#like a.) gravity needs to chill | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

moonchildstyles · 5 months

Note

For a possible smutty gravity blurb: maybe something they haven’t tried before?? Like maybe flower watches one of his streams or something and he’s talking abt some type of kink/situation they’ve never done before and she gets all nervous bc she wants to do that but she’s kinda insecure bc why is he talking about it on stream but not to me??? And so maybe there’s a wholesome communication moment butttttt they end up doing that thing:) idk just a thought hehehehe

cw: anal play involved!! if that makes you uncomfortable please skip :)

wordcount: 10.2k+

—————

The end of autumn chill swirled around (Y/N) in a fluttering gust, the ends of her hair being lifted along the sweeping breeze. Her nose felt chilled, among the elements, any bare swatch of skin prickled with goosebumps. Despite her hand being exposed to the elements, she didn't notice much of that cold with the way Harry had it wrapped in his own. Walking her out to her car, he swung their hands between them in a juvenile show of affection. Since he started, she hadn't been able to wipe the smile from her face.

Looking up at him, seeing the tip of his own nose flushed with a chill to match that of his cheeks, her grin widened. He still had his glasses on from class, a heavy cardigan on his torso with his curls still a bit loose from his morning shower.

"What?" he asked, glancing down at her with a wide smile, his dimples and bunny-like front teeth on display.

"Nothing, just looking," she muttered through the curl of her lips, "You're working tonight, right?"

"I am, yeah," he sighed, "Sorry."

Creases pulled her brows into a furrow. "Why are you sorry? It's your job, don't be sorry."

"I know," he drawled, the same way he always did when she had to remind him that there was no reason for guilt tied to his line of work. "But, I was wanting to spend time with you tonight instead."

Bumping his shoulder, her gentle scolding tone melted, "You know, I could still come over."

A shy flush bubbled to the surface of his cheeks, painting him a deeper shade of red than the wind could accomplish. "You'd distract me too much."

"I think we could still get through," she teased, her voice lilting as she bumped her hip against his once more.

"Maybe, another time, flower," he murmured, looking down at her with an expression she figured was better suited to the man on camera and not the physics tutor he was during the day.

"Another time, then," she agreed, pushing back the sudden need to squirm as his eyes traced down her form.

Approaching the parking lot, her car in the lucky space close to the building, (Y/N) pretended as if she didn't cut her pace to make slower strides. She wanted an extra couple of seconds with him, even if it meant walking like the people she complained about on campus between classes.

"Did y'still want me to call you before bed?"

"Yes, please," (Y/N) answered, "If you're not too tired, anyway."

"Never too tired for you, love."

Thinking back to the first days of knowing Harry, remembering the way he struggled to meet her eyes or would flush immediately when she said something as simple as his name, it was hard to compare him to the version that stood before her now. Openly flirting with her and agreeing to another time where she could sit in on one of his cam sessions and distract him for fun. It was no wonder she had never seen the obvious signs tying the camboy on her computer to her physics tutor.

"Get home safe, yeah?" he murmured to her, stopping at the bonnet of her car. Using his hold on her hand he turned her to face him.

"I'll text you," she smiled up at him, rising to her tiptoes for a moment to press her lips to his in a small kiss.

Harry chased after her, unwilling to let the kiss end just yet. He won his reward of an extra peck before she started pulling away. He'd been late to his afternoon classes one too many times after walking her back to her car, claiming he just wanted to make sure she made it there alright when they really ended up spending time kissing until his cheeks were flushed.

"Go to class," she reprimanded him, drifting away from him towards her car.

Keeping his hand clasped in hers, Harry elongated that contact until he couldn't anymore, his fingertips grazing hers before they dropped to his side. "Love you."

"Love you, too, H. I'll see you tomorrow."

A toothy grin spread across his cheeks as he looked at her, his eyes impossibly behind the lens of his glasses. "See you tomorrow.

She gave him a tinkling wave as she stepped into her car. He would stay there until he saw her pull out of the lot, keeping to his promise of ensuring she started her journey home safely (he knew too many statistics about driving accidents to freely let her go without being there in case of emergency, he'd said). But, even as she pulled out of the lot into the main road, she could see him in her rearview mirror, standing with his hands on the straps of his backpack, wide grin on his mouth.

There was the tutor version of him again; the one that was soft and smiley, shy and wrapped in sweaters. She was going to have to tune into his stream tonight to get the other side of him.

—————

While tuning into Harry's shows were something that she always found fulfilling, there was something especially satisfying now that she knew who he was and knew him as more than just a faceless crooner. Though, she could admit, she still felt a bit shy when she logged in.

However, it didn't take her long to sink into the night session when she tuned in after putting away her study materials for the night. Checking the time, she knew Harry would be in the middle of his stream then, the temptation too much to ignore before she was logged in and watching him as he cooed and moaned for the camera.

By the time his screen was pulled up for her, his tip meter was already full and over the edge, his shirt off and his hand wrapped around his cock though his boxers were still on. She knew this routine—it was one of her favorites, anyway; he was in the mood to tease the audience tonight. He was going to coax them into begging for him, asking for more of daddy before he would be so inclined to give it. His chest was flushed a warm red, complimenting the black tattoos inked on his skin. Blocks of muscle were bunching and straining, his abs shining with a layer of sweat. The camera had almost everything in view, going as high up as to capture the line of his throat before cutting off at his jaw.

Plugging her headphones into her ears, she heard the labored sound of his breathing, the rich gravel of his town heavy on his tongue, and the slick sound of his fist passing over his length.

She had her hands on her keyboard, reading to type something out for him to test if he had his eyes on the chat, but she stopped short when he resumed talking. He was detailing out a fantasy for them, one she had never heard fall from his lips before.

"Would you like that, baby?" he asked, words drawling and dripping out of his mouth, "You'd let me try with you? You'd let me play with your cute little ass?"

Just out of view of the camera, he threw his head back, his breathing labored. She could see the stretch of his neck, flushed with his Adam's apple bobbing. His hand on his cock quickened, his fist slapping against his skin.

"You'd let me do that?" he continued, his voice completely breathless with his chest heaving, "Let me fuck you from the back and see where else you could take me? Play with you a little?"

With a fluttering blink, (Y/N) couldn't take her eyes off of what her Harry was doing on screen. Though he'd never brought it up to her before, it didn't take much for her to picture what he was offering for the audience.

She could be on her hands and knees for him, Harry kneeling behind her with his thighs smacking against the back of her own as his cock sank in and out of her pussy. Her heart was in her throat when she pictured him spreading her cheeks apart and thumbing at the second entrance he was speaking up, the second place she could "take" him like he said.

Is that something he wanted? He wanted to play with her, see what else he could mold her body into doing for him, see what reactions he could garner from her?

"You'd love it, sweetheart, I promise. I'd be so gentle, so gentle," he rambled, his voice sounding airy and lost the longer he sat with his fantasies. "I can put in a couple of fingers, show you how good it feels. I think I could make you cum like that. You want that?"

Her designated nickname pricked her ears. He didn't even know she was tuning into the show yet, having been frozen since he started speaking with no comments in her name being sent through the chat yet. He was thinking of her?

The idea made her thighs tense, her stomach squeezing into a tight knot.

There had never been a time in her life that she had considered allowing anyone to feel around anywhere other than her pussy, but the thought of Harry wanting to feel and touch her everywhere plucked at something in her. Leave it to him to make even the most unappealing of things into something she could see herself wanting.

"Fuck you everywhere, sweetheart, that's what I want" he groaned, the pace of his hand on his cock causing the band of his underwear to slip low enough to show off his length. "Gonna cum jus' thinking about it."

Sucking in a deep breath, (Y/N) listened to his breathing hitch and shudder, changing to match the heavy pace of his hand on his cock. He really was going to cum, that much she could tell. His abs were tight, skin flushed, and the base of his cock tight from the sliver of skin she could catch on screen.

"C'mon, sweetheart, tell me you'd let me try with you. Let me have more of you."

His chat was flooded with responses, going way too fast for (Y/N) to even attempt to concentrate on. She could imagine it was filled with the confirmations that he wanted, dirty promises that any of these audience members would spread open for him at any given moment. His tip meter had well exceeded the goal amount, the donations and tiny messages attached seemingly only urging him on.

All (Y/N) could give her attention to was the amount of times he uttered her nickname, asking her if she'd let him try his fantasy with her. That he promised that he would make it good for his sweetheart, that he'd be as gentle as he could be when sinking his fingers in and fucking her everywhere he could reach.

She felt as if she were out of her body, watching as he plucked down the band of his boxers. His heavy cock bounced up against his stomach before he caught it in his slick fist. His length was wet and flushed, precum pooling on the tip and dripping down his shaft. She was sure her mouth had dropped into a gape. This fantasy had elicited that kind of reaction from him. Her tummy tightened at the thought.

Though she was aware he was talking, spinning a story for his viewers to be entranced with, (Y/N)'s own head was spiraling around her own story.

Would he help hold her hips up when she couldn't anymore? She already felt full enough with his cock inside her, how much more would she feel with him like that? With his stamina, how long would he have her buried against the mattress, opened up just for him?

Before she could even be aware of the moment, she heard a familiar gasp in her headphones. Her eyes refocused on the screen, Harry's cock spurting with ropes of cum. Strings decorated his chest, slicking over his tattoos in milky pearls. He groaned, chest heaving with blushing skin. His throat was bobbing, the skin stretched with the very ends of his hair visible on the edge of the screen. She could picture his eyes closed, lavender eyelids fluttering with dark lashes. His mouth would be set into a gape, a pinch between his brows.

One of these days, she was going to end up going to his apartment after one of his streams. It wasn't fair that he was able to perform like that and she wasn't in his bed at the end of the night.

Harry recovered soon enough, cleaning off his chest and giving his signature send off for the night.

(Y/N) was still far from joining him in that headspace even when the screen blacked out, his page settling for the night. Her brain was still where he was describing his fantasy, where she could picture herself on all fours for him.

Replacing her laptop lid and sliding the device away, she rolled onto her back in the folds of her comforter. Staring up at the ceiling, she attempted to gather her bearings.

Now that more of the lust and the initial intrigue began to wane, she was left with a question.

Why wouldn't he tell her about this? Obviously, he had quite the feelings towards this fantasy, given the fact he was so worked up, cumming before she even really had a chance to catch up. Why was his first choice to share this with strangers on his stream as opposed to telling her?

To be fair, it was a rather intimate dream, even more than what they usually did with one another. But, considering the details of their relationship—her being an avid viewer of his before knowing his identity, Harry being an active cam-personality, as well as the time they sexted with one another before even knowing who they were—there were very blurry lines when it came to what could be "too much".

She hoped she had shown that she would be open to trying anything for him, just the same way he is with her.

Their phone call tonight would be interesting.

—————

"Hi, flower."

Snuggled in her duvet, (Y/N) relaxed into the mattress at the sound of his voice. "Hi, H. What are you doing?"

"About to fall asleep," he shared, his voice decidedly deeper than usual, "What about you, love? Y'get all your studying done?"

"Mhm," she hummed, casting her mind back to the hours before she tuned into his stream. They didn't seem so important compared to everything that happened after she slid her textbooks out of the way. Harry didn't even know yet that she had been present during the show, and she wasn't sure if she wanted to tell him. A part of her wanted to wait and see if he would broach the subject of everything without her having to bring it up. "How was your show?"

"Short," he laughed, the sound a warm vibrato, "I got too worked up and barely made it through a half an hour."

"Yeah?" she prodded, hoping to open up the conversation for him, "What happened?"

"Jus' m'imagination running a little too wild," he sighed, paraphrasing everything she had already heard through her headphones, "Thought about you a little too much, of course."

The timber of his voice fell as he spoke his last statement, enticing her through the phone as if that was a hard task for him to pull off. His voice was what paid half of his bills anyway—his body handled the other fifty percent.

(Y/N) felt a tad on the breathless side when she spoke next, settling back into the way she had integrated herself into his story; she could still see herself on her hands and knees, spread open for him with whines falling from her lips. "What do you mean?"

"You know what I mean, sweetheart," he drawled, the smug smile on his lips audible through the phone, "You've seen the shows; you know what I think about when it comes to you."

It was hard not to get wrapped up in his words. Even with the small plan she had in her back pocket, this being her attempt to gather more information about the fantasy she shared with strangers on the internet, it was all too easy to fall into that soft, velvet coated space with him where his words were like silk and honey dripping over her skin. He knew exactly how to talk to her.

"Yeah," she swallowed, closing her eyes with her cheek mushed against her pillow, "But, was something different about today?"

Harry hummed as if he were considering her question. This would be the moment, she figured. This would be when he'd bring up the fact that he wanted to try something new with her, lay her out on his bed and take her in every way he could.

"I jus' think I miss you, that's all," he told her, deflating that anticipation ballooning in her chest. "I feel like 's been a while since I've had you all to myself, don't you think?"

Truthfully, they spent the entire weekend at his apartment, studying and working on papers in-between cuddles on the couch and romps in his bedroom.

"I think, we had all weekend together," (Y/N) laughed, teasing him some as if she still wasn't itching for alone time with him.

"I guess we did, huh," Harry joined in, "Jus' not enough for me then, I guess. You've spoiled me, now I'm always going to want more."

That declaration pinged in the back of her mind. He wanted more, that's what he's said in the stream. He wanted more of what she had to give him.

"I can do that," she answered instinctively, her voice a bit breathy over the line.

"Yeah? Gonna keep spoiling me?" he teased, his demeanor decidedly much more light-hearted compared to the creeping in of lust into her tone.

"I'll try." She'd try to be everything he wanted, she decided. She was going to be the place he indulged and shared those intimate stories with, not the internet.

A soft sigh sounded on the other line. "Y'always do, flower," he crooned before a yawn cut him off, "'M about to fall asleep, love, 'm sorry."

"Don't be sorry," she rushed out, feeling guilty now that she's trying to extract information from him when he started the call telling her just how sleepy he was, "Go to sleep and I'll see you tomorrow, right."

"See you tomorrow," he confirmed, his voice heavy and dripping, "Love you."

"Love you, too, H. Goodnight."

Harry shared a final goodnight with her before the call ended with (Y/N) left in her lonely bedsheets and the new facet of him she learned today.

Her eyes shuttered to a close as she sunk into the silence of her bedroom. She hadn't been lying when she said that she would try to do that—be that—for him. Why he didn't tell her in the first place, wasn't something she could dwell on at the moment. She needed to focus on plucking up the courage to do what she promised.

—————

"I'm still coming over tonight, right?"

Harry's smile bloomed over his lips, dimples deep in his cheeks. "Of course," he murmured, dipping his head down through the open window of her car to press a kiss to the apple of her cheek, "Should jus' live there, if you ask me."

(Y/N)'s own lips were curled into a soft smile as she looked up at him. This wasn't the first time nor would it be the last time she heard of this want of his. "We'll see," she settled, "Let me know when you're back then I'll head over."

"I will," he smiled, pressing another delicate kiss to her mouth before pulling away. "I love you."

"I love you, too," she cooed, "I'll let you know when I make it home."

He murmured a small thank you against her skin before pulling away. He waved a goodbye at her as he stepped back from her car, giving space for her to pull out of the parking lot.

Flicking her gaze to the rearview mirror, Harry nothing more than a cardigan covered figure that grew blurrier and blurrier until she took the turn to leave him out of her sight, (Y/N) could feel her heart rate spike.

She had a plan. The idea of setting it in motion elicited that nervous excitement in her. All she wanted was for it to go along without a hitch, and spend a special night with Harry.

When she laced this whole thing together the night before, she decided that when she went over that night, she wouldn't even really address what she had heard him say in the stream. She would initiate everything, pushing a little bit for the taboo idea he had shared, telling him that she wanted to try something new with him. She would tell him that she wanted to give more of herself to him.

It wouldn't take too much convincing, she figured. She already knew he had quite the affinity towards the idea of trying out both of her entrances. All she had to do was frame it with all the confidence she could muster.

And, maybe a cute set of lingerie she had bought with him in mind.

—————

The soft sound of lips parting and coming together once more filled Harry's apartment, the television screen a plain black as (Y/N) didn't want to waste time playing pretend with a movie night or watching an episode of their show. Instead, she didn't take much time before she was climbing atop his lap on the couch, her thighs astride his hips and Harry's hands on her waist.

"Sweetheart," he sighed into her mouth, his grip on her waist tightening as if she would slip away without him, "I've missed you."

(Y/N)’s own hands cradling his jaw, thumbing at the planes of his cheeks. Tipping her head in an effort to deepen the kiss, her tongue sweeping across his own, her nose the side of his own. "I missed you too, daddy."

She could feel the way his title affected him, his cock hard and heavy against her own core. He used his hold on her as leverage to help grind her down against him, (Y/N) practically able to feel the ridge of his head and the pulse of his heart through the thin fabric of her shorts. His grey sweats left little to the imagination.

"Say it again."

Moaning into his mouth, a crease knitted her brows the further she sunk into the moment. This was her chance, she was vaguely aware of. She was so ready for him, she lacked those nerves that came with vulnerability and she doubted Harry would be self-conscious enough to deny any indulgence into his fantasies.

"Daddy," she moaned, leaning into him that much more.

Snaking a hand down his form, (Y/N) followed the line of his shoulder down to his forearm. She reached to grab at his wrist before guiding his hand down lower on her body. Harry pliantly let her move him until they reached the full of her ass, the plush skin denting under Harry's fingertips. She pressed back against him, encouraging him to grab and play with her just like he said he wanted.

Harry was all but melting between her thighs. His kissing was growing lax and heavy, his tongue playing with her own in languid strokes. His heartbeat was racing but there was no urgency in the way he handled her. He luxuriated in every touch, every stroke, every grab.

It didn't take long for him to bring his other hand down to match the first, gripping her bottom in the span of his palms. Her skin felt flush everywhere he touched her, making it easy for her to push back against his hands and urge him to take the more he had been searching for.

"What's gotten into you?" he murmured, his voice heavy and watered down through the interrupting kisses. "Not that I don't like it, but you're being different, sweetheart."

To his credit, she was definitely going out of her way and initiating more, asking for more, doing more than she ever had before. She was always perfectly content with Harry calling the shots and sinking into that persona he felt comfortable in when it came to the bedroom. While she wasn't planning on taking that power from him tonight, she still had an end goal in mind that she was willing to guide him into meeting her at.

"Sorry," she answered, taking her lips to the corner of his mouth as they caught their breath, "I can stop. I just didn't realize how much I missed you, that's all."

"No, no, don't slow down," he urged her, pulling her flush against him with his hands on her ass, "Jus' want you to talk to me. What do you want? What do you want daddy to give you?"

Traveling down his neck, her lips never left his skin as she dragged a string of kisses over the slope of his throat. "I want to try something new," she whispered, hiding in his neck as she spoke.

"New?" he clarified, his voice vibrating through his throat, "What do you mean, hm?"

Was there a pretty way to phrase what she was going to ask for? (Y/N) wasn't sure, but she was going to try her best. As lusty as she was, she still was a little too shy for the more vulgar of phrases.

Instead, she pressed her bottom back against his palms, the ridges of his palms and the digits of his fingers could be felt through her sleepover shorts. "I want more of this," she told him, nose skimming his hairline with her eyes shuttered closed. "Inside."

All at once, clarity seemed to move into Harry.

Shifting his hold on her, one palm returned to the curve of her waist and the other landed on the back of her neck. He drew her away from her hiding place, forcing her to meet his gaze.

The lush green of his eyes had been depleted into something dark and foresty, a thin ring around a dilated pupil.

Fluttering her eyes in a blink, she dropped her gaze down to the swollen pillows of his lips. "Why'd you stop?"

A lopsided curve tugged at the corner of his lips. His hand on the back of her neck shifted until he was cradling her jaw in his palm, thumbing at dip under her chin. "Wanted to talk to you for a second, that's all."

Her heartbeat sped up in her chest, though no longer because of the lust she had feathering through her veins. "About what?"

Amusement flickered through his gaze. "About what y'jus' said to me."

Underneath her, Harry looked every bit the boy she had met in her physics course, the one that was too shy to meet her eyes and overly apologetic any time he had to scoot past her. He was the one that had tutored her through the toughest lectures and exams, willing to take his time and teach her things she wouldn’t have understood without him. She remembered him with flushed cheeks and chunky glasses, always warm under a heavy cardigan and a shy smile.

But, he wasn't acting like that boy. He was acting like the performer he was on screen. He was coaxing and teasing her, easing her into spilling her guts and cumming for him the second he requested as much. It wasn't fair; he was too cute, making her feel so safe to let go and be whatever she wanted to be, but entirely too hot to let her hand a clear head.

When she didn't answer, the cam performer continued, "Y'said y'wanted more of this, right?" He emphasized his question with the hand on her waist sliding down until he was warming the curve once more, fingers denting the soft flesh.

With a flutter of her lashes, (Y/N) gave a quiet nod of her head.

Harry hummed at her nonverbal answer. He tipped his chin and pressed a small kiss to her lips. It was a distraction as he led both his hands to sit on her bottom. This time, he made a point of sliding them under the hem of her shorts, skin to skin.

"What did y'mean by inside, flower?"

(Y/N) bought herself time by pressing another lingering kiss to his lips. There was that bashfulness rearing its head once more. She would have to tap into his confidence if he wanted her to be blunt.

"You know," she murmured as if that were a real answer.

"Do I?" he prodded, smiling into their kiss, "Because I think it sounds like y'want me to play with your cute little ass. Is that right?"

Her chest expanded with a shuddering breath. "Uh-huh."

Buttoning his mouth against hers one more time, he shared a quick kiss with her before pulling away. His pupils were still dilated and warm, but something was decidedly softer when his gaze met hers.

"Is that why y'seem so nervous, right now?"

(Y/N) clammed up at his words. He wasn't supposed to be so observant.

"I'm not nervous," she argued, her hands falling to the planes of his chest.

"Yes, you are," he countered, just as sweet as he smiled up at her, "And that's okay. I jus' want to know where your heads at. I didn't know y'ever wanted something like this."

She shrugged, dropping her eyes to where her hands rested on his chest. She could feel the hard muscle underneath the soft fabric of his top. "I only want to try it with you."

"Yeah?" he said, sounding a little too cocky to be safe, "And why y'didn't y'tell me before?"

Before she could think much better of it, the adrenaline and endorphins in her system doing their job, (Y/N) fired back, "Why didn't you tell me?"

She watched as Harry's brows creased at her words. "What do you mean, love?"

Floundering over her words, (Y/N) knew she couldn't stop here. She had already started, there was no way of stopping in the middle of it all. "I saw your stream the other night," she blurted out, getting it out of the way and off of her chest, "The one where you talked about this stuff."

Realization dawned on him then. "I didn't know y'were listening to that one."

"I was going to comment or say something so you knew I was there," she explained, "But I had come in halfway through and you were already talking, and I've just never heard you talk about wanting that before. I was... surprised."

"Bad surprised or good surprised?"

"Good surprised," she admitted, peeking at him through her lashes, "But, a little bit bad surprised because I had to hear about it through a stream and not from you."

Adjusting his hold on her, Harry held her with an arm looped around her middle with his other hand still warming her jaw. Hugging her to his chest, she had no choice but to look up at him and meet his eyes. "I wasn't trying to keep anything from you, you know."

"I know," she reasoned, understanding that part of his job was that it was an outlet for some of the more vulnerable things he hadn't admitted aloud yet, "But it sounded like you were talking about me, and when we talked later you said you were thinking about me while you were streaming. If I hadn't been watching, though, I still wouldn't have known."

He took in her every word, listening to what she had to say before speaking. "I don't want to push you too far, that's all. I like what we have—I like making love to you,"—the phrase always brought a smile to his face when he said it, especially when (Y/N) grew shy—"and I didn't want it to be any different."

Pursing her lips, (Y/N) attempted to understand what he was getting at. "So, you don't actually want to? It was just a stream thing?"

"Oh, no," Harry stopped her, a huff of his laughter fanning across her skin, "I definitely want to, trust me. I want you to want it too, and not jus' because y'feel like it would make me happy."

"I feel like we do a lot of things because we know it makes each other happy, though," she started, maneuvering her arms until they were looped around his neck with her fingers edging into his hairline on the nape of his neck, "I don't think that's a bad thing as long as we're both comfortable, right?"

"You do watch scary movies with me," he smiled, drawing a small breath of laughter out of her lungs, "But this is a little different, don't you think? I don't want to do anything with your body that you're not one hundred percent excited for. 'M only happy if you are too."

Rolling her lips between her teeth, she leaned into his hand on her jaw. "I am excited, though—I want to do this. I just wish you had told me first."

"Me too," he smiled, "Promise I wasn't trying to hide anything from you, I was only trying not to scare you."

"I know," she murmured, turning her face until she pressed her lips into a small kiss against his palm, "I'm not scared—you already promised you'd be gentle."

His grin widened at her reference to his stream, surely remembering his own fantasy in detail now that she was offering it up. "I did, didn't I?"

"Mhm," she hummed, using that hold she had around his neck to draw him nearer, "You said a lot of things."

"And, you liked it."

"I did," she confirmed, the tip of her nose grazing his, "You don't make it sound scary or gross, or anything?"

"Yeah?" he laughed, tipping his chin until he could press a tiny peck to her lips, "How do I make it sound?"

"Really hot," she admitted, "I forgot everything I studied about as soon as I started listening to you."

Harry gave a disapproving hum, teasing her. Resting the pad of his thumb against the full of her lips, he kept her from kissing him again, leaving her to listen as he spoke. "We'll have to work on that again later then, won't we? Go to the library again for some motivation?"

The reminder of the time they had gone to the library and Harry helped her through that mental block with his hand between her legs was enough to get her squirming in his lap once more. He had to know exactly where her mind had gone when she saw his grin stretch his dimpled cheeks.

"But, I should probably take care of you now," he mused, finally slipping his thumb from her lips as he smeared a kiss across her pout. "Y'deserve it for being so patient and talking to me about what you want."

"I do," she absently agreed, melting into him. She was willing to take whatever he would give.

(Y/N) indulged in the pillow of his lips, parting her mouth and taking the taste of him across her tongue. It was easy to slip back into that place with him, where her thoughts were wisps and her desires were candles lit aflame. His cock was still heavy in his lap, right where her core was resting with spread thighs, his lips still swollen, and skin still warm.

"I love you," he murmured on a breath, breaking away though he didn't stray too far from her with his forehead resting on hers, "Let's go to bed, sweetheart."

She let out a dreamy okay, following after him once he had her settled on her feet, back towards his bedroom. They didn't bother to close the door behind them, in too much of a rush before Harry was roughly handling her to be tossed amongst the folds in his bedding.

A bright peal of laughter fell from (Y/N)'s lips at the act, her eyes creasing and cheeks split wide. Harry climbed his bed with a matching smile, hovering over her.

"So pretty, you know that," he crooned, dropping a kiss on the apple of her cheek before he began his own pathway across her skin. He followed the soft planes of her face, grazing her eyelids and the bridge of her nose. (Y/N) couldn't help the soft breaths of laughter that followed the more affection he piled on her.

"You're pretty," she answered through her smile, placing her hands on his cheeks to keep him from straying too far once he finally rested on her lips.

A sly smile on his mouth kept her from getting a real kiss from him. He was bubbling up with something, she was sure.

"I know," he teased, "You think 'm pretty enough to play with your cute butt, so."

"Don't say it like that," she whined though her complaint held no grit through her toothy smile. She made a halfhearted attempt at pushing him away, though Harry stayed right where he was above her.

"Am I wrong? I seem to remember a certain conversation we had just a minute ago."

She didn't bother to answer him, instead smushing her lips against his in a silencing kiss. It was a bit off center, not quite matching up with her nose smushed against his cheek, but that didn't matter much to either of them. Harry happily fell into the contact without a single complaint.

Soon enough the silly kiss had melted into something serious, warm and languid. He laid heavily between her legs, his cock straining against his sweats with her loose shorts doing little to cover herself. His chest was pressed against hers, heartbeats side by side with every breath marked by the extra push of his blocky muscles against her breasts.

By the time her breath was taken from her lungs, Harry pulled away first. He skimmed his kiss-swollen lips over her skin until he was hovering by her ear. "Y'really want to try it out tonight?"

It didn't take a second thought before she was nodding her head.

"We'll go slow, (Y/N)," he cemented, pulling away to match her eyes intensely, "Jus' tell me to stop if you change your mind."

"I will," she answered, knowing he wouldn't move on until he had that verbal confirmation from her,

He gave her a pleased smile before he dipped down and pressed another small kiss to her lips. "Flip over for me, sweetheart."

The flames in her stomach pitched into a bonfire at his command. That had been exactly what she was picturing. Harry gave her space to roll onto her tummy, helping her move until she was on her knees with legs spread and cheek pressed against his pillow.

"This alright?" he checked in, dragging his warm hands down the backs of her thighs.

She nodded with a pleasant smile on her mouth. "This is how I pictured it," she murmured.

Harry's touch solidified at her words, less glancing fingertips and more weight on his palms as he caressed her skin and felt every inch of the plush fullness. "You pictured it?

Her ribcage practically rattled against her heartbeat as he started pulling down her shorts and panties. He helped her navigate pulling them off of her bent legs and ankles with the way her mind was too preoccupied. Why didn't she just show up naked? It would have made this so much easier.

"Uh-huh," she breathed, answering his question, "I-I wasn't sure what you had in mind, but I hoped it was like this."

Harry hummed, bending down to press a kiss to the small of her back. He pushed the hem of her loose shirt up, revealing more and more of her skin though they were both too in a rush to take the time to completely undress her. Soon enough, Harry's shirt joined her shorts and underwear on the floor, his sweats and boxing being all that clothed him for the moment.

"I have lots of ideas, sweetheart," he murmured, starting a path of planted kisses on the hills of her spine. "We'll only get through a couple today, but if y'like it, we can try so much more."

The promise that there was more he wanted to show her, more times that she would be wrapped in his sheets, more of him that she would accept without a doubt, was enough to get her pussy fluttering.

Going down the line, Harry started kissing over the globes of her bottom, delicate sweeps of his lips over the sensitive skin. She couldn't help the goosebumps that touched her skin, unfamiliar with the feeling of anything other than his strong hands skimming this part of her.

"Gonna eat you out first, okay, flower?" he crooned, his words fanning out across her skin, "We'll start there, and we'll see how you feel."

"Okay, Harry," she sighed, trusting him from where she lay with her cheek squished into the pillow and eyes fluttering to a close. The only thing she didn't love about this position: she couldn't see him.

A beat later, she could feel the warmth of his breath fan across her core. She tensed some at the surprise, feeling her insides squeeze knowing that he was that close. She only had enough time to register that exhale before the flat of his tongue was licking through her wetness. Her own breath was sucked out of her lungs at the first touch against her clit, her folds being spread wide open around the width of his tongue.

Sagging towards the bed, she arched her back that much more for him, presenting any and everything for him. Harry wrapped his hands around her thighs, palms warming the tops while his fingers wrapped around to the side insides and dented the delicate skin. His grip was steadying as he pointed the tip of his tongue and explored her opening, her walls pulsing.

An all too smug breath of laughter fell from his lips when he pulled away. "Feeling good, sweetheart? Tell me."

"So good, H," she bubbled immediately, no other thoughts attempting to take over at the moment.

"Who?" he pressed, his hands on her thighs tightening though he didn't dip back down to her pussy like she wanted.

"So good, daddy," she corrected, all but keening into him, hoping she gave the right answer and would feel more of him sliding through her folds and tasting her wetness.

"That's better, sweetheart," he praised her.

With that, Harry's tongue was once more slipping through her wetness. He smeared his tongue across her core, taking in everything she had to offer while leaving a mess behind, comprised of both her slick and his saliva. Wet sounds filtered through his bedroom, along with the heady breathing coming from her and the contented noises coming from Harry.

By the time (Y/N) had her slick covering her thighs, enough wetness to make her worry she was going to start dripping over his bed (though, seeing as how he enjoyed making her squirt, she doubted he would have minded), Harry began focusing his tongue over her pulsing entrance. More and more slick wept from her hole as he pointed the tip and slipped inside amongst her tight walls. She shuddered at the feeling, her breathing hitching as she attempted to bring in a deep breath.

Before she could even register that she was missing contact on her clit, his fingertips were pressing against the bud. Tight circles were drawn around the top of her slit, her legs beginning to shake now that there was so much moire to focus on but less room in her brain to spare. He kept his other hand steady on her thigh, keeping her from falling while simultaneously being her grounding anchor.

Her wetness dipped down his fingers, tainting his palm with a thin glimmer. Harry pulled away for a heartbeat, his breathing heavy. She could imagine the shine on his chin and nose, the flush to his cheeks, and the way he would be staring at her with intensity in his eyes. She could feel that heated gaze as his fingers trailed through her messy slit.

When he reached her hole, he lingered for only a second before he was skipping upwards. Though (Y/N) knew this was coming, she still felt her heart skip a beat, her breathing shatter as she waited with bated breath.

He brought his slick fingers to her second entrance. In an instant, (Y/N) felt herself tense up, the foreign feeling shocking her.

"'S alright, flower," Harry crooned to her, his words fanning across the rounded globes of her ass, "Jus' relax. 'S only me, and 'm going to be gentle, remember?"

"I remember, I remember," she muttered in a rambling blurt. Honestly, if she had been asked what exactly she was remembering at that moment, she wouldn't have been able to give a straight answer.

Working her through that initial shock, Harry circled his slick fingers around the puckered skin, delving his tongue back into her pussy to give her something familiarly fantastic to cling to. Her legs took as she took in the duo of feelings, her clit being laved over by his tongue with a part of her she never thought could be stimulated now pulling the breath from her lungs.

"Still feeling good, love?" he asked, drawing away for just long enough to ask before he was licking through her folds once more.

It didn't take a second thought before she was breathing out, "Uh-huh, uh-huh."

There was nothing else for her to say—especially if she wanted to sound coherent. Though it was still odd, the feeling of his wandering fingers, every pass of his fingertips over the tight opening had a pulse ringing through her insides. The flames in her stomach were tight and warm, coiling into a burn.

"I knew you'd like it, sweetheart," he mumbled against her pussy, "Told you I'd be gentle. Jus' wanna open you up a little for me to fit a finger in, is that okay?"

(Y/N) felt her eyes squeeze to a shut, creases knitting her brows together. "It's okay," she breathlessly answered, half-parroting his words back to him as that was all she could process in the moment.

A groan rumbled through Harry's chest, the sound vibrating over her core. "You want that? Want me to finger your tight little ass, love?"

Until Harry, those words would have turned her off, had her curling in on herself and ending whatever encounter had gone south, but hearing the vulgar request in his dulcet tone, rounded with lust, had both her entrances pulsing around nothing.

"Tell me you want it, sweetheart."

"I want it, daddy," she breathed out, a short whine cutting her off when he thumbed at her slick rim, trying to spread her open just like he said, "Please."

"You're doing so good, my love," he murmured, dropping a kiss to the sensitive crease just between her thigh and the slick spread of her core. "'M going to give you everything y'want. I jus' need you to relax."

Bringing her bottom lip between her teeth, (Y/N) sagged towards the mattress. She thought she had been relaxed, easing into everything and welcoming his touch. "I-I'm trying," she whined, "I thought I was doing good."

"You are, flower, I promise," he soothed her, another kiss to the slick skin, "Y'might be thinking about it too much, that's all. Y'need a distraction, don't you?"

(Y/N) didn't want to be distracted from a single touch he gave her, if she was being honest. She wanted to feel everything, know where his hands were, and find what she liked most. But, she supposed she might be too aware of every graze of his fingers, her body instinctively tensing and moving.

"I think you do, sweetheart," Harry continued when he didn't get a response.

The bed shifted behind her then, his hand stilling on her backside before she could feel his hips pressing against her ass. His thighs were lined up against her own with his hard cock sliding through the wetness of her folds.

A gasp fell from her lips, the tip of his heavy prick nudging her clit. She felt her insides pulse, including the already tight hole he was trying to work open. She keened back against him, slicking his shaft and the trimmed patch of hair at the base.

Smug laughter sounded behind her, Harry sounding much too pleased with himself and the reaction he could garner from her.

"Stay still for me, love," he instructed her, "'M gonna help you."

The steadying hand he had placed on her hip disappeared then, instead fisting at his cock before he was nudging the head into her entrance. Slick with both his saliva and every weep of her wetness, he slid in with no problems, a wet slap sounding once he bottomed out. (Y/N) reveled in the familiar feeling of fullness, completely spread wide open for his cock to push through her tight walls. She could feel the ridge of his head, the length of his veins, the slight curve that aimed him perfectly at the soft spot on her walls.

She would never be used to the depth he reached in her, remembering the way he had teased such a thing on a stream before they even knew one another. She had figured it was nothing more than fantasy talk back then, something to get his viewers going as well as feed into something Harry could cum to. Now, she knew that was all very much the truth, feeling the stretch in her own body as if he were nudging as deep as her stomach.

"Better, sweetheart?" he muttered, rearing his hips back before thrusting forward. He kept her on balance with his hand returning to her hip. Slick noises erupted around his cock as he sunk in, his hips slapping against her thighs.

The pads of his fingers circled her back entrance through his distraction, though her attention had trouble splitting between his heavy cock and the foreign touch. She could feel the way he did his best to gently spread her open, easing her into being able to take one of his thick fingers.

"B-Better, daddy," she cried, reaching blindly for this hand on her hip. She needed something gentle and familiar, she decided.

Harry welcomed her innocent touch, lacing their fingers together over the full of her hip together though her hold was decidedly looser given the monumental distractions she was going through.

"Good," he huffed, matching that of a particularly hard thrust he gave.

In that same moment, (Y/N) could feel the tip of one of his fingers slide inside her untouched opening. She gasped, mouth dropping open into a gape.

It was more startling than anything, the small intrusion causing her body to tense up.

"No, don't do that, sweetheart," Harry gently scolded her, keeping the pacing of his hips as he fucked her pussy, "Stay relaxed for me. You're doing so good, no need to be scared."

She wanted to listen to him, she really did, but she didn't know how to relax. All she could manage was closing her eyes, flexing her fingers around his own, and focusing on the familiar parts of his touch. She tried to right her breathing, fix the uneven shuddering and replace it with something steady and consistent.

"That's so much better, sweetheart," he cooed, dropping down to press a kiss to her shoulder, "Keep going, love. 'S jus' me."

While she didn't feel as if she were relaxing any considering how tightly wound her tummy was and the pulsing of her walls, she was happy to hear that she was easing up for him. Her efforts increased tenfold when that same slick finger pushed deeper inside of her, the knuckle of his digit catching before he could go further.

(Y/N) couldn't have prepared for how full she felt with his cock running through her walls and the small intrusion of his finger in her backside. The pace of her breathing she had tried to curate, the even intakes and exhales, was thrown out the window the second she allowed herself to take in the full breadth of that feeling.

She could feel him everywhere: the slap of his thighs against the back of her own, his hand in hers, his cock spreading her open, and his finger venturing into her ass for the first time.

There was no room in her head for anything but him; no wispy thoughts or anything that could form coherent words. She was drifting through his bedsheets as he did as he pleased with her.

With her attention only on him and he he felt, she could feel the twitch of his cock through her walls, everything stretched so tight around him. He barely stroked his finger through her back entrance, pulling it out the smallest amount before pushing back through. He was curating two opposing rhythms, leaving a part of him inside her at all times.

The thought had a broken moan leaving her lips.

"Fuck, you're so hot, baby," Harry muttered, the burn of his gaze trapped on her ass, "Gonna make me cum just from seeing my finger in your ass."

"I-I—" she floundered, unsure of where her mind was as well as the moisture in her throat, "I-I want—daddy."

A particularly harsh thrust was delivered, the bones of his hips pressing hard into her thighs. Another tiny bit of his finger sunk into her backside, enough to have (Y/N)'s back arching.

"What do you want from daddy, sweetheart?" he asked, his voice strained and thin. His composure was waning.

What did she want from him? What else could he give her that she wasn't already reveling in?

"C'mon, love," he coaxed, though his voice was decidedly harsher than she'd heard it before, "Don't go dumb on me yet. I still wanna hear my smart girl talk to me."

If he thought that would help clear her mind, he was sorely mistaken when she felt another gush of her wetness seep around his cock, her clit throbbing, and walls pulsing around everything inside. He could barely move his finger though the fact that she was aware it was inside was just as effective as feeling him slide through her virgin opening.

"Oh," he sighed, bottoming out with hard and fast thrusts against her, "You liked that, my love? I'll have to remember that, won't I?"

"Uh-huh, uh-huh." (Y/N) nodded her head with only half of her attention on what he was saying.

He pulsed his hand around her own, keeping her steady and with him. "We'll have to save that for next time though, sweetheart. I think you're about to cum with daddy, right?"

That was what she had wanted. The last thing he could give her was his release landing across the backs of her thighs. She could only blindly nod against the pillow, her hair sure to be a mess by the time she would actually start to care about anything other than her lust-filled body.

"I can't last much longer, love," Harry started, his words emphasized with the way he had to grit them out, "But, I need you to cum first. Wanna see you cum with your pussy and ass filled with me. Make me proud, sweetheart."

For (Y/N), time stopped right there. All that she was aware of was the man at her back and the perfect ribbon in her tummy that had unraveled in the most spectacular of fashion. Her mouth dropped open to a silent gape, nothing coming out given the fact she couldn't take any air in. Her head was cloudy and warm, matching the rest of her body. Points of clarity came in the form of Harry's hand on her hip, the tap of his balls against her clit, and the sharp unfamiliarity of the stretch of her second entrance.

That was the only reason she was aware of the fact he had pulled out. She mourned the loss of him inside her—in both places—until she felt him cum against her pussy, warm ropes sticking to her skin. The mess between her legs was now a perfect miss of the both of them, dripping down the inside of her thighs.

Aftershocks came in the form of lingering spurts from Harry, and (Y/N)'s walls pulsing around nothing. She couldn't be sure when she returned to the land of the living, but when the details of Harry's room came back into focus, she swore her vision was sharper. There was a joke about good sex there, something about Harry being her cure-all, but there was no way she could even attempt a tease at the moment.

She knew Harry was with her once more when he dropped down to press a set of kisses on the small of her back. His hands were on her hips, one still holding tightly to her own, while the other kept her steady as she began to lose her balance and sink towards his bed.

"You with me, (Y/N)?" he murmured against her skin, his voice gruff.

Flexing her fingers in his as a response, (Y/N) gave a small nod. "I'm here."

"Oh, love," he sighed, draping himself over her back, his lips pressing to the line of his jaw and soft of her cheek, "You did so good, I love you so much. Did that feel alright? I didn't hurt you right?"

"No, no, I felt really good," she breathed, a soft chord of laughter swaying out amongst her words, "I think I almost blacked out."

"Oh?" he sounded, his own peals of laughter following right after, "In a good way, right?"

Letting go of his hand, (Y/N) brought it up to pat at his cheek. "In a good way."

"Good," he crooned, pressing a gentle kiss to the palm of her hand before he started extracting himself from her. "I'm gonna get some things to clean us up, 'kay? Stay right here."

He must think he's so funny, she thought, but she didn't have it in her to play his back and forth at the moment. He could win this round.

By the time Harry returned with wet cloths and a pair of his shorts for her to borrow, all of the slick release coating her core and the inside of her thighs had cooled. It was an uncomfortable feeling that he took his time wiping away. He eased up around her sensitive spots, apologizing with kisses to the backs of her thighs and promises to be gentle.

"Did y'really like it, (Y/N)? Everything we did?" Harry asked after a moment, wiping down the insides of her thighs.

She bit at the full of her bottom lip, unsure of how to articulate what she had experienced. "It felt weird," she started, unable to find any other word to describe how she felt, "But, I liked it—a lot. I think it helped since it was you, and I love you, but it was... good."

"Jus' good? I thought y'said you almost blacked out?"

Blindly swatting behind her, she landed her hand in the soft swirls of his hair. She playfully pulled at the strands. "I'm too tired to play right now, stop," she laughed.

Her reprimanding hold of his hair turned into gentle carding through the curls as he took care of her. A beat passed, Harry finishing cleaning her up before he helped her into her borrowed shorts. Collapsing onto his bed, her back bouncing over the springs, she figured laundry, including the clothes on the floor, would have to wait for now.

Hovering above her, Harry looked to her with his clear green eyes—the same ones she had seen that first time in her physics class after he had taken a leap and took the seat beside her. She would be eternally grateful he had the confidence to do as much, otherwise she would have never learned just how many greens were in his irises.

"Really," he started out, voice gentle and quiet like a secret, "'M really happy y'felt good. It obviously worked very well on me too."

(Y/N)'s lips turned into an amused smile as she reached up and pushed back the flop of curls covering his forehead. "See, this is why you tell me things like this first—not the stream."

It was a lighthearted tease that had his mouth splitting into a smile, bunny teeth and dimples on display. He dropped his head to press an innocent kiss to the tip of her nose, though it wasn't quite as effective through his smile.

"I've definitely learned my lesson, flower," he murmured.

(Y/N) could only tip her chin and press her lips to his.

—————

this is.....very different SHFUSHFSUH thank u sm for reading, thank you to whoever requested, sorry for any mistakes and if theres any other ideas anyone else wants to see please send them in!

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doumadono · 3 months

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An absolution - priest!Dabi x Reader

Warnings: smut w/o plot, fingering, fem!Reader Synopsis: seeking absolution from a new priest in your parish proves to be a more challenging endeavor than anticipated

MY HERO ACADEMIA MASTERLIST

Priest!Dabi is notorious for exploiting the sacred confessional as a means of extracting the deepest, darkest secrets from you. His malicious intent thrives on the vulnerability of those who seek redemption, turning their confessions into a twisted game.

Priest!Dabi, simply asking you within a soft, casual tone, "Are you engaging in self-pleasure, dear child?"

Your eyes expand as his inquiry settles into your thoughts. Stammering, you attempt to respond, "I… I…"

A gentle chuckle resonates from within the concealed darkness of the confessional. "There's no need to be bashful. Vulnerability is inherent in human nature, and everyone grapples with it, sooner or later. Confess," he urges, his encouragement echoing through the shadowed enclosure.

With a flush on your cheeks and your heart racing, you hesitantly admit to every self-inflicted act, burdened by the weight of vocalizing the myriad things you've done to yourself. The weight of guilt persists, exacerbated by the contemplation that had your family been privy to the depths you've explored, they would have cast their curses upon you ages ago.

Priest!Dabi whose words are laced with a malevolent charm. He preaches salvation with a wicked glint in his eyes, enticing you with promises of absolution, all while harboring his own sinister agenda.

Unbeknownst to you, priest!Dabi discreetly palms himself through the fabric of his dark trousers. The sound of your soft voice uttering those explicit phrases has a palpable effect on him, stirring desires he can't deny.

"What shall be my atonement?" you inquire, your voice trembling. "I repent for my actions, Father."

Dabi grins to himself. "You'll accompany me, my child."

As he exits the confessional, he motions for you to follow him to the vestry. You feel a sense of confusion but obediently trail behind him.

Priest!Dabi, a recent addition to your community, is already infamous for his unconventional methods. Despite the unsettling rumors, you choose to remain open-minded.

In the vestry, priest!Dabi firmly shuts the door behind you. You instinctively fold your hands in front of you, a subtle tremor coursing through you as you hesitate to meet his intimidating gaze.

He motions for you to occupy the seat beside him on a modest couch, and you comply, the unease palpable as you settle into the space next to him.

"You've sinned," priest!Dabi intones, his words a chilling whisper that reverberates through the sacred space. "You've strayed from the path of righteousness," he continues, each syllable enunciated with a deliberate gravity. "Now, my child," he says with measured solemnity, "I shall grant you a shrift."

Priest!Dabi who casually rests his hand on your knee, softly rubbing it with his thumb, gradually sliding his hand upward.

"Father Touya," you whisper, cheeks flushed, your gaze fixed on him without a blink. Your heart races, pounding within your chest like a captive creature yearning for escape.

Priest!Dabi who whispers, "Shhhh, shhhh, it's fine, my child. I'm not going to hurt you."

You attempt to close your legs, but his firm hand prevents any movement. "The only way to absolve your sins is to allow my consecrated hands to touch you," priest!Dabi declares, his voice unwavering.

You glance up at his scarred face but quickly avert your eyes as his unwavering gaze intersects with yours.

Before you fully grasp the situation, his rough palm cups you through your panties. A small whimper escapes you as the cold, sharp edges of staples on his hand graze against your tender skin as the fabric is pushed aside in the process.

"Hush now, no need to be shy, little Y/N," he soothes, his surprisingly gentle voice accompanied by slender fingers daringly exploring your soft folds.

A soft sigh escapes your parted lips.

"Look at me," he commands, his tone a touch rougher this time. His thumb and forefinger lift your chin, compelling you to meet his piercing turquoise gaze.

Despite the inner awareness that this shouldn't be unfolding, you reluctantly acquiesce. Your gaze meets his, a silent glare, as you breathe heavily. The trust you hold in him, the priestly figure, reassures you that he wouldn't guide you toward forbidden desires, or so you hope.

Priest!Dabi who skillfully massages your clitoris with his thumb while two of his fingers slowly slip inside you. He grins a little, attempting to keep a serious face. "You see, my child, there's nothing wrong with what I'm doing here. Just look how your body reacts."

"Father Touya, this is wrong…" you whisper, yet a part of you decides to spread your legs a little wider to grant him a better access.

In a short span of time, his long fingers explore your pussy with finesse, leaving you breathless in close proximity to his awaiting lips. "Father Touya..." you pant.

He quickens his pace, his fingers moving with nimble urgency, the heel of his palm exerting firm pressure against your mound. The painful graze of the staples against the delicate flesh adds an edgy sensation to the entire thing, making you whine quietly. An instinctual whisper urges you to engage in the rhythmic motion of rolling your hips. It is an intuitive response, driven by an innate craving for the friction that promises a profound sense of satisfaction. Yielding to this urge, you find yourself succumbing to the compelling dance of desire, raising and lowering your hips slightly in the rhythm of his thrusts.

Priest!Dabi gently grazes the tip of his tongue across your lips, his fingers curling within your pussy with an unspoken intensity, massaging your spongy walls. "You're excelling, my dear child. There's no need for shame - you can come."

His resonant and alluring voice resonates, casting a spell that ignites a fervent response within you. The culmination manifests as a visceral release as you cum all over his long fingers, coating them with your slick, runny essence. "Father..." you whine, your tone quivering.

He murmurs, "There, there," gently caressing the back of your neck with his long digits. Withdrawing his fingers, he theatrically brings them to his lips, delicately licking them clean, all the while maintaining an unwavering gaze locked onto yours. He delivers a few spanks to your slick pussy, and then with a subtle finesse, Dabi enhances the arrangement of your undergarments, veiling your exposed folds beneath the soft fabric once more.

Your face is still tinged with red as you instinctively close your legs, folding your hands in your lap, feeling a twisted, pulsating sensation growing inside you. "Will I… Will I get forgiveness, father?"

He smiles at you, slowly nodding his head as he adjusts himself in his crotch; the material of his black pants is visibly tented. "My dear Y/N, your sins weigh heavily, and you'll need to make amends for absolution," he says, a mischievous glint in his eyes darkened by pure lust. "Come see me tomorrow, and I'll consider what actions can help cleanse your past sins."

tagging some wonderful folks who might enjoy this one: @shonen-brainrot @bakugoscunny @viburnt @dabis-vigilnate-girl @dabismoon @dabislittlemouse @indignant-alpaca

#dabi #dabi x reader #dabi x y/n #dabi x you #dabi x reader smut #dabi smut #anime smut #bnha dabi #mha dabi #touya todoroki #mha smut #touya todoroki x reader #bnha smut #touya todoroki x you #dabi headcanons #touya todoroki headcanons #divider by cafekitsune #dabi todoroki

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taexual · 3 months

Text

sleepwalking ● 17 | jjk

pairing: jungkook x fem!reader

summary: due to unfortunate circumstances, you ended up managing your ex-boyfriend’s band. you thought you’ve both made peace with it, but suddenly he’s very eager to prove to you that first love never dies.

genre: rockstar!jungkook / exes to lovers

warnings: explicit language and depictions of medical treatment (mentions of an IV, not overly descriptive), fluff (!), angst, A LOT of pent-up emotions, SLOW BURN

words: 15.5k (help)

read from the beginning ○ masterlist

chapter 17 ► looking sideways when i say i’m okay with the past, but i’m afraid of what i might say if you ask

When you regained consciousness, it took you a few more minutes to understand what was happening.

In your hazy mind, the first clear thought you could grasp was a memory: Jungkook had gotten into a fight. Instinctively, you imagined yourself standing up and finding him. Not because your job required you to—honestly, you weren’t sure what job you even had at this point, your mind hadn’t sorted itself out yet—but because you wanted to see if he was okay.

You tried to open your eyes, but the room was spinning, and you felt a little queasy from the unexpected vertigo.

You shut your eyes again and tried to focus on your other senses—as best as you could without moving—hoping that this would answer some of the new questions forming in your mind.

You did not know where you were or how you got here, but the room was warm. The lack of proper ventilation made the air feel stuffy.

You didn’t hear any background noise, so you assumed you weren’t at a hospital. But you could hear a lot of shouting in the room. You thought you discerned three different voices, but they were all talking over each other, so it was hard to tell.

You were lying on something soft but scratchy, and a heavy duvet pressed you into the bed. It felt comforting, but you were starting to sweat.

Someone’s hand was on your wrist, their fingers cold.

Reflexively, you squeezed their hand.

“Don’t move,” someone whispered right next to you. Jungkook, you realised. “We’ve called a doctor.”

Your initial reaction was relief. He was here, so he had to be okay.

Your next reaction, however, was pure panic. You didn’t need a doctor. You just needed a minute.

“We should have taken her to a hospital,” another voice argued. “I’ll never forgive you if anything happens to her.”

That had to be Luna, you were sure of it. Your eyes remained closed, but you could envision your friend with her arms crossed over her chest, regarding the boy next to you with a scorching glare.

You didn’t like this mention of a hospital.

You squeezed Jungkook’s hand again, but even as he tried to explain to Luna that you would go on a particularly bloody rampage if he took you to a hospital—he had a point and you would have felt grateful if you hadn’t been so distressed—she still wasn’t hearing him.

You opened your mouth and felt your chapped lips tighten painfully.

“No hospital, please,” you croaked in the voice of someone who had been a successful chain smoker for over fifty years.

You heard Luna whisper-yell, “you’re unbelievable, the both of you!” and you tried to open your eyes again, but nothing had changed. It still felt a bit like gravity had taken a day off as the room and everyone around you continued to float.

You heard a faint voice that you did not recognise, and from the official tone and the immediate chill you felt inside, you deduced that it was the doctor.

“I’m going to administer a very mild sedative,” he said—to whom, you weren’t sure. Your insides felt very heavy. “And set up a drip. Make sure she doesn’t move much or the catheter will—oh, see, like that. That can’t happen.”

Your muscles spasmed involuntarily. Something pricked your arm. You didn’t mind needles, but you did not like IVs. You didn’t need to be sedated.

“I don’t think—” you tried to say when you felt something cold on your arm—the doctor’s hands, presumably, in very unpleasant, squeaky latex gloves. “I don’t think I need this.”

“Can you open your eyes for me, please?” the doctor asked.

“No,” you said with what you hoped was a shake of your head. In reality, you merely wrinkled your nose. “T-that is not something I can do right now. But in a—”

“Your body needs rest,” the doctor explained. Jungkook moved closer until he was clutching your hand with both of his. “It won’t knock you out, but it will relax you, make you a little drowsy. That will likely help you fall asleep naturally. Is that all right?”

You lacked the strength to tell him that you were already very tired—or the strength to tell him that you still had things to do, so you couldn’t just sleep.

The memory of the flooding at the venue in Manchester came back to your mind and your muscles tensed again.

Really, you were about to refuse, but there was hardly anything you disliked more than inconveniencing people. They had invited a doctor for you. He was just doing his job.

“Okay,” you said in quiet defeat.

“Your friends are in the room with you,” the doctor said. You felt a cold sensation on your arm. “They will stay with you and make sure you get plenty of rest. Even after you wake up, you must spend as much time in bed as you possibly can.”

“Don’t phrase it like that,” you heard Jungkook object. “Give us a specific time, or she’ll be out of bed as soon as she wakes up.”

Silence followed. You tried to imagine what was happening. Jungkook must have looked very eager—in his exaggerated manner, which resembled desperation rather than hope. Luna probably nodded in agreement. The doctor, if he was kind enough, smiled at them patiently.

“Two days,” he finally stated. “Today and tomorrow, at the very least. If she has to walk, someone should accompany her. But don’t keep her on her feet for too long. I’ve seen the crowd of people outside this room—don’t tire her out. There should only be one or two people in the room with her, all right? Proper nutrition, sufficient sleep, and a—”

You felt yourself drifting off, and the doctor’s words faded and merged together until you were no longer sure whether you were imagining what a doctor would say in this situation, or if he was actually speaking.

When you opened your eyes again, Luna and Maggie were seated in the armchairs next to your bed. The room had stabilised, allowing you to take in your surroundings before Luna glanced up from her phone and Maggie pulled out her earpods, noticing that you were awake.

The space around you appeared to be a hotel room. Next to the bed stood a metal bar with bags of faint yellow liquid on it. A catheter was attached to your arm and an intravenous line led to it from the drip. You shivered at the sight of it.

“Oh!” Luna’s gasp drew your attention back to her. She dropped her phone on her seat and straightened up. “How are you feeling?”

Right away, Maggie jumped up and removed her earpods.

“Confused,” you spoke and immediately tried to clear your prickly throat.

Maggie leapt forward and grabbed an empty glass from the bedside table. She poured some water from one of the three bottles on the floor and handed it to you.

You couldn’t remember the last time you had water. It tasted heavenly.

“You’re in a hotel room,” Luna explained as you drank. Maggie sat down on the armrest of her friend’s chair. “In Manchester.”

The mention of the city made you glare at her, and both girls breathed a sigh of relief. At least you knew where you were in a broader sense.

“It’s 7 PM,” Luna said after checking her phone. “The band has a day off tomorrow because the concert’s been postponed—”

“Because of the flooding,” you finished, leaning forward to put the glass back on the table. “I remember, Luna. Thanks. What, um—how come I’m here?”

Luna looked at Maggie for a moment, wordlessly asking her to take over the story.

“Well, you fainted,” Maggie started. She wasn’t usually a woman of many words, and this time was no different, which you found comforting. If Maggie didn’t think it was necessary to talk for hours, then you must not have been doing that bad. “Jungkook found you.”

“Yeah,” Luna had to interject with more details—she was still irked about his decision to book a hotel room instead of a hospital room. “And then he spent half an hour describing your symptoms. It took the doctor all of one second to diagnose you with burnout and put you on a vitamin drip. He told us to keep you on bed rest and watch for any more nosebleeds or fainting spells. If they continue, you’ll need to go into urgent care.”

You wanted to ask questions—where did they find this doctor? Where was this hotel? What was happening at the venue?—but the girls were on a roll.

“Meanwhile, I wasn’t even allowed in the room,” Maggie said, returning to her chair and sitting down properly. She was upset that she had missed what Luna had just summarised for you. “The doctor told us that only one person could stay, but neither Luna, nor Jungkook agreed to leave. So, no one else could come in until you were feeling better.”

“Jungkook was the one who decided on the hotel room, by the way,” Luna remarked, seemingly glad to finally express her frustrations. “I argued. I think you should at least have a blood test done. What if you’re anaemic? But—”

“I’m not anaemic,” you finally interrupted as you settled back on the bed. The mattress quickly adjusted to the shape of your body. Closing your eyes, you had to admit that the bed was really quite comfortable. Perhaps you could stay here for a few more hours. “This has happened to me before. I’ll be fine.”

Luna sighed. Her knowledge of the last time this had happened to you came from Jungkook’s haphazard stream of thought as he tried to explain to the doctor that the two of you had been in this exact situation before—you, unconscious, and he, on the verge of losing his mind.

Honestly, for a moment, Luna thought the doctor had considered sedating Jungkook instead of you.

“I knew you were going to say that,” she muttered after a minute. “Jungkook seemed to believe you’d shoot us all dead if we took you to a hospital.”

Gratitude bubbled up in your chest, but when you saw your friend’s solemn features, you tried to soften your response.

“I wouldn’t have shot you,” you said. “I would have smothered you all with pillows."

Maggie scoffed, and Luna rolled her eyes, but the corners of her lips still turned up.

“Nice to see you haven’t gained a sense of humour while you were out,” Maggie teased.

“Ha,” you responded dryly—but you were smiling, too.

Luna crossed her legs on the armchair to get more comfortable. She glanced at Maggie anxiously. The girls weren’t sure if they were tiring you out with their conversation, but you were looking up at the ceiling, not indicating that you were tired in any way, so they decided to continue.

“So, want to tell us how this happened, then?” Luna asked.

You turned your head to her. “I was hoping you’d tell me. I can’t exactly remember.”

“You fainted,” Maggie reminded you. Luna leaned over and gave her a pat on the arm, thanking her for this valuable reminder.

You smiled gently. “You mentioned that. Where’d the doctor come from?”

“Oh, Jungkook found one,” Maggie said. “There’s a clinic across the street from the venue. And this hotel is right next door.”

“Oh.”

A minute passed as you attempted to piece it all together.

You could not remember any of this, but the news that Jungkook had taken care of most things was not calming. He must have really been going out of his mind.

You were curious about where he was, but you didn’t want to ask. Your paranoid mind made you think that any question about Jungkook that was not related to Rated Riot was unnecessary and would, therefore, be misunderstood. Your friends already seemed like they were resisting a few additional comments for the sake of your health.

“So,” Luna started after a quiet minute, “how come you fainted?"

You exhaled and tried to scratch your eyebrow, but the catheter tugged painfully at your skin, and you winced instead.

You dropped your hand back down. “I-I... I guess I overestimated myself.”

Luna pushed the IV stand closer to your bed so you could have more freedom with your limbs. You nodded gratefully.

“You’re going to have to slow down,” Luna said. “It’s no longer negotiable, I’m afraid. If you don’t listen to us, we will take you to a hospital.”

It was the plural pronoun that bothered you the most, but you forced yourself to swallow your discomfort at disrupting the daily routines of your friends.

“I’ll be alright soon,” you said. “And I promise this won’t happen again.”

“It had better not,” Maggie chimed in. “And what’s with this hatred of hospitals? You don’t like that they’re full of people who want to help you feel better?”

“I don’t hate them,” you said, which wasn’t entirely true. Your experiences in hospitals included your mum crying, and you’d rather not relive that—not so soon after your brother broke his leg. “I just don’t have time for them. I’m okay.”

Luna gave you a stern look. Even Maggie, who was usually quite calm when you said you were fine, was glowering a little.

“Fine,” you conceded. “I’ll endure this drip and then I'll be okay. Thank you for being here.”

Luna made a deliberate scene of fixing the bags on the metal stand—clearly intending to emphasise the seriousness of your condition—and then lowered herself back into her armchair.

“You’re welcome,” she said.

Smiling at both of your girls—to distract them from further discussing your health—you said, “I love you.”

“We love you, too,” Maggie said. “And, babe, just so you know, it’s not just us. There was—everyone was here. The concierge nearly fainted when he saw us all in the hallway.”

Your smile quickly fell. “What do you mean, everyone?”

“We took care of it, don’t worry,” Luna interjected, sensing your growing panic. “Maggie and I talked to Seokjin, Jimin, and Namjoon, who then spoke to the rest of the staff and escorted them out. And Jungkook took care of his band.”

The panic lingered. Your job was solving crises, not causing them. You did not like this.

“He took care of them?” you repeated, swallowing.

“Well, they were very worried,” Luna explained, glancing at Maggie for help. Maggie only nodded, indicating her agreement. “And, uh, they were very loud, too. He told them to go and texted them updates every ten minutes.”

“God.” You closed your eyes and carefully tried to prop yourself up into a half-sitting position. “What updates? I was asleep.”

“That’s what he’s been texting them,” Luna explained. “Every ten minutes, on the dot. And then Taehyung texted me, asking why I kicked his best friend out of your room—which is ridiculous because I did not kick him out. But you’re my best friend, so technically, I would have had the right to kick him out if you were uncomfortable.”

You pinched the bridge of your nose with your hand and shook your head, an involuntary smile creeping onto your face at your friend’s protectiveness. “I’m comfortable. Thank you.”

“Are you going to see him?” Maggie asked.

You looked up at her. “Jungkook?”

“Yeah.” She nodded. “He’s right behind the door, you know. Glued to the wall in the hallway.”

Your gaze slid down her dark blue jacket and focused on the mirror on the wall behind her. “Oh.”

“The doctor said he would need to go to the hospital, too, by the way,” Luna said, earning a surprised look from you. “He said the bandages around his head looked very threatening.”

You pressed your lips together. You’d expected that, but you still felt a fleeting twinge of disappointment—you’d covered his wounds to the best of your ability. And the bandages were honestly not the worst part of this.

“The doctor hasn’t even seen what’s underneath,” you said.

“He has now, actually,” Maggie replied. “He went to the emergency room about an hour ago to have them changed.”

You were too taken aback to properly understand her. “Jungkook did?”

“Yeah,” Luna said, pulling her phone out. Your mind tuned out her next few sentences as you struggled to come to terms with the fact that Jungkook had gone to the emergency room on his own accord. “—and he called us from the hospital. Apparently, he pestered the nurses with questions about what else we could do to help you feel better. They told him to leave, but he wanted to hear from us—in case we thought you needed anything. I wouldn’t be surprised if he brought a heart monitor here, just in case.”

Maggie snickered—but caught the serious looks on the faces around her and covered it up with a fractured cough—while you groaned and rubbed your eyes. You wouldn’t have been surprised, either.

You exhaled. “Yeah—I-I’ll see him. If that’s okay with you?”

Both girls nodded and got up from their seats. Before they went, however, they convinced you to accept their help to complete the difficult task—as you pointed out while rolling your eyes—of walking ten steps to the bathroom, and then ten steps back to your bed. Clearly, they were taking the doctor’s orders very seriously.

“We’ll be right outside,” Luna said once you settled back in bed. “Call or text—”

“No,” you protested. “You can’t—you don’t need to stay here. You’ve already done so much.”

“We were just sitting in your room with you,” Maggie said. “It’s hardly anything. Don’t worry about us.”

“It’s not hardly anything,” you disagreed. “At least get something to eat.”

The two girls looked at each other. Maggie shrugged and then looked back at you, still doubtful. You nodded with more conviction.

“We’ll pick up some food for everyone and come back,” Luna finally decided. “Okay?”

You nodded again. “Okay. Thank you.”

As soon as the girls opened the door to your hotel room, you heard shuffling outside—as if someone had been leaning right up against the door and scrambled away before it opened.

“You may come in,” Luna told Jungkook with excessive dramatics as she and Maggie turned to wave at you again.

You gave them another nod and watched as Jungkook tentatively walked inside. He turned to close the door behind him and lingered, for an awkward moment, at the entrance.

His bandages were fresh and none of the scantily wrapped bruises were visible any longer. Perhaps they would heal in time for the concert.

Before you could express your hopes out loud, however, Jungkook took a shaky breath and approached you.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered. “I’m so fucking sorry, I don’t know what I would have done if—”

“W-why are you sorry?” you cut him off, disturbed by the absolute devastation in his voice.

He was right next to your bed now, barely able to inhale. “It’s—you—you fainted—and—it was because—I shouldn’t—”

It hit you, suddenly, why he was hyperventilating so much. And the shock of this realisation was so great that you could not react immediately, and he proceeded to stutter for another few moments.

“This—it has nothing—this isn’t about you,” you finally said, almost as coherent as he was.

Still, he persisted, “but I—you—I was—I should have—”

“I didn’t faint because of you, Jungkook,” you said more firmly. There were several reasons why he should have felt guilty, of course, but this was definitely not one of them.

He finally stopped speaking, although the rapid process of inhaling and exhaling—which caused his shoulders to hunch and straighten from the intensity of the motions—continued for another minute.

Then he gave you a long, uncertain look. You maintained eye contact and watched as his breathing gradually slowed. You had never seen him panic so much and so suddenly—he had seemed almost perfectly fine when he came in, but it took him all of two seconds to fall apart.

Slowly, he regained control of his breathing and looked you over once more.

“Okay,” he said, shifting his weight to his other leg. “I-I don’t know if that—if it makes me feel better, but—”

“Thank you,” you said.

Lost in his own thoughts, he craned his neck towards you. “Hm?”

“Luna and Maggie told me you’re the one who found me.”

Jungkook looked briefly embarrassed.

“I explicitly asked them not to tell,” he said.

You smiled. “I’m sure this was Force majeure, so don’t blame them. And they’re my best friends anyway.”

“Clearly.” He brought his hands down his face before admitting, “I just—I thought you wouldn’t want to see me.”

A part of you thought he was right to assume that. You shouldn’t want to see him.

But another part of you forced you to lower your gaze and twiddle your thumbs nervously as you linked your hands on your stomach.

“No, uh, see,” you began with a nervous chuckle. “That’s, uh—that’s almost the worst part of this whole thing. My plan, really, was to avoid you.”

Jungkook raised his eyebrows, then politely lowered them. He placed his hand on the back of the armchair and said, profoundly, “very mature.”

“You don’t get to judge,” you warned.

The corner of his lip quirked. “Just making an observation.”

“So, my plan was to avoid you,” you continued. “But we both know how that ended. And then I woke up here, sort of feeling like I was floating in a space station somewhere near Saturn, and you know what my first thought was?”

Jungkook thought he was floating in a space station somewhere near Saturn.

“Wh—um, what?” he asked.

“My first thought was if you were okay.”

You looked at him as you said that, and he thought he saw the rest of his life flash before his eyes—a life that, just a few days ago, he’d deemed meaningless.

Without any proper distractions, it was just him and his thoughts, and they were never good company. They hated him for losing you.

But then you fainted and now that you’ve regained consciousness, your first thought was if he was okay.

He didn’t trust his legs very much anymore.

“Can I sit?” he asked, a little breathless again.

You took a second to reply, and he interpreted it as a sign of hesitation. “You can.”

Suspicious, he asked, “will you try to leave if I sit?”

You gave him a questioning look and nudged your hand, causing the IV bags to wobble. “Does it look like I can move around with this?”

“I don’t know,” he said. “You might still try.”

You snorted and shook your head. “Just sit down, Jungkook.”

He sat down.

The two of you were a peculiar sight like this. If this were a role-playing video game, there would have been exclamation marks over your heads—and if you had been approached, the list of conversation starters the player could choose would have been, simply, endless.

There was so much you wanted to say and ask each other, but the strength of your resistance was absurdly impressive.

One thought, however, overwhelmed everything, and it was very simple: how little everything else mattered compared to your health.

Jungkook took a deep breath and looked at you, taking in your tired, but ceaselessly dreamlike features.

Slowly, he found himself calming down. As long as you were here, as long as you were okay, things would work out one way or another.

“I, um—your mum called, by the way,” Jungkook said. “I have your phone. It fell out of your jacket when I—when I found you.”

Right away, you felt a surge of panic. You and your mum had a deal. She knew you were busy, so she would text sometimes, but never call. Unless something had happened.

“My—she called me?” you repeated with so much concern that Jungkook noticed the drip stand shake a little from the force of your distress. “Did you answer?”

He felt his own hands return to their almost natural trembling. “Uh, well, as it happened—I did.”

“Why did she call? What happened?”

“Well, nothing,” he said. “She said she hadn’t heard from you in a while, and she was worried.”

Mother’s intuition, she had called it when she spoke to you. When you returned to your dorm after your hospital stay six years ago, she had called you because “for some reason” she couldn’t sleep for two nights in a row. She didn’t know you were ill, of course, but it touched you, this maternal feeling that transcended all logic.

It could have been a coincidence, you supposed. Lots of things were.

“What did you say?” you asked.

“I said you had a lot of things to take care of,” Jungkook replied. “But you’d call her when you had a free moment.”

You watched him as he spoke and noticed his eyes widen momentarily, clearly taken aback by what he’d just seen in your expression. You realised you hadn’t expected him to hide this from your mum, and your surprise must have shown.

Blinking, you turned away and gripped the edge of your duvet.

“Thank you,” you said.

“I also told her you’re very stressed,” he added quieter.

“Oh—well, that—you could have kept that to yourself,” you said, less enthusiastic about his thoughtfulness. “She’s going to freak out about it.”

“Let her,” he countered. “You’re her child. She’s worried about you. You have to let people worry about you when there’s a reason to.”

You had a different opinion, of course. But instead of arguing, you chose to find out what conclusions your mum had drawn from this brief exchange. She hadn’t heard from Jungkook directly in years, even though she knew you were working together.

“What did she—was she surprised to hear from you?” you asked.

Your question made Jungkook appear as if he was trying very hard to tap dance while sitting down. He bounced his legs, tapped his feet, and occasionally scratched something under his chin, above his nose, or on the back of his neck.

“Uh, well, we’re, um, you know,” he said. You were almost ready to assume that he was hiding something else. “You and me—w-we’re working together. She wasn’t that surprised.”

“Right, but I mean—”

“I told her not to worry too much, and that you’d love to hear from her,” he finished, skilfully diverting from the topic and speaking even louder so you wouldn’t have a chance to interject with another question. “She said she’d text you, and you should call her when you have a minute. Not right now, though. You’re resting now.”

Again, you tried, “I’m just—”

“She put Kai on the phone, too,” he added. “So, I talked to him for a second. He called you an idiot.”

That took a very unusual turn, you thought in surprise. Your mum hadn’t spoken to Jungkook in years, and now she wanted to put your brother on the phone, too—you were simply confused.

“He—why’d he say that?” you asked, presently more unnerved by the name-calling than your mother’s unexpected choices.

“For forgetting to call your mum, he said. And for working too much,” Jungkook replied. “Which is precisely what I warned you about in Amsterdam, so I honestly can’t believe this happened to you again. We asked you to take it easy, so at least listen to us now, and—”

It was hard to breathe in this still room, with the force of everyone’s concern weighing you down.

Slowly, you kicked one leg out from under the duvet. “I did take it easy.”

“Right,” he said, closing his eyes and mumbling, “you never fucking take it easy.”

You heaved yourself up to your feet, holding onto the IV stand for support. “I was—”

Jungkook looked up and jumped to his feet as soon as he realised what you were doing. “Where are you going? Sit down.”

“I’m fine. I’m just—”

He blocked your way, quickly ensuring that you did not have enough space to take another step.

“See, I told you you’d do this,” he groaned, his chest pressed against yours. “Just sit down.”

You tried not to stagger backwards—which was his intention, of course—and still stood your ground. “I just want to open the window, I’m—”

“Sit down.”

Huffing in angry resignation, you sat back down.

“Okay,” he said, stepping back from the bed to give you more space. “Now lie down.”

You rolled your eyes but settled back into a horizontal position, glaring at him all the while.

“Should I roll over, too?” you bit. “Give you a paw?”

“Not unless you want to.”

You bared your teeth. “Funny.”

“Just lie down, please,” he reiterated. “And just—just rest, okay? For a little while, at least. I’ll open the window.” He saw you open your mouth and added hurriedly, “I know you can do it yourself. But let me.”

Sighing, you surrendered to the warm confines of the duvet. “Okay. Thanks.”

He crossed the room and struggled with the curtains for a moment. He could tell you were watching him, and he felt irrationally nervous—he thought that if he did something wrong, you would try to get up again. Finally, he grabbed the handle of the window, twisted it and pulled. A moment or two later, a welcome breeze finally filled the stuffy room.

Relieved to be able to breathe something other than your discomfort, you watched Jungkook return to his armchair.

“You didn’t tell me if you’re okay,” you reminded him. “How’s your eye?”

He looked confused as he lifted his hand—as if to verify if the eye in question was still there—then paused and dropped it again.

“It’s working,” he said, sitting back down next to your bed.

“And the pain?”

He shrugged. “Bearable.”

“Good,” you said, slipping your hands under the covers and resting them on your stomach. “I’m glad you took out your eyebrow piercing before the whole thing with Sid, by the way. Otherwise, we might have had even more problems.”

Jungkook didn’t want that to be your shared problem—he was determined to carry out his plan, which he boldly referred to as “Getting My Shit Together”—but at the same time, he was glad that he didn’t cause you any additional distress. Honestly, he couldn’t have cared less about his piercings right now.

“I—yeah.” He rubbed his eyebrow absentmindedly. “I hadn’t planned it like that, but it worked out, I guess.”

“Did you get any rest?” you asked then.

The question felt misplaced, and his stomach sank at the sheer wrongness of it. You were always worried about others. And he always gave you reasons to worry.

Really, while he was happy—alright, ecstatic—that you thought of him, he should have been the one asking you this.

“How, uh—how do you mean?” he returned.

“After the flight,” you said.

He looked down at the beige carpet under his boots and shook his head. He couldn’t have slept even if he wanted to—not until he was sure you weren’t on your feet, insisting you were okay.

“I don’t need rest,” he said.

But as you looked at him, it was clear that rest was exactly what he needed. Beneath the imposing bandages, his eyes were bloodshot, and his skin was pale and waxy. He was still beautiful—Maggie would have made a joke about it—but in a way that made your heart ache if you looked at him too long.

“You should go,” you said. “Get some sleep.”

Jungkook gave you a look as if you had just confessed that you enjoyed beheading people in your spare time: incredulous and slightly offended.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he said.

This was going to turn into a childish game, you knew it. But you tapped your thumbs together and still tried.

“What if I want to be alone?” you asked.

“Then I’ll call Luna and Maggie.”

Your arched eyebrows challenged his solution.

“When I said alone,” you clarified, “I didn’t mean not with you.”

For just a split second, he looked almost relieved to hear this. Then he bit his lip and brought a hand over his knee.

“If my presence is not the problem,” he said, “then I’m staying.”

“The problem,” you argued, “is that you’re going to end up in this bed, connected to an IV, if you don’t sleep.”

“Let’s cut to the chase,” he offered. “I’m not leaving you alone. In fact, I’m staying. Unless you explicitly tell me you can’t stand to look at me anymore.”

He gave you an opening to tease, and you enjoyed building up to it as you looked down and ran your tongue over your lips.

“And, uh, you’d leave then?” you asked—taunted, really.

“Begrudgingly,” he replied, as discontented as you were amused.

You nodded. “Alright.”

He raised his eyebrows, slightly dispirited. “You’re going to tell me to go?”

��No,” you said. “Stay.”

So he stayed.

And this moment in the hotel room, as the vitamin drip dribbled quietly into the intravenous tube, did not just feel bizarre. It felt a little like a parallel universe—like you’d lost consciousness in a world where you were very angry and very stressed, and had woken up in a world where only subtle echoes of all the fervent emotions you’d once felt existed.

In this world, all that you were feeling was eclipsed by what really mattered: the people who were in this room with you and had been waiting outside of it.

But you felt another particularly prominent sentiment, which was heightened even more by Jungkook’s relentless focus on you. You did not want to name it, however. To identify it was to give it power over you, and you liked to believe that you had your heartbeat under control right now.

“It’s like—this is just like back then again,” Jungkook said suddenly. “Isn’t it?”

You exhaled, returning to the jagged, uncertain moment.

“Yeah...” you said, stretching the vowels in a frantic attempt to fill the space that would soon turn into an awkward silence. “Thank you for not taking me to a hospital this time. This really isn’t so bad.”

“It is bad,” he disagreed right away. “But I didn’t want you to have another reason to feel stressed. I thought a hotel room would relax you more than a hospital room.”

“It would,” you said. “Thanks.”

He hung his head. “Yeah.”

Not the awkward silence, not the awkward silence, not the—

“Well,” you inhaled, “at least you won’t have to study for any finals this time, right?”

You expected him to smile back at the gentle jab about him failing his exam the last time you were in the hospital. But when Jungkook looked up, he looked crestfallen somehow—almost like he was disappointed that he did not have to study for finals this time.

“Yeah, um, actually—I-I didn’t fail my exam because I didn’t study for it,” he said in a slow, contemplative tone. He wasn’t sure if he could ever admit this to you, but he figured he didn’t have much left to lose. He’d already told you so much. He might as well tell you all the rest. “I failed because your friend texted me about twenty minutes before my final, saying that you left your exam looking very disoriented. She asked if I could check on you.”

Horror descended on your face as you realised what he meant.

“You went to look for me,” you surmised painfully, “and didn’t show up to take your final.”

He nodded and you shook your head with a newfound ferocity.

“Jungkook,” you said, remembering how you reacted when he first told you he had failed—how you immediately blamed his recklessness and his friends. How you brought up all of his mistakes and thought this was another one of them.

“You passed out,” he said. “I don’t regret it.”

“I yelled at you so much!” you continued, lost in your own guilt. “Why didn’t you tell me the truth?”

“You helped me study, too,” he defended, feeling almost uncomfortable. He’d never felt your reaction was inappropriate, even under the circumstances. He had failed the exam, after all—like he’d failed several others before.

You shook your head again. “Yeah, but—”

“It’s fine,” he cut you off.

“It’s not fine!” you refuted immediately. “It was my fault you failed.”

“It wasn’t your—”

“I thought it was your friends again,” you said. “I thought they distracted you, and you didn’t study.”

There it was—this vast precipice between what you thought had happened and what had actually happened. Now that years have passed, Jungkook didn’t even know where to start.

The fact was this: you believed that every time he failed you, it was his friends’ fault—and that belief comforted him. It was so appropriate, so fitting.

And sometimes it was true, but even when it wasn’t—when it was just him, not being good enough—your assumption that it was Sid’s fault didn’t paint Jungkook as desperate; merely reckless. Not hopeless, only a little dumb. He preferred it this way.

But now he took a deep breath.

“My friends did distract me from a lot of things,” he said. “But the truth is, sometimes… I tried too hard, and I didn’t want you to know about it. I couldn’t stand the thought of trying to do something for you and then—just completely fucking everything up and letting you down. Sometimes blaming my friends was a convenient excuse.”

You frowned. “What—what are you talking about?”

“Well,” he wiped his palms on his black cargo pants and stretched out his legs, “remember when we were planning to go on holiday together and I fucked up?”

Your frown deepened.

“Hawaii?” you asked. “When you bought the tickets home for the same day we were flying there?”

“Uh…” He hadn’t realised he’d messed up several times. “No. Different holiday. When I missed the train we were supposed to take to the beach? For our summer break?”

“Oh.” You nodded. “I remember. But I saw Sid’s Instagram videos with you, drinking at his garage. I know you were—”

“Those were old videos. And he posted them at a very bad time, which, honestly,” he chuckled sadly, “it’s nothing new for Sid. He seized every opportunity to make me miserable, and I was—I relied on that sometimes. I think he wanted to start an argument between us on the train, that’s why he posted those videos. The truth is, though, I didn’t even see him that day. I missed the train because I wanted to rent out a car and surprise you.”

The quiet confusion on your face prompted him to keep going.

“I didn’t want just any car,” he explained. “I wanted the same Cadillac convertible I’d rented out for our first anniversary.”

You had fond memories of the convertible. Not of the actual drive, which was, honestly, quite painful—there were bugs and unruly strands of your hair everywhere—but of the laughter you’d shared inside.

“It was summer, finally warm enough outside,” Jungkook recalled. “I thought it would be a nice way to relax after studying. I even, uh—I made decorations and everything. Glittery, silver letters that said, ‘just passed our finals’. It’s a play on ‘just married’, you know? It’s a—a joke.”

Eager to understand where this was going, you remained frozen on the bed, and Jungkook felt himself waver slightly. He was glad you weren’t laughing—he dreaded you’d laugh or find any of this as embarrassing as he did—but he slid his hands under his thighs anyway, as if to warm them.

“The thing is, though,” he continued. “I didn’t take my passport with me. Because you don’t need a passport when you’re taking the fucking train, but you can’t rent a car without one, and those fucking assholes at the rental shop—anyway. I went back to my dorm to pick it up, and by the time I got back, the rental shop had closed for lunch. And I missed the train.”

Your heartbeat was steady—fast, absolutely speeding, but steady nonetheless. It hadn’t slowed since he started speaking.

Your expression, however, was almost painfully concentrated. When he looked at you, it seemed as if you were listening to a séance where a spirit was recounting their death.

You cleared your throat and tried to speak. “I thought—”

“You thought I forgot about our trip and went out with Sid,” Jungkook finished for you.

You didn’t have to confirm it, he knew. The hope that this was what you would assume was his safety blanket—this way, he didn’t have to face the fact that he could never do anything right for you, not even when he tried so hard to.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” you asked.

You weren’t angry at him for this because he’d made it to the beach later that night, after all. He had taken the last train and barged into your cabin just after midnight. You had nearly knocked him out with a bedside lamp, assuming it was an intruder.

But you didn’t understand the point of allowing you to believe—for years—that it was Sid’s fault. Why didn’t he defend himself?

“Because—did you not hear me describe the letters I’d cut out from glittery paper?” Jungkook asked, his voice high-pitched in irritation at himself. “It’s embarrassing. I should have just met you at the train station like I said I would.”

“Well, why didn’t you?” you questioned. “Why put all this effort?”

“Because I love you,” he replied. You tugged on the IV tube again as you squirmed and unconsciously flexed your arm. “And because I saw your friends get picked up by their boyfriends in their cars. I saw those boyfriends bring them massive bouquets of roses. I saw all the grand fucking gestures that I could never do for you, because I didn’t have enough—I wasn’t—it was mortifying. I thought that you deserved the world, and all I could give you was… some fucking wildflowers before our dates.”

The corners of your lips twitched as you tried to speak, “it’s—I loved your wildflowers, though. And I never cared about anything else.”

“I know,” he said. “But I did.”

You looked down at the white duvet. “You and your gestures.”

Jungkook hummed, but did not add anything else. He was thinking—and regretting his silences. You were thinking, too—and wondering if this was the only time he allowed you to assume that his friends were at fault when they weren’t.

The room around you stilled, adapting to the atmosphere of the conversation. Even your drip quieted.

But then someone knocked on the door of the hotel room, and you and Jungkook almost lit up with relief.

“It’s us!” Luna’s voice called out just as Jungkook stood up to check who it was.

Your friends had returned with paper boxes of Thai food—enough to feed at least five people, from what you could see from your bed—and waved at you from the doorway.

A conversation followed—one that you couldn’t quite hear, except for irrelevant snippets, such as “are you sure?” and “well, okay”—and then Jungkook stepped away from the door, allowing the two girls to address you.

“Apparently, we’ll be heading back to the bus for a quick nap,” Luna said. Jungkook gave her a disapproving look that she promptly ignored. “Is that okay with you? Jungkook will stay.”

Your reflexive response was, of course, to try to dismiss their responsibility. “He doesn’t—neither of you have to stay—”

“Someone is staying,” Jungkook stated, his voice strict, final. “And I would like to be the one to do that.”

You weren’t protesting against him specifically, but as you prepared to reply, you realised it might seem that way. Your hesitant silence was a chance for Jungkook to nod at the two girls again. They nodded back, but then glanced back at you.

“Our phones are on,” Maggie said, lifting her device up for you to see. “So, you can still call or text us at any point, and we’ll rush over here right away.”

Jungkook raised his eyebrows. “That certainly does not make it sound like I’m about to torture her.”

You bit back a smile on your bed while Luna said simply, “just a precaution.”

“I get it,” he said. “And I’ll personally call you if I say or do anything that’s over the line.”

Neither Luna, nor Maggie had a response to that, and you looked up to meet three pairs of expectant eyes.

“I—it’s okay,” you said to the girls. “You—yes, get some rest. We’ll be fine here. Thank you.”

“Okay. We’ll be back!” Luna promised, shooting a warning look at Jungkook, while Maggie waved her phone and called out at you, “text us!”

You wanted to give them a small wave, but the thick duvet and the persistent catheter digging into your arm made it difficult to pull your hands out, so all you managed to do was just shuffle around under the covers and nod at them.

The girls left the take-out boxes inside, waved at you again, and walked away.

Jungkook closed the door and slowly returned to his seat, his shoulders hunched, hands in his pockets, and steps unsteady. He looked lost and frightened.

He didn’t want you to misunderstand his intentions. He didn’t want to stay here just to have you to himself, to apologise and to beg for your forgiveness. He wanted to stay because he couldn’t breathe when he didn’t know if you were okay.

As his hesitation hung in the air, memories of your previous hospital stay returned to you again, and you closed your eyes to shake them off.

“You should eat something,” you said.

Jungkook refused.

“When was the last time you ate anything?” you prodded.

Again, he mumbled and hummed under his breath, evading the question and sitting very still—as if he was expecting something. As if something was coming.

And you realised that something was coming. But you had to speak to bring that something here.

“So, then—w-was there anything else?” you finally asked.

Jungkook knew you were referring to the moment he’d just revealed, this deliberate misunderstanding. It was all he could think about. This was the something.

“There was,” he said with a sigh. “But I don’t—”

“Tell me about it.”

He had a lump in his throat that he couldn’t swallow—but not due to his lack of trying—and he suddenly felt like he was standing in front of a jury of his peers.

He didn’t want you to keep thinking that he hadn’t made an effort for you when he had, only it never turned out well. But he was also nervous about you learning how hard—and how impossibly much—he tried. He thought it would only highlight his shortcomings—and there were many of them.

He’d convinced himself that if you didn’t know about them, then he wasn’t letting you down. It was challenging to break out of this conviction now.

“Well—t-that Valentine’s Day,” he stammered. “Our second one—do you remember?”

You remembered right away. Despite your distaste for the commercialisation of the holiday, it still stung that Jungkook had avoided you the whole day. And for several days after that, too—although you’d assumed that to be deliberate. He’d missed Valentine’s Day and didn’t want to see you out of guilt.

“Sure,” you said.

“Well, that wasn’t Sid’s fault, either,” he said. “I know you thought we went on a drinking binge that weekend because Sid happened to conveniently go off the grid right at that time. He had a habit of—”

“But you weren’t with him?” you interjected, impatient.

“No. He was—it was nearly a Weekend at Bernie’s situation. There was some event happening at Jude’s summer house that weekend,” Jungkook said, and you tried to control yourself before you made mocking comments about the idea that people had enough money to own seasonal houses. “And Jude got so high that Sid and some of Jude’s cousins had to pretend he was just not feeling his best whenever his parents asked about him. They mimicked his voice through the door and everything.”

“So, where were you then?”

“I was—well, I—I spent that whole day—ah, no,” he stopped abruptly and brought his palms over his face, lacing his fingers over his mouth as he changed his mind. He couldn’t do this. It was awful. He was such a mess. “You know what? Maybe it’s better if you keep thinking I was at that summer house with them.”

“No,” you opposed in frustration, lunging forward to sit up. You did not listen to him drone on about Sid and Jude just to have him change his mind. “Now you have to tell me.”

Jungkook raised his head when you moved—his concern for you overwhelmed his chagrin.

“Okay, okay, don’t—lie down,” he asked, gesturing at the pillow.

You complied to get him to keep going. He took a breath.

“Just so you know,” he cautioned, “this might finally ruin my bad boy reputation.”

“You never had one.”

He clicked his tongue against his lower teeth. “Okay, ouch.”

You grinned. “Tell me. What really happened?”

He hesitated for another second, bouncing his knee up and down, up and down, and then stilling completely.

“Well, for one thing,” he began finally, “I was going to make dinner. That didn’t go well, because the communal kitchens were—well, you know. But that’s fine, I didn’t worry too much because there’s always take-out.”

You nodded. The communal kitchens in both of your dormitories were typically crowded with people or they smelled so terrible from a failed cooking experiment that it was simply wiser not to set foot in there.

“There was a great pizza place literally two blocks from your dorm,” you pointed out.

“Yeah, exactly.” He nodded in agreement. “But, um, we’d already gone out for a fancy dinner on Valentine’s Day the year before, so I wanted this year to be more… special. I don’t know. Or different, at least. So, I thought I’d cook and make you a slideshow. And—okay, you’ll have to stop smiling if you want me to continue.”

You hadn’t realised you were smiling. You pursed your lips and pulled them to each side to compose yourself.

“Sorry,” you said. “Continue.”

“Right,” he said. “So I made a PowerPoint. Added all of our pictures that I could find in my camera roll, wrote some funny captions. There were going to be at least 200 slides, I’m pretty sure you would have fallen asleep in the middle. I even recorded an acoustic Sleep Token cover to use as background music.”

You told yourself you’d stay quiet, but your disbelief was uncontrollable. “You didn’t!”

“I did,” he said, smiling, but trying not to, for the sake of the story. “It’s gone, though. I erased all traces of that night.”

“Why? What happened?”

“Well, I, uh—I didn’t want just to play you the slides on my laptop,” he said, scratching nervously at his chest over his dark grey hoodie. “I wanted something more.”

You nodded. “Of course.”

He looked away instead of acknowledging your comment.

“Then I remembered something I saw on Instagram that could have been cool. It was one of those aesthetic accounts. They had a picture of this dark, cosy room with a projector screening a film right on this white wall,” he said. “So, I thought, well, shit! I have a white wall behind my wardrobe. And the science lab downstairs has a projector.”

You didn’t like this as you stiffened on the bed, mumbling a dreading, “dear God.”

“Yeah.” He paused to lick his lips. “But it’s probably not what you think. I got the fucking projector.”

He said that with so much grandeur that you couldn’t help but raise your eyebrows—questioning if this was really something to be proud of.

He recapped the story anyway, “I took my roommate’s wrench, and it really didn’t take more than fifteen minutes to open the lab door, unscrew the projector, and bring it back up to my room.”

You shut your eyes and scrunched your nose at the step-by-step description. You wondered if there was a statute of limitations here, and if you would have been considered an accomplice now that you knew about this.

“They have security cameras, though,” you said, glancing at him again. “Don’t they?”

“They do,” Jungkook confirmed. He had a sardonic smile on his face. “Why do you think I was suspended for a month after Valentine’s Day?”

You lost him there. “Wait—they knew you stole the projector?”

“Borrowed,” he corrected. “I returned it two days later. But, yeah, uh—Minjun actually pulled some strings here. His dad went to university with the dean, so he vouched for me. Told him it was all a misunderstanding, and that it would never happen again.”

You looked away, frantically sifting through memories of the month after that particular Valentine’s Day. You remembered not seeing Jungkook for a few days after it, but you saw him fairly regularly later on. He would hang out in your dorm while you had classes, claiming not to have anything better to do.

It took you a full minute to properly recall the explanation he’d given about his suspension.

“Oh,” you said. “Minjun told me that you got suspended because you were caught completely wasted, spray-painting one of the campus buildings.”

Jungkook nodded, his eyes cast low.

“To be fair, I did spray-paint that one,” he admitted. “And I was probably wasted when I did it. But I wasn’t caught.”

You weren’t sure if “spray-painting” was a lesser offence than “stealing a projector from a laboratory” in your eyes, but you didn’t want to question Minjun’s decision now.

“Okay,” you said. “So what happened after you stole the projector?”

“Well, I took the borrowed projector up to my room and set it up,” he replied. “Everything looked great. I was going to give you the best Valentine’s Day dinner this world has ever fucking seen.”

He smacked his palms against his thighs as he spoke, showing off his determination, and you found yourself resisting a smile again. Jungkook had a certain way of telling stories—his changing smiles and small chuckles, his hand gestures and even his tone of voice always made it feel more vivid.

“But, um, I had to move the wardrobe to get a bare wall,” he continued. “And, uh, what I did not foresee was that, earlier that very same day, my roommate’s electric kettle had broken. He went out, purchased a new one. And he put the old one on top of the wardrobe to save space.” Jungkook gave you a moment to think back on this roommate. “You remember the guy, he hoarded everything, all kinds of fucking cables and wires, and—anyway. So, I started to push the wardrobe, and the fucking kettle—it fell and hit me right on the top of my head.”

A surprised gasp left your lips—a stark contrast to the easy, laid-back way he had just spoken.

Jungkook nodded in response to your reaction. “Yeah. My vision sort of darkened and I thought I heard something crack—I, uh, I did think it was my skull, not going to lie.”

He chuckled again—to minimise the impact of his words once more—but you sat up despite his inevitable protests.

“Jungkook!” you scolded. “And you didn’t tell me?!”

“Well, my skull obviously didn’t really crack.”

“I’m not so sure that it didn’t.”

“Anyway,” he stressed. “There wasn’t any blood or anything, so after a few minutes of sitting on the floor, I figured I was good to go. Then I stood up, and, uh—I don’t think you need a visual of what happened then.”

You closed your eyes.

Really, no. You did not need a visual.

About a year ago, at one of the smaller Rated Riot concerts—at a club that seemed harmless at first glance—Jungkook had climbed over to a wooden ceiling beam and swung his arms over it to brachiate across the narrow joist. The beam turned out to be heavily lacquered, and his sweaty palms slid right off, forcing him to crash onto the table below.

He gave himself a concussion, sprained his shoulder, broke $200 worth of bottles and glasses, and frightened the living hell out of the middle-aged couple who were sitting at the table that he’d landed on.

“Yeah,” you said in your quiet hotel room. “I can imagine.”

“Yeah,” Jungkook breathed out. He recalled this exact same moment—and he knew that, once again, the cause of his injury was his own overexertion. “So, I spent the whole night in my dorm room, on the floor—because I couldn’t crawl to my bed—hoping that I wouldn’t die.”

“And it didn’t occur to you to call me?” you asked—not gently. “Or the fucking ambulance, actually?”

“No,” he replied, unfazed by your disapproving tone. “Not if it meant having to explain what I was doing before all of that happened.”

“You’re crazy,” you said, shaking your head. “You clearly got a concussion, and you didn’t do anything about it.”

“To be fair,” he said, “it’s not that I was embarrassed about it or anything. I was just—horrified that I’d let you down. It was Valentine’s Day. I wanted to give you a slideshow and a romantic fucking dinner. Not—not lie on the floor of my room, half passed out.”

You fought against a pensive sadness. It seemed unfair that this night had not gone the way he’d planned.

“W-well, what did your roommate say when he returned?” you asked instead.

Jungkook poked his cheek with his tongue. “He wasn’t very happy that I broke his old kettle.”

“You broke his—Jesus Christ.” Your hands were on your face as you fell back and buried your head into the pillows. “So, he just left you there on the floor?”

“I assume he thought I was drunk.”

“Fucking—what a—and he was valedictorian, wasn’t he? What a fucking moron,” you groaned. “I knew I should have kicked his ass while I had the chance. I never liked him.”

Jungkook felt a warm rush of comfort to hear how agitated you were getting on his behalf.

“Yeah, he didn’t like me very much, either,” he said. “But that’s um—that’s the story. I missed Valentine’s Day, almost died, and got suspended. I couldn’t possibly tell you what happened.”

“No, how could you?” you deadpanned. “Your reputation was at stake.”

He smiled. “Precisely.”

Even though you joked about this, and he was grateful that you did, both of you knew that this was not entirely about upholding some specific “bad boy” image.

You’d already witnessed this side of him – the side that felt anxious and dreaded the thought of not being good enough. Of not meeting expectations. Of letting others down.

In fact, now that you thought about it, your first proper conversation during this tour had been about this very issue.

“The time I was arrested,” Jungkook said, his shaky voice interrupting your thoughts, “that was—it might have been another one of those times.”

“What?” you asked, perplexed again. “How—I was at the police station with you—the officers—”

“I don’t remember a lot of details,” he interrupted. “So, I’m—I’m not really sure. But, uh, apparently, that night we didn’t just spray-paint a building. Or spit at the officers, allegedly, while we ran from them. The police assumed Minjun and I were the “drunk and disorderly” call that they received an hour before they found us.”

Your memories of that night were hazy, too—mostly because you refused to go over the details in your mind. All you could remember was Jungkook calling you from the precinct and asking—in the most resigned voice you’ve ever heard—if you could come pick him up. The story that you were given when you arrived at the police station only came back to your memory in fragments: property damage. Assault of police officers. Resisting arrest.

“You weren’t?” you asked.

“No,” Jungkook said. “We had some drinks at a bar outside of town, and Sid started harassing some bikers across the street. Someone called the police. Jude said he even punched someone there, I don’t know. Minjun and I were already back in the city at that time. I asked him to come with me to keep watch. I wanted to spray-paint these song lyrics for you—”

Your head jerked as your surprise prevented you from shaking it properly. “Wait—you—what? What lyrics?”

“It’s—well, you know what lyrics,” he replied, timid suddenly. “There was only one song we listened to all the time.”

You remembered.

It’s you and me ‘til the end of time.

You swallowed, breathless, and almost completely weightless as you clutched the duvet tighter in an attempt to ground yourself.

��The building I chose was downtown,” Jungkook continued. “Right across the street from the park where we had our first—well, our first date. I wanted that place to have something—something that we both loved. To commemorate all that we had, I don’t know. I haven’t been a very good boyfriend to you at the time, and I wanted to redeem that.”

The unexpected tightness in your stomach worried you for a second, but the sedative must not have fully worn off yet, because you took a deep breath and felt your body wind down a little. The room continued to blur behind Jungkook, but you suspected that your condition or medication had little to do with that.

“And, uh,” you tried to ask, “the police found you there?”

Jungkook nodded.

“I think Sid guided them to us,” he said. “It never made sense to me why the police would even go there. No one patrolled those streets, what was the point? Not to mention, it was dark, we were dressed in black, and—honestly, it wasn’t our first time with graffiti. But what happened was, I got a text from Sid, saying that someone at the bar had called the cops on him. And not five minutes later, he and Jude both showed up downtown, and we heard sirens.”

“So, what did you do?” you asked—uncertain, suddenly, if you’d actually asked him this before. You had talked to one police officer that night and had accepted everything he told you as the truth.

“Well, Minjun and I ran, of course,” Jungkook said.

“And the other two?”

“I can’t remember the exact sequence of—I was—I was drunk,” he said, giving you an apologetic look. He wanted to share the whole story with you, but he wasn’t sure if he knew it himself. “I remember Sid and Jude shouting at us that they would hold the cops back while we ran—and I didn’t even—we didn’t even think that there was anything weird about that. Minjun and I just ran.”

You felt your memories frantically rearrange themselves after every word that he said. Your head had turned into a disorderly, confused mess.

“The, um—the spitting, then?” you asked.

“That had to be Sid and Jude,” Jungkook speculated. “But I guess I might have done that, too. I, uh—I want you to have the full story, so I won’t deny things that I can’t even remember. I’m thinking about it now, and I don’t know which moments were really Minjun and me, and which were actually Sid and Jude. We were all very drunk, and nobody at the police station believed a word we were saying anyway.”

You nodded, urging him to continue, and he did—grateful and a little scared that you were listening to him so intently.

“Minjun and I got a good head start,” he spoke. “I don’t know what Sid and Jude meant by saying they’d hold the police back, because three officers still chased after us. But they were always at least five metres behind—I could tell from the distant sound of their shoes. I remember feeling so disconnected from my feet as I ran, I could sense I was going to trip. I don’t—honestly, I’m not saying this to defend myself—but I don’t know how I would have managed to look at the cops over my shoulder, spit at them from five metres away, and keep running without breaking my neck or falling over.”

“Hmm—yeah. I don’t know, either,” you said, turning away from him. You understood that it was important for him to clear his conscience, especially if he had been held accountable for something he didn’t even do, but you had other questions. “I’m confused about something else, though. If you and Minjun were being chased while Sid and Jude stayed back, why weren’t they brought into the station?”

All Jungkook did was raise his head and give you a look.

“Right,” you realised. “Of course. Money.”

He looked back down and nodded.

Exhaling, you studied the ceiling tiles for a few seconds before admitting, “I’ve always had a feeling that Sid had set you up.”

“Yeah,” he replied with surprising calmness. “I think so, too.”

You ran your fingers over your hair and pulled a strand from the back of your head to toy with it as you tried to think.

In every conversation that you’ve had about Sid using Jungkook as a scapegoat, Jungkook had either insisted that you were misunderstanding, or he simply fell silent (to avoid arguments, you assumed, and not necessarily to indicate his agreement with you).

This felt very new and particularly unusual. He wasn’t feeding into your dislike for his friends. He was doing something else now, but you were hesitant to draw conclusions about what it might be.

He had claimed he was done with Sid right after their fight, but after enduring his insufferable friends for years, you weren’t ready to believe that you wouldn’t have to see Sid’s nauseating mug again.

“But, anyway,” Jungkook said after a quiet minute. “Minjun and I apologised. Minjun paid bail. We signed something—I don’t even know what that was. And I went home with you. That’s the, um—the whole story as I remember it.”

You simmered in your cluttered mind for a moment longer, attempting to form a thought that you could voice. But all you could manage was a question. “Why didn’t you talk to me?”

“Would it have made a difference?” he asked. “I was still caught. You had to come and pick me up.”

“At least I—it would have—okay. I don’t know,” you finished lamely. This was a ‘what if’ that you didn’t have the strength to consider.

He hadn’t lied to you, though, you realised—and you weren’t sure how that made you feel. He allowed you to make assumptions that his friends were to blame, and he went along with it. That wasn’t worse than outright lying to you, but it wasn’t much better, either—it still put an unnecessary strain on your relationship.

Logically then, knowing the whole truth about what was happening with him might have made a significant difference. He had good intentions—yet he did not use them to defend himself.

You felt a little sorry that he only told you now, when you couldn’t go back and see what would have happened if you’d known about this all along.

But you realised you did not feel angry. You couldn’t find a specific point in his revelations that you could point at and say, “this is the one. This will be the reason why I can’t stand to look at you anymore.”

You couldn’t say that his choice to be silent made sense, but you knew him. And you understood why he made that choice. The way you saw it, this was partially his friends’ fault anyway.

All on his own, Jungkook wouldn’t have felt this uncertain, this insecure to admit to you that he loved you and that he wanted to show that to you in unorthodox ways—a lot of which didn’t work out.

“So, you just…” you spoke up again. “You were okay with me assuming that you were out with friends every night? That you chose them over us repeatedly?”

Jungkook sighed. If there was anything he’d learned over the past few days, it was that communication was not his strong suit. But now he’d reached a point of no return. He had to talk.

“Honestly, I thought it was a better alternative,” he said. “I thought I was a miserable try-hard. And I realised after our conversation in Amsterdam that, well... this is part of the reason why I didn't—why I assumed that you broke up with me because you didn’t love me anymore. And not because I kept fucking up.”

Your breaths were shallow as you listened to him.

“I think that it turned against me, this unnecessary secrecy,” Jungkook continued. “I wanted to be the best for you, and when I couldn’t be, Sid became a great excuse. But in my head—for me, he didn’t seem to have that big of a presence in our relationship. But of course, after I blamed my own mistakes on Sid, too, they built up. And, in the end, I think what happened was that…”

He faltered and you finished his sentence for him, “I started to see that all the reasons why you fucked up were Sid. Sid. Sid. Sid.”

“Yeah,” he agreed. “I made you think that if I was given a choice, I’d choose my friends over you. Which I wouldn’t! But, um—I had a very poor way of showing that. Have, actually. Still do. I’m sorry.”

“Hmm.” You turned away. “Do you—you know what else I think this is?”

He looked at you. “What?”

“Sid’s influence,” you said. “You were so scared that he would think you’re hopeless or pathetic that you couldn’t even talk about the things that you did—the things that you wanted to do for me. You thought you were a ‘try-hard’ because your friends convinced you that you were.”

Jungkook felt stunned and a little nauseous.

He didn’t know if this was something he’d implied in his endless attempts to apologise for the bet, but you articulated everything he had struggled to convey.

He was trying to prove to Sid that he wasn’t pathetic—and he was doing it long before Sid suggested the bet. He was doing it every time he went out with his friends. He was doing it every time he allowed you to blame these friends after he missed your dates—just so he wouldn’t have to admit how much he tried to make these dates special, and how miserably he’d failed at that.

Eventually, he began to accept that he was truly pitiful for being so stubbornly in love with you. He hated their pity. He wanted to change it. Make it not so.

But the aftermath of the bet made him realise that all he really did, was prove that he was pathetic—he wanted to get you back in any desperate way possible.

He was okay with that now.

He was okay with being so in love with you that he couldn’t think straight. Couldn’t focus on anything else. Couldn’t stay where he was, repeating the same mistakes, going round and round, because he needed to grow. Needed to become someone who deserved you.

He was okay with it because being pitiful meant being in love with you, and he would never try to fight against that.

And you knew all these things about him. You knew everything.

He didn’t really understand how the world worked and he didn’t know if destiny played favourites. But he remembered writing a line in one of Rated Riot’s earlier songs—you weren't made for me, that much is true / but I was made for you—and he was once again confronted with the weight of this realisation.

He loved you. He’s always been yours so completely and wholeheartedly that you read him without looking at him.

He liked to think he knew you well—but that was extremely presumptuous of him. You were a universe within a universe. Really, it was you who knew him in ways he didn’t know himself.

“I—you’re right,” he said, running his tongue over his chapped lips. “I shouldn’t have given a fuck about what they thought, but I did. And I don’t—I, um—I don’t want this to seem like I am an angel for telling you about all that. No, I fucked up. Many times. We went binge-drinking, drag-racing, we skipped classes, failed tests, spray-painted buildings—”

“Stole projectors,” you interjected.

“—stole projectors,” he repeated reluctantly. “It wasn’t all sunshine and rainbows, while I only pretended to fuck up. No. I took you for granted many times, I know I did. And I’m—I’ll always be sorry about that. But I’m—I’ve kicked him out. Sid. I’m done. Truly done this time. And I don’t even care if Jude stays.”

The way his voice broke off at the last sentence sounded like he cared a little, but you recognised the determination in his eyes when you looked at him. He’d made a decision.

“And Minjun?” you asked.

Jungkook inhaled. “Minjun… said he’d stay.”

“Good,” you said.

“Good—yeah?” he asked, evidently surprised. “You think so?”

Minjun had constantly looked like a kicked puppy when you were in the room. Now that you understood why, you thought you liked him a little more for it.

“Yeah,” you said. “I think he’s the only one of your friends worth keeping.”

“I’m starting to see that, too,” he admitted. “I’m sorry it took me so long.”

You looked down. With half of the vitamin drip gone now, you felt your body start to return to you—and, automatically, the surreal haze inside this hotel room began to clear. You were no longer floating somewhere on the ceiling and only pretending that you were perfectly fine.

You were coming back to yourself. And the return was rugged and painful.

“You, um—you keep apologising to me like—like you’re obligated to respond to me,” you said. Jungkook didn’t know if you realised it, but your voice changed when you spoke to him as his manager and not as someone he’d known and loved for over seven years. “I’m your manager, but these things—you can—I shouldn’t tell you how to live your life. That’s not my—”

“I want it to be, though,” he cut you off with a sudden boldness that he hadn’t realised he still had in him. “I-I mean, I don’t want you to worry about me like that ever again, but I—I want you to think about me. Sometimes, you’re the only person who truly does.”

You shook your head—not to rid yourself of the responsibility, but to remind him, yet again, that he had people who wanted what was best for him.

And, honestly, he knew he did. He just wanted you.

“You have your grandma,” you said.

“Yeah, of course,” he said, nodding distractedly. “But, um, you know.”

“And you’re loved by thousands,” you continued. “They all want you to stay safe.”

He smiled—appreciative but oddly apologetic.

“I’m grateful for that,” he said. “It’s just that—I want you to be the one who wants that for me. I’ve only ever loved you, I’ve never—never been in a relationship with anyone who wasn’t you. And I don’t want to be, so the next thing that you say better not be about me finding someone else, because—”

“You have been in other relationships, though,” you said despite his warning. You didn't know if this was really true, but you ploughed ahead anyway—just to say something. “I don’t know how long or short, but Sid always bragged about your double dates whenever he called me to pick you up, so—”

“The double dates,” Jungkook said, “meant that Sid was on a date with two girls at the same time. And I was there for decoration.”

You scoffed. “I hardly imagine that to be possible, considering Sid looks like a sewer rat on a good day.”

Jungkook wanted to argue, but he was too amused by this image.

“And, um—what do I look like?” he asked.

You blinked, taken aback by the question, then quickly turned away to gaze out the window instead. “You look… you know what you look like.”

“No,” he said, fully grinning now. “Now that you mention it, I realise I actually have no idea what I look like.”

“There’s a mirror on the wall right behind you.”

“It’s like I’m blind, I don’t know what’s—”

“You’re ridiculous,” you groaned, your face warm. “You look nice. Move on.”

“Oh! That’s high praise coming from you.” He made an effort to bow. “Thank you.”

“Fuck off,” you retorted because you couldn’t smack him on the shoulder. Instead, you motioned with your hand, urging him to keep going. “Sid couldn’t get a date with a personality worse than his looks. Not if you were there.”

“I’m sure the expensive restaurant worked in his favour,” Jungkook remarked.

You threw your head back, realising the significance of money yet again. “Ah.”

“In any case, I don’t care,” he said. He cleared his throat and leaned back in his seat. “I never wanted to be with anyone who wasn’t you anyway. Which—as you’ll be happy to point out—sounds silly because when Sid was in a good mood, he was very dedicated to making sure neither of us left the club alone.”

You shrugged one of your shoulders, trying to come off as casual. “Well, since you brought it up.”

“Yeah, well.” He sighed, not running away from this, because, frankly, there was nowhere to run. “And you’re, uh—you’re my manager. You know what I’ve been doing after hours anyway.”

“Hmm.”

You didn’t have a better response, because there was something that Luna had said to you the other day that would not leave your mind alone.

He had the option to keep the bet a secret from you.

This evening had been filled with these options.

It would have been easy not to mention his miserable attempts at grand gestures or the people who were there after you. But he was bringing up everything—every little detail from your relationship and after it—and you sat expressionless on the bed, not knowing what to make of any of it.

“I meant what I said, though,” Jungkook said, leaning forward again. He felt restless; as if he could jump out of his skin if he tried hard enough. “You’re the only meaningful relationship I’ve had. It wasn’t fair for me to pretend to be interested in a second date with someone else, when I constantly caught myself thinking about if I’d ever see you again. Or when I’d see you again, after we started to work together.”

Your eyes were focused on the sheets of the bet, but he still didn’t dare to look at you.

“I didn’t want to believe that I could still be in love with you after all this time,” he said. “But—well, the evidence is against me.”

“W-why’d you go with Sid then?” you asked—quickly. Before he said something else that you didn’t know how to respond to. “Clubbing and on these dates?”

He clenched his jaw. “Well, you said it. I was trying to prove to him that I wasn’t pathetic. That I wasn’t in love with you anymore.”

“But why did you care so much about what he thought?” you pushed, and there was a hint of hurt in your voice. Jungkook felt his heart leap over several beats as it pounded against his ribs. “Why did his opinion matter to you more than mine?”

He exhaled so deeply that it was almost a miracle his lungs hadn’t collapsed. His insides were burning with regret. With an urge to turn back time. An urge to make things right.

“Because I was—I was a fucking idiot. For years before I met you, I thought Sid had everything I wanted,” he said—which was equally as simple as it was unfair, and, in retrospect, stupid. “The freedom, the audacity to do whatever the fuck he pleased. No consequences, ever.”

You remembered him saying the same thing to you on the bridge in Stockholm and felt yourself shiver as though the wind from that night had followed you all the way here.

“And the way he treated me when I was single was different, too,” Jungkook continued. “I was single, I was in a band, and it finally felt like he approved of me, like we were actually friends. Like we were equals. And I cared about that so fucking much. It felt like I finally had everything that he had, and I was just—blind.”

“But you didn’t,” you said. “You didn’t have what he has. I don’t think you ever will.”

Jungkook was surprised to realise that hearing this did not sting.

He agreed.

“Yeah,” he said. “I actually—I had so much more than Sid would ever have, because I had you. And that’s—that’s probably why he dragged me around with him. He was determined to make me truly lose you like he always made me lose everything. And I let him—I helped him make that come true. I can’t—I’m not much better than him. I want to believe I am, but I’m—I made the bet.”

You remembered thinking that Jungkook and Sid could never be equals, because Sid always needed Jungkook to have less. And now that you heard Jungkook come to a similar conclusion on his own, you thought you felt the room shift a little.

“Yeah,” you said, distracted. “T-that—the bet was fucked up.”

“I know. I’m—I’m sorry,” he said. “I just—I want you to know that I meant everything I had said. All of it. And I understand why you don’t want to believe me. I, uh—I know your family history. But I’ve got mine, too. My grandpa is almost eighty. He’s only ever loved one person his whole life. So did my dad. So will I. It’s just—regardless of what’s going to happen, you’re—I’ll always love you.”

You cleared your throat once, then once more—louder.

Jungkook was about ready to get up, alarmed suddenly, but you quieted and looked around. He caught a glimpse of your eyes as you scanned the room and he realised—in a paradoxical sense of relief—that you were frightened.

Not angry. Not refusing to believe him. Not disappointed or frustrated.

Just scared.

“It’s uh—it’s really late,” you said, looking back at the window. “Isn’t it? The sky’s completely dark.”

He swallowed. You didn’t want to talk about this. And you shouldn’t. You needed rest.

“Yeah, uh… do you want me to close the curtains?” he asked, swallowing all that was still left unsaid.

It was impossible anyway, he supposed, to pour seven years of misguided decisions into one conversation. He was just relieved you hadn’t asked him to leave.

“No,” you said. “Keep them open. I want to see the sky.”

He’d hoped you would say that, and he felt an almost forgotten lightness in his chest when you did. Lots of things had changed over the past few days, but a lot of things hadn’t—including your love for the night.

“A lot of stars tonight,” he said meaningfully. He was glad he had accidentally picked a hotel room with a view of boring back alleys: there were no lights to cover up the stars now.

“Yeah,” you agreed, much calmer. “They’re beautiful.”

There was a quote in a book his grandmother had once read to him: “are we human because we gaze at the stars, or do we gaze at them because we are human?”

He remembered feeling oddly wistful when he heard it. He imagined the night sky behind his closed eyes and he felt as though he was lacking something crucial—something that would come, but not yet.

He remembered watching the way you watched the stars back in Tilburg—hours before it all fell apart.

The night sky had always reminded him of you—really, even before he met you.

“I could open the window wider,” he suggested.

You closed your eyes.

“Could you?” you asked quietly.

“Yeah.” He stood up and approached the window, pulling the frame until he saw the ends of the curtains lift off the floor. “A distinct smell, isn’t it? The night.”

“It is,” you agreed.

It probably shouldn’t have been possible at this point, but as he turned around and traced your features with his gaze, he thought he fell in love with you a little more at this moment.

“We, um, we have this song,” he found himself saying as he returned to the armchair next to your bed. This song had been buzzing in his head nearly the whole night tonight. You could feel his nervousness as he mumbled, “ah, you probably know it already, it’s so obvious. And I told you in Oslo—okay, anyway. We have this song. It’s a B-side on our second single.”

“Cursed,” you said, recalling the title easily enough because this was your mum’s favourite song.

You always thought that the single—“Haunting,” which was their second title track and the very first Rated Riot song that you’d heard—overshadowed “Cursed.” Perhaps unfairly.

“Yeah.” Jungkook nodded. “Who, um—who do you think inspired it?”

Swallowing, you willed your thoughts to clear, so you wouldn’t have to think about the lyrics, but could not do it.

You remembered the entire chorus with perfect clarity, as though you were listening to Rated Riot perform the song in concert right now—Taehyung heavy on the bass and Jungkook yelling out the lyrics with his whole body leaning over the edge of the stage towards the audience.

You’re for the stars and for the moon to see /

You weren’t made for me /

You’re for the night and for the day to breathe /

You’re everything they want to be /

You're the enchantment that makes planets turn /

You’re more than the entire world /

You weren’t made for me, that much is true /

But I was made for you.

“I have no idea,” you said finally. You hoped, against all odds, this was a song that Yoongi wrote when he was drunk—those tended to be very emotional. “Was this the, um, absinthe one?”

Jungkook snickered humourlessly and shook his head.

“Don’t do this to me,” he asked, looking down for a moment—just until he could count the four loose threads in the carpet. Then he returned his gaze to you.

“It was you,” he said. “Your love for the night sky. I know it’s your favourite thing in the world.”

He said that and suddenly your chest was filled with them—with these stars that you loved to watch and he loved to sing about.

“W-well, that’s—you’re, um,” you struggled, “you’re not wrong about that, I guess.”

“It’s a song about my favourite thing in the world, too,” he added.

“W-what’s that?”

He had a sad smile on his face. “You.”

Your stomach tightened again and you squeezed your eyes shut—a feeble attempt to get away from this situation and from all the thoughts that your head could no longer contain.

“Not tonight,” you whispered. “I can’t—I don’t want to talk about us or about—about anything else tonight.”

“Okay,” he agreed immediately. “We won’t talk about it.”

“Okay,” you echoed, even though his laid-back response did not relax you.

You sensed longing in his words, and anguish. He would have done anything you asked him to—and this power scared you. You didn’t want it. You just wanted—

Exhaling loudly to drown out your thoughts, you turned to a side and glanced at the bandages on his face.

“Tomorrow, we will have to—we’ll have to figure out what to do with your eye,” you said.

Jungkook had not fully returned to this planet yet. “My eye?”

“Yes,” you said, giving him a longer look—as if to check if you hadn’t dreamt him—and then closing your eyes again. “Your black eye.”

He reached up to touch the bandages, perpetually confused about his injuries. “Oh—what do you mean, what to do with it?”

“Well, it’d probably be weird to cut it out, so we’ll have to cover it up.”

“Hmm.” He smiled at the ease in your voice. If everything else was lost, he hoped that he would at least get to keep your banter. “Okay.”

“I’ll think of something,” you promised as the gentle night wind brushed a strand of hair away from your face and fluttered your tired eyelashes.

“Thank you,” Jungkook said in a hush—his courage had finally abandoned him. “I’m sorry that this is another thing that you have to—”

“No,” you cut him off. “It’s not that bad.”

You tried to turn your head towards him, but lying here with your eyes closed felt very pleasant. You thought you’d felt revitalised before, you thought your body had started to feel more like it belonged to you again, but that had been momentary. You couldn’t keep your eyes open long enough to properly look at him.

“Do you mind if I… keep my eyes closed for a minute?” you asked.

“Do you mind if I stay here?” he responded.

“You—”

“Actually, I don’t care,” he decided. “I’m staying.”

You forced yourself to look at him. “You don’t have to do that. I’m fine.”

“You always say you’re fine,” he reminded you. “Look at where we are now.”

“It was a one-time thing. Look at this.” Lethargically, you raised your arm with the catheter. “I’m being pumped full of vitamins. I’ll be fine.”

“Okay,” he said. “I want to believe that. Really, I do, but you have to stop. You can’t keep going like this. I-I mean—”

You shook your head against the pillow. “Jungkook, this is really nothing.”

“I have a hard time believing that when you’re connected to a—”

“It’s—”

“Look, just—” he took a breath and extended his hands, “—p-please—please don’t let this happen again. Please look after yourself. I can’t lose you.”

He knew he might have to keep working with you without ever calling you his again. He’d have to learn how to deal with that.

But he could never deal with being here without you.

“Okay,” you said, your eyelids heavy. “Okay, I’ll be careful.”

“I’m going to need a promise here,” he said, reaching out his hand.

You chuckled weakly and extended your hand to gently graze his palm with the tips of your fingers. “I promise.”

He leaned in closer to fully grasp your hand in his, and saw the gentle—likely unconscious—smile on your lips as you squeezed his fingers. His chest filled with a warmth so big and powerful that, reasonably, there had to be no space left for his heart there anymore.

And yet something kept beating. He felt his own pulse reverberate against your fingers as he clutched your hand in his.

You’d be alright.

You hadn’t foreseen how calming the gentle dripping of the IV would be. You’d only meant to rest your eyes for a quick moment. You didn’t realise you had dozed off.

Only when your mind sobered up sometime in the early morning hours—you based the time solely on the colour of the sky outside—did you force your eyes open and concluded, with a painful jolt of your exhausted muscles, that you’d fallen asleep.

You looked around and for a moment, the dark, strange room filled your exhausted mind with terror. Then you noticed Jungkook sleeping in the chair next to you, and you felt yourself calm down.

Thank God he was here.

Blinking suddenly, you parted your lips as if preparing to argue with your own thoughts.

He wasn’t supposed to be here. He had a performance tomorrow. And a bandaged black eye that you still hadn’t figured out how to hide.

“I can tell you’re overthinking from all the way over here,” Jungkook said, his voice drowsy, eyes half-open. He must have heard the rustling of your covers and woken up. “Go to sleep.”

“What time is it?” you asked.

He was too tired to note the urgency in your voice as he mumbled, “sleeping time.”

“Jungkook, I’m serious,” you said. Finally, he caught your alarmed tone and his eyes shot open. “What time is it?”

He straightened in his seat and regarded you for a minute while he searched for his phone somewhere on the armchair. You didn’t appear to be in pain, but the emergency in your eyes threw him off.

“It’s three-twenty,” he said after a brief moment of blindness from the bright screen of his phone.

“Shit.” You looked around in the darkness, not sure when you had last seen your phone. You couldn’t remember Jungkook mentioning that he’d picked it up when he found you, and you hadn’t asked for it back. “I have to—”

“No,” he said, getting to his feet.

“No,” you argued back. “I need—”

He leaned over your bed and took hold of your hands right as you tried to throw off your duvet and sit up. You tried to evade him, but Jungkook proved he’d known you long enough to guess every move you were going to make—in complete darkness.

“No,” he said again, struggling with your relentless dedication to flail your limbs around until you stood up. “Lie down, please. I don’t know what you think you must do at three in the morning, but I promise you, it can wait. It’ll be done. I’ll do everything to make sure everything is okay.”

You stopped resisting his hold and allowed him to gently guide you back onto the mattress. He only let go of you when your head hit the pillows.

“You can’t be here. You need rest,” you insisted as he pulled the duvet over you, tucking it under your sides until you were firmly cocooned inside. You couldn’t tell if he did that for your comfort or to make sure you couldn’t escape this bed.

“So do you,” he countered.

“I'm fine—”

“No—for once, just... please stop saying that,” he asked, his eyes bright, but his voice completely spent. “You’re not fine. You’re getting a vitamin drip because you fainted. You need to sleep.”

You kept your eyes on his for another minute, trying to adjust to the thick darkness, so you could make out his silhouette as he towered over your bed. He was watching you and waiting.

“Okay,” you gave in. “I'll sleep.”

“I’ll be here,” he said, finally sitting back down.

You knew that wasn’t right. He needed to get proper rest. He shouldn’t have kept watch over you.

“Okay,” was all you said despite everything. “Thank you.”

He mumbled something unintelligible in response and you didn’t dare to ask him to repeat it. The room gave space to the night as your conversation wound down.

You could hear a faint screech of a lost bird outside the hotel window. Bugs were singing somewhere in the distance, too. And, as you drifted off, you thought you heard Jungkook whisper a weary “I love you.”

chapter title credits: bad omens, “the grey”

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upsidedownmvnson · 1 year

Text

eddie wakes up from his nightmare by gasping for air

he sits up, eyes frenzied and struggling to focus in the dark. the sheets are messy, and tangled around his bare legs. he's sweating, his hair is sticking to his forehead, but all he can think about is that you're not here.

where are you?

your side of the bed is abandoned, cold. he feels like he's suffocating. he feels like he's back there. you should be here, it's the middle of the night.

he springs out of bed, looking for you. he trips over his own clothes in his messy room, grabbing onto the door handle to balance himself but throwing it open before he was even fully stable.

with a shaky voice he shouts, "babe?" down the hallway, as he leans on the wall for support. he hesitates going forward, the dark sending a chill down his spine.

"eddie?"

and it was like being reunited with gravity. his legs were less shaky, and his breathing was starting to return to normal. so he pushed forward in the dark, finding you in the kitchen with wayne. a sandwich in front of wayne and a glass of water in your hand.

"hey, you okay?" you asked, setting the drink down.

eddie couldn't speak, he just launched himself into your arms, letting his forehead fall onto your shoulder, droplets of anxiety fueled tears landing on your shirt. you brush his hair with your hand, shushing him and letting him take as much comfort from you as he needed.

he's standing in dimly lit kitchen in his boxers and a ratty t-shirt, crying, but he's not ashamed. he's here, you're here, wayne's here. everyone is ok.

"it's okay, kid," wayne said, "we're right here."

#eddie munson #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fic #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x fem!reader #stranger things fiction #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things fic #stranger things s4 #stranger things #ptsd!eddiemunson #eddie munson blurb

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adragonprinceswhore · 4 months

Text

Teaching The Unteachable I Aegon II Targaryen x Reader

Smuffy Christmas, December 9th I Masterlist

A request by @dd122004dd, thank you so much for sending it in! I had a blast writing this❣️🥰

Prompt: Playing with the other's fingers + Temperature play

Summary: Aegon has begged you to help him better his High Valyrian, but when he doesn’t take your lessons seriously, you come up with a fitting punishment

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, AFAB reader, she/her pronouns, reader is Rhaenyra's daughter and happily married to Aegon, temperature play, (somewhat unsafe) wax play, dry humping, (slightly) sub!Aegon and dom!reader

Word Count: 1300

---

“No, you need to roll your R’s. Like this: zaldrīzes”

Aegon rolls his eyes before mockingly impersonating you, “zaldrīzes”.

“No no, place the tip of your tongue by the roof of your mouth”, you explain, demonstratively opening your mouth to show your husband how he should place his tongue to achieve the sound he hadn’t yet mastered.

Aegon’s eyes light up in mischief as he regards you. “I’m afraid I do not quite understand, my love. Perhaps if you place your tongue in my mouth, you can demonstrate it for me?”

Now it is your turn to give him an unimpressed look.

“If you want the realm to view you as a true Targaryen, you need to know how to speak like one”, you chide him, eyes sternly locking with his.

“I do not give a shit about how the realm views me”, Aegon replies, sincerity evident in his playful tone. “All that is of matter to me is how tempting my wife appears when she speaks of proper tongue placement”.

You’re sitting next to each other by the table placed a few paces from the hearth burning in your shared chambers, Aegon’s hand continuously playing with your fingers.

“You come to me sulking over the fact that your High Valyrian is no better than it was back when we were mere babes”, you sigh, “begging me to teach you”.

Aegon hums as he bends your ring finger in his palm.

“Yet you do not listen to a word I say”, you scold him before pulling your hand away from his grip.

“My love, I have come to a regretful realisation”, he replies with feigned gravity weighing heavy in his voice. “I’m afraid I’ll need another tutor”

You answer his declaration by raising an impassive brow. A grin breaks out on his face.

“One that doesn’t make my cock hard as soon as she opens her mouth”.

Your eyes go wide at his crude remark, hand coming up to lightly smack him on the chest for his lewdness.

“Aegon-“

He winks before moving closer to you, restless hands coming up to squeeze your thighs over your skirts. “Call me husband”.

It is hard to stay mad at him in playful times like these, when he uses every charismatic trick he knows. Yet you have to remain strong, if only on the outside.

“Why should I waste my days teaching the unteachable?”

“I am your husband. Your valzȳrys”, Aegon triumphs, hands moving up to pinch the flesh of your hips over the satin fabric you’re donning.

One of the candles adorning the wooden table by you draws its last breath, hot wax running down its side. Your finger comes up to collect some, a pleasant chill running through your body at the sudden sting of warmth.

“You can’t even say that right”, you tell him, a petty ridicule you know he won’t take to heart, as your eyes stay fixed on the wax slowly hardening on your fingertip.

“Then teach me”. His hands grab onto your sides tighter, pulling you off your chair and towards him. Instead of giving in too quickly, you resist his demand momentarily, feet steadily placed on the floor to hinder him from pulling you onto his lap.

“Valzȳrys, I think you’re in due need of a punishment. For being such a disobedient pupil, and for talking about your tutor in such lewd ways”, you say, voice serious but eyes shining with mischief.

Aegon looks up to meet your gaze, the grin on his face growing wider as he nods.

You climb onto his lap, straddling him, your noses almost knocking together from the close proximity. He brings his hands to rest around your waist, but you grab them both and gently place them on the armrests of the chair.

“No touching”, you instruct and he nods obediently.

You’re sure you can sense the rigid proof of a growing arousal where your centres meet, and your strict demeanour almost falters at the realisation. You haven’t even begun, yet your husband is desperate for you.

You fight off a victorious smile as you pick up one candle, flame still burning, and look into Aegon's lilac eyes, The hand not holding the candle moves to untie the strings at the top of the white undershirt he’s wearing.

“If you fail to properly recite the words I ask you to say”, you start, the grin you’d tried to fight off causing the corners of your mouth to twitch upwards, “I get to pour wax on your chest”.

Your husband’s eyes light up in intrigue, “and if I say the words correctly?”

“You’ll be awarded the satisfaction of knowing you are coherent in your native tongue”, you respond sternly.

Aegon watches you expectantly.

“Wife”, you begin your unwonted examination, swirling the lit candle between your fingers.

“Ābrazyrys”, Aegon confidently replies, raising his face slightly in pride.

You tilt the candle to the side, allowing the hot wax to pour down onto his slightly exposed chest. He gasps in surprise and you tut at his reaction.

“Atrocious pronunciation”, you chastise your husband, eyes shining with amusement. He inhales deeply, hands gripping the sides of the chair tightly.

“Again”, you demand.

“Ābrazyrys”, he breathes out, a whimper escaping his lips as you pour more wax on his chest. You are now certain that the hardness against your centre is evidence of how much he’s enjoying your teaching method, so you languidly roll your hips against his.

“Ābrazyrys”, you correct him as he grunts at the feeling of your core pressing against his. The wax on his chest had congealed, resembling pearls resting on his flustered skin.

The alluring sight causes you to momentarily lose your senses as you press a kiss against his lips; the flustered pink tint of his cheeks too appealing. When you pull away, he follows your mouth for more, but you give him a pointed look before continuing,

“Thank you, wife”

“Kirimvose, ābrazyrys”, Aegon all but moans as you pour more wax down his chest in the middle of his utterance. Having him at your mercy, torturing him with stinging pleasure, has rendered you wanton as well, causing you to roll your hips against his more forcefully to dull the ache blooming there; waiting to be attended to.

You lean forward, swiping your tongue over your husband's soft lips. He pays no heed to your instructions any longer, hands leaving the armrest to circle your body, pressing you closer to him as he devours your mouth. He pushes your body in a silent plea for you to continue rocking against him, and you comply, eager to soothe your neglected core.

The passion between you almost causes you to forget the still burning candle in your hand, but you manage to detach from his lips long enough to blow it out, fingertips once again pressing into the melted wax on the top. Before it solidifies over your skin, you grab the sides of Aegon’s chin, messily pressing the wax into his flesh as you steer his face towards yours, kissing him deeply as he hisses in stinging bliss.

Perhaps he truly needs another tutor?

One that doesn’t get her cunt wet as soon as he opens his mouth.

---

A/N: Thank you for reading! Hope the Aegon girlies liked it 💖💖

Everything Taglist: @humanpurposes @theoneeyedprince

Smuffy Christmas Taglist: @fan-goddess

HotD Taglist: @xcinnamonmalfoyx

#aegon targaryen smut #aegon ii targaryen fluff #aegon ii targaryen x reader #aegon targaryen x reader #aegon x reader #aegon ii targaryen smut #aegon targaryen x oc #aegon ii x reader #aegon ii targaryen x you #aegon targaryen fluff #aegon ii targaryen x oc #aegon targaryen x you

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crow-raven-crow · 5 months

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𝐅𝐨𝐜𝐮𝐬 𝐅𝐨𝐫 𝐌𝐞

𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐭 - [𝐧𝐬𝐟𝐰 𝟏𝟖+]

✧･.☽˚｡･ﾟ✧ :══════⊹⊹══════: ✧･ﾟ｡˚☾.･✧

𝐀𝐥𝐜𝐢𝐧𝐚 𝐃𝐢𝐦𝐢𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐜𝐮 𝐱 𝐟!𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬: ~2.9k 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐟𝐢𝐜 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬/𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭: ✨claws✨, fangs <3, blood, established relationship, NSFW, voice kink, praise kink, slight degradation, vaginal fingering, biting, slight marking kink, slight edging, begging, mommy kink, possessive tones, overstimulation

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: There was a sacred world found within books, something that the two of you shared together as the air grew colder, as the nights came earlier, whisking you both away and into the arms of the ever calling warmth found within the castle. But when your voice became too much, when her warmth became all consuming, you found it harder and harder to focus on anything else but her..

𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

AO3 link in title

✧･.☽˚｡･ﾟ✧ :══════⊹⊹══════: ✧･ﾟ｡˚☾.･✧

The castle had run cold tonight, the crisp prick of the night air piercing through the fabric of your gown and threatening to dig into your skin as though it were a delicate needle. Each breath you drew in was infused with a chill, seeping into your lungs yet escaping your lips as if it was a raging fire as you read aloud to the countess.

"A love like no other blossomed in secret between the two, hidden away from the watchful eyes of a world that refused to accept it.." Your words flowed out like silk, each syllable translating a tenderness that seemed to manifest the delicacy of the moment between the two characters, bringing the essence of their connection into the physical world.

Your voice, in this moment, served as her sanctuary, much like her presence was your haven - a protective blanket of warmth that shielded you from the outside world, a safety that could only be found in her arms. You reveled in each other's company - untouchable, unseen, undisturbed - as a new world between the pages came to light. Nights like these were dedicated to the safety of the library, tossing the cares of the outside world aside - quiet, serene, home. The flames of the fireplace danced across your forms, casting a warm, golden glow that shifted against the pages you held, casting small flickers to spark against the other shelves found within the dimly lit room.

Her bare hands delicately traced along your sides, the gloves she had once worn now a forgotten memory, discarded and abandoned long ago. Your back was flush to her front as her hands smoothed along your skin, the smallest of shivers retreating from your body every so often. You rested your head against her chest, feeling her every exhale and each beat of her heart as your voice rumbled back to her.

"Though, their hearts were intertwined by the gentle rhythms of the ocean waves, linking themselves along as they pulled each other like the moon.." You loved moments like these, acts of mindless intimacy stuck within a moment in time. Acts that happened behind closed doors, held with a gravity that only was exposed to the castle's stone walls, kept like an item within a locket that sat close to your hearts.

In some moments, her hands would come into view, bathed in the golden embers of the fire, revealing the descend into blackened fingertips that were always hidden behind a thick, black leather, away from prying eyes. They would travel along the contours of your arms, against your smooth thighs, down the length of your sides, fueled by the need to feel the tender skin hidden beneath the thin layer of your dress. Fingers laced with desire, laced with lust, laced with the urge to devour you upon first sight..

It was a difficult task to keep your hands to yourselves after years of being together, the insatiable hunger never dying within your beings. It was a need that made your bones ache, your body tremble, your soul beg and plead for a fill that would send you over the delicious edge you craved. Every touch promised a dive into ecstasy, a feast for the senses that you both welcomed with open arms.

Hands toyed with the bottom hem of your nightgown, fingers like the night sky that shined above you heavily contrasting the whiteness of the fabric that lit up like the moon. Warm fingertips met the expanse of your cold thighs, engulfing them in a welcomed warmth that sent a fresh wave of desire down your body.

"Alcina.." You paused, drawing your thoughts away from the fictional world you had gotten used to and quickly catching up to the current one. It rang out soft, flustered unlike moments before, though the warmth it always held for your lady was evermore present.

"Yes, draga mea?" Her accent ran heavy, her voice deep like the thick liquid of her crimson wine, doused with the alcohol, doused with the blood you both knew all too well. You felt her lips ghost against the shell of you ear, a welcomed heat rising to your face as she awaited your response. Her breath fell down against your skin, swirling around you and claiming you whole.

"Wh-What are you doing?" There was desire found there, within the question you already knew the answer to, within the tone that quickly morphed into a whimper. The sound made a smile rise to her lips, the plush skin found there painted a deep red, ready to lick, ready to suck, ready to devour…

"Enjoying the story, my love.." There was a long pause between her statements, her actions carrying the weight of her true emotions behind the words that left her lips, overcasting them with the feeling you knew like the back of your hand. Her fingertips moved their way up, deliberate and with purpose, teasing and controlled, pushing the fabric up and out of the way as they met the barrier of your undergarments. "And admiring just how perfectly we fit together.."

Her lips kissed down the side of your neck, her fangs coming out and gracing your skin as she met the junction between your shoulder and neck. It caused goosebumps to wake along your skin, your thoughts to slow, your mind to allow the haze of lust to sweep in and take over. Her words melted into your flesh, carrying a promise you always loved to get lost in. You felt her hands move, one continuing to shift up, cupping your breast while the other started rubbing against the fabric left between your thighs. Your breath hitched at the contact, your body subconsciously tilting your head to the side to give her better access to the canvas of skin you'd always hand over to her. "Focus for me, darling.. Keep reading - You know how much I love to hear you.."

Your breathing grew heavy, a thickness settling in your lungs and making your breath hot, making it hitch, making it lost to you as you struggled to find the words.

"O-One, a vibrant artist, ta- taking down words, mapping out worlds, that was fueled by a- mph- fuck-" Your worlds easily trailed off, your mind choosing to focus on the wonderful ministrations of your lady's fingers. It became broken, a plummet into a stutter, a drop into a moan as her movements were just enough to feed the fire. She worked slow, feeding on the reactions of your body. The way it squirmed, jolted, ached for the feeling of her.. And she'd barely even touched you..

"You might have to repeat yourself, darling.. I didn't quite catch that.." Her lips left marks in their path, the crimson flesh creating marks just as red, just as dark as they painted your skin. There was a deep purr to her voice, the husk found there a tease, a demand, a praise within the sound itself, beckoning more out of you.

You pushed on, the will to please your lady only adding to the pleasure that she placed upon you. Her fingers slowed, the touch becoming featherlight and absolutely torturous in order for you to speak. "One.. a vibrant artist, taking down words, mapping out world that was fueled by a heart full of dreams that wished to come to life.."

"See? That wasn't so hard.. Continue.." Her voice rang out in a tease, thick and gravelly with lust, as is ghosted over your form. Her fingers squeezed your breast, feeling your nipple form into a hard peak against the palm of her hand and causing your back to arch into her touch.

Her body was large under your form, something that enraptured you from the first moment you had laid your eyes on her. It kept you safe, kept you warm, and felt oh so delicious..

Her actions picked back up, her hand moving to your other breast while the other slowly moved up, slipping past the fabric that proved to be an annoyance to the raven haired goddess.

"The o-other- hmn.. a g-guardian of wis-wisdom.. and a keeper of stories, a quiet w-woman who got lost wi-within- f-fuck.. the worlds s-she created, the worlds she.. shared with.. the other.." You struggled to finish the chapter, your breath hitching as you felt one of her fingers travel slowly through your folds, now aware of the pool of arousal that had settled itself there.

"You're doing so well, darling.." You felt her finger meet your entrance, circling your slick core and collecting its juices before moving back up, being sure to repeat the motion over and over.. It grew harder to keep your eyes open. The way she moved felt like pure bliss, but it wasn't enough.. You needed more, more of her touch, her voice, more of her.. But you always aimed to please, especially as the next words left her mouth. "Just a few more sentences, love.. Could you do that for mommy, hmm?"

Oh..

Of course, you could..

It was as though your mind stopped, all thoughts leaving, any beginnings of reading leaving your brain. It echoed in your head like a prayer, chanting itself to anything holy as though the woman beneath you were the goddess you worshipped. "Yes-"

Your voice came out breathier than you would've liked, something that you ignored, something that was still present as you did your best to finish the chapter. "They set-set s-sail one night, leaving the village t-that had held them close for far too lo- ngh-*"

Her finger met your clit, swirling around the sensitive bud and giving you a promise to look forward to. Slow, insufferable, merciless. You just needed to finish the chapter..

"They faced it, faced e-every-fuck.. ev-everything that came at them.. They welcomed a world where t-their love co-ohm.." She added pressure, added speed as she watched how you began to come undone, the thought that she could make you feel this good, that she was the one touching you was ever so prevalent in her mind.

"Just a bit longer.. You're doing so good for me.."

Your breathing grew heavy, one of your hands leaving the structure of the pages to grip onto her forearm, seeking some way to ground yourself as you tried to remain focused on the task at hand.

"..wh-where their love c-could flourish-hmng, their hearts beat- mph- beating i-in tandem as they sailed into- into the night-" You finished.

"Good girl.." Her finger quickly moved down, easily pushing itself into your entrance as you finished the last words. It curled in the most perfect way, making a guttural, broken moan escape your lips, making your fingers latch and dig into the fabric of her own dress beneath you, scratch into the skin beneath it, making your walls clench around her digit and beg for more.

“Again.. say that again-mph- please, please-" Your body begged for her voice, craved for it to take you in its hold and plunge into you with each thrust of her fingers. Her voice was the mere crash, the mere wreck through your body as it got high on the praise, her voice the extra push to have your walls clench around her fingers, hopeful, desperate, eager for more, more, more- “pl-please, mommy- I-“

"Look at you.." The tease in her tone was back, tightening the coil within you and making your pleasure vicious and greedy.

"So eager for mommy like a good girl.." The moan you let out was loud, deep, translating the lust and desire that had built itself up to be near overwhelming, taking over your body and making it hers.

There was a small shuffle beside the leather seat you both were on, the sound of the book that once had your undivided attention hitting the floor, intertwining with the sound of your moans and whimpers that clawed their way out of your throat. Your body squirmed, thrusted, wreathed under her touch, chasing a peak, chasing the feeling of being so utterly filled by her that it would envelop your entire soul.

All your shifting had caused your dress to move, the fabric becoming an even bigger problem as it got in the way of the countess’ lips. You felt sharp, cold claws appear from her fingernails, tickling your skin, running along it so gently that none would pierce unless she wanted them to. “It’s seems there’s an issue that needs to be fixed..”

Her voice had become a low rumble omitting itself within the quiet library, making your body keen, making your body chase it as if it were your own impending orgasm. Your body ached with the weight of your ecstasy as your body fought for a high that it needed to earn, rooting itself within her voice, surging though a body that needed to be broken and pleased.

A finger had made its way to the base of your neck, tracing the claw along the tendons, along your collarbone, down to the hem of your nightgown before adding more pressure, tearing the fabric down the middle and making a chill erupt onto your skin. "Much better, beautiful girl.."

Her tongue darted out against your neck, leaving a warmth in its path before teeth bit into the skin. Your head fell back, a near pornographic moan leaving you as the burn settled into a deep rooted pleasure. Her finger moved at a brutal pace, picking up speed as she aimed to give you what you very well deserved.

You could feel your thighs begin to tremble, your nails scratch into the skin of her arms as the palm of her hand met your clit. You felt her lips turn into a satisfied smirk against your neck as she watched your eyes roll back, your eyelids fluttering shut just moments after.

Her finger curled, putting pressure against the sweet spot that had you seeing stars. Your hips moved with her thrusts, your walls clenching around her finger as the coil tightened more and more.

"Are you going to cum? Be a good girl and cum for me.." Her palm against your clit, her finger curling against your sweet spot, her voice consuming you whole all played out at the same time, your peak crashing into you as the coil snapped. Her pace didn't slow, successfully helping you ride out your orgasm while also bring you to another, brutal high.

Your core grew sensitive, your nipples into hard peaks as her other hand continued to smooth over and pinch them, you back ached as it arched into the overstimulation she was throwing at you, your thighs sore from the next wave of pleasure threatening to consume you. You felt her fangs at your neck again, sharp, delicate, hungry, before they pierced into your skin. The warmth that washed over you, from the bite at your neck to her finger plunging into your core, was captivating, hurling your body towards another edge that would turn your body into putty within her arms.

"That's it, sweet girl.. One more for me. You can take it, hmm? You can take it for mommy, can't you?"

Oh god..

You could, you could, yes, yes, anything for her, anything to make her keep thrusting, anything to make her finger curl in just the right spot, anything to have you moaning her name in the dark of night.

"Y-Yes! Gods, yes- please just- mph-" You were gone, your body, your soul captured in the hands of a lustful woman that would feast on you whenever she got the chance. Your mind grew hazy with the feeling of her tongue against your neck, lapping up the thick crimson that pooled out, with the chase towards euphoria.

You came hard, your body shuddering against hers, your breath labored as her name tore through your throat in a moan. Your eyes were screwed shut, your brows furrowed as her actions finally started to slow down.

Gentle kisses were placed against your neck, your cheek, behind your ear as you tried your best to catch your breath. She pulled out of you, the action causing a loud whimper to leave your throat and your eyes to open for just a moment. Her hands were massaging you in an instant, creating a blanket of warmth and security within her arms.

"You did so well, so so good for me, sweet thing.."

You turned around, arousal dripping down your thighs, body trembling as her lips met yours. She kissed you as though you were her desired prize, again, again, again, stealing the breath from your lungs and claiming you as entirely hers. Your body, your blood, your soul, your love: hers.

She held you in her arms, your head nuzzled in the crook of her neck, giving you a small moment to catch up with the world around you. She rose from the leather seat, the loss of weight causing a muted creak to emit from it. You savored the warmth of her presence as she gently bowed to grab the book that had been forgotten due to her actions, placing it on the side table next to her gloves and the empty glasses of wine.

Her heels were heard echoing off the stone as she left the library. The moon's gentle glow illuminated the hallways, casting a grey sheen and dark shadows over her path as she made her way to your shared quarters, deciding to add more comfort to you as you came back to earth. Her head turned down to you slightly, taking in your form with a soft gaze before whispering, "We can continue the story another time, draga mea.. Maybe next time we'll both be able to focus."

✧･.☽˚｡･ﾟ✧ :══════⊹⊹══════: ✧･ﾟ｡˚☾.･✧

𝐚/𝐧: EHEHEHEHHHHHEEEHHHH I MISSSSEEEEDDDDD HEEEEERRRRRRR AHHHHHHH. LISS I DID IT SHES HEREEE

so i've actually never written for her before BUT she was literally my hyper fixation before Larissa and i just missed her so much. i knew i was going to write for her some day

this was one of the personal ideas i had when i made a little update about a month ago. i originally said it was going to be one of gwen's character, but then i remembered her and it just had to be done

this was a WONDERFUL indulgence fic for me. i needed a little break from doing request because i was feeling more mechanic which was ass!! this also was just me writing unrestricted - i just let everything flow and brought back my old writing style (how i wrote before i started posting) and i literally don't know why i stopped writing like that because i love it A LOT and i think it really shows how much passion i really have for this craft.. so expect more stuff like this out of me because it was fun and reviving and definately brought a big passion back

hope you all liked it ! i definately expect to write for her more too so she has a section in my masterlist already hehe

if you saw this get posted like five minutes before this no you didnt

xx,

~ 𝐜𝐫𝐨𝐰

✧･.☽˚｡･ﾟ✧ :══════⊹⊹══════: ✧･ﾟ｡˚☾.･✧

𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬: (tagged anyone who asked/wanted to be on the "all works" taglist)

@autumn-leaves-chasing-breeze @weemssapphic @readingtheentrails @finnja555 @barbarasstar @vendocrap8008 @gwendolinechristieiscute @lilfartbox1 @agathaandgwenslesbian @lvinhs @elvira-dear @kimiinou

✧･.☽˚｡･ﾟ✧ :══════⊹⊹══════: ✧･ﾟ｡˚☾.･✧

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himimosa · 8 months

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how they hug

some headcannons on how dazai osamu, nakahara chuuya and edogawa ranpo hugs...

Dazai Osamu

-Dazai is exceptionally observing. Even though he can't empathize with all feelings people have, he knows what to do in social situations by mimicking others, it is just about if he cares or wants to do it...

-"polite hug": This is the hug you see most in social life when you greet someone you are not close with, where the lower bodies don't touch and only arms gently holding the other by shoulders. This hug is for his acquaintances or people he interacts with for work.

- "embracing hug": He wraps his arms very tightly around the other's back. If he hugs you like this, you feel safe and sound. You can hear his heartbeat, his slow breathing. He might give a few pats to your head or back. He usually use this hug for comforting people who he cares when they are crying or feeling down...or if he wants to give someone a false sense of trust and manipulate them...

- "clingy hug": Where he just jumps into the arms of you... He wraps his arms and whole body around you like an octopus. He buries his neck wherever he likes at that moment; your hair, your neck, your chest. He whines like a little child, says how much he missed you and says that he won't let you go now... (the thing is, sometimes he hugs Kunikida exactly like this because Dazai knows this level of clinginess drives the poor guy crazy: "Dazai put your fucking arms away from me and go back to work you waste of bandages!")

Nakahara Chuuya

- I don't think Chuuya does hug a lot of people. Or does he even hug?.. He doesn't look like someone who hugs to greet people in a mafioso meeting. I can't even imagine him hugging anyone to just greet them in the port mafia, he looks more like the type who gives a nod with his head or a firm handshake at most... But even not so frequently, this redhead mafia executive has times he hugs too:

- "drunk hugs": Where he loosely puts his hand around the shoulder of whoever he is drinking with that night. (might be Akutagawa or Tachihara) This is more like a side hug, where he hums and swings the song that is currently playing on the bar, even if there is no music he will sing and swing...

-"hug with only one arm": (This is sad, please don't hate me) His job is not the most chill one, he loses people who work under him. Sometimes he loses underlings and he prefers to give their death notifications to their families by himself. He is someone who takes care of people who are under his wing, it counts for their loved ones too... When they break down with the news -the dead one's friend or companion or child doesn't matter- chuuya will simply put his gloved hand on the back of their head, and let them cry into his shoulder or chest. This is a reassuring type of hug that says "I am still here and I will take care of you"

-"stir on the air hug": This is how this man hugs you. No matter your height or weight, he is the gravity manipulator. Whenever he hugs you, he can't help but slyly and abruptly pick you up from the ground by your waist and draw circles with you. You feel like a feather in this man's arms and can't help but laugh when he rotates around like a child. He loves to adore your giggly face from the downside. And if you give him a kiss from that angle? He is the happiest man ever...

Edogawa Ranpo

- I believe that Ranpo is the clingiest among them. It is only about if he feels comfortable enough... He won't hug any acquaintance for greeting like Dazai, (i don't think he handshakes too, he probably only waves his hand to greet) But with people who he feels closer with, like Ada members? Now that's a different story...

-"hugs with jumps": You know the hugs when two people who haven't seen each other for a long while that they run into each other's arms with a jump? Ranpo doesn't need a long separation for this hug, if he is overexcited about something, he will jump before hugging. Once he jumped over Kunikida just to prove that Kunikida will catch him even if it means to drop all documents in his hands, and Kunikida exactly did that (if you know the Terry-Jack scene from B99, you know this) (also poor Kunikida)

-"back hugs": Ranpo doesn't do much at the office, his job is mostly outdoors, at crime scenes... So whenever he is at the office if he is not eating snacks, he is probably on someone's shoulders. He loosely wraps his arms around their shoulders, his head sometimes rests on one shoulder. Sometimes he helps their case files with his great skills, sometimes he just wants to bother them because he is bored. If you are working at the ada, good luck because he is never leaving you. He is like a little mosquito (a loveable one) His head is always around your ears, he never shuts up. And sometimes he bites...

-"hide my face hugs": (Again, this is sad) There are only a few people in the world Ranpo hugs like that. One would be the president Fukuzawa on a very bad day, the other would be you... Unlike others, Ranpo hugs like that in only private. He wraps his shaky arms around your waist and buries his face near your shoulder or chest. He doesn't lift his head for a while, but you can feel his shivering and the wetness on you because of his tears. He may or may not cry aloud, but he will cry. He needs you to shield him from the world, maybe pat his head and whisper everything will be okay...

#bungou stray dogs #bungo stray dogs #bsd x reader #bsd headcanons #bsd hcs #bungou stray dogs x reader #bsd fluff #dazai osamu #dazai x reader #dazai x yn #dazai fluff #nakahara chuuya #chuuya x reader #chuuya x you #chuuya fluff #edogawa ranpo #ranpo x reader #ranpo x you #ranpo fluff

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lis-likes-fics · 4 months

Text

Bells, Bells, Bells

Pairings: Steve Harrington x Reader, Eddie Munson x Reader, Steve Harrington x Eddie Munson Word Count: 3k words Prompt: Double penetration Warnings: NSFW, swearing, threesome, double penetration, fingering, lots of lube, anal, use of anal plug, use of safe word, pnp, p in v, p in a, aftercare, they're all pathetic actually... A/N: I was working on a completely different fic and then got completely stuck so I started writing this instead and, well this got done a lot quicker so... Anyway, this is basically just porn with no plot bc plot would've taken a bit. Hope you enjoy. Also A/N: This is also my first time writing anal so...bear with me, guys.

You whimper when the bed dips next to you, your arms trembling as they hold you up underneath you. There are goosebumps all over your body plaguing your skin and making it hard to pretend like you're chill about all of this.

Steve, sitting in front of you, just raises a hand to your cheek and smiles reassuringly as his thumb grazes your skin. You lean into his hand and shut your eyes.

Behind you, Eddie chuckles lightly and inoffensively. “Relax, sweetheart. I haven't even touched you yet.” Then his hand sets gently on the bare skin of your ass and smooths there. “Get closer to Stevie. He'll help you.”

On hands and knees, you take a couple steps more toward him until your hands are planted on either side of his crossed legs. Your head rests momentarily on his shoulder before he pulls you back to lay a long kiss on your lips. You lean in some more, humming lightly against his lips.

“Good girl. There ya go,” Eddie whispers. “Just breathe for me, baby, and relax. Or it's not gonna be easy. Got me?”

You nod. “Yes.”

“You remember the safe words?” he asks, his tone still calming and guiding but holding just as much gravity.

You nod. “Bells means I'm good. Puppet means slow down. Whiskey to stop.”

“Good girl,” Steve says this time, petting your head and kissing your forehead.

Eddie sets his hands on your butt, smoothing his palms over the skin before spreading your cheeks apart. “‘Kay, just relax, sweetheart,” Eddie whispers.

You flinch when you feel him squeeze out some of the same cold, wet lube from before over the pretty blue plug still nestled between your cheeks.

You'd never done anything like this before. A couple hours before, you told Steve and Eddie that you wanted to try something new. They always had to take turns when you got intimate, one in front and one in back. But you wanted to see what it would be like to take them both at once.

So they pulled out their—thoroughly cleansed—plug and worked with you for a while to get you ready to put it in. It was a tight squeeze, but they were both so encouraging through the whole process of stretching you out enough to comfortably take it. It's been a couple hours since they put it in, to get you nice and ready for them, and now they had to take it out.

So here you are, hands and knees with Steve holding your face and Eddie spreading a generous amount of lube over the plug and your puckered hole.

“‘Kay, I'm gonna pull it out. Need you to push a little for me, sweets. Okay? It's gonna be kinda weird, but you'll be fine.” Eddie says.

You nod, “‘Kay.” Doing just as he says, you push a little as he grabs a hold of the handle of the plug and begins to, very slowly, pull it out.

Distracting you, Steve captures your lips with his own and muffles your stiff moan. As you stretch around the apex of the plug, you hold your breath as he manages to pull the rest of it out. All of you sigh as it finally comes out.

“You still with me, sweetheart?” Eddie asks.

Steve nods, pulling away from your lips. “She's good. Just not used to it. Right, baby?” he asks gently. You hum in agreement.

“Where are you at?” Eddie asks.

“Bells.”

He sighs gently, reassured. “Okay, good. You look good. You'll be loose enough for me now.”

You all agreed that it would be better for Eddie to take the back: Steve was thicker than him, and it would have been too much of a stretch—especially for the first time. He didn't mind.

You nod, returning Steve's smile as he strokes your cheeks. Your legs tremble slightly, the anticipation eating away at you as you breathe gently.

Eddie's hands stroke your cheeks, bending over your body to kiss the back of your neck. “Like I said before,” he speaks gently, “it's gonna feel kinda weird and a little uncomfortable at first, but you'll get used to it. From there…it's heaven, baby.”

You chuckle lightly. “You'd know all about that, huh?” you tease, glancing at Steve mischievously. He laughs with you, looking at Eddie behind you with a smug look.

Eddie snorts. “Please, you know Steve's a bigger bottom than me.”

You laugh again. “You're both bottoms. Even with me sometimes.”

He shrugs, amused and happy that you're happy. Lightly smacking your ass, he shakes his head. “Are you ready, sweetheart?”

Breathing in, you let out a long sigh and nod. “I'm ready.”

Eddie spreads another generous amount of lube over his cock, pumping himself a couple times before lining up with you. “Here goes nothing,” he mumbles.

Steve takes your face and pulls you in for another kiss. You grunt against his lips as you feel the head of Eddie's cock pushing against your hole, then pushing past to go deeper and deeper, slowly seating inside of you bit by bit as his hands hold you tightly by your hips.

The feeling is foreign, pushing deeper into you as you distract yourself with the feeling of Steve's tongue smoothing over your bottom lip.

But then, Eddie's hips meet your behind and the tension snaps.

Your lips slip off of Steve’s as you melt against him, your eyes fluttering closed as you lean into his chest on a long sigh. Steve chuckles lightly. “There ya go,” he hums, glancing up at Eddie, whose face is just as blissfully fazed as your own.

Eddie starts pulling out, still slow as he allows you to get used to the feeling before he’s pushing back in again after his long thrust. Pushing all the way back in, another sigh breaches your lips as the tiniest moan slips from you. Your limbs feel like jelly, and it’s so strange to you as you lay there with no strength in your body to sit back up, perfectly content to just lay against Steve.

“How are we doing?” Eddie questions, his voice strained as his own pleasure begins to tickle at his throat.

It takes a moment as you take a choppy breath in. “Bells,” you whimper in a slurred tone.

“Good girl,” he nods. He does that for a while, keeping it steady as the both of you get used to each other. Steve watches, his hardening cock almost painful as the two of you enjoy the other. Your moans start to grow as Eddie continues steadily rocking in and out of you.

After a moment, still stroking your cheek, Steve whispers to you. “You think you’re ready for me yet?”

Glancing up at him, you nod. The word slips out in the middle of a moan, “Bells.”

He chuckles lightly, shaking his head as his hand eases underneath you and slips between your thighs, his fingers teasing your folds, “You’re such a good girl.”

Normally, you’d thank him, but your lips are so slack from the pleasure that it’s hard to form the words. His thick fingers sink into you, pushing your lower lips apart in order to massage your tight pussy.”Jesus,” he mumbles under your breath. You’re so wet for him already, your arousal mixed with the lube has made you slick and slippery and perfect for him.

Steve lays back so he’s underneath you, his hands on your waist and his cock laying against his belly. He strokes himself in his hand a couple times before lining up with you. “You ready?” he asks, his voice gentle against your ears.

You nod. “Bells.”

He licks his bottom lip as he chuckles lightly. Eddie slows to a stop behind you, nodding at Steve before he’s pushing inside of you. A long groan slips from both your chests as Steve sheaths himself inside. The stretch, although stinging at first, is delightful as you rest your head on his chest.

You nod quickly, “Bells, bells.”

Steve begins his own slow rhythm at your consent, Eddie joining along as the two of you start a steady pace. You squeeze your eyes shut as your jaw hangs wide open. A curse falls from your lips, and you can’t help but to clench your fists in the pillow behind Steve’s head.

It feels so good. Much better than you thought it would. While you lay there, blissed out, the boys just keep stroking in and out of you with the pleasure building within themselves.Their rhythm builds, picking up a bit as they begin to chase the pleasure. You’re so tight, even tighter now with both of them stuffed inside of you like this. And you feel so full. You wonder briefly how you could’ve gone this long without feeling so full.

The drags of their cocks thrusting in and out of you is addictive, and you can hardly think past the feeling of them as the air you keep gasping for dries out your throat.

It’s when Eddie’s steady rhythm starts to build a little more than you’re ready for that your moans start to become whinier. You grip the sheets tight, burying your face in Steve’s neck as you try to calm yourself down before you freak out at the rougher pace Eddie’s adopted. It’s warm now, and you can feel it getting hotter and hotter.

Eddie grips your waist tight, rocking your hips slightly to meet his thrusts. You’ve just been squeezing around him so well, he needed to feel more of you as he felt himself building up, up, up–

“Mm-fuck. Eddie, puppets—puppets!”

As soon as the word falls from your lips, he eases up on you until his quickened thrusts have become slower, tempered thrusts in and out of you, his loud breath adjusted to fit the pace as well. “Sorry. I’m sorry, sweetheart,” he says quickly, bending down so his chest presses to your back, his lips caressing the back of your neck. “I’m sorry.”

Steve’s own eyes have shot open as he slows to a complete stop, his hand coming back to your cheek to ease you down. “It’s okay, baby,” he whispers to you as you lean into him some more. Then, looking at Eddie, he nods gently to reassure him, “You’re okay. She’s good. We’re good.”

You feel fuzzy, both their gentleness seeping into your bones and soothing your skin until your scorched nerves are merely little tingles throughout your body. You nod slowly, coming down from your slight panic as you focus on the gentler rock of Eddie’s hips.

“Are you good?” Eddie whispers into your ear, one of his hands stroking your sides to help soothe you some more. “Are you okay? Do you need me to stop? If you want me to stop, we’ll stop. Talk to me, sweetheart.” He kisses your shoulder.

You shake your head, sighing gently and leaning back up against him. “I’m okay,” you whisper back. “Don’t stop, I’m good.”

You all take a moment, with your eyes closed and your breath steadying, with both their eyes on you and their breaths still to listen to yours. The tension eases from your brow, and your lips part to let out a gentle puff of air as the heat transforms back into bliss.

Steve’s hand strokes the side of your neck. “D’you want me to move, baby?”

You nod. “Yes, please.”

So Steve begins again, easing into you. Slow and steady, steady and slow. You ease into the pleasure again, focusing on both of them and the shaking in your limbs from the euphoria venturing your system.

Another moment passes, and you nod again. “Bells,” you sigh. “Both of you.”

And they comply, bringing their paces back up to a quicker but just as gentle movement. And as the moment eases, you’ve all returned to heaven. You squeeze around them both, unable to help yourself as you let your body succumb to the pleasure.

You moan as you lave lazy kisses along Steve’s collarbone. He wraps his arms tightly around your waist, pulling you securely around him so you have no choice but to lean all of your weight on top of him. He welcomes in, finding comfort in the feeling of it.

Eddie keeps rocking into you with the same pace as Steve, careful not to lose himself again and hurt you. He’d die before he ever hurt you on purpose. Your moans mix with their own, hot and heavy and full of the same lust for the others.

“Fuck,” you whimper. “Feels so good.”

Steve nods, tangling one of his hands in the hair at the back of your scalp as he holds you there, careful not to hurt you in any way. “Yeah? You like it?”

You nod lazily. “Mm-hm.”

He huffs at the way you flutter around him. “You wanna cum for us, babygirl?”

You nod again, quicker this time. “Please.”

One of Eddie’s hands lets you go in favor of finding your little clit, pulsing against his finger as he presses against it. You keen into his touch, your eyelids fluttering and your moan sigh turning into a whimpering moan. You curse again.

Steve’s eye clench shut and he leans his head back against the pillow. His pink lips part to let out a harsh sigh as he nods. “Just like that, Eddie. She’s fucking squeezin’ me.”

Eddie grunts, thrusting his hips forward and lingering deep within you for a moment. “Fuckin’ tell me about it.”

The pleasure sparks in your limbs, in your belly, behind your eyes as you moan into Steve’s neck. He leans his head forward to bury his face in the crook of your own neck, inhaling your scent and letting it cloud his brain.

A string of curses falls from your lips as the pleasure rises within you. It rises and rises and rises until you can’t hold it anymore. The tension snaps, crashing down on you like a tidal wave as you fall apart, closing your eyes and clenching every muscle in your body. You moan, loud, helpless, blinded by the euphoria that fills your body. Your thighs tremble and you flutter around them as you push them closer to their own releases.

Eddie’s the next to go, pulling out of you quickly as he takes his cock in his hands and pumps himself, fast and rough as his lips part. A loud moan spills from his lips as his cum spills on your back, groaning your name and a few “fuck, fuck, fuck”s. He throws his head back and announces his pleasure to the ceiling.

And, like clockwork, Steve follows, pulling all the way out and shouting his praise. “F-f-fuck, I love you.” His hips cant into you, seeking out the squeeze of your pussy when met with the cold of the air. He chokes when Eddie’s hand grips his cock and strokes, coating his palm in the rest of Steve’s cum.

As the pleasure wanes and the crashing waves become gentle laps on the shore, you fall limp atop Steve’s chest. You rest your head on him and let out a long sigh, your eyes lidded and your mind mush. You couldn’t be more satisfied.

Catching his breath, Eddie’s large hands smooth against your ass and up your sides, feeling you and kneading your flesh to work out any kinks you may have acquired.

And he’s the one to clean you up as he nearly limps to the tiny bathroom to get a wet cloth to clean the three of you up with. He takes extra care of wiping his sticky release from your back, bending down and kissing your shoulder as he does.

And, once you’re clean, he collapses on the bed next to you and Steve, throwing his arms lazily over your back and burying his face in his pillow. You don’t think he can breathe.

Steve’s hand strokes your back in slow, gentle circles as his other works through Eddie’s tangled hair. Both of you are jelly against him, weak and honestly pathetic.

“Fuck,” you manage to whisper, though your vocal chords fight you and your brain complains at the unnecessary sound.

Eddie hums, lifting his head to tilt to the side so he can finally breathe. Steve, still stroking you, smiles and says, “You think that’s something you wanna do again?”

“Are you kidding?” you huff, your words heavy and slurred in your mouth. “We can never do it any other way again.”

He chuckles, the sound echoing in his chest and rumbling against you. Eddie joins him, lifting an arm to lay his hand in your hair, massaging your scalp with the very tips of his fingers. Your eyes flutter closed, unable to fight the relaxation it pulls from you. You’re limp and pliant, and he’s content in watching the softness in your face.

Steve sighs before tapping your side lightly. “Okay. My turn,” he says, easing you off of him as he sits up. Your eyes follow him lazily, your brows pulled together in question. He can’t possibly think you have the energy for another go… He can’t possibly have the energy for another go.

Eddie turns onto his back, just as confused. “Your turn for what?” he asks, almost daring him to suggest another round.

Instead, Steve rounds the bed and pulls the covers from under both your bodies. He bends down quickly and kisses both your lips, even as you continue to give him your questioning looks. Getting back in, he lays down and rests his head on Eddie’s chest, letting out a loud and long sigh as he relaxes against him, closing his eyes.

You giggle, taking the other side as you nestle into the crook of Eddie’s neck. He laughs, trying to keep it light as he tangles his fingers in Steve’s hair and massages his scalp gently. You see him go limp, the tension leaving his body as he almost immediately falls asleep, as though Eddie had shut him off.

You stroke Steve’s cheek with your thumb, as he had done to you. Eddie’s hand strokes your side. Just like that, you feel the pull of sleep beginning to take you as well. You can barely hold your eyes open as you’re mumbling a tiny “love you” to Eddie and an unconscious Steve.

Eddie smiles, kissing your forehead. “Love you, too.”

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