#also THANK YOU for introducing me to 'leave me alone'! I really like it!

[slashingdisneypasta]

Oooh songs for the yandere weasels? I got some suggestions! (I'm not trying to one up you spookifi, I like the idea of themes for these scary skrunks and I wanted to add onto your ask. I hope this doesn't come off that way)

'Leave me Alone' by Alexander Ryback, for Stupid. This song is purely in the POV of the stalkee, and conveys the exact feelings you'd have for a stalker that follows you everywhere, like Stu would. Not to mention the upbeat tone of the song fits his more upbeat character (compared to the other weasels).

🎵 You're scaring mom and dad, scaring off my girlfriend. You're waiting by my door early in the morning. I've told you many times, don't follow me at night! You're poisoning my life! Just tell me why!🎵

'Super Psycho Love' by Simon Curtis for Greasy. Technically not a yandere song, but the pure lust the singer feels, along with how insistent they are that you're gonna be with me does seem to match Greasy's tone. Even if he is more... Aware that Y/N doesn't want him.

🎵I know you want me too. I think you want me too. Please say you want me too. Because you're going to. Say that you want me every day that you want me every way that you need me, got me trippin' super psycho love!🎵

'Painkiller' by Three Days Grace for Wheezy. The singer acting as if they are what's good for the one they're singing for. But in actuality, they are the ones slowly killing Y/N. And they know it. (Not to mention the drug connotations with the song goes with Wheezy's addiction)

🎵You know you need a fix when you fall down. You know you need to find a way, to get you through another day. Let me be the one to numb you out. Let me be the one to hold you, never gonna let you get away.🎵

'Snow White Queen' by Evenescence for Psycho. Another song sung from the perspective of the stalkee. How they feel violated, and how they have to try to hide from this person who claims to know them, all the things they say to them (Psycho sharing all of his twisted dreams and fantasies), and how this person insist that they're 'theirs'. Not to mention the haunting tone I'd the music and lyrics go with Psycho's more horrifyingly unhinged nature.

🎵Stop light, lock the door, don't look back. Undress in the dark, and hide from you, all of you. You'll never know the way your words have haunted me. I can't believe you'd ask these things of me. You don't know me now or never!🎵

'An Unhealthy Obsession' by The Blake Robinson Synthetic for Smartass. The unhinged music and delusional lyrics go with how Smartass carries himself as 'better' than the others. Along with how he uses his sources to find out everything about Y/N.

🎵You just don't know it, but you love me and I love you the same. One day, we'll have a pretty wedding and I'll be your everything. You don't know it, but baby, I already got your heart. 🎵

(Also, since 'An Unhealthy Obsession' is a duet between two stalkers, this could be used for Greasy and Psycho when they're both after the same Y/N. Or any other combination of the weasels)

Well that's my thoughts on this. What do you guys think?

Oh I loveeeee these choices as well!! @spookiifi , what do you think of these ones?? ^^

I wanna join too now XD

Greasy:

I think you guys really hit the nail on the head with this one!! I cant think of anything as good right now! 😅😅😅

Psycho:

Fly On The Wall, Miley Cyrus

I just think the icky, buggy visuals and the insane stalker vibes are on point here.

Don't you wish that you could be a Fly on the wall? A creepy little, sneaky little Fly on the wall All my precious secrets, yeah You'd know them all

Smartass:

The Haunting, Set It Off

*So I struggled finding a song for him but when I listened to this one there was something very Smartass-y about it! 😅 I'm thinking this is how he would be if you managed to get free of and safe of him- bitter and horrible, and totally deluded into thinking that you're a crazy bitch/ he's the only one who could ever deal with/love you, and you will miss him.

Someday you may find that picture perfect guy And I'll chase my words with poison Until that day arrives, and swine take to the sky Fill your void with open thighs so

No one will love you like I did Will treat you like I did So go on, wear that scarlet letter No one will love you like I did Will touch you like I did So good luck finding something better

Stupid:

Tag, You're It, Melanie Martinez

*Okay so this one was gonna be for Greasy- but the more i listened to it, the less sexual it felt. More... obsessed. Just- gross, mindless, depraved, want. So,.. yeah 😅

Eenie, meenie, miny, mo Catch your lady by her toes If she screams, don't let her go Eenie, meenie, miny, mo Your mother said to pick the very best girl And I am

Wheezy:

Blood on a Rose, Everybody Loves an Outlaw

Very manipulative!

Your voice in my ear The world disappears So I'll fall again You can keep me right here

Russian Roulette, Rihanna

MY GOD this is him. Making you feel like you have a choice when he has the situation under his complete control. Even the fake kindness!

Say a prayer, to yourself He says, close your eyes, sometimes it helps And then I get, a scary thought That he's here, means he's never lost

#i had to update my fucked up playlist for this #(sorry. I did this right before bed time so my thoughts might be everywhere!) #also THANK YOU for introducing me to 'leave me alone'! I really like it! #kinda sounds like harper to me for some reason 😅😅😅😅

[nanaslutt]

entering zenin clan as toji's little trophy wife

contains: fem reader, established relationship, age gap (not specified), misogyny, naoya needs his own warning, voyeurism, masturbation, choking, rough sex, riding, dirty talk, cumming inside (toji has a vacectomy), Toji is a good husband, praise

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ

Your large husband Toji stood in front of you, fastening the fabric around the kimono he had bought you for the special occasion. He himself was adorned in a dark blue kimono, the white fabric of the jupan peeking out from underneath the neckline of his kimono. He was wearing a pair of traditional setta sandals, you had never seen him look so formal and old-fashioned in your life.

"People really still wear this stuff?" You asked, watching him tie the light pink fabric in a bow that would rest on your hipline. Toji kept his eyes on his hands, working carefully, "You're making it too obvious you're not from a sorcerer family." He said, looking up under his dark eyelashes at you once he finished prettying you up. He took a step back, keeping his hands on your waist as he smoothed his hands down the sides of your hips, admiring his handiwork. A whistle from his lips made you blush, smiling up at the older man.

"Beautiful." He said, stepping up to you once again he pressed you against his chest, gripping his hands on the small of your waist he leaned down and kissed you softly, humming against your lips before pulling away. "Thank you Toji." You said, making the scar on his lip bend as a smirk graced his handsome features. "The geezers you're about to meet don't take kindly to.. women, they're old fashioned so do your best to stay close to me, not that I plan to leave you alone with them." Toji shivered internally thinking about what they would do to a pretty thing like you if he let you alone, not that he didn't have full faith in your skills, he knew you were strong, but he also knew how strong his family was.

"I figured out the old-fashioned part by the clothes, I guess misogyny just comes with that territory." You said lightly, making him huff out a laugh. "Don't take their words too seriously, especially Naoya, he respects me so It's hard to know if he'll say anything, but he's notorious for having a big fucking mouth." You watched Toji's expression while he spoke, a vein popping out under the skin of his forehead. "Especially with the women. I don't know if there's a single maid he hasn't harassed in some way or another." He said, growing irritated at the thought of him trying something with his wife.

"I can take it." You said, the soft touch of your fingers tracing Toji's cheek snapping him out of his annoying daydream, bringing him back to reality, his eyes shutting as he sighed, leaning into your touch. "We're just there for me to introduce myself, then we never have to see them again, right?" You asked, smiling when he cracked open his eyes and nodded at you. "What's the worst that can happen in a couple hours?" You spoke reassuringly. "You don't know my family." He sighed, covering your hand with his, pressing it harder agaisnt his face. "I wish I didn't either." His animosity made you smirk, he was working himself up too much.

"How did they even find out we got married?" You asked, Toji's hand dropping from your own as he stepped away to grab his phone on the table behind him and call for a ride. "Who fucking knows, they're so creepy they probably know your blood type and the time you were born by now." He mumbled, holding his phone up to his ear as it rang, reaching one of the drivers for the Zenin clan. You came up behind him, running your hands up his back, relishing in the feeling of the soft fabric of his kimono, before reaching his shoulders and massaging his shoulder gently as he spoke curtly to the man on the other side of the phone.

—

The two of you stepped out of the car, Toji first, taking your hand in his as you slid out after him, thanking the driver before you interlaced your arm in his. You were greeted by a kind-looking maid, she looked to be about ten years older than Toji, she bowed when the two of you approached. "Right this way Zenin." She said, glancing at the two of you before she raised her tired body and started a trail into the main building of the Zenin house. Toji cringed at the use of his last name, you felt his bicep tense when she uttered the word. You looked up at him, watching the muscles in his jaw flex as he repeatedly clenched his teeth together.

"I should be the one nervous." You whispered, receiving a glance from your husband, the shadow of a smile gracing his lips before he averted his gaze back in front of him, his eyes darting around to the familiar walls of his miserable childhood. "Being here makes me feel sick is all." He said. You absorbed his words, nodding to yourself as you looked forward, watching the fabric of the older woman's kimono crinkle on her back as she walked.

Toji had told you about his childhood before, but only the once; it was a sore subject after all. You knew it was a very toxic and abusive environment to grow up in, especially for Toji, as he was one to form his own opinions and morals, not letting anyone other than himself influence that; which his family did not appreciate in the slightest. "Here you are, please enter at your own pace." The woman spoke, looking Toji directly in the eyes and squinting before she bowed and walked away, following the hallway back the way you had just come down, presumably to complete some mundane task.

"She knows you, huh?" You asked, squeezing your arm tightly against his as the two of you stood feet from the massive sliding wooden doors that separated you from the main room, where his family was currently residing; chatter and laughter could be heard muffled through the thick wood. "That old dinosaur." Toji laughed quietly. "She was in charge of my main academic classes, would smack my hands with a ruler when I got an answer wrong, shit hurt." He said, you watched him smile, recalling the memory.

"And you're smiling?" You said, tilting your head confused. "Old hag was the only one who actually looked out for me in this hell hole." He said, shaking away the memory before looking down at you. "You ready sweetheart?" Toji asked, staring into your eyes fondly. When you nodded he leaned forward, pressing his plush lips to the top of your head before pulling back and taking a step forward, slipping his fingers into the inverted door handle he slid the door open, the loud grating of the wood announcing your arrival.

Immediately all chatter in the room stopped and all eyes were on you, not Toji, you. The aura in the room was suffocating, only a couple seconds in the presence of these men, and you had understood why Toji was acting so uncomfortable. They were strong, incredibly so, you could feel it. A man with long dark shaggy hair leaned back on the couch, his legs spread as he caressed his chin looking you up and down. You felt shivers crawl down your spine from his perverted gaze alone; his aura wasn't as strong as the others.

Continuing your scan around the room, your eyes landed on a younger-looking man with blonde- almost green hair, a brown halo of hair around his head, he gave you an incredulous look, man spread on the couch much like the last man, he had his arms crossed over his chest, his gaze focused on your chest, thankfully covered by the Kimono; and yet you still felt so exposed under his gaze.

Some other unmemorable men were scattered in the room, an old man with a high ponytail, a teen with short spiky hair, and a handful of longer hair wrapped in bandages behind his neck. One man stood out from the rest though, in terms of the sheer cursed energy radiating off of him, making you shiver, every hair on your body standing at attention. A silver-haired man, twice Toji's age, sat on the floor on a fancy-looking pillow in the center of the room, a half-empty whiskey bottle in his hand, his lips dripping the liquid. The man burped vulgarly, making you suppress a wince at the shameless action.

As much as his face alone looked perfect for the bottom of your foot, you knew this was a man who was absolutely not to be messed with. You guessed this was Nobito, Toji's uncle. "Toji tightened his arm around yours, keeping his gaze in front of him as you looked up through your lashes at him; he could feel your anxiety and was trying to silently tell you he was right there. Nobito laughed, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, he raised to his feet, taking long strides toward you and your husband.

He stopped in front of you, ignoring Toji's presence completely. "Bagged a cute little woman, Toji." He laughed, looking at you when he spoke. You maintained composure, keeping eye contact with the wrinkled man in front of you, his breath reeked of alcohol. "Too bad she doesn't know her place." A voice interrupted. Toji's eyes looked to the voice, his face staying unexpressed, making eye contact with the source of the noise, Naoya. "Who does she think she is? Dumb woman doesn't know she should walk behind a man?" He said, scoffing, a look of disgust plastered on his face.

"When you get a wife, feel free to treat her however you like," Toji responded, deadpanning. "Insult my wife again, I'll cut out your tongue." Toji's deep asserting voice made you shiver, a heat creeping over your face at how he had defended you without a second thought. Naoya presented a toothy grin to Toji, a vein in his forehead popping out in annoyance. Suddenly it was too hard to breathe. "Now now, ten years of radio silence from you, and this is how you want our reunion to start?" Nobito tsked, keeping his face in front of yours but darting his eyes to meet Toji's.

"Nice to meet you, sir." You said, bowing respectfully, looking up at the old man under your lashes. He smiled, taking a couple steps back from you. "She's polite~" Another voice resounded through the room- the teen with the rat tail had spoken. "At least she can do something right," Naoya mumbled under his breath, the bitter words not being missed by Toji. You quickly reacted, squeezing your fingers into his arm to warn him not to do anything stupid. His nostrils flared on his otherwise blank face, his chest rising in a deep breath before leveling out again.

Nobito walked back to his seat and picked up the bottle of whiskey, grabbing a glass from the table in front of him he poured a generous amount before sitting and pushing the drink in your direction on the table. All their eyes were on the two of you, waiting for you to sit. Usually, you would sit down first, Toji making sure you were comfortable before sitting down next to you. In this setting, however, you weren't sure this was the best idea.

Unlacing your arm with his, you gestured towards the table with your hands before holding them in front of you, looking up at Toji. He paused, looking down at you before he started for the couch, you followed hot on his trail. Naoya smiled at this, not being able to shake the feeling that he had some influence on your actions. Toji held his hand out for you before you sat down. Placing your hand in his larger one, you sat next to him, your thighs touching with the proximity. He continued to hold your hand, placing tangled hands on your thigh as he gripped his over yours, enveloping it completely.

You pressed your knees together tightly, not wanting to reveal even a centimeter of your skin to the men around you if you could help it. Toji picked up the glass in front of him, bringing the caramel-colored liquid up to his lips before he was stopped by a hand grabbing his wrist. The shaggy-haired man had grabbed Toji, tsking, "Thats for your pretty little wife." He smiled maliciously, Nobito grinned, watching the interaction. "She doesn't drink." Toji was quick to retort, pushing though the grip on his wrist he tipped the glass into his lips, tasting the bitter liquid on his tongue before swallowing.

"You keepin' her pure?" Naoya's grating voice once again spoke. Toji was right, the man constantly had something to say, and none of it was good. "She even old enough to drink? Fuck, did you snatch up a young one?" He laughed, the sound making you cringe. "I can drink, I just choose not to." You responded, making the blonde-haired man's smile immediately flush off of his face as his gaze dropped to yours. "Why is your wife speaking right now?" He asked, the question directed at Toji, but his eyes were on yours.

"Only speak when you're being spoken to, and even then, make sure what you have to say is meaningful," Naoya instructed. You looked visibly taken aback. Oh he wanted to die huh?Toji thought, the vein in his forehead showing itself from under the skin. He swore he was going to come back here and strangle the man to death in his sleep, and he would enjoy every last second of it. Who the fuck was he to speak to you like that?

“I don’t tell her what to do, and you sure as hell won’t as long as I live either.” Toji growled, his grip tightening against your thigh. "Naoya." Another voice cut in before things could escalate. The man with the ponytail prevented Naoya from digging his grave deeper. Toji's eyes were glued to his younger cousins, his heartbeat racing in his chest as he tried to calm himself down.

You had no idea how much self-restraint Toji really had. Whenever a man even looked in your general direction you had to physically pull him back on his metaphorical leash so he didn't kill him on the street. He took a large gulp of the liquid once more, he couldn't tell if the bitterness was easing the angst he was feeling or increasing it. Naoya lost the glaring battle with Toji, scoffing as he looked away. "How old are you, Naoya?" Toji spoke, holding the glass of half-empty liquor on his thigh, spreading his legs. "Twenty-six." He replied.

Toji laughed curtly, raising his eyebrows before he released your hand and wrapped his arm around the back of the couch. "Don't you think It's time you find a wife? Or you been havin' some trouble findin' a woman who you don't have to beat to act like your dog?" Toji spat, making the younger man fume across the room. A snicker could be heard from the teenager to your left. You had to fight back your own smile, you're pretty sure you would get smacked upside the head by Naoya himself if you did.

“How did the two of you meet, dollface?” The man with the dark shaggy hair questioned you. Toji could obviously see you looked visibly uncomfortable at the nickname the man had used, squirming in your seat before your opened your mouth to speak, “Me and Dollface met through a mutual friend.” Toji interrupted, making the weight on your shoulders lift and dissipate into the air.

“Your friend know anymore cute young things like your wife here?” The man spoke again, directing his question to Toji but looking at the expanse of your covered body, they all did that and you hated it. “None that would be interested in an old pervert like you.” Toji responded, trying his best to laugh through the situation so his fist didn’t end up through someone’s stomach by the end of this.

"So, do you come from a sorcerer family?" Nobito interjected, taking a swig from the whiskey bottle. The questions never seemed to stop coming from every direction in the room. "No sir, I'm the only sorcerer in my family." You responded a couple chuckles could be heard throughout the room at your response. Naoya almost burst a blood vessel keeping what he really wanted to say at bay. Sure, you had a nice figure, and a pretty little face to match—but you were arrogant and had too much of your own personality. Naoya had an an inkling your relationship wasn’t as traditional as you were playing it out to be.

Toji deserved to be with someone who listened to him, who didn’t speak out of turn, who could actually walk behind a man. You must’ve been good in bed for Toji to have put a ring on your finger with all those flaws, he presumed.

"She's a first-grade sorcerer before you open your pathetic mouths again." Toji defended. You pressed your thighs together. He was so stoic and serious, it aroused you to no end, and the way he wasn't afraid to show you off, fuck it was doing things to you. Some “Ooh’s~” echoed through the room.

"Pretty and useful." The old man with the ponytail spoke. You averted your gaze to some corner of the room when you saw some nods throughout the room. "She cooks and cleans too?" Someone teased, creating more chuckles to emanate throughout the room. Toji clenched his jaw in annoyance. If his family knew that he did most of the cooking, he was sure at least 5 of them would have an aneurysm in this very room. At least he could be left alone without fear of starvation while he doubted these grown men knew how to cook something as simple as rice.

"When are you having a child? She doesn't look pregnant now." Naoya blurted out confused, his words indicating that the only thing a wife was good for was having children. You couldn't help but feel too aware of your own body at his words, realizing you could actually be perceived, and were actively being so in this moment. You kept quiet, looking up at Toji, waiting for his answer to come. Truthfully, you wanted kids with him at some point, but you were still so young. The two of you had talked about it briefly, at decided you would revisit the topic in a few years.

Toji brought his hand to wrap around the back of your shoulders, rubbing the skin there before he spoke. "She's too young to have kids now, maybe a few years," Toji answered curtly. Naoya looked flabbergasted, leaning forward on his elbows he spoke exasperatedly, "What? Nonsense, there's no such thing as too young to have kids-" barf. "Her eggs are going to be dried up in a couple years." His lackluster knowledge of a woman's body amused you, once again suppressing a laugh as you pretended to scratch the tip of your nose, hiding your mouth from view.

Toji picked up on your amusement, smiling before he spoke. "What would you know about a woman's body?" He challenged, sliding his hand across your shoulders to drop back down to your thigh, squeezing the fat through the fabric, making you feel a heat between your thighs. Naoya's lip curled up in annoyance, keeping his eyes on Toji's. "Let's take a break, yeah?" Nobito spoke, his voice coming out slurred. "We have a room for the two of you, dinner will be ready soon, we can catch and learn more about your little wife more then, hm?" he said, the words phrased as a suggestion but you knew it wasn't that.

"After you baby," Toji said, nodding his head at you. You smoothed your hands over your thighs as you stood, standing, you bowed before the men as Toji stood with you. "Nice to meet.. most of you." You said, licking your lips to conceal your grin as you started for the door. Toji smirked, making eye contact with Naoya's obviously irritated face before he wrapped his arm around your waist, his hand resting right above your ass as he let you out of the room, sliding the door shut behind the two of you.

"Well, that sure went!" you said, looking up at him and smiling through a cringe, making him laugh at your unfinished sentence, he knew exactly what you meant. "What you said at the end got me all worked up," Toji said, grabbing a handful of your ass as he started walking toward his old bedroom. "Huh?" You asked, confused. "No one talks back to that shitty guy, shoulda seen his face when you said that shit." Toji laughed. You caught on, realizing he was referring to your indirect jab at the blond-haired man before you left.

"Didn't realize bullying your family was one of your kinks." You teased, stopping in front of the doorway when Toji slid the door to his room open, holding his arm out atop the frame for you to go under. "You kiddin? Think it's higher up than my love for titty-fucking'" Toji teased, grabbing your hips as he followed you into the room. He shut the door with one hand behind him, before pulling you against his chest and pressing his lips to yours. "Sorry about those fuckin' assholes." Toji apologized, kissing the corner of your eye.

"It's not you who should be apologizing." You giggled, holding his face in your hands. "Plus, the way you were standing me up for me in there got me all wet." You leaned and whispered against his lips. "Yeah?" His deep voice whispered back, his breath tickling your lips as he hovered his mouth an arm hairs length away from yours. "Wanna see for yourself?" You asked, dropping one of your hands from his face to grab his wrist and bring it between the slit of your Kimono, under the jupan, so his large fingers were directly touching your damp panties. “Wanna hear how loud you can be for me, show these old fucks how good you take my dick.” Toji whispered, finally closing the distance and pressing your lips together.

—

In the other room, the men had not yet dispersed. Talking amongst themselves, they still collectively hung around in the main room. "She's a bold woman I'll give her that." The old man with the ponytail spoke with his arms crossed over his chest. Naoya fumed in his seat, his nose crinkling in disgust as he replayed your words over in his head. "Nice to meet... some of you." the fucking audacity. He was the heir to the Zenin clan, did you not know that? Talking to him like he's some trash, dumb woman.

"The only thing good about that noisy woman is her ass, what the hell does Toji see in her?" Naoya spoke, making Nobito laugh as he took another swig from the whiskey bottle, holding it by the neck. "She has a nice face, and she's undoubtedly strong if even Toji was willing to praise her like that in front of Nobito." The teen said, shrugging his shoulders. Naoya tsked, crossing his arms over one another, staring at some corner of the room angrily.

The locker room talk about your body and other discussions about you and Toji continued for a couple minutes before their talk was interrupted by a loud sound shrieking through the walls. The men raised their eyebrows, stopping all conversation as they waited to hear the sound again. "Agh!!" There it was again, the loud sound being muffled by the walls that separated them from the source. "The hell is that?" Naoya spoke first, his voice cutting into the otherwise silent room.

"Shh." Nobito hushed, setting the bottle down he scanned his eyes around the walls, waiting to see where the sound was coming from. "Ah-ah-ah!" He tilted his ear towards the direction of the sound when the moans came more steadily, his head tipping in the direction of where you and Toji were staying. Naoya was growing frustrated, already annoyed that his dad had hushed him in front of everyone. "Toji- Fuck-" That was all they needed to hear. Nobito let out a hearty laugh, as he raised to his feet, whiskey bottle in hand as he started for the sliding door that would take him to the garden.

Naoya's face was plastered with a blush, did you just-? "Fucking under Nobito's roof after being absent for a decade, heh~" The shaggy-haired man laughed. "He's marking his territory, bastard," Nobito spoke before sliding the door shut behind him, lounging on the edge of the deck. He thought you were eye candy, sure, but he didn't want to hear his nephew fucking his wife in front of him, he would rather be the one doing the fucking.

Toji's growls could be heard through the walls as he fucked into you, the sound of an old bed creaking through the walls was not missed by Naoya's ears. "Even her voice is cute." One of the men spoke. Naoya couldn't take this torture anymore, with his face completely flushed, he rose to his feet, walking quickly out of the room. "It's disgusting." Naoya spit, sliding the big wooden door loudly behind him.

Some maids were in the hallway gossiping when he exited. Giggling and covering their faces as they listened to Toji absolutely ruin your shit. His face burning hot as he leaned against the door, he glanced up at the women, "What the hell do you think you're doing? Get back to work." Naoya hissed, the woman immediately dispursing to finish their chores. He sighed when they were out of sight, finally looking down at his Kimono, he noticed a tent had formed at his crotch, he looked at it in disgust, scrunching his face up as he made quick work to his room, which coincidentally neighbored Toji's.

--

"You like that baby? Like when I fuck your tight little cunt like this? Toji groaned, gripping your hips as he brought your ass back to meet his thrusts, fucking his cock into your g-spot with pinpoint precision. "Y-yes Toji- Love it- love it so much!" You groaned. He had you face down, ass up, and his hips were being so fucking mean. Mercilessly he pulled his cock almost completely out, before bulling the entirety of his girth into your tight pussy, loud squelches filling the room at how wet you were.

"Yeah you do, take my cock-" thrust "so" thrust "fucking" thrust "well-!" He grit through his teeth, his hips colliding with your ass and making the fat ripple. He had only pushed your kimono up, revealing your pussy to him, he himself had only pulled his cock out through the slit, making it easier for him to get inside you faster after he briefly stretched you out on his fingers. "You're so pretty baby, fuck- such a good fucking wife-" He groaned, making a point to say that last part extra loud.

He didn't feel like he had anything to prove to his family, he knew how good you were to him, and how in love the two of you were. He just wanted to make them jealous, they were all old, ugly, and wifeless or had shells of women on their arms after all. He saw how they looked at you, how they tried to look through your Kimono and get even a sliver of skin to feast their eyes upon. He wanted them to know they would never, in a million years, get the chance, so here he was, fucking his lively young wife, bubbly and full of personality, in their prison of a home.

"Wanna ride me, baby? Let em' hear how good you fuck me?" He asked, not letting up his assault on your pussy. You drooled and whined into the sheets, gripping your nails into the expensive cloth as your body jerked and slid across the sheets from his manhandling. Riding Toji was a rare feat, it got him so worked up. The angle at which your pussy sucked in his cock, how deep he got, always made him relinquish control unconsciously, which is why it was so rare he let you ride him.

You nodded into the sheets, your words getting slurred together when you mumbled out "yesyesyes" while he fucked you. Toji laughed, pulling out his cock he continued to jerk it slowly, spreading your juiced all over him before he plopped on the bed next to you, holding your outer hip to pull you towards him as he got comfortable against the sheets. With shaky legs, you slung them over Toji's hips, watching him still jerk his cock in his large hand as you situated your pussy to hover right over his fat tip.

"Sit down baby, fuck me." He said the smile your husband had on his face being controlled by lust and love together. His eyes immediately rolled to the back of his head when you sat down on his cock, his abs clenching and legs twitching as you eased his length into you. "Fuuuuck, that's good~" He groned, tipping his head back into the pillows as your pussy swallowed up his cock to the hilt. He could feel every bump and ridge of your cock, your warmth, how fucking tight you were in this position--he already felt himself going dumb.

"Fuck me baby, bounce on my fucking cock-" Toji begged, his hands coming to grip your hips and aid you the best he could in lifting you off his cock and slamming you back down on it. "God~ Toji, you're f-filling me up!" You whined, starting a quick pace on him, pressing your hands against his pecs for stability as you gound your clit against his pelvis every time his cock bottomed out inside you. Toji had his eyebrows scrunched together, his jaw dropped open as he moaned freely into the room, his moans overshadowing yours.

"Y-yeah? Feel my b-big cock fuckin' up 'ur guts?" Toji laughed through a deep whine, trying to watch his length disappear into your pussy when you sat down on it, but he was having a hard time keeping his eyes forward in their sockets. "Yes, Toji- fuck!" You cried out when one of his hands came down to rub his thumb against your clit. The added stimulation made you ride him harder as you chased your orgasm. He loved touching your clit not only because it made you feel good and he loved seeing your reactions to it, but also because your pussy tightened up like it was trying to constrict his cock when he did so.

His body jerked forward every time his dick slid inside you, his deep voice laughing through his arousal when you stopped your bouncing and instead ground against him. The movements made his cock rub against your sweet spot deep inside you. He watched your head tip back as your nails dug into his chest at how good you were feeling. "Choke me baby, cmon~" Toji begged quietly into the air, needing to feel your smaller hand squeeze around his neck when you came.

One of your hands slid up the expanse of his chest, traveling over the fabric of the Kimono as you splayed your fingers out along his neck, giving him a squeeze. The smirk on his face grew tenfold, a dopey grin spreading across his features. "Yesyesyes baby- yesss-" His words were slurred, his eyes rolling back every time his cock was forced against your walls from your incessant humping along his pelvis.

"Baby I'm gonna cum-" You spoke breathlessly, squeezing your hand tighter around his throat as you were brought closer and closer to your high. Toji was getting dizzy, not just from you choking him out, but from watching you shut your eyes and hump yourself on his dick, getting yourself off on him like he was some sex toy--and he fucking loved it. "Yeah- use me baby, use me, cum all over my dick baby please~" He groaned, his jaw falling open and closed like a fish out of water, his eyebrows scrunching shut as he watched your orgasm crash over you.

Your hand around his neck loosened when you came, your orgasm wracking through your body as you jerked and twitched on top of him, your hips losing their rhythm. That was Toji's sign to take over. He abandoned his thumb on your clit and brought his hand back up to join the other in grabbing your waist. He planted his feet on the bed and started pistoning his hips against your ass like a madman. He fucked you through your orgasm and into overstimulation as he brought himself to his own high.

He watched you grit your teeth and squeeze your eyebrows together, pushing through the painful pleasure. "Almost there baby- doin' so good letting me use you like this- fuck-" He praised, shaking his head agaisnt the sheets as he watched your body bounce limply on top of him. Toji was too fucked out to announce before he came, but you knew. His hips lost their rhythm, his voice got higher and higher in pitch before he stilled his hips against your ass.

He groaned hard as he felt the first ropes of his cum shoot inside your pussy. He shot his body up and wrapped his arms around your torso, hiding his face in your neck as he bit down hard against the skin there, letting your cunt milk his balls as his hips stuttered agaisnt you, his cock releasing all of his seed as deep as he could into you. "Fuuuck-" He groaned against your skin when he started coming down from his high.

You pulled your head back, grabbing his face between your hands you pressed your lips to his, breathing heavily against his lips as the two of you kissed passionately. You pulled away, smiling at his flushed face, "Probably sounded like we just made a baby." you giggled, wiping the sweaty strands of his hair from his forehead. "If they ever find out I got a vasectomy, they might have a heart attack," Toji smirked, making you giggle as he peppered kisses on your face. "So maybe we should." He added, dropping his kisses to your neck as the two of you embraced each other, his softening cock still snug in your walls.

In the room over, a fuming Naoya sat on the edge of his bed, his jerking slowing over his softening cock, covered in his own cum as he tried to catch his breath, his chest rising and falling rapidly. "Fucking... bitch.." He whispered into the room, covering his ashamed face with the back of his arm as he flopped back agaisnt his sheets.

—

The two of you spent another hour cleaning up and enjoying each other's company as you sat outside of Toji's room, your back against the wall of the sliding glass door, Toji sitting in front of you, your clothed feet in his hands as he massaged them softly, listening to you speak. "You ready to leave, princess?" He asked when the conversation died down. You sighed, "I wish your family weren't such assholes, food always tastes better when it's free." Your husband gigged as you retracted your legs, pulling on your sandals as the two of you stood to your feet.

"I'll take you out tonight, you look so pretty in this after all, it would be a waste to not enjoy you out like this," Toji said, walking up to you and holding your waist in his hands as he gave you a one-over. You smiled, pressing a kiss to his lips before the two of you made your way back inside to say your goodbyes to the men of the household.

Entering the same room you met them all in before, they were all in their respective places, even Naoya. They all looked over at the two of you as the doorway slid open, Toji's hand on your waist. "We won't be staying for dinner, it's been awful, as always," Toji smirked, looking around the room but spending a little extra time on Nobito and Naoya. You smiled in faux politeness, the bright red bite mark on your next standing out like a sore thumb when you tipped your head to the side. "You think you can just use my home as some sex hotel, and leave?" Nobito asked incredulously, raising en eyebrow at Toji before taking a large swig of the alcohol. You silently prayed he would die in this moment of alcohol poisoning.

Naoya's face was bright red as he stared at the pair of you in disgust, his observant eyes picking up the bruises across Toji's neck from you stranging him in bed. "Watch us." You replied, which made a proud Toji Zenin look down at you and smile. The two of you backed up and shut the door behind you, leaving quickly without another word.

#fuck naoya #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk x reader #jjk x y/n #jujutsu kaisen x reader #gojo x reader #fushiguro toji x reader #toji fushiguro #fushiguro toji #toji x you #toji smut #jujutsu toji #jjk toji #jujutsu kaisen toji #toji zenin #toji x reader #toji x y/n #dilf toji #gojo smut #gojo satoru smut #gojo satoru #gojo satoru x reader #getou suguru smut #geto smut #sukuna smut

[taegularities]

colour me in: redraft | jjk (m)

Summary: The calm is more appreciated after a storm. Life with Jungkook proves to you that sometimes, joy can, in fact, overshadow grief. Yet, not without confronting and removing all hurdles standing in your way once and for all.

➳ pairing: Jungkook x reader ➳ rating: 18+ ➳ genre: fwb/f2l, fake dating; some tame angst, sooo much fluff, smut ➳ warnings: new relationshippppp, so much hugging and kissing, yoongi!! tae!!, tears, abandonment issues, talk about social anxiety (just briefly and nothing serious!), jungkook drops a big question :'), a surprise in the middle, a surprise near the end, and then a SURPRISE at the end lol, many surprises, they're so crazy for each other it's gross; explicit sexual content: okay – kook is wearing a chain.. this vibe :'), making out, showering together, shower sex, spanking, biting, oral (f. & m. receiving), fingering, mouth/face f*cking, mirrorssss, he likes her ass and tiddies, tears, choking, v brief ass stuff, rough and soft sex, dom and big cawk jk, vocal jk, multiple orgasms, they're simps; ALSO YEAH THE ENDING :') ➳ word count: 25.3k ➳ a/n: so when i said this chapter would be shorter… welp lol. but i still think it introduces the next arc really well. i kinda love the ending!! .. and the next part will be </3 :'''') as always beta'd by my lovely @missgeniality 🤍 i hope you guys like this one a lot. worked my ass off for this fr :') if you do, please do support the chapter and interact with me, too, it makes my day <3 ➳ listen to: i need u by yaeow | full collaborative playlist 🤍

SERIES MASTERPOST | TAGLIST MASTERLIST | WIPs | DC SERVER

Monday morning’s breakfast is awkward. Or at least, the very first minute of it.

The hands of your watch drift to 9 AM; you should’ve expected you wouldn’t be occupying the dining table alone. Your parents, sipping the last of their coffee, aren’t that much of a surprise after all.

You breathe a quiet breath of relief when their eyes dart towards your timid forms at the threshold, then back to the table. And a moment later, they’re pushing their chairs back across the marble floor before they clear the path to breakfast for the two of you.

Your father acknowledges you with a brief, polite nod on his way out, even flashing a similarly quick smile. Ingenuine, because his glance, fleeting when directed to you, is as disappointed as your Mom’s behind him.

Today, you understand. Somewhere in the depths of your recovering mind, you feel upset about shitfacing yourself so thoroughly, too.

You haven’t seen your mother in over two days. Jungkook’s post-showcase confessions brought you to Eun, and the next morning you barely scanned your room before you left for her place again.

Guess the momentary encounter in the hallway doesn’t quite count; you could hardly crack your eyes open. Combined with half the dozen naps you took in your locked room the very next day, you won’t exactly expect pride from her right now.

Until now, as she advances towards your body, you didn’t consider much of her side; you stayed focused on the other occurrences passing after sunset. Moments whose scent your sheets still carry.

As your mother comes to a stand, you prepare your vocal cords, breathing in to explain yourself until you realise that she isn’t looking at you at all. Her eyes are firmly glued to Jungkook’s face, devoid of enmity for once.

Instead, she flattens her dress, sighing through her red-tinted lips before she nods towards him and simply says, “Thank you.”

And that’s it. A little breathtaking, entirely new.

You’re dumbfounded when she leaves; Jungkook doesn’t manage a single word. You imagine that if you’re baffled, he’s probably rethinking her words to assure he didn’t hallucinate them.

But neither of you did. And the silence lingering for a couple more seconds proves the depth of reality; not that you’ll change your mind about leaving your place. But the hint of appreciation, shot directly at him is a pleasant first nevertheless.

Breakfast is patient but fast. The quiet atmosphere doesn’t derive from the night before or what your mother just left you with, but from the emotional fatigue slowly dropping off your shoulders.

Jungkook lets you feast in peace, a soft palm rubbing over the back of your hand every now and then to assure you’re okay. And you are. You’re getting used to these changes.

To this alternative to whatever you feared before. A chance to erase all words and start on a blank page; a white canvas, waiting for vibrant colours instead of monochrome gloom.

Yet, despite the tranquillity last night, still present in the air and in your aching limbs, you don’t understand the sincerity of all the confessions he uttered until you leave.

Because breathing in your car isn’t as suffocating as it was the last few weeks. Back when you’d navigate through the town alone, the passenger seat empty. Or when you plucked up the courage and drove to the showcase numbly.

Or when the pain pierced through your chest; when your drunk ass thought the world would  remain blue forever.

All of it is gone when you buckle up, shifting in your seat as you announce, “Okay. Let’s finally get you home.”

The engine roars for a moment, the car trembling, but you only register the knot in your throat when he says, “Feels so unfair of me. Having my girl drive me around so much.”

You don’t miss the endearment; neither the way your heart skips a beat.

Incapable of a proper reaction, you clear your throat and stutter, all at once and oddly in succession until you settle on a weak, “Why unfair?”

“Because. You do it a lot.”

You really do not. The night the museum closed and you dropped him off at your place was one of a few times; besides, he’s operated your vehicle more than enough before, too.

But you don’t contradict him, instead lightly suggest, “Well, you can drive if you want.”

You’re relieved when he joins your smile, dimples ever-so-sweet and genuine as he promises, “It’s fine. I’ll just stare at you.”

The shudder along your spine is delightful — relentless, he keeps your nerves alight. Perhaps he’s back to the self you knew pre-broken-hearts, playful and teasing, but the effect of his words curses through your veins hotter than ever.

“That’s creepy,” you still retort; you’ll gladly keep fighting this sweet, awkward battle against compliments for life, unaware how to handle them. “And it makes me nervous.”

“Sorry.”

Jungkook laughs, the back of two fingers reaching to your cheek to graze it featherlightly. Maybe he feels the heat beneath your skin, enhanced through his touch.

By now, you’ve spent a year with him — as a party fling, a class frenemy and a blue flower. But each second ticking away brings a new wave of soft, shy speechlessness. New honeymoon emotions.

The certainty of his reciprocated feelings, the fact that you’re finally on the same page, makes you rethink his tender confessions and touches differently. Makes you navigate the relationship differently.

His eyes drift back to the quiet, narrow street, surrounded by houses and blooming gardens. Probably as tired of the idyllic utopia as you, he doesn’t spare the suburban setting any more attention.

He only lets a flat hand rub against his thighs, nipping at his clothing as he says, “God, I can’t wait to get out of these damn joggers.”

Right. While not a main focus, you did find the special attire at breakfast today quite amusing.

“Did you even get to shower since picking me up?” you ask.

“Yeah. When you were napping again yesterday. Just gotta wash my hair later tonight.”

Hmm. You spent half your day knocked out; Jungkook could’ve circled the world and you wouldn’t have known.

“Oh. Good.”

The road proceeds straight, emptier near the suburbs. You allow a reckless glance before tackling busy streets; his eyes meet yours in curiosity, hair even messier than the night he met you in front of the bar.

When he left his apartment in joggers and an old shirt, mane untamed and no extra clothing at hand, he probably didn’t expect to abandon his place for so long. It gives you solace that he doesn’t regret it.

You drop the million memories of yesterday’s sunset burning into your eyes and everything that introduced it. The drunk words and the begging.

And then drop everything that followed afterwards; more pleading, more touching, more confessions that were in no way uttered through inebriate but not quite through sobriety either.

“What are you thinking about?” he asks.

You drop all the remembrances to focus on the moment; just to make sure that it’s real. So you ask, “Why didn’t you wash your hair there, too?”

For a moment, you see a flicker in his eyes, short-lived and quick; and his answer shoots out even more rapidly, “Just so.”

He emphasises his admission with a shrug of his shoulder, but it’s not nearly as convincing as he anticipates. Not buying a word, you push again, “C’mon.”

“I swear.”

“I’m curious now, though.”

There’s a momentary drop of silence before Jungkook hums, thinking as though he’s crafting a plausible excuse. Then, he says, “I didn’t wanna be away for too long.”

“…Why?”

“Why would I want to be?”

Ah…

Hmm. Well, maybe that’s enough for now.

Maybe he’s still not used to laying his secrets open. Maybe you need to practise patience, too, and stop digging like that.

You know that’s not all there is, but you certainly understand that it’s not a lie after all. Despite the pause and the obvious way his brain racked for a reason, his tone is genuine. You’ve experienced his insecurities before — that’s not what it was this time.

So you focus on the steering wheel instead, turning it left and away from the truck you drove way too close to. Your distraction might kill you — right there, next to you, clearing his throat and sitting up.

“Oh,” he says, segueing, and you let him, “wait, I forgot. Could we stop by at Yoongi’s for a sec? I wanted to see how he’s been doing.”

An abrupt change in topics, but not too abstract. As someone merely acquainted with the man, you’ve been collecting info on his state from Jimin; of course Jungkook would drop by personally.

You take a look at your digital watch; it’s barely ten and you don’t need to get away before 10:45. Taehyung agreed to meet with you to accompany you to your new potential flat again, so you should have time for a detour.

But.

“Is he…” you start, “gonna be okay with me being there?”

“Why?”

“I mean, just ‘cause… You know. We weren’t the closest for a while.”

Jungkook’s forehead wrinkles in new perplexion, muttering a few words. It takes a couple seconds — but eventually, he figures out that you’re not referring to Yoongi and yourself, and his expression changes immediately.

To subtle pain, you’d guess, like he doesn’t want to relive the memory. Like it never happened; like you weren’t two pieces of the same shattered heart this entire time.

But then he sighs, a hand wandering to your thigh. He kneads it softly, as a reminder to himself and to you that the past isn’t transpiring right now; that you’ve finally breathed and waded through it.

His optimism is encouraging when he says, “Nah. He thinks you’re cool.”

“I guess,” you mumble. You tap the steering wheel nervously, lips in a thin line before you add a hushed, “And if not, that’s alright, isn’t it? Like, hey, as long as you like me? Yeah, I shouldn’t overthink it…”

Jungkook releases air through his nose. You perceive a subtle shake of his head, as if to scold you, hear him say earnestly but gently, “Don’t worry about me. I don’t just like you.”

And whether casual or not, his words engulf your body immediately, like a soothing warm touch across your chest, yet effectively freezing your beating heart in place.

You can’t pinpoint whether the weight of his own words ever affects him as much as it affects you, or whether harbouring these emotions has become a familiar habit to him. At least to you, his tone is conversational and promising, perhaps even subliminally reassuring.

“At the very least,” he continues, “he’ll never disapprove of you the way Jimin disapproves of me.”

Which… snaps you back into reality for a second.

Your friend’s name is connected to more than mere dislike for the man next to you; currently, you think of dark nights and lamp-lit streets. After-midnight shenanigans and near tears in your own car, driven by the man who broke and mended your heart.

It reminds you of a blurry picture; two guys standing near an entrance, the older of them patting the other’s shoulder; smiling at him.

You do wonder if it was a fabrication of your mind.

“Forget Jimin,” you tell Jungkook, speech broken when you take another left and resumed when broader streets start. “Also. He did say he’s growing fond of you.”

“Because you like me. I still need to prove my worth to him.”

You tut.

“Kook, you don’t need to do anything. He’ll come around eventually. Just be you.”

“It’s fine, honestly.” He leans in, nudging your elbow, echoing you with a teasing undertone as he says, “As long as you like me.”

You love it when the initial nature of your relationship breaks through the mist of newfound passion; when you find the foundation of what you were, remembering how you landed here.

Which is why you bite back a laugh the moment you suppress a sassy, teasing remark, as if on reflex. One steer shy from pulling into a parking lot, you breathe out. If you halted here now, you’d kiss him, you’re sure.

But you merely laugh, squinting your eyes as you say, “You’re okay.”

Yoongi’s apartment, now inhabited by only one instead of two people, lies a couple miles from the campus. Jungkook guides you through the streets, jumping from one harmless topic to another — you reach his friend’s place a lot faster than you expected.

The building stands at a quiet place, surrounded by mid-high trees that give the grey colour of the complex a bit of liveliness. You walk to the entrance laughing about something stupid, a subtle nudge of his shoulder here, you pushing against his arm there.

But despite the familiarity and whatever occurred last weekend, it’s still odd jumping into the girlfriend role just yet. The word itself won’t even roll off your tongue very easily so far because you can’t believe a thing about this new reality.

So your hand dangles next to his awkwardly. Your thoughts keep drifting, registering half his sentence at times. What-if situations of gentle kisses and upcoming nights spent together tighten your chest.

Jungkook’s speech is clear and fluent, so you don’t know what your impact on him is exactly. At least he’s made sure you do have one on him — but you still wish you had a map through his mind to understand every thought he houses for you. Every emotion.

On the way up you feel a little dizzy; whether it’s due to the circular shape of the staircase or his proximity, you don’t know. You only realise that something’s still bothering you when you’re halfway up, coming to a halt with one foot on the next step.

“Okay, seriously,” you say, and he turns to you immediately, puzzled as he drops to the same level as you. Close to you.

“What?”

“You said you didn’t wanna leave,” you repeat, still stuck on the hair washing and staying longer thought, “why not?”

The answer could be simple. Could be rooted in emotions and the confessions you later uttered — but there must be something more. You saw it in the brief feeling flashing across his eyes, sitting in the passenger’s seat with silence sealing his lips.

Maybe something happened… because something always happens.

“You’re still thinking about that?” Jungkook questions, eyes wide in disbelief; lips pouting.

“No secrets, right?”

This seems to snap him out of all mysteries, last night’s conversation travelling to the forefront of his mind. But something about your curiosity amuses him. He wraps the fingers of his left hand around the staircase reeling, head dropping with a delicate smile.

His hair hides his eyes, but you know they’re sparkling; voice a mild drizzle when he starts, “It’s…” He draws in, inked digits touching your elbow before moving up your arm absentmindedly. “Don’t worry so much. It’s nothing harmful at all.”

You wait. Let his thumb graze your neck, up to your chin.

He sighs, almost exasperated in a way. “You speak in your sleep, you know?”

Wait. What?

You blink, thoughts disoriented. The staircase is dimly lit, but you recognise the slight upward curve of his lips; more empathetic than teasing.

So you still do?

“Huh?” you make.

“I think you dreamed of waking up a couple times? You hadn’t, though, and it’d always be something about being alone again.”

Again.

The word reverberates through your mind, dragging and stretching. Didn’t you once read that a broken heart is akin to serious rehab, accompanied by withdrawal symptoms and slowly healing scars?

You guess your heart was hurting more than you already knew.

“Okay,” you say, nodding when he does, thumb lifting your head when you drop it. You swallow thickly. “What did I say exactly?”

He shrugs one shoulder. “I don’t know anymore. Something about me leaving. And I was scared of waking you up while gone ‘cause you’d actually think I’d left.”

You hum. Allow yourself a moment to process the info; you seek out fragments of your dreams, but you draw a blank. You feel guilty about his concerns, yet relieved. Vulnerable. And somewhat reassured.

“I’m sorry,” you finally say.

Your voice is barely above a whisper — less because of the conversation. More because of the touch on your cheek. It’s soft against your skin, and you shiver. The flutter in your chest is only just bearable.

That’s the thing about falling in love. It’s sweet — so much sometimes that it twists your guts. You’re in so deep, you could hurl.

“Nah. You don’t need to worry about this anymore, okay?” he murmurs.

His eyes dig into yours. Dark and shiny through his healthy tresses, livelier than ever. Sincere. 

You, on the other hand, must look unconvinced without intending to, because his mouth aligns with yours soon after.

He exhales, tilting his head, and says, “Look,” leans in, leaves a featherlight kiss against your cheek, right next to his thumb, “I mean it.”

Guess being with him comes with occasional mental blackouts. And regular arrhythmia. The palpitations behind your ribs are almost ridiculous; instead of gripping your own chest, you grasp his shirt immediately.

Lightly, as if you could collapse without this anchor.

He lets you pull him closer just a little, whispering as if someone could hear, “What’s wrong?”

Vulnerability hidden, you blink again, and joke, “Nothing. Just thought you were gonna kiss me.”

Jungkook smiles. His nose brushes against yours, toying a bit, and his bunny teeth make him look somewhat younger when he voices, “You want me to kiss you?”

“I always do.”

Your grin is playful, but your heart is pounding in your chest. Who would’ve thought the journey from a car to an apartment could be so long, so thrilling?

His snicker is gentle and canorous, knees careful against yours. Your heartbeat accelerates some more, rose-tinted lips opting towards their goal. You part your mouth, ready with a deep breath.

But the two of you are always subject to disturbances — so you’re disappointed but not surprised when you hear rushed steps on top of the staircase, strolling down and crossing your path just when Jungkook backs away.

The stranger passes by you with initial surprise in his eyes, not expecting you, but soon gets over it and drops his gaze again. And once he’s gone, Jungkook winks, a hand on your back pushing you forward gently.

“Later,” he says.

You know as you ascend the stairs.

Know that with the ease with which you handle your feelings for each other, you’ll strive towards a future where you won’t be haunted by dreams of being alone. Where you won’t fear his departure, and where his kisses won’t be interrupted by this cruel world.

The building reminds you of when you’d frequent the dorm you used to know. The walls and hallways are similarly built, narrow and somewhat cheap. They look like most buildings from the inside do, honestly, but you like the pleasant illusion the nostalgia brings.

Even the bathrooms are located near the end of the hallways; Jungkook once told you that Tae and Yoongi have their own kitchen, unlike him back when he still housed his dorm. But there’s a communal bathroom here, too; allegedly one reason why Tae moved out.

The only thing that separates this place from Jungkook’s old dorm is the subtle difference in scent. Not pure testosterone.

You smile.

The mood doesn’t match with what you felt back in June at all.

Back when you stomped to Jungkook’s dorm, furious about yet another insignificant issue, you didn’t think your fingers would ever be brushing his like they are now. Or when you escaped the rain and entered the building’s warmth, your umbrella leaving behind a trail of raindrops.

Your relationships, your priorities, your emotions. Your universe changed faster than the seasons.

As you walk past a random door, Jungkook cranes his neck, staring as if he could x-ray-glare a hole into it and glance at what lays behind it. Perhaps he’s thinking back, too.

You don’t know about all the things he experienced throughout the years there. Part of your heart stings because you remember you weren’t the only girl who ever frequented his place.

But you still left an impression — if the current status of your relationship isn’t proof of it, then the sudden touch along the back of your hand certainly is. A thumb following a vein blindly, opting to grasp your palm into his, yet retracting when you finally come to a stand.

The digit caressing your skin lifts to the door, and his knuckles knock three times, rhythmically. Your chest constricts as you jump back into the moment, probably half as nervous as you’d be if you met Jungkook’s parents.

A moment stretches as you wait for Yoongi to open, allowing yourself just another spiralling thought as you imagine actually daring a meeting with Jungkook’s parents. It’s too early to think about it, isn’t it?

It’s just.

Since yesterday, you’ve created a dozen different scenarios in your head, ranging from a civil, calm conversation with his father to a full snap. Half of you wants to know his genuine thoughts on his son’s sorrows; the other half wants to rage and then bolt away.

Ugh.

When the door swings open, your hand flashes to Jungkook’s. A startled instinct, even though nothing about the action was surprising or scary. But he doesn’t mind — of course he doesn’t.

His eyes rush to yours for a second, warm and somewhat thrilled, his smile permanent. And then he looks back at his friend, quietly squeezing your palm, the shy smile soft as he greets, “You’re walking without clutches, huh?”

Yoongi doesn’t respond right away. He looks from Jungkook to you and back. His gaze isn’t very telling, but you find amusement in it. If you weren’t so ridiculously and inexplicably nervous about his upcoming statement, you’d laugh.

Intently, he grants a peek at your entwined hands, and when he looks at the two of you again, he starts…

Smiling.

Gummies all out, a tiny laugh thrown in between before he says, “Ohoho. You’re here, too?”

The smile turns into a sly grin, a hand clutching the frame of the door. You guess he’s not as balanced after all. Possibly just abandoned his clutches for the short way from the couch to the door.

“I can totally go,” you tell him, the teasing tone missing; soft and small instead.

“Why in the world would you?” Yoongi steps aside carefully, nodding the two of you inside. You oblige, hearing his voice behind you jest, “Now, would you look at that. Did I do that?”

Jungkook automatically drops on the chair at the tiny dining table, like he’s arrived home, and you follow; make yourself comfortable on the seat next to him. There are three chairs, as though carefully chosen for the pair of friends who used to live together and a guest.

Next to you, Jungkook huffs, leaning back as he watches his friend plop onto the chair in front of him, and asks, “How would you’ve done that?”

“Well, you guys gathered at the hospital because of me.”

Right. Good point.

If he just knew how that night played out. Actually, you think he just might, yet not quite aware of its severity.

“Not because of you,” Jungkook promises, “I just charmed her again.”

You laugh. So does Yoongi.

He isn’t irritated or taken aback by the younger’s boldness; in truth, he seems entertained. Arms crossed, eyes small and grin wide. He half mocks, “The young ones are charming for sure these days.”

“Spoken like a true Grandpa,” Jungkook remarks. You press your lips into a thin line, but with a faint smile. You only listen; you’re in the territory of two friends who spend their time roasting each other. You’re not on that level yet, so you observe. “But I had to.”

“You had to, huh?” you joke. Okay, observation broken. Your body tilts towards him. “You didn’t need any of your charm for… this. But still good to know.”

Because you would’ve been putty in his hands, no matter what — charm or not.

"Can confirm," Yoongi agrees, nodding towards his friend, "that he was also a proper mess the last couple weeks. Very out of character."

Your eyes roll to the side to catch a glimpse of him, but the moment you detect the rosy dust on Jungkook's cheeks, you avert your gaze immediately.

Admittedly, the guilt in the middle of your chest is undeniable. But there's comfort in knowing you were never the only half who was deeply, perpetually falling.

Yoongi scratches his temple, doesn't meet your eyes; possibly shy when it comes to conversations like these. But he sounds warm and gentle when he says, "I'm really glad you guys are back."

You’re similarly timid, feeling strange. As if someone’s congratulating you on a fresh marriage. Or maybe that’s just the emotion you want, need to feel.

You say, “Thanks.” And then, ever-so-terrible with compliments, add a little, “Let’s say it was you. Double thank you to the man of the hour.”

Yoongi pulls a grimace hitherto unseen; it doesn’t faze Jungkook, but the Joker-esque grin and wide-eyed nod have you bursting into laughter. His friends are pleasant, you think.

If there was a way to lure Jimin in and convince him of this group’s collective appeal, you wouldn’t hesitate. There’s only a limited time you want him to play the petty, protective friend.

“So, how have you been?” Jungkook eventually asks.

Yoongi rubs the corner of his eye, stretching his injured leg under the table, “Never better. The bank is surviving without me. Besides, I haven’t gotten around to making some music in a while.”

“Tae did tell me you were enjoying your days off.”

Jungkook reacts with a tiny chuckle, but your eyes widen. You let him finish his sentence, and then spit, “Wait, wait. You make music?”

“Oh, I mean… I’m not any good,” he explains, wiggling a hand, a little startled as if he forgot you didn’t know yet. “I just. Make a few beats every now and then and write my own bars and stuff.”

“Wait, rap?” You stare between the boys, to and fro, only a little offended that you didn’t know you had a brooding future musician in your midst. “Can I hea—”

“No.” The answer is immediate. You pout. “Before you ask, I am way too much of a coward.”

“He’s amazing,” Jungkook intrudes.

And you whine, “Unfair, Yoongi.”

He imitates your expression, leaning back, copying your stance, and answers in the same childlike tone, “Warm up to me first! I’ll show it to you one day.”

“One day I’m gon’st hear it,” you declare, overly dramatic with your chin up, “you have my taste in music, you know? I know I’ll like it.”

“Don’t tempt me.”

“I can try.”

Yoongi blows a raspberry. You’re not sure what you expected; maybe subtle hostility. But the sense of casual camaraderie is refreshing; lounging comfortably in his living room was a picture far from your mind until now, and you think he enjoys the unforeseen gathering, too.

Because after a moment of stillness, a faint smile touches his lips, his voice back to normal and deep as he remarks, “It’s nice that you guys came. I get bored here a lot.”

Right. You kept wondering.

You don’t dive into the matter immediately, instead drenching your voice in a teasing lilt, “Even though Jimin visits you?”

“Shut up.” Mock exasperation rolls his eyes as Jungkook appreciates your joke, one foot pressing against yours under the table. “No. It’s just been lonely since Tae moved out. It’s a two people thing with two bedrooms.”

He shrugs his shoulders, attention fully on you. Jungkook either doesn’t have much to say or doesn’t want to interrupt. Only listens.

“Living here alone feels like I’m wasting space and money,” Yoongi finishes.

Curiosity piqued, you probe, “What did Tae say when he left?”

“He offered to let me move in with him. But that’d be pointless.”

“Why so?”

“He’s awesome for offering, but I think he wanted his own place, you know? Why would I intrude then? But I did tell him I’d look for another place.”

“Have you been?” you ask. You still remember how happy Taehyung looked last time you met him alone.

How he spoke so highly of a life on his own, gladly interrupted by the occasional visits Eun granted him. Yoongi, you think, would probably benefit from acquiring his own place, too — one that doesn’t remind him that someone left him behind, inhabiting a vacant space thought for two.

“Every now and then,” Yoongi admits. “Will think about it some more once my leg’s healed.”

You nod in understanding, a thoughtful hum escaping your lips. Yoongi soon leans forward, naked arms on top of the table, and delves into a discussion about the rising costs of rent.

He outlines the challenges of finding the right place in the bustling city, and explains his worries about the empty space in a too-large apartment. And you listen intently.

But as minutes pass, you can’t help but notice the contemplative silence Jungkook has fallen into.

It’s always the same with him — thoughts you can’t read, questions you need to postpone.

Because you do glance over at him, observe the distracted furrow of his brow, the distant look in his eyes. You understand he’s once again lost in unknown thoughts, and you sense how jumbled his mind must be.

But you still decide to hold off for the moment, out of respect for the ongoing conversation. You don’t focus on addressing his apparent preoccupation until it keeps going until later, way after you’ve bid Yoongi goodbye.

“Why do you seem so reserved?” you ask in the car, his home your new destination.

It must be around quarter past ten; you should still be able to meet Tae within half an hour. Yet, despite the brooding rush, you can’t help but wanna drag out the ride, finish this conversation.

“Hm?” he voices.

Did he not hear you? Maybe.

You sigh, seeking an available parking spot. You’ve already turned into his street, way past the park, halting close to his entrance. The engine dies, sudden silence inside the vehicle.

“Okay,” you turn towards him, forearm against the wheel. “You’re a lot less enthusiastic now. What’s up?”

He looks distracted. Drags his teeth over his full, pink lower lip hard enough for you to repeat, “Hey. What’s wrong?”

“Uh.” Cue big boba eyes flitting to you. “I was just. Thinking about something.”

“Wanna share?”

“Yeah. Yeah, uhm. I swear I’m not trying to be mysterious, just. Not sure how to phrase it.”

He’s easing himself into this whole thing. The entire opening up act and being fearless with his feelings. So you don’t push him, but encourage, “Try. If not now, then maybe later, though?”

“No, no. Now is fine.” He frees his eyes off the dark bangs when he shakes his head a little, preparing to voice his hidden thoughts. Then, he breathes, “Yeah, so…”

One more second.

And.

“What if you dropped your plans of moving into that apartment?”

Oh. What?

Does he mean what you think he means…

There are only two options, right? And you choose to go with the one that would embarrass you less if it turned out wrong.

“Should I… do you think I should stay with my family?” you ask, your voice cautious.

But when his hands shoot up, immediately denying your assumption with round eyes, you breathe out through your nose. Relieved when he clarifies, “No, not at all. I mean, it’s up to you, but that’s not what I meant.”

So then…

“So you’re saying—”

He interrupts, rushing before he can back down, “Move in with me. And Yoongi could take the apartment you were considering.”

Fuck. 

You didn’t expect your heart to jump up to your throat like that. It’s a day full of brief heart failures. You barely know how to react anymore.

You stare. Then stare a bit more. And eventually, you simply ask, “Really?”

“Yeah, I mean…” He gulps, averting your gaze all of a sudden before it lands back on yours. You chuckle quietly, unprompted, and it boosts his confidence. “You stayed at mine for days and it worked. It could… you know— keep working.”

The suggestion lingers like a fresh breeze, grazing your cheeks and twirling around you like a soothing force. He beams — though subtle, he seems to interpret the simultaneous rise of your eyebrows and your lips immediately.

Still, he inquires, “I don’t know… too soon?”

Technically yes. But then again, no. Because he’s right — you’ve already experienced a piece of heaven, tasted the bliss of domesticity with Jeon Jungkook.

“You really are serious about this, yeah?”

“Only if you want me to be,” he counters, less tense than before, but a hand rubbing in nervous circles over his knee, “if not, then I was absolutely joking.”

An awkward, little chortle fills the small space of the car; you shake your head, teeth out and smile bright. There’s sweetness in knowing that his affection is real. That the thought of shared future pains, joys and days — that it’s all actually become so unbelievably real.

The car is cool in the shadow, but you feel a strange heat coursing through your body. At the end of the street, you see the sunlight brighten the moment he laughs. Fitting.

The crinkly eye smile softens when he reaches for your hand, pulling it off the wheel and wrapping it in his. There’s an automatic reaction in your chest, a constant racing when he says, “I mean it, though.”

Brief pause. He looks down to your fingers.

“I think I got used to having you there. And then, at Yoongi’s I had this… I don’t know, overwhelming urge to tell you. That,” his teeth worry his lip, releasing it softly, “I want you next to me for as long as possible.”

You understand.

He means every minute that society and norms don’t force you out of the house. At nights and in the mornings, on off days and holidays. To fall asleep next to his presence, to wake up on the same mattress, too.

And the longing is undeniable; you know that it is. But you’re already swamped with decisions as it is — could you call off the apartment right here, right now? Rethink all you discussed with the landlord, Taehyung or yourself?

Life decisions are harder than that, and despite all the wants infiltrating your body, you can’t dive into this without a couple more following thoughts.

You keep gazing into his smouldering eyes, more intense when he looks up. Let their effect send a thrill down your spin, a surge of yearning through your veins. 

And then, you acknowledge the need for prudence. You savour the moment, let the anticipation built, and flash a sultry smile to ensure that, yes, if not now, then one damn day, I’ll be yours entirely.

“I don’t think I’ve ever wanted anything to work more than this,” you admit, “but I need to—”

You halt. Words come hard to you these days; and the two of you are sensitive. It’s not easy to reunite after weeks of overthinking and distance; and you don’t want to provide more reasons to overthink.

But you forget that as sensitive as Jungkook is, he’s just as understanding and gentle, too.

Because he says, “You need to think. And I know you can’t just pack your things and move over, I just— I wanted it out there.”

“I know. I know.”

“And I,” he continues, “I actually thought you were gonna say no right away since you’re getting out of your childhood home just now, so naturally, you would wanna be alone for a while and—”

You lean forward, pulling your hands out of his grip. His eyes shoot down, baffled and confused, but you don’t give him a second to think or speak. In a moment’s notice, his cheeks are squished between your palms, his bunny face now akin to a duck.

“I don’t want to be alone. I’ve been alone all my life,” you tell him; Jungkook eyebrows furrow in empathy and worry, but you smile, “I don’t wanna be anymore.”

His expression and voice are dorky when he speaks, first words incomprehensible. You let go, watching the red splotches on his cheek, and he repeats, “Is that a yes?”

“It’s… I don’t know. A to be continued.”

“I’ll live with that.”

You don’t know if it’s the electrifying prospect of a life together or the confidence he follows his statement up with, but the insanity burns wild in your head. Untamed and dizzying.

“And I’ll wait for however long.”

“I didn’t even ask, I’m sorry… but are you starting work later today?”

You stand in the middle of Taehyung’s living room, a hand over your eyes to protect them from the bright sunlight. He’s busy piling the saucers and the cups, and you wait as he drags a vocal in thought.

“No, no. I’m off today.” He stands, and you automatically walk the short distance to the kitchen, lingering at the door frame. “Need the afternoon for an appointment at the doc. So yeah.”

“Oh. Everything okay?”

He doesn’t speak yet, dishes in the wash basin too loud. They clink and rattle; the moment you’ll move to an apartment by yourself, you’ll have to wash them yourself, too.

Maybe you can make your place as aesthetically pleasing and beige as Taehyung did. You don’t know — you couldn’t imagine much today nor discuss further details about the contract and rent and general house rules.

The landlord bailed on you last second. And Taehyung sacrificed over an hour that he could’ve spent keeping Eun company between her morning lessons.

You apologised the second you entered his apartment instead, thankful for the invitation to tea, yet harbouring guilt for wasting his time. But Taehyung proved incredibly kind, waving off your concerns immediately.

He asked, playfully offended, “So you’re saying a tea party with me is a waste of time?” And then he laughed, immediately shaking his head, “Nah. It’s fine. Am glad someone finally prefers tea over coffee, too.”

So now you’re here.

“Yeah, just a check up,” Taehyung answers, “vamps drew my blood and will tell me today if it’s good or not.”

“Interesting way to refer to doctors,” you admit, backing away when he leads you to the exit. You need to be at work in forty minutes tops. “Good then.”

He hands you your blazer, silent for a moment before he says, “Talking about feeling unwell.” You look up, arm halfway through the blazer’s sleeve. “What were you doing getting shitfaced like that?”

“Uhm…”

Word travels fast. Your cheeks heat up, fingers curling into fists. You smack your lips, letting out a tiny laugh, and ask, “Eun told you, huh?”

“Mhm. Scolded her for taking you to the bar and leaving you alone.”

You sigh.

You should’ve guessed that she’d tattle. And of course you might appear like the helpless, heartbroken girl, seeking comfort in alcohol, dark clubs and blue neon lights. It’s a little embarrassing, actually.

“Kook was there, though,” you defend.

“I know. I called when he was still at your place.”

Huh? What else did he do when you were asleep? Painted a Louvre-ripe masterpiece, probably.

Taehyung decodes the dozen questions in your stare, tumbling until his back leans against the wall. He explains, “We just talked for a sec. He sounded worried, so I didn’t prod too much. Just don’t do these things anymore, okay?”

Huh…

You can imagine it well. Partly because you remember the way he looked at you that night: distressed beyond belief, giving you soft orders, insisting on help everywhere — the car, the shower, the bed.

But also because you know him.

And you don’t think you needed to see him in those very moments to know he must’ve brushed through his silky hair. Must’ve looked through your room, gaze stopping over your sleeping figure.

Voice strained on the phone, yawning, shaking his head because he must have been a little mad at you, but comforted that you were resting, too.

You remember the tone of his voice, soft as a piano tune but saddened nonetheless.

”What did you drink? You’re… in such a bad state.”

You shake the words off. God, he was there for you more than you’ll ever know.

You say, “That’s nice, though, Tae… I didn’t think you’d ever get so worried about me.”

“Hey. You’re still my friend,” he promises.

He’s possibly been the only person throughout this entire ordeal to not be pissed at you or annoyed by you. You never doubted that he still liked you.

“I might not know you inside out like Eun or Jungkook do, but you’re part of this group. So naturally, you’re important, too.”

You push your hands into the pockets of the blazer, gripping the car keys inside. Bashfully, you smile. His sincerity pumps warmth through you; it’s crazy how good belonging somewhere, to someone, can actually feel.

It’s refreshing. New. 

“Wow,” you murmur, shuffling your feet, “thank you.”

“You’re glowing, you know. That’s nice.”

“Am I?”

He nods. “I can’t wait to see him glow either. A couple weeks were a couple too long.”

Those couple weeks felt like someone ripped out the hands of time, keeping them from moving. Your brain aged faster in that time, deep in a bottomless abyss. You don’t want to experience it again.

And you don’t want to imagine Jungkook in the same pit again. Looking for you, but bumping against walls, painted with his past that made him stumble back instead of pulling him forwards.

Your eyes trail down the hallway, looking at the small paintings and decorations on the wall. You take in the furniture, inhale the pleasant colours. Imagine his living room in its entirety, the sunlight seeping through the windows. Curtains pushed aside.

Your apartment could be like this, too.

But.

“Tae,” you begin. You wrap your fingers around your rattling car key; lick your lips. “Do you think I’d like it here?”

“Hmmm,” he voices, gazing down as if he could look past the parquet floor and to where your potential apartment stands nearly empty. “Yeah. I mean, I like to think so, because I’m very happy here.”

He stops abruptly, the tone of the last syllable not matching a sentence’s end. You wait as he smiles a little, creating a thought, “But you could be happy somewhere else, too. Happier even.”

His words hang in the air, a sense of both possibility and uncertainty tangible. You were wanting to venture into this new chapter of your life with hope, but also with trepidation.

Suburban areas are nice, but you opted for the heart of the city — the vibrant tapestry of dreams and opportunities. You didn’t expect the journey to be fraught with sudden doubts.

The best thing, however, is that doubts and dilemmas never seemed this… tempting.

You tell him, “There’s always a place that makes people happier, for everyone.”

“Yeah,” he said, voice tinged with wisdom. “Only, some people already know of it, and some keep searching for it.”

“And I am—”

You pause, anticipating for him to finish the sentence; he responds, “You gotta know.” There’s a playful twinkle in his eyes, support and acknowledgment hiding right behind — matching his words, “I’d be bummed if you didn’t become my neighbour, but. Also just happy you guys are happy.”

Too kind for this world.

In your endearment, you laugh, suddenly stepping forward for a brief, thankful hug. A silent gesture of gratitude for his friendship, no matter how shallow or new.

The people you surround yourself with offer endless reassurance, and you’re lacking the words to express your appreciation.

“Thank you, Tae. Eun’s right when she praises your constant respect for other people, you know?”

Taehyung, maybe a little perplexed, brings a hand to your back, patting gently as he states, “No worries. The worst is over.”

You hope so. God, you genuinely hope so.

You pull back, tucking your hair behind your ear and bid him goodbye with one last nod. Taehyung closes the door behind you with a humorous thumbs up, and you grin before it’s silent in the hallway again.

There’s a tiny window outside, overlooking the street down there and the cars flitting by. The area isn’t as peaceful as Jungkook’s — more lively and noisy. You can see the city’s river if you look far enough.

And as you step closer to the glass, you envision your own apartment again. You imagine the soft glow of the lamp before you go to sleep. The comfortable couch you want to plant in the back of the living room, curling up with work or your laptop or a cup of hot chocolate.

You picture the view of the city as you step to your open window, glancing out as the steam of your beverage swirls in the evening air. Contemplating the world outside.

But then you start rethinking Jungkook’s words, too. The idea of belonging and happiness, of domesticity and what could be.

And at last, you visualise what it’d be like if you didn’t see any of this — the lively street, the river in the distance. Wonder how you’d feel if the horizon looked different.

If you stared out and saw a different canvas instead.

The changes in your life are drastic in some way, but Jungkook always stays the same.

Your house lies quiet most of the time; as days pass, you frequent your room, then drop by in the living room, greeting the staff, grabbing dinner and retracting back to your beloved bed.

Jungkook’s apartment, baby-sized compared to your place, allows a much livelier atmosphere. Maybe because you don’t need to yell for him to hear you from another room. Or maybe because it’s just the two of you.

Perhaps even because you find solace in the couch, in the smaller smart TV in front of it, the glass table, the carpet, the homely furniture in general. The scent reminds you of wood, but you connect it with him, too.

It’s different from the room you grew up in. Different from the luxurious chimney and marble you’ve seen all your life.  And you must admit that you enjoy it a lot more, too.

One of the few reasons why your mood changes from exhausted to merry the moment you knock at his door on Thursday. He was expecting you, because when he opens, he beckons you inside immediately, pulling you in and planting a generous kiss on your cheek.

A smooching sound accompanies it, his foot closing the door as he suggests, “Dinner first or TV?”

“Shoes.” You laugh. You slip out of your thin jacket before tackling your snickers quickly, your clothes suddenly itchy and uncomfortable. “Shoes first, and then shower? Can I?”

“Yeah, of course.”

It’s not the first time that you’d be doing it. But there’s still something new and pure about this new chapter of your life; one that comes with polite questions and reinventing reality, apparently.

Redrafting life as you knew it and striving towards something better.

“I knew it, actually,” he says, forefinger wiggling, “I put a fresh towel on the washing machine. Also had a handful of your shirts here, so there’s one of those on the towel, too. And my joggers… Sorry, you left none of those, uhm—”

He’s started walking ahead, scratching behind his ear, but when he notices you not following, he looks over his shoulder. Blinks at you, staring into his living room and back, innocent voice unsure, “Come?”

“Yeah. Yeah, just— you didn’t have t—”

“I know,” he interrupts, breathing a sigh in faux frustration, “I know I never have to. But I figured you’d wanna shower.”

“…Thank you, Kook.”

You wish you could say more; express your gratitude the way you want to. At least your body is jubilating, craving the hot steam of the shower. Starving further for some peace when you step into the bathroom and detect the neatly placed clothing.

Jungkook halts at the door, gripping its frame, a little shy as if you didn’t breathe each other in for the last couple of weeks and months. He’s looking at you, waiting for something, and when you raise an eyebrow in curiosity, he snaps out of whatever daydream he was in.

“Oh. Right,” he mumbles, cheeks flushed, “sorry. I’ll leave. Can heat up the food. Or, or do you wanna order in?”

“Anything’s fine.” He nods. Opts to walk away, big hand flattening his hair at the back. It takes a moment for your heart to riot as you watch him leave, immediately babbling, “Actually. I was—”

Returning within a moment, he looks alarmed. Less so when you point a thumb to the shower and suggest, “Do you wanna join?”

“You in the shower?”

No, doofus. Join to watch the washing machine unsoil your sweaty clothes.

You clear your throat. “Yeah?”

“I uhm… Is that okay?”

Goddamn. Redrafting life as you knew it, you said.

You just didn’t expect the two of you to still tip-toe around each other. Seems you still have a lot of adjusting to do.

You try to break the ice.

“Acting like I’ve never seen you naked.”

“No, I know,” he responds, “I was just thinking that you…”

You can’t quite decrypt what he’s trying to say, but you do perceive the flash of concern in his eyes. It’s a tiny glimpse, barely there; but you see it. And you think about it.

Try to understand, let moments pass — until you’ve grasped his thinking.

The night he helped you clean up was the last time you stood under a showerhead together; maybe he thinks you’re still connecting it to the night’s trauma or borderline dangerous intoxication. And perhaps you’re wrong.

But you still take a breath, and then segue, “Already took a shower, didn’t you?”

You know he did. He’s addicted to cleanliness, sensitive to scents; he hoards diffusers, skin care products and new underwear like a treasure. And showering is always the first thing he goes for, a beeline to the bathroom after work out sessions and intense summer days.

You follow up with, “It’s okay, if you did. I’ll just go alone and hurry to dinner, then?”

“No, no… No, it’s fine.” He starts his sentence fast, but slows down halfway through, awkwardly. “Of course I can join. What’s some extra refreshment, right?”

“That’s the reason, huh?” you mock, laughing when he shrugs his shoulder. “Keep acting like you’re not the biggest simp around.”

Your confidence boosts his own, too. The signature smile is soft, lips curved gorgeously, but the subtone of his words is teasing, and even a little cocky.

“Of course. I know, I know.”

“Come then.”

You offer a stretched hand, curling your fingers in and outwards, and he places his warm palm into it like a key to a lock. Albeit tense and nervous, your body feels good next to his. The telltale awkward signs of a new relationship don’t deter you from indulging in its sweetness.

So you’re not surprised at how quickly you undress, throwing each other’s clothes at the back of the washing machine and planting kisses whenever one of you bares their shoulder. Eyeing each other from bottom to top.

You think you ogle for a moment too long, though — and how could you not with the freaking silver chain dangling from his neck?

An exciting evening lies ahead, you can already tell.

It’s fresher now outside, and all of Jungkook’s windows are open. Despite the cosiness of the bathroom, you rush under the hot shower stream.

Only, it’s not as boiling as you’d like it to be. Jungkook starts and finishes his showers ice cold, so you screech when you meet water from the Antarctic. You jump on your spot, arms around your torso.

And when you allow yourself one single glance at him amidst the breathlessness, you notice that the asshole is doing it on purpose. Same old. Rouses core memories.

Jungkook wipes over your hair and your face, drenching them thoroughly. You only realise he’s smudged your mascara when he starts rubbing underneath your eyes gently, managing to get some of it off.

“Fuck,” you curse, “I forgot about that. Should I take it off first?”

The intention is to slip out, use one of his cleansing skin products and get the mess out of your face before stepping back to him. But you don’t make it far anyway; he yanks you back before your foot can even touch the mat.

And then, the moment passes in a blur.

Tense body back against his, he tugs you close. Holds both your wrists in front of your breasts, leaning in without a warning, and then — connects his dripping lips with yours.

If there was any space to gasp, you would. Instead, your fingers instantly dig into your hand, sharp nails scarring the skin. You move your fists, trying to touch him, but he holds you in place firmly.

That is, until his digits relax, trailing up your shoulder to your neck, jaw and then to your cheeks. Face in your grip, you let him control the pace. You find an anchor in his bicep, holding on; kissing isn’t enough.

You wish he could eat you up. Wish the tongue finally touching yours, swirling around it, was everywhere on your skin at once.

You feel a slight twitch underneath, right against your body; ready to devour, hopefully soon to explode. But Jungkook gasps for air when his lungs give out, allowing a break, backing away with your face still between his hands.

And then, he utters something surprising — something you didn’t expect in the heat of the moment at all.

“I was meaning to tell you something.”

“…Oh?”

“I’m uh. I’ve been meaning to tell you for days. I just never quite got around to it and we were so busy and tired all the time and—”

“What is it?” you break in, heart pounding at an unnatural speed. “I’m here now, so…?”

For a second, you expect this to take a whole different turn.

The database in your brain empties the moment you scour it for an answer, preparing yourself for molten knees and dissolving hearts. Or maybe, it’s already clarifying to liquid, jumping out of your chest and flowing down the drain along with the water.

But he doesn’t say what you anticipate. Though, what he does admit has your nerves glowing neon white anyway.

“So— the first night of my showcase. On my birthday?” he starts. You feel the muscles of your face change, and he sees it, immediately assuring, “No, no. Don’t worry. I was just gonna say that a guy came to me by the end of it? And—” 

He lets all of it sound like an unsure question. But you think you know where it’s going — you hold your breath under the already suffocating water.

“And?” you prod.

“And turned out Namjoon invited him, and he’s kiiiinda a big shot in the art business? Like, he’s a gallery collector, he said. He’d invest in my art and acquire it and have it showcased in bigger museums for more recogni— I know!”

Your mouth and eyes opened halfway through his quick explanation, fingers back in fists, pressing against his solid chest and then moving up to hook in his silver chain. You’re restless in the congested space, suppressing the high pitched sounds.

He puts his hands on your hips, snickering in joy as he says, “Be careful before you slip.”

“You’re kidding!”

“Thankfully I’m not, angel,” he shakes his head, bangs sticking to his forehead, “not this time, at least.”

You raise a hand to his pec, tapping against it, “Wait. So just so I understood correctly — they’re gonna put up your stuff there for an even bigger audience to see, yeah?”

“I mean, the gallery is definitely far bigger than the exhibition I participated in.”

“Oh my god, Jungkook, the exhibition already had a shit ton of visitors!”

He nods, proving a point.

You feel an electric current in your blood. Pride, that’s what it’s called, too. You sling your arms around his neck recklessly, nearly falling, but you can’t be bothered as you exclaim, “This is so— I don’t even know how to react, Kook!”

And who could convince a big-shot art connoisseur so quickly after graduation anyway? Jungkook’s god given talents are never praised for nothing — you knew it. Fucking knew it.

Won’t make it anywhere, your ass.

“That’s so fucking awesome.” You stare, out of breath all of a sudden. God, if there was a way to express your delight. “When is it happening? Are you selling the one you showcased?”

“I don’t know yet. And no. That’s too… personal to me.” You blink, nodding. Still overwhelmed with how his pieces made you feel — of course they’d hit even harder for the artist himself. “He wants something in a similar style, though. I’ll make something new for him.”

“What’s it gonna be?”

It’s a simple question. You swear it’s nothing too deep.

But Jungkook’s gaze changes. An amused, delighted expression replaces a neutral one, head tilting to the side just a little. His lips, already slightly swollen from the kiss, move up, eyes kind and sugary.

If you only knew how your small details affect him, too. How you looking at him like this, expectant eyes split wide, innocent and gentle, shoots an arrow to his heart.

You just don’t know.

He brushes the hair sticking to your cheek back and tells you, “You’ll see. I’ve been working on it these days, but. Will show it to you when it’s done.”

You can’t even be mad. If it was up to you, you’d probably wait for the big day, too — can’t spoil the surprise, need to cry tears of pride and joy in public.

So all you say, deep from the heart, is, “You’re the fucking coolest person I know.”

“Nah—”

“The coolest.”

“Funny,” he retorts, as bad at compliments as you; throws them back like a boomerang, “thought the same when I met you at the party last year.”

“…Gross.” That’s what you say. But you still shake your head; overwhelmed, smile plastered to your face and cheeks hurting. “God, Kook.”

And that’s all.

You keep holding his stare, finally too tired of the distance to endure any longer — and then lean in. You stop a couple inches away, watch his head angle more, mouth steering towards yours. The smile is mutual, fingers seeking a spot to settle on on each other’s bodies.

Your heart monitor would be wilding right now — the effect of your lips meeting clear as day behind your ribs. And this time, you don’t stop.

The push against his chest is immediate, his feet slowly tumbling backwards. His tongue burns hot against yours, your lower lip fitting perfectly in the gap between his lips. There’s a sharp hiss when his back finally touches the tiles, mouth open but not leaving yours.

Teeth soon clash, and you opt for more of his taste, well aware that you just cannot kiss more than you already are. His hands move up and down, never settling, both your lips harsh and impatient. Your tongues keep moving in patterns, thirst never quenched.

You break the kiss solely for oxygen purposes, but he uses the moment to let his palm wander from your face to your hair, grabbing a patch. One hand pushes against the small of your back, though soon dropping to your ass, fingers between your ass cheeks, teasing the clenching hole.

Fuck.

The moan isn’t intended, but very welcome — you love the sound of it as much as he does, followed by his own. An automatic reaction. His hips indulge in the tiniest movements, length jerking against your body; no more than an inch of his fingertip pushing into your ass.

“Fuck, Jungkook,” you breathe, eyebrows furrowing, mewling against the corner of his lips. “More, now, please.”

It’s an attempt. Of course he won’t act that fast — you know him well enough. He’s been a soft gentleman often enough; but after holding back the past few days, missing it for weeks, you know it won't be easy on him either.

One of you will be on the brink of tears soon; until now, it’s usually been you.

You take a deep breath, agitated when he laughs. He retracts his hand, smoothing back his chaotic mane before leaning in for another peck. And that’s all it remains — interrupted immediately, saliva mixing with the shower water.

“I’m so fucking crazy for you,” he confesses; the shiver doesn’t hesitate crawling down your spine — neither does Jungkook, peppering your neck with kisses.

His actions are smooth — you let him do anything. Like, explore every little spot of your skin. From the softness of your face, down to the flesh of your ass, echoing hard when a flat hand slaps it out of nowhere.

You propel forwards, barely aware of your surroundings. The shower raining onto you is the only indicator of where you still are.

So when he turns you carefully, 180 until your back touches the tiles, you don’t realise his intentions for a moment. Only when he changes his approach, digging your shoulders hard into the wall, knocking you out of breath.

“Are you trying to—” you ask, but he interjects right away.

“Don’t question it this time, okay?” His face inches close again, teeth suddenly pulling and nibbling at your lip. “Just let us do. Lemme do, yeah?”

His chest presses against your tits before he backs away and palms your mounds, squeezing nearly painfully.

For only a heartbeat, though — he doesn’t stall further. Because another second passes before you’re turned in his grip, chest not touching his anymore, but the wall now. From behind you, he grasps your hips, dragging you back just a couple inches; enough to sneak his hand through.

“But whenever things get too much, you…”

You nod. Promise, “Will tell you. I will.”

“Good.” His cock pokes between your ass, and he spreads its cheeks. Lets the hardness rest between them, sliding up and down. “Gonna make you feel so good, though. Wanna make you feel so fucking good.”

Wow… wow, f—

Not that you were ever interested in it before, but…

Part of you wants him to shove it in anywhere. Wherever the fuck he wants. You’d endure all hour-long foreplay and pleas and tears for him.

And perhaps he’s thinking the same. Perhaps you even spoke it out loud — you wouldn’t be surprised if you did. But you choke on your spit when he says, “Missing the sex toys. Like… What do you think of new ones, hm? Someday, maybe. Like— like an anal pl—”

“Please,” you beg, “I’ll do fucking anything for you.”

Break in conversation. Then, “Holy shit.” He chuckles. Fuck — his voice is deeper now, isn’t it? “You’re being whiny. I thought you’re a badass business woman, but you’re so whiny.”

“Because— I can breathe when I work.”

“Ohh. And now,” he whispers, close to your ear, hand moving. Up and further up, stopping around your throat, as if he’s testing your statement. As if he could tell him anything about the state of your lungs. “Now we’re not as focused, right?”

“No thinking when I suck your dick.”

“Dammit. Really don’t wanna wait to fuck you numb.”

You’re shamelessly jittery, patience out the window. “Don’t then. Get to it now.”

“Nope. I know you’re not ready yet. And I’m not either… so—”

He steps closer, forcing your body further forward until your cheek is squished against the wall. His fingers leave your throat to find another target; something far more south, a lot more dangerous.

One small circle drawn around your clit, you gasp, hearing him ask, “You think you can come with just my fingers?”

“I don’t know. I honestly think I need—”

He chuckles, and you can’t help but laugh, too. You’re hilarious sometimes.

“You think you’re so smart. But we can still try, though.” He says it casually, as if the two of you don’t exactly know that he’s perfectly capable of pulling through. But his voice still softens when you don’t answer, “Hey. You wanna try, sweetheart?”

“Yes. Anything,” you convince him, “anything, Kook.”

“Good girl. The best, always.”

His touch vanishes. You let out a mildly confused sound, observing with an unfocused vision how he opens the shower door a little. He reaches for the towel on the washing machine, drying his fingers, other hand moving the shower head until it’s mostly wetting his own back.

It’s a tiny detail, really. You only told him once how action around the clit might become uncomfortable with hands priorly washed or wet, and it seems he remembered.

Your eyes shut when he returns to your bundle of nerves, massaging gently, skilled. It starts slow at first; you feel the hot wetness build in and around your entrance, the line between the shower water and your arousal fading.

Jungkook’s movements, calculated and systematic, only spur your body on. He’s always known what he’s doing; has analysed and explored what you want. How you want it.

It’s true heaven to you: the way he kisses your cheek. The way he draws moans out of you, the motions around your swollen bud rhythmic. Your back and limbs tingle; you don’t know what to do with yourself.

And when you can’t stand still anymore, Jungkook orders, “Stop that. You’ll break my jaw.”

“Sorry.”

Your apology is timid, tiny; he laughs. “You cutie… you’re adorable even in moments like these.”

You throw your head against his shoulder as if to oppose him, opening your eyes, looking straight into his eyes. Your eyebrows are kissing, tension between them, mouth agape.

And he adds, “Or maybe not.”

He lifts you up a bit, dragging your body along the wall — you didn’t even notice that you slid down this much, angled, ass darting out like this. But you also don’t mind the arm that rounds your torso, just underneath your tits, keeping you steady when he takes it up a notch and—

“Oh my god,” you squeak when he pushes two fingers in. “Yes, yes, please—”

The incoherent, random requests are his favourite. Most of the time, he knows better than you what you’re pleading for. Which is why he doesn’t stop this time; probably more in the mood to please you than tease you.

From this position, he can’t reach knuckles deep, but just enough to brush the walnutty spot inside. And to your surprise, the orgasm builds up fast; the first quiver takes over your knees, but you understand that this is nothing compared to what’s to come.

You press your hands to the wall, holding onto remnants of your sanity when he kisses your neck, and along your damp shoulders. His mouth is hot against your pulse, wet hair tickling under your jaw. He bites lightly; soothes the fleeting sting with his tongue. Vampiristic.

Like a sensual massage, well thought out, pornographic.

And then he picks up on pace. Whispers, “That’s right— we got this—”

He starts pumping into you; relishes your incomprehensible curses. The thumb over your clit and the impatience of his fingers inside are a dichotomy, and you don’t know what to focus on. Which is why you stop thinking altogether.

Jungkook takes a sharp breath, quiet whistling sounds included, and then groans into your ear when you do. He keeps his motions up diligently, fingers a bit deeper with each time your ass moves back an inch.

As an aid, he shifts his arm, too, pushing forward, palm pressing against your clit now.

And when you come, you melt. Nearly collapsing, you keep moving, on edge, every spot of your body in tremor. You can barely breathe; you’ve been nestled in the heat of the shower for way too long.

He notices your tremble in an instant, encourages, “Got it. Got you. Keep going, baby, c’mon.”

The peak is blissful; you don’t want to ever fall off the edge again. Want to remain in this starry, gorgeous ache. Your eyes could stay in the back of your head; the world may keep fading. And you don’t need to know where you are.

All you know is that your voice sounds odd, high when you pant, “Don’t go away yet.”

“I’m right here. Right here, got you,” he repeats, holding you upright.

Jungkook knows — knows how to get you from lowest lows to your highest highs. Today was as pleasant as a day at work can be; but if he’s ready to do all this to you on any other, worse day, too, you might never encounter grief again.

He scatters kisses all over your jaw when you’re done — busies himself as you catch your breath, swallowing, eyes closed. Once you’ve caught yourself enough to utter fragments of sentences at least, you tell him, “Something not human about you, Jeon.”

“Oh. Are we back to surnames now?” He cackles, soothing motions along your arms. “Are we gonna shake hands, too, once we’re done? Bow and say thank you?”

You shake your head, though the stupid smile doesn’t wait to spread on your face.

“You’re dumb,” you say.

“You make me dumb.”

He drops his touch, brushing your pussy again — maybe as a test. But you’re sensitive and vulnerable, closing your legs and opening your mouth in response. He’s sly; uses the moment to push two fingers in right away, pressing your tongue down.

And you, as challenge-accepting as ever, start sucking, tasting some of yourself. You wrap your hand around his, moving your head, chest still heaving from the exhaustion. Your eyes close slowly enough for him to see them roll back, a reaction to the images your brain creates.

Like, the thought of the member currently poking you replacing those digits. The prospect of emptying him entirely.

“Fuuuuck— wish my brain could take a picture of this and save it forever,” he says, voice strained.

You open your mouth, licking a strip along his finger, past the tattoo. “What’d you do with it?”

“Would… would bring it to the forefront of my mind,” Jungkook begins, reclaiming his hand and dragging it down to your waist, “and use it whenever you’re away.”

“Hmmm… and then?”

“Would just…”

He doesn’t continue. Only shakes his head, lifting his shoulders, stance desperate and wanting; maybe he’s even a little out of his mind.

You egg him on, “Show me if you can’t say it.”

It’s a surprise that he obliges, but then again, it’s not. You always forget just how weak he is — that his heart sits right there in your palms, his body a magnet to yours.

So you’re endlessly pleased when your eyes flit down to a hand around his dick. Stroking slowly, its head hard against your pelvis. And you manage to watch a tiny second longer until the floor beckons you towards it, down to your knees.

It’s uncomfortable immediately; slick and odd. But you’re distracted by your dry tongue, thirsting, ridiculously hypnotised by the cock dangling in front of you. And then his thighs… muscular and thick. You reach out to them, holding them, steering forwards.

Despite his delicate frailty, you don’t fare any better. Ready to bruise your knees like an obedient doll, eyes wide when you look up at him. You grip him softly, urging him to remove his hand, stroking in his stead.

You pass all pleasantries and hesitations, and dive in immediately — leading your mouth to the tip before wrapping your lips around it delicately. Determined, you let only a second pass, eager as you start moving right away.

Bobbing your head, you take him in as much as your gag reflex allows. He’s too big — it’s impossible to ever swallow him fully. But no matter how greedy you are, that’s it.

You don’t give into it all the way just yet.

Instead, you back away after another lick. Straighten your body, drawing in and repositioning until you can push your tits together around the stiffness.

His groan tumbles out of him broken, choked, a hand against the wall. His abs are rippling, bicep bulged, nipples tiny and perked. Dark brown. Eyes hazy.

You want to do so many fucking things to him — want to mount him. Pull his head back by his long strands. Want, need to kiss him, rub yourself on him, back and forth along his cock until his moans become uncontrolled. Sticky white cum sprayed over his tummy.

Your nails in your skin, yearning for more — that’s one of your billion thoughts.

Instead, you summarise your wants, whispering a single, simple, fucked out, “I…” You gulp down the knot. Shiver at your position, craving the hot water a little now. Then command, “Fuck my mouth.”

His eyes threaten to fall out of his head; like they always do. He knows it’s a constant reaction, too, it seems, because, “God. I’ll never get used to you saying this.”

“You better, though.”

“Right. Right…”

He caresses your face, pushes your hair back. Perhaps he’s had enough of the pace; because he soon reaches for your arms, compliant deer kicked out of his head as he forces your wrists up and crosses them against the wall.

One hand is all he needs to hold them in their place. One hand gripping them hard, disabling any movement of your arms.

You let out a strange, obscene sound, finding utter liking in this gesture.

But despite your pleasure, he still eases you into the process, the heart tattoo grazing your cheek. A touch so soft that you think he’s praising you, wordlessly and gently. Making sure you’re absolutely okay with whatever he does to you.

And you confirm it with another blink, stretching out your tongue, ready. Holding his gaze. Mesmerised and frustrated, he says, “You’ll kill me with the way you look at me.”

Jungkook fuels your confidence with vigour each time, eloquent through scorching heat, too. Because you don’t think you’ve ever smiled this self-assured before you knew him; or been certain about your power over others.

You used to be far more insecure than that, feigning ignorance and carelessness, but reevaluating your decisions every step of the way. Months ago, you could’ve never predicted such a shift in conviction towards yourself.

So it’s new to you, but invigorating at the same time, the grin you sport, the words you utter, “Killing you isn’t my intention,” when he doesn’t, you move your head towards the leaking head of his cock, awaiting destruction, “wanna make you feel more alive than ever.”

The breath tumbling out of his mouth is ragged, pinky finger twitching a tiny bit when you wrap your lips around the tip and then let it go with a plop again; like it’s a lollipop to you.

Your knees move closer to his feet, and he stretches his one hand to your shoulder, making sure you don’t get hurt on the slippery ground. But you’re far too distracted to appreciate the gesture just yet, even though you feel the faint tickling along your limbs.

“I got it,” Jungkook then says, back in charge, hands back on the protruding, thick veins.

He moves his hips forward, testing. You roll out your tongue once more, closing your eyes. Try to make more room in your mouth, despite knowing it’s a thing of impossibility. And to your chagrin, it takes only a few more seconds for you to be full already.

Taking in as much as your throat allows, you gag when you reach your limit, letting out a tiny cough, salivating. You still can’t move your arms; his fingers are like chains around your wrists.

“That enough?” he asks. “I’ll stop here, okay?”

You nod. Wait. When he doesn’t move, you start pulling back, and then push forward again immediately. Your tongue is drenched in absolute filth; the spit trails down your chin, and you wish it was his.

But that’s not the point of it all — you’re not supposed to comfortably bop your head back and forth, are you? Despite the daily softness between the two of you, you want to be used. Want all his greed.

And he knows. Asks, “What do you need?”

Of course you can’t speak. He’s aware of that; stares down at you as you breathe heavily around him, mouth stuffed to the brim. Cheeks aching from the circumference.

You moan around him, parting your lips, moving your tongue from under his dick to swirl it around it a little. You move back, tasting the liquid minimally dripping out of his slit. Fuck, you want all of it, in thick, sickening ropes, in loads and buckets.

“Won’t even back away to speak,” he teases, words contradictory, because he won’t allow you to take a break either. Shoves himself inside again; you’re embarrassed that you only manage half of his length. “The dedication is hotter than it should be—”

Full, coherent sentences. How?

But even his string of thought breaks when he starts in earnest. Filling up your mouth once more, as much as he can and then a bit more for good measure. You adjust to his movements, suck down immediately.

You don’t care about the loss of voice later; you want to eat him up entirely.

His strokes grow harder by the second, rock hard inside you. You move your head until the head pokes against the inside of your cheek, and the tight wetness affects him, his knees buckling by one single inch.

“Easy…” he whispers, shaking his head, water drops landing on your face. “Fuck. Wanna have you hanging off the bed one day. Wanna see my cock ram your throat…”

Easy, he said. He’s definitely not being easy on you, though. Not with these admissions. Not with his motions.

The thrusts aren’t just hard, but deliberate and controlled, too. Your head keeps pushing back, lightly touching the wall. You’re far over sucking his dick, way too obedient and submissive to define it like that.

No, you’re being fucked. Gagging and choking around him, sucking in the spit whenever only his tip remains inside, sounds lewd and specific. Coming from the back of your throat, wet, hot and bothered.

God, you wish you were strong enough to take him all the way down to the base, licking at his balls, feeling his twitching dick thumping at the very far back. But you guess this is more than enough for him, too.

Because he holds your wrists harder, a rope around them, digging into your skin. The free hand wipes your hair away again, your body sweat-soaked while the shower water still trickles down his back.

He holds you there; then reaches for your nipple; pinches it hard over your heavily heaving chest, pleased when you open your eyes and look up at him. Waterline damp — the dangling chain might just be one of the reasons for that.

“Bit more,” he mumbles, and you think he’ll surrender right there, inside your mouth.

Which is why you sit up straighter, more determined, licking at the underside of his cock when he drags it out a little. His balls hang in your face and you reach for them, tongueing, hungry, not wanting him to move away now.

He doesn’t. Not yet. Relief courses through you, swallowing around his thickness again. Rolling your eyes back, hearing subtle “Doing well, so well, angel”s, ignoring the pain in your arms as he holds them upright.

You hollow your cheeks when he buries himself in deep, struggling when he stops right there. He doesn’t move; your eyes well up harder. All air enters and escapes through your nose, and you’re shaking, holding his stare as he keeps his cock in place, absolutely still.

That is, until you can barely breathe anymore, nails digging into your palms, arms trying to escape. He doesn’t say a word yet, only lets your hands drop. Your shoulders crack a bit, and you shake your arms, filling up your lungs, your palms next to his feet.

His cock is covered in your spit when you look again; your gaping mouth and chin similarly drenched.

And only when your head stops spinning, does he hold his hands towards you, urging you to take them as he says, “Sorry, baby. You did so well, I…”

You grip his fingers feebly, getting up on weak knees. Instead of holding onto your hands, he soon wraps an arm around your body, pulling you up before he asks, “Less next time?”

“No,” the word comes out as a squeak, throat already affected, “I’ll always tap if I feel it’s too much. I promi— promise.”

“Good,” he praises, a kiss to your damp forehead. He turns the water off. “That’s all I want, baby. Look at me.”

You’re already exhausted, staring down, fatigue fuelled by the hot water. Your eyes flutter open as you meet his gaze, and he puts a hand to your cheek, thumb on your swollen lower lip.

“You’re so gorgeous,” he compliments; his hand must be heating up under your touch, “did you know? So sweet and stunning. It makes me sick.”

“Thought I was the only one. You…” He looks at you, and you hold him tight, smiling about your joke in advance. “You have such an effect on me, it makes me wanna throw up.”

Right. So in love, it makes your stomach turn.

“Please don’t,” he pleads, conjuring a tender eye smile. The wide grin is unreal. “And let’s get out of here. We can’t keep standing here.”

“Waste of water.”

“Yes, waste of water. That, too. And I should have some lube in the bedroom.”

Of course he’s as impatient as you — although you’re almost a hundred percent sure you could do without that stuff easily. The insides of your thighs are slippery, and you’re certain the shower wasn’t the sole reason for that.

Your legs feel weird, your body heavy when you finally get out. The cosy bathroom is filled with steam and heat, but at least you can breathe easier here than under the piping hot water.

The mirror is fogged up; you glance into it to check your state, but recognise nothing but your vague form. You wipe a stripe the size of your hand along it as you walk past, halting at the door. And when you look back, Jungkook is making quick, brief work on picking up the clothes you haphazardly threw to the side before.

“You don’t wanna do this later?” you ask, still fond.

It’s just him cleaning up the floor, but… you enjoy watching him do mundane things. You might never be able to explain why, but you do.

“Just throwing them into the washing machine. Will turn it on later,” he answers.

He straightens his body with a sigh when he’s done, sniffling as he usually does. His eyes are hidden behind his long hair, so he lifts both his hands to brush the soaked tresses back. The muscles of his arms are mountainous and firm. Tattoos ending at his shoulder.

He’s indescribably pretty like that. Looking up, lips parted, jaw chiselled.

You observe him for a bit longer, gaze trailing down his body. Small nipples, broad and sculpted pecs, six painfully visible rectangles of abs. Cock still mostly awake.

Fuck.

Crossing your legs, you bite your lips, one hand on the door handle. You take in the domesticity. The moment might be subtle and casual, but something about it is incredibly homely.

How you speak to each other, and how his washing machine is cleaning both your clothes. It’s the little things, isn’t it?

Your eyes are fond when you say, “Whenever it does happen… I can already imagine all of it clearly.”

“Hm?” He blinks at you. “All of what, baby?”

“Of being here with you. All the time.” His motions stop. He drops his arms, a strand falling back into his face, but he doesn’t care. Glances at you for a couple seconds until you smile and nod towards the door. “Let’s go.”

But it seems he changed his mind in this split second that you turn to the exit.

Because all of a sudden, just as he did before, he tugs you back. And just like before, you land against the wall, having him staring at you as if he’s seeing you for the first time. His voice is a whisper, enchanting, “Okay… you know what. Forget it.”

“Huh?”

“Fuck lube, okay?” His eyes are glued to your lips. Then to your pupils. He looks lost. “We can manage. Don’t need the bedroom… just you. Want you right now.”

“Jungko—”

You don’t anticipate it — so it draws a small moan out of you when his fingers suddenly graze between your legs, digging in for just a moment. Fingering you for a split second as you gasp — and then they disappear again.

He moves in to kiss your cheek. Just a peck first. Then his lips open against your neck, hand moving up your body and pushing your tit up. His tongue soon joins the fun, darting through his parted lips, sucking your tits hard. Biting, groaning, moaning.

“Jungkook.” You push your touch through his hair as he kisses his way further down, nibbling at your sides, and you whine, “Don’t wanna wait, Kook…”

His eyes are closed and his voice hushed, raspy and deep as he says between kisses, “I’ll be gone for a moment, baby. You’ll barely notice, I promise.”

Strange how he means distanced from your kiss, not from your body. Strange how you miss each other while in the same room, but not melted into each other.

You’re losing your mind. Throwing your head back, ruining your hair against the tiles. Eyes droopy and hazy, mind turning in various directions as you relish each touch and peck. Your body relaxes; all the weight of the world off your shoulders.

Jungkook fondles your body, caresses all of you, planting kisses on your tummy, your waist, your pelvis. Continues to tug at the flesh of your thighs with his lips. It feels like a massage, not painful but gentle. Careful as he hoists up one of your legs, throwing it over his shoulder. 

And then… he starts.

His tongue flashes out to your clit. Parts your folds. It’s difficult from this position, but his pointy wet muscle paints patterns over your pussy. And you reel.

Jungkook truly is an artist. Knows to make you mewl, turns your breaths laboured. You move your hips, guiding his face closer with your hand in his hair, slowly riding it. The French kisses, the brush against your thighs… he’s…

God.

“God,” you echo, “I love this, I—”

He’s feasting. Letting out alluring sounds, spurring you on, and you almost topple over the edge. But Jungkook knows what he’s doing — leaves you yearning, moving away and up to you.

When he said he’d be gone for a moment, he truly meant it.

Your lip quivers when he looks at you, ordering a soft, “You’ll come together with me.” He raises your chin. “Okay? You and I together. Always.”

Must be a hidden message. He’s not just talking about sex anymore, is he? But him and you in one bubble, separated from the world. Nothing but you, you and you.

You barely wait another second. Instead, you immediately lurch forwards, initiating a kiss beyond sinful from the start. Teeth clashing, tongues feral. For a couple seconds you breathe into each other, letting out odd noises, his hand pulling your leg back up again and pinning it against the wall.

You’re on your tippy toes when his cock teases your entrance, his lips soon on your shoulder again. Cold chain brushing your skin. He’s sucking harshly, guiding his dick inside with determination. Sheer impatience is palpable in his touch and audible in his sounds.

The head of his dick parts your folds, diving in; and you let out a moan so lustful that he grows downright desperate against your shoulder. Standing here like this is hard, too; so he puts his palms on your ass, commands—

“Jump once.”

“What?”

“Jump,” he repeats, “I’ll hold you. Want you, please.”

“Okay…” you mumble. You put your hands on his broad shoulder, readying yourself, “Okay.”

And then you do — immediately wrapping your legs around him. And he lets you fall slowly, body pressed against yours, so you’re sandwiched between him and the wall; so he can guide his hardness back to your cunt.

You drop onto it slowly, carefully. Impaling yourself on him, inch by inch penetrating your insides. The more you take in, the deeper the crease between your eyebrows. And when he’s bottomed out, you feel like… yourself again?

Because what moment is more intimate than this? What moment allows you to crawl out of your shell more than this?

Even if in a crude sense, this is yet another definition of home. And every definition can be traced back to him.

“You feeling alright?” he asks, and you nod immediately.

“Is a bit weird, but…” you hold onto him, one hand moving to his face. You don’t finish your sentence; only nod, exhaling against his lips.

“Can I start?”

Another nod; and then he starts pumping in. Slowly in and out; you’re firmly in place against the wall, slipping just a little. His hands engulf your ass again — his strength is mind-numbing, and his sounds loud as he splits you in two.

Your eyes shut for a mini moment, and when they crack open again, they’re met with the still mirror. It’s fogging up again, yet still clear enough to make out Jungkook’s back; the form of his body. Your thoughts tangle up.

You’ve seen him shirtless a million times before, fully bare — but it might be the first time you’re enjoying this very perspective. And the entirety of him… leaves you gasping. Butt naked, ass muscles flexing, the triangle shaped back smooth. Where do his guts even fit?

They’re a blessing, those reflections, catching the way he’s standing, ramming into you. And then you, burying your nails into his shoulder blades, expression fucked out, body moving up and down the wall. Having things done to you by him.

You’re so fucking lucky.

You mutter, “Kook…”

“Yes, baby.”

“You look so good… so…”

“Mmmh, you do, too,” the sentence starts in a clear tone, but morphs into a whisper, “just… can’t see enough of you… shit, babe—”

He leans in, parting your lips with his, your tongues touching as he delivers a rough jab just once. And that’s when things stop working for you.

Because soon enough, you’re swaying to the side, nearly falling; as his protective instincts kick in, immediately holding you, his cock jumps out. And he shakes his head, pecking your temple once, and then deducts, “Okay. This won’t do.”

“Hmmm,” you hum in agreement, weak on your legs, “bad idea for sure.”

“Hold up.”

He’s quick to turn you around, thoroughly in charge of your body tonight — you’re fully under his mercy. Ready to kneel and bend for him. And Jungkook, understanding your boundaries, gives you all you need — knows what to do, knows when to stop.

And you keep handing over control; more so when he pushes you over the sink, stating, “Okay. Looks easier.” A pause. “Looks so much fucking better, too.”

Wish you could see. Fuck, fuck, fuck, you’re tense.

He leans down to kiss your back. His dick pokes between your ass cheeks again, slipping down and further down until it makes itself home between your nether lips again.

It falls into it in one fell swoop, swiftly, as if it’s no effort at all — guess it never is.

And god, does the position feel heavenly.

Balls deep inside; the first angle that allows full unhinged, animalistic mode.

But he still starts out slow; with long strokes and a hand in your hair. You tumble backwards a little, urging him to move too, lifting your ass higher and pushing your legs together for maximal effect.

Allowing more tightness for him; more friction for you.

“I… missed fucking you so much,” he says between thrusts. “You feel unreal.”

You guess you do. He does, too. Maybe the two of you need a reminder that this is all too real; perhaps a tantalising equivalent to a wake-up-pinch.

So you suggest, “Fuck me harder, Kook.”

“Hmm… want that?”

“Been waiting so fucking long.”

And while a lover of patience and anticipation — who is he to reject your wishes after the entire ordeal occurring in this room? The two of you have dragged out this moment plenty.

So he listens fast; soon using your neck as leverage as his inked fingers wrap it smoothly. Agreeing, “It’d be my literal pleasure, babe.”

God, he’s a dumbass — but you can’t physically react. Too caught up in something else; storing the laughter and jokes for later.

Because he picks up on pace, not too much right away; but enough for his hips to slap against your ass. Enough for you to be catapulted forwards with a whine, cheek pressing to the glass.

You lift your hand, accidentally wiping again, but only manage a trail, hand sliding down. From behind, you hear a hoarse praise, “Looks so fucking hot,” he draws a sharp breath, nearly hissing, “I promise I’ll be careful, just…”

He pulls at your hair. Shoves his cock inside rougher, face closer to you, lips to your cheek. Swallows hard enough for you to hear, and then, “Tell me if it’s too much. Am careful until I can’t be, baby.”

Until he loses control. He says it right before he drops all inhibitions and — goes feral.

You squint your eyes shut, calling out his name; the word echoes in the small room, and for just a second, you worry the neighbours might hear. And then right away, you stop caring again.

Because you want this man. Now and later and forever; want him like this, want him in any way. This isn’t just sex to you — if that’s what you wanted, you’d download an app like your freshman self used to.

No.

No matter how obscene, there’s meaning in every one of your touches; in every stroke, in every word, in every single time you lose yourself in him.

Your stomach twists as he jackhammers into you; you’re craving proximity, craving all his attention. Want all of his emotions and touches raw and merciless. Want to see him.

Although, when your shut eyes open, you only see blurry forms in the mirror moving, him behind you. He squeezes your neck; you see that much before he slides it down your body, straight to your clit, no detours.

He pushes his knee up for a second, touching the edge of the sink and balancing on one leg, but drops it again soon. The white painted, stainless steel of the sink, previously cold on your tummy, burns against your skin now. A chafing feeling.

Jungkook draws more forms against your clit, but then retracts his hand; instead, squishing your tits, indecisive where to touch. But it’s the last move he makes before he straightens his body, palms on your ass until he spanks just once and…

Pulls out again.

What?

“Look at me, sweetheart,” you register.

You pant, fingers clutching the sink and gulping down the tiredness before you manage a turn. Your eyes land on his dick first; it’s fully drenched in your arousal, so unbreakably stiff.

He whispers again, “Look at me,” but the moment you do, he doesn’t withhold your stare for too long. Instead, his hands are back on your cheeks, drawing you close, seeking your lips. His never-satisfied thirst matches yours; you want to remain here and freeze time.

With your arms around his neck, he guides you towards the washing machine, pushing the clothes further aside. He helps you get on it, but you argue immediately, “This could be dangerous, right? Shouldn’t sit here, I think… might break…”

“It’ll be okay,” he says, making himself comfortable between your legs, pushing them apart with his thighs. Two fingers hold your chin, lips ghosting over yours. “Is a cheap ass thing… want a new one anyway.”

You wonder if he’ll say that about all the furniture he’ll fuck you on. Because observing his eyes, you know that he will — will soil every inch of his apartment within, what you anticipate, a short period of time.

But unfortunately for the washing machine, you’re too weak to reject the offer.

So you hold him tight, jostling him closer to you as you ask, “Yeah?”

“Mhmmmm.” The word drowns in your moan when his cock glides back in; when will you ever get used to this? “Don’t worry… won’t break as badly as we will.”

Well, fuck.

The ridges of his cock drag just right along your walls, the angle making your mouth water. Your cunt is burning; and he still dares to ask, “Okay like that?”

“More than okay, Kook… more than—”

He always screws you numb; barely ever lets you finish your sentences. Your moans have become a constant interruption, along with the goddamn things he says, “Your pussy is so good. So, so good.”

And then he’s back making out with you, sweatier than before. His body is enticingly warm, muscles working on you. Both his and your hair sticks to the nape of the neck or your back, and you hold onto him, keening against his lips.

Then, you lean back for a second, keyed up as fuck, propping up your body with your arms. Your palms press against the back of the machine, and he inches close to explore the bare skin of your torso. His chain skims your nipples, as if on purpose; and he kisses you here, there, everywhere.

Neck, clavicles, tits, jaw.

Perspiring without an end, all of this could be gross. But instead, you feel hyped up, sexy as never before. Dizzy at the sight of his golden skin, the small beads of sweat spreading on it.

It takes one or two more minutes of this insanity until things come to an eventual end. A glorious end, that is — filled with deep moans, squealed calls of names, unrhythmic thrusts that fasten for the finale.

“I’ll come,” Jungkook states, and you shoot back up to him, holding his head against the mounds of your tits. He kisses between them, breathing irregular, words muffled, “Gonna come so hard, what the f—”

And when he does, you lose all coherent thoughts immediately. Not that you could think before — but his uncontrolled exclaims already make you wish for a whole new round. Nevermind that your pussy is wrecked and beaten.

Vocal as ever, he finishes with deep shoves, slowing down with each second. His lips remain open between your collarbones, and you feel his eyebrows draw together. Thick strings of hot cum filling you up, your cunt tightens.

And somehow, after all this, he still finds the energy to sneak his hand between your bodies, blindly seeking your clit until he finds it. Familiar circles render you breathless, even though they’re lazy — but picking up on intensity when he leans back, still breathing hard.

He looks absolutely done — still fucking the rest of him into you. But you’re moaning and groaning, and he’s far from giving up as he says, “Come with me, baby.”

Honestly, he doesn’t need to tell you. You’re already calling and blurting out random words, already limp. Wrapping your legs around his torso with the tiny remaining energy you have left, absolutely insane.

Jungkook kisses you one last time. And you let the build up in your lower tummy and pussy proceed; up and up and up to the peak — until he delivers one last stroke, cock already softening, finger on your nub diligent and…

You milk his dick in its entirety. Your pussy clenches and unclenches. Random figures swim in your vision, flashy behind your eyelids. Limbs trembling, body a mess and fingers hooking into his chain, you only notice now that you’re repeatedly whispering his name.

Winding and crying. Trying not to tug too hard, to break the jewellery, but still urging him closer, closer.

You’re shivering, surviving the vertigo, breathing stagnant. Trying to control it. Quivering like fucking crazy, not feeling your legs.

Also hating how his cum is dripping onto the damn washing machine. In your hazy mood, you laugh a little.

It takes a bit of time for the two of you to calm down, to dim the adrenaline in your nerves. Your chests rise and fall in unison, still clutching to the embrace. His skin is flushed, yours hot, skin tingling with the lingering heat of the passed passion.

And when he finally moves back, looking at you, you see half a dozen things in there. Satisfaction and vulnerability among them. Maybe even a hint of mischievousness, proud of whatever just happened; happy with the emotions it conjured.

Stars in his eyes. Contentment, composure and affection at last.

A pleasant stillness follows, the world outside the bathroom nonexistent. The aftermath of the steamy encounter lingers until you break the silence after all.

“When the hell,” you start, throat dry, “did you get so broad?”

“…What?”

“You just. You looked endless in the mirror. You’re so—”

Amused, he displays a grin as sly as you adore. He tsks and then mocks, “Stop drooling.”

“You first.”

His chuckle is throaty; a result of the constant exclaims and the absolute dehydration. You give the two of you a moment to collect saliva on your tongue, to swallow and wet your cords.

Your fingers paint an invisible, light pattern on his skin; tracing his tattoos is one of your favourite things to do. You jest, “That’s a good way to destress.”

He arches an eyebrow, then rolls his eyes — but the devotion towards you behind the gesture is irrefutable. It carries into his words, no matter how playfully mocking his tone or his sighs, “Everything for the princess.”

“So,” you pause, lips curling into a soft smile. “Is this what I’m gonna be getting for the rest of my life?”

You see it immediately. The explosion in his eyes; the burst of stars in the depths of his pupils. Clear as the night sky, fond and sweet and magical. Guess you spoke big words for sure.

“…The rest of your life, huh?” he asks.

“No?”

“Is that what you want?”

Ever-the-boomerang, you gauge his reaction, closing the distance between you. Lips barely apart, you throw back again, “Don’t you?”

You don’t need to glance through his ribs, lungs, blood and skin; you see the swelling around his heart. Emotions swimming in it in abundance. You see all of it right in his eyes.

And his voice proves it; delicate and quiet, “Baby… you make my heart drop to my stomach all the time. Do I not look at you like I want a rest of my life with you?”

Gosh. You’re too weak for this.

“Look at me like that more often,” you answer, breathing against him, eyes dancing with delight, “maybe I’ll believe you then.”

“Huh,” he makes, letting out an entertained huff, “brat. Maybe later. Let’s get you cleaned up and dressed for now, alright?”

Right. You forgot you’re still here. Snapping back into reality is always a task.

Of course it is.

Because your world is a cocoon; you don’t want to leave it just yet. And maybe, somewhere in the near future — you won’t have to anyway.

Jungkook and you don’t waste minutes doing formalities tonight. No flickering candle flames; no organised set up of your table. You dim the lights, snatching a lamp from his bedroom and rely on it along with the TV’s brightness.

You filled your plates and stomachs with a dish he’s wanted to show you for a while. It’s some special Jeon recipe — limited to him specifically, not his family. The brief cut in your relationship kept you from the meal, but watching him fiddle with the pots and cutlery was worth the wait after all.

He’s still proud of it; you’re filled to the brim, sick to the core, but the noodle-Buldak-mayo-perilla-oil-combination introduced the night just perfectly.

Your body is limp against his after dinner, bloated. A mutual agreement concluded that watching a movie might be the easiest activity you could indulge in to further destress. So you cuddle up, eyes droopy as you wait for the Netflix logo and thump to subside.

You let the username float by, though unable to suppress your giggle. Your back shakes against him, his hand halting mid-air, remote control in it, and you comment, “Letjungcook7. You’re such a dork.”

“Why?” You look back, met with raised eyebrows and round eyes. “Do you not like it?”

“I love it. Don’t you ever dare change it.”

He tuts, trademark smirk tilted; responds, “And don’t you ever change your Sunny Baudelaire icon.”

“God, she’s an iconic baby,” you groan, enthusiastic; your hands gesture to the TV, Baudelaires nowhere in sight, “I will never shut up about this show.”

“That’s why you’re not allowed to change it. Kinda cute how much you love it.”

“Jungkook,” you tug at his unoccupied arm, placing his wrist and palm over your belly button, “would you ever rewatch it with me?”

His hand rubs gently over your shirt, and then drops until his fingers are toying with your — his — jogger’s strings. “I’m a pro at rewatching. I’m down.”

You whisper a dragged celebratory word, eyes back to the screen. He’s scrolling through the genres fast, barely inhaling the titles and summaries. And when he skips three more of the stuff you’d usually settle on, you say, “Don’t think you’ll find anything on there.”

Ironically enough, he answers, “We’ve barely looked. Look. Knives Out’s second part is on there.”

“I just watched it recently. Hmm, what about that Poe movie with Christian Bale?”

On cue, he passes it three seconds later, only stopping on it for a moment before he voices, “Hmm…”

You wait. Drag out another second. Then conclude, “Okay, you’re not feeling it. Got it. Something else?”

“What about Disney?”

“What about scrolling until we fall asleep?”

The hand still busy with the strings moves up to your sides, pinching you lightly. You flinch, hard enough to nearly break his nose, overdramatic by nature. Amidst your commotion, you hear him say, “Don’t mock me. I’ll kick you from the couch.”

“I’ll just stay on the floor then.”

“Angel, I swear.”

“Okay, okay. Sorry.”

But you’re not.

Because the bicker continues for another ten minutes, remote control snatched every now and then, ideas suggested and immediately rejected.

Jungkook admits his guilty pleasures merely a couple minutes later, and you conjure all your patience and discourse abilities to explain why you can’t watch The Notebook or Titanic anymore.

But once Dion’s soprano voice builds a nest in a lobe of your brain, you give in, half laughing, half agitated as you tackle the 90s classic — only for Jungkook to click out again.

“It’s no fun when we’re not both ready to watch it.”

“Dude…”

More scrolling, you guess.

Five more minutes pass — and eventually, Titanic deserted, you sing the songs of Coco instead. You expect Jungkook’s attention and lips to shift halfway through the movie, tracing down your neck or along your sides – a standard for a weekday movie night.

But to your surprise, he powers through it with minimal dialogue and wide, focused eyes. Palm above your ribs, moveless under your shirt and his cheek pressed against your heartbeat, you assume he’s fallen asleep by the time the credits roll.

Until – you feel warm liquid wetting your shirt, a sniffle combining with his shaky breath before you ask with your own damp eyes, “Babe— are you crying?”

His answer is delightfully unashamed and immediate, “I’ve never watched Coco without crying.”

The soft strains of the movie’s soundtrack won’t let your eyes dry either; but Jungkook seems far more into it than you. Adoration burns hot in your veins.

“You never told me that!” you exclaim.

“Because it’s not worth telling. Should be a given — these movies are made to cry to!”

You giggle through your tears. Jungkook’s mind works in miraculous ways — non-judgemental, yet probably flashing a side-eye to those who do not partake in a sob fest during Coco or Encanto.

“I honestly love how you’re not a toxic male at all, you know?” you point out; you feel a huff against your chest.

At least he’s smiling through the brief sadness, too.

You crane your neck, not quite turning around just yet, and watch him rub his cheek clean off the tears. Not that his eyes have stopped welling up, though.

For a moment, you observe, staring at the swollen, pouty lower lip. His pupils glimmer in the TV’s light, long locks brushed back; half of them tied in a tiny ponytail.

You could overthink every detail of his face. Tell him all about his everlasting elegance. Instead, you only lower your voice, soft as you say, “You look pretty even when you cry.”

“Thank you,” he returns, though fingertips still work at the liquid, and you can’t help but laugh.

You can barely believe that’s the same confident beast who was pressing you against cool tiles just an hour ago. The stark contrast baffles you.

You’re amused when you question, “It really affects you so much?”

“Everything about it!” he immediately argues. You expand your eyes. “The way Coco looks at Miguel at the end. And that freaking moment when she meets her parents at the end. Does it not affect you?”

“Oh, of course it does,” you defend, “I’m a story girl. I’ll cry reading and watching these things, for sure.”

“And then the lyrics,” he continues, in his element a hundred percent, “the thought of remembering someone even after they’re gone and far away…”

The further his sentence progresses, the more the words blur. His voice is feeble, hoarse when he gets to the final syllables. When he pauses between his rambling to draw a breath, you hear a heartbreaking shake in his inhale.

And the exhale sounds like a quiet sob.

You turn back immediately, pressing onto the pause button, remote control still in his hand. The credits darken the room as opposed to the movie’s colours before. You see a damp trail along his cheek, eyelashes wet.

Your smile vanishes as you stare a little longer. The blanket falls from your chest into your lap when you lift your arm from under it, hastily drying his tears with your thumbs. Just slightly, he leans into the touch, but his face soon falls, an attempt to hide.

You ask, “What’s wrong?”

Jungkook isn’t embarrassed of tears — you figured this out without him admitting it to you. But he’s embarrassed of the guilt he feels; acknowledging it when he speaks.

“It’d just be nice,” hands holding his face drop; you touch his chest, “to make up with the family like this. They made it look easy.”

You keep looking. Bewildered, unable to answer for seconds too long. You blink until the words sink in properly, incapable of more than, “I’m sorry, baby.”

“No, no,” he argues, shaking his head, “I mean. Who am I to tell you something like this?”

“It’s okay. Your worries are legit worries, too. Look at me,” you reassure, prompting him to meet your gaze. “You’re not a bad person. Okay? It’s… so terrible that you think you are.”

“I fucked up.”

It dawns on you once more that he firmly believes that; causes a searing sting. The process is neither a smooth nor a quick one — you know it’ll take a while for him to convince him otherwise. To drop his current beliefs about himself.

“You didn’t,” you refute, firm certainty and conviction in your voice. “That’s not how a fuck-up is defined, I promise you. And those who are actually wrong probably know, too.”

“It’d just be nice,” he starts again; the shrug of his one shoulder doesn’t distract you from the misery and self-loathing in his eyes, “if he called at least.”

“I know. I don’t know, I… do you think you could call instead?”

Jungkook’s lashes brush his skin, the apples of his cheeks not as round and squishy as usual. Yet, the sadness makes him look younger, softer.

You sigh; a warm blanket isn’t enough anymore. You need to wrap him in the comfort of the world — ideally, in his father’s care.

Jungkook opens his mouth for another argument, but then holds it in, says after another moment of contemplation, “Actually… There’s a gathering coming up. I’ll see my people there, so… I don’t know. Trying won’t hurt, right?”

“It never does.”

His eyes start unfocusing. You recognise it in the way he glues his gaze to a point on the glass table, unblinking, staring nowhere in truth. You keep your attention on him for another second, hoping he’ll look at you, even if forlorn.

But when he doesn’t, you wrap your arms around him instead. His chest is calmer against your head now, breathing as soft as the palms that find your back. He presses you into his body by mere inches; you barely notice.

Your fingers draw shapes on his arm, a subtle consoling gesture. In the background, you hear the song fade, volume lower now. The movie soon transitions to something else; you don’t pay any mind to it, drowsy and distracted in his embrace.

But then your mind wanders; to the man keeping Jungkook’s thoughts hostage. You remember the conversation the two of you had last Sunday. You recall the way your hand held his broken heart together.

You wish it was as easy as a small scar — an echo of whatever once transpired, but also a reminder that it healed.

Then, for a second, you think of your own wounds. How they still need to be cured, too. How years and time alone won’t fix issues; you need to tackle them actively — maybe at some point, the two of you can.

You laugh softly against his shirt, burying between his pecs; joking, “We’re perfect for each other. Dysfunctional families and whatnot.”

His chuckle is still a light tremble, but genuine enough for you to celebrate. His hands push a little harder into your back; your body shifts up his lap, butt half on his thigh. Eyes shut, still sniffling.

Jungkook wraps around you like a soothing force, an invisible bubble. A bandage despite carrying all bruises. You sigh in contentment, head dizzy from exhaustion; waking up just when he blurts a question again.

“You really think that, right? That I’m not a bad person.”

You crack your eyes open a slit.

You understand. Someone who overthinks needs multiple repeated reassurances — you’re the same.

So you nod against him, guaranteeing, “You’re… kind of ridiculously amazing. You’re someone who gives all those people hope who don’t believe in humanity anymore.” Pause. “And I admire you in every way. So much.”

He doesn’t respond. You wait. Further dead silence, interrupted by the soft sounds of the TV. You lick your lower lip, dropping your gaze to where your thumb rubs his wrist. Tracing a vein.

His mellow voice reverberates, a melody to your eardrums when he whispers, “We’d do this so much if you were here all the time.”

“Crying in each other’s arms, huh?”

He clicks his tongue, accompanied by the grin you’re certain graces his face, even if you can’t see. You hear it in his voice all the more, “Sure. Also, have dinner together. Shower and watch movies together. Laugh and cry.”

You smile. “I still can’t believe it, you know? That you want this… and me at all.”

“You feel that, too, yeah?” Fingertips move up your spine, between your shoulder blades and then to the nape of your neck. Tickling, grazing gently. “I promise I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t truly feel all that, though.”

“What’s all that?”

“Just.” His chest rises. Then falls. “Everything.”

One of your heartbeats freezes, you’re sure. And when it comes back alive, you think — maybe he doesn’t need the world’s comfort after all. Or his father’s care. Maybe yours is enough right now.

But then again.

You’d be damned if you kept your traumas intact. Or his. You took each other as you came long ago — as vulnerable human beings, with a whole lot of baggage. With all the injuries on your heart.

Yet, this isn’t a state you want to accept. For neither of you.

Your unwavering belief remains steadfast — that one day, things need to become… okay.

So you gulp down all the pain, lighting a candle in your chest, and say,

“It’s not over yet, baby.”

Zara keeps yelling orders around. Her voice, usually collected and tender, is agitated today. You can barely imagine how many little tasks, how many stressed phone calls must be overrunning her.

You establish a distance between your device and your ear, protecting your hearing with one eye squinting shut. And when she returns to the conversation, you exhale through the nose.

“Sorry. You were asking—”

“How’s it look?” you repeat.

“I mean, everyone’s stressed,” she responds, clearly frustrated; as if it should be obvious to you. And it is; but you’ll spiral, too, if you don’t keep your calm, at least. “A lot to do.”

“You’re sure you don’t need me to come earlier?”

“All good, love. You’re not a manager yet,” she stops her speech to mumble something to another co-worker, imaginary hands jam packed with preparations for the press conference. “But when you are, you won’t know what to do with all the stress.”

“Great outlook into a potential future.”

“I just mean you should enjoy things while they last.”

Zara isn’t the only one wandering up and down the building to assure perfection. She’s only one of the big mentors, managers to handle everything; responsible for the catering and content to be presented at the conference.

Her team stands firmly behind her, but you don’t blame her for still allowing her head to steam. Of all busy people in their blazers and slacks, however, she’s been the only one to spare some time for you.

You’re grateful for her enthusiasm and support. You smile as you ask, “Do you think I can answer everything the way I intend to?”

“I think so.”

“It’s so new to me.”

“Yeah, but you’re a natural at this stuff. And also,” she speaks slower now. The chaos behind her has calmed a little; her voice echoes off somewhere. Perhaps a restroom. “Things are looking good.”

You stop sauntering through the room, pausing in front of the bed’s corner before dropping onto it. Dragging your tongue over your lower lip, you blink, and then ask, “You’re sure?”

“We had a couple conversations over here. Made a few more phone calls, and I think you don’t need to worry about a thing. We’ll come up with something if things derail, though, okay?”

You’re uncertain, still anxious. Should this afternoon flop, you’ll be screwed.

You need it to succeed. You can’t afford misfires. Ugh.

Restless, your foot taps against the floor. You try not to think of things going astray; try to think of a smooth progress, not precarious in any way.

Yet, you ask doubtfully, “Can we do that?”

“We always can. That’s business.”

Guess she’s right. Your mother has saved you one too many times — from stupid things you did as well as from things you never needed saving from.

A rich human being’s power over the media — and frankly, the world — is unbeatable. Barely to be underestimated.

“Okay,” you mutter, “thank you.”

Despite only hearing her voice, you imagine her nod, the way she often does. You miss the warm, promising palm on your shoulder. Appreciate that she’s still here instead of dropping you to the side; leaving the call to handle more relevant issues.

No, she lingers there; you hear her breathe until she asks, “Are you bringing your man, too, by the way?”

Your man.

You straighten your back in pride, bright smile back, “Yeah! He said he’d come and support me. But he’s not home yet.”

“Oh? Well, you gotta be here in three hours. Where’d he go?”

“God knows. But don’t worry about punctuality.” You hear a hum, glancing up at the clock. Past noon. “Hey, also. My parents are definitely gonna come, right?”

“Babe,” she drags the word a little, and you can almost see her side-eyeing you, “journalists will be present. Cameras everywhere. At least your mother would never miss such a thing.”

Right. Cares about that company too much.

You remember the times she proved it to you. When you’d come home from middle school, eating some extravagant lunch while watching her talk on TV. Conversing with your staff.

“Okay. Good,” you say, happy about that very answer for once.

Outside, a door creaks. Steps echo through the hallway, a soft call of your name following as you hear the jingling of keys stop.

He sounds joyful.

You get up, phone halfway off your ear as you say, “Hey, I should go. I think that he—”

And the moment you look at the open door of the bedroom, your heart stops. For a second, you fear an intruder at his apartment, but the longer you look, the more your brain gives out.

The black-white-red jacket hugs his broad shoulders comfortably, the thin white sweater underneath it nearly transparent enough to reveal his tiny nipples. But despite his stature, it’s not his body that kills the power in your head.

It’s the—

You murmur last words into the phone, making out a goodbye that doesn’t reverberate as much anymore. She’s probably out of the restroom again; too distracted to give your mumble any attention anyway.

You place your phone where you previously sat and inhale his appearance carefully.

First off — you can see his ears. Can see most of his eyes. His forehead.

His hair is still dark, but it’s tamed. The wild locks, usually a feature you’ve gotten used to over the span of that one year, lay comfortably on his head. In fact, most of them are gone.

You feel a needle in your chest, but one of the surprising sort. Not painful at all.

“Wow,” you only say.

He reaches to the nape of his neck, fingertips brushing the hair there. “Yeah?”

You move towards his body, eyes fixated on every hair strand. Then, close enough, you state the obvious, “You cut your hair.”

“I… yeah. Is it terrible?” he asks, round eyes meeting yours. He raises his hand again, to his ear this time, scratching behind it for a second. “Not used to it at all. But I figured I’d look a little more serious as an artist like this.”

Really? Most artists you knew cared the least about a fancy appearance.

Then again, Jungkook doesn’t look fancy. He just looks different. Breathtaking, more mature, older.

His cheekbones look more chiselled now, his eyes wider. You could pass out right here, right now, and he still wouldn’t know how relentlessly he affects you.

“More serious?” you ask, less because you need an explanation. More because your mind keeps wandering, and you can’t fathom a word he’s saying.

“Just. Needed a change, I think,” he admits, “and wanted to adjust to a press conference’s typical look, too.”

“You did this for the press conference?”

“I wanted to look put together.”

Your heart dissolves and dissipates. His voice is soft as a petal, tender like the colours on his arm. The expression he sports is unsure, like he wants to hide — waiting for your opinion.

He really put thought into this. Woke up this morning and set a goal with purpose, not uttering a word to you to surprise you a couple hours later.

You don’t know what to say. You barely know what to feel, except this unbearable urge to ramble down every piece of tiny emotion he’s ever made you feel.

You want his body wrapped around you, engulfed in a blanket, head on his chest and slumbering for the rest of your life. Want to mumble little confessions, shiver when his lips touch your scalp.

Overwhelmed — that’s what you are.

“I loved the long hair,” you finally admit, “I guess I got too used to it, so I need to adjust, but. But… this is so… It… it suits you.”

You’re stumbling over your words, suggesting doubt. Not the way to go. Perhaps they shouldn’t have chosen you as one of the press conference speakers after all. 

Jungkook’s concern grows visible in his big, round pupils; expressive, a true glimpse into his heart. You feel bad because you’re not as good with words as he is, and because he seemed so happy about his choice.

You just can’t fucking express yourself — even though you’re melting inside, falling harder. And maybe he notices your awkwardness, because he tries again.

“You’re uh— sure you don’t hate it?”

“No! God, no. It’s different. You look amazing, Kook. You look like…”

He swallows. “Like what?”

“You’re so pretty, Jeon Jungkook.” You say it with genuinity this time. He closes his lips, blinking, and while he attempts to veil his relief, you still see the high rise of his chest. “You look fucking gorgeous, no matter what you do. I… I mean it.”

The answer satisfies him. His risen shoulders drop a little, tension falling off, and he fixes the already perfectly sitting collar of his jacket before he smiles. Just a little, a subtle twitch of the corners of his lips.

As soft as his response, “I always aim to reach your level, you know?”

You roll your eyes. Partly to keep them from watering because your heart is bursting. Splintering like every morning and every night; you wonder if you’ll ever get used to it.

A couple gentle words lie heavy on your tongue, pressing against the muscle to let them out; but at the prospect of actually uttering them, your guts twist. You don’t want to throw up before the meeting.

So you remove the tightness from your chest with a deep exhale, nearly until your lungs are dry, and say, “Shut up.”

Playfully, you deliver a soft push against his chest, laughing when his dramatic ass stumbles backwards. Submerged in those goddamn dimples, you immediately grab the hem of his jacket and before you know it, you’ve taken a step forward and landed in his arms.

You sneak your arms underneath the leather-ish material, not hesitating for a second before you’re squeezing his torso. He lets out a choked sound, groaning, but reacts similarly fast as you.

His heartbeat accelerates for a moment, right against your ear as you make yourself small. The sweater smells like his favourite detergent and him; musky, fresh. Your palms, flat against his back, crave deeper touch.

Nothing crude; just an afternoon on the bed behind you, limbs entwined, laughing about things that probably aren’t that funny anyway.

For a moment, the silence transcends words. You inject the blend of gratitude and affection through your touch, ensuring he understands.

But when it’s not a testament to your emotions enough, you speak against his chest, voice very likely muffled, “You didn’t have to do this for me… you just. You never have to do anything for me, but you still do.”

“I’ll do anything for you.”

Immediate and sincere. Voice unwavering.

God, you’re not his strongest soldier.

A smile tugs at your lips, and you chide, "Stop that."

"What?"

"If you keep saying these things," you continue, a frisky lilt in your voice, "I'll die. Do you want me to die?"

Jungkook chuckles. Always a soothing melody in a hushed room. He remarks, grip still wrapped around you securely, "Acting all innocent now."

You don’t understand right away what he means — but then you hear his heartbeat, picking up on pace again.

Makes you want to squash him harder. Melt into him further.

“Shut up, Jeon,” you respond with a nudge, cheek pressed against his shirt. Just a moment longer — just a couple more seconds to inhale the solacing scent.

Your heart is unguarded; he could sever it if he wanted to. He’s proven that he has the power to. Yet, you keep fuelling it, vulnerable in his warmth as you say, “You’ve no clue what you mean to me, Kookie.”

Your vivid imagination might be forcing things upon your mind that aren’t actually there, but you do think you perceive the way his entire body melts. Nearly limp, in a state so relaxed and peaceful that you have only experienced in the mornings before.

Waking him up for work, feeling weightless limbs wrapped around you, passed out.

His fingers trace patterns on your back lightly, stirring from bottom to top and back. They first stop at the small of your back, then lift off your body, hands suddenly on your shoulders.

He pushes you off him, your movements reluctant, and looks at you with profound sincerity. His voice matches his expression, gentle and adoring, “Will you tell me how much I mean to you?”

Amidst the delicate minutes you spend standing between the bedroom and the living room, you almost forget that there’s a world outside. It’s a little more grey than before, similar to the suit you’ll be wearing in a couple hours.

You remember the prospect of an audience, the answers you’ve prepared, to questions they probably will ask. Zara told you they wouldn’t hold back — they’d phrase their inquiries friendly, but still keep the intentions devilish.

Right.

The world is still turning out there. You want it to stop for the two of you — frozen moments. But it can’t, at least not yet. Right now it’s too real; and you guess that the worst part is that in your line of business, it will keep revolving around people like you.

Whether you want it or not.

So maybe, if it truly needs to keep spinning and can’t halt for you, keeping you in the centre, you should give it something to talk about, too.

Something crisp, something new. Without a care for it, but all the care for you and the man in front of you.

Which is why you spare him another fond smile, forehead calm and your demeanour confident — and tell him, “I’ll do my best to let you know."

The audience stretches to the far back. All the rows are filled to the brim with reporters or guests. The shutter of the cameras and the flashing lights are agitating.

You look down.

Nervously tapping your feet on the stage, you shrink into yourself inch by inch. Your seat is uncomfortable, though padded, a little too warm against your ass right now. Zara notices your tick and puts a steady hand to your knee, repeating for the millionth time today, “Stop. It’ll be okay.”

“It’s just dawning on me though, Zara.”

“What is?”

You nod faintly towards the mic and the attendees, tell her, “That I was actually chosen to speak. They shouldn’t have chosen me.”

“You asked for it.”

“Yeah, but there are more important things to discuss.”

Zara’s lips form a circle; she shakes and lowers her head, sending out a beam of air that you feel on your wrist, blazer sleeves rolled up. You’ve been like that all evening.

“You can do it,” she repeats patiently, “you’re the boss’ daughter and they want your opinion. You’ll hit them hard with yours.”

You suck in a breath, leave the air in your cheeks, and then puff it out again. “I want to. I hope to, I just— never thought it’d be this nerve-wracking. Don’t wanna say anything wrong.”

The subtle shake of her head continues — or reemerges —, lips in a thin line, eyes slowly blinking, “Mh-mh. We talked about it, okay? Practised all the questions they could ask. You’ll be good.”

“You gotta promise.”

“As much as I can, babe, it’s up to y—” She takes in your falling face, holding back with a sigh when she sees the dread in your pupils. “I promise. Of course.”

She taps your knee, softly and lightly, and then says, “I’m so curious about everyone’s reactions. Like. Gosh, just look at those people.”

You understand what she means. “I know.”

Zara places a manicured thumb on her matte red lips, mumbling, “Here for entertainment. At least a third of them will add their own fantasies to the articles they’ll write. Hypotheses and manipulative, neutrally phrased thoughts. Cockroaches.”

Funny. That’s what you call them, too. A collective understanding, you see.

But.

“Shhh,” you voice, “they—”

“It’s fine. They know it, too. Like lawyers do.”

Can’t refute. Eun told you one too many times how unfair the law business usually is, and how she’ll strive to not have anyone ever manipulate her. To remain genuine.

“Yeah, but,” you still argue, “I imagined they’d be listening in all the time. Don’t they do lip reading and stuff?”

She nods, a finger still on her mouth, smiling, “Mhm. I also feel like I could say whatever, but it’ll be you they’ll focus on today.”

Your heart drops, an uncomfortable twist in your guts adding to the stress. Might have to dash to the bathroom at the very last minute. You curse, “Shit, Zara… I should fucking ru—”

“Stay. You can do this. I promise.”

“Okay,” you take another deep breath, helping your oxygen-lacking, spinning head, “okay.”

You look back to the media present, ready to survive questions; prepared to provide answers. The moderator is talking to your mother at the front, covering the mic with a hand.

They gave you around five minutes to speak, and in that time, you need to answer everything. How you do it is up to you, but the pressure to perform in a certain way, accordingly, weighs heavily on you.

But it’s alright.

You’ll just need to stay confident. Stick to your message. They’ll have things to say anyway — and you’ll make the best of them.

You stare past the lights, squinting to find him, raking your neck. His figure towers in the back, easy to detect, and once he meets your eyes — or perhaps never having averted his from you — he lifts a hand to wave in tiny motions.

Then, he drops his fingers again, entwining them in front of his body. He isn’t necessarily allowed here, but you were able to sneak him through in advance. So now he’s a couple feet from the wall, choosing to stand rather than sit, so you find him easily.

So you seek his eyes for comfort if need be.

Before you parted near the entrance, he said, “I’ll be offering a dozen thumbs up like a fool if you need me to.”

You chuckled — but maybe he meant it. Because his smile and nod undoubtedly dispel your fears; as if he can see you struggling.

The seconds drag on, and the conference begins seven minutes later. Your mother is the first to talk, outlining a general overview of what’s to come. Of Charmante’s philosophies, of its success, praising the team.

Then, she forwards to important employees like Zara, letting them ramble about launches or ideas in depth. Business strategies, partnerships, bringing across points that you usually don’t get the chance to share.

This is legit press; even though out for a loophole, they won’t follow you around or hide in the shadows. Incessant and vexing, but at least they’re allowed here.

Conversations about new collections, store openings as well as expansions and customer engagement pass in a trice, and at some point, another coworker is uttering last words to a last question.

And you realise — that you’re next.

The moderator introduces you with pride; everyone applauds, smiling at you fondly despite all the controversies. ”Controversies.” Under quote marks, as Zara pointed out, because you never committed an offence.

You stand on weak knees. Trembling when you grip the podium. It’s like the sound in the room fades, a single peeping tone overshadowing all noise. You barely blink anymore; not even the flashy white can shut your eyes.

And god, you can hear your breathing. Your damn heart. Your nose sucks in all the air available in the room, or at least in the building, and then you open your mouth to speak.

a/n: this is not a cliffhanger!! tumblr just doesn't allow to drop looong posts anymore, so here's the rest of the chapter lol, keep reading and enjoying, i love you and will see you on the other side!! and don't forget to support this chapter, folks 🥺 <3

#jungkook smut #jungkook fluff #bts smut #bts fluff #jeongguk smut #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #bts x reader #bts x you #bts imagines #bts fics #jungkook scenario #jeon jungkook smut #thebtswritersclub #jungkook fic #jungkook imagines #bts angst #jungkook angst #jungkook

[starkwlkr]

Hahah the moms flirting with Charles. You should write a dad flirting with Ruby’s mom and she tells charles and he’s like wtf

you’re not my dad | charles leclerc

yes, the title is a vine reference 🧍🏽‍♀️

request #2: Could we please have return of baby leclerc, where she's out with her mum and a man starts to flirt with yn but he won't leave her alone and then Ruby is like she happy with my papa and then Charles notices and gets him to go away, pleasee and thank you, I love your work

Ruby loves Texas. She loves the food, the cowboy hats and boots she got to wear everytime she visited the state, but most importantly, she loves going to the hotel pool on a hot day.

It was a nice sunny day in Austin when Ruby woke up her parents demanding them to take her to the pool. It was media day for Charles so as much as he wanted, he couldn’t join his family for a pool day.

“Listen to your maman, be good and have fun for me, okay?” Charles pressed several kisses to Ruby’s cheeks.

“Okay, papa!” Ruby gave Charles even more kisses.

Charles said goodbye to his family, wishing he could skip every interview, but he couldn’t leave Carlos alone.

“Baby, which swimsuit do you want?” Y/n asked the girl, who overpacked. Ruby had practically stuffed her entire closet into her tiny princess suitcase.

On the bed laid two swimsuits, a pink and purple one piece. Ruby took choosing her swimsuit seriously. Pink was her favorite color, but purple was her mother’s favorite. She ended up choosing purple. After putting on her swimsuit, Ruby wanted to wear her goggles, arm floaties and her donut shaped floaty. She probably looked crazy with all her floaties on, but she didn’t care. She was ready for the pool.

Y/n was also in her swimsuit, but had on a pair of swim shorts over her bottoms. When they finally arrived to the pool, Ruby stopped herself from running since her mother had told her about the pool rules.

They found an empty table to put their bags on. Ruby patiently waited for Y/n to take out the sunscreen. To her it felt like forever, but eventually Y/n gave her the okay to enter the pool.

“I’m going to be a mermaid maman!” Ruby yelled as she jumped into the pool. She doggy paddled all over the pool with Y/n keeping a close eye on her.

“Maman! I can swim from here to there really fast! Watch me! Are you watching me?” Ruby called out to Y/n, who laughed at the little girl. She swam as fast as she could to one spot then turned to look at her mother. She didn’t expect to see a man talking to Y/n.

“Hi, there.” The man said to Y/n. “I’m Matt.” He introduced himself.

Y/n politely smiled and nodded. “Hi.”

“You visiting?”

“Sure.”

All Y/n wanted to do was enjoy a pool day with her Ruby Jules but this ‘Matt’ guy decided she needed some company.

From her spot in the water, Ruby noticed the frown on her mama’s face. She hated seeing her mama upset so she swam to the edge. “Mama.” Ruby spoke.

“This your daughter? She’s really pretty like her mama.” He said with a smile. “Hi, little girl.”

Ruby looked at her mama, who shook her head. But Ruby wasn’t letting this man ruin her day. No, they didn’t deserve to have their day ruined by some stranger.

“Only my papa can call me and my mama pretty. Sometimes my uncle Pierre calls me pretty, but you can’t.” Ruby replied, already giving her famous ‘Ruby glare’.

“Well your papa is a very lucky man.”

“Yeah, and he loves me and mama more! I’m telling papa.” Ruby said in a threatening manner.

“Hold on, I’m just telling your mama she’s a very pretty woman. No need to tell your dad about it.” The man tried to defend himself. From her seat, Y/n was enjoying Ruby make ‘Matt’ wish he didn’t come up to her.

“Papa calls us pretty. You’re not my dad.” Ruby said with the most serious face ever.

Matt, feeling scared for his life, apologized and excused himself. He walked away wishing he was anywhere else at the moment.

Y/n chuckled and got up from her seat. “You’re the best, my Ruby Jules.” She took off her swim shorts so she was just in swimsuit and joined Ruby in the water.

“Want to play mermaids?”

When Charles finally arrived, both Ruby and Y/n had showered and changed into their matching pajamas. They were currently watching The Lorax on the tv.

“How was the pool?” Charles asked Y/n as he joined them on the bed.

“Wonderful. Ruby, want to tell papa your favorite part?” Y/n asked her daughter.

“We played mermaids and I swam really fast and then some guy was talking to maman but I made him go away and then we came here and now we’re watching my favorite movie!”

“What?”

#formula 1 #f1 x reader #formula 1 imagine #f1 imagine #f1 x you #charles leclerc #anon #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc one shot #baby leclerc series #charles leclerc imagine

[freedomfireflies]

The One Where 404 Harry Gets Jealous:

Harry is mad.

No, Harry is past mad. He’s furious. Irate. Enraged and incensed and staring a hole right through Levi’s head.

You work to bite back your smug smile as you nod along to your date's story. And you pretend to be fascinated, even though you’re more fascinated by the furious man a few feet away. 

He’s been watching you since the moment you and Levi walked through the door. And he’s been fighting his own urge to come over and interrupt, that much you’re sure of. But he doesn’t have any right. And he knows it.

And you can’t help but make things just a bit harder for him. You grin brightly at Levi’s comments. You laugh loudly at his attempts at jokes. You touch his arm and lean into him as you listen to the live band.

And it’s driving Harry up the wall.

He’s moments away from snapping. Subtly but angrily scooting closer with every passing minute. And you don’t need him to snap. Or cause a scene. But if he’s gonna act like a big fucking baby just because you’re on a date, well…

“Which was fine,” Levi is saying. “I didn’t really care for it anyway, but…I sent it back and we’ll see if they can do better this next time.”

“Sure, sure,” you agree half-heartedly, eyes drifting toward the tall, surly man in glasses now somehow even closer than before. “And, uh…you said you were hoping to stick around for a while before heading back east?”

“Yeah, that’s my plan,” he says. He points to the stage. “I like these guys. They’re good. It’s so funny, I’ve never really thought about—”

“What the fuck is this?”

You and Levi both turn as an unexpected voice loudly intrudes on your conversation.

You find Harry, unsurprisingly, looming over you as he glares down at your poor date.

“Uh, this…is Levi,” you introduce slowly, biting the inside of your cheek to suppress another smirk. “And this is also none of your business.”

Harry frowns. “Bullshit. You said you weren’t going out tonight.”

“No, I said I couldn’t go out tonight,” you correct. “Because I already had plans. With Levi.”

Levi blinks.

Harry snorts. “Right. And how the fuck did you even meet this Levi in the first place?”

“Okay, well, one...you don’t have to talk about him like he’s not here,” you scold. “Don’t be rude—”

“I’m not being rude. You’re being rude.”

“I—” You huff. “How am I being rude when you’re interrupting my date?”

“Because this isn’t a fucking date and you know it.”

You cross your arms. Stubborn. “And how would you know what a date looks like? Much less a date with me?”

“Because you’ve spent half the fucking night staring at me,” he says smugly and you feel your skin warm. “So, I’ll ask you again. What the fuck is this?”

You turn to Levi—poor, innocent Levi—and offer a sheepish smile. “I’m…so sorry. I just need to work this out with him for one second—”

“No, don’t worry about it,” he says kindly and you’ve never felt worse. “I get it. I’ll get us some drinks.”

“Thank you, really,” you sigh and he nods before disappearing into the bar. And once he’s gone, you turn back to the outrageously annoying man in question. “Okay, seriously, you need to leave.”

“Why?” Harry crosses his arms now, too, and nudges his glasses back up. “You don’t actually wanna be alone with him.”

“Says who? You?”

“Yeah.”

“You don’t know what I want. Because I want nothing more than to be alone with him. In fact, I want to be anywhere you aren’t.”

“Bullshit, Princess. You knew I was gonna be here so you brought him just to piss me off.”

“And why would I do that?”

“Cause you’re fucking annoying.”

“Is that so?”

“It is.”

“And what would bringing him here accomplish, huh? It’s not like you’re jealous or anything, right?”

He leans back and you’ve got him. “Oh, real fucking mature, Tink. Very nice.”

“What? You’re not,” you argue, shrugging one shoulder up. “Why would you be? We’re not exclusive or anything. I mean, maybe if we were, I wouldn’t have to go home with him tonight, but…good thing we’re not.”

He scowls at you. “So that’s why you brought him here? Cause you wanted to play your little fucking game and try to make me jealous?”

“Of course not. That would never work.”

He snorts and looks away and you finally grin.

“Anyway, you should let me get back to it,” you say, beginning to slip past him. “But this was fun—”

He grabs your arm and yanks you back to your spot. “Where the fuck are you going?”

“Back to my date,” you repeat pointedly, slipping his fingers from your skin. “Do you mind?”

“Yes.” He dips down and he doesn’t let you go. “I don’t like games. And I don’t like tricks. You don’t get to fucking play me just cause you’re bored.”

“I’m not bored, I’m single,” you retort. “And I have every right to date him if I want—”

“No.”

You blink. “No?”

“No.” He holds you tighter and he’s resolute in the way he speaks. “I don’t want you going out with him.”

“Yeah? And why do you think I care what you want?”

“Because I know you,” he says calmly, and you can hear the devious undertone even beneath the loud music in the bar. “You brought him here because you don’t want to fuck him. You don’t want to waste your time on a man that talks about the fucking stock market and how much he spent at Erewhon. And you wanted me…to remind you of that.”

He’s right. You know he’s right. He knows he’s right. But you’ll be damned if you ever admit it. 

“The only thing you remind me of is disappointment,” you huff. You take your arm back. “Levi is everything you can never be. And maybe it’s time you realize that.”

You attempt to brush past him again but he stops you once more. He tugs you into his body until your chest is brought to his and everything grows quiet inside your head. Your only focus is him, and his mouth, and his familiar smell, and the way he holds you in his arms.

He’s leering at you—pissed beyond belief—and yet you feel so incredibly warm and safe. Pleased.

“Do not go back to him,” he says and a chill rushes down your spine.

“What?”

“Don’t go back to him,” he says again and you want to smile. “Because you aren’t leaving with him. You’re leaving with me. And tomorrow, you aren’t gonna fucking call him and apologize and set up the next date. You’re gonna lose his fucking number. Is that understood?”

You narrow your eyes. “You’re really fucking annoying—”

He yanks you closer until you can almost taste the lips hovering near yours. “I said, is that fucking understood, Princess?”

You’ve never felt this kind of need before. This kind of yearning for another person and this kind of pain radiating between your thighs. But you’re desperate to fix it—desperate to ride this wave of his anger until it washes you both away. 

"Why?" you whisper and you want to kiss him. God, you want to kiss him, but you resist.

"Because," he says. He breathes you in and then he reaches up to brush his thumb along your lip. "Because how can I let you leave when I know you'll be so unsatisfied?"

Your insides feel like they've been set on fire.

"How can I go home when I know he won't take care of you the way I do?" He brushes his nose against yours. "How can I let my pretty, little Tinkerbell spend the night faking her orgasms when I know how perfect she cums when she cums for me?"

Fuck.

"You can hate me all you want," he murmurs. "But I'm good to you. And you fucking know it."

You can't seem to find a response. Can't seem to make your feet work or your lungs work or any part of your brain actually work.

Instead, you simply exhale, "Okay."

And he smiles.

“Good girl,” he mumbles. He leans back and takes his kiss way. "Then let's go."

He leads you out of the bar and toward his bike in the parking lot and you go without question. He hands you the extra helmet—which he also has to help you put on—then pulls you onto the back and secures your arms around his middle. Just like last time.

“Where are we going?” you yell as the engine comes to life.

There’s something cunning in his eye. “Figured it was about time I took you home.”

“Oh…well, my apartment’s all the way on the other side of town,” you tell him. “It’s kind of a long drive.”

He shakes his head. “Not your home,” he says and your heart instantly lodges in your throat.

Shit, shit, shit.

He smiles. “I want to take you to my home.”

DEDICATED TO MY SWEET BIRTHDAY ANON!!! I HOPE IT'S SOMEWHAT OKAY AND WHAT YOU WERE EXPECTING! I KNOW THERE'S NO SMUT BUT........WE CAN WRITE THAT LATER HEHE

~ Full 404 Masterlist

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Taglist: @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @keepdrivingkisses @swiftmendeshoran @tiredinwinter @straightontilmornin @justlemmeadoreyou @harrysdaydreams @tiaamberxx @peterparker1sgf @myfavfanficsever @littlenatilda @vamprry @fdl305 @tchalametishot @ssaama @indierockgirrl @likeapplejuicenpeach @vane28282 @lukesaprince @closureesny @lc-fics @0nlythrowharrybeaux @hannahdressedasabanana @iguessyourejustwhatineeded @dylanobandposts21 @butdaddyilovehim-hs @floral-recs @itjustkindahappenedreally @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @daphnesutton @love-letters-to-uranus @kirstiea05 @lovrave @nuggetdean

#harry #harry styles #harry edward styles #harry styles blurb #harry styles imagine #harry styles fan #harry styles smut #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x you #harry styles x reader #harry styles concept #harry styles one shot #nerd!harry #smut #imagine #concept #harry styles writing #harry styles oneshot #harry and tink #engineer!harry #dom!harry #softdom!harry #enemies to lovers #jealousrry #jealous harry #404 Harry #404rry #nerdrry

[blue-jisungs]

ONE SHOT

author's note. first of all thank u @kyrjnie for helping me out w the idea fot this one!!! its kinda ironic how it was one of the fics i had a plan for but it ended up being the last one lmaooo and also @eternalgyuuu w the banner<3 BUT my dudes its the last fic of the 2 year event!! thank u for sticking around - both around me and the event hehe - i'm very grateful <3 i hope you more or less enjoyed it!!!

summary. when a stranger keeps you company

warnings. its said that there was a creepy man following yn:(

word count. 1339

seungcheol has a good heart. 

no matter how scary may he look or how tough may he act, deep down he always has and will have a pure heart. 

he never considered it a flaw. not even now, that he is way too far from the stop where he was supposed to get off. in the middle of the week, at almost 1am. 

but he can’t leave you alone, can he? 

it’s not like he knows you… but on his way home at this late hour, he listened to music and just drifted away. the subway was gradually emptying, not many people going as far as him. 

but there was this one girl, who must have entered before him – you were already here, dozed off, when he took the subway. 

he glanced at you, subconsciously smiling at how cute you are. that was another thing about seungcheol – he was so pure. upon seeing an adorable thing, person or anything else, he’d always smile and adore it. 

and today it just happened to be you. he liked to think about others – one would call it being nosy but he genuinely cared about people, even strangers. 

so when he was about to approach his stop and leave, he furrowed his brows. there was this one man at the end of the subway car, eyeing you from time to time. 

and seungcheol despite glaring at him and having an overall intimidating aura (especially with the freshly dyed red hair) didn’t manage to scare him off. he just had a bad feeling and decided to wait for you to wake up. 

the creep must have been either stupid or stupidly stubborn since he just shrugged and relaxed in his seat. 

which is why now seungcheol is 13 stops away from his house and at the end of the line. 

the subway halted, announcing it’s the last stop. 

he sighed and stood up, observing with a corner of his eye how the stranger left the car. 

seungcheol stretched and sat next to you, hearing a muffled sound of a studio ghibli soundtrack playing in your earphones. he tapped your shoulder gently, observing your reaction.

you seemed to gradually wake up – scrunching your nose, stretching, opening an eye open, fighting a yawn and then finally, a sleepy gaze meeting his. 

your eyes widened upon seeing an unfamiliar man this close to you and he immediately moved a bit further.

“sorry to wake you up, it’s just… it’s the last stop” he smiled and you noticed his cute dimples. nodding, you grabbed your purse and blinked slowly. 

“um, thank you. i get off here either way but i really appreciate it” you sent him a warm smile and you two left the subway. 

the weather was a bit stuffy but it was nice to catch some fresh air. you saw the stranger looking at something behind your back. 

“do you get off here too?” you asked hesitantly. 

you take this route everyday at this hour, after work. you should’ve recognized his face if he was a regular too – especially with his handsome face and bright red hair. he shook his head softly. 

“i don’t” he smiled tenderly and his cute, brown eyes moved to need yours “i… there was a weird guy, he’s over there. i couldn’t bring myself to leave you alone. sorry if that made you uncomfortable”

you felt your stomach twist at the thought of some weirdo following you but then… the man in front of you willingly missed his stop to prevent anything from happening.

“what’s, uhm, your name? if i can…” you didn’t finish, shyness taking over you. but the redhead grinned, the cute dimples poking out again. 

“seungcheol. and yours?” he asked, hiding his hands in the pocket of his jean jacket. 

“y/n” you introduced yourself, unable to stop your own lips from forming into a smile – the gesture was too infectious not to do so. “seungcheol, thank you so much. you’re a real gentleman, i thought… there’s no good left in the world. but you proved me wrong

he scoffed, shaking his head. 

“no problem” he grinned and hesitated for a moment, biting down on his plump bottom lip. then he whipped out his phone in a cherry case and checked the time “i still have like…  half an hour before the next ride. and i would sleep way more peacefully if i knew you arrived home safe. can i walk you back?” 

normally, you’d decline. but upon slightly turning around you noticed a weird man glancing at you two. besides, you had a good feeling about seungcheol. maybe you shouldn’t… but there was just something so warm and genuine about him that you agreed. 

with a small nod, you grabbed his arm. turning around, you passed the man. 

“i know we’re strangers but sleeping on the subway doesn’t seem like a safe idea” seungcheol said softly. 

the night was peaceful, stars shining beautifully on the navy sky. a soft gust of wind blew in your face, running through your hair. 

“i don’t usually do this, don’t worry” you scoffed and fixed the bag on your arm. “today was just exhausting and i made the mistake of putting some calm songs” 

he smiled and took a glance over his shoulder. the man was nowhere to be seen. good. 

you had a small talk with him since your walk home usually takes up to 10 minutes. upon arriving at the entrance to the staircase, you slowly let go of his arm. stepping at the stair so you’d be on his eye level, he grinned cutely at the gesture. 

“i really appreciate your gesture, seungcheol. i know i said it like, five times already but… you know” you said shyly, fidgeting with a strap of your bag.

“and as i said: no problem. seriously, y/n” the man nodded and your eyes suddenly widened. 

“wait here a second!” you gasped and entered the code. seungcheol only saw a glimpse of you disappearing in the hallway. 

seungcheol let out a scoff and hid his hands in the pockets of his jacket, suddenly taking a deep breath.

you’re so adorable. 

just when he was about to check the time, the door swung open and you appeared in them again. there was a silver package in your hand, your chest moving up and down irregularly.

“the… stairs…” you breathed out and he laughed, noticing your messy hair. “i almost… tripped…”

shaking your head, you put the item in his calloused hand.

“i made you a quick sandwich. i figured you’re hungry and to even slightly return the favour, you know?” you smiled and tucked your hands in the pocket of your jeans. he smiled sweetly, his heart melting on the spot “it’s, um, lettuce, ham and cheese. nothing crazy, sorry”

“thank you so much. i bet it’ll be delicious” he hummed and silence fell between you two. 

seungcheol bit his bottom lip. 

he had only one shot. he had to be casual.

“um, i was wondering–”

“hey, if you ever–” 

you exchanged surprised looks when your voices merged upon speaking up at the same time. you both laughed, cute wrinkles forming around his eyes. 

“you go first” you insisted.

“if you ever need like… a scary dog privilege or some help, i can give you my number” he said with a boyish smile. the words were said and now… 

“even help with ordering a coffee?” you asked. seungcheol caught the hidden meaning and just nodded. 

“of course” he said and you exchanged numbers, moonlight shining on his handsome face. 

“and um, text me when you get home. i wanna know if my guard arrived safely too” you hummed, wrapping your arms around your torso. seungcheol saluted and slowly began to walk away back to the station. 

you stood there until he disappeared from your sight and he turned around like, 3 times. 

with heart thumping in your chest and a foolish smile on his face, cheol was glad he took that one shot.

main masterlist | event masterlist

taglist. @mirxzii ,, @primoppang ,, @l3visbby ,, @nicholasluvbot ,, @planetkiimchi ,, @weird-bookworm ,, @slytherinshua ,, @kazmura ,, @laylasbunbunny ,, @mon2sunjinsuver,, @eternalgyuuu ,, @rubywonu ,, @haecien ,, @mine-gyu

#seventeen x you #svt reactions #seventeen #seventeen imagines #seventeen reactions #seventeen x reader #seventeen fluff #seventeen carat #seventeen kpop #svt fluff #scoups #seventeen seungcheol #choi seungcheol #seungcheol x reader #seungcheol x you #seungcheol x y/n #seungcheol fluff #seungcheol fanfic #svt #cheol #seventeen scenarios #seventeen reaction #scoups fluff

[fleurrreads]

hi hi hi! could you write something for charles leclerc x single!mom!reader? maybe her son ( or daughter or both ) both him for the first time and they're all protective over their mom, and she has to leave them alone for sometime and when she finds them they're bonding? this probably does not make sense but oh well have something to eat and some water if you haven't in the last hour! and can i be 🎧 anon, if it isn't taken already? my pronouns are she/her and i'm 18!

an: i had a lot of fun writing this one, and i think it has a special place in my heart forever ♡ i’ll add you to the list! welcome lovely 💫

You’ve been seeing Charles for about four months now. In that time you haven’t introduced him to your son — Cody, who is seven. You were worried about him meeting your boyfriends and them leaving, which would mean they also leave him behind. So none of your boyfriends have ever met Cody.

Charles knows about Cody though, and vice versa. You’re currently dressing up to go out on a date with Charles as Cody sits on your bed, little feet dangling from the side. “You look so pretty mommy. Are you going on a date today?” The little boy rubs his eyes, visibly exhausted from the day. He has a lot of energy during the day and then he winds down and passes out by nine. He’s a lot like you in that sense.

You sit down on your bed next to him, pressing a kiss to his temple. “Thank you baby. Yes I’m going on a date with Charles today. He’ll be here soon to pick me up.” You see the gears turning in his little head, and he meets your eyes. “Do you trust him?” He asks, fiddling with the hem of your dress. A nervous tick he got from you no doubt.

“Yes angel, I trust him more than anyone. Do you want to meet him and see for yourself?” The only way Cody will be less worried about you is if he met Charles and saw for himself that he was a good guy. He nods, gathering himself up and running to the living room where Scooby Doo is playing on the tv, the babysitter that you got for tonight was still on the way so you wouldn’t be able to leave before she arrived.

You hear the distinctive sound of Charles’ car coming to a stop in-front of your house when you see Cody’s head shoot up, looking through the curtain at the car that stopped in front. “Woah” You hear him softly whisper to nobody in particular. You smile , making your way towards the front door to let Charles inside.

Charles looks absolutely incredible, not too fancy and not too casual. He kisses you on the cheek, aware of the little boy now sitting on the couch looking warily at him. “Hello my love, are you nearly ready to go?” He looks at Cody, smiling at him. “Hello Cody. It’s nice to officially meet you.” he shakes the little boy’s hand.

Cody smiles softly, “It’s nice to meet you, uncle Charles.” Your heart warms at the smile on Charles’ face. You walk to the bedroom. “I’ll be back in a few minutes, I just need to finish getting ready.” You sit down at your vanity, trying to finish your makeup as fast as you can to not leave Cody with Charles too long. You know Cody isn’t always comfortable at first with people, and you don’t want him to feel like that with Charles.

In the living room Charles hunches down to Cody’s level. “What’s wrong Cody? Did I do something wrong?” He wants to make a good impression on him, because he sees you and him being together for a long time. Cody looks at him with big eyes. “Do you really like my mommy?”

Charles’ heart aches as he looks at Cody. He’s trying to protect your feelings before you can get hurt. He’s probably seen you come back from other dates either absolutely exhausted or crying.Charles realises that Cody just doesn’t want you to go through that again.

Tears are now prominent on the little boy’s waterline as Charles gives his arm a reassuring squeeze. “I love your mom. She’s an incredible woman and I’d like to spend a long time making her happy. She means a lot to me, you know. And I’d like to make you happy too. I was thinking that we could go on a drive tomorrow if you’d like. We can go get ice cream and stop by any shop you want.” Charles notices the hint of excitement in Cody’s eyes. He also sees the relief in the little boy’s face, hearing Charles speak so lovingly about his mom.

Cody grins at him, “I’d love to! Your car is really cool. Does it go really fast?” Question after question falls from the little boy’s mouth, his excitement not contained anymore. Charles chuckles, sitting down on the couch next to Cody, answering every question he’s got.

You finally emerge out of the bedroom, hair done nicely, makeup finished as you make your way to the living room where you find no Charles and no Cody. How odd. As you begin searching you hear giggles coming from the kitchen and your heart swells at the image you see as you peek around the corner.

Cody’s sitting on the counter, a pancake in his mouth, laughing at Charles who’s attempting to flip the pan expertly as to flip the pancake around. He failed miserably as the pancake misses the pan and splats on the floor. Cody laughs loudly. “You’re so silly Charlie.”

A nickname. Cody gave Charles a nickname. You feel your heart ache as you smile at them. Charles has a faint flush to his cheeks when he spots you in the hallway, a smile on your face. “What’s going on in here? Are you burning my house down, Cha?” Cody turns his head to you, still happily snacking on a pancake that didn’t fall to the floor. “We’re making pancakes! Do you want one mommy?” Cody offers you a plate with a smiley-faced pancake and you can’t help but laugh. “Sure, thank you baby.” You sit down at the counter, enjoying the moment with them.

Charles made you call the babysitter to cancel. “Why would we go anywhere else when this is where I could only dream to be.” He took your hand as you’re now sitting on the couch. Cody sitting on his other side, you see Charles holding his hand as well. Your heart swells at the image, and you realise that this was what you’d dreamed of as a little girl. A perfect family.

“We can go on a date another day this week. This moment is more important.” Charles whispers, giving you a small kiss and continuing to watch the cartoons on tv.

You realise that this is how you’d be able to spend forever. With them. With Charles.

reblogs and comments are highly appreciated! ★

#charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc x single!mom!reader #charles leclerc x female reader #f1 x female reader #f1 x y/n #f1 x you #f1 x reader

[caelivir]

rayne ames relationship hcs (part ii)

— WARNING: creepy behavior from a guy but that’s it

— author’s note. i feel like the author’s note from when i posted this doesn’t apply anymore, but anyway, this is part two but isn’t actually because i lost the first part when i accidentally deleted my account… again im so sorry. ALSO!! the writing is a little different bc i’m cringing rereading my old stuff. (how did u guys let that slide)

— HUGE HUGE HUGE THANK YOU TO @mikadzukis FOR SAVING MY OLD HCS I AM INDEBTED TO U!!!!

rayne ames loves dates with you. he loves them.

but he especially loves picnic dates

you introduced him to the idea on one of his days off

you promised it wasn’t going to be draining because you knew being a visionary is a taxing job

so he agreed

and he loved it

spread across the red and white checkered picnic blanket are plates of grapes, cheese, and sandwiches. two goblets of iced tea rest on top of a wooden board so they can remain balanced.

rayne’s large hands support his weight as he leans back onto the blanket. the half-blonde cranes his neck to stare up at the leaves. rays of sunlight peek through slivers of space between them. a butterfly flutters its wings above him.

“rayne!” you call for his attention.

your lover hums as a reply before directing his eyes toward you, offering his full attention.

“i made something for you.” you speak, grabbing for another basket on the blanket. you lift up the cover, reaching carefully inside it. you pull out a cake platter and set aside the lid that protected the dessert residing on it.

“it’s a cake!” you continue with a smile. “this is the first time you’ve been off in a while so i thought i could make a cake to celebrate! i even decorated it with some bunnies!”

a small grin grows on the visionary’s face. he pushes himself up. rayne takes the platter out of your hand and gently places it on a free board on the blanket. you’re caught in surprise as his arms wrap themselves around your waist. his head finds warmth in the crook of your neck.

“thank you.” he whispers.

rayne’s protective of you

he knows you’re capable of fighting your own battles, but there are certain situations where he just had to take care of it

if someone’s saying things about you or harassing you, he isn’t going to tolerate that

the entirety of easton knows not to mess with you, because messing with you means messing with rayne, and no one wants to put themselves through that

he’s already scary enough as is so all it takes is a couple of threats for the person to leave cowering in fear

you wait outside of the café as rayne uses the restroom. people of all ages each other as they navigate their ways theough marchétte street. one of them approaches you, but it’s not rayne.

“so what’s a fine thing like you doing alone here in the street.” a guy smirks, trailing his eyes up and down your body. you shift uncomfortably. he’s definitely a few years older than you and inches taller than rayne. a single line cuts through his right cheek, indicating his level of magic.

you swallow down an anxious gulp before speaking. “i’m with my boyfriend.”

“tell me gorgeous,” the man’s hand travels down the path of your jaw. you’re disgusted by his touch. “does your boyfriend like to share?”

“i really think you should go.” you respond firmly, shoving the grimy hand away from your face.

the guy chuckles, raising his hands in defense. “no need to get aggressive, sweetheart! i just want to know!”

“and who the hell are you?” a familiar deep voice says from behind you. you turn around to discover rayne, and your eyes light up at his appearance. you’re well acquainted with the detachment and chilling coldness of rayne’s gaze, but now, there’s a fire behind them.

rage.

he’s pissed.

recognition becomes evident in the man’s face, and it dawns on him that he just messed with a divine visionary’s lover, but before he can retreat, rayne steps in front of you. he yanks your harasser down to your level. you don’t know what the half-blonde says, but it’s clear that it sparks fear into the features of the other man. once rayne’s finishes with him, he apologizes profusely before running away in the opposite direction.

the anger behind rayne’s eyes fade; they soften when he finds your gaze. “are you okay.”

you grin. “yeah, now that you’re here.”

rayne lets you wear his robes

whenever you hang out in his dorm, your first instinct is to go through his closet and take them

when you first did it, he was going to protest

but you looked so cute i. them that he decided to let it slide

you especially like wearing them when you nap

though you wearing his robes does pose some problems for him from time to time

“you’re late,” orter points out from his seat at the table. his fingers slide the frame of his glasses up his nose. “and where’s your visionary robe?”

rayne strolls past the desert came, not bothering to answer for his actions. he didn’t want to admit—especially to orter of all people—the reason behind his missing robe.

this morning, just as he was almost ready to leave for the divine visionary meeting, rayne realized that he was missing his robe. the half-blonde searched ever crevice of his dorm but to no avail. rayne sighed, reaching the conclusion that you accidentally took it.

yesterday, he had to run a quick errand while you were napping. upon his return, rayne discovered that you had left. you scribbled a message on a notepad, explaining that you didn’t want to keep intruding. you were probably too tired to realize that you had his war robe in your possession.

rayne could waste any more time making a trip to your dorm. it was a bit of a distance from his. the best decision at the moment was to let you have it and attend the meeting without it.

that is how he ended up in this situation, late and stuck sitting next to ryoh.

“y/n has your robe, don’t they?” ryoh teases in a whisper. for some reason, ryoh had discovered rayne’s relationship with you. whenever the two visionaries crossed paths, his senior never fails to mention you.

the sword cane doesn’t respond. “that’s a yes, isn’t it?” ryoh continues with a shit-eating grin. he pokes the arm of the boy next to him

rayne inhales. gods, he was not going to hear the end of this.

whenever you and rayne are apart due to his job as divine visionary, you communicate through letters sent by owls

he talks about the places he’s at and shit talks the people he doesn’t like

you tell him about you classes and how things are back at the academy, especially things going on within the adler dorm

and you occasionally give him updates on finn because you know deep down rayne cares about him

an owl lands on the sill of the open window of rayne’s temporary room. the animal clamps down on an browned envelope placed in its beak. rayne approaches the bird, and it drops the letter into his hands before flying off.

the mattress of the bend sinks under rayne’s weight when he sits on it. he unfolds the piece of parchment in his hands unsealing the envelope. his eyes scan down the letter that reads:

dear rayne,

how’s your trip? i hope nothing’s gone bad. things back at easton have been the same as usual, but it’s not that fun without you here.

classes are boring, but that’s nothing new. i might rip my brain out. i’ve been baking to try and cope. by the way, when you get back, you have to try this cheese tart i made. i had your brother and a friend of his try them. they seemed to like it a lot. i don’t know the name of the kid yet, but he wants me to make cream puffs next time. he says they’re a lot better than cheese tarts so you’ll have to try those too.

speaking of finn, he’s doing extremely well. he’s making lots of friends which is really nice to see. he always seems nervous to talk to me though. am i intimidating or something. i don’t think i am. unless you’ve been saying some things about me then i think we’re gonna have a problem…

gods, i miss you so much. come back soon. i’ll be waiting for you always. take care of yourself and don’t stress too much. i love you.

- y/n

p.s. please get me a souvenir. thank you! i love you, again.

rayne stands up, finding a sheet of paper and a quill. he pulls out a chair by a table. a slight smile flashes on the visionary’s face as he writes back to you—his home.

#anime #manga #mashle #mashle magic and muscles #mashle x reader #rayne ames #rayne ames x reader #rayne x reader #° ᡣ𐭩 set i: fics

[priniya]

🖇️ THE STORY OF US

synopsis. when minho comes back to kiss after the winter break he’s not only surprised to see kitty back, but also a girl she introduced as her new roommate, who at the same time was a girl minho used to be head over heels for.

notes. minho (xo kitty) x reader. i haven’t published anything, xo kitty became my epiphany (fr)

all minho wanted after taking a sixteen hour flight from los angeles to seoul was just to take a nap as soon as he get to his dorm, well, meeting his roommates in the meantime, but sleep was all he wanted. definitely not to see kitty song covey, laying in one of the couches talking so rapidly about…

…whatever kitty could talk about. he focused himself on here for less than a second, and his gaze caught something so familiar, yet so unknown. then, when you parted your lips to answer a question asked by q, he connected all the possible dots. you were the girl he was put up in the same room with, when multiple schools were staying at the same hotel. minho seemed like a total douchebag, just like you’d assume a son of a famous actress would act, nevertheless, since the staff couldn’t really do anything particular to change the rooms, he was… a nice guy.

however, while bonding at the trip, you fell out of touch immediately after as you decided to not share each other’s contacts, so you could meet up in future life if your friendship and… quite more, was meant to be. it was his idea, you were eager to stay in touch as you grow on him in those four weeks.

your new roommate smiled at him, probably excited to see him. “i’m back!” she exclaimed melodically, grabbing your arm in between. “i think yuri pulled some strings, and this is my new roommate, she just transfered. we’ll be living in the boys building, we’re neighbours!” she added, too happy to notice the boy’s shock on his face.

“oh, my god.” he started, but covey quickly interrupted him with a roll of eyes and “i don’t care what you’re gonna say. im exhilarated to be back.” though minho was too focused on you to even listen to your american roommate.

“hi, minho.” you spoke so softly, you could see he almost died. without wasting any more time, q has suggested to let you guys talk alone as it was so obvious you two knew each other. he replied in low voice, clearly not believing his own eyes. “so good to see you again.” a smile rosed on your lips, when his arms were wrapped around your posture.

reuniting with him was unexpected as you never thought you’d see him again, and you believed the plan you set was a complete absurd. you tried reaching out, but he was a son of a star, how could you possibly achieve that? now, it just felt like a scene from a movie, where two lovers finds each other after a long time, although you weren’t really lovers – or were you?

that night you barely had any sleep, you sneaked out of your dorms, and he showed you around, while catching up on almost everything. it wasn’t a lie that something between you has stayed the same, the same butterflies in your stomach when your hands accidentaly touched, the same lovestruck looks, the same way you held hands, the only thing that wasn’t as it used to be was your ages and appearance.

you were standing at your doorstep, when he put his phone number into your phone. “thank you so much for tonight, minho.” you stood on your toes. “i think i missed you.” you whispered with a smug, before leaving a soft kiss on his blushed cheek. without letting him respond, you walked into the room.

minhoe: pls, don’t do me like that

minhoe: come back here and kiss me

a part of you really wanted to be true, but the other decided that you’d just make a fool out of yourself, so you just trail back to your room, slight regret appearing in the back of your head.

the next few weeks looked almost the same — the school were so hard you spent it on studying for most of your free time, which caused minho to think you were avoiding him, when in reality you were tutored by yuri and juliana. “minho’s been asking ‘bout you, quite a lot, you know?” han started.

“bugging our asses for half the lunch break.” juliana added, braiding your hair as the soft tunes of frank ocean played from her speaker. “told us you guys almost kissed…?” her eyebrow’s shot up, scanning your face in the mirror for any signs of embarrassment.

“i mean we did kiss a few years ago at the summer camp, but not now.” you shrugged, not hiding the blush that crept on your face. “don’t look so shocked! we were a camp couple, but he wanted to be sappy and said if the universe wants us together, it’ll let us meet each other again.”

“that’s romantic, isn’t it?” kitty rolled on the bed to face you and juliana. “i mean, you really gotta believe you’re soulmates if you risk something so valuable.” she sighed, smiling softly. “you two remind me of my sister and her boyfriend, lara and peter.”

you frowned, thinking about her words for a minute. was it so valuable or did he just want to have a moment of peace? did he even think about you during the few years you’ve been apart? well, you thought about him, but did he about you? it was your first time in a week that you’d see minho, and ever since the day one, he’s been somehow flirting with you, so you were quite nervous.

you never said you liked him out loud, not because you didn’t (maybe ‘cos first love is the one you’ll always remember), but because katherine would decide to use her matchamaking skills on you. you wanted it to come out naturally, just like back then. your relationship with minho was incredibly special to you, it was something no one could take away from you.

now, you were just trying to look decent. you were going out with him and dae, being asked out so suddenly you couldn’t refuse. you were quite sure that dae’s presence there was just to get you out of the room, and then disappear. you wore a white, flowery summer dress that yuri borrowed you a few days ago, your make up was light and the braids looked cute.

“should i be nervous?” you asked, fixing a few things on your face, before the clock has been the closest to the final minute. a knock on the door was heard from the beginning of hallway. “yeah, it shows you actually care.” yuri’s girlfriend smiled at you as you flattened the fabric of your dress.

minho was breathless, last time he’d seen you in a dress was back at camp, during the last day when you just wanted the boy to remember you as well as he could. “uh, hey.” he uttered, eyes you in shock. “you look, woah, gorgeous.”

just as you expected, dae, who showed up late, didn’t stay with you for longer than ten minutes, saying he needed to see kitty, with whom you were earlier, so it was just the two of you. minho offered you an airpod as you walked down the street to the park, his fingers wrapped around the handle. it was the first time you had been alone with him in weeks, as someone was always near, whether it was q and florian, dae and kitty, juliana and yuri or everyone separately.

“i wanted to find you sometimes, y’know?” you began, leaning onto his arms, when you finally sat down. “what? then why didn’t you? i really hoped you’d do it.” his head fell delicately on your, fingers intertwining themselves with yours.

“well, your mom’s a famous actress, i wouldn’t even be able to text you so… i just followed you on insta.” you shrugged softly, not wanting him to change his position. “and it was your idea to come up with something like this, losing you broke me in half, really. my parents even reached out to your mom.” his face lightened up with shock and confusion, nevertheless he let you continue.

“but her manager or whoever said that hundreds of people call just to say their daughters are your friends, so… i guess the call wasn’t forwarded?” minho groaned, annoyed. he’d give up everything to just have you by his side, when his mom and dad were splitting up.

“i am so sorry y/n.” a sigh left his lips. “i’ll regret that stupid decision till the end of my days, really.” he’d talk and talk, and talk if you didn’t do what you did.

when the soft tunes of lana del rey’s song was replaced by the starting notes of “there is a light that never goes out” by the smiths, you turned around to face him, and after putting your hands on his cheeks you kissed him. his lips moved so godly against yours, you almost melted into his touch. with that, your friendly hangout turned into a date — not that you didn’t think of it earlier, but now it was confirmed. it was a definite date.

when you came back, the living space was empty so… considering you had half an hour before curfew, you decided to snog a little more, while watching a movie. his arm around your waist, your head on his shoulder, a bowl of snacks resting on his thigh. beside that, you didn’t even think about kitty, and what her reaction might be if she came back. now it was just you, minho and your rosing relationship.

#xo kitty #xo kitty fic #xo kitty oneshot #min ho x reader #minho x reader #xo kitty x reader #xo kitty minho #xo kitty min ho #xo kitty minho x reader #minho fluff #niki’s works 🫂

[yandere-daze]

As you may have noticed, I started getting into Resident Evil and the Leon brainworms are strong. I am so down bad for this man so it was inevitable that I would have to write something for him soon.

So here you go, enjoy!

gn reader

tw yandere, obsession, over-protectiveness, delusional mindset, mentions of violence and guns ( because it´s resident evil), staring, delusional mindset

Please do tell me if there is anything else you would like to have tagged!

General Yandere! RE2 Leon Kennedy headcanons

I believe that rather than an authority figure or someone working with the government, Yandere! RE2 Leon would fall in love and grow obsessed with a civilian

He first sees you in Racoon City, an innocent bystander running away with a zombie following behind very closely. You were scared to death and Leon immediately decided to jump into action, not at all hesitating drawing his gun and shooting the zombie until it dropped to the ground and stopped moving

It has always been in his nature to protect other people and so naturally, he just had to help you out.

But there was also a different reason why he had decided to help you. Truthfully, Leon had just been overwhelmed with relief to see another living human being amidst this hell he had been thrown into. All this time he had feared that he might be truly alone in this, but now there´s someone else. Someone that can keep him company in these dire times. Someone he can talk to. Someone he can protect and keep safe

Of course you´re very happy to see Leon after he had basically just saved your life and so, after you´ve both introduced yourself to each other, you agree to tag along with Leon when he offers to take you with him

I mean why wouldn´t you? Going with him would greatly increase your chances of surviving this entire ordeal and not being completely alone just lifts a huge weight off your shoulders

You´re honestly just glad that Leon lets you go with him, it´s not like you´re really of use to him, so you would have understood if he decided that it was too much to deal with

And yet, when he looks at you with a small smile and promises you that he´ll keep you safe no matter what, you have a feeling that you can trust him to keep his promise

And he definitely does! Whenever a zombie appears, Leon tells you to get behind him while he wastes no time shooting them.

He has to admit though, the way you fearfully hide behind him and stick close to him makes him feel a little strange. Why does it feel so good for you to go to him for protection? Why does he like knowing that he´s the one making sure you´re unharmed, the one taking care of you?

Why does he not want to let go when he protectively wraps an arm around your waist?

Yes, the more time passes, the more Leon starts to fall for you. Going through such a traumatic event with someone else by your side probably speeds up the process too.

You´re both the only partner the other one has. And so, Leon starts to get attached to you. The way he feels about you slowly shifts from someone he met under unfortunate circumstances to someone he met because it was meant to be this way. Fate had brought the two of you together.

Why else would you two be the only living people in this place? There was simply no other explanation.

And he had certainly taken notice of the way his heart speeds up when you smile at him every time you thank him for taking care of you.

He wants to take care of you forever. He wants to show you that he could. Better than anyone else.

And so, Leon gets more and more protective, determined to make sure you both get out of this alive so you can start planning your future with each other.

Because of this, he doesn´t like it when you stray too far away from him. Just having you leave him for around a minute makes him want to make a mad dash to go after you, immensely worried that something might happen to you while he´s not there to protect you.

He´s pacing around the room and biting his fingernails when you tell him you just want to check out a room you saw down the hallway real quick. It doesn´t matter that he already killed all the zombies roaming these halls on your way here, what if there´s another one? What if you´re all alone in that dark room and suddenly the door slams closed and a zombie tumbles out of a locker? What if he wouldn´t be able to get to you quickly enough? What if you died because he wasn´t there?

These thoughts keep eating at him and so Leon practically insists on going everywhere with you, he starts getting really clingy all of a sudden, not letting you walk even two steps without him trailing closely behind.

You might have gotten mad about someone acting that way usually but you can´t really bring yourself to blame him, considering the situation you were in.

Still, you found it kind of creepy how his eyes never seemed to leave your form. Whenever you would turn your head to look at Leon, you would catch him already staring at you intensely.

He´d have the shame to blush and apologize for staring at you but he never really stops doing it either. He just can´t help it, you´re so enchanting he has to always have his eyes on you! It´s like he´s drawn to you.

Um, he always has to make sure you´re safe, is what he meant to say there actually! There´s no other motive behind his staring!

But yes, Yandere! RE2 Leon is like a lovesick little puppy that trails after you and practically begs for your praise.

There´s always this creepily bright smile on his face whenever you thank him for doing something for you. It´s like he´s living off of your praises. And he is, truthfully. There´s nothing better to him than hearing your praise, it makes all this work worth it.

It just feels so good to hear you compliment him so sometimes he makes a show out of killing zombies, trying to look as cool as possible in front of you in an attempt to charm you. He wants you to think he´s cool and reliable. He wants you to think that he´s a good partner. That he could be the perfect boyfriend for you.

Because he´s sure that there´s no one out there that cares about you as much as he does. He would do absolutely anything for you. You could use him as much as you like and he would do it all with a smile on his face.

He just wants to show you how much he adores you, how much he loves you! That you two are meant to be together! He´s too shy to say it to you outright but he knows you must also feel the same way about him. You must! Because you´re soulmates and now that he finally met you, Leon is not willing to let go of you again.

It´s unlikely he would ever lock you up or kidnap you but he desperately wants to be a part of your life.

So please just say you love him back! Tell him you´ll never let him go and Leon will worship you every single day for the rest of his life.

#resident evil #leon s kennedy #yandere resident evil #yandere leon kennedy #yandere leon kennedy x reader #resident evil x reader #resident evil 2 #leon kennedy #leon kennedy x reader #yandere resident evil x reader #gn reader #yandere #cw yandere #yandere x reader #cw obsession #cw delusion #male yandere

[issdisgrace]

Look what can be requested and I am so excited! It can be one of Ghost being married and after a long time finally 141 meets her husband who is someone so nice, kind and cute to everyone, attractive and a bar owner, he could meet 141 when they go to a nice restobar and boom! they see Ghost's handsome husband.

THE BAR​

WARNINGS: Nothing really other than Ghost threatening Soap​

A/N: I’m gonna to make a part 2 of this later on fyi​

We got back to base the other day and tonight Price decided to take us out for drinks, said he knew a great place nearby. Needing a drink, I decide to go on with this little adventure and in the end we ended up at a bar that is all too familiar to me. It was my husband Y/n’s bar, the one that he took so much pride and joy in. The sight of it made me feel warm inside knowing that he would be in there tending bar like normal. But it also made me worried the guys didn’t know about Y/n. I made sure of that, but now there was no way to get out of this situation. They were going to find out tonight.

Entering the bar, there were few people scattered about, typical for a Tuesday night. Y/n like I expected was behind the bar tending to the people that were sitting at it. His motions were elegant and fluid, making him look angelic. Angelic, angelic was a good word for him. He looked like he was ripped from a fashion magazine and realistically Y/n could have anyone. But he wants me and that makes me feel good like really however I digress.

We made our way to a table towards the back near the restrooms. My back was to the bar as we all sat and figured who was paying for what round. We came to an agreement and settled on Price, Soap, Gaz, and then me. Right before Price could ask us what we wanted I felt arms wrap around my waist and a kiss on my cheek. The look of utter shock written on others’ faces was comical. Already knowing who it was I leaned back into his chest welcoming his familiar warmth.

“Want your normal darling.”

“Yes.”

“Alright, I’ll get that for you right away and the drinks are on the house for your friends.”

“Thank you, love.”

“No problem.” He says before giving me another kiss on the cheek before leaving. Looking back at the guys, they are still in shock. It’s like that for a minute or two before Soap says,

“What the fuck just happened? Who the fuck was that?”

“He’s my husband Y/n.”

“HUSBAND?” They all questioned.

“Yes, husband. We’ve been married for 4 years so far, but we’ve been together for 8 years.”

“9 years coming up in 1 month, 3 weeks, and 5 days.” Y/n says, coming up behind me, setting my drink down in front of me and giving me a kiss on the cheek. I smile at that. He has always kept track of any anniversaries or birthdays. I suspect he keeps track to the hours, minutes, and seconds, but I’ve never asked.

“Oh right, how rude of me I forgot to introduce myself. I’m Y/n, I’m Simon’s husband and you guys must be Price, Soap, and Gaz. It’s nice to meet you guys. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

“The Lt. talks about us?”

“Yes, He’s told me quite a lot.”

“Aww, that’s sweet Lt. You do love us.”

“Fuck off Johnny.”

“You love me Lt.”

“No I don’t. I only love Y/n.”

“That’s cute.” Gaz says.

“Sickly cute.” Soap adds.

“Leave Simon alone you two. He’ll give you hell tomorrow.”

“Alright Captain.” The two say in unison. Prices are right. If they keep it up, I’ll make tomorrow's training a living hell for them. Before I voice my agreement to Price Y/n chimes in,

“As much of a pleasure it is to meet all you guys I still unfortunately have a bar to run. So what will you guys be drinking tonight?” They team orders and Y/n gives me a quick kiss before heading back to the bar to make their drinks.

“So Lt. How did you manage to bag such a hotty?”

With all seriousness I say, “If you so much as look at him in any way other than in a friend type of way I will gouge your eyes out and feed them to you.”

I see horror flash in his eyes before he says,

“Alright, alright Lt. No need to get violent. I’ll behave scouts honor.” He holds up the boy scout hand sign.

“You’ve never been a boy scout Soap. I don’t think they would’ve even let you be one.” Gaz says.

“Rude, I would be a great boy scout. “

Price lets out a chuckle at the two, shaking his head. I join him and just shake my head. I can tell this is going to be long night.

#simon ghost riley #cod #simon ghost riley x male reader #simon ghost riley x reader #cod x male reader #cod x reader

[milkywaydrabbles]

19/21 and 26 with........Haitani's!?!?!??! 🫣🫣🫣

I just can't stop thinking of them 😩😩

A/N: It was a little hard for me to start this one ngl, I was unsure how I'd be able to write the brothers sharing like THIS but I guess it's okay. I hope you enjoy it!! I brought the exhibitionsim out more with the enjoyment of being recorded instead of a public setting or someone else actively watching (the ending also kind of ties back into it) ANYWAYS MWUAH

Double penetration (one hole)/threesome/exhibitionism x Haitani Ran, Haitani Rindou

“Ran you fuck--didn’t you ever learn how to share?” The younger Haitani snarled, shoving the older brother away from you. “It’s my turn.”

You don’t know how you got in between them--two of the most dangerous men in the entire country. You’ve heard stories of the terrors they got into when they were younger in Roppongi, how they climbed the ranks through different gangs, how they ended up as executives for the nastiest crime syndicate on this side of the world. It should terrify you, really, how you’ve gotten yourself tied up with these men. They could throw you away in an instant, kill you if you looked at them wrong--make you disappear from the life you know and use you as a drug mule. A thousand things can go wrong. 

And yet, you can’t help but smile whenever you’re with them.

You landed a job as a bartender in one of their clubs, normal job for the most part. You’d go in, do a bit of flirting, fight off a few way too drunk guys, and go home. You had no idea you’d been being watched for the better part of three weeks by the brothers themselves. You didn’t know what kind of place the club was until well after they formally introduced themselves as the co-owners, the Haitani brothers. Even then, you treated them the same way you’ve treated any other boss-with respect, but minimal interactions (as best you could, anyways.) They liked that, how you didn’t try to get money out of them, or sleep with them. They liked to keep it playful with their staff, but the women (and men!) would throw themselves immediately and it was such a turn off--Rindou would usually fire them the night after. They kept showing up at the clubs during your shifts, keeping a close eye on you. Ran started becoming bold and flirting with you on the job, which you brushed off as best you could. 

It wasn’t until an unruly patron tried to grab you after your shift that the men really intervened with you, Ran pulling you close into his chest to shield you (kind of) as Rindou pulled the trigger between the pig’s eyes and called in a cleaning crew to get rid of the body. It was then that you understood who they were, who really owned the club. They steadied themselves to hear grating screaming come from you, girls were usually scared after seeing something like that. Instead, you wrapped your arms around Ran tight, gripping at the back of his shirt and letting out a shaky ‘thank you’ before steadying yourself and (attempting) to go home for the night.

They hadn’t left you alone since.

And now you find yourself caught in between them most nights after your shift, in one of their beds. Tonight was different, you’ve noticed, because Ran started pulling out his phone and setting it up on the dresser across from the bed. “Mind if we record it, pretty girl?” His voice always sent shivers down your spine. “Go ahead-” your voice came out shakier than you hoped, hearing the younger brother attached to your neck chuckle. “Already so worked up, baby, barely even started.” He teased, kissing and biting at the juncture of your shoulder, fingers dipping underneath the band of your underwear. You whimpered, fingers combing through his wild locks and tugging at the root, bringing him up from your neck enough to press your lips against his--all tongue and teeth as he bit down on your lower lip leaving you breathless. He took the opportunity of your parted lips to shove his tongue in your mouth, licking at your own. You tried to keep up with his overwhelming pace, suckling on the tip of his tongue making him groan. “Fuuck baby, got so lucky with you didn’t we?” Rindou’s voice was ragged, much different than the smoothness of Ran’s--his was nearly scratchy in the best way possible. It made your hair stand up on the back of your neck. His hands came up to your throat, one wrapping around the back while the other grasped at your lower jaw, keeping you attached to him. You felt two taps on your ass cheek, and hands prying your underwear lower until it hit your knees. “Come on pretty, help me out and take these off.” Ran joined in, and you lifted each knee one at a time off the bed to let him remove the clothing fully. Your hands clawed at Rindou’s chest, trying to keep yourself afloat as the elder Haitani pressed open mouth kisses on your shoulder blades, trailing to your back. “Don’t think we can ever let you go, sweet girl.” Ran mumbled against your skin, raking his nails over the fronts of your thighs towards your weeping cunt. You broke away from Rindou enough to gasp for breath, nose to nose when you let out a small cry at the feeling of Ran’s hand slapping at your clit. 

Your lower half jolted away from the stimulation, but when Ran pressed himself against your back you had no choice but to take each smack he gave you. “Gotta take everything I give you, angel. Now be good for me, yeah?” Two fingers suddenly shoved themselves deep into your pussy, and Rindou had pressed his lips back to yours to muffle your cries. Even after all the times you’ve been in their beds, their fingers are a stretch to begin with. You’re dripping wet, but his fingers are so long they hit so deep. Ran starts off slow, sucking hickies into your shoulders and neck as he finger fucks you, smiling against your skin when he feels you fucking yourself back onto him. “There you go, beautiful~” He coos, scissoring his fingers inside of you rubbing at your walls so good. Your closed eyes open to look at Rindou in front of you, eyes already wild as he watches you meet each thrust of his brother’s fingers. A hand traveled lower from your jaw to grasp fully at your throat, fingers wrapping around and squeezing. “You can take some more, right baby?” Your eyes fluttered, barely able to nod while he was holding onto you like this, mouth dropping open. 

Rindou pressed his thumb against your nub, unable to move you had no choice but to take the stimulation--spit pooling at the corners of your mouth the same way tears did in your eyes. “R-Rindou-aah, please” You begged, though your brain couldn’t conceptualize why. A harsh smack to your ass left you squealing. “I’m here too, pretty.” You could hear the jealousy in Ran’s voice, and you knew you were right when you saw Rindou smirking. “Do better and maybe she won’t forget.” A slew of curses left Ran’s mouth before smacking at your ass again. “S-sorry! I’m sorry, Ran, I didn’t forget--honest.” You whimpered, doing your best to turn away from Rindou and crane your neck to look at Ran over your shoulder. “Aw, I know sweetheart. Gimme a kiss.” You occupied yourself with kissing Ran, who kissed you much slower than his counterpart. While Rindou was a wildfire, Ran was like flowing water. He kissed you slow and steady, taking his time to lick at your mouth and taste you. While Rindou was overwhelming, Ran was dizzying. Regardless of who was on you at any moment, they made you feel just as good. 

Ran kept you distracted enough for Rindou to push his ring and middle finger into your cunt alongside his brother’s fingers--filling you and stretching more than they had in the past. “Oh fuck” You breathed out, trying yout best to keep up with Ran but Rindou was shoving himself into you so harshly already it was difficult to breathe. Rindou’s fingers were thicker than the elder brother, filling you up as Ran’s fingers hit deep. Ran let you go, and you turned down to see Rindou’s fingers pumping in and out of you, juices oozing onto his fingers with each fuck. Your forehead hit his chest, a hand reaching back and grasping at Ran’s wrist for some sick form of grounding--spreading your legs more to give them easier access to your sloppy pussy. “S’this feel good, baby?” Rindou questioned, curling his fingers towards that gummy spot in your cunt. “A-ah, yeah, fuck, yeah” You whimpered, clenching around their sets of fingers. Ran laughed behind you, “Yeah? Like when we fuck you with our fingers, angel? You want more?” Nodding against Rindou’s chest, they removed their fingers from your cunt--creaminess covering their hands. “Look at that~” Ran whistled, making a show of spreading his fingers and letting your stickiness web between them. He turned your head towards the camera, and the brother’s chuckled seeing how fucked out you looked in the camera. “Lick ‘em clean, beautiful.” Ran spoke first, presenting his fingers in front of your face as you greedily sucked at them, taking them deep into your mouth to the knuckle and making sure you sucked them clean. You watched yourself in the front camera lapping at his digits, clenching your pussy around air. When Ran pulled his fingers out you immediately turned to Rindou and stuck your tongue out--expectantly. “What a good girl you are” He teased, shoving his fingers into your mouth until you gagged, and turned you to face the camera again. “Go ahead baby.” Stray tears fell down your cheeks as you licked around his spread fingers tasting yourself on him. 

Ran moved off the bed to bring the phone closer, now on the night stand as he laid down, bringing you with him. You understood immediately what he wanted, and lined yourself up to his cock as he filmed you lowering yourself. He bit his tongue holding back a moan while your pretty sounds filled the air, steadying yourself on his chest before your arms are ripped back behind you. “Come on baby, you can do it right?” Rindou taunted, kissing at your shoulders while you kept a steady pace bouncing on Ran’s cock. The older brother had the camera right at your hole, watching the way your pussy swallowed him up and drooled around the corners with your juices. His free hand held onto your hip, Rindou pulling you back to lean more against him as Ran started meeting each bounce on his lap with a thrust of his own, a webbing of white covering his dick each time he pulled out. “Fuck baby, look so good taking my cock. You think you can take another one?” You weren’t sure you understood, and before you had time to think more about the question the phone was placed back down on the stand and Rindou pushed you towards the other, Ran grabbing at your face and making a scene of kissing you sloppy in view of the camera. “Look at yourself, pretty baby.” He whispered against your ear, holding you by the jaw towards the camera when you started feeling Rindou prodding at your already stretched out cunt with his own cock. Your eyes squeezed closed with your brows scrunched, mouth hanging open as he pushed himself into your hole alongside Ran. “Ooh my god, fuck! S’much, wait--wait it’s so much!” You cried out, Ran slapping you lightly on your cheek to get your attention.

“Open your eyes, pretty girl. Look at yourself while you get fucked by us.” Your eyes were fuzzy, unable to fully focus as you watched yourself drool, tongue lolling out and tears rolling down your cheeks as Rindou filled you inch by inch. You should be embarrassed, feel shame as they made you watch yourself like this--being used by two dangerous men. But you couldn’t feel anything except turned on, looking at your own reflection drooling and crying uncontrollably on their cocks filling you more than they ever have. You subconsciously tightened your walls around them, and their groans filled the air. “Fuck! So fucking horny watching yourself, huh baby?” Rindou snickered, leaning over and angling the camera to your lower bodies, pulling you up for a clear angle of both cocks pumping in and out of your pussy. Just like you did Ran’s, Rindou’s cock was covered in your creamy cunt, squelching and gushing with each pap, pap, pap of their cocks fucking up into you. You couldn’t do much but take it, sobbing with overwhelming pleasure as they used you like a sleeve. Rindou’s fingers came around your front to rub and pinch at your swollen nub, and in no time he had you crying out and creaming over them, each push in and pull out of their cocks leaving with a squish. Ran’s hands had a strong grip on your hips as he fucked up into you, and last minute pulling out to cum on your tummy, painting your front white with his cum. 

With only Rindou now inside your cunt he quickened his pace and fucked you harder, tugging at your biceps and pulling your arms back as leverage. Ran moved the phone again, for full access to your body and face as the younger brother left you a mess. “Ready for me, baby?” He grunted behind you and you nodded with a sob, suddenly feeling him leave your pussy and make a mess on your ass, grabbing the phone from his brother and recording him slap his cock on your ass, smearing his mess around. Giving the phone back, Ran recorded up to your face now. “Smile at the camera, pretty girl.” Panting, you looked up at yourself again in the phone, lazy smile playing on your lips--fucked stupid. Ran scooped his cum on a finger while you were still watching yourself and lifted it to your mouth, watching you lick him clean and sticking your tongue out as proof.

He stopped the recording and Rindou lowered you onto the bed, mumbling to himself how ‘gross’ it was to share a hole like that with his brother. “Whatever dude--she felt good.” Ran called over to the younger Haitani as he left to grab something to wipe you down with. “You good, baby?” He whispered to you, smoothing down your hair as you nodded with a smile. He fiddled with his phone as Rindou wiped you clean, kissing your forehead and praising how good of a job you did for them. His phone pinged, before Ran spoke saying “Sent it to you.” When he finally took a look he saw it was in the group chat they had with Sanzu, snapping his head up to look at his brother who already had a grin like the devil and shrugged.

“Oops.”

#haitani ran #haitani rindou #rindou haitani #ran haitani #haitani brothers #haitani ran x reader #haitani rindou x reader #haitani x reader #rindou x reader #ran x reader #rindou haitani x reader #ran haitani x reader #haitani brothers x reader #haitani rindou smut #haitani ran smut #tokyo revengers #tokyo revengers smut #tokyo revengers x reader #tokyo rev #tokrev #milk writes #milk kinktober

[puckslxt]

JHUGHES INSTA POST IMAGINE

yourusername

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yourusername HAPPY SLUTOWEEEEENNNN @/jhugh

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(y/u/n and jhugh liked this comment)

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yourusername

yourusername remember that one time in Paris? @/jhugh

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yourusername Happy love day from me and Jack 😌 @/jhugh

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yourusername can’t believe it’s been 2 whole years with the absolute love of my life! Loving you has been nothing but a dream and I’d never trade it for anything in the world. Coming directly from a relationship that was nothing but hard on my mental, meeting you was like every wish I’d ever had as a child came true. The first time I looked into your eyes I knew it was gonna be you. Your chaos and rowdiness is so unbelievable but makes you even better in my eyes. You allow me to be my full self without a single care in the world. I love you beyond words could ever describe. My beautiful, loving, sweet, and kind boy… You’ll always have my heart Jacky, forever and always @/jhugh

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yourusername welcome to the world Jacqueline @/jhugh

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jhugh so proud of you for carrying our girl for almost 10 whole months and especially proud of you for giving birth to her. Forever in awe of your strength and beauty

yourusername thank you for helping me all those months. The late night craving runs, wiping my tears away when I cried for no reason, changing my clothes, and even helping me shower… None of it went unseen and unappreciated and I love you so much for all of it

jhugh it’s the least I could do for everything you do for me

mattrempe fuck the Hudson River rivalry, Jacqueline is the best and sweetest baby ever 🥺

yourusername ladies and gents, Matt Rempe not being cocky for 5 minutes!

mattrempe yk sometimes I really despise you y/n

yourusername never that! who else is gonna be your stylist and petty maid when I’m in NY for my modeling gigs?

jhugh now Matt… Matt Matt Matt… do we have to give the people what they want? 🤨

mattrempe @/yourusername come get Jack please 😭

jhugh so lucky you’re friends with my girl cause I woulda fought you 🙄

yourusername

yourusername surprise! Welcome to the world Carson! @/jhugh

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jhugh Jackie is the best big sister already

yourusername I knowwww 🥺

nicohischier next Dev’s first pick? @/jhugh

jhugh oh 100% he’s got it in the bag

njdevils next Hughes in line for the team!

yourusername next number 86?

jhugh @/yourusername taking over dads number

njdevils @/yourusername @/jhugh making those jerseys right now!

#jack hughes #hughes brothers #nhl imagine #luke hughes #quinn hughes #new jersey devils #njd #matt rempe #trevor zegras #nico hischier

[gallavichsreddie1128]

Innocent (Homelander)

Description: Y/N is the newest member of the seven and Homelander takes a liking to her.

Warning: Smut

Word Count: 1,715k

She looked up at the building in awe. She stood in front of the seven’s building. She couldn’t believe that she was going to be in the seven. She couldn’t wait to meet everyone, especially Homelander. She loved him and couldn’t wait to see him in person. She walked into the building and her anxiety raised. She almost walked right back out but someone got her attention. “Hi, I'm Ashley.” A red headed girl greeted her. “I’m Y/N or Y/S/N.” She introduced herself as if Ashley didn’t already know who she was. “The new member of the seven.” Ashley clarified with her. “Let’s show you around.” Y/N nodded.

Ashley walked her into the room where all the other Supes were. “Ashley, we are having a meeting.” Homelander snapped at her but stopped when he saw the girl next to her. She looked so pure and sweet. She was in her costume which was a white bodysuit and Angel wings. “Well who’s this?” He said, walking towards them. Y/N tensed up and couldn’t believe that Homelander was right in front of her. “This is Y/N or Y/S/N.” She introduced her. Homelander’s eyes traveled down her body and Ashley cleared her throat. “That’s a pretty name for such a pretty girl.” The others looked at each other. “Thank you, Homelander.” Y/N said, Homelander melted at her sweet voice, she was adorable. He wanted to ruin her.

“Ashley, leave I got the rest.” He commanded. Ashley left without question leaving Y/N alone with the Supes. “I’ll be showing around for now.” He told her and turned around. “Guys, this is Y/N.” He introduced her to the group. Y/N looked at everyone in shock. “Cat got your tongue, pretty girl.” A-Train said. Homelander hit the back of his head as he walked by him. “Don’t.” He growled. Y/N just stood there not knowing what to do. “Y/N you can come sit.” She looked around and didn’t see an empty chair. “Uh where do you want me to sit, sir?” She asked, he got hard just at her calling him that. “On my lap for now.” Maeve looked at him in disgust as it clicked in her head what was going on. Y/N walked over to him and he pulled her to sit on his lap. The others tried not to think about it too much but could tell what was going on.

His hands placed themselves on her hips. She loved the feeling of his hands on her, though it also made her very nervous. It also caused her lady parts to tingle. As the meeting happened she couldn’t really focus much, she was nervous and the feeling of Homelander caressing her made it worse. As he ended the meeting everyone got up including her but he pulled her down. “You’re staying with me.” He tells her and she nods. Once the door was closed his hand moved to her thigh. “So Y/N tell me what’s got your heart racing so fast.” “I’m nervous about all of this.” She tells him, playing with her fingers. His eyes dragged over her form like he did earlier. “You know what helps with nerves?” He asked her, but she didn’t have an answer so she shook her head.

His fingers moved closer to her pussy, “Orgasms.” He whispered and bit her ear a little bit. Her breathing picked up as his hand was inches from her wetness. “Ever had one?” He asked, she shook her head no. His finger lightly traced her clothed pussy. She hummed at the feeling. It felt really good. “It feels amazing, baby. You’ll love it.” He tells her. She gasped as she felt him push her body suit and underwear aside and felt his bare finger on her clit. “You’re already wet.” He says and starts playing with her. She was letting out little moans and whimpers as his fingers rubbed on her clit. “How does that feel, baby?” He asked her, and she moaned out “so good.” He chuckled and took another finger and traced her hole with it.

“This will feel even better.” He tells her before sliding in his finger as slow as he could so she could adjust to it. She whined in pain at first leaning back against him. But once she got used to it, it felt really good. Her little moans turned to big ones. “Your pussy is so tight.” He groans. Her hand grabbed his wrist as he finger fucked her. He watched her with intense eyes as she got closer to release. Her mouth was wide open and her eyes were closed, the most pornographic noises left her lips. He began kissing her neck and whispering the dirtiest things in her ear, making her red. “You look so pretty with my finger inside of you.” He whispered, she moaned in response. “Think you can take another?” He asked as if her answer mattered. He added another finger making her whine his name. He chuckled and kissed her neck again.

Her hips started involuntary moving. She gripped his wrist as her hips synced with his fingers. He stopped kissing her neck and nuzzled it, smelling her. Her scent was sweet and he could smell her arousal. Her scent was addicting. He curled his fingers hitting her g spot, she screamed back Homelander covered her mouth with his other hand. “Shh baby. You don’t want the others to know that on your first day you became my bitch.” She moaned against his hand. Her chest started moving up and down really fast, she began panting against his hand. She felt the really good feeling get better and better. Homelander felt her clenching around his fingers. “Are you close?” He asked her, she couldn’t answer him with words due to his hand covering her mouth so she nodded. “Cum for me baby. Cum all over my fingers.” He demanded and she did. Her body arched as her first orgasm started.

The feeling was like nothing she had ever felt before. She felt it through her entire body as his fingers kept moving inside of her. Her eyes rolled back and she kept moaning. He watched in awe as she experienced this. Once her high was gone he pulled out his fingers and saw how drenched they were. He put them in his mouth and suckled on them, moaning at how good she tasted. She watched him with wide eyes as he licked his fingers clean. “You taste so fucking amazing.” He moaned. She kissed him and moved to straddle him. He helped her and kissed back. The taste of her orgasm was on his tongue and lips, making her moan. His hands rubbed her hips as she deepened the kiss. “Give me more please.” She moaned against his lips. “More what?” Though he knew what she was talking about. “Orgasms.” She said and kissed him again. He stood up with her in his arms. He sat her on the table, never breaking the kiss. She pulled at his suit, basically begging him to take it off. He pulled away from the kiss and pulled down his pants.

“Take your suit off.” He told her. She pulled the straps off her shoulders and stood up to get it off her body. She stood bare in front of him. He stared at her naked body, taking in every inch of her. She had an amazing body and he couldn’t wait to be inside of it. He picked her up and placed her back on the table. She looked down at his hard dick. It was long and big, it made her nervous. “You like what you see?” He asked. She looked up at him and nodded. “How will it fit?” She asked with her head turned a little. God she was so pretty, he thought. “Guess we will see.” He said and stroked himself a few times before lining himself up with her entrance that was super wet again.

She wrapped an arm around his neck as he slowly pushed in. She closed her eyes and prepared for the pain that made her cry out. He watched her face twist in pain as his big dick split her in half. He pulled her hips closer, making her cry his name. He felt bad that she was in pain, which was weird for him. He wanted to give her the world and not hurt her. “Shhh baby it’ll feel so good.” He whispers and places his face in her neck. His eyes rolled back at the sweet scent of her. Once he was inside of her, he stopped to let her adjust. She opened her eyes and moved her hips a little to see if the pain was away. She moaned in delight as the pain was no longer. He took that as a sign to start thrusting. His hips made the table below them creak but neither of them cared. Her other hand was holding his and squeezing as the pleasure got more intense. “Homelander.” She whined as his hips picked up speed. He pulled back from her neck to look at her.

He placed his forehead on hers and they stared at each other. Moans left both of their lips. She kissed him to silence them both as the pleasure got more intense. Their bodies moved in sync, she gasped in his mouth as she felt the amazing feeling rise again. “Fuck.” He groaned as he felt his orgasm as well. “I want us to cum together.” He tells her , making her nod. He could tell that she was close and she could tell he was as well. “I’m so close.” She warned him. “Me too, baby.” Both of them were sweating and making the sweetest noises. She hugged him tight as she tumbled over the edge, screaming in his neck. He whined as he came as well. She gasped as they both rode out their highs. The feeling better than it was before. He stopped his hips after the high was gone. She pulled back and looked at him. Her hair was damped and ruined from sex, it made him smile. She looked so beautiful. It was at that moment that he knew he was gonna make her his wife.  

#the boys #the boys amazon #the boys imagine #the boys season 4 #homelander #homelander x reader #homelander imagine #homelander smut #homelander x you #antony starr

[kelppsstuff]

HI MOOTIEE anyways I got smth for ya

Of course it's Adam cause YEA.

what if Adam and his goth girlfriend who is an angel of course can be fluff can be smut anything you want

Thanks mootie have a wonderful dayyy

HIIII MY BELOVED!!!! Ahhhh I hope you like thissss I enjoyed working on it! Have a fantastic day for everyone reading! Also I low-key think I’m turning into a slut with all the smut I’ve been writing recently 😭

“Looking Pretty!”

Adam x Goth gf reader

Masterlist

Warnings: blow job

Taglist: @adamsfavoritesinner @sashaphantomhive @leathesimp @ladyninggs @michelleszn @sirenetgeblogger

—

Adam had first met you when he was on stage performing at a concert. You saw you next to Lute singing all the lyrics on the top of your lungs. He threw two guitar picks y’all’s way, one for each of you and moved on to the other side of the stage.

After the concert had ending Lute introduced you two. You were her sister, and he was her boss.

—

“Sir?” Lute called out to her boss. She was behind stage and wanted to introduce her best friend to her sister. “Yeah danger tits?” Adam asked looking over his shoulder for a spilt second. He was signing autographs for girl and guys, and even little kids.

“I’d like you too meet someone if you’d have the time.” Adam brain flashed to you and Lute together in the audience. Shirley his lieutenant. wanted to introduce him to you. “Sure thing. I’ll be back ladies.”

He and lute walked over to where you were, talking to the drummer. Adam felt his eye twitch. Said drummer always pissed him off — copied Adam 24/7.

“Y/N. This is Adam.” Lute said, taking your attention away from the drummer. You looked to the first man and felt a whole bundle of nerves and excitement gather in your stomach.

“Hi! I’m Y/N!” You stuck your hand out and Adam took it. “Never expected to see a big toy goth girl in heaven.” Leave Adam to be… Adam.

Lute was screaming in her head at Adam. That was her SISTER. And what if you said something slick back?! That’s her BOSS!

“Guess I’m special.”

“Sure babe, but you ain’t better than me.”

—

The thing that made Adam really start to notice you was your outfits. He loved all the necklaces you would wear, loved the make up you did most days. He also loves your fishnets.

He couldn’t count how many times he gotten hard when you would walk around in them. It gotten that porn wouldn’t even help him anymore, but the thoughts of you did.

Adam had invited you to every one of his concerts, and even if Lute didn’t show, you still did. You were his biggest fan, his biggest supporter.

—

Adam had to be on stage in thirty minutes and every thing had started to go wrong. First his guitar wasn’t in tune. Next his singer called out last minute, something about forgetting an date. So he would have to sing, and his throat had been hurting all day. Then he couldn’t find his mask. And finally while he was trying to calm himself down, there was knock at his dressing room door. He couldn’t get a fucking minute alone.

“Fuck off!” He shouted, trying to tune his guitar. But the person didn’t fuck off. You opened the door and poked your head through the door. “Need help?” Your eyes widened. You hadn’t ever seen him with out his mask.

He was handsome safe to say. Rich brown hair, golden shimmering eyes, and a stubble that suited him. He wore black ripped jeans and a white tank top, typical rockstar outfit.

Adam glared at you but the ultimately decided you could be useful. “Come here.” His voice had a certain chill, it sent shocks of excitement down your spine. You walked over to him, and stood waiting for what he needed.

Adam looked you up and down and silently cursed. You wore a short ass skirt, with a crop maroon tank top — that did a poor job in hood your tits from spilling in Adams opinion. The platforms you wore, made you a bit taller but Adam still towered over you. And you wore those fucking fish nets.

Adam sat you down on the couch and put his guitar in your hands. He got behind you and put his hands over your own. You noticed he wasn’t wearing his gloves, you had also noticed how vain-y his hands really were along with his fore arms. “Do you know how to tune a guitar?” His breath fanned over your ear and blowing you hair the faintest bit.

“No,” you went to turn your head around to him but he grabbed your chin with his hand and pushed your head to look back at the guitar. “You see these nobs? The make the strings tighter and loser.” Adam reached into his back pocket, pulling out his phone.

Once he had his tuning app pulled he placed said phone your thigh. He didn’t move his hand away from it, at least not before gripping your fishnets, wishing to tear them.

“Adjust the nobs accordingly and the app will tell you if it’s in tune or not, and if it needs to be looser or tighter. Understand?” You nodded your head, and he reluctantly pulled away from you.

He started to look around for his mask. He couldn’t preform without it. He was surprised that he was comfortable with you seeing his face. Despite that, he knew he wouldn’t be comfortable performing without it.

You started to tune his guitar, slightly confused at first, but slowly got the hang of it.

Adam had trouble finding his mask. He would look at you and think thoughts that would, we’ll send him to hell probably. When he would look away — after telling himself to stop being creepy — it wouldn’t be long till his eyes were back on you. So yeah, he couldn’t find his mask.

You looked up over to him and saw him staring directly at you. Placing the guitar on the couch you got up and walked over to him. Normally you would be wearing necklaces that would move with your steps but he took notice in your bare neck.

“It’s tuned.” He hummed and acted on his intrusive thoughts. He pulled you closer to him by your neck. “You know what would compliment this outfit? A collar.” His hand wrapped around your neck, and squeezed the tiniest bit, his veins bulging.

Your breath got caught in your throat as you tired to find your next words. “What kind?” Adam took another step, you chest now pushing against each other. “One with my name on it.”

Cocky bastard.

"20 MINUTES TILL SHOW TIME!” Someone called out from the hallways. Adam clenched his jaw in annoyance. “Ya wanna suck me off before I go on?” He said in a joking tone, but holy fuck that would take away about 85% of his problems. He was pent up. He wasn’t expecting you to do anything. You’d always brush away his sexual comments, which unsurprisingly was more often than not.

You raised a brow and started to unbutton his pants. “You have twenty minutes.” His hand on your throat tightened and you started to get on your knees.

You brought the zipper and started to pulled down with your teeth. Most girls he fucked tried to act innocent. Always looking at the package he had to offer as if it was the first dick they seen. But you — you looked up at him through your lashes, eyes begging. Like a fucking slut. You pulled his pants down a little — along with his boxers and started to pump him. Getting him hard but you did need to do it for long — seeing as he was already leaning precum.

Fuck if he had twenty minutes he was gonna make it worth it.

“I’ve gotten a hand job before babe, I prefer a blowjob.” He really couldn’t shut his mouth.

You brought your lips to his shaft and started to kiss him gentle, and so soft he shuttered. You continued to move you hand as you slowly took him in your mouth.

Your mouth was warm and you started to suck him off. You couldn’t fit him all the way in your mouth — fulling his ego more — so you made up with the inches you couldn’t fit with your hand.

Your hand twisted around him and you sucked harder, making him throw his head back in a groan. His Adams apple bobbed as he swallowed the moan wanting to escape.

“10 MINUTES!”

It was like a switch in Adam. He started to thrust into your mouth, desperately trying to release his frustration. Spit started to fall past your bottom lips — fuck, I need to be neat, you thought, insanely hot, Adam thought. You rest reached up and started to play with your nipples with your now free hands.

You could feel your gag reflex kicking, tightening your throat up. That had done it for Adam. “Fuck!” He poured himself into your mouth. Some dripped onto you lips and chin.

You looked up at licking you lips and wiping your chin with your pointer finger, before sucking that as well.

You throat had started to become sore. “THREE MINUTES! ANYONE SEEN ADAM?!” You looked to the door, but something caught your eye. Adams mask was under a desk. You crawled to it, seeing as it wasn’t far.

“If you don’t get up right now, I’m fucking you.”

You rolled your eyes and got up, handing Adam his mask.

Adam was wrong, it didn’t fix 85% of his problems. It fixed 100% of his issues. “TWO MINUTES!” That send Adam into over drive, but before he could put his mask on you grabbed his chin and gave him a kiss on the cheek. Your lipstick was ruined, but a kiss mark still showed on him face. “See you out there.” You grabbed tissues and walked out. Adam not far behind you.

—

Once the concert was over, Like normal you went to find Adam backstage. You stood behind him as he signed autographs. Your feet started to hurt from wearing play forms all day. Adam seemed to take notice.

“Take your shoes off.”

“And walk bare foot on this ground?” You raised you brow to him as if he was insane. Adam rolled his eyes and bent down on one knee in front of you.

He started to take your shoes off, you did little protest, happy to get them off. He then took off his own shoes and put your feet in them. Tying them tightly so they wouldn’t fall off.

Fans started to look in shock, people started to take photos while other glared in envy.

You kind of half expected Adam to wear your shoes — you didn’t know why — but he didn’t. He carried them for you and when you two left the building he slung an arm around you. “So this means we’re dating.” Even though it didn’t sound like a question, it was.

“If you can get Lutes blessing, sure.”

—

Fuck. Adam hadn’t tried to ever convince someone of something so much before. He spent a total of 5 months proving himself to Lute. Proving himself to you. He could see why Lute wouldn’t trust him. He was a huge playboy but in those five months he gave that up. Only wanting one.

So when Lute gave him his blessing to date you, another five months later he was asking for your hand in marriage. To which you both called him deranged.

—

Ahhhh I hope that was good? I feel like the ending was rushed so I may edit this sometime in the future

#hazbin hotel #hazbin #masterlist #x reader #adam hazbin hotel #adam is actually hilarious #adam x reader #goth #goth reader #goth gf #Adam x goth reader

[cryptidghostgirl]

Yo can you do a part 3 of Cover Up where y/n is introduced to the rest of the members of the hotel.

A/N Yes?? I love me some fluff like that. I also had another request for a part three to this series but yours came in first so I am going to make that one a part four and because you didn't super specify anything you wanted besides intros, I am gonna spin this to line up with that request. I hope that is okay.

Cover Up pt. 3 (Alastor x Reader)

Pairing: Alastor x Reader

Previous Parts:

Cover Up (Human!Alastor x Human!Reader)

Cover Up pt. 2

Warnings: mentions of murder, Angel briefly flirts with you, jealous/minorly possessive Alastor. I think that is it, please correct me if I am wrong.

Word Count: 1,885

Master Lists:

Master Lists 

Hazbin Hotel Master List 

Alastor Master List

Click here and leave a comment if you want to be added to any taglists or send me an ask about it.

Once Alastor had given Y/n the full tour, she had absolutely insisted that she be allowed to meet the rest of the guests. Alastor could never say no to her and so, he had taken her by the arm and walked her back into the lobby. It did not come as a surprise to him that in the short time they had been away from the hotel's central area, Charlie had managed to set up a welcome party for his darling wife. Y/n on the other hand, gasped in shock when everyone jumped out from behind the various couches.

"I literally... okay, I have no clue who any of you are but thank you? This is so sweet? I..."

Before Alastor could do a thing about it, Y/n was whisked away from his gentle grasp by Charlie. The demon Princess brought Y/n to the center of the room, Alastor watching from the sidelines with crossed arms. She seemed to happy, so absolutely filled to the brim with joy. As much as he wanted to take her away from the crowd, to be alone with her, he allowed the party to occur. Her joy had always been his priority, first and foremost. There would be time.

"Everyone!" Charlie excitedly announced, "This is Y/n! She is going to be our newest guest. Our cook? Our newest maybe guest who is going to work as a cook."

Y/n laughed lightly at Charlie's confused words. She took a slight step forward.

"Hi everyone." she waved with a soft smile.

"Oh she's good." Angel Dust muttered and Husk elbowed him in the stomach, catching the glare Alastor had shot the spider demon's way.

"Ow!" Angel exclaimed, rubbing the spot the cat demon had hit as he turned to him, "What was that for?"

Y/n chuckled a bit uneasily, looking over at Alastor and his wide smile. Vaggie quickly stepped in, breaking the tension she felt slowly building in the group.

"I'm Vaggie." she announced in an unfounded and unexpected display of friendship, "Charlie is my girlfriend, we run the hotel together."

Y/n lit up at her words, shaking the hand Vaggie held out to her enthusiastically.

"I didn't realize she had a partner in all this! And in afterlife too, I guess. That's so sweet!"

Vaggie smiled, letting out a light laugh as Charlie stepped up behind her, placing her hands lovingly on her girlfriend's shoulders.

"She is just the best." Charlie warmly noted as Y/n and Vaggie released their clasped hands, "I wouldn't have been able to come this far without her or any of the other sinners we have working with us."

"I thought everyone else here were just guests." Y/n mused aloud and Charlie shook her head.

"No, no! We tried doing it on our own in the beginning... but then Alastor showed up. He brought along some friends and, well, he's really been such a help. We are so grateful to have him and them on our team."

Y/n shot her husband a sidelong glance, smirking mishceviously.

"You really know how to work magic, princess." she hummed, "Getting Al to be a team player? I'm impressed."

"Oh, no!" Charlie frantically waved her hands, desperate that Y/n not get any wrong impressions, "We didn't pressure him or anything, he showed up of his own accord, actually."

"Really." Y/n laughed lightly as she fixed her gaze back on Charlie, "Well, I'd love to meet these alleged 'friends' of his he brought along."

"Of course!" Charlie exclaimed, smiling brightly once again as she stepped to the side with Vaggie, "Husk is our bartender and Nifty is our maid. She was our cook too but, I suppose you'll be taking care of that now."

Husk nodded his head in polite recognition of the introduction Charlie had given him. Nifty on the other hand, was incapable of such restraint and, her curiosity getting the better of her, rushed up to Y/n. In a split second, she had climbed the demoness' body like a ladder and was perched on her shoulder, messing with her hair.

"You smell nice." she hummed, smiling and Y/n's cheeks flushed slightly pink.

"Why, thank you. That is very sweet of you to say."

"Will you help me in the war against the bugs too?"

"Come on, Nift." Angel sighed before Y/n could respond as he walked over to the pair and grabbed the smaller demon, "Don't freak her out."

Nifty made grabby arms towards Y/n as Angel lifted her into the air and Y/n's smile only widened at the sight.

"No, please don't worry. You didn't freak me out, Nifty. I am actually looking forward to working with you, I like your enthusiasm." Y/n sent Nifty a wink and the little demon's smile grew as her feet found solid ground again.

She shot a look up at Angel, nodding her approval as Y/n fixed her gaze on the spider demon as well.

"And you are...?" she prompted and Angel immediately fell into character.

Stepping forward, he leaned down towards her, running a hand through his hair while resting one of his elbows on her shoulder.

"Angel Dust is the name, but you can call me whatever you want."

He expected her to be flustered, to at least blush a bit. He waited for her to take a step back or even to be teased or jabbed the way Husk did when he was like this, but nothing of the sort came. Instead, Y/n's eyes glinted in the light, narrowing with intended mischief.

"Oh yeah?" she asked, taking a step closer to him and batting her eyes oh so prettily.

"I... uh..." Angel stuttered, completely taken aback.

Y/n dissolved into a fit of laughter, hands clutching at her stomach as she doubled over.

"I'm sorry!" she wheezed, "I couldn't help myself. I'm actually taken."

"You are?" Angel asked, growing more confused as she straightened back up, wiping a stray tear from her eye.

In a split second, Alastor was behind Y/n, his claws wrapping around her shoulders.

"She is." he replied and though his voice was calm and even, it sent shivers down Angel's spine.

Angel took a step back, scratching the back of his head as he looked away in discomfort.

"Oh, uh, sorry. Didn't realize you and the strawberry pimp here were an item."

"Strawberry..." Y/n laughed again, craning her neck to look up at Alastor behind her back, "I am not letting you live that one down."

Angel smiled, regaining his composure and placing his hands on his hips.

"Oh yeah? You shoulda heard what that girl who was in here a few days ago called him. 'Tall dark and creepy' was it?"

"And what girl might that be?" Y/n asked after a moment, crossing her arms over her chest as she sidled her way out of Alastor's grip, turning to face him.

"Mimzy." Husk answered before Alastor could reply, "She's just some lowlife who always hangs around when she needs Alastor to take care of some trouble she's caused."

Y/n let out a gasp.

"Mimz is here?" she asked excitedly, bouncing on her toes.

"She's here, darling." Alastor replied, "But she is no longer welcome in the hotel. Caused quite a bit of trouble for us when she visited after all, can't have her ruining my newest project."

"Well, can we go visit her? I miss her so much!"

"You know her?" Charlie asked, her voice laced with confusion.

Y/n turned to face Charlie, nodding intently.

"Yeah, she introduced us actually."

"Introduced certainly is a word for it." Alastor admitted and Y/n chuckled.

"Back when we were alive, she used to throw these 'singles parties.' As it turned out, Al and I both were using them as a hunting ground so to speak. When we met, he offered to walk me home and then pulled a knife on me. Of course, I already had my gun trained on him so we found ourselves in a bit of a sticky situation. It was so romantic." Y/n wistfully replied.

"Uh, yeah." Angel laughed, "Romantic. That's the word."

"So you guys knew each other when you were alive?" Vaggie asked.

"Yeah, we did." Y/n nodded, "You guys can ask whatever but first, I think there is one more person I have yet to meet?"

She turned expectantly towards Sir Pentious who up until this point had been standing quietly near the back of the group. At the redirection of the rooms attention, he felt his cheeks grow warm.

"This, Y/n, is our other guest." Charlie announced, gesturing towards the snake demon with an outstretched hand.

"Sir Pentious." he bowed lightly, "It is an honor to meet a demon as... as stunning as yourself."

There was a heartbeat, a single tense moment of silence. Then Y/n laughed, waving him off cheerily.

"Oh you, what a charmer."

"So you guys knew each other when you were alive? And you're... you're together?" Angel cut in, drawing Y/n's attention back to him as he lead her by her arm over to the bar.

They sat down beside one another, Husk slipping behind the counter and pouring them each a drink.

"Yep." Y/n replied, downing her drink and meeting Angel's eyes.

"How?" he prompted after a moment and Y/n laughed.

By now the rest of the gang had brought themselves over to where the pair sat and were listening intently. Alastor stood near the edge of the group, all the seats near his beloved having been snatched up before he had the chance. He crossed his arms over his chest, his patience beginning to wear thin.

Nearly one hundred years. It had been a lifetime since they had seen one another and the brief tour of the hotel he had given Y/n earlier was not enough to satiate the rabid hunger in his chest. Still, for her, he tried.

"Well, it was a ruse at first. Just a partnership. I watched for cops and he provided me with the brute strength I lacked. We were actually in the middle of chasing down one of his victims when he finally asked me out."

"You were a killer?" Pentious asked, enthralled.

"I was." Y/n nodded, "Until Al died and I was under too much suspicion to do so anymore."

"So you..." Charlie trailed off, counting on her fingers in deep concentration.

"Have been married for a hundred years give or take? Yep."

"Wait, hold on!" Angel exclaimed, "Married?"

"Did Charlie not tell you anything? More importantly, did Al never talk about me?"

Y/n raised her eyebrows, meeting her husband's gaze across the crowd. Alastro looked away, nearly bashful under her persistent gaze. It was Husk's turn to step in now, taking a sip of his own drink as he leaned across the bar.

"Alastor has enjoyed keeping his secrets." he candidly stated, "But there were one or two times he drank a little too much and let your name slip."

Alastor glared at Husk and Y/n grinned at her husbands reaction to the revelation.

"Always the troublemaker, that one but, god, do I love him."

-----

Next Part -> coming soon

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