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burntoutdaydreamer · 7 months

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Weird Brain Hacks That Help Me Write

I'm a consistently inconsistent writer/aspiring novelist, member of the burnt-out-gifted-kid-to-adult-ADHD-diagnosis-pipeline, recently unemployed overachiever, and person who's sick of hearing the conventional neurotypical advice to dealing with writer's block (i.e. "write every single day," or "there's no such thing as writer's block- if you're struggling to write, just write" Like F*CK THAT. Thank you, Brenda, why don't you go and tell someone with diabetes to just start producing more insulin?)

I've yet to get to a point in my life where I'm able to consistently write at the pace I want to, but I've come a long way from where I was a few years ago. In the past five years I've written two drafts of a 130,000 word fantasy novel (currently working on the third) and I'm about 50,000 words in on the sequel. I've hit a bit of a snag recently, but now that I've suddenly got a lot of time on my hands, I'm hoping to revamp things and return to the basics that have gotten me to this point and I thought I might share.

1) My first draft stays between me and God

I find that I and a lot of other writers unfortunately have gotten it into our heads that first drafts are supposed to resemble the finished product and that revisions are only for fixing minor mistakes. Therefore, if our first draft sucks that must mean we suck as writers and having to rewrite things from scratch means that means our first draft is a failure.

I'm here to say that is one of the most detrimental mentalities you can have as a writer.

Ever try drawing a circle? You know how when you try to free-hand draw a perfect circle in one go, it never turns out right? Whereas if you scribble, say, ten circles on top of one another really quickly and then erase the messy lines until it looks like you drew a circle with a singular line, it ends up looking pretty decent?

Yeah. That's what the drafting process is.

Your first draft is supposed to suck. I don't care who you are, but you're never going to write a perfect first draft, especially if you're inexperienced. The purpose of the first draft is to lay down a semi-workable foundation. A really loose, messy sketch if you will. Get it all down on paper, even if it turns out to be the most cliche, cringe-inducing writing you've ever done. You can work out those kinks in the later drafts. The hardest part of the first draft is the most crucial part: getting started. Don't stress yourself out and make it even harder than it already is.

If that means making a promise to yourself that no one other than you will ever read your first draft unless it's over your cold, dead body, so be it.

2) Tell perfectionism to screw off by writing with a pen

I used to exclusively write with pencil until I realized I was spending more time erasing instead of writing.

Writing with a pen keeps me from editing while I right. Like, sometimes I'll have to cross something out or make notes in the margins, but unlike erasing and rewriting, this leaves the page looking like a disaster zone and that's a good thing.

If my writing looks like a complete mess on paper, that helps me move past the perfectionist paralysis and just focus on getting words down on the page. Somehow seeing a page full of chicken scratch makes me less worried about making my writing all perfect and pretty- and that helps me get on with my main goal of fleshing out ideas and getting words on a page.

3) It's okay to leave things blank when you can't think of the right word

My writing, especially my first draft, is often filled with ___ and .... and (insert name here) and red text that reads like stage directions because I can't think of what is supposed to go there or the correct way to write it.

I found it helps to treat my writing like I do multiple choice tests. Can't think of the right answer? Just skip it. Circle it, come back to it later, but don't let one tricky question stall you to the point where you run out of brain power or run out of time to answer the other questions.

If I'm on a role, I'm not gonna waste it by trying to remember that exact word that I need or figure out the right transition into the next scene or paragraph. I'm just going to leave it blank, mark to myself that I'll need to fix the problem later, and move on.

Trust me. This helps me sooooo much with staying on a roll.

4) Write Out of Order

This may not be for everyone, but it works wonders for me.

Sure, the story your writing may need to progress chronologically, but does that mean you need to write it chronologically? No. It just needs to be written.

I generally don't do this as much for editing, but for writing, so long as you're making progress, it doesn't matter if it's in the right order. Can't think of how to structure Chapter 2, but you have a pretty good idea of how your story's going to end? Write the ending then. You'll have to go back and write Chapter 2 eventually, but if you're feeling more motivated to write a completely different part of the book, who's to say you can't do that?

When I'm working on a project, I start off with a single document that I title "Scrap for (Project Title)" and then just write whatever comes to mind, in whatever order. Once I've gotten enough to work with, then I start outlining my plot and predicting how many chapters I'm going to need. Then, I create separate google docs for each individual chapter and work on them in whatever order I feel like, often leaving several partially complete as I jump from one to the other. Then, as each one gets finished, I copy and paste the chapter into the full manuscript document. This means that the official "draft" could have Chapters 1 and 9, but completely be missing Chapters 2-8, and that's fine. It's not like anyone will ever know once I finish it.

Sorry for the absurdly long post. Hopes this helps someone. Maybe I'll share more tricks in the future.

#writing #creative writing #writerscommunity #writers on tumblr #writing tips #writing advice #writers block #novel writing #fiction writing #writer #writers of tumblr

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arminsumi · 5 months

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S. GOJO ★ DID YOU KNOW THAT YOU'RE IN MY FANTASIES?

Pairing : fem reader / teacher!Gojo

Synopsis : Gojo j*rking off to fantasies of you until eventually the two of you do it together on a phone call.

Warnings/tags : 🔞 smut, solo male m*sturbation, p*rnstar fantasy, d!ck visuals, big d!ck Gojo, risky m*sturbation (office), slight perv behavior, toys, breeding kink, use of sl*t, dirty talk, m*sturbating on phone call, pillow humping, mutual m*sturbation, phone sex

Note : lol this is the post that got accidentally published once. i hate tumblr mobile!! 😿 i still want to edit the original bc it has some juicy stuff. but i put some of it into this 😈

Library | Gojo

The first time he does it, he doesn't actually realize that he's fantasizing about you. You enter his mind randomly one night as he winds down after a long day of teaching. He naturally slides his hands down his pants.

Satoru starts massaging his growing hard-on through the fabric. His big hand wraps around the veiny shaft and he gives it a few squeezes, sighing at the sensation.

Satoru hastily unbuckles his belt and slides it off with a whip-like snap, pale veiny hands rolling it neatly before setting it down on the table besides his bed. Those pale veiny hands quickly push down the hem of his pants and grab the base of his stiff cock.

He starts stroking it slowly up and down, with his eyes closed in relaxation and his other hand snuggled behind his head.

Jerking off leisurely, not rushing at all, just enjoying how it feels to pleasure himself with his own hand.

He pictures you naked. It's just a brief thought. He grumbles at himself and shakes the image out of his mind, as if he was indulging in a taboo act.

You're the teacher he works alongside. Every day you greet him with that sweet smile and kind voice that makes his heart tick. You're so innocent and untainted, he holds back from imagining you lewdly even though he really wants to.

He bites his lip at the thought of you.

Today was hard for him, you know, because your tight uniform seemed... especially tight. He commented on it in the afternoon, of course very subtly;

"Nice tits." he flirted jokingly. But his eyes were glued to your breasts like he'd never seen a pair before.

"Thanks. My uniform shrunk in the wash." you giggled in response.

"Ah, I see." he nodded understandingly, gulping when you bent over to pick something up — even if you tried to keep your skirt down, it still rose up your thighs just enough for him to find out that you wore a G-string.

The image of your body is stuck in his head now, when he's all alone in his king-sized bed.

It makes him cum. And he cums gently, letting out a barely audible grunt of breath while it dribbles out of his cockhole and runs down his shaft.

He swipes some cum off the underside of his cock and sucks it off his finger, tasting himself. Then he falls asleep like a baby, not thinking too deeply on the fact that he came to the thought of you.

****

The next few times get more and more intense.

His cock feels so much better when you're on his mind. Even when he's in a risky setting... like his office.

Though no one would dare to walk into Gojo Satoru's office without permission, there's still the risk that you could just burst into the room — maybe to complain about him slacking off.

He thinks about the risk, and it turns him on more... his cock twitches at the fantasy of you walking in on him stroking his big cock while sat in his office, long legs spread wide and head tilted back in ecstasy.

You'd find out the obvious but dirty fact that even Gojo Satoru needs to let off steam every now and then. He's not just a teacher all the time, he's also a frustratedly horny man.

Satoru squeezes the tip of his cock and clenches his jaw.

The angry veins decorating his shaft are all raised. His cock pulses harder at the thought of you walking through his office doors — he'd love to see your reaction. Would your mouth drop open? You'd find out just how huge his cock is. Would you offer to help? Nah, that only happens in porn, right? He keeps fantasizing about the scenario as if you and him are two pornstars on set.

In this fantasy, you're just sooo shocked and thirsty for Gojo Satoru's big cock, you can't help but ride him in his office even though you risk the whole school hearing the skin slapping and moans.

He pumps his fist up and down his cock faster. You know, originally he intended to nap — he rarely gets any sleep because of much he's needed in the Jujutsu world. But for some reason, after passing you by in the corridors, he got an angry boner that just wouldn't go away.

Working up a sweat under his black uniform, Satoru slumps down in the chair while totally getting lost in his pornstar fantasy of you. He gets too hot so he splits open his jacket and unbuttons his expensive shirt until his abs are exposed. It's funny, he's slowly turning into a performer... and all he's doing is just jerking off alone for himself.

"Fuck." he mutters under his breath.

He orgasms so hard while thinking of you deepthroating him that his toes curl — that never happens. Cum splatters on his abs and he breathes heavily.

You knock on the door and he gets shocked out of his skull.

"Gojo? I have those files you requested." you spoke through the door, "Can I come in?"

"Shit uh, wait! Just give me a second!" he yells, hurryingly cleaning his cum off his abs with a tissue.

He hastily discards the tissue, and buttons up his shirt, leaving a slit of his chest exposed to catch your eye, and calls for you, "Come in."

You swish your hips when you walk in, and it drives him nuts. He acts ordinarily, like he wasn't just getting off to a wild fantasy of you, his co-worker.

"Here they are." you say, and set the files down on his desk.

"Thanks." he stares at you hard.

You'd look so good bent over my desk.

"Gojo?"

"Yup?"

"You look flushed, do you have a fever?" you ask innocently.

He swallows and replies shakily, "Nah, I'm good. I was just... doing push-ups."

"In your... office? Fully clothed?" you eye him out confusedly.

He makes a cute, dumb face and shrugs his shoulders.

****

Satoru's made jerking off part of his nightly routine. It helps him sleep. And he also can't help himself; you're more in his life now than ever, he keeps your company often and his feelings are growing quick.

He's laid in bed.

His lips part erotically and his legs tremble as he furiously jerks off. Suddenly, he shoots forward and groans "Fuck!", cumming hard all over his crotch.

Satoru's cock doesn't want him to sleep tonight. It stands up again a few minutes after he cleans up his cum and rolls onto his side to sleep. He grumbles and tosses around, hoping his boner will go away.

But it doesn't.

So he starts grinding his cock into the bed, whimpering your name into his pillow. Why is he whimpering your name? And why can't he stop himself?

He scrunches up the duvet and humps it, ass muscles tensing with each rough thrust. The friction isn't enough, he starts stroking it with his hand.

But even that isn't satisfying enough.

I need a fleshlight so bad.

He squeezes his cock tight, massages his fat balls, switches hands even, does everything he can. But his cock is needy for more and his orgasm refuses to come along.

Satoru grumbles and stops, glaring up at the ceiling for a good long while before coming up with an idea.

He props a pillow and buries his heavy cock into it. Then he plants two big hands on it, grabbing it as if it's your hips, and thrusts his greedy cock back and forth.

The bed squeaks under the force of the Strongest's hard thrusts. He fucks the pillow and talks dirty to it in his mind, pretending it's you.

"Just let me have your pussy, please."

"You wanna have my babies? Of course you do. Slut."

"That's it, lay there and let me knock you up."

The thought of you squeezing his muscular biceps in your tiny hands is what makes him cum. He groans and clenches his teeth, jawline becoming super defined as he cums into the crinkled up pillow. His gooey cum spills out and stains the fabric.

He gets hit with a wave of post-nut clarity. "What the fuck..." he pushes his hair out of his eyes.

His forehead is sweaty, his chest is heaving, and he feels so guilty for getting off to you again.

****

So Gojo Satoru bought a fleshlight after that frustrating night. He rushed to leave work early, so you caught him.

"Don't be lazy, 'Toru." you frowned, "You're really gonna let me finish this paperwork all by myself?"

The doe eyes you gave him stuck in his mind. All he replied with was a suspicious chuckle and a lame excuse.

"I'm so tired, gimme a break just this once, please?" he pleaded, feeling his blood rush south. You looked especially good.

"Alright, fine then. Get some rest, okay?" you said caringly, letting him off.

He squeezes his cock into the pocket pussy and pumps it up and down quick, relishing in the sound of lube squelching.

The toy is too small for his big cock, but he likes that. It makes him think about how tight you'd be — oh damn it, there he goes again thinking of you when he really shouldn't be.

"I know it's too big, baby, but take it please..." he's dirty talking to you in his mind.

Satoru's got an unsuspecting kinky side to his personality, and it really shows as he fucks his toy. His heavy balls slap against the silicone, causing lube to squirt out.

He momentarily stills inside to suck the sticky cherry lube off his finger, imagining it's your juices. Thinking of how you taste makes his cock twitch, and he starts up with his pounding thrusts again, grunting under his breath and clenching his jaw.

Satoru's got an awful breeding kink. He once told you at a Christmas party that he hoped to start a family one day. Now suddenly as his orgasm works up with each thrust, he thinks back on your response;

"Me too, I'd love to have a big family."

He groans and twists your words in his fantasy; "Cum inside me, Satoru! Gimme your babies!"

"Fuck." he hisses, cumming hard inside the fleshlight.

Once isn't enough, he keeps filling it until he works up a sweat and his cock tires out.

After cleaning his cum out the toy, he washes his face in the bathroom and leans over the sink, shaking his head at himself for thinking of you saying such lewd things.

****

Fact: Satoru sleeps naked.

When passing the mirror in the mornings, he rubs his eyes and takes a moment to check himself out. He flexes his abs, and then a raunchy fantasy brews in his mind;

What if she rode my abs? Could I make her cum like that.

"Oh my god." he mutters out loud, rubbing his face in annoyance at his own horniness.

He slides on his sweatpants without underwear — cock too big, you know, gotta let it breathe without underwear. And he goes to the kitchen to make an super-sweetened coffee.

But his boner is annoying him. It stands up, making a bulging tent out of his sporty sweatpants.

Abandoning his coffee, Satoru gets his fleshlight and tapes it to the kitchen countertop, and squirts lube into it until it oozes out. He likes it sloppy.

Still thinking hard about the fantasy of you riding his abs, he lubes his abs up and caresses them slowly, feeling up and down his chest and tweaking his pink nipples for a bit before paying his cock attention.

"That's it, ride my abs. I know you like them."

He'd love to see you humping on his stomach like it's your pillow. As he slides into the fleshlight and slowly pumps in and out of it, he wonders how you touch yourself. Do you use toys, or your fingers? Do you take your time?

Pressing his two palms flat on the kitchen countertop, Satoru starts fucking the fleshlight harder and harder until the squelching sound is loud enough to reach his ears.

He's starting to think more deeply about you — how soft and warm your cunt must feel. How it would squish under the weight of his heavy cock. He'd definitely slap his cock onto your tummy to show you how much cock you were about to take inside.

Without thinking, he brokenly moans your name as he cums hard.

****

One night, you're on a call with Satoru. He lays back on his bed, long legs stretched out. Even though you're talking business stuff, the sound of your voice gets him hard and he rolls over — soft grunts carry through the phone to you.

"What are you doing?"

"Nothing. Moving around. You were saying?"

As you keep talking, Satoru starts subconsciously humping his pillow.

"Ugh, fuck..."

"What was that?"

"Sorry, got a cramp." he lies, sensitive cock twitching against the pillow.

He humps it harder and harder, sometimes slowing or stopping to reply to something you say.

"Are you okay? You sound like you're breathing heavily."

"Yeah, just... working out."

"... what's with you and working out so often? Didn't you work out in your office the other day? Freak." you giggle.

Your giggle makes his dick throb. He smiles guiltily.

"I've just been enjoying myself lately... um, with exercising." he speaks, voice sounding oddly sultry.

He keeps sliding his cock back and forth on the pillow. You return to the previous topic of grading problems, and he listens intently.

"What do you think, Satoru?"

He lets out a squeaky grunt that could easily be excused as one of those noises you make during exercise.

"Couldn't hear you, c-can you repeat that?"

"(blablablagradingsomethingsomething) Satoru." he hears you say his name at the end again and it brings his orgasm closer.

He nearly chokes as he swallows. "Yeahhh that sounds g-good... so good. Ugh, fuck."

"Satoru?"

He cums so hard hearing you call his name. As his cum spurts out, he pretends like nothing's happening and keeps talking to you in a shaky voice. A few seconds pass and he speaks a little more normally.

"Must be some work out routine to make you swear like that." you joke, voice suggesting that you knew exactly what he just did.

"Uh... y-yeah." he acts a fool. His face burns red hot realizing that he just possibly fucked up big time.

"Well, you're probably all sweaty and gross. Why don't you go shower and I'll call you back?" you suggest.

His heart beats hard and he cringes at himself. "Yeah, I think I'll go do that..." he looks down at his cum staining pillow. "... wish you could join me." he mutters under his breath.

"Wow," you giggle. "I didn't think you liked me in that way."

He grins, cheek squishing against his phone screen. "Sorry for being a perv."

"Not at all. I like the attention you give me."

His heart flutters. Well since the mood is set, he thinks, maybe he should prod and see how far he can take this.

"Do you think of me when you're alone in bed?" he asks.

When you hesitate to reply, he gets a little nervous.

"More than I'm willing to admit." you reply.

He smirks. "Oh yeah?" he flusters you with his deepened voice. "What do you fantasize about?"

"Mmm, come find out." you tease.

His boner is sticking up, begging for some relief.

"... I'm hard."

"Yeah, I'm wet."

"Uh... do you mind if I...?"

"Exercise?" you joke.

He giggles guiltily, "Yeah."

"... why don't we do it together?"

He widens his eyes and blanks for a second.

"You wanna touch yourself with me?" he asks in disbelief.

"I am already." you reply.

He chokes up, "Oh."

"So... what exactly were you doing earlier?" you ask suggestively, rubbing yourself through your panties slowly.

Satoru hums, "You wanna know my exercise routine?"

"Haha, yeah..."

"... I was just fucking my pillow. I never usually do that unless I'm really sensitive."

"Oh, so my voice got you sensitive?" you tease.

"Maybe." he replies breathily.

Precum beads out of the tip of his cock, enough to make a squelching sound as he jerks his hand only up and down the first few inches of his cock.

"... are you going fast or slow?" you ask.

"Kinda fast..."

"... okay, then I'll go faster, too."

Satoru listens intently, desperate to hear you moan. When he puts you on speaker, he can hear how wet you are.

"A-are you using a toy?" he asks, hearing some sort of thrusting action through the phone.

"Yeah... I'm trying to hit my G-spot but it's hard. Wish you could come help me." you pout and he can hear that cute pout.

"Shit, I'd love to. H-hold on a minute, will ya sweetheart? I wanna use my toy too. Keep touching yourself, don't stop."

Satoru hears your soft noises as he reaches over into his bed-side table drawer to fish out his toy and lube.

He hastily lubes up the fleshlight and slides into it. "Fuck..."

Biting on the hem of his shirt, Satoru exposes his flexing abs as he fucks his fleshlight loud enough for you to hear. He lazily tugs his shirt off with one hand, never stopping his thrusts.

"Satoru, I'm really close already..."

"I-it's okay. I can cum q-quick if you just say my name."

You can hear him pounding into the toy harder when you start moaning his name. All he needs to tip over is for you to announce your orgasm, and then he lets out a low growl and rolls his eyes back, releasing a hot load of cum.

His balls are squished up against the entrance of the toy as he stuffs every inch inside. And then oops, the poor toy breaks.

"Haha, fuck." you hear him

You ease out of your orgasm state and come back to reality. Oh, did you just have phone sex with Gojo Satoru?

"What happened?" you ask.

"I broke my toy." he replies smugly.

You laugh, "Oh, that's unfortunate." you say, "Well, if you need a new toy come pick me up tomorrow and take me out on a date."

"Wow."

I do not permit the copying/reposting/translation/plagiarism of my works. Do not steal what I've worked hard to create.

This is fictional work.

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bratbby333 · 1 month

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choso kamo — the boy next door

synopsis you were completely oblivious to his inner turmoil. but choso liked it that way. cw nsfw, stalking, somnophilia, voyeurism, overstimulation, dirty talk, cream pie wc 4.1k

author note i received three separate requests for pervy!choso, dom!choso, and boynextdoor!choso so i decided to combine them into one story to celebrate hitting 250 followers! eeek i love y'all so much, i hope this scratches the right itch in y'alls brains ♡ proofread and edited up by my favorite person in the known cosmos: @remlionheart *+:｡.｡ thank you for pushing me to finish this

Choso was a constant fixture in your life. For as long as you could remember, it was always you and him. His house neighbored yours and your families had become close over the past fifteen years. Your childhoods were intertwined, filled with joint pool parties, barbecues, and movie nights. The two of you even shared a babysitter when your parents would go out on double dates. You carpooled to school, played in the cul-de-sac until the streetlamps came on, snuck through each other's windows when your parents thought you were sleeping; inseparable. You guys even ended up at the same university after graduating high school. You were finally home for the summer and you couldn’t wait to spend time with your best friend, uninterrupted by the hecticness of college.

A brisk knock resonated through your home, the door answered by your mother.

“Hey! It’s so nice to see you again,” Choso grinned, nodding gently as he stepped into your foyer. You perked up at the sound of his voice echoing through your house. It was difficult to see one another as much as you had wanted this semester; you both explored different hobbies and found separate friend groups while in college, but you always made sure to find the time. You hadn’t seen him in a few weeks, though; the stress of final exams kept the two of you apart. It had been far too long.

“How have you been, honey? How was your semester?” your mother chirped as she engulfed him in a quick embrace. The two of them shared genial words as they caught up with one another. They continued to chat before being interrupted by the heavy sounds of your excited feet thumping down the staircase. He turned to greet you, only to be entrapped in a bearhug, the momentum pushed his body into the wall behind him.

“Choso! Missed you so much,” you squealed, voice muffled as you buried your face into his chest. You breathed him in, the familiar scent of his cologne dancing through your nose. His cheek found the top of your head as his warm hands rubbed gentle circles into your back, rocking you side to side. Your mother smiled with adoration at the two of you. He squeezed you tight before he pulled away, peering down at you. You noticed a light dusting of pink that surfaced on his skin as you looked up at him, but chalked it up to the sweltered heat of summertime.

“I missed you too, sweetheart,” he replied before returning his gaze to your mother while still holding on to you. ”Exams were tough but I’m happy that it’s finally over,” he added.

His attention fell back to you as his hands rubbed against your arms, “But, I’m all yours for the summer!”

*ੈ ✩‧₊˚

You sat next to him on the floor, backs pressed against the foot of your bed. The two of you shared a pizza as a silly rom-com played on your TV. You took turns catching up on each other’s lives while the film faded into background noise. You felt renewed in his presence, the youthful glow of his features reminded you of how he was when he was younger. But your chest began to ache as you thought about how the time you spent with one another would become harder and harder to come by. The conversation lulled a bit, and you willed yourself to voice your concerns to Choso.

“Sometimes I wish we could go back to how things were,” you blurted, hands fidgeting with the pizza box. Choso quirked his eyebrow at the statement. You met his gaze, smiling softly, bringing your knees to your chest. You sighed deeply. Being away from him hurt more than you thought it would, and you never recognized how much you needed him until you saw less of him.

“I miss being a kid…I miss the way we were,” you continued, “Not a single care in the world. I feel like the older we get, the less we’ll see each other. I don’t want that, Cho,” you mumbled, reextending your legs. His heart thrummed at your earnest confession as he leaned forward and captured your hand in his.

“I’m not goin’ anywhere…I can promise you that, sweetheart,” he reassured, his thumb rubbing the back of your hand.

The conversation quieted, his words of consolation seemed to ease your mind enough for you to fixate on the screen. He watched you through his peripherals as you giggled at the corniness of the movie. Choso tried his hardest to follow along, but there you were, sat before him in a thin tank top and skimpy pajama shorts. He sent a silent “thank you” to the heavens; the record-high heatwave that plagued your city gifted him such a magnificent sight.

He side-eyed you, his vision tracing along your body. He took another bite of his pizza as he drank you in; dinner and a show. His vision followed every dip and curve of your almost fully exposed legs. He was thankful that you felt comfortable enough around him to dress how you pleased, but his dark heart wished you were sitting in just a thong, or better yet, fully nude. His eyes meandered north, hovering over the peaks of cleavage that your shirt didn’t cover. He swallowed thickly, nearly choking on his food when another giggle erupted from you, your breasts bouncing as you laughed.

He smiled inwardly, your fear of losing him warmed his heart. He wasn’t going anywhere. How else would he be able to see you like this; all nostalgic for him, the desperate expression on your face sent waves of arousal through his veins. His desire to know how you’d look splayed out underneath him rocketed through his body as he envisioned your fucked out face when he feathered hot, wet kisses along your neck and plunged two thick fingers deep inside you…how pretty you’d look just for him. What sounds would you make when his throbbing cock was fully enveloped in your gushy walls? Would you whimper and whine? Would you cry out for him? Rake your nails down his torso with your eyes blown wide? He so badly craved the answers to his searing questions.

Your laughter panged through his chest, snapping him out of his trance. You were completely oblivious to his inner turmoil. But he liked it that way. You continued to sit so good for him, eyes casted toward the TV. If only you knew the innocent relationship you had manifested in that sweet little mind of yours was one-sided. For him, it was dirty–downright filthy and sinful. But you would never know that.

Blood rushed between his legs as he shifted on the floor. The movie had about twenty minutes left; he was trying to hold out until then. He was desperate for release, anxiously anticipating the thick load he would shoot out at the thought of you, though he would pretend that it was going inside of you, instead. Oh, how he wanted to breed you. How soft you’d look carrying his spawn. He shook his head as he cleared his throat, single handedly fighting off every demon known to man that was telling him to pounce on you. He couldn’t. It would ruin the close friendship that took years to curate. It would kick him off the pedestal you placed him so highly on, tarnish the clean-cut version of him in your parent’s mind. He battled with his own thoughts as he mindlessly stared at the TV.

The end credits rolled and Choso stood abruptly.

“I’ll catch you tomorrow, okay? Gotta get some sleep,” he said, readjusting his pants. You looked up at him, confusion evident on your pretty face.

“I thought you were spending the night,” you pouted, before pushing yourself off the ground.

“I know…I’m sorry, sweetheart. But knowing us, we’d stay up all night watching TV and talking instead of actually sleeping,” he played off. The ache between his legs intensified at the thought of sharing a bed with you like you usually did when he slept over. But he can’t. Not tonight…not like this. Normally he was good about keeping his composure, but tonight was different. Your puppy dog eyes didn’t help, either. He so badly wanted to see those same eyes gaze up at him while his cock was shoved down your throat. His dick pulsated against the soft fabric of his shorts as he shadowed you toward your bedroom door, taking an internal note of how good your ass looked as your shorts rode up between your plush cheeks. He nearly lost it as you skipped down the stairs, your precious mounds bouncing in all the right places. You opened the front door for him, spreading your arms to hug him goodbye. He opted for a side hug, knowing damn well you would have been able to feel his hard on from the full-frontal contact.

*ੈ ✩‧₊˚

You closed the door, pressing your back against it as you wondered what had gotten into Choso this evening. He was always up for a sleepover. You shoved your hurt down, embarrassed by your apparent clinginess. A shudder ran down your spine at the thought of your neediness pushing him away. Your warm body glided toward the fridge, throwing it open and basking in the cool air as you grabbed yourself a drink. You shook the shame from your mind as you shuffled back up the stairs. You peered out your window and into Choso's room; it was dark. He must’ve gone straight to bed. You opened the bay windows to your bedroom. The cool air danced through the panes, swirling around the confines of your dwelling. You inhaled deeply before stripping down, settling peacefully atop your sheets; it was far too warm to be under the covers.

Choso surveyed you from the comforting shadows of his room. He did this frequently before the two of you had moved away, watching you get ready for bed with a firm grip on his shaft.

“That’s it, pretty…take it all off f’me,” he muttered. His strokes sped up as he watched you undress, the moonlight that seeped into your room illuminated your heavenly body so perfectly. He huffed as he watched you retreat to your bed, his hand stilling around his cock. The thought of you wasn’t enough for him tonight. He needed you.

An hour or so passed before he ascended the tree that stood tall next to your window. His clammy hands gripped the railings that lined your small terrace as he heaved his body over, careful not to make a sound. He had done this many times before, whether his presence was expected or unbeknownst to you. He crept through the open window and entered your room, settling himself in the chair next to your bed. Your nude frame emanated the most ethereal energy, your bare chest rose and fell rhythmically, the soft gasps that fluttered from your parted lips sent blood straight to Choso’s groin. He palmed himself through his pants, leaning back a bit to shove them down his legs. His hand paced up and down his length agonizingly slow, before he stopped dead in his tracks as soft groans emerged from your throat.

“-oso,” was all that was audible. His blood ran cold as he leaned closer to your slumbered body, ears ringing in hopes to hear more. Was that–No…it couldn’t have been. You shifted a bit, another moan breaking through the silence of your room.

“Mmm…Choso,” you whimpered dreamily, one hand moving to rest just under your navel. His heart rate spiked. He watched as your hand traced lower, snaking its way to your precious cunt. You rubbed sleepy circles in your clit as your head lulled to the side, soft, sweet whimpers dancing from your parted lips. It was now or never. He pulled his shorts back up as he situated himself on the edge of the bed, rubbing his hand against your shoulder.

You stirred a bit after a few gentle shakes of your body, your eyes slowly adjusted to the darkness of the room. Your body went rigid as your eyes focused on the outline of a person sitting before you, but the familiar smell of Choso met your nose and kept you from jumping out of your skin. You closed your eyes again, the hand that was playing with your wet cunt moved over your body to grab his hand, squeezing gently. Choso nearly broke down at the contact, the stickiness that he so badly needed graced his skin, numbing his brain.

“Hey, Cho…y’scared me. Thought you weren’t sleeping over,” you murmured. Choso’s conscious worked overtime to keep his composure leveled as he exhaled deeply.

“Seems like you needed me, though,” he chuckled. You hummed in response, your sleep-ridden mind not registering his comment. You began to doze off once again before panic rumbled through your body as you finally recollected the dream you were just immersed in. Then the realization hit. You shot upright, tearing your hand away from Choso as you grabbed for the covers, attempting to shield your naked body from him. You clicked on your bedside lamp, turning to Choso with your brows furrowed deeply. Your best friend just caught you in the middle of a wet dream. A dream about him. Embarrassment coupled with shame as you held the sheets tight against your body. You were thoroughly confused–what was he even doing here? How much did he hear? You wanted to protest, to plead your case, to interrogate him. A million questions buzzed around your brain, but his hand was quick to cover your mouth.

“S’okay, sweetheart. It’s just me,” he soothed. He kicked his shoes off and kneeled beside you, hand still firm against your face. Your shoulders were tense, but you relaxed a bit at the baritone voice that fell from his lips.

“Did you have a nice dream?” His question seemed rhetorical. He felt your face flush underneath his palm as you nodded slowly. He removed his hand and you spoke up immediately.

“How’d you know I–”

“Was watching you sleep,” he shrugged. “I’ve wanted you for so long…figured it was a lost cause. But it seems the feelings are mutual, huh, sweetheart?” he cooed, his body loomed over yours as his palm brushed your face, cradling your cheek.

“You were tryin’ so hard to fight it…to pretend those dirty feelings for me didn’t exist…isn’t that right?” He mused. You glanced down at his crotch, the heavy bulge pressed firm against his thin shorts. You audibly gulped, your breath caught in your throat before meeting his eyes. You nodded at him again.

“Bet you dressed like that on purpose…such a tease,” he chastised, thumbing your cheek.

“Gotta make up for lost time, yeah?” He ripped the duvet off of you and moved so he was hovering over you, your body laid out underneath him, his arms placed on either side of your head.

“Cho…I—we shouldn’t,” your voice wavered, suddenly unsure if you were trying to convince him or yourself. Your hands rested on his broad shoulders. “I don’t wanna lose you…don’t wanna ruin what we have,” you added, worry painted across your face, eyes fluttering back and forth between his. You were splayed out beneath him, fully nude, every dark secret of yours laid out in front of Choso. The hungry look in his eyes caused your arousal to drip onto the sheets beneath you.

“Wanted this for years, pretty girl. I already told you I’m not goin’ anywhere,'' his head dipped down to lick a thick stripe down your neck. “You gonna let me take care of you now?” he questioned, lips pressed against your flesh, nipping at the sensitive skin. Your back arched immediately at the sensation. You moaned softly in response as you ran your hands up and down his toned back.

“Tell me, pretty girl,” his fingers danced down your body, teasing the skin around your core. “Tell me you want me as much as I’ve wanted you,” he whispered in your ear.

“W-want you…Cho. So bad…needed you for s-so long,” you begged, your brain fogged and voice airy while your hands clawed desperately at his back. He smirked at you as he sat back on his heels, tearing his clothes from his body. Your eyes dragged up and down the man you had grown up with. A part of you knew how you felt about him, knew how much you needed him. But you didn’t understand the full depth of that need until he was kneeled before you, perspiration glistening along his toned body as he repositioned, laying himself along the bed, his face settled right above your dripping cunt. The way he looked at you through his luscious, jet-black lashes set your pounding heart ablaze.

You couldn’t fully comprehend what was happening. All you could feel were the sharp aches in your core as he teasingly ran his fingers through your slit. He smiled against your thigh as he plunged his fingers in immediately. You gasped at the intrusion before succumbing to the pleasure as the pads of his fingers massaged your sweet spot.

There was a sense of urgency behind his movements; the lack of time he gave you to adjust to the stretch, the way he was thrusting so fervently into you and how hungrily he bit at your flesh–it was overwhelming. He pumped into you, tirelessly working to coax an orgasm out of you. The first of many. He tilted his head down to watch his fingers disappear inside of you. He used his other hand to rub your sensitive clit, before quickly replacing it with his tongue. He wanted to drink you in for as long as he could, your juices satiating the hungriest part of him.

His eyes blew wide, “Fuck–you’re so sweet, pretty girl,” he breathed, lapping at your core. He needed more, needed you to fall apart on all of him–his fingers, his mouth, his cock. You were going to take everything he gave you. You cried out for him, your hips spasming against the bed. He grinned before latching back on to your clit, sucking harshly, working into you like it was his life’s mission to please you. And in his mind, it was. He was set on releasing a decade’s worth of pent-up frustration on your pretty little body.

“F-fuck Cho–ah!–I’m gonna…” your voice trailed off as your pussy clenched down on his fingers. He groaned at the tightness, tongue still swirling around your sensitive bud. A shudder ran down your spine as your orgasm ripped through your body. He continued to pump into you, suckling harshly against your clit before swirling around your entrance to ensure he drank up every drop.

He knew he should wait and give you time to recover. But the way your body twitched and writhed for him ripped away the sense of gentleness and morality that he usually had. It was all too much. He wanted to ruin you, to punish you for holding out on him for so long. He needed to be balls deep, needed to mold you around his cock–he had waited years for this. He sat up abruptly, wrapping your shaking legs around his waist as he lined himself up with your soaked entrance. Your chest heaved and your eyelids grew heavy while your body worked through the comedown. He pushed into you, fully sheathing himself inside your pulsating walls. Your eyes widened while your hands pushed against his abdomen.

“Wait, Cho–”

“S’okay, sweet girl. I got you…focus on me,” he soothed, his pelvis flush against you as he took a hold of your wrists, pushing them over your head and pressing them against the headboard. He found an unrelenting tempo in you. You body spasmed and squirmed at his pace, jolting each time his thick cock brushed against your still sensitive g-spot. He was stuffed so deep inside of you, savoring the way your messy pussy sucked him in. He released your hands and leaned back, finding his bearings on your hip bones, pulling you toward him to meet his thrusts. Grunts rumbled from deep in his chest as he felt you clench around him. He looked down to watch himself disappear inside you, the squelching sounds and labored moans that filled the room made him choke.

“Nasty fuckin’ girl…you’re lovin’ this aren’t ya?” he teased. You couldn’t fathom a response. Your body had passed the point of overstimulation as his brutal pace pulled another earth-shattering orgasm from your wrecked body, painting his abdomen with your squirt. He dropped his head back, animalistic sounds flying past his lips as the warm spray splattered onto his skin. He pulled out of you before shoving right back in. You cried out, body trying to squirm out of grasp.

“C-can’t…s’too much,” you sobbed out. You meant it, it was too much. But the pleasure that clawed its way through your trembling frame was unreal; addictive, even. He simultaneously numbed your body and made you feel every sensation in the known universe.

“Uh uh…almost done, pretty–stay right there,” he growled, “Just give me one more.” He wanted to live in this moment forever. Every stolen glance, dirty thought, and shameful ejaculation to the thought of you was nothing compared to the way your pretty little pussy clenched around him. He had ached over the mere thought of you for years and his body brimmed with arousal at his darkest dreams coming to fruition. And though he wanted to paint your sloppy walls with his thick seed, the wanton desire for you overpowered his need for release.

Your eyes rolled back in your skull as your shaking hands searched for any part of him to hold on to. You were a panting mess, fat tears running down your face. And it was all for him. He was drunk on the way your fucked out face lazily looked up at him as you fell apart on his cock. He made quick work of burning that image on the inside of his eyelids.

“Doin’ so good. Stay with me, sweetheart,” he grunted, his hips slamming into you. It was so sloppy now…so nasty. He fucked into you with feverish passion, and your body shook as the coils in your tummy crept up once again.

“C’mon…just one more. Know you can do it,” he urged, his aching cock absolutely obliterating you. His fingertips gripped your flesh so tightly, he prayed it would bruise. He hoped his mark would be left on you, an aching reminder that you belonged to him. You always had. He fucked into you, his tip kissing your cervix so perfectly. You cried out, clenching down on him again, your third orgasm crashing through you in a blinding haze.

“S-shit…so good. God–you’re fuckin’ milking me,” he growled out as he twitched inside, swears and praises cascaded from his parted lips as he chased his own release. It only took a few more thrusts before his hips stuttered against you and he finished deep inside, pumping you full of his cum. He remained sheathed within your walls, his palms running up and down your dazed out frame.

He leaned down, catching your lips in a needy, wet kiss. You were stunned into silence, your body cemented to the bed, convinced that you had lucidly dreamed this entire ordeal. You winced at the ache of Choso finally pulling out, missing the deep stretch of his cock as he leaned over to scour your drawers for a rag to clean you up. He feathered gentle kisses after each pass of the cloth. He laid by your side and you curled into him immediately, his arms snaking around your fragile body.

“I can’t believe that just happened,” you whispered, breath shaking. He smiled before kissing the top of your head. “But I’m so happy it did,” you added, pressing yourself deeper into his side as his fingers brushed along your skin, soothing you toward a deep, satisfying slumber. Choso reveled in the dream-like trance he found himself in. His heart soared at his achievement that was years in the making, his body crossing the line that divided reality with heaven. He finally got you, and he was never, ever letting you go.

*ੈ ✩‧₊˚

author notes: thank you so so so much for 250 followers...i literally cannot believe it. if i could remove a piece of my heart and send it to y'all i would

my inbox is open and i'm always working thru my requests, feel free to send your suggestions here ☾

every like, comment, and reblog makes me sob uncontrollably...your support means the world to me xx

2K notes · View notes

kairos-in-space · 2 months

Text

i'm doing one of these

if this gets 100 notes i'll ask my teachers to start using my chosen name

if this gets 300 notes I'll organize my school supplies and try harder in my classes

if this gets 600 notes i'll ask my mom to order me a binder

if this gets 1,000 notes i'll try to improve my hygiene and take care of myself more

EDIT: Well that was quick-I'm just gonna change the goals-

EDIT: oh shoot

#alfie vomits words

1K notes · View notes

meltingmidas · 1 month

Text

Coachella Rut

Paring: Idol!Hongjoong x Non Idol!Reader

CW: DomJoong/SubReader, Joongie is aggressive :))), pinv, unprotected sex (don’t do this plz this is not sexy!), creampie, mentions of marks and bruises, degradation, pls lmk if i missed anything!

WC: 920

Midas's Notes: So I literally started this right after watching the Coachella stream.. holy shit. Joong really did something to me and idk if I’ll ever be the same. Is there possibly a Mingi one in the works? Maybe. Uhhh this is NOT edited cause I’m too tired and this is just raw horniness so please enjoy (and excuse) this messy fic! PS also didn’t have a fuckin clue what to name it so enjoy the random title <3

🔞 Below 🔞

“Fuck Joong, slow doowwwn- ugh please!” You whimpered as he roughly pounded into your abused pussy, your legs over his shoulders, his arms beside your head. He’s been at it for nearly 2 hours now, rejecting your every single orgasm, giving you no time to rest. Your neck is littered in bruises, cheeks red from his previous slaps, eyeliner dragged down to your jaw. He’s always like this after a concert; but for some reason Coachella has him in a rut.

He’s aggressive, raw, and borderline psychotic. A wild smile plastered on his face, the shitty red dye running down his face over his eyes and around his cheeks, down to his chin and neck. He locks eyes with you as he brings his hand up to roughly hold your jaw, your cheeks uncomfortably squishing together. “You are fucking mine, got it? Your heart, your soul, your thoughts, your pretty pussy, everything. You belong to me. Yeah?”He whispers out, inches away from your face, he’s movements never faulting. You nod, and mewl out a small “Yes sir” before he gives the corner of your lips a small kiss and returning to the side of your head, giving light nips to your neck. Hongjoong looks straight out of a horror movie; and it’s fucking sexy.

You’re dragged out of your thoughts by a particular hard thrust, kissing your velvety sweet spot inside you, making you sing his name like it was a prayer. “You look so fucking good underneath me. All fucked up on my cock, yeah? You can’t get enough of me, can you?” He grunts out, his voice course from the previous show he put on. You nod eagerly, your nails scratching at his shoulders, bound to leave your mark all over him. “Yeaah that’s right slut. Tell me how good I am.” You moan loudly at his request, surely others would hear (not that you cared), starting to attempt to form a sentence. “Cock feels to-fuck feels too good Joong. Need you to fuck me harder. Please!”.

He chuckles deeply, heavy into your ear, soft grunts and pants leaving his lips. “You feel so fucking good, you were made for me, whore.” You scream out his name as he starts fucking you faster; harder than he’s ever gone before. You whine and whimper, begging for your release, “Please Joong- pleasepleaseplease fill me up sir, I need it so bad. Need your cum inside me so bad.” Hongjoong moans loudly in your ear, his breath fanning against the shell. He lifts up to look at you, the fully sits up, your lower half now slightly lifted up off the bed thanks to your legs still over his shoulders. He gives you a wild smirk, eyes dark and full of love and lust. His hands find the plush spot of your hips, nails digging his shape into it. You whine, tears spilling out as you keep your babbling pleas for his seed. “Fuck- such a good girl, asking so politely for my cum.” One hand moves from your hips and finds your clit, your eyes shoot open and a drawn out moan leaves your lips, a new spark shoots up your spine and your release edging closer and closer.

He grunts, his thrust growing sloppier and harder, you can feel him twitch inside you as he gets closer. “Gonna make you mine sweetheart. All mine- fuck.” He peers down at you, a smile and his signature laugh, “Cum for me, doll.” That was all you needed as you find yourself twitching, hips bucking up into his, you feel your walls convulsing around his, feeling your sweet slick run down to your ass. He moans, voice scratching as a string of “shit” leaves him, as you feel hot ropes of cum fill you up. You whine, feeling so full of him and his milky cum. “So so good. Fuck you’re mine. Mine all mine..” he whispers out, more to himself, as he pushes his final spurts of cum inside you.

You look at him through your wet lashes, admiring the scene of his sweat drenching him, basking in his post sex glow. He catches your eyes, a soft smile leaving his lips as he leans down to meet yours. Hongjoong gives you a soft, gentle kiss, completely different to the ones you received earlier. “I’m sorry sweetheart, I didn’t do too much did I?” He asks, slowly pulling out of you, a mix of both your cum oozing outside of your puffy pussy. You shake your head, “No, not at all Joongie. But holy shit, I don’t think I can get up after all… that.” You laugh, and you hear him quietly joins you. “Here.” You look over to find him handing you a glass of water (that he already prepped beforehand, what a gentleman), and a towel in his hand beside you. You gladly take it, shaking as you hastily take a sip. You feel him gently lift one of your legs, softly patting and wiping you off. “I’ll start you a bath, and we can take one together. Or would you rather eat first? Which sounds good?” He quietly asks you, throwing the towel to a dirty clothes hamper and grabs your hand to give it a kiss. You giggle, “Bath, then food, please.” He nods, slowly rubbing your knuckles in his hands. “Sounds good sweetheart.” He gets up to start your bath, you sit up, sipping your water and wondering if you should get chicken or a burger.

#Ateez #ateez fic #ateez x reader #ateez imagines #ateez scenarios #kpop #kpop smut #kim hongjoong #hongjoong #hongjoong smut #hongjoong x reader

1K notes · View notes

ki-yomii · 3 months

Text

like i do | jjk

➥ pairing | jeon jungkook x f!reader

➥ word count | 3.2k

➥ warning(s) | 🔞 smut; dirty talk, pet names, mild praise kink, squirting, standing missionary, finger fucking, thigh riding, established relationship, angst w/ a happy ending, possessive!jk, jealous!jk, mentions of infidelity, trust issues

➥ summary | request - Jk being a jealous husband, angst and smuttttt 🥹💘

➥ notes | for lovely anon. hope you enjoy 💚 un-edited, i'll come back and fix any mistakes later. also poor jimin. i love him but i always seem to make him suffer lol.

💚 masterlist | inbox | AO3 💚

Eavesdropping.

Whether it was a stray conversation in a shop, or lurking around corners to see what others really thought of you, everyone’s done it at some point.

Now, it’s a habit Jungkook tries not to encourage - much preferring upfront interactions and direct conversations - but that isn’t to say he’s never eavesdropped before.

But the problem with listening in on conversations you’re not supposed to be is you run the risk of hearing something you wish you didn’t.

And while it wasn’t intentional by any means - he respects you too much to spy, even if the urge is there - he learns this lesson the hard way.

The first time it happens, he’s in the kitchen refilling his cup of iced coffee. There’s a squeal of surprise followed by a lighthearted giggle, the sound of shuffling limbs and a low grunt.

Everything in him freezes at the sound of your delight, gut churning.

He always works so damn hard to pull the laughter from the depths of your throat. And it stings that Jimin - his friend, his brother’s attempts are effortless.

It’s something so simple, and yet the effect it’s having on him is undeniable as Jungkook white-knuckles the handle of his mug and grits his teeth.

His jaw nearly cracks in two when he hears the softly murmured greeting, “It’s good to see you, baby.”

And Jungkook knows, okay.

He knows there’s nothing romantic between the two of you.

If anything, you’re too alike. Twin flames of the platonic variety. Not only would it never work out, but you both feel nothing but familial towards one another.

For fuck’s sake, Jimin was there when Jungkook proposed. Was the one to encourage it, in fact. Has been nothing but supportive about your relationship even when others disagreed.

However, knowing something doesn’t dampen the spark of jealousy.

Nor does it soothe the sharp flash of hurt threatening to steal the breath from his lungs.

Jimin has always been affectionate with you, and he’s always a touch too flirtatious. It’s a part of who he is, and it’s one Jungkook would never ask him to dim. Jimin spent far too long hiding, pretending, stifling himself for other’s comfort.

And Jungkook loves him as he is, encourages him to be his beautiful, authentic self no matter what. Expect maybe when it comes to his wife… for reasons he’s unwilling to examine.

All schoolyard flirtations aside, what bothers Jungkook most are the pet names. He can put aside his petty jealousy because he knows its unfounded.

What’s harder is dismissing the use of that little four-letter word: baby.

It’s supposed to be his way of telling you how much he loves you. Special, intimate. A stand-in for the four-word phrase he whispers into the silk of your skin, tattoos into your heart with his lips.

The realization he’s sharing a part of you he thought all his own sits bitter on the back of his tongue, an acid burn eating through his throat until he can’t find the words.

When you respond in kind with a soft, tender call a piece of him shrivels.

Standing in the kitchen adrift and lovelorn, Jungkook’s left with an empty longing he can’t name and no where to place it.

You weren’t together for more than six months before he proposed, knowing you were the one for him by the second date.

Maybe he moved too fast, was too receptive?

Growing up, he’d always been eager to move onto the next big thing, ready to jump head first. Some said that would come back to bite him in the ass. Was this the day?

Perhaps you regret saying yes so soon. Jungkook knows he’s not like other people. They need time to settle into their feelings like a house settling old wooden bones.

The last thing he wants is to make you feel trapped, suffocated under the weight of all his clingy, needy problems.

So he smothers the discomfort and walks into the living room. He shoots you a smile and inclines his head towards Jimin.

Thoroughly ignores the pulse of pain when he sees how cozy the two of you look cuddled up on the couch, legs tangled together with Bam at your feet.

That should be me.

You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to him.

He can’t lose you.

It’s there he silently vows to be less intense, less attached. Does his best to keep his hands to himself even though he wants to reach across the space between your bodies, and tug you into the cradle of his chest.

Bam picks his head up, cocking his ear to the side when Jungkook winces as Jimin reaches out to tug a lock of your hair, smirking around another purred baby.

Thankfully no one else but the dog notices his moment of weakness or the tension cutting through his shoulders.

Staring at his reflection, Jungkook tucks a lock of hair behind his ear and fiddles with his tie. The three-piece fits like a glove yet he’s never felt more uncomfortable.

He longs for soft cotton and baggy loungewear but tonight is important.

It’s your first year anniversary.

He’s had this night planned out months in advance; pulled all the strings needed to secure a reservation at one of the best five-stars in Gangnam.

You’ve been looking forward to it all week, and your excitement is infectious.

Only Jungkook’s mood sours as soon as he turns the corner to find you on the couch with company, dolled up and radiant. Jimin’s beside you, one leg crossed over the other and swirling a half-empty wine glass.

He says something too low for Jungkook to hear.

“Jimin!” You titter behind your hand, the flash of the jewels on your nails catching the light. “Sto-op! You nasty little freak.”

“What’re you doing here?”

Jungkook doesn’t mean to snap but the inner turmoil spills over before he can shove it down.

Your eyes lose some of their softness, the happiness fizzling from your expression like champagne bubbles. Mouth pinching in at the corners, you narrow your eyes.

A lump grows in his throat.

“What’s got you so pissy, Kook?” you ask.

Jimin clears his throat, averting his gaze to the side as he mindlessly plays with the stem of the glass.

The frosty look Jungkook shoots him withers under your pointed glare. Shoulders sagging, he runs his fingers through his hair, unable to care about how much he’s fucking up the style.

“Sorry Jimin, I… ahem. Anyway, are you gonna be ready to go soon?”

“Mhm, just let me finish up here,” you trail off, motioning to the last few sips of your own wine. “We’ve still got some time before we have to leave anyway.”

Before Jungkook can respond, Jimin cuts in while twining an arm over your bare shoulders, cheek pressed sweetly to yours, “You can’t rush perfection, Kookie. Isn’t that right, pretty baby?”

It’s no surprise your anniversary ends in disaster; a fight so vicious it has you fleeing with an overnight bag, refusing to look at Jungkook let alone speak to him no matter how much he begs you to stay.

Leaving him alone in an apartment ringing with your absence, terrified this is the beginning of the end and thoroughly convinced he’s the worst fucking husband ever.

It’s been several days of radio silence.

No amount of texting or calling gets you to answer. And it’s starting to get to him, going out of his mind with worry, with guilt. If only he hadn’t said this, that, and the other.

If only you’d stayed.

Now, everywhere he turns, Jungkook’s forced to face the jealousy growning like a weed in his heart. And every day it gets worse; a stone crushing his lungs, a bottomless pit curdling his stomach.

He doesn’t know where you are exactly, but his suspicions are proven correct when he nearly busts down the door to Jimin’s apartment only to have you invite him inside, stony-faced and silent.

The quiet doesn’t last, broken by the awkward clearing of his throat as he avoids your stare.

“What are we even doing?” he asks.

Your eyebrows shoot towards your hairline.

There are bags under your eyes and heavy lines around your mouth. You look like you haven’t slept well. Jungkook’s gut clenches, bile bubbling up the back of his throat.

It’s all my fault.

“I’m not sure what you mean, Kook.”

“Please.” He refuses to acknowledge the plea for what it is. “I can’t - I can’t do this anymore.” His voice breaks, cracks in two, tears stopping up his tongue. “I need to know.”

Your eyes flash with confusion. “Baby?” You step closer, hand outstretched and shoulders relaxing. “What are you talking about?”

His intentions are pure, honest.

But months of simmering anger, of doubting everything about himself (again), of resenting the fact he resents you, resents Jimin at all, bubbles to the surface.

He’s not proud of it, but Jungkook explodes; a match set to gunpowder.

“I’m talking about you and Jimin!”

“Me,” you ask, blinking owlishly, “-- and Jimin?”

Jungkook smiles, sharp and unpleasant. Bitter and disappointed. Grief makes him mean, nasty. “Yeah, you and Jimin. Do you think I’m stupid - were you just gonna keep fucking around behind my back?”

“Woah, pump the breaks! What the hell are--”

“Don’t even try to deny it.”

His eyes glint like shards of black ice, cool and assessing as he stares at you. Numb to the concern in your gaze, the purse of your lips. He’s slipping - he knows he’s slipping. Can feel the grief stricken rage pressing in at the corners of his mind.

The last thing he wants to do is hurt you, and yet he’s helpless to stop the words pouring from his mouth. “Did you like watching me make a fool of myself?”

You sneer, arms crossed over your chest so hard it looks like it hurts, “You’re doing that all on your own, Jungkook. I think you need to leave.”

“No, no, come on. I want to know. Why did you marry me if you don’t even want me, huh?”

Stalking closer, Jungkook corners you against the counter.

The smooth glide of his body is reminiscent of a large jungle cat, purely predatory. The uncomfortable thrill of it reflects through your gaze, the clench of your thighs.

Dark satisfaction curls low in his belly.

He asks, “Did he fuck you better, make you scream his name?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about but you’re being a fucking pig,” you say, shoving his shoulder towards the door. “Now I really think it’s time for you to leave. Come back when you’re not being stupid.”

Strong fingers clamp down around your wrist, and Jungkook tugs you into his chest. His free arm curls around your waist, pinning you to his front. The heat of your body can’t drive away the sudden cold washing over him.

“Let go-”

“No.” He watches as any retort dies on your tongue, your eyes meeting his head on for the first time. Whatever you see hooks in, refusing to let go. “I’m not letting you go.”

Shivering, you try to tug your arm free, “Jungkook, please. You’re starting to scare me.”

In lieu of a response, Jungkook dips his head, and inhales the scent of your hair. Dragging his nose down the length of your neck as the familiar perfume floods his lungs. Soothes the prowling beast caged in his chest.

A rumble of satisfaction vibrates through him into you, your nipples stiffening against him.

Jungkook sighs, “You always smell so good, baby.”

The tension threaded through your frame releases, your edges softening until you rest against him fully. Shivers race down his spine when your breath tickles his ear.

You call to him softly.

He hums, nuzzling into the side of your head, “Mhm?”

“Can you let me go now? Promise I won’t go anywhere.”

Jungkook pulls back to look at you for several long seconds. Unlatching his fingers, he watches as you flex your wrist. Then reaches up to tenderly curl the digits around your throat, transfixed by the sight.

A hook of arousal sinks into his stomach.

Yanks hard when you gasp at the push of his thick thigh against your pussy, your whine when he flexes the muscle. With a soft cry, you sag into his body while your hands fly up to plant themselves on his biceps.

“K-Kook!”

“Mm, that’s it.”

The bubble of emotions boiling under the surface of his skin is at odds with the satisfaction coiling in his belly, the interested twitch of his cock.

Jungkook rolls his thigh and works you along the length of it. The heat of you burns through the cotton of his lounge pants, so warm and soft and wet.

"Don't--" your protest trails off, smothered by your teeth as your eyes flutter in pleasure. "Hn!"

Shit, he wants to bury himself so deep inside you’ll never forget the stretch. Ruin you so good with his cock you won’t dream of anyone else ever again. He’d make you his and his alone.

Fingers tightening around your neck, Jungkook murmurs, “Let me hear you, baby.”

Unsuccessfully trying to ignore how good the friction is, you shake your head in denial. But there’s no hiding how turned on you’re getting, panties sticky and thighs clamping around his.

You’re absolutely soaked, evidenced by the growing dark patch on his leg as he grinds you into a sloppy mess.

“W-We can’t, Jimin’s h-home.”

Mentioning the other man is a mistake, and you know that.

Jungkook sees the realization light up in your eyes seconds after he tenses, rutting up against you harshly. The bulge of his cock digs into the dip of your hip, throbbing in time with the labored heaves of his chest.

His kneecap catches, the sharp ridge smashing into your swollen clit. Your mouth drops open, and Jungkook slaps a hand over your face before the wail escapes.

He knows he’s being rough, but the tears in your eyes soothe some of the hurt. And honestly, he can’t bring himself to care overmuch, especially when your hips jerk against his.

“Better be quiet. We don’t want Jimin to hear us,” Jungkook snarls, “after all, what would he think if he saw how bad you’re gagging for your husband’s dick?”

Your indignant response is cut off by another muffled whine, his teeth sinking into the corner of your jaw.

A weak spot of yours - Jungkook abuses it to his advantage. Swiping his tongue through the layer of sweat that clings to your skin, the salt bursting across his tongue.

He groans.

“I don’t give a fuck what you or Jimin think.” His breath puffs warm and moist over your ear, voice whiskey rough when Jungkook says, “You married me. You’re mine, baby, and I don’t share.”

Relocating, his hand releases your throat and finds your hips. He slips under the mid-thigh hem of your oversized nightshirt, and snaps the waistband of your panties with a firm tug.

Pulling the fabric free from between your legs, he tucks the ruined fabric into his back pocket as a souvenir.

“K-Kook,” you say, voice warbling.

He hums, eyes glittering dangerously as his fingers brush over the top of your slit. Your clit jumps beneath the pad of his finger, swollen and throbbing.

When you hiss low between your teeth, he smirks, and bullies the little nub with rough circles until your hips shift from side to side.

“Ah, shit, baby. Can you hear how sloppy your pussy is?”

Jungkook dips his fingers between your folds, playing with your gummy walls as he gathers your slick, teasing the rim of your entrance. The filthy squelches echo out into the otherwise silent apartment.

He preens, chest puffing up with pride, and says, “He can’t make you feel the way I do. Can he?”

Without warning, he slides two fingers deep inside to the third knuckle. Chuckles when you burrow your face into his shoulder, your nails dragging raised lines of heat down his arms as your walls give, fluttering around his thick digits as you adjust to the stretch.

“Mm, you always take me so well, baby.”

You clench at the praise, and Jungkook pumps his fingers in reward, curling up to massage at the spongy patch of your g-spot. You whine, head tossed back and thighs shaking around his hand.

Pain shoots through the base of Jungkook’s spine, and biting back a curse, he reaches down to adjust his cock from where its trapped against you, swollen and leaking.

“Yeah, you’re such a good girl.”

“Please,” you whine before mumbling something else.

Jungkook’s not sure what it is, but figures it’s not all that important when your eyes roll back into your head and your hips twitch.

You start to bear down on his fingers, walls tensing and releasing.

“Gonna cum?” Jungkook nips at your bottom lip, panting into your mouth and sharing breath as his eyes bore into yours. “Fuck! Do it. Wanna feel you cum all over my hand.”

God, you look so good like this; eyes teary and brows crinkled, sweat-slick and mouth slack. A sight he never wants to be without. His sweet girl, his baby, his wife.

“Yeah, that’s it.” His fingers curl and pulse, pet and stretch. “Now open those pretty eyes.”

A hand curls around your jaw, tugs at your chin.

“Look at me,” Jungkook breathes.

Please.

He watches, greedy, as your lashes flutter, the lids weighted down by pleasure. Eventually, you manage to crack them open, and he ruts forward in response. His groan vibrates his lips as they smash into yours in a violent kiss.

You pull away with a gasp, slick dripping down your shaky knees. “I can’t - hnggg - fuck, Kook!”

“Tell me who you belong to.”

He’s unforgiving in his demands, a cold fire burning in the depths of his eyes. His cock throbs, his hips trembling with restraint as he stops himself from rutting to completion against you.

His heart hammers against his ribs, and his stomach swoops.

The answer will either make or break him.

Anticipation floods the room with tension; hovering in the air like a word about to be spoken.

“Tell me.”

“I -- you, Kook, I’ve always belonged to you,” you say, clenching down around him. “Please.”

Capturing you with his gaze, Jungkook hooks a thumb into the corner of your mouth. All the hurt, all the doubts, all the rage bleed out of him like water tossed over the embers of a campfire.

Leaving behind the single-minded desire to give you what you want. What you deserve. Because you’re his and the only thing he wants to do is take care of you.

Love you like you deserve to be.

Like only he knows how to.

The taste of your skin is sharp and bright when his tongue flicks against yours, and he hisses into the plush of your mouth, “Cum.”

Keening, your pussy throbs once, twice. Your belly contracts. And then you’re gushing wetly, a warm flood of slick soaking the palm of Jungkook’s hand, dripping down to puddle on the kitchen tile. Your walls ripple, muscles spasming as you shake apart in his arms.

Jungkook holds you through it, soothing the aftershocks as you slump into him - a marionette with its strings cut. You’re cotton soft, cloudy. Head lolling on his shoulder when you look up at his profile with hazy eyes.

“Show off,” you slur when you catch the sight of his satisfied smirk, the puff of his chest as he stares at something behind you. “Can’t believe you made me cum all over Jimin’s kitchen floor.”

The sound of a choked-off, slightly hysterical laugh comes from the entryway, “Oh, I can. Just glad to see you guys finally made up. Now I’m gonna go wash my eyes with bleach.”

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