#this scene fucking sends me every time

[incorrect-fairytail]

Gray: How’s Lucy?

Natsu: Wendy healed her, but she’s pretty hopped up on pain meds.

Lucy: Oh! When did you start speaking French, Monsieur L’Baguette?

Natsu, in a bad French accent: Oh, as a bébé, mademoiselle!

Lucy: Oh, Oui Oui! Très bon! Oui oui oui!

Natsu: I’ve figured out it’s easier to play along. So did you get the guy?

Gray: No, he managed to escape, but Erza thinks she found his hideout.

Lucy: that’s it! His hideout is in the Forest of Enchanted Secrets! Let’s go!

Natsu: No, we can’t! We have to stay here and guard the Amulet of Destiny.

Lucy: Excellent point, your Highness.

Gray: Oh my gods what did Wendy give her? Anyways we gotta go meet Erza, Cmon.

Lucy: Natsu Natsu wait! I can’t wait for Wendy you gotta get this knife out of my back!

Natsu: Luce, Wendy took it out an hour ago.

Lucy: WHAT

#source: brooklyn 99 #fairy tail #fairy tail incorrect quotes #natsu dragneel #lucy heartfilia #gray fullbuster #erza scarlet #this scene fucking sends me every time #and the idea of Lucy in pain meds is hilarious #she starts reciting shakespeare when Natsu leaves and when he comes back she asks how her performance was

[averagewriter-inthedark]

This. This right here

Combined with “you didn’t go over the wall,” Is the reason for my therapy bills.

#queen charlotte spoilers #that ending scene sends me into tears every time I see it #if you know you know #i don’t think any other scene on tv can compare to this #fuck between gotg vol 3 and queen charlotte I’m a mess #queen charlotte #bridgerton #queen charlotte a bridgerton story #king george iii #shondaland #shonda rhimes #charlotte and george #Spotify

[luckyfiona]

“ you can’t or you won’t? ”

                  ❝ ——  Oh. Hm. ❞

                                          ( Uh-oh. )

Lawless Lucky talked a big game around the bonfire last night. She wasn't too oblivious to pick up on the fact that her being scandalized and upset by the boys' violent sides was beginning to grate on them. So, when all of the boys were talking about the gruesome things they'd like to do to the people who made their lives hard in The Other Place, she forced herself to laugh along, and even took the opening to spin a tale about how she was planning to poison her old employer's food. And, oh, those rotten pirates? Well, she would do the same to them if she had a chance.

So busy seizing on the moment, she didn't consider that she would actually have to put her money where her mouth was.

It would shatter the illusion of Neverland as her luxurious, peaceful, happily-ever-after paradise if she had to see any real carnage with her own two eyes, much less deal any of it herself. But here was dear Peter, ever the altruist, granter of all her wishes, suggesting she come along to their next raid of the Jolly Roger. Lucky's pretty sure he knows this is out of her comfort zone, if he's paid any attention to her — and he does, of course he does. Why else would he go through the trouble of bringing all of these troubled souls to the island if he didn't empathize and care about all of them, right? She can't imagine any motive but love and sympathy. — It's funny, considering how anxiously, meticulously sensitive she tries to be to his boundaries. There was something maybe endearingly boyish about his disregard for hers.

She reasons that she should be grateful for his investment in keeping things fresh and interesting. This is what a sensible, healthy relationship looked like, right? Balancing energies was a major tenet of Celtic magic— it was the key to harmony and prosperity. A passive, supportive person worked best with a person who was a little more... challenging. It would be too stagnant or too chaotic any other way. She gives a fond half-smile to her love, her true love, convinced he's only looking out for her best interests. She would find a way to explain to him that this doesn't really interest her... another time.

               ❝ Well, I suppose I would... ❞ 

Lucky? Morally opposed to it? No sir, you've got the wrong lassie. You must be thinking of that prude from Chicago, Fiona Comisky, who used to dote and cry and sermonize Nate Larsen any time he got injured in a fight with some low-class brute he should've run away from. She had no qualms with clodhopping bullies who started barbaric fights. Didn't find it tasteless in the slightest.

She was opposed to tagging along for much more modest, supportive, team-playering reasons, to be certain. The same reasons why she declined Nate's offer to teach her how to use a bow and arrow: why would the Princess of Neverland get her dainty, dignified, not-at-all-labor-calloused hands dirty learning how to hunt when her boys got such a thrill out of slaying those innocent animals?

                ❝ But why bring a girl along to steal all of the attention?                        I'm not as strong or as sneaky as you. I may ruin the... Element of surprise. Or... distract everyone when they have to keep me out of harm's way. And there’s really— there's so much I could do back here. I thought I should make some sort of victory banquet for the boys to come back to. ......Besides... ❞

Lucky's fingers sidled over to his, tips brushing over his knuckles, as if timidly asking permission to show tenderness before making any sudden moves. Peter was a bit strange about physical touch. She could never tell if he was enjoying it, or if she maybe wasn't doing it right. When he didn't immediately swat her away, she gingerly placed her palms in his, intuitively careful not to scare him away like a baby deer too shy for human touch, or startle him like a scorpion ready to plunge a stinger into her at any moment. She has experience with his type. She has nothing if not patience and willpower to break through to them. She has hope that one day she'll be able to fully embrace him. If she's really as lucky as everybody says, maybe she'd be able to fully-fully "embrace" him.

                ❝ I love when you tell me all about your thrilling adventures. You get such this 𝓅𝓊𝒸𝓀𝒾𝓈𝒽 𝓉𝓌𝒾𝓃𝓀𝓁𝑒 in your eye... It's the same one you had when you first found me— the one that I saw and thought, 'Oh, there it is: my 𝐥𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐲 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫. At last, I can see it!' ❞ 

She boldly ventures to show a little more affection while she pleads, but not enough to push him too far, just enough to remind him that he can touch her back any time he's ready. (If he's rallying her to come out of her comfort zone, maybe this is a good time to encourage him to be a little more adventurous, too.) Her fingers, ever-so-lightly cupped over his hands, gently lace themselves into the spaces between his. She's not naïve enough to believe she's going to get out of raids forever. She just wants to experience feeling truly loved and close to him, just one time, before she has to see him at his absolute nastiest.

           ❝ Oh, Peter, won't you please let me see my 𝐥𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐲 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫 again when you fill me in later? ❞ 

( Won't you please let her be so lucky as to skip out on this? )

╳ — 𝐐𝐔𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐏𝐓𝐒 ! // ACCEPTING.

#(set when she was still peter's latest model Wendy-bot 2000) #i like the gifs from this movie cus she has a Visible irish accent in them and i love that for fiona :') #if u look real close and havent gotten any in a while you'll notice there's like three different subliminal message double entendres in her #jus know that every time u think a line in a post abt peter sounds like an innuendo it 100% is because lucky is thinking it too #｢ ʟᴜᴄᴋʏ ▓ 🐞 — the lost girl. ｣ #｢ ʟᴜᴄᴋʏ ▓ 🐞 — ❛ ft. peter pan. ｣ #｢ ɪɴʙᴏx ᴄᴀʟʟ ▓ 🕯️ — answered. ｣ #the nature of drabbly askmeme prompts is that you want to write a complete vignette based on the one line someone sends you so you end up #writin like 99 words of dialogue in response to the 5 syllables someone sends u and it makes it look like ur muse Does Not Shut The Fuck Up #so. ignore that. i wanna say fiona would've picked up on the fact that he doesn't like to listen to broads rambling for too long #this is also kinda my first ic post tho (baffling that it took me this long i am sorry) so! wanted to write a good intro scene #and rly set up what fiona's mentality was like in this time cus it's gonna make a lot of her present day chocies make more sense #also sorry that you all have to find out this late but i Am a broad who rambles for 5 paragraphs in the tags of everything i post Sorry!!

[liquidlightning]

god

#im so amped up just reading a sex scene makes me think of *** and ******* #and the mere mention of a power play in a sex scene no matter how short immediately makes me lose focus #this is so stupid #i feel annoyed at myself #really sending myself into a tizzy all because i got a tiny taste and immediately fucked off across the ocean for 6 weeks #its the inability to Complete any of it thats driving me up the wall #anyway i want to keep reading this book but i CANT because the sex scenes are important for character development but i get STUCK and #DISTRACTED every time i try to keep reading!!! #im in way too deep and the stupidest thing of all is that the only person who can help me out of it #is a boy who doesn’t answer my texts and who im not going to even be in the same country as for WEEKS STILL #UGH!!!!!!!!!

[makoodles]

ミmy daddy didn't love me so i guess i've moved onto you

🍓 pairing: captain john price x fem reader

🍓 tags: nsfw, daddy kink, undefined age gap, oral sex, unprotected vaginal sex, rough(?) sex, both reader and price have a daddy kink that they indulge in with very little discussion, allusions to reader having a bad relationship with her father (but nothing concrete), price uses a lot of pet names for reader and also calls himself daddy several times

title is inspired by the song peter bogdanovich by my queen CMAT

masterlist

reblogs are always enormously appreciated!

If there’s one thing you know, it’s that you’re damn good at your job.

You have to be in order to survive in this ridiculous goddamn base. There are protocols to be followed, risk assessments to carry out, weapons and equipment requisition requests to send off, and you have to handle almost all of it for Task Force 141. That’s one thing about working with the military – they’re all about action, and rarely have the patience to fill in their paperwork, and then when they do it’s never done properly.

You’re patient when you need to be, willing to push when you have to, and you make sure shit gets done. It’s not an easy job; you work your ass off, and it’s often thankless. Most of your job is done behind the scenes, whether that’s requisitioning on-the-fly tactical or strategic airlifts, liaising with other units, or trying desperately to smooth over any little problems that might crop up with the higher-ups. 

It’s challenging and exhausting, and you love it, but damn, it can be fucking infuriating. Working in a male-dominated environment is a little bit soul-destroying, with every condescending comment and lascivious gaze that lingers over your body. But none of that matters, because you don’t need male approval to excel at your job. You don’t need male approval for anything.

You repeat it to yourself on the daily, which is something that you’ve never had to do before. But before, you weren’t working with Captain John Price.

He’s not… rude, per se. If anything, he’s always coolly polite. But it’s obvious, so obvious, that he just barely tolerates you. He’s gruff, short, to-the-point, and never speaks to you outside of brusque orders. It takes weeks for him to start trusting you with even the most basic of files, and even then chunks of information are often redacted. And it shouldn’t matter; you’ve worked for men like him before, you know how it goes, and if anything he’s one of the better ones.

In the beginning, when you had first been assigned to the task force, Price had not been happy about it. It had been a tough transition; your assignment had been approved by Laswell in order to take some of the strain of liaising off both her and Price, but the Captain hadn’t been too pleased about it. He had seen you as a sort of interloper, a silly little pencil-pusher sent in by the brass to do the grunt work of administration that no one else wants to do.

But you work hard, you always have done. And maybe… maybe, part of the reason that you end up busting your balls so hard is because you want– no. Maybe you need his approval. You’d prefer not to think about it; it’s easier to throw yourself into your work, and pretend that you’re doing it for you.

You’re not even sure how it started, but at some point, Price starts looking at you differently. Maybe he realises that you’re competent at your job, or maybe he just needs to get used to you. Maybe, you hope, he’s finally starting to realise that you’re good at what you do; that you can be an asset to the team, so long as they actually work with you. 

Whatever it is, he eases off. Stops being such a hard-ass, starts giving you space to do your thing. Eventually, he starts delegating too — stops hoarding the work like a miser, and finally starts treating you like you’re capable of something more than just photocopying.

He’s not a bad boss, not by a long shot. He’s kind, determined, patient when it matters, with a wry sense of humour. He’s also fiercely protective over his team, and that includes you now. 

But he’s also older, by at least fifteen years, and he’s not always the most diligent with paperwork. Typical man of action, you’ve seen it a hundred times before. There’s always something more important to do, and while he’s always so cognisant of your workload and careful not to add to it, he is also all too happy to let you take the reins when it comes to bureaucracy. You like to think that you’ve proved yourself to him, but maybe he just respects competency.

That should be it.

But you’re so ashamed to admit that even when Price stops treating you like you’re a hostile target, you can’t stop hoping for his attention. Your mental chants of I don’t need male approval for anything, I don’t need male approval for anything become a daily thing, and sometimes a several-times-a-day thing.

Because the thing is, Price can be a difficult man to please. He’s always so busy that he doesn’t have time to give you the approval that you’re straining for, but when he does it gives you the most shameful warm glow in your belly. 

A brief nod or a low grunted ‘Thanks, sweetheart’ is enough to fuel you for days now. Even better is when you’re walking along beside him, briefing him on the latest update from the higher-ups, and he leans his head in towards you as he listens intensely, sometimes even laying his large palm against the small of your back. Ostensibly, it’s to lead the way and guide you out of the path of the running cadets, but it just toes the line of professionalism and you flounder under the touch.

It’s stupid. You’re stupid. He’s just a coworker, and you need to keep your issues to yourself.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ

You’re perfectly self-aware enough to admit when you’re in a bad mood.

You start the day tired, and when you check your reflection in the mirror first thing that morning you’re greeted with the sight of a big, fuck-off pimple on your chin. It’s big, it’s throbbing, it practically has its own fucking heartbeat. You barely restrain the urge to pick at it, though you can feel it even when you’re not looking at it.

Your mood doesn’t improve when you get to the small kitchenette by your office and find that someone has used the last of the fancy French Vanilla flavoured coffee that you’ve stocked for yourself. As if that’s not bad enough, your little stash of chocolate digestives you keep for yourself for emergency bad days have disappeared too.

You clench your jaw and continue about your business. Whatever. You can survive without your coffee and chocolate.

Your resolve falters when you see the pile of paperwork on your desk, but whatever. It’s all part of the job. A little chocolate biscuit to nibble on would definitely make your job easier, but you’re a big girl and you’re just going to have to go without.

Then you get the phone call. One that makes you want to bang your head against your desk hard enough to knock yourself unconscious so that you don’t have to deal with this.

It’s time to update the TF141 personnel files. Orders from above, since there’s been significant changes to medical and surgical history in the last couple of months from injuries on missions.

 Normally, that’s not such a big deal. It just involves updating their medical and technical files, making sure that nothing major has changed with regards their addresses or other personal information, even though a big portion of it ends up redacted anyway. 

And, naturally, updating their photographs for their files.

You start easy. 

Gaz is happy to come to your office when you text him, and he stands obediently for you as you take his picture. He’s gotten a metal plate fitted in his kneecap from the last time his file has been updated, and he sits and chats easily with you as you go through his information. He’s a sweet guy, and so easy to talk to, and you sigh with the knowledge that no one is going to make your job as simple and leisurely as Gaz just has.

After he leaves, you target Soap. He comes to your office as easily as Gaz, but he’s significantly more difficult to photograph.

He just keeps smiling, no matter how many times you tell him to quit it. 

“It’s a personnel file photograph, not a photo for your Instagram.” You sigh, irritated. “I need you to have a blank, neutral expression. It’s like a passport photo, Sergeant. It’s for a government document.”

“Can’t help it, lass.” Soap says easily, that stupid grin not even dimming. “I see a camera, I smile. It’s muscle memory.”

You think that your irritation is only encouraging him, which only worsens your mood. In the end, you don’t get a single usable photograph of him for his file. You have to give up on him, swearing that you’ll come get him to try again later. He leaves your office still chuckling, like he thinks your frustration is cute.

You have tougher targets to tackle.

The difficult part isn’t even taking Ghost’s photo — the difficult part is catching him in the first place.

You spend almost three hours trying to track him down (because he won’t read your texts and your phone calls go unanswered), wobbling all over base in your stupid high heels and somehow missing him by mere moments every time. You arrive in the gym, the mess, the firing range, even the barracks, only to see the man’s enormous broad back disappearing out of the other door as soon as you get there.

You can only assume that Soap had given Ghost the heads up that you were on the prowl with a mission and a camera, because the lieutenant is avoiding you like the goddamn plague.

So yeah. You’re in a real bad fucking mood. But you can’t help it — some days your job is entirely thankless, and your mood drops so low that you feel like going home and crying. But you can’t, and you don’t want to show weakness in front of these military idiots, so all you can do is lock your jaw and go about your business the best you can.

You go back to your office, jaw and fists clenched tight, and collapse at your desk with your head in your hands. You have to take a few deep, slow breaths to try and calm yourself, but then you make the mistake of checking your reflection and your mood sinks lower again when you see that the stupid pimple on your chin has worsened.

God, this is just not your day. You have to get these stupid files updated, or it’ll fall on your head. 

Eventually, you reluctantly stand up. There’s no point moping; you have a job to do, whether you like it or not, and your next victim is Captain Price.

You walk to Price’s office swiftly, your feet aching in your stupid heels. You wish you had worn something more sensible, but… well. Even subconsciously, you want to impress.

When you reach his office, you throw the door open and march inside without even bothering to knock. 

Price is sitting behind his desk, and his head snaps up as soon as you walk in. His expression is set in a hard scowl, though it softens when he sees who it is. You guess you don’t exactly pose much of a threat, so he sees no use in posturing.

“I need you for a moment.” You bite out, allowing the door to slam shut behind you.

You hear Price sigh, before he leans back and settles into his chair, making himself comfortable. He’s wearing the same dark compression shirt that he usually wears for training exercises or to the gym, and he’s recently groomed his beard down too. He looks good, though it takes a colossal amount of effort for you to not notice, because you have other things you need to focus on right now.

“Hello to you too, love.” He grunts, wiping a hand over his eyes. “What’s the problem?”

You struggle not to react to that, his low voice both soothing and igniting something in your blood. You take a breath, try to calm down. You’re a professional, and you’re not here to embarrass yourself in front of the captain.

“I’m updating personnel files,” You say, and this time it comes out calm and steady, “I need to take a picture of you.”

Price’s gaze lingers on you, his stern brow softening a little. For a moment, you think that maybe this is actually going to be easy. That he’ll just stand up and take the fucking picture, so that the two of you can go back to your jobs and relax for the rest of the day.

But then–

“Jesus, kid.” He sighs, already shaking his head. “I’m up to my eyes right now. Leave it ‘till tomorrow.”

For a moment, you don’t react at all. You just stare at him, letting those dismissive words settle over you. He’s already looking back at his paperwork, mission briefings and maps littering the desk, and you feel so effectively dismissed. You feel small, so silly and stupid standing in front of him in a way that you haven’t felt since you first started working with the task force. You had thought that you were past this, that you had earned some meagre sort of respect from him.

“I need it done today.” You say, and your voice comes out a little hollow to your own ears.

You don’t need male validation. You don’t. But damn, you’ve had a rough day and the fact that your captain isn’t even bothering to look at you makes you want to cry.

Price sighs, and rubs at the crease between his eyes. He looks just as tired as you feel.

“Yeah, well. I don’t have time. Tomorrow.”

You swallow, pursing your lips. He’s so effortlessly dominant, which means that his careless dismissal stings all the more.

“I have to get the whole team done,” You say, struggling to keep your voice firm. “Soap wouldn’t stop smiling for the camera, I couldn’t find Farah anywhere, and Ghost–”

Price gives a sharp, derisive snort. “Forget Ghost.”

You scowl. “I need to do the whole squad.”

“Not Ghost.” Price repeats, this time slower and with more emphasis. “Simon doesn’t do photos.”

You take a deep breath, trying to stay calm. You’ve been working alongside the task force for a while now, and you’re familiar with Lieutenant Riley’s penchant for covering his face. It’s not something you have a problem with – usually.

“There’s no reason for him to be the exception to personnel photos, Captain.” You say through gritted teeth. “Everyone else is being photographed. The task force might be covert, but Lieutenant Riley is no more–”

“Christ, enough.” Price snaps, his voice a deep boom that has your mouth closing with a click. “The One Four One is my squad, in case you’ve forgotten. I know these lads, and I’m telling you to leave it out.”

You stare, a little taken aback by the harshness in his voice. He hasn’t been this sharp with you in months, not since you had started to prove yourself competent, useful. Now, you can see the warning signs of his bad mood; the circles under his eyes are pronounced, his skin dull in the ugly fluorescent lights of his office. He looks exhausted, his skin lined and dry like he hasn’t been drinking enough water.

You realise, a little too late, that you might have been pushing your luck by insisting on something as silly as personnel file photos. TF 141 had only returned from deployment at the beginning of the week, and Price has no doubt been drowning in reports since.

“This is why I told Laswell you weren’t necessary,” His snarl is entirely unlike him, and he rubs his face furiously, his palms rasping through his beard. “I don’t need someone coming in here and making demands of my squad for– for fucking photographs.”

You inhale shakily through your nose; to your utter horror, you can feel your eyes burn with hot wet tears. It’s stupid – you’ve dealt with far crueller words from far harsher men. The nature of your job often puts you in the firing line for frustration, and when it bubbles over it’s frequently directed at you. 

But this… this feels different, for some reason. You’ve been working your ass off to try and earn some recognition from Price, to show him that you’re a valuable asset to the team, and so his sharp, frustrated dismissal of you cuts deeper than it should.

You hate that your eyes are burning like this. You don’t want Price to think of you as useless, or as the silly little girl who was put on the team by the brass who can’t even do her job right. He was just starting to think of you as competent, and it hurts your ego to have to go to him for help with something that you should be more than capable of handling yourself in the first place.

“Right,” You say, and even you’re startled by the sharpness in your tone. “Fine. Forget the file updates, then.”

You step forward, jaw clenched hard, and toss the files you’ve been carrying around all day onto his desk. They hit the surface with a smack that feels uncomfortably loud in the tense silence that’s fallen over the room.

“I’ll tell the higher-ups that you’re handling it.” You continue, your voice coming out brattier than you’d like. “Since obviously I have no idea what I’m doing–”

“Oh, don’t do that.” Price sighs, as though you’re the one being unreasonable. “What I’m saying is, if you’re going to work with the team, you have to understand the team–”

That, you think, might just push you over the edge.

“Do you think I’m stupid?” You snap out, and Price’s mouth closes. “D’you think I’m– that I’m some kind of idiot?”

Price blinks. It seems like you’ve managed to take him by surprise, as though your bad mood rivals his just enough to pull him out of his own grumpy form entirely. He opens his mouth again, but you’re not ready to hear him speak again just yet.

“I’m here because Laswell put in a request for me to work with you and your squad, Captain. I’m considered an asset to the teams that I work with,” You’re scowling thunderously, all the tension and frustration that’s been mounting all day spilling over. “And I don’t have to put up with being dismissed and unappreciated when I know that I would be respected in other squads for the work that I do.”

Price raises his hands, a frown creasing his brow. “Kid, that’s not–”

Usually, being called ‘kid’ by Price has a warm glow settling in your stomach that you’re absolutely not interested in examining, but this time it only lights an infuriated fire in your belly. 

“Don’t!” You snap, your breath juddering unsteadily. “God, you think I enjoy being treated like an idiot? You think I haven’t had to deal with this from men my whole career? My whole life? Even my father–”

To your abject horror, a lump forms in your throat and you can’t finish that sentence. Your eyes are hot with unshed tears, and you’re pretty sure your lip is trembling. 

Price stands, his stern expression slackening into something like uncomfortable surprise as he moves to step around the desk.

“Hey,” He soothes, lifting his hands. “I’m not your father.”

“I know that!” You snap, irate. You’re frustrated with yourself, embarrassed at what you’ve unintentionally given away. “I wouldn’t want you to be!”

Price’s expression flickers, as though he can’t decide quite how to react to you. You’re more than aware that you’re being childish, but you find yourself unable to temper your overreactions. In the face of your tears and your frustrated anger, Price looks like he’s at a loss.

“All I’ve done is work hard, and tried to take the burden off you to make your job a little easier.” You continue before he can interrupt again. “And all I get in return is stress, and my chocolate biscuits eaten, and breakouts, and– and–”

“Kid–”

“The only person who wasn’t an absolute dickhead to me today was Garrick,” You rage, on a roll now. “Everyone else has just been so– and look how bad my skin has gotten from the stress of having to deal with men who want to act like children–”

Price watches you with an expression that is plainly bewildered as you gesture at the stupid pimple that’s been throbbing on your chin all day. You don’t even think you’re making sense, too lost in your frustration and humiliation to be properly aware of what you’re saying. 

“Your… skin.” He repeats, a little disbelieving. 

You whirl away, agitated. You’re not getting your point across well, and Price must think you’re simply demented. 

“Hey,” He says slowly, approaching from around the side of his desk. “I didn’t mean to suggest that you weren’t doing a decent job–”

“Whatever.” You mutter, running your hands over your skirt in an attempt to straighten out the creases. “Whatever.”

It’s too little, too late. He’s always been a bit of a hardass, and you’ve always tried so hard to please him, to impress him. But you can’t bear to make a fool of yourself like this any longer.

“I’ll leave the paperwork to you. Update it, or don’t. It doesn’t matter.” You say shortly, turning on your heel and marching towards the door.

“Wait,” Price calls out. His voice is firm, echoing with the grim certainty of a man who is used to being obeyed.

But you’re not one of his soldiers, and his command falls on deaf ears. Your skin is still prickling with humiliation; you don’t think you’ve ever been so desperate to get away from the Captain before.

“Sweetheart, just wait a minute,” Price says, and this time you can hear the exasperation in his voice. “I understand that you’re stressed, that’s normal. Everyone gets stressed in this line of work. But you can’t just go and get your knickers in a twist because some of the lads are bein’ difficult–”

“My knickers are none of your business!” You yell. Truthfully, it’s more of a shriek, high-pitched and unsteady enough to have Price’s eyes widening and darting towards the door as though worried about someone overhearing from the corridor.

“Whoa, okay,” Price says with the air of trying to soothe a spooked horse. “You're right. Your... knickers... ain't my concern. But helping keep this squad running smoothly is, and that can't happen if my admin is on edge."

“Oh, give me a break!” You’re beyond on-edge now, sailing right into fury. “You ignore me most of the time when you're not on deployment, you dismiss me when I’m just trying to do my job, but now you’re telling me you need me to not be on edge?”

You’ve reached the door now, your hand clenched tight around the doorhandle as you take one last moment to turn and look at him. He’s stepping towards you, no doubt with the intent to stop you before you can leave, but you don’t plan on giving him the chance.

“Kid, just hang on a damn minute–”

“Sort the files yourself, or do whatever you want.” You bite out, yanking the door open but pausing in the doorway. “I don’t even care anymore. It’s your squad, you do it.”

Price takes a breath, visibly fighting for patience. Truthfully, you don’t know how he hasn’t lost his head with you already. He was already exhausted and in an obviously bad mood when you had stormed in here, and it couldn’t be more obvious that you’ve just made it worse with all of your frenzied anger and borderline hysteria. 

The fact that Price is staying calm and level even in the face of your stress-induced meltdown only makes you feel all the more ridiculous. You wish he would get angry, that he would snap at you like he had when you had first walked in – at least that way you could pretend that you don’t notice the way his stressed scowl had melted into a look of concern as soon as he had seen the tears welling up in your stinging eyes.

“And you don’t have to wear that stupid hat, we’re indoors!” You yell, your voice teetering on the edge of hysteria.

You just have enough time to see his hand reach up to touch the brim of his boonie hat before you hurriedly bolt out of the room, escaping into the corridor before he can stop you.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ

“— just thinking that maybe I’d be better suited with another team, that’s all. I heard Kortac’s liaison is approaching maternity leave—”

“That position is going to be filled internally,” Laswell’s voice is calm over the secure phoneline, a stark contrast to the shaky undertone of stress in your own. “Besides, organising a transfer like that is more trouble than it’s worth.” There’s a pause, then a sigh crackles over the phone. “You still haven’t explained what happened. As far as I can see, you were doing good work there.”

Yeah, you think sourly, because all you see is the paperwork end of it.

“... Internal conflict.” You mutter, playing with the fraying edge of your sweater sleeve. 

There’s a long pause, protracted enough that it makes you squirm. You know what she’s thinking – in your line of work, it’s impossible to avoid clashing with some of the big dominant personalities who are used to getting away with whatever they want. But you’ve always been able to handle it, well-versed enough in diplomacy to know when to stand your ground and when to bow out to avoid unnecessary strife. 

“Internal conflict.” Laswell repeats, her voice as bland as you’ve ever heard it. “Meaning?”

God, it feels like you’re disappointing your mom or something. You scrub a hand over your face, pacing in the living room of your small apartment.

“I know how it sounds,” You say, “But– they don’t want to work with me. There’s only so much I can do if I’m being met with resistance at every corner–”

“You’ve worked with resistant squads before,” Laswell interrupts. “It’s part of the job.”

“Yes, but…” You start, before trailing off. 

She has a point, of course. It is part of the job. There’s no way to professionally explain to your superior that the reason this assignment is so difficult is because you have a mortifying crush on the Captain of the Task Force. It’s making you stupid, making all the stupid bullshit that you’re usually able to look past feel so much worse, especially because all you’ve ever wanted was Price’s approval.

Another sigh. This one, at least, sounds a little more sympathetic.

“Look,” Laswell says, and this time her voice is a little gentler. “I’ve never given you an assignment that I didn’t think you could handle. Whatever is going on, you need to sort it. You’re a capable girl, and the One Four One is far from the most difficult team you’ve had to deal with. There might be some big personalities there, but nothing that you shouldn’t be able to tackle.”

“Mhm.” You grunt noncommittally.

“Sort out whatever’s going on with you.” Laswell’s tone leaves no room for argument, her suggestion falling just short of a command. “If whatever issues you’re experiencing continue, I’ll talk to John–”

“No!” You blurt.

God, you can’t think of anything worse. You’ve already made a show of yourself in front of him, the last thing you need is for him to learn that you’ve gone crying to Laswell about the whole thing. You don’t want him to think of you as any more of a useless little girl than he doubtlessly already does.

“No,” You repeat, calmer this time as you clear your throat. “I’ll… sort it. Sorry to bother you with this, ma’am.”

Laswell hums, and you can imagine her eyes narrowing. Judging by the wind whistling in the background of the call, she’s not anywhere near her cushy office. You’ve interrupted her on whatever assignment she’s on, and she’s been kind enough to listen to your silly little complaints for at least fifteen minutes of her valuable time. You feel more ridiculous than ever, and you pinch at the bridge of your nose.

“... Right.” She says. “Fine. Keep me updated on the situation. I want a sitrep by the end of the week, understood?”

“Yes, ma’am.” 

You understand what’s not being said. Laswell expects you to work your own shit out, but you can hear the concern in her voice when she demands an update. All you can do is agree. Laswell has been by your side throughout your whole career, always having a hand in your assignments and your progression, and she’s always been an advocate for you and what you’re capable of. Now, after this conversation, you feel silly for getting so overwhelmed in the face of what is a relatively minor obstacle.

“Good. I’ll speak to you then.”

You hum, wish her goodbye and good luck, and hang up the phone.

For a long moment afterwards, you sit in silence in your living room. God, how did all of this spiral into such a mess?

For the last few days, you’ve been avoiding the base entirely. You have a few PTO days built up, and you’ve taken the opportunity to just chill out. It’s the first chance you’ve had to relax properly in months, since you had started working with the task force. The space is good, and it’s needed.

You get out of the headspace of work, and reports, and files and requisitions and debriefs, and instead treat yourself with full body self-care. You exfoliate, you moisturise, you use a hair mask, you take bubble baths. You even catch up on the trashy Netflix romance series that you had put on hold for ages, just waiting for some free time to indulge.

And you almost, almost, forget about why you’re hiding away in your little flat in the first place.

But your third day off creeps around, and you can’t help but feel as though your little bubble of isolation is about to pop. There’s only so much time away from the office that you’re able to swing, and the longer away the more you feel that your position on the team is untenable. No matter how you currently feel about the task force and your place with them, you’re not willing to let your hard work go down the drain just because you’re too cowardly to face them again after your little meltdown.

So, you go back to work after your little break away.

You manage to slink into your office mostly unseen, other than polite hello’s from other admin staff as you slip through the halls. Your office is far from prime real estate when it comes to office space on base – it’s well out of the way, down several corridors that no one ever goes down, and once you get past the main thoroughfares you don’t come across anyone. Even still, it feels a little like you’re doing a walk of shame, but you walk with your head held high before you finally get your office door closed behind you. 

To your surprise, your desk is clear. Typically, any slight break away from your desk results in work piling up on it, just waiting for your attention once you get back. You don’t know what to make of the absence of work; you can’t help but wonder, somewhat uncomfortably, if Price had taken your words to heart and dealt with all of the paperwork himself.

You check the drawers of your desk too, just in case, and come up empty yet again. 

Well. Okay, then. 

You sign into your desktop, waiting for the encryption program to load before accessing your emails. There’s a lot to catch up on, so you spend the next hour or so organising your to-do list in order of urgency.

You get lost in making your little lists, allowing yourself to relax into finding order in your schedule. You barely even look up until there’s a soft knock on your office door, and by the time you’ve raised your head the door has opened and Farah has slipped inside.

“Oh,” You straighten up in surprise. “Commander. What can I do for you?”

It’s a surprise to see her, especially since you hadn’t received any email correspondence. Your office is tucked away down a remote corridor, and soldier’s usually prefer to just email you their requests rather than make the trek down.

Farah offers a polite smile, approaching your desk. “I hear you are taking photographs.”

Your smile slips a little. “Oh. No, actually, I wasn’t–”

“Captain Price said I was to be photographed,” She says, pulling the chair out opposite you and watching you expectantly. “I tried to find you yesterday, and the day before, but I believe you weren't on base.”

You shift, feeling abruptly rather awkward. “Right. I was– Price said that to you?”

“Mhm.” Farah leans back in the chair, her dark eyes alert as they track over your face. “He said that you have been stressed.”

You feel your face heat, mortified. Oh, god. How embarrassing. Has Price given the team a goddamn debrief on your little meltdown? Farah tilts her head as though she knows what you’re thinking, and a tiny smile quirks at the corner of her lips.

“That’s all he said,” She says. “That, and that we should try to make your job a little easier.”

“Oh.” You shift, embarrassed and awkward. “I– Listen, I had a… rough day at work a few days ago, that’s all. I’m not– things are fine.”

Farah just nods as though that’s perfectly convincing, and you find yourself wildly appreciative of her for a moment.

“So, then,” She says, and raises her eyebrows. “The picture?”

You can’t find a way to explain that you had thrown that particular responsibility right back at Price in a fit of pique, but it turns out you don’t have to. Farah produces a slim folder that you hadn’t noticed her holding, and you realise with another flush of embarrassment that it’s her personnel file.

“There wasn’t much to update, just a recent blood work test.” She says as she lays it on your desk. 

“That’s… thanks.” You say weakly, taking the file in hand. You flick through it briefly, feeling something in your stomach squirm at the sight of Farah’s details all filled in – Price’s handwriting is unmistakable, the small neat blocky letters standing out amongst the messy scrawl of Farah’s medical report.

You dig out your camera, still a little flustered, and direct Farah to stand against your plain white-painted wall. She’s an easy subject to photograph; she stands perfectly still, unsmiling, and you get the perfect picture after only a couple of attempts.

“Lovely,” You murmur, flicking through the pictures. “Thank you.”

Farah hums. You’re expecting her to dismiss herself, and it takes a moment for you to realise that she’s still lingering. You glance up, blinking, only to find that she’s standing with her lips pursed, obviously considering something.

“The Captain is worried about you.” She says, as though it’s the most natural thing in the world. “Is everything alright?”

You gape at her like a moron, camera still hanging loosely from your hands. You feel uncomfortably seen; there’s no way that Farah could know what happened, but she’s looking at you with an awful lot of sympathy right now.

“What?” You squeak.

“You fought?” Farah speaks slowly, obviously conscious of overstepping her boundaries. “I don’t mean to pry, it’s just…”

“No, that’s okay.” You say hastily. “We didn’t– there was no fighting, exactly.”

She just nods, as if you’re making perfect sense, then smiles politely. She gathers herself up and steps towards the door, and you feel your head spinning as she turns to go. 

“You look tired,” Farah murmurs, low enough that you almost miss it. “When Price wants to fix things, let him.”

“Mhm.” You nod quickly without really hearing her. You’re pretty sure you’d agree to anything right now just to escape the knowing intensity of Farah’s gaze. “Yeah, of course.”

After Farah leaves, you feel like you need another day off. It’s all you can do to just sit in your comfortably padded office chair and groan like a moron, because Jesus Christ you’ve made such a mess of things. 

It was bad enough when you were pining like an idiot from afar; you’ve had crushes before, and you know that you would have outgrown it eventually. But then you had your stupid little meltdown in front of Price, and revealed more than you intended, and all of a sudden you’ve made yourself into a fool in front of the squad you’ve tried so hard to impress these last few months.

You have to try hard not to spiral. In fact, it’s a challenge not to cave and grab your phone to call Laswell all over again to demand a reassignment right this second. You have a pretty good idea of what she’d say to you in response, but still, the impulse remains.

All you can do is put it from your mind. You potter about, printing Farah’s photograph so you can tuck it neatly into her file with a paperclip, and then decide to start replying to the many emails that have built up in your absence.

The emails vary in tone, from polite enquiries to not-so-polite demands for you to solve some administrative issues, and you sigh quietly as you respond to some of the more snotty messages from upper management. And if you’re a little bit passive aggressive, then you don’t think anyone can blame you.

Your mind has finally quietened, focusing on your work as the buzz of your thoughts settle down, when another knock sounds out from your door. This one is firmer than Farah’s soft knock from earlier, and a little louder, though this time you don’t look up from your screen.

“Come in.” You call, chewing at your lip as you struggle to keep the wording of your email civil.

You’re half-expecting it to be Soap this time around, or maybe one of the recruits hoping to get you to sign off on their leave. So when you finally glance up only to catch sight of the broad, thick-shouldered figure of Captain Price stepping into your office, you think you might go into cardiac arrest.

Email abandoned, you half jolt to your feet before changing your mind mid-movement and attempting to sit back down. It ends up being a humiliating sort of jerky motion, and you pray that he somehow missed it entirely.

“Captain.” You wheeze, your voice coming out a little weak.

Price’s cool blue eyes dart over your face and then down the length of your body, and you become suddenly, mortifyingly aware of the state you’re in. You might not want to admit it, but your wardrobe definitely changes when the Captain isn’t on deployment. Instead of professional trousers, you wear your tight knee-length pencil skirts and fitted shirts, and totter around in your heels. And it’s silly, but… well, you can’t help but notice the way Price’s eyes follow you when you dress like that, and you like his attention on you.

Except today, you hadn’t been planning on running into Price. You hadn’t planned on seeing anyone, so you had dressed for comfort — you’re wearing a pair of frumpy grey wool trousers and a super over-sized soft purple sweater that practically swallows you whole. You haven’t even done your hair nicely, and you curse yourself. This has to be the least sexy you’ve looked in months.

“D’you’ve a moment, love?” 

His voice seems loud in the quiet of your office, even though realistically you know he’s only speaking in a murmur. In the quiet days you’ve spent alone in your apartment, you’d almost forgotten how lovely and low and gruff his voice is, and you feel your toes curl in your shoes at the sound of it.

It’s not as though you can refuse him, though you’re already embarrassingly aware of the way in which you had stormed off the last time you had seen him.

“Yeah.” You swallow thickly in an attempt to strengthen your voice, but it still comes out high and thready. “Sure.”

As if he had just been waiting for permission, Price steps into the room properly and closes the door behind him. All of a sudden, the room feels a little claustrophobic. Price is a big man, broad-shouldered and thickly built with a soft layer of fat cushioning those hard muscles, and you can’t help but feel as though his presence is sucking all of the air out of the room.

But still, he approaches slowly, like you’re some kind of feral cat. Those sharp eyes of his are still tracking over you; he never misses a beat, and you know that he’s taking stock of you in the same way he would for an enemy out on the field. You feel raw, uncomfortably vulnerable. You find yourself wishing wildly and ridiculously that you had worn your usual fitted shirt and pencil skirt, or at least put on a bit of makeup.

“You look rested.” He notes, coming to a slow stop just in front of your desk.

You suddenly curse your last minute choice to stay seated, because now Price’s big body is towering over you in a way that’s honestly making your head swim a little.

“Yeah.” Your voice is a little hoarse. “I guess.”

Price nods, inhales through his nose. A moment passes before he clears his throat and reaches out to place a handful of files on your desk. Despite the plain manila envelopes, you recognise them for what they are almost immediately; the personnel files for 141.

“Finished ‘em off for you while you were gone.” He says gruffly, as though it were no big deal. “Nearly had to nail Soap down to a chair for that damn photo.”

You stare at the files for a long moment, making no move to open them. You find yourself totally, utterly lost for words. 

“This is–” You start to say, and truthfully you’re not sure where you’re going with that. You think you’re about to thank him, but he doesn’t really give you the chance to.

“Why don’t we talk?” He says, and motions to the dinky little couch in the corner of the room as if he owns it.

You hesitate a moment, a little peeved about the effortless way he takes command in your own office, but relent and push yourself up from the desk. You don’t make eye contact with Price as you step around him, walking to the corner, but you can feel his eyes on you all the same.

 The couch had come with the office, and you don’t even really want to think about how old it is, but you sink down awkwardly onto it anyway. The cushions are worn and threadbare and the springs creak gratingly when you settle your weight onto it, but it’s fine. It does the job.

You’re half-expecting Price to drag the spare chair at your desk over so he can sit opposite you – you’re not expecting him to step right up next to you before he drops down next to you, sighing as his thick thighs spread wide.

You barely bite back a squeak, a little bewildered. You’re not surprised that he’s asked to talk to you. Your behaviour had been wildly inappropriate, and you couldn’t exactly protest if he’s decided to caution you or something.

But you had expected it to be a more formal affair; sitting together on the pathetic, dingy little couch in your office feels entirely too casual for the dressing down you’re sure you’re about to receive.

“Think we’re due a discussion about the other day.” He says, gentler than you had been expecting.

You avoid his eyes, though you can feel his stare boring into the side of your face. Ugh. Time to eat humble pie, you think miserably. 

“I’m sorry, sir.” You keep your voice as dispassionate and prim as possible. “My behaviour was unprofessional and entirely unacceptable, and I have no excuse. It won’t happen again, I assure you.”

It’s as professional an apology as you can manage, and you chance a quick side glance at him to see his reaction. Your stomach sinks when you see that his brow is creased in a frown, and you panic a little at the realisation that your apology hasn’t helped matters at all.

“Well,” His voice is gruff enough to elicit a little shiver from you. “I wasn’t–” He clears his throat. “I wasn’t looking for an apology.”

That finally makes you turn properly, your eyes darting nervously over his face. He’s already watching you, his blue eyes searing under the brim of his stupid hat. He’s trimmed his beard since the last time you saw him; the salt and pepper bristles of his moustache and chops are neat and shortened. He looks good, though you try not to notice. He doesn’t look as dehydrated or drained as he did a few days ago either, though he still leans into the couch with an air of quiet exhaustion.

“Paperwork has never been my favourite thing in the world,” He confesses with an air of chagrin that’s painfully endearing to you. “Always found it a pain, to be honest. Puts me right out of sorts. I was… short with you, the other day.”

You frown, making yourself small on the couch. “You said I wasn’t necessary.”

Price winces, then reaches up and pulls his boonie hat off his head so that he can drag a hand over his short-cropped hair. Though you had insulted it only the other day, it strikes you as odd to see him with a bare head.

“Shouldn’t have said that.” He mumbles, resting his elbows on his knees and letting his hat hang from his hands. “You’ve been great these last few months. Don’t know what I’d have done without you, sometimes.”

You’re stupid. It’s the only reason you can think of to explain the way blood rushes to your head and turns your face hot, your whole body going hot and prickly in response to his low praise. You fidget, glance away, and pray he doesn’t notice. 

“You know I’m no good at deskwork,” He says, and leans in a little closer like he thinks you’re not listening properly. “Don’t have the head for it. I think you’re the reason the team runs so smoothly in the first place, love.”

The flattery is being laid on a little too thick, but it works. You fall for it entirely, a warm glow settling over you like a blanket, wrapping around you tight and soothing the jagged edges of your anger and anxiety. You hate that you’re so easy to appease, a couple of sweet compliments and assurances falling from your Captain’s lips assuaging all that upset that you’ve been carrying around with you for days now.

But still, part of you isn’t quite willing to let go of the sting, the hurt that his words and his harsh tone had caused. 

“Is this you apologising, then?” You ask, watching him from the corner of your eye.

He smiles, close-mouthed. “Yeah. It is. Not doin’ too good, am I?”

“You’re doing okay.” You murmur, before deciding to try to be a bit cheeky. “But you can keep going, if you’d like.”

Price laughs, rich and warm and low. You don’t think you’ve ever actually heard him laugh in all the months you’ve been working with the task force, and the sound of it rumbles right into your bones, settling something inside of you and finally allowing you to relax. No longer tense with stress, you melt a little into the corner of the couch.

“Shouldn’t have snapped at you,” He says slowly. “You do good work. Great work. You shouldn’t feel like you’re not a valued member of the team.”

You swallow thickly. You feel too warm, your head swimming a little. His attention feels too heavy, heating your blood and going straight to your head.

“I overreacted,” You mumble reluctantly. “I shouldn’t… your hat isn’t stupid.”

That gets another bark of laughter out of Price, and he slaps a hand down onto your knee. The contact makes you jolt, eyes widening, but Price’s hand doesn’t shift. His palm is so large, spread across your thigh as his fingers curl over your knee. The touch feels almost scorching even through the thick fabric of your trousers.

All of a sudden, your tongue feels very thick in your mouth. The hand on your knee is not in any way suggestive; it’s chaste, innocent, just resting there like a reminder that he wants your attention on him (as if it could be anywhere else). But your nerves are jangling all of a sudden, every one of your senses straining towards him as you hold your breath.

“The hat isn’t the problem,” Price mutters, though you barely hear him. “I wanted to ask you about something else you said, love. Something you said about your father.”

That has some of the heat in your veins cooling, your eyes blowing wide. “I– what?”

To your bewilderment, Price’s cheeks have reddened beneath the whiskers of his beard and moustache. Despite his clear chagrin, he doesn’t break eye contact with you, his thick fingers squeezing cautiously around your knee. 

“Don’t mean to overstep,” He assures you quietly. “And– and don’t mind me if I’m talkin’ nonsense. But I know that you’ve been working so hard, and you’ve got a tough job. Can’t be easy. And I just wanted to say that if you'd like some… guidance – someone to steer you on the right path, that is– well, that I’m here if you ever want to talk."

Oh god. You feel your mouth go dry. 

It’s funny, because even though Price isn’t even yet forty, he’s always seemed so much older. Maybe it’s the weight of the responsibility that he carries on his shoulders, or the battle-hardened icy blue eyes, or the paternal sense of protectiveness that he shows over his team. He’s always been like an almost father figure for the squad, regardless of age; you’ve seen the way he’s so protective over Ghost, the way he claps Soap on the back or shoulders in praise to boost him up, the way he beams with pride when Farah excels, the way he always makes time to guide or give advice to Gaz.

It’s sweet. He’s always been sweet, so aware of the personalities on his team, even when he’s acting like that typical military authority figure. 

"Sounds like you want to be my daddy." You mean to say it in a derogatory fashion, laughing as though it's ridiculous, though when it comes out you can hear that it’s missing some of the sarcasm you had intended.

Price reacts instantly. He reels back, eyes widening, the pink in his cheeks flares into a deep red flush, and you see his chest heave as his breath catches. You hadn’t been expecting a reaction like this; Price looks as though the words have hit him like a physical slap.

“Jesus. That’s not–” He says, and the gravelly hoarseness in his voice is a shock. “That’s not what I meant.”

There’s a moment of charged silence. Fuck, what have you done? Why would you say that? Why would you say that, to the captain of your task force? Hadn’t you embarrassed yourself enough in front of him the day you had had your silly little meltdown? It’s like you just can’t keep your damn mouth shut around him, like your brain turns to mush the second he looks at you and you just lose the run of yourself.

“I’m sorry.” You blurt. “I shouldn’t have said that. I don’t know what– I didn’t mean it.”

The next silence is even worse than the last, tension humming between you like a live wire. He’s so close to you that his scent fills your nose – a blend of sweet cigar smoke, sharp gunpowder, and a heady masculine musk. You feel so fucking stupid, and more than a little panicked. You don’t think you could survive the humiliation of having to call Laswell and beg for a reassignment twice in one day just because you’ve completely humiliated yourself in front of the Captain again.

Price swallows, the sound painfully loud in the silence.

“Right.” He says slowly, before coughing roughly to clear his throat. “Mm. ‘Course. I didn’t mean to– perhaps I overstepped. Since you mentioned your father–”

“I don’t want to talk about my father.” You say swiftly.

God, you feel like your issues are out on display with a big damn spotlight. You feel so pathetic, so damn pitiful, as though your desperate need for approval and affection from an older male authority figure is written across your forehead.

But if your issues are on display, then so are Price’s, because you can’t help but notice that the vibrant red flush on his cheeks hasn’t faded. If anything, that deep flush has spread down his throat and over his chest; you can see how the skin that’s stretched over his pectoral muscles is glowing crimson beneath his shirt.

A niggling boldness begins to creep in, and you find yourself straightening on the couch. You turn, bring one of your legs up on the couch so that you can turn your whole body towards him, one of your elbows resting on the back cushion of the couch. 

Price’s eyes sharpen when your body turns towards him, and his body draws tense. Those cool blue eyes dart over you, and you’re surprised to see heat in them despite your oversized purple jumper and unflattering wool trousers. The whisper of his fatigues brushing against the fabric of your own trousers is both a distraction and an invitation, your thighs sliding surreptitiously against each other.

“What if I did mean it?” You blurt out before your courage can flee you.

Price goes so still it looks preternatural, even the breaths in his chest slowing. 

“Kid.” He says, and it sounds like a warning.

You don’t heed it, adjusting yourself so that you’re shuffling closer yet again. You don’t think you’ve ever been so close to him, his scent and his body and his heated gaze filling up your consciousness until he’s all that you’re aware of.

“What if I meant it?” You ask again, the whisper coming out low but charged. 

Price takes a breath that sounds like a groan, and it surprises you. You hadn’t expected that reaction; it sends a trickle of heated desire running down your spine, and you’re startled by how much you want him in this moment.

“D’you know what you’re asking for?” He asks, the gravel in his voice flooding wet heat between your legs. 

His carefully laced words linger in the space between you, daring you to accept, to shred the formal boundary that looms between the two of you. You get the sense that you’re walking a fine line here, that you’re getting close to the point of no return. 

“Yes.” You breathe, although you’re not entirely sure that you do know what you’re asking for. All you know is that he’s so close, and he’s staring at you with an expression of such hunger that it’s making you feel weak.

Price moves fast for such a big man, and all you can do is let out a soft sound of surprise when one of his big hands wraps around the back of your neck to pull you in. A deep, guttural sound escapes him when his lips crash into yours, his mouth demanding and greedy.

It feels like you go both lax and rigid simultaneously, before you positively light up. The hand that Price has wrapped around the back of your neck keeps you grounded, and before you can stop yourself you’re burrowing closer. It feels like the tension, your childish argument, the sexual friction – everything has culminated to this electrifying moment, where Price’s full lips are consuming yours, the hair of his beard rubbing over your cheeks and chin and keeping your nerves straining towards him.

The kiss doesn’t start out slow; it skips straight to hungry, fast and dirty, with Price’s big hands on your hip and the back of your neck, holding and guiding you. Overwhelming. 

Price’s big fucking body is leaning in, caging you against the couch. The wide shoulders and barrel-chested mass of him pressing you into the cushions is just short of breath-taking, but it’s not enough. You want to be right up against him, under his skin.

You swing your leg over Price’s, and climb up into his lap. His thighs are thick beneath you, wide and muscled, but you’re still hesitant to fully settle your weight against him. You just want to be closer, to feel the heat of him pressed against you, but the second you start moving Price grabs at your hips and pulls you down properly, uncaring of your weight.

“I’ve been–” You manage to say in between kisses, your words muffled and a little wet. “I’ve been working my ass off, for the squad, for you, and you never say or do anything–”

Price grunts, grappling with his sudden lapful of you. His eyes meet yours, and in them, you think you might see the spark of admiration, for your brave stupidity if nothing else. 

“Sh, I know,” He says as he grips at your hips under your oversized jumper, encouraging you to settle down your full weight on his thighs. “I know, love, you’ve been working so hard. What would I do without you, huh?”

And the thing is, you’re a very capable woman. You’ve had to be, in order to survive in your line of work. You know that you’re capable, you know that you do good work, you know that you help keep the wheels greased and everything moving behind the scenes for the 141, but even still, Price’s praise sinks into you like warm honey.

“Watching you walk around in those tight little skirts, Christ.” He hums, and his big palms land on your ass and squeeze there suggestively. “And those heels– completely impractical for a military base like this.”

You wheeze a laugh, clutching at his shoulders. It feels completely surreal that you’re currently perched in your Captain’s lap, with his big shovel-like hands groping your bum as he nips at your lips and confesses that he’s been watching you. It goes straight to your head, makes you dizzy, makes you wish wildly that you had worn one of those skirts for him today.

Oh, you could get used to this. Realistically you know the size difference between you two isn’t that immense, but Price is built like a man whose reality is all war, and when he shifts beneath you his muscles roll, unwittingly showing off his physique. You think you could stay here forever, feeling safe in a big man’s lap, cushioned by his body as he tells you that you’re valuable, and important.

“Fuckin’ hell,” Price groans, nipping at your lower lip before capturing your mouth wholly again. “You’re a handful.”

You’d love to argue that – you like to think that you’re perfectly measured and sensible, after all – but you’re already squirming in his lap, your legs spread wide over his thighs. Arousal pools in your stomach, makes you slick your knickers, and you can’t stop the slow grind your hips trace against his thigh.

Price’s breath shudders out of his chest, and his hands clench tight around your hips. “Hang on a sec,” He breathes, “Hold on. I’m still– I’m still your Captain–”

You think that it’s meant to be a warning, or at least a word of caution about the precarious situation you’re in regarding professionalism and inappropriate workplace relationships. What you’re doing right now is ridiculous, after all. You’re still on base, you’re in your office, and if the two of you get caught you don’t even want to think about the consequences. The fraternisation rule shouldn’t apply here, since you’re only considered part of the team by a mere technicality, but even in your lust-hazed mind you can still recognise that sitting on his lap and kissing like this at your workplace is wildly inappropriate.

But if it is a warning, it doesn’t work. The reminder of his authority only inflames you further, and a quiet whimper is torn from your throat when you rock against his lap.

He swears, and beneath you his cock stirs in his fatigues. You can feel the way it fills out where it’s pressed against the seam of your trousers, right between your legs. You reflexively squish your thighs together, tightening them around his hips.

“Christ,” He grits out like a curse. “Alright, then.”

He moves quickly, his hands secure on your back as he lunges forward, flipping you over so that you’re laying on your back on the shoddy, worn-down couch. You go so easily – 

you’re soft now, pliable and eager to please, and he could direct you anywhere he wanted.

He’s too large to be climbing on top of you on a couch like this, but somehow it doesn’t even matter. Now that he’s above you, holding himself up with those strong arms on either side of your head, he looks down on you with an expression that you don’t know what to make of. His eyes are still intense, but the lines around them are softened as he stares down, his gaze tracing your face. 

“You think I haven’t been looking?” He asks, and his voice isn’t as harsh or gritty as you’d been expecting. It’s softer now, fond, almost. “How could I fuckin’ miss you? Always so pretty, always workin’ so hard. ‘Course I noticed.”

When his fingers creep beneath your big purple jumper, you launch into helping him remove it, eagerly stripping it off so you’re laying in your bra. It’s one of your simple utilitarian ones, and you curse yourself for not wearing a sexier one.

But Price groans at the sight of your simple white cotton as though it’s premium lace. His palms are rough as they trace up your sides, the callouses on his fingers coarse against the soft squishy flesh of your belly. He leans forward and nuzzles at your ear, kissing behind your lobe before scraping his teeth along your jaw until he’s kissing messily at your mouth all over again.

“So gorgeous.” He says, his voice a low rumble that has your nerves buzzing. “I was too mean to you before, wasn’t I? Too harsh, when all you were trying to do was help.”

“Yes.” You whisper, though you feel a little bit petulant for it.

“Let me make up for it, darling,” He whispers back, and it sounds like a plea. “Hm? I’ll show you how good you’ve been.”

You’re nodding before he even finishes, desperate. God, yes. You’re not even sure what it is that he’s offering, but you know that you’ll take anything that he has to give you.

He’s looming over you, so large, as his hands fall to the closure on your work trousers. His fingers are so thick that he fumbles with the delicate button and little zip, and it takes him a couple of tries to pull it open and down. When he’s got it, he shucks your trousers off easily and tosses them aside, then stares down at you in your ugly shapeless underwear as though you’re wearing something else entirely.

Even though you’re laying unclothed and vulnerable, squirming and wanting, Price is so slow to get moving. He doesn’t grab at you, or grope greedily, or take impatiently. He acts as though he’s got all the time in the world, leisurely looking you over as though he’s committing you to memory.

“Need you to say it,” He says, strained like he’s trying to hold himself back. “Need you to say it out loud.”

“Want you to show me how good I’ve been.” You say immediately, your desire leaving no room for shame. “Want you to look after me.”

The request comes out a little bit plaintive, and Price sighs out before ducking his head and kissing you again. He’s so much more affectionate than you had ever imagined, and you feel as though you’re drowning in it. His attention is like a warm blanket, settling every craving you’ve ever had.

“I will,” He breathes like it’s a promise. “Oh, I will.”

His palms are rough and hot as they drag over your skin, deceptively gentle as he reaches your tits and pushes your bra up so that he can knead at the soft flesh there. He doesn’t even bother to unclasp it, impatient enough that shoving the cups up so to free your breasts is enough for him. 

He bends his head down, and licks a stripe over your nipple. His tongue feels scorching against you, like you’re hypersensitive to his touch, and he groans against your skin as though he’s tasting something incredible.

You writhe, hips arching up in search of some kind of friction, but Price doesn’t give it to you. He’s too distracted, peppering dozens of kisses over your tits as though they’re something precious even as his hands coast down your back to grope at your ass again where your plain cotton underwear is riding up.

“So pretty, ain’tcha?” He groans against your chest. “Fuck, even when you were walkin’ around with a face on you like a slapped arse, I thought you were the sweetest fuckin’ thing I’d ever seen.”

“Charming.” You snap, but there’s no anger in your tone anymore. In fact, you don’t think there’s a lick of anger anywhere in your whole body anymore, like Price’s hands and mouth on you have washed it all away.

All the brattiness, and the prickliness of your bad mood, is entirely forgotten now that you’re laid out and squirming beneath him. You can hardly even remember what you had been so stressed and angry with him for.

He finally reaches around to unclasp your bra, then tosses it to the side to let it slump sadly to the floor. His next target is your underwear, pulled from you roughly enough that you think the fabric might tear even as his hands cradle the plush flesh of your ass like it’s a treasure.

“Mm, so gorgeous, princess,” It seems like the name just slips out of his mouth, and you feel your whole body draw tense and hot. “So lovely, and I bet you taste even better than you look… like sugar, my sweet girl.”

Jesus Christ. You think your whole fucking body throbs, blood pounding and nerves straining as you wish so desperately for him to touch you. You can’t handle him talking to you like that, so fondly, as if you haven’t just acted like the biggest brat in the world for several days straight.

You can hardly even reconcile this man with the usual stern, gruff man that acts as your Captain, and you let out a choked whine of bewilderment as he slides down your body.

Your thighs are clamped together, shy under his gaze despite how desperately eager you are. You want this, you want him, but you can’t help but feel so mortified by the vulnerability of being nude beneath him on the couch while his big formidable body is still entirely clothed.

Price’s fingers stroke against your hip, his tone low and rich as his lips find your throat again. You can feel his tongue darting out against your skin, his hunger so palpable now that it’s infectious.

“Let daddy see you,” He croaks against the hollow of your throat. “Spread your legs, sweetheart.”

It’s not like you could ever say no to that. The request sends liquid heat shooting straight to your cunt, making you hot and sticky. You spread your thighs, and feel embarrassment flare when there’s a squelch as your cunt unsticks. And– Jesus, Price’s eyes fucking light up, and you realise that he’s clocked your reaction to his honeyed words, the way he calls himself daddy.

The kiss he gives you is claiming and hungry, consuming your lips with a fervour that leaves no room for doubt about his intentions. It’s a taste of both command and reverence — in equal measure. When he pulls away from your mouth you’re breathless, still gasping softly even as he pushes himself down the length of your body.

In the blink of an eye, he’s there — between your welcoming thighs, his hands resting securely on your soft hips, as much a lifeline as a promise of what’s to come. Your pussy is already sloppy, slick and wet in anticipation of him. He shoves his head between your thighs, using his thumbs to spread apart your folds and just look at you.

Your back arches at even the suggestion of his touch, feeling his breath ghost over the heated slick flesh of your cunt. Despite your obvious willingness, and his apparent eagerness, he doesn’t immediately touch you.

You crane your neck to see that he’s staring at your pussy as though the sight of it is earth-shattering. His gaze drinks you in, heated blue eyes taking in the sight of your swollen sticky folds, no doubt throbbing invitingly under his attention. You’ve never seen a man look so hungry, like he’s about to risk anything for it. A dark, groaned "fuck" escapes him as he kneels between your spread legs, head bowed as if in reverence.

"Daddy needs a taste, sweet girl," His deep voice a heavy rumble, vibrating against your soft inner thighs. 

It takes a beat for you to realise that he’s holding himself back, that he’s essentially asking for permission to lay his mouth on you, but then you gasp, “Yes, fuck, yes, please–”

Price takes it as the enthusiastic invitation that it is and bursts into movement immediately, reaching out and guiding your legs wider so that he can muscle in between them properly, before leaning in and finally getting his mouth on you.

You choke, hips aching as you try to spread your legs even further. Price drags the flat of his tongue along the seam of your cunt, groaning as though he’s savouring the taste of you, before wrapping his arms around your thighs to keep you all spread open for him as his tongue rasps over your sensitive flesh.

You want to call out for him, but his name stalls on your tongue. What would you call him – Price? John? Captain? Daddy? You think you would die if you said it out loud.

Then his tongue finds your clit, and your thoughts scatter. He flicks the tip of his tongue over you, back and forth, then flattens it to grind eagerly. You had thought, given the way he had taken that moment just to look at you before he’d pressed his mouth to you, that he would start slow. But instead, he gives you everything he has.

You cry out as he devours your cunt, his bushy eyebrows pulling up in delight as you give him your first moan. While your legs had spread wide in the beginning, eager to let him in, you now close them tight around his head to keep him in place. You have a brief, hazy thought that maybe this is an asshole move of you, a little like if a man were to hold your head down while you were sucking cock, but Price doesn’t seem to mind. If anything, judging by the snarl he lets out when your thighs close around his ears, he likes it.

You toss your head back against the worn couch cushions as jolts of white-hot heat spread from where his mouth is working at you, playing with you, tongue painting long, broad strokes up and down your pussy. 

Your cunt is syrupy hot, throbbing as his tongue rubs relentlessly at your clit. You’re so fucking wet, and you can’t help yourself from rolling your hips more assertively into his mouth. You’re leaking on his mouth, his tongue, your slick drenching his cheeks and his beard.

Seized by a sudden urge to watch, you clumsily raise your head so you can look down. It feels entirely illicit, watching Price’s head between your legs as he buries his face so enthusiastically into your folds. His eyes flash as he glances up, the bottom half of his face hidden entirely in your pussy as his jaw works, the soft hair of his beard tickling your sensitive inner thighs.

With a jolt, you realise that one of his hands has fallen to his lap, his trousers hastily pushed open. He’s fisting at his dripping cock, red and angry and still begging for release against the thick dark hair of his stomach. Sticky pre-cum leaks from his flushed head, pooling into his skin and clothes as his cock bobs and twitches at the sounds of your moans.

The sudden realisation that Price is getting off on this, on the taste of you and the smell of you and the way you’re whining, sets you aflame. He grunts, one of his big hand’s wrapping around his throbbing skin to pump his length to the rhythm of his tongue inside of you.

“Oh, oh fuck,” You press your lips together, stomach pulling tight as his tongue thrusts up inside of you, “Fuck, fuck, fuck that’s so good, oh god, Captain–”

“Yeah,” Price grunts, his words all wetly muffled, his arms wrapped tight around your thighs to keep you in place as he feasts on you, sucking on your clit like it’s a sweet. “I know, baby, I know.”

He’s so accommodating, so nice to you. You tilt your hips up and grind your cunt into his mouth, sighing in satisfaction as his tongue drags along your clit before dipping to lick inside of you. He barely even shifts when you hump your pussy into his face; he only opens his mouth wider, licks at you more enthusiastically as though your desperation is contagious. 

Your belly goes hot and tight, and a high-pitched whimper is torn from your throat. It feels as though you’ve been strung high and taut for months now, and your breath catches at your imminent orgasm. You’ve just been so stressed, and having Price hunched over you on the couch like this with your legs thrown up around his shoulders as he licks and sucks at you so eagerly that it has your eyes rolling in your head feels like it’s curing you.

You think, somewhat madly, that an orgasm like this, with Price’s mouth sealed over your cunt, will solve every damn problem you have right now.

“Wanna come, wanna come, Jesus fucking Christ, please please–” Your chest heaves as you scramble, one of your hands reaching down to cup Price’s head to keep him in place, face buried in your cunt. “Oh god, please make me come–”

Maybe it’s not fair to be so demanding of him, but to his credit Price responds with restless enthusiasm. You double over in pleasure as he heeds your broken little pleas, your nails scraping into the couch as you cling on for dear life. His tongue swirls over your clit quickly and with fervour, tight circles to make your vision go blurry.

You’re lost in the sensation of his hot, wet mouth in your cunt, the way he licks into you like a starving man tasting his first meal. It feels like a sensation overload, as though you’re just completely lost to your own desire, but you just want more of what he is offering. 

You grab his hair again and pull him closer, greedy with need, and he hums in affirmation as he allows you to guide his mouth to exactly where you need it. Arching your hips up, you grind into his mouth, chasing your orgasm. You groan, eyelids fluttering as you wrap your other leg around Price’s shoulders, up around his neck, and his hand snakes around your thigh to anchor you there.

Price’s fingers are gripping at your hips, surely hard enough to leave bruises there. You smile, almost deliriously; you could live with some souvenirs from tonight.

Your feeble gasps start to spiral into whimpers as that hot coil begins to tighten in your belly, and your toes start to curl. When your climax finally hits, it does so with a sense of relief that almost knocks you flat. Your body winds tight then releases, and you convulse in a wave of shudders that has you sobbing out loud.

Your chest heaves as you sob, squirming as Price licks at your clit insistently. It feels like your breath has caught in your chest, your toes curling so hard that your feet cramp. You’re panting like a damn dog as your orgasm rocks through you, until the waves of it subside and you can finally get a full breath again.

From one second to the next your nerves turn red-hot and oversensitive, and you clamp your thighs shut around Price’s ears and whimper-whine pathetically. Mercifully, he gets your unspoken message easily, and finally pulls back, chuckling breathlessly to himself as he pushes your legs apart in order to retreat.

“Fuck,” He says, and his voice comes out as harsh and gravelly as you’ve ever heard it. “Jesus Christ. Knew you’d taste sweet, knew that you’d come so pretty.”

The praise practically slams into you, ripping through you like a forest fire. It feels like you’ve lost your breath all over again, and ridiculously you suddenly feel shy. 

“I–That–” You start to say, but you still feel a little fuzzy-headed from your orgasm and your thoughts fizz away like TV static. 

“Mhm, I know, sweet girl.” He murmurs hoarsely as though you had said something coherent. 

When Price finally sits up, you blink hazily. He had been all hunched over you, crammed into the corner of the couch in order to squeeze himself between your thighs like that, but now that he’s straightening back up again you’re reminded with a tired jolt just how big and broad and strong he is.

A small, self-conscious part of your brain screams at you to close your legs. Your thighs are still spread wide, your cunt on display; you’re still all sloppy and wet, spit-slick and dripping, all puffy from the attention Price had lavished on you with his mouth.

But instead of closing your legs, you let your thighs fall open a little wider and shift restlessly under his intense gaze. Your desire makes you stupid – how could you ever experience anything as mundane as self-consciousness when he’s staring at you like that? He’s looking at you like he wants to fall atop you all over again, and you feel yourself throb – you feel so empty, your body craving something to fill you.

And Price notices the way you keep yourself all spread for him, the way you don’t make any move to cover yourself. Beneath his beard, his face splits into a wide smile, the apples of his cheeks practically glowing with pride.

“Oh, my girl, you're so pretty. Just the loveliest girl in the world with your beautiful face and your hair all wild like that.” He leans in then, and presses a hungry  kiss to your mouth. He tastes salty-sweet, the iron tang of yourself lingering on his lips. His beard is wet too, practically soaked through.

You gasp when he pulls back, overwhelmed by the kiss and the praise and the electric aftershocks of your orgasm. “Your beard is wet.” You observe dumbly.

He chuckles, as though you’ve said something terribly endearing. “Of course it is, sweetheart. That’s all you.”

You mumble a little incoherently, mostly because you’ve just spotted the way his trousers are still unbuttoned and his hard, swollen cock is jutting out from the band of his boxers. It’s angry looking, the head of it so red it looks a little painful, and you feel a sudden urge to return the favour seize you.

But when you reach out, Price is quick to grab your wrist. He transfers his grip to your hand swiftly so you don’t feel as though you’re being held down, his wide palm and thick fingers winding around yours.

“Don’t have to do that, love.” He grunts, shifting. He’s looming over you, hips tilted towards you and his wide shoulders blocking out your view of the office. “D’you think you could take me?”

It takes you a moment for your slow, stupid brain to catch up and process what he’s asking you. Then you nod swiftly, eyes widening. You're wet and sticky and so so empty, and you have no doubt your body is so ready to take him inside. 

You’re still a little limp and drained from the satisfaction of your orgasm, but you keep your thighs spread and wait eagerly for him to touch you again. He doesn’t keep you waiting long; he coos softly at you as he adjusts himself, kissing your tummy then up your sternum and back to your throat. The soft, sweet kisses distract you as he presses his hips between your thighs.

You gasp softly, your clit sensitive enough that when his cock rubs against it, you jolt. Despite the overload of sensation, you find yourself grinding back against him, so desperate for something. As if he can sense what you need, he presses a kiss to your jaw and dips a hand between your thighs. Two thick, calloused fingers circle your clit for a moment and make you whimper, only to dip lower and press inside you.

His fingers are larger than yours, but they still slip into you so damn easily that it’s embarrassing. You barely even feel a stretch, your body so eager for him that your cunt practically sucks his fingers up.

The worst part is the way Price laughs, all soft and breathy as he rubs his callous-roughened fingers into the spongey walls of your cunt. 

“Oh, fuck,” He murmurs, his lips dragging over your overheated skin. “Yeah, you’ll take me just fine.”

You burn with embarrassment, but you still don’t close your legs. It’s silly, but there’s still an element of pride as his fingers rub against the soft inside of your pussy; you want him to see how much you want him, how well you’ll take him. It’s obvious how wet you are, and you hope he’s imagining how good you’ll feel on the inside.

“Need you to turn over for me, love.” He murmurs, gripping at your hips and easing you over so that you’re on your belly beneath him. “That’s it, arse up. My knees aren’t what they used to be. Make it easy for me.”

You usually would make a joke about that, some sort of jab about being old before his time, but you simply don’t have the mental capacity for it. You’re too busy dropping to rest your weight on your elbows as you stick your ass up towards him, arching your back and hoping you look pretty.

He doesn’t waste any more time, much to your relief. Your mouth drops open with a sigh as you feel the blunt head of his cock glide between your slick folds, tapping once against your clit just to watch the way your legs jerk, then finally lining up with your entrance and pressing lightly in. His cock notches, catches, then slides in so slowly that it makes you want to scream.

“Gotta let me in, petal.” He says, using his grip on your hips to pull you back onto his cock in increments. “Relax, relax.”

You had wanted this, you’re more eager than you think you’ve ever been for anyone in your life, and yet Price is a big man and the stretch makes your breath stall in your lungs. Your cunt is sucking his cock in further with a hunger that’s almost embarrassing, even as you wince a little at the feeling of being stretched out to your limits. Though you’re wet and eager and ready, two of Price’s fingers briefly testing inside weren’t quite enough to prepare you for how fat his cock is. 

Your head is spinning. You’ve never taken a cock this big with so little stretching, but neither you nor Price are patient enough to wait. But the stretch feels good, and you find yourself wheezing like a moron as he presses inside inch by inch.

“Fuck… you alright, love?” Price breathes, adjusting his knees on the couch behind you and wrapping his hands around your hips. The motion only succeeds in shifting him far enough away to make you aware of the feeling of him sliding into you again. You both groan, and you feel Price twitch, deep inside you.

“Fuck,” You moan, breath gasping out of you. “You’re fucking huge.”

It feels like you’re learning for the very first time what it really means to be full. For a few seconds, it feels like you can’t even breathe. It feels like his cock is lodged somewhere in your belly, forcing the breath from your lungs as he nestles his way deeper into the eager clutch of your body.

“Am I– s’it too much, honey?” He asks, his voice rough and low as his hands squeeze at the flesh at your hips. “Need me to take it out?”

“No!” You blurt, and your body clenches up hard as though you’re trying to lock him in and keep him from escaping. “Don’t you dare!”

His cock still feels so big, and when you tighten up as hard as you do it almost feels as though he’s fucking impaling you. Price groans as though he’s been shot, and his head lowers so that he’s burying his face into the space between your shoulderblades. His body lowers too until his chest is pressed to your back, joined at the hips as he rocks inside of you. 

“Okay,” He grunts, and you can feel his chest expand as he takes a breath. “Okay, love, but you need to relax. You’re going to squeeze my cock right off.”

“Sorry.” You try to do as he asks, taking a deep breath and allowing your body to go limp and pliant. He grunts in appreciation, and you feel his whiskery beard rasp against your throat as he presses a kiss to your neck as if to reward you.

Your spine is still taut from the pressure of being all stretched out around his cock, and you reach back clumsily to grasp at his belly, the soft fabric of his shirt rucking up between your fingers. Price reaches back and grabs at the neck of his own shirt, tearing it over his head then tossing it aside. Your eyes are all hazy and a little blurred from your overwhelmed tears, but you look back over your shoulder and blink frantically in an attempt to get a proper look at him. 

God, he’s so big and strong, his chest furred with a layer of brown hair curling in whorls over his nipples and down over his belly. You feel yourself pulse in response, your mouth dropping open in a thoughtless gasp of desire. He’s exactly the kind of man you think of when you think of masculinity, and your belly tightens in anticipation when he presses all up against you, heavy and hot.

When he begins to pull out and press back in, the noise you make is utterly pathetic. It feels like he cleaving you in two, carving out a space for his cock every time he fucks back into you. He’s cautious at first, conscious of hurting you, but when your thighs close around his hips he grunts and begins to pick his pace up.

“Christ, you’re tight,” Price says, his voice all rough and muffled against your shoulder. “And you're all mine, love, my own sweet girl, ain’t that right? And daddy's gonna love you so good, isn’t he?”

“Yes,” You gasp stupidly, pressing your face into the couch cushions.

Typically, you find that doggy style can be a position that’s a little detached – usually, you like seeing the face of the person you’re fucking. But right now, with Price plastering his whole hairy body against your back as he ruts into you and the sweet filthy words he’s murmuring to you, this position feels so far from detached that it has your head spinning. It feels like he’s blanketing you, the heat from his skin igniting what feels like an inferno between the two of you. Sweat beads at your forehead, and you moan softly as Price begins to fuck you properly.

You’re bouncing against the couch, clutching at the cushions as your body moves under the weight of Price’s powerful thrusts. The sound of it is sloppy and wet, your bodies smacking together quick and hard. And fuck, it feels good. His cock is hitting that perfect spot deep inside of you, and your entire body jolts with pleasure every time he pounds back in. 

It’s enough to make you squeal, your nails scrabbling desperately for purchase on the threadbare couch cushions in an attempt to stabilise yourself. Your nipples are sensitive from Price’s licking at sucking at them, and your toes curl as your tits are pressed into the rough-textured cushions, electrifying your nerves to the point of almost too-much. 

The noises you make are entirely undignified, and you struggle to muffle them into the couch. Little burbling ah ah ah’s are being torn from your throat every time Price fucks into you, the sensation of his furred balls slapping against you with every thrust has your eyes rolling.

Your body is all loose and pliant from your earlier orgasm, and you whimper as though you’re being fucked absolutely stupid. It’s not that he’s fucking you all that hard, but he’s filling you up so deliciously and knowing that it’s him, your Captain, the man that you’ve worked so damn hard to impress and to please, makes you feel like you’re going to explode. Even through the haze of desire and pleasure, a little part of you is still so aware of making him happy. You keep your back arched, practically waving your ass up in the air as he fucks into you.

“Tell me how you like it, sweetheart. Tell me how it feels.” Price says in a low, rough purr. His chest is still pressed to your back even as the two of you pant and sweat as you rock together. “Tell daddy how good he's making you feel.”

Jesus Christ, Price feels like a fucking furnace against you. It feels almost as though you’ve been glued together, your skin sweat slick as he ruts into you like an animal. Your lungs are burning, and your mind is completely scattered. Getting fucked like this feels feels primal, an exchange of power through pleasure; you’re aware that he’s asked you a question, but you can hardly string two thoughts together. All you can do is squirm and whimper in below him as his weight pins you in place.

“Good,” You groan, vaguely aware that tears are leaking from your eyes and soaking the couch beneath you. Your vision is blurred, and you can’t even see straight. “I just– it’s so much–”

“I know,” He rumbles. “But you can take it, can’t you? You’ve been so good, sweetheart.”

The praise does exactly what he’s hoping for; you practically melt into a puddle beneath him. Your thoughts are slow and sluggish, and your jaw hangs open as you fucking drool. Even still, you manage to nod your head clumsily. You can take him – it feels like a point of pride to prove it now, to show off how good you can be.

Price’s rhythm is practically machine-like, and you make a quiet sound of pure appreciation when his cock slams into that gummy spot inside of you that makes you lose your breath. It’s as though he takes note of it, because from that point on he stays absolutely jackhammering into that little spot, making you see stars and have to bite your lip to stifle your moans. His balls would slam against your clit in a repeated motion that made your underbelly tighten like a coil so close to snapping.

He groans every time he sinks into you, his growls rumbling into your back and ratcheting up the intensity another notch. You feel lost in a sea of sensation, moored only by the places of contact between you and Price. Your hips are humping back against Price’s cock unconsciously, unable to help yourself and unable to get enough of him.

“I wanna come again,” You say, and it comes out in a demanding sort of whine. It’s a little humbling to hear yourself and realise that you sound so honest to god bratty, but you can’t bring yourself to care when Price is apparently in such a giving mood today. 

“You’re gonna come, love.” He promises. His voice has that tone to it, the one you’ve always tried to ignore during work because it makes you so horny. The authoritative one, when it drops just a bit in pitch, when it sounds just a little like a threat.

But despite his promise, he doesn’t change his steady pace. You’re just this side of overwhelmed, but you still need more to push you over the edge into the second orgasm that’s simmering in your lower stomach. 

“Please, daddy,” You let the name pass your lips on a whimper, finally giving in and calling him by the title he’s so clearly craving. He’s fucked all the shame out of your body at this point, leaving you with nothing but white hot desperation. “Please, please make me come again–”

“Fuckin’ Christ–”

Price’s arm reaches around your front, and you’re startled when his big palm wraps around your throat. You think for a moment that you’re about to get choked, but no pressure follows. He just grips you there, gentle and secure, before using his hold on you to pull you back against him so that he’s rutting up into you at a speed that’s overwhelming in the best way. His other arm reaches around your belly so that he can rub at your clit as he rails you into the couch. His soft grip on your throat ensures that no matter how much you try to squirm your way back into meeting his thrusts, you’re forced into stillness. 

It’s exactly what you wanted, and it has you wheezing and hiccuping out moans on every stroke. It’s better than you ever could have hoped for, and you’re nearly sobbing from the sheer sensation of it all. You feel your abdomen drawing tight, heat beginning to build rapidly in the bottom of your belly as he strokes at your clit hard and fast at a pace that matches his fucking.

You know that you’re already starting to shake, trembling from head to toe. You can’t even keep your back arched anymore, though you don’t think Price gives a shit because he just nuzzles at the base of your shoulder as he fucks into you. Between his cock and his fingers, everything just feels too much but your body is strung taut as you proverbially climb higher and higher.

“Oh god, I’m– yes, yes, yes–” You chant, your voice high and reedy and so damn needy.

Then the world falls out from under you. With one last whimpering moan, your body convulses beneath the heavy weight of your captain’s big body. Your vision practically wipes out, and you squeeze down around Price’s dick and pulse. Your whole body rocks with the flood of pleasure, the warm fuzzy feeling that makes you feel as though you’re losing your mind. You know that your hips are twitching madly, simultaneously trying to get more and less as you get overwhelmed by the feeling of him fucking you through it all.

You’re still coming down from the sweet release of your orgasm when Price practically tears himself away from you, leaving you cruelly empty and clenching around nothing. You let out a sharp sound of loss, startled that he’s pulled away so suddenly, and you find yourself slumping bonelessly against the couch now that his hands are no longer supporting you.

The wet shlurping sounds from behind you prompt you to glance lazily over your shoulder from where your face is smushed against the cushions, and you’re blessed with the sight of Price tugging his cock furiously behind you. His cheeks are bright red as he stares at the mess he’s made of you, his jaw soft and his mouth open as he pants.

He sees you looking, and whatever expression is on your face seems to be his undoing. He takes in your tear-clumped eyelashes and your dazed expression, and you can practically see the moment he hurtles over the edge. He practically snarls, his nose scrunching in a way that’s unexpectedly adorable right as his cock gives one fat pump of thick white come, then several smaller sputterings that collect in a creamy puddle right at the base of your spine, just over the swell of your ass.

You sigh, your eyelids fluttering lazily shut as you relish the feeling of his hot come hitting your skin. You still can’t manage to pull yourself together, feeling loose and floaty like you’re on another fucking planet entirely. You’re only distantly aware of his big palm rubbing gentle circles on the small of his back; you think for a second that he’s just trying to soothe you, until your fucked out brain catches up and you realise that he’s rubbing his come into you like it’s goddamn lotion. Your cunt gives a tired throb at the realisation, fluttering as though it’s sad that he didn’t come inside.

“Fuck…” You hear him rumble from behind you, then a hot heavy weight settling over you yet again. This time, he pulls you back into his arms to hold you tight against his chest. 

You go perfectly limp, curling into him and nuzzling into his sweaty hairy chest. Despite yourself, you’re reminded of cuddling with a massive teddy bear. All you can do is hum, basking in the affection and hardly able to think at this point after he’s turned your brain into a slurry of feelings without thoughts.

“You okay, love?” Price asks. You can feel his nose nuzzling against your temple, though you can’t quite summon the energy to open your eyes again. “Did I go too hard on you?”

Your legs are still shaky, your hamstrings aching and your back throbbing a little from the pounding you’ve just taken. But Price is being so lovely and soft, so gentle with you right now. His hands coast over your hips, your back, your waist, squeezing a little bit just because he seems to like the way you feel in his hands.

“Shhh,” You drawl shakily. “Don’t make me think right now.”

A low chuckle, and you feel his broad chest rumble with it where your head is laying atop him. His fingers run up the length of your spine, the touch making you shiver. He touches you like you’re delicate, a stark contrast to the way he’d just fucked you into your sad little office couch. It makes something in your belly squirm.

“Alright. My girl just needed to switch off for a while, hm?” He murmurs, and you can hear the clear undertone of amusement in his voice. “How are you going to finish out work today if you’re all sleepy like this, huh?”

That wakes you up a little, and you finally blink your eyes open again in order to look up at him. An edge of panic is beginning to creep in as awareness comes back to you, and you take a deep breath as your hands curl against his chest.

“Oh my god.” You blurt, eyes growing wide. “I– we’re at work!”

“Sharp as ever, darling.”

Not even Price’s lazy wryness can distract you now. You try to wiggle off the couch, already craning your head around in search of your clothes, but Price’s thick arm locks tight around your middle and keeps you pressed to him.

“We have to– oh my god, we have to get dressed, what if someone walks in–”

“Shh, shhh, I locked the door when I came in,” Price grumbles. He doesn’t appear too impressed with the way you’re attempting to wiggle away, but it doesn’t matter so much; even with one arm he’s perfectly capable of keeping you pinned in place against his chest. “Lie back down, love.”

Slowly, you let yourself relax back into him. It’s hard to hold onto your panic when he’s so obviously unbothered, so you end up hesitantly snuggling back up against his chest as his arms come up to close around you. Despite his encouragement, you’re unsure whether or not you’re allowed to be touching him like this. But his hands don’t stray from you, not even once, and gradually you return to your previous state of being a puddle of limbs and pliant muscle.

“That’s it, relax.” He coaxes, clearly pleased now that you’re melting back into him. 

“I have so much work to catch up on.” You grumble, though you have no intention of actually going anywhere now that he’s given you the greenlight to stay like this.

His chest vibrates beneath your cheek, and you realise he’s chuckling again. It feels good, and you sigh softly as your fingers stroke lightly over the defined shape of his soft pecs.

“You think I wasn’t capable of keeping the ship afloat for the couple of days you were gone?” He asks, one hand stroking over your flank then dipping lower to flatten his palm over your left asscheek. “I finished out those little files you were stressin’ over. No picture of Ghost for his, but like I said, that’s standard.”

You had known that he had finished updating the files for you when you had seen Farah’s, but hearing it straight from his mouth is something else entirely. You purse your lips and lower your eyes, still embarrassed about your little freak out despite his apologies. 

“Thank you.” You mumble. 

You try to hide your face in his chest again, but a large hand on your jaw stops you by tilting your head back and forcing you to look at him. A thumb strokes over your cheek, and then he’s leaning in and pressing a sweet kiss to your mouth. You respond tiredly but eagerly, still hardly able to believe that your boss that you’ve been mooning after for months is being so affectionate and intimate with you.

Price pulls back slightly so that your lips are just barely touching, breathing each other’s air for a moment.

“Ask for help when you need it, sweetheart.” He murmurs, his lips dragging over yours. “That’s what I’m here for. We help each other with the workload, alright?”

“Yeah,” You breathe, leaning in eagerly in the hopes of getting another kiss. “Alright.”

Price smiles, his cheeks going all full and round as his eyes crinkle, and you feel your heart throb so violently it feels as though it jumps right up into your throat. He leans in and kisses you again, soft and sweet as his beard rasps against your chin.

You want to stay like this forever, wrapped up so warm and cosy and safe in his arms. He makes you feel so safe, like you’re valued and appreciated, and you can’t even feel bad about being lazy because he so clearly doesn’t want to move either.

“Let me come home with you tonight,” He says suddenly, and you feel his bicep contract as he squeezes you closer. “You have an apartment off base, don’t you? I’ll… why don’t I cook you dinner, hm? Want to show you how much I appreciate all the work you do.”

There’s a pause, then he adds cautiously, “If I’m not being presumptuous, that is.”

You can’t stop the shy smile from overtaking your face. He’s so sweet, and being on the receiving end of this kind of attention from him is more than you ever could have expected. Ridiculously, he seems a little nervous as well, and you come to the slow realisation that he had been vulnerable with you as well when it came to his interests when he had fucked you.

“I thought this was you appreciating the work I do.” You say coyly, glancing pointedly at all of your bare skin pressed up against his.

“Mm. You do a lot of work, and I’m very appreciative.” Price murmurs, squeezing teasingly at your ass.

You giggle despite yourself, relishing the light-hearted air between the two of you. At the sound of your laugh, Price’s expression brightens further; it’s strange, seeing your usually stern, stressed captain being so sweet with you. You’re so used to seeing him with that flinty determined look in his eyes, or barking orders, or with his eyes sagging with exhaustion after a long deployment only to return to a pile of mission reports. Seeing him like this, with those soft eyes and a fond smile, makes your heart feel as though it’s beating out of rhythm.

“I said I’d look after you, sweetheart.” He murmurs, and this time his voice is missing that teasing undertone from before. He sounds so earnest now, almost painfully so. “You just need to let me.”

Yeah, you think to yourself as you let yourself succumb to the drowsy haze that’s been tugging at you, allowing your eyes to slide shut as you nuzzle into Price’s bare chest. You think letting John Price look after you might just be the easiest thing you’ve ever done.

#PLEASE don't look at me right now i will be taking NO questions on my state of mind #captain john price #john price x reader #captain john price x reader #price x reader #john price smut #cod smut #cod fic #141 x reader #daddy issues price

[todayisafridaynight]

Anon must’ve listened to his fighterz voice and the kai dub. That’s the only explanation because why have Daemon Clarke voice Mine when Paul Saint Peter, Steve Blum, or Christoper Corey Smith are right there

honestly between these options PSP and CCS do seem like preeeeeettty sound candidates for an eng mine

#snap chats #i think im leaning more to CCS but thats prob cause every time i think of PSP i think of xemnas #buuuuttt idk not a bad option not a terrible option #im so fickle on PSP cause again i can only imagine him as xemnas but potential is there i believe it to be true #in researching for this ask i have been forced to rewatch the KH2 xemnas scenes and im still cracking up at the fucking #the four minute walk down the stairs good god #anyway for future VA stuff can yall send me clips cause these fellers be playin so many people with so many ranges 💀

[halcyone-of-the-sea]

You're my favorite writer, and König is my favorite aussie man, so OF COURSE im making you write for him, hal, BEAR W ME !

Alright, what do you think about König with the “You’re here late.” prompt? The reader is part of KorTac and always worked alongside König, since they both entered about the same time, because of the readers personality, they are always fighting, one of these fights are specifically bad, leading the reader to go on a mission with another KorTac member, to help out somewhere else and take their mind off things, when the reader face a problem on the mission and ends up arriving late, König is furious.

Moths Hit the Window

PAIRING: König x F!Reader

SYNOPSIS: Fights with König were always loud, but this time his comments went a bit too far.

WORD COUNT: 5.9k

WARNINGS: Verbal fighting, angst, high tension, blood & stitches, wounds, canon typical violence, guns/weapons, death, suggestive near the end, fluff, hurt/comfort, etc.

A/N: Huge thanks to @idocarealot for the German translations!! Also, König's wearing the arachnid skin in this because I love it sm - enjoy, Anon!

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*

You seethe. If eyes could turn red yous would be a beautiful shade of crimson—bloody knives ripping out of the cornea to strike whoever happened to get too close. It was as if the very air boiled with the force of a raging tsunami as you stomped down the local military base’s hallways, covered in blood and guts. Never had you reconsidered working for KorTac more than at this very moment. 

Maybe I should just become a mercenary, you rip at the torn-apart gloves over your hands and jerk your arm out. Passerbyers quickly avert their eyes as you shove them into a garbage can and continue on with a growl. No shitty rules, no regulations—no fucking partners.

If people happened to slide past without noticing the steam coming out of your ears, they would have immediately locked eyes on the pure elephant of a man trailing fast behind. König’s eyes were goring into the back of your neck, gray and tan garb swaying as the packs and flash grenades on his combat vest bounced with every step. Accents of red do nothing in comparison to his visible flesh—the section of his eyes uncovered by his mask and head rig alight around his obsidian gaze. 

 König was muttering to himself far under his breath, curses and harsh comments all in German that he wouldn’t say to your face. At least not right now in view of others. 

“I can hear you, you dimwit,” you hiss over your shoulder, grinding your teeth as you both make your way to the armory, “curse me out quieter!” 

“You are making a scene!” The beast grunts, that heavily accented English striking your eardrums with its harsh dialect. 

“Oh, jeez!” You raise your voice even higher, turning back forward and clenching your hands into fists as blood and guts drip off your gear—none of it yours. “I’m just so damn embarrassed, König! I’m making such a large and obnoxious display. Whatever will I do?!” Sarcasm like a valuable drug is injected into the waves of your voice. People from open doorways look out with shock, brows pulled up. 

Everyone quickly darts back away when you snap your head in their direction and send them a scathing glare.

No one was surprised to find you and the Austrian going at it again but knew well enough to stay out of the crossfire. Lest someone get roped into it.

“Fuck off!” You spit the last curse into the burning air and shove past a soldier ahead of you.

König’s dark eyes flash dangerously, lips under his mask twisting into a sneer. The man’s shoulders seem to dig in even farther, spine curling over as if a brooding child. 

This had all started the second you’d joined up with KorTac. Fresh out of the military and eager to get back into the game after a good vacation the PMC group had been at the top of your list. But if you’d known you’d be paired up with this damn mountain every chance there was just because he’d got into the game at nearly the same time as you, you’d have put in your luck with SpecGru. 

“I do not see how this is appropriate behavior,” König follows as you place your palms on the black metal of the armory door, pressing with your shoulders. “I did what I was tasked to do—”

The masked man is cut off as you whirl on your heels, the door slamming shut as his body is shoved into it with strong arms. Dark eyes go wide in surprise, feeling the dig of your nails on his abdomen as your form presses into him and the chill of the door on his spine. You feel his skin bunch under his thick shirt and even if you want to stare him down that’s just not an option. Your warm figures shuffle together with panting breaths and dangerous glints in your eyes. 

“Bull,” you drag out the word, growling it right up into his neck; sniper hood caressing your chin. König’s breath hitches with shakes of swirling emotions. “Shit.”

Shoving once more so he gets the point, you push off of him and stalk away like a feral wolf, already unclipping grenades and medical packs from your vest. 

“You’re the damn reason the target got away!” Gear is thrown haphazardly to the long table in the center of the room. The Austrian watches with predatory eyes, hands clenched so hard that they quiver. He stays still, watching, as you send scathing glances. “The reason we’re going to be here for ten times longer than we’re supposed to be!” 

“It is not my fault you failed to properly check the perimeter before you rushed in like a fool.” Volatile couldn’t be used to describe this…this was nothing short of volcanic. It was as if there were two sides of a scale filled with bullets and gunpowder—fire in the middle that was equally heating both piles as they raised and lowered erratically. König’s voice grates over the air, “I did what I could to fix your scheiße plan!”

“Don’t you shit on my plan!” You point, voice bouncing off the weapon racks as you rip the rifle strap from over your chest, chucking it away. 

“I will shit on it—it was…it was…!”  König’s voice cuts out and he can’t find the words. The Austrian descends into visceral German ramblings. “Es war so ziemlich der schlechteste Plan, den ich je gehört hab. Welcher halbwegs vernünftige Mensch geht in eine heiße Zone ohne vorher alle Zielobjekte richtig zu markieren?! Ich kann dich und deine Rücksichtslosigkeit nicht mehr leiden — du bringst mich um meinen Verstand! Hast du überhaupt ein Gehirn in deinem Schädel?”

You shake your head to yourself, heart pounding. “You’re still the one that was supposed to focus on the HVT. I rushed so he would flush out, but, no,” taking out the magazine of the rifle you hold it in your hands like an accusatory ruler that a teacher would hold. König shoves off the door and stands to his full height; arms tensed and straining before they coil around his chest in a soothing gesture. 

He hated the fighting—the constant strain between the two of you. But when you were together it could never amount to anything else. The room felt like it was a million degrees.

Your eyes stab at him, “No! You had to go and focus on me! I hate to break this to you,  König,” feet come forward and you once again find yourself close to him—breathing the same air and taking in the scent of gunpowder and blood. You point the tip of the magazine into his chest. His unseen lips pull; jaw clenching with held-back fire. “But I am not your damn mutt to keep on a leash. I had it under control.”

It’s as if you don’t realize the Austrian could snap you in half with a single kick of his leg, as if the sheer size of König had slipped your mind as a whole. His hands could snap your neck in an instant, but that was only if he got ahold of you. 

But that was a line the both of you were never planning to cross. Words were one thing in this profession, actions another. If you ever got into a physical fight, you’d both kill each other, no doubt. 

You’d like to think you’re a bit above that, but perhaps not.

König’s chest rises and falls deeply, taking in calming breaths as he tries to get his temper under control. “You didn’t,” he jeers out, “I saved your life, you Heißluftgebläse. And if you wanted to be treated less than a dog,” he grunts to you, head pulling down close to your face, harshly whispering out, “You could have simply asked me, yes?”

You both snarl at each other's throats like rabid animals, the world disappearing all around the obsidian eyes that match with yours; for a moment you get lost in the shining bits of silver in his iris that seem to burn with chilled iron. What little skin you can see is flushed and tight—hawk nose nearly poking out your eye as you’re leaned over like a giraffe near a bush.

Body vibrating, you sharply breathe, “I’m not even going to ask what that fucking means, you tool.”

“Good.” The words are bitten and fast, “because I am not telling you.”

“Great!”

“Perfekt!” You both were arguing like children. Hot faces and unwilling to let the other have the last word. If you got along it might have been funny. 

“I’m going to dump all of your Einspänner out on the tarmac.” Your sure voice echoes with a definitive promise to the tone. 

Pale lids widen in horror at the threat to the Austrian's favorite beverage, comfortably sitting in the Base’s fridge. 

“You would not,” König’s tone is deathly serious and you smirk, eyes dancing. “You…” a guttural growl meets the air, mind translating words and giving meanings, “beast of a woman!”

“Oh, is that the best you can fucking do?!” You yell, splaying your hands out widely and moving away from him. “Now that’s really a show stopper, König, I’m shaking in my damn boots.” 

“Ich komm mit dir nicht mehr klar.” König yells, moving back and placing both of his hands atop his head, knuckles white. “You’re rude—you do not even try to get along. You are loud and disrespectful; how do you live like this?!”

Your eyes slightly widen, watching the Austrian.

“Don’t try?” You echo, scoffing loudly. “What do you mean don’t try? I was the one to try and smooth things out between us in the beginning.”

“When?!” König spreads his hands out, knees slightly bent. “Because I have no recollection of such events.”

“Well of course you wouldn’t!” The heat was meeting a breaking point—words were getting more personal, sharper. Like a blade being honed for the kill slowly; being sharpened by rocks and whetstones of conviction. 

König points a finger at you, voice going low and thin, “I’ve had enough of you, yes?” His sniper hood moves rapidly with his fast ricochets of breath. “Just about enough. Would you have wanted me to let you die?”

“I had it,” your lips spit, nose scrunched, and forehead tight. The man’s chest vibrates with a mute growl. 

In all actuality, you’d never seen him this worked up before. König wasn’t above giving your quips back even if he obviously disliked it—most of that was due to the strange familiarity between the two of you. In large crowds, the man preferred to stay silent. This only added to his almost deadly aura with others, though you knew the muteness was because of social anxiety and not some built silence. He wasn’t shy per se, just afraid he’d say something wrong; mess up the conversation. You did most of the talking in meetings and you never minded it. Added him in when the topic was something he knew a lot about.

Your mind had addled it up to thinking it was cute, actually. How his feet would shuffle; his half-lidded gaze and his intense eye contact to let them know he was still listening. When he’d have to remind himself to look away with a pinch to his thigh because it was starting to seem threatening. It was endearing, even.

But around people König knew, well, he was going to speak his mind. No matter how long it takes his brain to catch up with his lips.

The only thing the two of you were good at was being moths—hitting the metaphorical window over and over on the same topics and tension points. Slamming heads and flapping wings. You were at the end of your rope just as he was.

“I should have never taken you as a partner!” He calls, feet splayed. “Should have gotten out of this the second you were assigned with me. Gott, ich hab wirklich versucht, dich zu verstehen — Ich hätte gleich aufgeben sollen.” Your lips thin, lungs stalling as all the air vacates the room. You stand still and listen to what he really thinks, fingers shaking.

König’s large form towers over all, great sparks of electricity flying out. His gear shakes as he moves, thigh straps pushing fabric to shift and conform to his body. Your blood pumps with brewing hesitance. 

Maybe this had gone too far. I’ve never seen him like this.

“I can’t stand you any longer! Pathetic squabbles that mean nothing, absolutely ludicrous plans that make little headway.” Your head bursts with aggression and what little warning signs you have are squashed. “I can’t keep saving you because you can’t do your job correctly!”

“You don’t have to save me at all!” You scream. “You can’t keep your damn eyes off of me for five seconds, König.” Feet move away quickly from the armory door as if someone had come to put away their stuff but thought better of it. The next words burst from you before you can think of the contents. “It’s like you fucking love me or something!”

König doesn’t miss a beat, but for months afterward, he wishes he had.

“Oh, do not make me laugh—” he scoffs ferally, adrenaline making him talk, “as if anyone could ever love a woman like you in the first place.” 

Twin eyes widen and both parties immediately fall silent. A sharp inhale.

Too far.

Under the hood, König’s face goes an embarrassing shade of red all the way down to his chest. Fingers freeze. Jaw slackens.

You feel like your heart was just grasped in his grip and ripped out of your ribs with one violent motion—one sentence out of all the others enough to knock down the rebuttal that had formed on the tip of your tongue. Your throat closes up as you blink in shock.

“I-I…” König stutters, mind blanking as he struggles for words. But anger was easier than pain.

Numb fingers rip off the last of your weapons and belongings as you let them hit the floor with defining thuds as warm shame floods your cheeks. Shaky puffs of breath like a panting dog. Dark eyes watch with regretful panic, heart jumping and eyes flinching. The adrenaline it…it made him forget himself on occasion—how to properly act when not on the battlefield. It was like that with everyone but…but he hadn’t meant that.

Shame that it’s already too late.

Your fisted hand slams into his chest, brutal and unforgiving. König lets off a grunt but does nothing as you slither past, hissing into his ear, “Find yourself a new punching bag.”

His hand snaps to his breast where you had slammed your KorTac patch right into his heart, catching it. It’s many moments before he can think enough through the alarm; form words.

“I…I didn’t…oh, du blöde Kuh!” 

By the time the man composed himself, panicked tears burning in his eyes, the door had already slammed shut. His feet squeaked over the tile to an empty audience. 

—

Private Military Companies don’t have ranks. There are no Sergeants, Lieutenants, Generals or Colonels. Just people. Beyond the orders you’d been hired on, there was nothing keeping you in line with König on this mission. And those orders were loose at best.

Adhere to policy and listen to the Base’s COs. Shut up and get the job done. 

The Austrian and you weren’t due out for another week because of rotations. Since you’d failed to capture or kill the HVT that you were assigned, another group had picked up the tracks in the meantime. Like an oiled machine, the gears of this operation kept whirling. 

Evolve, or die. 

“Lieutenant!” You call to the geared-up man on the tarmac—the one heading that very same group. It had been only a few hours since the incident in the armory. You needed a distraction; blood was still running high and brain pounding for release. There were only so many times you could bruise your fists and legs on a punching bag before people started giving you nervous looks. “Need an extra hand?”

Your voice sounds strained, even to you. The man looks you over once and narrows his eyes. Nods not moments later. 

“Get tired of your big friend? Okay, how fast can you be ready for me?” You feel your shoulders loosen, a relieved sigh exiting your lips.

“Three minutes.”

“...get to it then. We move in five.” 

So that was how you found yourself backed into a corner five hours into the op from hell—bloody knife held tightly in your grip and mouth open in ragged pants. 

“Fuck,” your vest is torn and riddled with bullets; your entire chest must be bruised by now because it surely aches like it is. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

You really are reckless, just like König had said you were. Maybe you’d just never realized it because he always seemed to watch your six. This…this was really bad. The comms were awash with screaming orders and panic, ringing out across the abandoned mining factory that exploded with light from gunfire and the sounds that accompanied it. You knew for a fact three soldiers were down; two KIA. 

The Lieutenant is one of them. 

Your hand snaps to the radio strapped to your chest, one eye squinted in pain at the ragged slice across your left brow line. At your feet, two heavily armed men lay dead. 

“Pull back! They knew we were coming!” But your word didn’t carry weight here. Your face twists between pain and rage. König’s comment still rings in your ears as the onset of tinnitus does, as if anyone could ever love a woman like you in the first place. It wasn’t ideal to be thinking about this now—it was detrimental that you didn’t. 

But König and the things he did often stained your brain. No matter how much you tried to distance yourself from that fact. 

Snapping the knife in your grasp down in an arch to dispel the blood from the blade, you take a steel-laced inhale and shove off the wall. Limping, but moving. Sprained ankle. Nothing you hadn’t dealt with before.

The concrete under you is splattered with crimson viscera and you stumble over spasming bodies riddled with bullets. With a subdued shink you slip your knife into its thigh sheath, grabbing the FTac Recon strapped around your chest after slamming a fresh mag into it. With a numb calm overcoming you, you slip your forefinger into the trigger guard, poised over the easy press of the trigger itself. 

The long shadows spread over you; your head illuminated by the dull sheen of the moon as you pass under a stretch of open sky to slink into the building across the empty street. Feral yells still bounce off the air and you go to them readily, purpose settling in your veins. 

Pain flies to the back of your mind, displaced by adrenaline and the rabid puffs of breath that fall like grinding thunder from your lips.  

You wonder what König’s thinking right now—he’d without a doubt noticed that you were gone. He’d even probably gone to your barracks room to try and apologize and found it empty. That was just how he was. 

Would he be happy? You wondered. Relieved to see you out of his life? You’d both done nothing but fight, but there were moments of peace. Understanding. 

Shared meals and comfortable, yet sarcastic, comments; soft glances when the other wasn’t looking. Heat in your face and obviously shown on his when shy hands brushed. 

Your hold tightens on your gun, brows dripping with sweat as it dribbles down along with the blood. Gunfire flashes. 

Closer now.

Shadows scream on top of a raised walkway attached to an in-mountain compound, targets with trigger fingers firing on your fellows who take cover behind crumbling walls. Pinned down. You watch, unseen, from a broken window as dust and moths collide. 

Your eyes lock on the closest hostile and you raise your weapon slowly, barrel resting on the frame between shattered glass. You clock the distance and adjust accordingly; breaths falling steady. 

The small insect that keeps hitting the window plays in your mind over and over—drowning out the yells; the fire. 

Just a moth readily willing to smash into that barrier until it dies. You hum under your breath and rest the gun into the crook of your shoulder, cheek to stock. 

Your finger slams into the trigger. 

—

You stumble out of the loud infirmary with a bloody rag pressed deeply into your forehead, medical pouch under one arm. You hear rushing feet and barked orders from nurses and doctors just before the door closes, cutting off as you stake out on your own.

Limping, you reason there were others with more severe wounds than your own; as blood drips from your flooded rag, your feet take you deep into the base one broken step at a time. You’d figure it out yourself. 

Plus, the silence would give you time to think. Think about König. 

You just gritted your teeth and decided that was better than taking up space in the infirmary. 

In times like these, the Austrian would fix your wounds for you, just as you did his. While you had your disagreements and heated fights, he’d never made it as personal as he had hours beforehand. Never made it hurt. 

“Jesus,” you mutter, rubbing your other crusty hand over the mud along your chin. Everything ached and you don’t know if that’s a good or a bad thing. 

Flinching along like a downed bird, you shove through into the last door into the barracks; thoughts now stuck on finding a chair to sit down on before your legs gave out. The darkness of the common area was deep—staining your eyelids as you grunt, bumping into the back of the couch. 

It’s almost funny the way the lamp flicked on mere moments later. 

You hiss, eyes snapping shut as the rays attack your sight, rendering you blind for a moment. The shaking hand on your dripping rag tightens before the spark of pain makes you lighten the pressure. 

There’s a dark grunt just as you open your eyes back up.

“You are late.” König. 

He sits in one of the chairs—sniper hood still over his head yet only clothed in a large compression shirt and casual camo pants. Like a disappointed parent, the Austrian’s arms were crossed over his chest; feet resting out and crossed at the ankles. With such a big stature the look could strike fear into anyone. 

Anyone but you, that is. 

König’s dark eyes rove over you, stopping immediately on the fabric you keep to your forehead. The previous, furious, tone stops and the flash of very real concern takes precedence. His hands tighten on his biceps, thighs tensing over the cushion; spine just a little bit straighter. 

You watch and say nothing—dead-faced. 

Your heart suddenly skips beats, stuck into the framework of the man’s eyes. König’s brows peel back and a timid stutter stays in your breast.

“...Vögelchen?” Lids blink rapidly, and before you can register anything because of your blood loss and fatigue, you’re being dragged to the couch and forced to sit down. 

Strong hands encompass your shoulders and small breaths flutter in front of your face as König peels back to kneel in front of you; spying the medical pouch in your under-arm. 

“What is this?” He mutters to you, vision flinching along your body but always dragging back to the bloody rag on your face. “What did you do to yourself?” 

Scarred hands raise before pausing, obsidian eyes staring deeply into yours as if in frantic question. Your own gaze keeps him close, spying on his veiled fear at the sight of your blood and your disappearance. He’d heard about the mission, then, that much was upfront because of his earlier comment. 

The humvee had been late arriving back. Half an hour. 

“Fuck off,” you utter, shoving off the couch before you’re captured in an unyielding press again, shoved down. Your anger spikes along with your unease, “König! I don’t have the patience—”

“I’m sorry.” The fight leaves you. 

Fingers squeeze your biceps, hold lightly shaking with nerves. “I did not mean it.” Obsidian pierces you, “Please, Vögelchen, I am sorry. Utterly. I speak so fast I misplace words—get far more,” words fail as you stare so intently at him, a strange feeling swirling in your gut. König’s face was going crimson again, though not from anger. His tone was deep and honest, accent becoming more whole with emotion. The hands on your skin stay. “Rude than I intend. It is not an excuse, but…”

In the horizontal oval of his hood, you spy the dots of tiny freckles; the whispers of auburn hair. That hawk nose still points violently from behind the fabric. König never finishes his sentence, just takes a large breath and looks to the side after a moment of silence. 

Then he steals the medical pack from your grip and opens the zipper with firm fingers, taking out gloves and gauze. Needle and sutures. It’s all placed on the side table as the bear of an Austrian stays on his knees for you—bending and shifting as the bottom of his shirt rides up. 

It’s a tense affair of touching skin; warmth and hissed curses. Gentle shushing. But you say nothing through it. Until he’s up in your face trying off stitches with forceps and a needle holder, breath making his hood lightly caress your bloodless face. His fingers are large and firm, never second-guessing or stuttering over the course of directing tools that dig a needling and thread into your flesh. 

He’s warm and every motion elicits shivers. You see his form from the side of your eye; his face’s outline as the lamp light illuminates the hood’s fabric. Shadowy silhouette of König’s strong jaw that shifts with every other breath from his wide chest. 

“You’re an asshole for saying that to me, y’know.” you slip your gaze away just as he snaps over. “Adrenaline or not.” 

The needle pauses and a swift nod is given. 

“I…I know it was. No amount of apologizing can explain how very horrible I feel. It was like I was so…so…” An annoyed grunt was leveled at himself.

“Pissed off?” You offer quietly. 

“Yes! Pissed off.” Amused glances were shared, the air slowly smoothing out between the two of you. Dark eyes quickly look away from yours and König clears his throat terse-like. But softer, steadier, “I…could not bear it if I were to see you in harm and be unable to assist you. That…is why I was watching. Why I do watch you.”

Inside of you, it was like there was a pot of water on the stove, steadily boiling under the heat. Your eyes are delicately wide when the man’s hands leave your face; kneeling body still tall enough to stare into you.

“You are…” König pauses, but not to find the words. To ready himself. He takes a long breath. “You are special to me, my Vögelchen. I can not see you hurt,” a gesture to your forehead and creased eyes. As if your pain was his own. “Not like this.”

“What are you saying, König?” You whisper, face twisted with hurt and confusion. Apprehension. “You’re giving me mixed signals. We always fight with each other. I’m not saying I’m blameless, but…c’mon, now. Look at us.” 

“Not…always.” He grumbled like a child, tools placed away and hands dripping blood before he slips the gloves off. They meet the side table with a tiny toss. The Austrian leans back onto his ankles, butt to heel. He begins to look at your forehead and you can practically hear his heart break. “I do not like arguing with you, you know that, yes?” 

“Me neither,” you whisper, fingers fiddling as a sheen of anxiousness sets in. “You just,” you pause, “confuse me.”

 König blinks in surprise, head tilting and large eyes shimmering. Your mind flashes to a curious cat and you try to explain with a burning face and fast lips.

“You say we’re partners but you never act like it,” he stares and listens. When had you both had a conversation like this before? “You make it seem like you can’t trust me to do the simplest task. I’m not,” your voice betrays you, cracking, “I’m not that useless, am I?” 

He freezes, muscles going taunt. 

“U-Useless? Nutzlos? No, no,” A hand comes to capture your chin and you let him move you where he wishes. Creased eyes lock on yours. “That is not right. You’re not useless to me—how could you be?” Pained brows move in, “did I make you think like this? Like I did not appreciate your skills?” 

Your eyes burn, and the aches from your wounds mix with the pure fatigue in your flesh to leave your emotions running between sanity and sadness. A moment later you’re turning your head away. 

König recaptures it, hands finding both sides of your cheeks. He looks shaky; desperate. 

“No, please, Vögelchen, please. I need you to look at me.”

“König, I don’t—” You close your mouth before you let out the beginnings of a sob. “I can’t keep fighting with you.”

“I know, oh, I know,” his hands are so grounding it’s like you’re the inner pages of a book, and his grip the thick leather cover—leather laced with shared scars and the same that had stitched you up countless times. This push and pull had to end. “I cannot fight with you either—it tears me apart. Oh, du weißt gar nicht, wie sehr es mich schmerzt, dein wunderschönes Gesicht anzuschreien. Mit dir zu streiten bedeutet, meinen Verstand und mein Herz gleichzeitig zu brechen.” König’s thumbs run up and down your skin, still bloody with dried flakes falling to the ground. He seems not to care a bit. 

“What can I do to fix this? Anything. Anything to get us to stop doing this to each other.” You stare into his eyes, both creased and glazed over. 

There’s a brief moment where you wonder if anyone truly even knew you as well as König did—there was no one else that you shared such a deep connection with. Years upon years of being stuck at his side. 

And someone else’s hands had never felt as good as his. They were hard and callused over but cupped your face as gently as one would cup water from a rippling stream. His eyes were stars; visible skin like porcelain, his breath raised a large and wide chest with a fast-paced heart. You could sense his throat trapping air. 

König kneeled to you and bared himself. 

Anything, he had said, to fix what he had said. To stop this. 

There was one way you could think to stop this—it might not have been smart, certainly not, but…hmm…You gradually raised your hand raised from your lap and slipped it under the front of König’s hood. 

Slowly, with all the delicateness of a glass dragonfly, your fingers strayed to the side of his neck to press into tight flesh. A rapid pulse.

The man goes to stone. It’s like you’ve stolen his nervous system. Dark eyes stay locked onto yours as you gaze back, hand dragging nails up with a light pressure near to the speed of a slug. 

König whispers your name into the empty space and the oxygen seems to dry up. Warm light from the lamp cast phantoms on walls and over skin in a small moment of foreign discoveries. The Austrian swallows saliva and you feel his neck flex. You don’t answer him, just watch and feel his own hands tighten on your cheeks in warning. 

But you never listen, do you? Reckless you were called. And König had been right.

You were reckless.

Your hand had now explored like a map the indents of hidden facial scars; long and short over jaw and lips. The hand that was doing this had hiked the sniper’s hood up around your wrist so that the man’s lashes were twitching as the fabric got too close to his eyes. And you watched. And so did he. 

A twin pair of moths hitting a glass window, staring from opposite sides at one another until they realized the break in the frame. 

“Anything?” You ask in a loose tone, barely heard above the flood in both of your ears. 

König was breathing heavily but didn’t pull away. Pupils wide and body heavy to your touch. His spine briefly straightened, until he realized he had moved back slightly and immediately hunched again if only to keep your hands on him. 

“I…” he grunts, “A…anything.” Fingers touch his nose, they spread under the hood to trace the bumps and marks he keeps hidden like buried treasure. Your vision takes in the otherworldly hue on his visible skin; the glaze of rapture in his eyes yet still that ingrained heat. 

Your body shivers at the gravel in his accented English. 

Fingers stall over his lips, hood showing you the pale being of König’s strong chin and jaw. You shift your touch to the side and find chapped lips revealed to you, a small palate scar that had healed to nothing more than a line up to his nostril. 

You spare it nothing more than a glance before you look back into obsidian. Dark ether and dead galaxies devoid of stars. Swallowed in a sea of pasts and futures. You look for hesitation; for disgust. 

You find none. 

“You said that no one could ever love someone like me,” your head leans in, and your breath mingles together with an intimacy that had never been shared between this type of partners. König, as if broken from a spell, takes down a swift inhale of air into his stiff lungs. He stares with far back lids. Flashes of unidentified emotions. “Why did you say that?”

A moment of silence and of rabid hearts. The man’s lips twitch over yours as he answers slowly, not breaking eye contact for a moment. As if he did he’d be turned to rock. As if he’d miss something amazing from happening. 

He speaks with a whispered confession.

“Because if they did—I would have to kill them. Because no other than I would be able to love you more.” Your world slows and your ears strain with the breathy words. 

Face burning your lips part with shock and awe. Violent to any other, but to you this was a confession from a man that could meet you blow for blow—calm you and infuriate you all in one. Challenge you, but knew when he’d gone too far and how to properly apologize. 

He’d waited in that chair for you all night, you’d realized. 

For you to come back to him. His partner. 

You press your lips to his and hear his pitiful sounds of gasped reassurance. Slipping your tongue into his mouth, you let saliva drip off of your chins to splatter onto bent knees and shaking thighs.

König’s arms cage you; capture your waist and draw you closer, lips breaking apart before you both share a wide-eyed look of momentary pause. There was no room to breathe; to think. Chests hit together and fingers tighten to a tendon-visible hold.

The man's growing smile is wide from where you still hold his hood up by his nose, and with a lick of his red and wet lips, he reconnects your awaiting mouths. 

This time, you’re the one to gasp.

“Lass mich zeigen, wie leid es mir tut, Vögelchen.”

NEW TAGLIST SIGN-UP: Here

TAGS:

@luuvbuzz, @emerald-valkyrie, @anna-banana27, @blueoorchid, @cryingnotcrying, @writeforfandoms, @homicidal-slvt, @jade-jax, @frazie99, @elmoees, @littlemisstrouble, @alpineswinter, @phoenixhalliwell, @idocarealot, @lavalleon, @facelessmemories, @h-leigh, @20forty9, @glitter-anon-asks, @emily-who-killed-a-man, @neelehksttr, @aeneanc, @escapefromrealitysm, @i-d-1-0-t, @pparcxysm, @hawkscanendme, @caramlizedtomatos, @konigsleftkidney, @sanfransolomitatm, @maelstrom007, @jemandderkeinenusernamenfindet, @pheobees, @glitterypirateduck, @uselsshuman, @fan-of-encouragement, @halfmoth-halfman, @ghostlythunderbird, @I-inkage, @pukbadger, @kopatych11, @0nceinabluem00n

#cod konig #konig modern warfare #konig x reader #konig #cod #cod x reader #cod x you #cod mw22 #mw2 #mw2 2022 #call of duty #call of duty mw2 #konig fic #konig cod #konig mw2 #call of duty x reader #call of duty x you #x fem!reader #x female reader #cod x female reader #call of duty mwii #call of duty modern warfare #mw2 x reader #mw2 fanfic #cod könig #cod mw2 #cod fanfic #modern warfare x you #modern warfare x reader

[frosteee-variation]

hey shout out to that one wedding scene in resident evil vendetta

#this is about the first wedding scene by the by not the second #why the fuck does it send me every time #i think it's the. sheer lack of context #and the like two “congratulations!!” before DEAD SILENCE #the zoom out as well #there's just. god. it's almost fascinating #resident evil #resident evil vendetta #frost talks

[formuladoll]

i’ve been thinking a lot about carlos with an innocence kink… would you be open to write something about that?

inocencia — c. sainz

nothing compares to the beauty in your innocent eyes expecting his next move.

cw: smut (innocence kink, inexperience, light manipulation)

And he shows me, he knows me

Carlos did not let go of the door handle as he entered your room. He feared the scene unfolding on his bed would cause him to lose all sense of balance. The unmade bed matched your frustrated expression, slightly furrowed eyebrows and glassy eyes suddenly opening up in response to getting caught.

Your inexperienced body awkwardly straddled a pillow, underwear visibly misplaced though still covering your core. A thin tank top pressed against your chest, tracing with its softness your hardened nipples. Blown pupils consumed his dark eyes as he couldn’t take his sight off your corrupted figure.

''I was just playing around and it started to feel good down there." You explained with your head down as the door closed behind him. Strong footsteps got closer to the bed as you focused on the white crumpled object pressing against your pussy.

Silence reigned again as you could feel his presence right in front of you, an overpowering shade consuming your frame. His firm hands held your face with great delicacy, connecting his reassuring gaze with your lost one. “But it doesn’t feel nice anymore. I just feel— frustrated.” You confessed.

He pushed back a few hair strands, getting a steady grip on your hair and slightly pulling on it to make you look up at him. "I can make that little ache between your legs go, baby. It would feel so good, I promise."

You looked absolutely entranced by his proposal, almost admiring the way he handles you in such a sensitive state. ''Please make it go away, Carlos."

Absolute fucking music to his ears.

How could he deny his curious little girl an orgasm she had probably been chasing for hours? He would teach you how to take care of that needy cunt when he can’t be there to do it himself. Still holding you by the hair, Carlos brought you closer, lips about to be abused by his eager kissing. “I’m gonna show you how to make yourself orgasm, hermosa. But you have to make a promise too.”

You could already taste the satisfaction only he had been able to give you before. “Anything.” He smirked at your desperate response.

“Every single time you come, I’m gonna be the only thing in your dumb little head. Me fucking you stupid, baby. Promise me that and I’ll show you everything.” He didn’t miss the way your legs attempted to close, causing the pillow between your legs to press further against your clitoris.

“Fuck— I promise.” You almost moaned as expectation brewed inside you to unprecedented amounts. He immediately captured your lips again, his hand massaging your tits through your shirt. The room seemed to become hotter by the second as his wandering hand stopped right on top of your underwear, the mere touch of his fingers sending shivers down your spine.

“Quieta.” (Stay still.) Carlos instructed with determination as he looked into your eyes, his right hand feeling up the lace on the small piece of clothing. He pinched it in between his thumb and index finger, pulling the fabric upwards into your most sensitive spot. You screamed into the kiss as he played with your pussy, pulling from your underwear and moving it side to side.

A numbing sensation overtook your abdomen as he finally pushes the pair of panties to the side, stroking your folds with his fingers. He brought your own hand previously tangled into his hair down to your center, guiding it towards your wet hole. “Fuck yourself for me, preciosa.”

The sensation of your fingers loosening up your tight pussy was underwhelming, absolutely nothing compared to the girth his cock molded you for. Even as you curled your fingers in search of your release, a desperate tear ran down your cheek— you needed him to make you feel like only he can.

“Are your tiny fingers not enough, baby?” He mocked as he swiftly took over, pushing your hand away as he replaced it with his own. Thick fingers got so deep into you that your whole body rocked with his repetitive motions, his chest supporting your weight as you felt like passing out. “I can feel you tightening on my fingers, amor— just imagine how much better that would feel on my cock.”

Carlos felt your whole body finally collapse against his, eyes unable to open due to the climax controlling your every sense. The bed was absolutely soaked as the relentless speed of his fingers had you squirt for the first time ever. “I tried to teach you but you’re just too perfect not to fuck you myself. No one will ever make you feel as good as I do, hermosa.”

#carlos sainz #carlos sainz x reader #carlos sainz smut #carlos sainz fluff #carlos sainz fanfic #carlos sainz imagine #carlos sainz drabble #carlos sainz x you #f1 #formula 1 #f1 one shot #f1 fic #f1 fanfic #f1 x reader #f1 smut #f1 imagine #carlos sainz one shot #ferrari #carlos sainz jr #scuderia ferrari #carlos sainz junior

[luveline]

Hi there! I hope your day’s been going well :)

Could you maybe write something with Spencer where Reader faints? Feel free to ignore this if you’re not up for it!!

thank u for ur request! fem!reader, 1.6k

"It's so hot," you say, startled. The lobby of the hotel had been blissfully air-conditioned. The difference hits you immediately. 

"Don't worry about blazers or professional attire," Hotch says, though he quickly amends, "within reason."

You take off your jacket and follow the herd of the BAU into the black SUVs. The SUVs are even hotter than the outdoors, blistering ovens of heat that have you feeling nauseous instantaneously. Spencer rubs your arm with the back of his hand swiftly —it's a friendly touch to say he's here, but it's quick to prevent any unnecessary added heat. 

It's August in Texas, 107 degrees Fahrenheit. Emily smells distinctly of sunscreen from the front passenger seat. Derek, behind the wheel, looks hot around the collar. Spencer looks as though he wishes he'd had a haircut before he came, chin length curls tucked tight behind his ears. 

Despite this, none of them complain beyond the general whine every now and then. You try very hard to shut up and focus on the case with them, but as the day goes on, bumping you from hot car to hot crime scene (with all inclusive smells of gore!), you feel wobbly on your feet. 

"Spence?" you ask, sitting in a hard-backed chair in the police precinct. 

"Yeah?" He doesn't look away from the geographical profile he's building. You're supposed to be helping, but your notes are half-hearted, likely useless. "What?" 

"Do you have any water?" 

He pushes a pin into the left of the map and grabs a ruler. "No, sorry. There's a staff room by the bullpen, the secretary said to help ourselves. Actually, she said to 'go ham.'"

"Okay. I'll be right back. And I'll be more helpful." 

"You're plenty helpful," he murmurs, leaning down to follow the line of his rules with a pencil. 

You don't feel helpful, you feel awful. Head heavy, eyes aching, every step sends a jolt through your teeth and jaw, your skull like a mashed potato. You know you're a poor sight with sweat wetting your hair and a crawling sensation between your legs and the fabric of your pants. 

Letting yourself into the staff room, you're unsurprised to find a bone dry water cooler and a crate of water bottles with only one remaining. Spencer needs a drink too, and he has a thing about germs. You frown at the water bottle as though that might duplicate it, but when it doesn't, you're forced to take it and put it under your arm. You look around for a mug to at least have some tap water no matter how ill-advised that may be. They're all dirtied in the sink and on tables. Fuck. 

Spencer is super, super lovely to you. You wonder sometimes if he might ask you out, or at least want to, but most of the time you're sure it's just a little extra friendliness because he knows how it feels to be the youngest on the team, how patronised or lonely it gets. And the weight of trying to prove yourself every mission, it's almost as heavy as your head. 

"Hey," Spencer says as you open the conference room door. "I think I've worked something out. Could you call Garcia for me? I've got dry-erase marker on my hands." 

"Got this for you," you say, offering him the bottle. He takes it without looking. 

"Thanks. Are you feeling any better? I know you can be sensitive to the heat." 

"Maybe we can get portable fans on the FBI budget next year," you say wistfully, pushing a chair in at the table. You lean on it to grab the phone in the middle of a sea of papers and cases and jackets, black spots popping up in your vision. "My head's rushing." 

"Hey, guys," Emily says, sounding strangely chipper as she and Hotch trudge in. Her hair is in a tight ponytail away from her face. 

You try to greet them and end up hanging your head. 

"Y/N," Spencer chokes, alarmed.

You slump forward over the chair, desperate to keep your footing and failing. Your shin knocks into the chair and your hands grasp at the top of it, but you can't hold yourself up any longer, knocking your face into the chair as you collapse. A cheap tent in a strong breeze, you fall with little more than a weak sigh. 

You're hurting a lot when you come to, blinking like your lashes have been brushed with glue. The lights have been turned off, and a blissful chill soaks your hairline. Someone presses a water bottle to your lips and lifts your head. You drink half the contents in three gulps and get laid down again with the utmost care. 

"She's coming around," Hotch says. 

Your neck aches propped over a leg. Two deft hands hold your head still. 

"Don't move too much," Spencer says, his voice odd. You blink as his face moves into view upside down. "An EMT is on the way, okay? You passed out." 

You can't find your voice. Spencer strokes your cheek with his thumb, says, "Hey, can you hear me? Let's hear your voice. Talk to me." 

"You don't sound like yourself," you say hoarsely, each word tenuous. You wince at the bruising heat that radiates from your nose with each word. 

"I'm worried about you," Spencer admits. "It makes it hard to stay objective." 

"No, you sound funny." 

"I'm worried," he repeats. His smile is strained. 

"She's okay," Hotch says. 

You realise Emily's got your hand in hers when she squeezes it. "Have you had anything to drink today?" she asks you, fondly incredulous. 

"No, she hasn't, and I didn't say anything about it. I'm an idiot. I'm so sorry, Y/N," Spencer says. 

"Y/N's responsible for her own preservation, Reid. And it's been a tough case, with the heat. Let's not blame anyone for anything." You press your chin to your chest to see Hotch's anxious frown. "We will be having a discussion about this later." 

You turn your face into Spencer's thigh. "Oh." 

"Don't close your eyes," Hotch says. He employs a firm, boss-like tone that has you rushing to follow orders. "You hit your head." 

"I don't feel well," you complain, wanting to close your eyes.

"Considering your behaviour," Spencer says, one of his hands trailing down your face, neck, and collar, where he rests it genially, "you likely have a mild to moderate concussion. And you're dehydrated, so you'll be feeling the effects more severely."

"Why haven't you been drinking?" Emily asks. 

"I just…" You blink sluggishly. "I don't know… We don't take anything that isn't coffee with us places and…" You lean your cheek into Spencer's hand, not quite connecting that it's his hand, or that you're laying on the precinct floor. "They only had one bottle in the staff room." 

"Why didn't you drink it?" Spencer asks softly. 

"I knew you hadn't had anything to drink, either." 

"We could've shared," he says, sounding genuinely confused. 

"You don't like sharing stuff like that. Germs." 

Spencer's voice is barely above a whisper, "I wouldn't care about your germs, Y/N. They're your germs." 

You don't have time to ask him what he means, but you've ample time to think about it on loop when the EMT arrives. He props you up, checking you over thoroughly, shining a light in your eyes and deeming you concussed.

"You don't have to see a doctor," the EMT advises. "But we're happy to take you to the hospital if that's what you want." 

"Yes," Spencer says, as you say, "No." 

Spencer puts a hand on your shoulder blade. It is an extremely forward move on his part, so unlike him that you recognise how odd it is despite your foggy mind. "She should go." 

"She fainted, Spencer," Emily says. 

"Exactly! So she should go to the hospital and–"

"I didn't break anything," you say, waving a shaky hand at the small but concerned crowd of people you've attracted. 

"Luckily," the EMT says. "Drink plenty of water and take it easy. Don't be afraid to call again if you feel worse." 

Hotch walks the EMT out, needing to take a phone call. Emily goes with him, promising to return with a dry shirt for you to wear now that yours has been soaked at the collar by the water they'd been cooling you down with while you were unconscious. 

Spencer settles practically knee to knee with you in two of the uncomfortable chairs, his assessing gaze frankly perturbing. 

"You'd share germs with me?" you ask. 

Spencer's hand leaps across the gap to yours where it rests on your knee. His eyes, brown and sweet, have all the light of a blinding smile as his lips quirk into something more sheepish. "If it stopped you from fainting, yeah. And even if it didn't, I'd be stupid to care about germs when I…" 

You breathe out slowly. "When you what?" 

"Well," he says, looking down at your hands. "I guess I just wouldn't mind your germs, that's all." 

If he's saying what you think he's saying, he's doing it in the most Spencer Reid way possible. Concussed, your charisma fails you. You've no wit to tease him with. 

You fold your hand around his. "Thanks for catching me," you say gently. 

He squeezes your fingers clumsily. "You're welcome. But it was actually mostly Emily." 

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid scenario #spencer reid drabble #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds #criminal minds fic #criminal minds x reader

[r-o-s-e-f-i-r-e]

idk i’ve been thinking for the last day about modern day corroded coffin, semi-successful in the local music scene, did a self-funded tour through six states last fall where they all lived in the van together and didn’t shower for four weeks, has a standing gig at the dive bar next to the highway and the strip club, they’re established, they have a small but dedicated local following, they —

“can’t play a WEDDING, are you fucking with me?” eddie says, when gareth shows him the text from his cousin who’s getting married in two weeks and who, as of last night, has no wedding band because they accidentally double booked themselves and gareth’s cousin had sent the deposit in late.

“i’ve explained to him so many times,” gareth says, furiously texting his cousin back, “we’re not that kind of band—”

except gareth’s cousin, instead of responding directly to gareth’s text outlining the musical thesis of corroded coffin or watching the youtube link gareth sends to the show last month where eddie got a black eye in the pit from someone in an inflatable garfield costume, just sends back —

“holy shit,” eddie croaks, looking at the string of zeros on the end of the number gareth’s cousin offers me to pay them in exchange for saving his ass and his wedding and his marriage, since his fiancé was demanding a live band. “that’s—”

“three months of rent for each of us,” gareth says, awed. “that’s buy actual fresh vegetables money. that’s go to the dentist money—”

“yeah, okay, give him my number,” eddie says.

so they spend the next two weeks practicing every white people wedding song they can think of. there’s no way they’ll be able to do, like, get low, tragically, but they can pull off the classics, especially after they bring chrissy onboard for vocals and keyboard. there are places where eddie draws the line — no fucking journey or especially insipid top 40 — but they can do some whitney. abba. fucking — mr. brightside. a lot of it is pretty simple, when you get down to it, “and people will be wasted anyway,” jeff reminds them. there’s an open bar at the six figure venue gareth’s cousin booked. hopefully everyone will be too hyped just hearing the opening baseline to i want you back to notice if they fumble anything hard.

rehearsal montage, chrissy takes the boys to the mall to buy suits montage (except for gareth who, like most transmasc dudes, already has a custom fitted and tailored suit ready to go in his closet; instead he makes catty remarks about brian’s tie choices.) chrissy makes eddie put his hair up and eddie makes jeff shave the experimental mustache he’s been growing and eventually the day of the wedding arrives and they load up the van and drive 45 minutes to the six figure waterfront reception venue.

they riff for about ten minutes while the whole wedding party makes their grand entrance into the massive tent set up on the lawn, ending with gareth’s cousin and his new wife dancing in, the whole crowd screaming and clapping. it’s cute, eddie thinks, vamping as long as he can while gareth’s cousin’s best man takes the mic and introduces the new couple and directs everyone to their seats for dinner.

and meanwhile: best man is frankly one of the hottest dudes eddie’s ever seen. he’s got longish brown hair that he keeps pushing out of his eyes, full lips, an insane shoulder to waist ratio, big hands. eddie sneak looks at him while they play a bunch of low key jazzy standards for people to eat their expensive dinner to. he’s sitting with his arm around the shoulders of a girl with shaggy auburn hair, and they keep leaning in to whisper to each other and giggle, so. oh well. but it doesn’t hurt to look, eddie thinks, watching the guy take his suit jacket off and roll up his sleeves and make a toast to gareth’s cousin and his new wife’s long and joyful marriage.

once most people have had their plates cleared away jeff turns to eddie and the rest of the band and nods, once, and while chrissy plays the opening synth chords to i wanna dance with somebody, jeff turns his front man showmanship deal all the way up.

it’s good. people are fucking hyped, so they throw themselves into it, feeding off the crowd’s energy, and almost no one is more hyped than mr. best man. he’s jumping up and down, his arms around gareth’s cousin and his wife. he knows every word to dancing in the dark (hot). when they transition into robyn’s dancing on my own he turns to the girl with auburn hair and points at her and screams. cute, eddie thinks, watching best man pick her up and spin her around while she downs her wine and shouts along. okay, really fucking hot, eddie thinks, when he finally pulls his loosened tie all the way off and unbuttons the top two buttons of his shirt and eddie can see a hint of chest hair peeking out.

they slow it down for the first dance. it’s the leon bridges one everyone always does, but it’s perfect in jeff’s range, and there is not a single dry motherfucking eye in the audience. they do a couple more slow ones, throughout the night. best man dances with his girlfriend and then gareth’s grandmother and then with every child under the age of 10, letting them stand on his shoes while he twirls them around. how is this guy fucking real, eddie thinks, which of course is when best man notices eddie looking right at him and their eyes meet. best man looks a little flustered, at first, and then grins at eddie, right at him, before spinning the flower girl around in dizzying circles.

jesus christ, eddie thinks.

they’re closing out the night on the only other request gareth's cousin gave them: the one from the end of dirty dancing. jeff thanks the crowd, offers his congratulations to gareth’s cousin, and then goes right into it. except as jeff sings the first line everyone absolutely loses their shit, turning to best man and jumping around him and one of the bridesmaids. what the fucking hell, eddie thinks, keeping one ear on jeff and chrissy’s duet and one ear on the crowd piling around best man “—you guys HAVE to, dude, you’ve GOT to—“ but whatever it is he has to do is not immediately apparent to eddie. best man dances in a circle with the rest of the wedding party and auburn hair and the bride and groom, shout-singing along, and then during the build up to the second prechorus gareth’s cousin’s wife and her bridesmaids start pushing everyone to the sides of the dance floor, so there’s a long space in the middle, so the bridesmaid with curly dark hair is at one end and best man is at the other end and oh my god is he actually going to —

the bridesmaid runs and then launches herself at best man, who lifts her perfectly, right on cue at the peak of the second chorus, his hands steady on her hips while she floats her arms out in front of her just like jennifer grey. they hold it for a few moments while everyone loses their fucking minds and takes a thousand pictures. eddie actually takes his hand off his guitar for a minute. he thinks his mouth is open. he can see the muscles in best man’s arms flexing under his white button up shirt as he carefully lowers the bridesmaid back to the ground, laughing, his eyes scrunched up in joy.

eddie is maybe a little bit in love.

they close it out. the whole crowd whistles and stomps and applauds for them, which feels pretty good, eddie’s not gonna lie. as they start packing it up and high fiving each other and a couple people come over to ask if they have a card, if they’re still booking for next year or the year after (what?) gareth’s cousin comes over and hugs every single one of them, almost in tears, and then adds another 2k to the check he writes for them. eddie pulls out his cigarettes right then and there.

“steve, come meet the band,” he yells, when steve and auburn hair walk past. “gareth saved my whole ass, oh my god —“

“you guys were fucking incredible,” steve says, grinning, shaking gareth’s hand. “best wedding band i’ve heard in years —“

“they’re not even a wedding band!” gareth’s cousin shouts. “they’re like metal — moshing — thrash, i don’t know, LOUD—“

“whoa,” steve says. he pushes his hair out of his eyes and then turns that blinding smile right on eddie. eddie feels struck by it, wants to stagger back like he’s taken an actual blow. “cool, so you guys — play locally, or —?”

“oh my god,” his girlfriend says, rolling her eyes; steve elbows her in the side.

“i like your guitar,” steve says, gesturing at the warlock eddie’s still holding in his non-cigarettes hand.

“oh, uh, thanks,” eddie says.

“it’s a cool shape,” steve says, stepping closer, flicking his eyes down and then back up to meet eddie’s. there’s sweat gathered along his hairline, dampening the ends of his hair. behind him, his girlfriend coughs something loudly that sounds vaguely like slut.

eddie feels his eyebrows go way up.

“uh, thanks, shapes are. you know. shapes are great,” eddie says, nonsensical. he sees gareth shoot him an incredulous look out of the corner of his eye.

“can i bum one?” steve says, looking down to the cigarettes in eddie’s hand.

“totally,” eddie says. “let me just—“ he holds the warlock aloft and gestures to the open guitar case.

“sure,” steve says. he waits around while eddie hustles through getting his shit sorted out and then turns away politely while eddie has a silent desperate telepathic conversation with the rest of the boys, who roll their eyes and make their way over to the still open, still free bar.

where auburn hair is standing and talking to chrissy, putting a hand on chrissy’s arm while she laughs at something chrissy says.

hm, eddie thinks.

“so,” eddie says, walking out from under the tent with steve, down towards the water, awash in the moonlight. he holds out his cigarettes. “you like springsteen?”

#here have some dumb shit #steddie #stranger things #yes the joe keery dirty dancing lift video is playing in my head 24/7 #mine

[wisteriaiswriting]

Okay, I read something about moths going kinda crazy during mating season. It's especially crazy for the males. Can I request Valentino smut with his favorite female porn star reader?

𝕄𝕒𝕥𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕊𝕖𝕒𝕤𝕠𝕟

Words: 872

Warnings: GN!Reader | Smut [Eating out, rimming, fucking, degrading]

Valentino knew what was approaching, every year he tried to ignore it as no one was good enough to spend it with him. His mating season was a sensitive time, meaning a lot of things could go wrong.

But this year someone had caught his attention. It was you, one of his newer contracts on the scene, quickly becoming a fan favourite, and he sees why. So he makes the decision to have you help him.

Unluckily though you were pretty dense to his advancements, unsurprisingly due to the fact he was a moth and you weren’t. But still, at least you could acknowledge him.

***

Fuck.

Mating season had officially started, and it was hitting him hard.

“EVERYONE OUT!” His screaming shocked everyone, also sending them all rushing out. You were at the back of the group, wich let him grab your collar to pull you towards him.

“Not you babe,” As he spoke smoke swirled around you both, a lot more seeping out this time. “You get the honour of helping me tonight~”

Holding you as he started walking, turning into stumbling. The first time he hit a wall you were pulled to his chest. Soon enough he opened the doors to the nearest room, revealing it to be one of the bigger studios.

Passing the chairs and equipment to drop you on the bed, following by dropping onto his knees. Hands kneading your thighs, sliding up to your waist. His breathing became harsher during this, red smoke circling the area.

Sitting up before pulling you closer, fingers finding their way under the waistband of your pants and underwear. Staying still for a few seconds before pulling away, ripping both.. Quickly pulling them off, throwing them onto the floor somewhere.

“I’ll buy you better ones, just let me…” His words faded as he became less focused. More smoke was puffed out and into the room as his mouth opened, letting his tongue out.

Leaning closer to let it move along your thigh, quickly moving up. Although it couldn’t go much further due to your position. Arms wormed their way under your legs, using one pair of arms to hold you up.

Strong enough to not let you drop any lower than needed, which was up near his face. Allowing his tongue to get where it needed, leaving the area with a tingly feeling.

Not moving in immediately, instead running along the outside. Letting your muscles relax before he moved in, your tensing didn’t have any visual effect on him. Everything for him felt doubled, so even the slightest movement had him jolting.

So when your legs wrapped around over his shoulders, hands grasping at his hat. That seemed to flip a switch in his mind. One pair of arms reached up to remove your legs, while another hand pulled yours off.

Controlled yet dropping you onto the bed again, this time making you lay down. His hand on yours didn’t leave, instead intertwining them. With your legs, his hands had moved down to your ankles. Moving them onto his shoulders.

He had started huffing, even though more smoke left his mouth it stopped affecting you. Instead filling the room and leaving you unable to see him unless he was in your face, which you wouldn’t mind either way.

His fourth and open hand held his cock, making sure he has a smooth entrance. Which he did, once he was in he let you adjust. When you were good he picked up the pace instantly.

From just quick to slamming into you. His hands left your ankles to hold your waist, with how hard they were grabbing you would surely have bruises later. Only able to accept him.

He kept pounding until his glasses fell off, rushingly placing them onto your head. Even with his hand holding yours it didn’t stop you from moving at each thrust, never stopping him. Only going harder.

“That's what you like huh? Course it is you slut!” At these words he leaned forwards, taking a sniff at your collarbone. You smelled like him now, no one could ever confuse you for one of his other sluts, you’re his now.

Letting his teeth sink into your flesh after, not that you minded. He tasted your blood, which was almost sickeningly sweet for someone stuck in hell, especially stuck with him.

During this his pace never slowed or even stuttered. Causing both of you to get closer to your orgasms. At this point Valentino had lost almost all his focus.

The light above was soon shut out, due to his wings making an appearance. Which also revealed the button up underneath, giving you something to grab onto.

Hands reaching to grab bunches, in turn pulling him closer. Your nails, ones Valentino has you care for, threatened to rip the shirt. Although neither of you cared in the moment, he might later. But you didn’t care.

“There we go, cum for me Luz~” At his words you did, the air was filled with both of you huffing. You were trying to get air back into your lungs, while he looked down at you. Taking in this image.

Maybe he’ll start caring for mating seasons if you’ll stay with him.

***

Luz - Light

#hazbin hotel x male reader #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel valentino #valentino x reader #valentino smut #wisteria♥

[remuslovebot]

A cute little protective Felix moment?

protective!felix >>>>

paring: felix catton x fem!reader

warnings: bullying, reader’s ex being an asshole, drinking, mentions of alcohol and language.

a/n: please send me more requests 🙏 they make me so happy :)

————————————————————————

You and Felix were at one of Oxfords (invite only) parties. As the night progressed, you were dancing and drinking, having an amazing time with your friends and your boyfriend.

By now, the two of you were sitting on the couch, you curled up in Felix’s lap and his arms around your waist. You took a sip of your drink, listening as one of your friends was ranting to the group.

“I’m gonna get another drink,” you said, patting Felix’s leg and getting up. Felix nodded and watched you walk away.

You walked to the drink table and poured yourself another vodka cranberry when you saw your ex boyfriend Todd walk up to the table.

You and Todd had ended things long ago and nothing was ever serious. He treated you terribly and now didn’t like or understand why the most popular guy at Oxford — Felix — was dating you.

“Y/n?” He asked in surprise. “How did you ever get invited to this party,” he said, in a serious and questioning tone.

“I’m here with Felix,” you said, pouring yourself a drink.

Todd rolled his eyes, “Felix wants you?” He asked. “I don’t know why? You never put out,” Todd said with disgust.

You shrugged it off, not wanting to cause a scene. But Felix, being a possessive person, was always watching your every move. He stood up in jealously, seeing your ex talking to you. You were his and everyone needed to know that.

“What’s going on here, mate?” Felix said to Todd. You took a sip of your drink and leaned against Felix’s chest. His arms wrapped around your waist protectively.

“I’m just curious as to why you would want to date this bitch,” Todd scoffed.

The words hurt you like a knife. Felix dropped his hands and stepped in front you. “What the fuck did you just say?” He said, now towering over the boy.

“I—said,” Todd was scared and at a loss for words. Felix clenched his fists, “Don’t talk to her that way. She’s mine got it?” He said protectively.

You watched the interaction in pure horror. Blushing when Felix called you his.

Todd backed away, nodding at your boyfriend’s words. He then walked away, leaving the party.

Felix turned back to you. His scary demeanor gone and his puppy dog eyes returned when he saw you. “That’s all sorted now, darling,” he smiled simply.

He walked towards you and wrapped his arms around your front. “Are you okay?” He asked, kissing your cheek.

You nodded lightly, “Yeah I’ll be alright. Thanks for protecting me Felix,” you said, going on your tippy toes to kiss his lips.

“Anything for my girl,” Felix said softly, leaning in for a deeper kiss.

#jacob elordi x reader #jacob elordi #felix catton x reader fluff #felix catton x fem! reader #felix catton fluff #felix catton x reader smut #saltburn #saltburn x reader #felix catton x y/n #felix catton x reader #felix catton #felix

[inkskinned]

she says he won't let her get a dog, which is fine, because they're in an apartment, and that's the kind of thing people say about their partners. he won't let me get a dog. and you're at a dinner party and you tilt your head a little to the side just like that dog he won't let her get, because is this the thing that's going to upset you? you don't know every corner of their relationship, she could be joking, they could have had so many healthy conversations about the dog, right, and maybe she's not letting herself get the dog because of money and time and whatever. but, like, she did say let

and she wants to move away from his hometown and he wants to stay and then he tells you with a wink and a conspiratorial stage whisper don't worry i'll convince her and she laughs about it - so clearly this is something they laugh about. but you do just stand there and stare at him like what the fuck, man. you can't say what you want to say which is why do you get the final say on everything because they're both obviously aware of the other person's stance on this and have obviously had private conversations about it and what are you going to do about it except make a scene and then he'll be mad at you and call you one of those bitches behind your back and she'll cut you off, which is a loss that doesn't feel worth it just because he makes you a little skeeved out every 3rd comment

and they both agree he just isn't the type to get flowers which is fine because everyone shows love differently, and are you really gonna judge someone based on their sense of individual relationship responsibility? maybe he's constantly cleaning her car and writing her poems and making her furniture or something. maybe she doesn't even like flowers and this is perfect, actually. and no you couldn't date him, obviously, ew; but like, she tells you she's happy. you almost send her a tiktok that says don't be 25 and the cool girl that doesn't need anything, you'll hate not getting flowers at 30, but that's like, starting drama & you shouldn't start drama needlessly.

and you're a little older than her but not so much older you can pull the whole trust me on this one babe thing and besides that wouldn't have worked anyway (when does it ever) and besides you have trauma so you and your therapist both agree that you're always looking for a problem even when there isn't one. and you tell yourself that just because you see them for 15 minutes every month does not mean you can identify every single red flag based on a single shitty half-joking(?) comment

and besides, what are you going to do? she says i actually wanted another stand mixer but thankfully he stops me when i'm about to spend too much money and you're standing there like are you okay? is this normal? is this just something people say? and again - what are you going to do?

to your therapist you try to language it - it's not, like, any of my business. but sometimes, doesn't it feel like - you should do something. there's got to be something, right? you've tried dropping little hints but they sail right through and you've tried having a single serious conversation and she got upset because why does it matter to you, yes it's different but we're happy, it doesn't need to make sense to you and you're like. really unwilling to push a boundary about it anymore; because the truth is that you know logically it shouldn't matter to you, as long as both parties are happy.

and besides, you've been wrong before. it's just... like, every time you see them both, something else happens, some kind of shiver down your spine like do you even hear each other when you talk. it's their strange, bickering orbit. just the way he's on his phone through dinner or watching sports instead of helping in the kitchen or, fuck, another one of these little throwaway comments he makes about we'll see about that, babe. she laughs when he calls her passions stupid shit and meanwhile she gets him tickets to see the knicks and he tells you well at least she's smart about something and still! it's none of your business.

you say get the dog anyway and she laughs. like, this is is you being funny. and not you saying - no really. get the dog. get the dog and get out of here. pack up and start running.

#this btw is not including toxic friendships this is legit just something ive experienced MANY times now #writeblr #you ever have a friend in one of those relationships where ur like #u don't HATE their partner explicitly #but ur like. what the fuck y'all #like the weird part of being an adult is that you can't be like . CERTAIN their relationship is toxic #and also if u move too fast or push too hard u can hurt someone who is already in a scary situation so you just are like #frozen there. laughing awkwardly. saying ''haha..... yeah..... couldn't be me....'' #and like u can't tell - is this banter or does he actually think like. he's better than her. #all you can do is be there for your friend and hope they wake up to it #or ... that it really IS good #and it's just odd to you #tbh btw id rather have my friends feel safe coming to me if they have a concern about my relationship #like yes it's not ur business but it also IS bc im making u hang out with them and also ur my friend #it's a weird thing to experience as an adult bc it is such a blurry line and when u spend time #around couples that aren't like ACTUALLY ur friends but instead ''extended friend circle'' ur like #.... i don't know y'all well enough and he just called you a cow. and ur okay with that . and i don't know how to respond. #so ur like :) okay. um. go to couple's counselling i think #but also you are NOT supposed to pass judgement so it's like.... this weird limbo of feeling like you SHOULD say something #but knowing you CANNOT #idk that there's a way to resolve it!!!!!!!! it's probably a different approach person to person #edited my tags bc tumblr's new system fucked em up #PS EDIT: btw i should have said: #the pronouns in this can work in any and every direction. every gender and every sexuality and every #type of relationship tbh. even non-romantic relationships where ur like ''what do u mean ur bff calls u stupid''

[javiscigarette]

In the Middle of the Night

Joel Miller x f!reader

Summary: In the middle of the night, Joel is wide awake and you're moaning in your sleep

Warnings: no use of y/n, established relationship, pwp, fingering, (consensual) somnophilia, Joel’s pov, him talking you through it ofc, filthy but so much fluff, Joel is just so in love ugh

w/c: 4.4k

a/n: not sure what came over me with this one but omg I had fun with it and I’m now obsessed with writing from his pov. As always, I'm so greatful for everyone who reads and interacts with this, plsss let me know if you like it and if I should write a part 2 hehehe

my masterlist

Joel has never been good at falling asleep at a reasonable time. But he doesn’t really mind staying up when you’re sleeping so peacefully next to him. 

He’s lying on his back on the left side of your bed, one arm bent and resting on the pillow above his head with the other one draped over your shoulders. You’re curled into his side, your cheek smushed against his chest, small, warm puffs of air diffusing across his bare skin with each deep and steady breath you take. 

He tried to fall asleep when you did a few hours ago, but the scenes from earlier that night played on a constant loop in his head keeping him wide awake. Visions of you across from him at the dinner table, head tilted back leaving your neck exposed for his viewing as you laughed at his stupid joke. The fresh memory of him pinning you against your front door as soon as the two of you stumbled inside, kissing you hard and tasting the wine on your tongue as you moaned into his mouth. He keeps coming back to the specific image of being buried deep inside of you, your heels digging into his back and his large palm pressed over your mouth in a feeble attempt to stop at least some of the noise from traveling through the thin walls to your neighbor’s apartment. But the dents and scrapes in the paint on the wall behind your headboard are clear evidence of those failed attempts. 

After spilling inside of you and sending you over the edge for a third time that night, he had barely managed to get you in the shower. Once there, your soft moans echoed in the steamy bathroom as he took his sweet time pulling one more orgasm from you with two fingers sliding languidly in and our of your sore and swollen pussy. 

“Need lotion” you had mumbled as he dried you off with a fluffy towel. He chuckled and intercepted your reach for the bottle of lotion, picking it up himself instead. He had to practically carry you out to the bed, where he smoothed his warm hands all over your body, rubbing the lavender lotion into nearly every inch of your skin. You were already snoring softly by the time he finished. 

And now he’s here, watching your curtains flow gently in the breeze from the open window as you sleep peacefully right next to him, the smell of lavender and the cool autumn air relaxing both his mind and body.  

You always kept your bedroom cool, especially when Joel was with you. Joel always radiates heat, but he was a human furnace in the bed next to you. And It wouldn’t be as bad if he didn’t insist on cuddling throughout the night, subconsciously reaching out in his sleep and pulling you in closer every time you started to stray away until you woke up sticky with sweat. Joel doesn’t care, though. He doesn’t mind the press of your tacky skin against his and in fact, he craves it when you’re not with him. 

The streetlight right outside your bedroom window filters in through the curtains that are rustling in the breeze, slivers of pale light briefly illuminating different areas of your room. He tries to commit it all to memory: the makeup and jewelry cluttered on your vanity, the same vanity that he bent you over two weeks ago and made you watch as he fucked you until your legs were jelly and you could barely stand, the tight dress that he practically tore off your body earlier that evening now bunched up in a small heap on the floor in the corner, the various knickknacks and trinkets on the small bookshelf in the corner of the room, the seemingly ever growing collection of candles on your dresser. 

He’s only been in here a handful of times. The two of you usually end up at his house where you can take advantage of being as loud as you want. But your apartment in the city had some practical advantages. Like tonight, where after a little too much red wine at dinner, neither of you were in any condition to drive back to his house. So, the only option was to walk the few blocks back to your apartment, both you giggling like idiots with his arm wrapped protectively around your waist and his jacket draped over your shoulders. 

He studies the pictures on your wall too. There’s the framed photos from the trips you’ve told him about, pictures from the mountains in Colorado where you nearly passed out from the reduced oxygen levels, and the picture of the Amalfi coast taken from the boat on which you unfortunately discovered for the first time just how prone you are to seasickness. His gaze lingers on the pictures of you with your friends and family, your infectious smile making you the center of attention in all of them.  

Then his mind starts to wander, maybe a bit too far, but he doesn’t exactly want to stop thinking about how everything would fit in his house. He thinks about your candles on top of his dresser, how he would move around the furniture in his room so that he could fit your vanity in a spot that catches the most natural lighting. He imagines your framed pictures hanging in his hallway or propped up on the shelves in his living room. A subtle smile spreads on his lips when he envisions your soft blankets spread over his bed, and his heart beats just a little faster at the thought of the two of you sharing a closet, your clothes mixing with his. He wonders if his room would smell like your lavender lotion too. 

He's pulled back to reality when you make a small, soft noise. He looks down at you, worried that he somehow woke you up. But your breathing is still steady and your face is peaceful and relaxed. He figures that you’re probably in the middle of a dream and he wonders what it’s about. A small, maybe selfish, part of him hopes that it’s about him. Then you start to shift, and he lifts his arm from your shoulders, giving you just enough room to roll over onto your other side until your back is pressed against his side instead. 

He fixes your eyes now on your side profile, the shadows and light from outside dancing across your face. He trails his gaze from your hairline to the slope of your nose to the perfect curve of your slightly parted lips. He tries to memorize all of that too, though most of it is already ingrained deep in his brain. 

He stares shamelessly for another minute or two until you make another small sound, another signal that you’re dreaming. Except this time he doesn’t have to wonder too much what it’s about, not with the way that you push your hips back against him with another small sound that sounds all too familiar following in quick succession. 

Joel’s entire body tenses as he looks at you, his cock already twitching underneath your linen sheets. He stays completely still, watching you and waiting to see if you’ll move again. After a few painstakingly long seconds later, you make another sound. And he’s not sure if it’s all in his head but it sounds almost like his name. 

Logically, he knows that he should probably just let you sleep. You get just as grumpy as he does if you don’t get your full 8 hours. But after a few more seconds, another sound slips out of you, a desperate garble of “Joel” much clearer this time but still thick with sleep. 

And that’s his greenlight. 

A soft smile tugs at his lips as he starts to scoot down the bed, movements slow and calculated as not to rouse you. He carefully moves his arm from where it’s draped over your shoulders and slides it under your neck instead before rolling over onto his side. He closes the centimeter gap between your bare bodies until your soft skin is pressed against his under the safety and warmth of your sheets and blanket. 

He snakes his other arm around your waist, pulling you even closer so that your ass is pressed firmly into the cradle of his pelvis. He buries his face in your hair that’s cascading down the side of your neck, inhaling the scent of your shampoo. He skates his fingers mindlessly over your stomach, his own skin heating up just at the sensation of your soft skin under his fingertips. He tries to resist the urge to roll his hips up against you. He wants to stay in this calm peacefulness for as long as possible and he’s fully aware that once he starts, there’s a very slim chance that he’ll be able to stop. 

But his efforts are thwarted when you push your hips back again, unconsciously grinding your ass against his half-hard cock with another sweet sound slipping from your lips. He sighs quietly against your neck but stays still, exerting the last ounce of his self-control. 

As if moving on their own accord, his fingertips slide further down until they’re ghosting over the crease of your thigh. He’s eternally grateful that you refused to put on any clothes before falling asleep, which, now in hindsight, was clear foreshadowing of what’s currently happening. 

He moves his whole hand between your thighs to cup your sex and dips two fingertips between your folds and mouths a silent “fuck” at the copious amount of slick that quickly coats them. Still in the grips of deep sleep, you shift your legs to give him better access. He smiles. Your body is always so receptive to his touch. 

With a soft groan, he gently prods at your dripping entrance, taking his time to feel how swollen you still are from when you were stretched so perfectly around him just a few hours ago. But you interrupt him with a soft whimper, your hips moving against him once again and he chuckles silently. Still so needy and impatient as ever, even in your sleep. 

But he can’t deny you, he never really can. He’s wrapped so tightly around your finger that he’d do anything you’d ask of him in a heartbeat without a single second thought. It’s almost worrisome, how easily he caves into you, how you wipe every rational thought clean out of his mind, how in just a matter of a few days  you so easily managed to knock down the walls around his heart that he spent decades building. But all those thoughts just fade into noise when he’s with you. Especially with you like this. 

So, he gathers a generous amount of your wetness on his fingers and drags them up to your clit. Your body immediately reacts with a jolt of your hips and a louder moan. Joel curses under his breath when you back your ass up against him even further, his length now fully hard pressing against your bare ass, precum starting to slowly seep from his tip and smear against your soft, supple skin. 

He trails his fingers back to your entrance. Forehead pressed against the nape of your neck With a long sigh, his breath warm and humid on the back of your neck, he slowly sinks one in finger.  His eyes slip closed and his eyebrows draw together as he slowly drags his finger in and out of your dripping hole. He nearly whimpers when he adds a second finger, your walls fluttering and slick leaking down his fingers to his knuckles. “Fuuuck, baby” Joel whispers his lips just barely brushing your skin as your walls clench around him.

He works you open on his two thick fingers – not that you really need it after taking his cock like that earlier. But he’s obsessed with the sleepy sighs and soft moans you’re making. And he’s barely aware of the fact that he’s now moving his hips, gently rolling them against your ass in a subconscious attempt to relieve the pressure in his groin. He pants against your neck, already feeling so delirious and drunk on you and your body like a horned up teenager. He’s never felt this way with anyone else, so affected by you. He can hardly control himself when he’s with you, it’s like he’s a raw, exposed wire and you’re the spark that sets him ablaze in an instant. 

He curls his fingertips and the way your hips immediately rock back lets him know he’s there. Your moans are more frequent and just a bit louder as he strokes your spot, a fresh wave of your wetness gushing around his fingers and dripping down to his palm. But he doesn’t want to wake you up yet, not when he has every intention of waking you up when he’s buried balls deep inside of you. 

So he exercises his last bit of self-control, sliding his fingers out and dragging them back up to your clit again, tracing a few more lazily circles before pulling his hand away completely. 

With his fingers and palm soaked in your slick, he tilts his hips back just enough to make enough room to wrap his hand around his cock. He hisses quietly through clenched teeth at the contact, and he can’t resist a few strokes, spreading your arousal up and down his length. After a few passes, he moves his hand from his cock to your top leg, cupping the back of your knee and pushing it up til it’s bent at a 90 degree angle. Now with unobstructed access, he fists himself again and lines himself up with your dripping entrance. 

He sinks in nice and slow, letting out a deep groan from the back of his throat. He drapes his arm around your middle, pulling you in close to him as he moves his hips with shallow thrusts and noses along your neck, pressing kisses along the underside of your jaw and sighing heavily once he’s nestled all the way inside you.  

The thought of staying still just like this, falling asleep to the feeling of your slippery walls squeezing him so tight like this crosses his mind for a brief moment. But you soon start to stir in his hold and the sound of your sudden, sharp inhale signals that you’re regaining consciousness. 

He presses his lips to the back of your neck while he patiently waits for you to come to your senses. It takes a couple seconds for you to regain control of your limbs, and when you do, you reflexively try to move from his grasp, but he tightens his arm around your middle and holds you in place. “Shh, baby” Joel whispers in your ear. “I’ve gotcha” 

You immediately surrender, relaxing in his hold with a quiet hum. His chest is pressed against your back, heat radiating off of him and putting you on the verge of sweating. But it feels so safe the broad expanse nearly completely encompasses you like he’s shielding you from the rest of the world. But you don’t have much time to focus on that, the feeling of the tip of his cock nudging at your cervix creating much more pressing needs. 

“Dreamin’ of me, weren’t you?” Joel asks, his voice a barely audible whisper. You answer with a sleepy whine as you move to grind your hips down, nudging his cock half an inch deeper. “Sound so sweet moanin’ in your sleep” he continues, his hand slides up from your stomach to your chest, cupping one breast and gently rolling your nipple between his thumb and forefinger. “moanin’ my name.” 

You whimper and wiggle your hips as he presses a kiss just behind your ear. “Joel” you mumble, pushing your hips back in an attempt to get him to move. “Yeah, sounded just like that” Joel grunts as he starts to slowly pull out, his warm breath fanning over the shell of your ear, undoubtedly sending tingles rushing down your spine. 

He keeps his arm under your neck, your head resting on his bicep while his forearm crosses your chest, his hand gripping your shoulder. He has you in a loose headlock, grunting softly near your ear as he fills you up again and groaning when he bottoms out once again. 

“Always so fuckin’ tight and wet no matter how many times I stretch you out, huh? Always so ready for me.” 

All you can manage is a pathetic whimper while you bring a hand up to hold onto his forearm across your chest. He keeps a slow pace, his breath hitching in your ear every time he bottoms out. You feel unbelievable wrapped around him like this, white-hot tingles shooting all the way up his spine at the sensation of his cockhead dragging along your warm, wet walls as you clamp down around him like a vice. 

He wants to savor it, wants to relax into this moment for as long as possible. But you’re needy,  he can feel it now with the way you're squeezing him and practically sucking him back in every time he pulls out. And his own heady desperation is starting to cloud his vision as he slowly fucks you, your tired body loose and pliant under his touch. He needs to make you come again, needs to feel you shake and squirm, needs you to make him come. 

With a soft groan, he allows himself to start moving faster. His lips easily find the junction of your neck and collarbone where he immediately starts nibbling and gently sucking at the thin skin, claiming what’s rightfully his and shivering when you tighten around him. 

He tries his best to keep a gentle pace, not wanting to jostle you around too much. Except your breathy whimpers are so sweet and your sleepy whines sound so angelic that he can hardly keep it together. 

He tightens his grip on your shoulder, the muscles in his arm flexing gently under your palm as he locks you in place and starts to really fuck you. He moves his hand from your beast, smoothing his calloused palm down your side to your ass then palms at your cheek, grabbing a few greedy handfuls before pushing it up to give himself more space to move. 

Goosebumps break out across his skin when you let out a long, drawn out moan and dig your nails into his forearm, leaving crescent-shaped dents in his skin. A not-so-small part of him hopes that you break the skin so he can admire the small purple and red marks in the morning. 

“Goddamnit,  baby” Joel pants as he snaps his hips, filling you to the brim. “You feel so fuckin’ good. So perfect like this.” Every few thrusts he pauses when he’s all the way inside and grinds against you, his eyes rolling back his skull when you push your hips back at the same time, multiplying the intended effect. . 

“S’this what you were dreamin’ of?” Joel rasps, his lips ghosting over your jaw. “Huh, baby? S’your little pussy so needy that you can’t help but dream about me fillin’ it up?” You answer in the form of a moan with your walls pulsating around him. He keeps his steady pace, the slick sounds of him sliding in and out of you floating around in your quiet bedroom.

“Attagirl” Joel sighs when your moans start to get louder. Your hips are starting to buck and swivel, and your chest heaves with every ragged breath you take. He places hot, open-mouthed kisses on every inch of skin he can access until he reaches the nape of your neck again. You whine his name, sleepy and desperate, and he shudders at the sound. 

 “Just keep takin’ it, baby, just like that. Doin’ such a good job.” he whispers. “My good girl…always takes everything I give her. Even in her fuckin’ sleep” 

Then suddenly your hand is on top of his where it’s resting on your ass. You grip his palm and move his hand to where it was a couple of minutes ago between your thighs, only letting go when he presses two fingers to your clit and starts tracing those lazy circles again. His cock twitches inside of you, the thought of you knowing exactly what you want and demanding it, even when you’re still half asleep, drives him crazy. 

With his eyes still closed and eyebrows drawn together, he sucks a sharp breath through clenched teeth and focuses on both the feeling of effortlessly gliding in and out of your sweet pussy combined with the feeling of your clit pulsing under his fingertips. 

He fucking loves it. There’s not a single scenario that he could possibly conjure up in his head where he would ever be tired of this. He takes pride in it too, knowing exactly how to reduce you to a squirming mess in less than five minutes, or how to take his time, slowly breaking you down until every thought in your brain is replaced with just JoelJoelJoel. He knows your body better than his own: the way you arch your back when he tweaks your nipples just right, how you melt when he kisses that one spot on your neck, the exact patterns he needs to trace on your clit to get you to come in nearly 30 seconds. 

That is all committed to memory. All of it’s burned to his brain and plastered underneath his eyelids. And just like clockwork, after a few seconds of his fingers pressed against your clit, your thighs start to shake around his hand. 

“Ohh there you go, sweetheart” Joel groans, both his fingers and his hips moving faster. “C’mon, baby” he urges, voice strained and tight in his throat as he tries to keep himself together. “Cum on my cock, need to f-fuck oh god need to feel it, baby. Know you’re close, angel just give it to me.” 

That’s all it takes to send you flying over the edge. He holds you impossibly tight against him as you tremble and shake, his pace not faltering even once. He’s on cloud fucking nine with you whimpering and moaning his name while your walls pulsate and choke his cock. His breath is hot and humid against your sweaty skin, panting as he tries to stave off his own release for as long as possible. 

“Fuckin christ, babygirl” he growls, as he fucks you through it, not giving you a single chance to catch your breath. “That’s it, such a good fuckin girl. Just like that. Keep squeezin’ me just like that, angel” 

Even with the way you're milking his cock, squeezing him for all that he’s worth, he thinks he could last for at least another minute or two. That is until you snake an arm up and reach blindly behind you, your hand immediately finding his hair, fingers locking around the tousled strains and pulling. He chokes out a gasp, the tingling sensation traveling from his scalp all the way down to the base of his spine. His hips stutter and he can only handle a couple more uneven thrusts before he pulls out. His cock twitches where it’s pressed against your lower back as he spills hot ropes of cum onto your skin with shameless, breathy whimpers. He keeps rocking his hips with small movements, grinding his cock into the wet mess on the small of your back, extending the euphoria until his limbs are jerking from the sensitivity. 

His forehead is pressed against your neck once again, his warm breath diffusing down your back as he pants a breathless “Jesus christ.”

You hum weakly next to him, melting in his arms as you sleep starts to creep back into your body once again. He keeps holding you tight against him as you both catch your breath. 

“Were you awake that whole time?” you ask quietly after a moment of silence. Joel chuckles and squeezes you even tighter in his arms. 

“Mhmm. Told you you were moanin’ in your sleep” 

Even with his eyes closed in the dark room, he can see the frown you’re sporting clear as day in his head. You try to turn over to look at him, but he keeps you in place. 

“You have work in the morning, why didn’t you say anything?” you ask. “Could’ve made things more comfortable for you, I know your old-man back doesn’t like my mattress.” 

Joel rolls his eyes and pinches your thigh, making you yelp and giggle.  

“Couldn’t be more comfortable than this even if I tried, sweetheart” he whispers. “Now go back to sleep.” 

“Can’t sleep with the human fireplace glued to me” you whisper back. “And I’d love if I didn’t have cum stains on my sheet in the morning” 

Joel rolls his eyes again but can’t suppress the stupid grin creeping up on his face. He reluctantly lets you go, sliding his arm out from under your neck and letting you roll over onto your stomach. He takes extra care to lift the blanket and pushes it down to your thighs, trying his hardest to not stain your precious sheets. You turn your head to face him, but your eyes are still closed, your face so sleepy where it’s squished against the pillow, your lips curved in a gentle, sated smile. His heart feels like it could burst right out of his chest. 

He leans over to place a sweet kiss to your hairline before carefully crawling out of the bed. He hisses at the cool air swirling around his hot skin as he pads to the bathroom. He comes back with a damp washcloth and cleans you up and then himself before crawling back into the bed. 

He pulls the blankets back up and makes sure you’re all tucked in before settling on his side, facing you. He doesn’t take you back in his arms, not yet. He’ll find you in his sleep. But he does hook one of his ankles around yours, the small amount of touch that you’ll always allow. Exhaustion is finally starting to settle into his bones as he studies your features like he’s going to be tested on them in his dreams. His eyelids finally feel heavy and he lets them close, his breathing quickly falling into a deep, steady pace. 

He’s nearly fully asleep when he hears the soft sound of you whispering again. 

“Oh and we’re gonna have to reenact the dream I was having when we wake up. Was really nice.”

Joel grunts, his cock already starting to stir once again.  Who needs sleep anyway? 

Thank you for reading :)) hope you enjoyed it!!

#Joel miller smut #Joel miller x f!reader #Joel miller x you #joel miller one shot #joel miller fic #the last of us #tlou fic #Joel miller #pedro pascal characters

[awrkive]

COLD NIGHTS & BLURRED LINES (m) — JJK

jungkook and you have been in a sexual relationship with each other for four months now, and it’s casual for the most part. but as time passes, you can’t help but feel that some of the lines suddenly got blurred in the process. is it a cliché to blur the lines with your fuck buddy? it definitely is. will you do something about it? both of your emotional constipation have a hard time saying yes.

PAIRING jungkook x (fem) reader

GENRE r18+ (explicit smut, fluff, light angst) MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!

WORD COUNT 26.6k

WARNINGS/MISC fwb!au, college!au, basketball player!jk, kinda secret relationship(?)!au, nerdy!oc but not really she’s just very school-oriented, jk is tatted up here and is very yummy especially in his jersey sighs, hes also rich lol, school journalist!reader, jk calls oc a lot of petnames, basketball stuff im not sure are accurate t-t. multiple sex scenes honestly idek where all of these came from but they include: unprotected sex (this is a fanfiction everything tends to be crazy around these areas don’t do it irl pls omg lol), penetrative sex, creampie, cumplay, car sex, jk’s silver chain hehe, slight cockwarming, oral sex (f and m receiving), jk wears those curvy headbands thing (they look so cute on guys in fact he wore it once), shower sex. if there is anything i left out, pls tell me so that i can add them here. jungkooks visual is jungkook at jitb listening party . 

NOTES if u have been following me you'll know this is a repost haha! i decided to publish this again so you can read it on tumblr if u dont like to read on ao3! also, please pleasssseee send me guys your feedbacks after reading it even a keyboard smash goes a long way anyway ill shut up now i hope you guys enjoy this monster!! last note, pls be gentle with my cn&bl babies <33

[ CN&BL MOODBOARD ] 

The late March weather has been cold these days, so when Jungkook – in his real fuckboy fashion – texted you that his nose could use a heater and he could offer to warm you up in return, you agreed for him to come over even though you pretended to be disgusted by his offer. 

“Hurry,” you whimper as aforementioned man manhandles you to get you off his lap, making you bounce on the mattress.

Just like that, the warmth from being pressed against his body was gone, exchanged by the cold immediately spreading goosebumps through your skin as Jungkook makes quick work of spreading your legs, eliciting a bit of an uncomfortable feeling from you as you feel your cum leaking out.

Jungkook swipes a hand through his sweaty hairline as he kneels inside your spread legs, and you have to fight a moan at the sight. You still feel a little delirious from when he made you cum the second time just a minute ago, still lightheaded from the high of it. But you can’t deny that he always looks so good in all his natural, naked form; chest heaving, toned stomach coated in sheer sweat, his biceps – especially the tatted one – bulging as he reaches for your hips to pull you down so he could enter you once again.

It tears a cry from your vocal chords, him thrusting in and out of your wet pussy, his pace frantic and inconsistent, a tell-tale sign of his impending orgasm. His grunts, together with your pathetic little moans at the feel of his cock touching every part of your pussy filled the room.

“Fuck, I’m close,” he groans, leaning down, and as a result, reaching deeper into you, mouth reaching for your breast to your mouth. The kiss is a sloppy act of both of you just breathing in each other’s mouths, as Jungkook drills your pussy faster, his fingers tightening around your waist. A particular hard thrust got you drawing out a loud mewl and that’s what tips Jungkook over the edge. “F-fuck – shit, where do I cum baby? Tell me, tell me.”

“Inside– fuck. Please cum inside me,”

He lets out a sharp breath and after a few more erratic strokes, you feel his hot release painting your inner walls.

“Shit,” Jungkook hissed as he fell on top of you. You can feel the way he’s heaving as his skin touches yours, but you let yourself relax on the mattress, breathing shallow breaths.

Since he’s way more athletic than you, he got over it soon and you feel him picking himself up to hover over you, beginning to plant kisses all over your chest and the mole in between them; your nipples, your shoulders, your collarbones.

“Kook,” you call softly, your limp hand patting his ass to get his attention. He always gets so preoccupied with kissing your body after sex.

Jungkook hums, but he looks at you. “Yeah?”

You grunt. “I jwashed my sheets two days ago and I don’t want cum stains on them.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” he leans down, and even though you were complaining just now, you let out quite a joyful hum when he kisses you. “Let me see first.”

You don’t need to ask what he’s referring to.

Pushing your body back up, Jungkook takes it upon himself to get his body off of you only to watch as you slide two fingers over your pussy, spreading the lips so he can see the combination of your and his cum all over it.

“You need to hurry, Nayeon is coming home in a few minutes.”

He doesn’t even try to look like he’s concerned about the urgency of that matter, just hums absentmindedly and gets his own finger to run over your exposed heat. You shiver at the contrast of the hot feeling of your pussy and the cold feeling of his finger, but it soon turns into pleasure when he gathers your cum and pushes it back into you.

“Are you going to keep it in for me?” He whispers, a thumb now caressing your hip.

“Depends.”

Jungkook looks back up at you, a sly grin spreading on his lips. “On what?”

“If you’re going to be good and say please when you want something.” You grin at him, feeling pretty proud of yourself for catching him off guard. It doesn’t last long very much though as he smirks, but as soon as he opens his mouth, you hear a series of knocks and your eyes widen at that.

You hissed. “Shit, that’s Nayeon.”

You sit up from the bed. Jungkook mirrors your haste, scrambling to find his clothes on the floor and putting them on quickly. You have your robe just nearby so you put just that on, ignoring the tingling sensation of cum trickling down your legs.

“I have to go.” Jungkook whispers, and you nod, walking towards the window on the far end of the room and opening it up widely.

Like usual, Jungkook steps on the frame and easily hauls himself outside. It’s the backside of the building of your complex, and it’s mostly and usually quiet, so it was pretty safe for him to just go out of there without anyone noticing, and most especially at times like this. Because Nayeon can’t know. No one can.

“I’ll see you later, pretty.”

Jungkook winks at you and you playfully roll your eyes, waving him off which earns a laugh from him. He easily saunters through the perimeter though and you find it quite unfair how he still carries a certain graceful energy to him even though he literally just did an exhausting cardio exercise with you for about thirty minutes. Ugh, him and his athletic body.

Nayeon’s voice can be heard across the flat, but before you let her in, you sprayed an unhealthy amount of air freshener on your body and around the room (just in case she enters) and shoved your discarded clothes from earlier in the laundry basket. After that, you finally run towards the door, welcoming Nayeon with a smile as you open it.

“Hi!” You greet rather cheerfully. She immediately hugs you briefly, groaning as she steps back and enters your little abode.

“Class sucked today,” she throws herself on the couch and you give her a sympathetic smile, walking towards the fridge to get water.

“Well, wish me luck. I’m headed out to one.”

“God, I can’t wait ‘til we graduate, I’m tired of this bullshit.” She says, but she’s opening up her laptop for what you could guess as for finishing up an assigned work. “I wish I was having bomb sex like you. Hey, do you want to go to this party on Friday?”

“I – what?”

“Party on Friday? Finals season for basketball starts on Friday and they’re planning a party. We could use free booze and stress-free night.” Nayeon repeats, but you weren’t asking for the party. You tried to ignore it, but you have the tendency to overexpplain yourself so that you do not get misunderstood.

“I’m not having bomb sex.” You say, and that makes her look at you. At that, you realized you shouldn't have taken the bait. Stupid, stupid, stupid you. You could've swerved this topic if you weren't so quick to react at the word sex.

You stare at each other for a solid few seconds until she rolls her eyes.

“Girl, your hair looks like a bird’s nest and your lips are swollen as hell. I might not be having bomb sex in the current moment but I know what I look like after I do the deed,” She wore her eyeglasses and perched it on her nose. “And you kinda smelled like sex when you opened the door.”

“No!” You feel heat coming and spreading through your cheeks. You thought the damn Febreeze would hold up!

Nayeon waves you off. “It’s fine, it’s not like you haven’t caught me before like that.”

“It’s embarrassing.” You insist, stuffing your face with a bread you took from the counter and purposefully not meeting Nayeon’s gaze so you don’t see the teasing smiles you’re sure she’s sending your way.

“That you’re having sex in college?!” Her playful scandalous tone makes you laugh though and that’s when you look at her.

“No, ugh. Just. Sorry. If I smelled like sex. I tried spraying a lot of air freshener earlier.”

She wiggles her brows. “Oh, is that why you took a long time opening the door? Was your sneaky link here just now?”

“Sneaky what?” You say, laughing.

“Sneaky link. You know, a hook up. Wait, is it a boyfriend? Please say no, because I would be extremely offended if you haven’t introduced your boyfriend to me all this time.”

You could swear you felt goosebumps on your nape when you heard the word boyfriend and saw images of Jungkook in your head immediately, as if you were used to associating him to the word.

“It’s definitely not a boyfriend. Just… someone I hook up with sometimes.”

“Interesting. Do I know him?”

The question makes you nervous. She definitely knows. No one not knows who Jungkook is at your campus.

With a shake of your head, you tell her, straight-faced, “Nope.”

“Okay, which department? Does he go to our Uni?” She asks, now seemingly fully invested in this conversation rather than the assignment before her. You’re happy to be a bit of a help to lessen her sour mood from earlier but you shake your head and let out playful tsk-ing sounds,

“Too many questions, babe,” You teased. “My class is starting in twenty minutes.”

You heard her laughing as you carried your clothes to the bathroom to change and to clean up the mess in your nether region. Damn. Jungkook cums a lot these days… he needs to masturbate or something.

“Fine, fine! You don’t want me to know but I’m gonna find out about the mystery guy one way or another!”

Shutting the door to the bathroom, your face contorts at Nayeon’s words.

Yeah, absolutely not. Jungkook and you made an agreement in the first place that everyone should be oblivious of your situationship, and it’s worked for almost four months now.

You can’t fuck it up now.

As soon as you fixed yourself, you bid your goodbye to Nayeon who went ahead and busied herself by hacking away on her laptop, grabbing your bag and heading out and finally walking to your Uni that was just a few minutes away from your complex. Your apartment is almost like a dorm, to be honest. 

The hallway is a little crowded, but you don’t miss a certain brunette in a familiar gray hoodie you’ve had in your closet before. 

You meet Jungkook’s eyes but you quickly change your gaze to his friend, Taehyung, who’s walking beside him as he greets you cheerfully. 

"Hey, ___!” You return his smile, waving. You had a Philo class with Kim Taehyung at one point and found out that despite your preassumptions about him for being a varsity guy, he was a pretty interesting person to talk with. You’re not super close per se, just acquainted enough to acknowledge each other when you meet somewhere like the campus hallways.

You don’t like the attention it draws, though. So you walk straight to your destination.

Varsity guys tend to be famous, and you’ve chosen to steer yourself away from them. Ironic, though, considering that you’re fucking one. Obviously, you’re not doing a very good job at “steering yourself away from them”.

Maybe it’s the sole reason why it’s a secret. Jungkook is the star player of the basketball team together with Taehyung and a few other guys. You know their usual gist. Famous circle, lavish lifestyle, attractive guys who (unfortunately) know it, skillful at the sports they do, too many people fawning over them. And well… not to be that person but you’re just someone dutifully studying here. Someone in the background. And you love that mostly, but sometimes you think that maybe… it’s why Jungkook seems to never entertain the idea of making your relationship public. Not that you would like that yourself. You took part in the secrecy agreement, suggested it yourself, in fact. You would never admit to anyone you’re fucking him. But, well. It’s just weird. 

Whatever. It doesn’t matter. Someone’s going to end it eventually and you’re gonna make sure it’s you… just so it’s established that you aren’t the one who’s more willing in the relationship. Yeah, that. Just not now. School is stressful. You like sex with him. 

When you arrive at the lecture hall, your phone vibrates. A text from Jungkook is plastered all over your lock screen.

[1:15pm] Jeon: hi pretty [1:15pm] Jeon: nice skirt :) 

You internally roll your eyes. Him and his literal and figurative skirt chaser tendencies.

[1:20pm] You: Hi.

You get a reply immediately.

[1:20pm] Jeon: wanna grab dinner later

You stare at his text, a little taken aback. 

That’s new. Sure, you had grabbed lunch with him at his stupid fancy Benz like, once. After he fucked you in it to ease your nerves about a class presentation you did earlier that day. He didn’t offer, he just bought you Chinese because you passed by a resto as he drove you to your place. 

Anyway. You don’t know why he would do this all of a sudden. You fucked three days ago, then the day after that, then earlier this day. You’re not complaining but you never predicted your sex life would be so active like this. 

[1:22pm] You: Pass. Studying later

Which is true. You have a Tech Writing quiz tomorrow, though not necessarily hard. Whatever. Your thoughts in the hallway awhile ago are making you feel kind of weird about him right now.

[1:23pm] Jeon: boring [1:23pm] You: ):< [1:23pm] Jeon: cute :) do u want me to order boba ill deliver it to ur place after ur class

Well, that is definitely not new. Jungkook delivers you food, like, every single time.

[1:24pm] You: :))) Yess. Thank you [1:24pm] You: I’m going to venmo you [1:25pm] Jeon: lol yk im just gonna venmo it back to u

True. There’s been a lot of back and forth in that app. One time, he “jokingly” sent you a hundred dollars (a hundred dollars!) after you kept on insisting you pay for the takoyaki he made delivered to you, and that horrified you so much that of course you sent the money back to him, but he made you promise to stop trying to argue with him about the payment thing. It doesn’t mean you don’t feel bad about it still though…

[1:25pm] You: 😤😠 [1:27pm] Jeon: do u also want anything besides boba [1:27pm] You: Noppee, I think Nayeon is going to cook something for us later [1:28pm] Jeon: alright [1:28pm] You: Are you sure you don’t want me to pay you back? [1:28pm] Jeon: nahh it’s alright [1:28pm] Jeon: besides I can think of other ways for u to pay me back without money involved.. ;) 

Ah, there he is. He really couldn’t go on a day without sexual innuendos.

[1:29pm] You: You are infuriating and I’m turning off mh phone  [1:29pm] You: *my [1:29pm] Jeon: you like when I annoy you so .. [1:29pm] You: No I don’t and Im so sore i feel like my brain will leak out of my ears from so much sex  [1:29pm] You: Also please stop using ellipsis in texts [1:29pm] Jeon: hmm [1:29pm] Jeon: who said anything about sex? [1:30pm] Jeon: not me🤔 do u think i just think about sex all the time [1:30pm] Jeon: what’s worng with ellipsis…? [1:32pm] You: Yes you do think about sex all the time 

He reacted to that message with the HAHA emoticon, and you felt yourself having a hard time fighting an eyeroll.

[1:32pm] Jeon: you know me so well [1:32pm] You: Also, nothing wrong with ellipsis they just remind me of how my dad texts  [1:32pm] Jeon: ummmmm im sure ur dad is great so im flattered

You snorted at that.

[1:33pm] You: you do NOT know that  [1:33pm] Jeon: i thought you were turning off your phone [1:34pm] You: I am right now so don’t reply prof is walking to the lecture hall now [1:35pm] Jeon: good luck baby ;)

Nayeon didn’t convince you enough to join her at the party she mentioned before come Friday night. In a weird parallelism, Jungkook also texted you about a party you could come to, and eventually, you’ve come to realize that it was his party. Their party.

Your Uni’s basketball team held a celebratory one because they won the first game of Finals. You only knew when you went to the school’s publication office earlier. The freshman sports journalist, Ryujin, came to you to ask you some questions about her rough draft about said game.

You see, this is one of those times when you are reminded that Jungkook and you really only have a relationship through sex. Sure, you know some stuff about each other. Like how you are an English major, he’s taking Computer Science, you’re the managing director of the school’s publication, he’s a star player in the basketball team; he knows about your favorite takoyaki flavor (it’s smoked bacon) and your boba order, and you know he likes food that you dislike, namely cheese cake and mint chocolate flavored stuff. He also likes Marvel a lot. He knows you’re obsessed with films from the golden age of Hongkong cinema because you mentioned it in passing. (He doesn’t know you particularly love the Wong Kar-wai ones though…)

But somehow, he never really tells you about his basketball games. Sure, he’d mentioned practices before but it’s something he doesn’t bother to include you in. Not that it would matter to you. It’s not like you tell him all about your stuff in school, either.

Your attention is caught by a ping from your phone. 

[12:05am] Jeon: hey you still up? 

The text reads. You type a reply. 

[12:07am] You: Yes, why? [12:07am] Jeon: let’s facetime [12:07am] You: Why [12:08am] Jeon: i want to see your pretty face

Spoken like a true fuckboy. Really?

Before you could respond, his face is taking up your whole screen, asking to facetime you. Without thinking about it too much, you accepted the call, falling back to your bed. 

From the screen, you could see that he’s wearing a black shirt with a long silver chain around his neck. He smiles that adorable smile when you finally make your whole face visible to the camera. 

“What is it?”

The audio from his end is a little distorted, probably from the loud music from where he’s at. That after-game party, most likely. He texted you about it awhile ago. Nayeon is probably there, too. 

“Hi, pretty girl.”

Again with the nickname and the slight way his eyes are hooded as he said it. If you squint enough, maybe you could tell if he’s drunk or not. You’re not sure. But the way that’s his instant words upon seeing you is making you feel a little weird in your stomach. He’s got to stop calling you that. 

“Are you drunk-calling me right now…?" 

He shakes his head and says something, but you don’t hear it, so you informed him so. The screen shows you dark, pixelated images, making you think he’s probably moving his camera around, and you could make out that he’s walking away from the party as the loud music fades out eventually. 

"I’m not drunk.” He says after he settles on a spot. 

“Oh, okay.” You nod. You shifted on your side. “Why did you call me?" 

He laughs at that. "I can’t call you?" 

His laughter intensifies when he sees you roll your eyes. "No. I’m just wondering… aren’t you at a party?" 

Jungkook nods his head. "Yes, but it’s getting boring here." 

"Oh.”

Another beat of silence, but Jungkook is the one to say another word. 

“Hey, do you wanna go out for a drive?" 

Well… that sounds good. You just finished a write-up and did some studying a little earlier and you also planned to order food but forgot about it.

"Sure.”

Jungkook smiles at that.

“I’ve been wanting to show you something. I think you’ll like it." 

Your eyebrow arched at that. This is getting a little too new. He’s driven you around before but it always involved fucking, not done with the intention to show you something. Not that you aren’t expecting sex tonight, though. You would actually appreciate that.

"What is it?" 

You could make out a smirk from Jungkook’s face on the slightly pixelated screen. "I’m going to show you the real me.” The glint of mischief in his tone cracks you up, so you played right into it,

“Ohhh, does it involve dead bodies?" 

He nods with a serious face. "Yes, but you have to promise me you won’t freak out." 

"Yeah, and don’t you freak out if I tell the police about it.” You squint your eyes, trying to give him a scolding look. 

“Ah,” Jungkook leans back. “You would do that, wouldn’t you? You’re always such a good girl." 

It wouldn’t have meant anything if it wasn’t for the way his voice drops, giving you a meaningful look again. You could feel the heat in your cheeks but you shrug it off. 

"I am a good girl, I pride myself for it." 

Jungkook finally laughs this time, finding this conversation hilarious just as you do. "I know, I like it most especially—" 

After all this time, you developed a sort of a Spidey sense for when Jungkook is about to say perverted things, so before he could make such remarks, you cut him off.

"If you’re gonna say something sexual I’m going to end this call.” But even you could tell it was an empty threat.

Jungkook thinks so, too, you know that, but he decides to step back. “I was just going to say that I like it most especially because it does good to the world." 

The mirth in his eyes tells you otherwise. 

"You do not think that.” You say, rolling your eyes. 

He laughs once more, throwing his head back as if you said the funniest joke in the world. Weirdo. 

“Alright, alright. So I’m coming to your place in five minutes to pick you up. How does that sound?" 

"Good. Nayeon’s currently out… just text me if you get here." 

He told you to end the call – which you argued you were just planning to do so and he didn’t need to tell you and it earned a laugh from him, how stubborn you were about such simple things. You just gave him a baleful look.

Just as you pick out a sweatshirt and some sweats in exchange for your pajama dress, you receive a text from Jungkook that he’s arrived and so you grab your wallet and keys and your phone, heading out. 

You spot his car and knock on the passenger’s seat window and Jungkook immediately opens it for you. 

"Hi, gorgeous.” He greets you. “You want to keep the window open?" 

"Hello. Yes, please.” You say, fixing your seat belt. 

He hums and you press on a button to slide the window open. 

“You want to pick up some food?" 

You perked up. "Yeah, I was planning to get some but I was too lazy to order in earlier." 

Jungkook pressed some buttons again you don’t really understand but it got music to start playing, lights in the car moving into the same beat of the tune (his car was really fancy…). Some mellow ones you kind of liked during this drive on a cold night. He saw a food place from around a corner and you both agreed to get food from the shop. 

He parked somewhere for you guys to open up the take-out. There’s some steamed tofu there so you pick it up and start eating. 

"I’ve been obsessed with tofu these days,” you shared absentmindedly, chewing on said food. 

Jungkook looks at the tofu you were eating. “Really? I remember when you said you dislike it." 

"Yeah, but that’s because I cooked it one time and it sucked." 

"I should teach you to cook one of these days…” you refused to acknowledge what that entails and laughed instead.

“You know how?” You said to tease, but you also genuinely can’t believe he knows how.

Jungkook clicks his tongue, a faux offended look on his face, saying, “Why do I always get that reaction? Of course I know how to cook." 

"Huh,” you pondered. “Wouldn’t have expected it from you." 

"Yeah, yeah, I know. But I have this friend who’s a really good cook and I kinda learned through him." 

"That’s cute. Nayeon knows how to cook and I never learned shit from it.” You laugh at your own words, so does Jungkook. “But hey," 

"Hm?" 

"Do you think my boobs got bigger? I think they got bigger.” You put your food down your lap and caress your breasts through your clothes. 

You’ve been thinking about it since last week. Earlier, you saw yourself naked in your mirror and noticed a change in their size. You almost thought you were pregnant but your period literally just ended yesterday. But can that happen with pregnancies? But… you’re very diligent with your pills… so it can’t be. Right? 

You made a mental note to buy a test tomorrow.

“Look the same to me.” Jungkook says, looking at your chest. 

You grab his free hand and put it over a boob. He squeezes it promptly, and you hear an almost dramatic gasp. 

“Oh, they are bigger." 

You remove his hand over you and nod. "Yeah. But I think it’s just due to some hormonal changes. Also I think I’m putting on weight, I’ve been eating a lot these days… but… it’s stupid but I also think my obsession with tofu has something to do with it," 

Jungkook looks over at you curiously. 

"Yeah, they say tofu makes your boobs bigger." You added.

He arches a brow at that. "Really?" 

"Don’t look so excited." 

Jungkook can’t help but huff out a laugh. "I do not!” You roll your eyes. He insists, “I love your boobs the way they are." 

"Geez, thanks." 

You finished your food and Jungkook drove around again. It’s still in the vicinity of your town. The music in his car serves as a lulling noise in the otherwise quiet night. There’s still a lot of cars on the streets, some occasional honking sounds, but you feel really, really nice, most especially when the wind blows a little harsher and it makes your hair go crazy. Jungkook laughs at that too. 

It’s later in the night when Jungkook slowed down somewhere, and soon, he was parking at an abandoned house.

As if on cue, you looked at him and said, "So you really are going to show me your literal skeletons." 

He laughed at that. 

"Nope, sorry to disappoint, princess." 

Jungkook gets out of the car and you follow, immediately shivering at the wind. You wished you wore a hoodie instead of this thin, knitted sweatshirt, but you didn’t expect it would be this cold. It was nearing summer and the weather has been inconsistent for the last month. 

You look at the abandoned house once again. There were wooden planks nailed on the door, plastic covers draped over the windows, and overall, it just looks really old. Kind of creepy, if you were to be honest. 

In your assessment of the house, you don’t notice Jungkook coming to you with two bottles of soju. He brings them up slightly, a grin on his face.

"Drinks?”

“Okay…” you squint your eyes. “Where are we going to do that?" 

He gives you a knowing smirk. "Inside." 

Jungkook went over the fence with ease and you followed his direction but didn’t do the same thing. He looks back at you. "Hey." 

"Are you sure it’s safe?” You ask, looking around, wrapping your arms around your middle because of the cold. 

Jungkook probably notes the genuine concern in your tone, that’s why he sets the soju down and comes forward to you, the fence serving as some kind of dramatic border. 

“Baby, it’s fine. No one comes around here.” He says but you don’t really feel assured just yet. 

“What if someone comes here now? I don’t want to be arrested…" 

"No one’s getting arrested,” Jungkook insists. You still look hesitant. “Come on. Really. I’ve been here lotta times, haven’t ever seen anyone here since then." 

You look at him. He seems to be telling that truth and well, maybe you’re stupid for believing him but he seemed to know this place well and had been going here for a long time and as far as you know, he doesn’t have criminal records, so… 

"Okay, fine.” You give in. 

Jungkook immediately grins. “Nice. Here, let me help you.” He leans forward and takes a hold of your hips as you go over the fence. It’s not that high, really, but you let him carry you over it until you both entered the abandoned property. 

When he puts you down, you tug at his shirt.

“Wait, your car.” you gasp.

“Oh, it’s fine. I parked it at that green house, someone’s just gonna assume it’s theirs.” He says, completely nonchalant about it.

You think he’s being careless about his fucking Benz but whatever. 

Jungkook leads you to the back of the creepy house and the eerie place immediately gives you goosebumps. The cold of the night does not help, either, so you cling to him until he sits on the ground. 

“Jungkook, that’s dirty.” You tell him, trying to tug him up. 

He chuckles. “It’s fine, princess. Come here, I’ll take my jacket off. Sit beside me.” Indeed, he takes off his jacket, and you worry he might be cold with his t-shirt only now but you also really don’t want to sit on the ground… 

“You’re not cold?” You make sure as you sit beside him. Jungkook opens one of the soju and offers it to you. You take it as he opens another one for himself. 

“Nah, it’s fine.” Jungkook starts drinking but even though you have one in your hand, you don’t. He must’ve noticed it as he says, “Hey. Relax.”

“Aside from my fear of getting arrested, it’s also really fucking creepy here.” You retort, scooting closer to him. You got to be honest and admit that you’re more scared of the place than scared of getting arrested. 

Jungkook throws his head back to laugh at that. “Again, we’re not getting arrested. And what do you mean creepy? You don’t like it here?" 

You look around the place more. "Eh, it’s okay. I just can’t help but think what if there are lost souls around here…” you trailed off, giving him a baleful look when that only made him laugh more. They were quiet laughter, though. Probably to not disrupt said souls. 

“You believe those?" 

You roll your eyes. "Okay, cool macho guy." 

"No, no, I’m sorry,” Jungkook still laughs in between his words and you whisked his hand away in an act of lighthearted sulking when it tried to reach you.

Okay. You don’t exactly believe in ghosts but it’s hard not to when it’s in the middle of the night and quiet and cold and you’re in an abandoned house. You avoid horror movies for a valid reason. 

“Alright, let’s cuddle so you don’t get scared.” Jungkook says, but there’s a teasing sound to it.

“Don’t make fun.” You glared at him. 

“I’m serious, come here.” He opens his arms wide and you roll your eyes, not moving to come closer. He laughs when even after seconds passed you still didn’t give in. You thought he was giving up but instead he twisted to your direction and let both his legs crowd you so that you’re in between them. 

“You’re annoying,” you say but you kind of feel oddly comforted by being close to him like that, and Jungkook must’ve known as well because he just gives you a smug smile, chugging on his soju after.

You did the same. You try to throw away your nerves and scary thoughts, letting yourself relax as he said. When you kind of did a moment later, you find that it’s kind of nice, actually. 

“What do you think?” Jungkook suddenly speaks. 

“Hm?" 

"It’s nice here, right?” He arched his brow at you. “Just try not to think about ghosts." 

You pinch his shin through his cargo pants and he gives you a very ingenuine, "Ouch!" 

"Except for the ugly house, it’s nice here.” You reply. As you look up, you see stars scattered across the dark skies. It was quite a view, honestly. Makes you a little surprised because it was so beautiful. You almost missed Jungkook’s words. 

“Yeah. It’s not exactly beautiful here but it’s a great place to think." 

"Think?" 

Jungkook sees your teasing smile and shakes his head. "Yes, baby, I do a lot of those." 

You chuckle at that and drink more of your alcohol.

You don’t exchange more words after that but you find that it wasn’t awkward. It was just… a nice silence. A comfortable one. With Jungkook crowding you with his legs, you feel like you might be the most relaxed you’ve ever been in the past few months. 

You twist yourself so now you’re not facing forward anymore, but to Jungkook. You realize if he’d been looking forward he just had a view of your side profile. You try not to think too much if he just stared at you, although you did feel him do that for a few minutes a while ago. 

"Hey, congrats on the game.” You tell him with a soft smile on your face, placing your drink on the ground. It’s still filled in half. You could finish it but you doubt you wouldn’t be drunk by that time. Your alcohol tolerance is not at all exemplary. 

“Thanks.” Jungkook sheepishly smiles at you. “You watched it?" 

"Ah, no. I just heard about it. I don’t really know anything about basketball so…” you trail off, noting the way he nods at your words. 

“Right. I’ve never seen you watch us before.”

You try to joke, “That’s because you never invite me to any of your games." 

But it looks like that caught him off guard. "I– huh?” The look on his eyes tells you that he was genuinely surprised at your words, those eyes of him looking like a deer’s when it’s caught in the headlights. 

You laugh. “I’m just kidding. I don’t usually watch sports games. Too crowded for my liking." 

Jungkook nodded at that, but he still looked taken aback from your words earlier. You really were just kidding. You hope he didn’t take it seriously. But he agrees with you, anyway. "Yeah, it can get crowded sometimes." 

Silence and then after a few beats, Jungkook speaks again. 

"Hey, let’s make out." 

You arched a brow but didn’t really find any reason to oppose it, so you went ahead and kissed him. 

Jungkook immediately holds your hips. On the other hand, you snake your arms around his neck, kneeling in between his spread legs. The kiss starts slow but he holds the back of your neck and deepens it.

You whimpered when he nudged your legs with his free hand, and your shock made you break away from the kiss. Jungkook took it as an opportunity to start pecking your neck, though, his hand seemingly coaxing you to open your legs. You got the message and finally straddled his waist, Jungkook groaning and you moaning when you feel your crotches connecting at the action.

He was already sporting a semi, and you also feel your panties getting slick from the way he kissed and bit and licked and soothed your neck. 

"Jungkook,” you moaned, searching for his mouth. 

He kissed you again, all tongue and so sloppy, his hand reaching for the hem of your sweatshirt and creeping inside it to find you not wearing a bra. He did think you weren't wearing one when you put his hand on your boob in the car earlier.

“Ah, fuck,” he squeezed your tit in his hand, you whine. “They really are bigger. Can I see them, baby?" 

You nodded, not even giving it a solid thought as Jungkook immediately hiked up your top until your perky breasts were all bare for him to see. 

And devour, eventually.

Jungkook went straight to sucking your boob and squeezing the other to tend to it, massaging it in his huge palm. He licked a nipple and bit at it slightly, making you sigh at his action. Your arms went to his head to fist his hair in your hands. 

His ministrations on your chest encouraged you to roll your hips against his pelvis, and that elicited a grunt from him. Smiling a little at that, you experimented on doing it a little harder, and as a result, Jungkook tugged at your nipple, making you whine a little too loud.

"Behave." 

You pout. "I want to fuck." 

"It’s not so creepy here anymore?” He had the audacity to tease, but his hands were still on your breasts, fondling them. 

“I didn’t say we can fuck here. Just…” you looked around, not really specifically looking for something. 

Now that Jungkook mentioned it again, you get reminded that it really is creepy as fuck here. And you still didn’t trust the ground. There was no way you could stand fucking in this property. And what if something scary happens while you’re in the middle of doing it… 

Just as you were thinking it, a strange sound catches both of your attention.

“I think we should get back in your car.” You decided. 

Probably seeing the flash of fear in your eyes, Jungkook laughs. “Are you thinking of ghosts again?" 

You slap his chest. "No. But I want to cum." 

"So demanding,” he playfully scolds but you just roll your eyes and let your sweatshirt fall to cover you up once again. You immediately cling to him the moment he stands up and help him pick up the soju bottles, anxiously praying you guys hurry up to get out of here. 

“It was just the wind.” Jungkook comforts you once you were on your way to his car. 

As far as you’re concerned, it’s never just the wind. At least those shitty horror movies you and your cousins watched during sleepovers tell you so. 

Jungkook opens the door to the backseat and you go in and he follows after you. 

You immediately straddle him once he’s seated, earning a chuckle from him. 

“Wow, you’re really eager for me to fuck the fear out of you, huh?” He says, sounding smug about the way you reach for the hem of your shirt and removing it from yourself. 

“Hm. Your dirty talk these days have been subpar.” you slide his jacket off of him and he lets you remove his shirt as well, laughing more at your impatience. 

“Can’t think straight when a pretty girl is on my lap." 

Before you could say something about that, he gripped your waist and got you off his lap, manhandling you to lay on the backseat. Your back is against the car door as Jungkook twisted in his seat, hauling himself backwards to pull your sweats down and take off your birkens. Leaning down, Jungkook pressed open-mouthed kisses up your thighs, teasing his mouth on where you need him the most. 

But you didn’t want to feel anything there other than his cock, and you tell him so. 

"Jungkook,” you whine, catching his attention. When he looks up at you, you whine some more, “Just fuck me. I’m so wet already." 

He cursed, caressing the sides of your thighs. "Baby, I need to prep you.”

“There’s no need for that, come on, please. I need your cock." 

Jungkook groans. But then he makes quick work of unzipping his pants, pulling it down with his boxers until his dick is out. It’s plenty hard already, the shiny tip catching your attention. 

You let out another cry at the sight of him gripping his base, pumping it for a few seconds and finally pushing your panties to the side and slipped inside you. True to your words, it was quite an easy slide, but the burn still stings a little bit. His size was on the little above average spectrum and you’ve always found a hard time taking it in smoothly. 

"Oh, god,” you mewl, grasping his bicep while your other hand grips the back seat. 

Jungkook tightened his fingers on your waist, a hand coming up to one of your thighs to wrap it around his middle. You follow his silent command, welcoming the hot kiss he gives you. 

“Should I move now?” He whispers in your mouth, and you nod frantically, throwing your head back with a moan when he does as told. 

His cock was not even pulled out completely before he slipped it in again, slowly, in agonizing deep strokes. Like he wants to feel every corner of your warm hole. 

“So good…” you moaned, tightening your thigh around his body. 

“You like when I fuck you slow, baby?” Jungkook pressed kisses on your chest this time, and you could only nod your head mindlessly as he repeated thrusting out again. 

“I – ah… so good, Kook. I love it," 

The car is cramped and all you could hear are your heavy breaths and the lewd squelching sound of his cock going in and out of your pussy, his chain dangling in between your bodies feels cold when it momentarily touches your chest.

You would tell him to go faster, harder, but the way he was planting fairy kisses on your skin and his tattooed arm popping veins on the side of your head as if he was finding it hard to not fuck you stupid, you found that his deep and precise albeit slow strokes great.

"So pretty,” he says, moving the strands of hair that stuck everywhere on your face. 

“K-kook,” you whimper. 

“Hm? Baby? What is it?” Jungkook looks at you with an uncharacteristically soft gaze, his dick still continuing its slow pace in your cunt. 

“M-my back hurts like this,” you say. 

His eyes look softer at your words, expression gentle. “Sorry, angel.” He caresses your face and kisses you which you welcomed with a sob when his dick hits deeper after he leaned down. “Here, I’ll sit here. Straddle me.” But he doesn’t even wait for you to move as he hauls you to his lap himself, his cock still inside you, feeling it twitching when you sit on it outright. 

“Good girl,” Jungkook squeezes your breasts and laps at them, only to look up at you again. “You okay?" 

You nod, pushing him slightly so that he relaxes his back against the seat. You brace yourself on his chest and begin to bounce on his cock.

Jungkook throws his head back, letting you on your own pace, hands gripping your hips to help you move. 

"So fucking good for me,” he hissed just as when you mewled when his cock hits a particular spot in you. “Take it easy, baby, nice and slow, okay?” He said, taking a hold on the back of your head and pulling you in for a slow kiss.

You followed his words and planted your knees on either side of him, going down steadily, crying out at the way you feel every ridge of his huge cock inside you like this. 

It was so pleasurable, the way he groaned in your ears, squeezing your breasts, tugging at your sensitive nipples, murmuring stupid, sweet nothings, his cock seemingly growing larger in your heat each second passed, and soon, you feel that knot in your stomach ready to burst. 

“I-I’m cumming, Kook, I’m cumming–" 

Jungkook hummed, and when he felt your movements stuttering, he took it upon himself to press his thumb to your clit, rubbing the bundle of nerves and fucking his dick up into you, your eyes rolling to the back of your head as your orgasm snap. 

"So good for me, baby, fuck, you’re such a good girl for me.” He kept rubbing delicious shapes on your clit, and you had to bite back a pathetic sob as the pleasure started to become too much. 

But he was still chasing his high, and you leaned forward to kiss him through it, letting him do whatever he wanted to get himself there. 

And when he did cum, you feel yourself cumming a second time too, Jungkook letting out strings of curses and nonsense as he feels you dripping more juices down onto his cock. 

Your head falls on the crook of his neck, Jungkook caressing your back as he relaxes on the seat. 

For a while, words were not spoken. He kept kissing your hair while you felt him twitching in your pussy. 

“I’m so tired,” you wearily peeled your face from his neck, looking at him. He has his eyes shut close, but there’s a content smile on his face that you leaned down to kiss. You didn’t know what for, you just felt like kissing him. 

Jungkook hums. The mess in your crotch starts to feel sticky and cold and uncomfortable. 

“Let’s stay like this for a while.” He says, as if he could read that you were about to get off his lap. 

You chuckle. “I can literally feel you going soft." 

"Ignore my dick. I wanna feel you a little more." 

"Okay." 

Jungkook does an unexpected thing of kissing your forehead. You choose to ignore the weird tingling feeling in your stomach and the way your cheeks feel hot at the action, just let him slip his fingers through your hair and rest your cheek on his naked chest. 

You eventually got off of each other after a few minutes, and you both were quiet as you dressed yourselves back. Jungkook and you got out of his car so he could drive and you could enter the passenger’s seat. 

The drive to your place was quiet but the silence was nice and comfortable, just like when you were at the back of that creepy old house. Jungkook occasionally sang along to some of the songs playing from a random playlist he pulled up on Spotify, and his voice sounded kind of nice. You wanted to say something about it but decided not to, in slight fear that he would stop.

When he pulled over in front of your complex, there was a soft, gentle smile on his face when he told you, "Sweet dreams." 

Your face mirrored his as you wished him good night. 

You locked the door to your apartment, ignoring the strange feeling in your stomach. 

You found yourselves at that abandoned house again the next night and Jungkook forewent the booze and brought junk food from Wendy’s. You had a swell time just sitting with each other at the back of the house, talking about the most random things you could talk about like some silly childhood memories. You almost shared your joy upon finding out that you weren’t actually pregnant after taking the test earlier that day just like you said you would the other night, but you found it better to keep that to yourself.

Additionally, you ranted to him about Professor Kang for giving you a C+ on a project you thought you deserved a higher grade for. Jungkook showed blind support by roasting your professor’s haircut. You didn’t fuck that night but did it the next night after a few drinks. 

When the day of their second game of Finals hit, your Uni won again and Jungkook ditched the after-game party, picking you up and driving you to that place. Almost like it became tradition. 

This time, you think you went overboard with the drinks, but it was probably just your shitty alcohol tolerance because Jungkook was standing still with his third bottle – which you childishly argued was unfair. 

Jungkook carried you like a sack of potatoes on your way to his car, ignoring how you slapped his ass. But you were all giggles and hushed whispers in the backseat as Jungkook guided your hips, bouncing you on his cock, just like the other night.

"How does it feel, baby?” Jungkook whispered against your mouth while you gripped his shoulders hard to slide up and down his cock, the tops of your feet resting on his thighs.

“S-so good,” you whimpered, speeding up, feeling yourself getting close to your edge. 

Jungkook tightened his hands on your waist but didn’t really do anything to control your movements or pace like he usually would. Like he was just enjoying you on top of him, using his cock to get off. 

You leaned down to kiss him, your moan upon feeling him deeper getting swallowed by the way he immediately reciprocated your touch.

You opened your eyes but then you suddenly caught a glimpse of a car. You pulled away from the kiss, but Jungkook took it as an opportunity to kiss your neck instead. While he was busy lapping up your skin, you narrowed your eyes to see clearer, only to realize that the car you saw was a fucking police cruiser. 

“Jungkook,” you called him, stopping your movements on his lap. 

“Baby,” Jungkook’s voice nearly sounded like a whine, understandably confused at your action– or lack thereof. 

But you only tapped his shoulder a little harder. 

“There’s a damn cruiser in front of us." 

Well, it wasn’t actually in front of you. It was more like, parked across from you, beside that abandoned house. 

Jungkook seemed to realize your panic though. His car wasn’t lit because you immediately got into it the moment he put you in the backseat. It was a little inconvenient especially when you were slipping him in but it turned to be a blessing in disguise because whoever owned that cruiser wouldn't have noticed what you were doing in his car.

"Shit." 

You hastily climbed off of him, quickly finding your shorts on the floor of the car and sliding it on while seated. Meanwhile, Jungkook just tucked his dick in his boxers and zipped up his pants. It was pure luck that you didn’t completely strip each other off earlier because it made for a fast dress up.

"Wait.” Jungkook leaned over the center part of the car and stayed a few seconds hunched over the console. You were just about to ask him what he was doing when the passenger’s seat suddenly reclined back. 

“Oh." 

"We can climb over here so that we don’t have to go out and have a cop seeing us. It would be suspicious.” He suggested, and you quickly nodded and did what he told you with a little bit of his help.

Jungkook pressed a button once again that had the driver’s seat this time leaning back, just like yours did. He climbed over it just as fast, putting on his seatbelt that you remember you needed to do as well so you followed. 

He lit on the car and started the engine. But before he could drive, a knock on his window made you both look at it.

“Fuck.”

You held your breath as you watched his window slowly sliding down, revealing a police decked in his uniform hunching down to see the inside of the car. 

“Evening, officer.” Jungkook greets casually. You didn’t know what to do. You reached for the phone in your pocket and turn it on, ducking down as much as you could so as to hide your face, trying to seem busy and casual.

“Oh, it’s just some kids, Hwang,” The cop turned to the side, and that’s when you heard another set of footsteps coming towards you. “You kids live here?" 

"Yeah. It’s my parents’ house, I’m just about to drive my girlfriend home.” Jungkook answered, referring to the green house he parked at, not a hint of hesitation or even an ounce of nervousness in his demeanor. 

You were too frozen to react to the way he called you his girlfriend. 

The other cop nodded. “Apologies. We were just roaming. Be careful, kid, you got a sleek car. There’s some thief on the loose around the street." 

Jungkook nodded as well, even did a little salute as he said, "You got it, sir." 

The cop patted the top of his car and Jungkook bid them a final goodbye before closing his window again and driving away. 

You felt like your soul just went right back inside you after it got out for a moment there. 

"Holy shit, that was the craziest thing I’ve ever done.”

“Really?”

“Yes!” 

And then suddenly, you giggled. Actually, like, giggled. Because realizing what just happened, you found every single thing fucking hilarious. You got away from cops!

“Oh my god, Jungkook. That was insane!” You said in between your laughter. 

Jungkook looked over at you before training his attention to the road and finally laughing with you, seemingly finding what happened just as hilarious. “Yeah. It was, it was.”

“And they really believed you! I can’t believe it,” you covered your face with both of your hands, your belly starting to hurt with how much you found the whole thing incredulous that it was funny.

“It’s not like we did anything wrong…” Jungkook said but he had a hint of playful tone when he spoke the words.

You snorted. “Well, in between public indecency and trespassing, which do you think they would most likely arrest us for?" 

That got Jungkook to laugh again. 

During the ride to your place, you complained about feeling too cold at one point. Jungkook asked if you wanted him to turn the A/C down but you shook your head and so he offered his jacket instead because you only wore a shirt. In your defense, when he picked you up, the weather was humid even though it was late at night.

You didn’t stop talking and laughing about what happened earlier, though. You found it hard to let go of it just like that.

"You are so drunk,” Jungkook chuckled as he pulled over. “You’re going to regret it tomorrow." 

"It’s Saturday tom–” you cut yourself off with a yawn. 

“You’re cute when you’re drunk.” Jungkook commented, pulling over, indicating that you were near your apartment. You didn’t even notice. 

“Not drunk, just tipsy.” You said, starting to unbuckle your seat belt but you kept on failing. Your tipsiness was starting to kick in again and everything was a little too hazy in your head.

You still definitely are aware about your surroundings, so aware that you felt Jungkook hunching over your side to unbuckle your seat belt for you, so close that you felt his breath fanning your face.

“Thanks.” You smiled, he returned it.

You opened the door yourself this time, though, and was only a little surprised to see Jungkook getting out of his car too.

“Let me walk you to your door."

And honestly, you should be worried about the possibility of Nayeon being at the apartment and seeing you together, but you couldn’t really bring yourself to care when all you could feel was odd content in feeling Jungkook’s presence as you walked towards your place. 

It was quiet but it was comfortable. You noticed how it’s always been like that with him, especially these days.

When you reached your door, you turned to Jungkook who was a little behind you, probably slowed his steps when you neared your place.

“Thanks for walking me." 

"No biggies,” Jungkook grins and then he stares at you for a while.

“What?” You asked. 

He leans down, holds your hip and presses his mouth against your own. 

Surprisingly, you didn’t really make a big deal out of it in your head when you were supposed to because this has never happened before: Jungkook walking you to your door and kissing you before he leaves has never occurred before. 

And yet, it felt so normal. Like it was just something that happens on the daily. Like you were so used to feeling his casual and soft kisses instead of the passionate and hard ones that often led to something. 

“See you next week?" 

You nod, biting your lip as he lets you go. "Yeah." 

Jungkook gives you a one, last small smile before he turns around and goes to his car, entering it and driving away from your complex. 

What a crazy night. 

You did not want to admit it, but maybe the strange feeling in your stomach the other night was goddamn butterflies.

You really weren’t supposed to come with.

But Juyeon, your editor in chief, told you to accompany Ryujin as she goes to interview the basketball team for their second win at the Finals season today. Your responsibility told you that it was fine, which, really is fine because you were used to monitoring freshmen in the club and that was actually one of your official jobs as the managing director but!

You were basically gonna do a babysitting job because Ryujin apparently fucked a guy from the team after she interviewed them the first time and it resulted to a poor article, and as a result, Juyeon is afraid she’s gonna fuck up her future write-ups so you’re the collateral damage of the whole situation. 

Juyeon didn’t tell you that herself, though. Keeping things professional and decent. You heard it from the other members of the club. 

Right now, you have to be at the gymnasium to meet people you’ve never really bothered meeting before and have always avoided for obvious reasons. 

But it was fine.

You checked Ryujin’s questions on the way there and when you arrived, she immediately tried to spot the team’s coach to talk to him about the interview she was gonna conduct. 

Instantly, you felt a prickling sensation on your arms and the back of your neck as the varsity players stopped on their tracks to look at the newcomers. At this hour, you can see no one at the gym seats. You and Ryujin were the only civilians and they noticed that immediately. 

It’s as if you couldn’t help it, but you spotted Jungkook on one of the benches drinking water. As if on cue, he met your gaze, and you could see the little surprise he had on his face seeing you. However, you quickly looked away and walked towards where the coach and Ryujin were.

"I’m here with our managing director, too. She’s here to help me with the interview.” Ryujin told the coach, all smiles. 

“Good day, sir.” You greeted him. He nodded at you in acknowledgement and turned to look at his team. 

“Alright,” The coach loudly said, which got the players to transfix their attention to him instead. You tried not to notice Jungkook looking at you as he walked towards your direction, the other members doing the same. Coach stood straight and elaborated, “The school’s publication is here to interview you about the previous game you’ve had. Practice ends here–” he was cut off by the collective loud cheers from the guys. He shook his head. “But put on your best behavior." 

"Guaranteed, coach.” Someone said but you saw how he sent a wink to Ryujin’s way.

Jesus Christ, where even was the subtlety? It was such a boy-ish thing to do. If you could, you would roll your eyes. Wait – was it the guy she fucked on that interview? Ugh. You couldn’t really bring yourself to care. It was her sex life… just maybe she shouldn’t mix it with her journalism activities… 

“Careful, Kang. I’m gonna make you do ten laps if you don’t give these writers some good material,” The coach warned and some of them snorted. He then turned to both of you and Ryujin. “These guys are very rowdy but you guys will be fine." 

You try to smile at him as he bids his goodbye and leaves the gym. Taejun, the senior sports journalist had already interviewed him so Ryujin only had to do it with the players themselves so they could collaborate on the article. 

Ryujin enthusiastically greeted the team and introduced herself, as well as you. You offered them a small smile and was only a little taken aback when Taehyung chirped your name.

"Hi, Taehyung.” you return his greeting.

He grins at you.

Ryujin looks at you immediately. “Oh, you know someone here?" 

Yeah, technically you knew of some people here. You knew Taehyung though, and you knew Jungkook. But you chose to just nod instead of saying anything. 

Ryujin lets out a happy noise. "That’s so cool!" 

Yeah…

"Hey, surprised to see you here,” Taehyung walked up to you. “I thought you weren’t in the sports section?”

You were surprised to know that Taehyung even remembers what you told him a long time ago. You got to know each other that much during the time you were constantly talking. 

“Well, yes. Ryujin is a freshman, though. I take care of them sometimes, you can say.” You replied. 

Taehyung nodded in understanding. “You’re gonna be here for a while?" 

"We’ll see. But I think the interview will be a quick one." 

Someone from the team called Taehyung and he looked at you apologetically. You nodded with a smile. 

"We always seem so busy whenever we see each other,” Taehyung shakes his head with a laugh. You find that quite funny too. “Hey, do you wanna catch up? Get some coffee around." 

"Oh, yeah, sure. But I bet your sched is crazy these days.” you said, alluding to their constant practices for Finals season. 

“Nah, I can make time. Unless you have a crazy sched too?” He gave you a playful smile. 

You cocked your head to the side, squinting your eyes at him. “Not all of us are trying to get our school a big trophy." 

Taehyung laughed at that and his teammates called for him again, this time it was Jungkook. You both looked at him. He had a strange look on his face but you shrugged it off. 

"Well, I better get going. Ryujin’s starting.” He said and pointed back with his thumb. 

The boys were kind of rowdy in the start, but they eventually scattered around the benches doing their own thing as Ryujin talked to them individually, especially the ones who usually play in court. 

You offered to take some of your own notes, too, were kind of bothered that you didn’t really understand some of the terms used and that this was very unusual territory for you to get a material at for writing an article. You never really dabbled on sports writing. 

Eventually, you felt your bladder looking for relief so you told Ryujin that you would be back in a minute. 

It was a little difficult to find the comfort room but you did see it in the far corner of the hallway, a few steps away from the gymnasium. 

You were washing your hands on the communal sink after peeing when the door suddenly opened, revealing Jungkook in his jersey. 

Hand clutching your chest, you looked at him with a scandalized expression. 

“Jesus,” you squint your eyes. “Why are you here?”

Jungkook closes the door and saunters towards the room. “No greetings or anything?" 

You give him an eyeroll and come back to washing your hands as soon as you get over the initial shock of seeing him. 

You simply shrug.

In a second, Jungkook was beside you.

"We haven’t seen each other in a while,” he said, giving you a playful nudge. 

You whisk your hands, ridding the wetness out of your hands. 

“It’s only been three days." 

You see him smile at you through the mirror, and he has that soft look again on his face. You get reminded of your last night together. When he kissed you good night as he dropped you home. 

"I was surprised to see you there,” Jungkook says, turning around and leaning back on the counter. 

You think he’s referring to seeing you at the gym and that makes you chuckle. Why was everyone surprised to see you at the gym? “Why, you think you guys own the gym or something?" 

Jungkook found your sass amusing, though. 

"Come on, you know what I mean." 

You playfully narrowed your eyes at him but ended up laughing for no reason other than he also laughed. 

"Eh, duty calls. Our EIC had me accompany Ryujin, so...” you see Jungkook nodding. You swerve the topic to the next one. “Your big game starts in, like, five days from now.” You mirror his stance and also lean back on the counter. 

Jungkook watched as you did so. “Yeah.”

His eyes are trained on yours, and you hold a weird, intense stare until he finally peels himself off from the counter and walks to you. You’re surprised that you’ve never thought about him in his jersey but you were able to see him earlier like this before and right now, in your close up view, damn. He looked good. Especially with his tattoos all out like that. You really like them. They looked pretty.

“It’s probably gonna be the last game,” you said, referring to the fact that they’ve won the last two games and if they win this one, it would be the concluding point of the Finals season. “You’re going to make the Uni proud?” You arched a brow at him. 

He shrugged. And finally, he crossed the small distance between you and held your hips. You think you unintentionally let out a happy hum at the contact. You’ve been wanting him to touch you as soon as you saw him earlier. For some weird reason. 

“Sure, but only if you’re there for me to give me my personal reward,” The lewd undertone was not lost on you and it made you giggle. Somehow, he’d gotten even closer, fingers caressing your hips in soothing circles. “You look good, by the way. This skirt is new?" 

It is new. You try not to think too much about what it says about you that you kind of thought of him when you placed the order a week ago. It was just a blip of thought, anyway. You swear. 

"Yes. And you’re kinda sweaty,” He really is. But it doesn’t stop you from looping your arms around his neck and Jungkook is only visibly satisfied at the close proximity. 

“Hard at work,” he leans down, but he only nudges your nose. “Can I see your panties?" 

You would have scolded yourself for giggling like a school girl at that question, but Jungkook must’ve realized how stupid that sounded too as he laughed together with you. 

"I don’t know, you’re gonna have to do it yourself. I think.” You whispered, playing into the joke. 

You saw his smirk before he finally closed the hairsbreadth gap between you and touched your mouth against his. He prodded at the seam of your lips with his tongue and you let him access, his tongue swirling with your own as you shared a rather passionate kiss in the sink.

There was a string of saliva between your mouths when he broke free.

“God, I missed your taste.”

It was his last words before he dove in again, kissing you way deeper now, more frantic as well, as he started getting handsy. At some point, his hands on your hips lifted you up until you were seated on the counter, Jungkook kissing you like it hasn’t only been three days since he had you like this. He squeezed your bare thighs that got you whimpering, your hips, waist. Up, up, and up until he was copping a feel on your boobs through your clothes. 

He was kissing your neck when you suddenly felt him untucking your shirt from your skirt. 

“Wait, no,” You tried to get your head out of your previous headspace and took a hold of his wrists. 

“No?” Jungkook stops, looking at you curiously, lips plump, hair a little wild. And with his stupid basketball uniform, it was extremely hard to discourage his advances. 

But…

“Someone might come in,” you say with genuine worry in your voice, pushing him away slightly. 

“There’s not really a lot of people who come to this bathroom,” he tells you. Which, you think, kind of makes sense. Him and his teammates have their locker rooms and their own comfort room that was an extension of the gym (which you pointedly didn’t go to for obvious reasons) and this part of the campus was a little quiet. 

But then again, you did tell Ryujin you would be back in a minute. And it would be quite ironic if Juyeon told you to monitor her because she fucked someone in the team while you go ahead and fail to do that job because you were fooling around with another someone from the same team. 

Jesus. That’s enough crisis for today. 

“Ryujin’s probably going to interview you soon,” you said, tucking your shirt back into your skirt.

You jump slightly to step on the floor, turning around to fix your hair, seeing Jungkook stepping back through the mirror. “Why did you leave the gym, by the way?" 

Jungkook invades your personal space again and presses himself to your back. "I got excited when I saw you…” he whispers in your ear and your whimper betrays your resistance from literally a few seconds ago as you feel something hard on your ass. 

But at the same time, you look at him incredulously through the mirror. He just shrugs as he sees it, gripping your hips again and burrowing his face on the crook of your neck.

“Kook,” you whine.

Jungkook chuckled and before you can do something stupid like give in to his touch, he leaned back and held his hands up. 

“Fine, fine,” he says, still laughing when you turn around to glare at him. “Can I see you later?" 

You jab at his chest lightly. "For being annoying just right now, you can’t " 

His face contorts and pouts. "Aw, come on," 

You roll your eyes at his dramatic antics. 

"We can’t get into anything tonight. Nayeon is staying at home and I’m nervous about her seeing your car if you pick me up,” you tell him. “Also, we can’t go to that place. That cruiser might be back again." 

"Yeah, yeah,” Jungkook agrees. “We can just go together to my place after this, though? It would be late by the time your friend is finished with the interview."  

You look at him funny. 

He sighs. "Damn, I thought I could finally convince you to fuck at my place." 

You shake your head. "Never.”

From the start, you both agreed to only fuck at your place (whenever Nayeon is not around, of course) per your request. Jungkook lives quite far from the campus, at least far compared to yours, and it was a high complex building. As far as you know, most of the big shots at school live there and he’s neighbors with Taehyung. You don’t want to risk it. 

“Never is a long time..” Jungkook wiggles his brows at you and that breaks you from your thoughts. 

Laughing, you push at him playfully. 

“Gee. You should go. They’re probably now wondering why you’re taking so long." 

"They’re probably thinking I’m taking a shit.” he shrugs. “I think I told Taehyung that before I left.”

“Oh no, is that what they’re going to think about me, too?” You gave him an animated concerned look, making your voice purposely higher in pitch. 

“Wait, what? You take a shit?” Jungkook playing into the joke caused you to laugh and you punched his bicep that he just took with a grin. 

When the laughter died down, Jungkook looked at you seriously.

“When can I see you again?" 

"I don’t know. Sometime this week, maybe? Don’t be whiny.” You smile as you see his pout. “Hey, you really should go now." 

He looked a little hesitant but he didn’t really have a choice. And you were also growing more concerned that someone from the gym might think maliciously about you and Jungkook disappearing at the same time for a long time. Hopefully, no one cared enough to think about it. 

"Alright.” Jungkook says finally and starts to step out. Before he leaves, though, he asks, “Wait, are you going to the game?" 

You hope Jungkook doesn’t see the surprise if it showed on your face. You didn’t expect him to ask that. 

But you try to play it cool, pondering on it. It’s Wednesday, next week, and as far as you knew, there was nothing major in your schedule. You still don’t know about that, though. Maybe some of your profs would drop a big project on your heads come Monday. 

It’s why you were surprised to hear yourself say, "I’ll try." 

Jungkook gave you a wide grin before he left completely.

When you got back to the gym, Ryujin was already talking to him.

Jungkook looked at the door when you entered and did a poor job of hiding a smile to himself, and for what reason, you simply didn’t know. But so as you did not know the reason for why you looked too closely at him to even notice that tiny gesture. 

For someone who was adamant to see you last week, Jungkook wasn’t really able to snuck in time to do so. You shared texts here and there, but he mentioned that they’ve been practicing nonstop since the past few days because they are preparing for a big game, after all. Might be the last one if they come through and win it. 

Come Wednesday, the day of the third game, Jungkook texted you that he got a reserved seat for you at the venue. Your weird giddiness over that was clouded by the worry at the thought of how he managed to do that without anyone suspecting anything about your relationship. You mentally noted to tell him about it later. 

When Nayeon came home after classes, she told you she got two tickets for the game if you wanted to come with. You didn’t really need tickets, though, you could just use your journalist card and they would let you in.

See, you had all these resources to go to the game but the thing is, you have a book review and another assignment due tonight and you needed to get some studying done for a test tomorrow. The game starts at 3 pm and will probably end around 6 or even later than that. It’s not that you never procrastinated in your life but you’ve learned over the years to prioritize more important things over the ones that didn’t really need urgency. And this is why you told Nayeon that you couldn’t come with her because of your packed schedule today. 

But worry looms over you as you remember how excited Jungkook seemed over your texts earlier when you asked him what you should expect at the game. He told you about how it could be chaotic and noisy and crowded but it was gonna be fun and worth your while, especially if – he jokingly said – he scores a shot for you if you were to be there. 

Looking back, you made it sound like you were gonna come but in your defense, you really were going to but these school activities came to you unexpectedly and you didn’t have the luxury of time to set them aside to watch a basketball game first. 

And anyway, was it really a big deal if you didn’t come? You don’t think Jungkook would really mind. Maybe his texts went over your head that you thought he was excited at the prospect of you going to his game. You would tell yourself it didn’t matter, and if Jungkook was going to be shit about it (which you doubt, ‘cause he seemed casual about inviting you) then he was weird for being (hypothetically) weird about it. It wasn’t like this was normal for you both, anyway; you going to his games, that is. 

So around 2 pm, you messaged him. 

[2:06pm] You: Hey, I’m really sorry I can’t go to your game. Swamped with school works, but I wish you good luck :) Go break a leg but hopefully not literally! 

It was hard to focus on writing your book review because you couldn’t help but be agitated as you remembered that they air these Finals games on television and you could literally just turn it on and watch it from there. But the empty document on your laptop was glaring at you, like it was daring you to watch TV instead of finishing it. 

Of course, you chose to tend to the intimidating clean white MS word page instead. As if you really had a choice in the first place. 

At 10 pm, your book review was mostly done and only needed a few touch-ups. You also finished your other assignment so you finally had some time to eat.

You just reheated a leftover pizza from your fridge when you received a text from Nayeon.

[10:11pm] Im Nayeonie: babe im sleeping over at a friend’s so the place is all yours for tonight. don’t forget to lock up ok  [10:11pm] You: Ok! You’ll be back tomorrow morning?  [10:14pm] Im Nayeonie: eh probably around 10am but I’ll see 

You remember that she was at the game earlier. It actually slipped off your mind eventually when you got your head in too deep with finishing your assignments, but now that you’re reminded of it again, you wanted to know how it was.

[10:16pm] You: Hey how was the game?  [10:16pm] Im Nayeonie: oh my ur interested in bb now??  [10:17pm] You: Don’t tease! I just wanted to know if you had fun  [10:17pm] Im Nayeonie: ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

You snort at the ridiculous emoticon. 

[10:17pm] You: What the hell does that mean?!  [10:17pm] Im Nayeonie: nothing lmaoooo [10:18pm] Im Nayeonie: but the game was fine! it was kinda intense but our uni lost unfortunately): they had a three point difference 

Oh. You usually didn’t care about any sports games that your Uni has but the news deflated you for some reason.

[10:19pm] You: Ah, thats unfortunate

You replied, finding that you didn’t really know what to say. Should you message Jungkook? But what were you going to say? 

[10:19pm] Im Nayeonie: yeah it is it was supposed to be the last game 😖😖 but there’s still 2 more to go anyway im not too worried about it finals went like this last season too [10:20pm] Im Nayeonie: but jungkook’s buzzer beater at game 4 was really insane it’s like all over on twt IK you proly won’t care about it but ill still send you a link HAHAHAH 

Nayeon did send you a link and thankfully you were able to see it even though you didn’t have Twitter, but you looked up "buzzer beater” on Google first. You didn’t understand it completely but slowly did when you played the video she was talking about. 

The camera was a bit shaky and the background was expectedly noisy. The angle shifted to the timer on top of the ring and you could see that there was only ten seconds left. When the lens panned to the court, you saw a player wearing your Uni’s colors and you couldn’t have mistaken Jungkook for anyone when you spotted the tattoo sleeve. He was a bit far from the ring, at that curved line – the three-point line, you learned through the replies – but he successfully shot the ball quite gracefully into the ring and everyone just lost it. Even the person behind the video was cheering exuberantly. You could also make out that Jungkook pumped the air at his own shot in triumph as a buzzing sound overtook the screams before the clip ended. 

Apparently, they were losing in the fourth game, but Jungkook managed to make a three-point shot in the very literal end which got them a chance to play through the fifth.

You scrolled through the comments and found out that it was indeed a tight game and the other team only had a three-point difference with your Uni’s team, like Nayeon said.

It was amazing, in your opinion, but people online could really be shitty.

Some were mocking Jungkook’s buzzer beater in game 4, saying how it was useless and how he could’ve done it again in game 5 but wasn’t able to. You didn’t know shit about basketball but you were very certain it was a rare thing to do in court so the people who were complaining about it could go fuck themselves.

This is why you avoid social media as much as possible. You hope Jungkook doesn’t see those comments. 

You were frowning as you texted Nayeon back. 

[10:26pm] You: That was cool [10:26pm] You: Hey I’ll talk to you soon I’m gonna go eat dinner. Have fun on your sleepover

You weren’t able to see her reply when Jungkook’s name is suddenly plastered all over your screen. You accepted his call on the third ring.

“Hi,” you say. You can’t help but think about the negative comments on Twitter but Jungkook sounded fine when he answered. 

“Hi, baby,” he greeted on his end. “Can I see you?" 

"Sure,” you answer almost immediately. You composed yourself before continuing. “Nayeon will be out until morning. Come over?" 

You can feel his smile through the line as he says, "Nice. Be there in five." 

Per his words, Jungkook did arrive in five minutes and when you heard a knock from your front door, you quickly opened it and ushered him inside. 

"Hey,” you greet him as he removes his stompers off. He slides on your extra fluffy home slippers, your old one that you have been lending him whenever he would come over. You think it’s kind of funny on his feet because the sliders were too small. “I just finished my leftover pizza for dinner so I don’t have any food right now. Do you want me to order in?" 

Jungkook shakes his head. "Nah, I’m not really hungry. Unless you are? Wait, nevermind, I’ll do that." 

He takes out his phone but you stop him. 

"No, no, it’s fine. I actually ordered Chinese while you were on your way so I could beat you to it.” You tease. But you kind of meant it, honestly. He needs to stop paying for everything. But also, the pizza didn’t cut your hunger and you needed to eat rice, anyway, so you ordered in right after your call with him ended.

Jungkook frowned but then shook his head. “Alright." 

"Water?” You asked, going towards the kitchen. 

“Yes, please." 

He followed you on your way there and when you turned around to give him the glass, he snaked an arm around your waist and kissed you. 

It took you by surprise, but you reciprocated immediately. You mirrored his smile when he broke the kiss. He gazed at you, a fond look on his face, and leaned down to press his forehead to yours and said, "Hi." 

You giggle. "Hi." 

Jungkook presses his mouth on you again and you kiss some more for a little while. It was weird because your kisses usually lead to fucking, but this time it didn’t mean anything other than plain kissing, just for the sake of it. You were reminded of that time in high school when you and your first boyfriend often made out (sloppily) in your room because it was all you were ready to do. Jungkook was far more skilled than said first boyfriend, though. And it felt way nicer with him. 

You were the one to pull away, licking your lips and biting the bottom one.

"Do you wanna watch something?" 

"Hm. Hopefully you aren’t going to make me watch Legally Blonde again." 

Your frown is instant. "I thought you liked that movie?" 

Jungkook chuckles and pecks your lips again but you sulk, especially after hearing his next words, "I do, baby. It’s just I’m getting tired of it…” When he sees your frown deepening, he says, “I’m kidding. We can watch it." 

"No, I feel betrayed now.” You break free from his hold and down another glass of water. 

He laughed and was about to say more when your doorbell rang, indicating the food delivery just arrived. Jungkook was the one to volunteer. 

“I’ll go get it." 

You turned on the TV in the living room and sat on the couch.

Jungkook followed almost as quickly after you, placing the bags of Chinese food on the coffee table. 

"Oh, I think we should watch an Adam Sandlers movie. Just something not so serious.” you said just as when Jungkook sat beside you, remembering about his game earlier. You noted that he seemed to be in a good mood when he came in but you never know, maybe he was good at hiding his real emotions or whatever. And, well, maybe you were a little happy to see him laughing like that with you, despite losing an important game.

“I thought you hated him and his movies?" 

You shrug, appreciating that he even remembers that.

"Eh, it’s fine. It's... camp, you know? Sometimes shitty movies are funny because they’re shitty." 

After a while, you get reminded why you don’t watch Adam Sandlers movies. Even Jungkook who laughs at the most stupid jokes didn’t find the supposed punchlines of the movie you were watching funny. But somehow, you found yourselves eventually laughing at how unfunny the film was and only a little surprised when you went through the whole Chinese take-outs not even 30 minutes in the movie. 

"His movies always make my film maker dreams die.” You comment absentmindedly, drinking your water. 

Jungkook looks at you with a surprised expression. “Filmmaker?" 

You try to remember if you mentioned it to him in passing before. By the look on his face, it was probably his first time hearing it.

"Yep." 

"Oh,” Jungkook nods in thought. “I see you didn’t pursue it." 

"Eh, film school is expensive. Also, it’s not a very generous industry for women, so.” You shrug nonchalantly.

It’s a dormant dream for the most part. Sometimes, you want it a lot, but most of the time, not really. Fresh out of high school, you were supposed to major in it but it was way more you could afford, and your family didn't exactly support it. So study education it is. Besides, teaching was a secondary dream that you decided you could pursue, and well, you were doing well with it. These days though, you were planning to go to law school but it's still something you aren't very sure yet.

It’s a drama you don’t want to bother Jungkook with, though. You never had a discussion like this before… and you weren’t really sure if you were ready to open up to someone like that. 

“I did videography in first year,” he shares. You arch your brow at that. Obviously you didn’t know. “I liked it and I was going to major in multimedia arts but dad said it was either be a lawyer or a doctor if I don’t do tech." 

Ah. An overachiever family, you think. His dad owns a really huge tech company – he didn’t tell you that himself, you just heard it from other people in your school. He probably doesn’t even know you knew that. But you wouldn’t be surprised if he told you right now that his family was full of successful professionals. 

"You went with tech.” You say. 

Jungkook chuckles. “I did. But I made a bargain and said I would only take it if he lets me play basketball. He did let me, but he only tolerates it because I’m passing my classes." 

You nodded, relating a bit. you wouldn't say your parents were particularly strict – but they were extremely practical people who wanted practical lives for their children. They weren’t over-controlling that they smother you with decisions you could make yourself. 

"He really hates it, though.” Jungkook continues. 

“Basketball?” You ask. 

He nods. “Yeah. He thinks I’m thinking of going professional after I graduate, he doesn’t want me to do it." 

"Are you?” You ask, curious. “Going professional, I mean.”

Jungkook shrugs. “I don’t know yet. I love playing. I'd also like to do tech after college, but it feels like I’m just following in his footsteps if I do that," And as if you didn't know already, he humbly adds, "My father’s in tech, by the way.” -- as if his dad was just a regular guy in the field.

He didn’t say it directly, but you feel like he’s probably being pressured by his dad to do this and that. And that makes you feel bad. Jungkook was always so easy-going, so laidback in a way that you would think he was just some varsity casanova asshole with zero care about their future because they think their looks could get them by through their lives, but he really wasn’t anything like that at all. He joined basketball because he loves it, maybe he gets a high from people admiring him for it but you could say he does it mostly for himself. That’s why he trains so hard and plays so hard in court. Aside from that, he was also really smart – which gets overlooked quite often because of his jock persona, and you know that because you were one of those who did overlook his intelligence before because he was a varsity. But he was smart, alright. He takes his studies seriously just as basketball. 

Jungkook is admittedly a lot of great things. And it was sad that his family seemed to not support him, the way you see it.

But… 

You didn’t really know what to tell him. Is he opening up? It’s just that… you never really talked about these things before and what he’s saying right now is so far from your usual lighthearted and casual conversations and interactions. You drew a conclusion that he probably has a tight relationship with his dad, but you don’t know what to do with that entirely new information. 

“Uhm, you’re good at it, basketball,” And his studies, too. You wanted to say but didn’t. You add, “I saw your beater buzzer from the game earlier. It was really cool." 

"It’s buzzer beater– hey, how did you know about that?” He says with an amused smile. You feel slightly embarrassed at how you mixed up the term but it was kind of complicated, alright! And you were kind of nervous. You find it comforting that he doesn’t tease you about it, though.

“Oh, well. Nayeon texted me about it. Also, you’re like, trending on Twitter.” You just told what Nayeon said. You actually didn’t know if he was trending because you didn’t have an account in the first place. “But don’t go look there, though, you’ll have a migraine." 

Jungkook chuckles and leans back on the couch, relaxed in that position. "Yeah. People on the net can be real assholes."

That comment makes you frown. That probably meant he saw the negative feedback, right? Was he used to it? That would be… upsetting if he was. You knew about the local popularity of the athletes in your school, especially the football and volleyball and basketball players. Jungkook is obviously included in that circle but you feel bad that he has to deal with unnecessary hate. Jobs really are needed for chronically online people, you think bitterly.

Before you could say anything, Jungkook’s phone rang and you didn’t mean to look at his screen but you saw "Dad”. He declined the call. 

“He’s talking my ear off about the game earlier,” Jungkook shakes his head. “He acts real concerned over my loss for someone who’s very unsupportive of my basketball career.” He was grinning while he said it but you could hear the annoyance in his tone, how he shut down his phone to probably dodge future calls from his father.

You turned to the movie in front of you.

“Hey, I’m sorry I wasn’t able to go.” You said, effectively changing the subject.

“Hm?” You meet Jungkook’s gaze. He smiles a little. “Ah, I read your text earlier, it’s fine." 

You nodded and tried to focus on the movie again, but you haven’t been following the plot and so you had no idea what they’re showing you now. 

Jungkook suddenly speaks. 

"So are you planning to teach once you graduate? Or take law? You mentioned it before."

Oh. Is he…? 

You could feel his genuine curiosity in that question. But you find yourself hesitating to engage in any more deep conversation with him. It’s not that you didn’t want to share… you’re just not that kind of person. Is he expecting you to lay out your personal drama? 

You choose not to.

"Not sure. I don't want to talk about it."

You didn't mean for it to come out the way it did; clipped and annoyed. As if you didn't want to talk to him. And you could see that he was taken aback, surprised at the sudden change of your tone. But why? You didn’t feel like sharing. And anyway, you were only fuck buddies, right? Are you suddenly becoming bestfriends who tell each other about everything? 

You awkwardly shifted in your seat, eyes trained on the screen in front of you but you felt Jungkook’s stare even while you weren’t looking at him, his eyes boring holes in your side profile. 

You decided to not think too much about the awkward silence throughout the next few minutes, but Jungkook suddenly stood up, looking at his phone.

“I... should get going,” Jungkook announces. 

And you didn’t expect to feel so bummed about it. But somehow, you were relieved. There was suddenly a certain strange energy around and you didn’t know if you could take any more of it.

“Ah, yeah, it’s kind of late…” you trail off. 

Jungkook smiles at you but it doesn’t reach his eyes. You delude yourself into thinking it was not fake. He’s never faked a smile with you before. 

“Thanks for the food and for inviting me over.”

“No biggies.” You say as you follow him towards the door. 

It’s silent again when he wears his shoes, and once he was set and ready to go, you could feel that your smile was hesitant as he bid his goodbye. 

“See you around." 

He didn’t offer anything more – he would usually tease you as he goes out, just to rile you up before you part ways. Jungkook just gave a final wave and went on his way.

You had a hard time sleeping that night.

It wasn’t hard to avoid Jungkook all week when he himself seemed to be outdoing you in it.

For the record, you weren’t actually avoiding him for all sense of the word. You needed your space to collect your thoughts from that night and were trying to recover from the awkwardness of the situation because Jungkook and you might not be the best of friends but you’ve never been awkward with each other like that before.

But maybe you should be a little relieved that he hasn’t been texting, or that you haven’t heard from him. Because you weren’t sure if you were able to manage getting out of your shell so soon.

It didn’t mean that it didn’t sting a bit when he didn’t even spare you a glance the other day as you passed each other in the hallways and perhaps you should be celebrating, because yey, he finally did not acknowledge you in some way like meet your gaze and give you a small smile with so many people around that might notice and make a big deal out of it? 

But you wore the black skirt he liked so much! He was supposed to text you something stupid like "nice skirt :) i wanna see it pooled around my lap” by the end of the day but no! No such thing happened. 

Was he mad at you, is that it? Why would he be mad though? Did he seem mad that night? Did you do something that guaranteed this... Whatever this is? As far as you knew, you did not say anything that warranted a silent treatment from him. Did you? Wait, is he actually giving you the silent treatment? 

Ugh. 

When Thursday came, you found yourself watching their fourth game on TV together with Nayeon. You got a slight whiplash because it felt like your first time seeing Jungkook’s face in a long while. Somehow, he looked even better on TV, and he was so serious whenever the camera caught him. You supposed he ought to be, but you’ve never seen him that serious before. He would smile whenever they scored, and maybe it was a little embarrassing for your heart to do a little jump when you saw that toothy grin again, after so long.

You were slow to understand shit about the game, but you got the whole gist of it eventually. 

Unfortunately, though, the tight game resulted to your university losing in the end.

You wanted so badly to text him something, anything, but you felt like you weren’t on texting terms, so you went to your Instagram and sent Jungkook a direct message. 

[11:58pm] ynblips: Hi! I watched the game on TV and it was really tight and you did so well :)

You were mostly not expecting a reply, so you were only a little disappointed when you indeed didn’t get one even after a day passed. But he liked it, only liked it. Which kind of pissed you off.

What was his deal? You’ve gathered that you, apparently, weren’t on speaking terms, for some reason. But this was ridiculous. If he had a problem with you, he should be upfront about it. Not make you guess with this stupid giving-you-the-cold-shoulder thing when you didn’t even deserve it. For god’s sake, you knew that last meeting was awkward but you both usually do a good job of swerving those situations and moving on and acting casual! You’ve been casual for four months! This relationship was supposed to be easy. Smooth-sailing. So what changed now? 

Nayeon noticed your crankiness earlier this day, and it concerned you, how much this whole thing was affecting you.

But you’ve grown tired of not knowing anything. You were tired of guessing why Jungkook was being like this. 

So you were a woman with a mission today. You planned to talk to Jungkook so he could finally be a big boy and talk to you about his obvious problems with you. Because it had to be that, right? He wouldn’t talk to you because he had issues with you. 

Later that day, your quest was made easy when you saw him at the library. 

You’re only a little surprised with yourself when you walk towards his direction with the presence of many people around. Yeah, whatever. 

“Hey,” you called. 

You could see Jungkook’s eyes widening a little as he turns around to see you, his hand stopping from taking notes on his iPad as he looks up at you. 

“Oh, hey,” he greets you, but you can see he is a little confused as he takes out his airpods. You never talked to him on school grounds whenever people were around. He neither did, though. It was a mutual agreement. 

“We need to talk." 

Jungkook looks in between you and the book and notes he was doing, and you would understand if he tells you to fuck off because he was busy – maybe not with those exact words because you’d probably take it to heart and cry about it, but he’s taken you by surprise when he says, 

"Okay. Let me just fix this.” Jungkook closes his book and his iPad, stuffing them in his bag. 

You anxiously tap your shoe on the floor, though not with sound, aware of the people looking at your interaction with the school’s basketball star player. 

“Where to?” He asks as he slings his bag over his shoulder. 

“Just, uh, follow me." 

He surprisingly does without further questions, and you begin to second-guess yourself about being kind of mad at him for seemingly being mad at you. Maybe you were reading too much into these past few days? Maybe he really wasn’t mad at you and you just assumed so because he suddenly stopped texting you? It’s not that you needed an explanation for why he wasn’t talking to you suddenly. He had a life outside having a friends with benefits situation with you and you know that. 

Jungkook stopped when you halted your steps at the far end of the library. It was the old theology section and no one really comes around here anymore so it was quiet and free of lingering, poorly hidden stares from other strangers, who you prefer to not be included in this conversation you are about to have.

Shit, should you have just texted him and told him to come over so you could talk more in private? But you doubted he would reply, and anyway, Nayeon would be home so you had no private space to do that. 

"Okay,” you start. “Let’s talk." 

Jungkook quirks a brow, leaning back on a cabinet. 

You look at him one more time and sigh. 

"You’ve been avoiding me.” You didn’t really mean to say it in such a heavy tone, but it came out that way and you couldn’t take it back. 

Jungkook is caught off guard. 

“Huh?"

You frown. "You’re avoiding me. And I don’t know why and I couldn't care less, usually, but I'm confused and I don’t want to guess anything with you so just say it now." 

There, you’ve blurted it all out. 

Jungkook took a long time, but you feel yourself getting angry when he only says, "I’m not upset with you." 

Really? Really?! Is he really planning to to do this right now? What’s next, is he going to call you crazy for thinking that he was mad at you because he suddenly stopped talking to you altogether? Un-fucking-believable. 

"I know you are, just say it.” You say, trying to balance your emotions. He really is gonna call you crazy if you lash out. 

“I’m just busy with practice.” but the way he said it so dismissively, like he wanted to be anywhere but here right now, makes you frown even harder. 

“You can’t even text me?” You called out. You didn’t know why you said that, because you did just tell yourself it wasn’t a big deal if he didn’t text you. But it doesn’t mean that it didn’t hurt when he confirmed it.

“I don’t owe you an explanation."

You bite back your tongue. Wow, is he going for asshole today? But it hurt, because it was true. He didn’t need to give you an explanation. You weren’t anything important, and nor was he in your life, in any way, so why are you genuinely hurt by this?

When Jungkook noticed your silence, a flash of conflict in his expression, he decided to add, "Look…” he trailed off, as if not really having any idea what to say next. When he gave you that placating look, you knew he was about to say something that will completely piss you off.

“Is it about the sex? I’m sorry we haven’t been able to do that the past few days. Do you want to have sex today?”

You felt anger boiling in your chest as soon as he said that.

He really is going for asshole today.

What in the actual fuck? He thinks you’re confronting him because you haven’t been having sex? Why would he say that like you were just some desperate whore frothing in the mouth to bed him? Does he think of you so low like that? Did he not consider that maybe you were just genuinely concerned of feeling so distant to him right now? 

You swallow the lump in your throat and scowl at him. 

“You know what, fuck you. I asked you nicely what’s your problem with me.”

Jungkook was visibly surprised with your outburst, and you were disappointed in yourself to even show an ounce of reaction to that bullshit he just said.

But he just looks away, eager to avoid the look on your face. “You didn’t ask that, you went ahead and accused me of avoiding you when you’ve been doing the same thing." 

"Oh, so you are admitting to avoiding me. What’s the issue? Say it.” You demanded. But Jungkook wasn’t having any of it. 

“I don’t have a problem. What’s your problem? Why are you acting so upset about all of this?" 

To even throw that on your face was cruel, and you think you saw a flash of hesitation on his face when he said that, but it was blank after a split second. It’s blank until now, like he doesn’t really give a shit. 

Great. 

"I just want you to talk to me if you’re upset with me about something.” You say, even though that wasn’t really what you intended to say. It felt like defeat.

You feel pathetic all of a sudden, remembering his words. Why are you so upset about all of this? Because clearly, you care. And apparently, he did not. He didn’t have to put that to words. He didn’t have the right to hurt you like this. 

“Talk?” Jungkook repeats. “The last time we did that, you didn't seem to want to." 

His words have a bite to them, like he means more than that. And that night flashes in your head. When he was opening up to you, and you chose to disengage by being cagey and avoiding it all together because you felt weird about it. 

When you don’t answer, Jungkook sighs. 

"I have practice in five minutes. I’ll see you around." 

He doesn’t even say goodbye or spare you a last glance when he walks away. 

You are a turtle. 

Obviously, not literally. But turtles, when bombarded, reflexively duck their heads inside their shells to protect themselves before any damage could be done to them. And the same could be said about you. 

You avoid problems like a champ. It’s the only sport that you’re really great at. 

Growing up, you’ve never really had a lot of friends. You had a small circle in high school but you didn’t see a significant value in your connection. Maybe because you grew up in an environment where love was non-existent and the relationships in your house were transactional at best, still are. Until now, you have no idea if your parents loved each other at one point or if they were always like that; like two different strangers working jobs during the day that just happen to have the same house to go to at night so you and Jini have some people to call "mom” and “dad”. You guessed you’ll never know, but it was hard not to think that their relationship has always been the latter. Your relationship with your sister mirrors that of your parents’, though, so you can’t really criticize them for not acting like partners enough.

When you were young, you hated the way you approached friendship or any sort of relationships a lot. You hated how it was so easy for others to befriend one another, how it was easy for girls your age to have a life outside of studying. You hated how easy it was for other people to not build these sturdy walls whenever someone approached them. But you just kind of grew into it along the way… 

Social networking is important for college, though, and you were forced to have friends but you did make friends willingly along the way. It was not that you are a total sociopath, nor do you think you are one. Nayeon was a sweetheart who was very likeable and you’ve had the pleasure of being roommates with her for two years now. You are close to a certain point, but it wasn’t like you were best friends. She was two years older than you and was on her last year of college and had her own close circle of friends. The closeness was a result of living a domesticated life with each other because you lived in the same house. But you genuinely like her.

And you’ve actually met more people you genuinely liked when you went to college, not just her. Like Taehyung. He was a fun conversationalist, and you feel like you could totally hit it off only if you weren’t too hesitant to befriend him. Juyeon is probably the most hardworking woman you’ve ever met, and most of your liking towards her has a lot to do with the respect and admiration you have for her. And then there was Namjoon. A guy two years your senior during your sophomore year who you've had a short fling with. He was a great guy whom you actually saw yourself dating, but it was a bit complicated. And then Jungkook…

Well… he was everything you imagined him not to be.

You still remember the first time you saw him during orientation day. He wore this huge white sweatshirt and light-washed cargo pants with some stomper boots, hair curly and so fluffy as he slung his bag over his shoulder, talking animatedly with a friend. You’ve had crushes in high school (like that one senior guy from the debate team who turned out to be an asshole so you got over it pretty quickly) but it was the first time you’ve ever felt so strongly like that. Your crush faded eventually though when you learned he was a jock.

However, the universe made different plans. You both had the same code for your first term Philo class and got partnered on a project, and unexpectedly, he turned out to be smart, kind, witty, so unbelievably handsome and attractive and actually wasn’t an asshole like you thought he was when you found out he played in the varsity team. That was the start of your pathetic minor pining over the guy and then four months ago happened.

You hit it off at a random party Nayeon told you to come with her to. Had enjoyable sex. And then another. Until you both talked about the agreement – the stupid agreement that you have now still. 

You like him a lot. Always have. In more ways than one. 

You were an expert at hiding your feelings so it never really got in the way. And anyway, you aren’t ready for a relationship so the arrangement has always been perfect for you. 

But you hated that. Because, really? This part of your life feels like some pages taken out of a shitty young adult fiction book. Falling for the popular jock at school at the same time your fuck buddy. It wasn’t supposed to be like that. You weren’t supposed to like him more than you already have because you were both clear at what you wanted when you started it. But it happened and all those fun times with him at the abandoned lot and the soft kisses and gentle smiles and fond gazes and funny conversations and his stupid teasing are most likely going down the drain because you hurt him with your inability to face your feelings. 

You aren’t stupid. You know Jungkook likes you too. You know the past few weeks have been dangerously teetering outside the line of being fuck buddies but you went along with it because who wouldn’t? What were you to do, anyway? Confront it? You’ve never been confrontational. 

So when Jungkook tried to get to know more than your outer surface by opening up to you about things that probably no one other than you knew, you cowered. 

You cowered because you were afraid of what that would entail.

You’ve never done it, opening up to people. You’ve never known anyone to a point like that. You just weren’t the type to get too close to others, them letting them you in their lives just as you let them in yours. That wasn’t who you were and you’ve always been contented with that for most of your life.

But it wasn’t fair to Jungkook and it wasn’t fair to you. It wasn’t fair to Jungkook because he deserved to know that you care. He deserves to know that you want to know him, too. You want to be close to him more than just the physical, sexual aspect of your relationship. You want to know his intentions behind the overly kind, almost special way he treats you, his caring words, the meaning behind his soft kisses after sex, the purpose behind those kisses that didn’t lead to sex.

And lastly, you want him to know that you were sorry for the other night.

So when another Friday rolled, you finally mustered up the courage to go to his game. It was the last one, after all. You wanted to show up. 

The venue was crowded and chaotic and you wanted to ditch but you decided it was fine. You were gonna endure it if it meant you finally got to see Jungkook physically in court. 

And saw him, you did. Even though you were in the middle row seats and wearing a cap because you oddly felt unwelcomed and didn’t want to be seen by him – as if he would even want to see you. But it was whatever. 

Jungkook was… amazing. That was really the only adjective you could use to describe how he was. Maybe you were a little biased but he was the greatest out of all the ten people running around the court. He just stood out, even when someone else did the good job of scoring. 

And people around you seemed to think so too because whenever he did get to score or was the one holding the ball or his face got shown on the huge screen, everyone just lost it.

The match was tight again so it bled into five games. Your Uni just needed to win the last one and they would successfully bring the trophy home.

You found yourself silently cheering for your team, specifically Jungkook, though it felt strange to you because this was your first sports game, after all. But it felt good to do it. It also felt good to see other people so passionate at cheering him on as well as his team, especially after you read all that hate against him on the internet the other week.

And it felt especially great when they did win in the end of it all. 

The stands went wild as the game finished with your Uni scoring a solid 105 and 96 for the other. 

You’ve stayed long to see Jungkook being awarded the MVP title, but not long enough to find it difficult to get an Uber as you went home. 

Nayeon got to your place later than you, but you learned that she wasn’t at the game earlier but was in a study group instead.

You ordered dinner for the both of you, just some Chinese that you quickly finished up. 

By 11 pm, you were panicking. 

You had a solid plan yesterday. You were supposed to go to Jungkook and apologize to him and whatever but how the hell were you going to do that when you had no idea where he was now? Ugh. You should’ve approached him after the games earlier! But you didn’t feel comfortable doing that with so many people around… 

You saw your phone on your night stand and got an idea to just text him. But you didn’t know if he was going to respond. If he was going to tell you to fuck off, you at least didn’t want to receive that through text. 

So you opted for the last and craziest option you’ve got. 

[11:08pm] You: Hello, Taehyung! I know we haven’t talked in a while and I’m sorry for texting you now, I just have some questions if you don’t mind :) Congrats on winning Finals by the way, it was a great game.

You anxiously wait for his reply that you received not even a minute after you sent your text. 

[11:08pm] K. Taehyung: hi __ HAHAHHA im a bit surprised to see your name on my phone!! we’ve never gotten around having that coffee 😅 but thank you for the congrats! hit me with those questions i don’t mind  [11:09pm] You: It’s a real bummer that we’ve both been so busy ):  [11:10pm] You: But I was wondering if you know where Jungkook is? Last week he lent me a jacket when he saw me pour a drink on myself at some cafe, haha. So I was thinking I should give it to him now but I have no idea how to

Listen, it wasn’t the whole truth, but it wasn’t a complete lie either. You indeed needed to find Jungkook, and he lent you a jacket weeks ago which you needed to return but you forgot about it and conveniently remembered it just earlier when you were trying to conjure up an excuse to see him.

[11:10pm] K. Taehyung: oh i was actually just talking to him awhile ago. he wouldn’t go to the after-game party. said he was gonna stay up all night to play overwatch or something  [11:10pm] K. Taehyung: I can text you his address if you want to come over like right now

You feel like you aren’t supposed to just give your friends’ addresses away like that but it is flattering to think that Taehyung must trust you enough to not assume you were a psychopath serial killer or something. 

[11:11pm] You: Yes, please. Thank you so much, Taehyung. Catch up on that coffee hang another time

You got an Uber to drive to his place. You tried not to think too much about the fancy complex and how there were elevators instead of just stairs like yours but you managed to get to Jungkook’s place through Taehyung’s text. 

You pressed a button upside the knob. It created a loud buzz and you tighten your fingers around the ribbon handles of the paper bag that got his jacket inside. 

It was the perfect excuse. You did need to return it to him. And if you got too flustered or scared to talk to him further, you were just going to leave right after he takes it from you and just accept the fact that he probably really hates you now because you were mean and—

The door opens, revealing Jungkook. A shirtless, wet Jungkook. 

“Oh." 

Jungkook has a hint of shock in his eyes when he comes face to face with you. You’ve never been here, for the record. And he was probably wondering how the hell you got his address.

"Uh,” you start. You thrust the paper bag towards him. “Here. It’s your jacket from weeks ago. I washed it already. Thanks for lending me it.”

You see his hesitation when he takes it from you, and it makes your nerves go haywire. 

Jungkook mumbled a little thanks. He stood there for a moment, probably still not getting the shock out of his system. As each second passed, you felt the need and the urge to go, but his voice cut that idea in your head.

“Uh. Do you wanna come in?" 

"Yes.” Maybe it was too much of an immediate answer, but you needed to. If you were to stand outside much longer, your courage will wear down and you might miss an opportunity to talk to him. 

Jungkook stepped aside and further invited you in. Your steps were a little shy as you followed him inside, watching as he took a pair of Nike sliders and offered it to you as you removed your birkens off your feet.

“Thank you.” You tell him, sliding your feet on the slippers that were definitely too big for you. 

He gave you a small smile in return. That gave you a bit of hope that it would go well tonight. 

“I’m just gonna go and change into something. You can sit here,” You followed behind him into the living room of his rather huge flat. Really, this was more of a condo unit than an apartment. “There's– sorry. I wasn't– it’s kind of messy here right now but I was busy the past few days. It’s not usually like this here." 

Jungkook hastily arranged the scattered throw pillows on the couch. You even hear him hissed as he picked up a bowl and some take-out trash on the coffee table. He reached for something in the tight corner of the couch, holding up a remote awkwardly for you.

He quickly looked away from you though, turning to his huge TV (it was literally a jumbotron) and making it light up. It showed some kind of game on pause.

"I’m sorry, I was playing something earlier. Uh, do you want to play anything? I have a lot of games.” He continued to say.

And you realized Jungkook was panicking. He was rambling, talking words over his own words, jumping from one thing to another and hastily cleaning up the space in the living room.  

It was… adorable. The way he was kind of scrambling… to accommodate you? Eh. But it was nice. Nice to know that you aren’t the only one panicking.

“Thanks for the offer, but I don’t really play anything.” You say honestly. You don’t like gaming. It’s stressful. 

“Oh…” Jungkook trails off then his eyes set on the kitchen. “Oh shit wait, do you want water? Tea? I don’t think I have tea but I think I can look for something?" 

You couldn’t help the laugh that came out from your mouth but you quickly cut yourself off. 

"Sorry. Uhm. No. I don’t want anything.” Truthfully, you wanted water but Jungkook needed to change into something immediately. You may not exactly be talking talking right now but his body and tattoos were nice to look at and you didn’t want it to distract you too much. It felt wrong to admire him like that when you were not exactly in great terms. 

“You sure?” When you nodded, Jungkook did the same too, but more like to himself. “Okay. I’ll just get to my room." 

You sat on his nice leather couch and looked around as Jungkook changed.

It was such a nice place. You could see that it was indeed expensive. The space was definitely, like, three times larger than your own and it even seemed to have another room on the far end. You didn’t know if Jungkook lived alone, he never mentioned anything about it. 

You still didn’t find yourself completely relaxed as Jungkook emerged from his room. 

The fringe of his bangs are still wet from his shower, but he’s now changed into a grey hoodie with matching shorts. 

"Hey,” he said as he walked towards you and sat on the couch. The distance was far but not totally that you end up being on the opposite sides. 

“Hi,” you greeted him back. “You have a nice place." 

He smiles. "Thank you." 

The atmosphere was incredibly awkward, you could feel that. But you pushed yourself to go through it. 

"Congrats on the game earlier.” You tell him sincerely. 

“Ah… thanks." 

"I went there." 

"Really?” You could see the understandable surprise in his face after hearing your words. “I didn’t see you." 

You chuckle lightly. "Hm. You were too serious and busy in the court to see me.”

Jungkook shyly looks away. 

“I– well. You should have told me. I could’ve gotten you a nice seat. Did you get a nice seat?” The sentiment was cute but surprising at the same time. After that time in the library, you wouldn’t have expected him to get you a nice seat. 

“It was okay." 

It didn’t look like he would say anything more, but you were a little relieved to have a break from the atmosphere when the door buzzed again, indicating someone coming. 

You feel your heart jump.

You didn’t know why your mind went to such dark places like him having someone over to do– what? Ugh. Jungkook wouldn’t do that, would he? Honesty was what you agreed on when you started this agreement. You promised to tell each other right away if you start sleeping with other people because of health reasons. 

"That must be the pizza.” Jungkook murmurs as he stands up.

You almost sigh in relief.

Okay. So no other women coming over. 

Jungkook comes back a moment later with three boxes. 

“I thought we could eat something,” he said as he sat on the couch again, this time a little closer than earlier. He looked at the TV, still on that game he was playing. He placed the pizza on the table and took the remote to exit out of his game, pressing some buttons on it and eventually the screen loaded to Netflix. “You wanna watch something?" 

That would be nice, actually. 

"Yep." 

"Okay… uh. Legally Blonde?" 

You couldn’t help your eyebrow from raising. 

Jungkook laughs a little. You’re a little surprised to hear it. It felt like eons ago since you’ve heard it.

"I like it a lot.” He shrugged and then looked it up on Netflix, clicked the movie poster and pressed play.

You start eating the pizza on the couch. You were obsessed with Legally Blonde probably an abnormal amount but this time, its entertainment didn’t affect you full force because at the back of your head, you’re still trying to figure out how to speak up the words you really wanted to say to Jungkook. 

“Hey…” you suddenly speak. You hesitate for a while but then let out a heavy breath. Jungkook looks at you because of that. “I’m sorry." 

His confusion was anticipated. He face looks like he was ready to ask, but you continue, 

"About the other night. Uh. When you went over. I’m sorry. I made you feel like I didn’t care but…” you train your gaze to the remote on the corner of the couch. “But I do, Jungkook. I care about you. It’s just that, it freaked me out, you know? People never felt comfortable enough with me to share such personal things and I’ve always been okay with that because I’m not exactly—” you cut yourself off, trying to organize your thoughts. But you give up because there was no use in doing such. You wanted to be honest as much as possible. “I know I don’t exactly strike people as someone who can care. And, well, that’s true, you know? People always tell me that I almost function like a robot. So, uh, I freaked out, because I thought you trusted me enough to do that and I felt like I didn’t deserve it, your trust I mean. And so I acted like that because I didn’t know what—”

“Hey,” Jungkook stopped you before you could go on a full spiral. You didn’t notice because of your rambling earlier but he was closer this time. “Breathe. It’s fine. I have all the time to listen to you." 

It was such a sweet sentiment, paired with his charming smile. You feel your heart jump and look away from his gaze. 

"Baby," 

There. He’s calling you that name again. Has he forgiven you? Were you both on that terms again? But he couldn’t have forgiven you that fast! 

"Baby, look at me,” you did, because he held your face in his warm hands, making you look at him. You could feel your cheeks tingle in his hold. “I’m actually so glad you came here tonight. I appreciate your apology, and I accept it.” He says, voice sounding so sincere.

You looked down, feeling like you don’t deserve it at all. 

“I’ve been thinking, you know?” Jungkook lifts your chin up with his fingers, smiling, such mirth behind it that you think he was probably thinking you were going to tease him about his words. But you didn’t feel like joking with him right now. “I totally didn’t think things through that night. I shouldn’t have told you all about my personal drama—"

Oh, no. That’s exactly what you thought you made him feel that night, and for him to verbalize it, it hurts you. Because you knew you truly made him feel that way. It wasn’t your intention but you knew your reaction –or lack thereof– threw him off. 

"No, no. I should have—" 

"No, ___, I shouldn’t have dumped all of that onto you expecting you to have a say about it and be disappointed and extremely hurt when you didn’t. We don’t know each other a lot, I know that." He gives you a sheepish smile. "I guess I just... I wanted us to know each other a little better you know? But I must’ve freaked you out instead and made you uncomfortable with me telling you all about those when we made it clear that this relationship was never going to be like that, and I’m sorry. I’m sorry for dumping. I kind of… realized that... maybe you just wanted some lazy time with me that night. So I’m sorry. I believe you're also apologetic about it, but I’m saying don’t be. It was all on me." 

Jungkook’s words were a jumbled mess in your head that you were surprised to even get them. 

"I–no, no. Kook– I… told you, I care about you. I—” you felt a metaphorical block in your head, and it made you cut yourself off. But then you remember his words and so you continue, “I didn’t just– look. It was unexpected, and I told you I just freaked out because I didn’t know where we stood and I just felt like I wasn’t deserving to know you like that. But I care a lot about you.”

Jungkook was quiet for a while, and you feared he was contemplating and thinking you were just lying to get over everything with. But then his face softens at your words. “I care a lot about you, too,” He says, and then it contorts a little, as if he remembered something. “That’s why I’m also… I’m also sorry about that time at the library. I was a complete asshole to you. I wanted to be mean because I was hurt but none of it was your fault. I really am sorry." 

Your head takes you back to that time in the library. He did hurt you with the harsh words he’d spoken, but his apology sounded sincere and you believe it. 

"Yeah. Uhm. I’m sorry about cornering you there. I should’ve texted you that I wanted to talk but I wasn’t sure if you were going to reply." 

Jungkook looked a little shameful for reasons that you couldn’t think of. 

"I’m sorry about that. I acted like such a boy about the whole thing. You don’t deserve to be ghosted suddenly because you hurt my feelings without you even really knowing why. I should’ve talked to you properly." 

You bite your lip, feeling like you were suddenly going to cry.

You know it was the bare minimum, and even though he said you had nothing to be sorry about, you still feel oddly emotional about someone apologizing to you. You’d never been apologized to sincerely even when a lot of people have done you wrong and hurt you before. They always thought you didn’t care or just got over things quickly because apparently, people had the impression that you weren’t the type to feel anything. 

"I like you a lot.” You blurt out. 

It was stupid. It was so stupid to say that in the middle of this conversation, but your mouth was running faster than your brain and you couldn’t help it. 

“Really?” Jungkook grins, and it was quite big. Your heart beats faster in your chest. “I really like you, too. Like, a lot. Probably more than you do.”

You meet his eyes finally. They hold such fondness for you, and you’ve always noticed. But you brush it away just as it shows. Regular, old, __. Always pushing away people who like her.

Right now, you’re berating yourself for pointedly ignoring that before, but his dark eyes serve as a distraction. They were so ominous and so big and looked like they had the stars in them. And he was so handsome. Suddenly, your gaze falls to his lips and quickly trains to the mole under the bottom one. You’ve always wanted to kiss it but never did so because… because, well. It would be weird, right? But then you remember that Jungkook always kisses that mole in between your chest... 

You blush at the thought and look away. 

“That’s nice.” You said, not really knowing how to respond. 

Jungkook chuckled and twisted himself to look forward again, at the TV playing Legally Blonde. 

It was like that for a while and you found that the weight you’ve been carrying all week on your back felt like it’s been lifted, finally. 

This night was going really, really well. 

And so well it went.

Legally Blonde ended and you and Jungkook somehow ended up being closer. So close that his arm just found its way around your shoulders, your leg across his, his other arm wrapped around that leg to pull you impossibly closer to him onto the next film. 

It’s been half an hour into the new movie but if you were honest, your brain wasn’t really on it. It was on how Jungkook held you delicately, his mouth pressing kisses on the crown of your head occasionally, almost absentmindedly. Your thoughts were filled with the soft, gentle caresses of his hand on your leg, and how you would feel his eyes even when you weren’t looking. It was all so tender and just so, so incredibly nice. 

When you yawned, Jungkook immediately checked on you with a light chuckle. 

“Sleepy?” He asks. 

You shake your head but another yawn forced its way out of your mouth again. You let your head fall dramatically on his chest as he laughed. 

“I gotta go…” you said, thinking that it’s probably late as hell and dark outside. But you found that you really didn’t want to. The material of his hoodie was so soft and his presence was so calming and it sounded undeniably cheesy but you wanted to be held by him a little more. 

“You could stay." 

That made you look up at him. 

"Huh?" 

"You can stay here, if you want. Sleep over." 

"Oh." 

A flash of hesitation on his beautiful face.

"Only if you want to, of course. I’ll drive you home if you wanna go.” He offers quickly, as if embarrassed to even suggest the thing he said earlier. 

But you did want to stay. But… he never stayed over at your place. You didn’t let him and he never expressed a little bit of desire to do so, anyway. Would it be unfair if he never slept over at yours but you would at his now? What did your conversation today change? When he said “I like you”, did that mean it was okay for you to stay the night? 

“Uhm, I’d like to stay here, if it’s okay with you.” You said, throwing your inhibitions away. There was no room for more denials in your heart. 

Jungkook’s bright grin made your worries subside. He definitely wants you to stay as much as you do. 

“Okay." 

"It’s okay for you? Sorry, I don’t have a lot of pillows…” Jungkook rubbed the back of his neck and looked at you sheepishly. 

You waved him off. “It’s fine. Hey, come here now." 

Jungkook did a poor job of hiding a big grin again as he slid on the bed with you.

When you twisted yourself so your back was facing him, about to reach for your phone on the night stand to see if Nayeon replied to your text telling her you wouldn’t be home until morning, Jungkook also did the same and wrapped his arm around your waist, basically spooning you. 

And you realized that oh, he’d mistaken you for wanting to be a little spoon… 

But it was cute. And you really like him holding you, so you pretended it was your intention all along and mentally noted to check your phone tomorrow morning.

"You smell good.” He said against your ear. You smiled at the way it tickled a bit.

“I don’t think I do anymore, but thanks.”

You showered right after coming home as the game ended but that was many hours ago, so surely Jungkook must just be speaking nonsense. And anyway, he was the one who smelled nice because he did just get out of the shower. He smelled like that certain apple scent he always did. 

“No, really. Like flowers. I always liked that about you." 

"Eh, it’s probably just my bath and body works body wash." 

"Really?” You felt him sniff up your arm and you giggled. That reaction encouraged him to do it more until his nose reached your armpit. It tickled so much that you thrashed and turned and bit his arm. His laughter got louder as you did so, but you only pouted at him. 

“Okay, sorry, sorry,” Jungkook said but he didn’t look like it. You didn’t expect it but he suddenly kissed your forehead. Your eyes reflexively closed at the feel of his lips on your skin. 

You open them once again only to see Jungkook staring into your eyes again, quite intensely that you feel like he was there looking right into your soul. 

“I missed you.” He whispered, his hand that was around your waist tightening, the other clearing up your face from stray hairs. 

“I really missed you too.” you said as sincerely as you could. Because you really did, and you hope he could feel it and believe it just like you did his words. 

A few seconds after and then his lips finally touched yours and it was such a relief that you sighed against them. It was a slow kiss. Sweet and too short but you didn’t really mind when Jungkook looked at you again like you hung the stars in the sky. 

“Let’s sleep baby, turn around for me again.” He said and you wanted to reprimand him for ordering you around but you didn’t really feel like you needed to. You didn’t really have complaints about being the little spoon in this cuddling session, anyway.

It was only about a minute of silence when Jungkook suddenly spoke.

“Babe, I know I’m probably going to ruin this wholesome moment but can I hold your boob while we try to sleep?" 

And you couldn’t help but laugh because who wouldn’t. 

"Go for it.” You said, settling against his chest, getting more comfortable. Jungkook was only too happy to let you, letting out a low happy hum as he held you tighter, another hand wandering inside the worn out shirt you were wearing that he lent you for the night. 

The contact was cold to the touch at first, but when he gave you a squeeze and finally rested his hand over there, it got warm eventually.

Having a weight on top of your boob while sleeping was definitely a new concept for you, but you found that it was oddly comforting.

There was nothing sexual to it, not really. And you thought Jungkook didn’t really have any sexual intentions to begin with. 

It was just nice to have his hand on your breast. 

“So soft,” Jungkook whispered at some point and you just chuckled in between putting yourself in slumber.

It’s been hard to settle in bed peacefully the previous nights after that debacle weeks ago, but that moment, you slid to dreamland quite easily; and you were certain it was due to Jungkook’s warm body all over yours.

EPILOGUE

( ONE MONTH LATER )

You have awoken in a feverish feeling brought by the dream of a certain man drawing all kinds of shapes on your clit with his skillful tongue. At first, the sensation felt far away, like it was just a distant memory, but you suddenly feel a seemingly too real grip on your thighs and a tentative swipe over the length of your nether region. 

When you blearily open your eyes, the sunlight intruding through the seams of your room, you caught a sight of a very real man’s head in between your legs, his dark hair pulled by a headband as he determinedly pleasures your pussy.  

“Jungkook,” you sigh, blindingly reaching for his head. 

He hums in your pussy, and it sends a jolt right up your spine. He felt you jumping a little, and that earned a chuckle from him. The vibration of it in your aching heat made your legs quiver. 

“Good morning, baby." 

It was a little disorienting to wake up to Jungkook eating you out so early in the morning, but the pleasure overrode it as you throw your head back on your soft pillows, twisting your face to the side and burying it on the fluffy material as Jungkook sucks on your clit, his finger teasing over the lips of your pussy. 

”Ah, that feels so good…" you moan, thrashing on the bed at the delight brought by his tongue. But Jungkook’s strong hold kept your legs wide for him to have complete access to your wet cunt which he’s licking like it was a meal he’s always wanted to have. 

“Wanna make you feel good,” he said, beginning to place open mouthed kisses on your pussy that delivered delirious shivers all over your body. He emphasized his sentiment by bringing two fingers in your hole, sliding them in and out quite easily as you felt yourself gushing every second from his actions. “So wet. You love this, angel? You like what I’m doing?" 

All you could give him was a pathetic little whimper that you hope he understood as he didn’t bother to wait for your response and proceeded to wrap his mouth on your clit again, his tongue flicking the sensitive bud with the steady way his fingers slipped in and out of you, lewd squelches filling the otherwise quiet room except for the chirping bird outside.

And it sounded oddly poetic. 

So peaceful. Oh, to wake up like this everyday. 

Your grasp on his hair tightened, bringing his face closer to your pussy that you even got a hold of his headband, but you didn’t care. All you could think about was how delicious Jungkook is speeding his fingers in your entrance, long and bony digits touching every ridge of your pussy, slowly but surely sending you to your edge. Your breath quickened every second passed, and now you could say you were fully awake. 

Jungkook broke away from you and you were just about to reprimand him about it when he suddenly licked a long, slow stripe over the wet length of your entrance and you cried out.

You were nearly brought to tears when he dove in your core again to repeat his actions from earlier, but this time, he went for messy. So sloppy; his head moving around your pussy, sucking your juices with enthusiasm and making your arch your back on the mattress, his finger rubbing your clit to bring you to your orgasm. 

And he did successfully bring you to it. He did with what seemed to sound like a painful groan of your name from his throat, a husky sound that made your pussy and legs quiver. But that didn’t stop Jungkook from lapping at the cum that dripped out. 

You let out a big breath, making yourself bounce on the bed as you fell to it. Exhausted. Spent. 

"Kook,” you nudged Jungkook with your foot to his bicep because he was doing that thing again. 

“Wanna clean you up." 

You roll your eyes. It was so counterproductive but you let him be for awhile, relaxing on your back as he quite literally slurped the gush that came and is still coming out from you. That was why him "cleaning you up” was useless. 

“Let me suck your cock.” You said, nudging him again. Jungkook peeled his head from between your legs and looked at you, and you nearly moaned at finally seeing his face. He looked insanely hot with his hair around his sweaty hearline pulled by that head band, but the sheen gloss all over his mouth to his chin made you feel just a little shy. 

“Really?” Jungkook asked again, eyes wide, like he was a kid about to receive his gifts from Santa on Christmas morning.

You only hummed, bringing your body in a sitting position. Jungkook grabbed your waist, about to kiss you, but you pushed him on the bed and slid your leg over his thighs, leaning down to make quick work of pulling his boxers down that had a little wet patch on the front and a huge boner that was just begging to be freed. 

Jungkook sighed when you get a hold of his length, not wasting time to tease because as much as you wanted to, you were impatient to taste him and make him cum. 

“F-fuck,” Jungkook curses as you pumped his cock, your thumb pressing on his leaking tip. “You’re so pretty, baby."

His groan is elongated as you finally put him in your mouth. You make yourself comfortable by kneeling inside his spread legs, leaning down closer to his crotch and twisting your head to the side so that you could gather your hair in one side. It was always hard to reach deep, but you make do of your hand, twisting your fingers around the remaining length that your mouth could not take. 

It didn’t take too long for Jungkook to shake and start speaking sweet nonsense in the wake of his impending orgasm, probably because he had been holding back since he ate you out. But you worked as hard, sucking on his tip, brushing your fingers over his balls here and there, pumping his wet cock in your hand, ignoring the tears that’s forming in the corners of your eyes. 

“Baby, I’m cumming,” he warned, holding the back of your head to try and get you off but you insisted and let him release in your mouth. 

Jungkook hissed, and you leaned back to jerk his cock for any more cum, swallowing the one in your mouth that you felt had gotten to some parts of your face so you try to lick over your mouth, tasting cum there. He was still cumming, though, just a little, it spurting on your chest and chin. 

You giggled as Jungkook groaned. When you were sure you milked him dry, you let yourself flop on his naked body, draping yourself over it even though he was kind of sweaty and sticky… but you don’t really mind. You were just gonna shower later. 

“You’re a minx.” He said, chuckling, his arm going around your waist and the other resting over one bare ass cheek. 

“I live to make you suffer.” you replied, rubbing your cheek against his chest then pressing kisses to it. 

“You’re winning." 

That made you laugh. 

After a while, you remove your head on his chest and look down on him. He arches a brow, waiting. And then you dropped your mouth to the mole under his bottom lip. You giggled because Jungkook wasn’t expecting it, shown by the confusion on his face. Before he could say anything, you lock your lips with his, sighing when he reciprocated your kiss right away. 

The kiss takes a U-turn as Jungkook flipped you over so he was the one hovering over you now, hands roaming around your body sending tingles all over your spine to your toes and heat between your legs as he squeezed your breasts. 

He squished the both of them in his huge palms, and you feel his cock twitch against your thigh when he did so, so as the gush of wetness coming from your pussy as he finally dropped his mouth to suck on your pebbled nipples. 

”___, are you—oh my god I’m so sorry!“

Jungkook and you quickly looked over your door, catching Nayeon just as she scrambled to close it. 

"Shit.” You hissed.

Jungkook looked at you. And then you both get off of each other, him going for the sweats he’d folded on a swivel chair in your room, and you putting on your robe and messily tying your hair in a bun with a hair tie. 

“I’m just gonna go outside and talk to her…” you trail off, watching as Jungkook puts his pants on. 

“Okay,” he went over to you, holding your face and leaning down to kiss you. “Sorry." 

You licked your lips as he broke the kiss, couldn’t help but smile.

"It’s fine." 

When you went out, Nayeon is at the kitchen drinking water. When she saw you, you gave her an awkward smile. 

She frowned. "I’m really so, so sorry, ___. I swear I didn’t know you had someone over. I just got back from the overnight study group I texted you about last night and it’s 8 am so I thought I could wake you up for class." 

You find yourself smiling genuinely at her explanation. You wave her off and went over to grab a drink of water as well. 

"It’s fine. Our prof actually emailed us last night that our 8 am class was gonna be cancelled today so technically my first class is gonna be at 10. But I’m also supposed to be getting ready, so…" 

Nayeon hummed and drank more of her water.

You were just waiting for it. You knew she was so gonna ask you about it. You were kind of nervous but you found that you actually didn’t care that much to tell her all about Jungkook. 

So when she finally did ask, you only looked sheepish. 

"So, Jeon Jungkook, huh?" 

You nod.

"I should’ve known!” Nayeon exclaimed. “You were suddenly interested about basketball and– no, I’m not gonna lie. I did not expect that." 

You bit your lip as you hid half of your face behind the rim of the glass. "Yeah…" 

Nayeon suddenly narrowed her eyes at you, and you hold yourself to prepare for what’s next. 

"He was your sneaky link all this time?" 

Your eyes widened. "No!” But then you quickly remembered that, technically, he was. But… “but not really. I mean, not anymore?" 

You weren’t sure, though. Your relationship with Jungkook for the past month had undergone a shift. You were purely fuck buddies before, and now you fuck and see each other for more than that. You sleep over almost twice a week at his place, have movie nights. He let you know about this game Animal Crossing and you’ve been obsessed since so sometimes you really just go over his place to play it. (Your island was seriously becoming pretty.) Also, you started grabbing lunch regularly these days in his car and go on what you can call dates if both your schedule aligned and it’s not that you were actively keeping other people from knowing about this sudden change in your relationship, including Nayeon, it was just — your time together was really just spent for pure enjoyment with each other. It was just like: if people saw, then they do. 

Despite that, a label still wasn’t put to it. 

You don't mind.

"Oh, so–your boyfriend?!” Nayeon’s tone is laced with surprise, and you flinched at hearing the word boyfriend but you shrugged it off. 

“Uhm, it’s very new.” Was what you replied. It was the only thing you could offer, honestly. 

Your friend looked at you for a few seconds and then nods, as if understanding – what? you have no idea – and then turned to the direction to your room. 

You see Jungkook popping out from your door when you looked over. 

“Hi, Nayeon." 

When he emerged, he’s fully dressed and it was a bummer that he’d taken out his head band. Whatever, you’d make him wear it later. It was really cute when he wore it. 

"Ohh, here comes the sexy man." 

The casualty of it threw you off a bit but then you suddenly feel grateful to Nayeon for not making a big deal about the whole thing.

So you laughed and joked, "Don’t say that! You’re going to stroke his ego." 

Nayeon’s right eyebrow raised. "Oh, his ego is definitely getting stroked, alright." 

Even Jungkook burst out laughing at the crude implications of her words, and you found the whole thing atrocious. Nayeon only shook her head, but she was smiling. 

"Sorry for interrupting your time together, lovebirds. I brought something for breakfast but I don’t think it’ll be enough for two people.” She said, pointing towards a take-out bag on the kitchen counter. 

“It’s fine, thanks Nayeon." 

She waved you off. "I’ll just be in my room. Eat first before you do cardio, guys." 

You huff out a laugh at her words again, and so did Jungkook. He walked towards you as Nayeon disappeared in her room, and you smiled at him as he did so. 

Jungkook held your waist and pressed you a little to the refrigerator, but you have no complaints in the way he leaned down to share a slow and soft kiss with you. 

"Breakfast?” He whispered, kissing your cheek. And then your nose. 

You giggled, circling your arms around his neck. He hummed at the contact, like he’s always so content and peaceful whenever you touch him.

“I think I’ll just get coffee on my way to Uni.” you told him. 

That made him frown, though. “That’s really not…” you arched your brow as you wait for him to finish his words. He sighed. “Okay. But at least eat some toast? I’ll make it for you." 

You nod. "Okay. I’m gonna go shower first, though. I stink." 

As if prompted, Jungkook quickly buried his face to the crook of your neck and whiffed out your scent, dramatically smelling you and then peeling his face away, saying, "Nope, still smell like flowers to me. But I agree, we need a shower." 

"We?" 

He gives you a serious look. "Yes. Water conservation is one of my goals this year." 

You jab on his chest lightly. So stupid. But so handsome and cute that you can’t help but pull him close to you and kiss him again. 

Suddenly, Jungkook grabbed your thighs and make you hold on to him as he carried you across the living room. You stopped your own squeal before you could scare Nayeon with it. Jungkook laughed at that and you slap his chest in retaliation.

He went straight to the bathroom and put you on the counter with all the intentions to keep making out with you by the way he was swirling his tongue deliciously against yours, hands squeezing your sides. 

But you really had to shower. 

He whined when you put your hands on his shoulders and broke free from his kiss, pushing him away a little. 

"Don’t be a baby. Let’s shower,” you said, giving him a stern look. He looked petulant for a while, but then suddenly smirked. You narrowed your eyes, pretty sure he had dirty things in his head right now. “No funny business. You literally have class in an hour." 

"I could make you cum in less than that." 

"Jungkook!" 

He laughed, kissing you. "I’m kidding.”

“Behave. Nayeon is here." 

He only nodded and began taking his clothes off. You also removed your robe from your body, going over to the towel rack to hang it there. Jungkook stopped in his tracks and shamelessly ogled your naked form and you rolled your eyes, not waiting for him as you stepped in the shower first. He followed right after, smiling at you as he offered to wash your body. 

Jungkook assured you he had no funny business in mind, but you didn’t really mind when his hands suddenly got grabby, when he told you that his hands could lather your body wash more effectively than your loofah just so he could massage your boobs in his soapy palms, staying a little too long over there. But you didn’t complain when his finger ghosted over your pussy, and you absolutely weren’t mad when he kissed you hotly as the shower ran and water soaked the soap suds out of your body. 

In fact, you enjoyed it a lot when he pressed you against the wall while his strong arms held you tight as he fucked you open, gasping in your mouth, grunting about how pretty you were and how much you were such a good girl for him. 

He spoke more nonsense in your ear when he turned you around, an arm tight around your breasts, his other hand gripping your waist as he slid his engorged cock in and out of you from behind while you tried to minimize the sound of your cries until you both came. 

You know Jungkook knew his goal to conserve water was doomed from the very start, especially when you ended up taking a second shower because you felt sticky and just unclean. 

But it felt great to come out of the bathroom and have Jungkook dressed the same time as you with the clothes he left in your closet from the other times he’s spent over here. 

"I’ll see you later.” He pressed a quick kiss on your mouth. 

“Okay,” he smiled and you failed to resist the urge to kiss him again for the last time. “I’m coming over to play Animal Crossing." 

"You only like me for my Nintendo…” Jungkook jokingly narrowed his eyes at you and you laughed. 

“It took you a long time to figure out?”

Jungkook pouts. “As long as you curl up in my lap while you play it, I can accept that.”

“You’re cute, baby. But you’re late to class, go scram.” You shooed him and he chuckled. 

“Okay, kiss me again?” You did. Jungkook smiled and kissed you but on the forehead this time. “Bye, pretty." 

You leaned on the doorframe, arms crossed as you watched him slowly disappear from your pathway with (certainly) a fond look on your face. 

Blurring the lines with your fuck buddy might be cliche, and confronting it might have been hard, but you did it. And he was just as willing and honest with you about his feelings.

And it was worth it.

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