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uhgood-dooghu · 3 years

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Ana, I’m going crazy, I can’t believe I completely missed these. THE ANGST. UGH. Right where it hurts so good. UGHksdfkjhkjssfg, amazing. The way you write emotion is phenomenal❤️

close call | jhs x reader

🗝️summary: hoseok comes home in the middle of the night and it doesn't take long for you to realize something is wrong. very, very wrong.

🗝️pairing: reader x mafia!hoseok

🗝️rating: mature, 18+

🗝️genre: smut, mafia AU, guarded AU drabble though it can be read as a standalone story

🗝️warnings: standard smut warnings, feelings because apparently i know no other way

🗝️word count: 1.7K

🗝️notes: i've had in mind to write a series of these drabbles for the guarded AU involving all of the original story characters. all returning home from the same terrifying night on the job, each processing the trauma a bit differently. as always, thank you for reading and please talk to me about it! of course, i couldn't have written or posted this without the help and guidance of @ladyartemesia @btsarmy9593 and @hobi-gif thank you so much ladies. also a big thank you to the very sweet @diorggukie who was so kind to answer my questions!

He comes to you in the dead of night.

The bed dips under his weight as he slips quietly beneath the covers, pressing the length of his body to yours. You start to rouse when he wraps himself around you -- firm chest at your back, strong forearm banded over your waist -- and you open your eyes to darkness, disoriented.

“Hoseok?” You call out to him, not quite awake and not quite asleep.

No answer.

“Baby?”

Still no answer.

The fear comes over you slowly, pulsing from your legs to your chest to your arms. Finally then to your brain, sounding the alarm inside your head as the pieces start to fall into place.

He’s warm, far too warm, skin feverish and damp from what must have been a scalding hot shower. He’s breathing hard like he’s just gone for a run, his shuddering breaths ragged and rough behind the soft shell of your ear. And he’s holding you so tight he’s practically crushing his body to yours.

That’s when you realize he’s trembling.

That’s when your own heart starts to rattle inside your chest.

“Hoseok,” you call his name louder now, clearer, trying to suppress the panic in your voice. “Baby, please. Tell me you’re okay.”

He doesn’t.

You wrench yourself out of his stranglehold to turn over and curl into him, searching for his face in the dark. Beneath the lone sliver of moonlight that peeks through the blinds he looks blank, eyes open and unseeing.

“Hoseok -- “ you cup his face in your hands, grip firm as you try to rouse him from his stupor. “-- You’re scaring me. Tell me what’s wrong.”

He stares back at you, quiet for a long time before he answers.

“Bad night, baby,” he whispers at last, “Real bad night.”

The words alone would be enough to make your heart seize, but the brittle, hollow sound of his voice is your undoing. He’s right in front of you, in your arms, but he sounds a million miles away.

“You want to talk about it?”

He doesn’t answer. He doesn’t have to. Your answer is in his vacant expression, the shuttered look in his eyes. You know damned well the terrible things he’s seen -- the terrible things he’s had to do in this line of work. And you know that most nights he’s able to absorb that trauma, to contain and defuse it before he comes home to you.

This is not most nights.

“It’s alright, baby,” you whisper, leaning in to press kisses to his warm temple, his flushed cheeks. “You don’t have to say anything. You don’t have to do anyth--”

The words die on your tongue when Hoseok turns his face to capture your mouth with his.

The adrenaline lying dormant in his bloodstream roars back to life in an instant. In one swift movement he’s on top of you, pinning you down with his lithe frame, mouth and hands everywhere at once. His touch is rough, desperate, teeth scraping against the hollow of your throat. Fingers digging into the soft curve of your ass. He kisses you like he’s trying to consume you, filling the air in his lungs with the breath he steals from yours.

“Hoseok -- “ you pull away from him long enough to gasp for air, digging your fingers into his hair when he buries his face between your breasts. “ -- Baby, you’re okay. It’s over. It’s over.”

He’s not ready to listen.

He’s still too keyed up, too wild from whatever he endured out there tonight. He sucks bruises into the column of your throat as his unsteady hands grasp at the satin barrier between you, shoving the thin nightgown up your thighs. You draw in a sharp breath when he slots one leg between yours, pressing the hot, hard length of his cock to the soft curve of your stomach.

“I need you,” he chokes out, heart hammering wildly inside his chest where it’s pressed against your own. “Please.”

There will be none of his trademark finesse tonight. None of the sexy words he loves to whisper in your ear, none of the practiced touches he loves to tease you with until he’s certain you’re ready for him. And none of that matters in this moment.

His hips jerk when you slide a hand between your bodies to take hold of his rigid cock, guiding the blunt head to your entrance. You slide it against the moisture gathered there, pressing your lips to the shell of his ear.

“Take me, baby,” you whisper, “Take whatever you need.”

The words are barely out of your mouth before Hoseok is surging forward, fusing himself to you in one devastating stroke. He’s so damned hard -- impossibly hard -- and you can’t help but whimper at the sudden, sharp intrusion.

“Shit,” he swears under his breath, head dropping low between his shoulder blades. His arms shake with effort as he forces himself to hold still above you. “I didn’t mean -- “

You swallow his apology with a kiss, tearing a pained groan from him as you squeeze your thighs tight around his slim legs and skate your hands down his back to cup his ass. You tilt your hips up, rolling them against his in invitation.

“It’s alright, baby,” you promise, speaking the words against his lips. “I can take it.”

It’s like pulling the pin on a grenade. Once you speak those words out loud, he abandons what little control he had left, fucking into you with utter desperation. His fingers dig savagely into the cushion of your hips, pulling you in to meet each one of his unforgiving thrusts.

“Thought I was never going to see you again,” he pants, mouth latching to one stiff nipple through your nightgown. He sets his teeth to it despite the barrier, dragging it into his mouth through the damp satin.

You’re glad he can’t see the tears that spring to your eyes. You squeeze them shut, trying to push his words out of your mind, trying to think only about the steady rhythm of his hips against yours and the feeling of his cock buried deep.

“You’re here, baby,” you soothe, running your hands up his back. You can feel the faint tremor that runs just under the surface of his skin. “Here with me. You’re not going anywhere.”

At that, he fucks you harder. Hard enough that you have to press one hand to the headboard behind you to keep him from forcing you up the length of the bed. Hard enough that you know you’ll feel him everywhere tomorrow, know that you’ll see the evidence of his agony all over your skin.

He groans your name into the crook of your neck when he comes, shuddering as he empties himself inside of you for what feels like an eternity. And then he collapses onto you, shivering despite the warmth emanating from his skin, despite the heat that’s been generated between you.

You hold him close and trace your fingertips up and down his back until the shivering stops.

He’s still sleeping deeply when you slip out of bed.

The apartment is peaceful at this hour, the blue hue of the early light comforting in the quiet of the kitchen. You’re not much of a cook, never have been, but this morning that doesn’t matter.

You are going to make this man some fucking breakfast.

It’s easier to focus on brewing the coffee and buttering the toast than it is to think about the way he looked at you last night. The things he’d confessed to you in the dark. The way he held you like he was afraid you’d vanish.

You crack the last of your eggs into a bowl and walk to the trash can, prepared to drop the empty carton inside.

But when you press down on the foot pedal, the lid comes up and the carton in your hand falls to the floor below.

At the top of the trash pile sits Hoseok’s white dress shirt -- the one you’d bought him in Gangnam a few months ago. The one he was wearing when you’d kissed him goodbye before he left last night.

The blood smears splattered across it are a bit rusty now, oxidized and dull.

It’s so much blood that for a moment your heart stops before your brain steps in to remind you that this can’t be his blood. That you’d had your hands and mouth on every inch of his skin last night. That he’s sleeping safe and sound in your bedroom just a few feet away.

You’ve seen so many sides of Hoseok by now, his happiness and his passion and his melancholy and his fury. But you’ve never seen him terrified. Not until now.

You stare down at that shirt, willing yourself not to imagine the gruesome scenarios that come to mind. Willing yourself not to panic over events that are already said and done. Willing yourself not to collapse with grief.

He’d asked you to marry him.

He’d done it in that low key way of his, of course -- on a drive home from dinner, stopped at a red light. He’d cut the radio and reached across the gear shift to take your hand and he’d asked you to marry him. And you’d said no.

You’d argued that trauma begets trauma. That hearing the stories about your own parents’ volatile marriage had poisoned you against any hope for one of your own. That you still didn’t fully understand the damage done by years at the hands of an alcoholic father in the absence of a dead mother. That being a Kim at one time nearly destroyed you, but now it defines you.

And he’d accepted it.

In that low key way of his, of course -- stone-faced and jaw tight. He’d never made mention of it again, though you could sometimes feel it heavy in the air between you. Though at times you could feel the weight of it pressing down on your chest when you relived the memory of that night in the car.

This morning, you stare down into that trash can -- down at the ghastly red-orange stains that mar what used to be a pristine white canvas -- and your excuses echo through your mind, pathetic and small.

Hoseok would give his life for you. For your brother. For any man in this organization without second thought.

This is the life you chose and this is the man you chose.

And it is time you give him this.

tag list!

@japzalileo @dionysusrage @hey-itsmina @myimaginationsrunningwild @hauntedlilies @spring2787 @suppbeccc @veronawrites @minyoongiboongi @katbonv @pxy99 @ducktan-sonyeondan @juliaz1798 @babycoffeefire @oosnapitskat @taefect94 @kookiesspacebuns @royalmuffinsworld

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uhgood-dooghu · 3 years

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ANAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA 😩😩😩 this….this right here. True love with angst, husband-wife comfort, Namjoon and OC against the world asddfdgdhjsakladh this is my safe space. I love it, this entire relationship is beautiful 😭

close call | knj x reader

🗝summary: when a noise wakes you in the middle of the night, you find your husband in a bad way.

🗝pairing: reader x mafia!namjoon

🗝rating: mature, 18+

🗝genre: smut, mafia AU, guarded AU drabble though it can be read as a standalone story

🗝warnings: brief mentions of addiction, smut, feelings as always. angst as always.

🗝word count: 1.7K

🗝notes: this drabble is a gift for someone i truly love and admire. no one loves kim namjoon more than @sahmfanficbts and no one loves sam more than me. so, it's a love triangle. anyway, she loves mafia joon and i absolutely picture her as my OC when writing this story and she's the kind of badass, smart chick who could actually handle him. i love you sam, i hope you enjoy. also, thank you to the most patient beta readers in the world @btsarmy9593 and @hobi-gif who refused to let me fudge a line about namjoon's water bill but were both gracious enough to read this for me, fast 💕💕💕

It’s the soft click over the baby monitor that wakes you.

You’ve never been a deep sleeper -- years of caring for your ailing mother saw to that -- but since welcoming the girls you’ve developed an uncanny ability to rouse at the most miniscule sounds. You know your babies’ night noises by heart. Every gurgle, every yawn, every whimper.

And this was most definitely a click.

Your eyes snap open, searching the shadows for the wall clock.

2:14 AM.

You slip out of bed and find him standing in the dark, staring into the open door to your daughters’ bedroom.

The weak light spilling into the hallway from the kitchen paints him in a haunting silhouette. He looks ominous like this, the broad back and solid body he’s worked so hard for filling nearly every inch of the threshold.

You pad quietly -- carefully -- across the cool marble floor, already sensing the tension radiating off his large frame.

“Joon?”

You whisper his name into the stillness as you approach and his entire body stiffens. He turns towards the sound of your voice slowly, as if you’ve found him sleepwalking.

You study his face in the low light. He looks so damned tired, so damned troubled that your heart stutters inside your chest. So you step closer, close enough to slip a hand into his and thread your fingers together.

“Baby,” you say softly, “You’ll wake the girls. Come to bed.”

“Just wanted to see them,” he whispers, gripping your hand tight. “That’s all.”

You nod, reaching past him for the knob to gently pull the door closed.

“They’re sleeping so well,” you soothe, turning back to cup his face with one hand. You stroke your fingers over his face. “Having sweet dreams. Come to bed with -- “

“ -- I went to the bar tonight.”

Your heart stops beating for a moment, you swear it. It takes every ounce of self-control you possess to keep quiet as he stares down at you with those tormented, weary eyes.

“I went to the bar and I sat down and I ordered a Macallan single malt on the rocks.”

He shakes his head at the memory.

“They sat it down in front of me and I just looked at it. Sat there like an asshole and watched the ice melt.”

Your stomach twists at the anguish on his face, in his voice. But still, you force yourself to keep your mouth shut.

“But I didn’t drink it, baby,” he vows. “I didn’t touch it. I got my ass off that barstool and came home to my girls.”

It’s only now that you realize you’ve been holding your breath. Only now when you are practically lightheaded with relief, burying your face into your husband’s chest.

“That’s good, baby,” you whisper, pressing your cheek to his chest to feel the reassuring thud of his heartbeat. “Welcome home.”

Dasom is rather preoccupied with monsters these days.

She’s convinced they lurk in the corners of her room, lying in wait for the cover of the dark. Bedtime has become a rather weepy affair in which your daughter will not sleep until you can convince her there isn’t a single monster in her closet or her sister’s toy chest or beneath her bed.

So you do what mothers do -- kiss away her tears and hold her tight; whisper promises in her ear. You swear to her that you’ll keep her safe. That monsters are just a figment of her imagination.

Someday you’ll have to tell her the truth.

That some monsters are real. That sometimes they follow her Daddy home at night. That sometimes they crawl into bed beside him. That if they were the monsters of her imagination -- with gnarled teeth and sharp claws and matted fur -- they’d be so, so much easier to fight.

You look up at your husband beneath the stark lights in your bathroom and wonder what kind of monster followed him home tonight.

A terrible one, surely, judging by the shadows in his eyes.

He keeps quiet as your hands slip beneath his suit jacket and push it to the floor. Quiet as you methodically work each button of his dress shirt apart and gently peel it off. Quiet as his belt tumbles to the marble below with a clang and his pants and boxers follow without so much as a sound.

And he says nothing as you lead him into the shower, beneath the hot water now spraying at full blast.

His eyes fall shut and his head falls back and for a moment you just stare. You stand there and watch the way the water cascades down his handsome face, his defined chest, his strong legs. You stare at him until his skin pinks with heat before finally emerging from your daze to reach out with soapy hands.

He lets you wash him without protest, chin dropping towards his chest as you rake your nails against his scalp. Groaning as your thumbs rub circles into the curve of his neck. As your hands squeeze the tension out of the defined lines of his arms.

And it is only after you have painstakingly cleaned every inch of his body that you go up on your toes to capture his mouth with yours.

The kiss is hesitant at first, on account of your uncertainty about his state of mind. The hot water falls over you both and makes it hard to breathe but you press on -- press your mouth to his, your breasts to his chest, your hands to the firm spanse of his back.

He starts to come alive then, deepening the kiss, sweeping his tongue into your mouth. His hands, large and warm, grab for the curve of your ass and pull you closer. Closer to where he is most alive now -- the swollen cock pressed between you.

“I love you,” you gasp, pulling away to suck in a desperate breath. “I would do anything for you, you know that, right?”

I know.

He doesn’t say it, but you feel it in the way his chest rumbles with satisfaction. In the way his hands grip you at the waist, roughly turning you away from the falling water. You feel it in the heat of his body against yours as his fingers glide between your thighs and slip inside you.

You press your hands against the marble and curve your back as he strokes you, hissing under his breath at the wetness he finds inside. Then he’s sliding the length of his cock through it, teasing between your thighs until he’s satisfied you’re ready.

But you’re not ready.

Not for the force of the stroke that buries him to the hilt in one thrust and not for the furious pace he sets right away. You press your forehead against the marble and cry out, the sound echoing back as your husband fucks you.

He sets his teeth to the nape of your neck, the curve of your shoulder. Then to the shell of your ear where the sound of his ragged panting is enough to make goosebumps bloom all over your body.

He brings one hand down over yours, covering it on the marble wall and then snakes the other between your legs, closing his fingers over your aching clit.

“Do you feel me, baby?” he rasps, hips smacking against your ass, the sound amplified by the water on your skin. “Do you have any idea how much I need you?”

You do know, don’t you? Because you need him just as much. Because you can’t remember who you were before him and you don’t want to consider who you would have to be without him.

Because this man -- this family the two of you have created together -- are the only things keeping you tethered to reality.

You whimper when he strokes into you savagely deep, fingers insistent on your clit. You can feel the way you clamp down around him in response, and you know damned well he can feel it too because he’s practically growling now, fucking you so hard his knuckles turn white where he covers your hand with his.

“Nothing matters more to me than you,” he groans, “Nothing.”

Your knees buckle then, limbs going limp as your orgasm hits you with the subtlety of a freight train. Without Namjoon you would collapse under your own weight but he is there, like always, to keep you steady. He grabs you with both strong hands and holds you tight as he finally explodes, whispering now -- chanting your name over and over again.

He presses his weight against you, dropping kisses to your shoulder as he catches his breath.

And you revel in it, in the feeling of warm skin against warm skin.

“I fucked up tonight, baby.”

They’re the first words he’s spoken since the two of you dried off and slipped beneath the sheets. You’re in your safe place now, secure in the crook of his arm. Cheek pressed to his chest to hear the reassuring thud of his heartbeat once again.

“Led my guys straight into an ambush,” he whispers, “Never even saw it coming.”

You squeeze your eyes shut to stop the sudden rush of tears and will yourself for the second time tonight to stay quiet. To just let him talk.

“Swear to God, I thought Hoseok was a dead man,” he confesses, and beneath your ear his heart starts to pound a bit faster at the memory. “I was already thinking about how the fuck I was going to explain this to my sister.”

His chest rises and falls with the heavy breath he takes in and lets out.

“I can’t help but think that this never happened to him. It would never have happened to him.”

Now you can’t stay silent anymore.

“Look at me, Joon,” you whisper, tipping your head up to look at him. Turning his face to yours with gentle fingers beneath his chin. “On your very worst day, you’re a better man than he ever was. A better leader. Don’t do this to yourself, baby. Please.”

He presses a soft kiss to your mouth before turning his head to stare up at the ceiling. He’s quiet like that for a while, just watching the fan spin slow circles overhead.

“I hope you’re right baby,” he whispers at last, “I really do.”

tag list: @royalmuffinsworld @ekjk00

i would love to know what you thought about this story!

you can talk to me here 💕💕💕

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uhgood-dooghu · 3 years

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Exes and Superher-o’s (II)

Author: @kpopfanfictrash , as part of the Similarly Sequestered game with @underthejoon , @gukslut , @stutterfly and @fortunexkookie

Creative Contributor: @baebae-goodnight for the amazing, perfect moodboard

Pairing: Seokjin / Reader (female)

Genre: Superheroes / Exes

Word Count: 33,307

NSFW Warnings: 18+ for sexual content. Oral (male and female receiving), somewhat rough blow job/face fucking, dirty talk, rough sex, spanking, fingering, big dick, slight body worship.

Trigger Warnings: Intense action scenes. Major characters experience injuries, including shoulder dislocation, fractured ribs, a concussion, a sprained wrist + pinky, bullet wounds to the leg and abdomen. A character’s hand is blown off. Under the influence of hypnosis, a character nearly inflicts self-harm.

Summary: Things were just starting to look up in your life. You were this close to capturing the villain, had finally patched things up with your globally adored, superhero boyfriend, and then – BOOM. A damn twist ending had the audacity to ruin things. Now, you’ve been labeled the villain along with your handler, Jungkook, and a powerful, surly teenager who distrusts anything to do with your former organization. Facing insurmountable obstacles and swiftly running out time, will you be able to fight evil, save the world and reunite with your boyfriend?

Author’s Note: I highly recommend reading the first part of this story, linked below, before reading the second :) I hope you enjoy!

[ PART ONE OF EXES AND SUPERHER-O’S HERE ]

Keep reading

#ksj #kpopfanfictrash

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uhgood-dooghu · 3 years

Note

Do you still want to continue the Dichotomy series

Hi anon! Yeah, I am continuing it :) I am currently planning out a longer fic and writing as I go

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uhgood-dooghu · 3 years

Text

✨get to know me✨

Tagged by the lovely @xjoonchildx. Thanks for giving my unemployed ass something to do today 🥰

When is your birthday?

Feb 28

What is your favorite color?

Maturing is realizing yellow is the only color that matters

What’s your lucky number?

2 and 8

Do you have any pets?

I have an Australian Terrier named Kiba

How tall are you?

5’5” but apparently it changes depending on who I’m with, smh

How many pairs of shoes do you own?

Double digits, for sure

Favorite song?

Lmaoo this is actually the worst question…but Magic Shop is my comfort song

Favorite movie?

Second worst question, lol. Umm, any film by Tim Burton? Also a huge Studio Ghibli fan. Also love Guy Ritchie.

Have you ever gotten in trouble with the law?

No, I’m not cool

What color socks are you wearing?

Grey

Bath or shower?

Shower

Favorite type of music?

Don’t have one. If a song tickles my brain cells, I listen to it, it’s not limited to a specific genre

How many pillows do you sleep with?

Two for beneath my head, and then I cuddle with my Koya pillow bc I’m a lonely bitch

Which position do you sleep in?

Fetal. I am babie.

What don’t you like when you’re sleeping?

Partying. I lived in an apartment complex plagued with frat boys for a year. I died a slow death.

What do you have for breakfast?

Depends on my mood, but usually yogurt or eggs. Sometimes I don’t eat breakfast

Have you ever tried archery?

Once at camp when I was like 8, and I suuuucked

Favorite fruit?

Strawberries!

Favorite swear word?

My go-to is “shit” but I’m a sucker for a well-timed f-bomb

Do you have any scars?

Yeah. I have a pretty gnarly one on my shin from weightlifting

Are you a good liar?

Lol no

What’s your personality type?

I’ve been told I exude bottom energy 🤷🏻‍♀️

What’s your favorite type of girl?

Hm, I love girls who hype up other girls (especially girls they don’t know) for no reason. Like, yessssss I’m living for all this girl-love. Also, do y’all know about Nonaka Miho? 😳😳🥴🥴 Look her up pls

Left or right handed?

Right handed bc I’m basic

Favorite food?

My mom’s pho

Are you clean or messy?

I am a happy medium

Favorite foreign food?

Ummmm tteokbokki! Korean cuisine is just…elite.

How long does it take for you to get ready?

15 min

Most used phrase?

“Everything is fine” & “Don’t worry about it”

Are you a good singer?

I’m decent…I’m not tone deaf, that’s for sure

Do you sing to yourself?

Obviously, I’m not a psychopath

Biggest fear?

Loneliness and rejection

Do you like long or short hair?

I like mermaid hair (so, long)

Are you into gossip?

Only fun gossip. As soon as y’all start shit talking, I’m out (although, I will shit talk men and their audacity all day everyday)

Extrovert or introvert?

Ambivert…? Leaning a little towards introvert bc people can be scary

Favorite school subject?

…organic chemistry…

What makes you nervous?

Going to new places and meeting new people for the first time. Like I said, I fear rejection.

Who was your first real crush?

Real crush? Omg, his name was Chris and he was this beautiful skater boy who was so chill and sweet and he had gorgeous long curly brown hair and adorable brown eyes, and apparently he said I was cute once and I actually died when I found out. Bro, I was down baaad. Was too scared to do anything about it tho, so…rip me. It’s fine, he had a nicotine addiction.

How many piercings do you have?

Just 2, on my lobes. Hopefully more to come, but I’m prone to keloids ☹️

How fast can you run?

I don’t

What makes you angry?

People treating other people poorly. Just…be kind?

Do you like your own name?

Mhmm, but I like my middle name more

What are your weaknesses?

Perfectionism and my own insecurities, lol

What are your strengths?

I have a really good memory. That’s a strength I don’t think people acknowledge enough

What is the color of your bedspread?

Dark grey

Color of your room?

White

tagging: @propinqxity & @inkedtae & whoever is also unemployed and bored 😴

#me

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uhgood-dooghu · 3 years

Text

Ana, I’m not gonna lie...I’m pretty sure almost everything in my drafts is a total disaster 😅The amount of 1 page drafts and unfinished outlines and one sentence ideas that probably meant something epic at one point but mean nothing to me now...it’s a mess in there, HA!

But seriously, I’m so glad you enjoyed! I’m always honored when you read any of my stuff, as always 🥺❤️

Playing with Fire [M]

Author uhgood-dooghu

Pairing Jungkook x Reader

Summary Your mind empties when you’re with him like this. But he feels so good pressed up against you, and it’s so hard to care. So hard to remember that this is a massive fucking mistake.

Genre Smut, angst, cheating!au, implied college!au

Warnings Cheating, terrible horrible no good very bad decision making, semi-public sex (in an empty parking lot), car sex, spanking, orgasm delay, light dirty talk, JK in all his tattooed and pierced glory, just JK in general because that man needs a warning all for himself, porn with a very small very sad plot

Word Count 2.8k

a/n Hi guys, please don’t cheat, it’s not worth it and it hurts everyone involved 🥺 also, oooooff I guess I like to make myself sad I think it’s my Pisces energy

Cross-posted to AO3

You panic when his name flashes across your screen.

Scrambling to reject the call, you stare with wide eyes at your best friend, teetering on the edge of sleep beside you. Relief rattles your head when she merely shifts on the cushions, turning her face the other way. She doesn’t register when you slowly stand, holding the device to your chest as you sneak quickly to your room. Closing the door softly, you redial.

“Sara was right next to me,” you hiss.

Your heartbeat fills the silence when he doesn’t respond immediately. Then, “…shit.”

The clock on your nightstand flashes “12:47 AM” in bright red font, as if you need another reminder that he shouldn’t be calling you right now. He shouldn’t be calling you at all.

“She…” You hesitate, swallowing thickly. “She didn’t see.”

You hear his exhale with a twist in your stomach. “No?”

As you lean against the door, you squeeze your eyes shut. Alarm bells sound off in your mind, but you can feel the ghost of his touch on your skin. You can feel the press of his lips on your own, and your resolve is crumbling.

“No…” Nerves flare across your body. Whether they are from anxiety or excitement, you can’t tell anymore. “She’s asleep.”

His silence is deafening. It holds every wanton lie, every sinful desire, every crippling shred of guilt that grips your throat and suffocates you when morning comes, and for a moment you wonder if he’ll make the right choice. If tonight is the night he comes to his senses the way you cannot. But then his voices crackles through.

“I’m outside.”

You take a breath. You need to stop this. You reach for the door handle. You need to say no. You peek out at the couch. You need to send him home.

“Give me five.”

Keep reading

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uhgood-dooghu · 3 years

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Hello Kiki.

So I stumbled upon one of your fics “Dichotomy”, and I have to say that I’ve fallen absolutely in love with the universe.

I could feel his undying love and devotion for his wife and son. I could feel his self-disgust. I could feel the way his wife made him feel. I could feel OC’s unrelenting steadfastness and determination to make her husband understand that she would ALWAYS choose him above everything, that he was worthy of everything good in this world despite what he did to provide for her and their son.

Everything about it was perfectly executed: the realistic and non-cringy dialogue, the absence of unnecessary walls of text, the pretty prose without it being too flowery… wow.

And don’t even get me started on Trouvaille. The meet-cute-that-was-not-necessarily-cute-but-it-somehow-managed-to-be-cute-still. How Joon felt his walls crumbling down to make way for this unexpectedly warm light to shine on his poor battered heart.

Made me curious as to how the ten-year love journey went before they got to the point where they’re happily married with a beautiful son. How they managed to navigate and STILL navigate the life Joon lives together. How they managed to overcome the unyielding hurdles coming their way due to Joon’s underground life before they decided that they couldn’t live without each other. How they welcomed Wooyoung into their lives. How Wooyoung sees his father when his father constantly shows up with a bloody and battered face.

I love this universe. I love the characters. Would love to get to know them even more, especially lovely Wooyoung.

Thank you for creating this universe. Incredible writing, truly.

Aw anon! This was such a wonderful message to log on to! I'm so glad that my little universe touched you so deeply ❤️Thank you for such kind words... things like this fuel my attempts to escape a seemingly never-ending writing drought. I love this au with my whole heart and am very much so still writing little bits and pieces here and there that I will weave together into a longer story in the future. I have a general idea of what I want it to look like...so hopefully the tiny corner of the internet that loves these two and Wooyoung as much as I do won't have to wait too long to hear from them again 💖

Thank you again for this message, anon, it really made my day! 🥰I hope yours is just as wonderful.

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uhgood-dooghu · 3 years

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summary⇢ what’s a girl to do when her sweet, innocent baby lab partner isn’t quite so sweet and innocent? well, he’s a grown-ass man, and you’re about to learn that the hard way. pairing⇢ jungkook/reader word count⇢ 97.1k rating⇢ 18+

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↳bonus: hoe chronicles 🤪💦

✨series playlist✨

#jjk #myheart

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uhgood-dooghu · 3 years

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Aw, thank you for reading! Yeah, we def don’t stan this JK in this household 😬 but we love the ✨angst✨

Playing with Fire [M]

Author uhgood-dooghu

Pairing Jungkook x Reader

Summary Your mind empties when you’re with him like this. But he feels so good pressed up against you, and it’s so hard to care. So hard to remember that this is a massive fucking mistake.

Genre Smut, angst, cheating!au, implied college!au

Word Count 2.8k

a/n Hi guys, please don’t cheat, it’s not worth it and it hurts everyone involved 🥺 also, oooooff I guess I like to make myself sad I think it’s my Pisces energy

Cross-posted to AO3

You panic when his name flashes across your screen.

“Sara was right next to me,” you hiss.

Your heartbeat fills the silence when he doesn’t respond immediately. Then, “…shit.”

The clock on your nightstand flashes “12:47 AM” in bright red font, as if you need another reminder that he shouldn’t be calling you right now. He shouldn’t be calling you at all.

“She…” You hesitate, swallowing thickly. “She didn’t see.”

You hear his exhale with a twist in your stomach. “No?”

“No…” Nerves flare across your body. Whether they are from anxiety or excitement, you can’t tell anymore. “She’s asleep.”

“I’m outside.”

You take a breath. You need to stop this. You reach for the door handle. You need to say no. You peek out at the couch. You need to send him home.

“Give me five.”

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uhgood-dooghu · 3 years

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🙈🙈 Ana staaaahhhhp, I can’t 😭 (I’m not blushing, you’re blushing, we don’t have to talk about it LOL) ngl, you picked literally the first line I wrote for this thing to quote 🤣 welcome to the jungle that is my mind... anywho, thank you for reading, I appreciate it so much!!!!! 💕🥺🥺💕

Dial Tone [M]

Author uhgood-dooghu

Pairing Namjoon x Reader

Summary Namjoon’s been gone for a week. That’s it, that’s the tweet.

Rating 18+

Genre Smut, fluff, my attempt at crack, established relationship

Warnings Explicit sexual content, phone sex, daddy kink you’ve been warned, dom/sub undertones, begging, edging, orgasm control, dirty talk, use of a sex toy, Namjoon’s packing, OC is a bro girl at heart, self gratuitous porn with no plot

Word Count 2.7k

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uhgood-dooghu · 3 years

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Ahhhh Kharli! I’m so glad you enjoyed and especially that you liked the dialogue! I adore couples that have that strong friendship vibe and connection—that’s what I was going for, and I’m glad it came through, as well as the rest of their relationship dynamic. You are witnessing me experiment with how well I can establish a couple in 2k words, since I’m still struggling to write long pieces 😅 Not for the faint of heart is right though, it’s lowkey hard for me to reread this because it makes me blush, hahaaaa. Thank you as always for your wonderful words, I always love reading your thoughts and insight!! 💜💜

Dial Tone [M]

Author uhgood-dooghu

Pairing Namjoon x Reader

Summary Namjoon’s been gone for a week. That’s it, that’s the tweet.

Rating 18+

Genre Smut, fluff, my attempt at crack, established relationship

Word Count 2.7k

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uhgood-dooghu · 3 years

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Acceptance Post

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uhgood-dooghu · 3 years

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Dial Tone [M]

Author uhgood-dooghu

Pairing Namjoon x Reader

Summary Namjoon’s been gone for a week. That’s it, that’s the tweet.

Rating 18+

Genre Smut, fluff, my attempt at crack, established relationship

Word Count 2.7k

“Daddy...”

Namjoon almost swerves into a passing truck as your breathy voice fills his car.

Swearing, he composes himself, eyes flitting rapidly between the road and his phone, the Bluetooth allowing a string needy moans to ring out from the speakers.

When you’d called earlier, he’d been in the middle of the Meeting of the Year (trademarked by Seokjin), deep in the throes of negotiations but also riding high on the success of the afternoon. He hadn’t seen the notification until he’d finally left the building forty-five minutes late, waving goodbye to his business partner and waiting for his car just outside the lobby. He’d frowned when he’d seen your name. You’d made plans this morning to call him later tonight, so the timestamp concerned him slightly, but he knew well enough that if there was an emergency, you would call at least 7 times. Probably blow up Seokjin’s phone as well.

Sliding into the drivers seat, he’d connected his phone and pulled onto the street, absentmindedly hitting play on your message.

Thank god Seokjin had declined his offer for a ride.

“Holy mother of fuck,” he exclaims, panic clouding his thoughts before he has the sense to throw a hand out and adjust the volume. Does he know what’s happening? No. But he really doesn’t need the bass bumping your moans through the window for the whole world to hear.

Gripping the steering wheel, he swallows thickly, ears tuning in to the words you start to speak.

“Daddy, I need you,” you whine. “Where are you? You said you’d be done by now–“ You break off with a gasp.

When it hits him, the panic subsides, his jaw locking in place as he maneuvers his way through the evening rush. To clarify, you’d made very specific plans to call him tonight.

Apparently you’d gotten impatient.

The way your voice shakes tells him you probably had three fingers buried in your pussy, trying and failing to replicate what his own fingers are capable of. He listens to you take a few grounding breaths.

“I miss you, daddy. You’ve been gone for so long–oh my god–I miss you touching me.”

Namjoon’s eyes harden and he presses harder on the gas. A horn blares to his left, but he ignores it completely, barely seeing the angry driver flip him off, because his pants suddenly feel much tighter than they did five seconds ago.

“I miss your fingers. And your dick. Fuuuck, daddyyy!”

Your moans start to escalate, chasing after that edge, likely trying so hard to curl your fingers against your g-spot while circling your clit frantically with your free hand. His knuckles whiten around the wheel, his exhale dark as your voice turns progressively more manic, more helplessly panicked, until you cry out in desperation, the way you always do when you’re denied.

Your voice cracks and he feels it right in his dick.

“Daddy daddy, please please please, call me back, please please, I wanna come, daddy, I’ve been so good, please please please, call me.”

Your words slur, voice wrecked, and you let out a final sob before the message ends.

Namjoon sits frozen for a moment, mechanically turning his car into the hotel drive, before he inhales sharply and looks down.

Yep, he’s hard as fuck.

“Shit.”

Pulling up to the valet, he fumbles with his belt, tucking his erection into his waistband with a silent prayer that it’ll be enough to save him some embarrassment. It probably won’t (surprise, it’s actually quite difficult to hide a massive dick, who would’ve thought), but he doesn’t have a whole lot of options. At least he wore black pants.

He grabs his phone and steps out of the car only a little awkwardly, passing the man his keys before making a beeline for the glass doors. Thankfully, the lobby is near vacant as he rushes to the elevator, angling himself away from the front desk. Still, the receptionist raises an eyebrow, so he forces a smile, dimples fully on display even as his eyes stare daggers at the dial above the door. Tapping at his phone, he shoots you a text.

Namjoon: Couldn’t wait for tonight, huh? [6:31 PM]

When the doors finally open, he darts inside, choosing his floor and frantically tapping the “close” button.

The elevator moves far too slowly. That’s all he can think as he adjusts his crotch, swearing under his breath. It does nothing to relieve the pressure and he swears again. He really does have big dick problems. He nearly trips when the doors slide open, narrowly missing a wide-eyed housekeeper passing by with a cleaning cart. He is quick to apologize but does not stop as he speeds to his suite, already tugging at the knot of his tie.

Letting himself through the door, he works the top few buttons of his shirt open and glances at his phone. You haven’t responded, which, knowing you, could mean one of two things. Either you let the moment pass...or you’re too fucked out to notice his message.

Quirking a brow, he texts again.

Namjoon: You there baby? [6:34 PM]

This time your response is immediate.

Y/n: Call me [6:34 PM]

With a chuckle, he strips to his boxers and falls to the mattress. Readjusting on the pillows, he presses the phone to his ear, listening to it ring twice before you pick up.

“Daddy…”

“Hi, baby.” He hooks his arm behind his head and licks his lips. “What you up to?”

He smirks when you moan, loud and wanton.

“Having fun?”

You stutter out a yes.

“Mmm, without me?”

He listens in amusement as you keen.

“I’m sorry, daddy, I c-couldn’t help it. I miss you!”

“It’s okay, princess. I miss you, too.”

In the background, he hears a soft drone.

“You got a toy in you, baby?”

“Mhmmm!”

“Yeah? Which one?”

You take a shaky breath. “T-the black one.”

He hums in approval, cock twitching at the image of you lying on the bed, legs spread, the suction cup of your favorite toy pressed to your clit while the other end curves inside you, buzzing against your g-spot. He can picture the way your eyes squeeze shut as you bite and suck on your fingers to keep yourself from touching.

“How long’s it been in, princess?”

“Too long,” you moan, and he tuts in disapproval.

“Not an answer.”

You whimper, voice pitching. “Since I c-called you.”

In the back of his mind, he’s impressed. That was at least an hour. Giving a low whistle, he finally reaches down and briefly palms himself. The relief shoots up his spine as he sighs.

“Dang, baby. Wanna tell daddy what you did while you waited for me?”

The way you groan tells him you’d much rather not, but he waits expectantly. You know what to say if you want to stop. You exhale a few times before managing to speak.

“I u-used my fingers...and I played with my clit. I got myself m-messy for you.” You pause to breathe. “Then g-got close, I was so close, and then I called you.”

You’re starting to heave, voice modulating rhythmically, and Namjoon suspects you are rocking your head back and forth, trying to keep the pleasure at bay. His dick throbs, but he refuses to touch just yet. Not until he hears you be good for him.

“Keep going, baby.”

You huff a whine and press on. “T-then I put my toy in...I let it suck my clit–ah!”

The device clicks off and he swells with pride and satisfaction as you pant heavily in his ear. Your self-control never fails to blow his mind. He doesn’t even have to tell you what to do, you’re so desperate to please. Tugging at his waistband, he pulls the elastic below his balls, finally wrapping his hand around the base of his cock and squeezing.

“You like that, huh? You like your toy sucking your clit?”

“D-daddy sucks it better.” You mewl and click the toy back to life.

He allows himself a smug grin. Sue him, it’s nice to hear. “What then, baby? What did you do next?”

Slowly, he starts raking his fist over his shaft, swirling the palm over the tip, and he bites back a groan, because, shit, he gets so ridiculously hard for you, it’s almost pathetic. Almost.

“I–fuck–I kept it inside me, and I...I p-played with my nipples until I was close–shiiiiit.”

You’re losing coherency by the second, and Namjoon loves it. It sets his nerve-endings on fire. Makes him a little light-headed himself. Still, he murmurs soft praises in your ear, wishing he was there to stroke your hair and kiss your face, your hands, literally every inch of your body. It takes you a minute to continue, the vibe clicking on and off once more.

“I was s-so close, and then I t-turned it up and it felt so good, daddy, it felt so good!” You’re on the verge of tears, and Namjoon smiles fondly, dragging his thumb through the precum beading at his slit.

“I’m sure it did, baby. Were you a good girl?”

“Yes yes yes,” you insist, and he hears the frantic rustle of sheets. “I was good, I didn’t come. I promise.” There’s a slight change in your voice, the toy becoming more muffled, and he can tell you’ve flipped to your stomach. “I promise.” This time you actually sob, and Namjoon shushes you softly.

“It’s okay, baby, I believe you.”

You moan. “Daddy, I wanna come.”

The throb of his dick lets him know he wants you to come, too. He moves his fist just a little faster.

“I know, baby.” Biting his lip, he lets his eyes fall shut. “But I want you to use your fingers first. Take the toy out and get them wet. Taste yourself for me, princess.”

You shift and, a few moments later, audibly swallow.

“Tastes so good...” you moan.

Fuck.

“Yeah? Nice and sweet for me?”

Your affirming whimper is slightly muffled, and Namjoon can see the way you press your face into the mattress, ass up and knees wide, fingers drenched in your own slick and drool as you rock your hips in the air. The image is lethal.

“Yesss daddy, please–“ You choke in the way you do when you force yourself to hold off for him. “Please, I’m so close, I’ve been so close for so long, please.”

God, he doesn’t know why he loves this so much. It’s almost sadistic how much he gets off on hearing you beg, on hearing you so broken and needy and desperate, such a far cry from the confidently composed woman he knows you to be.

In the beginning, he was confused, reluctant even, when you asked him to take control of your pleasure. Even though the idea sent a shiver up his spine, he couldn’t imagine you of all people truly wanting something like that. You, who demands control in every aspect of your life, who refuses to take orders and sends 6’ 5”, built-like-dump-truck CEOs crashing face first into their glass office doors (a story for another time).

He asked you again and again and again if you were sure, hesitant to jump too hastily, no matter how badly his mind and body buzzed at the thought. It took you grabbing his face and shaking him, promising him you wanted this, wanted him to have that final say, for him to finally agree. You had a more detailed conversation after that, discussing boundaries and safe words and all the nuts and bolts he was adamant to set firmly in place.

You haven’t come without permission since.

And now, as you whine and beg for him, completely at his mercy even 1,000 miles away, he revels in the power trip. He feels it swim through his veins and collect in his dick, and yeah, another drop of precum oozes out because that’s how much he fucking loves this.

“Daddy,” you choke, and he can tell you’re quickly reaching a breaking point.

“It’s ok, princess, I’m here.”

Putting you on speaker, he sets his phone on his chest and reaches down to cup his balls. He’s barely touched himself, but they’re already so tight, and he knows he won’t need a whole lot to get there. You do all the work without even trying.

You keen helplessly, and he rolls the flesh in his palm.

“Alright, baby,” he coos. “Put your toy back in. I want you to turn it up high. I wanna hear it, okay?”

The answering buzz has you crying out. Loudly.

Namjoon grins in satisfaction. Resting his head back, he tugs on his dick, finally allowing the warmth to grow and spread throughout his limbs. Your moans spur him on, his pace increasing in time with your desperation, until all he can hear are your sobs of ‘daddy daddy daddy!’

Fuck, he’s close.

“You know what to do, baby,” he growls.

You’re practically wailing, words muffled and unintelligible, and he fleetingly wishes he had FaceTimed you instead.

“Can’t hear you, princess.”

You gasp loudly.

“P-please, daddy, can I come?” You break off in a desperate slur of pleasepleaseplease, and that’s all he needs to snap.

Gritting his teeth, he tightens his fist.

“Come.”

“Fuck, daddy!” You squeal, crying out for him incoherently as you fall apart, the sound slightly distorted from the way your writhing rustles the sheets against the speaker.

“Good girl,” he groans, fist pumping furiously, head falling back as your whimpers send him over the edge. Cum spurts over his hand and stomach in hot streaks. “Such a good girl for me, fuck.”

He works himself through the pleasure, dragging his cum back down his cock, all the while showering you with praise as you gasp helplessly.

“Fuck, baby, you did so well.” With a hiss, he slows his hand to a stop, giving himself one last squeeze before dropping his dick to his stomach. “I’m so fucking proud of you. You hear me?”

You whimper, panting heavily, toy already clicked silent, and he knows you’re just about boneless on the sheets. For a second he lies there, letting the cloud settle, his sticky hand hanging off the bed. Taking a breath, he checks in.

“Can you talk to me, y/n?”

You don’t respond right away. “G-give me a minute,” you eventually whisper, and he relents with a soft ‘okay.’

It takes about five minutes, but he finally hears your breathing level out, a sated sigh crackling though the phone.

“How you feeling, babe?”

“Dead.”

He laughs, grabbing some tissues from the nightstand. “How long were you–“

“Two hours. Two fucking hours, Joon.” He laughs again, wiping the cum from his abs and fingers. “How long does it take to check your messages, goddamn!”

“Sorry, the meeting ran long.”

You hum in mock annoyance, then yawn loudly. “It went well, at least?”

“Mhmm, really well. We closed the deal.”

“Fuck yeah, bro.”

Laughing, Namjoon tosses the tissues in the trash and falls back onto the pillows. “Were you really edging for that long?”

“I mean, I took a couple breaks, but yeah, pretty much.”

He shakes his head, feeling a little guilty. “I’m sorry, baby, you know you didn’t have to–“

“Namjoon. It felt good. Really good.”

“...well, shit.”

You snort, and he lets go of any intrusive thoughts. He trusts that you know what you want, and lord knows he’ll give you anything you ask for. He hears you yawn once more with a smile.

“You should go to sleep.”

“It’s only 7.”

“You’ll be asleep in an hour anyways.”

You shift on the bed with a scoff. “You calling me old?”

“If you want me to.”

“I’ll pass, thanks.”

Namjoon smiles, and starts softly asking about your day, content to just hear your voice and stare aimlessly at the ceiling. Eventually, though, you settle into silence, simply listening to each other breathe. It’s not nearly as good as feeling your warmth beside him, but he’ll live. Still, he’s counting down the hours until his plane lands in a few days and he can kiss you for real. It’s been a long week.

He sighs. “I miss you, y/n.”

“I miss you, too, Joonie. I love you.”

His heart swells and he closes his eyes. He loves you, too. So goddamn much.

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