold him for it, ask him why the fuck he didn’t say something to her or defend you. But you know in the back of your mind that he was most likely avoiding conflict just like you.

Great fucking start. You’ve met one woman, and she’s being a cunt. Surely, the other women here are nicer...

Once you enter the kitchen, he takes the bag of food from you and hands it to one of the guys, whom he introduces as Seokjin. Tall and handsome, looks almost as if he could be Seojoon’s brother, and the man clearly knows he’s good-looking, too. He seems pretty cocky but also very kind.

Seokjin waves you both off and says he’ll set the food out with the other treats so you can get acquainted with the rest of the guys. Seojoon grabs your arm, and although he’s being gentle, you wish he would stop fucking dragging you around. Again, you don't mean to be so sensitive, and you know it is most likely meant as a comforting gesture, but it's making you feel almost like a child.

It’s making you feel tense and a bit trapped... but you say nothing for the time being.

He brings you to the living room, which is very nicely decorated. Simple, but not too much. Taehyung has a good sense of style. Most of the decor is modern, black and white, but there are various pops of color around, and he has some fascinating pieces of art.

The pops of color dim a bit when you realize Sena is also in here. The spot next to her is empty, and she’s staring you down like an owl would stare at a damn kitten wandering around places it shouldn't be.

God, you hope not all of the girls here are like this... wait... where are the other girls? You take a quick look around and realize that you don't see any other woman here.

“Guys, this is Y/N, my girl. Y/N, this is Hoseok, Jimin, and Namjoon.”

Each of them wave at you as Seojoon introduces you, and you give them a polite smile. All of them are handsome guys, you’re realizing. Makes sense that Seojoon would have such attractive friends, considering he himself is attractive. But damn. They’re all so pretty.

Namjoons smile is one of the prettiest, his dimples stand out and his eyes are warm and welcoming. He’s tall like Jin and Seojoon, whereas Jimin is shorter, but looks fucking ethereal. You’re jealous of how plump his lips are, but he looks so damn sweet. And Hoseok literally reminds you of sunshine with the way he beams at you. Flowers love a bit of sunshine. You feel like you’ll get along with all of them great.

“Damn, Seojoon, she’s so pretty. No wonder you won’t shut the fuck up.”

Jimin smiles after he says it, his eyes scrunching into crescent moons as he giggles at Seojoon's disgruntled groan. The other guys join in… and you realize that you don't see any other woman here. The only woman in sight is Sena, which means the men here didn’t actually bring their partners, or they just don’t have one. You feel a bit deceived.

Either way, Seojoon lied, which you don’t like. Sure, you lied about the origin of your jacket, but that’s harmless compared to him lying about who was going to be here just to get you to agree to join him easily.

You don’t want to make any quick assumptions, though . Maybe you just haven’t met them yet. And if he did lie…. You’ll scold him later. But you have a sinking feeling that when he said the guys 'spouses/girlfriends' would be here, he meant only Sena.

“Nice to meet you Y/N, we’re all really glad you’re here. We’ve been wanting to meet you!” Namjoon says with a welcoming smile.

You start to feel a bit bad that you haven’t met them sooner, although you’re aware that Seojoon isn’t really that close to anyone here other than Taehyung. You almost hope that changes, because they all seem so pleasant so far, other than Sena. These are the types of guys you’d ask to hold you drink at the bar.

They all feel safe... similar to- Nope.

“You really are pretty, Y/N, way too pretty for the likes of Seojoon. You remind me of a sunflower!” Hoseok says. He’s only playing, but the fact that he compares you to a flower makes you feel both flattered and… a bit melancholic.

Flowers are reserved from someone else, you think to yourself again for like the third fucking time today. Irritating, flowers are everywhere, and here you are, gatekeeping them for someone who is practically dead to you. But he was being sweet and has no clue that flowers are a sore spot for you. No one does. It's sweet that he thinks of you as a sunflower when you think of him as the sun. You feel like you could easily become best friends with Hoseok.

“Ah, wow, you’re all so sweet. Thank you. I’m really happy to be here too. I appreciate the warm welcoming.”

You feel yourself become a bit shy as Seojoon drags you to one of the couches to sit down. You nearly want to slap him across the damn head when he picks the spot next to Sena, because why the fuck would he do that? Why would he put you in that position? Especially considering when he sits down, he gives you the seat next to hers, which thankfully grants a bit of space between you that you assume is reserved for her husband... but even then, she's too close for comfort. You feel like you're sitting next to a snake.

But you don’t protest because it wouldn’t look good if you immediately shunned the only fucking woman here after being here for barely twenty minutes.

You wonder who her husband is out of all the guys, because they seem far too good for her. Maybe that’s a bit harsh, but nothing about this familiar woman screams kind. She eyes you like a hawk, while in the same breathe smiles brightly at everyone else here.

Maybe she’s a pick-me sort of girl, maybe it’s internalized misogyny, or maybe she just doesn’t like you for no good goddamn reason.

“Are the two grumps still outside smoking? The food's gonna get cold. Also, Y/N, these cookies are like crack. Holy fuck.”

Taehyung breaks you away from your thoughts about the snake sitting next to you as he walks into the living room, two cookies in his hand, cheeks stuffed full, and chocolate on his bottom lip. He really does remind you of a big kid, just as Seojoon described, and it’s flattering that he likes your cookies. It’s kind of a relief, even, considering Seojoon seemed not to be a fan of them earlier. At least someone likes them.

“I’m so glad you like—“

“I know right? My girlfriend is the best cook.”

“There they are, get your grumpy asses back inside we have food to eat.”

So much happens at once that you can't focus. You’re stunned in silence because of the way Seojoon just so casually called you his girlfriend, and no one even batted an eye. They accepted it as if this wasn't new information to them.

It’s one thing to refer to you as his girl because you refer to him as your man. But he knows how you feel about the label, and he knows damn well you would tell him when you’re ready to add it. Seojoon knows that you aren't ready. And instead of respecting that, he took it upon himself to announce your apparent relationship, meanwhile none of his friends congratulated him or even really reacted to it... which means this isn't the first time he has called you his girlfriend against your wishes.

You’re so caught up in this that you don’t notice the tiny sliver of space dip beside you. You don’t realize someone is pressed against your other side on the cramped couch. You don’t smell the familiar scent of baby powder and fresh linen. You don’t hear Namjoon as he introduces you to the body next to you.

Because you feel betrayed in some way. You question if you’re being dramatic, but you don’t like that he abruptly forced this label on you. You know it may be irrational, he has a damn key to your apartment, but it's not like there's no reason you are hesitant to fully commit. He doesn't know exactly why, but he has known from the start that you wanted to take things slow and go at your own pace. He just took that from you. It's even worse because it’s the first time you’ve met his friends. It puts you in an incredibly uncomfortable position because if you deny it, you make both of you look bad.

There were signs, though... Such as how he kept bringing it up last night and his little hint in the note he left this morning. You just never expected Seojoon would so blatantly cross a boundary like this.

You tune back in when you see Namjoon gesturing to the man sitting on the couch across from you, “and this is Yoongi, he’s quiet and looks kinda grumpy, but he’s just shy. He’s really sweet.”

The man who’s apparently named Yoongi flips Namjoon off and then nods at you, “Hey." He says simply.

You try to bring yourself down from your oversensitive feelings because you don’t want anyone to think you’re being rude. But god, you’re still reeling because of Seojoon. It doesn’t help that he has his fucking hand on your thigh, either. You have been having such a hard time controlling your emotions today, and none of this is helping.

You smile at Yoongi but say nothing, because he’s already talking to Taehyung. You don’t take offense to it, in fact you’d thank him for letting you off easily if you could, because right now you don’t think you could speak with a stable voice.

Seojoon can tell you’re upset, but he acts oblivious. Because he knows damn well what he did and he knows the reason for it was wrong… He was jealous. In fact, he was jealous from he moment you both walked in and everyone was commenting on how pretty you were. He knows they were just being kind, but something about Taehyung commenting on how good those cookies were set him off heavily. Made him feel the need to be clear about what you were to him. They all know you as his girlfriend anyway, but he isn't close to everyone here... he needed them to know that he does have a claim on you, even if you don't know it yourself.

And he knows you aren’t an object to claim, but he’s only a man…

“Nice jacket. Your boyfriend get it for you?”

For fucks sake, what is it with people and this jacket tonight? And now they're calling him your boyfriend. Not fucking helping.

You come out of your silent fit and realize that someone is sitting next to you, sandwiched between you and Sena, which must mean this is her husband. And just like her, his tone is almost insulting. What the hell do they have against this precious piece of clothing? Are they Calvin Klein haters?

You’re debating whether or not to pop off at whoever this man is, but his voice makes chills run up and down your spine. Sounds... familiar. Eerily familiar.

You turn to face him, wanting to get a look at him before you say something passive-aggressive because maybe he isn't trying to be rude, but is just gruff. You also want to know why his voice sounds so familiar, why he smells so familiar, and why the flies in your stomach just multiplied by ten and something is telling you, 'Don't fucking look, Y/N.'

And the moment you look at him, you understand. You wish so badly that you could run the fuck away.

There’s no way this is happening to you right now. There is no fucking way that whoever controls fate and karma hates you this much.

It is impossible for this man to be sitting next to you right now.

Jeon Jungkook stares right at you, and it's as of time stops. His eyes aren’t as kind as you remember them, but his pupils are blown to absolute shit as he stares at you, and his nostrils are flaring with each breathe he takes.

You blink rapidly, because surely you’re hallucinating. Maybe you finally did have your psychotic break. Maybe you’re bat-shit-fucking-crazy and now you’re seeing things that aren’t really there. You almost hope that you are currently going insane.

But no. You feel his warmth, and you finally realize why you recognized his voice and that smell that is so unique to him, and why Sena seemed so familiar in the beginning.

Because Sena is the woman that you’ve been stalking on Instagram periodically to get tiny glimpses of your flower. Sena is the fence that surrounded him all that time, the cage, much like her nails are possessively curled around his bicep right now, keeping him under lock. Sena is the reason that you had to watch your flower be ripped out of your shared soil and taken away from you. So many months ago, but as you stare at him, it's as if the wound is fresh and you never fucking grieved him.

Sena is his fucking wife.

You don’t know which is more earth shattering; the fact that he is sitting in front of you right now, or the fact that he’s married to this witch.

How the fuck didn’t you recognize her sooner?

You don’t know what to do. And oh, it is so fucking ironic how he is sandwiched between you and Sena, and you are sandwiched between him and Seojoon. Such a fucking tragedy.

You may as well jump off a cliff... or play dead. Act like a fucking opossum to get out of this situation. You don’t know if you want to cry or laugh at the irony of it all, at the fact that for months you worked on getting over this man, only for him to end up right fucking beside you in your not-boyfriends group of friends.

Right when you thought shit was getting better.

Or was it? Because you had that nightmare last night. You’ve felt anxiety ridden all day. Every little thing was reminding you of him out of nowhere after months of slowly letting go.

The signs were there, and maybe the universe was trying to tell you. Anxiety over intuition is bullshit, clearly… you didn't listen. Always trust your gut.

“I asked you a question. Did. Your. Boyfriend. Get. You. That jacket?”

Torn away from your thoughts once more, you nearly flinch at his tone of voice. He sounds so fucking…. Mean. And he knows damn well your ‘boyfriend’ didn’t get you this jacket. It’s his fucking jacket. So why is he doing this?

“No, she got it from the thrift. Looks like the one you trashed doesn’t it?”

Wrong fucking time for her to open her stupid fucking mouth.

You feel like you are going to freak out. You are so overwhelmed that you can't even say anything.

Jungkook wants so badly to smirk at this. Because he knows you didn’t get it from the thrift and he knows he never threw that jacket out. Little does Sena know, the jacket he allegedly threw in the trash is the exact one on your body right now.

“Stop being so grumpy.” She scolds him, and has the fucking nerve to take the palm of her hand and push on his head like some fucking dog trying to steal someone’s food.

He doesn’t even react. That’s what’s most devastating of everything that has transpired so far, you think. Out of all that has happened in the last few minutes, this is what bothers you the most. She just subtly degraded him, which may not seem as harsh as you think, but the way his jaw ticked when she did it showed that it wasn't playful. He's used to it, which means she does shit like that often.

Which also means he can’t possibly be as happy as he looks in those pretty pictures on her Instagram.

All this time, he hasn’t been as ok as you thought. You don’t even need him to tell you; you see it in his eyes. Pupils are still dilated to shit as his eyes stay on you, but his eyes express nothing other than bitterness, loneliness, and a sort of longing only he ever looked at you with.

Fuck. You can’t breathe.

No one else seems to notice the tension between you both, or that he’s staring at you as if he’s a starving man looking at a meal being consumed by someone else. Seojoon is talking to Taehyung about something, and the guys around you are joining in, everyone is oblivious to the loud silence stretching between you and Jungkook.

The only one privy to the tension is Yoongi, as quiet as a mouse and as observant as a cat. But you don’t see it. You don’t see anything other than a dead flower taunting you the same way it does in your dreams.

It’s funny because Jungkook can see the turmoil written on your face. Even after all this time, he knows your tells so fucking well. The way your eyes continuously flutter when you blink, the way you’re picking at your nails and bouncing your leg, and the way your eyes won't hold his. He knows you’re fucked right now… and he almost feels satisfaction in it.

Because unlike you, he didn’t move on. After he left, he was a fucking mess. That first month without you was hell, and he was alone throughout it all. His wife was gone, her business trip was conveniently extended another two weeks, so he was able to blubber like a baby and break shit in fits of emotion without anyone noticing. He drank like an alcoholic to try and numb the feeling of complete despair that came with you being gone. What really tore him up, but also pushed him, was when you blocked his number.

What he didn't expect was silence. So when he woke up and re-read what he sent, he sent another apology... because no matter how badly he wished you would extend an olive branch of some sort, he would never want to make you uncomfortable. So he sat there and typed a very lengthy apology for disrespecting your wishes and ever putting you in this situation to begin with. Once he sent it, he sat there and waited for it to deliver… only for the message to turn green. Because you fucking blocked him.

He knows this was the right thing for you to do. You did not owe him anything, and you needed to move on. But god, the fact that you took away his only point of connection that he still had to you, it made him feel so out of control, so fucking bitter and sad inside.

He tried to take this as sign to do better, to move on himself. Because as you have both acknowledged many times before, he wasn’t yours. His heart still very much belonged to you, but he could never fully give himself to you. He was married to Sena. He needed to move on, too.

Your words rang in his head for days, 'love your wife more,' and he wanted to. Despite Sena being insufferable at times, she was still his wife, and he aided in pushing her away. She deserved better and he made a commitment to her for life. He needed to fucking try.

And so he did. For weeks he debated on confessing to her, coming clean. But every time he tried, she wouldn't give him a chance.

"Sena, please we really need to talk."

"About what?"

"About us. Need to get some shit off of my chest... please."

"Ugh, Jungkook, no we don't. We're fine."

That's how it went every time. He would try, and she wouldn't let him. So eventually, he decided to just keep it to himself and silently vow that he would do right by her. He would repent for his sins, cleanse himself with holy water made from his sorrowful tears cried silently at night, and he would make this right.

He wanted so fucking badly to make this right. He didn't want to be a stray dog anymore. You gave him up to the pound, and he was returned to his rightful owner. He wanted to be a loyal and loving companion to his wife. Not a stray fucking dog like he had been long before you came and stole him away from home.

He went out of his way to make her life more pleasurable and easier. Every morning, he woke up and made her breakfast, and every night even when he was tired from taking photos all day, he would make her a home cooked dinner. Did she always want it? No. She complained about it sometimes, claimed she'd rather takeout. And even though it stung, he would get her whatever takeout she wanted.

He continuously bought her things. Flowers, jewelry, sweets that were freshly baked at fancy cafes he knew she liked, new and expensive designer clothing he noticed her eyeing, anything she wanted, he would get for her. Anything he thought she would like, he would buy for her.

Along with the obscene amount of gifts he got her, he had been taking her out more. Fancy restaurants that served small and overpriced portions, but the experience was apparently worth it because of the celebrities who often frequented places like these. He took her to Coachella in LA which was incredibly last second, he dropped way too much money on that damn trip, but he knew she wanted to go and he was going to make it happen. He recreated their honeymoon on their anniversary, took her to Japan just like he did the night that they got married, tried to make it as extravagant and sentimental as he possibly could.

He never questioned her when she would disappear on work trips with barely any notice. He would go along with it, wish her a safe flight, and put his full trust in her despite the fact that he knew she was never really going where she said she was. He cheated, after all. He doesn't have the right to question her loyalty when he was the one who was disloyal. Like you, he’s good at denying things that are obvious. He tried his best to deny the fact that every time she came home from these trips, she was glowing and didn’t smell like herself.

He became more affectionate, kissed her every morning and every night, snuggled her in bed, told her how pretty she is and how much he loved her. He did his fucking best to fall back in love with her and show her that he was trying.

And to anyone else on the outside looking in, they would appear as the perfect married couple. He would appear as the perfect husband who showers his wife with love, kisses the ground she walks on, and supports her demanding career. She would appear as the trophy wife that any man would kill to have. They seemed perfect when she posted her little pictures on Instagram, or when she made rare appearances to gatherings with their friends.

But behind closed doors, it was never enough, and no matter how fucking hard he tried, he remained a stray dog. Instead of being welcome back inside once he came back home to her, he was chained to a fence and kept at arms length. He was fed crumbs of reassurance and half assed affection that was only ever given when she saw that he was unhappy. But Sena didn’t want a stray dog.

She didn't smile at his cooking the same way she did at takeout. When he bought her flowers, he would often find them in the trash. When he bought her clothing or jewelry, he never saw her wear it. When he got her sweets or coffee from her favorite cafes, she would complain that they weren't right. When he took her to fancy dinner dates, she barely paid attention to him or engaged in conversation with him. When they went on little vacations, she would get bored of him after the first day there. And when he tried to kiss or touch, she would brush him off like he was gross.

She still refused to fuck him, even when he would give her hints. This was the most challenging thing. For Jungkook, sex isn't possible unless feelings are involved. So he had to work himself up to even try to be intimate with her. It was bad enough that the thought of touching someone else, even himself, made him fucking sick after you were gone. So when he did finally manage to get a boner one night when he was a bit tipsy and trying to snuggle her in bed, he tried to reignite that flame between them.

Only for her to tell him that the she was on her period… which was a blatant lie. Jungkook knows this because Sena has an IUD that lasts up to 8 years and stopped her periods completely. She hasn’t purchased feminine products such as tampons or pads or even period panties in years. She got the IUD a few months after they married. She wasn’t on her period, she just didn’t fucking want him.

That was the day that he accepted defeat.

She fell out of love with him, it was clear. And there was nothing that he could do to make her love him again. No amount of money or pretty things or fun trips would make her want him again. And he couldn't even show her with his body either, because she wouldn't allow him.

He wanted to blame everyone. Her, you, him, god, satan, the fucking universe itself. He resented her for it, she made him feel so small and unlovable. And if he had never met you, he wouldn't have been tempted, so maybe he could have saved them sooner. And as for god and the devil, well, real or not, he’s blaming them anyway.

Most of all, he blamed himself. It’s always been him. He feels like he could have done so many things differently to keep her love. He should have never pulled away and became distant when she told him she didn’t want kids, he should have talked to her about it. He should have worked it out with her. He knows in the back of his mind that it isn’t fully his fault, it takes two to communicate and keep a healthy relationship… but when he’s alone, it is so fucking easy to take the blame for it all.

He accepted it, because he was tired. A man can only take so much rejection from his own fucking wife before just saying fuck it. And it wasn't like he could talk to her about it, because she wouldn't let him.

He knew there must be someone else, so it was only a matter of time before she left him. He wasn't going to leave her, because he had nothing to lose, did he? He already lost you, he lost himself, and he lost the woman he swore he would spend forever with. He may as well suffer and take his rightful punishment.

She wasn't a monster, and he still cared for her very much. He was not innocent in all of this, he pushed her away, too. A relationship consists of two people, and he quit communicating with her at some point, just as she did with him. He lied and deceived her, so no matter how cold she had become, or what wrong she did, he was in the wrong, too. Two wrongs never make a right.

So, he went back into the doghouse. He stopped whining and howling for her to let him in. He stopped scratching at the door and staring at her with pleading eyes. As the seasons changed and time passed, he stayed in that doghouse in the cold. He stared at the space that two flowers once bloomed together, and the emptiness of it made it so fucking obvious that you were the light that he was missing the most. Without you, there were no stars in the sky, the sun was dull, the moon was invisible, and the flowers never fucking bloomed again.

And every goddamn night he thought of you more and more. Oh, how he wished you would come and rescue him again, because if you did, he would do anything for you. He would leave her, he would give you all his money, he would jump off a damn cliff. He would so much rather be in the doghouse in your metaphorical backyard than this cold and lonely doghouse that is called home. Anything for you. Always fucking you.

When he finally relented in trying to repent for his sins, he started dreaming of you. It was as if his acceptance of you being gone brought relief and turmoil all at once. Relief, because he could finally think of you again without feeling quite so guilty... turmoil because he was thinking of you again.

His dreams weren’t metaphorical like yours, they were always very realistic. Some of them were good, and he found that on nights that he dreamed of you both living happily ever after together, the day following was a little brighter.

But the nightmares made him volatile. The nightmares were always similar. He would run into you somewhere out in the wild, you’d catch up, and then a faceless man would appear and introduce himself as your boyfriend. He couldn’t fucking stand that. He didn’t know who the faceless man was, and every time he tried to run after you, beg you to choose him instead, he couldn’t move. He would stay frozen as he watched you walk away from him again and again, but this time you were happier, you were doing so fucking good without him.

Tonight, he swears he is living this nightmare. When he walked in after smoking, and he saw you, and the heard fucking Seojoon refer to you as his girlfriend? He wanted to punch something just to make sure this wasn’t a nightmare.

You both are very similar, always have been in many ways. Because he also stalked your Instagram. He probably did it way too much. He never made a move to message you or even follow you, he respected the fact that you were stern in your decision, but he lurked. He waited and waited for you to post something new because he was dying to know how you were doing.

And occasionally, you would post. Little cryptic captions that he couldn’t decipher even though he thought about them for hours, tried to find out if they had a hidden meaning like morse code. Pictures that didn’t show your full face, so he couldn’t figure out if you were happy or dying inside like he was; there was never anything that gave away how you were doing.

Until one day, you posted a photo of you and a man. And it was like his nightmares started coming true.

No caption, just a stupid fucking red heart emoji. It was a selfie of you smiling next to Seojoon at some café and he looked at you like you held the fucking stars. And then you posted more, and more, and more, as if you were taunting him on purpose. Some candid photos of Seojoon, some more silly little selfies of you two together, but what really fucked with his head was when you posted a photo you took of a Polaroid picture sitting on your bed, a picture of Seojoon and his dog that is apparently named Simba. You captioned it ‘My babies!!!’

The Polaroid camera he left for you, no doubt. That posts mere existence nearly sent him on a goddamn rampage.

The most comical part of it all is he knew exactly who Seojoon was. Not only did Sena work with the fucker, but he was Taehyung’s friend. He was never close with Seojoon, had met him a few times on nights out when Taehyung invited Seojoon to join, and he heard vague stories involving him when Sena would ramble about work. He never particularly liked him but didn’t hate him either. They just weren’t similar enough to be pals.

He fucking hates him now.

He knew when he saw you with Seojoon, that someday, he would have to face you together. Because Taehyung is one of Jungkook’s closest friends, and Taehyung is also close with Seojoon. They worked together on a few projects, Taehyung works in marketing at an art gallery, so they often swapped ideas and collaborated on marketing ideas. Taehyung also often invited Seojoon to their bar outings and get togethers. It was only a matter of time before Seojoon brought you with him.

He was well aware of the connection. And he was fucking anticipating this day.

See, he wasn’t even going to come tonight. He planned on getting drunk and falling asleep alone like he has done many nights now. But then Taehyung told him some of the people that would be here, which included Seojoon and ‘his new girl.’ His new girl, aka Jungkook’s girl, he still stubbornly thinks. And oh, like the stray dog he is, he started fucking panting at the thought of being near you again.

So, he agreed. What he didn’t fucking agree on was Sena showing up. He rarely brings her out with him, because she’s not interested in spending time with him anymore anyway. But for some fucking reason, she insisted on joining tonight.

That didn’t sit well with him. Something was very off about it. But he couldn’t say no, he wouldn’t say no, because despite how cold she is, he won’t cast her out like she’s cast him out. Not until she forces him to. And if he is being one hundred percent honest, he doesn’t give a fuck why Sena was so persistent on coming tonight. Whatever she’s doing, he doesn’t care anymore. He’s beyond the point of caring. He has his sight fucking set on you.

He has been buzzing all fucking night knowing he would see you again. He’s been in a foul mood, everyone noticed too. He refused to say why, just blamed it on being tired from work. But in reality, it was because he was going to see you again, and he was going to see you with another man.

Hell on earth, he feels this is far worse than you leaving him… but he’s a masochist, he thinks. He was dreading it while simultaneously buzzing with excitement. He felt a rush at imagining seeing you for the first time in half a year with another mans arm around you.

He won’t admit it, but knowing he would see you again kept him going. It was only a matter of time, and he had all the time in the world to wait, even if it was for a single moment and you refused to ever see him again after that. And honestly, he knew damn well all bets would he off. He knew the moment he saw you, he wouldn’t fucking stop. He wouldn’t let you go again. He doesn’t give a fuck if you’re with Seojoon now… he needs you. In any fucking way you’ll allow it. Whether it’s a friend, or an enemy, or a stray fucking dog that circles your apartment until you finally let him inside. Jungkook has always been stubborn, but he has never been as stubborn as he is when it comes to you.

He’s a stray dog, after all. Starved of love and affection that you once provided so freely. Having the knowledge that at some point you’d cross paths again was like waving a fucking steak in his face. He drooled when he thought about it.

He didn’t expect to walk in and the first thing he hears when he sees you is Seojoon referring to you as his girlfriend. And he didn’t expect to feel so fucking resentful towards you for looking like you were ok. You definitely seemed tense, and he had a good idea as to why, but you weren’t falling apart. You were just fine. Was it truly so easy for you to move on?

There you were, sitting on the couch with another man’s arm around you while wearing his fucking jacket and chain he gave you the last time you saw each other. He fucking hates it. It feels like the ultimate betrayal, and although he knows he is so out of line for thinking this way, he just can’t help it. You wanted to move on, you have every right to, you both agreed this is what you needed.

But he’s a stray dog. And this is equivalent to seeing his previous owner loving on a dog who never knew what it was like to be a stray.

He has always been selfish when it comes to you. He knows his feelings are so fucking hypocritical, because you aren’t the only one who showed up wearing things that didn’t belong to you while with someone else, he did the same exact thing; he’s wearing the star pimple patches he stole from you that last night together. He doesn’t even have any pimples, he just likes them, and he doesn’t give a fuck if Sena scolded him for it. He wore them knowing damn well you would both be here tonight with other people, because he wanted you to notice him. He wanted you to remember.

He's so selfish for his train of thought and he knows it. He won’t even deny it… but he had been suffering this entire time, even when trying to do the right thing, yet here you are, sitting in front of him, and you looked totally fine… up until you saw him.

When you saw him, you looked like you saw a ghost. Because you fucking did see a ghost. He may have been aware of what was happening tonight, but the last thing you expected was seeing him here, too.

But even with the bitterness and resentment he’s irrationally feeling, even with the volatile thoughts going through his head, he still can’t stand to see you sitting there looking as if you wish he was someone else. Fuck, he’d do anything to just wrap you in his arms and cradle you and kiss your forehead and whisper sweet everything’s in your ear.

To fucking have you again.

But he can’t do that. And he can’t stand to see you look at him as if you wish he weren’t here right now.

Which is exactly how you’re looking at him. Because you wish so badly that he was not here right now.

“Calvin Klein is a great brand, I’m wearing them too. You have good taste.”

He winks at you, lifts his shirt a bit to reveal the waistband of his fucking underwear, which just so happens to be the pair you used to favor. They’re a light purple color, which makes his honey skin look fucking divine, and they’ve always been snug on him. The tiny flash of color brings memories back quickly, memories of you tugging on them with your teeth and trying to suck him off through the fabric. Fuck. You are so fucked.

He does this as if it’s the most casual thing in the world. Just two people who are meeting for the first time, conversing over a brand of clothing and underwear they both enjoy. He totally didn’t wear these on purpose knowing you’d be here tonight. He totally didn’t premeditate wearing this pair of underwear, or the pimple patches, or being here at-fucking-all.

It’s all too much for you. You can barely even take in the way his hair got so much fucking longer, or the fact that he looks bulkier which means he has been going to the gym more, or the fact that he smells the exact same and reminds you of fucking home. You’re having a very hard time keeping your composure right now, and it feels as if the room is closing in on you.

It’ll keep closing until you and Jungkook are smooshed together, and there will be no denying the fact that you never truly got over him like you convinced yourself, you just buried all the bad feelings.

This is what happens when you deny yourself the truth. You’re fine for a long time, until one day, something little or big can cause it all to come bubbling to the surface, and you can no longer deny it.

That is what’s happening. And you need some fucking air before you suffocate.

“I left my purse in the car. I’ll be right back.”

You don’t even look at anyone as you swiftly make your way outside. Everyone remains oblivious, and if you had any coherent thoughts right now you would probably be concerned about the fact that Seojoon didn’t even blink at the way your voice shook when speaking.

“Actually, babe that reminds me, can you go get my purse too? I left it in the backseat.”

Oh, this just keeps getting better and better. Maybe God doesn’t hate Jungkook after all, because what a perfect fucking excuse to get you alone without anyone batting an eye.

“Yeah, I’ll be right back.”

You’re out the door before you can hear any of this. And if you did hear it, you just might steal Seojoon’s car and drive until the gas runs out, far, far away from here. But you have no idea that he’s trailing you right now, because where Jungkook may be gods favorite, god still definitely has it out for you.

You finally make it to Seojoon’s car, which is parked across the street on the curb. You place your palms on the window in hopes that the coolness will help calm your body because it feels like your blood is hot fucking lava right now.

You take deep breaths. Try to calm down the consistent zapping feeling and flies swarming your stomach that seem desperate to escape out of your mouth in the form of vomit.

You don’t like the fact that even though you felt dread when seeing Jungkook, for a single moment, the flies turned into butterflies again.

You don’t like the very sinful thoughts going through your head knowing that you now have access to him again.

Temptation is no joke, and you’re starting to question everything about the way you coped. Seeing him again surely would have fucked you up, it’s equivalent to seeing an ex who broke your heart, any other person would have probably been a bit shaken up… but this is so much worse. Because it isn’t just a passing glance or brief run in. Jungkook is Taehyung’s friend, who is also Seojoon’s friend. Jungkook is married to Sena, which is Seojoon’s coworker. They’re all fucking connected.

It is both thrilling and devastating.

“How cute that you showed up wearing my jacket while some other man’s hands are all fucking over you… does he know it’s mine?”

He doesn’t touch you, but he’s there. You feel his body heat behind you, and his palms come to rest right next to yours on the window. He has you boxed in, nowhere to fucking hide.

The lyrics from earlier come to mind, the lyrics that were very easy to ignore when Seojoon was terribly singing them:

‘But now there's nowhere to hide,

Since you pushed my love aside,

I'm out of my head,

Hopelessly devoted to you.’

Oh, how fucking fitting.

You don’t know why he’s doing this. He’s being kind of… argumentative. Unfair. Fucking childish, really. He’s never acted like this before… then again, time has passed, and feelings have obviously festered. Maybe he hates your guts now, because he clearly feels bitter about things ending.

You should push him away now. You should immediately set boundaries and tell him sternly that this isn’t ok, and he needs to keep his distance.

But you’ve only ever been so fucking weak for this man, and considering instead of pushing him away, you turn around to face him? You’re still very clearly too weak to be trusted around him.

The moonlight bounces off his face, and for the first time since encountering him tonight, you see light flicker in his eyes just like it used to. They aren’t as dark despite his pupils being blown still, but those little stars that you once loved so fucking much are glittering.

“Fuck.”

He has no idea what comes over him. But the moment you turn around, he expects you to do exactly as you should and push him away, scold him for being so irrational and impulsive and borderline disrespectful. But you don’t. Instead, your eyes mimic his, they fucking glitter and reflect the stars in his own. Asters dancing around in your eyes just like they used to.

That fucks him completely, to actually see that although you seem ok, you haven’t fully moved on like it appeared you had.

You both thought you each moved on, all because of some silly little Instagram posts that neither of you were meant to see to begin with. Nothing is as it seems, is it?

All an illusion.

He grabs your face, it’s so fucking impulsive and he knows it, but he loses control. He’s never been good at controlling himself around you, not unless you tell him no.

But you don’t tell him no. You don’t recoil and tell him to fuck off like you should. You let him.

Stupid girl.

He leans in, but doesn’t quite kiss you. He places his lips so close to yours that they brush together. You are fucking tense, it feels as if your bones could snap at how taught your body is, but you still don’t push him away. You need to, because what if someone walks out and sees? How the fuck would you explain that the man everyone assumes you just met is this close and touching you as if he’s fucking in love with you?

The secret would be out then. Oh fuck, what a mess that would be.

But all those thoughts fly out of the fucking window when he closes the distance. It’s soft, he doesn’t move his lips, he just lets them linger on yours. Both of you are fucking shaking like addicts who just got their first hit of their favored drug after being deprived.

You let out the smallest huff of air, and that’s all it takes for Jungkook to snap. He groans and begins kissing you ravenously. Tongue and teeth, love and hate, his hands leave your face and start wandering your body as if he’s mapping it out all over again. The stray dog finally got the fucking bone.

You kiss him back instinctively. Not much thought goes into it, it’s like your body just automatically responds after being deprived from him for so long. Your tongue tangles with his almost as if they’re fighting, your hands explore his body just as thoroughly as his does yours.

It’s like two planets colliding. Fucking chaos. It shouldn’t be happening, but it is, and neither of you are strong enough to stop it. The big-fucking-bang. The end and the beginning of the world all over again.

He grabs you by the waist and hoists you up, maneuvers your legs so that they’re wrapped around his waist and pins you to the car. Seojoon’s fucking car, by the way. He has no intention of going beyond kissing, because he knows there are lines that he won’t cross again unless you say so. Especially not so soon.

But he’ll be damned if he doesn’t try to get as close as possible to you and bury himself inside of your very soul all over again. The thoughts going through his head are borderline crazy; he’s thinking shit like he wishes he could just crawl inside of you and live there; he wishes you really would treat him like a stray dog, buy him a fucking collar with your name on it, and take him home to keep him forever. Fuck, he would wear it, too. He would eat food off of the floor and lick your fucking feet if you said he could come home with you one last time.

You have no regard for your surroundings for a few moments, or even the fact that if you stay out here for too long people might question why you’re both out here longer than necessary. All you can focus on is how he tastes… how he tastes and feels like home. How for the first time in months, your arousal is bordering on painful just from his hands touching you. You never get like this with Seojoon, and you’re sure you’ll feel guilty for that later.

This is so fucking wrong in so many more ways than it ever was before, but somehow feels so right.

When he left, both of your flowers died. You haven’t bloomed since, and neither has he. You’ve both been dormant as the seasons change. You’ve to get on with your lives… but in this very moment, the seeds are replanted as if it’s inevitable. Spring flowers are dead, but autumn flowers are blooming.

Neither of you will ever be the same for each other again, but this alone is proof that no matter what season it is or how long apart you are… you will always fucking reignite the life in each other.

You’re both lucky, too, because Seojoon and Sena remain oblivious inside. Neither have even noticed that you’re gone, they’ve already helped themselves to some food and are chatting about work.

You know you need to get back inside soon regardless of who has or hasn’t noticed, because eventually someone will come looking. You can’t ravish each other like animals out here, not like this. But just a little bit longer…

“Fuck Y/N I’ve missed you so fucking much.” It comes out as a groan, but he sounds so fucking needy that you feel like you could faint. The way his voice cracks makes you groan back at him. He’s going to kill you acting like this. What a way to die.

Fuck. You need to stop before you go too far. You aren’t sure that you can control yourself.

So with shaky hands, you push him away, nearly fall as your knees wobble when he lets you out of his grip. You’re panting, your lips feel electric, and they taste so potently like him. You point a finger at him and say weakly, “N-no. No. Stop.”

It almost sounds as if you’re scolding a dog… which is ironic considering the canine-poetry he often compares himself to. And of course he stops, but he wonders what the sudden change was. He’s being stupid as fuck, this entire situation he put you both in is stupid, which is fitting because he feels fucking dumb in love all over again.

“Why? Did I hurt you?” He asks dumbly as he wipes his mouth, his fingers are twitching with need to touch you again, but he refrains for now because you said stop. He may be a stray, but he does as he’s told…

Oh, how fucking Jungkook of him to immediately wonder if he hurt you. Because no matter how selfish he is, he will always worry about hurting you, he will never fucking forgive himself for hurting you.

You breathe out a laugh that isn’t out of humor, but out of irony. He’s worried about hurting you, as if that’s the worst thing that could happen here tonight… when you both came here with your fucking partners.

“No, fuck. Jungkook, your fucking wife is inside, and so is my boyfriend. This is wrong. Can’t do this again”

You hate that even with Jungkook, you now feel pressured to call Seojoon your boyfriend. It makes you cringe that he pushed that label on you, and your current confusing feelings do not help at all. Jungkook notices you cringe, too.

He doesn’t like that.

He mimics your laugh, runs a hand through his long hair and shakes his head. He averts his eyes now because he simply can’t stand to look at you. Not when you just called Seojoon your boyfriend when you so obviously don’t see him as such.

He feels himself start to get pissed. He knows he shouldn’t be getting angry right now, has no reason or right to. You’re doing what you’re supposed to do; moving on… but now you’re in front of him again.

And he wants to make it fucking impossible for you to move on.

“Yeah? Your boyfriend, huh? So you’re a liar now too?”

You flinch, your back is pressed against the cool car as you stare at him in shock. Yeah, he’s pissed. Which is making you feel both irritated and a bit intimidated, because his mood switched so quickly. One moment he's devouring you, the next he’s accusing you of being a liar.

You both are so great at moving on! Fucking bullshit.

“What? No, he is my—”

“Does he kiss you like I do?”

He takes a step closer.

Fuck. Please don’t.

“Don’t—”

“Does he touch you like I do?”

Another step closer.

“Does he fuck you like I do?”

And now you’re pinned to the car again. He isn’t touching, because you told him not to. But his body is nearly brushing against yours as he looks down at you. You have no idea what the fuck to say.

“Does he love you like I do? Would he ever fucking be able to love you like I did and still do to this day, Y/N?”

You can’t take it. Fuck. The one thing you never did was compare Seojoon to Jungkook. You may have thought about Jungkook, you may have had lingering feelings for him, but you never once compared Seojoon to him because that would be so fucking unfair. Not only would it be unfair, but you know that if you did compare him, you would never be satisfied.

You never even thought to compare Seojoon to Jungkook until now, because there is no comparison. No one could possibly measure up to Jungkook.

But now, he’s planted those thoughts in your mind like fucking weeds. No, Seojoon doesn’t kiss you like Jungkook does, he doesn’t even seem to enjoy kissing. No, Seojoon doesn’t touch you like Jungkook does, he refuses to leave marks made of love and passion because he thinks it’s tacky. No, Seojoon doesn’t fuck you like Jungkook does, he likes to stick to the same few positions and prefers you on top. And no, Seojoon doesn’t love you like Jungkook ever did, Seojoon doesn’t love you at all.

Fuck Jungkook for putting these thoughts in your head.

You’re pissed at this point. Pissed at him for crossing the line and trying to sabotage shit, pissed at yourself for allowing him to kiss and touch and fill your head with thoughts on how Seojoon is only a tree whereas Jungkook is an exotic fucking flower.

You push at his chest again and grit out, “Fucking stop, I am done.”

You told him to stop, so he should. But he already started… and he isn’t sure he can stop now, not when you are right in front of him, and your face says it all; Seojoon will never be Jungkook.

Jungkook doesn’t budge when you push him, he stays in place like a fucking boulder. Has definitely been visiting the gym more.

“Yeah? You think we’re done? We’re not done.”

He leans down until he is nose to nose with you, his breath washing over your face, hot and heavy.

“I said we’re. not. done. Understand?”

You fucking hate yourself in this moment. Because Jungkook has done a lot of little things in the past that make you go crazy, a single fucking look could make you drop to your knees and do anything he wants. But this? This turns you on in a way you have never experienced before.

It drives you crazy with anger, longing, and fucking passion for him. He’s crossing a line right now, pushing you in ways that are so fucking wrong considering you both have people waiting for you inside. He’s still married, and you technically have a boyfriend now. So you should tell him how full of shit he is for trying to tell you you’re not done. He can’t make decisions for you.

He knows this, too. But he’ll be damned if he doesn’t push you to give into him again in some fucking way. He won’t let you go so easily this time.

But the way he says it… it’s as if he has never been more certain of anything in his life. Because he hasn’t. He is so serious when he says he’s not done. Neither of you are. He will make damn sure of it after the taste he had tonight.

You shouldn’t have planted that fucking seed.

The worst part is that you believe him. You know that look in his eyes, its determination. He won’t fucking stop until you tell him to never come near you again.

You don’t know if you can do that a second time.

You're about to scold him and tell him to back off, but you hear a whistle come from the house.

“Yo, Kook, come help me grill this pork belly.”

Yoongi stares at Jungkook’s back with an emotionless expression, there’s no mistaking how close he is to you right now and it has you so fucking on edge, because Yoongi sees it. What if he fucking tells someone?

This is the exact reason why you shouldn’t be sneaking around. Holy fuck.

It shouldn’t feel this good to sneak around with him again, especially when the stakes are even higher.

“Coming, was just helping Y/N with her purse.”

He stares you down as if to silently say ‘I am so fucking serious.’ And even though he looks borderline angry, there is no mistaking the devastating amount of love he still holds for you. Even when feeling jealous and angry and resentful, his eyes are still glittering when looking at you. It’s as if you’ve siphoned the life back into him.

He childishly pinches your waist, which causes you to squeak, and then he walks away, heading back towards the porch of the house where Yoongi lingers waiting for him.

You watch him the entire time, not sure what the fuck you’re doing or are going to do after this.

It really doesn’t help that before closing the door, Yoongi gives you a look as if to say, ‘I know your secret.’

Fuck, you are in so much trouble. What the fuck are you doing?

One thing is abundantly clear, though; this is either the start of something catastrophic, or it is the last time you will ever see each other again.

You just aren’t sure which one yet.

Yes you are.

You swiftly grab your purse from Seojoon’s car and reapply your lip tint in the mirror. You need to get back inside because now is not the time to start freaking out. People are waiting for you inside, one of which is a man that probably would never expect you to be out here kissing one of his ‘friends’ like a horny fucking teenager.

You have so much fucking thinking to do, but for now, you must pretend once again. You hope so fucking much that Jungkook behaves for the remainder of the night. Otherwise, you just might explode.

#bts #jeon jungkook #jungkook fanfic #bts fanfic #jungkook #jungkook angst #bts fanfction #bts imagines #bts smut #18+ only #jungkook x you #jungkook fluff #jungkook x reader #i love jungkook #jungkook smut #jungkook fanfiction #bts angst #bts x reader

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y0ur-loca1-lyr3 · 2 months

Text

Alastor when falling in love/dating headcanons

A/N; my first time trying headcanons lol, hope I did well!

Falling in love

Let’s be honest, Alastor rarely actually likes most beings as a friend, let alone as a romantic partner

But when he does for either scenario, he has to notice that person as more than just some pawn for entertainment

Maybe you’re more socially intelligent, maybe you have more power, maybe you’re closer to Charlie, maybe all of those

But there has to be something that makes him see you as a threat to his power, or his control

Because of this when you first enter the hotel, he’s going to try to upstage you

If he can find a flaw about you, he’ll utilize that to the max

Think how he acted around Lucifer in ‘Dad beat Dad’

But when he notices you’re not going to be intimidated by him he starts to grow angry

If you really wanna ruffle his feathers just ask “uhm…who are you..?”

Not even in a polite way, just in a rude judgmental way

Oh, that makes his blood boil

When he’s not around you, at first he’s trying to get rid of you, take away the threat

But then you leave for a long period of time without notice to anyone but husk

And not even sober husk

So basically nobody really knows where the hell you went (pun intended)

The first maybe hour or two Alastor was like “good riddance”

But then for some damn reason he started to miss you

If you’re gone for more than one day, his mood actually visibly changes

Sure he’s still smiling, but he’s still a bit less motivated to do things

And he’s probably having troubles with coming up with ideas for his radio broadcast

Then you come back and he’s back to normal

It’s like his subconscious went “oh, cool :D”

But now that brings up another obstacle for him

As established before he wants any threats out of his way, but he somehow has grown attached to you?

This wasn’t what he wanted, no not at all

Now what was he supposed to do?

Even worse is the realization that he still has humanity

Humanity is weakness

And if some like say… Vox found out about this?

He’d be royally fucked

It takes a looong while for him to figure out that A. It was love, and B. Come to terms with that

Lots of avoidance and back handed comments

If you sat at the bar? He’d leave

If you tried to compliment him, you’d only get a short “Hm.”

If you invited him to talk with you, even just to get to know him he’d make an excuse

And if Charlie attempts to force him he will refuse/ escape in some way

Blowing up and asking him what his problem is won’t help either

He’ll sit there with a patient smile with petty thoughts, and justifications for his actions running through his head as he tried to appear unfazed

Until someone interrupts/ ends the conversation or you just give up and leave

He’ll leave while rolling his eyes slightly, muttering about how sensitive people are these days

Once he does finally come to terms with it, he’s less hostile around you

Don’t get me wrong he still avoids you like the plague because you’re his only weakness

But he’s kinder to you when he does interact with you

Maybe he’ll offer to pay for your drink before leaving

He might even leave a little box of homemade chocolates at your door, or give you some ‘leftover’ Jambalaya he made specifically for you to try

Little favors like that

Dating

It’s never really said aloud that the two of you are dating

It just was sort of agreed upon silently between the two of you

One day he invited you via letter to come skygaze with him at his radio tower

At first you’re kind of suspicious that he has an ulterior motive

But when you get there and you’re invited to sit beside Alastor, you realize he just wanted to see you. Why? You didn’t know, but at least his intentions weren’t ill

Then he crossed his pinky with yours

Nothing grand like kissing, he’s not too fond of physical affection

But just a small bit of contact

If you choose to interlock your pinky with his, internally he’ll lose his mind

It’s like confirmation that you feel the same way without verbally saying it

Since then everyone just sort of knew at the very least he cared a bit more about you

He’d frequently talk with you

Like how most people would interact with good friends

Except he gets a little more protective of you

There’ll be a shadow that follows you everywhere

Sometimes the shadow will tease a bit

Maybe pick up a piece of hair and then put back in place quick, or maybe brush against your arm, nothing harmful, really

Since he doesn’t really show his love through physical affection, he shows it through gifts or acts of service

Mainly acts of service

You’ll often go back to your room after a hard day to find your bed made and your pillows fluffed with a new stuffed animal on your bed

His favorite way to show his affection physically is by your hand

He won’t really hold your hand outright, but he’ll usually gently kiss it after saying something romantic

Maybe if your sitting at the bar, talking with Husk he will

When he’s feeling especially happy, or romantic, or he somehow got wasted, he’ll give you a peck on the lips, but that’s about the only time you two really kiss

He will cuddle if you ask to but otherwise he doesn’t really do cuddling

The first time you tell him you love him, even just as a quick goodbye, he’ll melt on the inside

If you look close enough you can see his eyes soften a tad bit

He’ll probably say “you too” if the both of you are in public, or something along those lines, but if you’re in private, maybe cuddling or as he’s comforting you for some reason

He’ll say it softly, and then most likely give you a small head pat, or if he’s getting really sentimental, he’ll give you a peck on the forehead

All in all, he does love you, he just sort of shows it in his own way that he’s comfortable with <3

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landonorizzz · 3 months

Text

SUMMARY: pierre is not the boyfriend of the year that everyone thought. his girlfriend is left to fend for herself, fourtunately she seems to have good people in her corner PAIRING: pierre gasly x ex! fem! ferrari media team! oc , [redacted] x fem! ferrari media team! oc (no faceclaim) WARNINGS: mentions of cheating, cursing A/N: this is my first one, it was supposed to be y/n BUT i just didn't like how it looked? idk, i needed to have a name so everyone meet Marceline ;)) A/N 2: this one's very twitter heavy, idk why, also we meet new characters

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liked by marcilazzaro1, vincent_fabbri and others

brunolazzaro03 next time i see him it's on sight

tagged: marcilazzaro1

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marcilazzaro1 oh baby brother, i love you too

↳brunolazzaro03 okay okay, just stop stealing my ice cream

landonorris and what are you gonna do, you're like 12

↳brunolazzaro03 im 20 and i've been training karate since i was 6 ;)) ↳landonorris ah, got it.

maxverstappen1 can i help?

↳brunolazzaro03 i mean, i guess? can you fight? ↳charles_leclerc no, he cannot. he's like a kitten ↳maxverstappen1 i CAN fight wtf, estebanocon can confirm ↳estebanocon that wasn't a fight, it was a shove

charles_leclerc oh shit you did karaoke without me? i'm hurt

↳brunolazzaro03 don't worry, you didn't miss much. she was awful ↳marcilazzaro1 oh i'm sorry that i was having fun and not singing like a pop star ↳charles_leclerc i'm sure it wasn't that bad, but you are legally obligated to go to a karaoke bar with us now ↳marcilazzaro1 name a time and place

marci's messages:

Marci: Okay, so I do have questions. Apparently.

Claire Ask away, I've told you I'm here to answer anything I can.

Marci: He was in Milan for 17-19th June. Did you meet up then?

Claire: Wait a sec, I'll check the messages.

Claire: He texted me on the 17th, we met up the next day.

Marci: Fucking hell

Marci: What a fucking dickhead

Marci: I can't believe him

Marci: No, actually, I can't believe myself! How could I be so stupid? I KNEW something was up.

Claire: What happened?

Marci: My birthday's June 18th. I had to be in the UK for work, tried to get him to come with me as well, but he said he was needed at the factory.

Claire: What the fuckk

Claire: I'm so sorry this happened to you and for my involvement in it.

Claire: Merda, che proprio stronzo

Claire: The audacity. And his dick ain't even that good.

Marci: Jesus. Ain't that the truth

Marci: What are you doing this weekend? I still have questions and I'd rather to talk about it face to face

Marci: If that's okay with you of course.

Claire: Yeah, sure.

liked by sebastianvettel, lance_stroll and others

marcilazzaro1 last moments in paradise ☀️ thank you for being my friends 💛 miss you already!

tagged: brunolazzaro03, sarah_scott, alliebanks, jonas_braun and jo_king

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jonas_braun you gotta have more free weekends

↳ marcilazzaro1 yeah, let me just say that to the big boss i'm sure he'll be very happy about that ↳ jo_king scuderiaferrari ;) ↳ scuderiaferrari sorry, boss says she's essential ↳ marcilazzaro1 🤠

sundaylover hope you had a good break! ferrari media is different without you

↳ cuddlyriccx right??? it's way less entertaining ↳ elplanxincoming and charles is not enthusiastic at all lol

yukitsunoda0511 i found a good restaurant for singapore so you better come back

↳ marcilazzaro1 i can't wait!

shithappens this is so precious to me, you don't understand

danielricciardo so is my favorite media perosn coming back to work?

↳ marcilazzaro1 i need to make a short pitstop first but yeah ;) ↳ madi_races pitstop? ↳ marcilazzaro1 🤫

charles_leclerc can't wait to have you back!

↳ ilpredestinatox i NEED to know which side is charles on here

↳ cuddlyxricc so true bestie

carlossainz55 come back, they're making us do challenges without you

MONZA post race interview:

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marcielazzaro1 turns out that the only good thing about him was his taste in women ;)

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ilpredestinatox IM SORRY???? RUE WHEN WAS THIS

elplanxincoming OH this is petty, I LOVE THIS

sundaylover this is the solidarity we need

↳shithappens she's a girl's girl 🥺

maxverstappen1 so that's what you're doing instead of working?

↳marcielazzaro1 i have boss' permisson so shush

fonzlove that's some queen shit right here

↳aussieboi YES

multi21apologist is NO ONE gonna mention the seb like??

↳ redmilton honestly, he's been in her likes for ages (since he made an acc i guess) so im kinda... used to it?

clairobernie_x who knew medicore sex could make this happen ;)

↳marcilazzaro1 CLAIRE 😳 ↳barbiegirl i just know pierre is reading this shaking in his boots

danielricciardo that's some fine views right there

sarah_scott and you didn't take me??

↳marcilazzaro1 next time babes, i promise

charles_leclerc this is amazing

↳clairobernie_x we know ;) ↳madi_races oh i like her, can we keep her?

nyoomf1 WHAT IS GOING ON IN THE HOUSE OF COMMOMS

liked by marcilazzaro1, sebastianvettel and others

clairobernie_x girls just wanna have fun (and bitch about stupid men)

tagged: marcilazzaro1

see all comments...

landonorizz i'm so happy they're friendly

madi_races oh they're so pretty

↳forzalec16 right??? im SO gay

marcilazzaro1 it was so good to officially meet you

↳clairobernie_x i'm so glad i reached out

shithappens this dynamic is precious, i don't wanna say "thank you pierre" but........

↳marcilazzaro1 thank you Pierre ;) ↳shithappens your honor i LOVE HER

madi's radio: pt. 2 is here! next ones might take some time cause i'm just swamped with course work and i have a buch of exams this week, sorry. also how are we liking the characters and dynamics so far?

tag list: @sunny44 @rockyhayzkid @biancathecool @unluckyyoshi

click here to be added to the carved my name taglist!

DISCLAIMER: i do not know anything about this people, this is not real life, this is just something for fun, i do not know anythings about their life or personalities!

#f1 #red bull f1 #f1 smau #f1 instagram au #max verstappen #pierre gasly #pg10 #alpine f1 #esteban ocon #lance stroll #lando norris #for fun #sv5

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officallunar · 8 months

Text

A Thief's Heart: Returning Stolen Hearts

Synopsis:

In the land of Teyvat, where adventure and friendship thrive, you find yourself entangled with the Traveler and the various heroes of Genshin Impact. You have a unique hobby - you enjoy "borrowing" items from the characters in the game, but your intention is always to return them, often with heartfelt notes attached.

Gn reader x some of the genshin men and women (separated)

(I lost count on how many people I am doing)

You mostly embark on a journey with them,on the way there, you would secretly take something from them, for example;their items.

Diluc would be confused at first before knowing that you have taken one of his belongings. As you continues to "borrow" items from Diluc, he can't help but chuckle at your audacity. He honestly think that it’s adorable but won’t say it out loud.

Kaeya might playfully tease you when he discovers your secret.

"Ah, so it seems we have a little mysterious thief among us. I must admit, your antics are quite entertaining."

When Childe finds out, he bursts into laughter, finding your actions both amusing and endearing.

"Haha, you've certainly caught my attention in the most unconventional way. I can't help but admire your spirit."

Venti, the bard, would probably respond with a whimsical comment like,

"Ah, stealing hearts as well as items, aren't you? Your mischievous charm is truly captivating."

Albedo might approach the situation with scientific curiosity.

"I find your actions quite intriguing. It's as if you're conducting a unique social experiment."

When Xiao first realizes that you have been taking and returning items from him, he might furrow his brows in confusion. After awhile you might see him crack a rare, small smile. (Please tease him)

Upon discovering your secret activities, Zhongli would approach the situation with a keen sense of curiosity. He might leave you a rare and exquisite Geo related artifacts out of admiration (he finds your joy of “borrowing” his things adorable)

Ayato, upon learning of your actions, takes it upon himself to investigate discreetly. He finds your behaviour cute and wonders about your motives .

When Alhaitham confronts you, his demeanor is measured, but he adds a soft touch of affection, saying,

"I must admit, I find your actions intriguing, and they've piqued my curiosity. Could you enlighten me about your motivations?"

Bennett would react with enthusiasm.He thinks that you're like a lucky charm and always returning what you take. Your positivity is contagious, and he can't help but admire your optimism.

Razor, while initially be confused, could express admiration with sincerity, saying,

"You not take. You return. Good friend. Razor likes."

Eula, though would be initially confused,but she will hide it by saying “Vengeance will be mine” (yeah im sure we all know what she is going to say)

Yanfei, a skilled legal advisor, may initially see your actions as legally ambiguous. However, she's impressed by your commitment to balance and might offer legal advice to help to your continuous actions within Liyue's laws.

Ganyu, being a diligent worker, becomes curious when she notices your activities in Liyue. She quietly investigates, wondering about your motives.She finds it cute and adorable often smiling when she see you sneakily sneaking off with her stuff.

Yae Miko, always on the lookout for interesting stories, takes notice of your actions and becomes intrigued.She would probably tease you abit or so

Im not really good at writing as it is my first few times writing a fanfic but I hope you enjoyed reading this!You can take this idea and write it if you want,I do not mind,but if you ever do write,I wanna read it 🥳🥳. I was reading a fanfic by @thatdeadaquarius and just got the idea to write it,it’s not the best lol. It’s not that I like Childe,it’s just that he is easier to write.

#genshinimpact #genshinimpact x reader #tartaglia x reader #childe x reader #diluc x reader #kaeya x reader #venti x reader #albedo x reader #xiao x reader #zhongli x reader #ayato x reader #alhaitham x reader #bennett x reader #razor x reader #eula x reader #yanfei x reader #ganyu x reader #yae miko x reader #fanfic

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kingofbodyrolls · 4 months

Text

Friendcation (m) | myg | winter special

| s.masterlist | m.masterlist |

Summary: You’re in labor and live outside of the city, and it just happens to be Christmas time, there’s a lot of snow. Will you and Yoongi be able to make it to the hospital before your baby arrives?

OR– The one where Yoongi fucks you into labor and crashes the car 🙃 (It’s set about 1,5 years after friendcation ended) 🙂

it's obviously part of a series, but it can totally be read as a standalone oneshot (though there's some jokes you might not get, but that's all).

Pairing: Yoongi x reader (female)

Other characters: Jimin 😇 + the rest of the gang makes an appearance at the end too 💜

AUs: roadtrip!au, non idol!au, pregnancy!au, established relationship, married!au, mechanic!Yoongi, holiday!au.

Genres: slice of life, humor/crack, smut and fluff

Rating: mature/explicit/R18 (This is mature/explicit content, so minors, please do not interact.)

Disclaimer: I do not own BTS or know them personally and this work of fiction is purely fictional and for entertainment purposes only. The actions and personalities described in the story do not reflect those of BTS— it’s just fiction. Also, if you would kindly read the tags/warnings before reading, that would be lovely: and if you don’t like whatever is described in the tags, just hit return and find something else to read. Thank you 🌸

Word Count: 10.3K

Warnings (general) + triggers: sex while pregnant, minor car accident, a lot of crack and humor too, because otherwise it wouldn’t be friendcation. Slight angst. Possessive Yoongi. Jimin deserves a warning too 👀 (it’s always Jimin)! Giving birth in a car in a somewhat detailed description (without medical help). Breastfeeding a baby. A lot of kissing.

Warnings (explicit): smut in the form of unprotected sex, fingering, dirty talk, praise kink, breast play, nipple play (with a little bit of lactation), flashing/exposure of vagina and boobs, comfort sex (Yoongi making sure OC is comfortable the whole time 🥺), strong orgasms, blood (because of childbirth, but barely mentioned).

Author’s note: this couple just wouldn’t leave me alone 😂 So here we are, with a winter special. I really hope you like it. It was so fun to write, I just love their relationship and then also with their friends, especially Jimin 🤭 I might do more specials through time, I don’t know. Don’t know if people are interested (but I’d probably write it anyway, lol). Like, we still don’t know how Yoongi proposed, their wedding, their honeymoon 👀

This has different povs, mainly Yoongi's, then Jimin's and reader's (I hope it isn't too confusing).

Thank you so much – and thanks to all that likes, comments, reblogs, yeah, anything. Thank you from the bottom of my heart, it makes me so happy and a damn smiling fool 💜

Taglist: @idkjustlovingbts @constancelayon @wobblewobble822 @ktownshizzle @moonchild1 @ultimatefangirl0 @baechugff @jimintaemin @parapiop7 @fckkntired @iluvfndms @citypop-princess @tarahardcore @bergandysam @massivelyfullenthusiast @tatyhend @gimeow *strikethrough means tumblr isn’t letting me tag you :( **if you wish to be removed from the taglist, let me know 🌸

It’s been cross posted to AO3 if you prefer to read there.

He is used to it.

But ever since you became pregnant, it’s been getting worse.

Your sleep moaning, that is.

And it’s always turning him on.

His frustration simmers beneath the surface, fueled by the magnetic allure you effortlessly wield. Yet, with a single glance from you, his resolve melts away like butter on a warm summer day. This magnetic power you wield over him isn't a recent revelation; it's been your enchanting spell, cast long before that memorable camping trip more than a year ago.

Memories surge like a tidal wave, setting his irises ablaze with vivid snapshots of you both, entwined amidst the intimate cocoon of his van, sheets tangled in the echoes of passion.

Countless adventures and camping escapades have unfolded since that fateful journey with your friends, yet it's the kaleidoscope of memories created with you that he holds as precious treasures, each moment a vibrant gem in the tapestry of your relationship.

At last, his gaze shifts towards you, and he beholds the tranquility that graces your sleeping form, nestled beside him. There you lie, on your back nonetheless, which really mustn't be nice considering your big belly.

You’re almost nine months pregnant and the baby can come any minute, he knows.

You’d been trying to conceive for some time, a delightful excuse to have sex all the damn time–although, truth be told, he never needed one.

He feels his dick strain against the confines of his boxers and he wonders whether to rouse you from slumber, it's not merely the urgency of his arousal but the genuine concern for your well-being—your supine position hindering blood flow and oxygen to the precious life within your belly.

Thus, with a tender touch, he delicately stirs you from your peaceful slumber.

Initially met with silence, your slumbering form stirs slightly, emitting a soft murmur of both moans and snores.

A soft chuckle escapes him as he observes your endearing response, yet undeterred, he persists in gently prodding you.

In a hushed and tender tone, he attempts to reach out to you with a gentle “Babe,” his voice a delicate whisper, carrying the weight of affection.

As your head gracefully pivots towards him, your eyes, like delicate butterflies, flutter open in response to the gentle call. A soft smile graces his lips, a silent serenade to the gradual awakening of your consciousness.

As consciousness fully embraces you, your eyes roam the dimly lit room before finding solace in his gaze.”Why did you wake me? It’s the middle of the night…” you inquire, the bedroom's shadows bearing witness to the query that hangs in the air.

With a gentle yawn, you pivot your body, settling into the comforting curve of your side. In the quiet accomplishment of this subtle shift, one of his cherished missions finds completion.

In a tender tone infused with love, he begins, “You were sleeping on your back. It’s not good for the baby,” his words a gentle caress carrying the weight of concern for the precious life cradled within your belly.

A warmth infuses your smile as you meet his gaze, a silent acknowledgment of gratitude for the depth of his concern and the wellspring of love that envelops you both.

And with a playful chuckle lacing his words, he adds, “And you were moaning too.” Your laughter joins his, and you both know what this means.

“You’re always horny, Yoon.” you tease, your hands exploring the contours of his body with purpose. Swiftly finding the elastic of his boxers, you trace the outline of his dick with a deliberate touch, a dance of desire that unfolds seamlessly between you.

Your hand glides sensually over him, a teasing caress through the fabric of his boxers, and a guttural groan of pleasure escapes his lips.

He seizes your hand, bringing a pause to the tantalizing dance between you. “Do you want to, babe?” he inquires, his gaze a reflection of both restraint and anticipation, hanging on the unspoken words between you.

A soft chuckle escapes your lips, your body and mind fully alive, the air already charged with the unmistakable electricity that Yoongi seems to effortlessly ignite within you. You’re already soaked in your panties, and with a whispered moan, you confess, “Yes, I need you Yoongi.”

Gently guiding your hand away from his cock, he inches closer, turning you to lay on your side facing away from him.

Swiftly seizing his pillow, he artfully tucks it beneath the gentle curve of your belly, sculpting a cocoon of support and comfort.

Nestling his head into the crook of your neck, he inhales deeply, savoring the heady and intoxicating essence that is uniquely yours. It's more than a fragrance; it's a potent elixir that courses through him, a sensory drug that elicits an involuntary response—a subtle, primal twitch in the fabric of boxers.

A low, guttural moan escapes his lips, intimately shared in the cocoon of your embrace, as he senses your shiver echo through his touch.His skilled hand embarks on a journey, tenderly caressing your breasts, lingering over the soft expanse of your tummy where the fluttering life within makes its presence known. As his exploration ventures lower, he cups your pussy outside your panties.

Your hips undulate into his dick, a rhythmic dance that draws an involuntary duet of pleasure-laden moans from both of you. His awareness sharpens, attuned to the undeniable evidence of your arousal. With a deliberate touch, he tugs your panties aside, revealing your drenched pussy.

Initiating a delicate exploration, he trails his fingertips along the contours of your folds, gathering the essence of your arousal before skillfully guiding a single digit into the velvety warmth of your desire.

With a rhythmic precision, he starts a sensual dance, his digit sliding in and out of your eager core. Each movement draws forth an increasing symphony of heavy pants, and he can already hear that you’re not gonna last long.

Adding another skilled finger, he intensifies the intimate pleasure, a seamless union of sensation as your bodies synchronize in a provocative dance. Your backside grinds into the rigid length of his desire, fueling his fervor to push the limits further. With an escalating pace, his fingers move within you, a crescendo of pleasure building with every adept stroke.

Breathless and on the precipice of ecstasy, you urgently plead, “I'm so close, Yoongi. Touch my clit instead,” your voice a desperate plea. He complies with a deft move, withdrawing his slickened fingers from the depths of your core to redirect their attention, skillfully navigating the peaks of your pussy with an intoxicating dance against your throbbing clit.

Yoongi has become attuned to the cadence of your breath, a masterful symphony that he has memorized like the back of his hand. In the harmonious rhythm, he discerns the telltale signs that you are on the precipice of ecstasy—so close that the intoxicating anticipation hangs in the air like an electric charge.

His fingers move in a tantalizing dance, tracing circles around your clit with an intimate familiarity. As he senses you teetering on the brink, your breaths hang heavy in the charged air, and the ethereal moans escape your lips like a whispered melody. In a bold move, he pinches your clit. Your body responds in an electric surge, tension radiating through every inch of your being, held in the exquisite grip of his deliberate touch.

Returning to the rhythmic circles on your clit, he guides you through the waves of your orgasm, a seismic tremor that reverberates through your being. Each stroke of his touch acts as a steady anchor, grounding you in the aftermath of what feels like an earth-shattering climax.

You gasp for air, your breaths coming in furious bursts, and in a voice drawn out with need, you moan his name—a melody of pleasure that lingers in the charged air between you.

“'Fuck!” escapes you in a guttural moan, your hands clenching into fists under the watchful gaze of his darkened, appreciative eyes.

Withdrawing his hand from the depths of your core, he endeavors to temper the tempestuous movements coursing through you, a steadying touch anchoring your fervent reactions with a gentle grip on your hips.

“'Damn. It's like the orgasm is lingering,” you confess in a strained voice, leaving Yoongi uncertain whether to interpret it as a blissful prolongation or a potential intensity that might overwhelm you.

“What do you mean?” he inquires, his voice a warm breath against your neck.

“It's just... I can feel it all the way around my stomach,” you pant, the lingering sensations creating a unique symphony within you. “Ah, it's probably Braxton Hicks contractions, because of the orgasm,” you assert with a newfound certainty. In response, Yoongi hums in acknowledgment, his hand delicately finding its place on your belly, where he can feel the subtle tightness.

“Are you sure it’s just that?” he questions, his concern etched in the furrow of his brow. Yet, as your assurance unfolds, a palpable relaxation courses through the muscles of your belly. “Yeah, they're fading now,” you confirm.

“Yoongi, I need you inside me now,” you declare, your words a sultry plea as you sensually grind your ass into the rigid bulge within his boxers.

With a sharp intake of breath, he hisses, seizing your hips in a possessive grip, molding you against the heat of his pelvis.

Effortlessly, he peels your panties down your thighs, and you willingly lift your legs to aid in their complete removal. As he holds the damp evidence of your arousal in his hand, a wicked glint in his eyes betrays the realization, damn they are soaked. Without a second thought, he discards them to the floor.

“'Is this position comfortable for you?” he tenderly inquires, a gentle concern threading through his words as he sheds his boxers. Adjusting his position, he moves slightly, aligning himself with the contours of your core from behind.

“Yeah, I’m good.”

Lying down and approaching from behind, the fit feels unusually snug. Yoongi, with deliberate intent, spreads your ass cheeks, his hand tracing a teasing path before he strokes his arousal, the anticipation building. As he aligns with the entrance to your core, a slow and deliberate entrance ensues, eliciting a moan from you.

An almost primal growl escapes your lips as he sinks in, each agonizingly slow inch a delicious torment. It's not just amazing; it's an exquisite tightness that makes you acutely aware of his presence, as if you can feel him reverberating through every fiber of your being, from the deepest reaches of your pussy to the intimate confines of your uterus.

Yoongi indulges in a series of deliberate thrusts, each movement a slow dance that unveils the exquisite tightness enveloping him. With each rhythmic advance into your core, he keenly senses the escalating tension in your body.

“Yoon,” you pant, the syllables a breathless plea that lingers in the charged air. Yoongi, attuned to your every reaction, halts his movements, his hand tenderly caressing your cheek. “I can feel you everywhere inside, fuck.”

“Is it good, or should we stop?” he asks, a genuine concern etched across his features. His desire is not just for pleasure but for your comfort and satisfaction.

“No, it's good for now, but I'll let you know if it gets too intense, okay? Maybe we can change positions then?” you inquire, your voice a sultry whisper that hangs in the air. As you sensually grind your ass down into his pelvis, fucking yourself on his cock, a soft moan leaves your lips.

Yoongi releases a low, guttural moan against the sensitive skin of your neck, his reverberating pleasure mingling with lust between you. His hand journeys down the curve of your hips, gripping them with a possessive urgency. In this tactile exchange, he finds stability, a grounding force that allows him to drive into you once more, each thrust a testament to the fervor building between you.

As you surrender completely against him, a harmonious synchrony of pleasure unfolds. Sensing the shift, he accelerates his thrusts, a rhythmic dance that quickens the desire between you.

Yoongi inhales deeply against the canvas of your neck, and in a sudden, electrifying twist, you feel the graze of his teeth. Your body shivers with anticipation, and then he descends, sinking his teeth into your neck. Not too forcefully, but with a compelling intensity that sends a jolt of electricity down your spine. Your body responds in kind, grinding against his, and a sinful moan escapes you.

Then, with a sensual grace, he traces the path where his teeth had left their mark, his tongue delicately caressing your neck before placing soft, lingering kisses. Your response is a sultry mewl, the audible manifestation of pleasure, and in the electric aftermath, you feel a surge of arousal saturate his dick.

Breathless and on the precipice of ecstasy, you gasp, “Yoongi, I'm—,” the words trailing off into a passionate pant as he skillfully drives into you, each thrust an artful symphony of pleasure that transcends language, leaving you teetering on the edge of bliss.

“Hmm?”

His grip on your hips tightens, and with each deeper thrust, the world around you seems to blur as you swear that, despite the physical limitations of the position, you can feel him everywhere. It's an overwhelming sensation, almost too much.

“I want to change positions,” you pant, and in an instant, Yoongi withdraws, his response swift and attentive. With a purposeful motion, he turns you around, orchestrating a seamless transition that repositions you to face him once again.

“What do you want to do?” he smiles, his gaze tender as he caresses your cheek with the gentle strokes of his long, slender fingers. In the delicate dance of his touch, you feel an overwhelming sense of love and appreciation.

“I want to ride you,” you confess, leaning in to capture his lips in a soft kiss. As you pull away, a playful smile dances across your face, your eyes reflecting a potent mix of love and lust.

“Fuck, yeah, babe,” he breathes in eager agreement, turning to lie on his back. As you discard the pillow he thoughtfully fetched for you, you proceed to shed your nightgown, leaving both of you completely bare.

With a graceful motion, you hike one leg over his body, settling into a commanding straddle. Your hand confidently takes hold of his dick, aligning it with the eager warmth of your pussy again. A smile plays on your lips as you gaze down at him, relishing the empowering intimacy of having him beneath you in this moment.

His smile mirrors the adoration and appreciation he feels as he takes in every incredible feature of yours. As you descend slowly onto his cock, your face flushes a subtle shade of red, your quivering lips betraying the intensity of your desire. Your nipples stand proudly, and your gracefully rounded belly hangs low, a testament to the life you’ve both created and soon to welcome into the world.

God he loves you. So fucking much. In his eyes, you’re a goddess.

As you lower yourself onto his dick, a duet of moans escapes both of you, the soft stretch heightening the sensory experience. The angle of this position enhances the feeling, and in the synchronized exchange of pleasure, you both revel in the palpable sensation that binds you together.

“Fuck, Yoon!” you pant, the breathless exclamation escaping your lips as you reach the apex of his pelvis, his cock filling you up completely.

“'Ah! It's so much better like this,” you moan, the words dripping with satisfaction and pleasure as you take control, beginning to ride him with a rhythmic motion.

Yoongi's hands find purchase on your hips, their firm grasp not only steadying you but becoming an integral part of the rhythmic dance as you bounce on his dick.

It's undeniably exquisite, the sensation heightened by the captivating sight of you taking control, sending Yoongi into a feral state of desire. The raw power of your dominance, setting the pace and depth, fuels an irresistible fire within him. Your expressions—those eyes closing in lust, the whimpering pleas—seemingly unravel his restraint, threatening to push him over the edge.

“You look so good, bouncing on my dick. Such a good girl,” he pants, the words imbued with a husky appreciation. His hands, slightly squeezing your hips, become a tactile affirmation, letting you know that every movement is not just good but exceptionally arousing.

You keen in response to his praise, a melodious symphony of pleasure that resonates in the air. Empowered by the encouragement, you guide yourself down deeper, every movement an exquisite dance that intensifies the feeling of being incredibly full.

“Yoongi, I don't think I'm gonna last long,” you pant, the admission hanging in the air like an electrifying confession. Sensing the imminent climax, you slow your movements, the deliberate deceleration amplifying the anticipation.

“It’s fine,” he reassures you, “I’m not going to either.”

You chuckle at him, the sound a melodic blend of pleasure and fatigue as you continue to bounce on his arousal. “I'm also so damn tired. This is challenging with my belly being this big,”

“I can take over if you want—or we can try another position?” His offer is laced with genuine concern, a desire to ensure you don't strain or tire yourself unnecessarily.

“No! I love this. I want to ride you,” you moan, the words a passionate declaration as you sink down on him once more. The anticipation of your impending orgasm begins to unfurl in the depths of your stomach.

“Yoongi—, I'm close,” you pant, the admission a breathless revelation as you continue to move at a languid pace, the enticing rhythm showcasing the delightful bounce of your tits with each motion.

He has always been captivated by the allure of your tits—a mesmerizing aspect of your physicality that leaves him in awe. A part of him remains undecided, caught in the delightful dilemma of whether he prefers your tits or your ass, a choice he'd willingly forego, harboring a fervent desire for both.

Your hands find purchase on his sculpted pectorals, seeking support as exhaustion sets in, causing your movements to slow, each languid motion bringing you closer to climax. His gaze lingers on your face, a canvas painted with the intensity of the moment—sweat glistening, mouth slightly agape, and eyebrows creased in ecstasy as you fervently ride him, lost in the rhythmic dance of pleasure.

He senses a primal twitch within as he stays deep within you, and his gaze traces a path down your neck where the evidence of his love bite remains visible. Continuing his journey, his eyes appreciate the sight of your wonderful, bouncy tits.

Withdrawing both of his hands from your hips, they now tenderly grasp both of your tits. “These are so wonderful, as is every part of you,” he murmurs in a voice laced with appreciation.

You feel the walls of your pussy contract in response to his words of praise, a cascading sensation that culminates in a soft moan, his name escaping your lips like a whispered melody.

He caresses your tits, their softness, fullness, and weight filling his palms with a tangible desire. As his hands explore, he discovers your perked nipples, rolling them between his fingers in a delicate dance of pleasure.

“Yoongi!” A high-pitched moan escapes your lips, the fervent cry echoing in the charged atmosphere as you throw your head back, surrendering to the pleasure of sinking down on him once more.

He luxuriates in the splendor of your beauty, every facet of your amazing body a source of enchantment. Everything about you accelerates the rhythm of his heart, the butterflies in his stomach multiplying with each passing moment.

He gives a gentle tug on your nipple, sending a surge of sensations through your body like an electric current, a simultaneous feeling of warmth and chill enveloping you in a paradoxical embrace.

You sense a delightful tingling sensation rippling across your entire body, a prelude to an impending climax that hovers tantalizingly on the edge.

“Shit, Yoongi, I think I'm gonna come,” you moan, the admission carrying the weight of impending ecstasy.

He grunts in response, the primal sound echoing the urgency of his own impending release. “I'm close too.”

You start to sense a delightful tightness in your breasts, with Yoongi skillfully alternating between rolling your nipples, tugging, and pinching them. The exquisite play on your sensitive peaks sends shivers down your spine. Simultaneously, you become acutely aware of the wetness between your thighs, a slippery testament to the overwhelming arousal that courses through your body.

The sound of skin on skin slapping resonates through the air, a visceral percussion that punctuates the charged atmosphere. The noise sends a jolt through your body, causing your muscles to tense in response.

The tingling and prickling sensation in your breasts intensifies, creating a crescendo of arousal that surges through your body. Then, in a sudden release, you feel the pressure in them subside, a wave of pleasure ebbing away like a tide.

Yoongi watches in awe as a gush of milk shoots out of your tits, creating a mesmerizing display that soon turns into a sensuous drip. His finger skillfully rolls your nipples, the fluid covering them and your tits in a glistening sheen of your breastmilk. Fuck it’s hot. He feels his dick twitch again, as he keeps looking at your tits.

You sense a wetness on your breasts and instinctively glance down, only to be met with a wave of horror as you realize you've begun lactating. In an instant, you cover your bobs, a mix of shock and embarrassment washing over you. The sudden shift in your body leaves you feeling vulnerable and a bit grossed out.

“I'm so sorry,” you begin, breathless words escaping your lips as you continue to fuck yourself on his dick.

“You don't have to be sorry, babe. It's natural and sexy,” he reassures you with a loving smile, a genuine attempt to dispel any insecurity. His eyes, filled with both warmth and desire, convey a message beyond words—that he not only doesn't mind but finds the situation undeniably hot.

“Please let me touch them,” he pleads with a rare vulnerability in his usually composed demeanor.

You take a moment to contemplate, acknowledging that while you might not find it as inherently sexy as he does, the arousal sparked by his desire for you is undeniably enticing. Embracing the vulnerability, you lean in and press your tits closer to his face, your tummy meeting his, as you concede with a whispered “okay.”

You release your breasts from your grasp, and like a magnet seeking its counterpart, his hands find them once more. With deliberate tenderness, he begins to massage your tts, each slow and deliberate stroke creating ripples of pleasure that resonate through your body.

As you move up and down on his length, the kaleidoscope of emotions—love, lust, and adoration—mirrored in Yoongi's eyes sends a shiver down your spine. In that charged moment, overwhelmed by the intensity of his gaze, you feel like you could die a happy woman.

His fingers resume their dance, skillfully rolling your nipples and coating them with the warm fluid of your breast milk.

With a newfound determination, you pick up the pace, fervently chasing the brink of your orgasm. Yoongi, fully immersed in the moment, continues to fondle your tits with an affectionate touch.

“Ah! Yoongi, it's so good!” you moan with a symphony of pleasure as you lower yourself onto him, and in response, he tugs a little harder on your nipples.

“Fuck,” you pant, breathless, the sensation of being so thoroughly filled with desire and pleasure overwhelming your senses.

As your stomach tightens, the internal coil finally springs free, and you unleash your slick juices on his dick. A surge of ecstasy washes over you, rendering your vision blurry, a temporary blindness overcome by the intensity of pleasure. A strange ringing noise fills your ears, and your body collapses against Yoongi's in a state of blissful surrender.

With remarkable speed, he intercepts your naked form before it collides with him, his strong and firm hands seizing your hips to anchor you on top of him.

You man fervently, the echoes of your climax still reverberating through your body. In the throes of your descent from ecstasy, a desperate plea escapes your lips, “Yoongi, please fcuk me.”

With a firm grip on your hips, he squeezes them again, initiating a rapid and relentless pace of thrusting into you. The urgency in his movements mirrors the crescendo of desire building within him as he fervently chases his own impending orgasm.

Fuck, it was hot to witness you unravel in such ecstasy. The lingering sensation of your walls pulsating around his dick lingers, as if you're tightly embracing him, and he revels in it. Being inside you, outside you, every facet of connection with you fuels a deep and insatiable love within him.

“Fuck, babe – you’re so tight!” he moans in pure delight. As you sit up, a newfound intensity in your movements, your hands find your tits, skillfully rolling your nipples, and a rivulet of breast milk drips out. Fuck. That will be his undoing.

“Ah, babe—,” he moans your name with a drawn-out, languid tone, his eyes unable to tear away from the sinful allure of your face and the captivating sight of your incredible tits.

Inexplicably, your walls continue to throb around him, coaxing an unbridled release from him. A guttural moan of your name escapes his lips, a primal declaration of the intensity of the moment, synchronized with the eruption of his warm seed, cascading into the depths of your pulsating pussy.

“Fuck!” he pants, his thrusts persisting a few times before he deftly lifts you, positioning you higher on his stomach. In the aftermath of shared ecstasy, both of you lost in the haze of pleasure, the residue of your combined orgasms coats and binds you together, a slick and intimate testament to the intensity of lust.

“Ah…” you moan, a sultry melody escaping your lips as you descend into Yoongi's embrace. Despite the undertones of desire that lace your voice, he can't help but wonder what might be amiss as he sees pain etched in your face.

“What’s wrong, babe?” he inquires, his gaze locking onto your lustful eyes as he seeks to unravel the secrets veiled behind their desire-laden depths.

“I think I’m still orgasming,” you pant, rising once more, “it’s like my body won’t stop.” A shared gaze lingers between you, uncertainty flickering in both your eyes as the lingering waves of pleasure blur the lines between ecstasy and the unknown.

“Is it good or bad though?” he probes, a furrow forming on his brow as he attempts to unravel the mystery. “It’s not bad, but my tummy feels so tight,” your hand guides his to the firmness, and indeed, it does feel tight.

“Hmmm…” he contemplates the peculiar situation, his curiosity piqued but not overly concerned. “I’ll grab some towels and clean us up. Let’s wait a moment to see if it subsides, alright?”

You nod at him, then gracefully ease down from his lap, sprawling on your side, the remnants of passion and desire lingering in the air as you continue to pant for the sweet breath of satisfaction.

Yoongi gracefully rises from the bed, navigating the darkness of the night with an innate sense of purpose. He effortlessly locates your bathroom, skillfully secures a handful of towels, and returns to your bedroom with a quiet assurance, the dim shadows highlighting his silhouette as he prepares to tend to your shared aftermath.

“Here—, I–” With a sudden urgency, he tosses the towels aside as his eyes widen at the sight of you. Your figure is curled in on itself, hands instinctively cradling your stomach, every muscle in your body taut and tense.

“Yoongi, I think I’m in labor,” you declare, the gravity of the moment reflected not just in your words but also in the silent agony etched across your face, a shared understanding mirrored in the intensity of his gaze.

And then it hits him like a tidal wave; the tightness in your tummy was contractions. A surge of realization floods over him—shit, it’s happening. You're having your baby. In the whirlwind of emotions, he battles to remain calm, to steady himself for the pivotal moments ahead.

“Okay. Let's time the contractions and then call the hospital, okay?” he says, a sense of urgency in his voice, frantically searching for his phone on the nightstand.

“Let me know the moment you sense the beginning of a contraction,” he instructs, poised to start the timer.

“Right now,” you gasp, clutching your stomach tightly. The sensation grips you, an intense pressure, especially at the apex, and then, moments later, it releases. “It’s gone now.”

“Almost a minute,” he observes, his tone laden with the realization that you're edging closer to the throes of labor.

“Describe them to me. Are they intense? The pain worries me, seeing you in discomfort tears me apart,” he inquires, genuine concern etched across his face as he tries to understand what you're going through.

“Just a hint of pain, nothing unbearable. I can handle it,” you reassure with a soft chuckle, a resilient spirit shining through despite the discomfort, and he finds solace in your strength.

“Let's keep an eye on the contractions for about an hour, and then we'll give the hospital a call,” he suggests, retrieving the towels scattered on the floor earlier with a sense of urgency.

“While we wait, let me take care of you,” he proposes, coming closer with a towel. Gently lifting one of your legs, he begins to clean you, erasing the traces of our orgasms.

Your body quivers in response to his tender touch, eliciting delicate moans that dance in the air.

“Fuck. I don’t know why, but it’s turning me on, Yoon.” You moan softly, unable to explain the unexpected arousal, but your body instinctively grinds against the towel, turning a simple act into a sensual dance of lust.

A playful chuckle escapes him as he tends to your aftermath, skillfully cleaning you up. Satisfied with the tender care he has given you, he proceeds to clean himself up. Together, you reclaim your clothing, sitting down in your bed anxiously waiting for your contractions to pick up.

As the cadence of contractions quickens, Yoongi takes decisive action, reaching out to the hospital to announce the fact that you’re in labor. With a voice poised between urgency and excitement, he navigates the conversation, detailing the progression of your contractions over the past hour. He wants to know how you should proceed.

As anticipation swirls in the air like a palpable force, Yoongi's voice resonates with a newfound sense of joy. “They've given us the green light to drive to the hospital,” he announces, his eyes reflecting the shared excitement. As you both perch on the edge of the bed, he turns to you with a practical inquiry, “Where did you stash your hospital bag?”

Your gesture guides him to the dresser, and with a graceful sweep, Yoongi retrieves your carefully prepared hospital bag. His voice, a comforting melody, invites you to join him, “Come, we can go now.”

Guiding you with a gentle hand, Yoongi accompanies you to the entryway of your home, a silent pact of shared determination. The darkness outside, coupled with the December chill, calls for the practicality of boots and a warm coat.

Assertively reaching for Yoongi's car keys, you declare, “I can drive.” The shift in Yoongi's expression is so abrupt, it's as if you've caught a fleeting glimpse of a storm cloud on a clear day, the sour twist on his face a testament to the unexpectedness of your statement.

His voice takes on a stern edge, swiftly denying your attempt to take the wheel. Yoongi snatches the keys from your grasp, his firm tone leaving no room for negotiation. “It’s not safe for you to drive in the midst of contractions,” he insists, a protective glint in his eyes amplifying the weight of his concern.

“But it’s not that bad,” you argue, why, you don’t really know.

“Look, babe. I know you can do everything by yourself, you’re strong, and I love you for it. But you’re not driving the car,” he says with a tone that brooks no argument, a gentle firmness underlining his love and concern for your well-being.

As you both prepare and the keys find their place in Yoongi's firm grip, you swing the door wide open, only to be greeted by a blanket of white—the snow-draped landscape stretching across the grass, road, and your car. To top it off, gentle snowflakes dance down from the heavens. Fuck.

“Ugh, it’s going to take forever driving into the city in this weather,” you grumble, trudging your way towards the car through the dense, snow-laden path. The flakes fall thick and heavy, making it difficult to see ahead.

Yoongi grumbles under his breath, popping the trunk to stow away your bag. With meticulous care, he ensures you've got everything essential for the journey. Satisfied, you both slide into the car, ready to face the challenges the snowy night has in store.

“It's going to be alright, babe,” he reassures you, his hand gently covering yours before tenderly moving to your belly. “Can't wait to finally meet you.”

Yoongi is accustomed to navigating challenging weather conditions on the road, his driving skills unaffected by the snow. However, the incompetence of other drivers in snowy conditions infuriates him. Inside the cocoon of your car, he vents his frustration, unleashing a symphony of curses directed at everyone causing chaos on the wintry roads.

“Ease up on the road rage, Yoongi. I don't want our little one picking up a vocabulary lesson in expletives before they even arrive,” you chime in, settling deeper into the seat, your concern for the baby evident in your voice.

“Babe, seriously, who ventures out on the road without a clue about driving in the snow? And it's the crack of dawn—why is everyone suddenly on a snow-day adventure?” Yoongi grumbles in exasperation, his frustration bringing a smile to your face despite the situation.

“Have you forgotten it’s Christmas time?” you quip, chuckling as he gapes at you, realization dawning on him. Damn, he had indeed forgotten.

“We haven’t even reached the city yet and there’s already so many cars,” he complains some more, and you let him. His voice, a melody that always soothes, even in the midst of chaotic Christmas traffic.

“They’re going home to their families—, watch out!” you point at the car in front of you, its headlights blazing like a comet in the snowy morning, almost blinding in their intensity.

Yoongi's keen eyes caught sight of the car in the opposite lane, and it became painfully evident that the driver couldn't navigate the snowy roads to save their life. Inexplicably, this inept driver seemed to believe they owned the road, arrogantly straddling both lanes. Distinguishing one lane from another was challenging in the snowy chaos, but it wasn't rocket science either.

Yoongi skillfully swerves the car to the side, narrowly avoiding a collision with the vehicle in front. The abrupt move sends a rumble through the car as it navigates the bumpy terrain, plowing through a massive mound of snow hastily shoved to the side.

The car grinds to a halt, Yoongi unleashing a string of colorful curses directed at the absent driver. Now, you find yourselves stranded in the unforgiving grip of the snow.

His concerned gaze shifts to you, seeking reassurance. “Are you okay, babe?” he asks, and although you appear unharmed, your response carries the weight of the unexpected. “Yeah, I'm okay. Just a bit shaken.”

As he hums a soothing melody, his attempts to reassure you echo in the confined space, yet beneath the surface, he senses the gradual erosion of his own calm demeanor.

“That fucking jerk,” his frustration intensifies as he hisses about the reckless driver, but you, amidst the escalating contractions, offer soothing reassurance, masking the growing urgency within the car.

“I'll assess the damage outside, okay?” he proposes, seeking your consent. You nod, delving into your bag for a snack, a sudden wave of hunger overtaking you amid the unfolding situation.

Yoongi steps out into the freezing cold, the car's engine humming in the background. He surveys the vehicle, searching for any visible damage, but to his relief, nothing appears broken or in need of immediate repair.

The towering mound of snow engulfs the car, rendering the hood invisible. Yoongi, realizing the severity of the situation, understands that extricating the vehicle from this icy trap is no easy feat. The sheer depth of the snow suggests a challenging predicament, one that requires assistance. Knowing you're in no condition to lend a hand, he contemplates the help he'll need to navigate the car out of this wintry predicament.

He reenters the car, discovering you engrossed in a candy bar, and a hearty chuckle escapes his lips.

Between bites, you inquire, “I was hungry. How's the car?”

“It's stuck pretty bad in the snow pile. Can't get it out myself,” he begins, but you interrupt with a smile, “I can help you with that.”

“Have you forgotten that you're in labor?” he laughs, his voice raspy from the cold outside. “And you're not going out to shovel snow. We don't even have shovels,” he adds, sharing a hearty laugh with you.

“I thought you had all kinds of things in the car,” you chuckle, finishing your candy bar with a mischievous glint in your eyes.

“Yeah, but not shovels,” his laughter resonates in the car, a contagious sound that brings a smile to your face.

“What are we gonna do then, just wait?” you inquire, a hint of worry coloring your voice as the realization dawns that you might not make it to the hospital in time.

“I’ll call Jimin and ask him to come help,” he declares, urgency in his tone as he swiftly pulls out his phone, dialing Jimin’s number with determination.

Even in the early morning hush, Jimin's phone vibrates, and he glances at the caller ID to find Yoongi's name flashing. It's an unusual call at this hour, sparking an immediate concern that propels him to answer without hesitation.

“Hey, Yoongi hyung, something wrong?” His voice, tinged with worry and genuine concern, breaks the silence of the room as he answers the call. He rises from the bed, instantly alert to the unusual urgency in Yoongi's early morning summons.

“We had a car accident,” Yoongi's words hang heavy in the air, shattering the tranquility of the room. Jimin's reaction is immediate, a storm of worry and disbelief brewing within him. He erupts from the bed, shouting into the phone, “What??” The sheer concern in his voice mirrors the gravity of the situation.

Yoongi's reassurance echoes through the phone, a soothing balm to his frayed nerves. “It's minor, relax,” he utters, and the calmness in his voice acts as a lifeline, pulling him back from the edge of panic.

“A guy forced us off the road, and we ended up plowing into a massive snowbank. Now, the damn car's wedged in tight,” Yoongi recounts, frustration coloring his words. Jimin, attentive, absorbs the details. “Think you can come lend a hand? Bring some shovels. I'll shoot you our coordinates,” Yoongi requests, the urgency evident in his tone.

Jimin readily agrees to help, his concern palpable through the phone. However, he can't shake the worry as he inquires, “Are you guys okay? And ___? How's the baby?”

“Yeah, we're all fine,” Yoongi reassures, his voice a bit raspy. Jimin strains to catch some muffled sounds on the other end, unable to discern the details.

He glances at the dropped location on his phone, “I can be there in about 30 minutes,” he assures Yoongi, swiftly rising from his bed to grab some warm clothes.

“Thank you, Jimin.”

As the promised 30 minutes Jimin assured you passed an hour ago, he couldn't help but wonder if you were growing impatient with the prolonged wait.

Jimin spots your car on the roadside, its hazard lights casting an eerie glow, and he expertly maneuvers his own vehicle to a stop right behind yours.

He steps out, ready to retrieve tools from the trunk, but his attention is abruptly stolen by piercing screams emanating from your car. His muscles tense, and without a second thought, he dashes towards the source of the cries.

Why are you screaming? What's going on, and why are the windows so foggy?

With an overpowering urgency, he wrenches open the left door to the backseats, sending it flinging wide, the metallic screech echoing the urgency pulsing through his veins.

He hadn't anticipated the shocking scene that unfolded before him; there you were, legs pressed against the headrest on both the front and back seats, completely exposed from the waist down. He can clearly see your vagina. Fuck, your vagina is big—wait, something is coming out of it!

Yoongi catches Jimin unabashedly staring at your vagina, prompting an eye roll from him. What's with Jimin? Having already witnessed your tits and now your vagina, it annoys Yoongi to no end. He's possessive; the idea of others seeing you in such a vulnerable state doesn't sit well with him. Sharing is not his forte.

He hisses sharply, capturing Jimin's attention, all while the symphony of your agonized screams continues to pierce the air.

“Stop looking at her vagina, man! You’ve seen enough of her, Jimin,” Yoongi snaps, frustration dripping from his words as your writhing form remains nestled against his supporting frame.

Jimin's eyes widen in disbelief, his mouth agape at the unexpected scene. He quickly redirects his gaze to Yoongi, his expression a mix of shock and apology as he stammers, “I—I didn't mean to, Yoongi, I'm so sorry!”

You clutch your thighs tightly, a guttural scream escaping your lips as the contraction envelops you. Once it recedes, you direct an exasperated shout at Jimin, “Close the damn door! You’re letting all the cold air in.”

Jimin snaps out of his daze, berating himself for standing there like a fool. Swiftly, he slips into the driver's seat, positioning himself to face the backseats with a determined look on his face.

“How long has she been in labor?” Jimin queries Yoongi, who glances up from your panting form for a moment before responding, “A few hours, actually.”

“You could have mentioned that when you called!” Jimin hisses in frustration. Not that the information would have made a big difference, given that the snow was the primary cause of his tardiness.

“But that’s a long time. I can see the head coming out,” he informs, prompting both you and Yoongi to exchange amused eye rolls.

“Yeah, she's crowning,” Yoongi adds with a soft stroke to your cheeks, his touch a comforting anchor as you brace yourself for another contraction.

“What can I do to help? I don't think we can get the car ready in time to make it to the hospital,” Jimin inquires, his gaze shifting between you and Yoongi with a mix of concern and determination.

“I already realized I’m having this baby in the backseat of a fucking car. Serves me right — getting fucked in a car, giving birth in a car. I’ve come full circle!” you laugh hysterically between contractions, the situation not lost on you. Jimin shifts uncomfortably in the driver's seat, but Yoongi remains a steady rock, his presence grounding you amidst the chaos.

As Yoongi directs his attention to Jimin, he suggests, “Maybe you could call the hospital and check if they can send an ambulance our way, just in case. I haven't had a moment to make that call yet.” His fingers trace soothing circles on your thighs, a stark contrast to the urgency of your sudden need to push.

Jimin's face reflects genuine concern as he admits he's never witnessed someone in labor before, only having gleaned insights from movies. However, a memory surfaces—advice from Seokjin after his girlfriend gave birth. “You can try changing positions, something where gravity can aid the baby's descent,” he shares, a eureka moment breaking through the tension.

Following Jimin's suggestion, you and Yoongi exchange a glance filled with gratitude and amazement. Acting on the advice, you shift positions, moving to sit over the seats with your upper body draped across them, your face turned towards the back. The atmosphere is tense, yet the three of you share a determined resolve in the face of the unexpected delivery.

With Yoongi's steady support, you manage to assume a half-standing, half-seated position, your body poised for the imminent arrival of your baby. Meanwhile, the car fills with the sound of Jimin's urgent voice as he communicates with the hospital over the phone.

“They are sending an ambulance now,” he informs.

Gratitude colors Yoongi's urgent request, a plea wrapped in the intensity of the moment. “Thank you, Jimin. Could you come back here and lend a hand?” he implores, a mix of worry and determination in his voice, as you cling to the rhythm of your breaths, navigating the storm of contractions.

He teases with a nonchalant shrug, “I thought you didn't want me looking.” Yet, it's clear he's here to assist you; after all, you're his ride or die, and in this crucial moment, his quip holds a trace of underlying devotion and readiness to stand by your side.

In a playful retort, he asserts, “Bold of you to assume I wanted you to look at her vagina again. There are other ways to assist, you know. I'll keep vagina watch—she's my wife,” emphasizing the relationship he shares with you, as Jimin exits the car to join you in the backseat.

Your tired yet grateful gaze meets Jimin's as you acknowledge, “You were right, Jimin. This position is a game-changer. The pressure has eased up a bit.” Despite the sweat-soaked exhaustion etched on your face, a soft smile conveys your appreciation.

For a second, Jimin doesn’t know what to do – can he touch you? Where? How can he help?

“Fuck it hurts!” Agony courses through you, each breath a struggle as you arch your back, a desperate attempt to wrestle against the relentless ache.

As the waves of pain intensify, he instinctively rests his hand on the small of your back, gently tracing soothing circles. To his relief, he witnesses the tension in your body slowly surrender to the rhythmic comfort of his touch.

Summoning all his composure, Yoongi bravely steals a glance downward, discovering a tuft of hair signaling the imminent arrival. Damn. He knows he must remain composed, steady—for you.

“How did you go into labor anyway? How did the water break, was it like in the movies?” Jimin launches into a barrage of questions, his curiosity pouring out like an unbridled stream. You shoot a glare his way, practically hurling invisible daggers in his direction at the audacity of his inquiries.

His hands continue their soothing circles on your lower back as he asks, “What?” Yoongi resurfaces, his expression a blank canvas.

And suddenly, realization flashes across Jimin's face. “You totally fucked! And then she went into labor!” he exclaims, a mix of shock and amusement in his voice.

You hiss in pain, your fingers clenching the seat with a vice-like grip, the intensity of the moment etched in the white-knuckle grasp of your hands.

Both your expressions affirm Jimin's earlier assumption, a silent confirmation that lingers in the charged air of the confined space.

“Shit, I can’t do this,” you gasp, exhaustion etched across your face, your body seemingly on the brink of surrender.

“You're almost there, babe. It's safe to keep pushing,” Yoongi reassures you with a tender kiss on your cheek, but you push him away, a fiery glare in your gaze.

“This is all your fault. You and your damn big dick!” you scream at him, and he understands, recognizing it as your pain talking and not the real you. Jimin chuckles from beside you, and you turn to give him a death glare, saying, “Don’t act so innocent, Mr. ‘I think Yoongi likes you.’”

“But I was right. And now you're about to have his baby. It's going to be okay,” Jimin reassures you, his hand gently rubbing your back.

“Just relax,” Jimin adds.

“Easy for you to say; a baby isn't shooting out of your body,” you huff, the intensity of your anger subsiding.

“I know it hurts, babe. But focus on your breathing, and when you're ready, push with all you've got,” Yoongi encourages, leaning in to kiss you on the lips.

The kiss sends electric shivers down your spine, and strangely, it acts as a calming balm, making the pain feel somewhat more bearable.

When he pulls away, he notices the lingering frown on your face, and a sense of curiosity washes over him. “It was nice, Yoongi. I think it helps alleviate the pain,” you admit, your voice a mixture of exhaustion and appreciation.

“Kiss me again,” you pant, your desperation echoing in the quiet space of the car. Yoongi obliges, capturing your lips with a hunger that elicits a moan from deep within you. In that stolen moment, the world fades away, forgotten in the intoxicating blend of passion and the rhythmic circles Jimin traces on your back.

“Don’t mind me. But I think the baby is coming, I can see more of its head just from here,” he informs, his eyes wide with a mix of awe and amusement. Yoongi's gaze follows Jimin's, confirming the imminent arrival.

He positions his hands underneath your core, preparing to catch your baby as soon as it emerges. Yet, your screams of pain prompt a plea, “Please distract me with kisses,” you cry out, your hands clenching around the seats in a desperate search for relief.

Yoongi glances up at you, your pain evident, and the desperate desire for relief palpable in your eyes. However, he's torn between wanting to provide comfort and being there to catch and deliver your baby. A moment of realization dawns upon him – he can't be in two places at once, something Jimin seems to realize too.

Yoongi gazes at Jimin, a silent plea for guidance evident in his eyes, but Jimin, with a mischievous grin, utters, “You've got two choices, hyung – catch the baby or let me kiss your wife. What's it gonna be?”

Yoongi gapes at him, astounded by the audacity Jimin displays in even suggesting such a choice. He's acutely aware of his own possessiveness, and Jimin knows how much he fucking wants to deliver his own child. He’s caught between a rock and a hard place.

With a sense of urgency, you turn your head and implore, “Do something! I don't care who kisses me, just someone, please!” Your plea echoes with a mixture of sternness and desperation, the pain coursing through your entire body amplifying the need for any distraction.

Yoongi moves with unwavering determination, ascending once more. “Fine. Deliver the baby. You're going to be the godfather anyway,” he grumbles to Jimin, reaching your head and pressing his lips plush against yours. Instantly, you relax, a moan escaping in the midst of the chaos.

“I am?” Jimin questions, uncertainty lacing his voice. Yet, he positions his hands beneath your vagina, mirroring Yoongi's earlier gesture.

You eagerly press your lips to Yoongi's, seeking out his tongue in a passionate exchange, panting and moaning in response to the surge of arousal coursing through you. Amid the heated kiss, you offer affirmative murmurs to Jimin, your desires spoken through the intensity of the embrace with Yoongi.

“It's working, the baby is coming out,” Jimin exclaims with a mix of excitement and focus, his hands securing the baby's head with delicate precision to ensure a safe descent into the world.

Yoongi abandons your mouth, tracing a fiery path down to your neck, his lips leaving a trail of searing kisses and tantalizing bites. Your response is an involuntary groan, a symphony of pleasure escaping your lips, as you gasp out, “Fuuuck, Yoongi.”

“The head is completely out now!” Jimin’s voice breaks through the intense moment and in response, you instinctively grab Yoongi’s head, pulling him back up into a passionate kiss.

As your lips entwine in an ardently sensual dance, the symphony of pleasure resonates, eliciting increasingly fervent moans from you.

Breaking away, you gasp, “Fuck. Why does it feel like I’m coming?” Your breath comes in pants, and you sense a relieving tightness escaping your body.

Jimin swiftly takes charge, catching the remainder of your baby as it emerges, and Yoongi lends his support, ensuring Jimin's hands remain steady in the crucial moment.

The infant rests gently between your thighs in the hands of both Yoongi and Jimin, and as you gasp for air, you steal a glance downward. There, your precious baby lies, serene and silent. A moment of quietude settles in, and a disquieting realization begins to dawn upon you—silence, in this context, isn't the reassuring sound you anticipated.

Dread courses through you as you breathe heavily, realizing the absence of that expected newborn cry. Without hesitation, you extend your trembling arms, pulling your baby up against your chest in a desperate embrace.

An air of tension hangs heavy, mirrored in the anxious expressions on Jimin and Yoongi's faces, both men holding their breath, awaiting the sound that should signify life's beginning.

In an instinctual surge of emotion, you tear your shirt to shreds with one hand, cradling your newborn against your bare chest. Shock registers on both Jimin and Yoongi's faces as they witness this raw display of maternal instinct, captivated by the power and determination radiating from you.

As you gently rub the baby's back, waves of sadness wash over you, and tears stream down your face. In a choked voice, you express your fear, “This is why I should have delivered in the hospital. What if something happened to the baby and it's...gone?” The last part of the sentence catches in your throat, too emotional to articulate fully.

In the confined space of the car, you twist around, pressing your back against the seat as tears cascade down your cheeks. The anguish in your body is palpable, each sob causing a tremor that echoes the pain you're enduring.

In an instant, a second cry intertwines with yours, and you lower your gaze to behold your baby, tiny and fragile, yet alive. A surge of relief floods through every fiber of your being, mirrored in the eyes of the two men who exchange a profound, knowing glance.

Clutching your newborn close, you haven't even taken a moment to check the gender, but in this raw and tender moment, it hardly matters. All that echoes through your soul is the reassurance that everything is alright.

Overflowing with gratitude, your voice carries a symphony of love as your eyes dance between your husband and Jimin. “Thank you, both of you” you whisper, your heart swelling with the depth of the moment.

Yoongi whispers, his voice a tender melody, “You did incredible, babe,” as he leans in to press a gentle kiss against your cheek, his words echoing with admiration for your strength and resilience.

“No problem at all. You were amazing, ___,” Jimin commends, leaning back into the seat beside you, his hands stained with blood, that he wipes off on his pants.

“Jimin, could you check the trunk for some thermal blankets?” Yoongi requests, his gaze tenderly fixed on your baby, who has quieted down and now rests peacefully against your boobs—what he believes to be the most comforting place.

Jimin returns with a bundle of blankets, and Yoongi, with a sense of urgency, joins him in carefully wrapping you and the baby. The blankets cocoon you both, shielding you from the biting cold as you patiently await the arrival of the ambulance.

“Should we find anything to cut the cord with?” In a sudden burst of practicality, Jimin scans the car, his eyes searching for anything suitable to cut the cord.

“No, no. I've read that the baby can stay attached for hours and even days. So I'm fine waiting to do it in the hospital,” you say, your voice carrying a mixture of fatigue and overwhelming love. Your eyes remain fixed on your baby, and you don't glance at Jimin as you express your decision.

Then, a sensation grips your attention, warmth and thickness enveloping you between your legs. As you cast your gaze downward, the revelation dawns upon you – it's the placenta.

“You guys might need a new car,” Jimin breaks into laughter and Yoongi looks at him perplexed, before he scans the state of the car; it’s filled with blood, anatomic fluid and God knows what else. He reckons you’ll have to burn it, if it can’t be cleaned.

Half an hour post-delivery, the ambulance team arrives like guardian angels, swooping in to cradle you in their capable hands as they whisk you away to the sanctuary of the hospital.

Jimin swiftly summons roadside assistance, ensuring a caretaker for your stranded car, while he maneuvers his own vehicle through the snowy streets to the hospital.

Nestled in the hospital room, you're navigating the nuances of new motherhood. The compassionate nurses guide you through the art of breastfeeding, and you're determined to master this intimate dance with your newborn.

Beside you, Yoongi shares in the enchantment, both of you reveling in the miracle of your beautiful baby girl, awestruck at the realization that you've crafted this extraordinary little being together.

Gazing into his eyes, a kaleidoscope of love, affection, and adoration, he whispers, “I love you, babe,” before tenderly leaning in for a heartfelt kiss.

“I love you too, Yoongi.”

Jimin sweeps into the room, a harbinger of warmth and color, bearing a bouquet of your favorite purple flowers. Your heart flutters as you press a grateful kiss to his cheek, expressing your thanks.

Deep gratitude colors Yoongi's voice as he wraps Jimin in a tight embrace. “Seriously, Jimin, thank you for everything,” he murmurs, sincerity etched in his words. Jimin, with a warm smile, responds, “It's no problem. You're welcome.”

Clutching Jimin's hand, you squeeze it tightly, your eyes reflecting sincere appreciation. “No, thank you. I would never have made it without you,” you express, the gravity of your words resonating in the room.

You express your heartfelt appreciation, looking directly at Jimin as you speak. “You are my best, best friend, Jimin. I love you and thank you,” your words carrying the weight of genuine gratitude. Jimin meets your gaze with tenderness, carefully keeping his eyes on your face, mindful of not stepping on any toes with Yoongi, not that there's anything he should be worried about.

“She’s really cute—the baby, I mean,” Jimin throws his hands up in mock defense, unable to contain his admiration. His genuine enthusiasm shines through as he revels in the adorable sight of your newborn.

Yoongi begins with a playful smirk, “Relax, Jimin. You're allowed to call my wife cute and pretty, and occasionally sneak a glance at her assets if the situation calls for it; like a birth or a bra mishap—but nothing more.” He chuckles, wrapping up his words with a friendly hug, leaving Jimin with a mix of relief and amusement.

Jimin's laughter resonates in response, and just as the sound fills the room, the door swings open, ushering in the rest of your friends.

They flood the room with warm greetings, and your eyes quickly catch Jungkook, who enters with a whimsical unicorn plushie and a vibrant bouquet in shades of purple, pink, and blue.

“These are for you,” he beams, thrusting the bouquet towards Yoongi, who delicately places them on the table beside you.

“Congratulations,” the boys chime in unison, closing in to catch a glimpse of your precious little one.

You shift your baby in your arms, delicately adjusting your gown to reveal the other breast for feeding. With each nourishing moment, you sense post-contractions coursing through your body, a gentle reminder of your uterus gradually returning to its normal size.

Jungkook, Taehyung, and Namjoon inadvertently direct their gaze toward your breasts, drawing Yoongi’s attention. However, Seokjin interjects sternly, “Enough, guys. Show some respect. Quit staring at her breasts while she's feeding. You've seen other breasts before; let's not be rude.”

Jimin lets out a chuckle from his position beside you on the bed, quietly noting that the others should consider themselves lucky that Yoongi didn't snap at them for sneaking glances at your breasts.

“Starting today, a strict no-gazing policy is in effect for anyone trying to sneak a peek at my wife's breasts or her vagina,” Yoongi declares, shooting a pointed yet appreciative smile in Jimin's direction.

Confusion flickers across the faces of all the guys as their gazes shift between Jimin, Yoongi, and then you, signaling that something intriguing might have unfolded.

As their jaws drop in surprise, you casually spill the details, “He played a crucial role in delivering the baby and got an unexpected front-row view of my vagina in the process.”

Yoongi clenches his jaw, his gaze piercing through the room as he asserts, “Yes, that happened. Eyes off—especially you two,” he warns, shooting a stern look at Jungkook and Taehyung, who quickly avert their eyes.

Jungkook hesitantly clears his throat, his curiosity overcoming his apprehension, “___, what's that on your neck?”

A rosy hue tints your cheeks as you recall the passionate love bite that Yoongi left on your neck just before the chaotic journey into labor began, and you find yourself cursing your husband under your breath for the intimate moment that now decorates your skin.

What do you think??? Any kind of feedback is much appreciated ✨

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royallyprincesslilly · 9 months

Text

Title: Message My Heart {One Shot}

Lewis Hamilton x Famous Reader

Warning: Cursing, Heavy Angst, Some Fluff, PLENTY OF WORDS,

Words: 8.2k

Summary: You are a famous and jaded singer. You’ve closed yourself off from others and even experiences. However, one unexpected comment changes everything.

Note: Let's pretend we all can't recognize or man in .2 seconds from a super pixelated shot of his forehead alone. Let's pretend that we never followed this man a day in our lives. LOL

As always, thank you for reading! I appreciate it!

If you enjoyed this, please, LIKE, COMMENT, REBLOG!!!

***NOT Edited/Proofread***

~~~~~~~~

You'd posted this on a whim, as a joke and nothing serious. It was a night you should have been kept away from your socials, a night of heavy drinking, illicit smoke passing your lips, and hours and hours of dancing until your legs were sore and the bottoms of your feet were numb. A night of laughs, tears, anger, and joy. A night all in the hopes of forgetting the loneliness of your existence.

Though you were never alone you always felt it. You were always surrounded by at least 10 people at any given time, always having someone snap your picture, scream your name, begging for an autograph, for you to smile, for you to pose this and that way, for a moment of your time, your voice, your heart, your life.

It was exhausting always being on display like you were 24/7 entertainment and not a person. Everyone believed you belonged to them and hence you had no right to privacy, no right to be human or left alone. Everything was always so intense and fast-paced, so sexualized and impersonal. You guessed it was the price to pay for the life you chose because of the vocal talent you possessed and oftentimes you believed you had no right to complain because you had chosen this, though you had no idea what this really was all those years ago.

You groaned, wrapped your fur blanket around your naked figure then took a heady sip of your mimosa. Then you scrolled through the comments underneath your post. You rolled past comment after comment of men giving you their sexual fantasies which ranged from mild to very depraved. You were beyond shocked that people would actually speak filth like this on social media for the world to see and not feel shame.

As you scrolled, you also noted how most of those sexual fantasies were deleted. That told you that your social media team was on it and doing the job they were paid handsomely for.

Your ringing phone drew your attention and without looking you knew it was your manager. You sighed then answered.

"Yeah."

"What were you thinking posting that? What did you think would happen?"

"I wasn't thinking."

"Damn right you weren't. The ways that statement could be taken."

"It's not like it was meant the way it was taken! Look I am not going to apologize for the depravity and lewdness of most of the male population. I will not take responsibility for that, nor do I deserve you calling me to belittle me about it."

With that, you ended the call. He was on thinner ice than he'd ever been before. You were ready to fire his ass before but now you were past ready. Your anger tried to overtake you but you recited the mantra you'd learned from your Balinese getaway where had a strong spiritual awakening that made you confront just how bad a shape you were in.

It took 7 repetitions but at the end of them, you felt more rooted in your strength. You continued scrolling rolling your eyes at comments that were weird or cringe then your finger hovered over the screen as a particular comment caught your eye.

Blessedbeyondmeasure44: Take you away from everyone who makes those beautiful eyes empty and sad so I can gently caress and love away the pain that shines through wrapped around the lyrics of every slow song you put out that your voice so hauntingly expresses to the world. I would just simply love you for all you are that you hide from the world and all you wish to be that you fear you can never be.

For a very long time, you sat there staring at the words in a complete daze. You sat there so long that you actually forgot to breathe. When your chest burned and your head got light, you gasped filling your lungs. You then read the comment again.

Holy shit, you thought.

Who was this person? So many things raced through your mind. Was this just some random person, some random response? Did they know you? How was everything he said so on point? They'd seen through your eyes. Heard the pain. Slowly you began hyperventilating but quickly you got yourself under control. Who was this?

You clicked their name but found their account on private. You contemplated messaging them but quickly decided against it. It was stupid to do.

So you went about your day fulfilling your obligations and doing everything you normally would. Smiled for the cameras, posed for pictures, signed endless autographs, chatted with fans, kept everything PC, shook hands, and gave the people what they so thought they were owed. Every bit of yourself.

However, as your day progressed and winded down you couldn't stop thinking about the comment, and the more you thought about it, the more your curiosity increased. So by the time you were on your way home for the night, you went back on social and sent a follow request before you chickened out, then closed the app.

Though you tried to forget it, you didn't. So as you ate dinner, watched TV, showered, did a little work then wrote some lyrics you had it in the back of your head. When you checked it you couldn't help but smile as you found your request had been approved. However not much was posted in the way of a face. There were plenty of animal pictures, landscapes, and abstract things but nothing to tell you who this person was.

So with nothing to quell your curiosity, you backed off of their page ready to close the app all together when a red '1' appeared indicating you'd received a message. It took all of 5 seconds for you to open it.

Blessedbeyondmeasure44: Didn't imagine this would be the end of my day when I started it.

You smiled. Hell neither did you.

You: Me neither.

Blessedbeyondmeasure44: To what do I owe the pleasure?

You thought about your possible response. You couldn't just tell the truth...could you? After some minutes you bit the bullet.

You: Why did you comment that?

You watched the three dots appear and disappear 5 times as you anxiously waited for their reply. You imagined all the things they could say, all the ways you'd possibly misread the situation and made a wrong decision. Just when you thought you couldn't take it anymore, came a lengthy response.

Blessedbeyondmeasure44: I was just being honest and some more honesty would be that I've been following you for a long time and been a fan for about the same time and there is something about you. Something ethereal, something poetic and hypnotizing.

You: Ah. Another fan of my looks. Okay. I get it.

Blessedbeyondmeasure44: This has nothing to do with your looks and everything to do with your aura. To be truthful I am convinced you look 1000 times better without the layers of makeup and lashes. It cheapens your beauty. The glow around you has changed over the years. It began beautiful and golden and has morphed into copper, then rust, now it is barely visible and just a shimmery black as if you are a former shell of who you were.

Talk about a stab in the gut. You read their words over and over and thought back to something the Dali said in Bali. It was something similar, something just as profound. A shiver rushed through you producing goosebumps along your flesh.

Blessedbeyondmeasure44: I posted that comment because I saw you and wanted you to know it. I wanted you to know that while the world wants something--everything from you I want nothing but to give something to you.

The tears in your eyes made your lids heavy. You fought the inevitable struggling to keep them at bay.

You: And what's that?

The reply was lightning quick as if he knew you'd ask.

Blessedbeyondmeasure44: Safety and love.

That was it. That was all it took for your bottom lid to give up and release the floodgates. Your tears cascaded down your cheeks and they didn't stop for long minutes that turned into hours until you'd cried yourself to sleep.

~~~~~

-12 Weeks Later-

A stranger's kind words to a random drunken post ended up being a gift from the universe. Every time you talked which was every day now he put you at ease. It was like having the worst case of poison ivy that nothing soothed but that one salve you decided to try on a whim. He was that salve and every time you spoke his effect was one that mystified you.

Your moods improved, intrusive thoughts decreased, and depression staved off. Hell, even your outlook had changed. Once everything was bleak. You saw the worst in everyone and everything. You were Ms. Pessimistic always with the defensive wall because you expected everyone you encountered to be trash. Now, that outlook had changed and because of the chance you were giving him and him not fumbling it was slowly changing your mind about people.

When you asked him what his motives were, he simply said to be your friend because you looked like you needed one of those more than someone to tell you how beautiful you are or break your back. That answer floored you. Never had you had a man who wanted to be your friend as opposed to something else--something more.

So friends was what you became. He became one of your biggest supporters always cheerleading you on through social media. He was the ever-present positivity your negative mind craved. His light and vibe were contagious and soon they'd infiltrated your whole outlook. He even got you into jogging, which you hated. Every morning at the ass crack of dawn you were jogging together sending snapshots of the view you were zipping by, short text messages throughout, and even voice messages.

You often decompressed together either watching a movie, playing against one another on gaming platforms, or just doing the same activities in your own towns. Through it all, you still didn't know what he looked like still didn't know who he really was and though you were curious, you also were afraid to rock the boat.

When your friends found out about him they often badgered you into figuring out who he was. They even offered to do a deep dive investigation on social to figure it out. You knew they could crack the case in a few hours but again the fear told you not to.

"What are you afraid of?"

It was a good question that one of your best friends, Alaana, asked as you sat with both of them in your theater room watching the latest release on Netflix. Twiddling your fingers, you avoided her eyes.

"Do you think he's a perv?"

Your other friend, Takia, gasped as she shot upright. "That he's a catfish?"

"Who is he catfishing as? She doesn't even know who he is let alone if he looks like who he says he is," Alaana pointed out.

"So what is it? Afraid he's butt ugly?"

The two cackled together as if they were the best stand-up comedians alive while you gave them your best unamused expression.

"Just tell us," Alaana whined.

"Rocking the boat."

They stared at you in confusion which made you even more frustrated. With a kiss of your teeth and a sigh you continued.

"Disillusionment. What if finding out who he is or what he looks like rocks the boat and destabilizes everything? What if things change and not for the better? Like I have no idea how this man I know nothing about was able to--"

"Bring back the Y/N before you got famous and jaded?"

The three of you nodded and sat there in silence for a few moments as if giving that silence to your former self as a show of sorrowful recognition.

"He hasn't even done anything. He's just been...there."

"The universe usually brings us what we need at the time we need it. What if he is what you need?"

"I've thought about that the last few weeks. I don't know how but somehow the way I think of him has changed. I daydream about him and get giddy when I think of him. I don't remember this with anyone else and it's weird because I don’t know him in the slightest."

"You like him," Takia accused.

"I don't know him."

"Girl, please. You've been talking to this man every day for the last 3 months. Every day. You know his routine, know his likes, dislikes, and dreams. You know him so just take the next step. Maybe you guys can make things work past friends. His first initial message to you was that he would love away the pain and love all you are that you hide from the world and all you wish to be that you fear you can never be."

Hearing his earliest words spoken made goosebumps skirt across your skin. They still affected you, still made you weak.

"No lie at first I thought it was creepy but seeing how pure and innocent it has turned it doesn't make me cringe anymore. I think at least find out who he is then decide."

"What if he's some normal guy who is like a doctor or teacher?"

"Would that make you think twice?"

"Normal people don't do well in this world. It's hard to understand and adjust to."

"Or maybe he is in this world."

"Making anything work in this world sucks especially if they are already in it."

"Which is the more appealing one?"

Just then your notifications went off. Checking it, you found a new message from him.

Blessedbeyondmeasure44: I'm sorry I'm on a business trip and it has been a crazy day. I'm all yours now. How are you?

You smiled and typed out a reply.

You: No need for sorries. I can't expect to have you all to myself 24/7

Blessedbeyondmeasure44: And why not? It's nothing short of what you deserve.

Lite fluttering butterflies took over your stomach making you burrow deeper into the couch.

You: So are you saying if I want you 24/7 then you're mine?

Blessedbeyondmeasure44: Even if you don’t want me I’m yours.

"Oh my god," Alaana squealed.

Glancing back, you found Alaana peeping over your right shoulder and Takia over your left. Both had literal heart eyes.

"Ask for a picture," Takia badgered.

"Tell him you'll send one too," Alaana backed up.

Shaking your head, you chewed your bottom lip trying to stick to your guns though the curiosity was killing you. Just then, another message came through.

Blessedbeyondmeasure44: Scared you off?

You chewed more intently on your bottom lip as you thought over his words. You weren't scared in the slightest.

You: It takes more than that to scare me.

Blessedbeyondmeasure44: Good to know. So the real question is, could you--would you want me?

Seconds later, an image came through and you sat there dazed staring into the most beautiful pair of brown eyes you'd ever seen.

"Wooooow," Alaana and Takia said in unison.

"That there is a beautiful man," Takia added.

She was right. Though you could only see his eyes you could see that they were kind eyes and kind eyes said a lot about someone. It had been a long time since you'd looked into a pair of kind eyes and now faced with his, you wanted nothing more than to stare into them for the foreseeable future.

"Holy Shit," you exclaimed.

"Right. Girl, I can tell he fine. I can tell these things. You can see it in the nose bridge. That's a nose bridge of a fine piece of man," Alaana said.

"The nose bridge? Come on Lana, I would have said the eyebrows and the lashes. Like, did he go to the lash bar or something? I'm jealous," Takia added.

You heard them but nothing was registering. His eyes held you captivated.

Blessedbeyondmeasure44: Take your time. I'll wait.

And wait he did. Your friends booed you for not answering with a resounding "hell yeah", but you didn't let it phase you. Tucking your phone away, you tried your best to focus on the rest of the movie while ignoring the big elephant trunk sticking out of your phone as if to remind you what was happening in it. You didn't need the reminder. Your mind was already thinking and overthinking the exchange.

By the time your friends had gone to sleep it was almost 2 in the morning and no matter how you tried, sleep evaded you. So with your phone in hand, a bottle of wine in the other you trekked to the pool and set yourself up. It took less than 5 minutes for you to end up back on your messages. 6 hours had gone by since his last message. 6 hours you'd left him on read. 6 hours you'd thought about his words. You pressed the audio record button then sighed.

"Even before you sent that picture...I could and would want you."

Your finger hovered over the send button and it was fear again that stood in your way. So as you did 12 weeks ago, you took a deep breath, closed your eyes, and pressed send. After, you dropped your phone on the lounger, grabbed the bottle of wine, and took a hearty gulp of the sweet red liquid. This brand had a higher alcohol content than most of your whites which meant it would be the best 'no thinking' wine for you. It would make it easy to relax and just exist in the moment. You leaned back and gazed into the sky. You were far enough away from the lights and glitz of the city that you could see the stars and tonight you were glad for it.

Releasing a sigh of contentment, you realized it had been years since you felt this calm. It was easy to get lost in the view which is what you did. By the time your notifications went off again, you'd had half the bottle of wine. It was a voice message.

His normally deep voice was even deeper now. He sounded as if he'd just woken up or was very intoxicated and in the mood for nothing but sin. You pressed your knees together as a sensation you hadn't felt in years washed over you--desire. Who in the fuck was this man to have this power, you wondered incredulously.

"Wow. I honestly didn't expect you to reply. I'm pleasantly surprised."

Smiling you took another mouthful of wine.

"Sorry it took so long."

"It's all good. No need to apologize. I understand you better than you think."

"How exactly? You've never met me."

"I actually did, once. It was in passing and I guess I didn't make an impression so..."

Your eyes bugged as you wracked your brain trying to figure out if you'd seen his eyes before. There was no way you'd forget eyes like those.

"Trying to think over all the people you've met through your life to see if you remember me?"

He sounded amused.

"I was trying to figure out how I could not remember eyes like yours. Since I don't think it's possible I'm going to say you're full of shit."

The recording that came next put the biggest smile on your face and set those butterflies flapping again. His laugh was a thing for masturbation.

"Real talk though."

"So safe to say you're not a teacher or CEO of some major company."

"Ha, no not a teacher. As for a CEO of some major company...that's pretty accurate."

You continued to think over who he could possibly be but nothing was sticking. The only thing that was sticking was more and more curiosity and confusion.

Blessedbeyondmeasure44: As I said before. You'll know when you're ready and when you are ready...really ready for me I will be there.

You stared at his words. They were words he’d sent before. Words he'd patiently abided by. Words he apparently meant. Your heart in your chest purred as of it were blissfully soothed and content. Staring back up at the stars you gaped in wonderment.

"Wow."

~~~~~~~

-4 Weeks Later-

You: I'm ready.

You stared at the message you'd sent 30 minutes ago. You couldn't believe you'd mustered up the courage to send it let alone actually meant it. In the last 16 weeks, there had been more than enough things that were working for him than against him. He was kind, funny, patient, funny, gentle, honest, gracious, spoke of his faith in things in such a way that instilled faith in you. You'd gone from not seeing the point in continuing if emptiness was all that awaited you to wanting the next day to come so you could experience new things through and with him.

Takia asked you a week ago if you'd fallen in love with him and though you were apprehensive to give her any response your heart lurched and thudded even more strongly within your chest. Since then, you'd thought even more about meeting him.

Today you woke with a stronger desire to meet him, touch his skin and see if he smelled how you imagined, like vanilla, cedar, spiced and fragrant musk, an open field of lavender, and lemon thyme and ripe citrus. You just wanted to be in the same room to see if you were romanticizing a stranger for his kind words or if there was really something there.

"You'll be late if we don't leave now," your new manager Iyla said.

Since firing your old manager and having Iyla come in who was always in his shadow because of how obnoxious he was you'd felt better and better about your career. She'd really stepped up in the past few weeks and showed you what you already suspected, that she was good at what she did and was a much better fit for you.

Once you were out of the hotel and in your car on your way to the venue you were set to perform at, you harmonized your new song trying to make sure you had everything right. It was partly because of how much of a perfectionist you were but also to distract yourself from the silence on his end from your message.

You tried not to think that he'd seen it and left you on read or that he was not on the same page as you anymore or that he'd changed his mind about you. There were so many thoughts and possibilities running through your head that work was the only way to quiet them.

20 minutes later you arrived at the Versace show where you were going to perform. This would be a first where live music was used for the models to walk the runway rather than backtrack. When Donatella had approached you with the idea you leaped at the chance. Half of your closet was filled with Versace so there was no way you'd pass this up.

"This is so iconic," Iyla said as she readjusted your altered vintage Versace dress. The material fit you like a glove and accentuated all your striking features.

"You will be the first ever to perform at a Versace show, hell any show that isn't the VS shows. You are about to break into another layer of this atmosphere, forget the stratosphere," Iyla said with a wide smile.

There was something about her that always made you comfortable. Her vibe always gave off excited and caring big sister and you loved that.

"Are you nervous?"

You wiggled your hand to show her how in the middle of the fence you were.

"Don't be. You look amazing and we already know your voice is sublime. Talk about an Indica trip."

You smiled already feeling calmer. As you walked the black and gold carpet you smiled for the cameras and did a few interviews. Overall everyone was looking forward to the performance and the show. Across the way, you heard a commotion. The photographers went into a tizzy and fans that were mingled together across the street looking on screamed. It sounded like a K-pop concert instead of a fashion show. People loved fashion but they didn't get this crazy for it.

Carning your neck you tried to see what the fuss was all about and instead saw fans losing their ever-loving shit.

"Oh my god, it's Lewis Hamilton," one screamed.

You'd heard the name plenty of times but you'd never paid much attention. All you knew was he was British and did some kind of sport. You watched on as he stepped up on the carpet and posed in his all-black outfit. You watched on for a few moments curious as to what all the hype was. He was too far away for you to make out much of his features but from what you could make out, you had to admit he was attractive.

Though you felt Iyla tapping you to tell you it was time to move you couldn't. There was something about him that was so captivating. Alas, you had a performance to kill. You turned and saw Donatella approaching you with a huge smile.

"You look even better than I thought you would."

"That's kind. Thank you but I am only the vessel for this beautiful piece of art you've created."

The photographers screamed for you both to pose so they could get the shot and that is what you did for almost a full 10 minutes. No amount was good enough for them, they wanted more and more and more.

"Ah, Lewis. Come, come, come. Join us!”

You spun and found the same man from a few minutes ago approaching. His smile was wide as he looked at Donatella but when they shifted to you his smile slipped. At the sight of that for some reason, your belly sank. Did he know of you and didn't like you?

As quickly as the smile disappeared it appeared again. He embraced Donatella kissing both her cheeks as he exchanged pleasantries. You caught a whiff of a scent that couldn't be cologne. It had to be him. It was strong but not in an overpowering way. Though he didn't stand too close to you, you could catch notes of spiced wood, and rich floral undertones that smelled as if fragrant flowers had been gently smoked over a fire to unlock their deeper fragrance. He smelled good--mouthwatering even.

Donatella turned to you, "Do you know Y/N? Have you met?"

Your eyes met and instantly the feeling of familiarity washed over you.

"Uh--,” you began.

"No, I've never had the pleasure, Lewis said holding out his hand for yours.

You placed it in his palm and felt the familiarity shake you again in the form of a sharp but almost comforting jolt. Neither of you budged though.

"Are you sure? I swear I feel like I've seen..."

"Trust me if I had ever been properly introduced to you, I'd remember."

His eyes held you locked in place. There was something familiar about them but you knew you'd never met him before. He was right. You were sure you'd remember eyes like his. Lewis suddenly dropped your hand, then slipped to the other side of Donatella to take part in the photos. Then like a thief in the night he was gone. Who was that you thought to yourself.

As showtime approached, you tried to forget the strange encounter and the way your body came alive from his scent. The more you tried to forget the more you focused on it but instead of thinking of the man you'd just met you kept thinking about the one you'd been talking to for the last several months.

A notification came up, sending you to your DMs.

Blessedbeyondmeasure44: Ready for what exactly?

Seeing his message your belly fluttered. It truly had been a while since you'd had a reaction like this to anyone.

You: You know what. Ask me again.

30 seconds ticked by, then a minute, and the whole time you tried not to chew your lip. When another message came in, again your belly flipped.

Blessedbeyondmeasure44: Do you want me?

Seeing the rephrased question instantaneously brought up your anxiety. It was direct on purpose because he wanted an intentional answer. Not a possible or hypothetical one. Oh, you thought. This man was different from any other little boy you'd encountered and every fiber of your being said take a chance.

Unable to resist, you bit down on your bottom lip and chewed forgetting all about your plum-painted lips, and prepared to type your reply but before you could get a letter down Iyla called your name telling you it was showtime.

5 minutes later, you were backstage waiting for your cue. You would be the first to walk out and down the runway as if you were one of the models. You'd then take your seat and begin. You should have been nervous about it but you weren't, you were more nervous about the message you were about to send.

A few of the models gave you hugs and thumbs up for support just before the stage manager gave you a nod for you to go. Once you stepped through the threshold, you took note of just how many people were there. The creative director had done amazingly on the set and ambiance. The large pool in the center of the runway space really was a vibe. The audience instantly erupted in applause as you stuck your beginning pose for dramatic effect.

What a dream you thought as you took your first step down the sleek white platformed runway. There were plenty of little girls who dreamed of this moment and here you were living it. It had been a while since you were open enough to feel gratitude but here and now you felt it in full force. Another thing to credit the man who still hadn't revealed his name for.

As you walked you noted the plethora of celebrities that sat around the runway at their posh-looking garden tables watching every move you made. You saw singers, actors, models, and even athletes from varying fame levels. On your turn, you saw Dwayne Wade who was seated next to Lewis Hamilton. Both men gave you an appreciative and polite head nod as you passed. When you got to the end of the "U" shaped runway you stopped and the audience again applauded you.

Once you were seated behind the piano, you adjusted your microphone and got ready to get down to business. As the first chords of the piano played for the intro you fully gave yourself to the track. A few lines in and the models began walking showing off the art that had taken months to prepare.

The song you'd chosen tonight was new. It was something that had come to you since you'd begun your interactions in your DMs. It was softer than the songs from your last album which was quite heavy. The lyrics were flirtatious, the melody fun and soothing but it was still somehow all you.

20 minutes later you'd sang 4 new songs and was in the middle of a piano solo that would close out the show. When Donatella stepped out after the model precession went by, you added some flair to the solo giving Beethoven and Bach a run for their money. The audience clapped and whistled as you showcased your musical abilities, abilities that had gotten you your current fame and status. Upon the grand finale, you hit the perfect ending chords making Donatella laugh.

The two of you walked on either side of the line of models toward the center of the "U" shaped runway to meet and join hands. She gestured to you making the audience applaud and cheer. You did a dainty curtsy then motioned to Donatella and cheered loudly which promoted those around you to do the same. You stood there allowing the photographers to take pictures for a few moments. When you glanced down you realized you were standing directly in front of Lewis whose eyes were glued to you. The smile on his lips was soft and the look on his face was endearing. You wanted to ask why but you shook it off.

2 hours later after endless pictures, interviews, autographs, and tens of flirtatious men trying to either get your number, get you to give them your number, or convince you to leave with them for the night; you finally had time to yourself. You finished your glass of champagne, leaned on one of the 9-foot tall hedges, and scrolled through your phone.

Blessedbeyondmeasure44: Your voice is still haunting and amazingly beautiful, but your eyes are no longer sad and empty. God, you are gorgeous like this.

Smiling, you took a deep breath.

You: I want you.

You were sure of that now.

Blessedbeyondmeasure44: Are you sure?

You: Yes. I've spent the night having CEOs, oil tycoons, actors, models, athletes, artists, and men from every other profession you can think of flirt with me, attempt to spend the night with me, and try to create some sort of connection only to fail miserably because all I can think of is you and the fact you haven't once flirted with me or tried to convince me to spend the night with you.

Blessedbeyondmeasure44: I didn't know you wanted me to.

You: I didn't either. Now I do. I want you to. I want you to do all of that.

Blessedbeyondmeasure44: What if I don't want to convince you to spend the night with me? Spending the night with you is the least of what I want to do with you.

You: What do you want?

Blessedbeyondmeasure44: I want your days. I want your afternoons. I want your trust. I want your honesty. I want your vulnerability. I want your mind. I want your heart.

Once again he'd stolen your breath.

You: And what do I get in return?

Blessedbeyondmeasure44: I will give you smiles. I will give you laughter. I will give you joy. I will give you honesty. I will give you my days. I will give you my afternoons, my nights. I will give you my loyalty. I will give you trust. I will give you vulnerability. I will give you my mind, my heart, and only when you are sure you can match me I will give you my body and all the passion and fire you can stand.

Wow, you thought.

You: I'm in Cannes for a few days. I fly out the day after tomorrow. How can we meet?

Blessedbeyondmeasure44: Depends. How badly do you want it?

You: I'm not thirsty or anything but a hard 9.

A voice message came through of him laughing. Then another.

"I'm glad you can hide your thirst but I won't. Not anymore. I'm at 100."

It was your turn to send a voice message of you laughing.

Blessedbeyondmeasure44: Glad you find my suffering funny. I'm currently in Cannes too. If you trust me enough we can meet tonight.

Your brows rose. He was in Cannes too? What a coincidence.

You: Tonight then.

Blessedbeyondmeasure44: Tonight.

You felt all sorts of giddy now. It overshadowed the nervousness that was trying to overtake you. Fifteen minutes later, as you left the fashion show venue, another message came through.

Blessedbeyondmeasure44: Vieux Port, 12. Tell this to your driver and they will know where to go.

You smiled then attached a photo of yourself from the night and sent it.

You: Me now so you don't miss me

Blessedbeyondmeasure44: Jeez. You're beautiful Y/N.

You: It is a bit unfair that I still don’t know your name.

Blessedbeyondmeasure44: You'll know when you see me.

You dropped Iyla off at the hotel with an excuse of wanting to sightsee then you took the drive to the port. On the way you texted her the location you would be in case you bumped into trouble. With the window down, you relaxed into the scents of Cannes. Baked goods, salty sea air, citrus, and sand. It all smelled wonderful. You'd been here tens of times before but this was the first time you'd taken time for yourself to mellow out. You were in a completely different headspace than you were on previous trips and it felt so freeing.

15 minutes later, your driver pulled up to find 2 people, a man, and a woman, already waiting there. Your phone vibrated with a notification.

Blessedbeyondmeasure44: I sent Verona and Linus to escort you. They are waiting at the port. I promise you're safe.

Another message came with 2 pictures and vouching credentials. Sighing, you relaxed again. He had thought of everything. As you approached the two they smiled.

"Verona? Linus?"

"Yes. Ms. Y/L/N?”

"Yes."

"Wonderful. Please follow us we will take you to the vessel," Verona said.

As you walked behind them you couldn't help but wonder what vessel and how he'd pulled all this together in less than an hour. Who was he exactly? It took all of 3 minutes until Linus and Verona both stopped in front of a lavish yacht that looked like it was at least 3 stories.

"Whoa."

"Ms. Y/L/N, after you," Linus said with an outstretched arm pointing to the boarding plank ahead.

You stood there for several moments thinking about things again. Were you really going to get on this yacht with someone you’d never met before? Were you really going to be this trusting?

Blessedbeyondmeasure44: I had Verona and Linus provide your driver with the details of this yacht before he left. I've told him to give it to your manager so they know where you will be and how to contact authorities if you aren't returned safely. I’ve also asked them to check in with you every 30 minutes using a code word they choose. I don't want you afraid of me Y/N. If you are afraid I won't think anything of you turning around and we can try this another way, a more public way with your manager present. Whatever you're comfortable with.

You didn't know if it was game or not but his words calmed you. Maybe it wasn't his words and the fact that he thought ahead and provided these securities for you to feel safer. A call from Iyla came through then.

"OMG, Y/N. Wow. I have so many questions and I want all the details later but your code word is Calamari. I will call every 30 minutes."

She sounded excited and you had no idea why.

"Got it."

Just like that, she ended the call. Why was she so excited? You wondered if she knew something you didn't as you put your phone in your bag. With a breath, you crossed the plank and allowed a man dressed similarly to Linus and Verona to lift you onto the yacht.

"Thank you."

"You're welcome. He is waiting on the top deck. Follow this hallway to the steps at the end and up you go," Verona instructed.

With a nod, you were off. As you walked you noted just how luxurious the yacht truly was. Did he own this? If he did he was possibly in or close to your tax bracket. You weren't sure if you should be happy about it or leery. If he was in your tax bracket it could mean he was a celebrity as well. At that thought you paused on the 4th step on the stairs.

You thought about celebs that you'd tried to get to know or date and cringed. All of them were slightly weird with quirks you couldn't handle on top of your schedule and responsibilities. A celebrity relationship took a lot and you didn't know if you could give any of it.

"You're getting ahead of yourself, Y/N."

You took a breath and continued. When you reached the top of the stairs your jaw dropped. There were candles and flowers everywhere. Slowly you looked around and realized they weren't just any flowers, they were your favorite flowers.

"Oh my god," you whispered.

With a step forward you took in your 360 view and you knew that no matter who he was you wanted to try for him. As you looked behind you, you walked backward distracted by the beauty surrounding you. He'd somehow managed all of this in under an hour. Somehow he'd filled the entire top deck with all your favorite things. Your favorite flowers were covering every surface of the floor. Your favorite scented candles were lit and their scent wafting in the air. Your favorite snacks and treats lining the railing on the left. Your favorite fruit lining the right railing.

"He's really been paying attention," you softly said.

"Of course I pay attention. You're important to me."

You stumbled to a stop but kept your back to the voice. You recognized his voice. You recognized it from your messages and even tonight. Suddenly, everything swirled in your mind as it slowly came together.

Hi, Y/N."

You took a deep breath and turned. Your jaw dropped while everything fell into place as you looked into eyes you'd seen before this moment. They were eyes you'd looking into mere hours ago.

"I'm Lewis."

He smiled and your heart skipped a beat but words escaped you. He didn't speak again, he waited with his hands clasped behind his back. He wore the same full black outfit from earlier but he looked even better in it now with the candles and flowers as his backdrop.

"I--you--oh my god. You're--”, you began.

"Blessedbeyondmeasure44? Yes, I am."

The silence stretched for a long moment before you snorted.

"Bullshit."

Lewis chortled in return then let out a chuckle.

"I've said it before but God I love that you have no censor and say the first thing that comes to your mind."

Your eyes bugged. He had said that before.

"No. You're not."

Lewis smiled and took a few more steps to you, "How can I prove it to you?"

"Prove?"

You wracked your brain trying to make sense of this and come up with a way he could make you believe this.

"What was the first thing I said to you in DMs?"

Without hesitation, Lewis spoke, "After you sent a follow request I said I didn't expect that this was how my day would end and you said me neither."

You raised a brow. "What was the last thing we did together?

"We went to the beach. You went to Crystal Cove in Laguna Beach and I went to La Concha because I was in Spain at the time. You sent me a beautiful picture of a cave and said it was one of your secret spots. It was called--.”

"Dana's Point," you finished as he proved his point.

"I can show you the messages, and our pictures including the one you sent earlier so I wouldn’t miss you. I wouldn't miss you though Y/N. You stand out no matter what."

He took another step to you leaving only a few inches between you. He reached out and took your hands.

"I have missed you though. I've missed you in so many moments that I wished you were with me, so many experiences I wished I had with you. I missed you every time a message of yours came in. I even missed you in my dreams."

You lifted your hand and cupped his cheek while staring into his eyes.

"I knew I saw those eyes before. I felt it."

Lewis smiled. "I'm sorry. I didn't want to do this in front of those cameras and the crowd. I'm sorry I wasn't 100% truthful."

You smirked.

"Your message."

Lewis cupped your cheek in return. "Your voice is still haunting and amazingly beautiful, but your eyes--," he paused then cupped your other cheek. Using his thumbs, he softly slid them across your cheekbones. "Your eyes are no longer sad and empty. God, you are gorgeous like this."

Tears welled your eyes and you scoffed.

"Now you flirt with me."

A chuckle fell from his lips and if you hadn't fallen for him before you definitely had now. You hung your head and shook it.

"I am so stupid. This whole time."

"You're not."

"You're Lewis Hamilton. I am sure any other woman would have recognized those eyes. I had no clue. Hell, I don’t know the first thing about you, not really. Yeah, you're a racer but other than that..." you shrugged.

Lewis lifted your head his hands now cupping your skull. It put you on high alert at just how large his hands were. "Hey, love that you had no clue. I love that you don't know me. It was refreshing. I loved these last few months of you knowing me and me knowing you without the extra stuff."

"We know the extra stuff now. Oh my god, from the ruckus on the carpet of the Versace show you're a huge celebrity. How in the world---."

Before you could continue your freak-out Lewis' lips were on yours. It was like you’d stuck your finger in an electrical socket. Your entire body came to life as if his touch was life itself. His soft lips slowly pressed against yours before he opened them enough to take your top lip between his. From there all thought escaped you.

When one of his hands slipped around your waist you moaned unexpectedly. Where had that come from? Your body had no trouble following along. You pressed yourself closer to him relishing the tingles that skirted across your lips and everywhere he touched. Just as you were going to sink your fingers into his braids, Lewis pulled away keeping his forehead to yours.

"Do you want me?"

His voice was low and deep and it wrapped around you pulling you closer to him.

"I-I don’t see how I can have you."

Again Lewis kissed you. This time he delved his tongue into your mouth wrapping it around yours, teasing you to open more for him. When you did it was because you moaned. He took advantage of that opening and kissed you in a way that said he was not letting you go. His moan melded with yours and you felt his other hand tighten as he held your skull. Tearing his lips away, he panted as harshly as you were.

"Do you--want--me? Because I want you Y/N. I want you even knowing the obstacles in our way. I want you more than I have wanted anything in a long time. I want you in ways that surprise me and make me year all at once. I'm not saying this will be a walk through the park. I'm saying I want to walk together with you from this night on. Do you want me too?"

He had to be kidding. Who in their right mind would say no after that? You snorted then laced your fingers together behind his neck thrusting yourself flush against him.

"I want you more than anything. I want you in my life. I want to really run with you though I hate it. I want to go to beaches together and have movie nights truly together. I want to see the same sunrise and sunsets you see. I want to touch your skin like this whenever I want instead of thinking about it. I want to smell you every day. Yes, Lewis. I want you too."

The look in his eyes held you in place as did the tightness of his arms that were now wrapped around your waist holding you possessively against him.

"I can't wait to give you the world Y/N," Lewis said in such a way you knew he meant every word.

"I don't need the world, nor do I want it. I just want you."

His smile was the cutest thing and you knew you'd never get tired of it.

"You have me. Next up...the world."

You smiled then giggled when he lifted you in the air and spun you around. You laughed louder loving the way the sound came from the very depths of you and how authentic it felt. When he put you down you were at the railing looking out to the ocean.

"Started from a DM now we here," Lewis said making you snort.

"Started from a DM soon the whole world will fuckin hear bout it."

Lewis threw his hands up.

"Ayyyy!”

You laughed loudly and soon he joined in. When he wrapped his arms around you again he gazed into your eyes but said no words. Slowly both of you moved closer until your lips softly touched. Neither of you moved. You took the time to savor the feel of your skin connecting in a way your minds and souls already had. A way that he had retaught you, a way that he so patiently and diligently worked for and it all started when he messaged your heart.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

TagList:

@chaneajoyyy @caramara3 @valkryienymph @babyflowa07 @est1887 @halfrican-heat @mauvecherie-writes @nunya7394 @lovebittenbyevans @gardenwonders2 @sweetlikecoffy @dillie60 @ olabelle757 @ophiaedits @kenequa @triton08 @skyesthebomb @shipatheart @keytodespair @xsweetdellzx @labella420 @coldmuffinbanditshoe @ak329 @shar74nett @youremysuperstar @whore-like-behaviour @sonjashuterbugjohnson

@alookintohersoul @asiaaisa77 @jd-now-jq @naturalthrone22 @mrsbarnes-rogers @beyourownkindofbeautiful @beccacupcakesxo @toni9 @wonderlandfandomkingdom @partypoison00 @queenoftheworldisdead @doublesidedscoobysnacks @sophiealiice @richonne4life @coffeebooksandfandom @siempremamita @raveviolet @dumbchick @amennariee @briellableu @leebabe444 @31miw-inkpsycho

@rororo06 @disaster-rose @bugngiz @yourwonderbelle @queenbetter @melaninhawtie @bekindbecoolbeyou @heartfullofgolden @idkiwantchocolatee @missuniee @avngrsfangirl @a-highly-opinionated-mess @19jammmy @nunya7394 @eltima02 @motheroffae @luckydiorxoxo

@majx00 @bbhyuneee @queenanababy @ravenqueen27 @multi-fandom5 @xsweetdellzx @bqueensweet @misswolff @g-l-o-b-e-w-h-o-r-e @blveeeeeee @majx00 @rowansshit @tian-monique @venusesworld @motheroffae

#lewis hamilton #lewis hamilton fanfiction #lewis hamilton fanfic #lewis hamilton imagine #lewis hamilton drabble #message my heart one shot

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accio-victuuri · 3 months

Text

i am basing this post from this video, cause i love me some early cpf stories. imagine being one of those who recognized their potential early on, tho this may not be unusual, cause fans love to pair up celebrities that will visually look good together. like this post in 2016:

Zhan Bo is really a good match... I beg you two in the entertainment industry to get to know each other!

I have to agree that their looks match — who doesn’t want two handsome boys in the same place?

Don’t know how legit the other comments like this next one is but it’s funny how things turned out for them.

It was considered a cult CP at that time, right? Because both of them were ostracized by fans in the group, so the black/melon-eating person made fun of them and gave them CP like this.

A cult CP? lol. and i think what the comment meant was that in their respective groups, they were both the ones who had the most potential to go solo and had a solid fanbase. so maybe there was some ‘group fans’ who didn’t like that. From just a few people who dreamt of them working together and a potential CP, and now here we are. 🤍

this other OP talked about someone already forming a CP between them and some of those fans asked wyb in person if he would like a CP with xz who is in another group. wyb allegedly smiled sweetly and did not reply. OP feels like they knew each other even before their TTXS meeting as well and it’s normal because they are in the same circle.

the cpn of them knowing each other and interacting even before cql casting is not new. i love this “new idea” of them being familiar with who the other is because of this CP between them lol. these two are no stranger to searching their names and i would think they did it more frequently earlier in their career. so when they do, the other person’s name comes up. 😂😂😂😂 then they “meet each other” in ttxs and think oh this is the dude people ship me with. lol

it might explain xz’s answer here in their interview. tho what he mentioned after this statement is the 2017 TTXS episode. maybe he was talking about something more. 🤔🤔🤔

this is all fake. 🫶🏼

EDIT: for those who don’t have the weibo app and couldn’t see the video, or those who are not familiar with how posts look like at weibo or just didn’t notice the details. the 2016 post does not have the two photos of zz and wyb on it. obvs, the one used for GG is during our song which was years later. the text post was obvs cropped, and then the photos below were added by the person who edited the video.

see??? on the left? that’s what i mean by cut off. and then the photos were put on top to give the effect of the two boys, with xz looking cute and wyb with that interested expression on his face. 😏

also on the app, the post linked looks like this. (below) the video + screenshots. the browser version of weibo does not support all the features like the actual app. i hope this makes sense ^^

#yizhan #bjyx #there is no science here i’m just clowning like i always do

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megamindsecretlair · 6 months

Text

Let Me Hold You

Pairing: Tyrone x Virgin!Black!Fem!/ Plus Size reader

Warnings: 18+, Minors DNI, You are in charge of your own reading experience. Intentional use of AAVE. PWP, virginity loss, shy reader, cursing, PIV, oral (fem receiving), dirty talk, praise kink, possession kink if you squint, Soft Tyrone, all consensual. Mentions of religion, God, and Christian-leaning faith. Sorry if I miss any!

Summary: Ask: ...the reader is a virgin church girl, who, finds herself entangled in a predicament when her parents forbid her to be with the charismatic Tyrone. Despite this, the reader has a genuine friendship with him. They have crushes on each other but do not know how to tell each other.

Word Count: 5,803

A/N: Welp. This healed and broke some things in me! LOL. This was a wonderful ask from @notapradagurl7. I'm SO sorry this took forever to get out, I felt so bad. I hope this was worth the wait. Please, please consider commenting and reblogging to help support writers! And please put ages in bios! Or get blockt!

Taglist: @planetblaque @dayjlovesromance @sevikasblackgf @melaninpov @amyhennessyhouse @henneseyhoe @honeyoriginalz @justheretostan @black-fairy3 @superhoeva @jarfulloftears @hereformiles @montysstuffs @westside-rot @blackerthings @blowmymbackout @euphoric05 @miyuhpapayuh @nicolexnight @8ttached @judymfmoody @wakandas-vibranium @soft-persephone @justabovewater20 @mcotton0928 @soapjay @heyauntieeee @theyscreamsannii @mybonafidefeelings @eggnox @honeytoffee @thadelightfulone @tranquilfandomer @kindofaintrovert @l-auteuse @browngirldominion @sunkissedebony97 @lovedlover @issahyland

“And we don’t want you hanging out with that - that boy!” Your father paced the living room floor, his loafers kicking up the delicate fibers.

“What?” You shrieked. Already, fear spiked into your heart. The thought of not seeing Tyrone? It was inconceivable. You looked toward your mother who perched on the end of the plump chair, proper as you please. She kept her eyes on your father. You wouldn’t get any help from her.

“I’m an adult, you can’t ban me from seeing my friends,” you protested. Did he really think he was serious?

“It’s not appropriate for you to spend time with someone like him. If you’re to entertain anyone, there are plenty of nice young men at the church.”

“Malcolm just returned from college to be an engineer. I always knew that boy was smart,” your mother chirped in.

Your eyes darted between your parents. You half expected aliens to burst from their necks. These people were foreign to you. Unique in their united anger for Tyrone, a boy you’ve known your entire life.

“Judge not lest ye be judged,” you quoted. Your mother scoffed and glared at you as if you said you wanted to shake your ass for Satan’s minions. Your father stopped his pacing and gawked at you. Like you were the foreign one. A daughter he didn’t recognize.

“No daughter of mine will hang around someone like that boy. Peddling that poison to people in this community,” your father said.

“That boy has been nothing but nice to us. A boy you watched grow up. A boy you assume is doing dirt,” you countered. What episode of the Twilight Zone was this?

“I have eyes,” your father said. “And I see what’s going on. All the people running in and out of his house, his mother’s house I might add, and bumping that music…”

“I still live at home. Are you going to judge me for that too?” You asked. Your father pressed his lips together.

“It’s different for women,” your mother said as if it were a fact.

You tuned your parents out as they tried to tell you the difference between young men and young women. You didn’t have the heart to listen anymore. Your blood roared in your ears and you stared off into space, trying to calm down.

You stood up suddenly. You needed to be anywhere but here. Looking into their judgemental faces. You made one mistake. Funny how they didn’t take into consideration all of the times you were a “good girl”. How you minded your Ps and Qs your entire life. Never did anything bad. Never wanted to do anything bad.

And now, they wanted to effectively place you under house arrest. Only leaving for school or church. This was not the stone ages. You couldn’t sit here under this oppressive weight. Constantly holding yourself to a higher standard.

What higher standard? Did God really think that oppressing women was the ticket into Heaven? Placing all of these restrictions was the ultimate symbol of propriety? What happened to love thy neighbor?

Your parents called after you, but you kept moving. You’d never defied them. You always deferred to them. They had experiences you didn’t and just wanted you to have a good life. Bullshit. They wanted a little doll to dress up and tote around town.

At the door, you slipped into your flats and left the house. No purse, no phone, no keys. It felt…invigorating. That type of freedom was intoxicating. Your parents’ indignant shouts followed you out of the house but they didn’t come to the door.

You took that opportunity to head down the block towards Tyrone’s house. You hoped he was home. You hadn’t had a chance to check your phone before your parents ambushed you.

His house looked dark for once. There were no cars bunched up in front of the house or thumping music coming from the front door. You ran up the steps and knocked on the metal door.

The cold air caught up to you, edging past the heat of your anger. It could only warm you up so far. There were no sounds coming from the house so you knocked again. It was still earlyish but you didn’t want to be loud and disrespect his mom.

“Yeah,” Tyrone called out sleepily. You suppressed a smile. Just hearing his voice instantly calmed you down.

You heard a series of locks and bolts being undone. Tyrone swung the door open. He called out your name and looked behind you.

“What’s up? We were s’posed to meet?” He asked.

“Can I come in?” You asked.

“Always,” he said. He moved out of the way and let you enter his darkened house. You took in the space and got a chilling sense of loneliness here. You didn’t know why. Tyrone closed the door and locked it.

“I was sleep. Come on,” he said. He took your hand and led you to his room. Inside, the sudden light gave you a tiny ache in your eyes and you rubbed them. Tyrone sat on his bed, leaning one leg up onto the mattress.

You remained standing, suddenly shy. You hated feeling unsettled wherever you went. Even in the company of your friends, you paid attention to everything you said. Were you being weird? Were you not talking enough? It was all incredibly awkward whenever you tried to join the conversation and people had already moved on to the next topic.

“What’s up?” Tyrone asked.

You sighed and recounted everything that happened with your parents. You paced his small but comfy room, poking at random objects on his desk or hanging on his wall. He had wrinkled Lakers posters torn in one corner. You picked at it as you spoke, not wanting to look him in the face while you spoke and ranted and raved about your judgy, overbearing parents.

Tyrone was a great listener. He never interrupted you, he kept his comments to a minimum, and when you were brave enough to look at him, he’d nod for you to continue. So you did. You told him everything, even the part about your parents judging him for his side hustle.

“They don’t want you to see me anymore because of that?” He asked.

You nodded and sat on the bed next to him. “I told them they’re nuts. They can’t ban me from seeing you, I’m not sixteen,” you said.

“You were pretty cute when you were sixteen,” he said.

“Shut up! I’m trying to be serious here!” You pushed his shoulder. He moved as if you were strong, but you knew that he let you. Tyrone had always been an immovable force. He moved through life like it owed him money and he was coming to collect. He had a surety about himself that kept you up all night thinking of him.

Your hand lingered on his bare arms, taking in his large biceps. His navy tank top hung just so, highlighting his broad smooth chest. He wore his signature black basketball shorts and you quickly removed your hand. You should not be having these thoughts about your best friend.

“I’m serious too!” He said and chuckled. He quickly sobered up and glanced at you. “I’d miss you if I couldn’t see you.”

You smiled slowly. “You’d only miss the chips I bring you,” you said.

“Naw, I’d miss you. I’d have to stage a breakout or something,” he said.

You laughed, picturing hopping into Tyrone’s getaway car just to drive a few houses down. Bonnie and Clyde ya’ll were not.

You bumped his shoulder with yours. “There’s nothing that can keep us apart,” you said. You stuck out your pinkie finger. Tyrone looked at it and laughed, shaking his head and licking his lips.

“Really?” He asked.

“Yeah, so you know I’m serious,” you said. You pushed your hand into his chest to urge him to do it with you. He shook his head again and wrapped his pinkie around yours.

“So what you gonna do since they dropped the hammer?” Tyrone asked.

“I don’t know,” you said. You tucked your legs under you, holding down your dress so no one got a free show. You played with the hem. “I wish they’d see me as an individual instead of an extension of their dead hopes and dreams.”

“I feel that. You’re just gonna have to prove that you grown now,” he said with a shrug.

“There��s nothing I can do. They’ll only see me as a goody two shoes who’s always ready with a smile. Like, I don’t have feelings or something? I’d have to rob a bank or have…” You trailed off as the intrusive thought came to you.

You became very interested in your dress as you played with the rolled hem. “Have what?” Tyrone prompted.

You hummed and shrugged. “Lost my train of thought. Point is, I’m tired of living and dying by their own expectations,” you said.

The thought didn’t leave you though. In fact, the more you turned it around in your head, the hotter it got in the room. Your imagination ran away from you, providing images of a naked Tyrone standing over you. Bending you over. Calling you dirty names. You shifted on the bed as the images became a little too vibrant.

You usually indulged in your fantasies late at night, safe and comfortable in your head where no one would know except you. It was harmless to be as nasty as you wanted, getting yourself worked up and needy but ultimately not doing anything about it. Could you imagine trying to order a sex toy and have it sent to the house? Trying to hide the buzz buzz as you got yourself off? It was either the towel on the pillow or your own fingers but once you felt awkward, it was hard to get back into the mood.

“So don’t live by their expectations. What do you wanna do?” He asked.

You glanced at him. He treated it as seriously as possible and that only made your heart melt. He was the bestest friend you could have hoped for, growing up together. But would you always be someone he grew up with? Forced to talk about his conquests over and over and wishing it were you?

You licked your lips and faced him. You sat up straight and looked him in the eyes. Your heart thundered in your chest. You felt the steady beat all over, thumping in your arms and in your head. Now or never.

“What would you say to a crazy idea?” You asked.

Tyrone shifted to allow you more room on the bed. “What kind of crazy idea?” He asked slowly.

You smiled at the mistrust in his voice. You were kind of known for some out of pocket schemes. It was not your fault that Mrs. Edwards came home early that one time. How were you supposed to know?

You lost a bit of your nerve, looking down at your fingers. You gripped your dress hard, your fingers pressing the thin fabric. “What would you say if I asked you to take my virginity?”

You risked a glance at him. He was frozen solid, gaping at you. After a moment, he blew out a breath. “Wait, what?”

“I am tired of doing what people expect of me. Nothing is ever good enough and I never get anything out of the deal. I want something for myself. I want to have sex. I want to have sex with you,” you said.

He tilted his head so you forged on, explaining why you wanted to have sex. “And I know it might be a little weird considering we’re friends but I’m pretty sure you’re not seeing someone right now? Right? Because I’d rather it be with someone I trust, at least the first time…” You rambled. You were rambling and you couldn’t make yourself stop. You heard the words. You said the words. But you couldn’t find a way to disconnect your brain from your mouth. “And you’re totally free to say no. Like, we can totally forget I asked.”

After you crawled into a cave or yeeted yourself off of a cliff, surely you could be around Tyrone and not think of this stupid situation.

You opened your mouth to ramble more because he was just sitting there, but he captured your lips with his. His hands cupped your jaw and pulled you into it, moving your lips against his. Your hands gripped his, but not to push him away. You held him there and kissed him back. Tyrone ran the tip of his tongue to trace around your lips. You gasped and he pulled away, pressing his forehead against yours.

“You have no fuckin’ clue how long I been wanting to do that,” he said, his voice hoarse.

“Wait, what?” You asked. Your head was pleasantly fuzzy. Like you were full of fluffy clouds. “You’ve been wanting to kiss me?”

“Every time I see you. You got kissable lips,” he said. He made his point by kissing you again, humming low in his throat. He pulled away and ran his thumb across your lips. Each pass of his lips on yours or his calloused fingers on you only made your head fuzzier. You squeezed your thighs together, feeling yourself get more and more worked up.

“Why didn’t you ever say? Especially after ninth grade!” There was once upon a time where you two had danced at the high school you attended. You had found a dark-ish corner away from the chaperones and told Tyrone that you’d never been kissed. He had laid one on you, probably not well now that you thought about it, but it had been so precious to you. He ended it by saying, “Now you have”, and walked away.

The memory was always bittersweet. But hell, it was still your first kiss.

“I was a dumb ass kid. I didn’t know how to tell you I liked you more than a friend,” he said.

Warmth spread from the tips of your toes to the top of your head. This lonely torch you’d been holding for Tyrone wasn’t one sided. You looked into his molten brown eyes and smiled, not knowing how to properly process this new information.

In fact, it blew you away that you were here at this moment. Who knew your holier-than-thou parents were good for something?

“And now?” You asked.

Tyrone removed his hands from your face and you missed them instantly. He grabbed one of your hands, pulling it across his lap so that you could cup him. You gasped at the sheer size of him. Despite common myths, you have seen a dick before. But you’d never touched one. Held one. Sucked on one.

Your mouth went dry at the thought. You wanted to suck him, but what if you were bad at it? Your lip rolled in between your teeth and you bit down, wondering the mechanics of it all.

“Well, you did ask me for something huge. Are you sure?” He asked. His voice held a strange, raspy quality to it. You flicked your eyes back to him and he was breathing a little faster. Oh shit, he really did like you. How the hell did you miss it?

“I’m very sure,” you said. You pressed your hand in more, stroking him over his basketball shorts. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Then, he opened them and grinned at you.

“I’ll do it. But I want you to promise me that you’ll tell me if you don’t like something or if you want to stop, okay?”

You nodded. “I promise. I’m a big girl, I can use my words,” you said. Your hands still moved over him and you must’ve been doing something right because his breaths left him in quick bursts. He rubbed his face and gripped his jaw, eyes tightly shut.

“Okay, okay,” he said. He stilled your hand on him and moved it off. “Okay, okay. Virgin. Have you done anything? Gotten eaten out?” He asked.

You sighed and shook your head. “Yeah, I just snuck them up to my room while my dad was busy in the kitchen,” you said.

Tyrone chuckled. “Okay, smart ass. Give me a minute. I’m like…I don’t wanna just jump on you even though I want to,” he said. He stood up and rubbed his hands together, jumping in place.

You giggled. “I thought I was supposed to be the nervous one,” you said. And you were! Your nerves were shot. Your hands trembled thinking of what the hell you were about to get into. You had fantasized it so many times, wondering who it would be. Sometimes wishing it were Tyrone. And while you didn’t think it would be all glitzy like they do in the movies, you did think you’d be married. Or at least in a steady relationship.

As you looked at Tyrone though, you were glad it was with someone you were comfortable with. Someone who took your usual anxiety from 100% to about 65%.

Tyrone smirked. “If you knew the thoughts I be having about you…you might run out that door,” he said. “I’m trying to do this right.”

You reached out and grabbed his hand. “Don’t treat me like some glass doll,” you said. You titled your head and stared him down. “You forgetting I know all your nasty little secrets?”

Tyrone chuckled and squeezed your hand. “Shut up. That’s different. I ain’t care about them, but I do care about you. Don’t ever treat this shit as casual,” he said.

You sucked your teeth. “Not you too. I promise, I’m not going around opening my legs for any man that wants it,” you said. You were about to go on a tirade about how it was your body and your rules. Tyrone shut you up with another kiss, tugging on your bottom lip.

“The thought of anyone else in between your legs makes me angry,” he whispered against your lips.

“Angry?”

He nodded and continued to kiss you, sliding his hands up and down your arms. His warm, big hands chased away any lingering chill from outside. He slowly knelt so that he wasn’t bending at an awkward angle.

His knees sank to the floor and he nestled himself in between your thighs. His hands continued to travel down, squeezing your hips, your outer thighs. Your hands held on to his shoulders, kneading and massaging his back. He moaned into your mouth and a delicious tingle went up your spine.

“Mhm, so don’t say that shit no more,” he said.

“You can’t expect…”

His hands crept closer to your pussy and you ended your sentence on a squeak. Heat rose up your neck and cheek. “Relax,” he said. You took a few deep breaths, nodding, but you were as stiff as a board. Tyrone stopped moving his hand and kept it on your thigh.

“You gotta relax. And let me do this for you,” he said. His thumb pressed into your thigh and your body caved in. He somehow zeroed in on a knot and his thumb worked it out. “Oh fuck,” you said.

“Mhm, you’ll feel better in a minute. But you gotta relax for me,” he said.

Sure, as if you could snap your fingers and relax. Wouldn’t you know it, anxiety was a light switch you could flick on and off at your leisure. Tyrone must’ve seen your thoughts play across your face, because he chuckled.

“Do you have any fuckin’ idea how sexy you are?” He asked.

“What?” You asked. The question caught you off guard. You knew you were gorgeous, you knew you were working with some thick thighs and a pretty tummy. But sexy? Somehow, you missed the memo about sex appeal. You swore that guys could see “virgin” stamped across your forehead.

“Mhm. Whenever you walk out the house in one of these dresses, I just keep picturing how you look underneath. If that pussy nice and pink and wet.” His voice went deeper, harsher, bringing with it dark, carnal promises.

Your thighs tingled. Your hands shook. You bit your bottom lip to keep from moaning like a ho. Tyrone kissed your jaw, then moved up to your ear. “You nice and wet for me? You want me to play with it right?” He asked.

“Yes, yes, play with it,” you said.

Tyrone moved his hand up. Your thighs were burning hot from where they rested against each other. Tyrone nudged you to open your legs. He hummed while he kissed along your ear. “I wonder if you taste as good you feel.”

You dropped your head against him. “You can’t be saying shit like that,” you said.

“Look at you, with your little potty mouth,” he said.

“Shut up, Tyrone!”

He only laughed and finally, blessedly, reached your core. He played with the edges of your panties, seeing the way you squirmed and moaned. He slipped his finger past the material and cursed under his breath.

“Damn, all of that for me? How you gon’ run home to Daddy with panties this soaked?” Tyrone asked.

You stuttered out a response. How were you supposed to form a coherent sentence when his fingers were on you? His fingers glided in between your slick folds, pushing past your pussy lips, and tracing the outside of your clit.

Your eyes bugged out of your head. Your mouth dropped in a tiny little ‘o’ and Tyrone’s eyes narrowed as he took in your expression. He kissed you once, too quickly for your taste, and smirked at you.

“You gotta stop being so damn cute,” he said. “Makes me want to do all kinds of nasty shit to you.”

You moaned, picturing those disgusting things. His thumb rubbed over your clit and you scrunched up your face in pleasure.

How was it that this felt infinitely different and better than when you did it to yourself? He knew exactly what to do, taking cues from your moans and grunts and pretty gasps. You sent up a prayer, thankful that this was with someone experienced. Then again, God probably wasn’t listening right about now.

Tyrone traced slow circles on your clit. You looked through your lashes at his smug face. He knew he was driving you wild. You hissed and jerked when he got to a particularly sensitive spot. “Shh, shh, breathe,” he said.

He held your gaze as you took in deep breaths. Your belly flipped and tightened, the beginning stirrings of something naughty making its way to the surface. Your gaze traveled down. Tyrone’s hand was completely under your dress. It was somehow hotter that you couldn’t see what he was doing to you.

“Oh god, oh god, oh god,” You moaned.

“Mhm, pray to him for mercy. Because you ain’t gettin’ that shit from me,” Tyrone’s raspy voice was like its own arrow of desire. Your thighs shook. Your feet dangled over the side of the bed. Your toes curled.

“Tyrone, please,” you said. You gripped his shoulders. His smooth brown skin shone with its own light.

“Let me take these panties off,” Tyrone said.

“Yes, yes, yes,” you said.

Tyrone stopped rubbing your clit. “No,” you growled. What the hell was he doing? You were so close! Your belly still felt tight, overripe like at any moment you would burst.

Tyrone chuckled and lifted your dress. The fabric drew across your thighs like scorching fire. You hissed. You were on a precipice and any movement would hurt or hinder. You didn’t want to find out which.

Tyrone pushed your dress up to your hips. Then, he grabbed the top of your panties and moved it down. He held you as you lifted up and slipped them off your ass. He smiled. “Never thought I’d get to see you like this,” he said.

“I’m glad it’s you,” you said and smiled.

“I’m glad it’s you,” he said. “Remember to breathe for me.”

He kept your gaze as he pushed your legs over his shoulders. He grabbed your hips and pulled you forward until your ass was half hanging off of the bed. You cried out and he kissed your thighs until you calmed down.

Your heart beat in your pussy. The throb throb throb drove you mad. You were needy. You needed something more, anything more.

Tyrone blew a breath across your wet pussy and you cried out, jerking your hips. Tyrone only locked his arms around you, curling his biceps around your thigh. “Oh fuck,” you moaned.

Tyrone flattened his tongue and licked you from your pussy to your clit and back down again. A choppy moan left you. Your back bowed off of the bed. Your hands gripped the front of your dress. It wasn’t enough to hold so you moved your hands down to grip the bunched up hem.

He ran his nose through your folds. He inhaled. “Smell so fuckin’ good, got damn,” he said. “Pretty ass pussy.”

He then drew his tongue in a slow circle around your clit. Locked as you were, he didn’t leave room for movement. You barely wiggled. Squirmed underneath his sinful tongue. With each new circle, he moved in closer. He tongued you closer to your clit and you whined and moaned and cried.

Your belly tightened once more. A cresting inferno built and built, radiating waves of heat throughout your body.

Somehow, this too was more potent coming from him. Your body jerked out of your control, twitching every which way, as he created magic around your clit. He slurped up your juices. Slurped it loudly and greedily. He tongued it all down, getting his juicy lips wet with your essence.

You spoke in tongues, muttering and chirping. Tyrone’s tongue moved downwards, rimming your entrance and pushing his tongue inside.

“Oh god. Oh fuck. Tyrone, Tyrone,” you moaned. Your hands flexed. You searched for Tyrone’s head, his neat cornrows were going to get messed up tonight. You palmed him anyway, pushing his head into your pussy and started to gyrate on his mouth.

“Mhm, mhm,” he encouraged. “That’s my good girl.”

You came with a loud yell. You could barely breathe. The sounds and words were dragged out of you. A hidden instinct buried in your DNA to say something, to help ride this awe-inducing wave. A flood of pleasure moved through you.

Tyrone held you down through it all. His biceps flexed with your movements back and forth. He still ate you out, flicking his tongue around your nub.

“F-f-f-.” Fuck it, you couldn’t say it.

You flopped onto the bed, spent. You moaned as you twitched and calmed down. Tyrone leaned up. You looked at him. His face was slick across his jaw. A spit chain drooped. He licked his big lips and moaned.

“Ready for this dick?” He asked.

You sniffled and nodded. “Please. Please, I'm so ready,” said.

“You don't’ need a break?” He asked.

“Hell naw. Please,” you said.

He nodded and placed a wet kiss on your thigh. He cleaned off his face on his tank top. He stood up. He grabbed your hands and pulled you into a sitting position. You put your chin on his stomach and looked up at him.

He sighed and rolled his neck. “What I tell you about lookin’ so cute?” He asked.

“I can’t help being cute,” you said.

“Lyin’ ass. Yes, you can,” he said.

You sucked your teeth. “How am I supposed to do that?”

“Ion know. Burp or something,” he said.

You giggled and hugged him around his middle. You grabbed a handful of his ass and squeezed.

“You really have no idea,” he whispered. You grinned.

He stepped back and pulled off his shorts. His dick bobbed twice, standing at attention. He was definitely thick and long and perfect. Your shyness tried to budge back in. Your heartbeat sped up thinking of that getting inside of you.

He twisted and leaned over. You admired his body as his muscles bunched. He was solid, stocky. A thick man with amazing thighs and ass. Cool air blew across your pussy and you bit your lip. Fuck.

He grabbed a condom. Watching him was its own brand of sensual torture. His fingers moved deftly to open the package. He rolled on the condom, pulling the latex over the length of him. He pinched the top.

He stalked closer, running his eyes over you. “Let me take this dress off,” he said.

You smiled and nodded. He helped you pull it off. Your bra went next. “You’re so damn sexy,” he said.

He palmed your breasts, rubbing and pushing them together. He leaned down and brought your nipples into his mouth. He moved between your boobs, suckling and placing that warm mouth around the peaks.

Your legs jerked up. You wrapped them around his waist. His shirt got trapped beneath your legs. He pulled it out and the shirt draped across his chest. His dick brushed against you and you cried out. He was so close to giving you what you needed. Your nails dug into his sides. He ignored you. He played with your nipples until you were a bumbling, squirming mess.

“T-T-Tyrone,” your teeth chattered.

“Mhm, I know. Ready for me?” He asked.

“Yessss,” you moaned.

“Sure?” He asked. He rubbed his dick through your arousal. You soaked him instantly. There was so much on you. The cool air hit across it on your skin. You knew exactly how much of a mess you made. It made you hornier. How did you go through life without this? Without this feeling?

Without this obsession running in your veins. This deep-seated need. This lustful shot of adrenaline threatening to burn your skin off.

Tyrone’s hand wrapped around your hip. His other hand guided his dick towards your entrance. He pushed in and you gasped. He slipped in thanks to how wet you were. But fuck! He filled you completely.

“Breathe,” he commanded. He stopped and moved his shirt out of the way. “You gotta breathe.”

You nodded. He helped you take deep breaths. “That’s right. Be a good girl for me. Good girls get dick,” he cooed.

That should piss you off. But you wanted to be a good girl for him. You wanted to listen and get praised some more.

Your breathing evened out. Tyrone leaned down and kissed you. As he kissed you, he pushed in. Your hand flew to his chest, pushing at him. Fuck. It kind of hurt, but it was a good hurt? You could tolerate him pushing in. You clenched around him and he hissed.

He sank inch by inch into you. He cursed the whole time. “Fuck, feel too good. Feel too good,” he muttered. “Gripping the shit out of me.”

The praise made you moan and you clenched around him. A drop of his sweat fell onto your chest. Your own sweat slick skin pebbled in the cool air.

Tyrone moved out and then pushed back in. The slide in would hurt briefly but then morph into pleasure as you felt him move inside of you. He was deep, stretching you out. Molding your pussy to the curve of his dick.

He began to speed up. He flipped his shirt up and held it in his mouth. He moaned. “Can still smell you,” he said, though his voice was muffled.

Both hands held onto your waist. He moaned as he sank deeper, you welcoming him better. “You okay?” He asked.

“Yuh,” you nodded.

“Sure?”

“Yu-uh,” you moaned. He was doing nothing more vigorous than moving back and forth, but he felt amazing. He filled you up. He hit that deep seat of emptiness inside of you. A place you hadn’t been able to get to on your own.

The feeling brought tears to your eyes. He twisted and brought you down on his dick a little faster. “Ohmygod,” you cried. He reached a spot that made you explode all over him.

You cursed the heavens, you cursed hell. You cursed the world in between. You felt large. Humongous. You felt like you could grab the world with both hands. Power and pleasure suffused you. You moaned out loud, heedless of anyone who could hear.

“Oh fuck, so tight,” Tyrone hips jerked. His fingers dug into your hips. The pressure made you moan. He jerked and thrusted one more time, going as far as he was able, and you felt him pulse inside of you.

You imagined him filling you up with his cum. You moaned as the thought made your pussy throb. Tyrone twitched and panted on top of you. He left you slowly, sliding out in a way that wouldn’t hurt you.

You missed him immediately. He wiped his sweat on his shirt and took off the condom. He tied it and threw it in a nearby trashcan.

“Are you okay?” He asked.

You flopped onto the bed. Looked up at the popcorn ceiling. Were there words to describe how okay you were? How fantastic you felt? “So good,” you murmured.

And you did feel really good. You expected to feel shame after having sex. You’d avoided it for so long, you started to feel like a freak for still being a virgin at your big age. But you didn’t. You were mostly sore. You were going to feel this in the morning and right now, you couldn’t care less.

Tyrone left for a moment and you just focused on your breathing. On trying to recapture that euphoric feeling of that orgasm. Chasing after it like the wayward string of a balloon.

He returned and placed a warm cloth against your pussy. You hissed at the unexpected sensation. He cooed at you while he cleaned you up. You smiled at him. “You didn’t have to,” you said.

“Yeah, I did. I was raised to clean up after myself,” he said.

You rolled your eyes. He left once more, getting rid of the washcloth. He took off his shirt and hopped into bed with you, pulling you chest to chest. He rubbed your back and looked into your eyes.

“You’re so cute,” he said.

“You are,” you said. You bumped his nose.

“How you really feelin’?” He asked.

“Honestly? I feel really good. Sore, but tired.”

“Would you want to do it again?” He asked.

“Hell yes! Are you kidding? There’s so much I want to try,” you said.

Tyrone laughed, shaking his head. He pecked you on the lips. He moaned and then pressed in for longer, licking your bottom lip and rolling it between his teeth.

“Mm, does that mean I can get back in that pretty pussy?” He asked.

You caressed his cheek. Running your thumb across his supple skin. “That’s exactly what that means.”

&&&

Psst, there's more! The Secret Tyrone Files

#Megaminds Secret Files #The Secret Tyrone Files #They Cloned Tyrone smut #They Cloned Tyrone fanfic #They Cloned Tyrone fan fic #They Cloned Tyrone fanfiction #They Cloned Tyrone fan fiction #Tyrone x Black!reader #Tyrone x Black reader #Tyrone x Fem!reader #Tyrone x Fem reader #Tyrone x Virgin!reader #Tyrone x Virigin reader #Tyrone x plus sized reader #Tyrone x reader #x Black reader #Tyrone x you #Megaminds asks #Megaminds requests

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onyourowndaisymae · 1 year

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Yoo I have two request which I’ll send the other one separately but I am in an ANGSTY mood rn sooo yah also been binging ur headcanons and stuffs and I just love the way you write ?? It’s so entertaining lol

AnywY the actual request: can you write like a one shot or headcanons if you prefer of mc who is struggling after the belphie incident ?? Like they feel like they’ve mostly forgiven him and can act normally around him and they’re friends and take naps together but sometimes the flash back just HITS THEM and they have nightmares and panic attacks that can be so bad sometimes someone needs to get Simeon to calm them down. Maybe something of how the brothers react/treat mc and belphie? Idk I’m just thirsting for like MEGA ANGST rn bc my dad made me cry little bit lmao 😭

it comes at night

hello anon! i'm terribly sorry you're in such an angsty mood, though i thank you for all the love-- and for sending this request right as these ideas were on the front of my mind. it genuinely makes me so happy to see people enjoying my work, and it makes all the writer's block and such worth it. i cannot express enough how much i love seeing all the comments, reblogs, etc. as people engage with my work.

anyways. i'm not sure how i feel about this piece, especially with how LONG it ended up being, but maybe that's just my mushy brain talking after looking at it too long. regardless-- i hope you enjoy (well, y'know, in like a sad and angsty way).

synopsis: you thought you would be able to move on like all the others. your body was healed, your anxiety tucked neatly behind a mental wall built to keep you safe. yet something in you was stuck. you couldn't just move on. you were trapped in a battle between your friendship with belphegor and the fear gnawing at your brain as you remembered what exactly he did to you. when the dam finally breaks, your whole brain floods with terror, until you're swept away with it. nobody can save you now.

genre: angst, no happy end, just a big ol spoonful of sadness

word count: ~3.1k

content warnings: chapter 16 spoilers, graphic(?) discussions of death, depictions of panic attacks, nightmares, mc progressively getting worse from fear + lack of sleep

it's funny how time works.

you'd been around your fair share of years. you’d grown, you’d changed, you’d spent your entire life looking toward the future you had planned. then you, a mere human, were yanked into an unfamiliar world. you spent an entire year in the devildom– a year that simultaneously dragged on and flew by– and came out the other side a new person. a single year in the devildom has changed you more than the human realm has your entire life. time was a mischievous thing, always leaving you chasing behind in a fruitless pursuit of something you’ll never quite understand.

but, she also brings blessings with her. they say that time heals all wounds. you've always agreed with that sentiment. scraped knees and adolescent broken hearts are swept away with the passing days, trailing further and further behind you until one day you forget to look back and remember them. the pain scribbled down on diary pages or cried into pillow cases no longer stings like a fresh burn. these things are nothing but scars now. time has a special way of patching you up, of rubbing your back until the tears clear up and you can finally see again. that is how it's always been.

where is time when you need it?

she hasn't quite abandoned you, this much is true. cuts and bruises heal over the passing days. your hair and nails still grow. your body still changes, slowly but surely, marching onwards week after week. yet your mind is trapped in stasis. you struggle to break free, but at times the rot consumes you whole, until you’re crying under the covers and begging from respite from the memories.

on the worst nights, you find yourself in the attic again, watching the door between you and belphegor swing open. you watch yourself march towards death.

you can still feel his hands around your neck, digging his claws into your fragile human skin like you're made of sand. the scent of blood-- your own blood, on the floors, on the walls, leaking from your torso and staining your clothes a permanent maroon-- still clings to the inside of your nose. even your wildest dreams could not erase the sight of his smug grin, the way his eyes lit up looking at your battered body.

no one person should have to carry the weight of realizing they're going to die. that's what you thought about when your body hit the bottom of the stairs, when belphegor tossed you down from the attic with a harsh laugh and punted your limp body into the entrance hall. you thought about how unfair this all was. you were just trying to help. you thought you were doing the right thing.

one of the worst parts of your untimely demise was watching the others react. the voices pool together in your head, like the colors of the rainbow twisting together on the surface of an oil spill. asmo's panicked shriek blends into satan's angry shouts, desperate to understand what's going on. lucifer's yelling almost drowns out the fearful cries coming from levi, held back by a very silent beel.

but above all of that, you remember mammon. your first man, the first demon who took a chance on the defenseless little human, rushing to your side and gathering you in his arms like you were about to break. his hand on the side of your face, the tears streaming down his face, the shaky, desperate voice assuring you that you'll be okay and begging you to hang on, okay? please don't leave me. you can't remember if he was shaking or if it was your body's last ditch effort to stay conscious-- maybe both. your trembling fingers intertwined with his. words came out of your mouth, and you're not sure what exactly you said, but he only cried harder in response.

and then, as your eyes shut for the final time, you woke at the bottom of the attic stairs. you had cheated death.

your price? you had to carry the memories.

the world kept spinning. days passed in the devildom. you returned to school, kept on top of your homework, spent your days in the house of lamentation alongside the seven demon brothers. you even got to know belphegor as he navigated his return home. he quickly grew fond of you. that, in and of itself, was jarring. but you returned each and every smile with one of your own. his actions were rooted in his own grief for his sister, you knew, and for that you could not fault him. you helped him repair the severed relationships between him and his elder siblings, stitching the family back together like a prized quilt until the seams of betrayal were sufficiently hidden.

time is a traitorous bitch. why did she choose now to leave your wounds bare and bleeding?

everyone moved on but you. everyone got to wake up in the mornings without a nagging anxiety holding them back. the others could hang out with belphegor day in and day out without a growing feeling of dread popping up when you think you're safe.

he killed you. he was grieving. your blood drenched the entryway floors as he laughed. he has grown. you watched the light leave mammon's eyes as you slipped away. belphie has been nothing but kind to you since that day. you fucking died.

you wish your mind could pick a side. did you forgive him, or did you resent him? was he your friend, or your killer? these answers evaded you in the dead of night as you struggled to sleep again. it was becoming more common for you to lose hours of rest to these nagging fears. who are you? are you even you anymore? did the switch in timelines scatter your atoms across countless universes, leaving the you that looks back at you in the mirror nothing more than a hollow shell?

you thought that you could keep your mind on a tight leash, keep your cards close to your chest as you continued to live with the brothers. you were wrong.

the first meltdown came during a nap with belphie. you had grown to trust him-- you thought you trusted him-- enough to sleep around him. he'd coax you every so often into an afternoon nap. always in the light of day, always your choice. and for many afternoons, you were perfectly content with this arrangement. belphie was warm and cuddly, a perfect companion for a lazy afternoon. he had this way of making you feel safe as you slept-- the nightmares couldn't come when he was snuggled up next to you, when you were sure his actions were ones of affection and not another trick to gain your trust.

one afternoon, while the sun was beginning to set, you stirred under the warmth of the blankets. the body next to yours lingered close, steady breaths lulling you back to dreamland. you could stay like this forever, you thought.

and then you felt it. the gentle graze of a familiar cow tail against your skin.

something inside of you, a dam you didn't even know was there, snapped. a hot flash of panic rose up your throat as your whole body jerked away from the feeling. your eyes shot open and you found yourself in the last place you needed to be right now: the attic. you pulled yourself out of bed before your brain could catch up. colors flashed across your vision as a consequence. you whipped around, disoriented and upset, and spotted a sleeping belphie in the bed where you once were.

a sleeping, demon belphie.

the familiar curve of his horns made your throat spasm as you tried to breathe. the colors flashed in your vision again-- oh god, what a terrible time to be left defenseless-- as your brain tried to drag you back to that day. you could practically see his face shift from relief to malicious, insidious joy as he began to attack you.

"hehe... does it hurt? finding it hard to breathe? i'm sure it must be very unpleasant."

please. please no.

" i have to say, seeing a human face twisted in pain like this... why, it's so much fun that i can barely stand it! i... i can't contain the laughter!"

you weren't quite sure when you hit the ground, but it was loud enough to wake belphegor from his slumber. he peeled his body off the mattress, slow and dazed, as he looked for you.

"mc? what're you... what's going on?"

please don't. this can't be happening.

your lungs collapsed from the weight of your own panic. you gasped-- once, twice, as your vision went in and out. were you bleeding? your hand loosely brushed at the front of your clothes, but couldn't process whether that was blood or your vivid imagination. were you even breathing? your head felt light and heavy at the same time. the wires in your brain were all crossed, sending both resuscitation and shutdown signals to each part of your body. this feeling... this was too familiar.

were you dying?

"mc, what's going on?"

you came face to face with belphegor. your friend, your killer. the demon who had lured you up to this very attic to kill you, now gripping your shoulders as interrogated you inches from your face.

you screamed. you screamed until your brain shut off completely, leaving you in an inky pit of darkness as your consciousness slipped away.

the house was in disarray for several days. apparently, lucifer came in shortly after you passed out, mammon at his heels, to save the day. you woke up later in his bed, the room cold and empty, with a throbbing head and a tear stained pillow. you stumbled out into his office to find him at his desk, lost in some paperwork like always. the solemn look he gave you as your eyes met told you everything you needed to know.

from this day forth, your fear was now your constant companion.

nobody in the house of lamentation knew how to move forward. not you, not the brothers, not the widening gap growing between you all with each passing day spent in emotional limbo. finally, lucifer called everyone to a family meeting where, over the course of an hour or two, everyone came to an agreement to acknowledge what had happened and why, promised to be mindful of this trauma that you're carrying, and move forward like you requested.

silent days slowly but surely filled back up with laughter again. the brothers came back to your side at their own pace-- asmo first, within a matter of hours, then mammon shortly after, then the others in the following days.

belphegor was the last to come around. his silence spoke volumes about his guilt. he had no clue how to comfort you. he'd do anything to repent for his actions. yet that was the way that life worked, didn't it? some actions simply cannot be undone.

but you didn't let that stop you. despite the panic that closed your throat every time you saw him for the next month, you slowly earned his friendship again. you assured him that the attic incident was a one time thing, the remnants of a lost nightmare blending into your consciousness as you awoke.

until it wasn't a one time thing.

the nightmares crept up on you. the first one happened, of course, that same night, as you thrashed and wept into lucifer's pillows. then a week later, another. a week and a half after that, another. the frequency eventually became higher and higher, until you started planning your sleep schedule (or lack thereof) around your new insomniac tendencies. but even you couldn't manage to stay awake forever.

on a bad night, you'd wake up in tears, crying weakly to yourself as you tried to coax yourself back to bed. on worse nights, you'd shoot up out of bed, limbs tingling in fear, opting to spend the rest of the night in the common room until the others woke for the day. on the worst night, you finally broke. you shattered worse than you could have imagined.

you finally collapsed into bed, body shutting down after a three days of minimal sleep. you were starting to get shaky from the lack of rest, and your lack of appetite was upsetting the others. you crawled under the covers and let your brain slip out of your hands and off to dreamland.

what a fool you were to think you'd get by without nightmares.

visions of demonic teeth tearing at your flesh filled your head. you tried to run away, tried desperately to wake yourself up, but their claws sunk into your flesh. the pain was vivid, was real. memories of your death lived underneath your skin, ready to resurface in the dark of night when there was no escape. you fought back as best you could, kicking and screaming and trying to run, but you were no match for the supernatural strength of your demons. you eventually gave in, an act of learned helplessness, and surrendered yourself to your worst nightmares.

you woke up choking on your own tears. heaving, gasping breaths tried to save you, mixing with coughs as your body struggled to hang on. the tears finally gave way to the memories-- hot blood dripping from your torso, screaming faces begging you to stay, your head going fuzzy as your vision followed--and your screams escaped without a fight.

a mixed cacophony of voices came flooding in the room. you'd be touched by the gesture, seeking comfort in the arms of your dearest friends, if your brain hadn't reminded you that they were demons as well. nightmarish beasts with fangs and claws, predators built to rip your soft flesh from your bones and leave you to die like roadkill.

you felt a hand on your shoulder. who's was it? you could not tell. your first and only instinct was to scream for mercy, hot tears streaming down your face as mammon's hurt expression moved back out of your line of sight. your chest heaved with effort. it felt like your whole body was caving in on itself. you didn't even realize you were shaking as you curled your body into a ball. your side hit the mattress with a pathetic thud and you wept, bitter and fearful, as a panic attack kept you trapped in its grip.

you don't know how long you stayed curled up like that, wordless cries echoing from your room and into the hallway, but eventually the sound of approaching footsteps caught enough of your attention to forget the panic, even if just for a moment.

"hey, it's okay," a familiar, comforting voice approached, cutting through the fear like a moonlight on a stormy night. "mc, it's me, it's simeon. it's going to be okay."

you felt the bed shift under the weight of someone sitting down, and you blindly threw your body at the person before checking to see if it was really him. it took you a few moments to raise your head, and when you did, you saw him: simeon, your angel, blue eyes full of worry as he met your gaze.

you cried in his arms until you fell into a fitful, dreamless sleep.

the next morning was miserable, to say the least. breakfast was tense. they all watched you like a hawk, like you were a powder keg about to explode with one wrong move. you couldn't blame them. you were afraid of your own emotions, and on some level, you were afraid of them. your trauma was making you afraid of the very people you cared about the most. these brothers had welcomed you into their home, took care of you as you adjusted to life in the devildom, and yet you couldn't hold eye contact without breaking in to a cold sweat.

the only person who did not watch you was belphegor. he was nowhere to be found during breakfast, nor dinner, nor breakfast the following day. you tried to seek him out, but somehow the avatar of sloth had become a skilled sneak in his silence.

you finally caught him alone on day four of radio silence. you both had stayed home without realizing the other had also skipped school that day-- you, from the lack of sleep eating at your brain, and belphegor, with his usual routine of missing class to nap at the house of lamentation. he was curled up on the couch in the common room, basking in the warmth of the fireplace in his slumber. you decided to wait for him to wake up. you sat down on the couch opposite of the one where he rested and watched him, quietly, like he'd disappear if you dared to blink.

creepy? yes. but your brain was long ruined by sleep deprivation and gnawing anxiety to worry about such trivial things.

when he finally stirred, you gently called belphegor's name. he took a moment to finally look at the source of the voice, but when he did, his body froze as the two of you made eye contact. a few moments passed in silence. finally, he sat up and began to make a move to leave.

"wait."

he stopped, but his gaze did not meet yours. you rose from your seat and joined him on the couch. the youngest pulled his legs in, twisting his body into a defensive little ball, and countered your next sentence before you could even open your mouth.

"you shouldn't be here with me."

"i think i'm old enough to make decisions for myself."

he shifted uncomfortably in the silence. you spoke again.

"i miss you. and i'm sorry."

he scoffed to himself and stared at the fireplace. "don't know why you think you should be apologizing to me. i'm the one that's the problem."

"you're not a problem, belphie. i never meant to make you feel like one."

every hair on your body stood on end. your hands trembled against your wishes, so you sat on them to stay focused. you had to do this. you had to keep moving forward.

"i hurt you, mc. you're afraid i'm going to do it again."

you sighed-- it came out more shaky than you would have liked-- and looked down. how had it come to this? how had someone you'd grown to hold so dear become a stranger again?

"i don't want to stop being friends. i don't like when you avoid me."

"you still get nightmares, don't you?"

you pause. his icy gaze on the side of your head sent you into a cold sweat.

you smiled-- it felt more like a grimace, personally-- and prayed it didn't come across insincere. your fingers carefully intertwined with his. he met your gaze. you were thankful he couldn't see the way your chest tightened when you made eye contact.

"i'm okay, belphie," you lied.

this fear was going to be the death of you.

#i cannot tell if this is good or not i've looked at it for hours #ask answer #obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me swd #obey me writing #obey me fanfic #obey me angst #obey me brothers #obey me belphie #obey me belphegor #obey me chapter 16 spoilers #otome

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