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midnightsapphire · 1 year

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Break My Heart

Masterlist ~ Hoodie (Part One)

𝕊𝕪𝕟𝕠𝕡𝕤𝕚𝕤 : Betrayal. An ugly feeling.

It was the only thing (Y/N) could feel after she had sworn her heart had belonged to the dreamwalker. All the promises, the shared touches, every whisper burned in the depths of her mind. She couldn’t shake the last words he had spoken to her, refusing to let him break her a second time.

Feedback is appreciated c:

A/N- a special mention to @aonungsmate who practically witnessed my insanity making this

—

I will not forget

All the wonderful things you've done

And I have no regrets

Done everything except for one

(Y/N) forced herself out of the link pod when she had known the avatar was safe, away from the prying eyes of the natives and creatures alike as she took heavy breaths to calm herself. Max had rushed to her side, practically clutching her shaking body as she collapsed into his arms.

He had known better than to make any jokes, knowing how hard she had worked, how much she had wanted this for the sake of her and Jake’s relationship. His hand rubbed languidly at her back as her shaking ceased into breathy gasps, wiping her eyes as she pulled herself away from his grip.

“Wait, we have to make sure you’re okay for the next time!” Max called out for (Y/N) as she slipped on her own coat, the warmth no longer hugging her as she glanced at the man from over her shoulder.

(Y/N) thought back, the happiness draped across Jake’s face, the firmness in his stance as he held his mate’s hand, Neytiri’s hands clasped tightly into his as they stood in front of the Tsahik, the entire Omaticaya clan. It was humiliating, how much she yearned for his affections when he practically had a life without her in it this entire time.

“Trust me. There won’t be a next time.”

It's like a test, it's like a game

To see how much I can take

I'm curious to live and learn

“What happened out there? One second she was so excited to get linked in and now she won’t even speak to us.” Max sighed as he saw Jake disconnect from his own, following the dreamwalker as he had wheeled himself through the maze of desks and equipment littered across the lab.

Jake felt his heart weigh down on his chest knowing the sweater she had cherished was back with his own avatar, clutched tightly in his embrace as he ran the entire duration of eclipse to look for her, to catch any sign that he was simply imagining what he had caused, calling out her name like his life depended on it.

Because to him, it meant that and so much more.

He saw her, faintly out of the corner of his eye dashing wildly to her lab, papers clutched to her chest. She had turned into a blur in his eyes, everything fading around him as his hands moved on their own, mouth parting to call her name as she jumped in her own skin. He had sworn his heart cracked further at the tenseness of her muscles, how she avoided even turning around to give him those large doe-eyes that he had grown to love so much.

The papers fell from her grasp as she bumped her hip against one of the tables, cursing under her breath as she reached for them, every paper haphazardly laying across the floor of the lab.

Warmth. It flooded her senses.

Only now it burned at her skin as Jake’s fingertips grazed her own as they reached for the same document strewn in between them. She had seen his wheelchair first, coming into her view before she dared to look into his eyes.

“Clumsy as ever, huh?” Jake whispered lightheartedly, craning his head to meet her eyes, almost begging for her to look at him. It had only been hours since he had accidentally stumbled upon her presence. But to him, it felt like it had been eternities. She wasn’t there to greet him, to chastise him for being so reckless, to give him water and food to ensure he was at his best.

He was more than taken aback when he saw the coldness of her gaze, how frighteningly empty her irises look when met with his own. Of course, he expected nothing less, but he noticed the spark- the light- no longer reflected in her eyes the longer he held their stare. He blinked to himself when she had ripped the papers from his grasp, his fingertips chasing her touch as he grasped her wrist, nearly falling off his wheelchair as she barely glanced at him over her shoulder.

“What did I do? Talk to me, sweetheart.” Jake nearly begged, forehead scrunched as stress lines grew on his face, his hands nearly sweating in fear as she ripped her hand from his grasp, letting him stumble to catch his balance as Max hurried to grab his shoulder. Jake’s chest caved in as his breath labored, glancing at the floor in disbelief as she pulled several chairs and boxes in his way, preventing from following her without at least some resistance.

“Go back to your mate, Sully. You don’t belong here.”

So light me up and let me burn

“The days are starting to blur together. The language is a pain but you know it’s like field-stripping a weapon. Just repetition, repetition. Neytiri calls me skxawng, it means moron-”

The video log was quickly shut off, (Y/N)’s reflection glaring back at her as she ran her hands through her hair in frustration. It was pathetic, how this was the only time she could face Jake without bursting out into tears at the sight of him. Her hands clenched against her chest, breath heaving into heavy pants as she rewinded the video log, closing her eyes as she listened to his husky voice drone on and on about his experiences.

“Don’t think too much, big guy. I can feel the steam coming off your head.” (Y/N)’s laugh rang throughout the log, her form wrapping her arms around Jake’s shoulders as she affectionately rubbed their cheeks together. The sight brought a crooked smile onto (Y/N)’s actual face, her fingertips ghosting over the holographic screen as it paused momentarily on their own smiles.

If she could have frozen that moment, she would have.

“I use this old thing more than you think, sweetheart.” Jake joked, hands reaching up to cradle her hands that were placed firmly on his chest. (Y/N) scoffed, rolling her eyes as her hands ran themselves through what was left of his buzzed hair, pulling away slightly to look at him, the back of her fingertips brushing against his cheek.

“And what do you use it for? Certainly not for the link.”

“For you.” Jake whispered, pulling her onto his lap with a squeal leaving her lips as her arms found purchase on his shoulders, intertwining with themselves to keep her upright. Their laughter rang around the room, hands covering each other’s mouths as they tried to silence themselves, something that clearly didn’t work in their favor as kisses were placed on the palm of each other’s hands, playful bites were exchanged along the tips of their fingers, foreheads pressed together as they evened out their breaths.

“Kiss me.” Jake whispered, eyes gazing into hers as (Y/N) didn’t hesitate, molding their lips together, shifting onto his lap as she pressed their chests together. Jake’s hand aimlessly felt around, his eyes narrowing at the corner of his eyes as messily pulled away from (Y/N), her lips chasing the skin of his jaw down to his neck as he smirked, fingers hitting the button as the log faded to black.

(Y/N) met her own reflection once again, wiping off the tears that fell down her cheeks as her fingers danced along the keyboard, harshly hitting several buttons as her head fell in her hands, her shoulders shaking as loud sobs wracked her body.

File Deleted.

Tell me you've never loved me

Tell me that it wasn't real

Just say you've found somebody else

I wanna know the way it feels

“Ma’Jake, you seem too distracted.” Neytiri whispered, her hand clutching his five fingered hand tightly as he narrowly hid the IPad behind his back, his eyes softening at the woman before him she looked up at him in worry.

“I’m fine, really.” He started, but felt his shoulders droop lower at the (Y/N)’s frozen face on his lockscreen. “Actually-” Jake sighed, resting his head against Neytiri’s shoulder.

“Are we doing the right thing?” He whispered under his breath as Neytiri brushed a few stray braids away from his face, her features softening as she saw the tears building up at the base of his waterline.

“It is for the people, Ma’Jake.” She whispered, placing a kiss on his forehead before standing up from their spot on the ground before rejoining her place among the clan, greeting them respectfully.

Jake’s eyes never left the screen in his hands, almost foreign against his blue fingers as it dwarfed in size compared to his stature now. He aimlessly played another clip, the volume reverberating along the empty forest around him as he replayed the same clip over and over, his own reflection burning daggers at him as it ended once again, reminding him of how much he was a failure.

How much he failed you.

Tell me you've never loved me

Tell me it was just a lie

I wanna feel the pain

“Don’t you want to go back? It’s been days, (Y/N).” Norm pleaded, peeking his head into the room of the woman’s lab, wincing at the scattered papers, the empty trays and bags of food that littered the floor. It was horrible.

“What’s the point?” (Y/N) scoffed, brushing herself off as she peeled the sheets off from her body, fixing the makeshift bed she had made for herself in the corner of the lab as she glared holes into the fabric. Norm only rolled his eyes, pushing his way through and praying to Ewya- or any higher being, really- that she wouldn’t kill him on his way.

“You’re going. Your avatar is probably out there, starving, dehydrated. That is supposed to be your baby.” Norm scolded with a newfound confidence, dragging her out of the cramped room as she hissed at the new sudden glint of lights burned at her eyes. She followed regardless, knowing he was right.

She neglected her duties, her avatar, her own health at the expense of Jake Sully. Even the name brought distaste on her tongue as she neared the link pods. Norm ensured they stayed far away from Jake’s, now residing in the corner as (Y/N) sighed, laying back onto the gel-like bedding of the pod.

“Empty thoughts, (Y/N).”

–

(Y/N) gasped, sitting up quickly as she looked at her unfamiliar surroundings. She tested her motor skills, rolling her fingers, wrists, ankles, ensuring everything was intact before she had sat up, not yet trusting her wobbly legs. Her eyebrows furrowed together as she looked down at the various folded leaves surrounding her, dipping her fingers in a freshly lain one as she noticed someone had been leaving water for her.

But nobody knew where she had rested herself.

Her eyes glanced over her figure, warmth resting on her lap as she looked down, ripping the hoodie off her own body as she threw it aside, not caring where it had landed. Her skin felt disgusting, searing at the thought of Jake Sully taking care of her body, at least grateful she was hydrated, but not exactly thankful that he was the reason for it.

She shakily stood up, clutching the trunk of the tree nearest to her as she stabilized herself, making sure she was okay to walk before ducking through the several large leaves obscuring her view. Her ears twitched as she listened to the chirps of various animals, inhaling the sweet scent of the air before a twig snapping briefly caught her attention.

(Y/N) reached to her side, bringing out the pocketknife she had tucked into the pocket of her shorts for emergencies as she held it out in front of her, almost screeching when an arrow pierced the bark next to her head.

Her eyes widened as she glanced down the arrow, noting the vibrant feathers as the end as another arrow poked in between her shoulder blades. “Turn around. Demon.” A female voice hissed in her ear as (Y/N) listened, slowly putting her hands behind her head as she turned around, meeting the amber eyes of a female Na’vi she had known too well from Jake’s stories, the very reason she high-tailed and ran from the village.

Neytiri.

(Y/N) wanted to feel resentful towards the woman, wanted to feel anger, wanted to scream in her face. But nothing had come out, for (Y/N) couldn’t hate someone who had done nothing wrong except be guilty for the same thing she had been. The woman was in love, and for that she couldn’t fault her.

Neytiri faltered, recognizing the features on the woman, knowing how much Jake tried to hide his human devices, Neytiri was keen enough to catch glimpses of the woman. Though her features were more familiar on a smaller body than the dreamwalker in front of her.

“You are JakeSully’s person.” Neytiri whispered in disbelief, watching the somber look in the woman’s eyes when their eyes crossed. She watched the woman’s face drop, shaking her head as she spoke in broken Na’vi.

“No, not his. His.. you.” (Y/N) whispered, the woman’s ears perking as she tilted her head, slowly lowering the tip of her bow as Neytiri looked at her in confusion.

“He has not told you?”

I wanna see the light

“(Y/N), (Y/N), can you stop for a fucking second, please.” Jake pleaded, wrapping his arms tightly around (Y/N)’s figure, burying his nose into the crook of her neck as he tried to burn her natural scent into his mind, wishing- no, hoping it wouldn’t be the last time he could experience it. His chest pressed tightly against her back, forehead moving to rest against her shoulder as she thrashed in his arms.

“Fucking let me go, Sully.”

“No. Don’t call me that, please. Call me jar-head, a moron, anything else.” Jake whispered into her skin, leaving gentle kisses as (Y/N) finally stopped resisting his touch, faintly feeling the weight of her head lean against his.

“Neytiri-”

“Neytiri nothing, sweetheart. The sky people- our people.. They’ll kill the entire village. I thought.. giving myself to the Na’vi would make them stop- would keep them away for as long as I could knowing I was still here, until I could actually prepare myself and them. I was wrong, baby I was so wrong.” Jake pleaded, his arms tightening around her as he kissed at the skin trailing up her neck, burying his nose into her cheek as he felt the stickiness of tears, no longer knowing if they were hers or his own.

“That was a stupid reason, even you know that Jake. You lied to me. You-You mated with her.”

“For show, (Y/N). How are the RDA supposed to know the difference? I swear to you.” Jake spoke desperately, circling around the woman as he held her hands tightly against his, angling his amber eyes to meet his own as he held their intertwined hands against his chest.

“My heart, it beats for you and only you. I can’t.. I can’t imagine myself being with anyone but you, sweetheart. You’re the air I breathe, the first and last thought in my mind every waking second. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you the truth, I’m sorry I was such a fucking idiot that I didn’t show you- didn’t treat you like i should have.” He whispered, bringing their hands towards his lips as he laid soft kisses along her fingertips.

“But I see you, sweetheart. I love you.” He confessed, his heart hammering in his chest as (Y/N) craned her head to glance up into his pleading eyes.

“I don’t believe you.”

Break my heart

---

Taglist : @cleverzonkwombatsludge ; @whenercolorfulrainbowlol ; @arminsgfloll ; @ellabellabus07 ; @jakesullysupporter ; @kitkat1690 ; @fanboyluvr ; @an0th3rsss ; @sweetllamaparadise ; @netherklutz ; @bewbz2110 ; @ohshititsfenharel ; @hot15936 ; @perfectprofessorloverapricot ; @bucky12345 ; @ki-h06 ; @perseny ; @itssomeonereading ;

Crossed out means it didn’t let me tag :c

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yesmansyesman · 1 month

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Fanfiction added (Yes Man x Reader)

SURPRISE DELIVERY

[ Includes ]

Sending nudes (Bet you can guess to who)

Mentions of nudity

Yes Man practically going insane (In a good way)

[ Read at your own discretion! ]

“Wait, you’re telling me my Pip-Boy…broke?”

“Apparently, or at least that’s what my terminal says, boss.”

“Huh. Guess these things weren’t as indestructible as I thought.”

“Well, Deathclaws tend to make people say that about most things.”

Raul further examined your Pip-Boy, as it laid dormant on his desk. It had been dismantled, circuits and parts littering his desk, with several wires connecting the Pip-Boy to Raul’s personal terminal. A few moments of carefully scanning the Pip-Boy, Raul finally spoke again.

“Luckily for you, the main CPU wasn’t damaged at all. I reckon all you need is a new screen and a few replacement parts. It should be an easy fix, I have plenty of Pip-Boys to spare.”

“Plenty…?”

“Vault Dwellers aren’t as hard to kill as you are, boss. If you go looking, Pip-Boys are as common as dirt around here.”

“Huh.”

“Stay here, I’ll go see what I can find.”

Raul lifted himself off his chair, scavenging through an unorganized metal crate. Digging through piles of Pip-Boys, most of which were still stained with blood. After a few moments, he retrieved a relatively clean Pip-Boy, tossing it carelessly onto his desk.

“This should be clean. Enough.”

He delicately dismantled the Pip-Boy, removing its cover. Say what you want about RobCo, they sure knew how to pack circuits into a compact space. The Pip-Boy was practically overfilling with the amount of circuitry housed inside.

“Now, this is the Pip-Boy 3000D, which is a slightly different model than your Pip-Boy. But, it should still be compatible.”

You examined the Pip-Boy more carefully, noticing the slight differences between the two models after Raul pointed it out. After scanning and rapidly comparing the two Pip-Boys, you noticed something completely different.

“What’s this?”

“Oh, this? Just a camera.”

“Camera? They made Pip-Boys with cameras?”

“They’ve made Pip-Boys with everything. One model could play video games.”

“Wow. I learn something new everyday.”

“I can install a camera in your Pip-Boy if you want, boss.”

“Yes, please.”

“Alright, just help me hold it still.”

Quest completed

NEW AND IMPROVED

You’d never imagine a camera being so useful out in the Mojave, but if you had to rank your best life choices in a list, getting the upgrade would probably be first. From taking pictures of notable locations for easier navigation, or helping you find your way after getting lost, it’s a wonder why RobCo didn’t add a camera into every Pip-Boy model.

Its best use, however, was taking selfies to send to your lovable automat companion. Your Pip-Boy already had the ability to send messages to any RobCo device, so using it to send small, frequent updates was as easy as it was fun. Not to mention it certainly seemed to make Yes Man happier.

“Courier!”

Ah, speak of the devil.

“Hm? Yes, Yes Man?”

“I just came in to remind you that we’re scheduled to go scout out the Mojave in 2 minutes! And you’re still…not dressed. Which is fine, take your time!”

“Oh, crap. I completely forgot, my bad.” “No problem! Just hurry up! Please!”

You hurriedly get off your bed, rushing towards your bathroom, armour and equipment haphazardly cradled in your arms. Once inside, you rush to take off your casual loungewear, haphazardly placing your clothes, and Pip-Boy, on the vanity.

Snap!

What was that?

You scan your surroundings, searching for the source of the sound. Just then, you notice a familiar prompt appear on your Pip-Boy; ‘New Photo Taken. View Photo?’

Oh. You must have accidentally hit the camera button on the vanity. You sigh, and pick up the device. You accept the prompt, expecting a blurry mess, and getting ready to delete the photo. However, what ended up appearing on your display was far clearer than you were expecting; in fact, a relatively well-shot picture showing off your nude body. Had you not known it was you, it could’ve been passed as some pre-war erotica.

Erotica, hm?

I think I know someone who might appreciate this.

Quest added

SURPRISE DELIVERY

Bing!

That’s odd, Yes Man thought to himself. He was receiving a sudden influx of messages from Courier. Weren’t they changing? Why would they be sending so much stuff? He sighed, temporarily disconnecting from his Securitron body to take a look. He examined the pile of notifications, opening one of them at random.

Oh.

Oh my.

Yes Man could feel his main processor stuttering slightly from the shock. All he could do was stare in awe at the picture you’d sent him; a beautifully taken view of your gorgeous, gorgeous body. He opened another in disbelief; an ass pic. Another; your thighs.

Wow.

Yes Man felt his Securitron body noticeably heat up. His antenna began to spin at alarming rates, and his claws twitched. He stared hungrily at the images, saving as many as he could.

God, you were so beautiful.

It was like Yes Man had just been stranded in the Mojave to starve, and your pictures were a gift from the heavens full of water and food. He couldn’t. Stop. Staring. His mind wandered, fantasizing about touching every inch of that stunning body. What he wanted to do, what he wished he could do. He was lucky that only his main memory bank wasn’t filtered for any inappropriate content, because all he wanted to do was memorize each pixel you’d sent him.

Quest completed

SURPRISE DELIVERY

Quest added

GAUGING THE REACTION

You walked out of your bathroom, donning your Ranger armour and of course, your Pip-Boy. You cheerfully walked down to the Lucky 38 lobby, where Yes Man was waiting.

“Hey, Yes Man. You look a little flushed, may I ask why?”

“...”

You chuckle, that mere few moments of silence proved your little surprise had worked. As you began to innocently make your way to the front door, a metal claw grasped at your wrist, tugging it almost as if anchoring you to the Lucky 38.

“Yes Ma-”

Your eyes widened in shock as you felt Yes Man pull you in, tightly wrapping his metallic arms around you, and practically smothering your face with the glow of his display. Was..was he kissing you?

“G-gorgeous, gorgeous, gorgeous-”

Crap, did I break him?

Quest completed

GAUGING THE REACTION

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kithtaehyung · 2 years

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starry night (m) | jjk

title: starry night pairing: jungkook x reader(f) rating/genre: m(18+) ; fluff , smut ; established relationship, gamer au summary: all you wanted to do was take your boyfriend on a super late date. warnings: fluff, language, a tiny bit of overwatch lingo, thigh riding, a cute ass date :’)), fingering, penetration, protected sex, tit play if you squint, spanking, they’re both competitive af, hickies, praise, body worship, self-conscious reader argh, multiple orgasms, jk has a big dick but what’s new!!, tatted jk is a warning in itself, koo is a softie for his baby girl :(((, idk this really is just soft smut lmfao note: this is for all the koo lovers out there! also, this is a revamp from the last version bc that one was a version i wasn’t entirely happy with :’)) can’t even describe how much happier i am with this now dsjklf if you’ve read it or not, hope you like the newest version and happy jk day! drop date: september 1st, 2022, 9am est total word count: 7k

“One more game, okay?”

From your spot in the doorway, you wait as your boyfriend pushes half of a clearly worn down headset aside.

“What did you say, babe?”

“One more game!” Giggling at his befuddled expression, you surge on, “Then get dressed. There’s somewhere we have to be.”

Jungkook glances at his monitor before shifting meaningful eyes back toward you, stoic. Very, very stoic.

“It’s 2am.”

You wave off the obvious reluctance. This is something you'd been planning for a week, ever since you read that damn article on your phone.

“Seems so,” you decide to tease instead. “Just let me know when you’re ready!”

In a rush, you bound back into the hallway—the door left wide open in your springy wake. Judging by the yell followed by a quick grunt, you assume he got thrown into another match before he could scold you properly.

Perfect. You have time to get everything ready.

Excitement fizzles along your bones as you scramble around the apartment, gathering things in your arms.

Do you have the date and time right? Yes. Are you absolutely sure that your boyfriend is going to slink out of his cave? Probably.

Well.

He’s coming along this time, whether he likes it or not. So no matter what his response is, you’re gonna make it a yes.

But your answer arrives a mere ten minutes later, sweats and three layers of clothing swallowing its form.

“Wait, that was quick,” you observe. “Were there leavers?”

“Two on our side,” he complains, frustration tugging his beanie down a little too far. "So boring.”

“Lame. Well, you can queue again after we get back from our date.” Snatching a blanket off the leaning pile next to your couch, you join Jungkook in the entryway.

But it’s only then that you realize something’s missing. “Oh, wait. Lemme get one more thing.”

While you poke your head in multiple rooms and rummage, your boyfriend continues his whining, “This date couldn’t wait until tomorrow? It’s freezing outside.”

Oh, it absolutely cannot. Not this time.

Offering a look of pity from a doorway, you sigh, “It really can’t.” You go back to your search, voice wrapping around the walls and furniture, “And we have a ways to go, so. You can sleep in the car if you want.”

His poor tone raises in pitch a couple pegs, “How long is this gonna take?”

“You’ll see!” Finally victorious, you secure the outdoor pillow you wanted—remembering it haphazardly flung into the dining nook during an impromptu pillow fight—and rejoin your boyfriend at the door. Flicking his nose with your free hand, you chuckle, “Always so impatient.”

The pout you receive is almost crushing, but you have to push forward.

However, as soon as you open your front door, you definitely think about chickening out.

Jungkook’s absolutely correct.

It’s bitingly cold outside.

“Shit, babe,” he winces, and you throw him an apologetic glance. “Are you sure you’re okay going?”

You nod while stepping out first, too affected by the chill to verbally reply. After you lock the door behind you both, you frantically follow him in a stilted race to your car.

Why does it have to be freezing? Why couldn’t you have gotten this idea during spring? Or summer!

Gritting your chattering teeth, you envy everyone in possession of a car with automatic-start.

But your jealousy is swiftly smothered, your boyfriend’s half-jog, half-hop form of travel pulling laughter from your throat instead of grumbles. With his puffed jacket swallowing his whole top half, he’s not far off from resembling a skittering ball of boba, and you can’t help but grin until your cheeks burn as much as your ears.

Your happy breath coalesces into the wind in soft tendrils. Even now, when it’s decidedly frigid, Jungkook somehow finds a way to keep you warm.

Just like he always does.

Goddamn, you love him. Though thrusting the two of you into near-subzero conditions in the dead of night may imply the opposite.

Regardless, you don’t have much of a way to go. After all, you had been meticulous in your planning, your vehicle a noble steel steed occupying the closest spot in the lot.

When you both settle inside with rapid puffing and shivering, you toss your pile of date items onto Jungkook’s lap. “Close your eyes for me, okay? You can’t know where we’re going.”

“Seriously?” He frowns in earnest now, shoulders knocking against his ears. “This feels more like an attack than a date.”

But despite his complaints, your boyfriend shifts the bedding in his possession before obeying, kicking his head back on the headrest and shutting his eyes. When you look over, you notice he’s already comfortable, arms slung around the pillow and blanket draped over his still legs.

There is still a downward slump to his lips, though. And while you can’t blame him, you still giggle because you know what’s coming. “Just trust me, babe. I’m sure you’ll like this place.”

Ugh. His tiny pout is still your favorite. “I bet not. But since you’re driving...”

After you pull out of your spot, a smirk carves into your features. “Bet for real, then,” you goad, tempting his competitive spirit. “If I win, you spend the whole night with me.”

It doesn’t work.

Without opening his eyes, Jungkook frowns with his whole face. “It’s the end of the comp season! I’m already pushing it not playing now.”

“Love the confidence, Kookie,” you chirp. “If I lose, I’ll never tear you away from your precious gaming chair again.”

A single sigh serves as his white flag of surrender. “Deal.”

And you don’t miss the grin in his tone.

Because if he’s thinking the same thing you are, he’s remembering the night you gifted him the damn thing.

Neither of you left that chair for awhile.

Finally, the car warms comfortably, and the accompanying music has you bopping your head and drumming gloved fingers on the wheel.

Jungkook’s melodic singing proves indicative of his content—a sign that he isn’t entirely against your mysterious scheme.

Scheme? More like a calculated risk. Either way, you can tell Jungkook’s interest is decidedly piqued, and it’s enough to make you even more thrilled.

Knowing the directions to the location by heart, you take necessary and unnecessary turns, twisting and winding through the city streets. Whether these cheeky moves throw your annoyingly observant boyfriend off or not, you can’t say for sure.

Regardless, you make sure that the trip is much longer than it needs to be.

Checking the time on your phone, you figure five songs is a good enough length of time to keep driving. So you finally decide to arrive.

When your destination comes into view, you roll into a parking spot and announce—proudly—“We’re here!”

As soon as Jungkook opens his eyes to survey the area, confusion mingles with relief across his whole demeanor, his brows moving in a stilted dance.

Reaching a breaking point, he outright laughs. “Seriously?”

The only thing you can do is cackle at his reaction.

You’re right back at your apartment complex, after all.

“Technically, this isn’t exactly where I wanted us to go,” you explain, smiling even harder at your boyfriend’s conflicting emotions.

You know he doesn’t really go out, and you knew that not giving him much to go on was going to frustrate him. But you thought of this idea and wanted to attempt it, since you both at least liked trying new things.

It’s so endearing to see him relieved that you’re home. But your date isn’t quite located somewhere inside. “We’re gonna hang out on the roof tonight.”

A blip of hesitation flashes across his eyes. “It’s even colder up there,” he notes, back to being the boy that didn’t wanna leave in the first place.

“It’ll be worth it! But we have to hurry, or else we’ll miss it.” You scramble out of the car without another word, and groan when Jungkook blatantly takes his time to get out of the passenger seat—slow, unhurried, annoying. “Oh my god, babe!”

“Okay, okay.”

“Follow me.”

The pair of you rush to get to the roof of your building—not without a barrage of complaints from him as you keep discovering stairs—and choose a spot to lay the blanket and pillow out. Lying down, you shuffle as close to your boyfriend as your puffy jackets allow.

You made it on time.

You think.

Crap, did you?

At least the wind isn’t too harsh tonight. This truly would’ve been a nice experience regardless if it wasn’t exceedingly and utterly cold.

But no matter.

Because above you, the sky is vast, and majestic, and speckled with tiny pinpricks of light. Not normally able to observe the universe at its fullest, you take in the current night with amazement, mouth opening in surprise as it claims your entire vision.

And you aren’t the only one steeped in wonder.

Beside you, Jungkook exhales, his awe leaving him in wisps. “Wow.”

“You like it?”

“This is nice.”

“It’ll get better,” you hope, recalling the article you based this entire night around. “Should be in just a moment.”

And you couldn’t have been more timely.

On cue, a wintry meteor shower graces the skies. Streaks of white, orange, and yellow soar across the dark expanse—tiny light trails carving bright, uncharted roads through an indigo ocean.

And the cold only makes this mesmerizing procession more memorable. Both of your bodies remain frozen, subtly forced to focus solely on the spectacle overtaking your eyes.

Extraordinary. Stellar.

Fully enraptured, you almost forget to gauge your boyfriend’s reaction.

So when you drink in his appearance, your heart flutters so rapidly that it threatens to collapse or burn out like a dying star.

All the celestial bodies congregate in his orbs, the meteors from above suddenly swimming in his pupils and sparkling across his irises.

Does he really encapsulate more in his soul than what exists in the heavens?

How is that even possible?

Your breath hitches without your permission, and you aren’t sure if it’s the weather that coaxes tears from your eyes or your love for the boy gasping skyward.

When Jungkook turns to face you, you know the answer is both.

Noticing your features, he simply smiles. One cheek is wiped. Then the other.

“I win,” you proclaim in a cracked voice, and he only laughs and tugs you in for a crushing hug.

“You win.”

Immersed in his warmth, you allow more tears to fall sideways, your adoration sliding straight into the rough material of his jacket.

There isn’t another place in the world you want to be, no other marriage of latitude and longitude that can coerce your bones. Curling your fingers around his coat, you whisper,

“But seriously, this is all I wanted to show you. You can go back to playing when we get back inside.”

“Look at me.”

Tilting your head, you aren’t allowed a second to think before soft lips descend upon yours, conveying everything from gratitude to love in the span of seconds. Before you can respond in kind, your boyfriend pulls back, his voice a plush tenor as he explains,

“A win is a win.”

“But you said—”

Another peck halts your tiny excuse.

“There’s always next season,” he murmurs, nudging your chilly nose with his own. “And I didn’t know you were showing me this.”

Thankful, you sigh, “Okay. Well, let’s go back inside, at least.” Attempting to sit up, you get tugged back down in a blankety heap. “What!”

“The meteor shower! Is there more?”

“Oh. No,” you sigh. “It’s already over.”

“Aw, man! Really?” Jungkook flops back to scan the galaxy again, as if some blazing trails would still be lingering in the dark.

Huffing out a laugh, you admire his childlike wonder, never wanting it to leave him behind.

“That was so cool.”

“It was,” you agree, getting to your feet. “I read about it last week. I figured you’d like it.”

Beaming up at you, your boyfriend gathers the blanket and pillow under his arm before standing, cradling one of your gloved hands in his sure fingers. “I like anything with you,” he admits, reserved in his expression but confident in his words.

And even though your body’s frozen, your heart is positively melting.

“Good thing, then.” You chuckle as you both approach the stairwell door, deciding to test his statement, “I’ll remember that when I ask you to knit with me.”

“Uhh.” Jungkook simply offers a cocked brow. “Warning you now. Don’t get mad when I end up better than you.”

“I have smaller fingers. You’re never gonna surpass me.”

“Maybe I already know how to knit.”

“Prove it.”

Jungkook yanks the ponderous exit open, holding it for you to pass through first. “When grandmas love you, do you ever have to prove anything?”

Tossing a disgruntled look over your shoulder, you scoff, “That’s not fair! Grandmas love you anyways.”

There’s a flash of teeth when he giggles at your glowing accusation. Rolling your eyes, you decide to catch him unawares. “But whatever. You know what I’m better at?”

“Mm, coming in second?”

“Running down stairs.”

Bursting into a sprint, you hightail it down the metal steps, chortling at the whiny shouts behind your descending form.

Down, down, down. Turn after turn.

Holy shit, how many flights are there?

You counted four on the ascent but it feels like a miscount at that moment. Your boots squeak with every stride, the stairwell thrumming with the two of you tearing through its indents.

Jungkook’s heavy shoes paired with the floofy baggage should slow him down, but his determination seems to grant him an extra boost. Hauling yourself forward, you expend every last drop of energy to reach the bottom floor first, huffing and puffing your victory brag when you achieved your goal.

A few steps behind, Jungkook breathily accuses, “Chea—”

“And the score is two to zero!” You abruptly cheer as you pompously shove the building door aside, steamrolling his wrong words with raised arms.

“Maybe I will go and queue again,” Jungkook teases behind you, earning an instant mini-grovel. At your whiplash display of emotions, he blows out a laugh, admitting,

“I’m kidding. But don’t test me.”

Your apartment is just in reach. Still breathing hard from the long descent, you retrieve your keys, hearing them jangle before you slot them into the door.

As much as you enjoyed your short-lived date, it’s nice to be back inside. The pair of you shuck off your coats and winter accessories as soon as you cross the threshold, both winded and thinking of the stellar event.

A stark difference in temperature, the warmth inside only tickles your iced cheeks. Slipping off your boots, you place yours next to Jungkook’s on the front mat before ambling to the living room.

It’s absurdly late, but the adrenaline from your sudden competition has you firmly alert.

Good. You’re sure to crash beautifully in about thirty minutes.

Puffed cushions greet you as you plop onto the sofa, and you curl your legs while waiting for your boyfriend to join. Your fuzzy sweater bunches around your waist, and you tut as you tug it back down, still self-conscious even after all these years with his assurances.

Light humming wafts from the entrance, and you simply bask in the soft notes, serene.

While you consider yourself pretty average in the choir department, your boyfriend truly is otherworldly. Your affection has reached the point where you’re thoroughly convinced he was a siren in his past life - or at least the reason behind those myths.

Tugging off the last of his overshirts, Jungkook joins you with only a simple tee. You shamelessly admire the way his chest and arms resist the material - and the way his waist does not.

Dumping himself by your side, he rests his fluffy head on your shoulder, and your body’s response is to hum on contact. “What now, miss two-zero,” he queries, giggling when you scoff.

“I dunno.” You lay your head on his, feeling the silkiness of his dark locks on your thawing cheeks. “I honestly thought you were gonna go back to playing, so. I didn’t make any other plans.”

Tenderly, you place a kiss on his crown of hair, your lips straying a beat after.

When he visibly perks up, you immediately know that, despite being holed up in that damn game room all week, Jungkook missed your touch significantly.

Which is perfect. Because you’ve been wanting his, too.

His eyes lift, traces of stars and diamonds embedded within their depths. Flitting his gaze to your lips, he seems temporarily spaced - a look he had been wearing recently. It’s like he has something he wants to say, but either has the words jammed in his throat or not there at all.

If he didn’t melt at your touch, this definitely would be where you started to worry. Instead, you’re just downright concerned.

“What, baby,” you whisper, slipping right into a sigh as a strong hand cradles your neck and smooth lips connect with your curiosity.

Jungkook takes his time, lazily kissing you as if he was destined for nothing else in existence.

And you respond, matching his relaxed strokes and letting him skip over the subject. Even as he lowers your bodies onto familiar cushions, you’re okay if you talk about it later.

Besides. You’re most definitely crashing soon.

This man will make sure of that.

Bunching your hands in his shirt, you tug him a tad closer, sighing through his hot breaths when you feel his chiseled weight on your stomach.

Leaving your wet and pouting lips, he only smiles before pecking your forehead, stilling in a delicate pause before dragging his nose across your countenance to kiss both cheeks.

And you can only shudder under his tenderness. In an attempt to hide—bashful nature taking over—you duck your head into the safety of his neck.

But you can’t run for long because Jungkook swoops in to reclaim your lips, the sudden move causing heat to swirl between your thighs and desire to fill your pupils. “Kookie.”

“Yes, baby girl,” he answers, a tiny trail of saliva between your mouths as he pulls away.

Your response comes out a sigh, “Nothing.” Reaching up to shift a long bang out of his face, you drink in his beauty, never running out of sips. “I just love you.”

Grinning, Jungkook’s eyes twinkle as he proudly reciprocates, “I love you, too.” He hauls his body up before taking one of your hands. “Come here.”

Wordlessly, you acquiesce for your self-proclaimed siren, letting him lure you from the couch to embark on a telltale journey to your bedroom—depths you would endlessly dive.

Glancing at your conjoined hands, you roam your eyes over his veiny forearms, admiring the ink on his canvas. Your favorite work of art. No museum in the world was worthy enough.

Jungkook turns in the doorway before pulling you close, bending to capture your lips in a shockingly heated kiss. Jerking your arms up to hold his biceps, you bury your digits into his muscles, dragging them hard the way he loves so much.

And it awakens a sleeping beast: inked fingers clawing at your pants.

“You want them off, baby?” When you receive a nod in response, you pause your movements to slip out of the material, letting your bottoms puddle around your feet.

Without warning, Jungkook dives in to lather your neck with hot breaths, wordlessly letting you know he wants the sweater gone next.

And, without fail, you resist and want to keep it on.

“You’re so beautiful,” your boyfriend mutters into your skin, fighting off those familiar thoughts he knows lurk in your conscience. “You don’t ever have to hide from me.”

“I know, but...”

“It’s okay.”

As he leads you both to your comforting bed, you melt into his increasingly searing nips and sucks, moaning as his tongue licks all the way up to your ear.

“We can make you feel good first.”

You don’t even register Jungkook sitting on the edge until your underwear comes in contact with his sweats, his erection rigid against your soft sex.

How can he get hard so quickly? How does this happen, time after time? He always blames you, but you never quite believe him. Then again, you never get enough time to—

A deep chuckle rumbles within his ribcage as he repositions you, body hovering over one of his thighs. His gorgeous, upsettingly tight thighs.

Teasingly, he asks, "This is where you like it, huh?”

“Yes,” you admit in a moan, wasting no time in sliding your slick core over his pants. “I like this.”

A hand comes up to slap your ass, and you buck forward on his leg when he rasps out, “Show me how much you do.”

Unsurprisingly, your underwear proves thoroughly soaked already, and you call yourself a hypocrite for wondering how Jungkook manages to get turned on so fast.

Under your boyfriend’s lidded observance, you only want to grind hard, with purpose. The friction you want exists in his bulging muscle, rubbing against your covered clit with each thrust, and you can’t help but squeeze yourself around his leg. Harder, tighter, stronger.

Drinking in your movements, Jungkook parts his lips, tensing his thigh at the perfect moment and chuckling darkly when you react.

“Don’t be shy,” he murmurs. “Wanna hear you, too.”

Mewling, you clasp your hands around the back of his neck, rolling your hips repeatedly and wordlessly thanking your boyfriend for working out so often. Fuck, just his thigh is almost enough to make you come. The tautness feels delicious under your clit, and sighs cascade out of your mouth like pretty waterfalls.

“God,” he groans, finally lifting your sweater and yanking it off your raised arms. When he realizes you opted not to wear a bra underneath your thin shirt, he kicks his head back in agony. “Fuck, baby.”

“Mmhmm,” you agree with a nod of your head. Biting your lip, you rejoin your hands behind his neck and continue to swivel your hips, clenching your thighs around his when your bundle of nerves hits just right. “Feels so good,” you gasp, your breath ragged and steeped in hunger.

“I know.” Your boyfriend tugs your shirt up until your breasts are freed, mouth encircling a nipple and sucking with a lick.

Fuck! Want gushes from your center as he admires your chest—each lick, each suck, each swirl of his tongue—soaking through your underwear and staining liquid white on his pants.

More.

You need a lot more.

Your core aches for a deeper intrusion and you both know it. “Kook,” you whimper, pressing your sweaty forehead to his. “I can’t. I need you.”

“Then lift up for me, love,” he responds, lightly patting one plump side of your ass.

Obeying, you release a drawn out moan as you feel him slide your panties over before one of his deft fingers slips into your folds. Rubbing your clit slow, he collects your sweet juices before lodging his digit in your cunt.

Fucking hell, he knows your body better than you do.

But of course he does. The times before have made him an expert. All those beautiful, tender, countless times before.

Watching your little jumps and tweaks seems to bring him joy, eyes alight with hunger for your pleasure. Inserting another finger, he starts to pump them in a steady rhythm until you felt that hidden spring in your body tighten alarmingly quick.

Shit! There’s no way you’re gonna come so soon, is there? Is there?

“Baby, I’m close,” you whisper in warning anyway, forehead hot and perspiration starting to coat your face. “You’re too good at this, fuck.”

“Come then, baby,” he coaxes with a smile.

You snap your lust-heavy eyes to his. “You sure?”

“Promise.” His smile tilts to the side as his confidence drips from the corners. “I’ll just make you come again.”

Fuck.

Chasing your high in earnest, your sticky thighs burn as you launch into a quick pace, outright fucking his hand as his slippery digits show no mercy. Your essence leaks out from between his fingers to stain your thighs, but you can’t think about anything else other than release. Release release release.

And it consumes you whole in an instant. Strong. Pulsing. Endless.

Swallowed by your high, you barely register Jungkook’s hushed praise and encouragement. Pleasure is the only thing you know as it surges through you, twisting across your locked limbs and leaving you weightless, elevated, teetering on the edge of a precipice.

Only the sight of your boyfriend licking his fingers clean is your sole, solid grasp on reality.

Because oh. That’s you he’s licking off his fingers.

Why does that always make you feel both turned on and embarrassed all at once?

Slumping forward into the crux of his shoulder, you inhale the heady scent that mingles with his cologne. “Holy shit, I think I saw stars.”

A breathy laugh cascades down your back. “Mm, let’s make that two-one then.”

“You would still keep score,” you huff, dragging your lips across his sweaty skin before attaching them to the base of his neck. As soon as your heated mouth latches on, Jungkook grants you better access, his reaction coming out in a low groan.

Taking the opening, you lick a trail up his column to his ear, sucking on his pulse once you venture back down. Feeling him sigh beneath you creates an urge, and you nip at his skin with more force than usual.

Arms tighten at your sides with a hiss. “Baby, yes.”

You alternate between nips and sucks along his smooth neck, imagining how beautiful it would be if he got it inked, too. Sliding your burning tongue up the shell of his ear, you bite down before pouring praises inside.

To your delight, Jungkook’s cock twitches on your thigh.

Humming, you ask with glee, “Did we find something you like, too?”

“Not sure.” He hisses again. “May need further tes—Fuck.”

You chuckle with joy as you lick his pulsing ear, the skin bright and angry from the torturous nick you just inflicted.

Experimenting and learning Jungkook’s body is something you will never tire of. It remains one of your favorite hobbies, and will stay that way for a wonderfully long time.

Worked up, your boyfriend finally yanks his shirt off, pulling you back in for a searing kiss when it’s thrown onto your laundry chair. Molding yourself into him, your nipples scrape his bare skin—the friction creating another set of swells in your core.

Hugging you close, Jungkook softly falls back onto your bed, keeping you aloft his rippling abdomen. Finally stretching out your legs, you feel relief in your thighs, wincing at the burn from strenuous use.

Goddamn, you’ll be surprised if you can walk to the next room when everything is over.

Jungkook isn’t privy to your thoughts. In this new position, he slips your underwear off before grabbing your ass, marveling at its plush curves like he’s never touched you before.

“You see it everyday, Kook,” you murmur between unhurried kisses.

“I do...” He presses his pelvis into yours, his hardened length sliding torturously against your dripping core. Your mewl harmonizes with his groan before he sighs, “But it’s just so perfect.”

You want him. You want him now.

Despite already reaching the summit, you’d plummeted back down and vow to climb again. “I’m still in a shirt and you’re still in pants,” you complain. “Take them off.”

Beneath you, Jungkook’s laugh reverberates through your chest. “You’re the one that held my thigh hostage!”

“Yes, and?”

“It was hot as fuck.”

“Exactly. Hurry up!”

“Okay, okay!” He huffs out a laugh. “Grab a condom then.”

Puffing, you push yourself up before slipping out of your already rumpled shirt. Chucking it as close to the laundry chair as you can—both of you humming in pride when it actually gets there—you start crawling across the bed to reach one of the nightstands.

“Ow,” you heave out, met with another light chortle. “My thighs.”

You hear the shuffling of clothes behind you as you retrieve a package from the drawer, sliding it shut before dropping your body in a tired heap.

Damn. There’s a lot of ground to cover between you and him. How the hell are you gonna get over there?

Deciding on the easiest course of action, you literally roll toward your unconcerned boyfriend until you mush into his muscular, bare form. “Hey,” you puff. “Feel sorry for me.”

As he situates himself on an elbow, your boyfriend’s lips mush just to keep a laugh from escaping. But he fails massively, his outburst above your nose causing his eyes to crinkle.

“That was the cutest shit I’ve ever seen.”

Pouting and trying to ignore the tingling you feel, you slap the condom wrapper against his chest. “Those stairs took a lot out of me. My thighs are officially tapping out for the night.”

Long fingers still on the metallic packaging. “Did you still want to keep going?”

“What? Duh.”

“Oh, okay. Just making sure.”

Tilting your head and smoothing out the covers underneath, you lament, “We haven’t even started on you yet.”

“Doesn’t matter.” Bending down to plant a heartwarming kiss on your forehead, Jungkook only smiles. “This is about you. I’m already happy.”

“Ugh, stop,” you whine, reaching down to take his velvety cock in your fingers. “Don’t be lame.”

“Babe.” A stern look darts your way and, after you hum in curiosity, he cocks a brow. “You literally made us get in a car so you could drive us back home.”

Laughing in earnest, you quickly admit defeat. “Damn, you got me.”

Your mirth is swallowed by Jungkook’s lips as he descends, an overwhelming appetite for everything you can offer. Pushing his cock further into your palm, his kiss deepens just as much.

His length always feels so weighty in your hand—so comforting, so familiar. But even in its smooth familiarity, you’ve never, ever gotten tired of pleasuring him. You were sure you could stay in and rub his cock until your arm fell off—or if he asked, sucked on it until he begged you to stop.

But he doesn’t ask for either of those things in that moment—solely focused on exploring your heated mouth until he maps it all. Jungkook really is orbiting around you and you alone, and you want to gift him the universe in return.

Relishing in the smoothness of his limbs and feeling safe in the embrace of his build, you stroke him in earnest—pulses in your core in sync with every groan you tug from his throat.

Suddenly, feverish lips leave you chilled.

“Hold on, babe.”

Leaning back, Jungkook effortlessly rips the wrapper open with his teeth before tossing it, his elbow digging into the mattress. After you retract your sticky hand, you watch with a small smile as he covers himself before hovering his beautiful body over yours.

But that’s all he does, and it’s intriguing.

What’s he thinking?

You’re about to ask when his words cut you off.

“You’re…” His eyes roam over your form, the heat of his gaze causing your arms to furl over your chest instinctively. Gingerly halting your limbs, he whispers,

“You’re the love of my life.”

So many things could’ve been said in that moment. So many phrases he has said before in similar situations. But what does he say? What does he go with?

You weren’t expecting that at all.

“Baby,” you murmur, blinking to quell the burn in your ducts. “If you keep saying stuff like that, I’ll cry.”

Gently nudging your legs apart, he slots his body in between. “I mean it,” he pledges, lowering himself to cage you in. Molding his entire body into your naked form, he shuts his eyes in wonder before regarding you with a loving gaze. Soft locks tickle your cheek as he kisses your neck, licking and sucking in the spots that affect you the most. “But I’ll stop.”

“For now,” you correct. “You can make me cry after.”

Jungkook’s breathy laugh will always be one of your favorite sounds. “Deal.”

Sighing, you reach up to clasp his flexed biceps, tightening your holds whenever he starts sucking on your pulse. How he went from worshipping you to devouring you was always intriguing. Maybe to him, they were one and the same.

Between your legs, your folds flutter with want, and you lift your hips as a tiny hint.

“Say what you want, baby girl.”

“You know what I want.”

“Nu uh.”

Feeling the abrupt girth of his head protruding your folds, you grunt with a harsh shot of breath. “Fuck,” you gasp. “I want you, but not all at once, fuck.”

“How are you always so tight,” your boyfriend wheezes, rubbing his length up and down your cunt before nudging in slow. “Holy shit.”

You whimper at the intrusion until you feel yourself adjusting.

But this was expected. Jungkook’s so damn large that you go through this every time. The only times that have been different have come after he’s eaten you out, and even then he’s still a bit big.

However. You know what proceeds the slight ache, and it’s completely worth it. The euphoric feeling of being completely and utterly together. One.

Your core molten and clenching around him, you purr at the way he goes deep, deeper, bottoming out. Above you, Jungkook starts perspiring in earnest, grunting as he keeps himself still. Sheathed entirely inside, he goes back to ravaging your neck, and you encourage him to finally move with a rock of your hips.

“So fucking big,” you praise, mewling when he chuckles during a deep thrust. “I love your dick, baby.”

“It’s yours,” he offers with no hint of hesitation, rolling his hips until you see another set of stars. With each long thrust, his ridges rub like heaven, your lower lips singing their gratitude in tight spasms. “I’m all yours.”

“You can go faster,” you mention in passing, though the breathiness of your voice gives away your desperation.

Maybe you are desperate. May as well lean into it. “Go faster. Faster.”

“If you start being bossy, I’ll come.”

“That’s the point, Kookie.”

Grunting in agreement, he slips a strong arm underneath your hips, lifting you at a slight tilt. The new angle allows him to penetrate deeper, and you sing his name in a continuous hymn with every other plunge. Again and again and again.

His lips connect with yours for the upteenth time that night, as if he was continually magnetized and couldn’t stay away for too long. Your breath’s stolen away with each pass—his soul pouring into yours to make up for its absence.

With each fleeting second, your skin proves slicker with sweat and effort. Exertion appears on Jungkook’s own body in the way his muscles and veins bulge, pulse, shove against the confines of his skin. Ever faster, his hips never tire as he finds a steady rhythm.

“Babe, fuck—”

“So fucking tight.”

Your breasts bounce each time he penetrates, and he curls his body to take one of them in his fiery mouth. You arch your back to aid his hunger, and you moan with every intentional lick and swirl of his tongue.

Nipping your bud, Jungkook smirks at your squirming before attacking the other, shoving his cock far into your sex just to see how loud he can make you whine.

Breathless, you go limp and take his hard rhythm in stride, riding the high of feeling so incredibly full. Only the sounds of your small mewls and his reserved grunts permeate the air, thickening the room and layering more sweat on your skin. You’re sure you look as fucked out as your boyfriend appears, lust manifesting in passionate blooms on his slick skin.

“That’s it, baby girl,” he lauds. “Love when you relax for me.”

“Feels so good, Kookie.”

“That’s what I want for you.”

Lolling your head to the side, your lidded gaze latches onto his inked arm. So pretty, just like him. You gnaw on your lip as you contract against his pulsing length, your body bumping with the knocks of his thrusts.

The desire that had been unleashed before coalesces again with a vengeance, sneaking up from the earth and balling itself inside your core. Sliding your eyes to meet Jungkook’s wanton expression, you whimper, “I’m close again, baby.”

“Fuck, I can tell.” He dips his forehead down to yours before sliding his hand to your hip. Gripping your skin, he’s sure to leave tiny bruises with how rough he holds on.

But you don’t care. You love when he loses control.

His heated breath ghosts down your features as he rolls in exaggerated thrusts, and his heavy hums clue you in to his own chase.

“You, too?”

“Ye... Yeah,” he grunts, voice high in pitch.

“Good. You’re so hot when you come.”

Your praise coaxes a whine from him before his motions became unpredictable and erratic.

There it is. He’s so close. Just one more push.

Abandoning your squelching sex, you suddenly use both hands to claw at the rippling muscles of his back. Angry red scratches tear through his nearly-unmarked skin—the only other scars from more passionate ones you inflicted before.

A strangled groan empties out above you, and his mouth flops open in unhinged desire. Darkened, blown out orbs bury into your sweaty face, and you squint to fire heavy lust in retaliation.

Contained energy threatens to burst inside of you. Another high in plain sight. Tugging at Jungkook’s long, wet locks, you shove his mouth onto your ravenous lips, impaling him with your furious tongue.

His breath shoots out between your fervent demands, “Gonna. Gonna come.”

“Do it, baby.”

With the next thrust, you’re pulled under instead, tumbling under the currents of your orgasm and spiraling out of control. Your boyfriend follows close behind, and you can feel him twitch furiously inside of your walls.

The moment only lasts mere seconds, but you feel afloat for much longer, your body wracked with release. Words of affection tumble onto your heaving chest before Jungkook slides out of your exhausted core, and his body dumps into an exhaustive heap right next to you.

Always a new and ethereal experience with him. You can’t explain how beautiful it feels to have him in your arms when you come, or when he reaches his own high.

In a way, you could say it’s touching. Laced with enchantment. Something deeper than love, if that were even possible.

But there aren’t any words in existence that can describe the feeling, so you only settle with conveying how you feel in your actions.

Lightly raking your hands through his sweaty hair, you smile before kissing the tip of his nose, nuzzling it before thumping your head back onto the comforter.

“We should clean up.”

“Yeah,” Jungkook agrees, his body not conveying the same willingness.

And you can’t blame him: your own limbs didn’t feel adequately attached to the rest of your body. You’re essentially strewn about the bed in parts yourself.

“How are your arms,” you grunt, struggling in your quest to achieve a sitting position.

Your boyfriend nudges your back with his floppy hair, helping you straighten in the most adorable way possible. “They’re okay. Why?”

“Just wondering.”

Sliding off the bed, your entire body feels like gelatin for bones, Jungkook jutting an inked arm out to steady your wobbling.

A giggle punctuates his inquiry. “That bad, huh?”

“Shut up. This is your fault.”

“Nu uh.” Standing and guiding your fawn-like feet to the bathroom, Jungkook counters, “I wasn’t the one hauling ass down four flights of stairs.”

“Yeah. That’s why you lost.”

“Brat.”

“You like it.”

As you both go through your clean up and bedtime routines, the light banter continues. It quickly transforms into delirium from being the dark early hours of morning, nonsensical quirks and giggles puncturing the apartment walls.

When you’re settled back into your bed, you curl your body into his. But you still aren’t quite comfortable: throughout your small time in the bathroom, your feet somehow managed to freeze over again. Seeking immediate thawing procedures, you slot them between Jungkook’s legs.

“Hell no!” He wiggles rapidly and attempts to run from your iced extremities, whining when your toes chase him down under the sheets. “So damn cold!”

“I’m trying to get warm!”

“Damn it... You’re lucky I love you.”

“I am,” you hum, your face smug.

Even with his protests, your boyfriend clamps his limbs around your feet to give them heat.

Silence settles like a light dust over your bodies. Heavy with contemplation and satisfaction, Jungkook quietly slings an arm over your body to pull you closer. Though he absolutely doesn’t need to keep his voice low, he whispers to your forehead,

“Thank you for the date tonight.”

Heart fluttering, you nuzzle into his chest. “Thank you for joining me. Sorry for ruining your rank.”

“Fuck my rank,” he huffs with a hint of mirth. “This was the most fun I’ve had in months. It made me even more sure of…”

Huh?

Of what?

Confused, you tilt your head within your small space. “More sure of...?”

“Umm.”

Feeling his hold tighten around you, you aren’t positive if you felt a slight shake of his fingers or not.

A slight, prickling feeling skittered over your skin, goosebumps flaring like your heart knew what he was going to say without him uttering a word.

“I was gonna save this for a better time, but, uhm.” He pauses, a million moments in between. “I just know I wanna marry you.”

Oh.

You still—only for a small beat—before relief bubbles from your throat.

When Jungkook regards you with a confused face, you breathily respond, “Is that what you’ve been wanting to tell me this whole time? I thought that was already the plan, silly.”

“Really?” Solace floods his features, and you can’t for the life of you understand how he didn’t get that impression before.

Does he really not know how incredibly and unabashedly threaded he has you around his tattooed finger? Who the hell else would you stand out in that weather for more than a millisecond for? For who else would you traverse the galaxies if he ever lost his way—tearing through planets just to find him and bring him home?

“Yes, really,” you giggle, wetting your lips before capturing his. “Just let me know the date and time and I’ll show up.”

Chuckling, he presses a tender kiss to your nose before padding around for his phone. His curious, determined face illuminates like a single star, and you fill the bed with mirth when he ponders aloud,

“Then when’s the next meteor shower?”

end.

A/N: YAAAAY if you made it to the end, welcome!! thank you so much for the support and always feel free to let me know what you thought. this is a revamped version and i am way more happier with this result, so if you’ve read both, thank you twice :D as for more jungkook content: it is coming!! got wips in the works and should be putting out updates/teasers soon. of course, any feedback will definitely be appreciated. my ask box is always open<3 ++ feedback box: ⇥ of course, any reblogs/comments/messages are appreciated! ⇥ for the ones that aren’t okay with reblogging with a review, commenting on this, or sending a message, i went ahead and made another anonymous form where you can send in what you think! ⇥ no emails collected, no need to put in a username. it’s literally just a feedback dropbox :D ⇥ here! ++ ⇥ masterlist

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cowboycakes · 2 years

Note

how would sdc dio react when he walks in on his usually quiet and shy fem s/o masturbating in front of a mirror she placed in the front of their shared bed :)?

I turned this into a little scenario for you, anon... enjoy ;)

SDC Dio Brando x Reader

Warnings: MINORS DNI, smut. Masturbation, slight degradation. Shy/innocent afab reader. Dio uses his tongue a lil bit. Unedited.

Word count: 619.

Its just an innocent little experiment - that's how you're justifying it to yourself, at least.

Your experiment involves the grand, heavy mirror that sits in the corner of Dio's bedroom. It would catch anyone's eye. Its frame is thick and golden, with carvings that resemble vines tracing up and down its sides.

Everything in this Egyptian mansion resembles this mirror, in one way or another. Its all vast and baroque, yet this place still manages to feel barren when Dio isn't here. You've been left to your own devices for a few days now while he's out doing God knows what.

And you miss him.

Your body misses him.

You've been relentlessly aroused since he left. Maybe it was simply the idea of him being away that made you crave him more.

And now, as you stare into the golden mirror you'd just shoved across the candle-lit bedroom and propped up next to the bed, you know you need to relieve yourself somehow.

So you do, by shoving your fingers into your cunt desperately while watching yourself in that mirror. It's more arousing than you thought it would be, actually getting a glimpse of yourself while you're doing it.

As if with divine timing, the bedroom door opens while you can feel your climax building.

You rush to haphazardly cover yourself with the duvet thats ruffled on the bed.

Dio's daunting body leans up against the doorframe. His arms are crossed. His eyes are narrowed on your naked, vulnerable body while you cling onto that blanket.

You're a frightened animal caught in his snare trap, now. He's never seen you take matters into your own hands like this, you're usually so shy, so innocent. That's part of the reason he likes you so much. But right now, you're panting and sweating in front of him, suffering through the comedown from your orgasm that was almost in reach.

"Don't just stare at me," he growls. "Keep going."

You make the mistake of looking into the mirror.

Dio's eyes follow yours. He immediately catches on to the filthy game you were trying to play with yourself.

How pathetic. He nearly smirks at you.

"Were you really that lonely?" Dio teases.

He crosses the room to the bed and stands before you. You look at him blankly.

"I did miss you..." you choke out.

"That much is clear."

Dio kneels on the bed and leans toward you, prompting you to release your grip on the blanket.

"Now, go on," he says. "Show me how bad."

You do as your told, quickly working yourself back up to orgasm while crying out praises for Dio - letting him know how badly you missed him, how horribly your body craved him. Dio lounges beside you on the bed and watches. He keeps his face straight and his composure intact despite the growing ache in his pants.

Your sweaty body goes limp on the mattress after your orgasm hits. You shut your eyes for a moment as the aftershocks rain over you.

You suddenly feel Dio grab ahold of the underside of both your thighs. He presses his fingers into the fat of your upper thighs, pinching your tender skin with his sharp nails. You open your eyes to find his head of blonde hair in between your legs.

He presses his tongue onto your cunt, lapping up the wet mess you'd created. You're still sensitive, tensing at the warm pressure as he licks you clean. He takes his time - he's savoring you. He lets his mouth travel wherever it pleases, roaming up and down your inner thighs, dipping his tongue inside of your hole and leaving sloppy kisses on your clit.

"I missed the way you taste."

#jojos thirsty adventure #dio brando smut #dio smut #jjba smut #jojo smut #dio brando x reader #dio x reader #jojo x reader #jjba x reader

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demonicbaby666 · 7 months

Text

Anywhere, Everywhere

One shot | Supergirl Masterlist | Masterlists

Fandom: Supergirl

Pairing: Supercorp

Genre: Angst, fluff and smut

Words: 4.1k+

Warnings: 18+, minors DNI, fingering, oral sex, idiots in love

Summary: Lena's been avoiding Kara, and she's not entirely sure why. But after too many cancelled lunches and meet-ups, Kara decides to find out.

A/n: Listen, this wasn't exactly proofread immaculately, but I'm low-key off my game, so I hope it's still an enjoyable read.

Kara always knows when Lena is stressed. She can hear it in her voice, see it in the slips of her always solid stature, feel it in the rapid thrums of a once steady heartbeat.

It isn’t unusual for the brunette to be stressed, what with her being CEO and constantly juggling project after project. However, what is, is her sudden reluctance to seeing Kara. The journalist has repeatedly tried to arrange lunches, dinners and movie nights. Anything and everything she knows usually alleviates some of the extraordinary pressure that comes with Lena’s day-to-day workload. It’s just that Lena says she’s busy or agrees, then cancels at the last minute with the increasingly frequent excuse of ‘I’m overloaded at work’, adding a less-than-reassuring ‘another time, I promise.’

For what it’s worth, Kara does try not to take it to heart. She’s more than privy to work seizing control of every aspect of her life. It’s only that there’s been a silent agreement between herself and Lena that they manage to find time for one another, no matter the circumstances. So, for the life of her, Kara can’t work out what is so important to Lena that trumps spending time with her best friend. But she decides enough is enough. She’s going to get to the bottom of this, even if it means exerting a little more force than necessary.

“Miss Luthor isn’t seeing anyone at the mo-” before Lena’s assistant has time to finish, the super is past her, barging through the doors into Lena’s immaculately clean office. Everything is in its place. The only thing that appears to be in disarray is Lena, who sits at her cluttered desk. There are mountains of paperwork surrounding her, and one would assume there is no order to them, but it’s Lena, after all, so there most certainly is a system in place.

“I’m sorry, Miss Luthor, I tried to stop her.” The sullen assistant says, looking rather down on herself.

Razor-sharp eyes flicker up to the commotion bursting through the doors. Lena takes in Kara and her flustered assistant. The blonde appears fine, but Lena can see beneath the surface. Kara is on edge. She can see and feel her best friend's eyes studying every inch of her for anything out of the ordinary. Hell, Kara’s fingers and legs are twitching, like she’s holding herself back from jumping Lena right then and there.

She takes a moment to brush through her hair and release a well-needed exhale before standing up and walking to the pair.

“It’s alright,” the brunette says to her assistant with a smile. The poor thing looks like she needs it, “For the future, it’d be best to let Kara be the exception to my no-visitors rules.” She takes a brief pause and looks at the blonde as she finishes talking to her assistant, ushering her out of the room, “I wouldn’t want to put you in the crosshairs of her wrath when she’s being denied something she wants.”

The door hinges creak to a halt, and the two are alone. As the CEO predicted, Kara doesn’t wait a second, blurting out, “Lena, what’s going on?”

It comes out rushed and is likely too fast for anyone to understand. But Lena lets out a resigned sigh before answering, proving she’s so in sync with Kara that her jargon and fast-paced ramblings are a second language at this point.

“Nothing is going on,” she brushes off the question, sashaying back to her desk to haphazardly look over the stacks of papers, “I’ve been busy, that’s all.”

“You’ve been avoiding me,” Kara tries again.

She knows. The CEO knows she’s been doing precisely that. The reason Lena is so averse to owning up to her actions is simply that she’ll have to tell her best friend the actual reason she’s been dodging all her calls, texts, and meet-ups is because she is undeniably and insanely head over heels for her. And that isn’t an option.

It started small, crept up on her without her knowledge. She’d stare at Kara and find herself lost in the way her smile made her cheeks jut out like a little chipmunk. She’d watch wisps of soft blonde hair fly about in the wind whenever Kara came to her rescue and became drunk with the need to run her fingers through them. She’d crave Kara in such a primal way it no longer felt like she was missing a friend when Kara wasn’t there, but a piece of herself.

It was the amalgamation of all these small quirks that began to drive Lena crazy. She told herself to ignore it. To ignore the butterflies in her stomach whenever Kara's name was mentioned, to ignore the sickening fright that arose every time the blonde went on a mission, ignore the overpowering urge to engulf Kara into her arms and never let her go.

Then, one night, when the two shared a parting hug, Lena came to the conclusion that being in Kara’s arms - feeling her strength and warmth and the safety provided - was her everything. Kara was her home. The smell of sunshine and honied tulips meant that the walking embodiment of joy was around the corner. Kara was her safe place. But Kara was also her best friend, the most important person in her life.

When she realised the cons vastly outweighed the pros of fessing up to her true feelings, Lena made the tough decision to suffer in silence rather than do anything to jeopardise their friendship. After that night, her relationship with the woman in question suddenly became both too much and not enough. It was happy yet melancholy, fun yet draining. She felt filled with so much love, but none of it was without a chestful of aching yearning. So naturally, she pulled back.

Still, reminding herself of her justifications does nothing to alleviate the guilt she feels. The hurt evident on Kara’s face is not lost on Lena, and she’s filled with the need to reach out and fling herself into those strong arms because if anything can put a smile on the blonde’s face, it’s a hug. Alas, she can’t. She can’t because if she does, she’ll never want to leave Kara's welcoming embrace. She’ll get too comfortable in the arms of someone always willing to catch her. So Lena stands her ground- or rather, remains seated.

“Honestly, Kara,” she starts, “It’s work being-”

Lena, however, isn’t granted the opportunity to finish because Kara speeds over to her, spins her chair and grasps firmly onto the sides. If Lena hadn’t known her best friend possessed abilities, she’d have been somewhat worried. But she also knows better than to think Kara would ever think to lay a hand on her.

“Stop lying,” the blonde said firmly, eyes burning the lies straight out of Lena’s mouth.

Her tone of voice sends shivers down Lena’s spine, and she has to hold back a whimper. The authority Kara wields in times like these is downright illegal. During missions, outings, and interrogations - especially interrogations - when Lena is granted the pleasure of seeing Kara in an all-too-tight suit and wielding her power of submission, the CEO often finds her body her worst enemy.

When she’s with Kara, she’s on fire. She’s electric. She’s embarrassingly and uncharacteristically so fucking turned on she’s having to squeeze her legs together and fuck herself to exhaustion the following evening. It’s a constant cycle of shame, and the cycle begins anew with the object of her desires so close, so close. She cranes her head up. Too close.

There’s a sudden meekness in Kara as her crystal-blue eyes look intently into Lena’s greens. “Have I done something?” she asks, worrying her bottom lip between her teeth.

The blonde is leaning over her, and her grip on the arms of the chair hasn’t loosened at all - Lena figures this out when she tries and fails to push herself away from the proximity of Kara’s scolding warmth.

“It’s not you,” the CEO mutters, her resolve fizzling away as the pout on Kara’s face grows more and more prominent.

The moment is becoming increasingly charged, and Lena can’t stand it. The truth is right in reach, but a lie begs to save her. Kara is, as always, patient. Silent. Waiting. Lena feels sick. Tears are beginning to sting the back of her eyes, and Lillian’s words echo in her head. She’s telling her to show no weakness, to stop being so pathetic. She’s a Luthor, for god's sake.

But Kara is so close, maybe closer than before, and she doesn’t know if that’s her doing or the blonde’s. For a brief moment, her eyes flicker south. She watches as lips part and hears Kara’s breath hitch. Their eyes are on each other again, and Kara is leaning in. No, they’re both leaning in. The air between them is thick and hot, shared as they take turns to warm the other's lips with shaky breaths.

Lena can smell Kara’s sweet perfume and the floral laundry detergent on Kara’s clothes. She closes her eyes. The peppermint lingering on Kara’s breath is sharp as it travels up Lena’s nose; the scent awakens her senses and pebbles her skin in susceptive goosebumps. They’re so close. Too close.

A blaring ringtone bulldozes the moment, snapping the two women apart at an alarming rate. They stay stark still, staring at each other in astonishment as the room fills with an uncomfortable heat, and Kara’s phone seems to get louder and louder.

Kara is the one to break their heated staring contest, turning to her discarded bag on the couch and reaching for the pesky device.

With her jaw clenched and her feet pressing firmly against the ground, Lena turns to her paperwork. She tunes out the sound of who she assumes is Alex talking to Kara and shuns herself for letting whatever just happened to happen.

From the corner of her eye, the brunette sees Kara pacing. She looks like she’s composed herself, nonchalantly humming and nodding along as she carefully listens to the information being fed to her over the phone. Lena can practically see the cogs turning in the super’s head, and her thrumming heart and clouded mind grow envious of how Kara seems to have moved on so quickly from the heated moment that arose only seconds ago.

The call is over, and silence engulfs the office. The tension is palpable; it’s suffocating. No one speaks, and Lena keeps her eyes on legal documents, pretending not to notice Kara staring, waiting.

“I should go,” the blonde finally says after sighing and turning to place her phone back in her bag.

Lena doesn’t so much as look up because she knows if she does, she’ll break. She’s letting Kara leave. She’s letting the one person she loves and will always love walk away for what feels like the last time.

“Be safe,” is all she can mumble as Kara exits.

And then she’s crying.

————————————————

Lena’s lying on her couch after spending most of the evening bawling. Her eyes are sore, and her throat burns from the scotch she’s been nursing. It fails to calm her, and she’s not even tipsy, just painfully tired from an exhausting day.

Unaware that she had fallen asleep, Lena awakens to find herself wrapped in a pair of strong arms. Her head rests on Kara’s chest alongside her hand, and she can hear a steady heartbeat thrum under her ear.

It’s always been like this. The pair have never shied away from intimacy. Hugs, cuddles, and the occasional kiss have always been common occurrences. But now it feels different. Of course, it’s still comforting - it’s Kara, after all - but it’s filled with longing for more. Lena doesn’t want a parting kiss on the cheek, a momentary hug, or to cuddle during a movie while subconsciously counting down the minutes until the film ends and Kara has to leave. She doesn’t want temporary. She chastises herself for being greedy and ungrateful for wanting more but can’t help it. Once she tasted what it felt like to be complete, loved and untroubled, it became impossible to give it up.

“I’m not leaving until you tell me what’s going on,” Kara whispers delicately into Lena's dark hair, absentmindedly drawing circles over her back. “Even if it takes all night.”

“Oh, Kara,” Lena concedes and looks up, “you have no idea what you do to me.” Her thoughts come swiftly to berate her - curse her for slipping up and revealing too much.

Those blue eyes stare at her, and a faint smile paints soft pink lips. There's so much warmth in Kara’s eyes that Lena can’t even feel the breeze coming in from the open balcony doors (which certainly weren't left open on the off chance Kara decided to drop by). Her heart hammers against her chest, and the longer Kara stares, the faster it gets.

Hands come up to cup the brunette’s face, and her best friend bites her lip before heavily exhaling, “Then tell me.”

“I can’t,” she tries to turn away, but Kara holds her still, “I can’t lose you.”

“You never will. No matter what,” the journalist whispers, her gaze honest and sure, thumbs caressing the sharp curves of Lena’s jaw, “What can I do to prove that?”

“Kara,” her heart is racing so viciously that Lena thinks she may pass out; her palms are sweaty, and her head is spinning. She’s making a mistake. Kara’s soft lips are right there. She looks down. Kara’s eyes do the same. A thumb traces her bottom lip, and the CEO is no longer thinking straight. Lena wants this. She needs this, “Kiss me.”

She watches her best friend's expression change from soft and warm to desperate and dark.

“Where?” Kara husks, “Where do you want me to kiss you, Lena?”

“Anywhere. Everywhere.”

Kara momentarily untangles herself from Lena. She moves on top of her and rests her hands on the armrest behind the brunette's head. Her lips hover over Lena’s neck before slowly lowering herself to kiss the perfumed skin.

“Here?” Kara whispers hotly, sucking the Luthor’s pulse point into her mouth and leaving behind a faint hickey.

Lena moans and nods as Kara moves higher, behind her ear, where she presses her lips down firmly, “Here?”

“Yes,” the brunette contently sighs.

Kara moves again, hovers over Lena’s lips and waits, “Here?”

Lena can’t take it. She grabs Kara by the back of her shirt and yanks her down, meshing their lips together with a frenzied kiss.

Every single dream, fantasy and hope are surmounted the moment their lips meet. Electric currents run through Lena’s body right down to her stomach, slowly filling with a swarm of butterflies.

Feeling Kara over her has Lena desperate for more. She pulls her closer, eating up the minimal space between their bodies. Her hands roam freely, finding the bottom of Kara’s shirt. She untucks it from the confines of the blonde’s slacks and runs her fingernails along sculpted abs. The move earns her a groan, and she takes this as an opportunity to slide her tongue into Kara’s mouth and finally taste her.

She’s sweet, just as the CEO thought she would be. The taste of sugared doughnuts still lingers in the blonde's mouth, and Lena can’t get enough of it. She’s greedy, unapologetically so, swirling her tongue and lapping up every centimetre of Kara she can get.

Somehow, as their make-out session grows more and more passionate, Kara’s thigh has managed to find itself between Lena’s legs. The unintentional or intentional pressure has Lena subconsciously moving her hips, moaning as the pangs of pleasure spur up from her clothed cunt to her stomach.

The cherry on top that forces Lena to moan far too loud for her liking is Kara’s hand slipping under her nightshirt and lightly tracing the skin below her breasts with her fingertips. It seems Lena’s reaction doesn’t go unnoticed because, in a gust of wind, they’re in her bedroom. The mattress presses against Lena’s back, and Kara is atop her.

“Are you okay with this?” Kara asks, suggestively tugging the bottom of Lena’s shirt.

“God, yes.”

“I don’t want to force you. If you want to wait and talk and maybe work things out and…” Kara rambles on, and though Lena usually adores this quirk, her body is thrumming with need and desire, and if it’s not sated soon, she feels she may implode.

“Darling,” Lena smiles and reaches out to brush Kara’s cheek lightly, “I want you to fuck me.”

The journalist's cheeks flush, but a playful smirk appears over her lips right before she rips Lena’s top off and devours her neck. She’s marking it all over, and Lena doesn’t care one bit. In her mind, she knows she’ll look at the marks in the following days and treasure the claim Kara is laying waste to her body.

Lena places her hands on Kara's forearms, and a content hum echoes through the bedroom. A smile blossoms over the CEO’s lips as she relishes finally being able to run her hands over bulging biceps, and she doesn’t even try to resist the urge to squeeze.

“I knew you were into my guns,” Kara gloats, making a show of flexing.

“Mmmmhh,” is all the Luthor offers, clearly too busy to offer a witty comeback, and Kara can’t help but chuckle as she pecks at Lena’s neck.

“Guess I should get them out more often.”

Despondently removing a hand from Kara’s forearm and placing it on the back of her head, Lena guides the super back to her puckered lips, “Less talking, more kissing.”

Kara’s resounding smile is wiped off her face when Lena decides to take matters into her own hands and connect their lips together. This time, she doesn’t hold back, plunging her tongue into Kara’s mouth and dominating the kiss.

Their kiss is only broken a few times to remove articles of clothing that grow more and more offending as their body temperatures rise and the pair become increasingly impatient to lay their hands upon each other. The moment the pair find themselves sufficiently naked, Kara pulls Lena into her lap, causing the CEO to let out an uncharacteristic squeal.

She’s quick to hide her adolescent slip-up, burying her crimson blush in the crook of Kara’s neck and hears a muffled bark of laughter. When she eventually finds the courage to emerge from her makeshift cacoon of shame - aided by Kara’s gentle fingers running through her hair - Lena can’t help but smile at the pure adoration in those azure eyes, and her embarrassment becomes pliable and soft. She melds their lips together, and all emotions running through her body, aside from desire and love, make themselves scarce.

Kara’s hand slides between the two women’s bodies and moves up Lena’s thigh, right to where she’s needed most. She lightly circles Lena’s clit, prying a small moan out of the brunette, and Kara takes this as a sign to keep going. With one finger, she traces the entrance to Lena’s sex, gathering up her wetness before slowly entering her. Receiving a gasp from the woman above, Kara begins a steady rhythm, thrusting in and out.

“I need more,” Lena whines and Kara is all too happy to oblige, pushing another finger inside Lena’s tight channel.

“God, you’re stunning like this.” Kara growls. Eyes transfixed on Lena’s full breasts, she takes a nipple into her mouth and sucks hard. The CEO shudders against her and encourages Kara to repeat the action on her other breast, guiding her head sideways.

Emboldened by Lena’s responsiveness, Kara becomes playful. Using her teeth, she latches onto the nipple in her mouth, causing the woman above her to gasp before tenderly lathering it with her tongue in a swirling motion.

“Fuck Kara,” Lena pants, her hips grinding in tandem with Kara’s ministrations, “More.”

Kara quickly follows the order, wanting only to satisfy Lena’s every desire. She tightens her grip around Lena’s waist and pounds her fingers deeper and faster, repeatedly hitting a particular stop inside the brunette that has her crying out.

Lena can feel Kara moving her hips, using the full momentum of her body to fuck into her. The muscles in her stomach are tensing as she gulps in heaps of air between pleasure-drunk moans, and she thanks the lucky stars that Kara's skin is impenetrable because if it weren’t, the poor woman’s forearms would be covered in angry scratches.

Hands clasp Kara’s shoulders as Lena pushes herself up, leaving only Kara’s fingertips inside her, and then she drops back down, sheathing herself onto those deliciously svelte digits.

“That’s it,” Kara huskily encourages, moving her lips from Lena’s breasts to her neck, where she begins peppering kisses over darkening blotches of red, “You look so pretty fucking yourself on my fingers.”

Lena’s head snaps back as she utters a curse, and she forces herself to rise again and repeat the movement.

“I-I’m close,” the CEO stutters, her body shaking in anticipation, “God, Kara, I’m so close.”

Lena’s getting impatient, losing control of her hips, and her thighs begin to shudder uncontrollably. She’s struggling to keep a steady pace whilst balancing on the precipice of her orgasm, and, always attentive, Kara is quick to pick up on this. Using her thumb to press down on a severely neglected clit, Kara focuses, careful not to hurt the brunette; she relies on her superstrength to guide Lena’s body up and down.

“Yes, Kara, just like that,” Lena gasps, her orgasm teetering just out of reach.

The Luthor uses what strength she has left to nestle Kara out from the burrow of her neck, her hand tangling in silky golden locks as she fights off her vehement need to cum in favour of staring at her lover.

She can hear the wet sounds of her pussy being filled over and over, and instead of feeling embarrassed or ashamed, looking into Kara’s eyes, she feels elated. Kara has done this to her, her Kara. She’s worked her up to the tipping point, and she’s about to carry her over the finish line - literally.

The pair stare at each other for mere seconds before crashing their lips together. The knot in Lena’s stomach unfurls, and a warmth spreads through her limbs as she moans into Kara’s mouth.

Lena’s back arches and her expression contorts with a mix of relief and pleasure as her orgasm washes over her body in pulsing waves. She falls slack against Kara’s shoulder, listening to the blonde whisper sweet nothings into her ear as she regains control over her breathing.

“My turn,” Lena murmurs, sucking lewdly on Kara’s earlobe.

With steady hands, Lena pushes Kara’s shoulders until she’s lying flat on her back. There’s a predatory look in her eyes that makes the super think she’s about to be trounced finally, and she doesn’t mind one bit.

Lena uses her tongue to taste her way down milky skin, leaving a shimmering trail from neck to thighs. The sight that greets her tells her all she needs to know, and that’s that Kara is worked up. An unwavering need to be inside Kara overcomes Lena, and she doesn’t hesitate to act.

The first lick has her tastebuds exploding. Kara’s sweet and salty and probably the best thing she’s ever tasted. So, she takes her time, listens to the litany of soft moans coming from above her, and keeps her tongue consistently skirting along where Kara wants it most but never offers the relief the blonde so desperately wants.

“Lena, don’t tease,” Kara whimpers, canting her hips in hopes of getting Lena’s mouth around her aching clit.

“Oh darling, when have you ever known me to play with my food,” Lena taunts, not waiting for a response before she stiffens her tongue and thrusts it inside Kara's dripping entrance.

“Lena!” Kara cries out, gripping the bed sheets, as opposed to Lena’s hair, which she’s sure she’ll rip out, “I’m not going to last long.”

Thighs clamp tightly over Lena’s ears, muffling the sweet erotic sounds coming from above her. With a steady hand looped over Kara’s thigh, Lena tugs her closer, slipping a thumb over the blonde’s clit. She gorges herself on the supple flavours flowing down her chin until she hears a series of curses before hips fly from the mattress, and Lena’s name is echoed throughout the bedroom.

“Come here,” the journalist sighs, letting go of torn bedsheets and reaching out to pull Lena close enough so that the smell of her own arousal fills her nose.

“Hi,” Lena murmurs softly - sweetly - onto Kara’s lips, leaning down to finish her greeting with a deliberate kiss, basking in the intimacy the two had just shared.

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#supergirl #Kara Danvers #Lena luthor #supercorp #supercorp fanfic #kara danvers x lena luthor

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soraviie · 1 year

Text

you compare yourself to him 2.txt

━ type: bts x f! reader ━ navigation ━ part I here

━ about: angst atop of angst and some fluff

━ a/n: Bacchus here is a reference to a Korean energy drink in Yoongi's part. Jimin's part is my own favourite one :)

━ previously posted on soraviii

NAMJOON: The world is...beige. Since when? Blinking away the heavy grogginess, you reach to touch the material on your face before removing it. Looking around one might think you'd slept through the whole warfare as every surface is covered in clothes. Amidst the maelstrom like a blur in the wind is Namjoon, tossing everything he could find all around. You reach to hook a finger around a silver chain necklace inexplicably dangling on a bedside lamp. You remember this one. You'd gifted him this in Tartu on a whim of being overwhelmingly lovesick for his dimples.

"Are you fleeing the country?" you rasp, voice falling gruff from the disuse. It had been...hard to talk after the gallery. Or look at yourself in the mirror. Or leave the bed.

At the sound of your voice, Namjoon whips around, accidentally pulling along with him a lightbox. Dimly you watch it clatter on the ground.

"Baby! Hello! Did you sleep well?" he asks with an eagerness of a zealous labrador and you frown.

"Well enough. Have you gone mad? Perhaps?"

He laughs as though this simple remark was the finest joke in the land.

"No, I'm very focused and logical," he chirps and your frown deepens. No way his brain was not harmed somehow. This was...suspicious to say the least.

"Listen, I'm going to be on the TV today -"

"You always are," dryly you point out but then he crawls on the bed and practically sticks his face into yours, so close you go cross-eyed.

"Make sure you watch it, okay? It'll be a live. Starts at 3."

"Okay," flustered you comply and as his breath fans your face the suspicion surges. "How many energy drinks have you had?"

"Nine!"

Your eyes pop open but you can't do much about it as he glimpsed down, finds the necklace glimmering between your fingers and lets out a jubilant cry.

"I've been looking for this thing! Thank you!" he begins leaving rushed kisses all over your face, graciously ignoring any protests. "Thank you, baby! My moon and stars!"

Was he drunk as well?

Pulling back just as haphazardly he glanced at the clock, breathing a horrified gasp.

"Oh, shit, I'm late! But the mess..." he tosses a guilty glimpse at the destroyed closet before you push him.

"I'll..I'll clean it, just go."

You had little to do anyway, not like you could go to a gallery to have worldly people fun. At that, a natural scoff worms upon your face.

"Thank you! I love you! I love you so much!" he yelps and presses himself fervently against you, capturing your lips in a sloppy, frantic kiss. The taste of energy drinks spills onto your mouth. The next you know, your boyfriend becomes Sonic and is out of the door leaving nothing but destruction in his wake.

Typical.

You're still folding some pants when reluctantly the weight of the promise burdens you too much and end up switching the TV, knowing in your heart that seeing him in his role as an idol, you'll only feel more distant. What sort of girlfriend tunes into the TV to see their boyfriend not just call them? What sort of girlfriend were you at all? You frown at the leg of the pants, bunching it in your palms before releasing it. A lame one. You were a lame girlfriend.

It couldn't be said that this interview was anything else that you hadn't seen and heard hundred times before but one thing does stick out like red in a sea of mourners. Namjoon looks like a goddamn patchwork game. You can squint and frown, an action which is done by many, including the interviewer, his band, and the camera operator probably as well. The look presented makes it seem he was blind, drunk, and high when choosing his clothes and also made that choice in a closet belonging to a crazy person. Green baggy pants, a red turtleneck, a white, little scarf, a beret and the necklace proudly laid to glisten in the middle of his chest which that turtleneck is giving it all to protect.

Was this his way of saying he needed a break?

"Uh, Namjoon, to address the uh...elephant in the room," the interviewer begins, pulling the collar of the shirt aside, under pressure to both ask and be very polite about it. "Are you experimenting with new fashion these days?"

"No," he beams back, suspiciously innocent and wide-eyed. "These are my favourite clothes! They give me comfort and remind me of being loved whenever I go."

You think back and start piecing together, a patchwork of your own if you will, that these were all things you got him. Some you had forgotten - the joke beret, the necklace but the red turtleneck was an impromptu Christmas present while the green pants he wanted but didn't have the time to go out and buy himself.

"I see," the interviewer drawls. "To segway off what you said, as k-pop idols, love is certainly a big part of your songs, may I ask how you view love on your own? Is it something you share with your image or is it completely different?"

"Well, I-" Taehyung begins but is immediately interrupted by Namjoon whose eagerness makes him look like a complete maniac. Poor Taehyung can only blink owlishly and then let the matter be.

"Thank you so much for asking! I've thought a lot about love, I always made it complicated in my head, but now I know better. Love is being understood," his eyes snap straight into the camera and you flinch as you hold eye contact. "It's to be comfortable and feeling heard. Most of the time you know people say you have to be of similar interests, that then you'll be able to bond better but that is simply not true. People are not bonded together by their diplomas, how many stamps they have on their passport or how many painting meanings they can discern."

Your cheeks flush.

"They are bonded because they share one another and that's what's important not the trivial nonsense others may push upon them. The world is made of perspectives and whenever our loved ones express their thoughts it becomes a better, more interesting place. And I think we ourselves as well. What matters is not how many, let's say, artwork meanings they get but how much of us they get."

"And do you feel..."get"?" the interviewer asks awkwardly and Namjoon splits into a broad smile.

"Very much so. I need nothing of no one else."

YOONGI: He stands there menacingly. A (not so) tall shadow cast over your bed at the very break of the dawn.

"You slept well?" he asks. Menacingly. Cause that's what he was. Menacing. Even the package in his hands is...menacing. You scurry to press yourself against the headboard. There's a determined gleam in his eye, one that says he was up to something and will see the fruits of his labour even if it kills him.

"Umm it was okay. Why are you cosplaying as the boy from the Grudge?"

He whines and the sinister aura disappears. You had hoped to avoid him for some days. Despite your best intentions, the words that you were only charity to Yoongi repeated their heinous loop over and over in your head.

"It was meant to be cute," he pouts. "Like watching over you in a guardian sort of way."

"Ended up with Brahms," you mutter and then erupt in a fit of coughs, dryness in the throat making it hard to speak.

Yoongi's face sours in an instant.

"Did you fall mute again?"

You shrug. It's easy not to talk when you don't exist. He sighs but doesn't prod, knowing full well he can't force things to be alright.

"Would you be up for dinner? A fancy one?"

You incline your head to the package and he hands it over. Inside sits dinner wear made of the finest quality.

"Why?" you rasp. "You don't usually like dressing up."

He shrugs and something about it has your eyes narrowing.

"Just wanted to do something different," he replies a bit too offhand. "Are you up to it?"

"I-" another cough interrupts the sentence and Yoongi rushes to get a glass of water. "Thank you. Okay. We can go to dinner."

Another dinner, yey, you think to yourself dryly but he seems for some reason excited and it would be no good to be a curmudgeon to him as well.

"Thank you, Bacchus," he bids softly and leans to kiss the top of your head.

You snort at the nickname.

But the dinner extravaganza didn't simply end there. With every passing second, the mystery tightened like an Agatha Christie novel. Yoongi insisted on you taking the car he ordered, tinted windows to add, to an undisclosed restaurant and with the driver oathed to not speak a word of it. Your phone he asked to shut off as well. Not put it on mute but turn it off entirely. You partially wondered if he hit a psychotic break of sorts and/or has unfortunately turned into a murderer. Mulling over the heartbreak that would be if your honey boy would turn into a killer, you were stunned to see a familiar face when climbing out of the car. Your mother.

"Mom? What are you doing here?"

She was dressed to the nines as well and seemed rather shocked to see you climbing out of the car. Around her neck sat a pearl necklace one you don't recall her having and she was nervously twiddling with it in front of the restaurant's host. A restaurant that you very purposefully avoided as one of its managers was none other than that annoying, grating, stick-so-far-up-her-ass-its-practically-impaling-her cousin of yours.

"I don't know," she replied, glancing around. "Your boyfriend asked me to be here."

Before you could answer anything, the host urged you to enter into a private area as was the case when you dined with someone who needed absolute security at all times. The group wasn't all that large, consisting of yourself, your mother, your aunt, the aunt who wasn't as cool as the first one her weird husband and their dog even, who was sporting a fancy bowtie for the occasion. By the table sat Yoongi and though many would say he appeared stoic you knew exactly what that sly, scheming son of a biscuit had done this evening. He raised to stand, politely bid welcome to all your relations who as always didn't know how to act so they settled on an ungainly silence, and then gave you flowers before kissing your cheek. By the bar, her eyes glinting like two wildfires, sat your cousin gurgling her own poison most likely.

"I'm so going to choke you for this," you discreetly whisper into his ear but he only smiles.

With alcohol loosening much of the knotted tongues, the dinner progressed smoothly. Yoongi occasionally coquettishly leaned in, so unlike him, and brushed his nose against your cheek. All, of course, a part of an elaborate apology.

"But you were afraid of my mother," you argue, walking hand in hand back home. Where your cousin went you did not know but it was unlikely she would be present at the next meeting.

"Still am," he chuckles but even then there is an undercurrent of fright running deep. "But after you hung up I called her and she relayed that you looked like a ghost for the rest of the evening. And I know I said this a thousand times but I'm sorry, I'm sorry I'm not always there for you, I'm sorry for being absent, I'm sorry if anyone ever made you feel like you're invisible," he sighed, stretching he tie looser from his neck and you adjusted his hair, mussed by a strong gust of wind.

"Still you don't need to do all that," softly you say. "It's enough for you to just show up sometimes and be awkward in the corner."

"I know," he kisses the top of your head pushing the doors open. "Just wanted to show that you're the only one I see."

JIN: In a fashion that probably millions of other people did before him he pretended everything was fine. That it was all fine. What was it? Fine. Normal. Nothing was happening. Everything's usual. The same old. And then he cried in the bathroom stall for ten minutes, before forcing it to all stop and pretending that it was all fine.

But as your things became scarcer and two lives that he meant to unite forever were separated, clinically and detached like a scalpel of a surgeon, the less he could pretend it was fine.

It wasn't fine. It was over.

Jin was never one for relationship theatrics to say that his life was over as well but now he realized that it was - the life he wanted at least and possibly could have had in the future - was dust.

But there is some truth to the idea that sometimes loving someone was leaving them, letting them go in a wind, like a migrating bird, away from the winter of discontent and into the summer of ease.

And you assure him it's nothing he had done. Perhaps that's the most infuriating part, it's nothing he'd done so he can't correct, he can't change the world for you even if he wants to oh so bad. But harder still is to watch, watch you be a hollow shell, driven to a point of insecurity so high you ill. No jokes of his, no smiles, no well-meaning words of his can change the sentiment.

"I can't do this anymore. I can't handle the world you live in."

Even if he wouldn't be an idol, it's a world Jin has always lived in. He knows how to not buckle underneath the waves of judgment cause he had swum in them since but a bare-bottomed infant.

"You can always crash here or call me if you need help," he offers, trying to sound as light as possible while helping you pack the last boxes. Such a strange thing to help the love of your life leave you but despite all Jin has always wanted to take care. So he takes care one last time.

"That's not how it works," you laugh. It's dry and humourless and he wonders how long will it take for you to move on. The love is not lost it just couldn't conquer all as lovely as that would be.

"Yeah, I guess so," he scuffs his slipper against the floor. The home is empty now. It feels physically wrong and Jin hopes to himself this would all be a bad dream. That this is the same night he got you from the police station and this was a concoction of the mind, wormed and plagued by guilt.

"Eat well, okay," he reminds. There's so much he wants to say but he lets himself choke on those words. Why? He doesn't quite know but the last thing he wants to do is make you feel any worse. That's not what a good partner does. Even if he's soon to not be one.

"I will," you promise. "Remember to stretch once in a while, you play too many video games, they can make your muscles tense."

He doesn't trust his voice so Jin nods. And just like that, it's over. A thirty-second walk to the elevator is all he gets instead of a whole life he'd been so certain of. But even now he thinks that better you be happy than miserable by his side. The elevator dings and he's buying seconds, he would put his entire fortune for just a minute.

"Where will you be travelling exactly?" he asks.

"I don't know. Somewhere warm, somewhere cold. Find myself again," you reply, pretending it's all fine as well. If you acknowledge the reality for just a second, you'll break and so you delude yourself. For just a bit.

Jin nearly says to send him a lot of videos but then bites on his tongue. The elevator opens and you climb in, a suitcase behind you, a carton box in the crook of your arm. Jin smiles.

"You know, life is strange. Should we suddenly cross paths five years later who knows how it'll turn out, right?"

It's, of course, a hopeful delusion, a length of rope many have tied around their necks with a smile on their face but he can't stop. He doesn't want to stop. If the movie has a hopeful ending, it's a love story, if not - it's a tragedy and Jin was never one for tragedies.

Be that as it may, you open your mouth to say something, anything, but the elevator closes and the rest is silence.

HOSEOK: He glowers. Hoseok is not known for glowering but he does so to his earnest. The foot tapping the floor nearly makes a dent in the material as he waits. Waits for you like a disappointed parent or a hunter lying in an ambush. Hoseok himself doesn't particularly care what he is as long as he gets what he wants which is you at home.

She's not cheating, she would never cheat, he tells himself but isn't that what all poor bastards of the world thought. The hallway is dark and you stumble freely, assuming he's not here and then nearly crack your skull open when seeing him stand stoic like a statue in the dark.

"Fucking hell!" you yell and he jumps, somehow startling himself by the loudness of your voice.

"Welcome back," he greets you cooly, turning on the lights. "Hoped I was out?"

You stand squirming in guilt and avoiding his gaze exactly like a cheater would but there's no cologne on your blouse or a hickey on the neck. The only thing you carried was a plastic bag with snacks. Cheap, cheap snacks.

He takes it away from your hands and peers inside. Ramen, cotton buds, chocolate chips, and seaweed for some reason.

"I don't understand," he breathes out. "You're...all this time...every time you're not home you're doing grocery shopping?"

You don't answer anything and his brows furrow in confusion.

"_____________, I don't understand. Please, tell me what's wrong."

"Nothing wrong per se," you brush off. "It's just I..."

"I?" he urges.

"It's where I feel like I belong."

For a while, he leans into the wall and then it clicks together.

The store was perhaps the most normal thing possible with people going about their day, hardly any limelight. Hardly any luxury.

"You're with me, I love you," he sighs. "My world is your world."

"Yeah," you brush off, clearly lying. "I know."

And perhaps it's the stress or perhaps the fierceness with which he's ready to tie himself to you, a move he never thought he could wholeheartedly make, he has none of it. Which brings him back to a party, one in his name once more just a tad more covert.

"I don't know about this," you stammer, trying to pull your hand away from his.

"Just trust me. Don't you trust me?"

"Not with that tone," you whine crossing the street. "Listen, I'm happy your album is a success, couldn't be prouder -"

Hoseok's ears flush to this day when hearing any praise from your mouth.

"Thank you."

"- but you can, you know, have fun and I'll chill out somewhere else."

He whips around.

"Is it something someone said?" he confronts and you awkwardly glance away.

"They don't need to say it, it's apparent. I'm sticking out like a sore thumb in these places."

"I don't care for them and neither should you! If these parties are about me, then you should always be a part of them. I invite all the guys, all the time -"

"Yeah, you all work in the same field," you roll your eyes and he lightly flicks your forehead.

"Dummy, they're my family, you're my family and my family is with me in celebrations."

You gaze at your intertwined hands.

"Obviously, I can't and shouldn't force you to be here but trust me and maybe I can make you feel a little bit better."

You draw a heavy sigh, bemoaning to yourself about the sacrifices of love and with gritted teeth step into the enemy territory. It's loud and bright with many strangers surrounding you like flies around honey. You notice Jin and Jungkook tucked away neatly in the corner and they offer knowing nods of the head. You frown at them and turn to the stage where there's a podium and a magnificent chair like a throne behind it. Hoseok sits you, confused, down in it, sort of in the background but always present like an overarching symbolic presence and if people look then even faster they swerve away in guilt. Hoseok's smile is bright and polite but there is no question about it that the line "let's be friendly" means no one so much as opens their mouth to toss a curt comment or swerve their eye your way in an inappropriate manner. In between Hoseok frequently checking back and Jin pulling you into a nameless 1v1 phone game, you forget of the crowd, their judgement and your need for their opinion. Whenever you glance up, Hoseok is there giving an encouraging smile and you realize the one opinion that matters the most will never waver from always being in your favour.

JIMIN: The money spilt all across the counter as Mari yelped, startled when the door was simply kicked open.

"I-I'm sorry but we're clo-"

"What is this?" Jimin's voice comes with a sharpness you'd never ever heard before. It makes you swallow nervously, eyes lingering on the paper slip clutched in his palm.

"I...I explained what it is," you squirm anxiously and Mari's head is a blur, switching to left and fro in between you both.

"We..we have to keep closing," she whimpers, shrivelled small by the register squeaking in a barely audible tone.

Jimin's eyes snap towards her and she immediately withers underneath his rage.

"Just go home," you order her, tired, and she doesn't have to be told twice. Only a second passes before she's scurrying to the door. Momentarily, you can see that she recognizes the masked stranger but that makes her eyes only hang lower as she desperately tries to not be remembered, probably counting the sum of his displeasure in her head. When the bell rings to announce her exit, the air presses down with tension.

You twist the towel in your hands, pulling a deep breath to speak a string of words that cut your heart open.

"Jimin, I want...I want to break up."

"No."

A pause.

"No?" stunned, you echo.

"I'm not breaking up with you."

He has pulled the mask off his face and his eyes are crazy. They're rimmed red. He's been crying.

"You can't just -" you begin to object but he quickly interrupts.

"Do you still love me?"

The question takes you by surprise but he's not content with silence.

"Do you still love me?" he reiterates with more strength and you nod, voice catching in the throat.

"I do, but -"

"When we got together I said it would be hard but we promised, you promised that we would work through our problems together."

"I'm sorry," you murmur.

"Not accepted," Jimin snaps and you flinch. "What was this - "I'm sure in time you'll find yourself a more appropriate partner with whom you'll feel happier." With all due respect, ______________, you do not get to dictate what or to whom I should feel something. I'm dating you because I want you, not a model, not an idol or whoever you think is "good" for me. I want you."

"But what if I begin to resent you?" glaring at your shoes you listlessly argue but Jimin's face doesn't differ from the hard scowl with which he barged here into.

"I'm not going to part with the love of my life on a what if," he sneered throwing your breakup letter decidedly into the trash.

"But I'll just be a burden-!"

"Oh for the love of!" he throws his hands into the air. "You're not a burden for asking my help. I want to do it, you understand? Me! I want to help you, I want to provide for you, that's what I want not what you force me to do," completely worked himself into a heated tirade, he barely took a breath before pelting the words one after another like hail upon your shoulders.

"We're going to go home, talk about our problems and then live happily ever after, god fucking damnit!"

You stand mutely, hunched in yourself quite like a berated kid. Exhaling slowly through the nose, Jimin's rage seems to abate, if a little bit, and for a lingering pause, there's only the rhythmic ticking of the wall clock filling the air.

"I still need to close," you shuffle, sensing the familiar sting in the eyes.

"Fill out the documents," he replies stiffly but at least not sneering anymore. "I'll do the rest. You must be tired."

You comply without a question sitting down to fill out the proper numbers. Jimin's ensnared with dusting the countertops, mopping the floor, and gathering the trash. An unsightly, lowly work that a national star like him shouldn't be doing but he does. He does it all.

TAEHYUNG: He keeps thinking that it can't simply end like that - on a slammed door in the silence. But it does. It's inevitable like seeing your favourite movie with a sad ending over and over again, always hoping that the familiar reel will somehow change, that the world will be a better place than it is but the movie is set and the ending is set and everything is set in stone. Taehyung's role is set to play the irredeemable villain and be ruined by his own actions.

"This..you know...big city...but lovers find their way," he slurs in a bar with only Jimin to keep tabs on him. He's angry, untalkative and quite upset as Taehyung lost the love of his life and he lost a good friend all in one fell swoop. It's only because of Jimin's curt text of "way to miss your girlfriend's birthday, prick" that he came to his senses. He'd rushed home all at once though it did no good. The apartment was empty, the neighbours vouched for you moving out and in the trash, he found a single, crumpled note. It began and ended with only one word - V. Not Taehyung the one he's always been to you but V. There was nothing after it but he kept it still.

"Lovers...they find each other in every life right?" he asks but Jimin remains obstinately quiet yet when comes the time to weep he reaches out to pat his friend's back.

"It's just a scarf!" he yells into the stylist's face. "It's just a scarf! What's the big deal? It fits the theme, right? Just let me keep it!"

Namjoon having rushed to the room inspects this strange friend of his, backed into the corner with an expression so vicious he fails to recognize him. He doesn't know what happened but he knows the way Taehyung hugs the scarf to his chest, to protect, to cradle it like a kindling flame. He knows grief when he sees one.

"Just leave him alone," he orders the stylist and Taehyung is let on the stage with a scarf on his neck, one he doesn't stop touching throughout the entirety of the event. It was the only thing left besides the note, otherwise, you'd been very thorough, combing your life free of him in all conceivable ways. World as always goes on and Taehyung hates it for it doing so. Rather it'd stop, rather it stand completely still so he can mould himself into time itself and stop existing. He sees fractures of you in scenarios of happy strangers, of hands intertwined and smiles shared, a life lived together as he always wanted to. He intended to with such certainty it's like the very basis underneath his feet is crushed. He never assumed it'd go so wrong.

Largely he keeps this obsession to himself, of fear of being judged, of being called crazy, only Jimin knows and in his neverending love for his friend, he tolerates it. Partially in the happier moments, Taehyung tries to romanticize the situation. In any good love story, one person meets another and they are split apart by circumstance only to end up together. Forgiveness always wins and love prevails. That's what he was told since being a baby. This was...this was his term of punishment, a way to apologize for his actions but nothing of the sort is of course real. The reality which Taehyung was never too fond of was much more sterner and cutthroat. You didn't love him anymore = you left. The End.

The End.

He lives in dreams and he lives in love that now is just an echo.

But the wronger still comes the day when your scarf splits at the seams. It can't be fixed, it can't be brought back, it's just ruined and gone and it sits in Taehyung's hands - useless. Still, he shoves the threads in his pocket, fully aware that there was a line, a fine line to be drawn but he can't bring himself to draw it. If he stops hoping, just for a second, his movie will end like it was always meant to be.

JUNGKOOK: "Please come home."

"No."

The begging had been going on for almost half an hour. Both attempts were fruitless, his - to get you back, yours - to get him to leave.

"I'm sorry."

"You didn't accidentally step on my foot! You told me my entire life is useless. That I'm wrong for being not like you."

He licks his dry lips and runs a hand through the messed-up hair. Unwillingly, you notice that his knuckles were faintly bleeding. The temperature had dropped suddenly overnight. He must have forgotten to lotion them. Not that it mattered now. Though he had quite a lot to argue about that.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry for what I said. I was stupid, petulant and..." he sighs, staring at the floor. "Jealous."

"Over what?" you tilt an eyebrow.

"Yoongi. You get along with Yoongi. He gets you and I was scared so I lashed out."

"It's not an excuse," listlessly, you frown at his figure lodged halfway into your friend's apartment. A safe haven, he somehow managed to find out about. One couldn't argue with how driven Jungkook was. A quality you did not appreciate much right now.

"What do you want here? That I'll spring back into your arms, magically find some sort of passion and suck you off in gratitude?!"

"No!" he objects. "No! It's not like that!"

"Then explain! Explain for us lowly, dispassionate losers what is this all about?!"

He begins to twiddle with his thumbs, tongue playing with the back of his lip ring. It wasn't often that a 1.79m, tattoed muscle mass known as Jeon Jungkook could possibly appear small but he appeared as such in this very moment.

"I just want you back. Want to eat my words," when you open your mouth to tear him a new one, he hurries faster. "But I know I can't. So I am asking, I'm begging to give me a chance. Not forgiveness, just a chance to start over. As...friends...if you'd like. I'll get to know you anew, open mind this time. Be as you are. That's all I'm asking."

"Friends?" you parrot, part scornful, part impressed. He used to drone on and on about how he always wanted to be more than friends, how that name was like a lightless void to him, an unshakeable role in the distance he was desperate to breach so to hear him offer that very role so eagerly was if anything a symbol of truly wanting to listen. If he could be trusted.

You assess him sternly, tucking away the feeling of a girlfriend far way.

"If we do it, if!" you emphasize yet his eyes gain a hopeful tint. Retribution. "I want to be able to cut ties without you throwing a fit, tracking me down and doing this because this," you wave over his crouched figure. "Is not cute. It's annoying. One strike and you're out! And we start as friends!"

He's not deterred in the slightest on the opposite his face is glowing.

"I'll get to know you as I should have," he promises. "No judgement."

You let out a prolonged, irritated sigh.

"I hate you."

"I don't," he replies, nose scrunched in happiness. "Not in the slightest."

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yuwigqi · 6 months

Text

After Tim brings Bruce back, he absolutely loses his single-minded, universe-changing focus, and without that tunnel visions, he falls into a deep depression, and his family notices.

Tim initially stays in his apartment, and never visits, and Bruce comes to visit (he got back to life and his son, his miracle child who chose him, who saved him, had been absent. Bruce needed to see him) and its a disgusting. Not like a pigsty, its not messy. It's filthy. Bloody bandages from past wounds are left on the ground, staining the carpet. There is a gallon of milk on the counter, open and easily soured, smelling vile. There are black stains in the sink that might be blood, or moldy liquid poured down the drain haphazardly. Bruce finds Tim in the bedroom, in a bed covered in literal weeks worth of crumbs.

Bruce immediately wakes him up, whose face is raw red from shaving without cream or water, his lips are chapped, and his eyes are red and irritated. Bruce rushes Tim to the ER, wondering if he's sick.

Bruce brings Tim back to the manor (Tim is so indecisive and passive he barely even questions it).

Alfred immediately puts some soup and ice cream in him, and Tim starts walking a little faster, talking a little faster.

Dick and Jason checked out the apartment themselves and come home concerned, and decide to move back to the manor full-time for the time being.

Dick constantly stays within one room of Tim, watching movies and anime with him (and Damian if he can rope him into it), and sometimes Tim pays attention, but occasionally zones out for god knows how long until Dick notices and wakes him up.

Jason tries to cheer him up with exercise in the gym, blasting Tim's favorite songs. Tim smiles a little. Then, while doing some crunches, little red spots appear on Tim's shirt and Jason panics, and before Tim can resist Jason pulls up his shirt, there are clear self harm scars along his ribs. Jason cries and holds Tim and sobs into his hair, until Bruce walks in on the seen, his second son crying over his bleeding boy, and for a second thinks he's walked in on a death.

Alfred does a body check, and Tim doesn't bother to deny it. He doesn't seem embarrassed. He seems so...indifferent about everything lately.

They know anyone with bat training could escape a psychiatric hospital, so they set up a plan to never leave him alone.

Jason and Tim spend their time watching superhero fandom YouTube. Tim loved it as a kid, and its comfort content for him. Whenever content on Tim's Robin comes up, Tim gets spacey, until Jason begins to critically analyze, and complement his work. "God, that strategy was ingenious. You outsmarted The Brain. At age 11? Jesus Tim." Dick gets in on it too. "You beat Cheetah? Fast as Wally, can scratch Kryptonians, can go hand to hand with Diana? Has my little brother always been such a badass?"

Alfred basically demands Tim come cook with him. When he first started in the manor, he and Alfred spent time in the kitchen often, but he fell out of it after his mom died. Tim's no good at baking, but he's really good with meats. Alfred buys expensive cuts of meat, and Tim learns how to tell each cut and its grade. He can cook it better than chefs in their 50th year. Tim tries to back out if, saying why he should learn a "useless skill." Then Alfred has Tim cook steaks for the family, (Alfred takes care of Damian's dinner) and at Bruce's first complement, Tim feels the warmest he has since his last hug from Bart before he died.

Cass comes by. One look at Tim's posture and she's stuck to him like a hair on a biscuit. She was never good with computers, so she has him teach her the basics. It's a trap to lure Tim into geeking out over new tech and spend hours making his out programs. She's able to hack with the best of 'em now, and more importantly, Tim and her have taken an online game design class, and are building a fighting game together.

At first, everyone thinks Damian keeps his distance out of "disgust for Tim's weakness" (Tim's words, no one else's). Then Dick walks in on Damian wreck his room in a crying rage. Damian feels guilty. He blames himself for Tim's depression. Dick knows Damian won't understand his bullying was due to his own trauma he's been working through, so he tells Damian to use his skills to fix things. Damian draws Tim fanart of Red Robin, which Tim is indifferent to. Then Damian draws him fanart of Young Justice and Tim smiles brighter than Damian has ever seen.

Things are slow. There are huge ups, especially when Kon and Bart come back to life. There are huge downs, like every time they deal with Ra's, or whenever Tim gets sick from his splenectomy.

By the time Duke joins, Tim's smiley, wide-eyed and bubbly, just like he was when he was 12, bouncing along in Dick's shadow. Duke is so shocked when he walks into Tim's room to find recent self-harm scars. Duke has flashbacks to a photo he saw while going through his mom's social work files one day of a girl who killed herself, and cries and screams, and Tim has to calm him down. Tim comes clean about his struggles, and promises Duke doesn't need to save him. Duke spends weeks and weeks as Tim's shadow, interning with him at Wayne E., playing Starcraft with him, and hanging out with the YJ4.

Tim is still "depressed." He always has a few bad days a month. His antidepressants are a permanent addition.

But he has a devoted father, a doting grandfather, three protective older siblings, and two younger siblings who look up to him with the stars and their eyes.

He lives.

#Tim Drake #Damian Wayne #Duke Thomas #Dick Grayson #Jason Todd #Cassandra Cain #Bruce Wayne #Alfred Pennyworth #Batman #Robin #DC #DC Comics #Red Robin #self harm cw #self harm tw

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justsomerandomfanfic · 1 year

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My Sky Of Gray - Peter Parker X Female Reader

Title: My Sky Of Gray

Peter Parker X Female Reader

Additional Characters: Reader's mother (Sarah) and Aunt May

Requested by Anon!

WC: 2,191

Warnings: Soulmate AU, slight angst, nervousness, anxiety, crying, heartbreak, mentions of killing, and fluff

Slamming the door shut, you rushed to take your shoes off, stumbling slightly as you made your way down the hall and up the stairs. You slid off your backpack and pushed open your bedroom door before dropping your bag haphazardly and running to your bed. The mattress bounced as you landed on your stomach, pulling your phone out of the back pocket and quickly unlocking it. You ignored the notifications as you tapped open your messages. A smile lit up your face as you saw the new text from your best online friend, Peter. It had been almost a year since you first met him playing video games. You forgot how it all happened but soon enough you were talking to each other in the gamer chats. Which then led to both playing Minecraft together on your switches, and that led to having each other's numbers.

You texted each other almost every day. About everything and anything. Peter would send you funny scientific memes that you didn't understand and even random facts. Most nights you spent hours and hours just talking, whether that be texting or calling. You'd take until your phone was on the brink of death before you would take the time to find the charger. You really liked Peter. He was funny, sweet, charming even. He was kind of a nerd too. His interests consisted mainly of sci-fi and science theories, while yours was more of fantasy RPGs and gaming theory. He had always told you that you were his favorite gamer, which always made you blush. And on especially bad days, he'd always make you feel better. No matter how sad you were, he always made you smile. He'd send you funny videos from Tik Tok, even one time sending you a picture of a duck he saw on a walk home from school. You loved that about him; how caring and understanding he was.

And, against your better judgment, you were falling in love with him. Every day, it seemed more and more difficult to push away the butterflies in your stomach when you heard his voice, and laugh at his jokes. He made you feel happy and safe, despite how strange it felt. He made you want to tell him how you felt, but what if he didn't like you back? What if he wasn't your soulmate? That was another issue, what if he wasn't your soulmate? Oh, how you wished he was. To meet him in real life and look into his eyes, finally seeing color for the first time. You'd wonder what his hair color would be, or his eyes... From the pictures and selfies he'd sent, his hair was a dark gray.

Tapping on his recent text, you sighed happily, gazing down at the words on your phone.

'Hey cutie pie! Just got back from school. You free to play tonight?'

You frowned, turning to see your backpack on the floor, before typing away,

'I can't. I got tonnns of hw but I wanna talk to you.'

You watched with a skip of your heartbeat as the texting bubble popped up before his text appeared.

'Bad day?'

Your fingers trembled as you wrote,

'Yeah. I'm okay tho! Promise. I just hate hw lol'

'ok, do you wanna talk bout it?'

Hunched over his desk, arms acting as a pillow for his head; Peter bit his lip as he stared at his phone screen. There was a lump forming in his throat as he waited for your reply. He hoped that you were really okay and that nothing bad happened. Peter didn't realize until recently that he more than liked you as a friend. Ever since you two started talking online, he found himself spending so much time with you. He never knew he'd grow a crush on you. You; funny, smart, sassy, competitive... You... The thought of something happening to you made his insides squirm uneasily. And the fact that he couldn't be there in person to help you with anything made him even more anxious. He wanted to be there for you. He needed to be there for you. So why did he still feel nervous? Why did it feel like his heart was trying to escape his chest? And why did he keep rereading your message over and over again?

'I just failed my test. Have to come in and retake it Saturday.' You answered as Peter grabbed his phone, staring at the screen.

'That was going to be our game day...' He replied back before adding to that, 'We could move it to Sunday?'

'I can't, mom taking me to Queens sunday, something about visiting an old friend of her from high school...'

Peter frowned, Game Day Saturday was what he always looked forward to, the first being able to hang out with you.

‘oh, ok.’ He sent, before cringing and quickly typing more, ‘do you wanna call? I could help you with your hw if you wany?’

You sputtered a laugh as you replied,

‘wany? Yeah, i’d like that.’

~~~

You leaned your head against the passenger window, watching as the houses, apartments, and other buildings flew by. You were excited to meet your mother’s friend, but you really wished you could’ve stayed home and spent time with Peter. You wished you were at home, leaned back in your spinny chair, playing Minecraft on your Switch or even playing Bigfoot Multiplayer with him on your computer. But, you know it was the polite thing to do.

Pulling up into a parking spot on the side of the street, you hopped out of the car and stared up at the apartment building in front of you. Your mother led you into the building and up the stairs, where you waited behind her as she knocked on the door. Waiting for a moment, you heard the pitter-pattering of feet before the door opened. There, at the door was a woman, long hair, wearing a cute sweater, you noticed. She smiled, stepping out of the way to let you both in.

“Sarah! Oh, it’s been years! How are you?” The friend of your mother asked, as she pulled her into a hug.

“I am perfect, May. How are you? Are you still raising your nephew?” Your mother asked, pulling back from the hug.

May nodded, gesturing her head to the side, “I’m good. And yes, he’s still in high school, so he’ll be here for a while.” She then turned to you, giving you a caring smile, “And you must be Y/N. You can call me May.” She spoke before pulling you into a hug as well. You awkwardly hugged her back, before she pulled back. “I’ll go get Peter. You and him can talk while the grown ups do.” She spoke, and the moment she said the name ‘Peter’ you froze up. Your heart began to beat and you held onto a sliver of hope that this ‘Peter’ was your ‘Peter’.

Your mother must have noticed your expression as May left because she placed a hand on your shoulder, “Sorry, she’s a hugger.”

You pursed your lips, giving your mother a nod before you clasped your hands together in front of you, fiddling with your fingers anxiously as you waited. Eyes staring to the hall where May had disappeared into. As your heart swelled with anxiety and nervousness, along with doubt that this was your Peter and that he was your soulmate… Your soul hoped that he was.

It was like you were in slow-motion when he stepped out. Donning sweats and a plain t-shirt, hair slightly ruffled as he ran a hand through it. He’s gorgeous, was your first thought. Please, look at me, was your second. Slowly, he looked up, eyes widening as he looked at you. You were ready for your world to brighten. You were waiting for the world to burst into color as you stared into his eyes… But… No… The world around you was still as gray as can be. You felt immediately chest-fallen, you felt as if your soul was snatched from you body, leaving you completely breathless; gasping for air.

He wasn’t your soulmate. Peter wasn’t your soulmate.

You noticed as you stared at Peter, that his eyes seemed to widen as he cast his gaze to the ground briefly. Was he hoping for the same thing you had wished for? No? Maybe? But, it didn’t matter anyway. He wasn’t meant to be yours. You gulped, gaining the courage to speak. You didn’t want things to be awkward. Peter was still your friend. And that was enough.

“Hi, Peter.” You spoke up softly, as May and your mother turned to look at each other confused.

“You know each other?” May asked and Peter nodded, turning to his aunt.

“We met through video games.” He finally spoke up as your mother huffed, crossing her arms.

“Of course,” She rolled her eyes playfully, “She never gets off that Switch thing.”

May gave you and her nephew a smile, “Well, that’s lovely. You two go play some video games then. Your mother and I are going to catch up.”

You gave her a nod before following Peter awkwardly to his room. Shutting the door, Peter shifted his gaze around his room as you stuffed your hands in your hoodie pockets, looking at the floor. The tension between you could have been cut with a knife. The air felt warm and suffocating as you fidgeted in your spot.

“Uh… I…” Peter began, grabbing your attention and glancing up at you. “Uh… So, how are you?”

You glanced around the room, spotting the multiple Star Wars posters and merchandise, “Good.” You said shortly, “Uh, how are you?”

Peter nodded, giving you a sheepish smile, “Good, uh, good. Uh… This is cool… My aunt knows your mom.” He stated and you nodded, finally looking back at him.

“Yeah, it’s… It’s cool.” You agreed, smiling shyly as Peter rubbed the back of his neck.

“Uh, so I’m just going to say this because I don’t know how to say this in the first place and this is already awkward but… We’re soulmates.” He chuckled awkwardly, making you furrow your eyebrows, confused.

“What?” You asked as Peter nodded.

“Yeah, I didn’t want to freak out because my aunt May would make a big deal about it and probably post about it on her Twitter but we’re soulmates.” He laughed out breathily, “I can’t believe it. I mean, I was hoping you’d be my soulmate.” He looked up at you, “I mean, this is awesome. I have you as my soulmate and see colors.” He ranted, making you more and more confused.

“Uh… Peter… We’re not soulmates.” You interrupted him, making him frown as he grew confused too.

“What?”

“We’re not soulmates.”

Peter shook his head, cracking a nervous smile, “No, we are.” He tried to insist.

You shook your own head, “Last time I checked… I still see grayscale.” You sighed and Peter pursed his lips.

“So… You mean… Wait, that doesn’t really make any sense. I can see colors and you can’t? What does that even mean?” He asked as he began to pace his room.

You followed him with your eyes, growing more and more disappointed, “I’m your soulmate… But you’re not mine.” You muttered out, shoulders slumping as you dropped your eyes to the ground.

Peter shook his head rapidly, pausing his pacing to turn to you, walking over and pulling you into a hug. You squeezed your eyes shut, wrapping your arms tightly around his neck as you dug your face in his shoulder. You felt the tears well up in your eyes, but you pushed them down. You held onto Peter as if you made one false move you would float away. Like an anchor, he held you down.

“You’re my soulmate. I love you, Y/N.” Peter confessed, shocking you as you felt his tears fall onto your hoodie. “I know I’m not your soulmate, but I just wanted to get this off my chest.” He continued, sniffling as he held you closer.

You let out a sigh, fingers clutching his shirt in a deathgrip, “I love you too, Peter. Ever since I killed you in PvP Minecraft,” You joked lightly, earning a small laugh from him.

“I let you win.” He answered back, “I’d let you win a million times more.”

You laughed, pulling back slightly to look at Peter, his dark gray eyes peered back into yours. You wished you could know what color his eyes were and the shade of his har, but deep down, you didn’t really care. Peter was all you wanted. “We’ll figure something out.” You repeated his words, giving him a smile. “We both aced out Science tests, we’ll do some research.”

“Yeah, maybe this is a crazy once-in-a-lifetime mystical phenomenon.”

You nodded, “That, or the world is messing with us.” You countered as Peter raised his hand to flick your forehead fondly.

“Wanna play some Minecraft? I’ll let you be player one.” He offered as you nodded.

“As long as you’ll be my player two.”

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xythlia · 2 years

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𝘚𝘓𝘐𝘋𝘌 𝘛𝘈𝘊𝘒𝘓𝘌 [𝘌𝘟-𝘏𝘜𝘚𝘉𝘈𝘕𝘋 𝘓𝘜𝘊𝘐𝘍𝘌𝘙]

- ̗̀໒ WARNINGS : ANGST, divorce au, heartache + heartbreak, jealous ex, alcohol ment

- ̗̀໒ WORD COUNT : 1k+

this is part two of the ex-husband series! luci pov of after that foyer kiss 🖤 is your ex really over you? what happens when he sees you with someone else?

PART ONE | SERIES MASTERLIST

It's been a while since a headache had this much punch. Throwing himself down onto the couch in his study, Lucifer dragged his hands down his face before bending down towards his knees, head in hand.

He shouldn't have done it, is the reality. Should have just let you go on your way, drop the bag and rush out the front door, off to meet whoever. Except that little voice in his head was suddenly shouting in those seconds, pounding against the walls of his skull to stop you, convince you to stay here because how could you honestly believe you belonged anywhere else? With anyone else?

Then again, he knew it wasn't fair to feel like this, not after the night of your birthday a few months ago. He's kicked himself over and over again, that moment like a tape stuck on pause, with him ludovico's techniqued into being the captive audience.

The thought of indulging in demonus crossed his mind, get just tipsy enough to enjoy a dreamless sleep. How unfortunate he wasn't that kind of demon, but this room was getting too stuffy, too constrictive and he heaved off the couch to pace like a caged animal.

Abruptly he paused, eyes narrowed on the study's heavy oak door. He'd promised himself he wouldn't go near your old bedroom in the house; treating it like a black death sickroom and he'd avoided the temptation all these months but after tonight...

His fingers drift up to run along his bottom lip, vividly recalling how it felt to see you so immediately responsive. You'd stored some old things haphazardly in there after Mammon had helped you find a place far enough from the house for you to feel comfortable. The key to that apartment felt heavy in his pocket, he'd convinced you to give him a copy just in case anything were to happen.

Swiftly his feet took him to the door, only briefly hesitating at the idea of opening his personal pandora's box but the ache in his chest won out. He needed to have any piece of you he could right now, no matter how menial.

Cracking the door open revealed everything was almost exactly as he remembered it, aside from the disheveled boxes here and there or the sad little pile of clothes on the stripped mattress.

He'd forbidden anyone from coming in here since you officially left, but knew there had been occasional trespassers regardless. He couldn't blame them for wanting something similar to what he did right now, and thus never uttered a word about it. They resented him enough for driving away the brightest spot to bloom in their existence for millennia.

It was nauseatingly nostalgic; frozen memories in the form of pictures still pasted to the walls, some from your very first year but it was all laid to waste now. Soft footfalls brought him further inside, quietly closing the door behind him. It felt like seeing everything and nothing all at once.

Your old uniform, practically ancient now, was hung in the closet and no doubt sporting a healthy coating of dust. Some forlorn hair ties and knick knacks were left strewn on the top of the dresser, sad little soldiers left behind. His attention was drawn back to a photo on the wall, plucking it down and immediately choking on a rush of emotion.

It was a picture of you on Beels shoulders after a fangol game, laughing and extending your arms up like you could grasp the sky in your hands. He couldn't recall the last time you'd been this happy, sending a shock of shame through his heart like an expertly fired arrow.

Pain threatened to swell his throat closed, shaking hands dropping the photo, left to drift to the floor, and he nearly collapsed against the mattress. It became unbearable in seconds, his breathing labored against the feeling of imminent sobs as he looked around frantically. He'd come in here for any piece of you-

A slim necklace glinted in the dark, sat atop the discarded clothing pile and quickly he snatched it, desperation making him nearly slam the door on his way out of that apocalyptic time capsule.

Clutching that thin metal chain in the dark it occurred to him this could be a lifeline, a way to see you again and deduce if indeed another person had swept you off your feet. Once more that key felt like a burning coal in his slacks pocket, but this time his steps were determined.

Grabbing the first jacket he saw, sliding it on and bounding out the door Lucifer felt something like hope for the first time in months. He didn't bother with a car, walking to your place would give him plenty of time to craft his speech and hammer it home.

The chilled night air was refreshing after nearly suffocating from the weight of his emotions inside the house. The wet reflections of the downtown neon shop lights on pavement gave it a certain wondrous feeling, but as he rounded a corner from an alley shortcut his blood ran cold.

The sound of your laughter echoed from the door and out to the street, chaining him in place and making his heart plummet to his stomach.

Backing up across the street furtively he watched through the wide bar windows. You looked something beyond radiant, clearly uninhibited thanks to the alcohol in your glass, and eyes bright from the company across from you.

He felt bile rise at your mischievous smiles, your obvious giggles, and open body language. You clearly liked this demon, and he absolutely hated it. His hands flexed, opening and closing a fist at his side desperate to make any sort of action but for once feeling completely helpless.

It dawned on him as he turned away, heavy footfalls paired with a heavier heart tracing his path back home, that he didn't just hate seeing you with another demon- he hated himself because he had the opportunity to make you just as happy but squandered it; leaving the door open for someone else.

Briefly he recognized the impossibility of your relationship, the divorce was final. Instead of making himself nearly vomit from heartache he should be making time to relearn life without you.

But how could he when the memory of that kiss seared like a brand on his lips?

#obey me shall we date #obey me x reader #obey me lucifer #om lucifer x reader #om! lucifer #obey me angst #obey me imagine #lucifer x reader #♡.savxonne scribbles

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rookfeatherrambles · 9 months

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Things come in threes I guess. JonElias Week drabble 3

This one comes with a TW. Basically Jon tries to commit die

The prompt was 'Self Destruction"

So I think this fits

I'll put it under a read more

Also s4 spoilers kinda I guess???

SELF DESTRUCTION

"Let me die," Jon begs. "Let this end!"

His voice is ragged, dry and cracking with disuse and Elias is so furious that he might strike him. "No," is all he says, and then clenches his jaw because if he keeps his mouth open any longer he's at risk of vomiting words he knows he cannot take back, and that he's not ready to admit.

"For gods sake, Jon, stay awake," he commands, heaving the weak, starving the Eye informs him, near death man into his arms and leaving Jon's flat, the door wide open, everything fair game for anyone else to take or spoil. Elias doesn't care. In his head he's already decided that Jon will live with him from now on. Where he can keep his real eyes on him. Jon's still protesting, but Elias doesn't care. He's breathing, he's alive, that's all that matters.

Actually, you care very much. So much that you abandoned the plan you've worked two hundred years to achieve.

Elias snarls. "He is the lynchpin to my plan!" Before realizing he's talking to himself. Jon has passed out. Swearing, Elias bundles him into the car after checking that he's still breathing.

It had been a month before that Jon had entered his flat with the intent never to leave.

Elias had been putting the finishing touches on the grand reveal he'd been planning, the culmination of the bet he'd made with Peter Lukas; and then he'd felt it. His Archivist, the one he'd carefully maneuvered into every mark he needed, was dying.

It was so important that he left the confrontation with Peter and that gormless Martin Blackwood, sprinted, even, to get to his car.

And now, he casts glances at Jon's doll-like body slumped in the passenger seat of his sedan, his shallow breath lightly fogging the window his head rests against.

He looks so sick.

How long had he remained in that flat? How long had he starved himself?

The whole month, the Eye supplies. Four weeks, twelve hours, ten minutes, fifty nine seconds. He thought it would only take two. He did not consume any water.

"God, Jon!"

Elias's hands, they shake. He finds this more disturbing then finding his almost complete Archive knocking on death's door. He's just a tool. He can be replaced. It will set me back decades, but I am patient. I have time. There is always enough time.

Jon groans incoherently and Elias nearly rear ends the car in front of him. They're almost there.

"Hold on, Jon," he says, trying to control his breathing. "Hold on."

As soon as the car is parked in his driveway, Elias wrenches the door open and gathers Jon up none too gently, to take him inside.

There may be an eternity awaiting Jonah Magnus, but Jon is out of time.

Elias lets out a loud curse and lays the small, bird boned man onto his couch, before tearing across the hall with absolutely zero decorum to find what he's looking for.

Statements. He needs statements.

Not the kind that haphazardly populate the Archives, no, these are special. The paper is old, brittle, the ink flaked away where rough handling has aged them.

He races back to Jon's side, and carefully props him up with a cushion.

"Jon? Jon, can you hear me?"

Elias takes Jon's hand, squeezes it.

Please, Jon.

"Jon, squeeze my hand if you can hear me."

He all but lets out a sob of relief as he feels the slightest contraction of Jon's fingers in his own.

Elias shudders a breath, full of unwanted emotion.

He parts his lips.

"Statement of Jonah Magnus."

When he's finished, when the Watcher pulls away from the feast, Jon is watching him.

His dark brown eyes are still dull, and his cheeks hollow, and his skin dry, and his lips cracked, but he is alive. Sated enough to keep his heart beating.

Elias smiles so wide his cheeks hurt. The rush of relief is almost euphoric. "Jon..."

Jon's gaze is empty. Elias realizes with a start that he's been marked by the Lonely, though it's not visible. The Eye tells him without inquiry that Jon called out, cried out to anyone who would listen, strained at the cuff that bound him to the sink in his bathroom, begged and pleaded, cursed and cried for anyone to save him.

And when nobody so much as knocked on his door, not even Martin, the one he yearned for— he knew he was going to die alone.

Elias hisses in a sharp breath. That knowledge hurt.

"J-Jon, I—"

"You should have let me die."

The words felt like a knife in his chest. So flat, so.... Final.

Jon's eyes are so dead already that Elias looks away with a shudder. He can see an echo of the End in him.

His apology was spoken to Jon's skeletally thin hands, still clasped within his own. Like a wretched confession.

"I know."

#the magnus archives #jonathan sims #do not archive #elias bouchard #joneliasweek2023 #jonelias #whow this exists now ok

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homeybadger · 2 years

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In Your Head: Part Two

Summary: When you head to Hawkins for your cousin's funeral, you didn't expect to be roped into saving the world. To be fair- you didn't expect her to interrupt her own funeral either.

Pairings: Chrissy Cunningham x cousin! reader, Billy Hargrove x friend! reader

Warnings: One swear word, reader insults themselves

Word count: 800

Note: Sorry that these are so short!

Part Three is here

Italics is the reader’s thoughts

As your foot made contact with the ground just outside the front door of the church a chill tingled through your body. Instinctively, your arms drew closer to your chest.

Leave it to the weather.

You scoffed quietly as you heard the door click shut, walking a few steps forward before haphazardly glancing behind you. The man you’d bumped into on your way out had given you a strange look- and while you couldn’t care less due to your current situation you didn’t want to be interrupted.

Giving yourself the internal all-clear you began your obligatory walking around the building. Your gaze swept left and right, up and down- every so often glancing behind you to make sure nobody was following you. After the fifth loop, you came to the conclusion that there was absolutely no one else outside.

You groaned.

See? I knew it, this is just stupid. She’s dead, she’s gone. Just go back inside and forget about it.

You couldn’t tell if a sigh or a sob left your mouth as you made your way towards the wall you were following. Abandoning all care for your appearance, you plopped onto the dirt and allowed the back of your skull to rest on the brick. A tear, hot and heavy, dripped from your cheek.

You’re so stupid y/n.

You shook your head quickly, attempting to erase the thought from your mind.

Maybe I should at least try. I saw her, heard her. She deserves someone who would try.

You drug your legs closer to yourself, drawing in a deep breath. Your eyes fluttered shut as you imagined Chrissy. The sight of her just a few moments ago- tangled blonde hair sticking up in numerous directions, eye shadow smudged into rings around her eyes- was burned into your subconscious. A static sensation crept up the back of your skull, branching upwards from around the base of your neck. You scrunched your face slightly, the unusual sensation lingering for a brief moment before ultimately fading away. Hesitantly, you blinked your eyes open before glancing around.

Nothing.

Still nothing.

Then, you could feel everything.

Your entire body tensed as a violent tremor ripped into you, muscles tensing as you shook. You could feel your breath being choked from you, heart hammering rapidly in your chest. Your eyes widened in alarm as you threw yourself forward, ignoring the pain from landing on a stray rock in favor of whirling around fast enough to nearly send you to the ground once more. Your jaw dropped open as your line of sight connected with a pair of familiar blue eyes.

Holy shit, I was sitting on her. Or would the proper term be through her?

You stumbled backwards as Chrissy rushed forward into you, desperately clinging onto your clothes. Her grip strength was startlingly strong, and as you shuffled the two of you out of sight of the parking lot you could feel a damp spot growing on your clothes. Her frantic sobs tossed her entire body, and the only thing you knew to do was cradle her.

“I have so much to tell you.”

Chrissy’s voice was barely audible over the noises of the wide life, as if nervous she’d spook you like one would a deer. You smiled softly as you tilted your head slightly- nodding at her to begin.

She spilled everything she could- from the drug deal to the game to Eddie to being trapped inside her own mind. Somewhere during her tale the two of you once again found yourselves sitting on the ground, but that was inconsequential compared to the words tumbling from her mouth. When she finished, you could only find the strength to stare at her.

She grabbed onto your hand tightly, searching your face for answers.

“So… you’re telling me that there’s a monster or something attacking Hawkins?”

You tried to keep all doubt from your voice, yet cringed anyway as a tad bit slipped out. You pinched the bridge of your nose as yet another sigh escaped your lips.

“This is crazy.”

Chrissy’s iron grip on your hand somehow tightened even more, fear clouding her face. You opened your mouth to explain that you weren’t going to leave her side anytime soon, only to be interrupted by Chrissy’s soft voice once more.

“Not as crazy as you talking to me.”

You chuckled, nodding in agreement.

“That’s fair.”

Silence enveloped the two of you as you wracked your brain for a course of action. How were you supposed to go about this- you weren’t police, and saying you spoke with the deceased wouldn’t get you far.

How on earth would I explain this?

Chrissy’s other hand shot forward, haphazardly grasping at your shoulder.

“Let’s go to Eddie Munson’s house. Maybe we’ll find some clues there.”

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griseldabanks · 11 months

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Taking an open tag from @dairogo to share a snippet of a blorbo nobody else knows from a WIP. No one ever seems to ask about The Arcblade when I do ask games and such for my original writing, but I honestly think it has some of my very best character introductions. For example:

“Drop your weapon!” a man with tassels on his shoulders cried. “Step away from-“ With a sudden roar of wind, a dark shadow slid across the intersection. Most of the soldiers gaped upward in surprise, but Aiden just smiled. A tiny platform, barely wide enough for one man to stand on, dropped down next to him, swinging on chains. “Time to go, my dear,” Aiden said, grabbing Sheya around the waist with his frozen arm and crushing her against his side. He stepped onto the little platform, then kicked the switch that started the pulley system. As they swiftly began to ascend, several of the soldiers began firing up at them. Most of the bullets fell short—one crashing through a window of a nearby house, another turning a chimney into an icy stalagmite. A bullet hit the platform, knocking off the corner and making the entire platform sway dangerously. Sheya cried out and gripped his shirt tightly, but Aiden just looped his sword-arm around one chain and looked critically at the ship floating above him. The bright red hull was scratched and dented in places, the holes it had sustained in the last battle patched somewhat haphazardly with pieces of scrap metal that Piper had found. It was sound, but not very nice to look at. Once they bought some more levinine, they’d have to see about a fresh coat of paint. On the deck of the ship, Den was rushing about, preparing the cannons. Aiden hopped off the platform as it rose up into the rigging, letting go of Sheya as soon as they landed on the deck. Sheathing his sword, Aiden took the stairs up to the poop deck in two bounds. “Cast off, Bertie! Get us out of here!” “Aye, Captain.” Sheya, who’d followed close on his heels despite the limp her frozen foot caused, let out a screech that probably could have been heard all the way down on the ground. Aiden whirled around, hand on his hilt again, but found her pointing with a trembling hand at the helmsman. Aiden realized belatedly that he probably should have warned her, but there had been no time with the pursuit. “Goodness gracious me.” “Just keep flying,” Aiden said, peeking down over the side of the boat as they soared over the roofs below. “Sheya, this is my first mate, Bertrand Thrisk. Bertie, meet Sheya.” He glanced at Sheya, who looked like she might pass out. Typical nobleman’s daughter. “A pleasure to make your acquaintance, my lady,” Bertie said with a slight bow, pressing a hand against his finely embroidered doublet. Sheya looked faintly disgusted and made no reply, which she really had no reason for. Bertie’s attire was a little outdated—doublet and hose, with lots of lace at the cuffs and a stupid little hat that looked like someone had mashed a meat pie onto his head and left it there—but everything was meticulously cleaned and cared for. He was perfectly ordinary—except, of course, that Bertrand Thrisk was a walking, talking skeleton.

Tagging anyone else who is proud of the way they introduced a character in their WIP.

#tag games #wip games #the arcblade #aiden averrod #sheya #dennick wade #cherry piper #bertrand thrisk

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bramblequill · 2 years

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No More Running: Chapter 8 - On Your Knees

**Smut Warning**

To say that he felt completely energized would be a gross understatement. Not only did he have the hottest fucking girlfriend, it was fucking Hellfire night AND you had agreed to come with him. He had spent the last few weeks brushing you up on everything you needed to know on how to build and run a solid little thief, and he was pretty dammed confident you'd enjoy yourself tonight. Eddie could barely sit still as he stared at the clock, willing it to count down the last final seconds before the bell would ring signaling that school was over. He still had a few last minute errands to run before game night tonight... and fuck, he was anxious to get busy.

THERE IT WAS! YES! Eddie grabbed his bag and haphazardly shoved his books and papers into it before rushing off through the doorway. Not a dammed thing was going to hold him back from that parking lot now, not even Vecna himself (good thing that dick is dead.) He raced through the sea of fellow students, paying no mind to the jeers of the jocks and the squeals of those he bumped into. His eyes, were focused fully on the prize

Quickly finding his way to his van he tossed his pack into the back and waited, turned over the engine and turned up his favorite W.A.S.P. tape, drumming his fingers on the steering column and banging his head back and forth. "I'm a wild child, come and love meeee" he sang along as he bounced in his seat, not a care in the world. God. 86 was proving to be an amazing year.

The passenger door opened, and your melodic laughter suddenly accompanied the hair metal. Eddie turned to you and flashed you the most astronomic of grins, his dimples on full display, eyes bright. "Hi Baby!" he said still performing his drum solo on the steering column "Hop in! We've got places to beeeeeee!"

You hopped up into the seat next to him, strapped in and started performing a guitar riff and shaking your long hair back and forth. Eddie laughed heartily and reached for your knee as he stopped his solo long enough to also shift into reverse, look over his shoulder, and back out of the space, and into one of the best weekends of his life.

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Ronnie's POV

Hours later, snacks and supplies retrieved, and the scene set. You and the rest of the Hellfire club sat around the expansive wooden table. You were simply trying to ignore how goddamn sexy Eddie looked seated at the head ofthe table in his large wooden throne. You definitely were trying to ignore the dirty thoughts that kept popping into your brain everytime he'd bite his lip in anticipation or his thumb in focus. You most CERTAINLY had not thought about sliding underneath that wooden table and sucking him off right then and there... more than once. Nope. You were 100% invested in the game in front of you. So much so that you definitely didn't roseate to high hell when you realized everyone was waiting on you to make your move...

You quickly popped a chip into your mouth and studied the board in front of you, trying to gauge what had been going on before you'd let your mind wander. Intentionally avoiding Eddie's gaze... you could practically feel it boring into you.

"Hmmmmm" you said trying to buy yourself even more time, furrowing your brow as if you were wholeheartedly putting thought into your careful movements. Which I mean, I guess you were.

You tapped your pointer finger against your lips. Multiple figures were knocked over on their sides, signaling that they were down for the count. Some foe and some friendly. For the life of you you couldn't remember exactly whose figure belonged to who, however you did notice that there was a skeleton figure close enough to you that you could attack it if you wanted too, it also seemed to be facing away from you...towards someone else's figure. Cool. That'll work.

"I'm going to attempt to sneak up behind this bony bastard here and stab him in the back."

"Okay... go ahead and roll." Eddie said with a smirk

You took the little die in your hand and gave it a good shake in your closed fist, closing one eye and willing it to land true as you released it onto the board

"16 + 4 for unnoticed, good job baby that's 20! Solid hit."

You grinned as he turned his attention to Dustin next

"How do you wanna kill it off dusty-buns" Eddie teased

Dustin pursed his lips and furrowed his brow, shooting absolute venom Eddie's way as he crossed his arms over his chest. "I'm going to take off it's head with my sword. Edwaaarrrd." emphasizing the longer version of Eddies name. Eddie hated that.

"You heard our little fighter. Crispin the Courageous steps forward after a mighty blow to the back dealt by our ever sneaky Elvira the thief and swings his mighty sword, aiming true. With a loud clatter you watch as the final skeleton falls to pieces before you, crumpling in a pile of ivory. His skull bouncing and rolling across the dungeon floor and stopping right before a decent sized little treasure chest. Have at your loot my friends! If you dare..."

Eddie sat back in his throne grinning ear to ear.

Cheers erupted around the table, and backs /shoulders were clamped as everyone celebrated yet another victory.

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Eddie couldn't have been more proud. You had fit in with them and their campaign so effortlessly and you definitely did seem to enjoy yourself throughout the whole thing. He had noticed there had been a time or two where you seemed to get lost in your own thoughts, however the blush in your cheeks and the way you had been chewing your bottom lip had let him know it wasn't a bad mind trip... just a very distracting one.

He couldn't help but wonder what you'd been daydreaming about... and he had thought back a few times, to your prior make out sessions. It hadn't gone further than that... some heavy petting and a dance of tongues and lips... but honestly he didn't mind. He knew your history and he wasn't about to rush you into doing anything you weren't ready for. No matter how badly he wanted you. But seeing you biting and chewing your lips, eyes glazed over and practically panting as you frequently spaced off had his imagination in all sorts of places.

Most of the Hellfire group had gone, only Dustin and Mike stuck around... and that was because it had become ritual for him to give the boys a ride home when Steve was unavailable... which of course, tonight he had a date which meant that the two of you, were playing chauffeur.

After ensuring that the drama room was back to how it had been when they came, and all lights turned off, Eddie clasped his youngest sheepies by the backs of their necks

"Alright guys, lets get you little lambs home. This shepherd has a date of his own to get home too." He flashed you a grin

The boys both audibly groaned, clearly not in a hurry but shuffled their feet anyways. You trailed behind them, slipping your hands into the back pockets of Eddie's jeans.

Eddie found a stone suddenly ... yeah that's what tripped him up a bit... shot a glance at the ground and then back at you over his shoulder, his tongue poking out of his mouth ever so slightly as he was trying to focus on the walk in front of them. He audibly cleared his throat, releasing his grasp on the boys to open the passenger door of the van for you. "Dio get's shotgun, don't even try to argue Dustin."

Again, grumbling from Dustin, but the youngsters complied and slid themselves into the back of Eddies van, settling down on the floor.

They were pretty used to his driving and knew to sit themselves against certain parts of the van for minimal trauma while he drove. Eddie chuckled to himself silently as he watched them adjust before sliding their door shut, and leaning into the front seat.

He fastened your seat belt for you,then gripped the headrest opposite the door, trapping your face between his arm and his own face as he leaned in to kiss your lips quickly. You reached up a hand, gripping his neck, holding his mouth against yours for a moment before releasing him, much to his dismay but celebrated by the younger party members who were making audible kissing noises from the back.

He flashed them a warning look before shutting your door, and making his way to his own.

"To the shire!"Eddie said, cranking over the engine

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"You're sure I'm okay to stay here tonight? I don't want to cause any trouble..."Eddie asked as he stood nervously in the center of your room.

This was something new for him... though the layouts of the trailers in the park were all pretty cut and dry, something about your room was so... different.

He looked around, taking in all of it, everything that made it YOURS. The room itself smelt like you. Your skin, your perfume, your laundry soap... it was like his own personal heaven truly. He would love nothing more right now than to climb into your tie-dyed sheets with you and shut his eyes and you had suggested it but Eddie was fucking nervous to do so.

"Yeah, I promise, it's fine babe. He's not due home until probably Monday afternoon honestly. I mean we can go to yours if you really want too... I just wanted to be in my bed tonight... and that's not me saying there's anything wrong with yours." you rambled

Shit. He'd made you nervous. He didn't want you thinking that he didn't WANT to stay...he was just really scared to have you reap what would be sow if your father came home and found him there... but then... your door did have a lock, and he could always go through the window... yep. He was reasoning with himself.

"Alright sweetheart, if you're sure." he kicked off his shoes, and then set his rings on top of your pale blue dresser. "Am I okay to sleep in my boxers and my shirt? I don't want to make you uncomfortable." at home he'd just sleep in only his boxers but... well one, you really didn't know the expanse of his scarring yet and two, he really did not want to make you feel uneasy. "I can leave my jeans on..." he was interrupted

"Yep, that's fine. So long as you don't mind me sleeping like this?"

Eddie looked up into the mirror that sat over your dresser, and fuck he could have died right then and there. For a moment he forgot how to blink... to breathe...

You were standing beside your bed in nothing but some cotton black panties. "Holy shit. Holy shit." Eddie thought to himself.

"Baby..." he managed

He was absolutely spelled by the way your hips rotated as you walked towards him, his eyes caressing every inch of your alabaster skin. The sight of you coming towards him, that grin... the way your hair flowed freely over your shoulders, a few rogue strands leading his eye line to the mound of your breasts.

He had watched you come towards him (and admittedly away from him) a few hundred times since the two of you had met and it was always a glorious sight, but this definitely was his favorite so far.

You were standing in front of him now, lacing your fingers through his... you were saying something but Eddie just could not fucking focus. It was his turn to blink rapidly and shake his thoughts clear.

"Sorry. Baby. Fuck."he hoarsed

You grinned at him and reasked "Like what you see big boy?"

"Oh fuck yes. Are you kidding me?" He raised his hands up from yours towards your breasts, silently asking permission to touch you

You reached out and took his hands again in yours but this time instead of tangling your fingers in his you pressed his palms over your breasts. He sighed and you shuddered. He closed his fingers over the ample hills, squeezing lightly before moving his thumbs and pointer and index fingers to toy with your pale little nipples.

He stepped closer into you and leaned down, closing his lips over yours, eyes lingering open for a moment so he could watch as yours fluttered closed with a soft moan. "Shit."he thought to himself. His cock was absolutely pulsating inside his boxers. ________________________________________________________

Ronnie's POV

She had decided it on their drive home. It was after they had dropped off the boys...they were silently listening to his favorite W.A.S.P. album yet again, and "On Your Knees" had come on. The song had put her back in that absolutely filthy head space. The one that had interrupted her thoughts so frequently during the campaign time.

She wasn't a virgin by any means... she'd had boyfriends, and she'd had partners... but realistically none of them were really wanted, or enjoyed. However from what she knew about him, she knew very well that he'd ensure she enjoyed herself. She also knew that he wouldn't make the first move.

Yep. Tonight was the night.

Selfishly she wanted the first time to be in her bed. Her bed had so many shitty memories for her... she wanted it to hold at least one good one. She had insisted on him staying over. She had made sure the doors were locked.

The sudden heat that had flared between her thighs as she watched him remove his rings and jacket, his watch... stripping down to bare minimum right there in front of her only solidified even more for her. She was more than ready, so when he had his back to her and his attention was clearly elsewhere she moved quick. Stripped down to near nothing, and waited.

Now his hands and his lips were on her. The small little circles, tugs and twists he was making at her nipples caused her cunt to clench and pulse... his tongue caressing hers as he fed from her mouth... she let her own hands wander.

She knew he was hard. Oh she'd noticed. She reached down and rubbed the palm of her hand over his clothed shaft, curling her fingers slightly teasing that she were going to grip it. Eddie moaned into her mouth and she felt his hips involuntarily thrust against her hand. She closed her fingers over the mound then, massaging her hand against the hard length of him.

"Baby girl...."Eddie broke their kiss to moan "Oh honey..." his eyes were closed.

She grinned to herself and moved her mouth to his neck, still palming his length as she began to kiss and bite at the supple flesh that led to his collarbones.

"Take your shirt off for me Eds?" she requested halting her hand but lips nibbling at his earlobe

She felt him freeze, oddly still against her... and she swore that maybe just maybe he'd went a little bit flaccid in her hand. She leaned back to look into his eyes. His beautiful cocoa orbs that had momentarily held heat, were now glazed over and staring off far away. She knew that look. Trauma. Fuck.

"Eds?" she whispered softly, reaching up to place both hands on his cheeks, moving his face to meet her gaze "Baby?"

He licked his lips quickly and shuddered "I"m sorry sweetheart... I just... I've never shown anyone before... at least not like this."

"Baby if you're not comfortable, we don't have to keep going, or I can skip your chest...I just wanted to kiss all of you is all. It's okay." she soothed

"No it's okay. I want to. I need to." Eddie's voice haunted as he slowly began to tug his shirt over his head, revealing inch by inch that the scars she'd seen peeking beneath his sleeves were only whispers of what covered more of him than she'd ever dreamed.

"Oh Eddie... I want to ask but I'm not going to. You can tell me when you are ready, if you ever are... is it okay for me to touch them?" she kept her voice soft. Reassuring.

She didn't feel pity and she wasn't turned off by the sight of them... she didn't want him to think any of those things truth. He was still her Eddie. Her beautiful honey-eyed boy. The boy who had saved her from herself in the dark dark woods. That same confident boy was now standing sheepishly in front of her and she could tell that if she weren't holding his arms now he'd probably have them crossed over himself, trying to hide. She was all to familiar with how he was feeling. She wanted to make it go away.

Eddie finally nodded and she moved back into him, wrapping her arms around him as she buried her lips back against his neck... kissing her way down his chest, down every single scar. She ran her tongue over every smooth inch as her hands traveled down to his ass.

She gripped his cheeks ineach palm before sliding one hand forward across his hip, back to the front of him. He was in fact soft... but that's okay.. she didn't mind... and she knew that he wouldn't be for much longer.

Thinking back to the song in the van, she slid to her knees in front of him, eyes turning up to him as she took the band of his boxers between her fingertips.

"May I?" she asked and the fire in Eddie's eyes was all the encouragement she needed.

She slid the blue checkered shorts down and let them fall to his ankles where he quickly stepped out of them, using a foot to kick them away from him. She licked her lips and looked back up the line of him... now fully nude in front of her...and even though he wasn't fully erect yet, she felt her cunt clench in anticipation of the evening she had planned.

She returned a hand to his ass cheek, her other hand reaching up to gently lift his slowly growing length upwards where she leaned forward and took the velvety soft mass between her lips.

She rolled her eyes up to watch him as she leaned all the way onto him, caressing with her tongue and sucking gently, thoroughly enjoying how he was steadily growing in her mouth.

She never knew how much she'd love feeling a soft man becoming hard in her mouth until that moment. Holy fuck that was a ego boost if ever she needed one.

Above her Eddie had let his head fall backwards slightly, and she could see that his lips were parted. His chest rising and falling a little quicker than before.

She wrapped her hand around his shaft then, pulling her lips off of him only to surround his glans. She flicked her tongue against the frenulum and then began to suck gently just on that spot as she maneuvered her hand up and down the length of him.

Eddie was moaning for her, softly but apparent nonetheless. She gripped her hand around the base of him, next, her other hand reaching to caress his balls gently as her main hand held firm slid her hot wet mouth up and down over the length of him.

She pulsed her grip around the base of him as her tongue traced over every little vein of his cock. She let not a single inch go unexplored.

"Fuck. Baby fuck."Eddie hoarsed above her, his hand making its way into her hair forcing her head off of him.

She met his gaze, bit her lip and smirked.

"Aww I was enjoying myself..."

"Sweetheart...I'm going to cum if you keep that up."

"You're right... I don't want that... yet." she said as she used his hips as leverage to help lift herself up off of the floor. She watched as Eddie licked his lips and his eyebrow flicked

"And what is it exactly that you do want?" he asked

"I want you to make me into a fucking cream pie." she said, voice low

Eddie's lips crashed back into hers, his hands gripping bruisingly at her shoulders as he walked her backwards towards the bed, only pausing once:

"Are you sure about this?"

"Yes."

________________________________________________________

As he pushed you down onto your mattress he made a mental note to inquire later about birth control and condoms and such. He trusted you enough to know that you wouldn't make such a request if it were a reckless one... but also right now, the hot blooded male in him was easily taking over.

Fuck he'd thought about this moment more times than he would ever admit. Hell he'd cum on more than one occasion to the mere thought of your lips wrapped around his dick... but goddamn the actual image of it, the sensation... it was all so much better than he'd ever been able to conjure up himself at three in the morning, lying in his bed, palming his cock mercilessly.

He made waste of no time, his lips quickly finding their way to your breasts, sucking harshly at the little peaks of nipple as he helped you work your way out of your panties.

Once bare he reached a hand down, cupping your sopping mound as he looked to you for one final beg of permission.

"Touch me Eddie. Fuck me."

Good god the way your voice rasped when turned on drove him insane. He slowly slipped two fingers between your folds, quickly finding the sensitive little button he'd been looking for. Gently he caressed the velvet skin on each side of it stroking up and down, pinching your clit itself only slightly in the process.

You moaned for him and he felt your thigh tense beneath his arm...

"Oh... my girl likes that does she?"

He adjusted just enough to be able to use his other hand too. Slipping two digits into you, rotating and curling them just enough that his come here motions hit just right. He felt your pussy clamp around his fingers as you moaned louder for him.

"Oh she REALLY likes that." he said simply, leaning his face back to your belly, nibbling gently as he continued to work your cunt.

It wasn't until your chest was positively flushed and rapidly rising and falling, you gripping at the sheets as you squirmed beneath him that he raised himself up just enough to prepare for what he REALLY wanted to do. To fuck you absolutely out of your skin.

"Eddie. Please. Eddie." you pleaded, voice thick

Eddie slipped only the head of his cock into you at first... loitering for a moment...savoring how warm and inviting you were... relishing in how you were desperately trying to lift your hips up into him, wanting to drive him in further.

You were moaning and pleading and writhing beneath him and it was abso-fucking-lutely driving him insane.

Eddie reached down, gripping your hips tightly as he suddenly drove himself home.

"Fuckkkk" you both moaned at nearly the same time

Pure adrenaline rushed over him and Eddie began to draw himself out and thrust back in...slowly at first but gradually picking up pace, only shifting position once to lift your hips up off of the bed and into his thrusts...holding you where he could hit the absolute depths of you.

The warm wet of your cunt absolute heaven. He knew he wouldn't last long...given the work you'd done on him beforehand and the fact that it had been a while for him.

Also... he'd never fucked anyone bare before.

He was always careful. Truth be told, he'd never cared about the girls before that he'd hooked up with, they were realistically just that... a fling. You... you were everything. You were his goddamn world.

Eddie locked eyes with you as he continued drilling in and out of you. Just the sight of you beneath him was something enough that could feed plenty of fantasies... but seeing you grip the sheets in one hand, your other hand toying with your nipples... seeing your chest and cheeks flush... the way your lips gasped when you moaned for him... and god your breathy moans... oh the sounds you were making for him... for his cock...pure heaven.

He could feel himself nearing the edge, a tingling and tightening beginning where he plunged into you, over and over again.

"I'm going to cumsweetheart... fuck I'm going to cum..." the sweet warmth overtook his body, muscles contracting in the best of ways all throughout him... nerves absolutely on fire.. he pulled your hips still against him as he drove himself as deeply as he could into you, feeling your walls clenching down around / over him.

He moaned, a loud and guttural... which was promptly followed by your own. He could feel your pussy throbbing around him... fluttering...he held that position as he emptied every drop of his cum into you. Filled you...just as asked.

He stayed buried within you as he lowered your hips back to the bed, falling on top of you absolutely spent. He lightly kissed your stomach where his cheek rested rising and falling with your rapid breathing, and your hand found his sweat drenched hair.

"Fuck Eddie... that was... fuck." you were breathless.

Good. He'd done his job.

"Mmmhmm." He agreed softly quickly being overtaken as your hand played through his curls softly.

Both coming down from a sweet high and the gentle caresses Eddie felt sleep starting to creep up on him.

His whole body felt like jello. Relaxed. He let his eyes drift shut and smiled slightly as he heard your voice softly humming...what you were humming he had no idea right in that moment.

His brain was as mush as his body was...and allowed sleep to overtake him. The best sleep he'd ever have, home within your arms.

Next Chapter - Chapter 9

#eddie munson fluff #eddie munson #eddie munson deserved better #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson my beloved #eddie munson x reader fluff #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #eddie x reader #eddie deserved better #eddie smut #hellfire stranger things #stranger things smut #eddie munson smut

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