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#i was either nervous or just forgot

batbabydamian · 4 months

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besides cute cat Damian i’m so curious why he goes all the way to Bludhaven, since he was turned in Gotham

based on some turned characters, their instincts lead them to figures in their lives - Bruce goes to Gotham, Harley to Ivy, and Mera to Andy

the only reason i could think of Damian going to Bludhaven would be for Dick 😭

#if Damian’s causing problems?? on purpose?? does he just want to get Dick’s attention. as cats do.#unless Damian was dropped off to distract Dick from helping with the Titans well ok then #either way i’m both nervous and excited for duo interaction next week 😭#i’m especially excited for more Basri art 😭#Damian’s base instinct was ‘why haven’t i met Haley yet. editorial can’t stop me now’#omfg wait i completely forgot jon’s gonna be there too LOL #rambling

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nervoustypewriter · 2 months

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heyhi welcome!!!! jests new here αs well (^ ^)

Hi there. Thank you so much, it's always nice to see other new people. :) I welcome you as well. Hope you're having a nice day today.

#nervous answers #<- I think I'll start using my own custom tags like some people do.#Expect some posts to go untagged either because I forgot or just don't want to.#Probably gonna be the former for the most part.

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headkiss · 8 months

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I LOVE the idea of protective Hotch constantly having an eye out for younger bau!agent who’s literally sunshine personified and the complete opposite of him!! Do u think u could write something along the lines of that—maybe him protecting her from something or just their dynamic?

i also love protective hotch!!! tysm for the request i hope u like it baby :D | 1k of fluff, tw for a small burn!

You’d been surprised when you got a job at the BAU. You didn’t have that much faith in yourself at first. Not to say you don’t believe in your skills, but it’s a widely known part of the bureau. A lot of people wanted the job.

And then, there’s Agent Hotchner, unit chief and intimidating though you’re sure he doesn’t mean to be. You were insanely nervous at the beginning.

That was before you started, before the team welcomed you as the new media liaison after Agent Jareau became a profiler. You met Garcia and her collection of fun high heels, Reid and his never ending supply of facts, and you sort of fit right in.

Hotch became much less intimidating. A kind man who cares so deeply for his team that you couldn’t help but like him the way you do. Not to mention the dynamic that built between the two of you.

The small things he does for you that are impossible to ignore. A hand covering the edge of your desk to protect your head when you were searching underneath it for a dropped paper clip, the way he physically places himself between you and danger if he ever gets the chance.

He’s always there, protecting you in ways both big and little, and you enjoy it more than you should.

It’s even brighter on nights like tonight. Drinks and snacks at Penelope’s after a tough case. Nights when you get to call him Aaron instead of Hotch, when he smiles and laughs freely without restraint.

The beep of the oven cuts off yours and Garcia’s conversation, and when she shifts to take care of it, you stop her, “I got it! You’re already hosting, just relax a little.”

“Thank you,” she smiles, squeezing your arm as you walk by.

The smell of food in the oven hits your nose as you walk into the kitchen, humming along to whatever song spills through the speakers.

You pull the oven open, reaching in without thinking and touching the pan with your bare hand. You drop it quickly, metal clanking as it falls back onto the rack in the oven.

“Shit!” You say it loudly, and then, even louder, addressing the team in the next room, “I’m okay!”

They all laugh a little at your reassurance, and then, like they know he wouldn’t let anyone else check on you before him, pretty much every set of eyes in the room lands on Hotch.

He shakes his head and heads to the kitchen, because he would’ve gone either way.

“You okay?” He asks, finding you with an oven mitt on your non-burnt hand, reaching into the oven, and your burnt hand shaking by your side.

“Oh!” You set the pan of nachos on top of the stove and slip off the mitt, turning off the oven and looking at Hotch. “I forgot oven mitts were a thing for a second there. Burnt my hand, I think.”

He’s on you in a second, his hands gently grasping your injured arm, pushing back your sleeve and guiding you over to the sink. His hold is light, never bruising even though you know he has the strength to do so.

It’s the kiss of sunlight on skin.

Aaron turns on the sink, places his fingers under the water to make sure the temperature’s okay before guiding your hand under the stream.

“You still took out the nachos first?” He asks, even when he knows that’s what you’d do, because of course you’re worrying about everyone else before yourself.

“I didn’t want them to burn.”

You’re trying to be brave, though your hand hurts so much there are tears misting your eyes. You’re bouncing on your feet a little to try and deal with the pain.

“How bad does it hurt?” Hotch checks.

Aaron’s felt this sort of protectiveness over you ever since you started. A little younger than him, this ball of light that’s come bursting into his life. You’re always the positive one, even in the darkest situations and he can’t help but want to shield you to keep it that way.

There’s this thing in his chest that tugs and tugs when you’re around, that makes him stand next to you in any room, in front of you in darkness.

“It’s okay,” you say, though your voice cracks a little. “I’m sure you’ve seen much worse, Hotch.”

“Aaron,” he reminds you gently, “and you don’t have to pretend. It’s alright if it hurts, I just wanna help.”

The sink running mingles with the music coming from the next room, the background noise to your moment with him.

“You could bring the nachos out? I told Garcia I would, but we see how that turned out.”

“Okay, I'll bring them out.”

“Don’t forget oven mitts!”

He huffs with a smile, somehow always surprised with how easily you can turn something around. A smile on your face even with tears shining in your eyes and a hand that’s surely stinging.

Aaron carries the tray of nachos and drops them off, then turns to Penelope, “you have a first aid kit?”

“Oh my gosh! Yeah, bathroom cabinet, I can grab it.”

“It’s alright, Garcia. I’ll get it.”

“Is everything okay?”

“Don’t worry. Nothing major, I’m taking care of it.”

He grabs the first aid kit and heads back to the kitchen where you’re still holding your hand under the stream of water.

“Okay,” Aaron sets the kit down on the counter, opening it and then turning off the tap. “Let me see, honey.”

The word melts into you, sticky sweet, and you hold your hand towards him, palm up.

He starts by drying your hand with a piece of paper towel, pressing your skin lightly. His other hand is under yours, his palm against the back of your hand a painkiller in itself.

You hiss when he hits a sensitive spot, and he’s quick to apologize, his voice low and quiet. “Sorry. I’m sorry. Almost done.”

“It’s okay, Aaron. It's not your fault I thought I was heat-proof.”

“You’re cute.”

A smile spreads over your face, your head tilted down to stare and his hands around yours. You watch him spread some Polysporin over your burn, his fingertips featherlight over your skin, soft apologies leaving him every time you flinch a little.

By the time he’s done, the first aid kit shut on the counter, you’ve both forgotten about the rest of the team in the next room. Aaron’s happy to bask in your sunshine.

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iicarused · 2 months

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##cant take my eyes off of you

valentine’s day special // vox x reader : alastor x reader : lucifer x reader : striker x reader

synopsis: it’s valentine’s day. the lead up, the present, the aftermath

beware: fluff, minor angst, establishment relationships (not for lucifer) // short hc’s

VOX

you have to tell him months in advance of what you want. if you don’t, he may not even think about the day. valentine’s day to him always seemed like a chore, but when you gave him a solemn gaze and a sweet smile — he couldn’t say no. all you asked for was a dinner together back in december, a gentle reminder and two months in advance. what you didn’t expect was how he was planning to go even bigger

while he didn’t ask you to be his valentine, he did plan a whole day of activities for just the two of you. it started off small as he didn’t want you to think much of it. it’s quite normal for vox to bring you breakfast in bed, especially since he wakes up much earlier than you

the key different was a rose on the edge of the tray. before you cod thank him, he was already out the door. it was a sweet gesture, and you believed that it was just vox doing something nice for the start of your day. although, more signs of him planning something started to show up afterwards: an outfit waiting for you in your bathroom to wear after your shower, a certain perfume set in place for you to wear, the entire penthouse being cleaned to the speck.

finally, you found a note left for you at the coffee table. “you rest your pretty face today and don’t worry about lifting a finger.”

vox came back not long after with a large bouquet of flowers and a bag of sweets in hand. “you really think i’m just going to allow you to settle for some lousy dinner?” finally admits through a laugh. “you deserve this whole day served to you on a silver platter.”

ALASTOR

you thought he forgot about it till you found a letter at the foot of your door. you still had a week before the day of love even came, but alastor thought about it very thoroughly on what he wanted to do and how to do it. the letter was sweet and genuine, the scent of his cologne lingering on the paper.

“my dearest, y/n.

oh, how i look forward to spending valentine’s day with you, or i hope you do accept this to be my valentine. a day that is entirely booked for just you and i, what a wonderful life to live. i hope by the end we are able to bask underneath the stars with our love stronger than ever before.

with love,

alastor.”

when the day came, alastor was at your door with 7 roses in hand. “the best for you, my dear.” while it wasn’t a large bouquet, you noticed how he wrapped it with a string, you noticed the paper bag wrapping, then you noticed the ends trimmed: he prepped it for you to either set it in a vase or to be hung and dried. the petals were already bloomed for you — it was a genuine gift

after, he took you out to cannibal town. not the most romantic, but to say it was more preferred than the other rings of hell is an understatement. on behalf of his close friend, rosie had prepped a table for you both on the gazebo. lined with flowers and vines for privacy

a mundane valentine’s day, but a well spent one with your lover. gentle kisses against your fingertips and the skin of your shoulder — his teeth grazing every so often just for a reaction.

by the end of the night, he has his cane playing some old timey tunes while he whisks you around in his arms. not only does alastor have a way with words, but he also has a way to sway you off your feet; quite literally too.

LUCIFER

“i was hoping you would be my valentine this year — totally fine if you decline — not that you have too but-“ “i would love to be your valentine this year.” and that’s how lucifer asked you on a date for valentine’s day. extremely nervous and was pulling at the hem of his collar, in high hopes that you would accept. after dedicating his whole life to a single soul, it is kind of expected that he would be nervous to jump back into the dating game.

most definitely had to ask charlie and/or got a little tipsy by the bar to chat with husk about it. more so, he blabbered about his nervousness and fears of what could happen — husk just nodded and hummed while listening to the king of hell freak out about a date — what if he can’t woo you?

finally settled for something simple and something that’s hes good at. he brought you to the castle for a lunch he prepared in the garden. “i got word from charlie that you enjoyed a strawberry shortcake.” lucifer sheepishly admitted through a proud grin.

a talker, a chatterbox, any other word in the english vocabulary of a man who talks your ear off. it’s almost funny because you know it isn’t word vomit, he just enjoys a chat and especially getting to know you. he questions are almost endless, his interest seem to go on forever, and somehow he doesn’t seem like an egotistical guy who just rules hell. he’s just some guy who loves ducks and getting to know someone on a deeper lever.

took you around the garden afterwards, introducing you to all his favourite plants and getting to know yours. his hand rests on your back for a majority, leading you around and allowing you to lead him to plants that pique your interest.

the entire day is just spent with you talking about anything and everything, honestly. from stories to old tales you heard throughout the years, it almost made you forget that it was only a date and not a lifetime of being together.

STRIKER

he has been working a lot these days. a whole lot. his attention span is very slim, and it is very evident how he tries to not show his irritation towards you. tired eyes always gaze over yours, almost like he’s not in touch with the world to really concentrate on you. sometimes you question why you’re still around — why he bothers to stop you at the door and tell you he’ll put more effort.

finally, the day you dreaded. you were on the path of grabbing a bag of chips and turning on a movie, but striker had other ideas. he came back home about lunch looking more clean — more refreshed than any other day you had seen him — a bouquet of dandelion’s and a gift bag in hand.

“sweet pea, you didn’t think i was falling out of love, did yah?” he was smug — he was smug until he realized you started to cry. “shit, sweet pea, i was jokin’!” he was by your side in seconds and had to calm you down. after a long needed conversation, you were ready to start the day. he wanted to tell you why he was busy, but that would mean spilling everything he had planned.

he admitted his faults, but his promises were never broken. on one condition, he was not allowed to speak or bring up any work related topics on this special day, to which he quickly agreed.

he took you out for lunch and dinner, but the rest of the evening was spent lazying around on your back patio with some country music playing. tennessee whiskey to be exact. he never stopped giving you kisses on your face either, his tail wrapped over your waist to keep you on top.

#ᥫ᭡.#hazbin hotel x reader #helluva boss x reader #hazbin hotel #helluva boss #hazbin hotel imagine #vox x reader #alastor x reader #vox imagine #alastor imagine #lucifer magne x reader #hazbin hotel lucifer x reader #striker x reader #striker #hazbin hotel headcanon

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anantaru · 1 year

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𝐇𝐎𝐖 𝐋𝐎𝐍𝐆 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐘 𝐋𝐀𝐒𝐓 𝐃𝐔𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐍𝐍𝐍

୨୧ how long they last during no nut november feat. childe : ayato : kazuha : cyno : kaveh : diluc : al-haitham : scaramouche x fem! reader

୨୧ WARNINGS: nsfw

𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐑𝐓𝐄𝐒𝐓

𝐂𝐇𝐈𝐋𝐃𝐄

the first time you suggested to him to participate in it, childe blatantly refused, he was very much aware that there wasn't a chance for him to win in the slightest. Yet after giving it some thoughts he decided to give it a try, he's never running away from a fight and this in particular, was a fight on its own. It wasn't until the first day hit him, when he saw you. You had just woken up, the sleep still visible in your eyes as you greeted him lovingly.

who thought it was a good idea for him to sleep next to you? not to mention that you were wearing nothing more than your underwear, those tiny panties hugging your figure perfectly. "what is it?", you murmured softly towards his direction, a small smirk prancing over the corners of your lips. "fuck it." ajax was sexual excited in an instant, even though his brain told him to back off he just couldn't as he walked towards you, wrapping his arms around your body before kissing you starvingly.

he didn't waste any time to slide his cold fingers past the elastic of your panties, dragging his digits over your folds. You gasped out, questioning the man in front of you if he perhaps forgot that he was actually planning to pull through that annoying little competition of yours, "this is torture, please don't make me do this again." he whined out in between kisses, his fingers working in tandem as you let out a breathy laugh, hugging him back into your embrace.

𝐀𝐘𝐀𝐓𝐎

ayato wasn't sure why you would possibly think he'd actually fail the little competition you had prepared for him. He was busy all day, barely able to see you during the day and surely at night time he'd be too tired for anything more than a few cuddles anyways. What for some reason, he did not take into his calculations, was the sudden rush of frustration prickling through his veins like an electric current, he was powerless against it, couldn't turn those feelings off either.

he slid under the soft blankets after showering, his muscles sore from being at work all day while his hair was slightly damp, sticking on his forehead. You waited for him, as always, his arm wrapping around your waist as he laid his head in the nook of your neck, taking in your scent. Ayato started to get nervous whenever you'd shift in the bed, you weren‘t facing him as you talked about the various things you did today with the plush of your ass brushing over his member.

he closed his eyes, cursing himself underneath his breath, trying to not give into the sensation that was building in his gut right now as he added more strength to the grip on your hips, fingernails digging into your soft skin. His stomach was tightening, blood rushing through his veins when you noticed something rather hard poke at your ass, "are you?" you questioned in a low tone, yet it was immediately noticeable how hilarious you found the situation. Ayato groaned as a response before humming into your neck, the vibration traveling from your ear to your body, leaving a soft trail of kisses before sinking his teeth down, "i don't think i can do this all month."

𝐊𝐀𝐙𝐔𝐇𝐀

kazuha's love language was always physical touch, it didn't necessarily had to be sexual, most of the times it was him holding your hand in his or simply lazily looping his arm around your shoulder to keep you close. Of course, he figured, it wouldn't be a problem for him to still do those things, but damn, you made it so incredibly difficult. Your eyes wandered over his face, a light curve in your lips as you shuffled in your seat to sit more comfortably.

his thoughts were scattering to sinful desires upon seeing your dress slightly draped up your hips, exposing just a bit of your panties to him. Kazuha swallowed thickly, his heart thumping in his chest as you noticed the way he'd nervously chew on his cheeks, face flushed a faint layer of redness. "oh, sorry." you giggled, pulling down your dress as he took another deep breath before reaching his hand over to you. The expression on your face was confused, tilting your head a little before standing up regardless, walking towards him to take his hand in yours.

your chest heaved as he abruptly, drew you on his lap, caging you in with his hands. "you did that on purpose." he whispered, low and heavy as you shook your head, yet your smile made it more than obvious that you were not saying the whole truth. Your eyes widened as kazuha bucked his hand under your dress, cupping your heat, "i thought we said we'd never lie to each other?" his chuckle formed into a purr, voice breathier than you knew it, his fingers scraping over the spongy flesh to stimulate you, "even if i lost, i count it as a victory."

𝐅𝐀𝐈𝐋𝐄𝐃 𝐇𝐀𝐋𝐅𝐖𝐀𝐘 𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐆𝐇

𝐂𝐘𝐍𝐎

"i was so close." cyno muttered, his warm breath hovering over your wet core before your muscles tensed, digging your heels into the bed to slightly lift your hips up to him. Your body jolted forward into his mouth, cyno was devouring you, flicking his tongue over your folds to finally taste you again. It has barely been two weeks, yet it was so incredibly stressful, his body getting off from merely your voice, all form of self control turned into nothing.

"you did a good job." you chuckled, biting and chewing on your lower lip to muffle a moan as he continued to map it out, leaving nothing unturned with his tongue. you could sense a little sting of his sharp teeth grazing over the pulsating flesh, his brows furrowing in concentration when he circled his arms around your hips to have a tight grip on you. Cyno truly couldn't take his eyes off you, your folds glistering as he began to suck on them, humming in pleasure when his spit melted with your essence.

sweat was beautifying your skin, your mouth hanging open with every moan falling to deaf ears. Cyno fluttered his eyes open to look at the sinful expression on your face, his cock throbbing in his pants, waiting to be finally freed by you. It was painful to him, the last time he actually had an orgasm was weeks ago, involuntarily humping the mattress underneath him as every nerve in him felt like on fire, catching his breath before grinding his tongue into your cunt again.

𝐊𝐀𝐕𝐄𝐇

"fuck." kaveh cursed out in between making out with you, "i was so close baby, i really was." he complained, digging his fingernails into your hips while rutting himself into your heat. "but it got so unbearable, you don't even know half of it." you couldn't help it but laugh at his words, he was so overdramatic, wrapping your arms around his neck before slightly repositioning your hips. You bended your knees a bit more so he could reach further into you, your legs spread open.

kaveh sank into your hole, his cock twitching against your walls when he dropped his hips into your warmth. "that's so much better, don't you think?" he questioned with the answer clearly displayed on your expression that showed nothing but pleasure. You sighed out, lowering your eyes as you watched him through your lashes, his pace becoming even with shallow breaths tickling your neck.

kaveh felt how you clenched down around his girth, how you whined at every thrust forward as he looked in between your bodies, quickly licking his thumb before placing it on your clit to swipe it over the sensitive nerves. Your body jolted forward, tossing your head into the pillow as you cried out his name in fast chants, your legs shivering around his body. Your noises turned into cries, melting and unraveling underneath him as his grip on you tightened, not giving a single fuck anymore that he lost the small competition between the both of you.

𝐋𝐎𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐒𝐓

𝐃𝐈𝐋𝐔𝐂

by the end of the month, you're going to be a whiny little mess while diluc will simply sit next to you, bright smile, with a triumphal expression painted on his face. If he's determined to do something, he will push through it until its done, there was no losing in his eyes, only victory to be claimed. Contrary to popular belief, your boyfriend had a sense of humor, even though he didn't show it often he wouldn't pass on an opportunity to joke about it to you in a lighthearted manner.

he had you spread on the bed by the end, his breath hot on your shoulder as he licked all the way down to your collarbone, biting down. "how did i do?" he asked cheekily, flashing you his canine teeth with a smile, your lips pouting as you whined out, the words dying in your throat. Diluc hummed, moving closer to your ear while spreading your legs so he'd rest in between them.

"i'll give you what you want now." he promised, rolling the words off slowly as he slid himself in, your cunt sweet and tight taking him all in. You arched your spine into his body, tossing your head to the side when you moaned his name prettily. You weren't able to understand how diluc seemed to have gotten through this month without a slip up, his determination was otherworldly as he decided for a slow but deep pace, your mind empty as your body grew hotter, warmer with a prickling sensation dashing through your veins.

𝐀𝐋-𝐇𝐀𝐈𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐌

"you did so well." you cooed into al-haitham's ear, pecking his rosy cheeks before kissing his lips, muffling the tiny groans that escaped his throat. Your hand caressed his soft, pale skin, trailing your fingers over the aching muscles of his chest all the way down to his stomach. Al-haitham slid his hand into his hair to smooth it back, watching you work on his belt to free his cock from its restraints.

his eyes met yours in full force, "i told you I'd pull through." he proudly stated his victory, before his breath hitched, getting stuck in his throat. your hand was wrapped around his shaft, his pants pulled down to his knees as you didn't bother to fully getting rid of them. You spoke in low whispers, sweet chants only for him to hear as you circled your wrist around his shaft, fisting his stiff cock.

playful rubbing turned into skilled stroking, his hips bucking into your hand each and every time. "fuck, i missed that." he admitted bluntly without a care in the world, the curve in his lips evident as his breath came out in fastened spurts with a sigh of relief accompanying them. The sweet tenderness of your hold on him was to die for, his muscles turning tense as he moaned out, gasping frantically as he came, the warm white ropes of cum running down your knuckles. His his hips stuttered, continuing to buck into you when convulsed in great pleasure.

𝐒𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐌𝐎𝐔𝐂𝐇𝐄

there's no way in hell he would've ever lost, not in a million years, scaramouche was pulling through that rough month with a determination you've never seen before. "you didn't think I'd actually win, admit it." his smirk was wide, his voice hoarse with a sprinkle of lust in it. He was watching your every move, a wry smile on his face with an amused twinkle in his eyes, the way you squirmed underneath him was making him lick his lips in anticipation.

"don't worry, i won't tease you tonight." your face was clouded in confused upon hearing him speak his words, not buying it, "i can be nice too, you know." scaramouche spread his fingers to brush them over your belly, feeling your skin underneath his pads. His eyelids fluttered low before pressing himself on top of you with one of his hands right above your head— so you wouldn't hit your head on the headboard. You bent your knees, spreading your legs wider so he'd be able to thrust his hips better into you, his tip already prodding on your little hole.

the stretch was painful at first, you missed that feeling and so did he, truth was, scaramouche simply couldn't tease you tonight, it had nothing to do with him being nice for once. He was more than riled up, frustrated and annoyed with the burn that would always occur in his legs and never fade away. Scaramouche placed his lower lips in between his teeth, his brows furrowing in concentration as he slid himself in until fully sheathed, splitting your cunt open and fuck, he dreamed about this every day, the overbearing sensitivity only adding into his play.

do not! share, copy or repost my work. ✎ ©ANANTARU 2022

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duhnova · 11 months

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sweater paws - yoon jeonghan

paring: virgin!jeonghan x semi-experienced!reader (gn & afab reader)

genre: smut, some fluff

word count: ~4.2k

synopsis: your soft and cuddly virgin boyfriend isn’t so soft and innocent when he wakes up in the middle of the night from a wet dream.

warning(s): smut under the cut (mdni!!!), established relationship, reader has breasts and a pussy, VERY slight mention of breeding, unprotected sex, cream pie, a little domestic, slight somnophilia (consensual), virgin jeonghan, multiple orgasms (jeonghan), overstimulation, drool, spit eating?, slight dacryphilia, cervical penetration (it’s not actual penetration of the cervix, it’s the term used if the cervix is being touched during sex and used to reach an orgasm.. please look it up if you're unfamiliar with this term), let me know if i forgot anything! - don’t mind grammatical errors or typos (i tried) (also please let me know if anything doesn't fall under gn/afab, i'm always nervous i mess something up)

“y/n..” jeonghan breathes in his sleep followed by a quiet moan. his body was getting warm as he tossed onto his back. “fuck.” he moans again, this time his eyes fluttering open. he gasps quietly at how tight his sleep pants feel, one of his hands traveling under the blanket to feel the hard bulge that felt like it grew more under his touch.

whining quietly he bites at the sleeve of his sweater and rubs at the bulge, his cock twitching pathetically. he felt dirty touching himself like this when you were sleeping only a couple inches to his right.

“i cant..” he pants quietly as he wills himself to stop rubbing his bulge. he closes his eyes to try and think of anything but the rushing blood to his cock but the only thing that came to his mind was the dream he had.

your plush thighs were quivering on either side of his as you rode his cock, tears welling in your eyes as you begged him to fuck you like he meant it. the way your moans echoed in his ears and your hands tangled in his hair had his hips bucking up, jostling you forward until you were leaning fully against his body - fully at his mercy as he found the confidence to grab your hips and thrust up into you.

“god..” he shakes his head, hoping to shake the vivid dream from his mind. your warmth felt so real and the squeeze of your pussy around his cock felt heavenly - but it was just a dream, and he’s never actually felt the real thing. let alone does he even know how to properly thrust his hips if he was given the chance too - he could barely fuck his fist properly and even then the instance is rare as the only times he’s ever gotten hard enough to need help he’s already finishing before you could get his pants off.

he rolls over into his side so he’s facing your back, you two had gotten into bed at two different times - him before you as you had some work to finish up. he studied the clothes you put on to sleep in, one of his hoodies and.. just your underwear. he felt his body heat up against as he sees the lace barely peeking out of the blanket that had fallen to your hips after his wild dream.

“y/n…” he whines again, timidly as he was scared to wake you up even though he really wanted you to wake up when he called your name. his finger twitches against the sheet where he rested his hand. he remembers the million of conversations you two have had, discussing possible kinks, likes and dislikes, boundaries - and amongst all the muddled memories he holds on to one.

‘somnophilia is where you can use me while i sleep and vice versa.. if you are comfortable with that.’

‘does that fall under free use?’

‘you keep asking about free use, i think you might be into that one a little more than you think hannie.’

the way you had giggled before explaining more about how free use and somnophilia go hand in hand and that you were more than ok with both made a chill run down jeonghan's spine.

he’s never had sex before, only experiencing heavy make out sessions with you that lead to you both being half naked before he was cumming in his pants - the stimulation of you grinding in his lap while your lips moved against his always pushed him over the edge.

you shift in your sleep, a quiet whine leaving your lips as you shiver at the cold air nipping at the exposed flesh of your hips. jeonghan scoots closer to your body, very slow and careful as to not startle you in your sleep. every nerve in his body was on fire as he gasps as the feeling of his bulge neatly perfectly between your ass cheeks as he pushes his body up against your sleeping one.

he hurries his face in your shoulder, biting at the hood of the sweatshirt you have on to stifle any of his moans as he grinds against your ass slowly. he has an arm thrown gently over your body, where his fingers slowly ghost down to the waistband of the hoodie. he freezes when you shift, whining at the coldness of his fingers meeting the warmth of your tiny - he could feel the goosebumps ruse as he trails his fingertips up towards your breasts.

your nipple hardens almost instantly when he lays the palm of his cold hand on your breast and gives it a squeeze. it was soft and warm in his hand - drawing a moan from deep in his chest as he started to grind harder against your ass.

“shit.” he whines a little loud before he bites onto the hoodie again, his fingers squeezing tighter at your tit.

it was hard to tell what woke you up exactly, the muffled moans and whines coming from your boyfriend or the scratchy material of the sweater he was still wearing rubbing against the soft underside of your breast.

“hannie?” you mumbles tiredly, your senses trying to come too as all you can feel is his warm body against yours. jeonghan freezes, or tries to at least, his hips have a mind of their own as they continue to grind and buck against your ass.

“s-sorry, i’m sorry i-“

“do you need help, baby?” your voice was soft as you interrupted him, his voice shakey either from wanting to cry in guilt or pleasure.

“yes,” he almost sobs as he starts to grind harder, more desperate. “i’m sorry, i-“

“it’s ok baby,” you push your ass back against his hips harder, a strangled moan leaving him as his forehead knocks against your shoulder. “i told you you can always use me if you need me hannie, even when i’m sleeping.” he moans as you shake your hips a little, precum soaking through his sleep pants and wetting your bare ass cheeks as the lace of your panties became lost between the plump mounds.

“i know, i just-“ his sentence gets cut off with another moan before he buries his face in your neck, his lips latching on to the skin as he sucks and bites to hide his loud and pathetic moans.

“i wanna hear you baby,” you mumble as you stop moving your hips only for jeonghan’s to push against your ass hard enough to almost push you onto your stomach. “do you want this?” he nods as he continues to desperately grind against your ass and suck a hickey onto your neck so that everyone can see you’re his.

just as you open your mouth, jeonghan is detaching from your neck to whimper, any care of sounding embarrassing going out the window as all he can think about is recreating the feelings he felt in his dream.

“yes, please.. i want this.. i want you..” you giggle quietly at how breathless he sounded, you could only imagine the look on his face in that moment as your back was still turned to him.

“are you positive?” you mumble, you weren’t that much more experienced than jeonghan was. even though you weren’t a virgin anymore, you’ve only experienced an orgasm by another person a couple times - most not satisfactory hence why you’ve taken things so slow with jeonghan. you didn’t want it to end up like all the failed relationships you’ve had in the past, that all ended due to neither of your sexual needs being met by the other. “it’s two a.m.” you finally look at the clock.

“i know..” he whispers, finally stopping his hips so he could just hold you. “i… i had a dream. about you.” he swallows the lump in his throat. “you.. you were riding me and.. and i was so close and then it stopped because i woke up and..”

“and now you’re so hard it hurts, doesn’t it baby?” you coo quietly as he nods his head quickly. you manage to shift around in his grasp so you can finally look at him. his eyes were screwed shut and with just the moonlight illuminating his body you could still see the faint blush disappearing below the cream sweater he had on. “i can’t help with that.”

your fingers rub at his chest lightly as you watch the way his adams apple bobs as he finally opens his eyes to look at you. it wasn’t hard to miss how his pupils were blown with just, even in the darkness. you trail your fingers down the front of his body, stopping when you catch the waistband of his sleep pants.

“please..” he begs quietly, his hips bucking forward.

“how about we save riding for another night..” you mumble as you lean forward, your lips ghosting over his before he’s crashing forward to kiss you deeply. the hand that was on your side moved to grab your hair, keeping you close as he shoves his tongue in your mouth only to whine when you nip and suck on it.

“what.. what’re we gonna do tonight?” he pants when he pulls away from the kiss, not sure of what he should do exactly. no amount of porn would’ve ever prepared him to actually be in bed like this with you - even being together for ten months wouldn’t have pressured him for how hard his cock throbbed just looking at you in the moonlight right now.

“we’ll take it slow and easy.. i don’t wanna break you just yet.” the promise of you breaking him in the future had him practically pouncing you as he pushes you onto your back as he kisses you hard again. giggling into the kiss you bury your fingers in his long black locks. “hannie!”

“sorry, i just..” he whines when you pull his hair. “just so excited..” he breathes, his eyes fluttering close as he starts to grind against your clothed pussy, his precum and your slick soaking through the lace mixing and making a mess of his pants and your bare thighs.

“take..” you let out a quiet whine. “take your pants off hannie.” he listens to you, forcing himself to stop as he pushes them down his thighs far enough for him to kick them off, along with the blanket that haphazardly hangs off his hips.

“what next? condom?” he squeaks when you wrap your legs around his waist to pull him back down to be flush with your hot core.

“you remind me to take my birth control everyday, hannie,” you giggle as you watch his eyes roll as he tries to comprehend how close your warmth was to his cock. “and you know i’m clean, and i know you are too..”

“raw?” his voice cracks before he moans at just the idea while you let out a hum of approval.

“want to feel all of you hannie, don’t you wanna feel all of me too? how warm and wet i am?” you purr as you run your fingers through his hair as he nods his head quickly for the millionth time that night - you were almost worried he was gonna get whiplash.

“can.. can i..” his words got caught in his throat as he thought of what to say.

“can you, what baby? use your big boy words and tell me what you want to do to me.”

“can i feel you?” he mumbles.

“feel me how?” you wanted to see how far you could push him until he was begging to fuck you.

“feel.. feel you around my cock.” he chokes out, your ears warming up at how quick and abrupt he was.

“no foreplay?” you fake pout, knowing you were wet enough for him to slide in with ease.

“if i don’t fuck you right now i might just cum in my boxers like before.” he whines a little embarrassed at how easy you can get him to cum. no one has ever had this effect on him before, the few partners he’s had in the past have never made him cum in his pants just from some making out and grinding.

“that’s a good boy, using your words.” you loosen your legs a little so he can lift his hips enough to push his boxers down enough to free his cock. it was long, and curved with the girth of a red bull can - you just knew it was going to feel delicious as you lick your lips, a new rush of arousal soaking your panties.

jeonghan doesn’t give you much time to even think about taking your panties off before he’s leaning down to kiss you again, pushing back the nerves he was feeling. he’s never done this before, only having the experience of fucking his fist while watching shitty porn in years leading up to finally dating you.

“just push them to the side.” you gasp against his lips when you feel the heaviness of his cock sitting against your soaked panties.

“like this?” he hooks his finger through the wet crotch of your panties before pulling them far enough to the side so your pussy was exposed to the cool air of the bedroom. you nod your head as you bite your lip, watching the way he licks up the drool that dripped from the corner of his mouth as he looked at your pussy glistening in the moonlight. “fuck..”

“maybe you can taste me later.” you spread your legs wider so he had a better view.

“taste?” he looks at you wide-eyed, excitement lacing his voice because he got to taste you later.

“you can do whatever you want to me baby, i’m yours.”

“mine..” he mumbles before a new wave of confidence washed over him. he remembered back to his dream, how he held his cock as you lowered yourself onto it. copying his dream self, jeonghan grabs the base of his cock, stroking it a couple times as he whines at the stimulation. “tell me.. if i’m doing this wrong.” he breathes as he smacks the tip of his cock against your wet folds before he pushes past them enough to bump against your clit.

“a little lower baby,” you mumble, moaning at the pleasure of his tip kissing your clit before he runs it down through your folds, slipping in farther once he finds the entrance. “there you go.” you hum quietly as he slowly starts to push in.

he was slow, inching his way into your pussy as he processed the feeling of how warm and soft you felt. at about half way in he realized you were tight, tighter than he thought as he moaned loudly.

“you’re so tight.. is, is that normal?”

“yes,” you let out a breathy giggle. “just.. just keep going.” you moan as he pushes in more, passing the threshold of where all your past lovers bottomed out at.

“all of it?” he mumbles, his lip trembling as he tries to think of anything but cumming.

“all of it.” you moan louder when he pushes the last two inches in, sheathing all eight and a half inches inside of you. “fuck hannie.. so.. so big.” your voice cracked as you tried not to lose yourself at feeling so full. his tip kissed your cervix perfectly, like he was meant for you and for breeding you.

“i.. i-“ his voice trembled as he let his body lay against yours again, his sweater covered hands moving to grab ahold of yours for support as he pinned them to the bed on either side of your head.

“take your time hannie.” you wrap your legs around his waist against, hooking your ankles together so you didn’t lose your grip in case he went fast. “go slow, it’s ok.. i’m not going anywhere.” the reassurance was enough to get him to experimentally thrust his hips.

jeonghan moans along with you as his cock dragged against the plush walls of your pussy. he doesn’t have the strength in his body to hold himself up as he began to slowly rock his hips against yours at an unsteady pace.

“hannie,” you moan when his cock hits new places you didn’t even know existed. your toes curl at the pleasure as you throw your head back further into your pillow - even at the pace and angle he was going at it felt amazing, new even. it was almost like your first time all over again as your body got used to the feeling of being stretched open and experiencing your cervix being kissed by the tip of his cock every time he pushed his hips against yours - making sure every inch of him is inside of you.

“so.. so warm.” he whines, his body shifting so he can hover his upper body over yours, his hips reaching a slightly deeper angle as he thrusts his hips a little faster. “fuck, fuck, fuck.” he whispers as he screws his eyes closed, his fingers squeezing your hands tighter. your pussy felt soft and squishy almost as lewd squelching filled the space between your guys' loud whimpers and moans.

he hits your cervix at just the right angle, cashing you to clench hard around his cock, his mouth falling open as he lets out an almost silent moan. his head falls forward so his forehead knocks against yours, a little string of drool dripping from his tongue as it almost hangs out his mouth. he looks completely lost in the pleasure as he whines and moans, trying to keep some type of rhythm as he finds new spots to hit, causing you to clench harder around him.

“ah~ hannie!” you almost scream when he pulls out far enough to hit your vapor when he pushes back in.

“ngh~” he squeezes his eyes tighter, his orgasm right there. it feels nothing like the build up he feels when he’s doing this on his own, it was so much deeper in his stomach as the blood rushes through his ears. another string of drool drips from his tongue and this time you open your mouth to catch it as you moan at the feeling of his cock nuzzling your cervix with each snap of his hips.

“right.. right there!” you whine, your pussy clenching again and this time it does draw jeonghan over the edge as he spills his hot seed deep inside your cunt.

“f-fuuuuu-“ he chokes on the moan in his throat as he almost falls against your body. he doesn’t stop thrusting though, riding his orgasm out as best as he could as he learned the limits his body could handle. you tried to tell him it was ok to stop but he cuts your words very short as he snaps his hips harder then he has before.

“ah!” it was your turn for your mouth to hang out as he opted to snap his hips hard instead of trying to keep any kind of steady rhythm.

“you… you like that?” he whines, his eyes welling with tears as his thighs tensed and shook at the overstimulation. he’s done this to himself plenty of times before, call him a masochist but the feeling of his body forcing a second orgasm because he was too weak to stop was blissful.

“yes.. yes baby, fuck!” you gasp, your back arching as your legs squeezed his hips tighter. “right there! don’t stop please.” you whine loudly, your body beginning to shake as your pussy clamps down on his cock - your orgasm washing over you quickly as he keeps hitting the same spot just like you asked.

jeonghan had forced his eyes open to watch you come undone, the way your hair laid messily around your head made you look breathtaking. and even through his tears, that began to fall onto your cheeks he couldn’t help but notice the way your nose crinkles when he finally stops thrusting. he lets his body fall back against yours as he goes lax, his chest heaving as he closes his eyes and lets his mind go while he listens to your rapid heartbeat.

“hannie?” you breathe out between your quiet pants. instead of answering you, jeonghan squeezes your hands lightly to tell you he’s heard you but he’s not all there yet. you can’t help but smile softly, your fingers squeezing his back as you lay as still as possible, waiting for him to be the one to move first.

“that..” he finally mumbled after his lungs stopped burning from all the exertion and moaning he did. “that was amazing.” he nuzzled his face against your shoulder.

“i’m glad,” you smile wide, the joy of his first time being amazing overfilled you. “you made me feel so good, baby.” you could feel his softening cock twitch at the praise before he’s moving to untangle himself from your body.

you both hiss when he slips all the way out of your pussy that was dripping with his cum now. jeonghan groans at the sight before he moves your panties to cover you again, he didn’t need to get hard again - especially when you two still had work in a couple hours.

“we should go get cleaned up.” he mumbles as he helps you sit up, worry filling his eyes when you wince a little. “are you ok? did i hurt you?”

“m ok baby,” you give him a reassuring smile before leaning forward to peck his nose. “it’s just been awhile since i’ve done this.. and you’re definitely the biggest i’ve ever had.” you giggle when he averts his eyes and covers his reddening face with his sleeve covered hands.

“don’t… don’t say things like that to me or..” he mumbles.

“or what? you’ll get hard again?” you bite your lip when you notice his cock, that’s on full display despite the sweater pooling against his thighs, twitch again. “god..” you almost whine at the sight before you look over your shoulder to see the time.

“it’s three a.m now..” you mumble. “too tired to shower but we should both go pee and change out of these sweaters, it got hot in here.” you smile when your boyfriend doesn’t uncover his face but nods in agreement. carefully you reach forward to gently pry his sweater paws from his face to see he’s still looking off to the side with a blush on his face. “are you ok hannie?”

“mhm..” he nods before biting his lip. “i just.. couldn’t have imagined this being more perfect.” he mumbles before finally looking at you, his hair falling into his face a little. you could feel your own face begin to heat up before you’re leaning forward to give him a quick kiss on the lips.

“i couldn’t have imagined this being more perfect either.” you mumble before you kiss him a little deeper, your arms moving to wrap around his neck as he pulls you closer between his legs.

“let’s go get cleaned up now..” he mumbles against your lips when he finally pulls away for air. “we can still get a couple more hours of sleep if we don’t get distracted.”

“distracted?” you smile as you pull away fully. “by what? you new found stamina for sex?”

“no! i mean-“ he huffs and crosses his arms when he realizes you’re just pulling at his strings. “you’re unbelievable..”

“and yet you love me.” you hum satisfied as you slide off the bed to shuffle towards the private bathroom that was connected to your guys’ bedroom.

“i do love you.” he smiles to himself as he watches the way his hoodie barely covers your ass as you walk away.

“and i love you! now stop staring at my ass and help me clean up!” you yell from the bathroom, glad your walls were decently sound proofed.

“who said i was staring at your ass?” he yells back, getting up to grab a fresh pair of underwear and shirts for you both before he’s following you into the bathroom where you already sat on the toilet naked. he fights with every ounce in his body not to ogle at you before he’s turning around and mumbling that he’s ‘not strong enough for this’ as you giggle about the blush you can see creeping up his ears again.

reblogs + feedback is greatly appreciated!

#svthub #k vanity #kflixnet #jeonghan smut #seventeen smut #svt smut #jeonghan imagines #seventeen imagines #svt imagines #jeonghan scenarios #seventeen scenarios #svt scenarios #jeonghan x reader

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taegularities · 5 months

Text

colour me in: translucent | jjk (m)

Summary: And whenever the world seems to fall apart and your thoughts cast a shadow over your heart, he rushes to lift you to your feet. Conjoining your hearts and souls, again and again and again.

➳ pairing: Jungkook x reader ➳ rating: 18+ ➳ genre: fwb/f2l, fake dating; some healthy angst, so much fluff, smut ➳ warnings: y’all. So. Much. Fluff, talk about stars, talk about his hometown, mention of a wedding 😁, 1 nara mention, a guest appearance!!, and another guest appearance…, daddy issues mention, oc has a tummy ache :(, banter, conversation with her mom, badass oc, their friends <3, moving and work stress, overworking, kook panics in this one, oc does too, tears and tears and tea–, abandonment issues, overthinking!!!, they communicate too late bc they’re scared, pregnancy scare, mention of throwing up, kissing and hand holding <3, petnames, insecurities/slight envy; explicit sexual content: diving right into the smut as the chapter starts 🤭, tie around oc’s neck ha ha, oral (f. receiving) (over panties and without 🥲), fingering, brief masturbation (m.), making out, jk takes the backseat and oc drives for a while <3, bit of choking, they’re half clothed for a bit, tiddie and butt love, tears, flirting, big dick jk, soft dom jk, emotions omg 😷, unprotected sex, multiple orgasms, squirting, he unloads in her mouth 😄, and yeah, maybe more but i forgot – lmk if you notice smth! also… THE 👏 EN 👏 DING 🚨🚨🚨 ➳ word count: 35.8k 💀 ➳ a/n: here it is… after a long ass fight with tumblr and my tears, it’s here! i don’t have much to say this time except that this chapter means the world to me. and i hope you love it just as much. shoutout to @missgeniality for betaing parts of this and helping me with difficult scenes, i truly struggled!! <3 if you guys enjoy this one, let me know and don’t be shy to reach out!! love you and let’s dive in 🥺 ➳ listen to: say you won't let go by james arthur | full collaborative playlist 🤍

SERIES MASTERPOST | TAGLIST MASTERLIST | WIPs | DC SERVER

The whispers cease the moment your door closes.

The whispers of the world, of all traffic, of all passersby, of all echoes. And those in your head, susurrating since you left the glass building and its conference hall.

They dim the moment you drop your palm off the door; your heart is still a nervous mess as you take your shoes off, watch him take his shoes off. He places them neatly in the shoe cabinet, jacket hung on one of the coat hooks.

Right here, you’re surrounded by a tranquil, quiet dome. Not as subdued as the emotions the outer world elicits; just an arena that feels perpetually warm, sepia and still.

And amidst that warmth, there’s yearning. You feel it in every nerve of your body, burning through your limbs. Stunning sentiments pull at your soul, making it heavy; and your heart floats, perpetually above the clouds.

As he rubs his cheek with a soft hand — you know, because you were holding it just two minutes ago, clutching it in the car for dear life —, you take a step forward, your mouth open, but not quite capable of saying all that’s weighing on your tongue.

They’re good things; amazing things. And he hasn’t yet gathered all his thoughts either to truly voice what he’s been hiding since you left the chaos. Only opting for the living room, painfully slowly, as if he’s waiting to face you again.

And maybe… maybe he really is. And maybe he doesn’t need to talk at all.

Because he stops the moment you speak, tenderly calling, “Jungkook.”

It’s all he needs. Combined with the lightest touch to his elbow, a hint of your voice is all he needs. He wants to keep hearing his name. Again and again and again. And today, announcing it to the world, you promised that you’ll be doing just that.

Shit. What have you done to his heart? He wants to ask questions that neither of you has an answer to; or, not one that can be verbalised. One that could explain this euphoria.

So he doesn’t say anything at all.

Instead, he stumbles as he turns back to you again, taking a deep breath before his head tilts. The unbounded amount of want is swimming in his tired eyes, and you barely manage a hushed, “Should we—” before his fingers flutter and he—

Dashes straight toward you. One large step, both hands jacking up to take your face captive. He raises your head, eyes closing, mouth parting an inch before it’s locked with yours.

If he hadn’t started, you would have.

The same thumb always caressing your skin pulls your lower lip down. An unfaltering habit, tender whenever he spirals. You trip backwards, with him in tow, immediately gripping his arms with a wild, accelerating heartbeat.

Your soul was already awake, lit up from today’s events; but he dunks it in a brighter shine — and now it flushes pink.

For a while, your kiss’ sounds are all that echo off the wall, mixing with your sighs. He starts gently, head angled, diving deeper.

Every now and then, he tugs at your lip ever-so-slightly, teeth and tongue dragging over it. The wet muscle is soft against yours, and you let your touch drop down to his waist to hold him closer.

But there’s not that much time to dissolve into him right here, against your entrance door, because Jungkook backs away before you can bid your sanity adieu. Maybe that’s for later.

Maybe you need to be okay with his breath grazing your skin for now, for the words he murmurs so close to your lips, “You’re crazy for this. Absolutely crazy.”

You are. Both okay with this, and incredibly crazy.

There’s never been more certainty in your actions or your intentions than whatever you do with him. For him — if that deems you crazy, then you absolutely are.

Heated from the kiss, Jungkook steps away, but not without entangling your fingers with his. On the way to the bedroom, you ignore everything that doesn’t entail him.

Like, the humming of the fridge. Or the sound of the traffic outside, audible through the tilted window. And the buzzing of your phone; it’s been doing that for a while now.

Of course it is.

But you don’t hesitate to deposit it on your bedside table mere seconds later; you barely manage to put it there, nearly watching it slide down as Jungkook pulls you back. You clash against his body, and the tongue once again mingling with yours only enhances your disorientation.

God, you’re a lost cause. Nothing else to expect with his palm holding your jaw, arm slung around you, kissing you senseless.

Time slows down; the sensation turns electric. His motions are rhythmic, fingers brushing your neck. And despite the bitterness he must have felt at the conference, he tastes so , so sweet.

Heady desire growing, you grip the back of his head, pushing it closer. You’re insatiable. Yearning for more of his damp, soft lips, hysterical when he lets out a craving, small moan.

“Do you have any idea,” he starts, giving your neck no more than a handful of teasing pecks, “what that did to me?”

He moves back until you plummet into the mattress; your eyes follow when he leans in and falls to his knees. Placing a hand at the nape of your neck, tenderly moving your face a bit closer to his.

“Without a warning, too,” he continues, “what, were you planning to drive me mad for so long?”

Not the angry kind of mad. His smile and the fondness in his eyes reveal that much. No — the mad that a lover is.

“Did it work?” you ask, and he flashes his teeth, beloved crinkles around his eyes.

“Did it? What do you think?” He kisses your nose; then, the apple of your cheek. “You didn’t notice any of it today? Or any other time before that?”

“I wanted to… I want everyone to know. I was going to tell you when you came home, but… I wanted to say it in front of everybody. That,” you touch the collar of his blazer, rubbing it between your fingertips, “I’m done with their games. I don’t care anymore, Jungkook.”

“I know… You don’t care.” His hand leaves the nape of your neck, caressing your face. “But you care about me, yes? You care so much.”

It’s not really a question. It’s a statement, a reassurance to himself. A mantra, as if he needs to repeat it and let it reverberate in his mind until he’s grasped its meaning.

“I do,” you whisper, peeling the blazer off his shoulder by only a few inches, “and I want to stay. Can I… just stay here?”

“You’re crazy,” he echoes once more, emphasising his words with a shake of his head, “to think I’ll let you go again. You’ll see.”

Although he still establishes a brief, temporary distance between the two of you right after; you’re reluctant to stop feeling his warmth when he stands. He towers over you, and you muster utmost courage to not faint.

Because the sight is one to behold.

How he removes the blazer in a swift movement, discarding it on top of the table at the wall. He rolls up the sleeve of his shirt, but only one side, glancing at you throughout the ordeal.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” you ask.

“Why is your mouth open like that?”

“Do this exactly in front of a mirror, and… and you’ll know why.”

He smirks. “Right. And stare at yourself in the mirror for longer than a second, and you’ll know why, too.”

God, this guy…

And he actually doesn’t stop.

His pupils keep wandering; to your eyes, to your lips, to your heaving chest. To how you close your legs when he loosens his tie with tattooed fingers, lettered knuckles on full display. He opens a single button of his dress shirt; enough to reveal a patch of golden skin.

The tie dangles off his neck, doing wonders to your mind, and you resist the urge to grab it and pull him down to you. But you don’t need to; you only get to cherish the sight for another second.

Because right after, he pulls it over his head, baring the highly kissable mole on his neck before—

“What are you doing?” you wonder, eyes wide, and probably filled with anticipation as he puts the tie around your neck. “I’m…”

“Looks a lot better on you.”

One more shake of his head. You subtly catch a jerk behind his pants, and your gaze drops instantly. Behind the dark slacks, he’s already waiting for you, and the thought leaves you frothing at the mouth.

“You’re not looking bad yourself…” you say, drifting off, barely looking into his face as your hand reaches out. “May I?”

“What, baby?”

“Just…”

You move forward, a palm to his thigh, and close your eyes before placing a kiss to the growing bulge. It twitches under your lips, and you drag your mouth lightly over his dick’s outline.

“Should’ve known,” Jungkook breathes, affected straight away, “but somehow, this is worse than your hand.”

“Really?”

He clicks his tongue when you do it again, unfazed by the layer between you as you give his clothed cock an open-mouthed kiss. Two of his fingers settle underneath your chin, and he raises your head in order to meet your gaze.

Then, he pushes you back a little, within a second back to one knee; then the other. He cocks an eyebrow as if to reprimand you, but then gulps down a chuckle as he says, “Really. But wait a bit more.”

You need to wait, because he prioritises your pleasure. One demand you’re ready to give into.

So, so prepared, when he asks politely, “Open your slacks?” You do. The way he drags his hands over your thigh and up to your hips, starting to discard your pants, is arguably less polite. “Here we go. Raise your ass.”

You help him out as best as you can. But he attaches his lips to your naked thigh the moment it comes into view, scattering kisses over your hot skin as he casts it off of you entirely.

You raise your feet a bit above the ground, and he uses the moment to separate your legs. Doesn’t even bother taking off your panties first; casually making himself at home between your limbs.

Light-headed, you open your eyelids halfway to glance at the blurry ceiling light; you never noticed when you closed them. Maybe when the sweetness spread over your thighs’ skin.

Maybe he’s as dizzy as you — only, when your whirling stare descends to his face, he’s smirking. And for a second, you don’t understand why. Puzzled, you keep looking, observing the tempting lick over his lips; the deep exhale; the barely-there blinking.

And then he says, “Never thought about it. But you should wear light-coloured panties more often.”

“…Why?”

But you soon get why.

Because you feel the arousal behind the fabric. How it glues your pussy to it, the damp spot probably growing. It’s visible — that’s what he’s liking so much.

He can see all of the desire you harbour for him, showcased so blatantly. And despite the embarrassment, watching his face flush in that rosy dust boosts your ego, too.

Your face burns.

“You’ve been like that for…” he starts, shrugging his shoulders in curiosity, “how long now?”

“Long enough. And I dare you to do something about it.”

Because fuck, he talks too much. In hindsight, only really when you need him to shut up; deliberately.

“Oh god,” he exclaims, dramatic as ever; as he raises a hand, you nearly think he’ll place it on his chest for further effect, but he only touches your knee, “now if you’re daring me, I’ll have to.”

“Mhm. I’m sure you’re not a sore lo—”

“Yeah, yeah.”

It’s a rude interruption, and the sudden push of his fingertip against your clit is ruder. It’s a momentary touch, fleeting, as opposed to the slow and calculated way that he buries his face in your panties. Eyes glued to yours for a moment.

And then…

Then, you relish the first taste of Heaven — as does he, you suppose.

Because the satisfied sigh is outrageous, hot against your covered folds. He licks over the damp stain, only the tip of his tongue; thoroughly salivated, because you feel the wetness seeping through the clothing.

There’s no moment between the start of his action and your immediate, ”Fuck.”

And to him, your reaction sets just the tone for a woozy night to come. He nods between your legs, gelled back strands tickling, hums so sweetly. You adjust on your seat, though the subtle change affects nothing; only drives you wilder as you shift deeper into his face.

His tongue is painting circles over your clit. Drawing out sensations, and you don’t understand how… there’s underwear between him and you. A barrier, aching to be removed, so how is he doing this, howishedoingit—

“No! Oh god—”

You can’t decipher why you voiced the rejection; you don’t want him to leave. Frustrated when he does, mouth open, waiting for you to speak up until you do, “Sorry. Sorry, I don’t fucking know…”

“Babe…” He shakes his head… He’s doing so much of this today. But one of the loose strands keeps moving so gorgeously over his forehead, so if it was up to you, he could keep doing it. “Don’t scare me like that.”

“Sorry…”

“Nah.” He says it when you press your lips together, hot and bothered as he licks another stripe along your cunt. “Didn’t mean it that way. Open that pretty mouth. Do scream, yeah?”

You could melt into the ground. Or into the sheets; he always knows what to say. No matter what the situation. A verbal monster once, a graceful poet another time.

They say, get you a man who can do both. But he can do all million things known to humankind and the book of romance.

His mouth works deeper into where you ache. Tongue action expanded, he returns to the panties, seeking one of your nether lips to tease it, pull at it. He’s ruining your garment, making it stick to your pussy.

Pries your legs open when he comes back to the clit, and then drops down to the overflowing sex again. The sensual gestures are toying with your nerves, and you still can’t figure out how. Leaves you waiting, yearning, craving the lack of a blockade in between.

And once the uncomfortable, wet cotton of your panties rubs against the inside of your folds, you finally speak up, “Why are you—”

“Sorry,” he interjects, aware of his bestiality. You see it in his stupid wicked smile. “I know. This is just…” Big eyes stare back down, albeit hazier than before; his finger touches the drenched patch for a second. “So good to look at.”

“You’re the worst.”

“Of course.”

Shit, he’s so cheeky. If you had the strength, you’d wipe that bubbly smile off his face; not good for your heart. Would smooch it away. But fret not — you’ll get your chance, too.

For now, you need to grant him this win. Not least of all, because it feels so good for you, too.

So you don’t defy him when he suddenly moves in more. Hooks a finger into your panties and slides them aside, letting them snap back against the juncture between your pussy and leg. And then, you guess the actual fun starts.

Because he throws one carnal look at you before his arms wander under your legs. You can barely gather your thoughts before he digs in again, properly this time. Lips directly attaching to your skin, he starts diligent work on soiling your body.

And god, does he do it well…

So experienced. Aware. Studied you and your body well enough — because the agonisingly slow tease isn’t random. He knows how much you hate it; knows how much you love it.

How it builds anticipation, and how it grows your desire.

He’s a little fuck, but maybe that’s why he never fails to break you this hard. You know he’s enjoying this — delighted when your eyebrows furrow, close to weeping as he breathes against your pussy.

Even though a man starved, he takes his time. For a second. Then another. And then parts your folds with his fingers, whispering, “Would you say that’s better?”

Like he’s at some meeting. Goddamn.

You blink, responding, “I don’t know. Better than the panties, worse than…” His finger slips in mid-speech, just halfway through when you manage a breathy, “this.”

“I… Shit, you’re… hot as fuck.”

Right.

Even you’re turned on by how your head tips back again, eyes rolling inward when he diminishes the distance and kisses your cunt. Nobody else is going to raise your confidence like he does.

“Mmmh,” he voices as the make out session intensifies, smacking noises sounding from below. He lifts his lips by a mere inch, only to mumble, “So hot. So fucking good.”

And that’s it — back to business.

“Nnnghkook…”

The arms he dropped under your legs sling around them, hooking in, and somehow, he’s able to reach to your back like that. Raises your legs in the process, pulling you in. Deeper in your heat, big button nose against your pelvis.

Your right hand attempts to grip his hair before you threaten to fall backwards, failing miserably. You immediately place both your palms back on the bed, because you doubt you can trust that damned left arm to hold you upright — quivering like this.

The tip of your tongue touches the arch of your upper lip, and then you tilt your head, warning him, “Fuck… if you don’t fuck my brains out today, Jungkook…”

Brains? Plural? Acting as though even one’s present in your head right now.

Jungkook chuckles, licking you dry; the little sound combined with the sinful ordeal is a delightful one. Contrary, but gifting the moment some reality. Some tenderness. You’re having fun.

He stops to throw the escaping strands back again — all in vain, of course — and brings his hand to your ass, moving you over the bed until you’re off the edge. You yelp, close to falling, but he holds you carefully.

Ass half dangling, he throws your legs over broad shoulders, kissing your thigh before he promises, “Don’t worry at all. Won’t leave a single thought in either of our heads.”

You wince when he bites the flesh of your leg, and then proceeds to advance his soft lips to the tender ache. He collects saliva on his tongue, probably ready to dive in again; moves in at least, tickling your pelvis with his breath.

His nose takes a deep breath, inhaling you, dizzy from your scent. And his thumb — it floats over your clit, preparing for more insanity. But when the position elicits some discomfort, you say, “Put me on the bed. Can I… bed properly.”

Fragments of sentences. They make him smile.

“Sure,” he says rather calmly; you’re anything but.

It’s not normal. Watching a guy like Jeon Jungkook push his hair back with his jaw on full display; tongue darting out.

He signals his approval once more as he pats your thigh, and you make quick work at weakly turning around and crawling onto the bed. You’re still trembling as you get on all fours, very conscious of what you’re doing.

Casually, you say, “I’ll get the lube, too.”

Of course you know what might follow. What will follow. He never stops raving, daydreaming, bragging about your ass — walking past you in the kitchen, just to grapple a handful and to innocently claim, “What? I love your butt.”

But before he strikes this time, you’re only barely able to grab the lube out of the drawer, placing it next to the pillow instead of handing it back to him. Because… because before you know it—

There’s already a finger to your pussy.

“Shit,” you curse, “you and your impatience.”

“Do you want me to wait?” he asks, as purely as the butt-love-statements as his touch retracts. Mellow voice; only a flutter of his lashes is missing, really. “I can wait.”

No, he can’t. Liar.

“No,” you repeat, readily letting your upper body fall. You bring your fingertips back to your ass, tracing it down until met with your arousal. “Don’t do this to me now.”

You know his answer before he utters it, “Don’t you do this to me now.” You hear a click of his tongue; a poised beam plays around your lips. “Alright. But.”

He snatches your legs from under your body until you’re flat on your tummy; you grunt just a bit. Not expecting the soft, little, “Do tell me if I do too much.”

As if…

He knows his limits. But the constant, caring pleads still always grip your heart; so you nod.

“Okay.”

Simultaneous with a fond slap, that word is the last verbal sign of his presence that you receive for a while. Whatever follows is a pure testing of limitations; of jumbling up your senses.

Because the moment Jungkook lifts your ass to his face, his tongue is already out. Experimental at first, of course, patient. He takes a second for languid kisses and soft necking, fingers exploring the inside of your thigh as if to soothe your restlessness.

And it helps. Your limbs shake a bit less, your mind focused on where his touches go. Fingertips near your folds. Lips kissing around your pussy. Then, repeating the same brush of his hands as before, but on your other leg, moving inward.

Despite the first taste he already got, he’s suddenly changed his tactic; and you’re greedy. Mewling in tiny, quiet sounds, barely realising that they’re coming out of you. You repeat his name over and over, but it never quite tumbles out in its entirety.

So you keep it at moaning, eyes closed, so infinitely relaxed.

He moves back, gently asking, “All good?”

“So far… do more, please.”

It’s what he always waits for. You know. Jungkook has a fetish for your pleas, and the tiniest fragment of your beseeching voice is usually enough for him.

Like now.

Encouraged, he pushes your shirt up to your tits, halting right under them. He touches your naked stomach, brushing your belly button, grazing a palm over your lower back and straight to your ass.

The tongue ghosting around your sex finally dares a step forward. Gets a little taste of what’s to come. Circles around your folds, then to your nub; spit gathered on the tip, never too hard, oh-so-mildly — and maybe that’s what makes it even worse.

The lack of any force. How pleasant it feels. And you let him know — respond with a desperate, unheard sound, goosebumps sprawling over your skin.

Jungkook discerns it as a signal to go on; to do more. His nose buries between your ass, pushing his tongue in a little further, alternating between licking and kissing and collecting spit. Your lust shoots to the sky; you twist and move, but he holds you in place with a single hand.

And when he disappears, you regret it immediately. You hear him say, “Hey, hey… Don’t you want me to fuck your brains out, sweetheart? Isn’t that what you said?”

“Mmhyes, yes, please.”

“…Then stop moving.” His nails are harsh against your waist, and you whimper. “The more you behave now,” he leaves a kiss on your butt, loosening his grip around your waist, “the harder I’ll go later.”

“…Okay. Okay. I’m sorry.”

He chuckles. What an ass; leaving you physically and mentally covetting, and then enjoying your reactions.

“Are you okay with this?” he asks, biting a little, stroking your hips, holding onto your ass cheeks.

“Mhm.” It’s all you can voice at this point. You don’t have any power over your body; can’t lift it off the mattress. “Love it.”

“Perfect.”

And then, everything seems to happen faster.

Arousal and orgasm have already built from his advances, and he gives you the rest when he starts drawing circles around your pussy again. Heightens your senses, slurps and drinks you up. Every single time it feels like he’s learned something new; you swoon at the attention to detail.

What might he be looking like right now?

Perhaps he’s biting his lip. Maybe his eyebrows are furrowed, usually tell-tale signs of either him enjoying his meal or him enjoying his meal.

“Shit,” you mumble, but you don’t think he hears it — too busy sucking at your folds, adding a finger to the mix.

Sometimes, the licks are generous, wide-tongued; sometimes, he focuses on each part individually. The insides, the clit; how you sound, how you wind.

There’s truly an utter craze you feel for this man; no matter which hazy or soft or delicate situation, he fits you like a missing puzzle piece. Like a match made in Heaven. Knows what he’s doing.

Because he knows you. Because he studies you. Observes you.

Sex is only one instance of his attentiveness.

And perhaps that’s the whipped thought that pushes you over the edge eventually. Maybe that’s why the moment passes so quickly and explosions blind you all of a sudden. Why your face glows so hot, sweat collecting over your upper lip.

It must be.

Because as he stimulates you for another minute, your sensitive cunt submits, the knot in your lower stomach unwinding. He unties it fully, eliciting a stirring feeling that makes your pussy flutter.

“Holy shit…”

You only register your voice when the peeping in your ear stops. Your voice is still damped, the world around you vanishing a bit; except for him. Always except for him.

And.

You also notice that your fingers are hurting. Did you dig them into the sheets too hard? Tug too hard? You don’t know… but their pads are almost numb.

Jungkook’s mouth is still there, though lighter now, and his finger is slightly slapping your cunt, encouraging you to keep letting go. Catching you on his tongue.

And then… it’s over. You remain quiet.

You’ll be a mess for the foreseeable future; or at least, the upcoming one or two minutes. Your back and neck are already covered in a sheen of sweat; it’s so unbearably hot, as opposed to the recklessly approaching cold outside.

Remaining like this, you let him kiss your body through your orgasm, delicately soothing the pain his fingers caused across your ass. Hovering above the small of your back, he asks, “Can you move?”

“Not yet. But…” You scan the spot next to the pillow until you find the lube, throwing it back to him at last. “I can watch.”

No objection. So you turn around.

When you finally meet his gaze again, having started missing it, he’s already unbuckling his pants. Right there, towering above you, looking directly at you. Jaw chiselled, lips swollen.

You decide to spur him on; bring the tie between your covered tits before gentle fingers grasp them deftly. Rolling your digits around their outline before squeezing them. There’s an instant reaction: The hard bite of his lip, the rushed discarding of his clothes.

And fuck, he’s beautiful. So pretty how he despairs bit by bit, only letting his pants make it to his knees before his cock has sprung out. A true monster, bloodshot like this, further growing as it twitches and jerks… blue veins wanting to be licked.

But it’s lube-day, and neither of you can wait.

So you let him make a fist around his thickness, stroking it and momentarily letting out a groan. His chest seems to deflate, shoulders dropping as he jerks himself off once more, squirts some lube into his palm, and returns to his intentions.

“Good,” you praise, watching his cheeks grow rosier, “wish you could go all out.”

“I can’t.”

You know. You know, because he’s storing all his patience for what’s to come. With and for you.

Breath stagnating, you watch a drop of sweat trail down between his tanned pecs and then into his shirt; fabric sticking to his skin. He doesn’t notice it, dazy as hell, wiping his tip clear of the precum. Every damn time you’re in disbelief when his cock grows in size, firmer and rock hard.

So many veins adorning it as it rises to his belly button; you’re sure you’ll feel them against your walls, too. You get on wobbly knees, hair already a mess, both of you still in your soaked white dress shirts.

Jungkook’s mane is falling apart much as yours, messier now, but soaking him in so much more sex appeal. There are no boundaries to his beauty; it transcends your understanding.

Enough of watching, you mentally capitulate a minute later. Too many moans and clipped vocals fill the room, whiny once, deep later; so you float up once your body allows, targeting his cock straight-forwardly.

You only deliver one surprise kiss, helping him out as you drag your tongue along the tiny slit. He reacts, caught off guard, voicing, “Oh—”

But against his possible expectations, you don’t continue. Instead, you drag your hand along his cock only twice — up and down, feeling the smooth skin, the slippery lube, the hardness underneath.

And then, you order, “Sit. Please.”

“What?”

“Here,” you point to the headboard, on your knees, kissing his sides and up his chest until you reach the open button. “Sit down for me.”

He pauses. Waits for a moment, touching your cheek when your face aligns with his. And when you keep your begging, soft gaze intact, he huffs out a broken laugh, and states, “Not sure if I can trust you to not kill me. But…” A kiss to your left eyebrow. “Anything for you.”

And whatever happens next, passes by fast.

How he obliges, dick dangling in front of his body, waiting for ruin. How he hisses a little when the sweat-drenched back touches the cold headboard. And how you adjust your body, soon sitting in reverse, facing the closet.

Floating over his cock, straddling him, spreading your pussy with your fingers. He stutters behind you, grasping for words, but silences when you move and wiggle your ass a little, only dropping a few inches until your cock can prod your entrance.

And that’s all you do. Multiple times. Practising restraint, focusing on the closet, blinking rapidly. Perhaps you’re more patient this time, because from behind, you hear another sharp hiss, and then a somewhat agitated, but endlessly turned on, “The hell are you doing to me?”

“Nothing,” you promise; the jest costs you all your energy, “what are you talking about?”

“You’re so funny, aren’t you?”

His words are accentuated by sudden grabs of your ass. One or two pinches. You should’ve known. But despite his impatience, he never forces you down onto his cock. Lets you do.

“I’m not trying to be,” you argue, aligning yourself with him gradually. Preparing yourself mentally and physically. Leaking to no end. “You’re just delusional.”

“Must be. Too good to be real.”

If you had it in you, you’d laugh. But the approaching sins and the image of his affected expressions fog your brain. Your body burns, your lower tummy tenses; your muscles feel heavy as you loom over him, and you only endure another moment.

Because soon enough, your thirst overpowers every other thought; the weight of your desire drags your body down, thankful that he’s keeping his cock upright. And then, just like that… so easily, no resistance detected, you slide down.

His tip splits you open first, eliciting an immediate sensation. New every freaking time; like the craze he fucks your mind into space with wipes your memory each time.

“Hnnngh, this is just…”

Whatever it is, there’s no word yet invented for it. So you give up right away, squinting your eye shut until you see dots and forms, breath stuck in your throat. The lack of regular inhales muddles your mind, and you feel further heat rise to your cheeks.

“Go— slow,” he pants behind you.

Of course he’s not all the way in yet. No matter how much it feels like it; you could keep going and going. Hard and monstrous, burying inside you, no end in sight.

The filling feeling catches you off guard each time; the way he leaves no room inside, causing butterflies in your stomach, wandering straight to your pussy. A ridiculously perfect phenomenon, like a key to its lock.

God. You’re overspilling.

As soon as he’s bottomed out, you relish the feeling of his skin against your ass for a moment, registering how his fingers sneak to your flesh slowly. And then, you angle your body forward, clutching the sheets before you start moving.

You keep your pace slow. Put all your intention on delicate motions, all the way up with a whimper, and then slamming back down with a gasp. The farther you go, the wetter you get. Until you’ve probably left a shimmering liquid all over his cock, gliding too damn easily.

“That’s… that’s new,” Jungkook mutters. At least that’s what you think you hear. “Gotta do it again.”

And you’re not even done with this time. But you understand — oh, you fucking understand. There’s something about not yet seeing his face but imagining all of it. How fucked out he must look. How red the apples of his cheeks must be. How sweaty his hairline is.

You grip the sheets tighter, legs closer to his, head between your shoulders. All you manage between the heavy breathing is a high-pitched, ”Jungkook—”

“Yes. Yeah, baby. This is…”

“I know. I know, keep talking.”

Which is an unfair command. He can think as much as you; you can barely comprehend letters, even less put them into actual words. But somehow, he still mutters whatever nonsense he can think of.

“Gotta do it again,” he repeats as you fasten your pace.

“Why always play such an angel, huh?” he asks as you moan and whine.

“When you’re a… a fucking demon. Literally,” he declares when you blow out breaths, letting out a crying sound.

He feels glorious inside you. Solid and gorgeous. He holds your ass cheeks in a tight grip, the strength nearly bruising when you let a hand wander back between your legs, grazing his firm balls.

When you turn around to check briefly, slowing your motions, he looks up, meets your eyes. Apparently, he wasn’t gazing at you directly at all; and you imagine there wasn’t much to see other than a bouncing mane anyway.

What he’s actually so distracted by must be…

“How’s it… it look?” you ask, circling your hips, feeling every vein, as predicted.

“It looks…”

Must be art.

Combined with his love for your ass, he must be enjoying the view; at least judging from the constant kneading and spreading. Allowing a direct, front-seat show of his cock appearing out of you, disappearing inside of you.

Glistening. Sucking him in. It must…

“Looks so fuck—ing insane from where I sit.”

The swear word is interrupted by a millisecond, breathy as hell. Allows a glimpse into how delirious he might already be, possibly faring worse than you. Impatient, seeking more.

And you do know your Jeon Jungkook well.

Because not even another breath later, his body that slid down halfway, bolts up. You feel the shift clearly; it pulls you backwards along with him. Only, you realise the movement isn’t the only source straightening you so fast.

First and foremost, it’s the freaking hand. Covered in letters and more ink, tugging at the dangling tie and following it up to the slowly unravelling knot before… abruptly snaking around your neck. Fingers right under your jaw, lifting your head.

He tugs you in until your back collides with his chest, and to your chagrin, you notice that neither of you has gotten rid of those stupid dress shirts. You won’t be able to wear them again without drifting to this memory…

Sleeve open, he wraps his arm around your body, just under your tits, and whispers, “Why… drive me mad like this?”

“H–huh?”

“So far away. Weren’t you ffffu—” The messy zero you’re drawing with your hips interrupts his string of thoughts, and he spends a second finding it again before he finishes, “Weren’t you far away long enough?”

Shit…

This isn’t just an affair. This isn’t temporary. Your brain still can’t quite understand that you’ve actually occupied this man’s heart.

That your gestures and touches aren’t a fleeting dream, but blissfully real. That you’re his, and that he’s yours.

He’s right. You were far away for too long.

So you sneak your arm back, around the back of his neck and pull him closer by his hair. His lips brush your cheek and then retreat to your ear. Nibbling for a moment. Kissing it.

You don’t know what to focus on — on the way his teeth light up your nerves, or the way his hand moves down your shirt and bra, and up your body. Soon taking your tits captive, squeezing hard, pinching your nipples.

“Move a bit,” he orders, though you don’t really have to.

His hand remains on your neck, so he pulls you forward; guess he’s sick of the shirt, too.

“You too,” you murmur.

“Yes. Patience, love.”

No. Fuck no.

Is it the nickname or his actions that empty your head this time? You don’t know. But you react.

Moaning, but it soon transitions into a yelp when he jerks up suddenly, balls deep. Your voice breaks, and you’re breathless; grateful when he unbuttons your shirt, dragging it down your shoulders.

Helping him however you can, you pull at the clothing almost aggressively, over your hand until it’s stuck there. Sporting a shirt paw, you hear Jungkook laugh behind you, peppering more kisses to your shoulder as he says, “Ah… take it easy. You’re with me tonight.”

One quick pause, and then, “You’re always with me. No rush anymore, okay? Yeah, baby?”

He aids you out of the shirt and tie with tender pecks. Thoroughly affected when you only nod so softly, eyebrows kissing. He unclasps your bra swiftly, breathing against your neck as he bares your body once and for all, putting the garment aside.

And then his forefinger moves along your neck again, only barely touching over your vocal cords; feeling your gulp before he journeys further down, back to your tits. Probably leaving scars; his nails are reckless today.

“Wanted to see those pretty tits so bad,” he says, though he doesn’t halt here — tiptoes south to your pelvis, and then to your clit. “Been thinking about this all day.”

Really?

So each of these touches consume his thoughts every damn moment of the day, too?

“You wanna see them… properly?” you wonder. You haven’t moved in a bit, lost in him, mentally tracing the lines he draws on your body. “‘Cause I wanna see you.”

“Mmmmhm. Doesn’t sound too bad.”

“Then I’ll…”

You don’t speak further; busy with your further advances. Your pussy feels lonely the moment you let him slip out. You’re terribly wobbly on your knees, your thighs visibly shaking as you turn around.

Jungkook holds a hand towards you, a safety net in case you tip over. He holds your wrist gently as you move over the mattress; never more than now are you glad that his isn’t as soft as yours back at the house.

Keeping your balance, you straddle him again, back in a similar position, albeit finally facing him now. And your eyes roll back just the moment he fills you up again.

Your legs are exhausted; the moment you start moving, you barely make it far enough, and Jungkook notices immediately, whispering, “My baby tired?”

And when you nod, he holds you tight, wrapping you in his arms, and—

“Hold– hold onto me, okay?”

You do. And then — he thrusts up once.

When your head falls, his eyelids drop a little, nose touching your jaw as he says, “I could fuck you all goddamn day.”

“Do it… you can now.” His head descends to your chest, mouth open. You’re not sure what you’re opting for, but you still call his name, “Kook…”

Repeatedly lunging in, he collects the words he needs to say, so irresistibly frenzied when he vows, “I’m yours. Okay? And… I need you to stay. Am yours, baby.”

Out of nowhere — or maybe not. Maybe these very sentiments were swimming in his eyes all the time; you could just not see them yet.

Lips a hair width apart, you opt for one single kiss, only a ghost touch. You tell him, “Promised the world. Will promise it to you… too.”

“Good.” His nails scrape your back, and you tug at his hair. A moan tumbles out of him, transforming into words as he holds your body in place, pumping into you, “Fuck, you– feel so good. Just you. So, so good.”

“Ngh, I—”

“I know, I can… can’t breathe, either.”

He kisses your shoulder, the skin flaming under his mouth. Although late, you imitate his prior gesture, peeling off his intruding shirt as smoothly and fast as you possibly can. It’s been a wall between you for too long now; you need to see those pretty tits, too.

And once the buttons open and the shirt flies, you finally bask in the toned beauty. Soaked chest, brawny, chocolate chip nipples as hard as yours. Soon pressing into you, lips thirsting for you, slamming against your mouth.

The fever rises, the temperature akin to lava. Your sounds are desperate and wanting, and you hold onto him for dear life. And before you know it, you’re not claiming your throne anymore.

Suddenly, you find yourself floating for a moment, and then sinking into the mattress, and then curling your hands into fists and him slamming into you harder, deeper, all the way in...

Fuck.

Towering over you, he spreads your legs wide, temptingly licking his thumb before it presses down onto your swollen clit. One jab. A second. Another and another and another.

“Yes. Yes, please—” you beg and yell, letting him pound you into oblivion.

The first hint of stars already grace the darkness behind your eyelids, but then Jungkook starts delivering rapid, light slaps to your nub. He’s chasing your high as much as you are; you know. The chaos unfolding doesn’t hold him back from observing your reactions.

Only focusing on his own end of pleasure when you’re done.

Tears gather at the corners of your eyes, and you cling to his arms, his hands pushing into your waist. And it takes just a moment longer. And another second. Several more shoves, the curve of his cock dragging along your walls and your sensitive spot.

Thoroughly drenched, both of you, as he drives all of him into you. Parting your legs whenever they attempt to shut again. And the universe finally expands, a million celestial bodies dying and imploding, much like you and…

Suddenly, you’re off the cliff.

Falling into a deep ocean. Or the vast night sky. You don’t know — you don’t feel real.

All you know is that your thighs and ass are wet. That you ruined yet another sheet. That Jungkook is out of breath, fucking you through your high, ensuring that you come back to him only bit by bit, so, so slowly.

Gentler now, you feel his body subside, down to you. His skin is glowing with sweat when your eyes crack open just a slit, though they instantly drop close again when he kisses you once more.

He does it only softly this time, as if he’s trying it out. Gauging your reaction. And you do reciprocate the touch, even if weakly. You’re still too gone to look at him properly, but that doesn’t deter him from casting another spell in your heart.

Because his words reach every fibre of you. Butterflies swarm your stomach as he says, “I still can't believe that you’re staying. You did this… you fucking did this—”

“Why not? Wh–why can’t you believe it?”

“Because you’re staying with me. You stayed with me. And…”

Somewhere, it stings. That he’s surprised by constant company. By someone not leaving… by someone worth all his affection glueing themselves to him. And yet, you understand.

That’s a pain the two of you share.

He stares through your gaze, as if he’s frisking for something specific. With each passing moment, it’s like he’s realising something new, yet unable to really verbalise it.

Like something’s burning on his tongue.

But all he does whisper is, “How do I ever stay away from you now, huh?”

“Don’t.” You touch his face, and he doesn’t waste a second to lean into your touch, kissing your palm. “Please just don’t.”

“Won’t be able to… And it sucks that—”

He frees your face from your stick hair strands, still moving inside you. His own tresses hang into your forehead; his thumb touches your lower lip.

“That I can’t be with you every damn second of the day. I mean…” He leans in. Pecks your eyelids; your heart bursts. “What if I can’t move an inch from you?”

You keep staring. Unable to answer. Keep looking and drinking in every emotion laid bare in his confessions. Your misty mind feels calm; not as heavy as hours ago.

And you’re woozy; so indescribably giddy when he adds, “You… you mean so much to me.”

Damn. Damndamndamn.

And you’re fucking obsessed with him. Want his kiss on you all the time; words tattooed on your brain, etched into your soul.

“Jungkook.”

“Huh— yeah?”

“Can you…” You gulp, drooling at the thought, and then spitting it out at once, “Finish in my mouth.”

“Shit,” he exclaims, though the word is more a maniac laugh than anything else, “you know exactly you— you can’t say this to me.”

You know. Because any image of his cock ramming your throat empties his head.

Once more, he mumbles, ”Damn it,” before he’s picking up on pace. You move your hands over his broad shoulders, soon curling your fingers in to hold tight — it’s what the situation suddenly requires. Because gradually, his hips slam into you faster.

The dull sound of his thighs meeting yours repeatedly is lewd, volume increasing when he starts jackhammering into you. Your rhythmic, breathless cries become irregular and broken, turning into screams, and you feel a droplet escaping the corner of your eye.

Throat dry and jaw aching from the parted mouth, you keen from the sensitive feeling inside. You’re so full. So invigorated. Holding onto him tight, so you don’t crumble.

And just as you yell out a dozen curses, Jungkook, voice raised, states, “Fuck, fuuuck, gonna come, babe, f— open your mouth—”

You do. Instantly, tongue out, choking because it’s so much harder to breathe like that. Jungkook trembles over you, lips wet; his arms threaten to give out, letting his body nearly collapse on you, but just a moment before he does, he pulls out.

Hurrying, his knees dig closer to you, cock and ass right above your face as he holds the length between strong fingers. Secured in his palm, he strokes himself over you, glancing into your hungry eyes.

“Pretty girl,” his other digits raise your head by your chin, and his body is swinging, unstable; shoulders high. “My sweet baby… You can’t just…”

Pinching your chin fondly, he digs his cock into your mouth, still pumping the base and touching his balls. You raise your head to not suffocate in the process, and he lets your chin go to grip your hair, lifting you halfway just in time before—

His load finally spills. All of it. So much of it. Hot and sticky, thick as the ropes shoot straight into your throat. You nearly gag, keeping yourself together, swallowing diligently as he empties his balls.

There’s fucking buckets of it, shit…

You close your eyes, focusing on breathing, and once he’s done, you close your lips around his cock. Still hard, although slowly softening, you lick the remnants of his arousal and whatever’s left of you. The tastes mingle, and your head spins…

And then, he pulls back. You’re beaten, gulping, smacking away the saltiness.

Still overwhelmed from the taste, you let your head fall back onto the pillow; but your fingers still seek his touch. The mattress next to you flattens again as his knees retract, and soon enough, laying down beside you.

Both of you are too done in to speak, even less to move. So you let a few minutes pass. Then, you find his fingers, entangling them with yours; waiting a bit more.

And only when your heart rate calms a bit, you stir, hearing him suggest, “Quick shower?”

You smile. The kisses aren’t over yet.

For a while longer, the profuse heat lingers.

The radiator is off, and some of the windows were open when you came home. And despite choosing to stay bare after the shower for some more, you don’t register any of the cold yet; you’re sheltered, safe and so, so warm.

Jungkook’s fingers keep trailing up and down way after you’re done, lips planting generous kisses to your scalp and face. He paves his way to the corner of your mouth and then up to your eyebrows; and when he reaches your nose again, you lift your head abruptly.

Chasing his kiss, even if for just a second, a hand on his cheek and shoulders rising. Occasional giggles and smiles, tickles and pinches keep you busy temporarily; you don’t know how much time passes, nor do you care.

You only snap out of your daydreams when his kisses gain on urgency, tongue diligent. A palm creeps dangerously close to your ass, threatening to slink to your beaten sex.

But your reaction is quicker than his sly attempt, and you say, “Wait— no. Can’t do it again.”

“I wasn’t going to.”

“Of course.” Damn his shoulder shrug. You tap his pelvis before you wrap a leg around his waist, teasing, “I didn’t feel the twitch at all.”

He shakes his head. “No, you didn’t. But it’s not my fault that you’re so stubbornly sexy.”

“Stubbo—” You giggle mid-sentence, imitating the shake of his head. “I hope you know I’d let you tie me down and do whatever the fuck—”

“My god. Stop saying it like that.”

“—but my body won’t let me yet. I also still stink.”

“Stink?” He shifts dramatically, burying his nose between your tits. His voice is muffled when he asks, “Do you?”

“Stop. You’re so weird,” you scold, but the word is drenched in laughter; you forcefully lift his head again. “We still need to change the sheets and the shower was quick. Do I not?”

“You kinda do. Like cherry blossoms.”

“Shut up.”

“What? Sue me for telling the truth. My girlfriend smells like cherry blossoms.”

Oh… oh?

Wait.

Your mouth shuts tight.

Did he…

The beam that spreads on your face is almost embarrassing; surprise, joy and affection conjoin, your guts twisting. You take a breath. Feel the sparkles in your own damn eyes; tender gaze directed at him.

And the freaking flutter in your heart; the temperature in your cheeks. Do these things ever stop?

The words sink in slowly; and Jungkook takes the time to ask, “What?”

“You… you haven’t called me that yet, have you?”

He’s perplexed. Guess even to him, it was a Freudian slip, because his eyes are wider than ever. He waits, thinks for a moment; then admits, “Uhm. No. I don’t think so.”

“Well, I… like the sound of it.”

“It’s… it’s true. You’re my girlfriend, aren’t you?” His eyes smile before he does; unrestrained devotion in them. “My baby?”

He says it so innocently, so sweetly that you can’t help but coo. Teasingly, you pat his cheek, telling him, “I mean I hope I am. Considering I’m moving in with you.”

“Yes. You are. Of course you are.”

“…Girlfriend.” Sheepishly, much like a teenage girl, you keep your twinkle intact, still feeling the lasting gleam on your face. You must be reminiscent of the sun and the moon. Emboldened, you start, “Then… boyfriend. Can I ask you something?”

The term elicits similar glee in him, teeth out, grin bright. He waits wordlessly with sparkling eyes, and you touch his lip, asking, “How do you feel right now? About all that?”

“I feel… I’m in disbelief. You’re moving in with me and just. Somehow, even saying it feels surreal.” He sighs, searching for words. “I’m in disbelief and crazy for you. That’s all I know.”

Falling deeper and without an end is possible. Jungkook has taught you that; still does.

“…I was so scared you wouldn’t like me doing this,” you confess.

“What? Saying yes to being with me all the time? Sounds horrible.” He laughs. “I’m happy. And I’m happy that you’re happy, too. Okay?”

“I wasn’t for a while, you know? You make me feel good. Take me by my word and give yourself credit for it.” He needs to. He might have doubted his role in everyone else’s life so far, but his value to you needs to be clear at all times. “Not just now, Kook, but, you always make me feel good. I hope you know that.”

“I do. This time, I do…” Content, you smile; until he stalls for dramatic effect, mouth open to indicate something to come. Your beam expands to exhilarated laughter when he squeezes your ass again, adding with another snicker, “What kind of boyfriend would I be if I didn’t make my favourite munchkin feel good?”

“…There’s more than one?!”

Hmm…

That’s what you’d been yearning for all this time.

Because there’s something so vulnerable about your elation; the enlivened titter. About your newfound feelings. About these very first phases of a sensitive relationship. Something serene.

And the meaning behind your words keeps changing with him; carries much more weight, and makes you feel so much lighter. As if levitating on cotton clouds.

Girlfriend. Boyfriend.

Peace reigns supreme and for a while you’re hopeful enough to doubt anything could disrupt it. Even the world is quiet when you look out the window.

September isn’t yet harsh enough to cover all above pitch black, but it’s still dark grey and drab. The sky still somewhat illuminates the unruffled room through the tilted window.

But just when tranquillity reaches its peak, your phone vibrates on the bedside table; you flinch.

The screen’s shine overshadows the faded monochrome of the world. It’s unwelcome, intruding — and once you lean over, holding the blanket over your chest, you realise that the message is just as unsought.

Mom [7:12PM]: We need to talk. Mom [7:12PM]: I’m still at Charmante for another hour and a half.

…At this time?

Did you leave her this desperate?

“What is it?” a dulcet voice asks from behind.

You hear the bed creak a little, his body cold without yours. Despising the distance, he puts a gentle hand to your shoulder, planting a kiss right next to it; when you lack his desired reaction, he asks again, “Everything okay?”

“Hm?” You barely tilt your head, eyes still glued to the words that you’ve already internalised. You cover his hand with yours. “Yeah. Just. Look.”

You hold the phone into his face; the penetrant white floodlights his skin. The warm gold shines in the glow, his lips drier than before. They move as he reads, and then, they close, giving way to a hum.

The initial silence suggests that he might be thinking the same as you — to bail. To shut the phone again, slide it to the edge of the bedside table and drop back against his chest, above his heart.

But you should know Jungkook better; he won’t discourage a familial reunion, praying for a better outcome than he ever had. He’s always spoken for your relationship with them — thinking back, he has never truly badmouthed your mother.

So you’re not too surprised when he hands you the phone back, careful to not turn your mother’s two marks blue, and suggests, “Maybe you should go.”

You sigh. You don’t want to. It’s too early for confrontation; time hasn’t passed, and the issue hasn’t yet marinated. Then again, the problem might only grow if you postpone this.

But your heart is biased, angry, refusing to oblige to her demands one more time. So you ask for yet another confirmation, “Right now? But I…”

You turn back to him, shaking your head slowly, troubled. He props his head up, eyes staring down to you as you lay flat on your back, hands folded under your breasts.

“Give yourself closure, babe.”

“I got closure.”

“No,” he strikes back, fingers lifting to your jawline. He touches it lightly, brushing it delicately, “Actual closure. To finish this. And she deserves it, too, you know? She’s still waiting there, angel.”

“Jungkook, you…” You click your tongue, gaze swerving to the unlit ceiling light and then back to him. “You’re too good.”

“I’m sorry.”

You smile, and he throws a palpitation-inducing twinkle back. You know he’s right — it must have been a shock for her after all. More or less double-crossed by her own daughter, humiliated in a public setting — her brain must be frying.

Reluctantly, you stretch your arm to the side, tapping for your phone, and roll your eyes at Jungkook playfully when you open the message to type back. His body floats down, lips planting a barely-there kiss to your collarbone.

You [7:14PM]: I’ll be there in half an hour.

“Alright then…”

Your body lifts off the mattress with the idlest of movements. The afterglow might die once you’re there, but you guess you need the confrontation–fight? Argument?—to ensure more, blissful nights.

This time, you don’t bother with your clothing as much as you did when you prepared for the press conference. You slip into the first best jeans you find, throwing a cosy pullover over your torso.

Busy with the rush, you don’t notice that Jungkook isn’t standing behind you in his usual grey joggers but in jeans, too. He’s fiddling with your car keys, stuffing his wallet into a pocket, and you stare wide-eyed, waiting for an explanation.

And once your digging stare pierces through him, he reciprocates it with similar confusion, half his hand still in the pocket as he inquires, “What?”

“What are you doing?” you ask, gesturing up and down his body.

“What do you mean?”

The back and forth of questions leaves you further bewildered, and you step closer, softly snatching the keys out of his fingers as you say, “Babe… It won’t take long.”

You don’t think he quite understands — it seems that to him, it was a given this entire time that he’d accompany you to your work building. But when it seeps through, his expression changes, more relaxed.

His head tilts, blinking slowly as he assures, “I won’t let you go alone.”

“Kook—”

“It’s honestly not a big deal. You said it won’t take long, so I’ll wait outside.” He shrugs, forefinger at the nape of his neck, scratching. “Plus, I’ll just get bored here alone.”

A warm flutter engulfs your heart. You wonder how couples spend days, months, years together without burning up every moment during their togetherness. Because you don’t think you’ll ever get over the fire he sets ablaze in your lungs — how does one get accustomed to affection like this?

You don’t know.

Maybe you don’t need to know.

Not more than what his eyes say, at least.

“What did you do all the time I wasn’t here?”

His grin is playful, but there’s tender truth in his words, “Something any guy waiting for you would do,” big brown irides meet yours, fingers fiddling, “counted the seconds until I could see you again.”

Your laugh is sudden before you ask, “Is that a quote from SpongeBob?”

And the joy holds on as you leave the apartment and rush down the flight of stairs. The short comedic journey to your car is distracting — most of reality only dawns on you when you step into the car.

Reminiscent of the last time the two of you drove over to a confrontation — just a little after his vacation; just a bit before the heartbreak.

The streets are quieter and emptier at this hour, the repose enhanced by the gentle drizzle. It’s significantly darker than when you arrived home, though it hasn’t been too long since you drove this exact way in the opposite direction. Two hours?

Maybe it’s the cloudy, almost black sky, accompanied by the hushed sound of the rain that’s amplifying your fears. Because the calming ambience from a minute ago worries you the closer you get — this once, you’d rather bask in sunshine and daydreams.

But no.

Hope is on your side; you’re done worrying, right?

As you sit up straight in your seat, Jungkook glances from you from the driver’s seat, eyes shooting to and fro between you and the street. His lips part as he operates the wheel with one hand, using the other to wrap around your fingers.

“Don’t be nervous,” he says, squeezing once before he lets go, brushing over the back of your hand and gripping the wheel again, “there’s just so much she can say. You made a decision as a full adult and she’ll have to accept it.”

“Yeah.” You follow the streetlamps and their warm radiance, redirecting your focus on the next as you pass each. “I hope so.”

The ride home was different; you were filled to the brim with energy and adrenaline. Your legs were putty, so he insisted for you to freeze on the passenger’s seat, reluctant to hand you the keys to drive.

You were waiting for the streets to end, to shut his door behind you, and to breathe and sigh through a sleepless night with him. The anticipation, combined with the aftermath of the press conference made you restless — you wouldn’t stop gnawing on your thumb.

And he didn’t interrupt your thoughts, let you flick through them until he finally looked at you at a traffic light. Raising the back of his digits to your cheek, assuring, “It’s okay, angel.”

Maybe the breathy tone and the hundred promises wrapped into one reassurance prompted your reaction at his place at all.

Jungkook turns into your work street, and you hold your breath. Your heart knocks violently against your ribcage, disabling a proper thread of thoughts. Which is a shame, because you really wanted to draw a collection of snappy remarks you could retort in there.

Instead, you merely look at the entrance far at the end of the street, unmoving as Jungkook moves into a parking lot and kills the engine. You blink; then blink some more. The gulp, you think, is audible in the small space of the car.

“Do you want me to come with you?” he asks.

“No… I don’t think she’d want that.”

“Okay,” he murmurs, leaning forward to pinch your chin between two fingers. He moves your head toward him, eyes a liquid, wavy ocean at night. Affectionate. “She’s your mom. Despite everything, I know she loves you.”

“I don’t know…”

“She does. I saw it the night I picked you up and I saw it Monday morning, too. So.” The head tilt, the soft curve of his eyebrows, the care in his pupils — they’re a healing bandage around your heart. “Don’t be scared.”

He leans over the centre console armrest, still holding your face in his grasp, and presses his lips just barely, sweetly to your wrinkled forehead. You think the muscles react immediately, temples relaxing.

For a second, he lingers, and then he pulls back a fraction, looking at you from an inch-wide distance, and whispers, “Don’t be. I’ll be here all the time.”

Right — armour-clad, like a knight. You finally nod, a weight dropping off your heart. You cement his smile deeper into your mind; a coping strategy in case things escalate in there.

Once more, you squint at the entrance doors, though barely visible from here. Hand on the handle, you say, “If I’m not out in twenty minutes, call the police.”

Jungkook tsks, eyes rolling with badly hidden amusement, ordering, “Just go. Will be here.”

Yes. Breathe.

He’ll be right here when you come back. And it’ll all be over then.

The building feels sinister, empty like this. Nothing of the busy and lively mood remains; the lack of the chatter and footsteps drenches the entrance hall in gloom.

It reminds you of horror movie locations; you can’t help but hesitate as you walk in.

Especially today, the silence is unbearably odd; the press isn’t lurking anymore, isn’t swarming you anymore. You don’t want to imagine how hard it must’ve been to convince the reporters to finally leave.

You sigh…

In less than a day, they’ll have today’s highlights printed in newspapers and posted; feasting. Big, bold headlines will narrate the words you uttered; of course they will. With your family relishing a local celebrity status, the media would be damned if it didn’t make any profit out of you.

For the first time, however… you don’t care. You inhale.

And as you walk past the glass walls and up the stairs, clutching your work keys, you don’t feel the overwhelming urge to run away from this place anymore.

You’ve liked your job since you started, no doubt, despite your initial worries and fears. But the thought of losing against the world, or of losing him terrified you. Maybe you were too naive to fight those who wished you harm mere months ago, freshly out of college.

But now that you realise that you won’t be roaming these hallways in a couple weeks, that you have dropped the mic in a way they won’t be able to pick it up to hurt you again, you feel relieved.

Feel a sense of responsibility. Like an adult.

Okay.

She told you she’d wait in an unoccupied office on the first floor — you usually frequent it with Zara, sifting through theories and changes. You wonder why your mother didn’t settle on her own office — then again, you imagine it must hurt to suffer defeat in the very room where she’s supposed to reign.

As you reach the room, your fist lifts to the door. Though you soon realise that it might be entirely unnecessary, judging the slight gap and the soft noise from within. So you gently push the ajar door open, met with a tired figure behind an imposing desk.

She’s lost in thought, but as you enter, her gaze slowly ascends, her posture reclining. And you see it immediately.

The usually cold eyes, now brimming with disappointment and sorrow.

Her eyes flit, as you assume unintentionally, into a corner. She dodges a simple greeting when you mumble a timid, “Hi,” and you drop the formalities right away. Don’t even attempt to sit — stand there, towering in front of her, not intending to stay long anyway.

And it seems her thoughts and intentions align, because she refuses to beat around the bush, a weary voice asking, “Why did you do that?”

“Mmh… You’re asking like I shouldn’t have.”

“Because you shouldn’t have.” Typical. Her point of view will always be her only truth. You listen on, but can’t help but tense. “Your father and I built this for you, and we intended to forward it to you. You know that.”

You don’t like that tone; you never have. It always ran over your spine as a shiver, weakening your knees. Even today, you’re conditioned to buckle just a bit. You exhale.

“Mom, have you ever heard yourself speak? You’ve never even remotely tried giving me anything else that way,” you complain, leaning to clutch the chair with one hand, the other gesturing around the room. “You built this stupid empire for yourself and kept it intact for me, so I can continue your work.”

You huff out a mocking breath, shaking your head just a little. “You never even asked me. You just told me to do it all.”

Her voice is sharper when she responds, “We didn’t hand it to you to make you suffer, for god’s sake.” She’s irritated, eyebrows deeply furrowed. “Christ, you were supposed to have a good future.”

“Yes, and I will! I’m happier than I have been all summer. Do you even have any idea what happened during that time?!”

You pause. She doesn’t answer, clearly sorting out a hundred answers.

Because a lot happened — most of it a direct effect of her or the media’s bullshit. Of course she won’t be able to pick out just one single thing.

So you explain, “Did you even understand that Jungkook broke up with me because of the thing you pulled with that dumb journalist?” You spit the word like a curse, grimacing. “And that he avoided me because he thought he was ruining me?”

You try to make it sound as ridiculous as you can muster, wondering if the realisation is dawning on her.

“Did you even notice how I didn’t come out of my room for da—”

“Just why,” she interrupts, eyes shutting tight in disbelief and agitation, palms toward the ceiling, “would you jeopardise your life and emotions because of him?”

Jeopardise. Holy fuck.

She has a whack understanding of villainhood.

“Because he’s important to me! You can’t even imagine how hurtful it is to only be talking about work to you. You never ask me if I eat or sleep enough. You didn’t even give me a graduation present. He did! But you wouldn’t know!”

You think back to the lamp in your room, the one she has never seen — remember the dark ceiling, the aurora and stars projected to it. The touches that followed.

“He’s unbelievably important to me, Mom. Okay?”

“You’ve been with him for just a while.”

You grit your teeth. It’s like talking to a wall; a daycare child would catch the sentiment better than her.

“Yeah,” you say, scoffing, “and it makes me embarrassed for you, because I’ve known you my entire life and you never cared this much. Like, fuck, even Dad did.”

Her jaw clenches as you swear, nostrils close to flaring as you concede more pain, “Jungkook actually makes me feel human.” There’s a sting in your eyes. You blink it away. “I’ve been feeling like a person, which just… made me understand that—”

You gulp, your throat tied and your head heavier now. You wait, shrugging. Then—

“That I can receive affection, too.”

Your friends are your first memory of care; barring them, you only had a faint idea of what devotion entailed. Learning what it means to be genuinely important to someone had been on your bucket list — this year, you ticked it off.

“I just hate that he had to glue me together first for me to understand.”

Because she broke you first. The contrast couldn’t be more crystal clear.

She doesn’t dig your monologue. Her countenance fills with different shades of ridicule and embarrassment, shreds of anger thrown into the mix. Filed nails tap against an open folder, the other hand rubbing her forehead.

“You sound ridiculous,” she derides, “you can’t throw your future away because of love. It won’t pay your bills.”

“I’m gonna be a manager, though. I’ll pay my fucking bills. And Jungkook is working his way up, too.” Your latter statement gains a sceptical stare, followed by a skyrocketing eyebrow. It satisfies you. “He is. He’s getting his own part at an exhibition. We’ll be fine.”

She frowns, mouth already agape as she psyches herself up for another answer, and you already roll your eyes, prepared to interrupt.

“You—”

“You were so grateful last weekend,” you argue.

“Because you almost killed yourself!”

“No! If you’re so worried, then call! You could’ve called and asked where I was like mothers do. Made sure I was well and not drunk out of my mind!”

“Stop it,” she stands, her voice as damaging as a serrated knife. You flinch as she charges for you, and you breathe out, ready for a slap — but her body halts in front of yours. “How do you expect to run from this just by switching to another company? Novaura’s still mine, too.”

No…

You hold your breath. Straighten your back, hands sweaty as your nails dig in. She’s been predictable half her life; not always quite vile. But you know what she’ll say next, and you know it’ll be the most odious thing she’s ever uttered.

“And I could keep you here if I wanted to. They’d throw you out if I told them, too.”

Your eyebrows shoot up, and you blink, scorning, “You’re serious?”

A breath of laughter escapes your chest, and you shake your head in disbelief. You’re done.

You press your lips into a thin line before smacking them, nodding in faux agreement before you say, “Okay. Go ahead. But if you do, I won’t shut up this time. Today, I was being nice. I praised you, and none of my nice talk was actually deserved.”

Choosing your words carefully, you pronounce every syllable as if explaining molecular biology. She listens, not spitting an answer immediately.

So you challenge further, “You want to throw me out? Do it. It’s your reputation. I didn’t say anything wrong at the conference today, because it’s my right to choose the career I want. You’d be abandoning your own daughter if you pulled this through.”

You have her attention. Her lips stay sealed.

“And when they ask me,” you continue, eyes now fiery; you’re so done. So, so done. “I will let them know that you did it out of spite. Try finding an excuse why you did when we’re there. I won’t be at any disadvantage.”

You press into your palms one more time, relaxing your jaw, and opt to turn and walk away. Hurling one more glare towards her, you spit, “I have a degree, just a reminder.”

And that should be it.

Pride unfurls across your chest, warm in your stomach as you take long strides out of her office. You hear the quiet call of your name, suddenly desperate. But now that you’ve said your part of the truth, you don’t turn around anymore.

Only shut the door behind you hard; shutting all she’d hoped for with it.

Despite the satisfaction still bubbling in your stomach, you can’t shake the clump in your throat and the anxiety in your heart. The post-fight adrenaline pumps through your veins, and your fingers shake.

There’s discomfort in deserting your own mother; the irrational fears were to be expected. You didn’t do anything wrong, you know, you know. But your organ still thumps like drums, and you lift a hand to your chest. A vain attempt to calm your breathing.

And then… something miraculous happens.

The brisky gust of the evening brushes your cheeks; the bright lights of the city contribute to your sudden peace. They’re a reminder that the world is far wider than this damn building. Than her.

But more than anything, your worries dissipate when the strolling figure grows in your sight. As you walk the short distance to your car, you feel your heart lighten — your forehead and temples relax.

He has his hands on his waist, chin slightly raised as if watching the stars that hide in the city sky anyway. His steps are small, and his eyebrows calm. He looks serene.

And once his hands slide into his open jacket’s pockets, he looks down the street again, surprised when you’re mere steps apart.

“Ah,” he voices, one palm already out as he stretches it toward you, “barely fifteen minutes. I was about to come in.”

Deep sigh in, you let his arm pull you in his embrace, swiftly wrapped around your torso. He smells like fresh clothes, after-rain, and vibrant, like the lights in the sky.

Your arms sling around his body with an urgency, and you muffle your voice against his chest as you ask, “Already?”

“Already?” he repeats, though dragging the word more than you did. His arm squeezes you once as his other hand escapes his pocket, too, stroking your head. “Those weren’t days? I swear I felt myself ageing in there.”

Your fist thumps against his chest lightly, and you giggle against his sweater. “Don’t be so dramatic.” Eyes slowly unfocusing, you rub the zipper teeth of his jacket between your fingers, softly mumbling, “Thank you for being here. You’re the best.”

You feel a movement over your head; he’s lowering his chin to your hair, still caressing your head as if lulling you into sleep. And it’s working — you feel drowsier by the second.

But then, his chest rumbles as he hums, cautious as he asks, “Are you okay?”

Are you?

You’re about to start a new life where you desire, with whom you desire. Finding permanent residency in his presence the way he finds it in your thoughts.

A few more steps, and you can make yourself home. Not in those rooms, but in him. Because that’s what he is.

A blanket, a radiator, the comforting voice that soothes and heals. Worshipping you within the same four walls every single day.

You’re not just okay — you’re craving.

Leaving his warmth and scent, you lean back and look at him. His eyes are as big as you’re used to, awaiting an answer, genuinely curious. Your heart threatens to burst; the sting is painfully sweet.

“Yeah,” you answer, touching the purple sweater, “I promise I am.”

Because. Because that’s all you ever wanted.

It’s over. You’re going home — you are home.

You can’t remember whether it was your fingers clawing into Jungkook’s shirt or his hand brushing through your hair that kept you in the sheets twenty minutes longer than anticipated.

The plan was to snooze once and get into a routine with divided work. One prepares breakfast, the other makes the bed and cleans up before leaving the apartment.

But it seems that so far, your routine has consisted of lazy mornings. Tired hums. Quiet, hushed and slightly hoarse good mornings and entangled limbs.

You pressed between his shoulder blades as he strokes your head, planting kisses on your temple and your forehead.

“Slept well?” he asked today. Another peck in between. Then, drowsy and sighing, “Is the mattress okay, by the way? I like the firmer ones better since they’re good for your back, but I know you had a softer one, so if you need…”

“No, not at all,” you promised, warm and safe under the covers. “This is perfect.”

No… the softness wasn’t needed. Your muscles were so relaxed, you were sinking into the bed anyway. Sleeping a dent into it. At peace as his nails gently scraped over your scalp, massaging and caressing.

He could’ve lulled you into sleep like that; and his voice served as soft, white background noise. The words he used. The honey sweet tone. The past tense in what you had, and what you have now.

If you hadn’t been so lethargic, you would’ve floated through your chores. But when the clock ticked too dangerously fast and brought your working hours sickeningly close, you decided to eat out instead.

You always fool around at breakfast too much — stretching it longer than it needs to be. A café was, surprisingly, the smarter, more time-efficient option.

And a great opportunity and excuse to explore the places near you. Jungkook promised there was an amazing bakery nearby, and you trudged along, tummy rumbling, now that you weren’t in bed with him and satiated anymore.

“You’re sure you’ll be at home by the evening?”

You gather the remaining crumbs of your pastry with the pad of your thumb, waiting for Jungkook to slurp the last of his coffee. He nods, soon answering, “Mhm. I won’t be at work for long. Might come home before you do, actually.”

“Okay,” you suckle at your thumb, shoulders relaxing as you stare at the drizzle outside. The day started out grey. “And then tomorrow, I’ll be off work by the afternoon, so I should be able to bring more things over from the house.”

Tired from the morning, your eyes remain on the customers trudging in and out of the café. They shake the water drops off their umbrellas, or sigh at the prospect of stepping out into the rain again.

Their expressions aren’t quite dispirited, but… perhaps a little dim.

You raise a side of your lips in empathy, and then continue, “And then on Saturday, I’m getting the truck to the house, for the rest of my stuff.”

“Babe,” Jungkook interrupts, pausing to smack the coffee’s taste away. His hand slides over the table, wrapping his fingers around three of yours. “Let me come with you tomorrow. You’re already doing too much.”

“Absolutely not. I won’t drag you there unless I absolutely have to. Besides,” your voice is soft when you lean forward, raising your entangled digits to your lower lip. “You’ve been busy plenty, too.”

And it’s true.

He’s been taking care of the apartment and cooking dinner these days. Organising documents with you, so you have whatever needed to change your address and whatnot. Doing small purchases for the household and vacating some of the closet to make place for your stuff.

Two weeks have passed since the press conference — and Jungkook has been a pillar of strength and sanity as much as you have been his. You communicate each night, regulating finances, dividing roles and sharing comfort.

You don’t think you’ve ever witnessed or felt a relationship as symbiotic as this one… and you’re just starting out.

His thumb brushes over your fingers, still reassuring you, much as you expected, “I honestly don’t mind.”

“It’s okay,” you argue, “we still have a lot more to do. Save your energy for that. I’d still love these deco vines for the living room, remember? Let’s get them together.”

Your words are breathy, as if you’re being reborn. A breeze of refreshment — and he feels it, too. There’s something about the thought of simplicity livening up your bustling days.

Mundane tasks, like shopping for casual things together.

Groceries. Decoration. Plants.

With all the planning of switching work and homes, the two of you have been incredibly breathless. You even told him about a meeting at your new place today, a discussion about trivial matters, general know-how and preparation you need to do.

The sliver of stress is visible in your eyes — you’ll be seeing the other managers today. And you’re nervous about it, unsure what vibe the meeting might set.

But despite the stress, you’ve been as bright as Venus in the night sky. He understands. If anyone does, then him.

Because the idea of strolling through Ikea's tableware department is balm to his mind. Your laughter sounding through its hallways, half your body leaning over the shopping cart, because you surely seem like the type to do so.

His voice is as gentle as the mizzle outside when he promises, “We’ll get anything you want.”

“Really?” Your smile is radiant, cheeks glowing as you press the lightest kiss to one of his knuckles. “Sounds good to me.”

Time passing has always been a bummer. Despite the quiet noise in the café, the clock ticks as if in a deafening volume, a reminder that you need to let this hand go soon.

Sometimes, you do worry. About the attachment, and the healthy obsession with him. And on the other side, about every moment he worships you, and every second he misses you.

How there’s discomfort in being apart, even if for mere hours. Maybe that’s why he holds you so tight at night. Or why you’re constantly itching to get home.

Perhaps there’s a lingering fear that your time separated brought, a sneaking anxiety of being dragged apart again.

Yet, instead of dwelling in improbable what-ifs, you breathe in the air of the room, direct your senses away from the clock and toward the increasing patter of rain against the window panes.

You squeeze the fingers around you harder, delving into one last soft conversation as you ask, “You’re at lunch with Joon later, right?”

“Yeah, he promised me burgers today.”

“What for again?”

“Because I’m his favourite staff member?” Jungkook lifts your hand to your mouth when you open it, shushing you with your own fingers. “Don’t say it. I am his favourite staff member.”

“‘Kay. Understandable.”

“You know…” He shrugs his shoulder nonchalantly, but the soft drop of his gaze, fingers fiddling and toying with yours betrays him. He’s still so delicate around you. “If you want, you can join.”

“Oh. Mmmh,” you think for a moment, but then click your tongue, insisting, “it’d be weird, I think. Dunno if he’d want it.”

“I would want it.”

He always does.

Yearning. Obsession. A humane way of falling in love.

You feel like a person. No matter how odd the phrase might sound in your head, the painful truth behind it is undeniable. You feel like a person.

“Okay,” you reply, slowly reclaiming your hand, reluctantly preparing to leave. “I’ll see if I find time and energy during my lunch break.” You halt, unblinking, before you look back at him with squinting, uncertain eyes. “Totes Bag Street, was it?”

The sudden, choking laugh erupting out of Jungkook is a surprise. If his coffee cup wasn’t empty yet, he’d still be sipping, probably ruining the white, silky shirt you’re sporting today.

You actually mean it, don’t you?

His trademark laugh is high-pitched, melodious, though a little more controlled in the public space, but the flashing of his teeth and his dimples implies genuine joy.

You already know: the lighthearted banter has become a hallmark of your connection. Doesn’t get old. Heartwarming — albeit right now, very confusing to you.

So you cock an eyebrow, questioning, “What?”

“Babe,” he simply mutters, hands coming together in a mock prayer. “Shit, you’re so fucking cute.”

He lowers his head between his shoulders, torso shaking, and you pull his palms apart again to dig with another, ”Hey. What?”

“Boats Track Street. Not Totes Bag Street,” he corrects, endeared by your wide eyes. The back of two of his fingers grazes your temple, and then down your face, before playfully pinching your chin. “You’re so cute. And a dummy. I mean it.”

“You’re a dummy,” you reply, forcing your face back and out of his grip. “Besides, that’s a pretty stupid name.”

“To be fair… I agree.”

A hesitant smile spreading on your face, your gaze wanders to the clock at the opposite wall again. The beam drops a little, giving way to a small sigh.

“It’s okay. I’ll probably be busy anyway… will join you guys another time.” You shove the chair back, getting off with a fatigued groan and a hand rubbing your tummy. “And I feel a bit weird today, too. Shouldn’t have eaten before bed because I’m feeling the effects right now.”

“Ahhh, I told you. No worries. I’ll make you something light tonight. And some peppermint tea.” His hands wave you goodbye, making a begone motion. “Go for now. The longer you stay, the worse the next hours will be for me.”

“Dork. You must survive.”

You huff, eyes rolling at the dramatics, and push your bag behind your body before you lean into him. A hand on his cheek, you watch his eyes close, setting your lips onto his.

The two-second long goodbye peck remains just that before his fingers, pushing against the nape of your neck, tug you in again.

Against your lips, he mutters, “Eat, okay? Call if your stomach bothers you. Anytime. And don’t be nervous. You’ll have fun.”

And before you can answer, he kisses you again.

Once, and then twice more. Your guts somersault, even when he finally lets you go. Your lungs feel dry all of a sudden.

All you have left in you is to nod. For your wobbly legs to step away. Looking back a few more times until the door opens, the bell chiming, your transparent flower umbrella spreading over your head.

Jungkook watches as your careful steps wander away, your head never lowered like every other passerby’s. They’re hiding from the rain, but you’re staring up, observing the movement of the clouds before your focus falls on the road — and a minute later, you disappear out of his sight.

His chest and muscles relax, a quiet laughter still tumbling out as he repeats, “Totes Bag Street.”

The sky may be colourless. The people might look into the world dimly.

But despite the rain tapping against the window, no inch of you is painted in a dismal, drab grey. You’re the brilliant, gleaming sun.

The location of your new job isn’t as fancy as the area around Charmante. The building certainly isn’t made of reflecting glass throughout.

There’s wood and actual walls; not every door opens with a chip, but a key, and the luxuries are limited. Compared to your old building, this one is humble, but it still oozes wealth and success — guess that’s what a subsidiary looks like.

The meeting room for today is somewhere on the third floor. Your mind races as you fix your clothes in the elevator, throwing regular glances into the mirror to guarantee that your hair sits as perfectly as three seconds prior.

You breathe deeply, exhale through a rounded mouth. Whether it’s this meeting or something you ate, your stomach does not feel great.

As the nerves start kicking in, you think of Jungkook’s hand in yours and the everlasting smile. You use him as your safe place; close your eyes for those few seconds that the elevator floats up.

And it works. Feels like an oasis, calm and lovely.

That is, until the bell pings, forcing your eyes open. You stare up at the number, nearly stepping out until you realise that — you’re not on the third, but on the second floor. Were you supposed to halt here?

No. And there’s nobody outside, waiting.

Until, someone is.

Rushed steps move to the elevator, a nice but stressed voice urging, “Ah! Keep the doors open, I’m coming!”

Strange. Oddly familiar voice.

You can’t say why, but you already prepare a polite smile, trying not to let the ticking seconds stress you out. Rationally, you know you’re not late, but the time passing messes with your nerves.

And it seems it doesn’t get better when the figure finally rushes in, pressing the already lit number 3 before he says, “Good. Just in time.” Looks back at you, delighted as if he expected you somewhere around, and adds, “Ah! Hello!

It takes a moment. Then another.

One more until you figure out who he is, why you feel like hurling and how maybe, just maybe, he might be heading to the same room as you — as another new manager of Novaura.

You blow a raspberry at the boxes in your backseat.

Deciding to at least take your favourite box up with you, you leave the rest here for now; you don’t want to bug Jungkook yet. You can heave it all upstairs on the weekend, in peace.

It’s only moderately heavy — but with both your hands busy, the task is a hassle. You secure it under your arm as you close the door of your vehicle with your hip, clutching the phone previously tucked between your cheek and shoulder.

You straighten your head, reflexively looking up to Jungkook’s apartment window. To your apartment window. Doesn’t quite roll off the tongue just yet.

Somehow managing to open the entrance door, you sigh into the phone, giving Taehyung a relieved, “I’m finally back home.”

“Mmmh,” Taehyung voices, and you imagine his full lips in a line, tiny nods serious, “how’s it feel? Knowing that this is where you’re gonna be for the foreseeable future?”

“It feels… quiet.”

“What, he bore you to death like that?”

You giggle, taking deep breaths as you ascend the staircase; though slightly irritated by the slowly and constantly slipping box. You heave it back up.

“Absolutely. You’ve no idea, really.”

Taehyung laughs, but your joke doesn’t stick for long. You feel bad immediately — even in a playful tone, your heart knows nothing for Jungkook but praise. You guess that’s how kindness affects people.

And your brain stays mean, prolonging your pout — because it conjures pictures of a crooked smile, wrinkles around tender eyes, a tilted head as shoulders rise when the laughter reaches its peak…

A sting jabs your chest.

The longing is unbearable, and you’re barely another level from the apartment. He’s waiting for you on the other side of that flat’s door, and you know his pupils will widen in his dark brown eyes the moment they fall on you.

“No, that feels horrible to say,” you correct, shaking your head. You pause in the middle of the staircase for a moment, gaze fixated on a dirty spot before you shake your head once more. “You know Jungkook. If he’s not joy personified, then I don’t know.”

And it’s true — despite his own demons, you don’t think you’ve ever seen anyone spread this much comfort.

“I just meant that my mind’s been quiet. And a lot more peaceful. Not a hundred worries whirling around anymore,” you tell him, your steps upward slower now.

“Just ninety-nine, huh?”

You smile. “Maybe. But he’s not one of them.”

Dull background noise interrupts your thoughts; Taehyung doesn’t respond to you, but reprimands Yoongi in a distant mumble. He’s been doing it since he called, covering his phone to argue with his friend.

Apparently, Yoongi had been with him for hours before you picked up Taehyung’s call; they’ve been settling the rest of the arrangements, scurrying through paperwork. The apartment you considered is entirely their adventure now, but you aided in anything they needed.

Which basically just meant clearing things with the landlord and then answering his new tenant’s million questions.

As in — how were you thinking of decorating it? Why were you going to take it? Did you calculate monthly costs including rent, water and gas? You didn’t mind, because Yoongi might be one of the most polite people you have ever met.

But it seems he’s reluctant to return to his dorm’s lonely walls, too.

Because Taehyung values alone-time, and Yoongi hasn’t granted it for hours. You feel kinda bad for Yoongi. And while the younger man attempts his hardest to maintain the gentle tone, you hear the exhaustion in his voice.

“I’ll drive you home after this, ‘kay?” he tells Yoongi; you snicker at the groan that returns. “You got this, bro.” Attention back to you, a murmur of your name. “Anyway. Everything should be good now.”

“I’m glad. That was… quite something.”

A euphemism, really. The handful of visits weren’t fun; not to mention the stuff you had to get over with for your own move. And then all those calls. You needed minutes upon minutes of preparation for each of them. One hell of a businesswoman, you are.

“No, say it as it is. ‘Cause it knocked me the fuck out. You guys really had to drag me into this.”

You feel guilty about making Taehyung your spokesman here; but as an already residing individual of the building, he was a great support in this matter.

“We— love you,” you tell him, inhaling deeply between your words. You rub the dirt off your soles on the welcoming mat and hold the box tight, not opening the door yet. “Tell your forehead to feel kissed.”

“Nah. You’re gonna upset Eun.”

“Why? Eun and I are more in love then the two of you might ever be. She’ll choose my side.”

“Ha. Fair. Whatever.” His voice doesn’t carry an ounce of solemnity. Once again, you imagine him pulling a face, waving your statement off. “Enjoy your life. Your voice has been echo-y forever. Also, don’t forget to talk to Jungkook about what we discussed.”

Ah… yeah. There’s more than just one thing you need to clear, actually.

“Aye, aye, Captain,” you confirm, though arguing, “I’m surprised you haven’t done it yet.”

“You do it. I know he’ll like hearing it from you better.” He pauses to answer his friend; you don’t even know what he said. “Okay. I’ll go grappling with Yoongi then.”

“Good luck.”

“Buy me sushi.”

One last laugh before you cut the call.

The clicking sound of your keys turning in the lock is music to your ears and balm to your feet. You skip the threshold with a relieved release of air; the apartment smells like diffusers, so warm compared to the declining temperatures outside.

You don’t hear a movement until you get to your knees, seating the box next to the shoe cabinet. As you start working on your jacket, you register a shuffle from the living room, but no voice — Jungkook said he’d be home before you. Perhaps he’s painting; or gaming.

A short text message during lunch assured him he could start dinner without you; deep down, however, you understood he wouldn’t listen anyway. And the obvious lack of aromatic scents wafting from the living room proves it.

You don’t enjoy eating alone — and he knows.

Clearing your throat, you announce your arrival, bent as you take your shoes off and rub your aching heels for a moment. You wish you could float. Offer them reprieve.

Stumbling in the anteroom, you wait for a greeting, but it seems he didn’t hear or notice you. You lick your lips, standing straight, and then speak into the hallway—

“I swear I don’t have a foot fetish,” a short pause — nothing, “but can you massage my feet again today?” You wait. Not a word comes back. So you joke, “Actually, just massage my whole body? I don’t mind. Need some hands-on relaxation.”

Subjectively, you think you’re hilarious. You giggle on your way to the living room, cheerful despite the jam-packed day — but your laughter ebbs down soon. Because he’s standing in the middle of the room, lips pressed into a tiny smile, head lowered, hands in his pockets.

And right in front of him, a timid woman in a coat. Blinking at you.

Your eyes dodge her gaze immediately. It’s an impolite reflex, heart pounding as you watch Jungkook’s hand lift to his forehead, hiding behind his bangs as he rubs. When he looks at you again, there’s an equal amount of worry and amusement in his expression.

“Shit,” you mumble, another mishap, and you continue cursing internally. Stupid, stupid, stupid. And then, “I’m sorry.”

She looks like him. Same sweet aura, short hair, big eyes.

Her right digits are wrapped around the fingers of her other hand, mouth shut tight, though smiling. She knows less what to say than you, and the moment stretches and stretches and does not end and—

“Hi,” you finally murmur, bowing slightly before you cringe. Too much? Not enough? You clear your throat again, and then introduce yourself quietly. “You must be Mrs. Jeon. I… I didn’t know you’d be here or I would’ve come earlier! I’m very sorry.”

Are you rambling?

How horrid. You’d feel so uncomfortable if you were her.

Only, she barely showcases any sign of displeasure or irritation. Despite striking you as an introvert, her movements soon prove confidence — the type to know what she’s saying or doing, but in a humble and gentle way.

She unfolds her fingers and lets them dangle, soon moving up to clutch the strap of her bag. Looking between Jungkook and you once, she raises her eyebrows and shakes her head, as if to promise that there’s no reason for any tension.

You sigh when she speaks, “Oh, it’s alright. I didn’t stay long and I need to go in a minute anyway.”

“Oh?”

“I was going to leave ages ago, but,” she points to her son with rolling eyes, and the man in question shrugs in faux guilt before she speaks on, “that one wanted me to see you for at least a second. I wanted to meet you properly… prepare dinner and all, but. It’s still nice to meet you.”

Her eyes are kind, taking you in; if you could guess, you’d say she’s… excited. Urging to finally speak to her son’s girlfriend.

She moves a teeny tiny bit, as if opting to offer her palm to you, or to— maybe hug you? But maybe she realises the timing, or sees your terrified expression, because she holds back for now politely.

“I see. It’s wonderful to meet you, too.” Incredible how you spoke about initiatives just this morning, rambling in the office until someone had to interrupt you for their own turn. Now, you can’t get a word out. “But, I… I am still sorry I barged in so rudely.”

She grimaces, moving closer to you with a waving motion, “You didn’t barge into your own apartment. It’s all good.”

Jungkook doesn’t interrupt much; doesn’t interfere with his own jests and statements. They mirror each other so much, though. In the way they smile, and in the way they talk.

Even the manner in which she places her hand on your arm, reassuring you, delivers the same warmth. You tense for a moment, not quite expecting the touch; but it’s motherly. Soft.

A new emotion floods your heart, but you can’t decode it. Too many thoughts streaming in, brain working overtime to come up with a full sentence without stuttering, without those dumb hesitation markers that your studies taught you to avoid.

And maybe you’ve succeeded — only, the clump in your throat, accompanied by a strange twist in your stomach builds a barrier now.

Her touch feels… good.

“Do you… would you like to sit?” you ask, voice softer by an infinite amount. “I have a variety of tea here, and you could choose one. If you…”

You want to talk. About whatever. Not the slip occurring a couple minutes ago; maybe you just finally want to know who made Jungkook the man he is today. It wasn’t necessarily his father, was he?

Somewhere, this incessant, constant comfort derived from. But.

“I’d like nothing more than that,” she admits, “but I have massage therapy in a bit, and should get going. An adult’s back.” You laugh, and she gestures towards you with an open palm. “Oh, don’t you work in an office? Take care of yourself, too.”

“Not just an office, Mom,” Jungkook interrupts, inching closer until next to you and rubbing your back, proud, “she’s a manager. She walks around a lot, so the problem are,” he nods toward your feet, “these.”

True. Just today alone, your heels made it feel like you ran a marathon. Learning about each corner and wandering around that building drained you.

“Ah… I thought so,” she says.

You blink in faint confusion until you realise. Jungkook lets out a breathy laugh, brief but telling, and his mother smiles in awkward amusement. Hell.

Your blood shoots back into your face, warming it thoroughly, and just before you can opt for another apology, she says, “You have him to take care of you. Make him spoil you! You do, don’t you?”

Her voice changes the moment she faces her son, a little strict but all in good fun; her eyes squint and he exclaims, “I do!” the moment you defend, “Oh, he does! He definitely does.”

She seems to like this. There’s a sparkle in her eyes, similar to the one you already know; perhaps she’s just as endeared as mothers–usually?–get, realising their children are happy and settling.

“We take care of each other,” you tell her then, and she responds with a content nod.

“Good. It’d be a shame if not. Taught him how to treat people.”

“He knows for sure, ma’am. I don’t think you’ll ever need to worry about that.”

You’re careful with your gestures, your smiles, your movements. Even though she’s made clear as day that she’s not to fear, you still shift your entire focus on the delivery of your words.

If you weren’t, you’d be more lax. Looking through the room, exchanging glances with Jungkook. If you weren’t so distracted, you’d notice that he’s playing with the ends of your hair.

And you’d see the way he looks at you.

With those barely blinking, calm eyes. An ocean of fondness in them, a light, lost smile around his face. As though you’re soothing him, pumping oxygen into his lungs.

You don’t see any of it; but his mother does. And you register the drift of her pupils, the minimal upward movement in her eyebrows as she shoots a glance at him — then back at you.

But when you follow her gaze to him, he’s already snapped out of it, clearing his throat.

“You should go before you’re late,” Jungkook reminds her, removing his hand from your hair, “I’ll go spoil her as you taught me, Mama.”

“You better. Pressure’s on.”

He smirks, lopsided as he slings an arm around her shoulder. She’s so much smaller than him. “Tell Dad Hi from me.”

A slight drop of his lips. He doesn’t look at her but the ground. Tell-tale signs of a distant ache, hidden behind an attempt to find a cure.

The sting is palpable, right in the middle of your heart, but it dissipates bit by bit as he smiles at you again. Genuine once more, back to where he was only five seconds ago.

You nod at her, one last, non-verbal confirmation that you feel cosy here. There’s something inarguably sweet in her instant care. How she instantly roots for your happiness. How she’s pouring all her empathy into you with a single look.

A stare that usually understands someone else’s pain; and then hopes for eternal peace for them.

She doesn’t even know you — does she? You wonder if he ever did speak about you.

“Okay then. Tell me if you need anything,” she says it to Jungkook, but promptly turns to you, promising you, “you can, too. Of course.”

“I will. Thank you so much.”

Purse lifted further up her shoulder, she starts a move toward the exit, already starting to wave you goodbye before she suddenly stops. Looks at you, and blurts, “Oh, and— has he uhhh…?”

She starts the sentence with hesitation, ending it with uncertainty and a look over her shoulder. You follow her eyes, barely catching him throwing a warning sign. His eyes are ripped open, head delivering tiny shakes, but he returns to normal the moment he catches you staring.

Okay. Something happened there that you’re not part of.

But that you’re supposed to be part of? You don’t know.

You’re curious, though. Already aware of what you’ll be pestering him with tonight.

She shuts up, letting out a short, tiny breath. Her small, sweet fingers curl just once before she releases them again, and she flattens her coat, nodding.

“I’ll leave you two alone then,” she declares.

“You should stay for dinner next time, though!” you offer.

“Of course. I’m eating with my husband after the appointment, so he’ll probably already be waiting, but. Next time for sure. And you should come, too, someday.”

Right.

It doesn’t stop. It’s permanently odd hearing someone talking about that man other than Jungkook. Shouldn’t be, because she’s the closest and dearest individual to him, sharing a home and marital bed. But…

It’s like people don’t quite feel real from stories until one actually faces them. His mom’s subtle, harmless words about her husband make him feel realer, and Jungkook’s issues with them.

But most of all you wonder — why has he never visited here? You wish he had. You wish he would sometimes. But she didn’t even suggest bringing him with her next time. Or how his father would be delighted about a visit, too.

It doesn’t seem to faze Jungkook. Or maybe it does, but he doesn’t let it show. Or — worse. Has he gotten used to it? His father’s absence, or the term that defines their relationship.

Because he nods, a soft smile as a son usually throws at his mother. Casual but loving. He says, “Won’t keep you here then.”

Jungkook kisses her head at the door, and she stuffs her hands in her coat, politely bidding you goodbye.

You watch as she approaches the staircase, still waving when she turns around one more time. You sigh in relief — she was friendly. No panic. You didn’t fuck up entirely.

And despite the last moments of gloom that the mention of her husband evoked, you hear Jungkook’s chuckle resonate once the door finally closes. His steps move toward the living room, his shoulders shaking.

You nearly slide down the closed door as you watch him, head falling back before he falls into a wholehearted laugh. You imagine deep, multiple crinkles around his eyes, mouth wide in joy.

Eyebrows kissing, you follow him inside, nearly bumping against him when you realise he’s standing in the middle of the room, body still shaking from the chortle. He’s facing the ground, and you hit his arm from the back.

“Shut up,” you only order, opting to walk away.

But he turns to you, a hand around your elbow; he can barely breathe when he assures, “Okay. Okay, I’ll stop. Sorry, I just—” He sniffles as you look at him, sulking and trying his gloating not to make you laugh, too. “What were you doing?”

“That’s not funny!”

“I’m not trying to be funny! I’m serious.”

Which he clearly isn’t. The smile is too infuriatingly wide, and the tug at your arm too affectionate. He’s amused and you hate–love?–that you are, too. You keep the act of agitation intact for another moment.

But pieces of you break, your heart a melting mess when you watch his eyes nearly close, nose scrunched up. His shoulders rise — they always do whenever his laughter increases, bunny teeth protruding and the mole under his mouth a magnet to your lips.

And when he raises his hands to your face, cradling it, and speaks, you lose it entirely.

“What were you even saying, munchkin, huh? You’re such a little idiot, you know?” he playfully scolds, squishing your cheeks; peppering kisses on your skin and your lips; barely allowing you a moment to talk.

“And you’re—” you say between tiny kisses, distracted by the childlike, muah-ish sound effects that accompany his pecks, “so mean.”

“And you are the sweetest thing to exist.” The lovingly aggressive touch vanishes from your cheek to be replaced by sudden pinches; your protests are high-pitched, and unfortunately, enhance his statement. “Okay, okay. Come on.”

He flicks your chin as if to provoke you further, but dodges all your teeny tiny rage to come when he moves past your body. Warning abandoned, his fingers tweak your ass as he targets the kitchen, and you yelp, instantly slapping a hand over your butt.

“Freshen up and let’s get to dinner. And hurry. Gotta give you hands-on relaxation later.”

“You’re the worst, I mean it.”

But his evil snicker isn’t.

He might make your hackles rise, and test your patience the way he used to so long ago. Back when you’d seek him out in a miniscule dorm room, eyebrows furrowed just to see him a bit longer after class.

You’re always baffled how your foundation still stands; after all the shattering and agony and stings that fractured your heart. Only now, you’ll be surrounded by the bicker every hour of the day.

And you wouldn’t have it any other way.

Living through an odd day at work, driving around town and embarrassing yourself in front of your boyfriend’s mother makes one dizzyingly hungry, you realised. Stress didn’t let you eat properly today.

Even now, there’s something you need to reveal to him — but the moment you sit down to eat and crack the first joke, you don’t have the heart to. And then, combined with the rush still lingering from the awkward, wholesome interaction before, and the shift in mood, you soon do the worst:

Forget about the issue.

Your eyes meet the bottom of your bowl sooner than preferred, your stomach still seemingly as empty as before. Whatever magic Jungkook seasoned the dish with, you want him to sprinkle it on your tastebuds every day.

Jungkook is sipping on his water when you suddenly look up and place a hand on his bicep, shaking him for attention. A guilty Oh slips out of you as you watch droplets roll down his chin, and he tries not to choke as he puts the glass back on the table.

“Babe—”

“I’m sorry!” you exclaim, thumb wiping at the fluid dampening his chin. “Just. Can we have more? That helped with that sickness all day, and… I’m still hungry.”

Along with the lack of appetite, you assumed the stress and the constant overworking dragged the feeling of illness and stomach ache throughout the day, too. Jungkook keeps warning you about burnouts — doing a thousand things at once, you’ve been thoroughly burdened.

But honestly. Maybe it was just hunger for a real meal.

“Oh? I'm so glad it helped then! And sure,” he responds. “Go ahead, there’s enough for like four people.”

You blink. “And you?” He shakes his head, patting his full tummy, attempting another try at drinking. You argue, “I’m not eating alone, though!”

“Angel, I’ve had like two portions. I'll be full until next dinner.”

“Lame!” You shift on the couch, half of your ass holding you onto it, “And if we found ways to burn it off?”

“…Ah?”

“I mean… You like working out. So just work me out.”

“Shut up. You’re impossible.”

You’ve long given up — you’re not an ass. You would never force him to eat or not to eat, unless he hasn’t in hours. But you also need a foolproof way of amusing him.

Which, despite his very unimpressed expression, you know you did. His lips still twitch.

Sombre, his tongue pokes the inside of his cheek before he shakes his head. You pat his strong thighs, standing from the couch with a hungry groan.

“Fine. I’ll go heat up some for myself then,” you announce, but Jungkook’s shrill alarm bells ring immediately, his body jumping off his seat.

“Not the microwave.”

“Jungkook—”

“Not! The microwave. Just toss it in the pan and heat it up there.”

You tiptoe to the kitchen just a little faster, playful as he hurries after you. You spend your seconds explaining why the microwave won’t explode; how tickling you won’t change anything; how you’ll break something if he doesn’t stop.

But most of all, you spend your seconds allowing him to chase away all sorrows you carried for so goddamn long.

Shut up. You’re impossible.

His prior agitation truly wasn’t one at all.

Because despite your obvious jests, the calories lost on the couch rob you of all sanity at last. A hand in your hair, a body pushing yours down, free fingers roaming your sides and your legs, and lips never separating from yours.

He doesn’t strip you off a single piece of clothing. Doesn’t dig a hand underneath your shirt, focused on how your mouth feels, how his name rolling off your tongue sounds.

The eyes he stares into are vivid and bright, and he uses up all his power to not let them kill him. Your body wraps around his like the most tender of all embraces; he doesn’t need you bare for it, no matter how blank the thought leaves his mind.

Only needs the proximity. The tongue touching his, the nails testing his shirt’s quality.

You miss most of the movie that he suggested, eating each other up, a fist around the hem of his shirt until he nearly falls off the couch and wakes you from your dream. You giggle and joke, spending the second half of the film yawning, sipping the peppermint tea.

Jungkook uses the quiet time for whispered conversations; massages your feet as you pleaded for, repeatedly asking for your comfort.

The moments aren’t anything big, in theory. You’re not in a fantasy novel, not throwing a ring into a volcano. You’re mortal and here, surrounded by humane domesticity and drowning in casual conversations.

Yet — even though you’re not living through spectacular adventures, you’re breathing through special moments nevertheless. Because not a single second spent with him feels mundane, after all.

Sometime as the ending nears, you let your legs fall, pulled close to Jungkook by your hip. You don’t quite understand when or how he does it, but miraculously, you land half on his lap, ass barely on the couch and cheek pressed to his temple.

Jungkook pushes a hand against your thigh, heaving you up further and moving you until you’re comfortable. There’s a light groan, followed by a feathery kiss to your jaw; and you wrap an arm around his shoulder to hold on, shifting even closer.

Your touchy warmth isn’t new to Jungkook; but it seems that the changes in your lives made your inhibitions disperse. Like you broke the bars trapping you so far.

Because the increasing clinginess feels carefree; you don’t overthink your movements tonight. Even before, there was lightness in your interactions; how you’d breathe in his presence, compared to when the world intruded.

The difference was still never quite veiled.

He saw it when he called from so far away all those weeks ago, staring at the distress in your face through a device — versus when he returned to your world.

Or just recently, when you stood on that tiny stage, talking down to reporters — as opposed to when you whispered for him to get you home.

Your shoulders always dropped in relief the moment you stood in his soothing radius. And yet—

There was quiet discomfort in your eyes. And today — today he doesn’t see that usual steam frying your brain. Your smile isn’t burdened; you’re weightless, like you’re breathing.

Overwhelmed and endeared, Jungkook gulps. The pricking needle rods his heart, simultaneously flicking the wounds. He could cry.

He watches you busy your fingers with his shirt, unable to put his thoughts into a coherent string of sentences; so he only says, “You’re so cosy today.”

“Hm? I’m always cosy.”

“Mmmh… a bit more tonight.”

Your forefinger traces the outline of his pecs over his shirt, and you nod with a hum before you declare, “That’s because I’m trying to establish a healthy balance.”

“A healthy balance? How so?”

“I need to be nice, because you’re not.”

His eyes follow your finger’s slow movements, so his voice is soft, barely concerned. But his brain can’t quite compute as he asks, “I’m not nice?”

“You’ve always been mean, actually.”

He laughs. Taps your thigh rhythmically, close to your butt. “How am I mean to you?”

“Like,” you press your palm flat in the middle of his chest, looking at him. There’s a crease between your eyebrows, the slightest hint of a pout on your lips. “You ass could’ve answered when I came home. You didn’t say anything! Or did you really not hear me?”

Oh.

Ogling into your anticipating, subtly piqued eyes, he suppresses a laugh. His lips form a thin line, but the glow in his dark eyes betrays him. Your hand lifts a little, ready to spank his pecs, but you close the gap again as you grant him another chance.

“Hey, if you tell me you didn’t hear, I’ll let it slide.”

You’re well aware Jungkook graduated as the best of his year in Teasing You, and holds the degree proudly to your face every day — but you also know he’s honest.

So you’re not surprised when he admits, eyes mischievous, “I heard you.” Your slow blinking, the scolding gaze are hilarious to him; he looks unspeakably pleased. “I wanted to see what you’d do.”

Now you do slap his tits.

“And you didn’t expect me to say that shit?!” you reprimand. He wraps his arms around you, his laughter a deep, genuine emergence from his chest. “I’m an idiot, in case you didn’t know.”

“Of course. I do know,” he suddenly deadpans. Wow. That couldn’t have come any more naturally. “I know you well, baby.”

“And yet…”

He waves your concerns off, hand soon returning to your back to pull you closer. “She’s chill. I knew you were gonna amuse her right away.”

“Oh god. You planned this… Wait. You didn’t shush her when you heard the door open, right?”

He doesn’t answer. Just keeps looking at you. And then… is he…

Is he zoning out?

“Jungkook,” you call again.

“Hm?” He stares at you beguiled, as if utterly distracted by whatever. “Sorry. Can’t hear you—”

“You so can. We’re alone and I’m speaking loud and cl—”

“Nah, you’re just so pretty. I can barely focus.”

“I hate you.”

But you don’t.

He doesn’t need to spell his intentions out for you to understand. He might be testing your patience, but there’s a hidden meaning in his words that he can’t hide as well as he intends to after all.

Because you know he just wanted you to be yourself instead of playing a different role; just like he has never pretended in front of your parents. He knows you’d try extra hard for him — but he needed you to come in and receive affection as the person that you already are.

Guess whatever you blurted was the first impression he wanted to leave of you.

“So,” you start after a moment, back to tapping his chest, “do you think I did amuse her?”

“Oh, she loved it.” Of course she did. You could see the Jeon-esque endearment in her eyes the moment you stepped into the living room. Humbles you. “She’s gonna adore you, too.”

“Ah. Like you adore me.”

Jungkook’s response arrives in the form of a long, semi-damp kiss, delivered to the corner of your mouth. You grimace, torso moving backwards at his gentle force. He adds another Mmmhhh to the gesture until you’re nearly falling off his lap, pushing him away again with a giggly, “Stop!”

He leans back with a content sigh, eliminating more of the distance between you until his head almost rests against your chest. But when you speak again, he looks up into your face.

“Hey. Your mom was saying something as she was leaving. What was it again?”

“Uhh…”

His pupils roll up in thought, one shoulder already rising to shrug, but then it drops again before he voices, “Oh… Yeah…” A break in thought; then, “I figured you’d be busy with everything going on, so I was being reluctant about asking. Didn’t wanna put you in a difficult position.”

You wait. He speaks on, “But my cousin’s getting married next month, and I’m invited.”

There’s a beat of a pause, and you anticipate, already sensing a presentiment before he spits it out—

“And you are, too.”

Hold on.

Weddings. More often than not, weddings happen in big places, filled with a great number of guests. Of friends. And… of family members.

If what he’s suggesting isn’t a hallucination, it means that’d be how you’d step into the battlefield. Attempting your best to be yourself, to charm his family with whatever strategy.

Is he thinking of the same thing?

Because you’re speechless.

You close the mouth you only now notice stood agape, trying not to show the bubbling exhilaration too blatantly. That’d be your first joyful event together.

Oh god.

You might squeal; faint of nervousness. If you could, you’d press your fists to your lips and stomp your feet and twirl your hair and—

“Wait… You want me to go to a wedding with you?” you finally ask instead, keeping your voice in a normal pitch.

“Only if you feel like it.”

“And… and you?” you inquire, wide eyes looking into his wider ones. He’s nervous, too. “Do you want me to?”

“I… yeah. I do. I really, really don’t want to go without you, actually.”

Shit.

“Where is the wedding?”

“Yeah, see, that’s why I was afraid to ask. You’re so busy and your job’s so new. But we’d—” He hesitates, as if scared of rejection. Clicks his tongue, evaluating his words. “The thing is that we’d have to drive all the way down. It’s back at home.”

You need a moment. Back at home; you’re home. Meaning, it’s not here.

Meaning, it’s in his hometown. Meaning, you wouldn’t just meet his family, but walk through a place of memories and deeply rooted, nostalgic affection, too.

Which is… such a huge fucking thing.

Especially for a girlfriend.

Eun always says it doesn’t do bringing a girlfriend or boyfriend to big events such as birthday parties or weddings. It’s disadvantageous for the pictures, she claims. Who knows how the future might play out?

But Jungkook isn’t concerned with these issues. Jungkook wants you all the way down there, lurking on streets with him that he grew up on; tripped on; played on.

These are places with core remembrances. So easily expanded when more are added to them in later years; and so easily shattered when hearts break.

But a heart breaking is not an option, is it? Not anymore.

“You’re… taking me to your hometown?” you ask. You immediately realise the choice of words, and don’t hesitate as you add, “I mean. You’d be taking me home. You’d like to—”

“Is that—” he interrupts, suddenly unsure, “bad? Did it change your mind? You don’t have to, I promise.”

“No. I actually might cry.”

His expression momentarily softens, a big, clear Awwwh written in it. Gentle fingers brush your hair back, observing the vulnerability in your eyes. But shit, you mean it.

You could cry.

Because you talked about this so long ago.

Back when he was miles away, yet so deeply settled in your heart. Sneaking his way into your head, eating you up inside. When he broke off a piece of you and took it with him as he left, no relief for weeks on end.

And when he came back, he promised he’d take you with him one day.

Is that it? Is that now?

“Fuck,” you curse under a quiet laugh, confused by the burning in your eyes.

Jungkook’s hand brushes over your cheek, eyebrows slightly cocked. He might not have expected you to react with such… emotion. You hadn’t either.

“Hey,” his voice soothes, “don’t cry. It’ll be good. And if it’s not, or if you don’t want to, we can just stay here and never go again.”

You’re gonna sob. How did you deserve him?

Of course you want to go. Of course you’d make the best of it. No fibre in you wants to reject his offer.

In fact, you’re already daydreaming. Because…

How’s it gonna be? Will you see more stars there? Will his family like you? His Dad like you? And what are weddings with boyfriends like? Will you be seeing him in every flower in the hall, in every kiss the couple shares?

“No,” you say, “I’ll go. I will go because you’re too obsessed with me to leave without me.”

Jungkook chuckles immediately, but not speaking before rolling his eyes, “And you’re a brat.”

You wait a moment, smiling in unison with him, and then ask, “Honestly, I… I’d love to. Can I just still ask…” You’re curious; but you also want to keep feeling that warmth. More tranquillity from his words. “Why would you not go without me?”

He doesn’t stall.

“Because it’s such a big event, and… so far away. I don’t want to leave you here. And the thought of being at the most lovey-dovey place without my favourite person sucks.”

You’ll freaking screech.

“Jungkook!”

Half of the name is muffled when your lips drop to the crook of his neck, back uncomfortably arching and face heating up. Your ass threatens to fall back on the couch, legs still over his, and he hugs you close as he snickers again.

He shakes your body gently, trying to lift your face. Calling your name when your breath tickles his skin, asking, “Are we embarrassed?”

“No.”

But when you look at him again, your smile is wide enough to freeze your muscles in place. He shakes his head, flooded with aching joy, and makes sure again, “So you want to go, yeah? Don’t need time to think or something? It’s okay if you do.”

“As if. I really wanna go. I’m gonna make this,” you touch his collarbones, then your own, “work.”

He smiles. Grants you a short break to organise your thoughts. And while what you query next shouldn’t come as a surprise, it does introduce a delighted shift in mood.

“What am I gonna wear?”

Jungkook puffs out a breath.

You don’t notice; your focus drifts, directed to the carpet. You mentally scurry your closet, quietly trying to recall appropriate attire for weddings. Which is odd, because you should have the entire catalogue of your and every other place cemented in your mind.

“What do I wear?” you repeat, back to looking at him, barely allowing him a moment to think. “And don’t say anything would look good on me. Serious answers only.”

“You know a question like this prompts nothing but unserious answers from m—”

“Kook—”

“Okay. I mean, you have such pretty dresses. Lemme just choose one and we’re supplied.”

It’s an easy idea; fair enough. Only, you’re barely listening, earning a side-eye from Jungkook when you say, “I should buy a new one.”

Which still doesn’t deter him, though. “Cool. I’ll go with you then.”

“Or will I seem overdressed?”

“It’s a wedding, baby. Overdress like hell.”

“And… if I’m underdressed?”

“You’re still gonna be the hottest around!” he exclaims, and you flinch just a little. He’s not truly agitated, but there’s playful frustration in his voice, a grin around his lips. “Don’t worry about the dress, okay? It won’t stay on you anyway.”

Jungkook expects you to react with similar scolding, using it to hide how timidly flattered you actually are. But you’re too fired up, restless in his grip as your voice grows shriller, “I’m so. Fuck, I’m so excited!”

“I am, too. But…”

His palm moves up and down your back, one eye squinting shut as you start swaying a bit, pumped with serotonin. Like a thrilled child. You’re so…

He lowers his gaze; you might just see the heart eyes otherwise.

“Okay, hey,” he tries again, calming you as his fingers grasp your wrist. “Should we go to bed for now, though?”

You wait with your answer, relaxing your body. Stopping your elevated sounds, you draw the deepest breath in history, and then breathe out a whispery, “Yeah.”

“Yeah. Good. Oh.”

“Hm?”

“You haven’t actually been to the bedroom yet, right?”

“Oh…”

True. Since you came home, you only conversed with his mother, then rushed to take a shower as she left, still filled with prickling and nervous emotions. And then you hurried back to him, starving, eating, watching TV.

And now you’re here.

Was something different about the bedroom, though? You don’t think so.

“You’re right,” you tell him, “no, not really. Just to shower. Why?”

“Just…”

“…What?”

“Okay. Hold onto me.”

“Hold ont— oh, f—”

You gasp for air when two strong arms replace his soft hands, settling under your kneepits and around your back. He shifts dangerously on the couch, moving forward before he starts to lift with a self-motivating grunt.

“And— off we go.”

You sling your arms around his neck immediately, hiding, letting out a panicked, ”Be careful, I’m sli—”

“All good. Relax.” His arms wrap more properly around your limbs, and you dare to listen. Allowing your legs to dangle, you let him carry you calmly, breathing air through O-shaped lips. “Good girl. I won't just let you fall.”

“You better not.”

“No. Just wait.”

He looks at you with a comical grin, throwing a kiss into the air and down to you. Using your feet to kick the door open, he halts at the threshold; for a second, he looks… up.

And just when he finally enters the room, you quietly follow his gaze. The question as to what to wait for gets stuck in your throat when you realise what it is he needed you to see.

Holy shit.

the chapter isn't over yet – much to go!! tumblr just doesn't allow more than 1k blocks/paragraphs. apologies for the scrolling, but i promise it's worth it :'D here's the rest! <3

#jungkook smut #jungkook fluff #bts smut #bts fluff #jeongguk smut #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #bts x you #bts imagines #jungkook fic #bts angst #jungkook angst #jungkook

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abbyscherry · 6 months

Text

just a lil nerdy!abby x reader x ellie brain rot. 18+

nerdy!abby who somehow forgot you were deeply involved with someone already and can’t seem to focus on anything but the sound of your sweet little moans and the way your back arches as Ellie drags her lips across your neck, fingers pinching and slightly twisting your hardened nipples, evident through your thin cotton t-shirt.

You invited her here to study but that suddenly went out the window when Ellie turned up, forgetting all about your cute little study date with several rolled blunts in her hand, and eyes slightly pink from already smoking one of them before she left her dorm. She hadn’t meant to interrupt something you obviously told her about, but seeing the way Abby’s eyes widen at the sight of her walking into your bedroom, books open and scattered in random places on your bed, had her chuckling.

“aren’t you supposed to be studying?” Ellie mumbles, lips still glued to your skin but her eyes locking with the blonde who was hunched over one of her many books, glasses slipping down the bridge of her nose, “think your friend likes watching, pretty girl”

Giggling softly, you shove your girlfriend with your shoulder, eyes flickering between the two women. “She’s just nervous around new people Els, and you’re staring at her like you wanna either be her friend or shout at her, i wouldn’t blame her for being nervous” you mumble, smiling shyly when the blonde looks over at you again.

“Nervous?” Ellie scoffs, hand landing on the meat of your thigh, squeezing with a hum. “didn’t seem nervous when she watched me shove my tongue down your throat, or when i had my hands under your shirt, but what do i know, hm?”

“i wasn’t— wasn’t watching” Abby stutters, tucking a lose strand of hair behind her ear, eyes falling back onto the words on her book in front of her. Unaware of the hard stare Ellie was giving her, while you fumbled with your fingers on your nap nervously.

“No? you think i don’t notice the way you look at my girl?”

The way she worded the question had Abby feeling more and more suffocated the longer she sat on your bed. The turtle neck sweater she had on was making her feel even hotter as the silence lasted. Tension was thick and you were starting to think Ellie was trying to make her more uncomfortable on purpose. “i don’t—”

Your eyes flickered up from your fingers when hearing Ellie’s breathless chuckle and you found her with her head back on your pillows, blunt still neatly tucked between her fingers. “relax, m’just fucking with you”

“Els you’re such an ass—”

“But you look at her, yeah?”

This question had stumped both you and Abby. Of course, Ellie would be the only one to actually realize her glances at you, and yours at her. The Blonde had thought she was a little more subtle with hers though. Always able to hide behind her book when she noticed Ellie’s hand sliding up a little too high on your thigh, squeezing the skin as she tears those soft little moans from you. How her hand lingers on your ass, patting and sometimes roughly grabbing the plush of it when she’s got your lips locked with hers. Or even how she’s shamelessly watched and blushed deeply when the Auburn, like today, shoves her hand up your shirt without a single care.

“Well, it’s hard not to, she’s really pretty” She admits, no longer looking at either of you.

“That she is” Ellie hums, resting an arm behind her head, her other hand slowly riding up your leg, leaving goosebumps on your skin and sending shivers down your spine. “makes you wanna kiss her, yeah?”

“Ellie, what are you doing?”

Her eyes never leave Abby’s wide blue ones, hand still trailing up your thigh, “m’not doing anything, pretty girl. just want you both to admit it. i think your friend here is feelin’ a little left out, It’s nice to share sometimes”

Abby’s eyes couldn’t get any wider at Ellie’s words, while you, were looking at the woman who was still hunched over her books, glasses now placed beside her, and just staring at you both— blushing furiously.

“you wanna kiss my girl, Abby?”

Wordlessly nodding like a lost puppy, the blonde looks all over your face for any discomfort, and when she only finds you smiling shyly she takes that as her cue to move a little closer to you, eyes drifting back to a hood-eyed Ellie, who was still resting on your bed, arm tucked behind her head, and a grin on her face.

And Abby’s damn near whimpering when her lips finally touch yours. Her hands are shifting between resting on your shoulders, to your hips, then your face. She wasn’t sure where to put them honestly, she was slightly nervous to fuck up with this but hearing the soft mewls she’s managed to pull from you from a simple kiss, has her brain in overdrive.

It wasn’t until you let out a choked-out whimper that Abby had pulled away with a string of spit separating you, worried she had hurt you, that she noticed Ellie had her lips back on your neck, sucking and biting on your skin, her green eyes still on the Blonde’s, watching her every move. “she’s cute, aint she?” She chuckles, pulling away. “Baby, lay down”

Both of them watched you obediently listen to your girlfriend’s demand, back resting on the pillows as you nibbled on your lower lip, the lip balm Abby had picked out to use today still lingering. It wasn’t until Ellie placed her hand on your hip that you gasped, looking up at her with soft eyes. “Pretty little thing” she murmurs more or so to herself, sliding your shirt up to reveal the lacy bra you had decided to wear today. “God, you’re lucky i’m being nice and letting only you see her like this”

One of Abby’s hands joined the mix not even 5 seconds later, your legs falling apart beside them as they slowly traced your skin with their fingers, and it was Ellie that laughed breathlessly when she spotted the very wet patch on your panties, “you likin’ this a lot huh, baby?”

“Els—”

“Shh, don’t worry, pretty girl. Abby’s gonna take real good care of you, ain’t ya?”

“I don’t— i know what i’m doing”

Rolling her eyes, the Auburn was quick to grab Abby’s hand in hers and slide it in between your legs, “you two are the same huh? needy little sluts—” She mutters with a scoff, her breath fanning Abby’s ear hotly. “feel how wet she is”

Both you and Abby let out a moan when she presses her thumb against your covered clit, her face heating up just feeling how wet you truly are. Ellie on the other hand was watching your facial expression like a hawk, “feel good baby? yeah i bet it does” she coos, tearing a whimper from you just by her mocking words and tone. Her finger guides Abby’s to rub at your clit, her jaw clenched and eyes focused on nothing but your face. Pressing down harder, she smirks when you grip— well try to grip both their hands, your hips bucking as you try to grind against Abby’s fingers.

“Now fuckin’ touch my girl like you mean it and make her cum”

#nerdyloser!abby #loser!abby #abby anderson #abby anderson x reader #abby anderson x you #abby anderson smut #abby anderson drabble #ellie williams #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams x you #ellie williams smut #ellie williams drabble

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yeosbbm · 6 months

Text

NSFW Ateez Thoughts+ Headcanons

(some based on astrology wink wink)

MDNI !!

A/N: Simply a Drabble of what I think each member would be into and kinks until I finish my next fic which will probably be later tonight or tmr 😭

Seonghwa:

yes this man is a head game mvp and yes you’ll have hickies on your inner thighs

would be a tiddies man, but a leg man too tbh the size doesn’t matter either

will rip tights or fishnets off of you, lightly bite your calf while it’s balanced on his shoulder, gripping your thigh.. trailing up your leg before he finger fucks you

with his moon and venus sign I feel like he would most DEF have emotional sex, you got into an argument ? makeup sex. Haven’t seen each in forever ? He will be insatiable. You’re sad or stressed ? His mouth can help you feel better

Mommy Hwa is REALLL !

he eats shy girls UPPPPP for breakfast lunch and dinner like I need a hwa x shy listener fic made

Hongjoong:

has a photo album of you giving him brain and other freaky stuff on his phone and looks around before opening it to make sure members don’t see 💀

The jealousy/possessive sex would be crazy

He’ll either be petty as hell and make some snide remarks like after making you cum hard he’d be like “could he make you dumb like this ? probably not right ?”

Or he’d overstim you like a MADDDD MAN to prove a point

deep stroke champ like seriously

Will have you stuttering + speaking nonsense during sex by having you speak so he’ll hear you flustered..like he’ll ask about your day and then speed his hips up and while you can’t finish your sentence he’ll go “come on talk to me baby…”

will lay back and have you ride him/be on top after a longgg day at the studio

needs to be the best you ever had

Yunho:

He purposely gives you his clothes with the main purpose being to fuck you in them at some point of the day

after a shower you’ll ask him to bring you some clothes bc you forgot to grab some & instead of your own clothes he gives you a shirt and boxers of his and now look,, you’re in missionary with the shirt on 🫵🏽

Future Dilf Yunho is VERY VERY REAL !!

Sigh…the infamous size kink…no but he’d literally press his weight against you to keep you in place especially if you’re squirming too bad

his birth chart makes me feel like aftercare would be so rejuvenating and sweet when it comes to him ykwim like it would be amazingg

Dude I know he’s an ass man or likes thicker/curvier people

Yeosang:

EEEEEEEEVVVILLLLLLLLL [mermaid man voice]

like he’d be all shy and quiet and be like “sorry I’m nervous” and then has you on the bed done and fucked out in the end while sitting there just “🙂”

I feel like he has a size kink like yunho since he’s so strong and built but not to the same extent

I am sooo for the idea that yeo likes seeing his s/o in lingerie like that’s so real

most definitely whispers in your ear with his deep husky voice during it all

hes holding your legs open while eating you and notices that you’re covering your face and holding your voice so he kisses his way up to your ear and goes “cmon love why’re you hiding from me.” while bringing his fingers in .

HE KNOWS WHAT HES DOINGGGGG

Gentle manhandling enthusiast

San:

Yes, yes he is the boyfriend that keeps you from going out the house to party by fucking you before/during you getting ready to leave

You’re doing the final bits of your makeup and you have to do your hair + get dressed but allll of a sudden San comes in and asks where you going and then you say a party and nowww he’s suddenly “you’re so pretty..let me look at you.” and now your makeup is ruined and clothes are GONE !

Switch San is REAL GUYS

Crazy stamina + positions you will be taking a quick nap after you two are through and yes he will take photos of you knocked out to laugh at later

This one writer said that if San smoked he’d pass it to you during sex and man. I am so in love with that idea . This can be found on @atinysuh ‘s account !

Mingi:

He gives aftercare but I feel like even so he’d want to be babied after too like be sooo nice and sweet to him please

I like to imagine Mingi being into older women and if not older women, women in powerful positions or confident/dominant women

Has a huge praise kink

like think about him going down on you and lightly tugging his hair and praising him sooo much while he’s between your legs he’d go ham as soon as you utter “Fuck it feels so good Mingi..” he will make SURE you cum in the next 2 mins

This is lowkey unserious but like I imagine that pussy puts him to sleep like 💀

I personally believe he’s a switch but when he does dom he is the biggest flirt and dirty talker with the upmost confidence

Wooyoung:

Same as Mingi I like to think he’d be into older women or women in positions of power

He probably has such a random libido or finds you doing the most normal/conventional things sexy

You’ll be cooking dinner later into the evening and while you’re at the stove stirring up the food he’d come from behind and wrap his arms around you, it seems innocent until he begins kissing + nibbling on your ear and lightly pressing himself into you from behind while muttering about how sexy you look

We all know he loves to be scolded + degraded like he’ll pick small arguments just to hear you mad at him because it turns him on

You’ll tell him to slow down and him being the brat he is he’ll speed up for a bit or he will slow down but goes harder than earlier

He’s probably super into people who have an alt or at least a darker aesthetic and style

Jongho:

With his birth chart if you kiss his neck..he is DEFINITELY GONNA DEVOUR YOU plus he confirmed himself that he likes neck kisses

He is a thigh riding enthusiast.

Is 100% fully a dom and lowkey I feel like he cares more for giving to you rather than receiving back unless he asks

Tease him too bad and you WILL get consequences..whether it’s edging, teasing you 3x more, or even spanking you a couple times

Would take you out to eat and playfully tease you in the restaurant just so you can beg him to go home to fuck + he isn’t asking for the bill until you beg good enough

FUTURE ! SUGAR DADDY! JONGHO IS REALLL (but you’ll love giving + getting sugar from him)

Even if he wasn’t a sugar daddy he most def is the provider boyfriend

like I just know the morning after a night of sex he’ll leave before you wake up to go to work and you’ll check your phone and see he dropped a couple bands into your bank account “For being his good girl.”

Is it obvious I’m Jongho biased LMFAOO

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hangeswif3 · 4 months

Text

Somewhere safe

Pairing: Bonten!Rindou x Pregnant!reader

Warning: blood, mentions of pregnancy, cursing.

Summary: they needed a place to stay and just happens that Rindou knows someone who could help them.

Note: English isn’t my first language so be nice. I liked a lot how this turned out so maybe I could keep writing about Rindou’s little family. Anyways, I hope u like it and thanks for reading <3

“We need to go somewhere safe” said sanzu. “Mikey needs to rest”

They had been running from the police for a while now. Mike had recent stitches on his abdomen and they had been carrying him for about an hour or so. The 4 men were exhausted and they all knew Mikey couldn’t make it any longer by himself. They needed to rest.

“What the fuck are we supposed to do now?” Sanzu spoke again. Recharging his gun, almost preparing himself to fight a lost battle.

They could hear the police cars around them, while they were currently hidden in a dark alley, all of them panting and tired.

Ran looked at Rindou with question in his eyes. They were thinking the same thing. They needed a safe place to rest and wait for the police to go away. They were in Roppongi and just happened that someone close to the brothers lived close by.

Rindou was hesitant. Making eye contact with his brother who could almost read his mind. He couldn’t believe he was even considering going to the only person who never wanted to get involved in this.

“Fuck… fine” he said while putting his gun in his belt. “Follow me.”

Ran already knew the way but he left his brother walk alone for now. He wasn’t happy about this either.

“Where the fuck are we going?” Asked sanzu, who was in the back, holding onto an almost passed out Mikey. No one responded to him, instead they just kept walking in between apartments and houses.

It was a nice neighborhood. Without counting the fact that they were covered in blood and all disheveled, it could almost look like they were taking a walk tonight. It was dark though, the street light almost didn’t work and besides the sounds of sirens, it was completely quiet. They could only hear their footsteps.

They arrived to a nice house with a nice garden and a nice car parked outside. The 4 men stood at the front porch and Rindou looked at his brother, Ran only nodded once, trying to make him feel more confident.

Sanzu was the only one who didn’t know what was happening, since Mikey was too out of it to even notice.

“Hurry up and open, who the hell lives here anyway?” Said the pink-haired man, clearly frustrated to not know.

“Shut the fuck up and behave.” Responded Ran.

Rindou ringed the bell once, while trying to look decent by fixing his hair a little.

A moment passed before the front light turned on and they could hear someone managing to open the door.

It was 2:30 a.m. so you were obviously sleeping before someone knocked at your door. You opened the door, and everyone stared at you. You were wearing shorts and a white t shirt, your hair looked a little crazy since you had just gotten out of bed.

Rindou and Ran had seen you like this before. But sanzu couldn’t help but stare. He had never seen you before in his life. You were beautiful, your hair in a messy bun and strands of it adorning your face, your pretty freckles and your rosy lips. You were just perfect. But what surprised him the most was when he looked down at your belly. You were pregnant. But who the hell were you?

“What the actual fu-“ he started, but you interrupted him.

“You’re bleeding” was the only thing you said, walking towards Rindou and examining his arm.

They were all so surprised and nervous to see you that they almost forgot why they were there.

“It’s not mine. I’m fine, okay?” He said looking for your eyes, putting his hand on your cheek.

“Hey princess” said Ran. You smiled at him, and couldn’t help but look at Sanzu and the man he was holding. He looked bad. “We might need your help.”

“I’ll explain everything” said Rindou.

You nodded and entered the house with everyone following you.

“Make yourselves at home, and I’m sorry for the mess. I fell asleep while baby proofing the house.” You said, while taking the tools away, so they all could sit and relax.

Sanzu layed Mikey down on the couch and made sure he was still okay. His stitches were miraculously still okay and he was still breathing. But he couldn’t help but stare at you. There was certain tension in the room.

“Oi, shithead, stop staring or I’ll take your eyes out” suddenly said Rindou, walking towards you, placing a hand on your lower back and the other on your belly.

Ran laughed and you only smiled, handing out a hand for Sanzu to shake.

“Y/n L/n. Nice to meet you.” You said.

Sanzu was so surprised that he couldn’t help but shake your hand too.

“Sanzu Haruchiyo.” Was all he said.

“Now that we all know each other, would you all like some tea?” Ran accepted your offer and you went to the kitchen, followed by Rindou.

After you were gone, Sanzu finally could talk.

“What the actual fuck? Rindou? With her? And- and- a baby?” He blurted out all at once.

“Yup” was all that Ran said, laughing at him.

“Huh, who would’ve thought that asshole could pull someone like that” he said resting his head on the back of the couch, trying to make sense of everything he just witnessed.

In the kitchen, you were trying to make some tea, feeling Rindou’s presence at the counter. He still couldn’t speak.

“Are you okay?” You asked him.

“I’m sorry.” Was all he said.

You walked towards him and put a hand on his cheek, looking at him in the eye.

“It’s okay” you responded, pressing your forehead against his.

“No it’s not, I don’t wanna put you in danger.”

“You can take care of us, I know you can.” You tried to calm him down.

“We just need a place to stay for the night, I promise I will never bring someone else here.”

“This is your home too, we will be okay, you can stay and they can stay too. I can take care of myself, you know.”

Rindou kissed you, it was a sweet kiss.

“How’s our babygirl doing?” He said, caressing your belly.

“She’s a pain in the ass, just like her father” you said laughing. “Now let’s go back before that friend of yours loses his mind.”

“Too late for that” said Rindou.

“So, miss L/n. Care to explain how you know our dear Rin rin?” Asked Sanzu with a smile.

“Shut the fuck up, you psycho” snapped Rindou.

“Don’t be so rude, Rin rin” you said, mocking the nickname. “Well, mister Sanzu, we actually meet at an illegal car race, he saved me from getting robbed.” You replied laughing.

“Interesting woman.” Sanzu said.

It was true though. Your friend had dragged you to a race where a “friend” was going to participate. You looked so innocent but at the same time so relaxed that Rindou couldn’t help but stare at you. One thing led to another and he ended up saving your purse from being stolen. And now you were here, pregnant with his baby.

“And how far along are you, may I ask?” He continued.

“23 weeks, actually. Thanks for asking.” You responded.

“I can’t believe our little Rindou here is gonna be a father.”

“Okay, enough with the questions.” Rindou couldn’t help but interrupt. “Y/n, to our room.” He said without looking at you.

You looked at him, raising your eyebrow. He noticed this.

“Please.” Was all he said.

You knew he wasn’t happy so you decided to obey.

“Gentlemen.” You said, walking to your room.

“Goodnight dear.” Said Ran.

Once you were gone, Rindou walked towards Sanzu.

“Okay now you little shit, we’re gonna stay here for tonight. Only tonight. When we’re gone, you’re gonna forget this place. You’re gonna forget she even exists, she’s won’t ever get involved with you or any of this.” He said. “Understood?”

“Now now, Haitani.” Said Sanzu, raising his hands, with a smug smile on his face. “Calm down. I won’t do nothing to her, I like her actually.”

“If you ever lay a hand on her, we will kill you.” Now spoke Ran.

Sanzu didn’t say another word, just smiled and nodded.

Rindou walked to your room. Like hell he was gonna let you sleep alone with that psychopath in his house. You were already asleep. The pregnancy made you extremely sleepy sometimes and it was past your bedtime.

Rindou layed down next to you and fell asleep with a hand on your belly.

The 4 men left first time in the morning.

“Sleep well darling, I’ll be back later today.” Rindou whispered to you, since you were still half asleep. “I love you.”

“Love you too.” You said when he left.

“Congratulations.” Said Sanzu when they were walking towards their cars.

“What?” Asked Rindou, unsure on what he was talking about.

“For your baby, congratulations.” He replied, in a more serious tone. “I didn’t say that before.”

“Thank you.” Was all Rindou could say. He knew Sanzu was never going to say something about you to anyone.

If anything, Sanzu was loyal. And he knew how much you meant to Rindou. And who knows? Maybe your baby could actually grow up with a family.

#tokrev rindou #rindou headcanons #rindou x you #tr rindou #bonten rindou #rindou x reader #tokyo revengers rindou #rindou haitani #rindou x y/n #haitani brothers #ran haitani #haitani rindou x reader #haitani x reader #haitani rindou imagines #haitani rindou headcanons #tokyo revengers #bonten

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moondirti · 28 days

Note

Your ghostsoap x preg!reader!!??? I'm in love I need more of this. You have more thoughts for that universe? I just fell in love with your writing.

Let me camp in this corner of your blog, I'm friendly and don't bite (⁠~⁠￣⁠³⁠￣⁠)⁠~

they're all i've been able to think about all day. of course i have more to say <3 if you're curious, anon is referring to this, which should be read before this part.

tags: DARK FIC. manipulation. vehicle tampering. planned abduction. pregnant fem!reader. established ghostsoap – who are not the fathers but would definitely like to be. mentions of somnophilia

Delusional as they might be, it's hard to justify something as egregious as blunt-force kidnapping. Though it briefly occurs to Simon – to pluck you from the parking lot and drive off the hour after they decide to keep you – the logistics don't iron out. Of chief concern, you're six months pregnant. What they'd typically use for POW's thus become's inconsiderable for you; Johnny's the wiz, but even he knows the effects chloroform can have on a foetus. The alternative isn't any better, either – his partner just balks at the idea of tying you up and throwing you in the trunk. (She'll never git ower it, Si. Dae ye want her tae hate us?)

So, things unfold in a far subtler manner.

They go home that night they first meet you. Can't coordinate without resting on it, they rationalise, without scoping their place to assure it's suitable for their soon-to-be-mother. They tuck away the knives laying on random countertops, air out the quilts gifted to them by Johnny's ma in an attempt to make their room cozier. And when they sleep, they dream of you tucked in between them, knocked out, sex-drunk. Dressed in nothing but a shirt, cunt bared for either of them to toy with throughout the night.

Hours upon hours later, well into noon the next day, Simon wakes to find his boy rutting into his thigh, still somewhat comatose, and sneaks a rough hand into his boxers to tug the tension out of the poor thing. They only get up as the fissures of dusk begin to spread across the sky, loading their car with a toolbox and making the drive back to The Dahlia, staking out in the parking lot as they wait for you to arrive for your shift.

(Johnny had deployed the old charm as you brought out their food in two baggies last night, disguising the trap with a lilting laugh as he audibly wondered why you picked up such a late shift.

You’d only shrugged and said you preferred to work nights.)

Sure enough, you pull up in a beat-up Kia at 2200, fussing with your bag as you stumble to the back entrance of the roadhouse.

"Forgot to lock it." He mutters, following your form until it disappears from view. Johnny only frowns, tightening his fingers over his thumb. A little nervous tick.

"Should we be doin' this?"

"And what is this?" Simon turns to appraise the scotsman, larger hand enveloping his, calloused fingertips smoothing over scarred knuckles. "Y'think they'd be kinder to 'er? The type of scum we know grace this earth? It's a wonder she made i' this far, Johnny."

He isn't convinced.

"Look a' me." Blue eyes widen to meet his, dark as their owner battles intuitions that have always been straighter than the Ghosts'. "Wanna give 'er a good life, yeah?"

"Aye. The best."

"Would she be so convinced?" But he knows the answer. They both saw the way you withdrew after being hit on, losing the effusiveness you initially greeted them with. Avoidant. Classic case of hyper-competency, perhaps the very reason you put up with such shitty circumstances to begin with. A stubborn knot they'll have to undo themselves.

And Johnny likes the challenge.

"Lass's got something tae prove." Moments pass in silence. Then: "Ah’ll get th' wire."

"Atta' boy."

They only enter the establishment an hour before the end of your shift. It’s 0600 and space is sleepy. At a point that had escaped their notice, someone had made the choice to shut the overhead fluorescents, and so all that functions to illuminate the dinette is the pale dawn outside. Johnny finds he prefers it like this, grumbling a tired endorsement, before branching off in search of the bathroom, hand rubbing the sore column of his throat.

The softening mass in his pants jumps once Simon catches sight of you, balancing two trays in one hand as you wipe down the serving hatch. He doesn’t need to say anything. You catch the dark blur of him in the corner of your eye, shuffling into a booth, where he occupies an entire side with the mere spread of his legs.

“Hello again. Just you today?” You’re twirling your pen, cradling your belly, and he notes the perpetual shadow cast under your eyes. Poor pet.

He shakes his head, then cocks it toward the loo. “Think he’ll have a go at the toastie today.”

“Good choice. Hard to fuck up.” You give him a tired smile. “And for you?”

“M’good.”

“You sure? Look like you’ve been on the road again, and-" You pause, the water of your eyes rippling as you appraise his mask. Something seems to click just then, because you nod and tuck your notepad away. “I’ll ask again at the end. Maybe you’ll want something to-go.”

In the end, they do take something to go.

Not as greasy as the toastie Johnny spends the hour tearing into, glossing the pads of his fingers with oil. Nor as sour as the coffee he sipped on last night, burnt and way past freshness, just like you’d warned them about. But a much, much sweeter keepsake. Something that’ll sate them for much longer.

You’ve already clocked out once they leave The Dahlia, faces grim but as innocent as they can possibly muster. Sure enough, you’re out standing by your car, wiping tears with the back of your hand. They’re close enough that they can catch snippets of your conversation on the phone (No, I don’t– and It is old but never–).

They wait until you grow desperate, hiccuping – Don’t have that kind of money. Please – before intervening.

“Hey. What’s the matter, hen?” Johnny approaches first, concern no faux thing, smoothing a hand down your arm. What Simon said earlier comes back around (Wanna give 'er a good life?) and his chest tightens at the sheer despair he sees etched across your face. You shouldn’t be this stressed about anything this far along, should have someone taking care of you.

He, they, can be that for you. Could give you everything you ask for and more.

“M-my car. I-I don’t– I don’t know what’s wr-wrong with it, and–”

“Shhh, issalright. Not starting, eh?”

“No. And I have to- to get home before… before–”

Simon steps in, crowding you against the side of your car. You don’t have it in you to look for the red flags; the glances they throw one another, the subtle crinkle in the masked one’s eyes as he smiles. No, you don’t– can’t consider it dangerous. Not when these two wonderfully kind men, who tipped you 100% of their bill both times they came in, are one of your only means of getting help.

“Where do you live? We’ll drive ya if it’s on our way.” A lie. They’ll drive you regardless, and you won’t be taken home.

“Oh- no. That’s okay, really. I’ll just a-ask my boss if I can get a sub on my pay, and–”

Johnny smooths a finger across your cheek.

“Nonsense, hen. It’ll be a skoosh.”

next part

#༄dee answers #ive got a massive headache this is probably the worst thing ive ever written #simon ‘ghost’ riley x reader x Johnny ‘soap’ mactavish #johnny ‘soap’ mactavish #simon ‘ghost’ riley #ghostsoap #ghoap #x reader #ghost #soap #cod #call of duty #simon riley #john mactavish #x female reader

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ddejavvu · 5 months

Note

hi mei! i absolutely love your stories! you’re a really great writer 🥰

i was wondering if u’d be interested in doing a hotch drabble about him with a s/o who seems really intimidating but is actually really soft and sweet?

like maybe it’s her appearance that makes the team intimidated by her—edgy clothing and dark makeup and stuff—when she shows up to hang out with hotch on his lunch breaks. and she’s like ‘i feel like your team doesn’t like me :(‘ and he’s like ‘honey, they’re borderline scared of you’ but it’s fluffy.

if you don’t wanna that’s totally okay! i did a bad job explaining but i’m sure you’d do an amazing job :)

love ya!! hope ur having a good day

Aaron loves when you visit him at the office for lunch, but you don't look like you're in high spirits yourself. When you sit down its with a huff and a hiss of the chair accommodating your weight, only adding to your dramatics.

"This might be my career in profiling speaking," Aaron begins, his voice soft in case something is terribly wrong, "But something tells me you're not having a good day, sweetheart."

"You're good," You tease him, and he wishes you could laugh about it together, "Aaron, I think Doctor Reid is afraid of me."

Aaron has to bite his tongue not to laugh. Doctor Reid is afraid of buffets, he thinks, but it's not an abundance of germs that unnerves Spencer about you, it's- well, it's everything he knows about you.

"Honey," Aaron calls upon that sweet tone again, "He doesn't know you very well."

"You didn't deny it!" You groan, falling back into your chair and abandoning your soup on his desk, "I knew it. What did I do?"

Aaron looks into your eyes, black-lined and sharp. He watches you chew on your cheek, your black-stained lips moved by the nervous quirk. Below your tense jaw is a chain that rests against your neck, not a full choker but not loose, either. It nearly disappears into the hem of your jacket, black leather that falls over a rather graphic old band tee.

"It's not what you've done," Aaron explains tentatively, "It's probably- well, how you look."

Your nose scrunches, and Aaron marvels the fact that you seem to have forgotten your appearance, "How do I look?"

"Like a doberman pinscher in human form," Aaron bites off a corner of his sandwich, chewing it in lieu of pressing the matter further.

"I like dobermans." You supply weakly, "Why is he afraid of me?"

"You're just not what he's used to," Aaron sighs, swallowing his mouthful and leaning across the desk, hand outstretched, "He probably thinks you could dismember him with those nails."

You place your palm in Aaron's own, and he flips your hand around to showcase the rather impressively sharp acrylics you're sporting.

"And your boots are heavier than he is, I guarantee it," Aaron nods down at your thick-soled black boots, ones that give away your entrance from a mile away by the sound of their rubber hitting the ground.

"He's just..." Aaron searches for the right word, trying not to disparage you or Reid, "Skittish. You should talk to him, though, honey. He likes science, and literature, and Star Trek. Pick something from one of those categories, and I promise he'll never stop talking to you for the rest of your life."

You're mostly satisfied, but you let your hand rest in Aaron's for a moment longer, and he'd be a fool to drop it.

"Am I scary, Aaron?" You ask earnestly, and his smile is warm as he brings your hand to his mouth to kiss at your knuckles.

"Not to me. And not to anyone who knows you," He promises, "But... it is nice to not have to worry about carrying a gun when we go out together."

"Aaron!" You laugh, "I'm not a weapon!"

"You could be!" Aaron insists, tugging your hand over to his lunch and dragging your fingernail across his sandwich, "Here, honey, cut it for me, would you? They forgot to give us knives."

"Stop!" You insist, but your laughter gives you away as you turn back to your soup with burning cheeks, "Just you wait, Aaron. As soon as Penelope stops running whenever I enter a room, we're gonna talk shit about you for this."

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner scenario #aaron hotchner oneshot #aaron hotchner one-shot #aaron hotchner one shot #aaron hotchner headcanons #aaron hotchner headcanon #aaron hotchner hc #aaron hotchner hcs #aaron hotchner fanfiction #aaron hotchner fanfic #aaron hotchner fic #aaron hotchner blurb #aaron hotchner drabble #aaron hotchner dialogue #aaron hotchner fluff #aaron hotchner x reader fanfiction

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