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#there are no words to express how disappointed i am in myself

thevillainswhore · 4 months

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New Tricks: Celestial Heavens

Pairing: Virgin!Bucky Barnes x F!Reader

Word Count: 9.4k

Summary: Life couldn’t seem any better — your life long crush, and the football star of your fantasies is now your boyfriend, and your relationship is running smoothly. It’s a dream come true. But when Bucky admits he’s ready to take things to the next level, you’re anxious to make sure losing his virginity is an experience he won’t forget — for all the right reasons.

Which means, a first date is in order.

A night beneath the stars brings the two of you closer together, where emotions run high and confessions sit on the tips of tongues.

Warnings: College AU, Smut, kissing, grinding, dirty talk, praise, reassurance, fluff, fluff and more fluff, pet names, swearing, teasing, first dates, Bucky is a smooth little shit, cute astronomy puns.

Author’s Note: Happy Valentine’s Day my loves 🥰 here is the highly requested part two for New Tricks 🥹 the support I have received for part one has been so overwhelming and I want to thank all of you who expressed your love 😭

Beta and divider graphic credits go to @rookthorne - I can’t thank you enough for spending hours of your time helping me bring this AU to life, you’re incredible — this one is for you ❤️

I hope this follow on lives up to your expectations and does our favourite college babies justice. Once again, from the bottom of my heart, thank you. Happy reading my lovelies 💜

New Tricks Masterlist 🌼🐾

New Tricks Playlist 🎵

‼️ Small disclaimer ‼️- while I have done some research, I in no way consider myself to be an astronomy expert. If any of the facts or information I have included are wrong, I apologise profusely.

Standing outside of your brother’s apartment, you hum a tune to yourself while waiting for the door to open.

The impulse to knock again after only a moment of waiting is overwhelming and your impatience begins to wane. You grip the canvas strap of your tote bag which is full to the brim with notepads and books, when the door suddenly swings open to admit you.

“Hey–! Oh, it’s you.” Disappointment sours your tone upon seeing Steve in the doorway. You push past his broad frame and enter his apartment to look for the true reason you are there, paying no mind to the scoff that falls from his lips.

“Yes, hello sis. So good to see you, too!” Steve stays by the door, unmoving and starts conversing with himself. “How am I? I’m great, thanks for asking—how about you? Come on in, we’ll have a drink.”

You shake your head, huffing a laugh while you scold him playfully, “Oh hush, Stevie, don’t be so butthurt.” From down the hallway, you see a light casting shadows along the floor — the source coming from a slither of an open door. A flicker of red hair disappears around the door frame. “Huh,” you muse, a smirk dancing on your lips. “You should know by now I’m not here for you. Where is he?”

Steve sighs. “He’s–”

“Buttercup!” Bucky’s shout from his bedroom interrupts Steve, and it snaps your focus towards the direction of his voice. “Baby!”

The heavy thud of his rapid footsteps echoes down the hallway towards the living room, where you currently stand waiting for him, and you can’t help but giggle with amusement at his excitement.

He appears in a blur, skidding into the room with grace akin to a drunken swan — a pink blush dusts over his cheekbones and the boyish charm of his eager smile makes your stomach flutter. His Adam’s apple bobs up and down when he swallows, and he covertly attempts to catch his breath from the sudden burst of excitement.

“–There,” Steve finishes, lamely.

The bright, pretty smile on Bucky’s lips and how his eyes grow wide when he sees you makes you feel like you’re floating on cloud nine. “Hi, Buttercup,” he breathes, and the pure innocence of his greeting melts your heart.

You can’t help but copy his smile as you make your way towards him, where he positively vibrates in place. “Hi to you too, handsome.” The cotton of his shirt is soft under your palms, and you meet his lips with a small kiss. The brush of his plush lips against yours makes you sigh against his mouth, and his hands sneak around your waist to grip your hips, keeping you in place against his chest.

He wasn’t going to let you sneak away with just the one kiss — he never does.

A more insistent press from his lips makes you part your own, and he runs his tongue over your bottom lip.

“Guys,” Steve whines, “Get a fucking room — I don’t want to see that shit!”

The effort to pull away from Bucky’s lips is beyond tolerable, but you refuse to turn and look at Steve as you say, “Sorry, bro,” with little to no remorse for his fragile disposition as the older brother. Bucky does not tear his focus from you, rather, his lips quirk in a playful smirk at your snark.

Unbeknownst to you and behind your back, your brother’s mouth upturns in a smile; the two most important people in his life finally together and so sickeningly in love.

As of a few weeks ago, Bucky and you started officially dating after a shy, whispered question during the late Sunday morning of your first weekend together.

Bucky’s small, timid question of what the two of you were once he dragged you back to bed — after the clean-up from a spilled gift basket in his haste — set the butterflies in your stomach aflame.

Of course, there was no other answer but to rid the doubt in his mind and reassure him.

From then on, the two of you lived in your own bubble of bliss. You, over the moon to finally be with your long-time crush; Bucky, unbelieving of the reality that he has and is deserving of the girl of his dreams, who loves and nurtures all aspects of him.

The only way to describe you both during this honeymoon phase is inseparable — spending every single spare moment through college life with one another.

But no matter how badly you wanted to be with him, and spend more time staring at his handsome features, your art finals were also crucial business — as was keeping Bucky’s GPA intact. The scholarship he revered depended on it.

Steve’s voice brings you from the torrent of memories and back to the present where Bucky held you fast against his chest still. “Yeah, yeah, whatever.”

You reach around Bucky’s neck and twirl your fingers through his hair before whispering loud enough for only him to hear, “Ready to go, Puppy?”

The red flush of his cheeks and the part of his lips has you trying to hide the satisfied smirk that threatens to pull at the corner of your mouth — his new nickname borne from a quick-witted quip you thought nothing of, truly is one of your greatest accomplishments to date.

You remember it perfectly.

Bucky leaned against the headboard, his lips in a full pout, and arms crossed tightly across his chest. The bare expanse of skin was shadowed by the low light of your bedside lamp. “No,” he grumbled, furrowing his brows with his sudden, foul mood.

“Bucky— come on, we have to eat something,” you reiterated for the umpteenth time.

“No.” The dramatics of his brooding had you struggling to rein your laughter in.

“We’ve been cuddling for three hours,” you insisted, deciding to reason with the stubborn idiot. “I literally heard your stomach rumble an hour ago. You need food.”

Bucky sulked. “No. Only need you.”

“Oh my god,” you giggled, “you look like a kicked puppy, Bucky.”

There was a deep, impatient huff, and then he stared at you, an expression of longing covering his features. It only exaggerated his puppy eyes.

A bright idea came to you then, the comparison may just be what you needed to make the boy move… “Here, boy,” you called, patting your thigh with one hand and snapping your fingers with the other. “Come on, who’s a good boy? Huh? You want a treat, baby? Do you wanna be a good pup for me?”

Bucky’s reaction was more than you could have ever hoped for — his entire body became deathly still for a moment, then his arms slackened to fall onto the bed and a deep flush of blotchy red trailed up from his chest and up to his neck.

You would have been worried about overstepping if you hadn’t spotted the dazed, glassy look in his eyes, darkening the cerulean to an Aegean blue.

Bucky liked it.

The praise, humiliation, spliced with a pinch of demand — the entirely accidental recipe for how to break him.

Ever since then, Bucky’s new nickname causes the most visceral reaction he so desperately tries to hide, with very little success. The quiet hitch of his breath has you trying to keep your composure, and if only to tease him a little more, you wink at him.

In the present, he chokes on a sharp intake of breath and coughs.

There’s a quiet, short bout of laughter behind you from Steve, but you focus on Bucky while he catches his breath, still beet red. “You ready to go, Buck?” you repeat, squeezing the back of his neck.

The rapid semblance of composure did nothing to hide the effect your words have. He blows out a breath, and stutters a determinedly stoic, “Y–yeah— almost, just gotta— um— run and g–get my jacket.”

You hum and bump your nose against his before stepping back to let him breathe, “Okay, Buck. I’ll be waiting by the door.”

Bucky wastes no time in spinning around before taking off like a shot down the hallway towards his bedroom. As he disappears, you chuckle to yourself and wonder how embarrassed he will be when he realises that he is already wearing a hoodie.

“You’re wicked.” Steve stands with his arms crossed and a raised eyebrow. But by the small smirk upturning his lips, you know he’s just as entertained with Bucky’s fumbling than you are. “He’s so whipped.”

Before you have a chance to retort, a honeyed, feminine voice calls from your brother’s room. “Steve, stop hounding your sister and leave her be! You promised me a foot rub.”

“Oh?” It's your turn to cock your eyebrow, and you watch, all too righteously, while his cheeks turn bright red. “Remind me who’s the whipped one again, hm?”

Steve flounders in place, his mouth opening and closing while he searches for the words to no doubt put you back in your place, but another voice beats him to it by calling out to you from the hallway. “Flower, you have no idea! Last week I got him to–”

“Okay! That’s enough of that,” Steve interrupts, quick to shut down the reveal before it knew the light of day. He stalks down the hallway towards his bedroom, and as he goes, he yells over his shoulder at you, “Enjoy your time with Buck, sis, please don’t break him, we’ve got training tomorrow. Love ya — see you next week!”

The door slams shut just as Bucky appears around the corner, clad in both a hoodie and a jacket, and his eyes dart everywhere around the room but at you. The realisation must have hit him, and he was far too stubborn to come back empty handed.

Decidedly, you don’t question him on it. Instead, you hold your hand out to him and say, “Come on, handsome, we’ve got some studying to do.”

And just like that, Bucky’s face lights up and he bounces towards you to interlace his fingers with yours. He follows you with ease while you lead him out his apartment to the elevator, the doors opening for you instantly for the both of you to step in.

The floor numbers descend on the screen, and a companionable, comfortable silence floats in the air. Until you turn to the side when you feel the stare of your boyfriend.

Bucky’s blue eyes shine brightly while he looks you up and down, taking you in once more, and your heart flutters against your chest with the soft smile pulling at his lips. “You look beautiful today,” he whispers, a line of worship that makes your stomach flip. While holding your gaze, he lifts your hand up to his mouth and places a kiss to the back of it.

If the heart eyes from the cartoons were real, then your boyfriend takes the gold.

You barely fight the urge to squeal out loud with the show of heartfelt adoration. “Thank you, baby.”

The elevator doors open with a swoosh as you reach the ground floor. Squeezing his hand gently, you begin to lead him out the lift and towards the exit. “Let’s get going — we gotta make sure you ace this test.”

In the beginning, it took a while to process that you were Bucky’s girlfriend — an ease unlike any other helped you both fit together so seamlessly, as though you had been dating for far longer.

That same ease also makes itself known in your shared sexual compatibility.

Ever since that fateful movie night back in Steve and Bucky’s apartment, the two of you went no further than making out at every opportunity that presents itself (or that you make) and grinding against each other until you both came — though it didn’t stop you both from doing it a lot.

Sex for the first time is a big deal. Bucky’s admission of still being a virgin, and his comfort being your priority, you take every old and new venture into pleasure at his pace. But your hesitance is met with an unprecedented hunger that leaves you breathless with need, every single time.

Bucky’s eagerness to feel you against him, the heat of your bodies intermingling as best they can between the layers of clothing always made him feral with want, and each time he ventures closer, further than he did before in his exploration of your body, it grows with such passion it scorches your skin.

You were going to wait on his signal no matter how long it took. But a few signs were telling you, however, that Bucky wants it.

Recently, your boyfriend has been a little more desperate, more so than usual.

His whines and whimpers turn from breathy and high, to deep, animalistic sounds that send shivers up your spine. Bucky was already putty in the palm of your hands at the best of times, and to witness him let go of his inhibitions was addicting — you wanted more of him, and you have the inclination that he longs for the same.

And although the both of you swore to one another that you would head to the campus library to focus on your studies, somewhere along the way, your feet took you straight back to your dorm room and into your bedroom.

Your giggles and sighs echo off the walls, along with the rustling sound of your bed covers. “That tickles!”

Bucky, the clever, sly boy he is, figured out far too quickly where the sensitive spots on your neck are. “‘M sorry, baby,” he whispers against your neck, his breath hot and fanning over the delicate skin. His sweet, tender kisses start to turn heated — more passionate and intense as his hands begin to wander over your body.

“Fuck,” Bucky breathes against the curve of your jaw. “You smell so good, Buttercup — could jus’ eat you up.”

You softly moan in reply. The sudden hunger in his tone makes a shiver run down your spine and settle heavily between your thighs.

“C’mere,” he growls, and he rolls his body over yours, forcing you to lay flat against the mattress. You quickly wrap your legs around his waist as he trails sloppy kisses from the curve of your mouth and down the slope of your neck. “Atta girl, good girl.”

The feel of his lips against your skin makes your eyes flutter closed, and it’s entirely impossible to withhold your upper body rising with the arch of your back, pushing your covered breast up against his chest.

You can’t help but think of how confident Bucky has grown in such little time — his boldness only adding fuel to the fire.

Bucky firmly grips your waist in his hands with a thready moan, and he slowly, torturously inches them up towards the bottom of your tits. You feel the brush from the tips of his thumbs through the fabric of your bra and shirt, the pressure of them indescribable.

“God, you’re so fuckin’ pretty.” He squeezes his eyes shut as he tests a roll of his hips into you. The high moan that tumbles from your lips jolts him, and he thrusts forward with a small, disjointed groan — the heavenly pleasure of grinding his cock against your clothed cunt almost too much for him to bear. “Feel so good, Bee — holy fuck.”

You grin up at him, squeezing your knees against his hips. Another thing Bucky grew confident in: being vocal in the bedroom. His litany of curses and range of vocabulary comes to life if he loses himself enough; bold in his actions, he takes charge more and it leaves you a wreck every single damn time.

“Gotta keep going, baby,” he pants into the juncture of your neck and shoulder, “don’t make me stop, please don’t make me stop.” The desperation in his voice is as addicting as the pleasure he so freely gives, and you moan loudly to the ceiling. His pure, feral need to take what he wants only sends you closer to the edge. “Fuck–”

Your whines and pleas for more mix with his deep grunts on every grind into you. “Bucky, don't you dare stop,” you gasp, grabbing at his shoulders and wrinkling his shirt in your grip. “Oh my god, please don’t stop.”

“Not gonna stop,” he promises as he pants against your neck. “Not gonna stop till you fuckin’ cum for me, Buttercup.”

You grab onto the back of his thighs, forcing him to rock against you faster. Harder.

Bucky’s whimpers only serve to drive you crazier and with wild abandon, you buck your hips to meet his thrusts. “So close, baby. Almost there— oh, fuck,” you cry.

Bucky bites the skin of your neck, causing you to gasp loudly and moan.

“Fuck, doll,” he groans, and he swallows your whines with frenzied need, his tongue laving over yours. The harsh pants for air when he pulls back to speak send you into a whimpering mess. “Drivin’ me crazy, Bee. Need you so bad, you got no idea—”

“Keep going, please, keep going!”

“—Gotta have you,” he grunts. “Need these fuckin’ clothes off — wanna see your perfect body.”

It’s hopeless to keep your moans at bay. His ferocity has you on the edge and your thighs shake as you balance on the precipice. “Gonna— gonna cum.” You tangle your fingers into his damp hair and pull. “Bucky, baby—”

“I know, pretty girl,” Bucky coos. “I’ll get you there, don’t worry—”

“Please, please, please!” you frantically beg. The knot in your stomach is wound tight; the fast rhythm of Bucky’s thrusts pushing it to the point of shattering.

With a slight shift in angle of Bucky’s hips, the tip of his cock rubs against your swollen clit through your leggings, and you scream from the sheer ecstasy that flows through your veins with your climax. “Cumming! I’m cumming— oh my god, I’m cumming!”

Bucky’s hips falter, and he chokes out a raspy moan, “Fuck!”

The shattering of built-up tension rushes over the two of you; harsh moans fall from Bucky’s parted lips while he rides out his high, his hips continuing to grind against you.

It all falls on deaf ears while fire still runs through your veins.

“Holy shit,” Bucky whispers, finally slowing down his breathing and stopping the faltering, aborted thrusts of his hips. The growing wet patch that stains the crotch of his sweatpants no longer makes his cheeks flush with shame.

Quiet whimpers and gasps for breath leave you unable to speak, to utter just how wrecked you feel beneath him.

“Holy fuck,” Bucky repeats, and he gently rests his lower half against yours while carefully keeping his upper body propped up on his elbows. “That was–” Hot breaths fan over your lips as he rests his forehead against yours. “So fuckin’ good.”

You laugh breathily and squeeze his shoulders, the press of your fingertips meeting hard, strong muscle.

It’s a peaceful moment; a serene bliss you only find in the comfort of Bucky’s arms. It feels right to be cocooned in his warmth — your boyfriend always making you feel safe.

“You’re so beautiful,” Bucky says softly, placing a quick kiss to your nose, then a lingering, passionate one on your lips. “I can’t– fuck, can’t believe you’re mine.”

You smile brightly up at him, lost for words, and with a tired huff, he rolls off of your body to lay beside you. Your chests rise and fall in a soothing sense of synchronisation.

The slow drain of adrenaline from your body erupts in a sudden fit of giggles.

Bucky blinks, then smiles hesitantly, a confused quirk of his lips. “What’s so funny, Buttercup?”

“I just–” You bite your lip in an attempt to stop your laughter so you’re able to respond to him. “Sorry– it’s just a little crazy to me how you’re not as shy as you used to be.” A teasing smirk pulls at your lips. “You’ve gone a little rogue, Pup.”

Heat creeps up Bucky’s neck and covers his cheeks with an adorable red flush. Even if your man has gained a lot of confidence, he will never be able to rid the bashful puppy inside of him.

“I should be worried,” you tease. “You’re giving me a run for my money.”

“Right, that’s it.” Bucky suddenly shoots up and climbs over you, pinning you in place with his hips and thighs. One of his hands snakes up your arm, then the other, and you shiver with the ghost of sensation, only, he smirks. “I’ve got you now.”

Your wrists are suddenly together, unable to move from the top of the bed and in the grip of his hand. “Hey–!”

There’s a wicked, playful glint in his darkening eyes as he looks down at you. “You’ll learn, Bee, that I’m not a man to be teased.” The hand he has free begins to flit over your ticklish spots.

“Bucky,” You warn as you nervously chuckle, trying to edge away from his touch. “Don’t you even think about it.”

That doesn’t deter him though. He runs the tips of his fingers, a feather light touch, underneath your tank top. “Oh, no– no, no,” he tuts. “I have the upper hand now, baby.”

“No!” you loudly squeal, trying to kick your feet to dislodge the weight of Bucky’s athletic build over your lower half, but it’s of no use.

You burst into an uncontrollable fit of laughter — tears start streaming down your cheeks while your boyfriend watches in cruel amusement above you. “Where did all that fighting talk from earlier go, huh, Buttercup? Where did it go?”

“Okay, okay! I– I lose, you w–win!”

With a satisfied sigh, Bucky yields and lets go of your wrists to bring one hand down to your waist, closely following with the other as he starts to gently stroke the exposed skin of your middle.

“You’re too easy, baby,” he chuckles, fondness bursting over his features.

“Yeah, well,” you sigh in defeat. “You played dirty. Best believe I’ll get you back, big guy.”

A comfortable silence stretches between you both while you breathe heavily and close your eyes against the exhaustion overtaking your limbs. The rush of endorphins and all manner of happiness still flowing through your veins.

Until, “Did I go too far?” Bucky asks suddenly, his voice timid, small.

The tone of his question indicates a sense of duality — he’s not just asking only about the tickle fight.

You open your eyes to the view of his long hair hiding the two of you from the world; your room obscured by the curtain of it. The bright, shining blue of his irises steals your breath with the depth of emotion swimming in them — keeping you firmly within the bubble the two of you created in your passion.

“Oh, Bucky,” you whisper soothingly, bringing your hand up to cup his cheek — the soft strands of his hair against your fingertips sends an unprompted shiver down your spine. You move your hand from his cheek so your index finger could press against his nose, then up to smooth over the furrow between his brows. “Not at all, handsome.” An effortless smile pulls at your lips, one that he hesitantly returns. “It was perfect, I promise.”

Though he doesn’t seem to settle. Something is on his mind, that was obvious — his tells are easy to decipher from the time you spent studying his expressions. When he is unsure, hesitant, the tip of his tongue runs over his bottom lip; when anxious, his shoulders hunch inwards in an attempt to make himself smaller.

Bucky swallows thickly.

You frown. “Are you okay, Puppy?”

The soft lilt of your voice soothes his worries, and he takes a deep breath before responding with a wavering, “I think I’m ready.”

The implication of such a comment makes your eyes widen slightly — while the possibilities are endless for what he could possibly be referring to, you’re almost certain you understand exactly what he means.

As though he suddenly realises how it could be interpreted, he barely whispers, “I w–wanna have— have sex.” There’s a slight tremble in his voice despite his courage to confess.

You blink once, twice, hesitating only for a second before opening your mouth to reply, to question him, but Bucky rushes to add, “With you.”

It’s your turn to swallow — despite the harsh dryness coating your throat. In the past, you had partners, summer flings. Few stayed, and even fewer were worth the trials and effort of a proper relationship. And through those couplings, sex became something that didn’t faze you.

With Bucky it feels different.

The connection is far more meaningful to you than any casual hookup from a club, and to know he is in a space where he is comfortable enough to place such vulnerability in the palms of your hands… It is not lost on you, the importance of his choice.

You look deep into his eyes while you seek his full consent — if only just to quell the doubt that swells within yourself. “You’re sure about this?”

“One hundred percent,” Bucky confidently assures. “I want all of you, Buttercup. And I wanna give you all of me.”

Fuck, you curse to yourself. You didn’t deserve him.

You nod, then say, “Alright, baby.” Bucky grins at you, and this time you rush to add, “Let me do this properly though, okay? I want to take you out; treat you like you deserve.”

A sudden sheepishness clouds his expression, and his eyes dart downwards to your lips while he licks his own. “Mhm,” he mumbles quietly, “Y–You can do that if— if you like.”

You take both of his cheeks in your hands, and you tilt his head up to place a soft, loving kiss to his swollen lips. When he makes direct eye contact with you, you whisper against his mouth, “You deserve the world, Pup — nothing less. So yes, I would love to.”

The night of the long anticipated date night arrived faster than you realise — after classes, study sessions, and accompanying Nat to the boy’s football training to cheer them on, time flew by in a blur.

As much as Bucky begged you for a scrap of a hint or clue for what you planned, you kept it under tight wraps; a lock and key that will not budge for even the sweetest of pleas.

It hasn’t been an easy task to stay strong against his wide, puppy eyes — on more than one occasion, you almost let slip. But with severe determination, you successfully keep it a secret.

And by god are you proud of yourself for such an achievement.

You know for sure that Bucky is going to enjoy himself tonight — every last stop pulled, and with the help from your brother for the venue, you feel confident in the plan.

That is, until you smooth over the invisible wrinkles of your dress for the umpteenth time while you make your way down the hallway towards their apartment, your stomach roiling with anxiety of the unknown. Will Bucky truly like it? What if he hates it–?

A hand with perfectly manicured, blood red nails grabs yours, and pulls your fidgeting fingers away from the seam of stitching to the pockets of your dress. “Babe, please stop panicking.” Natasha’s soothing tone brings you back down to earth. “You look incredible — Bucky isn’t going to know what hit him.”

After hearing of your plans from your brother, she was quick to offer her help with your makeup and hair, which you graciously and gratefully took her up on. You were desperate for some feminine support, and Nat came in the form of an angel sent from the heavens.

The way she worked her magic left you unable to believe it was you staring back at yourself in the mirror; hair flawlessly styled and makeup ethereal. A shaky sigh escapes you. “You really think so?”

All in all, as you walk down the hallway to the door that hides your date from view, arm in arm with your guardian angel, there is not one reason for why you are so anxious — though the pressure you place on yourself to make sure this date is perfect is among one of the chief suspects.

You meant, wholeheartedly, what you told Bucky before — he deserves the world, and you crave to hand it to him. “I mean–”

“Listen to me,” Nat says fiercely as she steps in front of you, blocking your path to the door of the apartment and stopping you in your tracks. Her hands grip your arms, tethering you to reality. “I know for a fact that boy is going to positively die when he sees you.”

The tension releases from your body with her comforting words, but Nat still goes above and beyond to bring you out of your spiral. “Hell, if I wasn’t already with your brother, I'd have snatched you up myself.”

You can’t help the small smile that quirks your lips for her instilled confidence, and she winks.

You’re grateful that Steve has found someone so genuine who you easily get along with. Natasha is a beautiful woman both inside and out, faultlessly honest and loyal — traits that are hard to find in a person, yet here she is, extending her help with little thought or expectation of it being returned.

“Thank you,” you murmur, trying to convey how much you appreciate her. “Y–You didn’t have to do all of this.”

“Maybe not.” Her hair bounces as she shrugs. “But us girls gotta stick together — especially now that we’ve got two helmet heads stuck to our back.”

“Come on.” Her arm hooks around yours, and she pulls you along. “Let’s go get your boy.”

Before you can blink, you are standing outside your brother’s apartment, and with a deep breath and moral support of the redhead on your arm, you bring your closed fist up to the wood. “Here we go.” Three, firm knocks ring through the silence, and you step back to wait.

The anticipation doesn't last very long at all before the door swings inwards with a flourish.

Steve stands in the entryway, his back turned towards you while he shouts into his apartment. “Hurry your ass up, Buck–!” You lightly switch your weight between your feet, waiting for him to turn around. “They’re at the door!”

There’s a clattering bang and more curses from inside the apartment, when Steve finally turns around to greet you. “There’s my favourite girls—” He freezes in place, mouth slack from shock, and his eyes trail up and down your body. ��Flower,” he gasps in awe. “Oh sis, you look so beautiful.”

The sincerity in his words immediately brings tears to your eyes, and Nat hisses at her boyfriend, “Hey, don’t ruin her makeup!”

“I’m sorry,” Steve says slowly, still taking you in. “I just– you’re so fucking beautiful. Look at you.”

Nat hums happily while her hand rubs your shoulder. “Isn’t she? I said Bucky’s going to die when he sees her.”

“Guys,” You whine, the hot flush of embarrassment leaves you feeling utterly flustered.

Steve ignores you though, readily agreeing with his girlfriend as he opens the door wider to let you both enter. “She’s right, Flower. It suits you perfectly.”

A surge of giddiness hits you — after a time of intense deliberation of your wardrobe, you chose one of your favourite sundresses to wear for the special night, a spaghetti strap in a soft, cornflower blue. A small surprise and homage to someone special. “Thanks Stevie, I really appreciate–”

“Okay, okay, wait–” Bucky rounds the corner from the hallway as he enters the living room, interrupting you. “What about this one?”

The cufflinks on his navy blue button-up steal his whole attention, while his long, chocolate hair conceals you from his view. He struggles fastening the cuffs with the subtle shake of his fingers, and you can almost hear his inner frustration when he huffs an annoyed breath, blowing strands of hair from his face. “Dammit, I swear–”

You stand there with thin lips to contain your laughter while waiting for him to look up.

“Steve?” Bucky asks frustratedly after he doesn’t receive an immediate response. “Do you think Buttercup will like this outfit or not–” His head tilts upwards, hair falling either side of his handsome face that is painted with exasperation at being ignored, and his words falter.

Blue eyes widen in surprise to find you standing there next to his best friend.

“Oh– fuck,” Bucky gasps, and his jaw slackens with the gravity of your presence; truly awe stricken by the sight of your opulent outfit and appearance. His Adam’s apple bobs as he gulps uselessly around his inability to speak.

The click of your shoes against the floorboards doesn’t snap him out of his daze let alone register in his mind, so deep in his fixation of you.

You take the chance to admire his appearance.

The navy, button-up shirt clings to his broad shoulders, accentuating the definition of the muscles all the way down to his forearms, and with each movement, the material tightens sinfully. The top few buttons of his shirt are left undone — a choice you’re most thankful for because of the tease of his bare chest. Black slacks fit snug to his hips and grip his thick thighs.

On any normal day, when Bucky wasn’t out in the field in his football gear, he normally stuck to his casual clothing of an old t-shirt and sweatpants — comfort over presentability, not that you ever complain about the sight of him in sweats. But this is the first time you’ve ever seen him remotely dressed up.

You walk towards him and grab his hands with yours, stopping his absentminded fidgeting — gravity keeping him routed in place.

“I think you’re absolutely gorgeous, Bucky,” you say, gazing into his eyes while you wonder how lucky you are to hold his attention in a room of his favourite people. “If that answers your question.”

“My god, Bee,” he whispers, finally able to give a voice to the flock of thoughts circling his mind. “You look stunning, baby — ethereal.” He laughs, a little deliriously. “You’re kinda killing me here.” His large hands encircle yours, bringing them up to hold against his chest.

There’s so much emotion in his eyes as they dart over your figure like there’s not enough time in the world for him to take you in.

“Give us a spin!” Nat calls into the charged air while she clings onto Steve’s arm, who watches on teary eyed.

Bucky takes one of your hands and lifts it into the air, encouraging you to twirl. The skirt of your dress fans out around your thighs, and you can’t help but grin wide as your boyfriend whistles low. “You're a goddamn dream, Buttercup.”

He guides you back into his hold, before gently gripping your chin between his thumb and pointer finger to bump his nose against yours. “And all mine.”

The way Bucky’s stare burrows deep into your soul and makes a home where he rightfully belongs — it takes everything you have to not blurt out the three words residing on the tip of your tongue, but something has you biting your lip against the impulse.

Instead of declaring aloud what your mind and heart feel, you settle with another truth, “And you, Bucky Barnes, are a sight for sore eyes.”

A dusting of pink spreads high over his cheeks, and you take pride in being able to fluster him so easily — your adorable Pup would never lose his bashfulness.

“What did I tell you, honey?” Natasha bumps her hips against Steve’s as she snickers into her hand. “He’s practically drooling over her.”

You join in with their laughter while Bucky pulls you close and buries himself into your neck, even more flustered from the insistent teasing, and he grumbles low into your ear, “Great, now there’s two of them.”

Leaning back to better look at his flushed face, you assure him, “I think you’re adorable, baby.”

His eyes twinkle with a spark only you could ever bring out of him. “I’m excited for the night, Bee,” Bucky declares, honest and sweet.

“Me too, handsome,” you readily agree while you step back, the small hops of uncontainable excitement making Steve and Nat chuckle. “Are we all set to leave?”

“Oh!” Nat cries, “Before you forget—” She slips out of Steve’s hold and rushes into the kitchen, coming back a second later with a wicker basket full of food, the very same that she insisted on when she first found out about your date. With a wink, she hands it to you. “You can’t leave without this.”

“You’re an angel,” you praise, walking towards her and holding your arms wide for a hug. She readily accepts it and kisses you on the cheek. “Thank you so much for this.”

Just as you step back from her embrace to grab her offering, Bucky swoops in and grabs the basket before you can even touch the wicker handle. “Hey! Excuse me, Barnes,” you scold, frowning at him. “I am more than capable of carrying that.”

“I know,” Bucky teases while he walks backwards towards the apartment door, a devilish grin on his lips. “But I don’t care for a picnic basket gettin’ in the way and ruinin’ the view of my girl in a pretty dress.”

Your jaw drops from his suave words, and you stand there, flustered as you watch his retreating form. Without looking, he opens the door with his free hand and bids farewell to his best friend with a nod, then he smiles at Nat.

Bucky then looks to you. The flick of his hair as he nods towards the hallway pulls you from the reverie. “Come on, beautiful. The night is young; the possibilities endless.”

Where the hell has he gotten his silver tongue from? your mind questions.

“He’s gotten too smooth for his own good,” Steve comments as though he read your mind, a smirk playing on his lips.

“You don’t say,” you reply easily. To get to the door, you walk past your brother, and he slips a folded piece of paper into your hand while Bucky is walking into the hallway, his back turned. “I’ll be back tomorrow.”

Steve grins. “Have fun, Flower — you deserve this.” Naturally, it wouldn’t be a traditional sibling farewell without a departing shout of, “And make sure you wear protection, shithead!”

The Brooklyn streets are aglow from the overhead lights while the moon creeps up the horizon, watching over you and Bucky holding hands. He blindly follows you towards your best kept secret.

“Let me get this straight.” Bucky swings your arm with his gently. “You’re telling me I can’t have any clues about where you’re taking me?”

“Nope,” you respond, staying strong to your oath of silence. “We’re a couple of blocks away, you dummy. You’re going to find out in five minutes — be patient, I know it’s hard.”

“C’mon, Bee,” Bucky begs. “You don’t wanna put a poor man out of his misery?” He lightly tugs on your intertwined hands to spin you into his chest.

“Hey–” You look up at him to find his eyes hooded with barely restrained lust.

“I almost died already after seeing you in that dress for the first time, and now you’re torturing me, I have to watch you walk in front of me in the damned thing.”

Oh, you laugh to yourself. He’s really turning the charm up.

“Puppy,” you whisper breathily, intentionally running a hand down his chest. The action and your touch makes Bucky shudder. “Believe me when I say I could make you do a lot worse.”

A deep flush of red paints his cheeks and spreads blotchily down his neck, and his breath hitches when you cup his jaw in your palm. “Be good for me, and be patient,” you warn, the fan of your breath over his lips only worsening his flustered state. “I promise the wait will be worth it.”

“Y–Yeah, okay–” He clears his throat and sets you back onto your feet, though he does not release your hand.

A flash of mischief darkens his eyes when you pull him onwards, and you look over your shoulder at him when he says, “Yes ma’am.”

That is something you could get used to hearing. “Atta boy.”

The rest of the walk is quiet but calm — a mutual contentment stretching between the two of you where words aren’t needed.

You know that around the next street corner lay your surprise, and Bucky still has no idea what is in store — the piece of paper that Steve gave you begins to burn a hole in your dress pocket.

The exclamation of surprise that falls from Bucky’s lips when he lays eyes on the museum makes all the effort worth it, though it grows to a state of clear confusion from the furrowing of his brows. “Wait, it’s late — isn’t it closed?”

“Come on,” you say in reply, and instead of going to the main entrance, you lead Bucky towards an alleyway where Steve told you the back entrance for staff is situated.

The crinkle of paper is louder than the cheering crowd at a football game, and you grip the invaluable information as you near the locked door. Steve’s offering rings in your mind: It will get you into the main foyer, from there, you’re gonna need to get sneaky.

Bucky’s hand squeezes yours in an attempt to get your attention. “Bee?”

You’re too homed in on the memory of Steve talking to you about your plan — one of their teammates works within the museum, and he was able to pull a few strings and call in a couple of favours for the gold mine in your hand.

You determinedly walk towards the keypad built into the wall next to the door and unfold the note. In the process, you let Bucky’s hand go — you instantly feel the loss of connection.

“Um— Buttercup,” he chuckles nervously, glancing over his shoulders to spot any onlookers. “I think this is classified as illegal trespassing right now.”

“I mean,” you say, then you stick your tongue between your teeth as you work the six-digit code from the piece of paper to the keypad. The low tone press of each digit covers up the shuffle of feet behind you. “Bucky, it’s okay — it’s safe.”

“But–” He hesitates when the mechanism clicks to signify it's open.

You look at him and suddenly grasp the idea that he is anxious — his football scholarship and prospective future could be ripped away from him within the hour should the two of you get caught by the authorities.

“Hey, hey, we’re good — no one’s gonna catch us, I swear,” you assure. Though he still looks on edge. You don’t want Bucky to feel apprehensive for the sake of his headspace or the rest of the evening, and your only option is to offer him your most sincere form of faith. You hold out your hand, palm up. “We’re gonna be okay. Trust me?”

There’s a small, nervous twitch of a smile on his lips, and then, finally, his tense shoulders and posture relax as he steps forward and sets his hand into yours with an ease that shocks you, only strengthening the solid connection you have.

“Come on.” Bucky follows behind you, a slight laugh on his breath as you all but run into the museum.

Different eras of evolution pass by in a flash; hundreds of exhibits dedicated to all corners of the world go ignored in lieu of taking Bucky to one place that, normally, was not an easy area to walk through and explore, given how popular the exhibit is.

By the time you reach the doors hidden behind a set of double, velvet curtains, you’re out of breath. “O—kay,” you pant, hands on your hips as you slightly bend forward. “We’re — we’re here.”

Your boyfriend, the teasing bastard he is, chuckles while he extends a hand to your shoulder, “Are you okay?”

The bastard hasn’t even broken a sweat.

“Fine — I’m fine,” you gasp, and you gesture at the curtains. “Come on, I can’t hold it in any longer–” The heels of your shoes click over the floor, and you push aside the curtains to reveal the door — only then do you turn around and smile at Bucky. “Here we go.”

The doors fly open with a flourish and reveal a domed planetarium with the signage above a giant moon: A Journey Through The Stars.

It is a coveted event within the science community, and only after you hear of it through whispers in the halls of your dorms and classes did you realise it was perfect.

Darkness cloaks and envelopes the two of you as you step inside — Bucky moving slowly in his daze of amazement. On strings and platforms above and lining the dome ceiling are twinkling lights and stars, the only source of lumination to show the wonderment in his cerulean blues.

You watch from a distance with bated breath while Bucky stares to the ceiling, mouth agape, taking in the moving three-dimensional hologram above him and everything it has to offer.

The galaxy, with its swirls of pinks, purples, and blues among millions of stars, are brought to life before his very eyes. Planets thousands of times bigger than the two of you cross and circle one another above your heads, closer than either of you could have ever thought possible, and yet, still only just out of reach — the concept achieves the impossible.

In the end, you realise as you stare at Bucky, your heart swelling with the love that courses through you, that you have gone beyond the very goal you were desperate to attain; to give Bucky Barnes the world.

He spins on the spot, eyes bright with a childlike awe you have only ever seen on the mornings you've woken up in his arms. The glow of the celestial wonders captures in that second, a memory that will last forever — the sight of your man, the centre of your world, underneath the stars.

Ever so slowly, Bucky delicately brings his gaze back down to earth, and notices the distance between the two of you. His voice echoes across the room, off of the planets and stars as he asks with a waver in his voice, “H–How did you know?”

You smile. “That you’re kind of an astronomy nerd?”

Bucky only nods his head, still at a loss for words. Strands of his neatly tucked hair fall over his eyes, and you take a deep breath and steady your own voice. “Do you remember our first movie night with Stevie and Nat?”

There is a small hum of acknowledgement from deep in his throat.

“Well,” you continue, “I remember the two of them were arguing, it took them ages to settle on a film choice. I was beginning to lose my tether.” The recollection of the memory — their voices and banter make you chuckle. “Anyway, a trailer came up on the TV for an upcoming film about an astronaut getting stuck in space — the Martian, maybe? I’m not too sure.”

He is purely focused on you as you speak, and you begin to recall your favourite part of the memory with a fond smile, ignoring the slight lump in your throat from the overwhelming flood of fondness and adoration. “But I watched– I watched as your head snapped up instantly. You were enamoured, Bucky — I’ve never seen you so hooked into anything more in my life.”

Time freezes as Bucky stands there, unmoving and speechless. The lack of reaction from him makes your stomach twist with nerves, and you rush to fill the silence, rambling on, “Then I noticed the smaller things. Your stack of astronomy books on your nightstand, the NASA merch I find when I steal one of your sweaters.” A small laugh escapes then at his incredulous expression. “And so, I went out on a whim, piecing everything together, and I– well, I thought I should try my chances.”

“You really—” Bucky swallows the lump stuck in his throat. “You noticed all of that?”

“Of course I did, Bucky,” you tell him with reverence. “How could I not notice something you’re in love with?” The colours of the night sky shimmer over his face and over the sheen in his eyes as he stares at you. Hesitantly, you ask, “D–Do you like it?”

“Do I like it?” He repeats, huffing a breath. “Do I– do I like it–?”

There’s a thud as the basket he was holding falls to the floor, and you gasp while he storms towards you and picks you up around your waist to spin you around in the air.

His grin is wide while you squeal with shock. “Damn right I like it!” he shouts with pride. “My girl is the fucking best!”

“Ah–! Bucky!” The skirt of your dress flutters over your thighs as you hold onto his shoulders.

He whoops and yells his happiness, and after a few rotations, he carefully places you back down onto the floor, only he doesn’t stop his persistent touch — kisses scatter over your face, never lingering in one place for more than a second.

“You’re — so — amazing.” His lips move downwards from your face to your jaw, then your neck. “Can’t — believe — you’re — actually — mine.”

The ache in your stomach flutters from your laughter, though you are on cloud nine and find it difficult to care when the boy you’ve had a crush on for so long is kissing your face like there is no tomorrow.

Eventually, Bucky begins to calm down, settling his forehead against yours while wrapping his hands around your waist. “This means everything to me, Buttercup.” He grants you a slow, final kiss to your lips. “Thank you.”

“You are more than welcome, sweet boy.” You move closer into his chest and peck him on the lips. “Now let’s have that picnic.”

The two of you sit under the largest planet, and you dive into the contents of the picnic basket to find Natasha has packed a whole range of finger foods from sandwiches, mini cakes, to strawberries and grapes. A small bottle of your favourite drink is tucked into the side of the basket, next to two glasses.

After a toast, “To what the universe has planned for us,” you both bask in one another’s company — two tiny specks of the universe coming together as one.

You listen intently as Bucky excitedly rambles about the different planets, as well as his love for Mars in particular. The gesticulation and smile on his face is priceless, and you only wish you had thought to bring a camera.

Bucky continues endlessly — listing interesting facts about each planet and star he knew, and he goes into detail about any active NASA projects or upcoming ones he’s been keeping track of.

Not only is he an avid storyteller, he makes sure to involve you in the conversation, engaging you with silly questions on whether you believe in other life out there, and any of your thoughts you have about historical space ventures.

It is easy to fall into step with his passion, and you know that you could stare all night as his whole face lights up, especially his eyes, while he talks about something he thought no one noticed before.

But you did.

The highlight is when Bucky begins to talk about star constellations — his love and adoration surpassing that of anything you had heard from him before.

He sits behind you, legs resting either side of your body while he holds you to his chest with one arm, the other pointing up towards the dome ceiling. “You see that one there, Bee?” There’s a cluster of twinkling stars in the direction of his gesture. “The large rectangle one — that’s Orion.”

The soothing rumble of his voice against your back is remedying — home.

“It’s also known as Orion The Hunter,” Bucky explains further. “A Greek name, but its true origin is believed to come from the ancient times of Babylon.”

“It’s beautiful, Bucky,” You sigh happily. The cluster and the whole of the night’s sky is truly beautiful — once they were just a pattern of lights in the sky to you, now they hold far more meaning.

“Yeah,” your boyfriend agrees. You don’t see how his eyes flicker down to you, rather, you only feel his cheeks rising in a smile. “It is.” He clears his throat. “The constellation includes two of the brightest stars in the sky.”

“Really?” You hunch forward a little to look upwards.

“Mhm,” Bucky confirms with a hum.

With a huff of effort, you push yourself up onto your feet, and walk closer to the constellation until you are directly underneath the pattern of stars. It’s with a new appreciation you stare up at the twinkling lights that you didn’t have before — admiring the complexity of the placement but the simple beauty of it.

The reflection from the dome ceiling illuminates onto your skin, tattooing patterns of a realm that will never be discovered for its full existence.

Bucky, however, focuses entirely on you — his girl, in a reality the two of you once never thought possible.

A shuffling of feet comes from next to you, and Bucky stands and makes his way towards you. He places both of his hands onto your cheeks to tilt your head back down, to be back in the present with him. “Maybe not the brightest. But that’s okay, because that one is only meant for me anyway.”

It’s sudden, but it consumes you whole — mind, body, and soul — of the realisation that Bucky Barnes is the love of your life.

You fight the tears threatening to bubble to the surface, though it’s futile — a few escape and trail down your cheeks to collect on Bucky’s thumbs. Those three pesky words fight to spill from your heart and out into the open, to hang in the closing distance between Bucky and you.

But somehow, it doesn’t seem like the right time. A fragile moment that while you know could truly never break, uttering those words feels like it will shatter the last of your resolve.

And so, you save them; sealing your mouth closed with a sworn promise to let them go soon.

Seconds go by as you collect yourself, and then you manage in a choked voice, “My, my — What have you done with my Bucky?”

“He’s still here,” Bucky vows. “You just make me so dizzy — so goddamn fuckin’ dizzy — that I’ll spill whatever comes to mind.”

That makes two of you.

You place your hands over his, still encapsulating your face. “Well, you certainly know how to make a girl swoon, handsome.”

His lips turn upwards in a lopsided grin that shows a slither of his pearly whites. “I would find a way to pull the moon out of the sky if you asked me to, Buttercup.”

There is no doubt in your heart over that — Bucky would go to the ends of the earth for you. But you didn’t need that, you have everything you could wish for already in the palm of your hands. “Lucky for you, I’ll only ask for a dance underneath it.”

Bucky’s lopsided grin turns into a thousand-watt smile, as bright as the stars above you both. “Now that is something I can make happen.”

There’s no music, no beat for the two of you to follow, but that doesn't stop Bucky from gathering you closer to his chest — his arms cross over your back to pull you flush with his front.

You turn your head to the side and lay your cheek against him, wrapping your arms around his neck to better hold him.

The steady rhythm of his heart guides the steps to your dance, the slow sway side to side of your bodies. You feel the brush of his lips at your temple, then he mutters something under his breath; a barely there string of unintelligible words that do nothing but add to the peace of the moment.

Bucky sighs and hugs you tighter.

The night is only just beginning.

Part Three

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nicolinocolino · 20 days

Text

@wolfstarmicrofic | May prompt #3: love confession | word count: 882

“I dare us—“

Remus’s stomach swoops.

“—to drink this,” Sirius punctuates by setting a delicate glass vial of clear liquid onto the table between them.

“Veritaserum?” Remus asks. Dizziness overtakes him.

A spontaneous game of truth or dare in the Gryffindor common room ended moments ago with Lily daring James to go to bed. It earned laughs all around, although James took it as a euphemism instead of his right cue to leave her alone. It left him with a mouth hexed shut.

Now, with the stragglers headed to their dorms, Sirius and Remus are the only two left.

Sirius looks smug. “Brewed it myself.”

“Why?”

“Just to see if I could.”

They lock eyes with a long, dangerously charged glare.

“Okay,” Remus agrees, his rare Gryffindor courage taking over.

Sirius throws him a wicked grin that has him second guessing.

Remus drinks the potion first, just a sip to coat his tongue, then passes it to Sirius who does not break eye contact when pressing the vial to his lips.

“Is it working?” Sirius asks.

“Yes.” The truth leaves Remus immediately. This will be tricky.

Sirius leans forward, elbows on his knees, chin in his hands. Ringed fingers cradle his face. “You go first,” he decides.

Remus swallows. He’s strung up like a kite. “All right. Truth or dare?”

“Truth.”

“Why did you really brew the Veritaserum?”

“To move this along.” Sirius waves his hand dramatically in the air between them.

“This?”

“Us.”

Remus notices the first hitch he thinks he’s ever seen in Sirius Black’s throat, as if Sirius himself is startled by how reckless the truth feels coming up with no control.

“Truth or dare?” Sirius continues before Remus can respond.

“Dare,” Remus chooses, afraid.

“Really?” Sirius questions him. He sounds annoyed. “Fine then. I dare you to kiss me.”

The space between them shrinks. Sirius, on the opposite couch, still has his chin in his hands. His smile is sly and his movements coltish, like he knows exactly what he’s doing. Having fun, even.

Remus does not move.

“What? Don’t want to?”

“No, I want to,” Remus confesses, then groans. “Don’t do that, Pads.”

“Do what?”

“Cheat.”

Sirius rolls his eyes. “Are you going to play or not, Moony?”

Remus stands up, crosses the distance, and sits next to Sirius on the opposite couch. He can feel his heart beat behind his teeth it’s so fervid; his hand shakes as he gently cups Sirius’s cheek. It’s difficult to think of anything more anxiety inducing than the moments before his transformation every full moon, but this comes awfully close.

“Well, Moons?” Sirius repeats in a whisper. His grey eyes bounce between Remus’s, wide and hopeful.

“Yes, I’ll play.” Remus tucks a strand of Sirius’s hair behind his ear and leans in.

Their lips barely meet before Sirius responds with earnest, smile blooming. Remus’s fingers drift back to comb through curls, tugging slightly. It’s rapacious. Sirius gasps and laughs. Remus can’t do this for much longer before the point of no return will ruin him forever.

“Truth or dare?” Remus pants, pulling away with a wild expression.

“Truth,” Sirius chooses. His lips are shiny, eyes dark. Remus wants to devour him.

“Am I a good kisser?”

“Yes. That was the best kiss of my life.”

Remus has to put some space between them soon before that point of no return opens up like a black chasm and becomes an inescapable void. He gets up quickly, awkwardly, and goes back to the opposite couch. The fire in the fireplace gives a sharp, crackled pop.

Sirius looks disappointed, rejected, almost angry. “Truth or dare?” He snaps.

“Dare,” Remus chooses again.

Sirius sets his jaw tight, exasperated. “I dare you to tell me how you really feel about me.”

Remus takes a deep breath. “I’m in love with you,” he whispers, the truth ringing in his ears after he says it. He hides his hot face in his hands and lets out a strangled, muffled scream. “You clever git. That’s cheating. Merlin, you really are bold tonight.” He risks a peek through his fingers at Sirius opposite him. Face unreadable, the weak flames of the fireplace dancing golden and scarlet across his face.

“Now ask me,” Sirius says softly.

“What?”

“Ask me,” he repeats. “The same.”

“Truth or dare?”

“Truth.”

Remus hesitates. “How do you really feel about me?”

“I’m in love with you too,” Sirius is saying, already halfway off the couch, approaching Remus, tucking in next to him on his knees and grabbing his face with force, kissing him for the second time that night.

Love and hunger and relief and joy. And a little bit of panic. They pull at each other, kiss like they can’t get enough.

Remus breaks away. “For how long?” Veritaserum still coursing through them, he will milk the powerful truth potion for all it’s worth.

Sirius does not let their lips be apart for very long. “Moons,” he says through an open mouth. “It’s been all year.”

Remus melts.

“And you?” Sirius continues. “How long?”

“I don’t know. I don’t remember,” Remus confesses.

Sirius slides a hand down Remus’s chest. He feels how heavy and quick it beats under his palm.

“It’s been so long, I don’t remember,” Remus repeats.

It must be the truth.

#don’t get used to this 🫣#sirius black #remus lupin #wolfstar #marauders #the marauders #wolfstar fic #wolfstar microfic #remus x sirius #*#i’m aware veritaserum truth or dare is probably overdone but this wouldn’t get out of my head

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jungkookschin · 28 days

Text

older part 3

think i need someone older, just a little bit colder, take the weight off your shoulders

synopsis: your friends say you're delusional for thinking you have a chance with jungkook, your parents' friends' son, but you just can't seem to let him go.

alternatively, you break jungkook's heart and jungkook enlists in the army to get over you--- but he can't just fuck off from your life forever; your lives are infinitely intertwined

word count: 21k

pairing: older!jk x afab reader

genre: age gap au (seven years), childhood acquaintance au, fluff, comedy, angsty, outta pocket, alludes to sexual innuendoes, there is a mention of jungkook shooting someone lol, non explicit smut, mentions of sex

OLDER MASTERLIST

PART 1 | PART 2 | PART 3

When it comes to you, Jungkook’s window of tolerance extends towards the sun and the stars, to Jupiter and Saturn, if you will. For you, he’ll willingly undertake deeds he won’t even entertain for anyone else.

Anything for you. Whenever and wherever.

He will, in fact, swoop in and rescue you from a 2AM party (like the Prince Charming he is), even if it means disrupting his beauty sleep because as much as likes your friends, he doesn’t trust them to take you home safely, especially when alcohol is involved. Scratch that, he doesn’t really trust anybody to take you home besides himself. Even with work the next day, the appeal of sleep drowns when you’re drunkenly texting him from some frat mansion at who knows where.

Approximately 10% of his biweekly earnings are devoted to you, his princess. He would never utter these sentiments aloud, yet he embraces them willingly, indulging in gestures of affection reserved solely for you.

He’s not afraid to wipe your tears, stick his fingers into your nose, or to touch any bodily fluid (given that it comes from you), because it’s you and his being simply isn’t capable of conjuring feelings of disgust when it’s you.

He sees you and he loves you, but a man can only take so much.

“What?” you ask quietly, breathless, like the wind’s been knocked from your lungs.

Jungkook exhales deeply, straightening his posture as he runs his hands across his face. “Y/N. Get out of my apartment. I’m serious.”

You think that this is the first time in the history of the world Jungkook has straight up told you to leave.

“Why?”

“Why?” Jungkook repeats, “What do you mean, why? You ignored me for four months straight. Thanks for spending the night, but you need to leave.”

Jungkook, just a man though he may be, is simply incapable to resist when you show up at his doorstep in the dead of the night- and even if he welcomes you into his home for the last time, he simply isn’t able to welcome you back into his heart. How could he willingly allow you to reclaim his heart’s residence after he’s worked so hard to expel you from its throne?

Your blatant disregard for his presence spoke volumes; you didn’t care for him nor did you respect him. Jungkook isn’t going to fold simply because he finds you beautiful and perfect and amazing and everything he’s ever wanted.

“So that’s all I am to you? A quick fuck?”

All the empathy he harbors disperses from his being like a passing breeze, ephemeral and elusive. Evidently, you’ve crossed the line.

Jungkook blinks at you, his expression unreadable, while you inwardly recoil, immediately regretting your words. Jungkook won’t even entertain the notion. He knows you know how much you mean to him, and quite frankly, he’s appalled that you’re blatantly weaponizing something as pure as his love.

“Y/N, I’m not going to see my family in a year, and you came to my place and made it all about yourself. You need to go,” Jungkook’s voice is firm and low, and he looks right at you, disappointment reflected in his pupils.

“I didn’t mean to make it about myself. I just wanted to see you,” You try so desperately hard to rationalize, but he’s right; you weren’t thinking about him, you were thinking about yourself.

“And by doing that, you made it about yourself-” Jungkook rubs his face with his palms, “Y/N. I don’t want to fight. Just go home.”

He hears a gentle sniffle escape you, and it elicits a heavy sigh from Jungkook. It's like a tug at his heartstrings, but he’s already beyond frustrated, and at this point, he wants to be alone.

“Jungkook, I-I love you,” you whisper, “I’m sorry. If I’m better by the time you come back, will you give me a chance?”

As you raise your head, tears cascading down your cheeks, Jungkook's heart clenches at the sight. Jungkook hates seeing you cry, and it makes his heart physically ache, but there will be no appeal to his emotions.

“Y/N- I mean- did you think I was gonna wait forever? You can’t treat a man like that and expect them to wait around forever.”

“But we had sex,” you counter, “The way you fucked me- I know you still love me- so please. I’ll be better. I’ll be better for you. Please,” you beg.

Jungkook exhales softly, leaning into the support of the wall behind him. He remains stoic, neither affirming nor refuting your observation. He offers no gesture of consolation, no attempt to dry your tears.

“Go home.”

If he doesn't want you there, then you’ll leave. Clumsily, you stand up from the bed, picking your clothes up from the ground before haphazardly slipping into them, leaving yourself vulnerable under Jungkook’s gaze.

He doesn’t walk you out.

You open the door and slam it closed before he can let another word out.

Jungkook has always been a constant presence in your life, like the warmth of the sun on a chilly morning.

He’s very aware of the image you have of him in your cute little head, and he does everything he can to fulfill that image for you. He’s well aware of your little prince charming fantasies revolving around him, and truly, truly does everything to be your Prince Charming.

He’ll indulge you, always- to the extent where Mingyu and Taehyung constantly throw the term “sugar daddy” around- and of course Jungkook will roll his eyes, but he won’t deny it.

Jungkook has dropped thousands on you. He’s a single man in his 20’s with way too much money, anyways. So what was he supposed to do? Let all his money sit in his 401K to ensure that he’s financially secure for retirement (🙄) or buy you an unnecessarily expensive designer dress and observe how your face lights up?

Obviously, he’ll choose the latter.

Simultaneously, that doesn’t mean you don’t make him feel the same way. This is so corny, but you’re kind of like the rainbow after a storm, bringing color back to his otherworldly, gloomy world.

Jungkook’s not perfect. Despite what you think, he’s far from perfect.

About half a year ago, he thought he hit rock bottom. And when he hit rock bottom, all he needed was you to remedy his mood.

There was an issue at work where he was accused of leaking confidential information to a competitor. The accusations were baseless, but the damage to his reputation was significant. It felt like his entire world was crumbling around him. He faced scrutiny from his colleagues and doubt from his superiors.

After an excruciating meeting with the company lawyers, he drove back to his mom’s place- his mood as dark as the night enveloping his luxury car. All he wanted was his mommy. He was a 25 year old grown ass man, but all he wanted was his mommy.

As he bursts through the front doors, the familiar scent of his mother's cooking greets his nostrils, wrapping him in a sense of comfort and the feeling of home. He heads towards the kitchen, until he walks into something…

You yelp, rubbing your hand over your forehead.

“Oh shit,” Jungkook mumbles, “My bad, baby. Didn’t see you” Jungkook says apologetically, placing his hands on your shoulders to stabilize you. His eyes glaze over your frame, and he smiles.

You’re in boyshorts and a tank top. Typically of you to treat his parents’ place like it was your own; you’re family anyways.

Jungkook whizzes past you, setting his work backpack on the kitchen counter. You follow him back into the kitchen, attending to the steak being grilled on the stovetop. You whirl around to face him, a mischievous smile spreading across your lips.

“You look… handsome,” you finally say.

Jungkook stares incredulously at you before he bursts into a smile at your anticss. “Oh really? You like me in business formal?” You clasp your palms behind your back and shift your weight between your ankles. “Maybe?” you sheepishly respond, in your typical girlish nature.

Jungkook bites back a laugh, looking at you smugly. “Where’s mom?”

You shrug, “She’s probably with her second boyfriend,” you teasingly muse, lips pouted out before you turn around to perceive his reaction.

Jungkook scoffs at you amusedly before standing up to walk towards you. You smile sheepishly at him, not backing down when he practically towers over you. He pinches your cheek affectionately. “You’re cute, baby,” he jokes, and it makes your heart clench- not in a good way- because he means you’re cute… like a literal infant baby or a puppy, not a woman.

“Did my mom call you over?” he asks, rummaging through the fridge.

You nod, “Mm-hmm. She said she had to go run some errands so she wanted me to make you dinner,” you motion towards the steak sizzling in its pan. “Rare, just how you like it! Ta-da!”

He gazes at you with an affectionate smile. “Thanks. Did you drive here or do I need to drop you off?”

You make a pssh sound with your lips, dismissing the notion with a wave, “I’ve been driving for like two years,” you state matter-a-factly, throwing up a gyaru sign because why not, “I can drive home just fine.”

“Alright, yea,” Jungkook acquiesces, putting his hands up, “You’re all grown up- I get it, I get it.”

“Good,” you respond, plating his steak before handing it to him, “But Jungkook, why are you back home? You usually don’t come home on work nights.”

Jungkook settles at the dining table, before he looks at you and sighs. You tilt your head, very cognizant of his body language. You’re in love with him, of course you can read all his nonverbal cues.

“Just some shit at work,” he explains, “Has me stressed out of my mind.”

You pout, approaching him before you wrap and arm around his shoulder. The moment feels oddly intimate- like he’s returned to his two-story, middle-class home to his wife cooking up a home-made dinner, her touch everything he needs to bring him down from a stressful day at work. He swears he can even hear the kids crying from upstairs.

“Wanna talk about it?” you beckon with your sweet voice.

“Just been accused of some shit,” he mumbles, “Some illegal shit,” he adds, and you rest your head on his shoulder, making him freeze slightly and his chest tighten.

“Don’t worry,” you sweetly comfort, “The truth will always be revealed, and you’ll be cleared eventually. And besides, you’re young, rich, and hot. As long as you know who you are, you don’t need to worry about others.”

Jungkook’s brows furrow slightly before he relaxes his expression. What a juvenile, yet straightforward outlook on life. So simple, yet so… brilliant?

Jungkook knows that you’re more than capable of understanding the complex intricacies of the professional world, but he finds solace in its simplicity as a counterbalance to his excruciating overthinking.

He sighs blissfully, turning towards you. “Give me a hug, baby. I need a hug.”

You nod sweetly and wrap your arms around him. “Of course. Call me any time if you want a hug.”

You coming on to him the night before enlistment was his last opportunity to indulge in you, and he’s only just a man- a weak, weak man, so it’s simply in his nature to succumb to your allure.

Jungkook is now bald, devoid of any hair. Gone with his hair is his sense of confidence. Staring at his reflection, he runs a hand over his bald head, his mood becoming despondent.

One hour ago, you slammed his front door, scurrying down the stairs with tears cascading down your cheeks. Jungkook doesn’t like seeing you cry; he hates seeing you cry- but it’s time to let go and live.

The most daunting aspect of dating with an age-gap is the maturity discrepancy. Like two ships sailing different seas, Jungkook has sailed through weathered storms while your sail catches the wind of youthful possibility.

This discrepancy manifests through communication styles, lifestyle choices, and most importantly, love languages.

You would never, ever do anything to hurt him purposely- but you did.

Nonetheless, what was Jungkook supposed to expect? Undeniably, he loves you with everything in him but was he supposed to expect you to handle things with the maturity of someone his age?

He should’ve known, and for that, he feels dumb.

Feels dumb and like an idiot because you used to cartwheel in his room trying to get his attention. Feels dumb because when you were 11, he was already 18– like, what the fuck is that age gap?

What was he supposed to expect? You lost both of your parents at the same time when you were 20 years old. You’re traumatized, you’re young, and he kinda feels like he took advantage of your juvenile feelings for him- but no, a love like his is pure, and he wants nothing but the best for you, which is why he’s going to let go.

The wind from a slightly ajar window brushes, spreading the hair around the floor and suddenly glitter comes to mind.

Glitter. Sparkles. Fairy Dust.

When you were a senior in high school, Jungkook bought you a prom dress. Your bum ass boyfriend (or situationship- he doesn’t know. He wants to burn the memory of all men who you’ve been with before him) didn’t even want to go to prom with you, and Jungkook, as the great “mom’s friend’s son” he was, offered to buy you a dress- no budget.

Jungkook dropped by your place to drop off some sticky rice, as instructed by his mother; he was a good and obedient son. He knew your parents were at Zumba, so he sent you a quick text in advance. You always responded to his texts immediately, promptly, instantly, right away, and without delay.

You can only imagine Jungkook’s apprehension when it’s been thirty minutes and you still haven’t come to the door.

Normally, Jungkook would have been annoyed to wait this long for you, but he’s actually concerned– because what if you were lying dead in a ditch somewhere? Okay, maybe he shouldn’t go to such extremes, but you were undeniably a gorgeous girl, recently 18, and he knew that so many men had their eyes on you.

Not him, though. He was a gentleman.

Jungkook swings open the door of his car, swiftly walking towards your front door. On cue, the outer door swings open, and you’re standing apprehensively, struggling to unlock the screen door because the fucking lock always gets jammed. The lock just won’t budge and after a good second of trying, you bang your fist against the door, yelling a very non-intimidating “Fuck!”

Jungkook smiles, “Twist the door knob, then try the lock,” he gently instructs. You oblige, and the screen door swings open.

“I’ll come back tomorrow to fix that,” he adds before walking towards your kitchen to place the sticky rice into the fridge.

“Thanks,” you mumble, taking a seat at the dining table.

Jungkook glances back at you from the fridge, “Why’d you cry?”

The question is asked with a subtle casualty, and that makes you want to actually go curl into a ditch and die.

To Jungkook, it was painfully obvious. He’s known you since forever and has all your mannerisms ingrained into his mind like a tattoo. Usually, when you wake up, you’re quite lethargic, stumbling around with your eyes half cracked open- but right now, you’re cognizant as ever.

Furthermore, when you cry, your eyes usually swell up- more so than the average person. After you cry, it’s like your eyes turned into little, red, puffy balls with slits for seeing. And Jungkook had eyes, superb vision, actually, and he could clearly see that your eyes were in fact, swollen.

“t’s nothing,” you mumble, “It’s stupid.”

Jungkook purses his lips, contemplating whether he should push further. Your big mouth keeps going before he can get a word out.

“Well, if I tell you, promise not to judge me?” you ask, sticking out your pinky finger.

Jungkook locks the promise in. “Never,” he breathes.

“Well… it’s just… you know…”

Jungkook raises a brow.

“I just… I hate my boobs.”

Jungkook blinks at you, and you blink at him.

“You said you weren’t going to judge me!”

Jungkook is absolutely flabbergasted. “I just- wait-” he pauses, putting his hands up, “What’s wrong with your boobs? They look normal to me.”

Your features contort into petulance, and you pout. Immediately, you rise, wiping the dust off your shorts before you divulge into the full story. Jungkook can only sit there and listen.

“Okay, listen. Let me start from the beginning,” you start, pacing around, “So I ordered two prom dresses,” you explain, making a peace sign with your hands.

“And they looked so good on the models, but they look horrible on me! Because my boobs are so small and my body looks imbalanced! So I cried about it. I just wanted to feel pretty…. Do you think my parents will be mad at me if I get my tits done?”

Jungkook blinks at you. At the time, he hadn’t a clue of how to respond, but oh how he grew to love your boobs. In fact, he currently wishes that they were swinging in his face.

“Y/N, don’t get a boob job,” is the first thing he says.

What else could he say? He couldn’t tell you that he thinks your body is perfect, or that you’d look stunning in any dress you wear- he did not want to creep you out. “Lemme see you try the dresses,” he offers, “You’re probably in your head- it can’t be that bad.”

“I’m 18,” you counter, “It’s completely legal for me to get a boob job. I don’t even want D’s! I think I would be okay with B’s. In fact, all I need to do is sell a couple feet pictures and I’d have enough to finance my boob job-”

“Y/N. Just try on the dress.”

“Fine,” you huff, puffing up the stairs.

A few moments later, you reappear, and Jungkook almost chokes on his own saliva. The dress you're wearing captures his attention entirely. Its fabric shimmers under the kitchen light, a juxtaposition against the bland interior, cascading in gentle folds as it hugs your curves delicately. With each step, the skirt sways gently, whispering secrets of a night yet to unfold.

Gorgeous. Stunning. Most beautiful girl he’s ever seen, and he recalls the pang of guilt that washed over him, because you’re seven years younger, and it feels wrong, incongruous.

Fortunately for him, Jungkook is great at hiding his emotions, so even a slightly suspicious clearing of the throat does nothing to phase you.

You pause, blinking at him, and he blinks back at you.

“I told you it was bad!-”

“Wait, no. Stop. It’s not bad…” Jungkook offers.

You blink at each other again.

“Oh, you fucking liar!” you scoff.

“What?” Jungkook retorts, features morphing into confusion, “Why would I lie? I always just say whatever I want to say.“

You groan, plopping onto the dining room table with your arms crossed. “You don’t know anything about prom dresses,” you mutter.

This marked the first time Jungkook perceived you as a woman. He spent a year suppressing it all because of the guilt, but it became inevitable. It bubbled up and exploded; he couldn’t contain it anymore.

“Well…” he started, every so carefully pulling his wallet from his pocket, using two fingers to take out his credit card, “Would it make you feel better if I bought you another one? One more suitable for… flatter chests?”

You gasped like you’d never breathed air before, jumping to your feet, “Really? Would you really do that?!”

Jungkook shrugged casually, did everything to mask his thunderous heartbeat banging in his chest, “Yea, why not? I have money.”

At that, you squealed, jumping on both feet before you absolutely enveloped him in a hug.

Still staring at his reflection, Jungkook returns to Earth. You’re so childish and dumb, but he can’t help that he’s deeply enamored with you, and because of that, he’s going to go to the military and pretend like he never existed in the first place.

In the first few weeks at the military, Jungkook finds the distance more excruciating than he had when you ignored him. He enlisted in the first place to get his mind off you, to learn to live without you, but you’re the only person on his mind.

It certainly doesn’t help that he’s carrying a locket bearing your image, but he can’t bring himself to throw it out. He doesn’t even know why he has it in the first place, or why he had it custom made; he feels obsessive but whenever Jungkook’s on his last lap, his last pushup, or his last pullup, you’re the thought to propel him forward.

The military barracks are cold, dusty, and lonely. Sometimes, he can’t sleep, and on those restless nights, he finds himself reaching for the locket. Staring at the image of you smiling back at him, it’s like a tangible reminder of something he can’t quite explain.

He holds the locket in his hand, tracing the edges with its fingertips. He remembers your touch, your warmth, the way your hand fits perfectly in his.

True loser behavior.

You ignored him for fucking months, didn’t care how he was doing, or if he were laying dead in a ditch, yet he still loves you, still clings onto you. If he didn’t enlist, he probably would’ve ran back to you the moment you showed up at his place.

If anything, you’re not the type of girl who should be in a locket. You’re immature, childish, and rude, but he holds the locket close to his heart, because quite frankly, he hears how the men in the military speak about women, and he would never ever subject you to that.

Some guys hang up cute pictures and polaroids of their girlfriends on the bunks, which would almost immediately be thrown into the trash because of the insane comments from the (obviously single) guys.

Jungkook deems running as the most arduous drill in boot camp.

Jungkook can do three or five miles easily, but twelve miles with gear on? Absolutely not. What makes it worse is when the other guys try to make small talk- wasn’t running excruciating enough?

Even on the eighth mile, Jungkook clutches the locket tightly in his grasp. The sensation burning in his abs is borderline excruciating, and he opens the locket to glimpse at your image

James, the absolute deviant of the 8th squad, approaches Jungkook from the rear. “Who’s that, Jeon?” James asks.

Jungkook squeezes his eyes shut; this is the last thing he wanted. He says nothing, slightly accelerating in speed.

As James draws nearer, his tone dripping with mockery, Jungkook's muscles tense with apprehension.

"Come on, Jeon, spill it," James prods, a sly grin spreading across his face. "Who's the lucky lady in the locket?"

Jungkook's jaw clenches, his grip on the locket tightening. He knows the implications of revealing your identity in this environment, where vulnerability is exploited and secrets are ammunition.

"Just keep running," Jungkook retorts, his voice strained with suppressed frustration. Running 12 miles with 50 pounds of gear was already hell, why was he trying to pick a fight?

But James persists, matching Jungkook's stride with unsettling ease. "Oh, come on, Jeon, don't be shy," he taunts, edging closer. "Is she the reason you're always off in your own world during training?"

A surge of anger pulses through Jungkook's veins, his resolve fraying under James's relentless scrutiny. He fights to keep his emotions in check, knowing that any sign of weakness could be exploited.

With a steely gaze, Jungkook halts abruptly, turning to face James with a glare. "Back off, James," he warns, his voice laced with a dangerous edge, before he returns to his usual stride.

James's grin widens, sensing Jungkook's vulnerability. "Someone’s sensitive,” James teases, “Scared your girl’s with the mailman right now?”

Jungkook’s features harden, and he continues onto the ninth mile. His feet ache, and the mud is starting to seep into his socks. Jungkook opens his mouth to say something, but he’s cut off by Wooseok, who comes to his defense.

Wooseok bumps shoulder with James from behind. “Chill, James. He’s got her in a locket. Better not mess with that.”

Jungkook hates to admit it, but James got to his head.

Jungkook knows he’s the one who let you go, and that there’s no winning in this situation, but he’s selfish and the thought of you with another man makes him physically ill. Had it been any other girl, he would immediately lose interest the moment he discovered she was messing around with others- but the thought of you with someone else physically hurts.

He doesn’t have much access to his phone, and there’s nothing to take his mind off it.

There’s that taboo story about men in the military getting cheated on. It's a tale as old as time.

The fear of infidelity hangs over these soldiers constantly- but you’re not even his girlfriend.

So if you were to move on, there wouldn’t be a thing wrong with that.

Isn’t that what he wanted? For you to find happiness with someone your own age? Someone you would love, not just be infatuated with.

But fuck, why does it makes his heart swell? The thought of another man seeing you, feeling you, and touching you the way he has, the way he should be, makes him ill.

You know you said you were going to change, and you’re really, really trying. It’s been one month since your last encounter with Jungkook and you think things are taking an upward trajectory.

For one, you’ve started your internship with the local bank, and you’re making a lot of money (to your standards), definitely not a lot to someone like Jungkook, but it’s good enough for you. Since summer hit, you’ve retaken some of the classes you failed, and your GPA has now returned to the 3.0 range.

However, that doesn’t mean that your obsession with Jungkook has dwindled in the slightest. You’re childish in a sense, and you’re kind of taking advantage of your relationship with his parents to see what he’s up to at all times.

You’re snooping over Jungkook’s mother’s shoulder like the nosy girl you are, and you scandalously gasp at Jungkook’s text.

“Haha yea, Y/N looks pretty” is probably the most disingenuous thing he’s ever said about you.

Like sure, whatever, he’s calling you pretty but he’s only saying it because his mom asked him whether he thinks you’re pretty in the first place.

Your eyes continue skimming down the phone and you see something that makes your jaw drop to your ass

Jungkook’s mother shuts her phone off and squeals. “Oh Y/N! I can’t wait for Jungkookie to get married! I want grandbabies already, she pouts.

It’s like a punch to the gut. The thought of another girl walking down the aisle to marry Jungkook makes you sick to your stomach. It makes you so jealous you can’t fathom it. It's a visceral reaction, a knot tightening in your stomach as jealousy courses through your veins, clouding your thoughts and stirring emotions you never knew existed.

Every detail of the imagined scene plays out in your mind like a cruel movie reel, tormenting you with the painful reality of what could be.

With a forced smile, you manage to utter, "That's great, Mrs. Jeon. I'm sure Jungkook will make a wonderful husband one day."

Jungkook’s friends, in fact, do not hate you.

Actually, they’re quite nice and understanding of the situation at hand. Maybe it’s the fact that you shoved meat down their throats before explaining how you actually felt, or because you were somewhat valid in your decision to not acknowledge Jungkook’s existence for four months.

“He’s probably not mad at you,” Mingyu reasons, toying with the hem of his beanie before shoving a piece of beef into his mouth, “I don’t think he has the capacity to be angry at-”

Taehyung furrows his brows and Mingyu continues his sentiment, “at Y/N,” Mingyu clarifies, “He’d never be mad at Y/N.”

You sigh, using your chopsticks to flip some meat over, “He kicked me out of his apartment,” you express.

“No,” Taehyung contests, “You chose to move out, didn’t you?”

You chew on your lip apprehensively, suddenly finding the need to rake your fingers through your hair, “Yea, but I spent the night before he enlisted and he kicked me out in the morning.”

Taehyung pauses, exchanging glances with Mingyu. “By spend the night, you mean…?”

“Yes, I mean,” you confirm, “I just don’t want him to hate me. I know I fucked up, but I would never do anything to hurt him on purpose. I mean- not to use it as an excuse- but my parents’ suddenly died in a fucking car accident? Am I supposed to be normal after that? I didn’t mean to hurt him, I just couldn’t at the time, and I’m not sure if I can, at all.”

Mingyu purses his lips, “I just think he- you know- was super heartbroken. Y/N, Jungkook really loves you, and by love I mean that you’re probably the only girl he will ever love. He probably just needed time to process everything too,” he says gently, reaching out to give your hand a brotherly squeeze.

“You made him cry,” Taehyung asserts, and you pause.

“Seriously?”

Taehyung’s lips form into a straight line and he shrugs, “You made him cry. Showed up at my place in the middle of the night drunk and in tears over you.”

At that, you sink into the leather seat. Cry? You’ve known Jungkook since you were born and you’ve never seen him cry before.

You bang your head against the table- a little too hard- and you yelp in pain , clutching your forehead. Mingyu immediately whisks closer to you, gently removing your hand and scrutinizing the mark on your forehead.

You’re suddenly reminded of something Soobin said to you a couple weeks ago. Something about Jungkook’s friends are just as brotherly as Jungkook, always going the extra mile to take care of you, and suddenly you feel bad.

You groan, “Guys I’m sorry. I didn’t intend for things to get so messy. I’m sorry you have to deal with all of this- but I really care about Jungkook, I really do.”

Taehyung’s grumpy face finally relaxes, “We know you do, Y/N. No one is mad at you- trust me. But you have to make up your mind: do you want him or not? You can’t be wishy washy about this- Jungkook’s a lot older than you. He can’t waste his whole life waiting on you-”

“I want him,” you immediately declare, “I want him, and I’m ready to give everything to show that I love him.”

Mingyu smiles at you, “Well tell him that, not us.”

Your cheeks turn slightly pink. “Yea. I might.”

The rest of the night continues with ease. Mingyu and Taehyung ask you about school, give you professional advice for the future, and at the end of the night you reach over the table to give your card to the waitress, but Taehyung physically holds you back, and Mingyu gives his card to the waiter.

You’re truly so loved.

Things change and people change.

The first time Jungkook gets leave from the military is for the memorial service for your parents.

You’ve put the memorial service off for about a year. As their only daughter and remaining heir of your parents, the decision of when and where to hold the memorial service rested solely with you.

Yet, you just couldn’t bring yourself to go through with it, especially with Jungkook in the military.

Like the blossoming of spring, a year has passed, and at 21, you've graduated college, content yet eager for new beginnings.

When Jungkook's mother called you, brimming with excitement, inviting you to join in picking him up from the enlistment site, you couldn't find it in your heart to decline. Even when Jungkook kicked you from his apartment, you and he both knew that you couldn’t just fuck off from his life entirely.

Since birth, Jungkook has always been there. His parents, who are practically your aunt and uncle, have nurtured and cared for you since forever. You've shared in every significant milestone of his life, from graduations and birthdays, and when he gets married, you know you’ll be there, even if it tears you apart.

Your lives would be forever intertwined.

Had you changed since that night at his apartment? Kinda? Not really.

You've moved out from the mansion shared with friends to your own space. With a “lucrative” five-figure job, late-night parties and raves are a thing of the past. You’re all for early morning runs and late night reading.

With the anticipation of seeing Jungkook for the first time since that day, you find yourself more fixated on your outfit than you’ve ever been in your life. More so than prom, more so than Coachella, and more so than graduation.

Jungkook has only ever seen you in hoodies and sweats, a crop top and ripped jeans, or the occasional mini bodycon dress- you don’t think he’s ever seen you in business casual. You wear a chic satin blouse with jeans and closed toed heels.

Jungkook’s parents don’t really like to drive, so of course, you’re driving Jungkook’s Mercedes, (he so carefully left in the care of his parents), to the enlistment sight, which you’re sure he’ll be absolutely thrilled to see. He never let you drive his car out of the parking lot.

As you slide into the driver’s seat of the car, a wave of anxiety washes over you. This is the first time you would see him in an entire year- the longest you’ve been apart. What would he look like? Does he still have feelings for you? Is he still upset with you? Has he completely forgotten about you?

With a soft click, the engine hums to life, and you follow the GPS through the streets towards the enlistment sight. Jungkook’s parents sit in the back, occasionally passing you trail mix and bananas.

You pull up to the enlistment sight, waiting anxiously with your arms crossed amongst the crowds of people.

Jungkook emerges from the crowd in his military uniform, and your heart swells with pride and sorrow. He looks so handsome. He looks bigger, stronger, more rugged. You’ve seen celebrities and models in person before and they could never compare. You step to the side as he greets his parents, and when he turns his head, he locks eyes with you.

It’s like the world stops revolving.

It’s been a year since you’ve seen him and he never ever fails to make you feel this way. He’s made you feel this way since you were 15 and the feeling never dissipated, only amplified.

Butterflies erupt in your stomach, and you swallow.

Jungkook doesn’t look at you in any type of way. His eyes scan over you and he sends you a genuine smile. “Hey Y/N,” he offers, opening his arms for a hug. You hug him from the side, reciprocating his polite smile. “Hi Jungkook. You look nice.”

“You look pretty,” he offers before turning towards his parents and casually taking the keys from your hand.

“Should we go now?”

Jungkook drives all the way home, with you in the passenger seat. You don’t say much. You find yourself simply listening as Jungkook shares with his parents what life in the military is like.

It was expected from everyone that Jungkook would do well in the army. When he was 15 years old, a personal trainer told him that he’d bulk up in muscle from just lifting a spoon.

After reaching home, Jungkook’s parents suggest you show him around your new place, and neither of you really have a choice but to oblige.

The moment Jungkook’s parents are dropped off at his place, an awkward silence absolutely encapsulates the inside of that Mercedes. You don’t say anything; you just lean your head on the window, looking outside the city where you and Jungkook have been for your entire life.

Jungkook says nothing either, tapping his fingers against the drivers’ wheel.

Finally, he speaks up. “Sorry I couldn’t make it to your graduation.”

“It’s fine,” you mumble in response, “You’re busy.”

“Yea.”

More silence overwhelms the car.

“So what did you do with your parents’ house?” he asks, flickering his eyes towards you. You push yourself further against the seat.

“AirBnb,” is all you can conjure.

Your parents were loaded and left you with a plethora of assets. The house, for one, is your second stream of income. You locked off yours and your parents’ room, and cleaned up the rest of the house for it to be rented out.

“Smart,” he offers.

“Thanks.”

He hums in response, tapping his fingers against the wheel. Instinctively, his hands reach towards the radio, turning the Bluetooth on, which of course is already connected to your phone.

Everytime by Ariana Grande blares through the radio, making you temporarily freeze.

I get weak and fall like a teenager

Why, oh, why does God keep bringing me back to you?

I get drunk, pretend that I’m over it

Self-destruct, show up like an idiot

Why, oh, why does God keep bringing me back to you?

I go back to you, back to you, back to you

Back to you, back to you, back to you

I go back to you, back to you, back to you, every time

You’ve had enough. You turn the radio off and roll the window down, your head peeking through from the outside while you let the wind blow against your face.

Jungkook doesn’t say anything either, just continues following the GPS to your apartment.

After what seems like forever, he eventually reaches the security gate. "4832," you mention, prompting him to enter the number and which opens the security gate.

“It’s good you live in a gated community,” he comments, “it’s safer that way.”

“Yea,” you agree, not really sure what else

You and Jungkook take the elevator to your place, and you punch the code in before letting Jungkook in.

Jungkook thinks your place is so you. It smells sweet, like vanilla. There’s a white, fluffy couch in front of the TV with stacks of Rilakkuma plushies. Your kitchen is clean, well organized; he sees a heart shaped bowl in the middle of the dining room table. Framed photos adorn the shelves: some of you with your parents, your friends, and one with him and his family from Jungkook’s college graduation.

You rub your palms on your jeans. “So, what do you think?”

“Nice,” he responds, “I’m proud of you.”

You purse your lips and nod. “Thanks… I have a room prepared for you– but is there anything you want to do tonight? Mingyu and Tae can come over, if you’d like.”

Jungkook toys with his lower lip before he tilts his head. It slightly bothers him that his friends have been over at yours, and that you mention it so casually- but of course, he doesn’t mention it.

“No, it’s cool,” he responds, “You look tired. You had to drive a while to get me,” he offers.

“No, no,” you shake your head, “It’s fine. Not a big deal…. You look strong.”

Jungkook smiles, “Yea. Military drills and stuff,” he rests a hand on the kitchen counter and leans against it.

His eyes flicker towards you, looking you up and down. You gulp.

“I missed you,” you finally say, “... and I bought you something.”

Jungkook raises a brow, watching you daintily step into your room to pull out a small black box. You hand it to him, and he delicately opens it. A golden chain.

“I don’t know,” you murmur, “I see lots of military guys wearing chains and I thought you’d like one too,” you offer, shifting your weight between your ankles.

“Thanks,” Jungkook says, “Probably the first time you’ve ever gotten me a gift,” he jokes, to which you playfully roll your eyes. “I’ll wear it when I get back to camp.”

You nod, rising on your tippy toes a bit. “And I’m sorry. For last time… y’know.”

Jungkook's expression crumbles. He licks his lips, “It’s okay. I should have been more understanding. You were going through a lot,” he whispers.

You nod. “I know. But I should have communicated more so I’m sorry. Just so you know, I’m still…”

What should you say? I’m still in love with you? I still think about you every day? I’m nothing without you?

Jungkook’s features soften, and you bite your lip.

"I'm still... here," you murmur, the words carrying the weight of your emotions as you struggle to articulate the depth of your feelings.

Jungkook's expression softens, a gentle understanding dawning in his eyes as he nods in acknowledgment. “I’ll always be here too,” is all he says.

Again, silence overwhelms the room.

“Right… well, my head hurts a little so I’m going to lie down for a bit. Wake me up if you need anything.”

Jungkook tilts his head, approaching you before he presses the back of his palm against your forehead. “You’re burning up,” he murmurs, and you swat his hand away.

“It’s fine. Just nervous about tomorrow,” you murmur.

“I’ll call Yeonjun.”

You didn’t expect him to offer to take care of you, cater to your every whim. You really didn’t.

However, straight-up leaving a moment later most definitely caught you off guard. Deep down, you had hoped for a gesture of consideration, like offering to pick up medicine from Walgreens or Walmart, or something.

In that instant, memories flood back of how he cared for you after your parents died. He was so attentive, so sweet. He home cooked you breakfast, meal prepped lunch, and ordered you take out in the evening. You were so out of it, too weak to even function and Jungkook catered to everything you needed.

It’s almost ironic that he zoomed from your apartment the moment he discovered you were ill. You shrug. There's no need to dwell on it or feel upset. It was odd that his parents suggested he spend the night with you. He should be with his parents anyways.

Even though you prepared a room for him, Jungkook goes back to his parents that night, and Yeonjun to yours.

Yeonjun is one of your best friends in the entire world, really, so you’re sorry that you’re treating him like this.

“Yeonjun, if we’re both single at 30, wanna get married?” You plead from the couch, your head resting on the arm and your feet dangling above the backseat.

Yeonjun graces you with the most disgusted look you’ve ever seen in your life. Yet, he still drapes a blanket over your frame, placing a wet cloth on your forehead. He doesn’t even entertain the notion.

“Maybe go back to Sunghoon. He’d seem desperate enough to give you another chance,” Yeonjun murmurs, resting on the opposing side of the couch with his arms crossed.

You pout, before bursting into laughter. You roll from the couch and land on the floor with a thud. Yeonjun joins you, sitting criss-cross applesauce across from you. He wipes a stray hair from your cheek, a cup of Buldak seemingly materializing in his hands. Seriously. Where’d he get that from?

“Y/N, that man does not want you,” Yeonjun states matter-a-factly, his demeanor solemn, a juxtaposition to the goofy red sauce stained around his lips.

And you can’t believe it, but you actually find it in you to giggle at that. Teetering back and forth from where you’re sitting, you sputter out a clumsy “Seems like I’m getting deja vu. How many times in your life have you told me that?”

“Millions,” Yeonjun shrugs, stuffing his face with ramen.

“But you were wrong,” you muse, “I did have a chance with him. He said he was in love with me.”

“Yea,” Yeonjun agrees, before tilting his head, “but you fumbled.”

“I fumbled,” you concur.

“You traumatized that man. He does not want your musty ass,” Yeonjun teases, flicking your forehead with his vacant hand.

“He does not want my musty ass,” you concur once again, a teasing smile spreading across your lips, before bursting into a fit of giggles.

Observing you, Yeonjun cracks a smile. “I’m glad you’re not being a crybaby about it anymore,” he comments, “FIrst loves are first loves,” he shrugs, “They say your second love is actually your true first love because they make you realize you weren’t actually in love with your first love.”

“Maybe,” you add, staring up at the ceiling fan swirling in circles and circles and circles- and it makes you dizzy. You squeeze your eyes shut. “Who would that even be?,” you ponder aloud, “Sunghoon is cute, but he doesn’t like me anymore.”

“Well, you can ask them, because I invited them over,” Yeonjun adds, suddenly locking eyes with you. You take a moment to process what he just said.

“What?-”

On cue, the doorbell rings, and Yeonjuns stands up, waltzing to get the door like he’s the owner of the damn apartment.

You scramble to your feet as Yeonjun swings open the door with a swish.

Heeseung and Sunghoon flood in, a teddy bear in Heeseung’s hands and a pot in Sunghoon’s.

Heeseung looks you up and down, sticking the teddy bear in your face. “Heard you were sick,” he says plainly, soliciting you to just blink at him.

Sunghoon scoffs from the side, “Yea Heeseung, just go add it to the stack of a hundred plushies she already has,” motioning towards your living room that indeed has a stack of Sanrio and Rilakkuma plushies in the corner.

You snort, snatching the teddy bear from his grimy little fingers. “Thanks… asshole.”

Sunghoon rummages through the fridge, placing his little pot in and taking a box of apple juice out. “I brought you dumpling soup. Just put it on the stove when you’re ready,” he instructs.

Heeseung joins Yeonjun in the living room, letting out a low whistle. “You have a pretty nice place, Y/N. Don’t miss living with us at all?”

You huff, stomping over towards Heeseung before pointing your finger in his face. “You slept with someone in my room!” you accuse, “No, I do not miss living with you!”

Heeseung puts his hands up, “Hey, I already apologized! That was in the past. I’m a born-again virgin now,” he continues.

You blink, exchanging a glance with Yeonjun before returning your gaze to Heeseung. The words leave you speechless, leaving you with nothing to say in response.

Nonetheless, you bend down to give him a hug, maneuvering to lie down on his thigh while you stare at the ceiling. “I have a fever guys,” you mumble, “Can’t have our entire university here bothering me and shit,” you joke, swatting their air like the boys are a bunch of pesky flies.

“Please,” Heeseung teases, “You’ll start crying the moment we leave.”

“Maybe,” slips from your mouth, and you run your hands over your face.

“What happened with Jungkook?” Sunghoon adds, a cup of Buldak ramen somehow also materializing in his hands. These boys are really raiding your ramen stash.

“Y/N fumbled,” Yeonjun answers for you, absentmindedly scrolling through his phone.

Heeseung puts a hand on your forehead. “Holy shit Y/N! You really are burning up… are fevers contagious?”

“How gentlemanly of you,” you murmur.

“Wait, let me feel,” Sunghoon intervenes, pressing one hand against your forehead and the other against his. He gauges it for a moment. At that moment, you do recall that Sunghoon’s dad is a doctor, and he might have some magical prognosis for the situation at hand.

“Yea, you have a fever,” Sunghoon confirms.

You and Heeseung roll your eyes in unison.

“But what happened with Jungkook?” Sunghoon questions, settling back into his spot on the floor.

“I fumbled,” you respond, using Yeonjun’s words exactly. “But it’s fine. It’s whatever. I have a memorial service to worry about tomorrow,” you mutter.

At that, a solemn silence washes over the room. It doesn’t make you feel any type of way. You wouldn’t know what to say to a girl who lost both of her parents either.

“You also fumbled Sunghoon,” Heeseung jokes, immediately easing the atmosphere and eliciting an Oh c’mon from Sunghoon and laughter from you and Yeonjun.

Genuinely, you found that funny.

You feel complete and content.

Throughout the night, the three boys took turns tending to you, diligently replacing the ice pack on your forehead. It was crucial for your fever to break, knowing that the following day was your parents’ memorial service (the reason why Jungkook is even back in town). Yeonjun, Heeseung, and Sunghoon ran home to change into proper attire, promising you that they’d get back to you as soon as possible.

Drifting in, adorned in a long black skirt and a matching blouse, a black ribbon delicately tied into your hair in a half-up, half-down style, you arrive at the memorial service site several hours ahead of schedule- to grant yourself the necessary time for mental preparation and to ensure the arrangements have been made.

Sitting alone in the parking lot, the floodgates of your own emotions explode, and you drown in your own feelings. Since Jungkook's enlistment, you've buried yourself in work- barely finding time to arrange everything for the upcoming service.

You realize you haven’t even taken a moment to process how you truly feel about everything.

You’re only 21 years old. This fucking sucks.

You ache for the warmth of your parents' embrace, desperately missing the solace only your mother could provide. In moments like these, you find yourself longing for her gentle hug, her soothing words, and her infinite love.

You feel tears well in your waterline, and you immediately wipe them with your sleeve.

You had to be strong for your parents.

They never liked seeing you cry, always told you to be strong.

With a deep inhale, you swing open the door and stride into the memorial service center, ready to attend to the necessary preparations.

The moment you step into the building, your eyes lock onto Jungkook.

Adorned in a somber black suit with his hands tucked into his pockets, he paces anxiously, his presence immediately drawing your attention.

This isn’t the time; it really isn’t, but he’s perfect. He’s so handsome, even without his hair, even when he doesn’t talk to you, even when you don’t see him.

When he senses your presence, he immediately turns towards you.

“Y/N.”

“Jungkook. Thanks for being here,” you say, pulling him in for another side hug.

“Yea, of course,” he mumbles, “You feeling better?”

You nod, “Yea ‘m good. My fever broke… did the guy say anything?” ou inquire, swiftly diverting the conversation.

Jungkook appears slightly taken aback, but he responds, "Yeah. Good. They have everything set up. They just need the portrait of Auntie and Uncle."

Dangling your keys in front of him, you continue, "They're in the trunk. Can you get them? I have to- I have to use the restroom." Jungkook studies your face for a moment before nodding in understanding. "Yeah, totally."

"Thanks," you mumble before darting into the restroom.

Obviously, you’re on the verge of tears and he could palpably feel and see that. Once inside the stall, the floodgates burst open. The despondency of everything absolutely devours you and you feel so pitiful, so sad that you’re in this situation, and that your parents are gone– forever.

Your parents are gone. You think Jungkook is gone. You have nobody. You’re alone. The family that you grew up with… it would never be the same.

After a moment of letting your emotions flow, you take a deep breath and wipe your eyes. You had anticipated this moment, knowing that you would inevitably end up crying like a little baby, so you had opted for a bare face today.

You leave the restroom, hanging your head, and when you look up, you lock eyes with Jungkook.

With furrowed brows, his eyes sweep over your puffy ones, noticing the glossy scleras and the tears welling up once again. Staring at him, you feel pathetic, and you let out a quiet sob before burying your face into your hands.

And suddenly, you feel him.

Like the comfort of the gentle breeze on a Spring day, Jungkook envelops you with his strong arms, and suddenly everything’s okay. He holds you and it’s reminiscent of all the times he’s cared for you, doted on you, and expressed his love for you. He soothingly runs his hand up and down your back, pressing you against the wall and away from the eyes of bystanders.

You remain still, sniffling and drying your eyes, overwhelmed before pulling away. Jungkook runs a hand over your hair, eyes glazing over your face. He doesn’t say anything, and he doesn’t need to.

The way he looks at you is enough. It’ll be okay. Everything will be okay.

The beauty of your relationship with Jungkook is that in itself. It would be alright. Everything would be alright so long as he’s there- even just as a friend.

To love someone is to love from afar. To love someone is to love without reciprocation. You love Jungkook and he loves you. Some people are so filled with hatred and resentment- the ability to even love after all you’ve been through is astounding in itself.

Your love for Jungkook is a powerful thing. It would carry you far, and to simply possess the ability to love is far more significant than being in a relationship with him.

“Y/N!” On cue, Yeonjun makes his appearance in the lobby, tilting his head when he sees you and Jungkook standing closely together by the hallway.

Jungkook motions towards Yeonjun, and you nod, not before you stand on your tiptoes to give him another hug– not a side hug, but a real hug. “Thank you,” you whisper against his neck before you skip towards Yeonjun and your other friends.

The memorial service begins and ends with reverence.

Surrounded by your family and friends, you begin to feel overwhelmed by your sense of community.

The service room is reminiscent of that of a church. You sit on the front row, Yeonjun on one side and Yunjin on the other. Both of them are holding each of your hands as you listen to your maternal aunt tell stories of your parents from their youth.

Through her words, you get a glimpse of your parents in their youth– just two kids stupid in love, youthful, lively, and brimming with aspirations. It gives you peace that they were able to live their dreams out before they died- one of those dreams being seeing you graduate high school. It’s a shame they weren’t present at your college graduation.

After listening to your aunt, your grandma, and Jungkook’s mom. Jungkook is next. You didn’t know he’d be talking, but his mom let you know that he had something prepared.

He saunters towards the front from the second row, hands in his pockets, before he clears his throat, taking a piece of paper from his pocket, coughing against his closed fist before he speaks up.

“Auntie ___ and Uncle ___ were the most selfless people I know. When my mother couldn't join me for Mother's Day lunch at school, Auntie __ stepped in. As I learned to ride a bike, it was Uncle ___ who stayed outside with me for hours, patiently assisting me as I struggled to find my balance,” he starts, meeting your eyes before looking back into the general audience.

“Auntie and Uncle were filled with so much love and trust. They embraced a more liberal parenting style, trusting in the inherent kindness of the world to play a role in shaping their daughter's character.”

It’s funny, because as he’s speaking about you, he can’t bring himself to meet your eyes. “They exposed her to life's various facets, both its joys and challenges, instilling in her a deep understanding of the world's complexities. And their approach paid off. They leave behind a daughter, one of the most compassionate and beautiful souls who embodies traits of independence, strength, and intelligence.”

Your heart clenches, and you raise your lashes, hanging onto his every word. You can feel your heart beating against your chest.

“To honor their legacy, let’s approach the world with less caution and more trust. Embrace the goodness of the world and live happily, just like Auntie ___ and Uncle ___ did. Thank you.”

Jungkook still doesn’t meet your eyes as he returns to his seat, but yours follows his all the way to his seat.

Right after the memorial service, Jungkook catches you off guard. He strides over, giving you a hug– a full hug– before whispering in your ear, the baritone of his voice causing goosebumps to erect on your skin. “I have to go now, but stay safe. I’ll see you when I get back.”

You look up at him, nodding. “Yea. See you.”

He doesn’t say anything else, walking towards his parents and taking the keys to his own car before he leaves. All your friends watch Jungkook just as intently, but nobody says anything. You don’t talk about Jungkook much with your friends anymore. There’s not really a reason to.

And just like that, you don’t see Jungkook for another six months.

The next time you see Jungkook is when he comes home from the military.

This time, you aren’t able to join his parents to pick him up, and it’s not because you’re avoiding him, but because you have an important meeting at work– a meeting that you just can’t wiggle your way out of.

Apparently, the higher ups are announcing something– something so important that apparently they need the entire company present…. And why couldn’t have this just been an email?

As the hours tick by, you sit in your cubicle, completing an analysis of consumer behavior for a client. Work isn’t particularly exciting nor is it a bore. You currently work in consulting, specializing in data analysis to help clients make decisions for their businesses.

At 4PM, an hour before everybody goes home, the higher ups gather everyone into the auditorium.

You sit next to Mary, one of the colleagues on your team, about 50 years old, who taps you on the shoulder and whispers. “My oh my, if they wanted to kill us all, this would be the perfect time to drop a bomb,” she jokes, which makes you smile.

That was a cute comment. You place your hand over hers. “Well, at least we’d go out together, right? HR won’t have to spend any more on those team building exercises,” you joke with a gag, prompting Mary to roll her eyes.

The tension in the room is palpable as the CEO takes the stage and clears their throat, prompting everyone’s attention.

"Good afternoon, everyone. I'm pleased to announce that after months of negotiations, we have finalized a merger agreement with HYBE Korea," the CEO declares, gesturing towards the screen where the company logo appears.

“This means that some of the departments will be relocating to HYBE," the CEO announces, his voice projecting as he gestures towards the screen displaying the company's new logo. "HYBE is investing in a new building equipped with state-of-the-art facilities, providing us with an exciting opportunity to expand our operations."

You pause, and that’s when the realization sinks in.

Jungkook works for HYBE.

"In celebration of this milestone, we will be hosting a party next month to commemorate the merger. More details will be sent through email.” the CEO continues, his words met with a ripple of applause and relieved smiles from the crowd. "It will be an opportunity for us to come together as a unified team and celebrate the bright future that lies ahead."

Mary’s saying something to you but you’re not even processing it, trying to understand the implications of the merger.

There’s no way you’d be working with Jungkook– imagine the odds of that. But, what if?

He gets back today and everything feels surreal.

After you get back to your car, Jungkook’s mother calls you, excitedly urging you to drive over to her place to celebrate Jungkook’s return from the military. You tell her that of course you’ll be there before you start driving down the oh so familiar streets to Jungkook’s child home.

Upon pulling up, you see a familiar face.

Rolling down the window, you call out his name, “Tae!!”

Taehyung, who is in the midst of walking towards the front door, whips his head towards your voice. “Y/N, hey!”

He waits for you to park, you clumsily grabbing onto your purse so you can meet him at the front.

“I missed you,” you say.

“I missed you too. Text me more,” he responds before scanning you up and down, “You look… fancy,” Taehyung comments to which you sigh playfully.

“You know, I chose to waste my life away as a corporate slave,” you muse, giving him a hug.

“Just like your boyfriend,” Taehyung jokes, making an obvious reference to Jungkook.

“Oh shut up,” you sigh, swatting his bicep, allowing him to open the door for you.

The moment you walk in, Jungkook’s mother squeals like she’s never seen you in her life. “Omo, omo, omo! Y/N is here everyone!” she announces excitedly, scurrying over to you, immediately latching onto your bicep to pull you towards the crowd, “Y/N is here! Y/N is here!”

Jungkook is standing by the dining table, surrounded by his aunts, uncles, and cousins. He lifts his head to meet eyes with you, offering you a gentle smile. The way he looks at you, smiles at you– it’s just, it makes your heart swell.

Every time you see him, it’s like time slows down.

You can imagine waking up this smile every morning, rolling over to find his handsome face gazing softly at you to-

Wait. Have you lost your mind?

And at that moment, you’re tackled to the ground by Jungkook’s six year old cousin, Jacob. If Jungkook is no longer in love with you, the only solace you have is the affection of his six year old cousin.

He grabs your face with both palms, causing your lips to pucker as he pouts at you. “Why didn’t you say hi to me?”

You gently grab his face and ruffle hush air. “Sowwy, Jacob. You’re too little I didn’t see you,” you reason to which Jacob, for some reason, becomes angry at.

He rolls over onto the ground, just to get up and stomp away. “I am not little!” he declares, stomping up the stairs. You can hear the door slam and you exchange bewildered glances with Jacob’s mother, who shakes her head.

“He's just going through a bit of a phase," she reassures you with a smile, before turning to follow Jacob upstairs. You lock eyes with Jungkook, who gives you a subtle smile.

The Jeon family is filled with drama queens.

Jungkook closes the distance between you. “Hey.”

You feel your heart skip a beat.

He’s as handsome as ever. Just like he’s always been.

“Hey, welcome back,” you sheepishly express, standing on your tiptoes to give him a hug.

He hugs you– like, really hugs you. Both of his strong arms snake around your waist, holding you against him securely. It leaves you weak in the knees. It’s a little too intimate for a casual, welcome back hug, but you haven’t a problem with it.

He pulls back, and all you can do is stare at him. You’re mesmerized. Again, he always makes you feel like this. This feeling will never dissipate.

“Did you just get back from work?”

You come back to Earth, pulled from your entrancement.

“Yea, I did…” You scan him up and down. He’s wearing something casual– a black T-shirt and black shorts, but his physique still looks perfect and he still looks perfect. Without thinking, you speak, “Did you happen to hear about the- no, nevermind.”

Jungkook tilts his head with a slightly teasing expression, “No, say it,” he urges

“The merger.”

“Merger?”

You say it in unison, and you bite a smile back.

Jungkook’s mom automatically intervenes, “Omo! Omo!” she exclaims, “A merger? What merger?”

“Y/N’s company and my company are merging,” Jungkook simply answers, looking at you to raise his brows.

“Omo!” she exclaims again, almost theatrically falling to her knees, “Does this mean that you two will be working together?” she asks, motioning towards you and Jungkook, to which you sheepishly shake your head.

“Probably not,” you dismiss, “I don’t even know if my department is relocating to the new facility.”

“Oh, I hope you do!” Jungkook’s mother pouts, “That would be absolutely perfect! It would be great if he could watch over you at work,” she reasons, before addressing the entire family, “Y/N is very pretty and gets hits on a lot,” she explains, making you squeeze your features in embarrassment.

All of Jungkook’s older family members murmur in agreement– and you appreciate the hype, you really do, but it’s embarrassing, especially in front of the entire family. You place a hand on Jungkook’s mother’s shoulder. “Excuse me for a moment, I’m going to use the restroom,” you whisper, to which she gives you two big thumbs ups.

On your way to the restroom, you stop in your tracks. None other than Yeonjun, the ANTAGONIST, steps out, swatting the air like he’d just taken a nasty shit.

You blink at him and he blinks at you.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” you deadpan.

Yeonjun shrugs, “Jungkook’s aunt invited me. She thinks I’m a cutie pie.”

“Okay,” you roll your eyes, walking past him to inconspicuously drag him with you into the restroom.

You throw him onto the toilet seat, looking into the mirror to touch up your makeup.

“Y/N, this looks suspicious,” Yeonjun deadpans, watching you reapply your lip gloss and comb through your eyebrows.

At that, you drop your hand from your face. “Oh shit, that’s true,” you gasp, a hand coming over your mouth.

For the past– like– two years, Jungkook’s family has been under the impression that you and Yeonjun are dating. That notion couldn’t be farther from the truth.

You inhale sharply, turning towards Yeonjun, “You leave first and then I’ll follow.”

Yeonjun raises an eyebrow, a hint of amusement flickering in his eyes. "Sure thing, Y/N. Just pray that nobody’s waiting outside," he says with a mocking smile before slipping out of the restroom.

And of course, Jungkook’s mother was right outside the door. She shrieks.

Every single one of Jungkook’s aunts and uncles met you when you were just an itty-bitty baby.

Occasionally, you keep in touch with the aunts and uncles– not nearly as much as you do with Jungkook’s parents, but goodness, are you thankful for your connections to the Jeon family because you find out that Jungkook’s uncle won the lottery.

The literal lottery– and he bought a yacht, a yacht that he suggests to all the “kids” (a bunch of 20-something year olds, pushing 30) to go on a little cruise in celebration of Jungkook’s return.

You really wouldn’t be yourself if you didn’t rush home to get your bikini and sunscreen, and of course, you dragged Yeonjun along with you.

The yacht, even under the night sky, is the fanciest, most luxurious thing you've ever laid eyes on. Its lights twinkle like stars, casting a gentle glow on the water. It's like a dream come true, a magical oasis on the dark sea.

This is so cute, so summer.

With your towel laid against the deck, you’re lying on the deck like you’re suntanning, which isn’t possible because it’s the moon’s light that shines down on you, but at least it makes you feel like a magical moon fairy.

“Get the angles right!” you bark to which Yeonjun rolls his eyes to the back of his head and groans.

With your forearm resting against the deck, you hold your body up sideways, all your assets on display. With your knees touching, your hip touches the deck, and your other arm goes up in the air, and you’re waving it around like a little mermaid.

In a sense, you’re posing to get a cute Instagram pic– but also because you know Jungkook might be watching from the upper deck. He’s probably drinking with his friends, not even batting a lash nor caring about you, but you like to delude yourself into thinking that he could be checking you out from a distance.

“Y/N, I took like 300,” he deadpans, dismissing your complaints with a wave, “Take some for me now,” he instructs, standing up to hand you his phone, “I’m cuter than you so they better look better than yours.”

“Yea, yea. Whatever,” you muse, going along with the bit, holding up your phone to get all the good angles for your forever bestie.

Mingyu, Taehyung, Jimin, and Jungkook sit on the upper deck, staring at the night sky with bottles of Soju in their hands. Like you and Yeonjun, they’re in their swim trunks, though no one is entirely certain they want to go for a swim in the chilly water.

Unbeknownst to you, the four men have a clear view of you from the upper deck.

The flash of the phone camera flickers comically, occasionally lighting up the mens’ faces as they all try to avoid looking at you– out of chivalry, of course.

Taehyung is particularly amusing, maintaining his expression of stoicism as he stares directly into the moon, taking an occasional sip of Soju.

At that moment, Jungkook knows that he chose the right friends because he himself can’t seem to rip his eyes from you. You’re beautiful; that is absolute, without a doubt– but something has changed– maybe it’s the angle that the cool breeze hits his face or the alcohol making him feel soothingly warm on the inside.

Jungkook sees it in your mannerisms, the way you poise yourself, the way you walk, the way you talk. You were gorgeous before, and he was insane about you before, but damn– you’ve become such a woman.

He knows what it is, but he’d be a dick to patronize you for it, to act like he’s proud of you for becoming more confident. Undoubtedly, you’ve developed a more profound sense of confidence and it makes Jungkook swell with pride because he remembers how you’ve agonized over your body, complaining about your boobs, your weight, your waist, when in reality everything was and is perfect.

You’re as beautiful as a Victoria’s Secret model, as ethereal as the goddess of beauty, and Jungkook’s just happy to see that you’ve embraced it.

You yourself would agree with the sentiment; it wasn’t until your 20’s that you grasped how utterly gorgeous you are, and how to embrace your beauty, make yourself look good and like you, not just like every other girl on Instagram.

Jimin clears his throat, “So.. now that you’re back, are you and Y/N going to…”

Jungkook lifts his head and looks at Jimin. He shakes his head. It’s firm and absolute. “No, it’s better for us to be friends.”

Mingyu raises a brow, “You can’t take your eyes off her.”

“It doesn’t matter,” he rationalizes, “People can like each other and still be incompatible.”

“Incompatible?” Taehyung repeats, a twinge of confrontation in his voice, “If I had a girl like Y/N in my life I’d propose immediately.”

Jungkook stares into the moon, “I need a cigarette-”

“Okay, what is wrong with you?” Jimin challenges, rising to his feet, “Y/N is right there,” Jimin whisper-yells, motioning towards the lower deck, “You clearly still feel something for her, so do something about it. I mean- how would you feel if someone– not me… I don’t know. How would you feel if Mingyu hit on her right now? And they started dating?’

“Why me?-”

“That would be inappropriate,” Jungkook retorts, “Y/N can date whoever she wants, just not you guys.”

“Then what about Yeonjun?” Taehyung intervenes calmly, “Yeonjun’s a good kid. She brings him to all your family events. They’re cute together, huh?” Taehyung motions towards the lower deck, where you and Yeonjun are laying on your sides facing each other, animatedly discussing something probably stupid, like penguins.

He notices the skinship, how your hand is casually thrown around Yeonjun’s waist, and how you occasionally swat at his shoulder whenever he says something a little too egregious.

No, it doesn’t bother Jungkook.

Jungkook actually likes that you have male friends, that you can maintain friendships with the opposite gender without it having to mean more.

It means that he can trust you, and that he can trust your friends to take care of you.

But what trust is at stake here? It’s not like you’re his girlfriend nor should he worry about who’s taking care of you or not taking care of you. Furthermore, it really isn’t his place to feel betrayed, like you cheated on him, by the prospect of you actually forming a relationship with Yeonjun–.

“See? You look hurt as fuck,” Taehyung affirms.

“I’m not hurt-”

“Get your shit together, and get your girl. Y/N’s not perfect, but she could be perfect for you,” Taehyung shrugs at his corny play of words, earning a playful shoulder nudge from Mingyu.

“Aye, that was a good one.”

On cue, he hears two inconspicuous splashes into the ocean, your squeals echoing across the atmosphere.

“Tag, you’re it!”

“Bitch! You just kicked my balls!”

“I said tag, you’re it!”

But wait, isn’t it a little too dark to be swimming this late?

When it comes to you it’s like Jungkook’s protective instinct never dies.

Descending the stairs to the lower deck, he watches Yeonjun as he climbs onto the deck. “Y/N, you need to stop kicking my nuts! Holy shit!”

“I said sorry!” you retort, “I didn’t know!”

Yeonjun grumbles something indistinctive before picking a towel up to roughly dry his hair, disappearing into the restroom.

“Y/N, it isn’t safe to swim alone at night,” Jungkook mumbles. He takes a seat on the lower deck, his feet submerged under the water. The water is icy cold, and he can’t conceive how you’re not shivering. He’s not being patronizing. He’s simply worried for your safety.

You swim towards him, hands latching around his ankles to stabilize yourself beneath the water.

It’s the casual skinship between you two. The way his hand lingered on your shoulder when he told you his uncle bought a yacht. It’s the way he can casually wipe food from your mouth with his bare hands without batting a lash. It’s the way your fingers trail up his legs so you can place your forearms against his thighs, resting your head on them.

“Then… why don’t you come join me..?”

Jungkook really doesn’t want to. The water is cold, the weather is cold, and he’s very much comfortable on the warm yacht.

….

Jungkook submerges himself under the water, coming up before flicking his head back to rid the water from his eyes.

“It’s cold as fuck, Y/N,” Jungkook mutters, body temperature still adjusting to the chilly water.

He freezes when your fingertips brush against his. abs— perhaps accidentally, but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t make him feel any less electrified.

“That’s why it’s good to have more than one person in here,” you rationalize, “More body heat.”

You’re treading against the water, and not doing a great job at it- your head bobs with the motion of the waves, and you find yourself sputtering the water out of your mouth as you speak.

Jungkook wipes his face haphazardly with his left hand before he reaches out to stabilize you, holding onto your bicep.

It makes your heart skip a beat. So big and strong. You can smell the shampoo on his wet hair, and it makes you dizzy because not only does he always look good, he always smells good.

Your eyes trail from his bicep to his shoulder, neck, and finally, to his eyes. He’s already looking at you, the warmth of his gaze making you feel so secure and safe.

You know he wants you. There’s no way he can look at you like this and not want you.

It hasn’t even been a day since he’s returned from the military and he looks at you the same way he looked at you from the night before he left: with love.

Your eyes flicker down to his lips, his pretty lips. He’s so pretty. You close the distance, wrapping your arms around his neck to stabilize you further, and you draw your lips to his-

Until he turns his head.

Still, his hands grab your waist, holding you close to him against the water, but he looks into the ocean, 90 degrees from you, refusing to look at you or meet your eyes.

“It’s cold, we should get out. I don’t want to get sick,” he suggests.

“Yea, okay,” you sheepishly agree, allowing him to hoist you onto the lower deck before following in your stead.

He throws you a vacant towel, “You alright?”

Catching it with a single hand, you use it to pat yourself dry, composing yourself before you stare at him.

“I’m fine.”

That night, Jungkook’s mother suggests you spend the night at her house, or that Jungkook drive you home given how late it is.

Instead, you sneak out of the house and drive home, far too embarrassed to be around Jungkook let alone look him in the eye.

That was so humiliating. You think about how you behaved while you were staying with him after your parents’ death. You exposed yourself to him in the shower and begged him to join you. What the hell were you even thinking? Should you just drive your car off this cliff?

When you pull into your apartment complex’s parking lot, you keep banging your head against the steering wheel in hopes that maybe you’d wake up and realize that tonight was just an embarrassing dream.

Well, unfortunately it wasn’t a dream, because later that night Jungkook shows up at your door with your wallet in his hand. You answer the door in a loose T-shirt, boyshorts, and a Snorlax plush headband on your head with a gray face mask.

“My mom told me to give this back to you.”

You take the wallet, “Thanks.”

You stand there for a moment, staring at him.

He looks at you, pursing his lips before he places a hand on your shoulder. “Hey, I’ll always care about you, alright?”

You nod, fidgeting with the charm of your necklace, “I know.”

“Good. I’ll be going, then,” Jungkook announces.

“Alright, drive safely,” you respond.

With a brief nod, Jungkook moves to shut the door and depart, and for some reason you just can’t bear to see him go so your hands instinctively reach for him, latching around his wrist.

Jungkook raises his eyebrows at you, and you almost yank your hand from him immediately.

“It’s nothing,” you express, biting your lip.

“Alright then, I’ll see you.”

“Good night.”

The moment he leaves, you scold yourself for being so emboldened. Weren’t you embarrassed enough? You open your fridge, pouring yourself a glass of champagne, before you pace around your apartment, your champagne swishing in your glass while you find yourself in deep contemplation.

Jungkook’s back.

Everything you’ve ever wanted is back, in front of you.

You hurt him, and apparently you made him cry, well- that was all in the past, anyways.

It doesn’t matter because you love him. You really do. You love him with your entire soul, heart, and being, and you know your feelings are reciprocated, so if there’s even a chance that he’s willing to give it another shot, you’ve got to do something about it.

Instinctively, you grab your laptop and place it on the dining table, stretching your fingers out to write the longest text message you’ve probably sent in your life.

Once your pinky finger presses the Enter key, you slam your laptop shut, pacing around your apartment until you hear a ding from your phone.

You nearly screech, running to your bathroom to wash off the face mask, putting some moisturizer on, combing through your eyebrows, and applying your lip gloss before-

Ding Dong

You open the door, looking up at Jungkook with big eyes while he looks down at you. He runs his hand through his hair before holding your face with his palms, studying you, his eyes urgently scanning your features for any hint of insincerity.

“You mean it?”

“Yes,” you say resolutely, struggling against his firm grasp, your lips slightly puckering.

“Prove it then,” he demands.

He lets go of your face and welcomes himself into your humble abode.

Taking a seat on your couch, he crosses his arms, watching you intently as if waiting for you to break out into a soliloquy.

You don’t know what to say, and you’re far too embarrassed to admit your transgressions aloud, until a light bulb appears over your head.

“My diary,” you suggest, “I’ll let you read… parts of my diary, but you have to prove it first.”

You expect him to ask you how, or to ask you what he’s supposed to be proving, but he doesn’t.

“Okay. C’mere,” he says with a tilt of his head. All you can do is shift your weight between ankles, before shyly approaching him.

“Sit,” he gently instructs.

You nod, about to seat yourself on the area beside him before he grabs your wrist and twirls you around so that you’re straddling him. Your hands find themselves on your shoulders, and Jungkook wraps his around your back.

“Y/N, I..” he starts, his gently brown orbs studying your features, “I know what you think of me,” he sighs as if just relinquished from holding the weight of the world, “and I promise you that I’m not that man,” he continues, scrutinizing your every nonverbal response.

“I’m selfish, I’m immature,” he starts, brushing your bangs from your face, “but never with you,” he finishes. “I always showed you the best parts of me, always wanted you to see me as someone you can rely on,” he expresses, gently cradling your face, “but I don’t think you realize how much I depend on you, how much I need you too.”

Your features scrunch, studying his features, digesting his words. He reaches in his pocket for something, before pulling out a heart shaped locket. He uses his other arm to delicately grasp your hand, placing the locket in your hand.

“Look at it,” he instructs, and you follow, your fingertips clumsily opening the locket. Your heart swells. The heart shaped locket bears an image of you.

“Being in the military wasn’t easy for me,” he continues, “but I had you with me. Had my favorite girl with me. You gave me strength.”

“When you left that morning, I regretted what I said to you. I thought I was too harsh, and that I’d lost you forever. That was one of the worst feelings in my life– but to me, I felt that you were the one who turned me down. I thought that you were just infatuated with me, that you wouldn’t care about me if you’d see how immature and selfish I really am. But I love you so much that I was okay with that. I’m okay with anything as long as it’s you,” he finally finishes.

You don’t know what to say. Your eyes flicker towards the locket, “You could’ve chosen a better picture,” you mumble, to which Jungkook amusedly scoffs.

“That’s all you have to say?” he muses.

Your cheeks turn strawberry pink, and you climb off his lap, running to your room to grab your diary. You return, skipping through the pages, before you land on the one you want to show him.

You jut it towards him, “Here.”

Jungkook’s eyes glaze over the page, and he starts reading it aloud, mocking your voice, “I graduate college today-”

You literally throw yourself on him to shut him up, “Do not.”

A cheeky smile dances across his face as his eyes scan over the page. After a moment, he looks up and pouts, “Awe, baby,” he coos.

Your face scrunches cutely.

“Come gimme a hug,” he sweetly beckons, to which you sheepishly jump into his lap again, his arms snaking around your waist while he soothingly runs his hands up and down your back.

“I’ll always be here for you, whether we’re together or not,” he whispers against your skin, “You mean everything to me.”

“I know,” you self-consciously respond.

"There's nothing you can do to be 'worthy' of me. I love you for you. You can be the world's richest person or the world's poorest person and there's nothing that would change for me, seriously. All you need to do is continue loving yourself, and that's good enough for me."

"Even if I turned into a worm? You'd still love me?" you ask, your voice coming out as a slight whimper.

Jungkook smiles. Obviously not, but of course, he'll indulge you. "Of course," he says, his voice like honey, "I'd carry you around in my pocket."

"Thanks," you sheepishly murmur, “There are just things I’m worried about, but I trust you with everything.”

He hums in agreement, “We’ll work it out.”

“Okay,” you concede, “I love you,” you confess, “I love you forever.”

“I love you forever too.”

The moment feels so intimate. Your chests are heart to heart, beating in unison as you relish the sensation of having him in your arms, having him back.

Dating Jungkook officially means you get to indulge in all of your innermost desires, the little things you never thought you’d see into fruition– because the reality is that you’ve seen Jungkook in every way. He’s been to your house thousands of times, and you’ve slept over at his hundreds of times, but having him in a different way fills you with an indescribable sense of excitement and joy.

He’s taken you shopping thousands of times, but this time is different. Jungkook is affectionately, overwhelmingly so. He’ll keep his fingers intertwined with yours even when your palms become drenched with sweat. As stated before, he doesn’t care about any distinct bodily fluid if it’s yours.

He’ll hold you from behind while you browse through clothes, give you the occasional peck when you’re in line– it seems like he’s enjoying this domestic intimacy as much as you are. The poor guy has been in the military for a whole year.

“That one’s cute,” he comments, motioning towards a white sundress hanging on the rack, just beside the crop top you’re currently looking at. He keeps your body close to him, his arms so casually thrown around you from behind. His fingers play with your hair, twirling it around his index, and every so often, he presses kisses to your cheek, neck, and skillfully cradles your face, forcing your jaw towards him for a sweet kiss.

“Should I try it on?” you ask with a cute tilt of your head.

“I like it,” he offers, “I rarely see you in dresses. You always look so pretty.”

His sentiment makes you blush– you’re already aware that when he’s around, you’ve only really been in casual clothes: crop tops, sweatpants, and flared leggings. You want to show him a new side of you.

“We could go to the beach together,” you offer.

Jungkook hums in agreement, “Of course, baby,” he agrees, “You looked really pretty in that matching skirt and crop top thing you wore last time.”

“Which one?”

“The one you broke my heart in,” he teases.

You amusedly scoff, twirling around to grab his face and press a kiss on his lips. He acts annoyed, doesn’t return the kiss, just stares down at you, but still chases your lips when you pull away.

If the skinship is this pervasive in public, you can’t imagine how he would behave behind closed doors.

Jungkook got back yesterday, and you think that he’s really taking his fill of you after being deprived from you for so long.

Yesterday was Friday, and today is Saturday… meaning that neither of you have nothing to do.

Nothing to do but look at cute princess dresses at the mall, cuddle, and watch Jujutsu Kaisen, obviously.

Even while doing something as mundane as watching anime from the floor, you sit in between his legs, back pressed up against his chest, and his arms around your waist, fingers playing and pinching with the chub of your tummy.

He can’t keep his hands off you.

The sounds of Gojo and Toji’s fight are drowned by the pounding of your cardiac palpitations. Jungkook’s large hands are splayed against the front of your body, his hands trailing up and around your stomach and back, rubbing your skin, and sinking his fingertips into your chub.

You gasp softly when you feel him unclasp your bra.

He pulls his arms around you even more securely, tugging you onto his lap before he buries his face into the crook of your neck, “You’re so soft,” he murmurs, and his hands return to your stomach– and you think they’re going to trail up. Perhaps he’ll grab a handful of titty or rub a nipple until he doesn’t-

His hands trail to your legs, rubbing his palms up and down each calf lovingly before he laces his fingers through your toes, and gently pushes you off his lap…?

He rises to his feet. “I’m hungry, want me to make some ramen for you?”

“Uh yea, sure,” you smile.

You and Jungkook have done it before: twice. Once at the beach villa and the second before he enlisted.

Every time was magical, electrifying, the best you’ve ever had. He led you through each and every step with expertise and he was so soft, so sweet, and it felt so fucking good.

Admittedly, your past, insecure, and inquisitive self did some snooping around and you are aware of Jungkook’s body count: 13. You were the 13th, and quite honestly, it didn’t make you feel the greatest; you despise the thought of Jungkook with another woman, but you suppose that there is something nice about having an experienced man.

It’s not like you weren’t inexperienced either.

Your body count was– like– 6.

It’s not like any of the men before Jungkook actually made you come. It felt good, you guess, but having sex with someone you’re in love with is indescribable.

You want to do it with him, but there’s something that makes you feel subconscious about making the first move, especially when it comes to something as intimate and forth putting as sex.

You don’t find yourself seductive enough to do so, and you already have societal norms against you.

Women are the gatekeepers of sex. Men are the ones who want to unlock the gate. Blah Blah Blah.

Well, you want to have sex too because you’re unbelievably in love and aroused by this man.

So, would you be making the first move? You’ve changed a lot since the emboldened 19 year old you once were.

In conclusion, no. You will absolutely not be making the first move. You will just have to suck it up.

That Saturday night, Jungkook stays over at your place.

Nothing happens, of course, but that doesn’t mean that Jungkook doesn’t spoon you like a prison inmate incarcerated in his little Jungkook cell. He snores softly against the crook of your neck.

Living alone isn’t easy, especially as a 21 year old (subjectively hot) girl. You double lock your doors. You have a baseball bat with nails hidden in the depths of your closet. While Jungkook was in the army, you had Yeonjun, Soobin, and Beomgyu on speed dial just in case anything were to happen.

It was stressful, and it gave you crippling anxiety at times.

But Jungkook is your Prince Charming in every way, from the way he makes you feel, to the way he dotes on you, and to the way he protects you. Jungkook’s got big strong military muscles, and you know that he’d never let anything happen to you.

Since forever, he’s always casually swept you towards the inside of the sidewalk, stepped in front of you when a stranger approached, and of course you aren’t aware of this, but the reason those creepy frat boys started leaving you alone was because of him.

The sun rises, its sweet rays as warm as the feeling intensifying your chest. Jungkook’s arms are still draped on your sides, and you turn over so you can get a real good glimpse at his sleeping face.

So handsome. Jungkook is sleeping calmly, soft snores leaving his mouth, and it brings you so much joy to see him at peace.

You run a thumb over his brow, pressing a soft kiss to the area in between his eyebrows. Slowly, his eyes open, and he’s staring at you with lidded eyes, and you can’t fathom how handsome you think he is.

“G’morning baby,” he says in a soft voice, the grogginess of his morning voice making you gulp.

“Hi,” you sweetly respond, “Sorry for waking you. You can go back to sleep. It’s Sunday,” you say folding the comforter away from you to sneak out of bed.

Jungkook protests with a hum, “I want you to stay with me,” he mumbles.

“You don’t want breakfast?”

“Can’t sleep without you,” he responds, his chest rising slightly, which makes you pout.

“Alright.”

Peace. Serenity. Serendipity. Everything you’ve ever wanted. You’re so in love.

Later that day, you get an email from the company, which is surprising since it’s Sunday, but essentially, the email states that your department will be transferring to the new HYBE facility. You flip your phone to show Jungkook the screen, who is sitting across the table stuffing his face with noodles with a Snorlax headband in his hair.

On cue, Jungkook’s phone dings, and he pulls out his phone.

“Oh shit,” he says aloud, “Same.”

You’re a bit taken aback, “Are you serious?” you ask, scrambling to your feet before racing around the dining room to glimpse at Jungkook’s phone.

Dear Jungkook, We're pleased to inform you that your department facilities are relocating to a new, improved location. This move is part of our ongoing commitment to efficiency and employee satisfaction…

You exchange glances with him, blinking at him momentarily before you speak.

“You’re going to get sick of me if you have to see me everyday,” you deadpan, prompting him to theatrically roll his eyes.

“You do analytics, I do software development. We’re not even going to be on the same floor,” he declares matter-a-factly, “You’ll probably be with… the marketing girls or something.”

“Oh really?” you muse, raising your brows, “You don’t want to see me at work? You’d rather be with those ‘marketing girls’?”

Jungkook purses his lips, staring at you unimpressed, before a smile spreads across his lips.

“If I see you at work,” he whispers, fingertips dancing along your thigh before his palms grasp the backs of your thighs, pulling you towards him, “I won’t be able to focus. I’d be too distracted keeping my eyes on the pretty girl from the Analytics department.”

You blush slightly, “Oh- oh, shut up.”

“What? It’s the truth. Either you or I have to quit, and it won’t be me. I have seniority over you.”

You know he’s joking, but the notion makes you scowl. You step out of his grasp, “That’s not funny,” you mutter, crossing your arms.

He shrugs, “I could really turn into the sugar daddy you’ve always dreamed about.”

“Don’t undermine me because I don’t have as much experience as you do,” you direct, to which Jungkook theatrically drops his jaw, rising to his feet.

You look him right in the eye, maintaining your glare as he starts to tower over you. “Oh c’mon baby, you know I didn’t mean it like that,” he comforts.

You shake your head, rolling your eyes, “Asshole,” you spit, stomping away from him, to which Jungkook follows.

“Seriously? I was joking!” he reasons, following you to your room. You walk into the bathroom, closing the door behind you and locking it before he can trail in your stead. At that, Jungkook scoffs, not believing that you were taking it this seriously.

He knocks on the door. “Y/N,” he calls, dragging out your name.

You don’t say anything, and he squeezes his eyes in defeat when he hears the sound of the shower starting, opting to slip into your bed whilst waiting for you to return. He sighs, running his hands over his face.

To be honest, Jungkook is a little triggered. He hates the whole silent treatment thing more than anything else. Last year, you ignored him for four months straight and it nearly killed him on the inside.

Minutes later, you emerge from the shower, one towel wrapped around your body and the other wrapped around your hair. You cross your arms, staring at him. The towel wrapped around your frame is loose, threatening to fall beneath the nipple.

Jungkook sighs, standing up and sauntering over. Your eyes are glossy, not from the water from the shower, and the tip of your nose is a cute shade of pink. Your features are twisted up into petulance, your lips displaying a subtle pout.

Seeing you in distress pains him too.

His gentle and careful fingers pull the towel above your breast. He knows you feel vulnerable and he doesn’t want you to inadvertently expose yourself and contribute to that vulnerability, his left hand rubbing your nape up and down gently. “What’s wrong, baby? Hm?” he inquires sweetly, bending over to draw your lips in for a honeyed kiss.

“I just–” you start, unable to meet his eyes as you crane your head the other way. Jungkook gently cradles your jaw, directing your focus back to him. Looking into his eyes, you choke up. “I just– I know you weren’t being serious, but I just feel belittled, like is my work so unserious that one day I’ll just end up being a trad wife or stay at home mom?”

Jungkook feels awful. He was already aware that you had some sort of inferiority complex when it came to him, and knowing that he fed into it makes him regret everything he’s ever said.

Jungkook opens and closes his mouth immediately, looking for the right words. He places both palms on your shoulders, “Shit. I’m sorry Y/N, I didn’t mean it that way at all,” he expresses, “I was just– I was just being a dick,” he says, pulling you in for a hug. “I don’t think of you that way at all,” he continues, “I mean– look at you. You’re 21 and you’re rich, you’ve got a good job. You’re up there with all these old people,” he jokes, eliciting a sweet giggle from your lips.

“I only said it because I love you and I like the thought of taking care of you,” he says, to which you squirm.

You squirm in place, looking the other way, “So are you mad at me? For ignoring you?” you sweetly beckon, and Jungkook draws your lips for another sweet kiss.

“No, baby. I’m thankful you said something, though,” he offers, continually rubbing your nape up and down.

“I can take care of you too,” you declare, “Remember? We’re equals now,” you express, standing on your tiptoes to press a kiss to his lips.

That night, Jungkook helps you change into your clothes, dries your hair, and rubs your skincare into your face. So delicate. So sweet

There’s something so wonderful about having someone you can confide in, communicate with, and love. Jungkook never judges you; all you have to do is explain how you feel and he’ll indulge you completely.

That doesn’t mean however, that Jungkook can’t be selfish, immature, or childish.

The night he confessed to you, he told you that he could be all those things, and to be honest, you’ve never really seen it directed towards you.

When he was a teenager, you saw him get mad at his parents when he was caught smoking for the first time. You were a kid, but you thought that was pretty childish.

Beyond that, Jungkook has always been chill, more laid back, and normal.

Not tonight, though.

“That was childish,” you deadpan from the passenger seat of his car.

Jungkook reaches over to place his palm on your thigh, to which you swat it away and lean as far as you can into the window.

Jungkook scoffs, “You’re calling me childish? Out of all people, you’re calling me childish?”

You cross your arms. “I am,” you respond, your voice firm and resolute.

You both were on your way back from the company party celebrating the merger. The company went all out, hosting the party at a luxury hotel, illuminating the hotel’s grand ballroom with twinkling chandeliers and neon signs displaying the company’s name.

You arrive as a pair, nothing too conspicuous for the sake of professionalism. You’re wearing a long sleeved dress, with Jungkook in a casual black button up and gray slacks.

You quickly separated to meet with your respective departments, and when you happened to pass by Jungkook’s department, he went out of his way to greet your coworkers, introducing himself to your department like he’s never seen you before in his life.

The other men in Jungkook’s department are quite put together. They seem like the type of people Jungkook would work with: young, objectively attractive, tech-nerds. You greet all of them with the same enthusiasm Jungkook greeted your department, knowing that they may be potential wedding guests.

At the moment, you aren’t quite able to recall their names but he works with six other guys. They didn’t really leave a lasting impression; they were kind, sweet, and polite, nothing out of the ordinary.

Notably, it was Mary– your kind, sweet, amazing 50-year old coworker and work bestie, who brought her son to the party. That was not something you were expecting, mostly because Mary always teased you about becoming her son-in-law, and you always entertained the notion, not expecting that you’d meet the man in person.

Mary’s son is in his early 30’s, and he is… nice.

He’s nice, he really is. He’s an intelligent, hard-working man. He takes care of his sweet mother, and for that, he is admirable, but you think there was some miscommunication there, because he is definitely under the impression that you are interested in him in some way, shape, or form, and you feel horrible about it, because you don’t think Mary knows you were playing around.

Mary's son leaned in with a charming smile. "So, what do you like to do outside of work?" he inquires, his gaze lingering on you with a subtle hint of interest.

You hesitate for a moment, "Oh, you know, the usual. I enjoy reading and hiking when I have the time," you reply cautiously.

Mary's son nods, his smile widening slightly. "Sounds like we have some common interests. Maybe we could do something together sometime.”

Your heart sinks at the implication of his words, but before you can respond, your big, hot, sexy boyfriend intervenes. Jungkook had his eye on you the entire night– nothing too conspicuous, but he made sure you were always within his field of peripheral vision.

Jungkook steps in, a champagne glass in hand. He playfully nudges Mary’s son and you squeeze your eyes shut, dreading what’s yet to come.

“Must be quite the occasion for you to be hitting on your mom’s coworkers,” he cuts in making you run your hands over your face, “Let me put you on to something else,” he continues, “I mean, you’re a handsome guy, and I know that there’s someone else more suitable for you than a 21 year old, alright bud?” he continues, throwing a casual arm around Mary’s son as he leads him elsewhere.

Okay, it wasn’t that bad.

But it was embarrassing.

Jungkook seemed polite, but his language was more than passive aggressive, and anyone who caught heed to the conversation tangibly felt it.

“I was literally being nice!” Jungkook rationalizes, his fingers tapping against the driver’s wheel, prompting you to huff in frustration.

“You should have let me handle it,” you respond, “I was going to turn him down. Next time, don’t do all that, alright?”

“You were not going to handle it,” he retorts, “You were mumbling– baby, you were blushing– definitely entertaining it,” he adds.

You shake your head, “That was my coworker’s son! If it was any other guy I would’ve told him to fuck off, but I had to be polite.”

“Yea, well, and if it was any other guy, I would’ve beaten the shit out of him so what’s your point?”

“Oh my gosh,” you express, face palming.

“C’mon baby, he was being totally predatory for hitting on his mom’s coworker,” Jungkook argues, “I didn’t even say anything that bad. Had a nice conversation with the guy.”

“It was childish, Jungkook,” you counter, “The fly on the wall could sense your passive aggression.”

“I’m such a big bad wolf for saving my girlfriend from a situation she was uncomfortable in. Aww,” he mocks a pout, dragging his pointer finger across his face to mimic a tear.

At that, you can’t help but scoff out laughter. “You’re so stupid,” you muse.

That situation was merely the tip of the iceberg.

You weren’t that angry; Mary’s son was out of line and it’s not like Jungkook said anything too egregious, but it’s the next day that Jungkook really shows you how immature you can be.

The following Monday is yours and Jungkook’s first day of work.

Jungkook is so in love, loves seeing you in a new light. It’s like there’s hearts in your eyes when you “coincidentally” run into each other in the second story printing room, finding the way you work when you’re in professional mode so sexy.

It’s like he has hearts in his eyes while he leans against the company’s wall, hands in his pockets while his eyes follow you from across the office, loving the way you simply walk around with a stack of paper in your hands.

That is, until the CEO of the fucking company starts hitting on you. That’s when his smile drops, and he removes his hands from the pockets. He instinctively steps forward to intervene yet again, until he remembers that this is actually work and that he can get both of you fired by doing anything too crazy.

“Quit your job,” Jungkook instructs the moment you get back to his place, causing you to almost drop your work bag onto the floor.

Maybe you didn’t hear him properly, “What’d you say?” you ask, taking off your shoes and joining him in the kitchen.

“Quit your job. I’ll help you find another one,” Jungkook suggests, rummaging through the fridge, as if it isn’t the most ridiculous idea you’ve heard in your life.

“I’m sorry babe. Can you repeat that one more time?”

“Quit your job, Y/N,” Jungkook finishes, slamming the fridge a little too hard. He’s clearly miffed. He’s doing that thing where he tongues the inside of his cheek. His eyebrows are in an angry V, and his chest is heaving up and down— and honestly, the fact that he’s angry calms you a little bit.

He’s just speaking from emotion, and now you need to be the voice of reason.

You force a smile, sneaking around to hug him from behind, resting your cheek against his mid-back.

“And why do you say that, honey? Hm?”

He swivels around, placing his palms on your shoulders. “Y/N, this isn’t funny. The CEO was being creepy as fuck. Turn in your resignation tomorrow, and I’ll start looking for another one. I’ll pay your bills until we can find you another job,” he states.

“C’mon babe,” you start, “the CEO was not being creepy. I’m the youngest at the company. He was just being nice.”

At that, Jungkook’s features scrunch in confusion, detecting any hint of sarcasm on your face. “You really think that?”

“I do.”

Jungkook sighs, “Y/N, rate yourself on a scale from 1-10, on societal standards of beauty. 10 being– like Anok Yai. Where do you stand? Be honest?”

The question is absurd, but you entertain it, putting your fingers on your chin while you genuinely contemplate the assertion.

“Maybe a 6?-”

“Okay, well, you’re an 11, and every guy feels that way. You don’t know how pretty you are and that’s my fault. I should tell you more, but baby– that’s how pretty you are. The CEO was hitting on you and I don’t want anything bad to happen to you, so quit your job.”

You stand there, processing his words, and while the sentiment is somewhat touching, you can’t lie and say that you aren’t the least bit upset, especially because you had this conversation about your work a few days ago.

“No,” is all you say.

“No?” Jungkook challenges.

“No,” you confirm, “I’m not going to quit my job. The CEO hasn’t done anything,” you reason, gesturing with your hands, “If he gets out of line, we can consider reporting him, but I’m not going to quit my job.”

“Okay, fair,” Jungkook says putting his hands up, and you smile, thinking that this conversation is over until he continues.

“But why would you wait for something bad to happen? Isn’t that totally absurd? I don’t want to wait for it to happen. Let’s play it safe.”

You sigh, “I see what you’re saying, I really do. But I don’t think anything is going to happen. I think you’re overreacting…”

Jungkook pauses, tonguing the inside of his cheek before a sly smile dances across his lips. “Overreacting, huh?”

“Um, yea,” you confirm, “Why would I quit my job? I’d lose all my connections. I mean– this is the only real employment I’ve had. Besides internships, I’d have nothing to put on my resume.”

Jungkook nods, understanding.

What he really wants to say is “Babe, just quit your job and I’ll make all the money. You’ll never have to work a day in your life and then we’ll retire early and travel the world together with our kids and-”

But that’s totally patronizing, but hey, he can’t help himself if he feels that way.

“So what do we do, babe? The CEO is in a position of power. I just don’t want you to be taken advantage of,” Jungkook expresses, his eye twitching.

What he really wants to say is “I literally saw the CEO’s dick getting hard while he talked to you and if I could, I’d shoot his entire office up-”

But of course, he would never utter the sentiment aloud.

“If it gets to that, we could report him for sexual harassment,” you ponder.

Jungkook nods in agreement, but you and he both understand the implications of reporting your CEO for something like that. Women always get the short end of the stick. People would probably accuse you of lying, the CEO would leverage his resources to legally ruin you, and you both could lose your job security.

Jungkook doesn’t want to even let it get to that point, and he’s trying his best to respect your autonomy, but it bothers him, it really does.

He inhales deeply, finding peace in the way your fingertips dance under his skirt, caressing his abs before you pull him in for a hug. “Nothing is going to happen, baby,” you comfort, “Everything will be alright, I promise.”

Indeed, everything is not alright, because the CEO repeatedly calls you into his office for some inconspicuous reasons, and you’re suddenly starting to understand where Jungkook is coming from.

Your only solace is that Jungkook is around the corner. Today, he’s wearing a suit and tie, his wire-framed glasses sitting on the bridge of his nose. He looks exceptionally sexy today, his long legs accentuated by his suit and his hair swept back to show his sexy forehead.

You put your phone down, looking up right when the elevator doors open to reveal a handsome, suit-clad Jungkook.

“Hello Mr. Jeon,” you express, a smile dancing on your lips when you bow to him and saunter into the elevator.

“Hello Ms. L/N,” Jungkook responds matter-a-factly, pushing up his glasses on his nose, “Strange running you into here.”

You bite back a giggle, “Yea, that is indeed strange. How is work for you, sir?”

“Oh work’s alright. The team is-”

And just like that your lips are on his, and he’s devouring you completely. Your legs wrap around his waist as he hoists you up, pressing you against the elevator doors as he sloppily and messily kisses you. Tongue in your mouth, teeth clashing, his groin grinds against the area between your thighs, inducing you to moan into his mouth while Jungkook continues licking into you and–

Ding! The elevator dings and you and Jungkook instantly scramble apart, resulting in you running to the other side of the elevator, smoothing out your skirt while you catch your breath. You cough, hand coming at ease in front of you while you stare at the floor. Jungkook behaves similarly, pushing up his glasses while he clears his throat and straightens his tie.

A second later, the elevator doors open, and more office workers pool in. You and Jungkook greet them politely, feigning innocence and ignorance.

The next day, something similar transpires.

You’re wearing a long, red skirt, a white blouse, and you have a white ribbon in your hair. You love work because it grants you opportunities to put together cute, modest outfits, and apparently, Jungkook likes it too, because you always catch him looking.

He checks you out quite noticeably, his eyes shamelessly scanning up and down your frame as he bites his lips. Your cheeks flush, and you take a moment before you sheepishly step into the elevator.

“H-hello, Mr. Jeon,” you greet.

“Hi Ms. Y/N. How are negotiations with your new client going?” he asks, adjusting his tie.

“They’re going great, sir-”

And like that, he closes the distance, cradling your jaw before leaning in for a kiss. His hands salaciously trail down to your behind, giving it a light squeeze, causing you to gasp in his mouth. He takes that as an opportunity to push his tongue into your mouth, causing you to moan as your tongues rub against each other and-

Ding!

Once again, you scramble apart, separating towards each end of the elevator, recomposing yourselves while more people pool in.

Not a soul would know what really transpires in the elevator everyday at 3:00 PM.

Unless there were cameras in the elevator.

Which there were.

Which is crazy because of course there are cameras in the elevator, and quite honestly, you and Jungkook were probably aware of that in the back of your minds, but who cares? Making out with him everyday in the elevator at 3:00 PM is hot and it’s what gets you through the work day (until 3 PM)

You and Jungkook get Cc'd the same email from HR.

Dear Employees, I hope this email finds you well. We need to discuss an incident observed via security cameras in the elevator involving two employees engaging in intimate behavior. This is a violation of company policies on workplace conduct. Please attend a meeting with HR to address this matter.

Oh shit.

You and Jungkook wait outside the conference room to talk to the HR. You blink at each other, and honestly you want to burst into giggles, but the conference room is made of glass and you aren’t really sure who’s watching.

The HR Manager, a tall lanky man, steps from the office and invites you in.

The meeting isn’t awkward at all— in fact, it’s more straight to the point. Essentially, the HR manager says something along the lines of “You’re free to date in the office, but no PDA. We don’t encourage dating because we want our employees to focus on work. I know you guys are amongst the youngest in the office, so if you want to do–erm— that, then you can go somewhere else during lunch.”

Both you and Jungkook profusely apologize, promise it won’t happen again, and then are off on your ways.

Funnily enough, the CEO stopped approaching you and calling you to his office so yea, neither of you quit your jobs, and Jungkook was overreacting, a little bit.

Now, the real question remains.

How do your friends feel about your relationship with Jungkook?

They want to see you happy, always, so that aspect brings them joy, but it’s important to address how things change.

Before, Jungkook was the unattainable, hotter, older man that all your friends told you to get a grip over because there was just no way he’d ever reciprocate your feelings. But now, things are different.

If Jungkook is your boyfriend, that means he’s your equal… so if your friends are your equal, does that mean Jungkook is equal to your friends? It’s just the transitive property of equality. If a = b, and b = c, then a =c.

But that’s weird.

You know you shouldn’t be making a big deal of it, but your friends are like little piggies and Jungkook is the wolf. There’s no way all of you could hang out at the same time without it being weird, because every time Jungkook has interacted with your friends in the past, it’s always been in a big brotherly way, not a friend way.

On top of that, Jungkook has never officially met Heeseung or Sunghoon, and he is very much aware that Sunghoon was interested (and potentially still could be) in you, which is probably why you all are sitting around the sushi table in awkward silence.

Soobin is hyperfocused on his the wrapper of his chopsticks, Beomgyu is repeatedly dipping his chopsticks into the Miso soup to lick at, Yunjin already excused herself to the restroom, and Heeseung is just staring at Jungkook in awe, which is understandable, because your boyfriend looks exceptionally handsome today.

Yeonjun is probably the only one who can carry the conversation, mostly because he’s the most closely acquainted with Jungkook and his family.

You elbow Yeonjun softly and he clears his throat, “So, um– Jungkook. Does your family still think Y/N and I are together? Or have you already told them that you’re dating?”

Soobin finally says something, “Wait, why would Jungkook’s family think that you and Y/N are dating?”

“Just because I brought him to a couple family events, and they got the wrong idea,” you respond, delicately tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.

“We haven’t let them know yet,” Jungkook answers, stretching out his upper body, “I don’t think that conversation will go over smoothly because of the… age difference.”

Yeonjun nods, understanding, “Yea, and your little cousin might be upset about it too,” he adds.

“Oh yea,” Jungkook smiles, addressing the table, “My little cousin is six years old and he’s got the biggest crush on Y/N. He probably won’t talk to me for a year once he finds out,” Jungkook says with a light laugh.

Oh my gosh. This is so awkward. You inwardly cringe, but leave it to Beomgyu to ease the atmosphere.

“It’s alright,” Beomgyu adds, “If you didn’t want her, Y/N would have just waited for your cousin to grow up cause at least the cousin likes her-”

You reach over the table to swat at his bicep.

At that moment, the side dishes arrive: perilla leaves, radish kimchi, steamed egg, pickled cucumbers, and spicy bean sprouts.

Thank goodness the food is here, you think, even if it’s just side dishes. Yunjin returns from the restroom, seemingly renewed as she takes the space between you and Yeonjun, and she starts talking.

“You know, Jungkook,” she starts, “Y/N really loves you. I, for one, am happy that you’re together. She’s been non-stop talking about you since high school. She showed up at my house crying when she heard you were bringing your girlfriend to Thanksgiving-”

You nudge Yunjin, a nonverbal cue to tell her to shut up.

Jungkook awkwardly laughs, “Yea, I know Y/N had a crush on me when she was younger but I didn’t realize until a couple years ago… Anyways, Y/N’s not the same person she was when she was a high schooler. I fell in love with her after she turned 19, of course.”

“But isn’t that still a problem?” Sunghoon challenges, and your face almost drops.

You know where this is going.

“You knew her since she was a little kid, so isn’t it kinda weird for you to date her?” he asks. The question is innocent, and it’s a valid question, but you can’t help but squeeze your eyes shut in anticipation of Jungkook’s answer.

“Some would say that,” Jungkook responds, “But our relationship isn’t about who she was. It doesn’t matter to me that she had a crush on me when she was younger, it’s about who she is now, and I love her as she is,” he finishes with a smile.

Sunghoon nods, “That makes sense,” he shrugs. At that moment, you use your chopsticks to pick up the perilla leaves, which are, of course, stuck together. Sunghoon casually reaches out with his chopsticks, separating the leaves and plopping one into his mouth.

You freeze, and you do what you should, placing the perilla leaf over Jungkook’s bowl of rice, and he almost immediately uses his spoon to swallow the perilla leave along with a spoonful of rice.

No one seems to notice, and the conversation continues.

“So what’s it like working with your girlfriend?” Heeseung asks casually, and the conversation continues, taking an upward trajectory, the atmosphere finally settling down.

“He still likes you, Y/N,” Jungkook says matter-a-factly, hanging up his coat in his closet while you take off your shoes by the front door.

You tilt your head, genuinely confused, “Who?”

“Sunghoon.”

You shake your head, dismissing the notion, “No, that was in the past. I heard he has a girlfriend now.”

You join Jungkook in his bedroom and he’s staring at you incredulously. “Are you serious?” Jungkook asks, causing you to scoff, “Of course I am!” you retaliate, “He’s over me. I turned him down straight up; I didn’t even entertain his feelings for me. I told him I was in love with you, remember?”

Jungkook's expression softens, and he takes a seat on his bed, “I know baby, but I’m just saying that he still likes you. Remember what I said?-”

“About me being an 11?” you question, amused, “Yea, nobody thinks that except for you,” you confirm with a nod, taking a seat on his lap when he opens his arms for you.

Jungkook shakes his head, “I’m not saying it’s anything bad, and I’m not saying I don’t trust you, but I just want you to know that he still likes you. He even tried to give you an indirect kiss,” he says, nuzzling his head into the crook of your neck.

You raise a brow at him, giggling at the tickling sensation of his lips ghosting across the sensitive areas of your neck, “An indirect kiss?”

“Yes,” Jungkook confirms, “An indirect kiss– the perilla leaf?”

You shake your head. You immediately recall a stupid conversation Jungkook had with his friends. “They peel off one perilla leaf, next thing you know, they’re holding hands, and fall in love, and they end up getting married!” is what he said, causing his friends to roll their eyes.

You place a chaste kiss on his lips, “You’re stupid,” you giggle.

He looks at you knowingly. Jungkook isn’t per se, worried about you and Sunghoon. He knows Sunghoon’s a respectful enough kid to not make a move, and he trusts you with his entire heart, soul, and being. He just wants you to know that Sunghoon most likely still harbors something for you.

Of course he would. Like Jungkook said, you’re an 11.

The delicacy of his feelings for you seeps into everything he does, especially when you’re sick.

Nestled with your head cradled in the curve of his arm, he gently massages your temples with his right hand, ensuring the damp cloth on your forehead remains refreshingly cool, soothing your feverish brow.

You're drifting into slumber, your eyes half-closed as you softly shift against his embrace. With him around, with his fingers assuaging the ache in your temples, you finally feel safe enough, protected enough to lose yourself in your own vulnerability and drift into dreamland.

Later that day, you wake up with Jungkook right by your side. His eyes are on the TV and when he hears your soft mumbles, he welcomes you back to Earth.

“Kiss me please,” comes out in a soft whimper. You’re barely coherent and you’re asking for a kiss? That’s the cutest fucking thing on the history of the Earth, and Jungkook’s heart clenches. You’re so sweet, so precious, and he’ll gladly oblige.

He pulls you onto him so you’re lying directly onto him, your boobs pressed against his chest and your stomach pressed against his.

He kisses you sweetly, indulging you completely while your tongues intertwine, and he sighs into your mouth blissfully.

At that moment, you hear the sound of a thud hitting the floor. You and Jungkook whip your heads towards the sound– it’s his parents.

“J-Jeon Jungkook! What do you think you’re doing?!” his mother shrieks.

#jungkook fanfic #jungkook scenarios #bts scenarios #jungkook fluff #jungkook texts #jungkook imagines #jungkook x reader #jk fanfic #bts fanfic

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cameronspecial · 3 months

Text

Really, Rafe?

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x Reader

Warnings: Couple Arguments and Angst

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 1.2K

Summary: What is supposed to be a romantic getaway starts to feel like something else when Y/N realizes the type of activities the resort has.

A/N: Inspired by this post (Totally not because Tom Holland liked the post).

Masterlist

One rule in their relationship is that Y/N and Rafe take turns planning dates. Everything from small picnic dates to large vacation dates. This time, it is his turn to plan a vacation. When it comes to holiday trips, it doesn’t have to be far or grand. It could be a small thing, as long as it is a getaway from their normal life for at least two days. The last one they went on was when they both went to a small beach house in Myrtle Beach. Y/N was lucky enough to have found a private rental away from most of the city’s commotion. It was just the ocean, cocktails and the two of them for a week. It was absolute Heaven. As she watches the scenery pass by, Y/N can’t help her excitement as to where they are going. “Can’t you tell me where we are going?” she pleads. Her eyes are as big as dinner plates. He gently squeezes her thigh and throws her a smile, “That’s a secret for me to know and for you to find out.” She giggles with a shake of her head. “That is such a cliche saying.” He shrugs, “So? It still doesn’t mean I am going to tell you.” She gives him a playful pout and continues to look out of the window.

Ten minutes later, the dense forest turns to equally placed decorative trees and the paved road turns to decorative stones. He parks the car and steps out to open the door for her. She takes in the castle-like resort. The golden trimming and fascia remind the girl of Versailles. She imagines all sorts of things they can do together. Sit by the pool with a drink in hand. Relax thanks to the hands of a masseuse. Dine in fairytale-like restaurants. It takes her breath away, but only for a second because she finally spots the real reason why they are here. To the right of the building are expansive green plains with people of various ages swinging back a club to send the ball flying through the air. Y/N notices Rafe isn’t by her side and turns to find him unloading his golf clubs from the trunk. He packed the trunk, so she didn’t notice it. Disappointment falls over her as it all clicks into place.

“Really, Rafe?” she disgruntled. Her arms cross over each other and her right hip juts out. He looks at her with a tight-lipped smile, “What? This place has a great high tea evening, which I know you’ve been dying to try. And they have an indoor and outdoor pool that you could take advantage of. Plus, a great spa package for you to try.” This man is really digging his own grave. She lets out a bitter laugh. “You do realize through your whole little spiel, you always said you. Never we, like you expect me to do all those things by myself while you go off and spend all your time with your golf clubs,” she argues. Rafe’s eyes widen, “No, Sugar, you got it all wrong. I didn’t mean it like that. Of course, I planned on doing all those things with you. I promise I just brought my clubs in case you got sick of me and I need to give you some space.” She didn’t believe him. Not when a previous experience told her otherwise. It may have been four years ago when they started dating, yet a girl never forgets. Rafe had planned a date at a football bar. It would’ve been fine if his sole reasoning wasn’t to be surrounded by TVs to watch the game. Halfway through the date, other football fans joined their table to watch the event with him. She felt so ignored and unimportant during that hour. She left the date without so much as a goodbye.

She wouldn’t have seen him again if it wasn’t for how apologetic he was. He expressed remorse through his words and then flowers. She eventually forgave him, agreeing to another date. However, she never forgot the way that she felt in that bar. The humiliation of walking away from a man who paid her no attention. Up until today, she never regretted the decision to give him a second chance. Now, she feels the same way. She worries he didn’t listen to her concern about them not being able to spend a lot of quality time with each other because of how busy they have been with work. It’s the reason why they decided to go on this two-week getaway. To reconnect with each other and they couldn’t do that if he planned to spend all his time on the course. “Sure, that’s totally why you did it. If you didn’t want to spend time with me, Rafe, you could’ve told me. I would’ve given you the space and you wouldn’t have had to drag me with you here,” she criticizes, storming into the hotel to calm down.

———

For the past five minutes, she has been cooling herself down in the resort lobby. Rafe has been at the front desk, probably checking into their room. She doesn’t know if she should stay or just call a cab to take her to the nearest train station. She watches as he points in her direction and the receptionist gives him a nod. The woman removes herself from behind the counter, walking over to Y/N with a smile. “Excuse me, Ms. Y/L/N? Could you please follow me to the front desk?” the receptionist, named Kate according to her name tag, asks. Y/N hesitates to nod, yet still obeys the request. Once at the front desk, Y/N keeps her distance from Rafe. Kate types into her computer and turns it toward the female guest, “Mr. Cameron requested I show you all the bookings he made for stay here.” Rafe’s girlfriend stares at him with narrow eyes and he leans in to whisper in her ear. “I didn’t tell her what happened. I just asked her to show you what I booked.” She gives him a small nod, turning her attention toward the screen.

The list is long, but it is easy to recognize a pattern. Everything is reserved for a couple and not a single one is a tee-time reservation. She couldn’t argue that he had Kate remove his tee times because literally every single minute between nine in the morning and seven in the evening had something planned. She made a horrible mistake and accused Rafe of not caring about her. She turns to him with teary eyes. “I’m so sorry I didn’t believe you, Rafe,” she apologizes, wrapping her arms around him. He lets her snuggle into his neck and wraps his arms around her waist. His lips rest on her forehead, “It’s okay, Sugar, I know I was really an ass on that date so long ago. I mean I can’t say I’m not hurt that you still think I could still be that idiot, but I am grateful every day that you chose to forgive me. Which means that I have it in my heart to forgive you too. I love you.” She presses her lips against his. “Thank you for forgiving me. I love you too.”

Taglist: @winterrrnight @loves0phelia @thelomlisrafecameron @wickedlovely121 @thepatriarchykeychain @drewsmusee @starkowswife @maybankslover @forstarkey @loving-and-dreaming

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siriusblackslut · 4 months

Text

The one where Coryo shows his true colours after a disagreement.

As Coryo’s best friend, you should have anticipated this.

Pairing: Coriolanus/Reader

Word: 5909

Warnings: mildly dubious consent, soft dark, obsessive behaviour, yandere

Sometimes, Coryo was glad you were so stupidly naïve.

He hated it most times, you navigating the big bad world so clueless as to how it revolved around a pretty darling like you, when you would offer shy smiles to hungry eyes raking the length of your body, when you would entertain unpalatable opinions clearly devised for your sole attention, or when you would introduce him as your dearest friend to puzzling spectators moments after he greeted you with a peck at the corners of your mouth.

Today though, he was so fucking grateful, for between the happy sips of posca you had announced just how thrilled you were with your university acceptance letter, as though you were expecting him to cheerily send you off to the other side of the city.

It was sour news, but Coryo was glad he was made aware of them sooner than later.

“Away?” he demanded sharply.

The room settled into a tense silence broken only by his curt paces across the length of the room, and your eyes followed him expectantly.

When you didn’t reply, you weren’t sure what with from the tone of his voice, Coryo was quick to make his displeasure be known. “I wish you had told me earlier so I could discourage you.”

“But it’ll be so good for me,” you tried earnestly once more and Coryo thought you were positively deluded if you had ever thought there was a chance he was going to let you go.

He reached you in two strides, his thumb caressing your chin in a way that was gentle yet firm. “Don’t leave.”

It was clear he wasn’t asking, which made him even more disappointed when he saw your expectant expression give way to a frown because you were making this harder on purpose. Coryo thought it was a shackle sometimes, to want to breathe, live and own you.

“You’re upset, I unders--”

“Upset doesn’t even begin to describe how angry I am.”

And oh, bless you, you though he was worried about you, and you continue your reassurances that were endearing at first, but Coryo was finding them increasingly irritating.

You squeezed his forearm still stroking your chin, giving him a small smile, “I can handle myself.” The clench of his jaw went unnoticed, “And besides, Sejanus will be there too.”

Coryo hated sharing you, even in speech, and that revolting name rolling of your tongue so effortlessly like it belonged there replacing his own, it made him livid, and he thought it was the last straw.

“So, he can offer you a fortune?” He let his voice fill with scorn and allowed his face to twist into a cruel sneer. The thumb at your chin gentle just moments earlier now dug into your skin, “some more unsavoury opinions?”

“I thought he was your friend.”

Coryo let the silence sit and it was telling, so telling, in fact, that you were now questioning your friendship with him, rightfully so, and it was in this moment of rebellious defiance that you snapped at him and you had never snapped at him before, “Then I’ll be fine on my own then, without him or you.”

Such fierce words spoken in a wobbly tone, had Coryo thinking you had forgotten your place. He thought, in some way, he was to blame because he had been far too lenient on you and it was clear now that you had not respected the privilege of freedom that he had allowed. He would have to remedy that, and he wasn’t particularly sorry either, only sorry that you would think him unreasonable but really, he just wanted you to mold into the prettiest version of yourself and flourish with him.

When he took a step forward, his solid frame looming uncomfortably over you, Coryo had already decided that you weren’t going to leave because he simply could not fathom a world where you were not a mere arm’s reach away, and he was resolute that he would not either. He was deciding now, only how he would break it to you, and even through your thick naivety you sensed something shift.

“You’re staying,” he said.

It was an unsteady step back. “No.”

“I won’t say it again.”

It tired him, you had barely opened your mouth and he just knew it was another misplaced objection and so he silenced you instead, digging his fingers at your jaw and pulling you up to devour those pesky words. It was a hard kiss, one of nose bumps and teeth clashes that was entirely different from the usual shy easing brushes of lips, but Coryo thought he had to start somewhere more obvious now.

A muffled cry between his swirling tongue and you had hardly begun a protest, but he was there too, determined to swallow it up by planting more suffocating kisses until you were gasping for his breath.

“Fine without me huh?” Coryo repeated your words between each kiss across your mouth, lips, tongue, cheeks, chin and everywhere he could get his lips on.

To him, it was so intrinsically natural the way you slotted up against him, but for you and he was mocking your words now, it was a confusing turn of events. Mouth entangled with his depriving you of air, the hot skims of his fingers across your waist leaving a blazing trail in their wake and that dull ache blooming in your belly, it all made you disoriented and you pushed away at his head in retaliation for some rational distance, but he would never give you any now. Coryo had just tasted you and now you were leaving him high and dry and aching for more? He would even settle for that glimmer of sweat at your neck and he latched on, sucking pretty kisses across your nape until he could feel your pounding pulse and it made him drunk, the sheer power he had over you because you wanted him too, you just didn’t know yet.

“You just need a reminder of how much you need me,” he was planting sloppy kisses up your throat and his hands left their post at your waist, roaming, roaming and roaming until hungry fingers fiddle at the hem of your skirt pushing up and up until it bunched at your waist and the sinking feeling at your belly settled uncomfortably when you finally understood what he meant.

“I thought we were friends,” you mumbled weakly and Coryo was almost offended that you hadn’t spared a thought to the natural progression of your relationship, as if that truncated milestone was all that was destined of your relationship. Still, it was an improvement from the empty words of assurance, and he liked it much better when you had submitted, even if it was reluctantly.

“And you said you love me, and yet you’re leaving me,” he was murmuring into your skin still continuing his onslaught of rough kisses across your neck, “so it seems we were both not entirely truthful with each other.

Itching hands wandered up your thigh and Coryo was delighted to find your panties already wet from just curious fingers and persistent lips. Though you hadn’t grasped it yet, your body sure had and Coryo would make your mind follow once he was finished with you.

“Tell me what I want to hear,” he whispered encouragingly and his breath seared your skin. “That you love me.”

“I do!”

Fingertips caught the hood of your clit through your sopping panties, and he began to trace light circles at the drenched fabric, just enough for you to feel the beginnings of what Coryo could offer.

“Like lovers do.”

It made you shiver, and you exhaled into his chest. There were many realisations to be had in this pleasure haze. “Coryo--”

“That you won’t leave,” and he pressed another kiss into your neck, fingers drawing tight patterns at your clad clit until you ached for him like he did for you.

“That you’ll stay.”

“No-- oh--” A moan tumbled through your lips before you could stop it and you pressed your face deeper into his chest to muffle them out of embarrassment even though Coryo thought it was the prettiest sound he had ever heard.

All shy from a slipped moan and he wondered whether you even notice the way you were grinding against his thighs soaking his trousers, clearly yearning for something more than the light skim of his thumb barely there at your panty-clad clit. It amused him greatly, your outward unwillingness even though you belonged to him, and when those silly unintelligible murmurs of protests gave way to breathy gasps, but Coryo still thought you had yet to learn your place in his life, he moved away, palm bumping against your thigh under your skirt.

The betrayal, disappointment and relief on your face, it made Coryo triumphant because in some selfish way, he wanted you to understand exactly what you had subjected him through all these years.

“Go on,” he said, “just tell me what I want to hear, and I’ll make you feel real good.”

And despite your body shaking with unresolved tension, you still managed to shuffle back, head shaking defiantly.

Coryo would be impressed by your composure if he was not furious.

“No?” and he was onto you once again, consuming your lips until he was so sure you were inside him because then you would have to stay. Nose skimming your cheek and foreheads pressed flushed together, and all you could taste was his tongue swirling inside yours. It was working, him chipping away at your will, but still, you gave him a rational, albeit breathless answer.

“No,” you murmured because this was your dearest friend who had you all frazzled and flushed, and you swatted away at his wandering hands trailing between your thighs once again, but it was to no avail because Coryo was determined now, he would not have you slipping through his fingers because he had worked too hard at you and at this, he would have you impaled on them instead.

Forceful fingers yanked at your panties, and then it was all flesh against flesh with Coryo rubbing at your clit before he worked a knuckle into you.

“Gonna show you then,” he snarled. There was a lot more friction now, the sloppy sounds as he fucked his fingers into you reverberating around the room was proof of it, and the dizzying ache that returned twice as hard made your knees weak and you stumbled, plunging yourself deeper on his digits.

“Tell me you need me.”

It was a choked sob that made it out your lips, but it was still thick and full of arousal. “I can’t.”

“Of course, you can darling,” he cooed, and it was confusingly kind against the plunge of his fingers into your cunt. You only whined in response and whilst Coryo thought it sounded delightful, it wasn’t quite what he wanted to hear.

“I know you want to, just wanna hear it from your pretty lips.”

In case you needed another reason for a confession, he curled his fingers up paired with another plunge, fleshy pad brushing up delicately somewhere special and deep inside you. It felt so terribly good, but your waterline shimmered instead because the blossoming heat in your stomach, it made you feel so guilty because it meant you were willing, didn’t it? Now, that was all a bit too much to bear. “It’s not fair.”

“Fair?” Coryo repeated and it was unbelievably cold, making you shiver even in this hot flush.

You took another shaky step back, but he was already there with his chest pressed flushed against yours, fingers still pumping inside you while his thumb still circled your clit and it made your head empty and legs unsteady, and you pushed him but it only provoked him further because you were denying him his rightful property.

“You think it’s fair to leave me?” he growled and slipped another finger in spitefully, and the stretch was painfully delicious, “We’d promise we’d take care of each other, remember?”

He didn’t let you reply, he was almost certain it would just be another string of silly protests judging by your shiny eyes. Instead he captured your lips in another hot and heavy kiss that was full of angry scrapes until on his tongue lingered the sweet metallic taste of you and Coryo was drunk on you, you in his lips, in his palms and now in his throat trickling like fire into his belly.

It was intoxicating for him, but painful for you and had you reeling back to tuck your head at his chest once again and Coryo’s only solace was that you were now rocking your hips, plunging yourself down to meet every thrust of his fingers.

“So sure you don’t need me?” he gave you another chance and he prayed you take it because it was hurting him now, when he knew he could shower you in such other-worldly pleasure.

You only burrowed your head deeper into his chest, still griding on his fingers. Unfortunate, but unsurprising and so he waited, and he didn’t have to wait for long, not when his thumb was busy lavishing your clit and you were doing half the work fucking yourself on his digits, until your breath hitched against his chest and you were shuddering in his arms with your cunt gushing drenching his sleeves before he pulled his hand away once more and the blooming pleasure waned away into nothing, leaving a dull ache in its wake.

Knees buckling and you stumbled back, glaring at him with fat tears rolling down your cheeks. It made Coryo’s heart ache, but he thought this lesson more important than your temporary upset at him, if only you had confessed.

“I don’t need you,” you snapped at him, and the self-assuredness in your voice had him thinking you were so clearly deluded. As if your cheeks weren’t running with tears from what he had withheld from you, as if you hadn’t just been rolling your hips against his outstretched fingers only moments ago.

“Sure, seemed like you did when you were fucking my fingers.”

“I can take care of myself!”

He really did respect your persistence if it was not just so disobediently misplaced.

You were glowering at him now, despite the flush of your cheeks and Coryo wondered just how naïve you could be. Were you really that completely clueless as to the way your body craved him? How could you retreat when he could feel you twitching to be in his arms?

“I don’t want to be mean, you know,” he was advancing again, leaning in and it made you feel a bit dizzy. “But I will if you keep being this uncooperative.”

His intoxicating scent, the caress of his thumb at your cheek, your sticky thighs and that angry unreleased ache buzzing between your legs, it was all too much and you moved away, just to think, but Coryo was right there too, he would follow you to the end of the earth until you were in his arms.

A mere whisper away but Coryo still thought there was a vast expanse between the two of you because you just weren’t getting it, it was almost insulting now. He closed the space with another devour of your lips until you were gasping for breath and pushing him away yet again, but he was there and everywhere, lips all aggressive and all-consuming locking into your unwilling ones until he was smothering you, suffocating you in all his heavenly adoration, until it seemed like your only respite was to move your lips against his.

Even if they were sluggish and clumsy lips smacking against his sloppily unable to keep up with his heated ones, your receptiveness drew a groan of appreciation from him and it was that, the low rumble of his throat that snapped you back to reality, because this was your sweet Coryo Coryo coryocoryo, your dearest friend, despite that shameful heat rising between your legs.

It caught him by surprise this time when you pried his head away, stung even more after your momentary clarity, especially when he had really thought you had given in. Now you were just standing there with your lips swollen hanging agape and coated with his spit, peering up at him all doe-eyed through your lashes glimmering with tears, just standing there looking pretty like that was all you could do for him, and it made Coryo so furious because you could be more.

You caught a glimpse of him half possessed, but it was only for a moment before he had pounced back on you and the assault on your lips now borders on painful with his teeth scraping against your already sensitive lips.

“Gonna remind you myself then,” Coryo hissed between each rough kiss. It was suffocating, insistent lips and his towering frame pushed up against you threatening to blend into one, and you were still moving back and backandback until your calves were digging into the mattress because your lips felt so raw against his now, but he was still there, and there was no room to retreat anymore and so you arched your back away instead, anything away from his prodding tongue inside your mouth because it was painful, dizzying, electrifying but youcouldn’tseemtobreathe and you were leaning back leaningleaning until you were falling--

You toppled onto his bed, and it was a welcomed respite, wracked gasps slipping from your throat in a desperate attempt catch your breath, but the moment was brief, and the dire reality sank in your belly where Coryo had bunched the excess fabric of your skirt.

He had taken his position on his knees; it was humiliating but not in front of you because he wanted you worshipped. Then, you would know just how much he revered you, adored you, loved you, to the point of complete devotion.

Cold fingers pried at your warm thighs and Coryo took advantage of your momentary daze to hook your left leg over his shoulder, his right palm pressing your other leg to ease your thighs apart. The ebbing pleasure reawakened once more from his hot breath at your cunt and the light trace of his digits up your slit. It was embarrassing, vulnerable and had you letting out another protest in retaliation for the premature sparks between your legs, but Coryo thought your warm slick coating his fingers said otherwise.

He could tell that you were panicking now, thighs squirming against his shoulders as you began to grasp just exactly what he was doing. Arching your back in an attempt to buck him off but it smeared your pussy against his face instead, your clit bumping at his nose and your hips stuttered, a strangled moan escaping your pursed lips.

“You can like it, you know,” Coryo murmured and he was quick to indulge himself, running his tongue up your slit and he was careful to collect your precious essence, not a drop wasted, to swirl at your sensitive pearl of nerves until your quivering thighs were squeezing his head and you were gushing once more.

And despite the many objections tumbling from your mouth, your body was so compliant, rewarding his efforts doubly and Coryo lapped away gratefully until you were dribbling down his chin and even then he brought his fingers to scoop them up before licking clean at them too because you were just so tasty and he was starved of you.

If gluttony was a sin, then why is he in heaven?

You were still writhing on the bed, still attempting to push him away at his head and it made Coryo even more determined if anything because he had never not gotten what he wanted, deserved and was entitled to. Slipping his left palm under your arse, he pried your flesh apart before pressing his face into your pussy, lips latching onto your clit, and it stayed there suckling because he would make an example of it now, that he was never going to let you go on his own accord regardless of how you begged him to. Hardly now, it seemed, when he flicked his tongue at your puffy pearl of nerves drawing another muffled cry, but you were no longer jerking back now.

It was taking less and less time for Coryo to drag you back over to the edge until you were teetering precariously once again, and he was completely delighted to find you already pulsing around him when he sank his fingers into you.

“You’re close again,” he murmured into your pussy and it was mocking because not a moment after he unlatched his lips from your swollen clit and you were protesting?, leaning back to admire his handiwork of your pretty pink pussy all swollen and glistening with slick a mix of his saliva and your arousal. He collected it up with a broad swipe of his tongue, finishing with a flick at your clit, all whilst still knuckles deep pumping into you, filling the room with obscene squelches.

“Can feel you clench around my fingers.”

“Oh--"

When Coryo felt your scrambling fingers again, it was to pull him in this time, as if he wasn’t already so intimately acquainted with your sweet cunt. It filled him with pride, that he could make you feel this good but just because he adored you didn’t mean he wasn’t going to discipline you, and if it meant taking your release away so you would understand just how intricately intertwined the both of you were, he would do it.

It began to ebb away as quickly as it had come, and it is in this moment of desperation that you reached for him. Blonde locks tangled within your fingers, but Coryo was still restrained, only soft kitten brushes against your bundle of nerves bringing you to another world of pain because it just wasn’t enough, only enough to keep you flustered and wanting but not enough for you to tumble over into the territory of pure euphoria. Even his right palm pressed against your tummy was firm, he couldn’t let you ride his face just yet, no glimmer of a chance at your own release that wasn’t at Coryo’s calculating hand.

All pretence abandoned and it wounds your pride.

“Please.” It was a whisper, but a polite start.

“Come on, princess.”

“Coryo,” There was no protest in his name anymore, only a pleading sigh of his name catching in your throat like a desperate hoarse prayer to something divine, and it made him hard.

“That’s it.”

“Please--” you tried once more but your voice breaks instead into a moan of frustration.

Your only consolation was that you weren’t the only one who was in suffering. Even in the midst of pressing gentle kisses at your cunt keeping you at the torturous edge where there was only one clear resolve, Coryo was also begging you “Let me make you cum,” and the neediness in his voice was embarrassing because only you could resort him to this humiliation. “Just want to hear you say it.”

Another curl of his fingers, swirl of his tongue.

“Admit it.”

You were sobbing now, how could you let it go again? When it was just within reach, you could feel it brushing at your fingertips and at your thighs between Coryo’s curls, and the thought of it reducing to a disappointing barely-there wane, it brought salty tears to your eyes.

Your thighs tightened at Coryo’s shoulders in a poor attempt to keep him there, but you could feel him beginning to shift away and with it, your high slipping away too.

It was a dangerous game, but you were at the edge of your resolve, and you’d do whatever to convince him now, tell him that you would stay, that you would be whatever he wanted you to be, if that meant you could topple over the edge.

You could reason with him later, you would.

Reason what?

“Need you Coryo,” you gasped, “I need you, will do whatever you want.”

It was a little dazed and Coryo thought that you could work on the delivery, but he was happy with that nonetheless, rewarding you with a drive of his fingers even deeper catching every sensitive spot deep within you whilst his tongue continued its attention on your clit.

Whatever he wanted and he told you just exactly what between greedy mouthfuls of your pussy, “You won’t leave.”

It was pure desperation that spoke. “I won’t!”

Coryo lets you fall apart for him because of him. He released his palm at your belly button, letting you ride your orgasm out on his face with your thighs wrapped tight around his shoulders, his little angel so devilishly hysterical, until his face was completely smeared full of your delicious slick and he thought that he could drown in it happy.

And when you came down from your high, it was still not enough because he wanted more of you and all of you and Coryo had a point to make that you needed him, you said it yourself. His efforts only doubled, indulging in the tastiest treat he had ever had, suckling at your oversensitive clit and needed his fingers drove deeper into your pussy until you were humming with unbridled pleasure that even the gentlest strum of his tongue had you thrashing around his shoulders, had your fingers tugging at his hair painfully as you soared and fell once again in the matter of seconds, another ragged pant dragged from your throat.

And when Coryo thought that you, your body and mind, had finally understood that you belonged to him wholly, he unlatched his lips from your swollen clit, pressing light kisses at your thighs before he pried himself of his position lodged between your trembling thighs.

When you came down from your peak, white ebbing back to the dimly lit room, you could make out his pale cheeks flushed pink and his hair messy an irrefutable evidence of your willingness. Coryo gave you a crooked grin, before he slumped back on the bed next to you, legs tangled with yours.

“I knew you would come to your senses.”

The reality of what you had agreed to settled disagreeably in the pit of your stomach once all that tension had disappeared.

His fingers, sticky from your cum, cradled your flustered cheek. It was as though he was reminding you, encapsulating you so you would never leave. He pressed another giddy kiss at your lips, and you tasted yourself on his lips.

“Tell me again,” Coryo panted against your lips; it was dizzying to be victorious.

But when he felt your cheeks wet against his, he wasn’t entirely convinced that you understood the seriousness of the events that had just transpired, and he simply refused to entertain your disobedience any longer.

“For fucks sake, just be good.” Now Coryo adored you, but he needed absolutes and not empty promises made in a frenzy of pleasure. Even though you had understood, you had yet to completely surrender to your happy fate by his side. He thought, maybe you just needed one final push.

His lips were locked onto yours once again, hot and hungry and before you could let out another string of those ungrateful whines and unwarranted objections which would only be ten-fold when the rattle of his zipper echoed through the room.

“You’re selfish, but I can put up with that,” he chastised while plying your lips open with his rough ones.

“Wait--” your voice welling with alarm, but Coryo swallowed that one too, planting another kiss at your lips.

“Cus you’re mine.”

You were. His perfect stubborn girl who was now kicking feebly at his legs to no avail, limbs and lives too deeply intertwined.

Coryo could feel his composure slipping. He had been so sweet on you, but that was before his cock was pressing against your soft thighs. It was all instinct now because you were the sweetest temptation he had ever had to resist, but now he gets to indulge in you now and he sure was making a scene of it, groaning into your mouth while he guides his cock under your skirt, pressing it into you until his cockhead was gliding across your silky folds.

There was a bit of give before he breached into you, and see, he was right, he always was. You were enjoying yourself too whilst Coryo defiled you so that you could only belong to him, with your breathless whimpers tumbling drunkenly into his mouth, and he was sure not to kiss those away.

“You said you’ll do whatever I wanted.”

You did. Maybe in a haze of confusing arousal, but those were your words.

“And I want you to stay. With me.” Coryo murmured between each moment apart from your swollen lips, between each snap of his powerful hips driving into you. “I command it.”

He was sure to make every single rut into you harsh, until his hipbones were mashing against yours painfully because just look at how you could take every one of them, look at the way each sore bruise against your bony flesh went straight into your core and look at the way your wet walls clung onto every single bulging vein his cock had to offer you. Could there be any other reason why if you weren’t made for him and him for you?

And yet you were still refusing your happy fate.

A broken sob from your throat and Coryo could feel you tighten on his cock, clenching impossibly tight and he supposed that if he loved you, that meant every stubborn part, and even that was getting easier to love with how you were pulsing around him with every cry, and he thought he could grow to enjoy the chase.

And even that seemed to be waning now because you were conceding with every forceful fuck into you until you were reciprocating, your fingers tracing his chest while lips clung onto his, nature taking its course.

When Coryo pulled apart from your lips to lean back, it was to make you watch the way your lithe body beaded with sweat, not just accepting but welcoming his numbing assault from the way your pussy stretched, shaped and memorised him, so that even when he wasn’t there, he still was, there and everywhere. The outline under your navel bulging with every thrust was proof of it, and marked just how deep he was inside of you, conquering depths previously untouched.

“Look at it,” he snarled, bringing his thumb to trace at the bulge and it drew sparks across your skin. “Is there anywhere more fitting?”

You were just a mixture of sobs and moans when you peered up to blink at him dumbly, and Coryo didn’t think you could look any prettier but here you were, more beautiful and debauched than ever impaled on his cock.

“Unless you want me to stop?”

He was offering now, only because he knew you could never agree.

He snickered, “No, I didn’t think so, wouldn’t have lasted a single day without me.”

Gasping all over the place and it made Coryo swell with pride because he had done it, stamped out any ounce of bitterness and resentment you had towards him for just doing what was best for you, that was writhing and brimming full of unadulterated want desperate for release.

“I won’t be there to make you feel good like this,” and he was gloating now adding to that messy whirlpool of emotions that were shame, awe and desperation pulling fat tears down your cheeks, but Coryo knew you better and thought that awful reality too painful for you to wrap your little head around.

“Gotta take care of you in every way.”

“Please!” and if had known that all it required for you to stay was to fuck you silly, he would have done it a lot sooner.

“You’re not going to leave me, not ever, you do understand why that is don’t you?

Because he loved you, you understood that much now, but at what cost?

Coryo demanded an answer, his hips snapping up to bruising into you deliciously, but his pace stuttered.

Surely, he won’t take this away from you. You were ruined now, because he had made you feel better than your clumsy fingers could ever make yourself feel, reached places inside you that you hadn’t known ever existed, led you to heights so unimaginably heavenly with easy strokes. Coryo knew you completely, better than you knew yourself.

So,what matter the cost when he loved you? When could make you feel this good, when he wanted to, he had made that abundantly clear. You thought that you could stay, if it meant you could feel like you this indefinitely.

“Tell me so I know.”

You gave him something better than an answer, you gave him a confession.

“I love you.”

Coryo thought it sounded perfect on your lips.

“You won’t leave me then.” It was unlike him, so uncharacteristically vulnerable.

“I won’t.”

“Promise it.”

“I promise.”

Coryo believed you. It was hard not to when the very proclamation had you rolling your head back on his pillows, your arms outstretched pulling him into a weak embrace, legs curling around his pistoning thighs drawing him unbelievably close until it was unclear where your body ended and his started and until you were one with him. He could feel you fluttering once again and it was even tighter this time around his fat cock instead of his fingers, until you came completely undone in a string of euphoric gasps.

For him though, it was your complete surrender to him, finding immense pleasure and unconditional solace in him and the years of frustrated anticipation melted away and Coryo groaned too joining your dazed gasps as he spilled himself deep inside you.

He thought, in this hazy reality, that just to be sure, he might just have to knock you up too, then you would really have to stay with him.

“You’ll write back,” he said in laboured breaths between each skim of his lips across your forehead when he finally slumped down against you. His tone was stern and gentle, there was no need to be mean anymore when you had been so compliant and obedient for him. “Write and tell them you’ve changed your mind.”

When you did not respond only turning away shyly, he peered down at you intently to see your waterline glimmering once more and he brushed the wetness away because he knew for certainty that they were only happy ones now. His prized possession brimming so full of bliss her eyes were brimming too.

Coryo didn’t mind this view of his pink and purple masterpiece dotted across your throat, marks of his property, but for now, he wanted your unyielding attention. He reached to tuck at your hair before tilting your jaw until you were facing him once again with your noses bumping lightly.

“You’ve got bigger and better things ahead of you,” Coryo murmured and it was his turn to be reassuring this time. Judging by the way his cock seemed to come to life again, tapping at your inner thigh, you agreed.

#coriolanus x reader #corionlanus snow #coriolanus snow smut #tbosas #tbosas smut #tom blyth x reader #tom blyth smut #young coriolanus snow #tom blyth #the hunger games #thg #fanfic #coriolanus snow fanfiction

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fluorynn · 4 months

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🔗 — ᴛɪɴʏ Qᴜᴀʀɪᴛᴄʜ ɴᴏᴡ, ᴡʜᴀᴛ’ᴅ ʏᴀ ꜱᴀʏ?

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢꜱ : recom!miles quaritch ✘ fem!reader

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ : 4.3k

ɢᴇɴʀᴇ / ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ : SMUT, no plot, Quaritch got a breeding kink, masturbation with an audience, teasing, vaginal sex, mentions of oral sex, choking? ( Quaritch receiving it, I am FERAL when it comes to those dog tags of his—) unprotected sex, squirting, creampie, explicit language

ᴛᴀɢꜱ : @aristocolourway

ᴅɪᴠɪᴅᴇʀꜱ ʙʏ : @cafekitsune !!!

a/n : Well… this is unexplainable, lol. One of my first times writing smut for Quaritch — for any big blue alien, lol🥲 Imma admit, I didn’t see him in this way at the beginning but the more I watched the movie, the more I realized he had no right being this FINE😭 anyways, im getting this out the way so I can continue with Neteyam’s series !!! Enjoy !!! <33

“Darlin’, jus’ move yer hand f’me. C’mon—” The rather swollen lower lip of Quaritch’s lolled once more between his teeth. The corners of his mouth had elevated into a smirk. One that brought a prominent twinkle to his gold hues, one that clashed with the silver around his neck, dog tags dangling across his chiseled pecs down to the planes of his stomach. Of course, the breathing mask was also dangling his neck, but it seemed to be long forgotten by the recom with every breath he stole from you.

Constricting was the word to describe his lengthy abdomen, for the way he restrained himself with his entire abnormal strength from plunging forward into your tiny entrance, and the assistance of the small facility’s dim lights and perspiration coating his azure tones sent another jolt down to your stomach.

“M-Miles, baby, it’s not gonna go in—”

A ‘tsk’ hissed from between his teeth, lips puckering in that feigning disappointing manner, and a deep exhale emerged from you. The pink flesh of your walls fluttered around the imperceptible even though Quaritch’s plump, softly glowing tip stroked at your entrance, your small hands applying the slightest of pressure to his lower stomach.

His head couldn’t help but tilt in wonder while a dimple showed between his brows. Really, he could just ignore your commentary, ignore the way the small length of your fingers pushed at his lower stomach in order to keep him from moving forward and use his much stronger force. But how could he ignore that cute panic striking your eyes? He couldn’t be that harsh with you.

So instead, the large expanse of his thumb reached to gently push your jaw up to look at him. “ ‘T’s always the same thing with you, cupcake. Sayin’ it won’t go in, and yet ev’ry time, it does.”

Another lustful glaze of honey spiraled over his irises, making their shade darker, sponging those now dilating pupils of his as he glanced down your bare body and disheveled attire. His stupidly large hands and sharp canines had torn it to pieces, until your breasts were liberated and your weeping hole clenched from the cool air.

Your round eyes couldn’t evict from analyzing every tiny detail of his breathtaking face; at the way those lines upon his forehead wrinkled with his stifled grunts, how his brow quirked as his golden gaze devoured your every curve, at how his smiling mouth was moistened with your essence and was a reminder to how mere seconds ago, that feline-like tongue of his was between your legs, deliriously assaulting your clit, that Cheshire Cat smile sprawled across his face as he looked up at your crumbled expression.

The luminous freckles across his cheeks and flat nose were shining even more with his sweat and your slick, and the ones trailing down the lean length of his body glittered and entranced you.

His features were sinister, lips curling over his teeth while the rest remained hard. “I won’t repeat myself, cupcake; move. Your. Hand.” His honed incisors found their spot below your jawline, finding the faint puncture they’d left minutes ago and enhanced the mark once more as they sank in.

That was when your jaw went slack, lips shaping a pretty ‘O’ while the smallness of your palms pressed over the nape of his damp neck, fingers winding over the curve of his head.

Quaritch inundated every one of your senses; his scent wavered your atmosphere, his ridiculously long frame lumbering and hiding your petite one from any other’s vision, the coolness of his dog tags grazing the sensitive flesh of your breasts and equally as biting as the way his canines did.

Heat liquified through your entire body, walls elongating beyond constructing capacity the second your cunt consumed him entirely. “F-fuck—”

Quaritch thrusted forward, half of his widthful cock disappearing between your legs, and the tiny bed below created a screeching creak from the act. A dribble of sweat shun between his brows as he grunted a low cuss word, teeth grinding together at the way your little cunt tightened around him. “ almos’ ‘ere, doll, almos’ ‘ere.” he crooned, thumb rising to stroke the damp locks over your temple, eliciting a muffled whimper from your throat.

Inhaling another sharp breath, glowing orbs peered into yours and with a small bob of your head, the other half of his shaft soon followed until his pelvis hovered over yours. All 10 plus inches stretching you out. Those eyes of his were blown out now as he stared down, being met with a subtle, so very subtle curve shadowing the flesh of your upper stomach — not only his eyes were abroad but so was that smirk of his as his hand went over the expanse of your belly, the outer shape of his cock, calloused fingertips grazing over the swollen flesh.

“Well, wouldja look at that beauty…ain’t it darlin’?”

Ever so lightly he pushed down, and when he did, whine after whine flew up your lungs. He didn’t dare to move though, not until you gave him the green signal that he could, giving you time to modify and gain control of your inhales and exhales.

Quaritch was no better though, not while he stroked the bulge within your lower abdomen, not while you tried pulling him even closer, sputtering out a low chuckle and jittered breath before raising his mask to take another deep and long inhale. “ ‘N here ya thought it wouldn’t go in—”

He was cut off by the way your dainty hand winded around the loose silver drooping across his chest, wrapping it tightly around each length of your fingers until inches away from the base of his throat. His eyes widened at the sight of yours; round, devoured with lust. “Fuck me, Quaritch.”

His rasped chuckle pulsated through your insides, and a low groan erupted past his mouth when you squeezed around him as the octave of his mocking laughter picked within the deepest parts of you. “Patience, darlin’. Don’t wanna ruin little you if ya don’t give both of us a minute—”

His voice faded amongst the thick air, words caught in his throat with every twist and wind his dog tags made, clinking faintly against the other as your knuckles were practically burying against the blue flesh of his throat, nearly leaving no passage for air to transmit through.

“Ruin me.”

“Well ain’t ya a pretty brat—”

You huffed, hands releasing his necklace and pushed him away. This caused Quaritch to stumble and lose his balance, knees digging into the delicate mattress and hoisting himself up as you slid away from him, tight cunt releasing him with a wet pop that made the both of you moan out loud. He was about to protest as to why you moved, why you turned away from him but all he could do was let his eyes follow the way you got on your knees, follow the way the pretty arch of your back descended down to the curve of your ass; so round, so fucking eye capturing and mouth watering that he has to restrain himself from craning forward to take a sharp bite.

You felt him watching, felt the way those amber irises flickered into specks that soon flowed through you, gathering and igniting down your body and between your thighs as they rubbed together to add friction to the burn. Reaching next to the bedside, you had to prop yourself on your forearms in order to grab what you desired, leaving your whole ass up in the air and in perfect display for the avatar.

Ears chirped high, tail lashing in anticipation the more you arched, abdomen pressed into the white sheets. His palm had slithered down his stomach, fingers wrapping themselves around his cock and tightening at the base when your adorable fingers reached back and parted the globes of your ass, parting them so fucking prettily until both your holes were calling out to him.

“Ruin me, Quaritch.”

“Well I’ll be damned…” Lithe and swift was his movement as he rose up, and even on his knees his large body still lurched over you when he scooted closer, not caring for the bed’s possible break and the sound of his palm meeting your ass blocked out the creaking. “Whatever occurred to ‘won’t go in’, huh?” He taunted you, yet you had felt him align himself once more, tip kissing your awaiting hole. He couldn’t help but slip in just an inch for the way you were drenched. Slick were your puffy lips, cascading down the inner angles of your thighs. Quaritch thought a little teasing never hurt anyone, so he was quick to slide out as soon as he slid in.

Desperate little thing you were, squirming and winding your hips back for his touch, the inhuman blaze of his body mingling with yours. You couldn’t help but whine at the way his fat tip did nothing more than graze along your pussy lips, teasing right over your clit.

It hurt , it ached terribly, the sexual frustration that consumed you. “Miles,” you muttered, the call of his name ending with a whine when a single digit of his — not enough to occupy the space of his cock but lengthy enough to stretch you completely out — swirled in, the pad rubbing over your adhesive, soft walls. “Somethin’ wrong, doll?”

His arrogant voice would’ve conflicted you if it weren’t for the way his accent thickened. He took pleasure in this, smug in the way your walls became one with his thick finger, watching the way you fell apart for him; wearily moaning, pussy drooling with no shame. Not a proper fuck yet and here you were, small silhouette disintegrating amongst his touch.

The very touch of his within you that soon turned into two fingers, slow at sliding in and out with the assistance of his dick.

“Quaritch. Enough with the games.”

Nothing but another chuckle huffed out, amused at the way you moved, already scheming and toy with your pretty pussy for as long as he wanted, and you caught onto this. Screw his damn schemes.

His mouth pursed in distaste at the way you perched forward and away from his shining tip. But all he could do was roll his broad shoulder back as he tried peering at what it was that you were doing, with his throbbing cock in his hold.

His head slightly inclined to the side as he watched something come into your hold. “Whacha got there, sweetheart?”

You disregarded his question and turned over, back beautifully curling against the bedsheets and legs bent to the air, parting as far as they would allow you to. Quaritch’s nose sharply inhaled, throat being greeted with every droplet of drool collecting in his mouth at the sight of you; the pillar of your throat exposing the blemished flesh there ( thanks to his truly), head tossed back with your face tilted to the ceiling yet eyes hidden beneath closed lids. The room’s small scale of space only lets the sounds of your breathing enter its atmosphere.

Until the hum of the vibrating device in your hands was featured. Quaritch’s attention was punctured to it, allured to the way you slowly brought it lower with each second.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were ya—”

Oh but he wasn’t. And you would. Quaritch — knelt on your bed that nearly met its breaking point — was disposed of all for a cruddy toy that’s mushed up against your clit.

“S-shit— oh!”

The merciless celerity muggled the liquid pouring from your cunt, seeping through every direction and Quaritch watched in awe at the way it all came into little crystalline spheres, trickling down and pooling into an entire puddle within the disheveled sheets.

This is what you wanted from him, what you needed from him; to give you the immense pleasure this silly toy was providing for you. Yet you had to admit it was enjoyable, the way Quaritch’s sharp gaze stayed fixated on your abused clit, a twitch of his eye giving you the satisfaction that he desired to be the one making you feel this good. He desired to be the one you crumbled apart for; the one that precious pussy got demolished to. But he knew forbearance was never an easy task for you, or better yet he should know this. You weren’t in it for his foolish games at the moment.

“Desperate little thing ya are, eh?”

A coherent rejoin spewed from your lips, no sense to your words whatsoever and this made him grin widely. The bed screeched once more, this time with Quaritch’s back flat against the wall but not before bringing the delicacy of his queue over his shoulder while one of his long arms extended out and lifted your body with lithe, placing you over his upper leg, and you could feel the hardness of his cock, pushing and rubbing against the length of your spine.

Your thighs were dangerously apart from one another thanks to the firm stretch of his large thigh, repelling you from pulling away from him as the pressure of the quivers into your pulsing bud augmented when his palm, forceful and large, enveloped your much smaller one and applied pressure there.

“M-Miles, baby, w-wai—”

His chuckle reverberated within your flesh, adding onto your helpless attempt to moan out a plea. “Nah, darlin’. If ye’re that desperate for it, lemme help ya out then.”

The pressure accelerating working your lower belly was beyond ferocious, and Quaritch knew this rather quickly. He knew this for the way his ears flitted at the sound of your jumbled heartbeat and pitch of your slurs, the way his free hand engulfed your entire hip as he tugged you closer, the way he picked up the intoxicating scent of you increasing, the way he had pushed you forward and plunged one, then two thick fingers deep into your cunt and you squeezed deliciously around them, pushing you close to the edge and into the pools of ecstasy.

The adaptedness of his finger pads covered and smoothed perfectly over the mushy parts of your walls. “ ‘Atta girl, that’s it—” His gravel-like voice grazed into your breathless and sharp exhales.

“I-I’m—Miles—”

An ignition flared in Quaritch’s core, with you so fucking pressed up against him, at the knowledge of you near in becoming undone all over his hand, just for him. The more his fingers thrusted in while the flat of his palm pushed the toy deeper, the more cum oozed out; sticky and translucent lot cohereting against his blue skin and a wide smirk morphed his features, waiting to get a taste.

“Ya near, cupcake?” You chin pushed into your chest, jaw quivering as the words whined out: “Uh-huh, I-I’m close—”

“Gonna make a bigger mess f’me?”

“Y-yes—” Quaritch withdrew his hand from applying pressure and led yours — still clutching the vibrator to your pulsing clit — just right above your lower belly, right near your pelvis area. This emitted an increase of the drizzle that was already scurrying around his fingers and absorbed into the bedsheets and his outstretched leg, until its splotching sounds had clashed with the octaves of your moans.

His hand was unrelenting though, still spurting in with the same merciless force he owned despite you already reaching your peak. “Q-Quaritch, oh my— shit!”

“I gotcha, sweetheart,” he purred into your ear, the pink of his nose nuzzling over the soft skin behind. “Let it out, c’mon, let it all out f’r me.”

The immense ecstasy you had felt slowly eased, bringing you down to Pandora’s surface. The pace of his fingers settled for a slow, sensual one and they jittered slightly within you when your damp cheek fell over his flexing forearm. “That was nice,” you breathed out, peering back at him with that lovely grin of yours that he too returned.

He pulled his digits out, groaning lowly at the squelching sound your cunt created when he did. Though they were quick to latch onto the flesh of your thighs, lifting you in the air until you were pressed down against and facing him. Those supple lips of yours parted in astonishment at the way his damn dick tumescences, cushioned tip shining with the opalescent glow of his precum, sprinkled with the twinkle of his star like freckles. It was unfair how pretty it was, how pretty his entire existence was. And Quaritch knew this, his mind had grown into this form, and he knew the way it affected you by the way he grinned with pride when your lower lip protruded.

“You’d be doing us a pleasure in givin’ us a turn, sweetheart.” With a tap of his tip on your tummy, both of your hands reached behind to support your weight on his thighs as you lifted yourself up for it to bury itself in you without any trouble, your cum functioning as lubricant as you settled down halfway down.

Your whimpered “yes” was all he needed to proceed, and the length of fingers wounded over your hip, practically splaying across your back while his thumb pressed below your belly button as he slowly pushed you much further down, watching as his cock awaited filled you, twitching to deeply fill your womb with his cum.

He didn’t mind the idea, he was actually curious to see a Tiny Miles Quaritch or… what would be a good way to name the girl? — if the little plum came out blue and chubby or the peach came out neutral and gorgeous like their mama, running around, wanting to test the waters in getting you round and swollen while carrying his inhuman DNA more than one time. The thought made him spasm as he stretched you out with his entire length, until you were flushed against his pelvis.

“Oh hell,” he gritted out, watching the way your eyes peered down at his constricting torso. “Perfectly tight as always…”

Vehement he was when it came to sex, and every time, with every touch and utter, you mollified for him. Clearly, this time was no different; the feel of Quaritch tumescending in you, his dick embedded within your stomach, all the reason to bring you close once again. “M-miles, oh my god—”

“Permission to move, doll?” The frantic bobs of your head gave him the opportunity to refresh some manners in that pretty head of yours. Teeth, deadly and predatorial, excavated into the interstice where the graceful line of your neck ranged and became shoulder. He didn’t release until the tang of iron became one with his taste buds, the rough surface of his tongue wasting no time in lapping the trickle of scarlet leaving your abused skin.

A hiss whispered from your lungs, and he soon managed to sweetly stroke his wet muscle over the pain he had caused until it was nothing but pleasure. The corner of your mouth hoisted when the flexible extension of his tail coiled around your thigh, wisps of dark hair skimming across your inner thigh. “How cute…”

“Those ain’t the words I’m waiting for, doll face.” He growled out, and you reached out to very lightly tug on his queue. “Dammit, Quaritch!—”

“ ‘Dammit, Quaritch’ ain’t the statement I was lookin’ for, now I—”

His sentence didn’t finish its near end for your palms had reached behind and planted themselves on his thighs, hips giving a slow roll before lifting your body up until the thick tip of it remained slightly in and slammed back down with a throaty moan.

His back pushed against the wall, putting the mask over his flat nose and mouth once more, and you could see the way his sly grin grew behind the fog his sharp breaths created in the mask before letting it dangle once more across his chest, bracing himself for the next of your moves.

One turned into two, two into three surprisingly hard claps your ass gave with his cock nuzzled tightly and further within your womb with each bounce, each stretch. “F-fuck, Miles, fuck me, please!” You beseeched, you whined, not caring anymore to contain yourself.

Quaritch huffed out a chuckle, a single large hand reaching over to encase both your tiny wrists, practically your forearms in the curl of his fingers and mushed them against your breasts, and his back pushed off from the wall so his other arm could curl around your entire midsection. You had no other option but to surrender full control over to the colonel without a single complaint or shift of movement, leaving it all to him.

“As you please, cupcake,” are the last words uttered before he lifted your body off his cock, only to ram you down with much more verve. He continued until the choir of huffs, moans and whimpers featured with skin plastered and slammed against one another recapitulated within the small room, the most probable outcome being that the other recom avatars and scientists could hear what was going on.

A pearlescent circlet scintillated at the base of Quaritch’s dick, disseminating over the blue tones of his shaft with every rise and fall your pussy gave him. “F-fuck, Miles, fuck, Miles….” was dragged from your hoarse throat, revealing the pretty column of it with the head tilt you gave until an ache came upon your shoulders.

“Damn, darlin’,” his voice gruffed out, vocal cords tight and visible around the muscles of his neck as every single fiber of his body tightened as well as he contained the orgasm his lower belly implored to fully release past his aching tip.

Taking advantage of the hold he had around your wrists, he tugged you forward until you sprawled over his abdomen, the pads of his thumbs rubbing soft circles over your chin and lower lip. “Y’keep squeezing around me like this, pretty thing, don’t know if I can hol’ it—”

“ ‘m sorry, M-Miles, c-can’t help it—”

Trembling, overwhelmed, and close you were to be ruined once more atop of Quaritch. Your thighs and his tail was coated with sweat and your cum that splotched with every pull down and every snap his hips gave. “D-don’t think I can keep it in, don’t think I can keep myself from cummin’ in ya—”

He had slightly pushed you back and brought your sore arms over your head, tears pearling your waterline and lashes as you both peered down between your legs; how his pretty dick disappeared and half of it would reappear once again with the slight protuberance of your belly, the thick and glowing veins accentuating his striped shaft curling inside of you in the most exhilarating and immoral way.

“N-no, please cum in me— d-don’t pull out, d-don’t hold it—”

Quaritch’s brows had pinched together, an affliction being the cause of their shape as his remorseless thrusts had settled for a slower pace, though the force did not go unrelented, and though it brought a scorching pain to settle deep within your bones and muscles, you didn’t regret it whatsoever.

“Words like that are dangerous now. Y’really want me to fill ya up, doll, with the possibility of you gettin’ pregnant?” He brought your forearms back over your chest, pressing them further in as the arm currently around you pulled away, his palm being splayed out and pushing against the small of your back until your body shaped a lovely arch; and he grinned at the fact that you let him bend you to his will.

Uncoordinated syllables spewed from your tongue, unknown to anyone else besides Quaritch for he’s seen you in this state more times than he could ever count. “Hm hmm, get me pregnant, M-Miles—”

Lax colored eyes gained another coating of color as his grin outstretched his entire face. “Hm, really?” His back hunched off the wall until his mouth hovered over your tilted down chin, palm applying more pressure to the lower column of your spine, swirling you over his dick as your whines increased in pitch. “Want a blue fleshed baby in ya? A babe that carries my genes?”

A long groan followed down the length of his throat at the narrow clench your walls gave him from his words, and you could feel every spasm his dick created in your stomach. You could feel the ooze pooling within you, knowing his restraints had been broken as Quaritch’s dick already exuded.

“A pretty baby that looks like their mama?” He grunted out, almost as if the thought excited and pained him all at once, to see a little one portraying the exactness of your lovely features.

“ Do it, Colonel. Fill me up.”

All Quaritch needed was your verbal assent, and with that, not even a second later, the coiling band within his lower stomach finally snapped, emptying his entire load in your pussy, giving into your words. Thick and boiling it was, your cunt, your own flowing with it. The increasing pressure of it became too much, pushing your own release afterwards, hybridizing with Quaritch’s cum as it seeped down his cock, still throbbing from the aftershocks within you.

His tight grip relinquished into a soft one around your arms, soon releasing them as he very carefully, very gently brought you to his front until your chin found its spot over his heaving chest, cock still buried deep inside of you, making sure that none of his seed went without purpose.

It was an entire different story when it came to aftercare, how sweet, how soft he was with you; his large palm cradling the curve of your head close while his fingers managed to reach and stroke the damp tendrils of hair pasted to your temples and cheeks, his tail setting for a protective, gentle curl around your leg, his mouth softly falling over your forehead, your cheek, your neck, shoulder, with hushed praises meeting your perspired flesh as well.

You exhaled serenely as you melted into his touch, Quaritch’s other palm flush over the small of your back while his thumb stretched to stroke your belly. Silence lumbered over the two of you, savoring in the feeling and moment until Quaritch’s rasped, accented voice had to cut in.

“A tiny Quaritch now, what’d ya say?”

“Absolutely not naming him Tiny Quaritch.”

“Nickname should be T.Q.”

#avatar the way of water #avatar james cameron #miles Quaritch x reader #recom!Quaritch x reader #Quaritch x reader smut #𝐍¥𝐑𝐑’𝐒 𝐏𝐄𝐍 !*ೃ༄#recom!miles quaritch #miles quaritch #recom!quaritch x Fem!reader smut #miles Quaritch avatar #atwow quaritch #¡¡ ŋყཞཞ !! 🪼🪼

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saltpepperbeard · 5 months

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Call It Through as a Crew: Alleviating Some Phone Anxiety

Hello everyone! So as you probably already know, there has been a recent call to make, well, calls! Another member of our crew figured out that the max customer service line (855-442-6629) is a very effective way to get our feedback heard, as the feedback gets transcribed and shared to a multitude of teams.

I already sort of briefly shared my experience on this post, but I wanted to go a bit more in detail to offer some solace for those who are also phone averse, as well as share resources and get the word out even more.

And y'all, when I say I'm phone averse, I mean PHONE AVERSE LMAO; MY FEET WERE SWEATING JSDKLS LIKE I WAS FIGHTING FOR MY LIFE. So I totally, TOTALLY get it, and am here to walk you through everything in detail!

So I called that number and was on a brief hold--probably like 5 minutes or so. The customer service representative (Margot my bestie Margot) then picked up, and asked for the email associated with my account as well as my full name.

I was extremely extremely worried and anxious about being bothersome/annoying the person on the other end and just being able to feel it in their tone, so I was shivering and sweating all the while. But then when she asked for my reason for calling, I said, "Oh, it's actually in regard to some feedback," and she went, "Is it for Our Flag Means Death?"

And we both laughed, and I was like, "Haha how did you knooooowww?" And she laughed some more and was like, "Let me tell you, I have never seen anything like this in all my years working here. We are getting so many calls. It's incredible."

And by that point, a large weight was off my chest because she was friendly, I was friendly, EVERYONE WAS FRIENDLY.

I laughed and told her that we were a very passionate and concerned bunch, and she told me that she thought that was so cool and also super important. She then allowed me to tell her my feedback, and she transcribed it as I talked. This was the little script I had prepared in case you'd like to reference it:

I just wanted to call and express my disappointment, dissatisfaction, and concern with the recent cancellation of Our Flag Means Death on Max. As a queer person myself, this show has a tremendous impact on me. And in a climate where so many diverse and LGBT-centric shows have unjust ends, I’d just like to express my wish for reconsideration, and just the hope that…Max will allow LGBT stories like ours to live and flourish. And I’m really worried about there being some kind of…homophobic angle to the cancellation, so it would mean the world to myself and so many others if the decision could be reversed, and we could get our third and final season.

I went a little graver than originally planned, because I saw talks that taking a DEI (Diversity, Equity, and Inclusion) angle, as well a "hey I'm a queer person and this feels like a decision made for a nefarious purpose" angle, are supposedly more likely to be noted.

Anyway, she allowed me to say my piece and wrote it all down, and then actually stayed with me on the line to chat a bit more. So, the phone call didn't feel rushed or anxious which was SO so huge to me; it felt far more conversational.

She was like, "I don't want to toot our little horn or anything, but Max really takes all this feedback into consideration. It will be passed to the properties team (or something equivalent, I can't remember the EXACT term she used), and they're in charge of what goes on Max and why. So, I really feel like you guys have a fighting chance with these efforts."

And of course I was thanking her profusely for telling me all of this, and for listening; polite menace, that will be my brand!

But man, the coolest part of all? She told me that she was POC, and a queer person herself, and that this was all so cool and so amazing to see. She applauded our efforts, and expressed interested in the show. I laughed and said, "Well uhhhh I might have a BIT of a bias, but I cannot recommend it enough."

And then she proceeded to tell me that it might be even MORE effective to hit from different angles. So, keep calling (they're available 24/7), and also keep utilizing the online feedback form. Basically just keep FLOODING them with how much this means to us and why.

I then expressed a lot of gratitude, we exchanged pleasantries, and there was a brief survey at the end. I don't think the survey is necessary, so you can probably hang up by this point, but I stuck around for a little more horsepower. It tells you to rate the customer service on a scale of 1-5 with 5 being the highest, and you know I gave my bestie a fivvvveee. It also tells you to press 1/2 if your issue was resolved or not. I said HELL TO THE NO, DUDE SJDKLS. And THEN, it asks you to leave a voice message after the tone describing your experience. I said that I was with the customer service representative Margot, and that she was extremely friendly and helpful, but that the issue at hand will not be resolved until Max reserves their decision about the recent cancellation of Our Flag Means Death (I'm also always saying the show title in full as opposed to just the acronym, just for more OOMPH).

...And thennnn I proceed to shake it/shriek it all off LMAO.

Buuuut yeah! Probably took a total of 10 minutes or so. @xoxoemynn also shared with me that she's seen people say that these customer service representatives likely deal with older folks who need help with technology, and are subsequently stunned (and maybe even excited) to talk to younger people who just want to voice concerns instead of chew the poor customer service people out lol! And Margot also mentioned that they were eager to take calls no matter what, so as long as we're all polite and succinct, I don't think we'll have to worry about a very tense and awkward call.

I hope this alleviates some fear a bit! We got this, crew. We're doing so, so much. And it seems like it's being heard all over the place; it also seems like we've got so many people on our side, too. Big big hugs, and I'll share the necessary resources once more-

Customer Service Number: (855) 442-6629

The Online Feedback Form:

The original tumblr post with all the information:

The tumblr post where Fox and others were sharing even more information:

#OFMD #Our Flag Means Death #OFMD Season 3 #Renew as a crew #SaveOFMD #RenewOFMD #Be a lighthouse #WHEW LMAO #WE'RE TRYING #i told em this but you KNOW it's dire when all the anxious/nd individuals are cALLING PEOPLE SJDSHDLKS #WE SIMPLY: DO NOT DO THAT EVER <3 SKDJLSDS #IF WE CAN HELP IT #SO IT'S REALLY SAYING SOMETHING #And also again-- just want to reiterate that this is great practice for calling local representatives and politicians too!#ESPECIALLY if you're phone averse #It just gets you used to the whole process in a BIT of a less formal scenario

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sunnycanvas · 1 month

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Request for Baldwin IV x fem!reader, in which the reader is very fascinated by medicine and constantly tries to find a cure for her husband’s leprosy. She has some rashes and burns on her body from testing different ointments and healing methods and sometimes even drinks and experiments with poison, to see if it could be effective in treating her husband. She has a burning curiosity for healing plants and poison, but she also wants to help Baldwin. Only Tiberias knows of her experiments. One day, he asks Baldwin to please tell his wife to stop endangering herself with her sometimes careless experiments, since she won’t listen to the older knight when he tells her to stop.

Disclaimer: Talk of depression and death

I was busy working with ointments again at late evening secretly. Occasionally checking the door worried I will be caught. "I think this will work" I thought, I could feel confidence in my vein as I worked harder determined to find cure for my husband. Suddenly I felt someone grab my left shoulder. Not bothering to check I said "Don't tell his majesty or else you will be kicked out of your position"

"So, my queen threatens people now." The voice cut through the air like a blade, slicing through the fragile peace of the moment. I stood there, frozen in my position, my mind racing as I scrambled for a way out of this precarious situation. "Will you ignore your king as well?" The first half of the statement was gentle, almost pleading, but the second half was cold and unforgiving, sending shivers down my spine. "Answer when I am talking to you."

My heart sank as I realized the source of the voice. I turned slowly, apprehension knotting in my stomach, and there he was—my husband, Baldwin, his gaze like ice, piercing through me with accusation. Behind him stood Tiberias, his expression filled with guilt, a silent witness to my downfall.

"That son of a b—"

"Tiberias, leave us alone for a while," Baldwin's command was firm, his tone betraying his inner turmoil. Tiberias cast one last apologetic glance my way before retreating, leaving me alone with Baldwin.

As soon as Tiberias was out of earshot, Baldwin seized my arms, his grip tight, his emotions raw. His eyes searched mine, filled with a mixture of concern and anguish. He pulled me into a tight embrace, his touch both comforting and suffocating.

"How could you do this to yourself?" His voice cracked with emotion as he held me close, his lips pressing gentle kisses all over my face. "What if you had hurt yourself? What if I lost you?"

His words struck a chord deep within me, stirring a whirlwind of guilt and remorse. I couldn't bear to see him in pain, couldn't bear the thought of causing him any more anguish. I smiled weakly, tears pricking at the corners of my eyes, and whispered, "I'm sorry, Baldwin. I didn't mean to..."

But he silenced me with another kiss, his love enveloping me like a warm blanket

"Herbs are safe," I insisted, my voice trembling with the weight of my deception. "There are no downsides to using them."

Baldwin's gaze bore into mine, a silent accusation hanging in the air. "Mon amour, I admit, as a knight, I am not as skilled as you are, but I am not stupid either," he said, his tone laced with suspicion. "I am aware that poisons are sometimes used for curing leprosy."

I forced a smile, trying to mask the guilt that threatened to consume me. "Don't worry, I don't use that. I am being safe."

"Oh really?" Baldwin's voice was like ice, cutting through the facade I had built around myself. "Then what's that under your sleeve?"

My heart plummeted as I realized I had been caught. "Shit!"

Baldwin narrowed his eyes, his expression a mix of hurt and betrayal. "I might not be a doctor, but I sure do know a liar," he said, his voice heavy with disappointment.

"Show me your arms," he demanded, his tone brooking no argument.

"Bald—"

"Show me!" The command echoed through the room, leaving no room for defiance. Reluctantly, I rolled up my sleeves, revealing the evidence of my folly.

Baldwin's eyes closed in pain as he took in the sight before him. "We should not see each other for a while," he said, his voice strained with emotion.

I felt as though the ground had been ripped out from beneath me, the weight of his words crushing me with their finality. "No, please don't separate me from you," I pleaded, desperation lacing my voice. "You are the reason I am doing all this."

"I know," Baldwin's voice roared, the anger and hurt pouring forth like a tempest. "How could you do this to me? To us? Did you even stop for a moment to think about what would happen to me if I lost you too?"

The accusation hung heavy in the air, a painful reminder of the consequences of my actions. "It's best we stop seeing each other," he said finally, his voice filled with resignation.

Tears stung my eyes as I realized the depth of my folly, the irreparable damage I had caused. "Please, Baldwin, I'm sorry," I whispered, my voice barely audible "I can't live without you" "When I was lost and had no hope in my life you came to me and taught me how to live" "You gave me strength" "I wanted to do something for you something as well" "Please Baldwin, I will die without you"

Baldwin's eyes flashed with a mixture of anger and sorrow as my words hung in the air, heavy with despair. "Don't you dare say that," he spat, his voice laced with venom. "Do you even realize what you're saying?"

I flinched at the harshness of his tone, his words like daggers piercing my already wounded heart. "But Baldwin, I…" I began, my voice trembling with fear and desperation.

"No!" he interrupted, his voice booming through the room, filled with a raw intensity that made me recoil. "I won't allow you to talk like that. You have no right to speak of ending your life as if it's some kind of solution."

Tears welled up in my eyes as I struggled to find the words to defend myself, to make him understand the depths of my despair. "But Baldwin, I can't bear to go on like this," I pleaded, my voice barely above a whisper. "The pain, the guilt… it's consuming me from the inside out."

His eyes softened momentarily, a flicker of compassion breaking through the storm of his anger. But it was fleeting, replaced once more by a steely resolve. "I know you're hurting," he said, his voice gentler now, though no less firm. "But giving up is not the answer. You are stronger than this, my love. We will find a way through this darkness together."

I shook my head, unable to comprehend how he could still have faith in me after everything I had done. "But what if I can't find my way back?" I whispered, my voice barely audible above the tumult of my own despair.

"Then I will be there to guide you," Baldwin vowed, his words a beacon of hope in the midst of my despair. "I will never leave your side, no matter how dark the path may seem." "I am sorry I had been to harsh on you" "I made a vow to never leave your side and I shall hold the vow till the last breath of life" "Let us pray to God" "He brought us two unfortunate souls together" "Perhaps he will give us happily ever after and thus a tale shall be told between a leper and beautiful angel" I giggled at his silly comment and Baldwin abashed said "I do want our love to eternal" "Just like kingdom of heaven"

And as he pulled me into his arms, holding me close as if to shield me from the pain of the world, I clung to him desperately, holding onto his love like a lifeline in the midst of the storm. For in his embrace, I found the strength to believe that perhaps, just perhaps, there was still a glimmer of light amidst the darkness that threatened to consume me.

#kingdom of heaven #baldwin iv #kingdom of heaven 2005 #kingdom of heaven fandom #baldwin iv imagine #baldwin iv x reader #kingdom of heaven fanfic #kingdom of heaven fanfiction #king baldwin iv #kingdom of heaven headcanons

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pumpkinpaix · 11 months

Text

Regarding #EndOTWRacism’s summaries of 2023 OTW Board election candidate positions

Before I begin, let me say now that while I am a volunteer with the OTW, my views are personal and should not be taken as any kind of official statement from the org, its leadership, or other volunteers, especially not the candidates in question. My focus here is on the Asian candidates for obvious reasons, but this post is not meant as endorsement or disavowal of any of the candidates, whose bios and platforms can all be read here.

Do not take this as an excuse harass the mods running EOTWR. I cannot make myself clearer.

I am making this post to express my extreme disappointment with End OTW Racism’s post purporting to summarize the platforms of the candidates for the upcoming Board elections. It is no longer rebloggable, but can be read here.

The way that the candidates with Asian names were spoken of is deeply insulting when compared with how candidates with English-language names were discussed. Asian candidates had their platforms misrepresented, their expertise downplayed, and their lived experiences reduced down to “bringing an international presence” to the board, which was then further caveated with, “diversity alone is not going to solve the issue of racist harassment currently allowed in the OTW’s policies and enforcement practice”. While it is true that diversity alone is not a solution, it’s pretty offensive to essentially have “remember! Just because they aren’t white doesn’t mean you should vote for them!” tacked on to one of the Asian candidates’ platforms.

End OTW Racism seems more concerned with whether or not candidates used the buzzwords they wanted to hear rather than with how racism is discussed holistically within the statements. While I can appreciate that EOTWR has a specific agenda, to say things like, “[s]he does not mention racism, racist harassment, or hiring a DEI consultant in her platform, so outside the outreach and support she mentions, there is not enough for us to conclude that these would be priorities for her” regarding Zixin Z.’s position, directly following the statement, “[s]he also mentions the need for outreach towards non-English-speaking fans and has a desire to provide support to volunteers from minority groups” is fucking laughable, especially after the initial mistake of stating that Zixin Z. only wanted to do more outreach to Chinese-speaking fans. Again, I understand that people make mistakes and that this mistake has since been corrected, but I hope it prompts some reflection on the sort of biases that would lead to such a mistake in the first place. It may have been completely innocuous, but in charged discussions about racism, please understand that it gives an impression that is difficult to shake. I do thank you for not trying to hide that this happened.

Why is Anh P.’s lack of discussion on TOS/PAC a point against her, while Zixin Z.’s years of experience on PAC, her role as a mod on Weibo, and her background in nonprofits don’t even warrant a mention? For that matter, why did none of the Asian candidates’ skills or experience warrant mention? Qiao C. and Zixin Z. have both been volunteers with the organization for several years now, and Anh P. has years of moderation and volunteer experience elsewhere prior to her work with the OTW.

It is so fucking frustrating that despite each one of these candidates specifically talking about the need for diverse voices, they had their platforms essentially passed over because they didn’t use the right words, and it is particularly fucking aggravating to see that EOTWR will use Chinese issues as props when trying to press OTW leadership on the racism that occurs within the org, but then completely fail to connect the dots on why these candidates are running because the wrong language was used. Zixin Z. is one of the Weibo mods, for fuck’s sake.

The entire post feels like an exercise in virtue signalling, from every time it was brought up that a candidate did not provide pronouns in their platform statements, despite every one of them having pronouns provided in their bios (why mention this detail at all? You could have simply used the pronouns), to what felt like willful obliviousness to the anti-racism stances in the Asian candidates’ platforms. It feels like the concern starts and ends with racism in Anglophone terms, on Anglophone terms.

I can respect the driving ideas behind EOTWR, even if I disagree with the way that EOTWR pursues their goals. I do believe that we want the same things in the end, and therefore chose not to interact with the many posts I have seen about the protest. However, I saw the summary post and could not let it pass without speaking.

For a protest group supposedly dedicated to ending racism in the OTW, this felt incredibly hypocritical, conscious bias or not. In my most charitable frame of mind, I can see this as misjudging and overcorrecting to ensure that there was no favoritism shown to the obvious non-white candidates lest EOTWR be accused of tokenizing– again, it is true, that diversity in and of itself is not a solution to racism.

In my least charitable and most bitter frame of mind, I feel inclined to wonder if EOTWR, much like the OTW itself, is uncomfortable with the lack of influence they could exude over an international candidate. It would be much, much easier to push their agenda forward with more culturally familiar candidates, particularly white ones. Guilt and public scrutiny are powerful weapons and easy to wield against those with perceived privilege in our current atmosphere, often to the detriment of the actual discussion at hand in my experience. I know that’s cynical. It’s hard not to be. (For clarity's sake: I do not know the other candidates' races. This is a hypothetical.)

This isn’t a demand for an apology. I think we fetishize the capital-A Apology to the point where I find them sort of meaningless unless they are given freely. I don’t need EOTWR to agree with me, and I don’t really want to keep talking about it. Rather, I would prefer that EOTWR take action to do better as they continue in their campaign. What that action is is their decision. If they truly mean to stand against racism in the OTW, then I’d like them to demonstrate it.

DO NOT HARASS EOTWR MODS. I AM FUCKING SERIOUS ABOUT THIS.

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pinkanonwrites · 1 year

Text

Over 4 Miles Away

That’s how far away a crocodile can smell blood! Unfortunate for you, having a pretty rough time of the month and a bothersome crocodile fae as a close friend. Can’t he take it easy on you for once?

Sebek X Reader Period fic! AFAB Reader, they/them pronouns, period comfort, minor scolding (it is Sebek, after all)

1,700+ Words

"Human!"

You weren't sure if Sebek had been calling for you for a while or not, as the general chatter of passing time made it hard to hear even his booming voice over the crowd. But the frantic intensity with which he grabbed you sure made it seem like he had been. Like a flash, he wrenched you away from the doorway to your Magical Analysis class, leading you down into a nook in an adjacent hall even as the bell rang and students began to frantically shove into their respective classrooms.

"What the hell, Sebek! You can't just yank me around whenever you want." You snapped as you rolled your sore arm in its socket. Usually you'd be a bit more lenient to Sebek and his general antics. But not today. Today you were not in the mood.

Apparently, neither was he.

"I expected better of you, human! Do you truly think so little of us, your fellow classmates, that we would not think to consider your state of health? Personally, I find myself rather offended by your perception of us!"

"What are you even talking about?! And stop yelling!"

"Your injury! You would really choose to hide an injury from your fellow students?"

"...Sebek. I am not injured. What even gave you that idea?"

He scoffed, tilting his head away from you and crossing his arms in a huff. "And now you lie to my face? I certainly know better, human. You've smelled of blood since the moment you stepped foot onto campus."

"Blood? But I'm not-?" Your words ground to a halt, a painful twang in your stomach reminding you of why you were just so irritated in the first place.

"Frankly I'm surprised no one mentioned it to you earlier. It should be painfully obvious to every Beastman on campus."

Oh.

"Many of the fae as well. Those with acute senses at least."

Oh god no.

"Regardless, as your classmate and friend I felt it my duty to express my disappointment in… H-Human? Are you… crying?"

"No!" You were, but just a little. Tears of frustration and humiliation pricked at the corners of your eyes. You were tired, you felt like shit, everything hurt, and apparently half the school already knew about it without your permission. "I'm not injured, you stupid jackass! I'm on my period!"

"...Oh. Oh!" You could watch the realization bloom on Sebek's face in real time, eyebrows crawling up his face and cheeks blooming red as his expression twisted from distaste and disappointment into some type of embarrassment… or maybe horror? "So- So you are not injured then! That is good!"

"But apparently the whole school knows what time of the month it is!"

"N-Not the whole school! Just the Beastmen. Half the school, at most."

"And the fae!"

"Only some of the fae! Those with enhanced senses, such as myself and Lord Malleus!... And Master Lilia, as well."

Sebek's placations and panicked flailing did little to quell your mood. You just let out a short, pathetic wail before burying your face into your cupped hands, leaving him no choice but to hover awkwardly around you as you spiraled. You barely even processed his rather un-Sebek like ‘uh’s and ‘um’s and stammering, so lost were you in your own humiliation. God, and the day had only barely just begun. You just wanted to roll back into your shabby bed at Ramshackle and sleep until it didn’t feel like your stomach was trying to rip itself out anymore.

But just when you had internally decided to start pulling it back together in time for class, you felt a tense, stern hand rest itself on your shoulder.

“Your current state is not conducive to any proper education!” Sebek barked, clearly attempting to stifle his own fluster although his face was redder than a beet. “Allow me to escort you back to your dormitory.”

“Sebek.” You sniffled, rubbing your cheek hard with the heel of your palm. “I can’t. I still need the notes for this class, and I have to get Grim, and-”

“I will speak with Jack Howl this afternoon and procure a set of acceptable notes!” He insisted, leading you by the shoulder as he began to gently but insistently push you down the hall. “As for your monster companion, leave it to myself to make sure he is suitably disciplined for the day! You have my word.”

Were you simply too caught off guard by his unexpected change in demeanor, or too exhausted to argue? You couldn’t quite say. But it wasn’t until you were nearly to the doors of Ramshackle that you tried to raise an objection again. “You don’t have to do all this, you know. Not that I don’t appreciate it! Cause I really do. I just mean…” You sighed. You could try tiptoeing around what you were trying to ask, but there was really no sense in it. Sebek is the type of guy who is best talked to in clear and direct questions and statements anyway. “You don’t usually go out of your way like this for anyone but Malleus. Why now?”

He didn’t answer right away, instead steering you into the house and letting himself in behind you. He pushed you all the way to the base of the steps before letting you go and budging past you towards the kitchen. “Make yourself comfortable! I shall return shortly!”

“Sebek, what are you-?” Aaaand he’s gone. A tiny voice in the back of your brain chided you for letting yourself be steered around so easily, but it was quickly drowned out by the agonized screams of your aching muscles begging for bedrest. You slumped up the stairs to your room, trading your uniform for an unrecognizable band t-shirt you’d gotten from Floyd and a pair of oversized, hot pink sweatpants Cater had pawned off on you from the last care package he’d gotten from his sisters. You couldn’t even attempt to hold in the relieved groan as you let yourself flop limply onto your mattress, springs creaking dangerously beneath you. You heard your phone ping a few times on your nightstand, but couldn’t quite muster up the energy to roll over and reach for it.

You weren’t quite sure how long you’d chosen to lie face down on your bed, but it had been long enough to hear Sebek’s heavy steps ascend the staircase and stop outside your bedroom door.

“You do not have any chocolate.”

“...What?” You lifted up your head to see Sebek standing in your doorway with a silver tray (was that in your kitchen somewhere? You certainly didn’t recognize it.) loaded with what appeared to be a large cup of tea and a bottle of honey, as well as a small bottle of painkillers.

“I was under the impression chocolate was a necessity. No matter, I will acquire you some this afternoon.” As you rolled to make yourself more comfortable Sebek approached, placing the tray on your nightstand next to your phone.

“You don’t have to! I mean, this is more than enough. I didn’t even know I had tea.”

“It’s abysmal quality, but it shall suffice for today. You may take two of these,” He tapped the lid of the painkillers. “But then you must wait six hours before taking more.”

“Oh! Uh, thanks. I will.”

He watched, steely-eyed, as you shook two pills out of the bottle and downed them with a mouthful of sweet, floral tea. Even as you cradled the warm teacup in two hands he stood stiffly, hands folded behind his back, fidgeting slightly whenever he accidentally met your gaze.

“You never answered me before, you know.”

He jolted, eyes shooting to focus on a point on the wall past you where the wallpaper had begun to peel.

“I’m just curious, you know? Why would you go to all this trouble for me?”

“I… I recognize that I acted quite rashly this morning. In my concern for your well-being I failed to take into account any other possible causes, and in doing so had caused you great distress.” In between sentences you could see him worrying his lower lip with his sharp teeth, still refusing to make eye contact with you. “In assisting you I hoped you would consider my actions an adequate apology.”

“That’s… That’s so sweet Sebek. Thank you.” You wondered if you could pass off the heat you were feeling from your face all the way down into the pit of your stomach as a simple warming effect from the tea. Either way, it was a wholly welcome sensation.

“You are a… A very strange human. Despite better efforts I always- what I mean to say is- I can’t help but seem to find myself… Endeared. To you.”

“Aww, Sebek, does that mean you care about me?”

You expected his usual explosive demeanor as a response, an overwhelming burst of words and energy. What you didn’t expect was for his shoulders to slide up towards his ears, face reddening further as he glared at the wall like he was trying to set it on fire.

“Oh.”

“If you would excuse me then, Prefect!” he barked suddenly, erupting into a flurry of flustered movement as he unloaded the tray onto your nightstand in a few panicked motions. “There is more tea downstairs, I will return shortly after making a trip to the school store! If you would please-”

“Sebek.”

You latched his sleeve in between two fingers, keeping him from fully escaping you, and you could see him visibly gulp. You tugged him closer, gesturing for him to lean down to you, and when he did you planted a soft kiss upon his burning, pink cheek.

“Thank you Sebek. If it’s worth anything, I‘m pretty endeared to you too. Despite better efforts.”

As he pulled away you saw his straight-set scowl curl upwards into a wobbly grin that he failed to hide completely, bringing a fist up to his mouth to cover it with a faux cough.

“Do not think I will allow you to make a habit of missing class! Simply consider this an extenuating circumstance.”

You laughed, slumping comfortably into bed. “You got me, I’m just buttering you up so you'll let me slack off all day… That was sarcasm, by the way.”

“I am perfectly aware of what sarcasm is!”

“Really? Could have fooled me.”

“Prefect!”

#disney twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twisted wonderland imagines #disney twst #twst x reader #twst imagines #sebek zigvolt #sebek zigvolt x reader #sebek zigvolt imagines #my writing

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yeonjunsbxtch · 1 year

Text

I Feel Everything - Kang Taehyun

Summary: You loved Taehyun, but sometimes he was just a bit too cold. He wasn’t good at showing his emotions, which often left you wondering what was going through his head. Until one day, you snapped when he was late to your anniversary dinner. And he didn’t seem to care all too much. So you decided it was time to call it quits. Little did you know that was enough to trigger some emotion out of him.

Genre: angst, smut, slight fluff

Warnings: yelling, cold!taehyun, laughing during an argument, unprotected sex, marking, dom!taehyun, possessiveness, pet names, degradation, dirty talk, arguing, swearing, insults, angry!taehyun, choking, toxic, edging, cunnilingus, praise, Taehyun calls reader a bitch, reader is wearing a dress, insinuates reader is inexperienced, overstimulation.

Pairing: Taehyun x fem!reader

Word count: 4k+

Song Inspo: I Feel Everything - Amelia Moore, Die For You - The Weeknd

Reminder: This fic does not reflect Taehyun as a person. This is fiction.

"How could you do this to me?! Do you not realize how stupid I looked?!" Your lungs exploded as you busted through Taehyun's front door with Taehyun dragging his feet behind you. You were disappointed when your attempt to slam the door on his face failed.

"Can you not be so loud? I have neighbors." Taehyun said flatly as he gently closed the door behind him.

"Why?! You don't want people hearing how much of a shitty boyfriend you are?!" Your voice even louder now, purposely trying to get anyone you could to hear you. You walked further into the house, running your fingers through your hair in frustration.

"Y/N.."

"What!?"

"You need to take your shoes off."

Of course that is all he cares about. You glared at him, thinking for a moment he was finally going to show empathy.

You sent the shoes on your feet flying across the room, earning an eye roll from the asshole behind you.

"Are you happy now?!"

"Can you calm down?"

"No! Why don't you care about me Taehyun?!" You screamed at the pink haired boy now in front of you. Tears were streaming down your face as Taehyun stood still, not batting an eye. His blank stare burned through you.

"I do."

You wanted to rip your hair out with how monotoned he was.

No matter the argument, Taehyun never seemed.. bothered. He never expressed his emotions to you, which left you constantly wondering what he was thinking. Not even during the most intense arguments would he open up. At first, you thought he just needed to get more comfortable. But now after a year of dating, he remains the same. And you've about had enough.

"No! No you don't Taehyun! We had plans for our one year tonight and you don't even care that you were late! I've been trying to express to you how hurt I am and you don't even care! You're so emotionless while I'm left to feel everything!"

Your blood started to run hot as you saw a smirk form on Taehyun's face. Taehyun sneered at you, letting out a sardonic chuckle. You knew he never took you seriously. But you never knew the extent of it, until now.

"Are you laughing at me?" Your voice now quiet.

"Yeah I am. This is ridiculous y/n! I told you I had practice later than expected and you can't take that as an answer."

And even still, everything you said went over Taehyun's head. It wasn't that you couldn't take it as an answer. It was because you've taken it as an answer too many times.

"You always say that Taehyun. And I accept it every single time even though it hurts me. But what hurts me the most is how nonchalant you are about it! You don't even care that you had practice late! You don't even care that I was waiting at the restaurant by myself looking stupid for an hour! I even went out of my way to buy a brand new dress just for tonight and you don't fucking care! If you cared, I wouldn't always have to beg you to tell me how you're feeling or get any sort of comfort out of you!"

"Then why are you still with me?"

And that was when your heart shattered. You looked at him for a moment, trying to find any remorse in his empty expression. All you wanted was for him to comfort you. All you wanted was for him to finally open up to you. But there was no attempt to fight for you. And you knew there was no hope in trying to hold on.

"I don't know." Was all you could say. It felt like your chest was ripping open. You had given the man in front of you your all. All of your love had been poured into him while you got nothing in return. "I shouldn't have to beg to be loved Taehyun."

Taehyun continued to stare at you. You still could not read him. And you knew you were never going to be able to. So it was time you admitted defeat. Without saying another word, you turned around and headed upstairs.

You went straight to Taehyun's bedroom to start packing the things you had left at his place. Only now, you felt they were just a big waste of space.

You started going around the room, gathering your things one by one and throwing them into a duffle bag. You didn't care about knocking things over. You didn't care about making a mess. You just wanted to get out of there as soon as you could.

You made your way over to 'your' side of the bed, where various items of yours had made a home for themselves on the nigthstand. You swept everything into the bag at once with your arm, dropping a few things here and there. You wiped tears from your face as you kneeled down, frantically trying to pick everything up. You filled your lungs with as much air as you could, trying your hardest not to burst into tears again.

Suddenly, you heard the door crack open. You knew who it was and it took every ounce of your strength to ignore him. Your shaking hands continued to attempt to pick up everything that had fallen.

"Y/N, what are you doing?"

Your stomach turned, creating a nauseating feeling within you. You kept your head down, trying to not look at him.

"I'm packing. What does it look like I'm doing you fucking robot."

"Y/N, Stop packing.. please."

The sound of panic was pronounced in his voice causing you to come to a halt. Your eyes stayed glued to your bag, refusing to look at him despite his unfamiliar tone.

"Why should I stop? You're the one who suggested I leave you. So that's what I'm doing."

"Just... stop... please Y/N."

You finally looked at him. There he was standing by the door, hands wrapped around the back of his neck as he watched you anxiously. His eyes were wide and full of panic. You couldn't help but feel a little guilty in that moment, seeing him like you've never seen him before.

You had to admit, you felt bad for him. You never meant to make him react like this. But on the other hand, you were angry. Angry that it took you leaving him to make him show any emotion at all. And that anger within you was just a little bit stronger.

You looked back down at the bag in your hand. It took everything you had to put the last of your things in the bag. Standing up, you tried your best to avoid eye contact with Taehyun who had already closed the door, now standing guard of it.

"Please move Taehyun."

"No."

Your heart was beating fast. There he was, attempting to fight for you in some way, shape or form. But you knew settling for this wouldn't be good for either of you.

"Taehyun, I'm leaving. You need to move and let me through."

Taehyun kept his eyes locked on you as he hesitantly took a step to the side. 'Well that didn't last long.' You felt conflicted in this moment. You told him to move but why did your heart sink when he actually moved?

As you were about to reach for the knob, you felt your bag being pulled out of your grasp.

"What the fuck are yo-"

Before you could finish your sentence, you were shoved up against the door, both of your hands being pinned on either side of you. You struggled to get out of Taehyun's grip until your eyes inevitably met his. He stared down at you with a dark and narrow gaze. His jaw was clenched, face red with anger. Also an emotion you've never seen from him. You began to sweat, experiencing a side of him you've never seen before.

"Taehyun.. please.. let me go." You managed to breath out.

Taehyun inched closer to you. His chest now pressing against yours. He slowly leaned down to meet his lips with your ear as he tightened his grip on your wrists.

"You're not going anywhere."

His hot breath against your ear sent goosebumps throughout your body. You swallowed hard as you shut your eyes for a brief moment, taking in the sweet sensation of his lips softly grazing against your skin.

You twisted your wrists at one more attempt of escaping until you felt his breath flow down your neck. Your knees buckled underneath you and for a moment, you were actually relieved Taehyun had a hold of you. You couldn't believe how weak you were for him. Taehyun roughly connected his wet lips with your neck and it took everything you had not to moan out his name. You held your bottom lip between your teeth as he took his time placing harsh, opened mouthed kisses along the side of your neck. The feeling mixed between pain and pleasure as he ended each kiss with a harsh pull of your skin.

"Taehyun.." His name finally escaping your lips. You breathed out as he continued to savor the taste of your neck.

You squirmed underneath him, the tingling sensation traveling from your neck to your core. The unfamiliar feeling enveloped you as you tried your best to keep your strength. But you knew this was a battle you would not win.

"First you wanted to leave me.." you shivered at the sudden vibration of his voice against you. You felt Taehyun trail his tongue up your neck. He kissed around the shell of your ear before continuing his sentence. "Now you're moaning my name before I've even fucked you."

Taehyun then pulled back to get a good look at you. You gazed up at him with heavy lids, mind now clouded with only him. Everything that had happened leading up to this moment had completely left your mind.

"Now tell me what you really want princess. Do you want to leave.." He slowly dragged his finger up your body, caressing every curve until he got to your neck. He wrapped his hand firmly around your throat, earning a gasp as you briefly lost your breath. "Or do you want to be a good little slut for me?"

You couldn't speak. His manipulation tactics were something you could see right through. But that did not mean they didn't work.

"What's wrong? Hm? Bitch can't speak?" He tightened the grip around your throat just enough for your mouth to open even wider for his admiration. "You sure knew how to use that pretty little mouth earlier."

You felt the hold he had on you. You were hearing the words that were coming out of his mouth. You saw the rage in his eyes. The thought of not knowing what he was going to do to you was enough to make you tremble. And yet, you still felt a sense of security within this new side of him. And you couldn't lie, you loved it.

You were suddenly gasping for air as you felt Taehyun release his grip on you. He took a step back, disconnecting himself from you. Suddenly, you felt empty. A fire ingnited within you, frustrated that Taehyun had riled you up for nothing.

"Why.. Why did you.." You couldn't even finish your sentence. Your body was weak. Your voice raspy.

"Stop? You need to tell me."

"Tell you what?"

"Tell me I can ruin you."

All feeling in your legs dissipated. His deep voice echoed through your body, awakening a deep desire you had failed to realize you had before.

"Taehyun.. please.."

The end of Taehyun's lip tugged up, knowing the effect he had on you. He took a step towards you, towering over you as he kept his dark gaze locked on yours. You gazed back up at him with a pleading look in your eyes. The tension growing stronger by the second.

He inched closer, you could feel the warmth of his lips radiating onto yours. Your lips trembled, begging to be kissed by his.

"Please what?" His voice now soft yet still filled with so much desire.

You found your arms wrapping around him. His body felt hot under your touch as his arms stayed by his side, refusing to touch you until he has your permission. Your hand slowly traveled to the nape of his neck, caressing it softly as you saw him flutter his eyes for a moment. You pulled him even closer to you, his lips now brushing against yours.

"Please ruin me."

All hesitation faded from you as you pulled him fully into you, connecting his lips with yours. He wasted no time in returning the kiss, devouring you as he pushed you further against the door. His arm glided down your back, pulling you as close to him as possible. He pulled away for a moment, leaving you breathless as he tugged at your bottom lip.

Taehyun slid his hands down, taking a hold of your ass as he grinded into you. You could feel his erection pressing against you and you wanted nothing more than for it to be inside you. His hands made their way to the back of your thighs, swiftly pulling them around his waist. You wrapped your arms securely around his neck, holding onto him as your tongues swirled together.

It wasn't long until you felt your back hit the mattress. You let out a whine, missing the feel of his lips on yours. Taehyun stood over you, watching as your body squirmed, withdrawing from his touch.

"How bad do you want me to touch you?" He traced small circles along your stomach, teasing you every time he made his way lower.

"Really bad Taehyun.. So bad.."

"Mmm, that's what I like to hear."

He began to play with the hem of your dress, pulling it up to expose your panties. He let out a pleased sigh, seeing the wet spot that had quickly formed on your pretty underwear.

He smirked at the way you instinctively opened your legs the second he touched your skin. He slowly started caressing your bare thighs, his thumbs brushing around the inner lining of your panties. Each stroke of his hands causing you to tremble.

His hands slowly made their way up, grabbing a hold of your underwear and gently pulling them down. He took his time, savoring the way you shivered, feeling the way the cooler air hit your now exposed pussy. He pulled your panties completely off of you, throwing them who knows where. His eyes were only on you and the way your pussy glistened in front of him.

"Shit baby.. look at you." You cooed at the way he called you baby, a nickname you've been craving for a while now. Taehyun watched as your chest heaved up and down, growing impatient at the way he took his time. "You're so fucking wet and we aren't even halfway done. So fucking pathetic."

His voice sounded sweet but his words were like daggers that carved into you in the best way possible.

"Please do something Taehyun.. please"

Yeah, he was right. You did sound pathetic. But there was nothing more you needed than for him to ravish you.

"Be patient my love. Consider this punishment for your behavior before."

Your body shivered as you felt the warmth of his breath slowly approach your core. His lips just inches away from finally giving you the pleasure you craved. He lightly grazed the tip of his tongue up your clit. You sucked in a sharp breath as you bucked your hips, pleading for more. He followed with another lick, this time with more passion. You couldn't help but reach down and tangle your fingers in his soft locks.

He let out a low groan, loving the way you pushed him closer as he sucked on your clit. You glanced down at him, locking eyes with him as he was already watching the way you reacted to his every move.

"Baby you taste so fucking good.."

Moans were flooding out of your mouth, repeating his name over and over again as the sensation became more intense. You were practically suffocating Taehyun at this point with the way you wrapped your legs around his neck. He grabbed onto your thighs, squeezing them as he continued to flatten his tongue along your folds.

With the way you were moving your hips, he could tell you were close. The fire in your core grew as did the tension in your abdomen feeling every vibration of his groans.

"Ahh.. Taehyun.. I'm gonna cum.." Your words came out as whines as you rocked your pussy against his tongue.

You were about to come undone when Taehyun suddenly drew back.

"Ahh! Fuck Taehyun! What the hell!?" You cried out, needing the release more than anything. Taehyun then stood up, leaning over you as tears were falling down your face.

"Don't worry baby, you'll be able to cum soon."

He wiped a few tears off your face before proceeding to unbuckle his belt. He then pulled his pants down along with his boxers, finally freeing his cock. You watched as he swiftly pulled his shirt off, revealing his perfectly toned body.

"Take your clothes off and lay down on the bed. Now." Taehyun demanded. You instantly sat up at his command, unzipping the back of your dress and quickly taking it off. Taehyun watched as you unhooked your bra and threw it on the ground. He licked his lips at the way you crawled up the bed, laying your head down on the pillow per his order. You felt your face heat up. You couldn't help but feel a little shy, covering your body with your arms.

Taehyun got onto the bed, making his way up to you, not breaking eye contact for a second.

"Good girl.. but.." He gently pulled your arms off your body, laying them down at your sides. "Don't cover your beautiful body."

He grabbed both your legs and laid them over his shoulders. You watched in anticipation as he started stroking his cock, precum dripping out of the tip.

The tight feeling in your stomach returned as he began to stroke your slick folds with the tip of his cock, just barely pushing the tip in each time he slid down to your entrance.

"Taehyun.. Please just fuck me."

"Shh.. Let me take my time. I have some things to make up to you."

He then aligned himself at your entrance, finally sliding into you. You let out a long moan, feeling him stretch you out so perfectly. Your walls clenching around him, earning a hiss from him.

"F-fuck.. you feel so good."

He slowly started to move in and out of you, picking up the pace with each thrust. He looked down and watched the way he disappeared inside of you, loving the way you fit around him so perfectly.

Your pretty little moans were music to his ears and he couldn't get enough. He now hovered over you, keeping your legs over his shoulders as he rocked his hips harder into you, hitting your cervix just right. You felt like you could explode right then and there with the way he used your body.

"Baby you take my cock so good." He placed kisses along your forehead, comforting you from any pain you might have been feeling. You wrapped your arms around his torso, digging your nails into his back causing him to go even faster.

"It feels so good Taehyun.."

He kissed you once more, swallowing your moans. This time with passion unlike anything you've experienced before. He pressed your knees into your chest, hitting a spot you never knew was possible. You squeezed your eyes shut, drowning in total ecstasy. You didn't know whether to grip the sheets or Taehyun's strong arms as he pounded into you. Taehyun spewed low groans repeatedly as he continued to plunge inside of you.

"Fuckk.. baby you're so wet." Taehyun hissed, hearing the sounds your pussy made with each thrust.

"All.. for you.."

Taehyun let out a growl, hearing the words and moans that flooded out of your mouth. He pried one of your hands off the bedsheet, guiding it down to your clit.

"Rub yourself for me baby.."

You did as you were told, eagerly massaging your clit in a circular motion. Taehyun's hand made its way back up to your throat, this time gripping it just enough to keep your gaze aligned with his. You looked into his dark eyes, tears running down your cheeks as your stomach started to tighten. The pressure in your abdomen growing immensely. You tried to push back on him, feeling the pressure becoming too much. But your attempts failed as Taehyun held you down, your reaction making him fuck you harder, forcing you to experience the intense, unfamiliar feeling.

"Tae-Taehyun.. It's too much.." You whimpered out, squirming under his dominance. But just when you thought he couldn't go any faster, he did, thrusting his hips up into you in a merciless rhythm.

"Baby you're doing soo good.. ahh f-fuck.. you're almost there I can feel it."

That was enough for you to completely lose yourself. You screamed out in ecstasy, dissolving in pleasure as you reached your high. He watched your every expression as he felt your walls pulsating around him, your fluids soaking him.

And hearing you scream his name as your release saturated his cock was enough for him to finally come undone.

"Shit shit shit.. I'm cumming y/n.."

Taehyun's hips stuttered as he emptied himself inside you. He slowed down his thrusts as he rode out his high, making sure every drop of his cum was deep inside you.

All movements then came to a stop. The two of you laid in silence, catching your breath and gazing into each other, slowly coming back to reality. Moments passed before the silence was broken.

"I-I'm sorry.." Taehyun whispered out, swallowing hard. You saw his expression change, that panic look from earlier slowly returning to his eyes. He carefully slid out of you, leaving you empty and gently resting your weak legs on the bed. You could have sworn you saw a tear escape his eye before he turned away.

"Taehyun, are you okay?"

He embraced you, nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck. Tears running from his eyes onto your shoulder.

"I'm sorry Y/N, I really am. I don't know what's wrong with me."

You weren't sure what to do since you had never seen him cry before. So you wrapped your arms around him, caressing his hair as he wept into you. Your heart ached for him.

"Taehyun, there's nothing wrong with you."

You rubbed his bare back, comforting him the best you could. Your fingers softly massaging the scratches you had left.

He placed soft pecks along the bruises on your neck.

"Does it hurt? I didn't want to hurt you."

You let out a soft chuckle.

"A little but... I actually liked it."

Taehyun met his gaze with yours once more, a slightly amused face peaking under his tear ridden cheeks.

"I didn't know you were so kinky." He teased, relieving some of the tension between the two of you.

A gentle smile formed on your face as you looked into his entrancing eyes. And there it was. A sparkle of emotion. The longing look you had been, well, longing for. A thousand words were laid out on his sleeve. There was no need for anything more.

"But seriously though, I'm going to try harder to open up to you, okay? You deserve the best and I want to be that for you."

You grabbed a hold of Taehyun's face, cupping his cheeks as it was now your turn to wipe some tears off his face.

"I know."

He leaned down, placing a gentle but heartfelt kiss on your lips. You immediately reciprocated pulling him into a deeper kiss.

The kiss quickly grew heated once more and it wasn't long before he was pushing himself back into you. Your body shuddered at the overstimulating feeling as he slowly thrusts into you.

"Tae... fuck.. again?"

You moaned into his mouth, earning a low chuckle from him.

"Oh baby, I told you I had a lot of making up to do.." He gently wrapped your legs around his waist, sinking his cock deeper into you. "I'm gonna be inside you all night."

I hope you all enjoyed !!

🏷 @zen003xx @storminacloud @stephaniekim15 @eneiyri @luvsoobs @letapostropheesgo @coochiecrawler @dilfjohhny @neozon3nha @moavill97 @bailies-me @julie03 @heartsforheeseung

I apologize if some tags don’t work !! 💓

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pshcomforts · 5 months

Text

➳ fine line | psh.

non!idolsunghoon x fem!reader, non!idoljay x fem!reader (kind of)

“there’s things that we’ll never know”

synopsis: you like sunghoon, and sunghoon likes you but it’s not that easy.

warnings/content: written in third pov. not proofread. angst! a little bit of fluff? cursing. age gap — sunghoon’s 21 and reader’s 18. reader can’t swim. open ending!

comments, likes, and reposts are appreciated :)

word count: 3.6k

a/n: fictional characters — dae (jungwon’s partner), min-su (heeseung’s partner), ji-woo (jake’s partner) and mei (some random girl). this was originally uploaded on my old account but it got taken down so.. enjoy! also written around heeseung’s birthday.

༘˚⋆𐙚｡masterlist⋆.✧˚

current song playing: fine line by harry styles

↻ ◁ II ▷ ↺

2:21 ────────|─────────── -3:56

“are you gonna keep staring or are you gonna make a move?” min-su asked with a disgusted expression.

y/n’s head snapped at the question — “uhm..” she took in a harsh gulp after breaking eye contact with sunghoon’s tall figure in the distance.

“you really have to do something else other than stare.” dae commented, head shaking from the disappointment. the girl rolled her eyes as a response with a slight scowl. “how can I if it seems like he doesn’t even want to talk to me?”

“girl, you make it seem like YOU don’t want to talk to him,” ji-woo intervened.

“shut up! i don’t know how to!”

her friend’s face morphed into a mischievous grin. “i can always tell jake to ask him what he thinks about you.” y/n’s mouth dropped at her words — “UH, no way am I making you tell your boyfriend about my crush on his best friend!”

“oh heeseung could help too.” min-su interrupted.

“and jungwon!” said dae with a smug smile.

“you guys are ugly! i don’t want anyone’s help on this, especially if you guys are all in relationships with his close friends.” y/n yelled, slight humiliation hitting her cheeks as her face became flushed.

“girl, why not?? it’ll help you get with sunghoon faster!”

“no! i don’t want to be in a relationship with him, i just like him! well.. i mean, i can see myself with him but… i don’t know! and plus, he’s three years older than me..”

y/n let out a deep sigh at her friend’s faces once she came in eye contact with them. “i know i know.. but i feel like he doesn’t see me more than just a little sister…” her head drooped low at the finishing thoughts. “does he even see me as anything else other than that?”

dae giggled at her words — “oh, you definitely want something more.” the others bursted out with laughter as y/n remained a little frustrated.

“girl, you want sunghoon, just admit it!” ji-woo yelled with a beam that highlighted her dimples.

“i can’t! i won’t! i’m leaving.”

with the last words said, y/n left her friend group as she hurriedly sped elsewhere; not forgetting to hear min-su’s echoing words — “BITCH, COME BACK!”

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

days and weeks passed after the conversation. the whole friend group (including the ENHA members) eventually agreed upon having a sleepover at jay’s house in celebration of heeseung’s birthday.

y/n and ji-woo arrived together, while dae and min-su came with their significant others. jake and sunghoon arrived together as well, whereas niki and sunoo carpooled.

“finally! long time no see!” sunoo exclaimed, going in for a hug with each of the girls and dae.

“so glad we can finally do this!” ji-woo yelled, as she found her way to her boyfriend’s embrace; in which leaving y/n alone.

“go ahead and feel comfortable guys, my parents are out of the house for the week so it’s just me.” said jay with a grin.

y/n’s cheeks blushed at the boy. though sunghoon was the obvious one she liked, she couldn’t help but feel her heart race towards the silver-haired boy. she shook away the thoughts though after coming in eye contact with min-su who was silently judging.

“shut up” — y/n worded to her friend, before searching for sunghoon as if on default. the boy seemed slightly pissed as he walked away from the scene, a cold look evident while making his way to niki. she couldn’t tell if it was just her who had observed how bitter he suddenly became.

she grasped ji-woo aside, breaking her away from jake who was still talking to her. “did you see hoon?” her whisper was harsh, an anxious tone apparent in her voice as her grip became tighter on her friend.

“ow, y/n! i did sort of see but jake was still talking so i didn’t notice a lot. he did look a little mad though?” she reasoned.

“girl, what was that look sunghoon just gave to you and jay?” their friend, min-su interrupted with a gasp.

“wow, you’re actually away from heeseung?” y/n snorted a laugh while the girl rolled her eyes. “shut the fuck up. did you see sunghoon give you that look??”

“i think someone’s jealous.. i mean- who said that?” dae joked. the four cracked out laughs as they remained further away from the members.

“you don’t think he could be..?”

“girl i wouldn’t be surprised.” ji-woo said with an eyebrow raise.

“mm.. no, i don’t think so. maybe he just wanted to talk to niki. i don’t think he’s jealous…”

“you know what, y/n?” dae called, heads turning to the boy who had a smug grin. “maybe you should just talk to sunghoon.”

y/n rolled her eyes. “bitch, you know that it’s hard for me to do that!”

as min-su was about to give her input with a dirty joke in mind, heeseung intervened with an arm slinging around her. “sorry to break this group huddle, but can i steal my girlfriend?”

“you always steal her from us.”

“sorry but i just want to be around my baby on my special day.”

the others fake gagged at the comment. “yes, yes, just take her and go away, geez birthday boy.” y/n said with an appalled look plastered.

the boy grinned at her words; the obvious displeased tone deafening out in his ears as his attention went to his girlfriend, dragging her away from the group.

“love, come here for a second?” jake called out to ji-woo. she looked back at her two friends who still had the same disgusted look. “oh, just go ji-woo!” y/n yelled, pushing her away so she could reunite with her partner. “you should go too, dae. jungwon looks sad without you.”

“but what about you!”

y/n’s lips curled into a soft smile. “i’ll be fineee. just go to your boyfriend like they did!”

the boy remained persistent in staying with her, though eventually leaving for his boyfriend as well once y/n confirmed it’d really be okay.

she sighed at the sight in front of her; all of her friends with their lovers while sunghoon was near niki and sunoo. her eyes stayed on him for a few seconds, heart thumping just from the admiration of how gorgeous he was. eventually, they wandered to where jay’s figure could be, which was in the kitchen of course.

“hey jay,” y/n softly beamed.

he greeted back with a smile — “hey y/n” —attention still persistent on the marinated meat for dinner.

“can i help?”

jay gave a playful laughing scoff at her words. “wouldn’t you rather be in the living room with niki and them?”

she shook her head. “i don’t really have anything to do, and i feel a little bad that you’re doing it all by yourself honestly.”

“alright, if you wanna help then you can put some gloves on and mix the marinade.”

y/n complied with excitement surging through and soon began helping the male with dinner preparations.

as long minutes passed, she continued to work around the kitchen with him. meanwhile, the couples stayed in their own spaces while the remaining three played on the shared nintendo switch.

“y/n, don’t do that!” jay yelled from the kitchen, her loud cackles of laughter immediately intensifying after.

“what could be so funny over there?” sunghoon mumbled under his breath. a scoff left his mouth as his hands tightly gripped on the controller.

“you that jealous?” niki snorted.

the older male rolled his eyes as he felt envy starting to build up. “no.. why would i be? y/n’s too young for me.”

“your excuses are becoming worse, hyung.”

sunoo let out a laugh at niki’s words — “they really are, why can’t you just admit that you like the girl?”

hoon’s eyes slightly widened. “shut up! don’t say that too loud; dae, min-su, and ji-woo are literally near us.” he harshly whispered to the maknaes.

“they’re lost in their own world, hoon. seriously, look at them and tell me they’re not in their own world with our members.” niki remarked with a laugh.

“you could be like that with y/n too, just saying.” said sunoo with a devilish smile.

“it doesn’t seem like she even likes me. she always ignores me and doesn’t talk much to me when she can clearly talk well with jay or you guys. seems like she likes him more to be honest.” his head darted towards the male in the kitchen who was still chuckling and being playful with her.

“maybe you just haven’t taken in the fact that you guys are both introverted?? and maybe she doesn’t know how to talk to you because you barely respond back?” sunoo replied.

hoon let out a sigh at his members’ words. “I don’t know..”

“you overthink this too much, hyung. i heard from someone that she’s literally been in love with you for so long! also, how have you guys not talked much when you’re in the same friend group?” responded niki.

sunghoon’s heart immediately raced at the potential thought of his crush liking him back; blocking out the question asked. “does she really..?” he bit his lip as he awaited for a response, only to be interrupted.

“i’m gonna be grilling outside but we also have a pool, so if you guys want to go for a swim, you guys can!” jay yelled.

everybody grinned at each other, racing out of the back door to swim in the said pool.

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

splashes of laughter were heard in the air as everybody swam in the cooling water.

y/n remained persistent near the shallower parts of the pool while the rest splashed around. ji-woo attempted to stay near as well but could only be pulled into the deep water by her determined boyfriend.

dae was with jungwon, giving soft squeaks of laughter as they were sweetly playful. from time to time, y/n could hear the sound of their laughs tangling in the air with soft music exuding in the back.

min-su and heeseung were in the pool as well, but would always go back to singing their favored songs that’d echo aloud. followed by ji-woo and jake softly humming along.

y/n took in the sight in front of her again. her eyes followed each of her friends and the joyous moments they were experiencing. something she wanted to experience.

she softened at what she was observing. her friends have truly never been this happy and she loved it.

“hey, you okay?” a familiar voice said, snapping her into reality.

“hm? oh hey, hoon.” she nervously replied.

he beamed a half smile as he took a seat next to her. “they look pretty happy, don’t they?” y/n turned her head to respond back but paused.

he was observing just like her. she fought back a smile as her eyes twinkled with affection. “yeah.. they do. i’m so glad they all found their other halves.” she said in admiration.

“now it’s just your turn huh?” sunghoon gently turned his head to look back at her. his demeanor was softer than she was used to, and it made her heart flutter.

she cleared her throat and looked away. “we’ll see what the universe plans for me” — her voice almost weak from his simple question.

“almost sunghoon’s time isn’t it?” niki suddenly boomed.

y/n’s brows curiously furrowed at the boy who swam near them. “it is?” she stupidly questioned.

“yeah.. sunghoon’s been talking to mei. isn’t that right, hyung?” his eyebrows wiggled around playfully. the obvious teasing tone of getting the poor girl jealous wasn’t clear enough as she felt her heart sink. her mind went blank as everything else became a numbing pain.

suddenly finding it hard to breathe, she stood from where she was and laughed off the heavy feeling. “oh that’s right sunghoon, how is it with her so far?”

her attempt to look fine was a success as hoon didn’t notice the sudden change in becoming tense. “oh.. mei? it’s fine.. i haven’t talked to her in a while.” he mewled out.

it was like taking one step forward and three steps backwards. their moment of potentially being more had been ruined; and with the thought of mei in mind, it seemed like everything had taken a pause.

y/n swallowed the lump in her throat as she forced the tears away. “well uhm, i should go to dae and them. i wanna see if they’re tired of being in the pool yet.” she stood from where she was, feeling her legs become like jelly as her lips trembled from holding in the pain.

the heartbroken girl walked away with deep breaths. she fought the urge to breakdown and cry, leaving niki and sunghoon in the shallow water.

hoon let out a slightly frustrated sigh. “what was that, niki??” his brows pushed together in an irritating way.

“sorry… i thought it’d help..”

the maknae mewled out another sorry before leaving to sunoo.

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

y/n let out another deep breath before arriving to dae and jungwon at the other end of the pool.

“hey guys,” she gently said.

her shaky voice had apparently became noticeable as dae stopped his movements to carefully look at his friend. “what’s wrong y/n??”

in an instant second, her eyes watered at the question. ‘fuck!’ she mentally cursed to herself. “i knew it was a bad idea going to you, dae!” she yelled before speed walking away.

“WHAT? Y/N COME BACK.”

he followed after her, catching min-su and ji-woo’s attention as well. the loud questioning of ‘is she okay’ came to mind as they all followed behind and left their significant others.

“guys it’s fine!” the girl tried to defend.

“girl you’re on the brink of tears. what happened? are you okay?” min-su said.

“uhm.. yeah…” her voice cracked as she softly smiled at the aching feeling.

“stop lying!” ji-woo yelled.

y/n broke out another smile as she admired how caring her friends were. “it’s fine guys.. seriously! i’ll tell you when we’re not surrounded by them.. but let’s go back. i don’t want them to wonder why we’re having our own group talk.”

“girl if sunghoon made you cry, you just let me know.” the dimpled girl threatened.

everybody giggled in unison as the other two agreed. eventually, they all went back to their significant others while y/n decided to stay near jay. she couldn’t stand being a third wheel, and sunoo had remained around niki and sunghoon; so jay was her best choice.

“you’re really not gonna go in the pool?” asked the boy who was barbecuing.

“i can’t swim jay.” she replied back with a head shake.

“oh that’s right… seems like hoon can’t swim either.” the name call caught her attention and almost immediately, her eyes landed on the 5’11 boy.

sunghoon continued to stay around the shallow parts of the pool where he was before. her heart stopped for a moment as the repeating words of him and mei were in her head.

“that’s funny,” she mumbled.

jay’s face scrunched at her monotoned voice. “if you don’t think it’s funny, you don’t have to say it is.”

her lips curled into a soft smile. “no i didn’t mean it like that jay, geez.” she rolled her eyes as he smiled as well, turning his attention back onto the grill.

“how are you and hoon though?”

“shut up, i don’t want to talk about him right now.”

“so you guys are going through something then hm?”

“jay.. please.”

he widely grinned at her plead. “fine, i’ll let it go.” she beamed a ‘thanks’ before changing the topic to something for both of their liking.

from time to time, sunghoon turned his head to see how they were easily conversing. he let out an annoyed scoff. “maybe she does like him..” his hands clenched in fists as the continuous words that fell out of sunoo and niki’s mouths were drowned out by jealousy.

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

after long minutes passed, dinner was finally ready. throughout the various conversations everybody had, hoon and y/n had none together. in fact, they didn’t even look at each other. a few glances would be made to each other but other than that, no one dared to make a peep.

when dinner had finished, a cake had been brought out to celebrate heeseung’s birthday. a bright smile was plastered onto his face as his girlfriend stuck by his side.

loud laughs and joyous occasions were shared upon one another. everybody sang happy birthday to the boy who was contented enough for a cake.

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

when the long day had come to an end, everybody found themselves settled into the living room with warm blankets and soft smiles.

little murmurs of “this was so fun!” and “we gotta do this again” were heard before all had passed out for the remaining night. all except y/n.

she stepped out to the backyard after making sure everyone fell asleep. a sigh left her mouth as the heavy feeling in her chest came back. “fuck..” she whispered, after situating herself in the same seat of the shallow pool, letting her legs dip in. her breath hitched while inhaling another breath of air. she thought to herself that she shouldn’t be this bothered about someone who wasn’t hers.

“you okay?” the low voice said, shocking her as she immediately recognized who it was.

y/n subtly sniffled her snot back inside before looking at the direction of the voice. her heart dropped just by looking at him.

“you’re awake hoon?”

her voice weakened as he awkwardly chuckled while taking a seat next to her.

“i saw you come outside so i just wanted to see if you were okay.”

she nodded at his explanation. “i’m fine..” but she wasn’t. and it seemed like her excuse wasn’t convincing enough, but hoon let it go.

it had become awkward and tense too soon. they had always slightly been like this, but it only seemed to intensify this time.

sunghoon took a deep breath, wondering if it was something he should say but he had to know.

“do you like jay?”

his question was sudden and it had y/n whipping her head to him.

“i’m sorry?”

“sorry that was sudden.. but is jay the one you like?”

she kept her eyes on him in search for how he meant his tone to be but he couldn’t even look at her. the awkward boy was too scared to even say such a thing.

“why would i like jay?”

“well.. you seem to enjoy being around him and… seems like he likes you back too.”

y/n eyes closed at the tightness in her chest. she liked him. how could he not see that?

“i don’t, sunghoon. and i’m sure he doesn’t like me back either.” she confirmed with a gulp. her gaze observed how soft his body language had become.

“i uhm,…” the girl paused for a moment. she felt her heart in her throat as the conflicting thought of confessing tortured her. “.. i don’t like anyone right now..”

the searing pain in her heart increased as she mentally cursed to herself. she wanted to tell him that he was all she’d been thinking about, but how could she when she remembered he was talking to someone like mei?

“oh.. okay.” — was all hoon could mutter. he was pleased and yet, somehow still devastated. she backed off of confessing and he didn’t even realize it.

it was then that things got quiet. they didn’t know what else to say to each other after the sudden call out.

their eyes remained to stare at the starry night that had come upon them. perhaps they partially enjoyed the quiet scenery together while partially still finding it difficult to break the silence.

“y/n?” hoon suddenly squeaked.

✩ ‘we’ll be a fine line’ ✩

his head turned to face her. “hm?” she looked back at him.

“are we okay?”

her heart shattered and she felt the pulse hitting her hands with the words spoken out. she forced a half smile that had reassurance written over it.

“of course we are sunghoon..” she breathed for a second. “we always are.”

he reflected the warm smile back but nothing else was done. “good.. i hope we remain friends and become reliable to each other.”

“yeah.. me too.” she mewled out, fighting the pressure that had been suddenly pressed on her heart. “i hope you can get with mei soon, hoon. she seems great for you.”

y/n compelled a smile onto her lips while his grin slowly dropped (and she didn’t notice). “oh yeah.. mei.” he mumbled with a sigh.

given that he didn’t deny how he liked the girl, she took it as a sign that she should back off so something could happen with them. but she didn’t know that the only girl he could ever love was her. hell, he was head over heels for his friend that he had to play the long game with. the only reason why he didn’t deny liking mei was because he thought y/n liked jay, and couldn’t find it in herself to admit it.

“we’ll always be okay, right hoon?” she hesitantly asked.

“yeah.. always y/n.”

they both swallowed down their feelings as they kept eye contact for a moment, admiring each other from the bottoms of their heart before looking back at the night sky. sunghoon gulped down a harsh reality check as he wished they remained eye contact a little longer; to stare deeply into her eyes like she was holding the whole universe.. his universe.

“always, hoon..”

✩ ‘we’ll be alright’ ✩

★・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・★

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ancient-and-gauntly · 5 months

Text

Owl Post

Sebastian Sallow x Reader Warnings: None Summary: Sebastian notices you are upset about not getting post, so decides to write you a small love letter to brighten your morning

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You sat at the your house table in the Great Hall, a slight frown marring your usually cheerful face. You absentmindedly stirred your porridge, glancing around at the students who were receiving letters and packages from their families and friends. The owls soared gracefully through the enchanted ceiling, delivering messages to eager recipients.

Sebastian, your new long term flame, was sitting a few seats down and couldn't help but notice your disappointed expression. He had overheard you complaining to Poppy about never receiving owl mail, finding the mornings in the Great Hall a bit less exciting compared to others. A mischievous smile played on his lips as an idea sparked in his mind. He decided that he would be the one to change that.

Late that night, Sebastian sat in the common room with parchment and a quill, carefully crafting a heartfelt letter to you. He poured his feelings onto the page, expressing the warmth and admiration he felt for you. He sealed the envelope with a dash of wax and pressed it so it was nice and tightly closed, grinning at the surprise waiting to happen. The next morning, before breakfast, Sebastian carefully made his way to the Owlery to choose and owl to deliver the special letter. He whispered his instructions to the her and watched as it soared off into the early morning sky, disappearing among the clouds.

As you entered the Great Hall that morning, you noticed the familiar fluttering of wings above you. A brown, pleasant looking owl descended gracefully, landing in front of you with a small note attached to its leg. Surprised, you took the letter and untied it from the owl's leg. You could hardly contain her excitement as you recognized Sebestians distinctive handwriting. You look over to him, giving him a questioning look but all he did was shrug and smile, going back to the food on his plate

Curiosity and delight danced in your eyes as you slowly unfolded the parchment and began to read:

My Dearest Y/N,

I hope this letter finds you in the best of spirits, and that the sight of this owl bearing my words brings a smile to your face. I've noticed the lack of owl posts in your life, and I couldn't stand the thought of your mornings being any less delightful than they should be.

There's something magical about the way your eyes light up when you're excited or passionate about something. It's a sight I've come to cherish, and it never fails to brighten my day. I've been meaning to tell you how much I love the way you look when you're lost in thought, a thousand galaxies swirling in your eyes.

Some of my fondest memories involve sneaking on to late night walks with you after curfew on those clear nights when the rest of the world was asleep and finding a nice quiet place to just look at the stars while in each others arms. Stargazing with you is like being transported to another realm, where time stands still, and it's just us against the vastness of the universe. Those stolen moments are etched into my heart, and I find myself yearning for more every day.

And I can't help but mention the small glances we share across the common room. It's as if our eyes have a language of their own, speaking volumes in silence. Those stolen glances, the unspoken connection, they make me fall more and more in love with you with each passing day. It's a love that grows stronger, deeper, and more profound.

For the first time in a long time, I feel at home. Not just within the stone walls of Hogwarts, but within the warmth of your laughter, the gentleness of your touch, and the genuine connection we share. You've become an important part of who I am becoming, and I can't imagine it any other way.

I know we've just started this journey together, and I want you to know that I meant every word I said that first night we spent together. I am planning on spending my life with you. Thank you for believing in me and seeing the potential that no one has seen before.

Forever and Always yours,

Sebastian Sallow

As you reached the end of the letter, face hurting from the smiling it caused you couldn't help but look over at Sebastian once more, who was watching you with an expectant grin. You eyes met, and a silent understanding passed between the two of you. You mouthed a heartfelt "thank you" to Sebastian, your eyes sparkling with gratitude.

Sebastian just winks, a mixture of mischief and genuine affection in his gaze.

#sebastian sallow #sebastian scribbles #sebastian sallow x reader #hogwarts legacy

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