#to look upon the stars and know that they are ever the same

[luvlyhyunjin]

Fallen Star┃Jake Sim

twelve - were angels meant to look this somber? warnings: smut , unprotected sex (stay safe!)

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Serenity fills your body, mingling through your soul and travelling all around your being. Its touch warm and gentle. Like feathers that graze the skin of your wrist. And it presses right down on your pulse. The warmth seems to intensify at the sign of your life enough to pull you out of your darkness, opening your eyes to a pair of worried eyes that stare back at you. Despite the tiredness pulling at you, you feel a weird pain sneaking its way into your heart. It pulls at it so nimbly and your eyes close shut killing your confusion just as quick.

Were angels always meant to look this somber?

Your eyes flutter open with a jolt, the unfamiliar roof above you only adds to your panic as you scramble to reach for your phone. The time only plays a smaller part in your rising panic and so you get up in a haste. Realizing you’re alone in Jake’s hotel room has your cheeks growing red in embarrassment, you hadn’t meant to fall asleep and especially not on the couch. You were supposed to check on him and leave yet how did you manage to invade his space and above all that sleep in?

You hurry to move. As if the growing humiliation will die as soon as you’re out of the room.

“Shit,shit,shit” is the only thing falling from your lips like a mantra as you wash your face briskly. It’s only when you’re about to leave the room that you catch sight of the coffee and a couple of bills on the table. You pause, the coffee is still warm when you pick it up despite the lack of a note or any confirmation you know he left it for you.

It’s only a small gesture and yet like a flutter of a butterfly wing that has abraded the surface of your heart it spreads warmth through it. Setting an unfamiliar feeling right at the center, pulling at your heartstrings so easily along with the corner of your lips. They turn upwards with a smile embedded with softness as faint as the chirping of the birds outside.

Then you ensnare yourself in a similar trap, a cage that you just got out of recently and yet you’re now walking back into smiling and so an ever growing darker one follows. Akin to childhood scars that loom on your life. Fear.

On your way to work your mind recalls glimpses of last night, from Jake’s boredom filled expression to later the sight of his worried eyes staring at you. The cold scratched touches you felt against your skin. and yet you remain unsure the longer your thoughts stretch. It only propels the questions further: was the solemn angel looking down at you with broken wings a dream or reality?

You don’t get to think about that same question and instead about a hundred different ones prod at your mind throughout the day when you realize Jake is avoiding you. At first it wasn’t super noticeable or more accurately it wasn’t noticeable to you. It all started with you walking into his dressing room ten minutes late.

“Someone had a wild night,” Sunghoon comments, walking past you with a smirk and you hit his shoulder lightly with a giggle.

“Good morning.” You greet.

Jay tilts his head at you with a nod as a response and your eyes flicker to Jake who is sitting down in his usual seat. Probably minutes away from getting his makeup done. The lack of answer from him doesn’t raise any questions in your head.

However, you grow into concern the longer your gaze settles upon him, despite his face remaining an exuberant beauty the bags under his eyes dragging a bit deeper, eyes a little colder, they’re almost empty and his expression is nothing short of crestfallen.

“You okay?” you ask him, tone so soft that when Jake reaches for his earbuds and puts them on, you aren’t sure if he’s ignoring you or didn’t hear you.

It stirs a weird sense of anxiety within you, you brush it off.

Your anxiety comes back tenfold, brushing against your fingertips and this time you can’t seem to let it go. It’s in the way Jake never looks at you, not even for a spilt second and if he did somehow mess up and stumble upon your gaze, his irises are void of emotions. Like he’s nothing but a soulless body walking around. It’s in the way every time you talk to him, he’ll reply with a word or two, or not even acknowledge your existence as you fiddle with your fingers awkwardly.

Rationally you know you might be embellishing things in your head. You know that your relationship with Jake was never on friendly terms and it’s not like you and him were having delightful daily conversations. If anything, you have probably spent time in the bathroom more than any time talking to him. Yet how come you’re growing anxious over something so transitory? Closer to being notional than non.

Nonetheless you flow with a grave excitement when your phone buzzes and you see a message incoming from him.

my boss is a dick 🙏: Are you stupid? Yn: Huh? my boss is a dick 🙏: why are you carrying these heavy boxes? Ask one of the staff to do it.

You blink at the box you just left on the ground; it was only moments ago that you came across one of the staff struggling to carry boxes inside the building alone. It was a diligent call for help and who were you to ignore it?

Your fingers fly across the screen to type out a reply.

Yn: Oh, the staff looked like they needed help with it, so I decided to do it. my boss is a dick 🙏: you’ll hurt yourself. Leave them. Yn: Don’t worry boss 😤! I’m actually really strong! Read.

Although you kept checking your phone multiple times throughout the day, a reply never comes, and despite you telling yourself that he doesn’t need to reply, that he had left you on read multiple times before. That this is how Jake always acts. Your anxiety still grows tremendously. like thorns pricking at your being.

It drives you into a need to somehow please and tame down an anger that doesn’t even exist. It permeates into you and spreads through the vessels in your brain and you’re nothing if not a slave to your misplaced worries. And so, you stick to Jake’s side all day. Like a puppy following its owner and fetching them anything, ambitious for praises and maybe a pat on the head.

You only manage to get a side eye from him when you open doors for him, or when you’re fixing his chair, his belongings. You went as far as to fix his hair that was out of place. Apart from the weirded-out look he sent your way; you got nothing and it all accumulates to an explosion during lunch time.

“I think Jake is mad at me!” you blurt out, pausing the pacing of your foot back and forth and you chew on your nail nervously.

Sunoo and Sunghoon share a look that you don’t get to witness. Your eyes beholding the back of Jake’s head who’s busy eating his lunch no further than a few meters away from you.

“Why do you think so?” Sunoo asks between full bites of kimbap.

“I don’t know. Doesn’t it seem like he’s avoiding me?”

“He seems pretty normal to me?” Sunghoon says, eyeing the way you start to pace back and forth again.

“He looks a little tired that’s all.” Sunoo adds and you shake your head in complete gainsay. Just as you’re about to go on a full rant on why you think you should dedicate the rest of your life to giving Jake a handwritten apology for everything wrong you’ve ever said to him, your thoughts are interrupted upon hearing his next words:

“Why is this salty?” He’s complaining to Jay. Despite the distance and the loud chatter of the staff members you hear it so very clearly. And you know it’s god’s mercy that have finally fallen onto your lap. A golden ticket is offered to you, and you snatch it with vigor.

Like a being suddenly taken over by superpowers, your senses are heightened (probably by your enormous anxiety) you feel like spiderman when the words Jake’s mutter reach your ears like you’re next to him. And so, you dash towards him leaving behind a very confused Sunoo and Sunghoon,

“Your food is salty?” Jake jolts in surprise at your voice, looking up behind him at your figure that almost seems like it materialized out of nowhere.

“What the fuck?” he mutters, and your lips stretch into a grin, doe eyes widening, taken by a twinkle of a desperate need to please.

“There’s this new Chinese restaurant that opened close by the company. I can head down there and get you something?” he opens his mouth to answer but you don’t even let him, immediately picking up where you left off “I had a little chat with one of the employees earlier and she said they have really good spicy garlic noodles I can grab you some?”

You’re rambling. You realize it when the room grows quieter the longer your words take to fall from your lips. And so, your face burns with heat, turning hot and red in color when you feel multiple eyes are on you. Jake’s eyes are blank as they linger on you.

“I’m fine, yn.” he says so simply as if his words didn’t resemble that same pitying god, you hate so much.

“Oh well- “you cover up your discomfiture with a nervous chuckle, feeling overtaken by embarrassment that you cannot explain how it managed its way into you “I have this pistachio chocolate cupcake I got earlier in my bag I can get it for you.” You go to turn to grab it, but his hand circles your wrist to stop you.

The touch is so strikingly familiar. It has goosebumps erupting on your skin in the span of a heartbeat.

Your body keeps track of everything.

“Are you trying to kill me, bunny?” he deadpans, and you blink stunned.

“What?”

“Jake is allergic to pistachios yn.” Jay speaks from beside him, a soft smile colored in a similar fellow feeling, and you find yourself wishing your face didn’t burn the way it did.

“Oh right.”

You walk away with a smile tinted with pitiful awkwardness, it has you curling onto yourself and wishing to minimize in size. Or maybe blend in with the walls and not have to be perceived for a while.

Your pessimistic emotions only seem to intensify the longer your day drags on.  like a shadow trailing your every step and clinging to your feet. Painting the inside of your mind with an eerie silence and aiding your screaming insecurities to raise above all. Taking over every sense of logical thinking (not like you had any to begin with). Like a whirlwind of negativity that overtakes you they’re nothing but obstructive.

And that’s how you end up right outside of Jake’s waiting room. A cup filled with water and a couple of ice cubs just because you heard him talk about how his water wasn’t cold enough, it probably wasn’t something that salient. If Jake needed a different water, he would have talked to you or got it himself and yet you somehow found yourself way too far in. An it itch in your fingers and your limbs that you cannot seem to resist you rushed with that same ambition to please and got him water. Cosplaying yourself as some sort of a fairy that grants wishes. It’s the only way to persist before your thoughts anyways.

You have never been the type of person to eavesdrop so you aren’t sure why your hand stills against the doorknob when you hear the voices of Jay and Jake talking, it might not even be that much of importance but perhaps it was your unpliable need to know anything that could help quieten your anxiety.

“Are you sure you’re okay? You can leave early I’ll talk to Jennie about it.” you hear Jay ask and you press yourself closer to the door.

“I’m fine.”

“That was the worst attack you have had in a while Jake.”

“I know,” there’s a short silence that settles, your mind starts screaming at you, that you’re being ridiculous and to stop this nonsense yet your fingers flex against the doorknob and pause at his next words “and it had to be in front of her out of all people.”

Is he talking about you?

“Ah. You’re worried about that?”

“Of course, I am. I wish yn wasn’t there.”

Your heart, as weak as ever drops at that, shattering right at your feet and you stare at it, unable to move, unable to collect the pieces.

“I know. "a breath of exhalation escapes Jay "Did you even sleep? You look super fucking tired man.” he adds.

“I did sleep.”

“Jake.”

“For like three hours. I kept waking up because of her.”

“Fuck. I shouldn’t have let her stay back.”

You aren’t sure if their conversation ends there or the scratch forming on your heart has somehow started working as an obstacle to your hearing. Every fiber of your being throbs with a familiar betrayal, an all too known feeling that is always lingering around the corner clambers over you. Disappointment latches itself onto you.

At the sound of rustling behind the door you realize you can’t be standing outside like this and so collecting yourself is a trying task you attempt. And it all falls apart way too quickly, you opening the door and Jake walking out at the same minute. You don’t get a chance to blink or stop yourself before you’re bumping into him. The contents of the glass you’re carrying is splashed all over him. Soaking his shirt and you could only watch with terror as he drips in water.

“Oh my god,”  your hands are frozen in the air unsure if you should be touching him “I’m so sorry Jake – fuck” apologizes flee from your mouth without resistance. You’re overshadowed by liability, and you expect Jake to be angry, to glare at you and even go as far to yell because you deem yourself only worthy of such treatment.

But you don’t expect the apathy coloring his face. His eyes are drained of life and overtaken by exhaustion.

“It’s fine, bunny.” His words are out akin to a sigh and yours dissolve on your tongue. He dawdles past you with another sigh and your shoulders slump, eyes flickering to Jay who watched the whole thing unravel.

“s-should I get him a shirt or something?”

“I think he can manage himself yn.”

The smile Jay sends you is as gentle as ever yet there’s an underlining sympathy that makes you feel as if he knows you heard everything. You’re not indisputable enough to understand anything anymore. But you know that Jake is exhausted, and you have managed to add piles of burden to his already heavy shoulders. It is too late, but you realize then, that you have caught yourself too far in once again. Too much.

It's a familiar relic from a state you’ve always known, always found yourself drowned in. it’s mere moments that plunge you into the frigid truth and you’re constantly treading on recrimination of yourself.

You are but an infuriating entity.

God hated you. You’re sure of it. You must have done something so awful in your past life to end up where you are right now. There’s no other way to explain how you’re outside of Jake’s apartment with his phone between your fingers and you, drenched in water because the sky decided it’s the perfect time to pour the moment you stepped foot outside the company doors.

Jake is god’s favorite. This must be karma for spilling water on him earlier. You knew you were meant to walk into a mess the moment you were getting ready to leave and Jay had found you, an apologetic smile on his face as he told you that Jake had forgotten his phone and if you could take it to him.

You should have said no.

“What are you doing here?” Jake asks as soon as he opens his door, surprise evident in his tone as his eyes take in your trembling figure.

“Your phone,” your voice shakes as you extend your palm to him with the device in it. Jake blinks, taking his phone as he tries to register everything that’s going on, but you don’t give him a chance to linger on any passing thought. Not a chance for his eyes to take in your disheveled state.

“I’m sorry.”

“What?”

“I’m sorry about everything." taking a deep breath in and then like a monster that has been unleashed, your anxiety transforms itself in the only way you know how to be; sorry.

"I’m sorry about pressuring you to see me yesterday. I’m sorry about falling asleep on your couch and I’m sorry about today I know I was being so annoying-“ your apologies fall like confessions, like sins and you’re only awaiting punishment to strike you.

“Woah! Woah, slow down yn.” He interrupts you, eyes fliting across your features in evident concern, and you take another deep breath in. not realizing how quickly your tears have managed to well up in your eyes.

“It’s fine,” he assures when you look down at your feet suddenly growing embarrassed “you’re fine.”

“Okay.” You sniffle, teeth sinking into your bottom lip.

“Come inside.” he suggests, his fingers envelope your palm and you shake your head.

“I don’t want to annoy you.” You reply in a small voice.

“I’m not letting you leave like this bunny you’re shaking. Come on.”

As Jake leads you inside, you watch with an inquisitive gaze as he immediately places his phone on the counter and heads for the kitchen sink. You stand there for minutes that seem to stretch way too long as he turns on the water and seem to be washing his hands. your eyes dancing across the opulent interior as the sound of running water fills the silence between you two.

Your gaze settles upon the vase of blue colored flowers in the middle of his table. A litheness you don’t expect to see in his belongings. A struck of color in between his blacks and white, it looks out of place.

“What are those flowers called?” When Jake turns the water off and faces you, there’s a distant look in his eyes, as they flicker between you and the flowers. It's solely momentary, yet you capture it.

“Forget me not.”

You grasp how you dislike the way you act around him. Repeatedly stumbling on a cold façade, putting on an overly exaggerated charade that somehow never goes through. While Jake is akin to a strong mountain, unweaving. You feel like the wind, hallow and fleeting.

You’re pushed into feeling like an embarrassing child and the feeling stays even when you end up in his shower. Covered in a scent that isn’t yours but one that you know, one that is strong enough to provoke dark emotions from you. has your cheeks blushing and blooming into things you pretend you don’t know. Even when you’re all clean and dressed in another woman’s clothes that you can’t help but wonder why he has. Your blush remains despite the hideous green sense of foreboding crawling up your spine.

“Fits okay?” he asks once you’re out the bathroom and you hum an approval.

“Why do you have a woman’s clothes though?” the question escapes before you can stop it, your teeth biting down on your lip. And your insides are set ablaze when his eyes dart to them.

“They’re Soojin’s. She stays over sometimes.”

“You guys seem to be close.”

“Yeah,” he hums, brushing past you to the bathroom and your eyes follow him. Watching with intent focus “it’s good that she was there last night when you know..” You trail off, your fingers fiddling with the end of the sweater you’re wearing nervously.

“Soojin is always there. She’s so attentive and observant to the point where it’s annoying at times.”

His words resemble the edge of a blade that’s plunged straight into your chest. His words from earlier swirl around your head and that combined with her remnants lying in his space evokes emotions from you that you wish did not manifest within you.

The sound of running water fills the empty spaces of silence between you once again, you lean your head on the wall and watch as Jake washes his hands once again. Telling yourself it’s not because he just touched your clothes is a trying task you fail.

“How long have you guys known each other?” Your question hangs in the air, unanswered. His speech impairment has you raising an eyebrow in confusion. Jake is staring at nothing in particular, eyes unblinking and clouded. It takes a few tantalizing minutes before he snaps himself out of a daze.

“Huh?”

“I asked how long you guys have known each other?” you repeat, the syllables coming out slower.

In response, Jake closes the water and takes a step forward, his shoulder brushes against yours delicately and you hold your breath without meaning to “a while,” he mumbles, vaguely as he walks back into his room and again you follow.

You feel akin to standing at the edge of a cliff, close to jumping into an ocean filled with nothing but regrets and sorrow when he sits on his bed and his eyes find yours. As if finding the brightest star upon a dark night sky.

“C’mere bunny.” He pats the space in front of him, your knees buckle under you, you hear your heartbeat in your ears.

There’s no way for you to feel safe here, is what you think as you take hesitant steps towards the bed and with a lumbersome feeling clinging to your body. You settle upon the soft sheets, his scent envelopes you and the tilt of his lips is enough to have your cheeks warming up.

“Turn around.”

“What are we doing exactly?” you ask, tone laced with suspicion, and he rolls his eyes at you.

“Your shoulders hurt from carrying those boxes earlier today, don’t they? I have this pain relief gel for you. Turn around.”

You cannot help the surprise that overtakes you, hadn’t expected such a kind gesture from him and so like a thin thread of string you bend so easily. Pulling so effortlessly at your heartstrings, your blush only deepens, a darker feeling lurks beneath the surface.

“You don’t have to do that. I’m okay really.” You reply, a flimsy excuse of defiance.

“Bullshit. Turn around stop making me repeat myself.” His tone is stern and it’s enough to have you growing weaker if possible. You swallow around nothing, giving him your back and nerves creases your features.

With his hand encircling your waist he swiftly pulls you closer to him, raising a gasp from you when you feel his breath hit the back of your neck, eliciting shivers from you and an exhalation.

“I’m gonna lift your shirt up,” he whispers, voice so low it only helps you divulge into desires that you thought you successfully locked away. At your silent nod, he lifts your sweater enough for him to see your bare skin slowly come into view.

His fingers are cold against your shoulder blades, the feeling of his new forming scabs are rough and yet you manage to find tenderness lacing them. It’s anything but pleasant so why does it have heat licking its way up your stomach? Fiery hot and overwhelmingly impossible to ignore.

It’s the way his touch feels the same way it felt in your dream. Like grazing feathers, as soft as you imagine feeling heaven on your skin would be like. It’s as if you’re a delicate flower that he’s too afraid to pressure, to hurt. As if you would fall apart as easy as it is for his fingers to touch and perhaps that’s why it felt so facile for your brain to melt, like running water that is incapable of coming up with a strong enough defense. Conceivably you surrender.

When you turn your head to look back at him his face is mere inches away from yours. His eyes catch yours, capturing them into place and how is it possible for you not will yourself to him when they’re so clear. When they break through you as if you were a trivial piece of glass, you are so fragile you break with the blink of his eye. You fall apart with his rattled breath brushing against your lips, his thumb on your shoulder blade. You’re like a trivial piece of glass, see through and so you spill all your contents to him.

It’s in the way your irises soften in a manner so foreign to him, the tilt of your brows in affectionate rendition is so quick, almost like a ghost floating by that he’s not sure he sees it when this time your castle burns to the ground first. So abrupt, swift, and more than anything destructive your lips seek his as though they didn’t know anything else.

You kiss him and it’s innocent, short yet enough to have you breathless. Your body tingling with overflowing warmth when your hand cups his jaw akin to a delusional trick a sweet lover would pull.

“What was that for?” he asks when you pull away, eyes lidded as they implore into yours.

“I don’t know I just-“ you try to conjure a smart enough of a response. Something that could be passed by as sexy enough to match up with this brittle boldness yet you’re traipsing on your words and then there’s nothing. They melt on your tongue and in the darkening shade of his gaze “I’m sorry I don’t know what I was thinking.” You settle with, bashful like crushed petals of roses have found home on your cheeks.

Your temerity flees before it’s even here, eclipsed by a hallow void, touch starved.

You stitch your pride together with fallacious force, the same one you use to tilt your lips upwards into a faux smile. You attempt with a quivering heart that you pray will turn coarse one day yet today seems to join a chain of failures. That same shakiness runs through your hands as an attempt to collect the ashes of your dignity. You’re barely kept together by anything when his hand is turning your head to face him.

The intensity of his stare is unlike anything you’ve ever witnessed, it could only be inhuman. A beauty so out of this world it feels unjust to for you to behold. Jake is astoundingly breathtaking, exuberant as if every eyelash was carefully crafted by an angel. He is god’s finest work.

“Don’t start something you can’t finish, bunny.” His words are whispered right upon your lips, and in a brief exhale, a fluttering of your lashes, he’s nothing sort of angelic and so you go to pieces, unsure if it’s a warning or an entitle of temptation.

You’re nothing but a trivial piece of glass, albeit even when you shatter, you’re rough and you cut into his flesh deep and painful. You turn your body fully to face him, as if controlled by your desire you straddle him, and his hands fall to your hips naturally. His palms itching all over until they are under your shirt, and you shudder.

“Should I finish it then?” you whisper back, wrapping your arms around his neck and your labored breaths are your enlarged lust's giveaway.

A phantom of a smirk starts to form on his pinking lips, and you don’t give room for triumphant to bloom further before crashing your lips into his. The kiss is nothing alike the one before, it’s rough and desperate, all teeth and tongue and you move together as if tranced, lead forward by an overwhelming hunger clawing at you. It makes itself evident in him when his arms tighten around your waist, pulling you closer into him, pressing himself more against you.

You taste so sweet, dripping with lure and Jake licks it up. Your body fits perfectly into his plan, articulated by his mind’s need to run away.

You feel him smile lazily against your lips when you start grinding down on him in a despairing need, your desire breaks your faith first.

“You want it that bad?” he murmurs, pulling away just enough to let his words out. It is more than enough to irk you, yet you find nothing to say back. Not when his fingertips are venturing under your shirt, grazing the soft skin of your hips.

You roll your eyes in apparent disregard, focusing on the way your body grows hotter by the second and yet Jake remains tenacious.

“Mhm?” He itches for an answer, gaze chasing your wandering one and this time you take his lips for yours in attempts to quieten him. It seems to work because he groans against your mouth, licking inside your lips as his hands move to the swell of your ass.

It works until it doesn’t anymore. Until the way his endless need to annoy you takes over.

“You’re awfully quiet compared to last time.” He says softly, leaning down to place kisses upon your jaw and if he wasn’t smiling you wouldn’t notice the teasing edge.

“And you’re awfully talkative.” You retort, turning your head to give him better access to your skin.

“Mhm.” There’s a pause, tantalizing enough to have you squirming on top of him when his teeth to nibble on your earlobe.

“You missed my cock that much?”

What a fucking arrogant piece of -

“You didn’t last long enough for me to miss it.” He chuckles against your neck, the sound travelling straight to your stomach and goosebumps erupt all over you. you convince yourself it’s because of the feeling of his lips.

“Acting if you weren’t the one who came first.”

“Are you gonna fuck me or what?” you huff, pushing at his shoulder and he follows easily enough to know there’s a catch. It manifests in the way he leans his head against his headboard with that smug smile disperses across his lips. Strands of his dark hair fall over his eyes almost perfectly into place to paint the picture of how a devil would gleam with satisfaction.

“Maybe if you beg me this time. Can you do that?” his words set your insides ablaze and you aren’t sure it it’s anger or just pure lust at this point.

You were never religious enough to go against sins, nor do you wish you were and so you chase after him, blinded by the glamour of him. Your foreheads touch and his eyes are on your lips following every rising breath you let out, his façade almost falls apart by the way you keep grinding against him, his cock is already half hard.it almost falters if your eyes weren’t turning hazy.

“Fuck off.” You breathe out against his lips, all bark no bite and he chuckles incredulously “I could just go and ask anyone else to fuck me.” You’re almost moaning your words out, the shake in your voice gives your want away and that’s why Jake is growing amused, titling his head to watch the way you somehow managed to hang on by the edge of falling apart without him touching you.

“Oh yeah? why don’t you go and do that then?” he replies minutely.

“Maybe I will.”

“Uh huh. Who do you have to ask?”

“a-a lot of people.”

“Like who? Give me names bunny.”

“Why do you care?”

“I don’t. I’m just curious since you brought it up.” He coos and you huff in response, your frustration grows adjacent with your lust. You wish upon any star in the night that he’ll shut up and fuck you, his lopsided smirk tells you otherwise.

Your eyes harden into a glare, yet the trembling of your fingers and your heaving chest unravel your weakness for him. It’s all so evident to him.

“They’ll probably make me feel so much better too.” You mumble.

in stark contrast to your expectations, you somehow contrive to dismantle his curtains of indifference, every semblance of fun leaves his body replaced by a parching heat. Akin to anger that turns his stare icy, it has a shiver running down your body and a soft gasp escapes you when he pulls you flush against him.

“You fucking piss me off bunny.” He spits through his teeth and this time you’re the one glistening with elation.

“Good.” You breathe out when he rolls his eyes at you, he shifts your position and before you get a time to blink, to think. You’re on your back against the plush bed sheets.

“Quiet.” His lips are a breath away from yours and you arch into him, a yearning for the taste of him and he compiles. Meeting you in the middle for a kiss, too rough, too messy and yet his hand against your cheek is anything but that. Too gentle, too tender and you feel it in the deepest parts of you.

You loathe it.

You loathe it even more when you’re momentarily separated with your shirt being taken off and when your eyes cross again there’s a flicker in his gaze, they soften for a fleeting moment, his hand caresses your cheek and it’s too lenient for a sexually explicit instant. You almost miss it all, by the twinkling of an eye you dimly register how his eyes glaze over. How there’s a pause in his air as his eyes rake over your body, over your nude breasts, your slender neck and then he’s drowning in you, akin to an ocean he wants to bask in.

You’re almost as pretty as the forget me nots coming to life with full bloom in his living room. However, you’re nothing alike, you smell so much sweeter, cinnamon, and vanilla ricochets off you, and he comes by himself growing dizzy. You’re so cordial, equivalent to the cherry blossoms he witnessed last spring.

You’re almost as pretty as his forget me nots and yet you’re nothing like them at all. There’s no way for someone like you to be anything close to tepid. So, he ignores the question raising in your gaze.

It’s evanescent yet your heart constricts in your chest, painfully so when he leans down and kisses you again, your words are stolen by his soft lips, and he ventures with them just the same. Leaving a trail of kisses in-between your breasts and all the way down.

“Didn’t think you’d have a tattoo,” he speaks against your skin and it’s fairly unjust how you tremble. Your skin feels sensitive under his touch as if they were flames upon you.

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me.”

“Is this the fucking alien from toystory?” his thumb brushes against your hipbone, right where your small piece of ink is at and you groan, overwhelmed by the need to hide your face somewhere.

“What about it?”

“It’s not very well done if I’m being honest.”

“Yeah, because it’s a stick and poke. My friend did it on me when he was like 17.” You look down to glare at him and it falters as quick as it comes, melting away into your arousal. Because the sight of Jake being between your legs is something you couldn’t have prepared for.

Not in this lifetime or the one before.

“Are you still friends with him?”

“Yeah. he’s my best friend.”  You answer with a sigh, falling back into the pillows with a flushed face when you feel Jake’s lips hover over your tattoo before he kisses right above it, slowly enjoying the taste of your skin.

“Jake..” Your voice comes out as soft as a mewl when you thread your fingers through his dark hair, you can’t help but think about how soft it is, how his sheets smell exactly like him. You realize a tad too late that you’ve somehow drowned yourself in pieces of him and it only flusters you further.

“Mhm?”

“What are you doing?” you splutter when your pants are swiftly unbuttoned and pushed down the length of your legs. You grow self-conscious at the realization that you’re almost fully nude in front of him for the first time.

“I’m gonna make you feel good. what does it look like I’m doing?” With bated breath, your thoughts grow overwhelmingly loud with screaming insecurities that you don’t get to register his next words fully;

“I’m not keeping you quiet this time so you can be as loud as you want to be. Let me hear you bunny.” His tone is laced with allure, profoundly ample for you to clench around nothing.

A squeal escapes you when you feel his breath against your clothed cunt and then he’s burying his nose into you, feeling you completely soaked, it’s only added inflation to his ego “J-jake w-wait-“ you sputter with a burning face, your fingers tug at his hair and yet he ignores you. busy with taking your panties off.

“When was the last time you got your pretty pussy eaten, bunny?” you open and close your mouth a couple of times in shock. Somehow your mind cannot keep up with how lewd an angel’s mouth could be.

It is not something you prepared to hear that you almost ebb and flow out of consciousness, your sanity clings by a hair.

“Stop asking me stupid questions Jake!” you groan, burying your burning face in your hands. and much to your annoyance he chuckles in response.

“So, you can be cute too.” Your heart, as delicate as it always has been, throbs against your ribs as if trying to break free. You peek at him through your fingers and his hungry eyes flicker up to yours as if he senses your stare. Their severity is enough for you to fall into a feeble silence.

you feel the hot muscle of his tongue trace over your dripping folds and your lips fall apart with a silent scream fuck! Is the only thing running through your mind when you tug his hair harder, and he groans against your pussy sending vibrations throughout your entire body. tongue pushing into your hole and lips kissing and sucking at your clit.

Every negative thought swirling around your mind moments ago grows faint then it dissipates instead being replaced with your stubborn pettiness that is telling you to keep silent, do not give him the satisfaction of knowing how good it feels.

It's all deemed impossible when he keeps flicking his tongue against your bundle of nerves until it’s pulsating, and you crumble exasperatingly fast.

“F-fuck!- mhm –“ Your body is buzzing with electricity, your sounds forcing themselves out of your mouth as your body withers against his sheets.

It doesn’t help that Jake keeps humming against your pussy, as if you do taste as sweet as he sounds. As if he’s having the time of his life watching you fall apart on his tongue. It only aids the last bit of resolve within you to shatter.

“Jake- oh my god- f-feels so good.” You cry out, hips arching so high off the bed and your toes curl in absolute euphoria. You feel akin to falling off a cliff, like constantly being on the verge of losing your mind when two fingers prod at your clenching entrance, proceeding to push in without warning. It’s all what it took for you to completely implode in ecstasy.

 “c-coming- I’m coming- holy” you attempt to warn him, your trembling fingers trying to pry his head away from your throbbing pussy, but Jake doesn’t relent, instead you feel him smile against you, reinforces his grip on your hips and buries his fingers deeper into you, following every buck and twitch of your hips with ease.

Son of a bitch.

“J-jake!” You aren’t sure how loud your voice goes, aren’t sure of how hard you pulled on his hair and how painful it must have been. You’re only sure of how your mouth falls open and by the end of your orgasm you feel like you’re floating amongst the stars. You whine when he keeps pressing kisses to your puffy folds, your hips bucking away from him.

“s-stop. Too much.” You whimper, with stroke of your fingers through his hair as if your digits have grown apologetic to their radge behavior on their own.

When Jake lifts his head, you catch yourself growing breathless once again at the sight of his face covered in you, nothing could have prepared you for it, nothing could come close to how he manages to look ethereal even while covered in your arousal. How his dilated pupils manage to find a way to cut right through you. you’re trying so hard to breath – equally stolen by your orgasm and how angelic he looks.

“Too much? I haven’t even fucked you yet,” he muses, an arrogant smile taking place onto his handsome face. Your mind is hazy that you don’t find anything to say back, your eyes dancing around his and he arches a brow at your silence and you almost squirm, a growing urge to look away yet your pride grows taller.

“Don’t tell me your shitty excuse of an ex never made you come twice before?”

“I don’t feel like talking about my ex when you’re about to fuck me.”

“Oh? Weren’t you the one talking about other men when I was about to fuck you?” his tone is stagnant, and you look away with hot cheeks. it’s inhuman how piercing his eyes are.

“that’s different.” You mutter weakly. Your mind is too fucked out to think of anything witty to say.

Thankfully Jake doesn’t seem to have anything to say either. Instead, the sound of clothes rustling fills the room as Jake takes off his shirt. When he leans over you, your eyes meet in all too presumptuous severity. It coaxes forth the gentle touch of his rough palm against your cheek and your palms trace his chest. and it’s prodigiously scorching. With a strong impulse, you kiss him first and he chases after your taste like a starved man.

His need grows glaringly obvious, his indifference crumbling albeit much later than yours, it ends up right next to your petty recalcitrant. It has a faint grin dancing upon your lips.

“I need to get a condom.” He whispers, his lips abutting against yours.

“I’m on the pill. You don’t have to worry about that.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah, just fuck me already.”

Despite your demeaning desperation you’re rewarded with a quirk of his lips, his thumb brushes under your bottom lip and when he places a fugitive brush of a kiss there, you grow a hinge to curl into yourself. There’s a divergent gentleness that coats his actions, it has the apples of your cheeks growing warm, tinged with pink. When he leans back his hand works fast to undo his jeans and you allow your eyes to travel across the expanse of his body with appreciation, you’re unable to hide it.

You find yourself growing in awe again, so pretty.

He’s so pretty.

When his lips touch yours, you think that’s what stepping into heaven must feel like, and you could only whimper against his lips when you feel the tip of his cock begin to prod at your entrance. It turns into a broken moan at the feeling of him entering inside you, your head drops back into the pillows and his hands fall on your hips with a bruising grip.

“Jesus, this pussy is gonna drive me fucking crazy.” He growls, thrusts growing faster and harder. Barely giving you any time to adjust or breathe. Your body pushed further up the bed with each thrust, the sound of skin slapping echoes throughout the room and it all grows way too lewd, too quickly.

Soft cries leave your mouth and your body writhes against his, your nails dragging along his back, rough enough to leave evidence for the following couple of days. You don’t have it in you to care, not right now not when he keeps driving his hips into yours, eliciting louder and louder moans from you.

“You’re so loud, bunny. Does it feel that good?” There’s a dark glint in his eyes when he asks, a mean edge to his tone.

“S-shut up- ah!” you try your utmost hardest to glare at him, yet you slip at a particularly hard thrust of his. His cold chuckle only pushes you further into anger. Like it runs in your veins and with your blood. It’s almost patronizing.

“How am I gonna explain this to my neighbors?” with his question he leans closer to you, his lips inches away from yours as they curl into a smile that should be considered evil “mhm?” he taunts and you groan, pushing his face away from yours with your hand.

“Fucking asshole,” you hiss. Resisting the urge to cover your face, you won’t give him the satisfaction of that. It all seems futile though when his grin goes wider. Pressing his lips onto yours with a short kiss, just to see you try to harden your eyes at him again.

To see the same glare melt away and then your brows knit together, turning your head and then you’re attempting to cover your face with a quivering hand, as if harboring a shield from the bullets he carries as his eyes.

“I’m close.”  He murmurs, a tad too sweet as his hands abandon your hips and circles your wrists instead, pressing them into the sheets and his hips are pounding against yours. And you can only gasp in response, your fingers flexing in his brutal grip, sure to leave evidence of his own on your body. Your own orgasm approaches just as fast and almost as intense as your first one.

“You too yeah? I can feel you clenching around me nonstop- holy shit.” you nod furiously. His voice alone is vigorous enough to send shivers of pleasure through your entire body and your eyesight starts to blur with unshed tears.

Jake cannot perfectly recall it, he’s almost sure he was enamored by how you look the first time he saw you but nothing could compare to how you look right now. Nothing could come close to how pretty you look crying on his cock.

It feels dizzying, the way your cunt keeps squeezing him and the way your face screws up, body trembling and mouth falling open it’s all more than enough to send him over the edge.

You don’t expect him to kiss you, but he does, it’s so softly sweet it steals your breath away and you’re growing frustrated because of it. Raking your mind to find a reason as to why and coming back empty handed yet again.

How is it possible for a mere kiss to feel unanticipatedly sinful?

You break it first, failing to look away fast enough not to catch his eyes and yet again you’re stumbling into weird feelings once more with how unweaving his gaze is. Strength that you lack and unlike him you’re constantly trembling. He captivates you with his beauty a second time and you’re more than thankful when he rolls off you with a sigh. It has you letting out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding.

Despite the silence growing heavy between you two, it doesn’t last very long.

“Get up.” Jake speaks, stumbling out of his bed to change his clothes. A grimace on his face.

“What?” you ask, blinking at him.

“Get up. I need to wash the sheets.” He answers, monotone but not unkindly.

“Can’t we rest and then you can wash them later?”

“No. I’m washing them now so get up,”

But I’m tired.

“Okay.”

Are words you swallow down, realizing you’re probably being a nuisance. You tumbled into his apartment without permission and so you get up. Jake moves to tug off his sheets. As he collects them in his arms he shoots you a look.

You have already given him enough trouble these few days and just as the clouds of lust disappeared, the guilt takes over.

“I’m gonna go wash them in the other bathroom. Use this one to clean up.” At your nod he leaves the room.

You clean up at a speed that cannot be deemed human, putting Soojin’s clothes back on and leave without another word muttered to Jake. You leave with a heavy feeling clinging to the edge of your feet. It paints your whole being and only bleeds out from your eyes when you’re in the back of a cab. Silent tears stream down your face for the first time in quite a while.

It coaxes a deep self-hatred you know runs through your blood. From a trivial piece of glass, you grow to feel more like a graveyard, collecting bodies that never stay, never flourish into life, and mellow down to fleeting moments closer to death than anything else. Your existence feels embarrassing, overwhelming, and utmost cruelly lonely.

You realize it then, it was never Jake, or anyone else at that. It was always you.

When Jake comes back to his room there’s a bottled water and a protein bar in his hand that are deemed useless as soon as he sees that you’re nowhere to be found.

“What the fuck?” He mutters to no one, to himself and perhaps to the thoughts coming back to invade his mind like a parasite.

His disappointment doesn’t linger very long, it goes away with the shake of his head.

You realize chaos is unfolding the moment you’re in the corridor leading to your apartment. The sound of music is so loud that it cannot be coming from anywhere else. and you’re right because when you’re inside, bottles of alcohol lying everywhere are more than enough evidence to tell you so. And the smell of smoke greets you.

“What the fuck guys?” you exclaim, hand on your hips while a very high and drunk npp stare back at you. Jungwon is lying on your couch upside down, while Heeseung blinks at you with a joint between his fingers.

“What? We’re just having fun.” Ryujin defends with a giggle, words slurring together.

“I can see that.” You reply nonchalantly. With a sigh you go to turn off the music and a loud and in union “NO!” has you jumping startled, a look of horror washes over your face.

“Why do you have to kill the fun?” Niki whines.

“Your so-called fun is gonna get me kicked out. I could hear the music all the way down the hall.”

“Woah,” Jungwon speaks suddenly, stealing everyone’s attention “your tits look huge like this.” He says amusement colors his voice and really, you’ve long made peace with the fact that your friends are insufferable.

Yet it is moments like these that have you questioning why you kept them around for so long.

Niki with criminal like eyes, grabs a pillow and hits Jungwon in the face multiple times with it until it looks like he’s on the verge of suffocating him. You swivel your head away from them, you cannot be a witness to a crime you didn’t see.

“Come on! Let loose a little you need it as much as we do.” Ryujin says, walking to you and wrapping you into an embrace with an arm around your shoulders. She nuzzles her cheek against yours with a pout and you hate how your heart warms up immediately at the gesture.

“Yeah, you look tense as fuck Lilo.” Heeseung stands on your other side, his arm wraps around your waist and a bottle of soju in his other hand. Your eyes flit to it momentarily.

Instead of having an angel and a devil on your shoulders you wonder how you end up having two devils. Perhaps it was the unyielding urge to hit your head against your wall, or just the desire to walk to a mirror, steal a glance at your reflection and then watch it smash to pieces. It was the immense desire to run away. From yourself, from everything. And that’s why you end up snatching Heeseung’s bottle, chugging it down with one breath.

“Yeah! that’s my girl!” Heeseung whistles with a cheer and Ryujin turns to the music back up. It reverberates through your living room.

Out of nowhere, all your words feel too much inside of you. like your chest is so heavy and you need to unload it somehow. They come up to your throat so immensely fast there’s no way to stop them.

“I can’t believe I just fucked my boss again.” You blurt out.

You’d think that the sound of music was loud enough for them not to hear you clearly but maybe it was the same mockery that god liked to put you through every single day that manifests right now. A pregnant silence commences. Long enough for your confession to dawn on you,

Niki gasps and Jungwon tumbles off the couch with a thud loud enough for Ryujin to go check on him.

“What?!” Niki sputters, a mortified expression on his face.

“Again?” Heeseung looks at you, contrary to your brother he looks somewhat impressed. with a wiggle of his brows and a smirk tilting his lips.

“First time was at work and second time was like an hour ago.”

“Whore.” Jungwon mutters on the floor and you kick a pillow at him.

“I don’t think fucking your boss is a good idea yn.” you groan at Niki’s words.

“ugh I know!”

“Damn I wish I could fuck my boss.” Heeseung says and then there’s a heavy pause that follows.

“Your dad is your boss hee.” Ryujin replies with a disgusted frown.

It’s only a few hours later with more drinks in your system than you can count that you find yourself dancing around your living room with Heeseung. To You by Mallrat plays in the background and with his arms around your waist and yours around his neck. There’s a pleasurable buzz settling in your blood, drowning out the self-pity and hatred you were in withering in not long ago. And when he spins you around, with giggles erupting from you and a smile so big it starts hurting.

A feeling so close to peace nestles its way into you and stays for a while.

Holding on to you

Is all I want to do

The lyrics engrave themselves into your brain and even when the song is over and you’re still twirling around with Heeseung. They come back to you all night even when you’re so tired you end up passing out in the middle of your friends.

You’ve long made peace with the fact that your friends are completely insufferable.

Yet it is moments like these that make you thankful you kept them around for so long.

→ taglist : @slutforsjy @wonwoos-wineparty @nxzz-skz @piripurora @vousty

@realrintaro @slut4hee @chartrucewhore @iveivory @hearteyesforseungsung

@jooniesbears-blog @hee4lifer @pretty-bluntz @babrieeee @mandoscyare

@stayyyyyyyyyyyy21 @softieluvsyou @seunghancore @chaewonshoney @chaeyunloveeee

@beommii @fuxktaekook @antonsgirlfriend @rockyhedgehog @lukeys-giggle

@arikazu @jakeyverse @not-very-slay-of-you @chlodavids @belovedsthings

@vveebee @pochamocharoll @direxila @nessas-archive

@riksaes @niniissus

#jake sim smau #enhypen smau #enhypen fake texts #enhypen fanfiction #enhypen smut #jake enhypen #enhypen x reader #sim jake x reader #sim jake fluff #sim jake smau #sim jake fanfic #jake sim angst #jake sim smut #enha smut #jake social media au #jake sim scenarios #jake sim au #enhypen social media au #enhypen jake #Fallen Star #jake sim x fem reader #jake au

[thelampisaflashlight]

Have You Ever Eaten a Whole Bag of Sour Patch Kids

[This started as lore, and then turned into... whatever this is. I take my craft very seriously. Dew has a strange encounter.] Below the cut.

As Alice fell into Underland and thus deemed it Wonderland in her awe, so, too, did Dew tumble his way through the briars and brambles, and narrow paths of trees into the warm embrace of Hell.

He'd gone astray, a lost lamb -or perhaps a foolish wolf- gone without his shepherd; Over the guard rail that marked the divide between the road turned to gravel and the forest beyond.

Seeking shelter, sick from that first shock of falling, falling, falling down...

And the nauseous quake of too much alcohol and not enough food in his belly.

The dark night overhead, the stars hidden by clouds heavy with rain, the dull rumble of thunder getting closer.

His hands scraped up, bleeding from where he'd clutched to harsh pines and wicked thorns to stop his knees from buckling and losing himself among the brown needles strewn upon the ground.

It's never been clear to him... where and when his body gave out.

But the memory -the dream- of larger hands cradling him as a babe in arms, carrying him from the forest to the footpath, swaddled in pitch black furs of an animal unknown to him remains, persistant.

Rousing himself from a deep slumber beneath those same furs, Dew stares up at his ceiling.

Years have past since his arrival at the abbey, since his transformation into a ghoul, and his baptism into the church of Satan.

With a huff, he turns his head and eyes the clock on his nightstand.

4:30AM.

Too early to be getting out of bed on his day off, but the shifting of his body returns some sensation to other parts, and before he can reason with his bladder to go back to sleep, he's up and headed to the bathroom before he can piss himself.

His legs protest, and Dew decides he doesn't have the energy to stand up to take a leak, and plants himself firmly on his porcelain throne.

No sense in putting in more effort than is necessary, but as he's sitting there, and ever so slightly more awake, Dew reaches for one of the magazines he keeps in the bathroom.

An unsanitary practice, if you ask Aether, but Aether isn't here right now, and Dew has had enough late night regrets to not keep something worth reading in his on suite.

At the very least he isn't bringing his phone in the bathroom like SOMEBODY -Swiss- he knows.

...Flipping through a months old copy of Guitar World, he kind of wishes he'd brought his phone in here.

Dew hums and glances out at his bedroom, having not shut the bathroom door -he never does really, not unless someone else is in the room, and even then he's not exactly shy about this stuff- and feels his body go cold...

Someone's in his room.

A shadow is cast across his bed, a figure just out of sight.

He thinks, maybe, if he wasn't already in the process of doing so, he may very well have pissed himself from fear.

Startled, he gives an undignified shout and rushes to cover himself, screeching when-

"...Dew, I threw up..."

"AEON ERIK PHANTOMIME, WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK-"

Aeon sniffles pathetically.

"Can I have a hug...?"

Dew looks at him aghast.

"...My pants are literally around my fucking ankles right now and you want a... How did you get in my room?? I had the door locked! And why the fuck didn't you knock... Geezus..."

Aeon does grabby hands towards him, looking utterly miserable.

"...Gimme, like, two minutes."

"...You need two minutes to pee?"

Dew throws his magazine at him.

"I need to fucking pull up my damned pants and wash my hands"

Aeon blinks at him.

"You wash your hands after you pee?"

"I'm pretending you didn't say that just now." Dew says, shooing him out of the doorway, "If you're not all gross, go lay down..."

Climbing back into bed after finishing up, Dew settles and groans as Aeon tries to cozy up to him, the lankier ghoul attempting to curl himself into a little ball against his chest.

Dew pets his back, if only because the slow, easy motion is soothing to him in its own way, "So, you think you caught some kinda weird bug, or did you just eat something strange again?"

Aeon hesitates, still attempting to worm his way, from the feel of it, into Dew's stomach.

"Have you ever eaten a whole bag of sour patch kids in one sitting..?"

"...No."

"Why did you pause?"

"Shut up and sleep, or I'm suffocating you with my body."

"...Yes, sir."

#lamp writes #shitghosting #nameless ghouls #dewdrop ghoul #aeon ghoul #phantom ghoul #ghost band #the band ghost #ghost bc #ghost band fanfic #mentions of throwing up #tw emetophobia #just to cover my bases #it really did start as lore #and then became this

[ice-eise-babyy]

Pure | JB.B - Drabble

Pairing: 40's!Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader (ft. Pre-serum!Steve Rogers)

Summary: what happens when your boyfriend gets drunk and refuses to leave the pub? (atleast not until he see's the love of his life)

Warnings: mentions of alcohol but other than that, its mainly just fluff guys

A/N: I dont even know if this is any good but i hope you guys enjoy it <33

You would be lying if you said you didn't want to hurl something—anything— at Steve's head right at this moment. It's almost 10:00 p.m and instead of being in bed drifting off to sleep, you were currently out in the streets of Brooklyn on the way to a pub, who wouldn't want to hurl someone in the head with something?

"I'm really sorry y/n. I really wouldn't have woken you up if—" Steve's 20th apology this night was shortly cut of as you gave him a sideward glare. You felt slightly guilty after doing so, knowing that you were pinning this on him even though you were partially at fault.

If you had agreed to Bucky early this morning then you probably wouldn't be awake at this unforsaken hour. You probably wouldn't have Steve throwing rocks at your window to wake you up, and you probably wouldn't be walking to a pub to pick up your boyfriend who apparently refused to leave because he wanted to see you. You sighed, recollecting the conversation you had with him earlier today.

—

"But y/n..." you rolled your eyes at his dramatic whining. "Bucky, you're just going to spend the day with Steve. It's not the end of the world." You had been convincing him to spend more time with steve for almost a week now mainly because he has been spending most of his time with you, even sleeping at your apartment. The reason being he had to leave for wisconsin in 2 days because of military training.

As much as you want to grab bucky's face in your hands and look him in the eye while saying 'i also want to spend the day with you' and have him to yourself, you knew that if you do that you would be selfish. You knew that he might end up regretting not spending more time with Steve before leaving, he just probably haven't realized that yet.

"Can you atleast come with us, doll?"

"No, Bucky. absolutely not. if i come with you, you'd probably ignore Steve the whole time."

—

You smoothed out your Navy colored dress before shoving your white gloves deep in the pocket of your coat. You slowly walked in when Steve opened the door of the pub entrance for you. There weren't much people, mostly just soldiers who came back from war or just men in general. Your eyes darted around the place and a sigh of relief fell from your lips as your eyes landed on Bucky. He was sitting on one of the stools with only his side facing you, his forehead pressed on the bar counter as he looked down at his hands that were resting on his lap, he was humming a familiar song as he did so. He was looking at his hands like it was the most interesting thing to ever exist. His eyes wide and his lips pursed. You felt a warmth in your chest as you peered at his drunken state for a few beats longer. He was out for only a few hours and to you it also felt like just a few hours but to your heart... to your heart it felt like so long, long enough to have it yearning for him. yearning for his touch, his voice, his love...

You sighed once more as you sat down right beside him. He paid you no attention, eyes still on his hand and still humming the same song. Your lips tugged into a smile as you realized what song he was humming. It was 'when you wish upon a star' by glenn miller. It was the song playing when you had danced with him for the first time.

"Bucky?"

"Go away miss. I have a girlfriend" he was so quick to turn you away, mistaking you for another woman because he haven't looked at you once. This sparked an idea. A funny and harmless one.

"Oh, you do? too bad."

"Yeah, too bad for you— *hic* not for me. I'm happy where i am."

"Really? tell me then, mister. How is she like?"

He still hasn't looked at you. In his head he thought that there was no point in looking at other women because those other woman aren't even you. the only problem was it was you but of course he didn't know that yet. A wide smile adorned his face as he heard your words. Oh boy was he excited to brag about you.

"She is amazing. Words would never ever be enough to describe her beauty. It's unparalleled— *hic* and it's not... not just her face that's beautiful," even though you couldn't see the entirety of his face you didn't fail to notice the dreamy smile tugging in the corner of his lips, "Her soul as well and her smile— oh her smile... it just makes me— *hic* make me warm in here..." his hand pressed on his chest and gripped it like he was trying his best to pull his heart out just to show you where exactly he felt the warmth. "I really really want to marry her but she said that— *hic* i gotta win the war first... Stupid fucking nazi's" his fists clenched as he muttered that last words.

Your bottom lip found its way between your teeth as you tried to hold back your laughter. This was a rare sight to see your boyfriend all dazed while talking about you. Sure he was vocal about how he felt for you. He would always say how much he loves you or how beautiful you are but... you never expected that this is how he would talk about you to other people.

"That's really cute but we really gotta go home y/n. The pub's closing" Steve's voice dripped with sarcasm as he popped up from behind you before walking over to Bucky and patting him by the shoulder.

"Bucky, we gotta get you home.." you said but he just shook his head. he finally looked up but instead of looking at you, his gaze landed on the skinny little man in front of him. "Steve! you gotta help me man. That crazy lady's trying to take me home!" he said with genuine fear and panic in his eyes before standing up and gripping steve by the shoulder, his index finger pointed towards you who was sitting behind Steve. Steve doubled over as he laughed at him and Bucky tilted his head, confused as to why his friend would laugh at such a 'serious' situation.

"Bucky, that's your girlfriend." Steve bursted out laughing again as he saw Bucky's face contorting with a confused expression before looking at you who sat behind Steve. His eyes went wide and his jaw went slack when he realized, It was you!

"my god! it is!" he practically shoved Steve away just to rush over to you and get a clearer view of you. His hands flew to the sides of your face forcing you to looking up at him. he gave you a quick peck on the lips, an ecstatic smile adorning his face as he pulled away. His breath smelled of beer and maraschino cherries. He picked you up and spun you around the moment you stood up.

—

The three of you are now walking back to Steve and Bucky's shared apartment. Bucky's left arm was draped around Steve's shoulder to help himself as he walked sloppily while his other arm was swinging back and forth as he intertwined your fingers together. the way he looked at your hands with such adoration made your heart melt and maybe even made you realize that it is possible to fall inlove with the same person over and over again...

"y/n..."

"Hmm?"

"I may be tipsy with the beer and grenadine, but..." he paused for a moment when he heard you giggle. it was funny to you because 'tipsy' was probably an understatement, "I meant everything I said... I really want to marry you... wait for me til I get back from war... okay?" his voice was small and it sounded so innocent. There were hundreds— maybe even thousands— of words that would be perfect to describe Bucky's love fore you but 'pure' was the most accurate one out of all of them. His love was pure...

"I will, bucky..."

but he never did...

#bucky barnes #james barnes #bucky x reader #fluff #steve rogers #third wheel #drabble #drunk #bucky x you

[thoodleoo]

reading vergil's description of palinurus looking out upon the constellations and feeling extremely at peace

#he marked out all the stars gliding through the silent sky #looking out upon arcturus and the rainbrining hyades and the twin bears and orion armored in gold #and after he saw that all was settled in the peaceful sky #he gave a clear signal from the stern #it's just. this one moment of surety in the great chaos of the trojans' journey #to look upon the stars and know that they are ever the same #i cannot help but picture palinurus with his face turned up to the heavens (not knowing the fate that awaited him) #and see the constellations reflected back in that mirror of hope in his eyes #aeneidposting

[hoseoksluna]

LIQUID STARS | jjk

pairing: fuck buddy!jungkook x f. reader (feat. bam)

genre: angst, smut

word count: 11.8k

summary: to seal the deal, you give jungkook what he wants—your kiss, your cunt and your virginity.

playlist: liquid stars / pinterest board: wine

warnings: size kink, heavy dd/lg themes, provocation, dry humping, dirty talk, mentions of porn, oral sex (f. + m. receiving), multiple orgasms & countdown, dom/sub dynamics, reader has daddy issues (like the writer), first time, jealousy, inner child healing, plushie used during intercourse, jungkook fucks her numb & dumb, praise kink, cum eating, pet names and the establishment of a title, bondage, raw sex, tummy bulge, desperation, pain felt during intercourse, squirting

note: as difficult as it was to write this, i'm immensely thankful. this changed my life; it healed me and i'll dream about it for a long, long time. i was as exhausted as oc once i finished this, because i truly did give my all. everyone, this is part four to my series 'wine' and therefore the very end. this is the very beginning of jungkook's and oc's relationship. can be read as a standalone as there aren't any quirks from the other parts (except for bunny), though if you wish to read them now, now is the perfect time. now you can see the beautiful gradual development of their relationship. please, enjoy as you read and let me know your favorite parts bc i need to talk about this. heed the warnings as there are dd/lg themes that can be uncomfortable for some. thank you! and thank you for all the love on this series. i'll never forget it. i love you, guys. ʚɞ

side note: give some round of applause for 3D daddy provider jungkook everyone!! he deserves it!!!

Silky lilac bows adorn the tops of your pigtails that cascade down in loose braids, sprawled on the cotton of his pillow and on the soft belly of a bunny plushie. There are still traces of sunlight left on the bedding, which dissolve, little by little, into nothingness as the large star goes down, saying goodbye. It’s lightweight, the atmosphere—homely almost. And much to your surprise, you feel relatively at ease, despite the fact a man lies on top of you—a man you have a certain liking for. 

It was natural for you to end up here and you, yourself, wished for it, even. Deemed it was only right after the man took you around for a walk while his silly Doberman guarded each and every step both of you had taken in sync, especially so when he persisted in buying you a small plastic ring of the same bunny you’re lying against. He didn’t even forget about his own canine friend waiting outside patiently like the obedient dog he is, and fed him the snackies he got for him as soon as he returned from the shop. You swore Bam was as giddy as you when he received his gift. 

Now the ring glints in the last rays of the sun. His, too. 

While yours is as white as the cloudy morning sky, Jungkook’s is as black as the drowsily dozing night sky. You think it’s the perfect contrast between the pair of you. Not that you should be noting these things, considering you’re just friends. But his skin is satiny soft, painted in impressionist tattoos, while his muscles, that his well-fitted T-shirt graciously allows you to see, are strong. You’re sure he could just lift you and throw you around without much of a strain. And it certainly doesn’t help that he’s such a striking image of pure beauty. How could you not notice these intertwinings when they’re this lovely?

You like him—without a shadow of doubt. Can feel the call of an emotional attachment forming the more he studies your skin with the tip of his index finger, embellished with the Miffy ring, and it’s owed to the fact you’ve never been touched this way before. No one has ever come this close, no one has ever been interested in the moles scattered upon your shoulders, in the veins that make the pathway to the column of your neck. No one has ever gazed twice at them—but Jungkook?

He hasn’t stopped looking at them ever since he laid you down in the middle of his bed. 

How could you stop such a call? Such a lull, such a magnetic pull. You know you should, but for the meantime, you simply don’t want to. Can’t lose this moment, can’t lose this once in a lifetime opportunity—

Jungkook presses his lips against the prominent mole in the center of your left shoulder. Those pretty, puffy lips, closing against your skin, the smallest dart of tongue swiping past. It shocks you for a moment before the feeling dissolves beneath, adjusting within the freshness of your system. How could you refuse such dynamic poetry, expressed against your own forlorn body? When it’s so blatant that it’s natural, that your body willingly accepts it without a fight. 

You couldn’t. 

Stretching your fingers between the thick strands of his hair, you close your eyes to savor the feeling of being wanted. The movement of his mouth, going even as far as to the first vein rooted in your arm—following it with those half-closed pillows. Up, up until he finds the line of your collarbone. Jungkook pauses there, simply breathes against you before he interperses little pecks there, nibbles and gentle swipes of tongue. The lining of your top won’t let him go further down, so he changes direction—relies on the pathway of your veins to guide him to your neck. And there… at the first contact, you grip the roots of his hair. 

His kisses and nibbles are much harder here. And what’s worse, he takes the sensitive skin into his mouth and sucks. You fail at containing the whimpers that break out of your mouth and Jungkook reacts to them. Hums ever so deeply, rocks his hips against the mattress. You wish you were a bit bigger so you could feel the collision, but you’re just so small compared to his large form. You imagine he’s writing down the poems collecting inside of him with each cursive roll of his tongue. Wonder if there’s enough paper on your skin for all his words. 

“You sweet little thing,” Jungkook coos onto the crook of your neck, dragging his lips up and down before he stops at your jaw. You feel the warmth of his breath and his body heat seeps into yours, creating unity, blackening the ink. It feels strange, it feels so new. Brisk and springlike, like fresh air in a stuffed room. You want to stay here for a long time, tasting the wholeness of spring captured in him. You want his words to flush you red with the tinge of the entire sunlight that opens the buds of flowers during all seasons in a loop. “Can I kiss you?”

You haven’t gone beyond the innocent touching of hands with him. You brim with a tight feeling of thankfulness that he asked you such a graceful question, although something else steals your attention entirely. 

“Little?” you say, the smile on your lips pulled so taut that it quivers ever so slightly. It makes you crazy that he calls you that, but you play the game. Revel in it. “What do you mean little? I’m bigger than you.”

Jungkook cocks his brow at you, mouth falling into a lopsided grin. He sits back and you feel a whiff of coldness pass by the perimeter of your body, as if someone opened the window and let the winter air in, when it’s just his brief distance that caused it. The forming attachment in you tenses and before you can think about your actions, your hand finds his knee, his thigh and traces slow patterns there. Jungkook suddenly squeezes your waist, surprising you, and the ecstatic fluttering of butterfly wings break havoc all over your body. The solidness of his hands, their weight, their firmness, giving life to your body, meaning. You note how his fingers touch when he has his hands enveloped around you like that. And the inkling that your body matters in his hands like that slips into your mind, spreading through its axis. 

You bite your lower lip. A small ache begins to grow in your intimate parts. It’s so nice to be wanted, to be considered good enough to be touched, to be kissed. 

“You? Bigger than me?” Jungkook squeezes your waist again. Sucks in a breath through his teeth. Smiles softly; in a way that you find unbearably endearing. “No, you’re just little. Just a tiny, little bug. So tiny in my hands.” 

For the breath he inhaled, you exhale it. 

He leaves his hands there when he bends over you, hovering his lips over yours. His weight, his heat. You sigh against him in relief, in a newly blossoming excitement that he’s back again. You spread your legs wider, feet grazing his calves—

“Let me kiss you, please.” 

You’d give in, but the game is just so pleasurable. 

Your laugh is but a breath. “You wanna kiss me?” 

You exhaled, he inhaled. 

“Don’t ask stupid questions.”

“Since when do friends kiss?” You cock your eyebrow at him just like he did, prodding your tongue on the inside of your cheek. 

He hovers a little bit higher above you, hanging his head in defeat, sighing. Places his hands in fists on either side of you, caging you in. 

“Premium friends do,” he mutters, lifting his head, face all serious. You dig your toe into the toned muscle of his thigh, twirling sweet little circles, gliding up and down. Watch as his eyes lid and he tries to control it. “Don’t do that or I’ll fuck you.” 

Your body panics, but you will it to relax. 

“Does that come with the premium subscription?” 

Jungkook purses his lips, supports his weight on one hand as the other, the tattooed one, grips your jaw. He squishes your cheeks, bites his lip once—seemingly ponders whether he should play your game or not before he lets go of your pout, but still keeps his hand there. He traces the shape of your lips with this thumb, feeding his desire to kiss you with scraps. 

“Yes,” he utters. “Kisses, orgasms, my dog. It’s all—”

Orgasms, not just sex. Orgasms. 

“I get to take Bam?” 

Jungkook tuts at you. “You get to take me,” he corrects you. “Though, can even such a little thing like you take me?” 

Probably not. Definitely not. 

“But what about Bam?” 

He looks at you as if he couldn’t believe the words you’re saying, turning his head slightly to hear you better. Then, he scoffs, running his tongue across his lips swiftly, letting them express the enjoyment of your provocation by stretching into a smirk. He places his hand back on the right side of you, thinking over his words. 

“Bam is mine, but you can pet him. You can kiss him.” You can hear the feigned venom in that word as he spits it and you grin, pleased with yourself. You enjoy doing this to him. “And if you’re good, I’ll let you take him out for his walkies.” 

You gasp slowly, fingers absentmindedly gripping his thigh. Butterflies buzz you with a mere hint of arousal and to convey it, you wet your top lip with the tip of your tongue. The dominance, the principle of proving to him whether you’re deserving of something. Your heartbeat quickens, reaching for him with each swell. 

Oh, you’ll be good. You’ll be good until he’s sick of it. 

It seems he’s as pleased with himself as you were with yourself, reading your body language as he beams down at you, dimples poking holes in his cheeks. You want to stick your fingers there, pinch the skin at the corners of his mouth. Feel them, kiss them—

“Deal.” 

Jungkook blinks at you. He most likely expected you to be difficult. You like the look of surprise on him. A sweet kind of glint perches itself upon his irises. You’re at awe of how he manages to be so adorable and alluring at the same time. You could never understand it. You deem he must be otherworldly. 

“A kiss to seal the deal?” he tries, raising his brows, lowering himself to his elbows. 

He skims his lips across your cheek, descending to your neck. Places one, singular kiss there. Lifts his head to hear your answer, a soft curtain of hair falling across his forehead. 

You make a face as if you’re thinking about it. 

Jungkook groans. 

It’s cold, the way he turns away from you and it startles you—but then he slides his hands under your back and lifts you with ease, sitting you down on his lap. He moves you from the muscles on his thighs to the hardness of his intimate parts and you groan at the feeling of it. You’re wearing an airy short skirt with tights and knee socks underneath, the barrier so thin that you feel the solid, thick shape of him right under your femininity. 

You rock against him once. Jungkook lets out a sound akin to yours, fingers flexing—hands almost reaching for your behind before he decides against it and keeps them planted against your back. 

He desires your consent. And that makes you feel light-headed. Tipsy on the wholeness of him, on the pleasure coursing through your body. 

You rock your hips again—and this time, Jungkook whimpers. 

You take your hands and, slowly, you make a pathway down his chiseled chest. He twitches against you when your fingers pass by his nipples, his body following and squirming along. And once you reach the definition of his abdomen, your hands rise and fall against its quickening movement as his lungs heave. You’re mesmerized by his reaction to your touch. It’s as if it was his first time as well and something about that makes you woozy, savage and absolutely feline. 

And something about the way you’re allowed to do as you please, whereas he’s not, strengthens that state of mind, enriches it, thoroughly worsens it. 

You want him. 

It began with a ring and ended right here. 

And the process of your decision starts at his hips, finalizes at the pebbles of his nipples and finishes completely at the sides of his neck. He gives you the same, if not better, reaction, his manhood moving against you, and it’s settled. 

The giving of virginity to seal the deal, not just a kiss. 

Hovering your lips against his, you slip your hand to the place where you’re connected to feel up the shape of him. You moan onto him, vigorous power seizing you, propelling you to wrap your fingers around him. The breaths Jungkook emits are desperate, tortured, wafting over you, intoxicating you. It fills you with confidence unlike any other that you’re able to coax such a thing of beauty out of him—that you, the artist, have the upper hand momentarily while he doesn’t. 

And he waits, depends on you. You want to cry due to how happy it makes you, due to the way it suffuses an empty part of you, left abandoned by someone who should’ve taken care of it a long, long time ago. 

Because of that—if it’s kisses that he wants, you’ll give him as many as his body desires as a thank you. 

“You’re so hard against me,” you whisper. 

Jungkook grips your waist hard. 

“If you want it, you have to seal the deal,” he mimics your intonation, voice deep, tingling your tummy. 

“I want it.” You clutch both of your hands on his jawline, thumbs finding the invisible dimples. 

“Kiss me, then.” 

You whimper at the longing to do so. Your tummy clenches, butterflies inside swarm around and—

When you close your lips against his top lip, they burst into smithereens. Jungkook sighs in relief, enveloping you in his warmth. 

The kiss is hungry. You expected his first taste of you to be careful, contemplative, but he goes all in. Takes charge of the lip lock, swallowing you whole, moving against you, uttering low sounds that make your head spin and you just comply. Accept that you’re the one who submits to his craving and you find yourself liking it; find yourself wanting to deepen your submission. 

You wrap your legs around his waist, your head tilted as you reciprocate all of those hard kisses. When he comes up for air, he just gazes down at you, out of breath. One hand still on your back, the other cradles your cheek. There’s something puzzling in his eyes, as if he was fighting something within. You’re radiated by that energy, heavied down by it, letting him pet you like a puppy while you wait for the next step. 

“You’re so good that I’m considering letting you take Bam out,” he breathes, curling a wisp of your hair behind your ear. “Sweet little thing.” 

He pecks you once. You grind against his manhood and as he shortly groans onto your mouth, you splutter into giggles. Behind you, as if he heard him, the dog peeks his head out of the door, giving his Daddy a questioning look. Jungkook chuckles. 

“Bam, house.” 

The dog leaves and Jungkook sinks his fingers into your hair, sighing. Kisses you, again without tongue—only does what you’ve allowed him, but you overflow with the desire for more. He’s so considerate, so respectful and while you’re grateful for it, you want to break it. Your trust in him, made whole by all that he’s done for you, settled within you, made a bed in the sensitive parts of you that now shine. He doesn’t need to remain there—you want to go beyond that. 

“Touch me, please.” You look up into his eyes as you say it, willing them to see with all your energy how much you want him. 

He rubs soothing circles on your back. “If I touch you, I’ll fuck you, sweetheart.” 

You lift your butt ever so slightly and bounce down on him, your skirt furling. Jungkook moans, pleasing you to the core. It’s bratty of you, but it serves him right for being so stubborn, so firm in his control. You want to break him. 

“Can’t you see how much I want that?” you purr, bunching the cotton of his T-shirt in your fists. 

He merely shakes his head, licking his lower lip, fucking with you. He tugs on one of your braided pigtail, the other hand gliding to your hipbone. “This little girl is horny? I couldn’t tell.” 

A yellow light, sleepy in nature, spills through the blinds, latching onto the side of your neck. His eyes flick to it and his teeth sink into the wetness of his lip. He looks back at you when he says, “what was it that made you horny? The neck kisses?” 

He straps both of his hands to your hipbones now, adjusting you so your sweetest spot rests against his cock, rocking your hips like he wants them to. He swallows down his noises, makes room for yours. You figure he wants to hear them. 

You think about what made you horny. His respectful behavior. An electric spark spasms in your core at the memory and you roll your body against his at the impact—nipples pebbled, grazing below the hardness of his pecks. You moan loudly. He breathes heavily, can’t for the life of him contain that, gripping you with strength that will surely leave bruises. You add it to the list. 

His control—the momentary, delicious lack of it, too. The dominance that follows it. His noises and how unrestrained he is when it comes to them. The allure and the attractive charm of his looks, blended with that insufferable cutesiness. His hard cock. The neck kisses, too, of course. 

You summarize your answer and you tell him, “you.” 

A hitch in his throat. “Fuck.” 

Fuck, indeed. Fuck the steady rhythm—Jungkook speeds up your movement, the pace so fast your pigtails and your ribbons bounce, tits following suit. Your breath falls in step, moans echo within the walls of his room. He kisses you harshly, but that doesn’t silence you. He swallows your noises down, grunting. 

“You wanna know what made me hard for you?” 

You nod your head, lips forming a natural pout at the loss of contact. 

“Those fucking pigtails of yours. The knee socks. How tiny you are in my hands. Seeing you lose your fucking mind when I kissed your neck. Those marks I left behind, hm, fuck yes. Those marks made me crazy,” he mutters, staring you down. “And you know what else?” 

You wait for his answer as white flashes blind you, your roaring orgasm beckoning you close. He doesn’t stop rocking you against him, not once. Fills your brain with emptiness with his words coated wet by his dominant energy. You feel your own wetness soaking the fabric of your panties. 

“Your brattiness,” he says. “I want to fuck it out of you and make a good girl out of you that won’t misbehave again with her smart words.” 

A faint part of you, half affected by the pleasure he gives you, arises to stand up for you. “But I was good and you said so.” 

He clicks his tongue, disapprovingly shaking his head. Slows down the pace so you’re able to hear him loud and clear, your orgasm backing away. “You see the thing is with little bratty girls like you, even when they act good for me, there’s still that dark little side of them that hides. Unless I fuck it out of them, they play with me. And trust me, I like the game until I don’t.” 

You frown at him, but a moan betrays you. A fight throngs inside of you, his dominance yet again permeating you, causing you to flourish, but on the other hand, you don’t like being added to the mix. You want to be the only one—and it makes you angry that he had someone like you before you, that he even said it altogether. Though unfortunately, that’s something you can only keep to yourself. 

The forming attachment breaks, splitting into two, with the knowledge that your wish is futile. You understand he said it for the sake of the role-play that you both naturally, wordlessly established through sexual attraction, but you still have a lot of getting used to within the dynamic. He’s experienced, you’re not. Though, when you think about it, he doesn’t know a thing about your purity. You never told him. 

You blame yourself for your own pain. It’s your fault—you should’ve had a conversation with him about it before you let him do anything to you, instead of playing flirty games with him. You wouldn’t have gotten hurt, if he knew you were a virgin. The thought of what you’ve done stains you, makes you feel filthy, but you will it to kneel inside of you like a wounded animal. You need to be strong if you don’t want to storm out of his room in tears. 

No attachment, no liking. 

Just sex. 

There’s still a frown to your face, despite the fact you set yourself free with your decision. Jungkook chuckles at it, oblivious to your internal storm. 

“You didn’t like that, did you?” You didn’t like being compared to other girls he’d been with; there’s nothing to be said of the like about the role-play aspect. Being called bratty did rouse a moan out of you. “You prove my words right.” 

You roll your eyes. Jungkook grips your ass hard and spanks you. As the sting reverberates, along with it comes the realization you got what you wanted. 

You broke him. 

And now you have to face the repercussions. 

Good thing you’ve sobered up from the stupefaction of your arousal. 

You cradle his face and kiss him deeply in effort to change the narrative. No feeling of affection from earlier hangs upon your heart and you find that it’s easier like this. No strings, no pain. It relieves you—so much that you sense a layer of lightness to your body and tiny, manageable tears well in your eyes. You get to enjoy this after all. 

There’s radiance to your eyes, rooted in hope, and true softness to your words when you say, “I want you to fuck it out of me. I want you to be my first.” 

You want to be different—your pride is uninfluenced by your decision. If he fucks it out of you, the new narrative you’re longing for will fully take place and make living through this bearable. You know you can’t have him the way you’d like, but if fate wrote that you’re to have him this way—you don’t mind altering it to the little desires you’re allowing yourself to have. 

Once in a lifetime opportunity. You can’t lose it. 

Jungkook is left astounded by your words, eyes widening, shock evident on his features. Like your words, he softens, unclenching his fingers from your suppleness, the darkness in his irises making a way for gentleness to come through. He rubs the small of your back, hands ascending to your spine, feeling the clip of your bra, until he finds the nape of your neck. He holds you there, tenderly, as if you were a porcelain doll he now was careful not to break. 

The change in his demeanor is stark. It surprises you as well—and like everything that has happened within the hour, it isn’t something you expected from him. The emotion that emerges from the roundness of his eyes touches the hardness of your decision, tries to get through, pokes a gap inside, letting the light in. 

He tucks his darkness back inside. Strokes the back of your head, the silky ends of your ribbons sifting through his slender fingers. You relax against him and your body does it for you. It welcomes his tenderness, glad for the truth to be out. You fight against it—against yourself, willing your decision not to break but remain firm. 

No strings, no pain.

But to no avail. The light spreads. His light. Celestial twinkles of stars, small parts of him that make him who he is. 

“You’ve never had anyone before me?” he husks, regret glossing over his eyes, holding your head firmly as he awaits your answer. More stars spill like liquid. 

You shake your head ‘no’, your chest tightening. 

He kisses you and there’s something different about the way he does it. Now you can sense the carefulness you searched for earlier and you taste the primal core of loving care in the movement of his lips. The kisses are long, deep. As if you’re a different person now, a girl unlike any of the ones he mentioned. Someone who matters, someone who’s solid. You’re back at the beginning. 

A lump forms in your throat. 

“You sure about this?” he asks. 

One part of you, greater and illuminated by his stars, wants it gently like this, with flowers of innocence and purity besprinkled across his features, never leaving you out of his sight, taking care of you. But you fear that if you allow him to be tender, your heart will choose him again and cling to his side. The other, more faint part of you, affected by your decision, thinks it’s better to stick to the role-play, for there’s the aspect of illusoriness that will not bruise anyone’s hearts, especially not yours. It will make you horny, Jungkook will get you off and, glowing, you’ll go home.

You can’t decide. It’s too much of a heavy weight to bear on your shoulders. You can’t do it.

You need him to say the word. You need him to decide what will be the face of the trajectory of your premium friendship. 

Flowery or deceitful? 

A small candlelight in you hopes for gentleness and purity before your fear unfairly puffs it out. 

“Yes, I’m sure. I want you.” 

Jungkook lays you down and, at last, you feel his manhood against you. He bends to pepper apologetic kisses along the column of your neck and you feel the authenticity of his regret, thrumming against you warmly. Your breath hitches in your throat, the principle of the candlelight in you not being a high hope after all—

“I’m sorry. I should’ve gone about this better.” A kiss to your cheek; you stifle your sobs. “I should’ve checked in with you, but I jumped straight in. This was a mistake on my part. I’m sorry.”

He blames himself, not you. 

You want to remain stoic, but his authenticity beckons yours to come out and envelop him whole, gives access to your emotions and you can’t stop the miniature teardrop from flowing down the side of your nose. Neither can you stop the words that follow its footsteps. 

“I should’ve told you first,” you whisper, sniffling. Jungkook furrows his brows at the expression of your pain in tender emotion, wiping it away. “But I was bad—reckless.” 

He chuckles softly, caressing your hair. “You’re an angel. Sent to my side for me. You weren’t bad. I didn’t mean what I'd said.” 

His words, his touch, the kiss he adds to your cheek to punctuate his sentence—Jungkook erases everything that has just happened. 

Newness rushes in your chest, the pouring of spring into summer permeates your whole being. You hear the birds sing, the rustle of flimsy flower petals on tree branches as the warm wind grazes it with its touch. Jungkook seals this feeling by pressing a kiss to your sternum. 

He said it, so it must be so. You trust him. 

The firmness of the cage around your decision unlatches. Doesn’t fly away like the birds. Is a little bit afraid of peeking out. The candlelight returns to light up the room around that cage, blossoming into the sun. 

“We don’t have to do anything, if you don’t want to,” he says, looking up at you from the place where he dragged your top down to kiss your skin. 

The sun rays in you absorb all of the darkness. The firmness extends one wing. 

You run your fingers through his hair. Figure the only thing the summer in you is missing is the heat. You want him, you want sex and you don’t want to think about feelings or consequences. You don’t want to choose between anything anymore. You just want to enjoy yourself. 

“I meant it when I said that I want you to be my first,” you say, fingers curling around his ear. Jungkook leans into your touch and it’s as if he’s massaging the wing to alleviate it from a cramp due to being tucked in for so long. 

“Okay,” he sighs, taking your hands and pinning them on the pillow and bunny above your head. He sits up, examines you and you wonder if he can see how truly fragile you feel. “Do you trust me?” 

He’s had half a year of going out with you, mingling his life with yours, spending money on you and treating you like an absolute treasure to build your overall trust. And what he did just now? How he erased your pain? Your nod is immediate; you don’t need to think twice. 

“Of course I trust you.” 

“Good.” A soft smile. “I’ll make sure your first time will be beautiful for you.” 

Your heart thuds. His words steal all the breath in your lungs, smoothing out the surface of your body for his stars to fill. Tears prick at your waterline. 

“Are you scared?” 

You’re an empty canvas. 

“Not anymore.” 

Jungkook nods, gladness pulsating off of him. “I’ll be here the whole time. I won’t leave you, not even once, okay?” 

“Okay.” 

He finds the zipper on the side of your skirt and yanks it down. “How many times do you wanna come?” 

The ridiculousness of the question makes you laugh and you hide your face beneath your palms. “To be honest, I don’t expect to come at all. It is my first time after all.” 

You marvel at the honesty seeping out of you. His work, no doubt. 

Jungkook frowns, ridding you of the skirt, fingers hooking under the hem of your top. At the reveal of your pink, flowery, see-through bra, he stops altogether, stunned. He fondles the material, grazing over your soft nipples, at last reaching the embroidery of the small petals. He gasps in wonder, eyes flicking to your intimate parts to see if you’re wearing a matching set. 

The same flowers adorn the suppleness of your tummy. 

Jungkook smiles at his discovery. Is hasty as he drags the nylon of your tights down your legs, along with your knee socks. 

“I’ll decide how many times you come for me, then.” 

Heat pools in your femininity. There it is, the dominance that you love. Yet this time, it’s laced with his gentleness. Heaven on earth—a meadow full of flowers in the middle of summer. Like the ones on your lingerie. 

Joy grasps your heart. “Do I get to know before you start?” 

Jungkook chuckles, pressing a kiss on your tummy. “What, you wanna count them down for me?” 

You asked just because, but the idea excites you. You nod. 

Your response prolongs the rumble of his laughter and you feel its vibration as he kisses his way up to your clothed breasts. You’d think he’d focus his attention on them, but he straightens—reaches for something behind him and retrieves your white knee socks. He bunches them in his hands and puts them on you as if he were dressing a child. 

Paradoxically, goosebumps spread all over your thighs. 

Smoothing the material over your thighs, he lies back down against you, lips latching on the spillage of your breasts that your bra gives him. While it feels dizzying, you still want to know the number. You poke him in the bulging muscle of his arm and in the process, you flush his cheeks red. 

Jungkook pushes your tits together and licks over the line in the middle. The sight of the shine of his wet tongue against it drenches your pussy, ruining your pretty underwear, and you want him there, on your sweetest spot. Your nipples stand to attention and Jungkook listens to their call, thumbs brushing across them. 

You mewl, grinding your hips against his stomach. 

“Two times when I eat you out; two times around my cock,” he answers finally, awakening your butterflies. “How many times is that, then?” 

Amidst the pleasure, you do the math. “Four.” 

“That’s right. You think you can do that for me?” 

You’re not sure. In fact, you’re not sure of anything—lost in his touch, in his energy. 

“I don’t know,” you say, truthfully, skimming his face for a sliver of disappointment in his features. 

You find none. Only tenderness—round, soft eyes, brown in the light he radiates, nose and mouth buried in your tits, sucking on the skin, making you feel good. 

“That’s okay. We’ll try together. Nothing bad is gonna happen to you if you don’t come as many times. Or at all. I promise.” 

Your chest clenches. You grab his face and kiss him, licking over his bottom lip before you slip your tongue inside. Jungkook grunts, rolls his own muscle over yours, tasting you, feeling you. He inhales sharply against you, once again taking charge of the kiss, taking each and every thought and negative feeling you had and crushing it to smithereens. 

He lifts you and switches places with you, sitting you down on his lap with your back supported by his chest. He roams his hands all over you—tits, tummy, hips, sides and thighs while he busies his mouth on your shoulder. As your eyes follow each movement, you notice the marks he embellished your breasts with and your arousal grows—so much that you take his wandering hands and hook them under the waistband of your underwear, guiding them down your thighs. 

There’s a change to his breath when his index and middle finger feels up the fleshiness of your cunt for the first time. Hard, raggedy and absolutely tormented. He glides those digits up and down your dewiness, listening for the squelching sound that makes his cock twitch beneath you. 

He moans onto your neck, nose tracing the column on its way to your ear.  “How do you touch yourself?” 

A sudden shyness overtakes you and you turn your head, needing to hide in his neck this time. You remain silent, the words lodged in your throat. 

Jungkook sees you. 

“Do you rub your little clit from side to side or in circles?” he questions, helping you answer. 

“I—I like both,” you whisper onto his skin, moving your hips so his fingers slip to your clit, the sweet spot where you need him the most. He grabs the back of your thigh and lifts it, spreading you open, meanwhile you chase the firmness of his fingers.

“Just like that, ride them,” he husks, eyes dazed, fixed on the roll of your pelvis. “Feels good, doesn’t it?” 

Head on top of yours, you nod, never ceasing your movement, transfixed, just like him, by the constant way the pads of his fingers fondle your clit before dipping between your lips. The heat of the summer tightens in your lower belly and it’s a desperate litany of begging what your mouth utters, despite the fact you’re not really sure what you’re asking for, but you let him hear it. You’re close, so unbelievably close, yet still have a road to walk on before you, and you close your eyes to feel the delight of his touch more deeply, only to find that you manage to do nothing of the kind. 

When you sense his eyes on you and by instinct you reciprocate his stare, that’s when you feel the depth you sought after. Mouth parted, pupils dilated, eyelashes a drowsy catastrophe, messy hair casting a soft shadow over the planes of his blissed-out face. You want to kiss him. You want to make him feel as good as he’s making you feel—

“Let me do it now,” Jungkook says hurriedly, sensing the nearness of your climax. 

“Yes,” you croak out, halting the movement of your hips—and ‘yes’ is the word that ripples out of your mouth a hundred, a thousand more times when he spreads you wider and rubs his fingers on your clit from side to side. 

He feels the pleasure in sync with you, accepting all of your yes’, twisting his face the moment yours does, quickening the rapidness of his hand once he switches to circles to carry you to your summer-breathed paradise. 

And when you come all over his hand, he slips two fingers inside your hole.

He stills the buck of your hips. 

You widen your eyes at the new feeling of fullness and, panicking and constricting around him, you look at Jungkook, who merely strengthens his hold around you. 

“Trust me,” he says, breathing heavily. He doesn’t move his fingers past his first knuckles; he lets you adjust to the size. Gives you a kiss full of tongue to distract you. “Does it burn?”

You begin to pant against his mouth, the high of your orgasm long gone. You’re uncertain to count it as one when it was so short lived, ruined by the sudden plunge of his digits. But much to your surprise, you don’t detect any burn in your walls that he speaks of, which you realize was his intention.

“No, it just feels a bit uncomfortable.” 

He kisses you again. You feel your lips go numb, eyes lidding at the pressure you feel as he sinks his fingers a little bit deeper and begins to move them sluggishly, your slick creating another ring for him around his fingers. You try to meet his thrusts as the visceral sensation of being filled by longer, thicker fingers settles within you and takes roots. You discover that movement is the key to parting the uncomfortable feeling and it steps to the side to let the pleasure walk forward.  

Jungkook presses his palm flat against your clit, guides the pleasure to envelop your body when he plunges his fingers deeper, past the second knuckles and fucks you in swift jerks. Your mouth falls open in a silent moan and he fills in the sound, expressing his fiery delight for you at the clench of your walls against him, accommodating for him, for his desire to stretch you out, so when he finally enters you, no pain comes to greet you. 

Deeper and harder—yes, that’s what feels good. You roll your body, becoming waves of the sea as wetness and the build up of pleasure—seafoam—is all your senses wrap around. 

“Feels good, baby?” 

His need to check in with you speeds up the nearing expansion of your orgasm. Pointer and pinky finger digging into the skin of your backside, you watch the in and out motion, the digits coming out wetter and wetter each time.

“Feels so fucking good. I’m gonna come. I’m so close.” 

It’s quicker. Way quicker than your first tiny orgasm. He slips in and out of you so smoothly—you’re obsessed with the sight, ravaged by it entirely. You grind your hips and fuck yourself back, picking up the pace but slowing down instantly when you feel yourself at the peak of your climax.

You want to prolong it. You love the feeling too much to end it too soon.

Jungkook stops your movements fully.

“I want to be the one who makes you come,” he murmurs. “I want to be the one who fucks your brain out. I want to feel you squeeze around my fingers. Fuck, I want it so bad.” 

His hand drifts to your neck just to hold you there, the other, the busy one, fingers you harder, your fast approaching orgasm blinding your senses. Your drenched cunt squelches around him, the sound so lewd it causes you to seek comfort—your hand flies to his on your throat, fingers wrapping around his wrist, the tip of your pointer reaching the fat bulb of bunny’s head on his ring. 

Harder and faster. A scalding fire burns you and you just take it. Loll your head back against his shoulder, giving him the space to grip your jawline. Flames grow closer and closer, leaving a layer of sheen on your body in its wake. You feel the sudden need to pee.

“Oh my god, Gguk—” Your muscles tense. Close, so close. “Gguk, Gguk—”

“What, baby? What’s the matter?” he husks, squeezing your neck once. “You’re gonna come for me? Gonna come on my fingers?” 

You nod quickly, too quickly. Flames of the sun, licking you. Flames of the summer heat. Just what you wanted. 

Jungkook opens your jaw, swirling his tongue around yours. “Let go. Come for me. You can do it, I got you—I got you. Come for me, baby, please.”

Obeying his desperate order, you do.

A small stream of your pleasure, a faint fountain, trickles out of you and into his hand. He gasps, in unison with your whimpers, and you’re transmitted elsewhere. The wildly colorful, blooming meadow on a hill, overlooking the languorous sea and he’s there. Reaches behind himself. Offers you his hand. The wind ruffles his black hair, sweeps it back and you’re giddy—as giddy as Bam, as giddy as you were in the moment the slid the white bunny ring on your finger—to take the last two of his slender fingers, the pinky and the ring, and sit with him by the edge of the cliff. 

“Did so well for me.” 

The whisper takes you back and you awake. 

You’re different. Incandescent. Of life, of stars and its light, of growing fondness for the man you sit perched on the lap of, whose fingers still remain sheathed inside of you. He changed you. Perpetually, absolutely. He changed you and made you into something new. Something that is softer, more elegant—smaller but assertive. Alluring and kind. Indisputably good. 

He fucked everything negative out of you with his fingers. Left the vast canvas of stars inside of you.

You’re no longer a plain spread of cotton, but a living, breathing artwork. His artwork.

Once he fucks you with his cock, you wonder what further internal changes are going to occur within you.

You feel a great deal of gratitude for him—and you want to reciprocate all that he’s done for you. You want to work hard at it. Spoil him. Make him whimper. You believe he deserves it.   

“You finger yourself often? How come you took my fingers so well, hm?” 

You’re panting, unable to speak. Absorbing the sharpness of the stars, acclimatizing to the change. 

“I guess you do, huh?” he deduces. “Good little girl, preparing herself for me.” 

For the life of you, you can’t catch your breath.

Jungkook kisses your cheek deeply. Pecks you on the same spot a hundred times, slowly taking out his fingers. Lets you see your slick coating his fingers and, softly, you gasp at the little ripples of wrinkles upon the tips of his fingers, mouth parting.

And then he sinks them into your mouth. 

His hardness twitches behind you and you moan, your daintily bittersweet taste making your head spin. And when you look at him, you’re met with the utmost pink-dusted adoration painted on his face. You kiss it, inhaling it, letting it flow into your system so it suffuses your bloodstream, letting him taste you. You may not feel your lips, but the sentient poetry of the stars begins to sing in you. His stars. You feel like a flushed floweret visited by a bee. Spent, but happy. 

Happy to be wanted.

Good, because he said you were.

As if internally intertwined with him, you feel the identical heat tinge your cheeks. 

He says nothing as he lays you down and spreads your legs back to the way they were. Though when he’s graced with the sight of your bare cunt in all her glory, his face says everything that his mouth isn’t capable of. Hunger and torture—lips agape, corners of the mouth shiny with the rush of drool and Jungkook wipes it away, then lowers his fingers to your clit, to your lips, becoming more acquainted with this intimate part of you that no one had seen before him. He traces your small hole, even going as far as to your other, tinier hole and you yelp, stopping his exploration. 

Jungkook merely chuckles, eyes darting to yours. “You’re so pretty.” You grow so hot that you think you must be on fire. “Especially there.” 

You mewl, shrinking, hands looking for anything to hold and finding his bunny plushie. You take her into your arms, inhaling a scent that could never be hers. You recognize immediately whose it is. 

Musk, vanilla, wood. 

The thought of Jungkook cradling her while he sleeps moves you and you pout. 

“How we feeling?” he asks, still caressing your fleshy cunt, dripping with dew. 

Overjoyed. Overstimulated.

Heavenly.

“Good.” 

A foxy smile. “How many orgasms was that, hm?” 

You don’t know where your shyness comes from and why it chokes all of the words you want to say. You bury your face in bunny for a moment, taking a breath to fight against it, so you can please him because that’s all you yearn to do. 

You open your mouth, but no words come out. 

Jungkook stifles a laugh and it makes you feel terrible. And it’s worse when he leans over to kiss you, turns his head at the last moment and faces bunny.

“Bunny, how many times did she come?” he asks her, offering her his ear to hear her answer. Looks at you. Widens his eyes. Gasps. “Two,” he mouths. Listens some more. Nods. “I know she thought she wouldn’t come at all. Crazy, right?” Then he lets out an endearing sound. “She said she’d believed you could do it the moment you said it. She’s so happy for you. How cute,” he coos. 

You giggle, the bridge in your throat loosening, light flooding you, over and over, until you think you can’t take any more of it. You feel so full, so happy and the sensation threatens to pour out of your tear ducts. 

It heals something within you—that he treats you like this at your most vulnerable state. Your inner child flares, the stars the strength that fixes her stoop, helping her arise, stand straight, stand powerfully. 

He smiles down fondly at you. “So what number are we at?” 

You hide your face behind your hands. “Two.” 

“What did you say? I didn’t catch that.” 

You drop your hands and with as much energy as you can muster, you repeat the number. 

He purrs, caressing your cheek. “Good girl.” As a reward, as if the praise wasn’t enough, he kisses you deeply. “Will you let me taste you?” 

You swallow his desire, but speak up your own, “I want to taste you first, please.” 

Jungkook hums, curses under his breath. He straightens and kneels before your form, fingers pinching the back of his T-shirt and pulling it over his body. You catch the sight of his broad shoulders, of each dip and muscle, and your irises grown in width. Him ridding himself of his clothes dishevels his hair and as he untangles his arms from the material, he smiles down at you, noticing your stare. 

He caresses the back of your thigh before his hand flies to his hard length. He palms himself once, then continues to undress—tugs his sweatpants down to his knees, though he doesn’t bother himself to fully take them off. The shape of him is more prominent through the fabric of his white Calvins, the bulge of his mushroom wet and pellucid, and you sit up, hand itching to touch him, to join his in making him feel good, but he cups your chin—forcing you to look up at him. 

He swipes his thumb over your lips. “You want it?” 

You nod. “So bad.” 

Jungkook curses again, the sound low and rough. 

“Touch it,” he orders and both of your hands listen, wrapping around his girth, squeezing beneath the head of his cock. The thickness of him makes you see the light of the stars that you sense fluttering feverishly inside of you. Your mind is too empty, too washed out by your orgasm, by the change that you don’t even think about how you’re going to take him. Jungkook hisses, tilting his head back before he looks down at you intently. “You did this before?” 

You’ve never seen one in real life before, let alone touched one.

“I’ve never let anyone get this close.” 

Jungkook strokes your pigtails. “How come you know what to do then?” 

Instinct or memory from porn you watched—you don’t know, it all blends together within the fuzziness of your mind. And you tell him.

“I watch a lot of porn.” 

Jungkook smiles coyly and it strikes you. You’ve never seen him smile this way before or, even, feel this way before. All you know from him is dominance, dominance and dominance. 

You release him from the confines of his boxers and repress your gasp. His ever glistening tip reaches just below his navel and the thickness of his girth obscures most of his pubic hair. Along with the sound of your surprise, you also have a hard time swallowing the saliva collecting in your mouth. 

“I want you so bad,” you whisper, needy eyes looking up at him. Shy, too shy to let your gaze linger at the most intimate part of him. 

He sucks in a breath at your words, hissing. And you need him inside of you all over again. 

Fuck fuzzines in your mind. You’re fuzzy all over. Wrecked with nerves, suddenly. Your hands tremble, hovering in front of his manhood. Jungkook covers them with his, soothing you, and guides you to his shaft. Wraps your fingers around him. Doesn’t let go. 

The feel of him under his supervision is slow. He allows you to take in every ridge of him, every vein—the softness of his skin, the warmth and the weight. Round after round, up and down, until you get familiarized with him. A trickle of his male essence drips down the side of him and your tongue instinctively darts out. Like your hands, Jungkook’s breath shakes and he anticipates your next move, despite the fact he’s in charge. 

He’s been patient all this time, giving you the time you needed. But that hardly applies when you have him in your hands, when you own his neediness. His whimpers while he waits coax your slick out of you, soaking the bedding beneath you and you can’t take it anymore. 

Neither, evidently, can he. 

“Baby, please,” Jungkook croaks out. Tortured, so terribly tortured. Grip tight and clammy around your hands. 

So vulnerable. 

You ache. 

You lick up a stripe of his essence on the side of his cock and Jungkook shudders. Shifting onto your knees, you show him the milkie on the tip of your tongue and Jungkook pulls your hair, tilting your head back. Kisses you nastily, licking into your mouth. Moans, lowly. Then, he holds his girth at the base and pushes your head. 

When you take him, a mewl ripples around the thickness of him. His eyes roll back and his grasp of your hair tightens, burning your scalp, adding to the fire. He lets you feel it out; lets you figure out what to do, testing your knowledge from the porn you’ve watched. And the tensing of his stomach divulges his strained effort not to fuck your mouth. 

You go slow about it. Swirling your tongue around that rosy head of his, along that delicious ridge, licking a flat stripe across that line of his slit. Getting to know him in all those intimate places, relying on your senses—on them to tell you what he likes. Your hand begins to move on its own, gliding back and forth in tandem with your tongue stimulating his sensitivity. You try not to think about how you can barely fit him in your mouth, because if you do—you’ll ruin his bedsheets. 

But then Jungkook hums in approval, sending a gush of wetness out of you and you whimper—you whimper at the worsening ache you feel, at the helplessness that pools in your system by being just so filthily wet and horny. 

He moves your hand faster. Breath jagged, bedroom eyes zeroing down on you. And then—

Jungkook moans your name. Over and over, clenching and unclenching his hand on the back of your head. 

“Don’t have to teach you shit,” he spits. “You just watch porn all day, don’t you? Naughty girl.” 

Losing control for a split second, he rams his cock into your throat—and you don’t panic, you don’t yelp. Instead, you groan. 

He pulls you away from him with a sharp tug. Kisses you harshly. Shoves you down into the pillows with one push on your sternum.

Bending you in half, he drinks your cunt. Lips immediately suck on your needy bundle of nerves and it’s so fast you don’t even know which part of you he’s focusing on because he’s everywhere. Clit, hole, clit, hole—sucking, licking. Alternating, alternating so swiftly and deliciously that you completely lose your mind. 

And then he lifts your hips and holds them in the air, wanting you to see what he’s doing to you. Like you, he darts out his tongue and teases you, hovering the muscle above your clit. Shiny, nimble, capable of doing unspeakable things to you. He watches as your pussy drools for him and he chuckles darkly. Tongue lowering to collect it, but unlike you he never does it. He lets the dew trickle down your skin. 

“Cute little pussy. So wet. Wetter than when I fucked it. You liked playing with me on your knees, didn’t you?” 

With your fucked out brain, you don’t think it’s taunting what he’s doing. You deem it’s just him reveling in what he’s able to do to your body—in the fact that he owns it, that he teaches it new things. The glint in his dusky, lustful eyes proves it. 

Jungkook drags a long stripe on your clit, making your eyes flutter closed and your teeth to sink into your bottom lip to cage in your moans. 

“Talk to me.” 

You can’t. You don’t know how to talk. 

He stares you down. 

No answer from you. Just hard pants. Pussy drooling. 

“I won’t play with you, then.” 

Panic. “No.” 

He cocks a brow at you. “No?” 

Silence. 

He begins to lower you down but you grip his forearm. 

“Jungkook.” 

Bent over above you, head low, he merely flicks his eyes to yours. Duskiness, such blackening duskiness in those orbs. 

“Beg.” 

All your muscles tense. Wetness gushes out of you. 

Lucky for you, that word he wants is the one you haven’t forgotten. 

“Please.” 

“Please what?” 

You groan in frustration. 

“Be nice or—”

“Please, lick me.” 

That dark chuckle. You feel yourself becoming obsessed with it. 

“Where?” 

A challenge. Your throat dries up. 

“There.” 

He shakes his head disapprovingly, making a sound that expresses just how much he didn’t like that. 

“Try again. Last chance, little girl.” 

The loving smile on his face says everything about how that threat is feigned. You hear it tell you—you have as many chances as you need. He’s merely encouraging you to step out of your comfort zone. 

And something about that mellow, hidden kindness gently ushers you to do just that. 

“Lick my clit, please.” 

A hum. A long stripe on that sensitive, thumping spot. A roll of his tongue forward and backward.  

“Like this?” 

You choke out a moan. 

“Yes, please.” 

“Or—” He blows on you, causing you to tremble. “Like this?”

He shakes his head against you briskly, not yet at a full tilt. Just like his, your body shudders in his hands and he tightens his grip on your supple hips. You can’t take it, the pleasure is overwhelming and—

“Look at me,” he orders and you open your eyes, immediately. “Like this?” 

Jungkook adds more pressure and rapidness to the movement, leaving you glazed sweetly in the sheen of his saliva. He moves your hips up and down on the firmness of his tongue and you scream, taking a strong hold of his hair.

“Oh my god, yes, fuck, Daddy—”

Shocked, Jungkook groans against your pussy, slowing down to ingest what your mouth has just uttered. It’s more than natural to call him by a title like this, instinctual, innate. It fits him so well and it drenches your pussy, your slick amalgamating with his liquid love. You’re certain he feels the rush.

Your Daddy. 

You roll your hips against his tongue. Dark and more dark, those eyes of his. Bottomless pit.

“Fuck yes, call me Daddy again.” 

The whimpers you let out are pathetic and Jungkook shudders at them, groaning. You whine the title over and over again, a verdant, dreamlike litany of your feminine sexuality pampered, cared for, supervised. Jungkook accepts the gravity of it all, each declaration propelling him to suck your clit harder, bruises forming on your hips from his deathly grip, black eyes never leaving yours, hypnotizing you. 

And when you come like this, it’s unification what happens. 

You’re bound to him and he’s bound to you. 

Daddy and little girl. 

Throughout your sexual experience today, you had a hard time accepting things but this—this is something that slept inside of you all your life and just now has been awoken to a flickering canvas of bright stars. You feel it blink, adjust to the piercing light, before it smiles dolefully—happy to be conscious, happy to be caressed.

Jungkook kisses you and takes his time. The taste of your femininity, the fresh coldness of your change, the strong wine of his desire. You’re drunk. You’re slurring your mewls. 

And one thing about unification, it’s a mirror. 

You swallow down the same mewls, uttered by his throat. 

“Daddy’s gonna give it to you,” he whispers, adjusting between your legs. “Will be gentle. You’re safe with me.” 

He rakes the tip of his length along the entirety of your little sea-kissed seashell. 

“You want it? You want Daddy’s cock inside of you?” 

Jungkook looks into your eyes deeply as he asks you that question, the tip ready at your significantly smaller hole. He peppers kisses along your jawline and chin. 

“I’m scared it’ll hurt,” you murmur, brows furrowed. 

He kisses your cheek, the corner of your mouth. 

“We’ll chase the pain away,” he promises.

Your frown deepens. 

“But what if it doesn’t fit?” 

You expect him to chuckle, but he does no such thing. He absorbs your worry by kissing you tenderly. Then he glances at your body. Remembers he never took off your bra and fixes his mistake. 

“You may be small, but you were made to take me,” he says and your heart skips a beat; you wonder if he understands the gravity of his words as they take roots within you, rising to bloom into splendid flowers. “Besides, my dick is tiny. You won’t even feel it.” 

It is so far from the truth that you burst into giggles. He laughs along with you—a mirror reflected. 

Stars and flowers. Sea and freshness. You were made to take him. You trust him. 

He kisses your breasts, licking over your nipple—but briefly. Holding his shaft, he asks if you’re ready. You nod, your fingers desperately searching for his and Jungkook notices. Sinking slowly inside of you, he grabs his bunny plushie and tucks her into the crook of your elbow. 

There’s a pinch of pain, blended with the feeling of discomfort as your walls stretch around his head. 

Seeing it painted on your face, Jungkook draws close, enveloping you and bunny in his heat. Pushes a little more in. You wail softly, the pain intensifying. Fear intermingles with your features and Jungkook—the worry in his countenance makes you almost weep.

“Hold onto me,” he says, brows scrunched, so—so serious. “Relax, baby. I got you.”

You hook your arms around his neck, bunny sandwiched between your chest and his. Jungkook saves this time to let you adjust around him. 

“I know it hurts,” he whispers onto your mouth, index finger, the ringed one, stretching to graze your cheek. “Just relax your muscles for me. It’ll feel good soon.” 

You nod, trusting him. 

He pecks you. Smiles. 

“How many orgasms are we at?” 

You roll your eyes, your own smile threatening your lips. “Three.”

Jungkook hums. Pecks you again. You feel your walls loosening, little by little.

A smug smirk. “You didn’t expect that, did you?” 

“You obliterated my expectations.” 

“Just wait until I fuck you properly.” 

You blush, eyes twinkling. 

“Pretty girl.” He kisses you and you feel your attachment forming again, though this time—newly. As light, as free as an entanglement of seaweed upon seashore, you and him. Connected. Bound. No fear, not even a hint of it. “I heard you watch porn.” 

Your flush deepens. Jungkook sinks a little deeper. A faint pain—nothing bad. 

“Who told you?” You laugh, the sound ridding you of your shyness. 

But Jungkook grows solemn.

“Tell me what kind you watch,” he whispers, angling his head to give you a tiny kiss. 

Your cheeks hurt from the smiling, from the onrush of emotions within you, sloshing to and fro. You feel hot all over.

“The one where all the focus is on the girl,” you whisper back. “The guy uses all kinds of toys on her and she just takes it. Comes so many times and there’s a countdown for it.”

Humming, he begins to nibble on the skin beneath your jaw, making your breath shallow. He pushes in another inch—and the pain is worse. You tighten your grip around him.

“And how many times do you come when you watch it?” Deep, deep is his voice, the calmness to your nerves due to the pricking you feel. 

“I don’t stop coming.” 

Jungkook swears under his breath and clenches his digits into a fist beside your head.

“And you finger yourself?” 

You nod, confidently. Another inch. He smiles at your confirmation of his deduction.

“How many fingers?” 

You scoff. “Just one.” 

“Well done,” he praises, kissing you once, keeping his mouth on you even as he asks, “ready?” 

You nod, again, even though there’s fright to your eyes. He sees it and he brushes his eyelashes against your eyelids while he kisses you, taking it all away. And he doesn’t stop, even as he pulls out and thrusts back into your heat. Gently, so awfully gently. 

He didn’t break his promise. 

Jungkook rocks his hips in slow, sensual, prolonged staccatos, moaning into your parted mouth. You’re so focused on him—on the bulging of his muscles on the either side of your head, the broadness of his shoulders, the slick sweat dripping down his neck, right from the top of his tattoo; on the sheerness of his pleasure as he moves in and out, carefully so as to not frighten you, that the pain quickly subsides. 

And there you feel it. 

The sensation unlike any other. 

He rams into you, seeing the wrinkle between your brows smoothing, the lust clouding your eyes as the delight spreads all over your body, bringing along little dots of goosebumps. The night sea, windless, still hot from the afternoon’s goodbye kiss. You feel it—and you feel it deeply, sinking inside of you with every inch of his manhood. So much that you meet his thrusts. 

“That’s it, baby. Fuck yes,” Jungkook murmurs, enraging the waves within. “Feels good, doesn’t it? Being fucked?” 

Stars and its light. He picks up the pace, hooking your leg over his shoulder, entering you deeper and deeper, giving you more than half. The thrill of feeling so full—you curse, you moan, you can’t hold it in, even if you tried. And Jungkook coos at your conveyance of the pleasure he’s giving you, never lifting his eyes off of yours, off of your features, your emotions. Surveying you, controlling you, making sure you’re okay—more than okay.

You sense the pressure coil deep within your core, the sense of your climax approaching and you’re astonished at how quick it is. You halt your own movements, needing—wanting him to be the one to get you there, the one who owns your orgasms. 

“Gguk, Gguk, fuck—”

“I know,” he breathes. “I’m gonna make you come all over my cock.” 

He fucks you harder, making you cry out. Deep, deep staccatos, so different from the slow, languid ones. You can’t catch your breath, the sea within you sloshes violently and then—

Softly, you sprinkle him with your fountain of pleasure. Not enough to drive him out, but sweetly enough to force him to groan against you and pound you harder into the mattress. Continuing as if you hadn’t come. 

You don’t have the time or the space to think about what just happened—he fucks each and every thought of you. 

“My little squirter,” Jungkook mutters, kissing you. “One more, baby. One more for me and I’ll paint you with my cummie. Hm, you want that?” You’re gone, flung out of this world into a tranquil island. The palm trees, the sea and his cock. Your emotions are numb, body limp. All you feel is his cock, ramming and ramming into you. “Or you wanna swallow it for me like a good girl?” 

“Swallow, please,” you croak out and Jungkook makes a sound of approval. Rewards you by giving you the full thing, filling you balls-deep. 

“You feel me?” He kisses you, tugging your bottom lip with his teeth. 

Glorious, glorious delight. You can’t breathe. Too much. 

“I feel you—” You lift your head to look down where you’re connected. “I—I feel you in my stomach.” 

Sitting back, he lifts your hips and palms the bulge just a little bit above your mound. Feels it move under him once he resumes fucking you. He replaces his hand with yours, keeping you distracted as he undoes the ribbon in your hair and ties your wrists with it. Right there above the bulge, where he fucks you. Then he latches onto your hips and jackhammers his cock into you, watching as your tits along with bunny bounce with each slam. 

“You look so pretty like this, tied up for me, taking all that I’m giving you,” he says, thumbing your clit, making you cry out. “Such a good fucking girl for me. I’m bringing you up so well.” 

“Daddy,” you call out and Jungkook nods.

“Yes, that’s right. Daddy is fucking you so good.” 

White flashes. Seafoam. The pressure in your tummy deepening and deepening. The roar of the night sea and your body following—you come all over him, painting him iridescent with your dewiness. His joggers, dragged halfway down his thighs, his boxers are all ruined—pelvis, thighs and cock glistening. It’s such a beautiful image to you that it suffuses you with energy and you begin to speak. 

“Please, come for me.” 

Surprised, Jungkook chuckles. “Don’t you have orgasms to count down?” 

The ever persistent need for control. You kiss him, slip your tongue into his mouth to shut him up and you struggle against your ribbon, for the feeling of kissing him without your hands makes you feel iffy.

“Five. I came five times for you just like you wanted,” you whisper. “You fucked me so good. I’ll never forget it.” 

And it’s the truth.

Jungkook pecks you once deeply, humming into the kiss. He pulls out of you and whilst he strokes his cock, his fingers tug down the ribbon around your wrists. You take your place on your knees, gazing with awe and hunger at his shiny length. And as if he needed it, he plunges his fingers into your mouth for more lubrication. Then, grabbing your jawline gently, he pulls you in towards his cock, letting your lips play with his tip the way you like it as he jerks himself off. You flick your tongue under the ridge of his head and his length twitches, stunning you. You do it again, more rapidly, and you don’t stop until Jungkook begins to tremble. Pulling him inside your mouth, then out, flicking faster and faster. Repeat. 

Jungkook grunts. 

“Yes, like that, princess. Fuck, I’m gonna come for you.” 

He announces it, but it still comes as a surprise when the first rope of hot cum spills onto your flushed cheek. You suck him harder for a moment before you stick out your tongue, eyes flick up, as he empties his balls for you, his hand never ceasing the swift tug on his length. 

And he just keeps coming. Rope after rope. Liquid star after star.

And you swallow it all. 

Spent, sweaty and breathless, he helps you swallow it. Dragging his fingers to the places your tongue can’t reach, he feeds you his cum and you suck on his digits. Your heart thuds in your ribcage, especially when he begins to play with your tongue, smiling down at you in that dopey way. 

He pats you on the cheek once you show him you’ve swallowed it all. 

“Good girl. Good little princess.” 

That you are. A changed person for all eternity.

“Is your tummy full?” 

You nod, beaming vehemently up at him, the aftertaste of the bitterness of his liquid stars still wafting through your senses.

The three forbidden words rise in your tongue, even though you don’t believe them—you think it’s just the opulence of new emotions and experience that forces those words on your tongue. But they remain adamant when he bathes you clean, when he brushes your hair and gives you his clothes to wear to bed. They provoke you right there on the tip of your tongue when he gives you his zipper hoodie to wear on his balcony once you tell him you need a smoke and he joins you, giving you his pack of cigarettes. 

And they come off the edge, in a different form, when you tell him of how he changed you while you hold his hand and he caresses your damp strands with a cigarette propped between his index and middle fingers, kissing your cheek. The smoke fixes a makeshift halo around both of your heads. One body, one halo. Bound.

“You’re such a lovable person, Gguk.”

What you don’t know is that those mere words changed the entire trajectory of his life. Yours, too.

© 2024 hoseoksluna, all rights reserved.

BACK to masterlist / read part one, read part two, part three

#jungkook x oc #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #jungkook smut #bts smut #bts imagine #jungkook imagine #jeon jungkook #bts scenarios #jungkook scenarios #jungkook fluff #btscreatorscorner #kpop smut #jungkook one shot

[arlertwhore]

pairing: paige bueckers x fem! reader

synopsis: paige is your sneaky link & you wear her jersey to surprise her after a game.

warning (s): smut → dom paige, slightly sub reader, power play, pussy eating, fingering, nipple sucking… etc MINORS DNI

word count: 1.5k

author note: not edited, wrote late at night, and rushed ending kinda.

Paige Bueckers was NOT your girlfriend. Neither of you even had the bandwidth to focus on romance — her, with an intense basketball career occurring outside of her dynamic with you, and you, an essential slave to your university studies.

That's what made it feel like fate when you guys first met at the Uni New Years Party. Genuinely, you both believed so, and had told one and other that before fervently making out in the washroom that exact night. Granted, you were both insanely drunk, but Paige could recount the story like it was yesterday that she saw you, single, hot, and dancing unbotheredly, though it'd been three months already."Gosh, you were just sooo cute. I was asking KK & all em', 'Who is she? How is she single?' And then they're like 'Oh, she's focused and questioning, not the romantic type,' and I was thinking, 'She's perfect.'"

Despite knowing that Paige and you are not dating, and that she really appreciates your understanding of casual, which is why she's consistently fucking just you, you can't help but feel butterflies when she describes your existence as perfect.

As an athlete, a great one at that, nothing was ever perfect to Paige. Except for you. And shit, whenever you recalled her slew of admirers at your school, on the net, and among her fans, the fact she deemed none of them were worthy of her undivided attention like she had with just you made you spiral.

You loved being her only girl. You loved being the epitome of perfection to Paige Bueckers, UConn's star. Her game tonight, televised, had ran late, and you thought she'd be too exhausted to come over and play, however, after winning, she was fired up and soon sent you a picture of her in an Uber, telling you she was on her way.

Most nights, sometimes early mornings, it was the same routine. She would come over, you would buzz her into the building, let her into your apartment, and she'd shower before fucking you into oblivion whichever way she pleased. It was always fun, varying some nights. This night though, to celebrate UConn's first win of the season, you surprised her by wearing her jersey. 'Bueckers' read the back, '#5'. When you opened the door, Paige was wearing a white shirt, grey sweats, and glasses, her hair in a half-neat, half-disheveled bun. She looked so hot.

You could feel yourself getting wet at the mere sight of her. She was on her phone due to the wait for you to open the door, and she hadn't yet looked up from the gadget as she chided playfully, "Let's start opening this door faster, ma. I waited long enough to get to you all-da—" She stopped; blue eyes fixed upon your body and her jersey and your body in her jersey. You giggled teasingly. "You like it, P?" you asked, guiding her much taller stature into your apartment by the wrist with considerable ease. Paige, who usually held control, was left dumbfounded at the sight of you. "My gosh, baby," she murmured softly, the wrist you'd just been previously holding pulling you closer into her body as the other hand rubbed down your smaller frame, smoothing circles into your lower back until she gripped a handful of your bare ass, making you moan. "Paige!" you whimpered, cheek against cheek, breathlessly. "C'mon, P, play nice with me." you purred sensually. She licked her lips, pleading, "C'mere," her voice low and laced with desperation. You wouldn't listen, though, reveling in your effect on her and how she was breaking, wanting to be in control for once. You buried your face in the curve of her neck, tracing tender kisses along her most sensitive spot, coaxing out heavy, breathless sighs from the taller blonde. Your hands found her hair as you sucked a spot onto her neck, intertwining into it and unraveling her updo as you worked on her, leaving it in disarray.

"Y/N," she exhaled shakily, "Baby, quit that, or I'm not playing nice with you tonight." she warned, tone determined to repossess her dominance. Paige never really called you 'babe,' or 'baby,' — nothing sweet like that. Typically, her nasty mouth — the one that satisfied you and degraded you all at once — was calling you a dirty slut or whore, and when it got intense, she'd make you call your ownself things. She was immensely losing it talking sweetly, and this was a stark reminder.

"Do you want me stop, Paige?" you murmured, pausing briefly only to speak before delving into her neck again, licking a hot stripe up her new purple hickey before nibbling on her ivory skin. Paige suppresses a groan, reducing it to a tiny indelible noise.

"I do," she responds positively, her hands on your waist, smoothing down your ribcage before gently lifting your jersey up until her hands were underneath it. "I don't know if I wanna keep this on you or take it off," she husked conflictedly, kneading your tits.

"You're so fuckin' pretty, angel, you'd look so good both ways." Paige surprised you when her hands fell low again, lifting you up and forcing you to cling to her body as she carried you toward your bedroom. The entire way there, your lips had been pressed against each other's, and though it was risky, you trusted Paige's coordination as an athlete. Before no time, you had made it safely into your bedroom, and she gently placed you down on the mattress before stripping off her white tee.

After discarding of it somewhere amongst the dimly lit room, she slides her body between your legs, pressing her pink lips against yours and her strong knee into your bare bottom half, the friction causing you to whimper into the kiss. Moments later, she pulls away from the kiss briefly and gazes down between you both, inspecting the now dark grey sweatpants for any signs of damage, her mouth slightly agape as she marvels at the sight of your slick that's coated her pants. "You're such a slut," she says in a sultry chuckle, "I can't believe you're this wet for me and I've barely even touched you yet," she breathes out in disbelief.

"I'm your slut, Paige. Touch me," you beg. She slips her fingers inside you, torn between focusing on the way your face contorts in pleasure as she scissors you open or on how effortlessly you accommodate her lengthy digits. She decides on both, using her free hand to push the jersey up before latching onto your nipple and sucking gently, as if she's unsure about how you might respond to the intense pleasure you're experiencing.

She watches you attentively, so beautiful and immersed in pure pleasure, your mouth parted with little gasps falling from your gorgeous lips as Paige presses against the sensitive pad inside your pussy that aligns with your clit on the outside. She ceases sucking. "I want to watch you play with it," she states. You're dazed, out of breath with your head cloudy, and you manage to murmur, "W-what?"

Paige doesn't say anything. She resumes her attention, this time on your left nipple, nibbling gently, and she guides your hand down to your clit with her free hand, assisting you in beginning the circular motions upon it. The stimulation of each pleasure zone on your body has you arching your back, whining out Paige's name in a mantra. "Fuck, P, mmph," you gasp, body on fire, "Please don't stop, mommy, I'm so fucking close." you plead, voice trembling with need. You swear you could hear your heartbeat momentarily, the intensity building to an unbearable crescendo as you teetered on the edge of release. But Paige did say she wouldn't play nice, and she smirks up at you deviously. “Tell P how good she makes you feel,” she commands, her pace slowing to an agonizing speed as she relished in the power dynamic at play. You knew the game she wanted to play; still tinged with the frustration from your earlier encounter where you had taken control.

Too horny to care, you proclaimed, "You make me feel so good, Paige,” voice filled with longing. “I love your fingers so much, yes,” moaning as she gently accelerated, indulging your desires just as you indulged hers: submission, each of you surrendering to the other’s needs, finding pleasure in the delicate balance of power and desire. "Good girl," she praises against your chest. "You're a good fucking slut, right?"

You nodded, "Yours." closing your eyes, unable to keep looking into hers. She looked too good. Paige was fortunate that you were rendered immobile by the overwhelming pleasure coursing through your body. If you could move, you'd pounce on her with an aggressive kiss. Her hair cascades around her shoulders, her glasses still perched on her nose, and that cute appreciative smile she gives you as she nastily, relentlessly fucks her fingers into you sends butterflies swirling in your stomach.

It'd been three months being with Paige and the fact that the golden star of UConn is here, with you, not even an hour after basking in the spotlight of victory, is surreal. She generally was. It was surreal to gaze upon such a stunning girl as you reached the peak of bliss, cries of pleasure mingling with the realization that you were climaxing, hard and long. And through it all, she maintained eye contact, talking you through it, her gaze unwavering. "Cum on my fingers, baby, I want to taste you. I want to see you do it. C'mon," she coaxes, her voice dripping with desire as she urges you on.

You were drowning in her. And soon enough, she was drowning in you, having creamed all over her fingers. Paige pumps thrice more before bringing her fingers to her mouth, her tongue swirling around them as she savored your taste, gaze locking with yours in a dirty exchange of desire. "Tastes as sweet as you are," she remarks, chuckling softly before offering her fingers to you to clean off the rest. "Say ahh," she commands, and you eagerly comply, seeing the benefits of giving into Paige, sticking out your tongue out to allow her to place her fingers into your mouth. "I want them spotless," she demands, her tone filled with authority as you bob your head, licking the remainder of cum off her fingers. "Suck on them," she says, her eyes smoldering with desire as she watches you suscept, eager to fulfill her wishes.

When she's satisfied, she kisses you deeply, her lips igniting a fire within you as you revel in her taste. As she stands up, removing her bottoms, you can't help but admire the sight before yourself. Paige, the girl you were with, had the most exquisite pussy you'd ever seen. You were grateful to be the only girl allowed to experience it, but it truly was a treasure. The harmony and balance of each feature always left you in awe, and you excitedly anticipate the pleasure of eating her out, knowing that it's a demonstration of your complete submission to her. You don't wait. The instant her sweats come off, you yank her by her bra, pulling her onto the bed. There's no time for her to assert dominance as you take control, dropping to your knees below the bed and holding her knees in each hand like they were stirrups.

Her underwear still on, you tease her, licking a stripe against her clothed cunt, tongue flexing at her clit and dampening the spot. "Love this pussy," you groan, voice filled with desire as you used a finger to play against her folds, eliciting a frustrated moan from her. "Stop, Y/N," she pleads, voice scorned with true confliction, torn between the desire to surrender to pleasure and the need to regain control.

"Just wanna hear it once, P," you smirk up at her. "Say please, Number Five." She bites her lip, throwing her head back, causing her glasses to fall off, her bare eyes now locking with yours. It's difficult to maintain your composure under her intense gaze, but you manage, licking another small stripe against her underwear, causing her to jolt. "A-ah, fuck," she moans, trying to close her legs, but you hold them open. "I just wanna make you feel good, Paige, and I can tell you wanna feel good too. Say it."

She exhales, her voice pleading, "Please, Y/N," as she pulls her underwear aside, revealing her glistening pink folds. Your mouth waters. "Can you eat my pussy?" she asks, so politely you wanna kiss her, but you wanna eat her more. She holds her underwear to the side, and you accept the invitation, tongue exploring her wetness with fervor. Her hands flies to your head, something to anchor herself onto as she squirms away from your powerful tongue. You coast her back, however, and suction her clit into her your mouth, moaning into her pussy. Paige isn't a loud girl, but she's having trouble restricting her moans. The scent of her arousal fills the air, driving you wild with desire as you delve deeper, savoring the taste of her essence. As you continue to lavish your attention on her, the intensity of her pleasure builds, her grip on the sheets tightening and knuckles turning white as she writhes beneath you. You feel her body quivering with each flick of your tongue, moans growing louder and more desperate with each passing moment. You spit down onto her, making it sloppy, merely adding as a plus to the rawness of the carnal energy between you two. Her wetness coats your lips and chin, the sound of your movements mingling with her cries of ecstasy. And as you bring her to the brink of release, a tear runs down Paige's face, a testament to the overwhelming intensity of her pleasure. But you don't let up, determined to bring her to the peak of pleasure and beyond. With each lick and suck, you push her closer to the edge, until finally, she shatters beneath me, her body convulsing in waves of bliss as she succumbs to the ecstasy of her climax. The night was far from done. Your jersey was still on, and you still wanted to play.

guys i wrote this because there’s lit no Paige smut on here pls pull thru

Send me req btw!! I’m def considering writing again masterlist

#paige bueckers smut #paige bueckers #smut bueckers #smut #uconn huskies #uconn wbb #iowa wbb #wbb #march madness #ncaa tournament #paige bueckers fic #paige bueckers x reader #paige x OC #wlw post #pb #Paige x fem reader #uconn women’s basketball #uconn vs iowa #smutwccb

[yandere-romanticaa]

⚘ 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞.

m. - "forevermore" typically refers to something that lasts for an indefinite amount of time or for eternity. it implies a sense of permanence or lastingness.

You've ran away from your husband, the 11th Fatui Harbinger, Tartaglia himself. However, have you truly escaped his grasp?

yandere! tartaglia x fem! reader.

The shimmering rays of bright morning sunlight made the living room come to life as you sat in a classic wooden chair, a steaming cup of tea in your hand. It burned your fingers ever so slightly but you could not be bothered to remove them from the cup.

The pain made you not focus on the massive bouquet of flowers which were placed on your pretty white table.

From the corner of your vision, you could see the card which clung onto the fresh bunch of blooms, the handwriting on it disgustingly elaborate but oh so familiar.

"Blood red roses." The card said.

"I always knew that you fancied roses, and I couldn't resist to get you these specific ones when I saw you looking at them."

Bastard. How he had managed to track you all the way to Mondstatd was beyond your comprehension, but in hindsight, you really should have known better. The Fatui could sneak in anywhere they damn well pleased, be it the hustle and bustle of the city of Mondstatd, to the dirty cracks of the Chasm.

It was only natural that the many agents which were stationed in the city would start to talk upon seeing the wife of a Lord Harbinger so far from home.

You concealed yourself at first, obviously. Most unfortunately, word started to spread like wildfire that you had fled in the dead of night, never to be seen by anyone. And, due to the fact that your husband did not possess a single shred of decency in his body, he proudly showed you off wherever he could.

Just the mere thought of the memory made you shudder.

Your good husband was - is - a wealthy man. He made sure to spoil you in the finest of silks known to man and the endless sea of jewelry which was sent your way, if it were to be sold, could feed an entire army.

Although, he was always particular about your arms. He didn't like seeing anything on them except for the, surprisingly, simple wedding ring he got you.

It was a promise, he had told you.

His eternal promise to you, until the end of time. He would love you, in sickness and in health, there was no force in the universe that could separate him from you.

In a way, he was keeping his promise. He made the trip from the homeland straight to the City of Freedom all on his own.

... He probably didn't even need to hear the reports from anyone of your whereabouts. Knowing him, he tracked you down all on his own, using nothing but his wit and sharp senses.

He was a terrifying man. A man you ought to stay away from, a man who had the blood of countless innocent people on his hand. And yet, those same hands would keep you warm during the cold winter, his soft and pale lips would pepper your body with gentle kisses, making you feel as if you were the most beautiful woman in the universe.

Archons, he'd whisper to himself, his breath hot on your neck, making you blush. He would just say whatever came to mind, completely lost in his blind passion.

I want no one else but you - You are my everything - I will make you mine -

Frankly, you did not know how to feel. In those private moments he was less a man and more a lovesick little fool. He could not keep his paws off you, even if he wanted to. As the evening would go on the kisses would evolve into something more, something primal, carnal even. Tongue and teeth would mesh together, leaving a thick string of saliva between him and you, to which he would always let out that darling boyish laugh of his.

You loathed the fact that in those moments, he truly was ethereal, no different than a star.

What made your skin crawl was the effect his touch had on your mind and body. He became something akin to a drug, even now as you felt the sweetness of freedom with your own two hands you still felt the urge to hold something tight at night because your husband had spoiled you rotten with his presence.

Finally, you turned to look at the flowers as the horrible realization dawned on you - you loved him. You loved that man and it was putrid.

You cannot go back. You would not go back to him.

Jumping off a building would be a smarter thing to do.

As you pondered on and on about your predicament, you failed to notice the lingering shadow in your hallway. Deep blue eyes monitored you like a hawk as he toyed with a switchblade he had in his pocket. What should he do with you? He was furious, naturally. You were the last person in the world he wanted discord with. You broke his heart a little when you left and the fact that you didn't even care about his feelings only added insult to injury.

Even so, he could not help but to feel overjoyed by the fact that you hadn't thrown out his gift. He was half expecting you to burn whatever he sent you to the ground, not to mournfully contemplate in deep thought like this.

That was how he knew you loved him. It was crooked and wrong, but he had you. He had you and you didn't even know it. He'd bring down the heavens themselves if it meant that you could feel a fraction of the love he held for you. His lips curled into a sly grin but his heart pounded like clockwork in his chest. This waiting game was so horrible.

But the hunter in him couldn't resist, cornering you like this was just in his nature.

Victory was so close, he could practically taste it. Soon enough, his wife would be in his arms, weeping and apologizing and he would soothe her, like a good husband ought to. Yes, that was how this scenario would play out.

He was too clever to let it happen any other way.

It would be just him and you, perhaps even with a bundle of joy if the Tsaritsa blessed him. Even so, with you here, he had everything he could ever dream of.

Him and you, against the world, standing by each other's side, forevermore.

💋 TAGLIST: @genshinarchives, @saturnalya @mod-kisa-blog, @juuuuuj101010, @alatusprinz @kalopses-sonderes, @b10h4z4rd, @lakxcpsta @xiaopleasecomehome, @mayulli, @cc-6789, @mewmeowmika, @ranposgirlboss, @goldenglow149

This fic was born out of my own pure passion and love for Tartaglia, apologies for the Cringe™ I put you all through.

#coffee shop fics just hit DIFFERENT #yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere imagines #yancore #yanderecore #yandere aesthetic #genshin impact #childe #childe x reader #yandere childe #yandere childe x reader #tartaglia #yandere tartaglia #childe tartagalia #yandere genshin x reader #yandere genshin impact #genshin harbingers #genshin x reader #genshin x you #yandere male

[k00sblogger]

Summary: When a movie night strikes up quite the interesting conversation, the night takes a turn that you definitely never expected.

Warnings: threesome, big dick jk, nipple play, pussy eating, dirty talk, detailed smut, sneaky behavior.

Pairing: Bsf!Jk x Fem!Reader x FemBsf!Mirae

A/n: put my own little spin on this request, hope the anon likes it.

🔗: m.list

★━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━★

"Hurry the movies starting!" mirae shouts as you and jungkook rush to finish packing the snacks into little bowls. Jungkooks continuous laughter makes you smile as you grab three sodas and rush them out to the living room.

Mirae let's out a content sigh when she sees you both, gesturing to the movie starting on the screen.

Mirae and jungkook had been your friends since freshman year of high school, and you'd basically grown up together. Seeing them turn from nerdy teens to full blown adults felt bizzare.

Just like high school, the three of you still spent all your time together. Some may say people your age should be in relationships by now, but it had just never worked out that way for any of you.

Jungkook had the same girlfriend for years, but she'd cheated on him the second they parted ways for college. After that he just never seemed to bat his eyes at a girl the same way again.

Mirae on the other hand was never one for relationships. Usually she moved around to whoever caught her eye and embraced her singleness. She was an amazing person regardless, anyone who had her would be a fool to ever let her go.

Surprisingly, she changed her ways the past year and a half. She hadn't talked to any guys, and she seemed happy with it.

Oh and you? You had a few boyfriends here and there, but your love life recently had been pretty dry. You were too caught up in work & friends to bother looking for someone to spend the rest of your life with.

You didn't really know how you felt about marriage anyway.

"Pass me the popcorn." Mirae whispers, reaching over jungkooks lap to take the bowl from you before you can even think of an answer. You don't mind, grabbing a nearby blanket and throwing it over the three of you.

The sound of popcorn being chewed is the only thing heard amongsts the three of you as the movie plays, all eyes trained on the screen.

Jungkook does his best to ignore the fact that both of you were pressed tight against him, sandwiched between the two of you as your breasts sit right against both of his arms. His pants do get a little tight, and though he didn't have a crush on either of you- he was still a man..

A man with needs to be specific. So having two girls tits pressed against him was a bit of a bummer when he may not be getting any pussy by the end of this.

You had to admit the movie was much better than you thought it'd be, and you cursed yourself for enjoying it because you knew jungkooks teasing would come soon after.

He'd suggested the movie to the both of you earlier that day, and though mirae was on board- you were not. Initially you weren't one for romance movies, and honestly you still weren't. This one just happened to be different, and you were starting to like it a little too much.

Being that it's a romance movie, it's not long before three naked bodies take place on the screen- moaning and kissing as sensually as possible. (Watching this always makes you wonder how awkward it must've been to film it.)

You could never be an actor, because you'd laugh in your co stars face if you had to fake having sex together.

"Y'know- having a threesome doesn't seem bad." mirae's statement causes you and jungkooks heads to snap toward her, watching in amusement as she shovels more popcorn into her greedy mouth.

"Really?" jungkook says, pinching the bridge of his nose at her words. She shrugs at both of us, gesturing toward the sexual scene on the tv with her hand. "You guys wouldn't be down?" she questions.

You think about it for a moment, your not exactly opposed to it. To be honest the longer you dwell upon it, the more it intrigues you- maybe it would be sort of fun?

"I think it'd be pretty cool." a cheesy smile flashes over miraes face at your confession, and she reaches over jungkook again so she can playfully nudge your shoulder. "That's my girl!"

Her sudden enthusiasm about the subject makes you laugh, and you can't stop a blush from spreading across your cheeks. "Jungkook? What do you think?"

You'd almost forgot that he was there, being that he'd been so quiet. Mirae didn't even need to ask the question, you could tell he was interested by the way he was still watching the three of them fuck on your tv screen.

"Helloooo, earth to jungkook?" you say, waving your hand in front of his face. He shakes his head when you do, almost as if he was snapping out of some trance. Mirae lifts a hand as she nods in content. "Nevermind- you've answered my question."

He gives a awkward laugh, adjusting his position on the couch to more of a slouch. "I'm down." he mutters, and the way he bites his lip afterward lets you know he's already thinking about it.

"Oh yeah? I think you'd be too scared." mirae counters, and you roll your eyes when jungkook gives her a shocked look. Clearly her little comment had gotten him riled up.

"Scared? Hell no." he scoffs, sitting up properly as he looks at you to back him up. You do nothing but shrug playfully, you weren't helping him out on this one- preferring to sit back and watch them bicker.

"You don't have the balls." mirae tests him even further, cocking her eyebrow at him as she continues to eat the last of the now cold popcorn.

"Try me." he mutters, and you can tell he's annoyed. Mirae had a way of getting to people, even you sometimes. She found it hilarious, jungkook on the other hand did not.

"Okay then, kiss y/n." the challenge makes you sit up straight, furrowing your brows at her. Well shit, you weren't disgusted at the thought- just surprised that she'd even suggest that.

Your heart beats a little faster when jungkooks turns to face you, and the look on his face was more determined than ever. Was he really gonna do it? Kiss you just to prove a point? No way.. it wasn't even that serious, just a stupid joke.

Clearly it was not, because two seconds he pulls you up and his lips are pressed flesh against yours. His hand keeps a nice hold on your cheek as he tugs a little at your lower lip before pushing his tongue into your mouth.

Oh.

This wasn't just a flimsy kiss, he was making out with you.. and you liked it. You didn't really understand what was happening and why the kiss kept on for so long, but fuck were you enjoying it.

Best believe his point was proven.

You enjoyed everything about it. The way his hands slid down your to your waist, and then to grip a handful of your ass. The way he kept pressing his body into yours. He was more than a good kisser, he was a fucking god at it.

Kisses peppering the back of your neck cause you to peel your eyes open, and that's when you realize it's mirae standing behind you. You can feel her clothed tits on your back as she does so, her soft hands hovering over jungkooks that still sit on your waist.

The realization of what's happening causes you to move your lips away from jungkooks, but he simply kisses you again before you can bother to utter a word.

You didn't know why, but the kisses from both of them convinced you to take off your shirt. Along with your pants, and then your panties, until you were completely naked for both of their eyes to see.

For a split second you wonder why mirae was so quick to join in and kiss on you as well, but you shake off the thought as quickly as it bubbles in your mind.

"Holy.." jungkook mutters, eyes concentrated on your full breasts. He takes it upon himself to bring his hands up to your chest, smiling as he cups your boobs in his warm hands. The feeling of your cold nipples against his palm made his dick even harder.

He's quick to undress himself after you, moving hastily to release his growing boner. Your eyes widen on their own at his length, all those times he boasted about his dick size clearly wasn't a joke.

"Surprised?" he asked, smirking at your reacting to the sight. You can hear mirae's hoarse laugh in your ears as she places her left hand on your shoulder, and her right hand at the base of jungkooks dick.

Her clothed chest is still pressed to your bare back, wanting to touch him but be close to you all at the same time. You liked the view you had, squished right in the middle of both of them as she reaches around you to jerk him off.

You don't realize how you've went to fondle your own clit, the sight so hot that you could no longer sit here untouched. Wetness leaks onto your thighs, making them all wet and sticky just how you loved it.

"For fucks sake..." he babbles to himself, groaning at the pressure of mirae's hand wrapped tight against his hard cock. Your finger's aggressively rubbing against your sensitive bud, already wanting to reach a orgasm even though this has only just started.

Jungkook notices and quickly takes action, grabbing a hold of your wrist to move it away from the area. "Patience." is all he says, and you oblige though the last thing you wanted was to wait.

Not when you were naked between the both of them like this.

You swore you weren't crushing on your friends, but it'd be a downright lie to say they were ugly- because they weren't. In fact, they were some of the hottest people you'd met.

You even used to have a crush on mirae in the 5th grade, but you'd never let her know that. It didn't matter anyway, you guys weren't even friends back then. Shit she barely even knew your name.

Mirae's roaming hands pull you out of your thoughts when you feel them on your waist, pulling you even closer to her as she sits down on the couch behind her.

Your bodies are warm and snug against each other as you lie between her thick thighs. She can't help but to slide her hands right under your breasts and grip them just to tease you.

It pulls a long moan out of you, leaning your head against her shoulder as she massages the tender blobs. Every few seconds she swipes her thumb over you nipple, aiming to get them nice and hard to her own liking. (Which she succeeds in.)

"Mm, she likes that." you feel mirae's breath on your ear, and you nod though she's speaking to jungkook and not you.

Your eyes flutter open and closed, realizing how much you enjoy being teased and played with ever so gently. Everytime your eyes open you can see jungkook massaging the length of him, his tip touching his happy trail from how hard he is.

He needed to be inside of you, immediately.

So he gets straight to it, leaning down to pull your hips to the very edge of the couch. Mirae understands what he's trying to do, and traces little shapes on the undersides of your thighs before pulling them up and out of his way.

"Needy?" he asks.

His voice makes you wanna cum all over him, and he hasn't even placed a finger on your cunt yet. You nod frantically, letting him know you want everything he has to give you.

Your cunts like a pretty piece of art, on display for both of their eyes to see. Mirae removes a hand from your thigh just to dip her fingers down there and get a feel for how wet you are.

She moans when she feels your slick stick to her fingers. "Pussy soaked isn't it?" she questions you in a teasing voice, bringing the wet hand back up to grip your thigh.

"Want me to eat you out? Huh?" jungkook asks, slapping his pre cum cover tipped on your swollen clit. "Please.." you beg, hips thrusting up everytime he pushes his tip against your clit.

He chuckles at your greediness, continuing to slide his length up and down your entire cunt. He and mirae both bite their lips, obsessed with the way your wetness begins to cover his dick- soaking it more everytime he slides against you.

"Looks like she's ready to fuck already." mirae declares, grabbing your chin with her thumb and index finger to get you to look up at her smirking face. "That what you want? Want him to fuck you?" she says, and you appease her by giving multiple quiet yes's.

She nods to jungkook as a gesture, letting go of your chin to hold your thighs again. Her right grip ensures your not going anywhere (not that you wanted to in the first place.)

That first little thrust inside gives you the confirmation this is exactly where you need to be, letting out a mewl at the pressure. Jungkook moves his tattooed hand to press against your lower belly, licking his lip at your reaction.

"Your squeezing the fuck out of me.. loosen up pretty." he was being so dirty, but somehow his words comforted you enough to make you stop gripping the living shit out of him.

He doesn't bother to give you a break, pushing the entirety of him inside of you with one go. He refused to waste any time, wanting your pussy wrapped around him as soon as possible.

"Feels so good.." you finally gather the courage to say a few words, and hearing you makes mirae smile. Her eyes are focused on the way your cunt swallows his length, proud of the way your taking it like a champ.

She can't resist and brings her hands to your breasts again, playing with your already sore nipples. The pressure of her fingers makes you squirm, but jungkooks quick to press his body closer to yours to make it harder for you to move.

He grinds his hips into you ever so passionately, not to rough- but it damn sure wasn't soft. You can hear the smack of his hips against yours very clearly over all the moaning going on, and it turns you on even more.

"Should've fucked you like this a long time ago." he mumbles, thrusting into you even harder. Your juices are leaking all over him, down your thighs and all over his cock.

Mirae takes the chance to sneak her hand between both of your bodies and down to your tender clit, massaging the bundle of nerves with just her pointer and middle finger.

"Fuck! Too much-" you whine, the feeling of jungkook inside you and mirae touching you like that was all overwhelming. Your whole body was tingling, even more in the lower region.

"You can take it, your so fucking pretty-" mirae's gentle voice coos near your ear, encouraging you to take it until the very end. Just until jungkook reaches his orgasms and cums deep inside of you.

Your breasts bounced up and down each time he pushes into you, free to move wherever they wanted without the confines of your bra.

Jungkook loves that shit, leaning down to take one of your nipples into his wet mouth. He groans around the bud, still thrusting into you as he swirls his tongue around the nipple before finally popping it out of his mouth.

"Gonna nut in you- give you my babies." he speaks mindlessly, not realizing what he's saying. Regardless he would, be cumming inside of you today- nothing would stop him from it.

And so he does, letting out a deep sigh as ropes of cum paint your walls. You reach your orgasm at the same time, and mirae even has to grab your wrists so you'll stop pushing jungkooks hips away from yours.

She wanted you to feel every ounce of pleasure.

When you finally calm down, jungkook pulls out of you and heads off to the bathroom to grab a towel.

Mirae gives you soft praise, sweeping your hair out of your face as you breathe heavily. You didn't put much thought into the fact these were your best friends that you just did this with, and you honestly didn't want to.

You enjoyed it, and so did they- that's all that mattered.

◦•◦•◦•◦•◦•◦•◦•◦•◦•◦•◦•◦•◦•◦•◦•◦•◦•◦•

A week passed, and you were utterly surprised that nothing had changed between your friend group. You all still talked every day, and even grew closer after the "situation."

Jungkook was at your place today matter of fact. He'd promised you days ago that he'd help you learn to cook his special pasta- & though he was a few days late, he kept his promise.

"This smells so good.." you say, taking a big inhale. Jungkok chuckles, stirring the alfredo sauce as he pours in a bit more cheese.

"Its almost done, patience." you nod, sitting down in the chair closest to the stove. He was so attractive while cooking, and you couldnt help but to stare at him as he moved around the kitchen.

This cooking lesson quickly turned from a lesson to a observation, but jungkook was okay with that. He was well aware that seeing that familiar smile on your face when eating his food was worth it even if he had to cook alone.

He rubs at his eyes as he switches the stove off, finally noticing your eyes on him when he turns to face you.

"What's wrong?" he asks, cocking his head as he walks up to your figure. The chair is tall enough for him to stand right between your thighs, face to face with you just how he liked it.

"Nothing, i just like looking at you." he grins at your corniness, your words making him feel all warm and happy inside.

He slides his cold hands up your thighs, a nice contrast to the warm air of the kitchen. "I want something." you whisper.

What a fucking tease, he thinks.

He was right obviously, you were being a tease. You added a little tinge of flirtiness to your voice in hopes that he'd get the hint. "Nope, No No No- the foods almost done."

Jungkook mentions, hurrying away from you in a fit of laughter before you can convince him to do anything. His reaction causes you to pout, hopping off of the chair and moving closer to him again.

"I didn't even do anything!" you protest, though you knew damn well what you wanted.

"I know what you want, your not getting it." he declares.

We'll see about that.

_________

Your empty plate sits to the side now as jungkook goes to work between your legs. His face is buried as far as possible into your cunt, nose nudging against your clit with every lick.

"Yes- just like that!" your voice is so needy, and it encourages him to press his tongue even farther into your hole. You prop a foot up onto the chair to give him more access, hand tangled in his fluffy hair to keep his head down there.

He looks up at your pleasured face for just a moment, pressing a gentle kiss against your belly and thigh before licking your folds again.

"Drippin' everywhere." he mutters, obsessed with the way your liquids leak down your thigh and cover his lips. You giggle at his commentary, butterflies growing in your tummy at his little dirty talk.

"Cmon, keep moaning for me- wanna hear it." he mumbles, and you can feel his lips on your pussy every time he utters w word. You like that though, obliging him and letting out quiet whimpers.

They weren't at all fake though, everything was a sincere reaction from the way he was eating your pussy like no tomorrow.

"I'm gonna cum!" right when you say that you feel his two slender fingers pushing into you- finger fucking you with no sign of stopping until you release.

"Cum on my fingers baby.. do it-" he's breathless from how he's had his face pressed between your thighs for the past ten minutes, eating you out as if his life depended on it.

He grunts when your cunt spasms around his fingers, cum leaking onto the chair as your orgasm washes over you. Your hips buck continuously, plastering a pleased smirk over jungkooks face.

"Come fuck me.." you say, still wishing for more even after you just came. You didn't care, you wanted him inside of you now- not later.

He nods, sitting up and quickly whipping his length out of sweats. You definitely notice that he's still soft, and even wonder if it was because of you.

Did eating you out not turn him on? You didn't know.

You watch quietly as he jerks himself off, trying to get himself hard on his own. Unfortunately it doesn't work, so you move to take his dick into your own hands.

You spend at least five minutes stroking him, and let out a disappointed sigh when he pulls your hands away from his dick. When he tucks himself back into his boxers, you take a hint and move away to slip your shirt back over your head.

"Y/n.." his voice trails off, and his face is more unreadable than ever. You shake your head, not wanting to get your feelings hurt by whatever he had to say.

You were sensitive, you could admit that. You'd rather go without an explanation than have him tell you to your face that you weren't turning him on.

(Though the way he was eating you out said different)

"It's just.. this doesn't feel right without mirae." he mutters, and your not sure what to say about that. Mirae happened to have work today, so she politely declined when you asked her to come over today as well.

Regardless neither of you were dating her, so why couldn't you do this without her? Yes, you all had a threesome- but you didn't think it was that serious.

"We're not dating.." you say with a little laugh, hoping to ease the awkwardness. To your demise, it only grows more awkward after you say that- jungkooks body language is a clear sign of how tense he felt.

"I think we should all have a talk." he says, sticking his hands into his pockets as he stares at you.

Well, you didn't know what that meant- but you sure didn't like the sound of it at all.

◦•◦•◦•◦•◦•◦•◦•◦•◦•◦•◦•◦•◦•◦•◦•◦•◦•◦•

TWO HOURS LATER:

Mirae had agreed to come over after work after jungkook texted her, and after a long two hours she was finally here. Both of them sit on the couch across from you, hands crossed as they sit there without a word.

Obviously you had to be the first one to speak, whatever.

"So?" you say, raising your eyebrows as you wait for them to say something. Clearly they had something to confess, and it didn't seem like anything good by the way jungkook sounded earlier.

"Uh-" mirae stops as soon as she starts- looking at jungkook for some sort of confirmation. It was annoying quite frankly- why couldn't they spit it out?

Jungkook shakes his head when he notices how you roll your eyes, and finally decides to speak up. "Me and mirae are dating, y/n."

What the fuck? That's the only think you can think, your jaw dropped almost to the floor. For one, you felt like shit because he was just giving you head earlier. And two, you felt stupid and betrayed for not knowing.

"Why didn't you tell me..?" you question, looking between both of them with a disappointed glare. They both let out a sigh at the same exact time, the coincidence would've made you laugh if your weren't so upset at the situation.

You weren't jealous, just angry. Angry that they hadn't told you this before.

"We...how do i say this.." mirae mumbles, twiddling her fingers as she try's her best to figure out how to word what she's trying to say.

"Spit it the fuck out." you say, finally cursing out of pure frustration. Usually, you weren't the kind of person to get angry and curse anyone out- but the way they were acting was forcing you to act that way.

Finally, jungkook says it.

"Fuck we want you in the relationship- We've been wanting it for a while now." the confession makes your heart drop to your ass. How were you supposed to feel about that?

How did they expect you to feel? Happy? No way.

"Since when?" is all you say, and they're silent for a moment before giving you a answer. "January, of last year." mirae replies.

Fuck that, it's september now. They've had over a year to tell you this bullshit.

Last weeks situation flashes through your mind. "So, last week. Was that a coincidence?" There's a defeaning silence, both of them quiet as they stare at the ground. Too pussy to look you in the face after an entire year of hiding this from you.

"We planned it." he finally admits, and you want to cry on the spot. You knew it was weird how mirae was so quick to join in, but you were just too in the moment to even question it.

You felt like a stupid pawn for their enjoyment, why couldn't they have just told you? Maybe they could've got a better reaction from you but this? This was no way to handle it.

"So you knew.. as soon as you got to my house what was going happen?" you ask, wanting to be sure that you heard this all right.

Your heart just sinks a little more when they both nod.

You begin to think about exactly what happened that day. The way mirae challenged jungkook to kiss you, the movie choice, the way she got behind you so quickly.

They'd planned it all.

"Can you go?" you say, trying to blink back the tears building in your eyes. Maybe you were being dramatic, or maybe not- but you just felt more betrayed than ever.

"Y/n.." mirae says, her voice trailing off. You can tell she's saddened, but she had no right to be. Not after what they did.

"Just get out of my house." you say, and though they don't want to- they respect your wishes. It doesn't take them long to gather their things and leave, the door slamming behind them.

As soon as they're gone you break down into tears, not wanting to believe what they'd just told you.

You knew you'd have to have a real conversation with them about this later on, but today- they weren't getting that out of you.

(requested by anon)

#bts smut #bts fanfiction #bts oneshot #bts #bts fanfic #jungkook smut #jungkook x reader #jungkook x oc #bts x reader #jungkook fanfic #jungkook x you #jungkook #bts jungkook

[spilledartery]

loveless union . . . ( kunikuzushi )

[ male reader, noble / clan ! au, angst, unrequited love, sex, cheating ( ? ), implied trans kuni, pregnancy – i need to feed my breeding kink, please bare with me. fujoshis, mlm fetishizers, dni. ]

it was an arranged marriage. neither you nor kunikuzushi wanted this, but since your clan was indebted to his clan, your parents had just proposed you to be married to the raiden heir. it was shocking how the heir’s mother, ei, agreed, given how she was the one who casted demise upon your clan.

the wedding ceremony came and went, and so did the past couple of years. kunikuzushi was harsh, he didn’t want this – he was forced to sever his ties with his ( secret ) lover from the kaedehara clan, he was forced to marry someone he never loved; you.

you never loved him, too, but, ever the gentleman you are, you treated him with care and respect. when he was sick, you’d tend to him, you would compliment him, you would never talk bad about him. despite his opposite treatment of you, you understand. neither of you wanted this.

it was easy to fool your families, too. whenever yours and his parents are on the same table, you and kunikuzushi would act the star-crossed lovers, making them believe that you’d learned how to love each other.

the two of you would laugh, stare at each other lovingly, hold each other’s hands, lean closer to whisper something in each other’s ears – even ei couldn’t help but watch fondly; you were taking good care of each other.

“the both of you aren’t getting any younger,” your mother gushed, somehow confident to talk, despite being in the same table of her rival woman. she took a sip of wine, sending you and kunikuzushi knowing looks. “when are you both supposed to bring forth your heirs, hm?”

beside you, kunikuzushi tensed, and you couldn’t help but feel sorry for him. you understand, you always do.

your darling husband masked his true feelings with a seemingly shy smile. “oh,” he said, glancing at you with a soft look. “we... have been trying.”

you saw through those eyes, and you acted along. “my beloved is right, mother.” you took the boy’s hand and pressed a kiss on his knuckles. “it may take a while, but there will surely be little us’ running around the manor soon enough.”

“we will be expecting,” came the unreadable tone of kunikuzushi’s mother.

the next few months came by, and you and your husband are walking around the festivities. there were stalls, bustling vendors calling for the consumers’ attention. you two played the part of a married couple: you held hands, wrapped your arm around his waist, pressed close to each other – no one suspects a thing.

until you and kunikuzushi saw a certain boy with white hair and a red streak, he was staring at your husband. ah, it seems like they still have their affair going on, and you felt your heart shatter, just for a bit. you look down at kunikuzushi, who was in your arms, but looked longingly at his lover, the one he truly loved.

you let go of him. and he just looked up at you with hidden gratefulness, and rushed towards the kaedehara.

kunikuzushi didn’t return to your shared bed that night.

you understand, truly, you do. it was a good thing you stopped yourself on the brink of falling in love with him. you two may be married, but that didn’t mean you were meant for each other. you understand.

even now as you entered his body, after a week of the festival, of him with the kaedehara, you understand that the pleasure placed upon you is nothing but an obligation, a responsibility. it was to appease your families – to create an heir. even as you held kunikuzushi’s hand delicately as you pushed further into him, you knew that this union isn’t genuine.

you merely placed a kiss on his cheek as he reached his orgasm, and while you emptied inside of him, you murmured sweet nothings into his ear to calm him down after his high. and when he fell asleep without so much as a reply to you, you cleaned him and covered his naked body with the covers. you turned your body away from him, after – you know he wouldn’t be happy if he saw himself against your chest in the morning.

it was into six weeks when he began showing symptoms. kunikuzushi was nauseous, he continuously complained that his stomach was aching, and when you both talked to a trusted mage, they confirmed that you and kunikuzushi are expecting an heir.

you took good care of him. whenever something is aching, his shoulders, his feet, you would wordlessly massage him, you would bring him tea, knowing he loves bitterness; you played the part of being his husband, being a to-be father.

it was two months to his pregnancy that he felt his heart skipping a beat whenever you’re near. kunikuzushi told himself that he’d never feel something for you, he swore not to – but he couldn’t help it, not when you were taking such good care of him despite his attitude towards you. you never complained, never voiced out any discontent nor did you scowl at him when he always sent you a piercing glare.

perhaps, now, as your own family is beginning to grow, he could finally return the treatment you deserved from him, as his spouse.

it was strange when he began snuggling with you when you both went to sleep, when he began kissing your cheek, pecking your lips, smiling at you – it sent a small spark in your heart, but you don’t understand. is this because he’s only pregnant? he does not only crave for strange combinations of food, but also company? well, you still played along. you cared for him.

though it was unfortunate that during this time, you had to leave for mondstadt to attend some meeting – about creating allegiance there and whatnot. it was surprising that kunikuzushi kissed you passionately before you board the ship. you kissed him back just as fiercely, but you know it was merely for show because people are around; they wouldn’t want to see a supposed married couple being cold and distant to each other, especially when the spouse is to leave for many nights.

but what kunikuzushi wasn’t prepared for was the change of your demeanor when you came back. it wasn’t a bad change, but one that slowly broke kunikuzushi’s heart.

he was heavily pregnant, and he wore a robe too big to cover the bump in his belly – the bulge was still visible, but not much. kunikuzushi greeted you with a kiss on your cheek when you came home, asking how was your stay, if it was successful... though you answered these questions diligently, something was amiss.

no longer did you gaze warmly at him, but you became more distracted. you still cared for him, yes – but, now, kunikuzushi thinks it’s merely an obligation, nothing more, nothing less. your touches were more genuine then, now, it lacks those. when he kisses you, it was you who would pull away first and just kiss his forehead before turning away from him.

what had happened?

sometimes, he’d watch you write down on a parchment. it became a normal occurrence now. who were you writing for, he never asked. when you receive letters, he’d watch you smile – that smile that was once directed at him, but now it was more honest, like the reason for it was deeper.

he knew he shouldn’t be doing this, invading your privacy. you were asleep, and he walked to the dresser where you kept all the letters you’d been receiving. kunikuzushi subconsciously placed his hand on his baby bump as he unfolded a paper and read.

ah.

it seems you’d found someone who piqued you interest while you were in mondstadt. the way this person wrote to you was far from being friendly. it was as if...

kunikuzushi wiped a tear that fell from his eye. a couple more flowed through his cheeks, though, and he didn’t care wipe them anymore.

had he been too late love you? was it too late for you to love him?

reminiscing of the times when he treated you harshly, when he talked so bad about you, when he disregarded your opinions, when he rolled his eyes at your compliments, when he felt disgusted whenever you kiss his knuckles... perhaps, he does deserve this, and perhaps you’ve finally found someone you loved outside the marriage, as he had been with his affair with the kaedehara before. he deserves this.

kunikuzushi understands.

#[ lost stories . . . ] #top male reader #male reader #dom male reader #sub kunikuzushi #bottom kunikuzushi #sub scaramouche #bottom scaramouche #scaramouche x male reader #kunikuzushi x male reader #angst #unrequited love

[kimetsu-no-yaiba-writings]

Hi! If youre still doing requests, i have kind of an odd ask , but maybe some of the upper moons' reactions to meeting Muzan's wife (reader). I also really like whipped!Muzan so maybe the other demons' reactions to seeing the demon king doting on his wife. Thank you very much :)

Hi Anon! (^○^.) I actually love this request, so thank you for sliding it into my askbox ♥

Honestly I love a powerful man - especially a powerful villain - who's just absolutely in love with their wife (♥ω♥.) and would do anything for them, it just brings me joy.

Anyway! I'm rambling abit, but here is your request! I hope I've done it justice (^ω^.) Please enjoy!

Come again to request whenever you want cause I'm always open.

Muzan Kibutsuji being whipped for his wife + Upper Moons Reactions - Headcannons:

You know those types of men that are just unmovable pillars of stone - who look like they were carved from the finest marble by the hands of angels - who are always impeccably dressed with a voice of icy poison and just command your attention?

Who turn to the softest love-struck mush when with their wife

yeah, that's Muzan Kibutsuji with his wife (aka. you)

The finest meals, clothes and jewelry are yours with a click of his fingers - all done to make you happy, to see you smile

Anything that you mention briefly - doesn't matter if it''s a book or a holiday - its yours by the end of the day

Just one smile and a fluttering of your eyelashes has muzan on his knees - a singular pout of your lips has his mind running wild

You just have to breathe and Muzan's heart squeezes, breath stuttering in his chest as he looks at you in adoration

You could ask for the world and he'd give it too you on a platter

Muzan worships you

Each touch from you is a blessing to his skin

Each kiss sealed into him

Each word of love that falls from your lips make him drunk to hear, each sentence thick with a love that leaves hearts in his eyes and his heart thumping wildly

He wants to wear you like a brand - each mark you leave on him (bite marks and all) are worn with pride - and you (and only you) get to touch and mark his skin in such sensual ways

Under his wedding ring, his finger holds your bite mark, something that he begs you to do each day - with love-struck tears pricking his eyes - and it always makes him feel like he's properly yours

"My Love," He purrs with a voice a think velvet "My wonderful wife, my moon and stars, I love you for ever and always" and he kisses you so softly

Sometimes you have to stop this man from wearing matching clothes with you - "But Beloved,"he whimpers with a face liked a kicked puppy "I want us to match" - because he will absolutely wear a matching couples outfit

Other days he just likes sharing the same colour palette

When you worship him by placing soft kisses to his skin - his wrists, knuckles and faces - Muzan feels like he's on cloud nine

Upper Moons Reactions:

When the upper moons first met you, it was by accident - pure accident -they'd been summoned and it just so happened that it was when muzan was just in the midst of kissing you and bathing you with compliments

Kokushibou doesn't even blink and just stands in position like a trained guard, this sight has been something he's accidentally stumbled upon a couple of times before and honestly it makes him miss his wife

Because this isn't the first time he's met you but rather the fifth, the first actually time he met you, you were incredibly respectful of him and actually treat him nicely - you became tea drinking buddies - so he quickly came to like you

Douma/Doma genuinely shrieks - like an honest to god scream - before quickly going to make fun (not a good idea) about how loving Muzan is and, "Why don't you treat us this way Muzan-sama~ You're breaking my heart~"

Akaza looks away from such an intimate scene with respect since it felt wrong to look upon his lord loving his wife - although his heart does ache for some reason when looking at such a perfect loving scene

Hantengu starts sobbing while apologizing anxiously - actually very jealous at how loving the scene is, he wants a wife and to dote on someone

Gyokko simply proclaims it as artful and simply leaves it as such

Daki Blushes a deep crimson - it makes her want a husband to dote on her so much

While Gyutaro simply sighs before looking away - much like kokushibou and akaza in respect - with jealous crawling up his ribs at such love, he wants somebody to dote on and love him so romantically

#kny #kimetsu no yaiba #demon slayer #kny x reader #kimetsu no yaiba x reader #demon slayer x reader #kny muzan x reader #kny muzan kibutsuji x reader #muzan x reader #muzan kibutsuji x reader #demon slayer muzan x reader #demon slayer muzan kibutsuji x reader #kimetsu no yaiba muzan x reader #kimetsu no yaiba muzan kibutsuji x reader #x reader #anime x reader #kny muzan kibutsuji #kny muzan #muzan kibutsuji #muzan x wife reader #muzan kibutsuji x wife reader #kny upper moons

[finelinevogue]

always

summary - you and harry finally say those three words

pairing - actress!reader x harry

word count - ~1.5k

💐🌷☀️💗 💐🌷☀️💗 💐🌷☀️💗 💐🌷☀️💗

It was the Oscar’s after party at Vanity Fair and you were a little tipsy.

A happy drunk, some may say.

Just tipsy enough to be able to giggle at everything, but to also still have your entire wits about you. Your boyfriend on your arm was exactly the same. It was lucky neither of you were the designated driver.

“It was nice seeing you!” You politely waved off two people you would not mind never seeing again.

After they were gone, Harry clearly had the same opinion as you.

“Knobheads.” He muttered close to your ear, so no one with a camera could even pick up what he was saying.

“That’s Hollywood, my love.”

“Yeah, but they could have been slightly more discreet about only liking your recent film because you were topless for a small scene.” He huffed.

You looked up at him, filtering out every other star-studded celebrity in the room.

“They were two white old men, what did you expect?”

“Some respect.”

“At least I’ll always have you for that.” You cupped his cheek and his frown melted away. The soft touch of your skin against his was enough to coax back the smile that had been missing on his face.

Harry continued to look at you as you looked at him.

You couldn’t help but give off a blush and a nervous smile as you watched his gaze upon yours. “What?”

“Nothing,” He tried to bite back a ridiculous grin, “Just like that word.”

“What word?” You furrowed your brows in confusion.

“Always.”

You thought back to what you’d just said and you ducked your head to hide the nervous smile widen, docking your forehead onto his chest.

You felt Harry’s chest rise and fall with a chuckle and you wrapped your arms around him to conceal all that happiness between just you two.

It was moments like this when you wanted to lean up and whisper those three words. The three words that apparently change everything. You’d never spoken them to anyone, like this, before so it was difficult to know how to even say them.

You were certain of one thing though. Even though you’d only been together for less than half a year, you’d never felt like this for anyone before. And sometimes you felt like Harry was the same.

You were certain that you loved Harry.

It was only a matter of how to tell him.

•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•

An hour later and you found yourself at the front of the photo booth queue.

Harry had been doing his rounds, saying hello to friendly faces such as Billie and Florence.

You had done your rounds, as well as take non-negotiable photos with your cast mates for one final hurrah.

Even though your movie hadn’t swept at the Oscar’s this year, you were just happy to have been a part of it. Creating movies and bringing stories to life is more than you could ever have dreamed of. Plus, you always had Harry’s hand to hold through it all now - which made it easier.

Harry was in fact holding your hand now.

As Barry and Sabrina walked out of the booth, lipstick smudged all over Barry’s smirking lips, Harry squeezed your hand to signal you were next.

Harry held back the curtain for you, but you waited for him to sit down first.

There was a bench that could fit at least four people on it, but you and Harry had pre-discussed what your photos would be (whilst waiting in the queue) and you’d both agreed that you sitting on his lap was the only way.

The “only way” being Harry’s words…

Not that you minded.

“Only photobooth where you don’t have to pay.” You commented, as you situated yourself sideaways on Harry’s lap.

Your arms slunk across his shoulders for support and his arm wrapped securely around your waist.

You moved slightly to get more comfortable on Harry’s thighs.

“Stop wriggling.” He grunted, making you instantly stop.

“Wh… Oh… Oh, Babe! You’re so….” You laughed at him.

“Hey, you’re not the one who has to go back out there with an obvious issue.”

“Doesn’t have to be an issue…” You attempted your best seductive whisper, but ended up bursting out giggling at the end.

“I hate you.”

You shut up, but his words had you thinking about the hidden meaning. He clearly didn’t hate you, that much was quite visibly obvious, so did he technically mean the opposite? Did he actually mean he lo–

“Y/N/N?” Your nickname being spoken brought you away from your thoughts, “You ready?”

You cleared your throat and approved.

The camera counted down…

The first photo would be of you and Harry simply smiling at the camera, faces leaning against each other.

3. 2. 1.

*snap*

You quickly moved yourselves for the next photo.

The second photo was of Harry kissing your cheek, whilst you made whatever face you wanted to. You decided to scrunch your eyes and smile like an idiot - because that’s how it felt to be in love.

3. 2. 1.

*snap*

In love.

That’s what you were.

You were insanely in love with Harry and he deserved to know. You deserved to share this love.

“Love?” Harry quickly reminded you off the next photo quickly approaching.

It was meant to be of you now kissing Harry’s cheek and him doing whatever he wanted, but now you wanted to do something else.

You cupped the far side of his cheek gently and leant your lips against his ear.

3.

“Y/N?”

2.

“I love you.”

1.

*snap*

Harry quickly turned his head towards you, nearly knocking your nose off in the process.

“What?” He had tiny pools of water collecting in his eyes.

“I love you.” You smiled warmly, softly rubbing over his cheek.

“Fuck.” He smiled, letting a tear fall.

3.

“I love you, too.” He said.

2.

“So much.” He cupped your cheek.

1.

And he kissed you with so much force.

*snap*

You almost fell back with how much he pushed into you, but that’s what kissing him felt like anyway - free falling.

Saying three words had never felt so explosive.

It was like a confetti cannon had been set off and the confetti was all your love for each other being scattered around the photo booth. You felt full and happy, and you could tell by Harry’s kiss that he felt exactly the same.

You pulled back, licking your lips and trying your best not to cry in case it ruined your makeup.

Harry didn’t care, he let some tears fall.

You brushed them away carefully with your thumbs.

“Those better be happy tears and not tears of instant regret.” You joked.

“Happy falls a bit flat of describing how I feel right now, love.”

You giggled and pushed yourself back onto his lips, kissing him to let those three words sink in more.

He moved back, needing to take you in, in this moment, before giving you a few smaller kisses.

“We should go.” You whispered.

“No.” Harry pouted.

“H, this is a photo booth not a kissing booth.”

He laughed, “Okay.”

You both got up to leave, pushing the curtain away and taking the little strip of photos from the deposit on the side of the booth.

Two had printed.

You both laughed at the one where you’d spoken those little words, because Harry’s facial expressions were so funny. He looked a mixture of shocked and happy all at once.

Harry tucked the photo strip into the inside pocket on his suit jacket, whilst you kept a tight grip on yours.

You held onto Harry’s hand and hugged onto his arm.

“That was a better moment than any Oscar award.” You honestly spoke.

Harry leant down to kiss your forehead.

“I love you.” He looked genuinely excited to be able to say that to you. “And I’m proud of you.”

“I know.”

“Oi, don’t you Star wars me!” He mocked. “Say it, or else.”

“I looooovvee you.” You teased out the word. Harry shook his head at you for being so annoying, but also he wouldn’t have it any other way.

Those three words belonged to him now as they belonged to you. And always will.

#harry styles #harry styles x reader #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x y/n #harry styles fanfic #ask finelinevogue #harry blurb #finelinevogue #harry styles concept #harry oneshot #harry styles blurbs #harry styles fic rec #harry styles oscars #harry styles fan fics #harry styles photo booth

[darlingdekarios]

the best thing.

rating: explicit. 18+ only. length: 5,608 content: Gale Dekarios x f!tav [f!reader], porn with plot, established relationship (engaged), post-Baldur's Gate III canon, fluff, domestic bliss, smut [fingering - receiving, oral - receiving, unprotected p in v, creampie], kink(s) [overstimulation, orgasm control, hands, hair pulling, body worship]

after everything the two of you have been through, you're eager to give Gale one perfect, blissful day.

It was almost unbelievable seeing you bathed in the golden hues of the morning standing in his kitchen, back to him as you fussed over whatever it was you currently had sizzling on the stove. It was so rare that he was able to sneak upon you these days - you were so attuned to one another that simply entering the same room was enough of a greeting.

But now you were focused, far too much so to notice your lover's entrance, or even to notice him for several more moments as he leaned against the doorframe, peacefully enjoying the serenity that being near to you caused. Even this was enough to fill his heart with love.

"If there should ever come a day when your presence does not fill this tower again it will surely be a day without sunrise."

You turned to him and offered a smile that rivaled the sun itself in beauty and warmth, every bit as life sustaining to him. You were wearing an apron he often donned in the kitchen, the fabric graffitied with streaks of color and puffs of powder. He was struck as he so often was with you, offering nothing more than a smile in return that reached his eyes as he remained transfixed by you - the very center of his universe and far beyond anything his goddess had ever shown him in beauty.

"There are painters who envy me of this privilege. To wake to such beauty in my own home every day…I truly am a fortunate man."

You would never tire of the way Gale's words spread through you like warmest fire, making you feel worthy of a love such as this every moment no matter how your mind was trying to force you to feel that day. To say in the time that had passed since your adventures in bliss would be an understatement - both of you had found what could only be described as heaven in life with one another.

Everything about one another had become home, the deep love the two of you shared the kind that people prayed to the gods for.

"You wake up everyday and set out to make me love you more than the last.""

"I could say the very same to you, my love," his voice was particularly cheerful this morning and you were glad you'd decided today for your plan. It was already off to a great start, and it could truly only get better from here with what you had up your sleeve. "What has you in the kitchen at this hour? We didn't exactly get to sleep early, by any standard."

When you've gone through the things you've been through, sometimes it can feel wrong when someone looks at you with the amount of love and adoration Gale was now…the way he did so often these days. Whether you were resting in his bed, reading at his side, curled with Tara on the couch, or doing any other thing to fill the time, he looked at you now like it was what he hoped to do last in the world.

And he always would.

"I made you breakfast. Or at least…I did my best at…making you breakfast."

The smile that spread across his face was more stunning than any of the scenery in all of your adventures, not a single star or moon matching its beauty. As you were lost in your profound love for him he took the lull in conversation to close the distance to you, wrapping his arms around you and reuniting you into his warm embrace - it hadn't been long, but it was always an eternity.

He pressed several kisses to your forehead as he gazed over your shoulder, analyzing the plates you'd made for the two of you to enjoy. His brows pulled together in an expression you recognized as being deep in thought - you pressed a kiss to the lines as he spoke again.

"I know this meal…"

Your lips lifted into a smile against his skin and he reached upward to encourage you to meet his gaze again, awaiting your response and hoping it was a confirmation of what he suspected. "It was the first breakfast you made for the party. I remember how proud you were and how delicious it was…no one had ever cooked for me like that."

"Your memory is just as astounding as the rest of you," he was positively grinning at you, eyes expressive and proudly displaying every bit of love he felt for you. His head tilted to the side briefly - something you were quite fond of - as his brow furrowed again, the arm that remained around your waist pulling you closer. "It's not my birthday, is it?"

Forget loving him more by the day - you loved Gale Dekarios more by the second.

"No, dearest," you replied, reaching one of your hands upward to rest against his chest. You held his gaze as you spoke knowing he preferred when you didn't look away. "I just realized…in all the time since I've met you there have been many meals that you've made me, and I've never made you a single one."

His expression softened even more, something you didn't know was possible, pressing a gentle and loving kiss to her lips. The first kiss of the new day was always a shared favorite between the two of you - no matter how many days passed the first always created goosebumps and pulled quiet sighs of pleasure from your chests.

"You are truly are a gentle soul," he muttered against your lips, the hand that still cradled the back of your head sliding to cup your cheek instead, his thumb brushing across your cheekbone tenderly. "I'm still not always entirely sure I deserve it."

"But you do," you promised, eager to hush the self doubt that still lingered in your fiancé day-to-day. It was something you were happy to live with - it never annoyed you or grew tiresome, you were more than willing to remind him how loved he was despite any mistakes he'd made in the past, that any he'd make in the future were already forgiven. "You deserve it, Gale. We've been through so much together and I was thinking…I want you to have a perfect day. I want to do anything and everything you want to do for an entire day."

"Starting with breakfast?"

You sheepishly smiled and nodded before confirming, "I know it won't be as good as when you made it, but…"

"It will be perfect," he silenced your own worries gracefully and gently before they could even begin to fester. "As most things made in love are. Would you join me on the balcony for our meal?"

It was incredible how something as mundane as sharing a meal together could become an act of utmost intimacy. With Gale even the smallest moments felt like a life's worth of promise and love - if every day was like this you would leave this life with nothing but happiness in your heart. The day passed with him like a dream, like you'd truly found the person you were meant to spend this much time with. The person you were meant to face the passing years together - who you were excited to watch more grey bloom in his hair.

After breakfast both of you had fallen asleep on the balcony in a gentle embrace, his arms holding you against his chest as you slept. When you woke, Tara was asleep on your back and so you'd continue to lay together until the tressym removed herself to carry on with her day. All the while Gale had gazed at you lovingly, stroking your hair and face when you had continued to sleep a few moments longer. He'd never tire of the serenity that filled your face in truly peaceful slumber.

For lunch Gale opted to eat by a nearby lake, the beautiful afternoon the perfect landscape for him to take a moment to indulge in a bit of poetry…about you, of course. It made you bashful when he did so - it always had and likely always would, a demure laugh passing through your lips as you tried to hide behind your hands as he poetically described the many things he loved about you.

Of course, the heat in your cheeks only increased when his poetry turned to that of describing the ways he wanted to demonstrate his love - but you were certain you were burning when he'd followed it with a kiss not entirely decent for a relatively public setting. Nevertheless, he certainly didn't seem to mind.

It continued with a trip to the bookstore, the apothecary, and to another local merchant where he bought some supplies for home and a necklace for you that yes he insisted you have, even though you now had a collection forming in the tower. Before you could finish your day in town he asked to pop down to the local inn for a quick drink.

You were well aware that this was truly just time for Gale to show off his future wife to the other patrons - something that always made you feel fantastic about yourself. The fact that the famed Wizard of Waterdeep felt pride in having you at his side was no small compliment - it was a fact you flourished in.

Back home, the two of you cooked dinner together, Gale eager to give you tips on how you could improve in the future. When it was time to eat you shared a bottle of wine that you'd selected together earlier and ate in silence, reading your new books with zero complaints even capable of being formed in your mind.

Your eyes only left the words on the pages to glance across the table to him lovingly - something you were joyous to find he mirrored frequently. It was after dinner had been cleaned up and the two of you had tidied up from the day that you found yourself in his embrace, yet again on the balcony where so much of your shared time was spent.

For a while he simply remained with his head resting atop yours, holding you gently as you shared another sunset. It was only once the sun had completely gone for the night over the horizon that he turned you in his arms slowly, eyes finding yours like it was their nature to do so, wasting no time in leaning down to kiss you again tenderly.

"Have you enjoyed your day, my heart?"

He smiled the kind of smile that pulled lines beside his eyes, eyes that were twinkling and rivaling the stars that had started to decorate the sky for the night. You could feel how content and relaxed he was in the delicate hold he maintained on you, the love pouring from him and seeming to wrap you in a tighter embrace. It was these moments where the weave truly connected the two of you, holding you together and proving that you were meant to be together in this world - and the next, if that happened to be what came.

"I have enjoyed every day by your side, even the difficult ones," his voice was so earnest there was simply no possibility of disbelief from you - you could hear the honesty soaking his words, every sentence another promise and declaration of his love for you. "But today has been perfection. I could thank you for a lifetime and it wouldn't be enough."

The kiss he gave you then was the kind that is written about in books - in fairytales, the kind that inspires poetry and signifies the truest of love. He continued to hold you against him gently as your lips entered a dance you both yearned for constantly - at this point you were no strangers to what each of you liked and it was reflected with every swipe of your tongues and movement of your lips.

And it was always until you were both breathless - never a second before. The two of you had experienced so many things together that had made so many of your early tenderness rushed - neither of you were ever in any particular rush anymore. This kiss was exactly like so many these days - savored. And yet this was only the beginning of what the two of you would savor in the night to come.

"Would you like to retire to our bedroom for the night?"

You words were light as you whispered against his lips, biting at the bottom one lightly when you finished your question. A truly pleased grin spread across his face as you pulled away, his arms still anchoring you to him - if you wanted him to he'd release you, of course, but it was never a moment too soon.

"Darling, you need only ask."

Thankfully, the bedroom was mere steps away and it was easy to tug him inside with hands gently pulling at the collar of his shirt, your lips not leaving one another for long. Though it was obvious where Gale's mind was heading - a it was difficult to deny it for much longer as it had been growing since the kiss at the lake earlier - you still had one more thing planned for him.

One of his hands slid lower to cup your ass and bring you closer, tongue seeking entry into your mouth again as he waved a hand to ensure there was some light by way of many candles. You shook your head to which he huffed, pulling away just far enough to pass you an inquisitive look.

"Not quite yet, my love," you cooed, pressing a consolation kiss to his lips briefly before pulling away fully, wrestling yourself free from his grasp with a giggle. "Remove your shirt and lie down on your stomach."

Though he muttered under his breath about it he followed your instructions, brown eyes searching your face for a response as you only sat on the bet waiting for him, always one to enjoy the sight of him undressing. When he was finally in the position you asked him to be you straddled his lower back, hands slowly rubbing the expanse of his shoulders with the perfect pressure to pull a groan from him.

And that was the end of his silent questioning - every swipe of your hand, knead from your fingers and caress was met with a moan, groan, or whine from him - as time continued on he was mumbling into his pillow about how much he loved you…repeatedly. When you reached a particular point you could practically feel tension melt away from him and you leaned downward to press a kiss to the back of his neck before encouraging him to roll with a squeeze of your legs.

And oh, was he happy to oblige - to be reunited with your face, now with the moon's glow coming through the curtains to illuminate you alongside the flickering candles. A considerable amount of time had passed since you began massaging him and still you showed no signs of stopping, continuing to straddle his waist as your efforts now focused on his chest.

"Your hands are divine," he was barely coherent through the pleasure he already felt, his words far less calculated than they're normally be. "I could lay here for a ten day and happily starve."

"I suppose you're feeling well about your day then, my love?"

It was an unnecessary question - you both knew it. But he was also just as aware that you loved to hear about the feelings your efforts had earned, and it had been a long time since he'd denied you of anything you wanted that he could provide. With his most charming smile he nodded, leaning forward to rub the tip of his nose against yours gently in an innocent show of affection.

You reached upward to run your fingers through his hair delicately, pulling a blissful sigh from his lips again. If it were possible to create a symphony from what filled your bedroom you would gladly hear its melody forever…a sentiment he'd expressed toward you once that you held at the core of your memory and found your mind circling back to often.

So much of his mind was an exact reflection of your that sometimes it seemed they were still connected sometimes.

"Absolutely blessed," when Gale spoke it was as though you were the one who could answer his prayers, something you found irresistibly sweet about him. "If you're not careful you will spoil me beyond reason."

You leaned down to capture his lips in a gentle kiss again, his hands grasping your hips again, sliding to rub over the soft expanse of your thighs. Too selfish to release his lips again you whispered into the kiss, your own hands resting on his chest still, his heartbeat steady and soothing.

"I fail to see why that would be so bad."

He could only smile into it as he continued to kiss you slowly, one of his hands sliding up to hold the back of your head delicately. He began to raise until he was sitting upright, keeping you anchored where you straddled him with his resolute hold on your hip still, ensuring your lips never parted from his for longer than a breath.

Before his arms engulfed your waist his hands made quick work of removing the robe that covered your frame, discarding it to the floor with little care. His hands caressed over your torso like he truly cherished every inch of you and sought to ensure not a single patch of you went unattended to.

(He truly loved every inch of you - a fact you believed deep into your core. You'd only asked him once what his favorite part of your body was - he'd almost been offended that you'd think he could narrow a list of such considerable length.)

"Still, it may be good for me to exercise some selflessness tonight," he offered, a handsome and playful expression illuminating his features. His hands were now gently resting on either side of your neck, thumbs lightly rubbing back and forth - unable to stay fully idle for long. "You gave me the perfect day. Will you let me treat you to a perfect night in our bed?"

"Have you known me to say no to you often?"

"Only when I've needed to hear it."

No further talk was needed and the two of you continued to kiss tenderly, his hands returning to lavish your breasts again. Your own hands maintained a hold on the back of his head, fingers grasping his hair delicately - completely unwilling to have him pull away. Happy to oblige and always eager to swallow the quiet sounds of pleasure he could pull from you, especially now in the privacy of a bedroom where it had not always been a luxury you'd been provided, one of his hands continued to trail lower.

Until it reached as low as he could on your leg in this position, fingers brushing over the soft skin of your inner thigh - it was obvious he was influencing the weave to crackle at his fingertips gently, the result a pleasant tingle dancing across your skin. Your legs squeezed tighter around him in anticipation and he chastised you with a light swat to your thigh, not to cause pain but to capture your focus again.

You responded with a light nip to his bottom lip which earned a cheeky smile from him, eyes staying on yours as his hand finally reached your core - where you were desperate for him most. Over your panties it was still obvious how wet you were in anticipation of him - your time with Gale had proven that things like that only spurred him onward more, the confirmation that you wanted him just as desperately clouding his mind of all logic.

"Have you been wet all day, my love?"

The tone of his voice melted you like wax, you could only nod and whimper as he pushed the fabric to the side, slowly running two of his skilled digits between your soaked folds. His lips were only centimeters from yours so every movement brought them together slightly, your moan cut off as he kissed you again, index finger circling your clit slowly. He opted to speak against your lips, unwilling to be too far from your sweet lips for long.

"I'd have indulged you long before now had I known this is what waited for me."

His fingers swiped back down to your entrance and the middle slipped into you slowly, a smile playing on his lips as he kissed you again. Though one finger meant every exit and reentry meant pinpointed strokes the stretch wasn't enough to satiate the pressure that was seated in your core, more of a stretch needed than what one finger provided. It only took a slight squirm of your hips for him to take the cue, slipping a second finger into you which you thanked him for with a moan.

He left your lips to kiss to your neck, reclaiming spots that had often been decorated with his mark in your time since returning home with him. His fingers set a leisurely pace pumping into you, stroking your velvet walls perfectly as his tongue lavished a spot on your neck that you knew would only add to the slick coating his hand.

His free hand came to one of your breasts to massage gently, fingers rolling your sensitive nipple and pinching to add to the melody sounding from your mouth. From where you were seated in his lap you could feel his cock hard and throbbing beneath you, adding to your desperation - as skilled as Gale's hands, fingers and mouth were it would never compare to joining together with him.

You rocked down against his waist which pulled a groan from him, fingers picking up pace as he nipped at your neck. "Patient, darling…"

His hand left your chest to grasp your hip instead, steadying the movements you both knew would drive him over an edge he was intent to tiptoe around still for a while yet. When you continued to try to squirm in his hold he removed from you completely, brow furrowed as he used a hand to push you onto your back. He kissed down your torso slowly, eyes staying fixated on yours as he went - communicating his instruction to stay still without a word.

"Gale please, I need you…"

You tried to tempt him into giving into your way for once by reaching upward and slipping your fingers into his hair, giving the messy locks a tug to try to encourage him upward. It was briefly annoying that you felt his lips curve against your hip - amused by your attempt, no doubt -

*(Later when your mind is clearer you'll reflect on this moment - as you so often reflected after intimacy with Gale - and you'd once again be thankful for his insistence on ensuring he went above and beyond for you in all senses.

It was impossible to forget that you'd become the most important thing to him.)

"You know I won't give you what you want until you've cum at least once for me, darling," he reminded, his voice feather light against your inner thigh now where he sucked a fresh mark into your thigh to match what the fading ones had once appeared as. Your fingers ran through his hair and tugged again, he only groaned deeply in response and lightly bit at the spot he'd just marked.

"Gale -"

He did love when you whined for him - it almost always nearly enough to make him break on the spot, the temptation to give into you near overwhelming.

"Ah ah ah," he whispered, the vibrations in his voice tickling your skin as his lips brushed a familiar trail up your thigh to your core. "No arguing, my love. I'm not asking anything unreasonable."

All that was left to do was melt as his tongue ran through your folds, an appreciative moan rumbling in his chest as he tasted you - as though it was the first time all over again. The argument was completely lost as he continued to cover every inch of your cunt with his tongue. He was exactly what he'd told you to be - patient - as his tongue ran back and forth between your oversensitive and swollen clit and your hole that was eager to clench around anything.

This was certainly one of his favorite ways to spend his time now - sometimes to busy his mind with anything other than tortured thoughts of the past he'd lose himself in devouring you. The fact that you always gushed on his tongue was a bonus, one he was more than happy to work for, sometimes refusing to remove his head until you'd finished multiple times.

Even he wasn't patient enough for that tonight, but he was enough to continue lavishing you with his skilled tongue, hands gripping your hips and angling you upward so he was able to fuck his tongue into you and lean back occasionally to gaze lovingly at your pretty, creamy cunt. With the amount of love and devotion he was putting into every movement, it wasn't long until your thighs were squeezing closer around his head, the subtle shake at his fingertips giving your impending release away before you managed to moan out the warning.

"I'm…I…"

"There you go," he leaned away to look up into your face, his lips and chin covered in your slick and his spit. One of his hands abandoned its hold on your hip to join his mouth, two fingers entering you again in a swift movement, the sound that accompanied the movement enough to build heat in your cheeks. "That's a good girl."

With his fingers now pumping into your hole again it left his mouth to focus on your clit, his tongue relentlessly swirling on the bundle of nerves as he pushed you toward release. Your vision was already whitening and your fingers gripped his hair tighter, a cry ripping from your chest as his other hand pressed down on your stomach.

That sensation snapped like a rubber band through you - while you were lost in ecstasy you hardly registered that your release was gushing from you, though Gale wasted no time in covering as much of your cunt with his mouth so he could drink your euphoric nectar.

As you were coming down he crawled back up you, pressing kisses along your torso as he whispered a word or sentence of praise with each one. You were pinned beneath him, one of his forearms resting next to your head as a leg moved to slide one of yours higher - though you were in a post-orgasm haze you registered you needed to wrap your leg around his waist.

His hand came to smooth your hair back, leaning down to press a delicate kiss to your nose - a tender action that didn't match the lewd way he rolled his hips into yours, his cock throbbing and leaking from what you could feel against your pussy. His other hand maintained a tight grip on your hip and he pressed a gentle kiss to your lips now, whispering quietly against them.

"Are you ready for me, my love?"

The truth was, he could never enter you fast enough - or at least he wouldn't, his playful nature shining through one last time before he lost himself completely in intimacy. It showed now in the subtle shake to his voice, the slightly higher pitch that gave away how much he needed you.

"Please."

"I do so enjoy when you ask nicely."

He started sliding his cock into you slowly groaning the entire way, opting not to continue to kiss you so he could gaze into your face with complete adoration, finding just as much bliss in seeing your eyes roll back and flutter closed as a light smile played on your lips as he did in feeling your velvet walls around him again.

And this - this was as perfect as anything else that had ever truthfully been described as such. This is where both of you found some reason, some meaning - where both of you created your own galaxies. It started slow, Gale preferring to savor the first strokes inch by inch every time. His lips never left you, kissing you gently in any place he could reach on your face and neck and shoulders as he muttered quiet words of love and appreciation.

Poetry that would only be shared between the two of you.

When he was satisfied with the amount he'd cherished every inch of your walls welcoming him in again he re-angled your bodies so both of your legs were around his waist now, the new angle allowing him to fuck into you deeper. Now he was hitting a spot he knew would make you see stars, hoping that you'd thank him for remembering exactly how to reach it -

"Gale…feels s'good…"

He sounded his appreciation with a loud moan of his own, his pace increasing as the tension built in his core now. You felt impossibly tighter each time he re-entered, a fact that was driving him closer to release. Unable to voice it he pressed a sloppy, desperate kiss to your lips before leaning his sweaty forehead against yours, breaths falling out heavy against your lips.

No matter how close his release threatened to snap, he would never do so without hearing you tell him to do so. You allowed him a moment to dangle over the edge for a moment as you bit into your bottom lip, catching his attention and focus - focus on your swollen lips, and the sweaty sheen covering your face and slicking your hair…on the way your eyes threatened to spill tears at how blissfully good you felt.

"Come for me, Gale," the instruction already had him grasping you tighter, but when you continued with an offer that hadn't previously been on the table it was impossible for him to hold back much longer. "Fill me…"

He kissed you again - a little too hard for how swollen your lips already were from the amount of kissing already done but with a passion that was returned nonetheless. His thrusts became just as messy as his kisses had and he pumped his throbbing length into you hard and fast, hips pistoning into yours repeatedly.

Both of your sounds filled the room as his movements pushed you toward a second release of your own, walls clenching around him so tight he now couldn't bring himself to remove from you completely. Recognizing both of you needed a breath as his own head began to spin he buried into you to the hilt roughly one last time as his orgasm started, toppling you over into your own at the feeling of his thick seed coating your insides.

You were thankful he wasn't a particularly massive man when he practically collapsed against you, breaths coming out heavy against your neck as his mind found a new addiction in filling your womb. Normally he'd withdraw to get a soft and warm cloth to clean you but tonight it hardly seemed necessary - even if you fell asleep now it wouldn't be long before he was sheathing himself in you again.

He would care for you in other ways tonight, pulling away from you slowly and pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead as he positioned you both into something much more comfortable, facing one another on your sides so you could continue to enjoy the serenity illuminating one another's faces.

Between your bodies one of his hands met yours, your fingers lightly tracing lines on the back of his hand. He continued to enjoy the true peace of the moment before speaking again.

"Today was beyond words," he whispered lightly when he found his voice again. You could hear the love that each word was spoken with - what's more you could see it reflected in his eyes. "You give me everything I could have ever dreamed of and more."

You moved closer to curl up to him, burying your face in his neck as he waved a hand to ignite the fireplace, keeping one arm around you to hold you close as one of your legs slipped up over his waist. After he pulled the blanket over your bodies he turned his head to press a kiss to your forehead, finding your eyes were already closed and yet you still had a small smile on your lips. As he gazed at you for just a moment longer Tara jumped onto the foot of the bed, giving a long stretch before settling in for the night, her purrs mixing with the crackle of the fire.

Just when he thought you'd already fallen asleep you surprised him with another question.

"Let's do it again tomorrow?"

He kissed your forehead with a light smile on his lips as his arms tightened around you, happy to give this and more to you for as many days as you'd allow.

"And the day after that."

masterlist. baldur's gate III masterlist.

#gale dekarios #gale of waterdeep #gale dekarios x reader #gale dekarios smut #baldur's gate 3 smut #baldur's gate 3 fanfiction #gale dekarios fanfiction

[zaephix]

the little things / / xavier , zayne , & rafayel . . .

slight spoilers for their myth stories

the reason as to why XAVIER takes great care of his hair was unknown to you. why he laid his head down in your lap even after being glued to your side the whole day. the reason was simple, so that you could keep running your fingers through it. he'd gently guide your hands over to the top of his head, a soft chuckle as you kiss the button of his nose. to him, you were the core of his being, his star.

XAVIER can't stop the pleasant smile gracing his face as you revel in another victory, his eyes never leaving your form. in the same way that you ponder about what to eat for lunch, he wonders if anyone ever wished upon the stars that danced in your eyes. and as you both ready yourself for sleep, he'd found his answer. if no one else did, he'd glady be the first to do so. just ignore how his already slow heartbeat begins to slow even more against your back, how his mind travels back to that fateful night underneath the glistening cosmos. "i'll be by your side, always."

before heading to work, ZAYNE can never seem to leave your side. he'd be caught up in your soft snores, the way your chest slowly rises and falls, and your lips. he can't stop himself as he leans down to place a chaste kiss to the corner of your mouth, all the while making sure you're wrapped snugly in your blanket, your pillow fluffed from beneath you.

ZAYNE is the type of lover to text you as soon as he's on his break, asking to make sure you ate the breakfast he left for you in the kitchen, or that you remembered your wallet on the coffee table. you always tell him that he worries too much, that he should be focusing on himself, but how could he? not when his priority is your well-being, your state of self. just ignore how his breath seems to get shaky, the frost crawling up his skin and into his veins every time he's near you, sharp pains coursing through his muscle. "i won't forget you... not this time."

when it comes to showering you with affection, RAFAYEL seems to take the cake. kissing your knuckles every time he greets you, strategically pulling you away from work to cuddle with you, he knows just how and what to do at the right times. however, what he fails to notice is how he unconsciously looks for you the first thing he steps into a room, how his shoulders relax after realizing you're safe after you've texted him a little later than usual, how his hands linger a little too long in yours.

RAFAYEL has already come to the realization that he's head over heels for you long ago, just not fully realizing how bad it was. all within a second you were his bodyguard, his fishie, but most of all, his muse. he'd make the world his canvas - your eyes the rhythm hidden beneath the layers of paint. just ignore how he sometimes gets quiet when around you, his mind swirling like a paint brush dipped into watercolor. "fish are emissaries of the god of the sea, this... is my vow to you."

#. — zaephix #. rayya writes #love and deepspace x reader #lnds #lnds x reader #lnds xavier #lnds zayne #lnds rafayel #xavier x reader #zayne x reader #rafayel x reader #love and deepspace #love & deepsace x reader #love & deepspace #love and deepspace fluff #love and deepspace angst #love and deepspace xavier #love and deepspace zayne #love and deepspace rafayel #xavier x you #zayne x you #rafayel x you #fluff #angst #drabble #x reader #fem reader #f!reader #gender neutral reader

[sixosix]

summary you take it upon yourself to make it up to lyney when he couldn’t perform on the night he looked forward to the most—and lyney falls a little harder.

or, sickfic, basically, but it’s more than that

warnings wc 3k, mentions of injuries and blood, fluff!!! and a bit of angst oops

A/N @hiraethsdesires wanted to get tagged so here u goo!!! hope u like reading it <3

“For the last time, Lyney,” you sigh, shoving one more macaron in the small, red box with the same shade as the accents of his hat, “I can’t attend your show.”

It’s a stroke of luck for him that you don’t have a line right now, or else you would’ve kicked him out the moment you saw him enter, fully expecting he doesn’t intend on leaving right away.

Lyney droops dramatically, his bottom lip jutting out in a pout. “Seriously? Not this week either?”

“Not this week either. Not ever, I’m pretty sure I told you.” You push the box against his chest, to which he responds eagerly by situating his free hand firmly over yours.

He keeps his grip firm when you try tugging your hands away. He bores his eyes into yours, too sincere and open for a performer such as himself—you feel a bit of your will chip away. “That night is special to me. Won’t you consider again?”

“Why is it special?”

Lyney’s lips curl into a smirk, striking right when you’ve faltered. “Because you will be coming to watch, of course.”

You jerk your hands out of his grip as he laughs. “Bold assumption,” you say, smiling a little when Lyney cries a ‘come onnnn’. “Lyney, I already said—”

“—That you have no one else to take care of the shop if you leave, I know, I know,” Lyney interrupts with clear disdain. “But don’t you think I deserve a bit of compensation? Surely you recognize my efforts in being this bakery’s most loyal customer. Most purchases and most compliments to the prettiest owner.”

You roll your eyes, but you do give it a bit of thought. Lyney has been the reason why your humble little shop tucked in some hidden corner of Fontaine’s city has been gaining attention. You’ve definitely increased in customers ever since Lyney took it upon himself to come over every day with a Rainbow Rose and a dream (and Mora).

“If I attend to one, will you promise it’ll be the last?”

Lyney’s expression shifts instantly. He beams, leaning close enough until your noses are touching. You swear you can see the sparkles in his eyes. “I can’t promise anything if you enjoy it so much you keep coming back for more.”

“Don’t push it,” you say.

“I won’t, I won’t,” Lyney murmurs, his smile turning softer. “You’re not joking around, right? That’s a yes?”

“It’s a yes, I guess.”

He kisses your hand three times, saying, “I’ll make it the best night of your life, I promise,” between them.

You look forward to it. You wouldn’t tell it to his face, but if he were to look closer and see the tremble of your hands to the smile on your face, he’d know anyway.

Lyney doesn’t come over the next day.

You will yourself not to feel too disappointed. You have no right to be. Every time he does visit, he’d just invite you to one of his shows under the guise of ordering whatever you tell him is the best seller of the day, and every time, you’d reject his offer. Yesterday was an exception—on a whim.

Maybe he got a revelation, thinking that he'll find it boring when he finally got you in his grasp.

It certainly doesn’t help that Lyney still hasn't come to visit the day after that, which happened to be the same day of the performance.

They canceled the show, you hear them say, from outside on the streets and even in the walls of your bakery. What a shame; I was looking forward to it.

So was I, you want to say through gritted teeth.

You knew their fame knew no bounds, but it was only then that embarrassment crept in when you realized that the show star, Lyney himself, frequented your small shop with a bouquet in hand to invite you personally. And you had the gall to reject him.

You also learn that the bakery feels much more empty without his blazing presence.

The moment you finish watching the customer exit the shop with two paper bags in their arms, you rush to fling your apron off and flip the sign to ‘CLOSED’.

You don’t often leave the bakery in fear of missing out on what could be busy days, but this is more important than that. You can’t handle working idly for another hour with guilt in your stomach urging you to do something.

You must look like a sight: speeding through the pathway with a bit of flour on your clothes and a determined glint in your eyes. Only when you spot a familiar house overhead do you pause to take a deep breath.

You can do this. You need to find out what happened.

“He got sick?”

Lynette nods, sighing in defeat. “Would you like to come in? I’ll explain as I make tea.”

You glance around unsurely, feeling a little out of place. You occasionally break the heart of the brother of this woman currently inviting you inside their home. You can only hope that Lyney hasn’t been lamenting his bakery troubles to his sister.

Lynette directs you to the loveseat of their small living room before padding over to the kitchen. “Make yourself comfortable,” she says in her endearing ever-monotone voice.

“I’m okay, thank… you…” Your gaze catches on a picture frame on the desk beside the seat of Lyney, Lynette, and what you can only assume from stories he’s shared is Freminet. Lynette is far from the camera, staring into the distance and sipping tea. Freminet is smiling awkwardly with no teeth, and the one eye he has visible isn’t even staring at the camera. Then Lyney sits in the middle, holding the camera with two arms and a wide grin, eyes screwed shut and his face so open.

You feel as if you’ve just caught a glimpse of something so personal, and the thought of that twists your heart and pushes it to beat twice as fast as normal. You’ve never seen him smile like that before. (You briefly wonder what it would be like to see it happen personally.)

“I’ve never seen him get this high of a fever before,” Lynette says, rousing you from your trance. She hands you a cup of tea, steam emanating from the cup.

“How did he even get sick?”

“I’m not sure… It could be because of the thunderstorm yesterday—he was out at that time and came home like that. He seemed really excited for tonight, too. Lyney kept telling me that this one would be special.”

“Because you will be coming to watch, of course.”

You nearly choke in your first sip because of your own thoughts.

Lynette looks back up at you over the rim of her cup. “With the stress of not being able to perform tormenting him, I assume he wouldn’t be getting better in time for the show. Or at least, not tonight at all.”

“Ah,” you voice lamely. You can’t even imagine the look of pure distress on Lyney’s sweet face—it hurts to even think about it. He’s done so much for you and even promised a whole show, only to fall sick before he could make it come true.

Will he think he’s at fault for this?

With your fingernails digging crescents on your palms, you quietly ask, “…Can I come visit him? Or would that be too much?”

Lynette’s gaze sharpens a little. “Has my brother told you the truth of our identities?”

“Most of everyone found out after the trial,” you answer without missing a beat.

“And still, you choose to care for Lyney?”

Is this a shovel talk? Are you experiencing a shovel talk right now?

“He makes it hard not to,” you say weakly; it’s the truth. You’re here because Lyney, throughout his little visits, has made you care so deeply for him that you started to look forward to each visit. “…Is that a no? Was that too much of a request?”

Lynette has a ghost of a smile on her face. “It’s perfect.”

The room is silent as you enter. You feel shame for visiting someone’s room without them knowing, even though you’ve been given complete permission by his own sister. Still, your face burns the closer you reach Lyney’s bed.

“Hey, Lyney,” you murmur as you kneel beside the bed. “I brought some of your favorites.”

He doesn’t respond, much to no one’s surprise. You wonder why you feel so disappointed that those lilac eyes aren’t looking at you, begging you, wooing you. Defeated, you place the bag of macarons on his bedside table, mostly an excuse to inspect his face closer.

His brows are furrowed, and a thin layer of sweat is on his forehead, even in his sleep. He looks nicer in casual clothes and his hair free from products.

A bowl of water is near his head, with a towel sitting in the bottom.

“You get really sick when you get it, huh?” you muse to no one in particular, gently wiping the sweat off his forehead. Then to his neck, where the warmth of his fever nearly burns you just by hovering close.

Lyney shifts a little. You pause with bated breath. Still, he doesn’t wake up.

“I’ll be right back,” you whisper, taking the bowl in your hands.

His nose is really red. You shouldn’t be finding it cute—really, what’s wrong with you recently?

But your movement brushed against the blanket over his torso and, with it, came revealing the side of his waist. His stomach is wrapped with bandages, and a spot of dried blood is seeping in on the bandage on his side.

Your eyes widen in horror, nearly making a loud, indecipherable noise before you catch yourself.

You rush to the door, finding Lynette in the same spot of the loveseat where you left her. Her eyes flick up to you, brows arched in surprise.

“Lynette, he—”

She catches on quickly. “He’s alright,” Lynette says, though her ears are curled back in distress. “He’s been given help. We knew of someone affiliated with Hydro and its healing properties. He’s alright.”

Well. Of course, she knew; she’s his sister. You can’t bear the thought of Lyney in the middle of a thunderstorm, finding himself in front of Lynette, bleeding. You feel sick just thinking about it. You can’t possibly imagine what Lynette has been going through, having to take care of her brother by herself.

You hesitate. “Can I come back here tomorrow?”

“Yes.”

“Oh. Wait—really?”

Lynette pauses. “Should I have not said yes?”

“I just thought you’d be a little more stern with me because of… you know…”

“I respect those who put my brother in his place,” Lynette says, then: “And those who don’t run from us when they find out what our identities are,” and that’s that.

“You brought a flower,” is the first thing Lynette says as soon as she opens the door the following morning.

“He gives me one every visit,” you explain, and you’re not quite sure why it’s humiliating to do so. “So, I want to pay him back at least this once.”

“Rainbow Rose,” Lynette notes as she shuts the door softly. You follow her into Lyney’s room, but she halts before you two can reach the door at arm’s length. “Do you know what this one means?”

You look at the Rainbow Rose nestled in your palm. It's been well taken care of since he gave it to you—all of them had been. “No, I can’t say that I do…?”

“He’s given everyone else Lumidouce Bells because this flower is a little more special.”

Lynette reaches for your hand, gently pushing the Rainbow Rose until you’re holding it against your chest.

She looks into your eyes. “That flower is like him giving his heart to you. Please, take care of it some more. Don’t give it back, okay?”

And as you mull over her words, she leaves. And left you standing in front of Lyney’s room alone, with your entire face feeling as if it’s been burnt by the sun.

But this is no time for distractions, no matter the implications. Lyney still hasn’t woken up yet, and it’s time to pay him back. He deserves that much.

“You finally feel better?”

Lyney blinks. Or, at least, he tries to, but his eyes weigh heavier than usual. He lays back down and chooses to close them back again. “Ugh…” he rasps out, “Lynette. My side is still hurting a little, but it’s much more bearable than yesterday. I thought I was about to die!”

“Don’t be so dramatic,” Lynette says, handing him a glass of water. “You already caused quite a scene.”

“Hmmm?” Lyney answers absentmindedly, finding himself ready to fall asleep again.

“You didn’t get injured yesterday. That was five days ago. And the bakery shop owner kept coming over every day.”

Lyney’s eyes definitely open at that. “What did you say?”

Lynette’s tail flicks. “The bakery has been closed for about four days now, and no one else but I know that it’s because the person responsible for it has been here in this room instead, taking care of you. It was even on The Steambird.”

Lyney’s finding it difficult to catch up. “Wait… wait. Are you saying…”

“You made Y/N, Freminet, and I worry so much, you know,” she chides.

Lyney’s heart shatters. “Does that mean—my wound—”

“I wasn’t the one changing your bandages,” Lynette says with a tiny smile as she watches her brother’s face explode in red. “Do you still feel tired?”

“Not at all!” Lyney springs up from his bed, his grin wild and insane. His side will most definitely punish him for this, but that’s far in the back of his mind. “Ah, so Y/N does care. All my efforts weren’t in vain!”

Lynette sighs, but still stays to listen.

“And—bandaging my wounds? While I was out cold? How intimate… My heart is racing at the thought of it.” He clutches his chest, because it’s true despite his dramatics.

“I’ve never seen Y/N before; I’ve only heard of what you told me every time you came back from the bakery,” Lynette starts, urging him to lie back down. She presses a towel on his forehead, and he yelps because it feels ice-cold. “But you seem wrong about every assumption, Lyney. I know the face of someone who cares.”

Lyney falters, his expression softening impossibly. “Y/N’s not mad I missed out on the show I promised…?”

“Y/N was worried about the same thing, but in your shoes.”

Lyney hides his face with his hands, but that’s a fruitless attempt. Lynette has a clear view of his red ears. “I can’t tell if I’m elated or mortified,” he groans. “Both, perhaps?”

“You’ll find out soon enough,” Lynette says, getting up at the same time the door swings open.

“I’m sorry I’m late!” you exclaim, though hushedly. “Lynette, I brought food to eat. Here, help yourself. Has Lyney woken up yet?”

“Oh, he…” Lynette takes your handmade lunch and glances down at her brother, briefly surprised to see him with his eyes shut and his breathing as steady as it had been when he was sleeping. “Excuse me, I want to eat.”

“Wait, Lynette—” you start, but Lynette is already walking away and eventually shuts the door. She must be very excited to eat her food.

You turn to Lyney, and the world falls silent. Lyney doesn’t know why he’s terrified of you finding out he’s awake. Was it guilt? Shame for a promised night in ruin, or humiliation for seeing him at his lowest point? He grips the sheet under the blanket tighter. His heart racing seems like it’s neither of those.

“Hello again, Lyney,” you say in a low whisper, and all of a sudden, his grip loosens, and his shoulders lose tension. “You should wake up soon. I promised Lynette I’d bake your favorite dessert if you do.”

You're not expecting any reply, ceremoniously reaching for the towel on his bedside table, like you’ve lived here as much as he has been.

The steady beat of your heart calms him, and he wonders how you aren’t hearing how fast his is beating yet.

Lyney finds himself enjoying being under your tender care, until the warmth on his side disappears and he panics instantly. His eyes fly open just in time for him to see you leaning in to press a gentle kiss on his cheek.

Lyney slips, instinctively reaching out to hold your head in place.

You both freeze, staring at each other wide-eyed.

His thoughts race. Four days. You’ve closed the bakery shop you swore to him you wouldn’t ever abandon just for anyone—yet you did for him. You’ve been taking care of him. And kissing his cheek, for god’s sake. Four days you’ve been caring for him so sweetly, and he wasn’t awake enough to experience all of it himself.

“You’re—you’re awake!” you exclaim, your hands on both of his cheeks. “Lyney, oh, you’re— Wait, how long have you been—”

Lyney silences you with a kiss on the side of your mouth. He smiles at your dumbfounded expression. “You shouldn’t promise my dessert,” he says, and he winces when his voice doesn’t come out as smoothly as intended. “I don’t want any more promises to break.”

“You didn’t break any promise, Lyney,” you say softly, and he blinks when your eyes glisten. “You’re awake right now, aren’t you?”

“Then,” he straightens to sit up, grinning, “let me make it up to you. I promised you a night you would never forget, didn’t I?”

A/N not another lyney fic...

#genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact x you #lyney x reader #lyney x you #lyney x y/n #lyney x gender neutral reader #genshin x you

[the-one-that-weeps]

I'm tired of the Virtual Singers being the only ones who change from world to world. We barely know how Sekai actually work or how the kids magically teleport there. For all we know they could all be holograms upon entering the virtual world.

Let's get creative about it!

Imagine that upon entering Sekai the characters' bodies shift to fit in the world better, much like the virtual singers.

Imagine that, upon entering Wonderland Sekai, Tsukasa isn't only baffled by the presence of Hatsune Miku and talking plushies, but that he too has acquired some plushie-like stitches. Imagine that upon inviting Rui onto his stage, he actually begins to glow like a real star, no longer an illusion.

Imagine Mafuyu watching over the strings attached to her body like a marionette, only ever visible in this world, origin known a little too well. Soon enough Miku and other virtual singers join her, the Kagamines gingerly playing with the strings. She ignores them, the presence makes her ice grow warmer.

Imagine Kohane, mesmerized, looking upon the graffiti-like markings painted all over her, glowing vividly even through the darkest nights. Each song, each victory, creates a newer composition. All her teammates have similar ones, all resembling Vivid Street's own graffiti. After all, aren't they one and the same with the street that shaped them?

Imagine Minori vehemently retelling Miku how the little wings behind her back made her jump higher than usual during today's practice, how they grow bigger and bigger each time More More Jump reaches another person. Miku listens intently.

Imagine Ichika slowly guiding her friends' hands while they trace the blue constellations staining her back, scars of heartbreaks and whatnot, lessons learnt the hard way. They decide to show theirs too, all radiant colours of the night sky and ever-glowling stars. They hold each other close. They all know better now.

#pjsekai #pjsk #project sekai #mine ☜ #prsk #wxs #wonderlands x showtime #tsukasa tenma #niigo #nightcord at 25:00 #25 ji nightcord de #vbs #vivid bad squad #asahina mafuyu #mafuyu asahina #kohane azusawa #minori hanasato #more more jump #mmj #l/n #leoneed #leo/need #leo need #ichika hoshino #bramble rambles

[david-talks-sw]

Debunking more myths in the GFFA: the Jedi and the clones.

I wrote a post debunking the various myths about how "the Jedi condone slavery", a while ago. Something I had omitted (because it's such a big topic) was the following two statements that concern the clone troopers' relations with the Jedi:

"The clones were genetically bred to have accelerated growth, so they're technically child soldiers."

"The clones were slaves of the Jedi."

Both the above statements are inaccurate, let's explore why. 

"The clones were child soldiers"

Let's get the easy one out of the way first, because it's a logic that cuts both ways. If age is our only determination of the maturity of a Star Wars character, then Grogu is not a baby. He is aged 50, and is thus a middle-aged man.

Who cruelly eats the babies of a woman...

... and knowingly tortures animals for his own sadistic pleasure.

Of course, I'm kidding. Grogu's none of the above things.

The narrative frames him as a cute baby who does innocent baby stuff. Him eating the eggs is played off as comedic, as is him lifting with the frog. To this day, some fans still call him "Baby Yoda".

Conversely, despite the clones being 10/14-years-old, their actions, behaviors, way of thinking, sense of humor, morals etc, are all those of an adult.

Like, Ahsoka is technically older than Rex in this scene.

The scene doesn't portray them as peers, though. This isn't written as "a teen and a tween talking". No, Rex looks, acts and behaves like a grown-up and is thus framed as such by the narrative.

You can make the argument "they're child soldiers", but (unless you're doing so in bad faith) you'd also have to argue that "Grogu's an adult".

"The clones were the Jedi's slaves"

Nope. For all intents and purposes, they're in the same boat as the Jedi, who George Lucas stated multiple times had been drafted to fight in the war.

Again: both the Jedi (monk/diplomats untrained for fighting on a battlefield) and clones (literally bred en masse only to fight) are being forced to fight by Palpatine and the Senate.

Though, on paper, the clones were commissioned by Jedi Master Sifo-Dyas, it was actually done by the Sith (who either manipulated or assassinated Sifo-Dyas then stole his identity, depending on the continuity you choose to adhere to). The rest of the Jedi had no idea these clones were being created.

So while the clones are slaves... they're not owned by the Jedi.

They're the army of the Republic, they belong to the Senate. This isn't exactly a scoop, they refer to the clones as something to purchase...

... and manufacture.

As far as the Senate’s concerned, clones are property, like droids. 

Like there's a whole subplot in The Bad Batch about this very point: after the war, the clones are decommissioned and left out to dry because they literally have no rights, they served their purpose.

The only trooper to ever canonically blame the Jedi for the clones' enslavement is Slick, who the narrative frames as having been bribed and manipulated by Asajj Ventress into betraying his comrades.

Also, the only canonical Jedi shown to ever be mean, dismissive or mistreating the clones in any way, is Pong Krell.

And it's eventually revealed he’s in fact a full-on traitor, hence why the story frames him as an antagonistic dick from the moment he's introduced. He doesn’t represent the Jedi in any way.

We know this because the other Jedi we’ve been shown are always prioritizing their clones’ lives over theirs, if given the chance.

Finally, if we wanna get even more specific... as Commander-in-Chief of the Grand Army of the Republic (GAR), the clones belong to Palpatine. 

Palpatine who is a Sith Lord. 

Palpatine who arranged for the creation of the clones and had them all injected with a chip that would activate upon hearing a code-word...

... and forced them to murder their Jedi without hesitation or remorse.

When you bear all that  ⬆️  in mind and when you read this quote by George Lucas...

"The Jedi won't lead droids. Their whole basis is connecting with the life force. They'd just say, 'That's not the way we operate. We don't function with non-life-forms.” So if there is to be a Republic army, it would have to be an army of humans."    - The Star Wars Archives: 1999-2005, 2020  

... narratively-speaking, everything falls into place.

Sidious knows that:

If he orchestrates a war designed to thin the Jedi's numbers, corrupt their values and plunge the galaxy into chaos...

If he wants to draft the Jedi - peace-keeping diplomats who’d never willingly join the fray - to fight in his war...

... then the only way they won't resist the draft and abstain from fighting is if they think joining the conflict will save lives.

So he creates a set of cruel, sadistic villains for them to face, opponents who will target innocent civilians at every turn...

... and instead of lifeless droids, he prepares for the Jedi an army of men... living, mortal people who, despite being well-trained, will be completely out of their league when facing the likes of Dooku...

... Ventress...

... Grievous...

... Savage Opress...

... or the defoliator, a tank that annihilates organic matter.

Thus, in order to save as many clone and civilian lives, the Jedi join the fray despite knowing that doing so will corrupt their values. 

And as the war rages on, a bond of respect is formed between the two groups.

Clearly, the Jedi don't like the fact that the Republic is using the clones to fight a war, but for that matter, they don't like being in a war, in fact they advocated against it.

However, it's happening regardless of their issues with the idea or personal philosophies. Said The Clone Wars writer Henry Gilroy:

"I’d rather not get into the Jedi’s philosophical issues about an army of living beings created to fight, but the Jedi are in a tough spot themselves, being peacekeepers turned warriors trying to save the Republic."

And bear in mind, the Jedi are basically space psychics, the clones are living beings that they can individually feel in the Force... 

... so the Jedi feel every death but need to move on, regardless, only being able to mourn the troopers at the end of every battle.

We see this in the Legends continuity too, by the way.

(that is, when the writers actually try to engage with the narrative)

Also, if you ask the clones, they’re grateful the Jedi have their backs.

When Depa Billaba voices her concerns about how the war is impacting the Jedi's principles, troopers Grey and Styles are quick to make it clear how grateful they all are for the Jedi's involvement:

So the clones aren't the Jedi's slaves. If anything, they're both slaves of the Republic (considering how low the Jedi's status actually is in the hierarchy).

Only I'd argue the clones have it much, much worse. 

The Senate sees the Jedi as "ugh, the holier-than-thou space-monk lapdogs who work for us"... but a Jedi has the option to give up that responsibility. They can leave the Order, no fuss or stigma. 

A clone trooper cannot leave the GAR! If they do, they’re marked for treason and execution. Again, they’re not perceived as “people”.

And it doesn’t help that the Kaminoans, the clones’ very creators, see the troopers as products/units/merchandise. A notion that the Jedi are quick to correct whenever they get the chance.

How The Clone Wars writers describe the clones' relationship with the Jedi.

George Lucas hasn’t spoken much about this subject aside from the quote from further up. But to be fair... the Prequels aren’t about the clones’ dynamic with the Jedi, so it makes sense that he wouldn’t talk on that subject so much.

He did mention that part of The Clone Wars’ perks is that he could:

“Do stories about some of the individual clones and get to know them.”

But that’s as far as it gets. 

So for this part, I'm just gonna let Dave Filoni, showrunner of The Clone Wars and the upcoming series Ahsoka, and TCW writer Henry Gilroy - both of whom worked closely with Lucas - take the wheel. They make themselves pretty clear on how the clone/Jedi dynamic is meant to be viewed. 

Here’s Henry Gilroy:

"In my mind, the Jedi see the clones as individuals, living beings that have the same right to life as any other being, but understand that they have a job to do."

"The clones see the Jedi as their commanding officers on one hand, but also, at least subconsciously, they look to them for clues to social/moral behavior."    

"Some clones may find themselves getting philosophical leadership from the Jedi that helps them answer some of the deeper questions of life."    

"We thought this was a great opportunity to show how the Jedi interact with clones. Specifically, Yoda in a teaching role of the clones, who were socially new, who kind of grew up— who were created to fight, and he really broadened their horizons and helped them realize there was a great big universe out there that was bigger than just fighting and killing."    

And here’s Dave Filoni’s comments:

"I truly believe that the Jedi try to humanize their clones and make them more individual, as Henry says."    

"I think we saw that in Revenge of the Sith, when the Clones were colorful and named under the Jedi Generals, and then in the final shots of the film with Palpatine and Vader near the new Death Star, the ships are grey, the color and life is sucked out. The Stormtroopers are only numbers and identified by black and white armor or uniforms in A New Hope." 

"The soldiers have become disposable to the Emperor."    

"That is something the Jedi would never do."    

"Yoda teaching the clones much like he taught Luke. ‘Cause that was kind of natural for [the Jedi], a natural instinct to take to these clones like they’re students."    

None of the above quotes from two different writers of The Clone Wars, who had many interactions with George Lucas, frame the Jedi and the clones’ relationship in a negative way. 

How much more proof do we need that "the clones were slaves of the Jedi” isn’t the intended narrative?

My point being that while the clones' ordeal is indeed horrible, the Jedi have nothing to do with it. The narrative of The Clone Wars always frames it as the fault of the Sith, the Senate and the Kaminoans.

If you go by the intended narrative, the Jedi were the clones' teachers and brothers-in-arms. The clones and the Jedi were not just comrades.

They were friends.

#long post #But most of this is GIFs used for evidence #meta #SW meta #jedi #Jedi Order #in defense of the jedi #Clones #The Clone Wars #on the jedi's involvement in the clone wars #TCW #Clone Troopers #Rex #Cody #Plo Koon #Mace Windu #Obi-Wan #Yoda #Dave Filoni #Henry Gilroy #Grogu #George Lucas #flashing gif