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#but if i sleep now i'll be too drowsy when i wake up to get it done by when it's due

moremaybank · 10 months

Text

BIRTHDAY BOY — j.m

summary you wake jj up on his birthday

warnings unprotected sex, oral sex (m. & f. receiving), fingering, choking (sorta), spitting (squirt into r's mouth), cum-swallowing, creampie, breeding kink, language

author's note i got a request for a jj smut in honour of rudy's birthday so here it is 💪🏽

jj masterlist

You've always considered JJ's birthday to be a holiday. Your favourite holiday, to be exact. You believe that he deserves to have good memories of his birthday. You don't want him to be stuck with the sour recollections of his special days turned disappointing by Luke.

You're wearing a mischievous grin as you tiptoe toward the bed. Your body's clad in JJ's favourite lingerie set, the lace clinging to your soft skin and showing off your curves. You creep onto the mattress, swinging your leg over his lap so you can straddle him. You lean down, your lips brushing against his ear.

"Wake up, birthday boy," you coo as your hands glide up his bare chest.

JJ stirs, a tired groan escaping his lips as he slowly blinks his eyes open. His gaze meets yours, droopy and still sleep-ridden. His eyes trail downward, and his once drowsy expression morphs into a a lust-filled one.

"Goddamn. Look at my girl," he says, his hands grabbing a hold of your bare waist. "What's goin' on?"

"Well...since it's your birthday and all, I was thinking we could have breakfast in bed."

JJ gets the idea when you roll your hips against his, grinding on him slightly. You feel him twitch under your covered core with excitement, and you give him a smirk.

"Then get on your back so I can eat," JJ instructs. He leans up on his elbows, ready to lift you off of him, but you stop him by planting your hand on his naked chest and pushing him back down. He lets out a soft gasp as he lands back onto his pillow, and follows up by giving you a smug grin. "Bossy. I like it."

"It's your birthday, handsome." Your lips etch wet kisses down his chest and torso, and once you reach his happy trail, your tongue darts out and you trace the line up from the hem of his briefs. JJ lets out a hum, slowly getting riled up by your teasing. You peer up at him through your lashes. "You deserve to be spoiled."

You palm him over his underwear, stroking him through the fabric and feeling his already large cock grow in your hand. You know he's getting excited when he starts to gently grind against your hand, craving more friction than you're providing. Normally, you'd push his hips down, make it clear that you're in charge, but today, all you want to do is make him feel good. To treat him and let him blow off some steam.

"You do spoil me, princess."

"Shh," you hush. "Be good for me and I'll suck every last drop of cum out of you, baby."

He chuckles softly, "Yes ma'am."

You tug his briefs down enough to expose his cock, and animated hearts pop out of your eyes as you begin to drool. He's half hard, slightly standing and begging you to bring it into your mouth. You want to swallow him whole, have him bruise the back of your throat as he fucks into you because your mouth is too perfect. Too warm and wet and inviting that he has no choice but to force his cum down your throat over and over.

You shuffle upward slightly, and gather the spit in your mouth before dribbling it all over his cock. Your hand circles his length, jerking him, and your lips come into contact with his throbbing tip. You run it over the wet seam of your lips a few times, humming in content when you taste the pre-cum leaking from him.

"Don't tease, pretty girl. Need you so fucking bad," he pouts, his voice still laced with sleep. His morning voice has always sounded like sex to you, but now, with him at your mercy, his pleading causing your arousal to grow.

"Yeah? How bad, J?" You question, still stroking him as your eyes hold his captive. Your grip tightens and you start to flick your wrist as you jerk and twist him. "Tell me what you want, baby. I'll give it to you. Just wanna hear you say it."

"Open your mouth. Let me fuck that pretty throat of yours. Please."

"Well, since you asked so nicely," you beam, your voice low and sultry. You bring him back to your mouth, your tongue lapping at him as you help him bottom out. He's lodged so deep that your lips are right at his balls.

"F-Fuck, baby girl. Shit."

He bucks his hips, letting himself hit the back of your throat and watching as your eyes well with tears. His hand cradles the back of your head, keeping you in place and cutting off your air supply. He gives a few thrusts before he lets you retract. You come up slowly, hollowing your cheeks and creating a suction-like grip around him. Once you reach the tip, you slip him out with a pop.

JJ swipes a tear from your cheek. "Look so pretty when you're crying from my cock. Go ahead. Make me cum, sweetheart."

You smile with a nod, before eagerly bringing him back into your mouth. It isn't long before your head is bobbing up and down with determination, and your tongue slithers around him, dragging up and down the thick vein on the underside of his length.

"More. Gimme more," he demands breathlessly.

You do as you're told, sucking with more pressure and slurping his cock up like it’s ice cream that’s dripping down the cone. Your tongue swirls at his tip, teases his leaking slit. Your hands massage his balls and squeeze his thighs as you take him all the way.

JJ’s pleasure skyrockets, and his legs are starting to writhe around as you keep up your work on him. He keeps thrusting into your mouth, and soon enough, he ends up holding your head there while he fucks your throat just like you wished he would.

“Shit, gag for me, princess. Gonna fucking cum,” he grits out as his pleasure crests. He tips over the edge when your throat closes around him slightly, and you hum around him, sending addicting vibrations throughout his body. “Yes. Fuckfuckfuck.”

He finally releases you, and you slowly come up, careful not to waste a single drop of his cum as you withdraw from him. You swallow it all, opening your mouth wide to show him that you savoured his seed. He grins, and his hand then wraps around your throat, pulling you up for a deep kiss.

“Thank you,” he mumbles against your swollen lips. “Thank you, thank you, thank you.”

“You can thank me by using me any way you like, handsome,” you say, threading a hand through his hair as he starts to nip at the skin of your neck. Your eyes flutter shut and you give him more access, feeling your core throb with need every time his mouth comes into contact with your flesh. You’re sure he’s leaving his mark on you, a silent thank you for his euphoric wake-up even though he verbally expressed his gratitude to you multiple times.

“Let me eat you out,” he murmurs into your collarbone.

“J, this is supposed to be about you. For you.”

“This is for me.” He flips you onto your back and towers over you. “Now spread your legs.”

You blush, opening your legs for him. The fabric hiding you from him is so thin, so lacy that he can still see most of you. His thumb swipes over your entrance and his mouth waters at how wet you are.

“Always so soaked after sucking me off, huh?”

He nudges you, hooking his fingers into your panties and signifying you to lift your hips for him. He drags the flimsy underwear down your smooth legs, and tosses them over his shoulder. His thumbs spread you wide, letting him get a good look at your dripping core. You smell so sweet, he contemplates just ditching all of his life plans so he can eat you out for the rest of his days.

“Love this pussy,” he muses, eyes dancing as he finally lets himself have a taste. His lips adorn your pussy with kisses and small, teasing licks that drive you insane. He’s kissing it the way he kisses you, passionately and bleeding with love. It’s also dripping with excitement and eagerness, his only dream in this moment to make you cum so hard you see stars.

You prop yourself up on your elbows, letting tousle his hair away from his eyes. He’s looking up at you as he shakes his head from left to right and stimulating your clit. He halts, moving to wrap his lips around it and suck on it.

Your thighs are already squeezing his head, and your moving around so much that his hands hook around your thighs so he can hold you right against his mouth. His tongue dips down and plunged into your entrance as he now fucks you with his mouth. Your own hand finds your clit, rubbing at it in time with the thrusts of his tongue.

“J, oh my god. Fuck,” you whine. “Feels so fucking good.”

He swaps his tongue for his middle and ring fingers, letting them curl into you and prod at that special spot inside you. He seats your hand away and his mouth returns back to your clit after tonguing through your folds. You collapse onto the mattress as he overpowers you. His fingers punt into you harshly, making your legs shake.

“Right there. Don’t stop!” you call out.

JJ doesn’t let up, and your orgasm crashes into you harshly, as you shake and twitch almost violently. Your gasping for air but JJ continues to finger you through it, making you squirt over and over again as you ride it out. Then, when he removes his fingers for you, he leans up grabs you by the jaw and spits the pool of your release into your mouth. He watches as you swallow, doing what he wants and making him proud.

“You taste good, don’t you, baby?” You nod as he stuffs your mouth with his cum-soaked fingers. “This has to be my best birthday ever.”

You beam at him. “Let me ride you, J.”

He reverts to his original position against his pillows and motions you over with his index finger. “Get over here, then, pretty girl.”

You crawl up his body and plop yourself up on his lap. His hands smooth down your curves and rest on your hips as your hand circles his length once again to guide him inside you. You both let out simultaneous gasps when he slips into your slick hole, engulfing him in your heat. You sit down fully, feeling his tip nudge at your cervix once he’s all the way inside you.

"So damn tight, baby. Squeezin' me like there's no tomorrow," JJ groans. "Start bouncin' for me."

His strong hold helps you follow his command, and your hands brace on the tops of his shoulders while you start to fuck him. Your nails claw at his chest, leaving jagged red lines as you let go of your restraint and take what you want from him. You're already breathless, feeling a burn in your legs as you continue to ride him. You're so wet that he slips out of you, and a whine emits from your lips at the loss of his cock. JJ helps you by slipping himself back inside, pulling you closer to your chest is flush to his greedy mouth.

"Hold on tight, baby. I can't take it easy on you," he rasps, his arms now fully wrapping around your frame. He holds you still and fucks up into you harshly as you cry out.

"Fuck me harder, J. Cum for me, give me your babies," you beg. A string of pleases fall from your lips as your hands grip onto the headboard in front of you. Your hands grow sore from how tight you're holding on, but JJ's electrifying thrusts have you struggling to feel it, or even care.

JJ moves his head to one of your tits, letting his tongue flick at your nipple before sucking on it. His teeth graze over your swollen bud, and one of your hands release the headboard to hold his head. You scratch at his scalp lightly and pull at his blonde strands as his pelvis smacks into yours. His mouth releases you, watching the pornographic view of your tits bouncing in his face for a few moments before he repeats his earlier actions to your other breast.

Your head falls back and your arms wrap around JJ's neck, calling out his name. You're nearing another high and JJ can tell by the way your walls are starting to clamp down on him as they try to milk him for all he's worth.

One of JJ's hands move to grip you by the neck. "Beg me for my cum again. Beg me to fill you up."

"Please. Cum for me, baby. Cum inside me and fill me up. Get me pregnant."

"Yeah?" He taunts, fucking into you with no remorse. "You want my fucking babies?"

"Yes! God yes!"

JJ's balls tighten and he twitches deep within you, kick-starting your own orgasm. You feel the warm goodness of his cum shooting into you, followed by the euphoria of your breath-snatching release. It hits you in strong waves, almost knocking you out with its force. His thrusts are still unrelenting, making sure he fucks his cum deep enough to breed you and grant your wish. "Take all this fucking cum, mama. All of it."

"J," you whimper at the overstimulation. He pulls you down to kiss you again, and his hips finally start to slow as he swallows your cries. He pulls away, one hand smoothing your hair from your face. Then, his thumb pushes into your mouth.

"Best fuckin' birthday ever. I'm gonna breed you all fuckin' day, princess. No way we're leaving this bed."

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melminli · 5 months

Text

Cold Coffee

pairing: young coriolanus snow x fem. reader

summery - you liked working, and someone else liked you working for them.

word count: 2k+

contains: young president coryo, crack, fluff, secretary reader, coryo being lovesick and shy

You had a routine. A routine that you strictly followed every day and it started with your alarm clock waking you up at 5 o'clock in the morning. The first thing you did was get up and go to the bathroom to wash the sleep off your face, otherwise you couldn't get anything done. After you had finished everything else concerning your hygiene, you continued with your outfit of the day.

You liked to play around a bit when it came to your fashion choices. After all, you were living in the Capitol. Your job still demanded a certain formality and professionalism, which is why you were perhaps not as free in your choice as others, but that wasn't a problem for you. You always managed to find something elegant to wear since you had all kinds of clothing in different colors and fabrics that were perfect for combining with various other items. Whether vests, suit jackets, skirts, trousers or everything all together, it was entirely up to your mood. (Even though combining everything together was something you hadn't done since your school days at the academy.).

Then the last thing left missing was your hair and maybe some make-up, before you could step out of the house with your pre-packed bag. After a 15-minute drive in your car, you would arrive a few minutes early and were able to go about your duties as planned until it was time to leave at around 4 pm (if you were lucky).

You've been doing this every day for three years. Every day. That may sound exhausting (because it is), but you were also kind of happy about it since missing work would just mean that you had more to do on the following one. You rarely got sick, but when you did it was usually nothing serious so you came to work anyway. On the two rare occasions when you were really seriously ill, you were once off work and once you were lucky (or unlucky) that it was at the time of several public holidays. So yes, you haven't missed a single day of work - until today.

Your alarm clock died in the middle of the night.

"...huh - what's happening?" You asked, slightly drowsy, and it felt like you'd been asleep for far too long, a suspicious amount of long. Your eyes glanced at the clock on your wall, and you had to concentrate to keep the image from blurring. "...It's a quarter past seven." You finally realized, before widening your eyes and jumping out of bed. "It's a quarter past seven! I'm going to be late!"

In your stress to get ready quickly, you decided to get dressed first and quickly picked something out before scurrying to the bathroom to get ready. That was your mistake because while being a bit too hectic when brushing your teeth, you were clumsy enough to get toothpaste on your shirt. "No, no, no - ugh. I can't believe this." You whined and hurried so you could change again.

Hair? fine, make-up? Fuck it - okay, just go out and get in the car. At this point, you were already a whole hour late. When you arrived at the place where your car was supposed to be and couldn't see it, you started to panic and it didn't stop when you realized why. It's in the repair shop! Why, does this have to happen to me?!

"Okay, let's calm down for a minute." You said to yourself and took a deep breath of the cold morning air. It was quiet, only the chirping of the birds could be heard, it was still early in the morning. "That's just the way it is now. I'll just let someone know I'll be late and - " You said and took out your phone, only to realize that it was dead. This all was probably due to a power cut in the night, which also explained why your alarm clock wasn't working this morning. " - alright, I won't do that then. It's cool. Everything's cool."

Your day was off to a pretty bad start already. It would take you at least half an hour to get to work with the train, and you'd have to wait another half an hour since the last one left five minutes ago according to your watch. Yes, the morning commute wasn't exactly popular in the Capitol - the people here usually preferred to sleep in.

"You know what? I'm just going to treat myself to my favorite drink in my favorite café. I really can't do this right now." You finally decide and set off a little more relaxed. "I would argue that I don't get paid enough for this, but I actually get paid pretty well." You admitted but didn't care any more than to laugh about it.

Of course, no one would assume that the secretary to the president of Panem would get a bad wage.

Hm. Coriolanus looked at his watch again. His eyes had been darting there strangely often since this morning. Well, he didn't see you at all today, and normally you would greet him on the way to his office, and he would greet you back. After a while, you would come through the door and ask if he wanted coffee while you were already carrying it to him in your hand. This was followed by a little summary from you about what appointments he had today, who he was meeting and so on - it's not that important, the point is that he hasn't seen you yet and he didn't know why.

He got up from his seat and opened the door of his office to look out, but like before, you weren't sitting in your seat at the reception desk.

He then decided to look for his nearest employee. "Excuse me, Mr. Pox. I hope I'm not interrupting anything. " He announced his presence as he knocked lightly on the open door with his knuckles.

The man immediately stood up slightly nervously in order to appear respectful. He was older than Coriolanus, but he also wasn't the president. "You're not interrupting anything, sir! How can I help you?" He asked, a little confused. Oh no, he never asks me anything personally, I hope it's nothing serious. I'm not in trouble, am I?

Coriolanus reassured him as he subtly asked his question. "Well, I was just wondering where my secretary was. You wouldn't happen to know anything about her whereabouts?" He said, thinking it was a little stupid of him for not wanting to appear conspicuous. She works for me. I have the right to know where she is. This is not in any way inappropriate.

Pox was relieved when it turned out that this wasn't about him, but immediately felt a little guilty because you seemed to be in trouble. You were his nicest colleague, he liked you a lot. But I can't just lie to the president either. He's literally the president! He'll certainly find out if I do. "No, sir. Unfortunately not, she didn't tell me anything." He replied and just watched as the man in front of him hummed absently, which is why he quickly added. "Maybe she's just late?"

If that were the case, you'd already be three hours late. That was not like you, and Coriolanus began to subconsciously worry a little. She would let me know if she was going to be late. He thought to himself until he realized that you had never been late before, so he couldn't be too sure of his theory. Because that was what it was - just a theory. "Hm. All right, thanks for your time, see you then." He said goodbye to Pox and decided to go back to his office.

There wasn't really anything else he could do - well, except maybe call you. He stopped his steps for a moment at the thought. That feels wrong. Usually, you were the one who called him regularly or barged into his office so he didn't really have to. Well, sometimes he wanted to, but he doubted you would appreciate it if he contacted you after your working hours. He sometimes wished that his thoughts of you would end with your departure, but he hadn't really been successful yet, and for god's sake, he didn't know why. Well, I do - but it's complicated. She's my secretary and this isn't a stupid rom com.

He saw you all day. That is enough. It should be enough. It wasn't like he was looking forward to monday or anything since you started working for him - well, he was, but that was because of other things, for sure. It could be because of other things, he could find joy in other things.

"Oh, Mr. Snow. There you are." Your voice surprised him as he opened the door to his own office and was greated with your face in front of his. "I wanted to talk to you, but then you weren't here. I'm sorry I got in without your permission." You apologized sincerely and took a step to the side so he could enter.

"It's all good. You don't need to apologize." Coriolanus said calmly and sat down in his seat, subtly watching you move in front of his desk. "What is it?" He asked, appearing unaffected - as if he hadn't been thinking about you and what you were doing since this morning.

You looked slightly confused. "Well, I'm three hours late for work." You announced, sure that he would have noticed. "I know this can't be excused, and I'll get straight to work to make up for it, I promise. It's just that my car has a few issues and, well..." You assured him and placed a paper cup on his table. "I know I usually bring you coffee, and this is not the expensive one from here, but from my favorite café around the corner, but well..." You started rambling a bit and were a little more talkative than usual, which didn't go unnoticed. "...It also got cold on the way, and I spilled half of it because someone ran into me on the train." You added when you noticed how his gaze shifted to the stain at your side.

"Sounds like you had a pretty exciting morning. It's all right, don't worry, I'll turn a blind eye since it's the first time." Coriolanus replied with his slightly charming smile. You usually told him so little about your personal life that he unconsciously began to appreciate the little things he got to hear from you.

Like no, he didn't want to hear another stupid story about Mr. Aliose and his fucking hamsters. He almost felt sorry for the guys patheticness, maybe he could live a happier life if he put more effort into finding a wife than getting his pet to do a roll. Or from his other employees who tried to entertain him with uninteresting personal stories he didn't care about - because he didn't care about them.

And the one person he did actually want to hear from, kept their personal and work life very separate. He hated that it wasn't the other way around.

You nodded. "You don't even know. I don't expect you to drink this, by the way. As a matter of fact, I'll make you another one right now. It's just that - I worked really hard to get this to you, and it felt wrong to just throw it in the trash in the end." You let that bit out before returning to your professional self. "I just wanted that at least one thing would go right today."

Stay cool, Coriolanus. Don't freak out, and also, stop romanticizing this. "It's all good. I'm honored that you thought of me." He said, hoping he sounded natural.

A smile graced your face. "Of course, Mr. Snow. I'll be right back." You promised him as you stepped out of his office and made your way to the coffee machine.

As soon as the door closed behind you, Coriolanus let out the breath he had been holding. His hand reached for the coffee cup and turned it in his hand only to discover a small note on it. "For my boss and the boss of Panem :)" He read out loud and smiled as his thumb ran over the drawing of the snowflake. He couldn't help but take the little gesture to heart. "That's so sweet."

I should send out a car to pick her up tomorrow - for business reasons, of course.

#x reader #young coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow #tbosas #coryo snow #the hunger games #hunger games #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #bosas #ballad of songbirds and snakes #young coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus x you #coriolanus #snow #snow lands on top #x female y/n #x female reader

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yuquinzel · 1 year

Text

[ 2:18 AM ] — itoshi rin.

joining in on the clingy rin agenda with this :P

rin does not like disruptions to his carefully crafted schedule, specifically— his sleep schedule. he has to be in bed by 11 pm sharp and wake up at the first light of dawn for his morning jog. that's how he's always gone about his day, that's how he prefers everything to be— falling perfectly into a rhythmic routine.

but tonight is different, tonight it's almost past 2 am, long since he found himself cozy in the warmth of his blankets— and yet he lies wide awake, eyes heavy with drowsiness but not enough to close shut because itoshi rin can not sleep unless you're beside him.

he wants to blame his comforter for failing to keep him warm, but in truth he's aware that the cold pooling his sheets is only an extension from the emptiness of your side of the bed.

it looks barren, abandoned even.

it's not like you're not home, it's not like you had an argument that didn't end well and hence refuse to sleep next to him, it's not like some college assignment is keeping you awake late into the night. you're just busy watching reruns of your favourite series because it had your favourite actor and rin is too prideful to admit he's not used to falling asleep without you threading your fingers in his hair.

he told himself he can sleep just fine on an empty bed. and he believed it for about three hours.

now you find him hovering like a ghost by the end of the room, all wrapped in blankets as he's taking long and impatient strides over to where you're slumped on the couch.

“bed. now.” he says, almost a little desperate.

you spare him a glance, then back to your tv screen, “rin? why're you still awake?”

“it's cold. i'm cold. come back to bed.” you know his short and quick answers are just a reflection of how tired he truly is.

“you're cold?” you ask, and rin simply nods.

“just two more episodes rin, promise i'll come after that.” you say, eyes still set on the tv screen and rin eyes the way your eyes glimmer with awe when that actor shows up.

and then suddenly your vision is blocked, the fluorescent light from the tv casting white shadows across rin's large physique as he eclipses your view of the tv, “what's so great about him? you can watch these tomorrow, come back, i can't sleep without you.”

you're about to say what the hell rin step aside before the realisation hits, and his words replay in your mind. the gears in your head turn, an amused smile gracing your lips, “are you jealous of this actor?”

rin huffs, kneeling down so he's eye-to-eye with you, “i never said that. i said i can't sleep without you because your side of the bed is cold so it makes me cold.”

you laugh a little, and rin feels a sort of warmth tingle his skin, “but they won't air these old episodes tomorrow, and its only two more, give me like, half an hour?” you bargain, bringing a hand to cradle the side of his face, rin leaning in your warmth even more.

he ponders your words, grumbling something unintelligible as he gets up. you think he's about to leave, before he plops down next to you. adjusting himself on the couch with you with barely enough space to accommodate the both of you, rin manages to bury his face in your chest while you have to tightly wrap your arms around him to keep you from falling.

“we're gonna fall and it'll be your fault,” you breathe, and rin holds you even tighter at your words.

“no, it'll be your fault. you won't come to bed with me.”

“you're such a baby.” you laugh again, your chuckles reverberating through him with your closely pressed bodies, the comfort of it beginning to lull him to sleep like magic. he's a little grateful to the lack of space on the couch in exchange for the intimacy of this moment.

the last thing echoing in his mind before he dozes off is the sensation of your fingers running through his hair, with a light tug at times that relieves him of all his exhaustion.

sleeping on the couch is perhaps much better than the bed.

#❀˖° ─ hana writes.#I NEED HELP IM NOT OKAY #itoshi rin x reader #rin itoshi x reader #rin itoshi x you #itoshi rin x you #blue lock x reader #blue lock x you #bllk x reader #bllk fluff #blue lock fluff #rin drabble #rin x reader fluff #itoshi rin fluff #rin itoshi fluff #itoshi rin

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mattsrod · 4 months

Note

PLEASE WRITE SUBMISSIVE VIRGIN MATT SMUT I AM BEGGING YOU. also please no mommy kink or anything like that, maybe matt could have a praise kink BUT PLEASE I WILL LITERALLY CRY IF YOU DONT WRITE THIS 🤗

- ; MATTHEW STURNIOLO ; -

' PLEASE ? '

✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪

- ; warnings - smut (obvi), sub!matt, hand jobs, slight dom!reader(?), matts a virgin, reader is experienced, fluff in the beginning, kind of long, blowjob, cum swallowing.

- ; 11:02 am

; your pov

ive been lying in bed for what seems like an eternity, waiting for matt to wake up. my hair is a mess, i have the most miss-matched pyjamas on, and i feel like shit.

i texted nick not too long ago, asking if he wanted to get something to eat.

no reply, he was probably sleeping too.

all I want to do was get ready for the day with my boyfriend.

I want to push gentle kisses into his neck and tell him how pretty he looks as he brushes his teeth.

but he has other plans. and those plans probably consisted of sleeping until 2pm.

and im not gonna accept that.

"matt." I brush my warm fingertips against his exposed arm. the light shining through my window is almost directly in his eyes.

he pulls the covers over his head. "c'mon matt." i coo once more. he let out a groan, but he is so tired that it comes out sounding like more of a whine.

I giggle, to which matt lets out a real groan at.

"matthew c'mon, ive been waiting for you to wake up for like, an hour."

I slowly grip the covers and swiftly rip them off of him in an attempt to catch him off-guard, but when I look at him in the eyes, hes already looking directly at me with a goofy smile and wide eyes.

"Jesus Christ-" I mutter, and matt chuckles slightly, his eyes now scrunching into his smile instead of widened in an attempt to scare me.

"i knew you were awake, now c'mon, get dressed or something."

matts stuffed animal, a small pug, fell off of the bed as I stood up and started walking to the bathroom.

; matts pov

"you're just gonna walk away and not pick him up?!" I meekly shouted to you; my voice is still laced with drowsiness.

you turned around, leaning against the bathroom door frame as you spoke "get dressed and i'll pick him up, i wanna go out for lunch or something." you promptly turned around and shut the door behind you after saying that.

"okay mrs. productive..." I muttered under my breath and look at your makeup and clothes that were scattered around my bedroom.

"i can hear you jackass!!" your voice sounded muffled through the bathroom wall, but I still hear you loud and clear.

I slowly stood up and put my feel on the cold, wooden floor. I then stretched and carelessly grabbed one of the many hoodies off of my floor, not caring to put pants on.

I walked over to the bathroom door and knocked in a rythm that you knew all too well.

you open the door, and your hair looks absolutely beautiful.

"do you need something or do you just wanna stare at me?" i hear you say bluntly, which snaps me back to reality.

i didnt really get snapped back into reality, though.

i was really in a reality where you were slowly kissing up my thigh, making your way up to my manhood as i brushed your beautiful hair out of the way so i could see your gorgeous face better as you...

this is when i realize im getting hard.

and you are standing in front of me,

and i only have boxers on.

shit

; your pov

i dont realize it at first, but as matts face gets red i giggle and look down at the bulge that he is trying to cover up with his large hoodie.

"damn, am i really that hot?" i grab his hand that he is using to hug downwards on his hoodie and i pull him farther into the bathroom.

he started to fidget with his rings once i let go of his hand. he was looking down, avoiding eye contact with me.

"mattheww" i playfully coo, "look at me baby."

he still doesnt look up at me.

"are you embarrassed?" i ask him gently, receiving no response.

that answers my question.

"matt thats nothing to be ashamed of," i pause, thinking of what to say next, "shit, if i was guy i would have a raging boner all the time."

i guess this made matt feel better because he giggled, lifting his head slightly but still not looking at me.

"since you wont look at me.." i get on my knees. "im gonna look at you myself."

i look up at matts face and he flashes me a goofy smile.

i chuckle and grab his waist, moving him against the bathroom counter.

i moved my position on the floor, shuffling over to the bathroom mat, as the cold solid bathroom floor was making my knees ache already.

i dont break eye contact with matt as i do this.

i stare up at him with eyes full of lust, and i think he knows what i want.

and i think he knows what he wants.

; matts pov

your pupils are wide as i stare into your eyes.

ive never liked intense eye contact, but in this moment it couldnt be any hotter.

you bring your right hand up to the hem of my boxers, your left hand on my abdomen for support.

"can i?"

i nod quickly, squirming under your touch.

i squeeze my eyes shut and let out a sigh.

"im gonna need you to use your words, matt." my dick twitches at the sound of your voice, longing for some friction.

"yes, please, please touch me." i manage to mutter out.

you slowly take of my boxers agonizingly slow, and i inhale sharply as my dick springs up, the cold air hitting it.

you look at my cock and then back up at me.

i couldve folded right then and there.

my heart started racing as you brought your hand up to my tip, which was already leaking precum.

"so wet already mattie."

i nod, leaning my elbows against the sink for extra support.

you brought your manicured nail up to the slit, and dragged your nail across it gently, making my hips buck forward with every small touch.

the unfamiliar feeling gave me a warm feeling that slowly bubbled up in my stomach, starting in my lower stomach area, and pulsing through my dick as you slowly started stroking me from the base, all the way up to my tip.

my hips shuddered as you quickened your pace, and i throw my head back, letting out a quiet moan.

when i look back down you are already looking back up at me with your gorgeous eyes

; your pov

"you are so sensitive, babe." again, i got no reply.

was he that lost in the pleasure?

matt was squirming everytime i reached his swollen, sensitive tip, and i could tell he needed more.

"do you want my mouth matt?"

another nod.

i took my hand off of his dick, leaving it twitching and wet.

"what did i say about using your words, hm?" i put my hands on my knees.

"im sorry." he whined out, "i need your mouth on me. please, i need it so bad- i-"

i cut off matt by putting my tongue directly on his tip, kitten licking it many times before i actually took him in my mouth.

this time matt doesnt even make an attempt to cover up his moans.

he throws his head back once again moaning loudly and looking then looking down at me.

i took more of him in my mouth, swirling my tongue around his girthy member.

i start to bob my head up and down at a steady pace. i can tell matt is close.

; matts pov

i whimper slightly as i feel the warm, fuzzy feeling in my stomach start to get even more intense.

i lean harder against the counter and bring one of my supporting hands up to my mouth to hide the sounds i was making.

you take your lips off of my length for a moment, making my hips shutter, and also making the fuzzy feeling in my stomach abruptly stop. "let me hear your pretty sounds matt" you say.

i immediately put my hand back in its original position on the counter, taking it off of my mouth.

you position your lips with my cock again, making my cheeks heat up.

you lick a painfully long, but pleasurable stripe up my cock, grabbing the base of it with your hand.

i jolted forward which made you giggle.

"you are doing so good mattie."

you start working your hand around the base of my cock before taking me in your mouth.

i let out a loud moan at the sudden contact.

"n-need more." i mutter out

you hum onto my cock, pretending not to hear me.

"baby, i need more. please." i breath out, "faster, please!"

; your pov

i happily oblige to matts directions, going faster, using my hand to rub what i couldnt take in my mouth.

now i knew that matt was really close. his whimpers became consistent and the salty taste of precum was already filling my mouth.

matt let out a loud moan and the first rope of cum hit the back of my throat.

i moan onto his cock, licking up his warm seed.

"fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck" he sputtered out

he whimpered.

his hips were now shaking uncontrollably from all of the stimulation he was getting, so i took my hand off of the base of his cock and used it to hold his hips.

i slowly bob my head up and down, helping matt ride out his high.

"holy fucking shit." matt mutters, his hips jolt once more as i took my mouth off of him.

he looks down at me with a shocked expression, his cheeks are extremely red, and his hair was stuck to his forehead with sweat.

i looked up at him then stood up, trailing my hands up his waist as i do this, making him shiver.

"you did so fucking good," i kissed him hard on his lips, and he sighed into the kiss.

i took my lips off of his and looked into his eyes lovingly

"im so proud of you for telling me what you wanted, mattie"

he smiled and then rolled his eyes. "shut the fuck up or im gonna cum again."

--------------------------------------------------------

i like this but honestly, i dont know how to feel about the two povs thing. so lmk if u like it ! also, both of my previous works have 900+ likes, so thank u so much. i also hit 400 followers like what. ive only had this acc for a month. TY FOR READING !! if u have any requests please please send them in !

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christronomy · 5 months

Text

after nap sleepies // bang chan

cw: no warnings for this one. just pure fluff and gn reader. 🫶🏻

how long was it going to take? you asked yourself this question every single day, as you crossed off days on the calendar you never really paid attention to, unless he was gone on a trip for work. this tour was just like any other—months of late night texts and phone calls, coming home from a long day at work to an empty house, just hours and hours of loneliness.

it wasn't the same without him, the house didn't feel as alive. even when you could hear his voice through the phone, it just didn't feel the same. but you always promised him you'd wait for him no matter what. you'd always be one phone call or text away—unless you were taking a nap. which is what you were currently doing.

it was such an exhausting day, so full of things to do, so much socializing, driving around, just so much. your social battery was already on low, and you were too tired to even finish putting the groceries away, as it was much of a lengthier task when you were doing it alone than when he was here to help.

you decided maybe a nap would help you gain some more energy to finish things up, not expecting the tiredness to get to you this much, causing you to sleep well into nighttime. you didn't realize how late it was until your phone woke you up, the constant ringing vibrating in your ears as you groaned in frustration, blindly reaching for it to see who was calling at these ungodly hours.

"channie," you breathed out when you immediately picked up, relief rushing through your veins as you heard his soft "hey, baby," grace your ears. you could only smile and pull the comforter over your face as you squirmed excitedly. "you sound tired. did you have a good day today?" he asked, and you sighed, rolling onto your stomach to get more comfortable. "not sure. i decided to take a nap but now i'm all drowsy," you said, trying your best to fight your clumsy tongue as you spoke and blinking hard in an effort to wake yourself up faster.

chan only chuckled, the sound warming your chest and causing your heart to flutter. he found you so cute when you were like this. "it's the after nap sleepies. they'll go away soon, don't worry," he says, and you smile to yourself, rolling back onto your back and draping an arm over your face, gasping melodramatically.

"oh no, channie! save me from the after nap sleepies, please," you say, smiling at the way you could hear his tiny, muffled squeaks of laughter. "i'll kiss them away when i come back, then," he laughs, practically being able to hear how you're pouting right now, judging by the long silence before your response. he smiles to himself giddily as he pictures you looking at him with that cute grumpy face you make when he denies something as simple as a kiss or hug.

"okay. hurry up and come back home then," you say, your voice laced with sleep, and he hums as if he's lost in thought. "mmm, i'll think about it," he says finally, chuckling softly. you huff in a half-hearted attempt to laugh along with him, but you're quickly overcome by tiredness, no longer able to fight the way your eyelids feel heavier with every passing second. the last thing you hear as you fall into deep sleep was his soft voice, telling you to "take it easy and rest well, baby. i love you. i promise i'll be back home before you know it."

#solieverse: planet reverie #haven't written anything new in a little over a month...#so js decided on posting sth soft and sweet to start off this new year #also missing him so badly #bang chan fluff #skz fluff #stray kids soft thoughts #skz soft hours #stray kids fluff #skz soft thoughts #stray kids soft hours #bang chan soft thoughts #chan fluff #bang chan soft hours #kpop fluff

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rowdyslove · 8 months

Text

𝐉𝐔𝐒𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐎𝐍𝐂𝐄. | jack hughes

"well you're up early." you mutter, your sudden voice interrupting the quiet atmosphere of jack’s apartment, and you can see him almost jolt in reaction as he gets slightly startled by your voice breaking through the silence. he turns to look over his shoulder, attention being torn away from the energy drink he was currently pouring into his biosteel bottle, to find you in your serene morning state.

hair poorly brought up into a messy bun atop your head, missed strands still sticking out of every side. voice groggy and hoarse from just awakening. eyes drowsy and glossed over with tiredness that still filled your entire body. one of jack’s large hoodies engulfing your smaller frame, almost dropping down to your knees and covering anything you might have had underneath.

you slowly made your way to him, bringing your arms up to wrap around his waist from behind and your cheek landing to rest on his back.

you can feel his body easing into your soft touch, the light of dusk starting to shine through the floor-to-ceiling windows of his apartment. a sigh of content leaves his lips feeling the soft butterfly kisses you start to press against the back of his shoulder all the way up to the back of his neck.

he lightly leans back against your chest, and gently asks, "did i wake you, love?"

your nod against his clothed back, obvious sleepiness is still very evident in your movements as they are slow and relaxed.

"i have an early practice this morning, lovie" he softly tells you, explaining the reason why he was already awake, out of bed and dressed for the day with his hockey bag already placed down by the entrance.

you groan, burying your head deeper into the cotton of his t-shirt. he can honestly say he feels lucky that his ears are even good enough to make out the small words and noises that emit from you. "it's too early for you to leave." you whine smally, tightening your grip on his torso.

he lightly chuckles, hands coming up to rest over yours after tightening the lid back onto his bottle, "it's only seven in the morning."

you release your hold on his waist, yawning as you make your small movements, and he turns his body so his back is now leaning against the kitchen counter.

his low chuckles mix within the air of his apartment as he turns you to face you, and the soft smile he gives you is all enough to give you a sweet ‘good morning' right before he brings you close for a gentle morning kiss.

you sheepishly grin up at him and bring your head to his chest, "that’s still too early. come back to bed, jacky.”

his gives a small peck to your hair before speaking, "i need to get to practice baby."

you roll your eyes, still grinning, and just by the way your body slumps into him he can almost feel just how desperate you are to go back to sleep. however, right before he can tell you to, you lift your head up and bring your lips close to his for another kiss, followed by another, and another, and another.

you pull away, almost out of breath due to your dazed state, your face still close to his. you seem to be absolutely love drunk from the consecutive kisses you have given him, and the way you look at him.

he tries to console you, "i promise i'll come to bed with you when i come back."

you hum, lightly indulging in his words, "really?"

he nods to you, but with your left arm still loosely hanging by his waist, and your right hand now gripping his wrist, you pull him with all your might as you walk with slow, careful steps. he knows your trying to lead him back to the bed, but to be honest, he’s really not starting to mind.

you stop in your tracks in realisation, remembering how every other early morning practice ended when he came home, "wait, you never sleep after practice. are you tricking me?”

"i don't mind taking a nap after practice if it’s with you." he says it so easily, as if it’s just simple words rolling off of his tongue without any second thought.

"i’ll even tell you how the practice goes and cuddle you the entire time until we fall asleep." jack continues, chuckling at his own words, and his lips curve even more when you start to giggle along with him too.

he really wanted to get to practice, and you could easily tell that by the way he was insisting and telling you all the things he would do when he was back with you. but all you could think about was getting him back to the comforting confinements of his soft sheets as soon as possible.

the two of you are only a few steps away from his room, and you have stopped guiding him behind you, your smile lazy and warm and your arms hang around his waist as you pull him into a loose embrace.

you kiss him once again, not as deep as before, but just much softer this time.

“please just come back to bed with me this once.” you pleaded to him through tired eyes, your sight becoming more and more blurry as your eyelids started to droop.

and so he finally caves into your sweet pleads with a nod, and he can feel his heart blooming when your smile widens by the second. this time, your sweet smile doesn't seem to only be telling him 'good morning' but also a gentle 'i love you' as well.

with that, he takes back your hand and walks ahead to lead you back into his room, "you know i could never say no to you."

you giggle, and in your head you really hope he means that. unknowingly to you, he hopes you feel the same way, because there’s velvet box tucked deep within his bedside drawer, carrying a lovely ring that definitely needs you to say yes to.

#—ness writes #jack hughes #jack hughes x reader #jack hughes one shot #jack hughes x y/n #jack hughes imagine #jack hughes fluff #jack hughes blurb #nhl fluff #nhl imagine #nhl x y/n #nhl blurb #nhl x reader #nj devils #new jersey devils #nhl oneshot #nhl fic

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melancholymetropolis · 2 months

Text

Exchange pt. III

plot: In which Gojo and Y/N wake up together and have morning sex

pairings: Clan Leader!Gojo Saturo x Lawyer!Reader

genre(s): Porn with Feelings

warnings: unedited (mostly). PORN PORN PORN!!!!!!!!!! (This is kinda stand-alone piece) safe sex. oral sex (f receiving). light choking. multiple positions. fingering. squirting. PIV SEX. pet names (sweetheart, sweetness, darling, etc.) multiple orgasms. LAUGHING DURING SEX. lowkey rom com vibes. play wrestling.

song association: Fetish by Selena Gomez

a/n: don't fight me! I come with smut (3k words worth)

w.c: 4.6k

part(s): Part I Part II

A head of unruly, white hair rested comfortably on my chest. Gentle breaths eased out of the owner's nostrils as he slept peacefully. Parted, pink lips were left slightly ajar and pushed out a deep breath every so often. A pool of drool fell from the mouth as well. It created a medium size spot on my tee shirt. His strong arms were wrapped around my midsection and one of his legs was resting between mine. Saturo held onto me like I was his lifeline. The very oxygen gracing his lungs. Even in his sleep, the man couldn't fake his affection for me.

My hand found his hair moments later. My fingertips caressed the thick, full locks tenderly. He was truly something of a fairy tale. His face was almost angelic in the low light. It kissed his pale skin like a lover and embraced him with a fondness I knew all too well. Wispy, white lashes graced his drowsy eyes. My hand lowered from his hair and to his cheek. My fingers brushed against the smooth, clear skin of the area.

“Keep touching me like that,” Saturo grunted, nuzzling my chest. “And I'll get the wrong idea.”

A soft smile fell onto my lips. “And what idea is that?”

“That you're falling in love with me.” Amusement dripped from his voice like a faucet.

I playfully swatted the top of his head. “Oh shut up!”

He lifted his head from my chest in one swift motion. His blue eyes sparkled in the low light and that sleepy smile stabbed me in the heart.

Holy fuck is he gorgeous, I found myself thinking.

“Admit it, sweetheart,” he teased. “You’re falling in love with me. I mean why else would you invite me to your bed.”

“Maybe because it was 3 AM when we finished eating?” I suggested, a smile falling to my lips. “And you shouldn’t be driving while exhausted?”

He paused, pretended to think for a minute, before shooting me the cockiest fucking look I had ever seen in my life. “It could be that,” he started. “Or, you were just so worried about your husband’s well being that you wanted him to sleep safely in your arms for the night.”

“Boy, bye!” I chuckled, pushing against his shoulders. “Now you’re dragging it.”

Saturo lifts his body from mine and I instantly felt a cooling sensation dance between the space.

“Come on, wifey,” he grinned. “You don’t have to hide feelings from your husband.”

I shoved at his shoulders again. “Keep talking like that and I’m gonna kick you off the bed.”

“Oh, I’d like to see you try,” he provoked.

A knowing smirk fell on my lips. “Challenge accepted.”

Before Saturo could throw a snide comment my way, both of my legs hooked around his waist. At the same time, my arms latched underneath his pits. I swung our bodies to the left, effectively switching our positions. I straddled his waist, allowing my lower half to pin his legs to the bed. I placed both hands on his T-shirt covered chest and pinned his upper half down as well. His blue eyes widened with utter astonishment, fear and a little something else I couldn’t exactly catch.

“Fuck, you’re stronger than I thought,” he gasped, eyes trailing over my body. His chest was rising and falling at a rapid pace. “I was not expecting that. Like at all…. Shit. I think you took my breath away. Literally.”

Laughter erupted from my chest and poured from my lips. “Well, there's a first time for everything.”

His hands rested on my thighs, a look of amazement still on his face. “Seriously, sweetheart, is there something you're not telling me.”

“Like what?” I giggled.

“I don't know. . . Like maybe you have a secret second life that requires you to be as strong a fucking body builder.”

“Seriously, ‘Toru, you're being ridiculous.”

“I'm not being— wait. What did you just say?”

I raised an eyebrow. “That you're being ridiculous?”

“Before that,” a smile slowly formed on his face.

“Seriously?”

“After that.”

“I didn't say anything—”

“Don't deny it, sweetness,” the smile was so wide that it practically covered half of his face. “You called me by my first name.”

“I did no such thing!” I crossed my arms over my chest and playfully avoided his gaze.

“Not only that,” he replied, lifting his back from the bed. “You gave me a nickname.”

“No I did not—ah!”

Saturo flipped our bodies back to their original position, with him on top. His massive hand took hold of both of my wrists and pinned them above my head. His knees rested on either side of my thighs, caging my body underneath his. Saturo used his other hand to cradle my face and direct my gaze directly into his eyes. They were electric blue, once again. They shined brightly before me in a way I had only seen twice before. Once at the wedding and the other last night in the restaurant. They searched my face for something I couldn't necessarily pick up. Some truth hidden beneath the surface that I was too scared to reveal. The longer he stared, the deeper the ringing in my ear sounded.

“Say it again,” his voice dropped to a whisper.

“Say what?” I smirked, pulling at my wrists.

“Playing coy is gonna get you in trouble, sweetheart,” he replied, returning my smirk. “I'd watch it if I were you.”

“And what exactly are you gonna do, Ole husband of mine?” I replied, a lustful glint in my eye. “Spank me?”

His jaw clenched and the grip on my wrists tightened. “Please don't threaten me with a good time, sweetness.” He shivered, visibly. “I'll have you on my lap before that cute little nickname leaves your lips a second time.”

“Is that a promise?” I said, allowing my eyes to drop half lidded.

Saturo sucked in a breath and he clenched his jaw. “I am trying my best to behave. To be the gentleman you deserve. But all I can think about is burying myself in that sweet pussy and fucking you until the next sun rise. So, please, darling, don't tease me. My meager heart cannot take it.”

The desire burned in his eyes like sunshine through a magnifying glass. Point it at just the right angle and the object underneath would catch fire. The object or, more specifically, the person underneath said magnifying glass happened to be me. His gaze was beginning to set my body ablaze. Flashes of our last entanglement flickered through my mind like an old film. The heaviness of his body against mine as he pumped into me like a piston. The feeling of his tongue on my skin and how he groaned my name. I remember the way my nails scraped against the wooden headboard behind us. Remembering the rhythmic banging had sent me shivers down my spine. The look on his face made my womanhood tingle. He was remembering that night too. The evening my shins shook violently on his shoulders and he came so hard his entire body convulsed.

It was also the last night we spent together before the wedding.

The same night I left him.

A subtle pain started to throb in my chest from the memory. The guilt slowly threatened to consume me. I reassured myself that I knew better, currently. I knew that the white haired above me was more than just a vacation fling. More than just a cheap thrill to distract me from the tipsy bride-to-be and the plastered bridesmaids. He was a good guy, underneath that silly demeanor. He was thorough. Saturo weighed every option presented to him before coming to a conclusion. He was consistent. When he finally chose said option, he would try his hardest to see it through. He was passionate. There wasn’t a challenge he couldn’t overcome. A person he couldn’t charm. Myself included.

“Left nightstand,” I found myself saying, a subtle smile on my lips. “Top drawer.”

“What’s in there?” A confused look colored his face.

“Condoms.”

The confused look morphed into three different expressions as the realization of what I said hit him. The first being shock. His eyebrows rose and his grip on my wrists loosened. The words rising over in his brain several more times before it morphed into a look of adoration. Saturo’s eyes eased halfway closed and a small smile formed on his lips. His shoulders relaxed and the grip he had on my wrists was forgotten. A gentle hand cupped my cheek before the final expression took over his face: unadulterated joy. He leaned his body down and pressed his forehead to mine. I could practically hear his heart pounding in his chest. Singing a song I was quickly learning the lyrics to. His hot breath fanned my face and his eyes looked deeply into mine; as if he could see my soul. See how it was opening up for him and how it searched for him after all this time.

“Can I kiss you?” The question was breathless on his lips. Almost like the moment we were having wasn’t real. Almost as if I weren’t real.

“Please.”

The softness of his lips melted the ice covering my defenses. My arms wrapped around his neck and I started to pull Saturo closer. The weight of his body broke down the walls I eradicated to keep him out of my heart. His touch pulled away the feelings of confusion and uncertainty. He moaned against my lips; his arms so tightly around my body I could barely breathe. I could barely form a thought, other than the one that we seemed to share.

I want you.

When the need of oxygen became prevalent for the both of us, I pulled away. My eyes were blurry with lust and I could hear myself panting like horny teenager after such an embrace. Saturo’s hot mouth continued to lay kisses along my neck and shoulder. His hips dropped from the levitating position and situated themselves between my open legs. Saturo arched his back, almost like a feline, and started to grind his pelvic area against mine. The clothes and blanket between us did nothing to hide the intensity of his erection. The teasing thrusts of his hips were sending shivers down my spine, the anticipation of what was to come driving me up the wall.

A warm hand wiggled between our two bodies and slid underneath my shirt. The wide palm pressed against the soft tissue of my left breasts before giving it a squeeze. At the same time, the bastard ran a hot tongue against the side of my neck. I moaned as a result. His fingers found the nipple instantly. Saturo ruled the bud between his fingers, while leaving little nips at my shoulder.

“Care to help me out, sweetness?” He asked softly.

His voice was deep with sleep, but had been coated with lust.

Saturo’s half opened blue eyes looked down at me as if I were hiding something.

The ghost of a smile on his perfect pink lips had me melting in the middle.

“Yes. . . ?” Was all I could mutter after staring at him for a noticeable amount of time.

“Take your shirt off for me, baby,” he replied, the humorous look on his face growing into a full-blown grin.

As I lifted the shirt over my head, a thought appeared in my mind. Saturo was not the kind of person to pressure me into doing things I didn't want to do. Sure, in the beginning, he was a little shit about hanging out and getting to know me— though he never forced me to do it. Nor did he guilt trip into going out with him. Saturo gave me an option. He made it known that it was always my choice to have whatever relationship I wanted with him.

My hands gripped the bottom of the T-shirt and pulled the garment from my body. The cool air in the bedroom caused me to shiver slightly. The man above me froze the moment he caught sight of my bare breasts. His eyes rolled over them like water on a leaf as his tongue ran against his bottom lip. Saturo brought his face to my chest while panting. His mouth was already ready ajar while he gripped the first mound and brought the dark brown bud to his lips. We both moaned at the action. His eyes fluttered closed as he suckled the needy nipple. After a few moments, he released it with a pop and started to swirl his tongue against it. I squirmed beneath him. I wanted nothing more.

His warm hand slid down my bare belly as he switched to the other nipple. The slender fingers shimmied under the waistband and found my sticky womanhood. Two digits ran along my slit before dipping into the folds and circling my bud. A pleasurable sigh left my body from the sensation. My hips rolled against his hand. The friction was utterly delicious on the neglected area. I felt my body vibrate beneath his; the desire to be consumed by him becoming too great to ignore.

A little while later, Saturo lifted his head from my breast and started to kiss down my navel. His eyes flickering up to meet mine every so often. I nervously nipped my bottom lip as I watched his face grow closer to my cunt. His hands pulled at the legs of the sleep shorts; I raised my hips to assist in the action. The cool air on my warm cunt made me shiver. An unholy groan left Saturo’s lips as his eyes stared at the curly mound.

“No panties, huh?” His eyes snapping back to mine.

“I hardly ever sleep with them on,” I admitted with a shrug.

“Noted,” he said with a smirk.

Saturo, then, spread my legs nice and wide to get a better view. I saw his breath hitch at the sight. His thumb ran against the slick slit and I moaned from the feather-like strokes. He pushed my hips apart further and brought my body closer to the edge of the bed. With knees planted on the floor and both hands planted on the backs of my thighs, Saturo dove right in.

Long, slow licks graced my neglected folds and I shuddered beneath him. The tip of his plush tongue ran from my drenched center to the throbbing pearl. He circled said pearl with agonizingly slow movements that made me squirm.

“Stop teasing,” I purred, gently combing through his messy hair. “I thought you wanted to bury yourself in my sweet pussy, or whatever you said earlier.”

A low chuckle rumbled through him and Sauro’s eyes caught mine. “Aren’t we impatient, sweetness?” He nipped at the side of my thigh, earning a smile from me.

“Well, it has been a while since you performed your husbandly duties. . .” I trailed off with a knowing smile.

“Oh?” Saturo raised an eyebrow. “So I am your husband now?”

“I mean, you could go back to being my cheap whore,” I teased, propping myself up on my elbows. “I’ll give you a few bills before I send you away.”

“I knew you did that shit on purpose!” Saturo barked with laughter.

“It wasn’t my intention, but I am not denying the allegation.”

Saturo swatted my leg playfully before throwing me a stern look. “Just for that, I should leave you like this. Hot and bothered.”

“You could,” I nodded. “But, you won’t.”

Saturo narrowed his eyes. “. . . I won’t.”

“Good boy.”

His mouth was on my heat once more, sucking the throbbing pearl into his scorching mouth. The teasing was over and the real game began. As Saturo sucked, the tip of his tongue brushed against the underside of my clit every so often. I squirmed beneath him as the pleasure rose in my belly. He must’ve remembered our last time together. The way I creamed all over his face when did that exact movement with his tongue on my womanhood. A flash of something familiar crossed his eyes and watched an arm wrap around my right thigh, as two fingers brushed my entrance. As if to ask for permission.

“If you add those digits, darling, I’m gonna make a mess of that pretty face.” I sighed, attempting to sound unenthusiastic about the action. “I hope you’re prepared for that.”

The taller gentleman groaned against my cunt, but never removed his mouth from it. He pushed both fingers into my awaiting hole and I sucked in a breath. The digits curled in my sex and found the familiar spongy center at the roof of it. My thighs shook in his arms. Saturo massaged the area with a firm hand. He kneaded my g-spot into submission and I felt body start to vibrate underneath him.

“Oooh. . .” I cooed, brushing his hair from his eyes. “Just like that. . . Don’t stop. . .”

Saturo groaned again, his eyes half-closed as he looked up at me.

He was truly enjoying himself, more than he assumed possible.

His desire, like mine, tainted the air with its sweet music. I could hear them clearly, despite the amulet hanging from my neck. The energy he oozed was far more powerful than anything I had previously encountered. It bellowed out to me in such a way that it was hard to ignore it. The ringing in my ear was subtle, almost like a whisper from a lover. A warm pool in my stomach started to grow. One by one, my limbs grew unfeeling. I could feel absolutely nothing by Saturo’s mouth on my pussy. My eyes started to roll back as my back arched from the bed. My nails dug into the bed sheets as my mouth hung open. The climax was deep and guttural. It pulled a sound from my being that I did not recognize. I hadn’t realized I was holding my breath until the pressure in my chest grew too great. I had to force a giant wave of cool air to flood my lungs as I cried out Saturo’s name. I felt my legs shake against his face, as he continued to suck my clit.

“Too much!” I gasped, nudging his head away from my sensitive womanhood. “Stop! Please. . .”

Saturo removed his lips from the aching bud and pressed wet kisses on my soft stomach. He crawled up my body and took me in his arms. He held me tightly as the aftershocks of the orgasm started to wear off. With my back pressed against his chest, I felt myself relax almost instantly. His presence was certain as the sunrise and it warmed me immensely. We laid in silence for several moments, but it wasn’t awkward. It was peaceful. I could’ve stayed like that forever.

The taller gentleman pulled away for a breath moment. Moments later, I heard the familiar slide of the nightstand’s drawer open. Followed by that was a gentle crinkle of plastic and then a soft hiss fell from his lips. Saturo’s arms were around me before my body grew cold. He pressed hot kisses on my naked shoulder, before pressing his hard length on my bare ass.

“Are you still up for this, sweetness?”

“Yes,” I replied, breathless.

The throbbing member sank into my center from behind and I swore I saw stars. His strong arm hooked across my middle to steady himself. His hips rolled against my plush rear and soft moans spilled from his lips afterward. The weight of his body on mine and the feeling of his breath against my ear was indescribable. The thoughts spinning in mind were in one category: adoration. Maybe it was the dopamine and adrenaline creating a toxic cocktail on my emotions, but all I could think about was my future with Saturo. The way our mornings could be just like this one. Filled with sensual love-making and intimacy that made my head spin. The way he cradled by body as he thrusted into me was exhilarating. He held me like I was going to disappear at any moment.

After a short while, he hiked my left leg into the arm and hooked his arm around my thigh. Saturo tilted his hips backward and started to thrust into me a little bit harder. My shoulders fell into the crook of his arm as my back pressed against the soft mattress. His cock moved deeper into my cunt and pressed a pleasure point I had forgotten I had. My eyes rolled back and the air in my throat grew thick. My nails dug into his forearms as I felt my toes curl.

“There it is,” Saturo snickered. “That’s the face I am looking for.”

“ ‘Turo. . .” I moaned, my head falling back onto his shoulder.

He shuddered from the sound of the nickname and moved his hips faster against my ass.

My eyes rolled back as I felt the pressure in my belly grow once more. My nerves were buzzing and started to feel my body begin to heat all over. The sensations coursing through me were simply incredible and I didn’t want them to end. I never wanted to be separated from the feeling Saturo, my husband, was giving me.

Gradually, the thought of being married to him did not repulse me. It ignited a sort of excitement within me that I kept hidden from the public eye. To have such a biblically beautiful man on one’s as we simply lived life would greatly boost anyone’s ego. For that same man to be downright obsessed with everything about me was something entirely different. The passion he had for me was simply extraordinary. The sweet words that fell from his lips as he fucked me tenderly had made my heart sing. The heat from his body and the power that surrounded him was simply ethereal. All reasonable doubt slipped from my mind the longer the thrusted into me. All I could think about was Gojo Saturo and coming home to his girthy cock every night.

One by one, I felt my limbs go numb and my body stiffen. Keep, harsh breaths poured from my lips as my eyes squeezed shut. The feeling of his cock slipping against my walls had broken through the numbness. I could feel said walls begin to contract, squeezing his member tightly as I climaxed. A gush of cool air filled my lungs as my body melted into his.

“Don’t stop!” I screamed, gripping his arm tightly. “Please don’t stop. . . oh God. . .”

The second wave of the orgasm made my entire body shake against his. My hips bucked against his thick member and my thigh shook in grasp. The older gentleman tried everything to keep the slippery limb from his grasp, but to no avail.

Frustrated, Saturo rolled my stomach and wrapped a hand across my chest. He pressed his entire body against my back, before putting a hand on my throat. Upon pressing his hips against my ass, I realized that his cock was even deeper than it was before. Saturo started to rock his hips against my soft ass and I had never felt something so marvelous in my entire life. The pressure in which he used to fuck me was unholy. The head of his brilliant cock was hitting a pleasure point so deep in my pussy that I was sure that the other lover knew it existed. The weight of his body pushed my pelvis nearly flat against the mattress and added pressure to my stomach. Just between my thighs I felt something rather fluffy nestled right against my apex. The cushioned item slid against my throbbing clit with each thrust and I felt my entire body shiver.

I had no idea when Saturo shoved a pillow between my thighs, but I knew the move was far from a mistake.

“You are so… fucking… perfect,” He stammered, pounding into slick pussy like his life depended on it. “The best. . . person. . . for me.”

Saturo’s grip on the bedsheets tightened and I felt his hips begin to twitch against mine.

He was getting close.

“Tell me,” I said, breathless. “Tell me that you're mine.”

Soft curses fell from his lips as the fingers on my neck tightened. Jagged breaths fell from his lips as his hips moved faster against my lower half. The heaviness of the member pushed against the roof of cunt. Added with the weight of his body against mine meant that Saturo was annihilating two of my pleasure points at once. The addition of the pillow meant that he was three. I couldn’t even feel the last orgasm building as I felt with the prior two. The lovely man was simply taking me onto an ongoing wave of pleasure, equipped with peaks and valleys.

The grinding of his body against mine was mind-numbing. I could feel little dribbles of drool spill from the side of my mouth as he fucked me. Incoherent words spilled from my lips like a drunk prayer, along with a few slurred sprinkles of his name. I never wanted that moment to end, I never wanted him to stop pounding me into the mattress as the late morning sun illuminated our sweat soaked bodies. I wanted the moment to last forever. I wanted to stay with him forever; for in that moment he was truly mine.

My friend.

My lover.

My. . . husband.

The orgasm poured over me like a soothing wave. It was just as deep as the other two, but didn’t have such violent muscle tension. My eyes squeezed shut as I rode on the high. It made my entire body warm and my heart tingle. It made me thankful for the impulsive decision to invite him into my apartment and into my bed. I almost scolded myself for not doing it sooner. The heavy member still pressed against the inflated, spongy area in my cunt. Every thrust had sent electricity throughout my body. The little control that Saturo was holding onto slipped through his fingers. The power behind his thrusts grew elevated and resulted in him practically dropping his cock in my awaiting hole. The movement further stimulated my sensitive clit, since his heaviness caused my womanhood to have even more contact with the pillow. My pearl ground against the plush surface hard as Saturo fucked me deeper than before.

“I’m gonna cum again!” I screamed, pulling at the sheets. “I’m gonna cum again!”

“That’s it, baby,” Saturo grunted. “Scream for your husband.”

His fingers pressed deeper into the sides of my neck as my eyes rolled back for the millionth time. The word ‘yes’ spilled from my lips as if it were the only word in the dictionary. I could feel my legs shake violently beneath him and my mouth open wider than it ever had. A warm pool of liquid started to spill from my sticky cunt shortly after, resulting in a small puddle forming between my thighs. The scream that left my throat was so intense that it was silent. I could feel the massive man above me begin to shudder uncontrollably as his heavy member twitched within my snatch. His body fell onto mine in a sweaty heap and Saturo took a moment to catch his breath.

His hand slipped from my throat and he laced the digits with my shaky one. He pressed soft kisses onto my shoulders as I caught my breath.

“I am yours,” he replied, finally acknowledging my request. The one I nearly forgot. “As you are mine. Forever”.

-------------------

a/n: before you come for me (pun intended), just know that the next installment may not be the happiest.

--------------------

TAGLIST

@amajikisupremacy @sweetdreams-inumimi @reagan707 @wannabeotaku @hazzelle-kento @rav3nmuse @maliamaiden @@satoruontopofme

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escha-evenstar · 7 months

Text

Everyday Kisses with Azul

Pairing: Azul Ashengrotto x GN!Reader

Summary: In which Azul gives you different types of kisses throughout the day.

Word Count: 300+

Notes:

Established relationship.

Azul calls you "sweetheart".

A/N:

Imagine: Kisses. Just.. fluffy kisses with Azul. And he does this to you. Every. Single. Day. It's part of his routine. He can't start and end the day without doing so.

Azul waking up beside you and giving you a good morning kiss.

"Mmhh.. good morning, sweetheart. How was your sleep?" His voice was husky from having just woken up, eyes half lidded from drowsiness. "Did you sleep well? ...Mm. that's good. Now come here." He pulls you closer to him and proceeds to give you a sweet kiss on the lips to officially start the day.

Azul walking you to your classroom and giving you a hand-kiss before leaving for his own class.

"We're here now." You and Azul stop in front of your classroom, hands still holding each other and fingers interlocked. You squeeze his hand a bit tighter. "Hm? ...You don't want me to leave? I don't want to leave you too, sweetheart, but we have classes to attend. Don't worry, I'll pick you up when it's time for lunch." He lifts your hand and brings the back of your hand to his lips, giving it a soft kiss. "I'll see you later, okay?"

Azul giving you a forehead kiss while you stay with him inside the VIP Room.

"Sweetheart, are you doing alright?" You were sitting beside Azul reading a book behind his desk while he was tabulating the expenses for Mostro Lounge. It's been awhile since you talked. Although the silence was comfortable for the two of you, he wanted to make sure you were okay. "...I see. If there's anything you need, don't hesitate to tell me, hm?" He leans closer to you, giving you a gentle kiss on your forehead. "Thank you for staying here with me, sweetheart. Just give me a few more minutes and then we'll eat dinner together. We're having your favorite."

Azul bidding you goodnight with a neck kiss.

You and Azul were talking casually while lying down on the soft mattress. You were playing with each other's hair, lulling you to sleep. "Mm? Are you starting to feel sleepy? ...Hehe. Then let's get some sleep." He covers the both of you with a blanket before pulling you close to him from behind you. His arm was tucked under your head while the other hugged around your waist. Azul finds your neck and gives it a warm kiss. "Goodnight, sweetheart. I love you."

#azul ashengrotto x reader #azul ashengrotto #twisted wonderland x reader #twisted wonderland #escha writes🩷

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down-in-the-rainbow-square · 1 year

Note

Remember that post that said u wanted to write that one, the reader goes into puppets/welcome home dimension?

I got u!

Can I request a Welcome home crew x reader, the reader from our world just looking at the website and suddenly blacks out. Then they open their eyes to see the puppets looking down at them! :D

Welcome Home x Reader - A Whole New World (and a Whole New Back Pain)

Not proofread! Thank you for the request! I'm definitely in my isekai sort of phase right now right x readers. For this one I'm just going to assume the reader hasn't discovered the hidden secrets of the website yet. Clown said we're only 5% in, so when we're closer to the end I'll do a remake with the reader knowing all the spooks and secrets (plus, it's really fun to just stick to the happy-go-lucky tune for now)!

I don't know what blacking out is like so I kind of just wrote random feelings instead. Hope that's okay!

P.S., This focuses more on Y/N than the characters but I'll make a sequel that focuses on them more!

Words: 1353

Type: Headcanons, platonic

Tw: food, mentioned kidnapping, mentioned death, injury

You were sitting at your desk when it happened. It was nearing sunset; a bowl of two-minute noodles sat cooling beside your laptop to serve as tonight's meal. Scrolling through social media, a sudden notification popped up on the screen. It was from a friend of yours.

Opening the message up, it read, "hey! Check out this website I found!" Attached to the message was a link to a cheerful looking website. Your friend described it as the link to an old and near-forgotten puppet show your parents had taped on VHS. You used to watch it together when you were really young, apparently.

Opening it up, you were sent to a title screen of sorts. It featured a little red house with a blue roof and yellow chimney. The website invited you to click on it. Doing so, you were revealed the real meat of what was inside.

The next half-hour or so was spent perusing the website. Some of the characters vaguely rang a bell; you remembered something about a guy called Frank, but you also thought there was a child, so perhaps you were making it all up. Maybe that was Wally.

Eventually, though, you were hit with a sudden drowsiness and a sick, twisting feeling in your stomach. Assuming hunger pains, you reach for you food on the desk. It would have gone completely cold, but you would have to deal with it. Fork in hand, you lifted it up to your mouth only to-

Only to wake up in bed. Strange; you never remembered going to sleep. The last thing you remembered doing was getting bad hunger pains and eating your noodles. Though you assumed you had just passed out in bed and not remembered anything.

You rolled around in bed. You were too tired to get up just now. You were about to drift off to sleep when you heard something - or someone.

"They're waking up!"

What in the hell?!

You instantly bolted upright only to be hit with a horrible pain in your spine that sent you back down again. Groaning in pain, you rolled over onto your side and opened your eyes to see... People? No. Monsters? Maybe. No, they were definitely puppets.

Looking up, you saw you were surrounded by them. They were all different shapes, colours, and sizes, but shared the same look: concern. Concern for your wellbeing or concerned because their meal just woke up you didn't know, but you didn't plan on staying for long enough to find out.

Again, you tried to sit up, ignoring the excruciating pain in your lower back. It was then that you realised this was also not your bed you were in. No, this was much larger than you could afford and had a red wood frame with feathers carved into the head.

Your first thought is that you've been kidnapped. Your second thought is you've been kidnapped by puppets. Instantly, you try to heave your way off the bed, only to be caught by a pair of arms. Well, two pairs of arms, actually.

"Hey, hey! Calm down!" Looking up, you saw a tall, green puppet looking down at you. He slowly placed you back down on the bed. Taking a closer look at his facial expression, he almost looked scared.

"Wh- what are you?" you whispered. You didn't care if it sounded rude, you'd rather be rude than clueless.

"I could ask you the same question." You turned to look at the source of the noise to see a different puppet. He was of medium height (for the puppets, of course) and had grey skin. Or felt, for that matter.

"What?" you replied.

"Well," the puppet began, "for someone who fell out of the sky, you sure seem fine."

Fell out of the sky? What was this guy on about?

"Wait, I what?" you asked. The puppets shared a look.

"You don't remember?" another puppet asked. He was about the same height as the grey puppet, but had yellow skin and red hair. "There was a lot of yelling."

"There was?"

Safe to say, you were confused. How could you have fallen out of the sky and not remember? Unless you suffered some kind of head trauma, which would explain why your back was in such pain. But if you truly fell from the sky, wouldn't you be dead?

Eventually the puppets managed to calm you down enough for you to not try to run every chance you got. They told you their names, and you told them yours in return.

There was Howdy, the one who had stopped you from running away and hurting yourself; Frank, the grey one who had told you what happened; Julie, the one who had come to help you first; Poppy, whose bed you woke up in and who cared for you while you were out; Eddie, who was the first to actually notice something falling from the sky; Barnaby, who had carried you to Poppy; Sally, who had kept the morale up for the other puppets while you were out; and Wally, who had assisted in taking care of you.

You found them all to be very interesting in both their appearances and personalities. Sally, who you had been informed was once the brightest star in the entire sky, was a rambunctious, creative soul always ready for an adventure and new ideas. She often proposed imaginative but impractical solutions to your back problem.

There was Julie, a kind and fun puppet with long blonde hair. She was always playing some sort of game, or editing one to allow you to join, even when you didn't quite trust her. Her favourite to play with you was Patty Cake, because it was simple and could be repeated as many times as she wanted. Sally liked to join in on that one for the singing. You were surprised she knew what it was.

But no matter how intriguing you found the puppets; they were always more fascinated by you. They constantly asked you questions about who you were, where you lived, what life was like. Howdy was very interested in the 'Click and Collect' system you had at your local supermarket. The ability to know someone's order beforehand without even a telephone was incredible to him.

Frank was by far the most interested. He was always asking you questions while you rested in Poppy's bed. At one point he left for about fifteen minutes before coming back with a whole bookshelf's worth of books. How he managed to carry it without breaking apart you had no idea, but he looked strained.

Frank had sat the books on the floor and started going through each one, repeating his questions only to throw the book away when it didn't match what you said. He ended up with every book thrown in the messy pile by the end of it and was quite angry.

Everyone was surprised with how similar but how different your worlds were. Things like recipes, games, and speech were all the same and yet you had all this technology they didn't, and they had whole species you didn't. Howdy was shocked to know he could never exist in your world, and Sally was upset to learn that she would only ever be a ball of gas (though she felt a bit better when you mentioned how huge they were).

But more than anything they were surprised with you. The first time they saw you eat was fascinating. Sure, (for the sake of the television show) they can eat, but not like that. What you were doing was just plain weird by their standards, with your odd moving of these 'muscles'. Wally had asked you what you were doing with your mouth and was shocked (and a little disgusted) to see your teeth.

The day seemed to go on forever in this little town you were informed was called Home. Poppy was too big for her couch, but refused to move you, so you ended up sleeping next to her. It was comfy, if not a little suffocating.

I'll be making a part 2 for this!

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taylormarieee · 6 months

Text

Lover Boy Peeta Mellark

Summary: Peeta loves to show you how much he loves you.

Pairing: Peeta Mellark x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 964

Warnings: None, just pure fluff and rainbows!

After everything with the 74th anniversary for the hunger games, when you and Peeta survived.

He has been all over you for the past few weeks. Constantly checking up on you, bringing you bread, giving you kisses everywhere on your body.

It was cute honestly. Some people may think it's annoying but you think it's incredibly adorable.

Behind that brave facade, is a sweet lover boy who loves his girlfriend and always wants to remind her of that. To show her his love for her.

"I know, Gale, are you sure your ok?" You ask. He slowly nods before drifting off to sleep.

You gave him some tea because he wasn't feeling very well. You go to clean up when you hear a knock on the door.

You walk towards the door and open it only to be surprised with a happy smile and a loaf of bread.

A bright smile slowly appears on your face as you hug you boyfriend Peeta Mellark.

"Hi. I thought I would bring some bread!" He says with a smile on his face.

"Good! Just in time too! Gale's caught a fever. He isn't feeling well so maybe bread and tea will fix him up!" You say grabbing the loaf of bread before kissing Peeta on the cheek and walking towards the kitchen.

He walks in and gently shuts the door. Your swaying and humming to yourself as you cut the bread to leave next to Gale on the couch.

You grab a napkin and place it on the coffee table in your lovely, quiet home

"So... How are you? Have you been busy my love?" He asks in a sweet, gentle tone.

"I have been good Peeta! Not as many nightmares anymore but you know, same old same old." You say frowning a bit.

"Do you want some tea?" You ask. You await his answer as you slowly walk over to the counter where the tea kettle is.

"Uhm, no thank you, I'm ok." Peeta replies. You hear shuffling on the couch and look over to see Gale waking back up at the smell of bread.

"Is that bread and tea?" He asks a little drowsy from his quick little nap.

"Yea it is. Peeta's here and he brought some bread so eat up." You respond.

You walk over to Gale and put your hand on his head to check on him and how he is feeling and he is burning up.

"Oh my god Gale, your burning up! I'm going to run a cold bath for you. Up, come on." You say concerned.

"Sure thing mom!" He responds chuckling as he gets up and walks to the bathroom.

"I'll be right back Peeta!" You respond. He stands there patiently waiting for your return.

Once you walk back in the room you met with someone's chest and a whiff of alcohol.

"HAYMITCH!" You yell. You give him a hug and he chuckles a bit.

"Hey there firecracker." You smile at the nickname he gave you . You got this nickname form making fire bombs during the games.

"W-what are you doing here? Is everything ok?" You ask looking behind him to see Katniss and Peeta.

"Yea, I tagged along with Katniss on the way over here. She came to male sure that Gale was ok." He responds rubbing your arms assuringly.

"Oh ok, yea Katniss he's fine he's in the shower right now because he was burning up." You tell her.

She nods and mutters a thank you before heading up the stairs towards the bathroom.

"Uh babe? Can we talk for a sec? Alone." Peeta asks. You nod and walk towards your room together.

"What? What's going on baby?" You ask wondering if he's ok. He gives you a hug and then grabs your face and kisses you sweetly.

"Hm, what was that for?"

"To show how much I love you. Plus, i've been wanting to do that the moment I walked in here." He says laughing.

You laugh and he smiles at you with nothing but love.

"I love your laugh. Your so gorgeous." he says staring at you with love in his eyes.

"Aw, thank you peeta. I love your big brown eyes. Your my little golden retriever." You say smiling before giving him a sweet peck on his lips.

He smothers your face with kisses and you laugh again. "You wanna go for a walk?" He asks.

"W-What about Gale?" You ask concerned. He rolls his eyes playfully.

"Babe I think Katniss can take care of him for 10 minutes." He responds smiling.

"Ok. Lemme go get my coat and I'll meet you outside hun!" You say running to your room to grab your coat.

Peeta smiles to himself as he waits for you by the door like a personal Chaperone.

He wonders how he's so lucky to have you. How could he have scored such a prize like you. You weren't an obstacle to win but a star to praise.

You shined on your own time and he adored you for it. He loved everything about you and he couldn't have had anyone more special than you.

Lost in his train of thoughts about you he didn't even notice your sweet voice trying to lure him back to reality.

"Babe? Are you ok? Earth to Peeta!?" You say cutely waving your hand in front of his face.

"Huh? Oh yea baby I'm ok." He responds smiling, "Ready to go My lovely princess?" he continues holding out his arm.

"I am." You respond, you both walking out of the door. "By the way, what were you thinkin' about?" You ask sweetly.

Peeta smiles to himself before looking at you with a big smile on his face saying, "You my love. Always thinking about you."

@murdrdocs @versatilehater @number1gal @luvrxbunny @clovestreet @peetaslefttoe @flowershines @aweina @fayesia

#peeta mellark #thg peeta #peeta x reader #peeta my beloved #peeta mellark fluff

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aether-bun · 4 months

Text

Happy Birthday!

To celebrate my birthday, here's a drabble of assorted Hades characters and how they'd be on your birthday! You are in a relationship with Zagreus in this one :)

Characters: Nyx, Orpheus, Eurydice, Zagreus, Thanatos, Hypnos, Dusa, Megaera, Achilles, Patroclus, Cerberus, Asterius, Sisyphus, Bouldy

Warnings: None! Good wholesome times all around ♡

You wake up to Zagreus kissing your face!!!!

I believe in Zagreus caring deeply for physical touch and quality time your honour. Once you warm him up to it, it's his heaven in Hell. He adores it.

He's very warm, but it's never really been a problem, given the consistently nice temperature of the House

"Good morning, [Y/N]. Happy birthday~" He cooes gently, his voice is smoother than the finest ambrosia and you revel in it, snuggling into his chest.

"What would you like to do today, my dear?"

"Mmh....Is sleep an option...?" Zagreus chuckles at your drowsy response, his chest rumbles pleasantly and you find a contagious smile growing on your face.

"Birthdays only happen once a year, darling...Come on. Eurydice made you some cake."

"She did?"

"Yes! When I told her it was your birthday this week, she jumped to the opportunity."

"Then I suppose I must get up?"

Zagreus kisses your head lightly, and you melt from the tender care

"I suppose you must, yes."

You wake up and get into some nicer robes, and walk out with Zagreus to see Nyx regard you.

"Happy birthday, child. As a token of this occasion, I managed to convince Hades to give everyone a moment off, to greet you." Nyx's voice almost sends you to sleep again, but you're much more awake now, and you feel too sheepishly happy to rest.

"Lady Nyx, you really didn't need to...!" Your voice is as incredulous as you feel. "But...Thank you."

"Of course. I believe Hypnos wanted a word, so perhaps you should see to him first."

You and Zagreus walk over to Hypnos, who is currently not sleeping, which shocks you both, though he looks about ready to knock out for the next week at the minimum.

"[Y/N]!! Happy birthday! Dusa and I made you a little something, here here!" He exclaims, all tiredness wiped from his aura entirely as he hands you a small box.

Gingerly, you take off the lid, and inside you are happy to find a new laurel, woven carefully with your favourite colours and plants. You find yourself beaming at the beautiful heartfelt gift, before giving Hypnos a tight squeeze.

"Thank you so much, Hypnos. The detail is incredible!" You say as you part, and Hypnos giggles with a mischevious grin. "It was mostly Dusa, to be perfectly honest, but I helped weave it, so getting the first hug of appreciation for it feels fair."

You laugh, before Sir Achilles approaches with a calm smile of his own, before placing a hand on your arm.

"Unfortunately, I don't have any gifts for you myself, but I do wish you a happy birthday nonetheless. Do spend today well, yes?"

"Thank you, sir. I'll do my best." You smile, remarking mentally that your cheeks are starting to hurt, but also that you don't find yourself minding.

Next stop is to Meg and Dusa, who are waiting in the lounge with Thanatos. When they see you approach, Dusa is the first to float to you. The snakes that make up her hair affectionately grasp onto your arm as you hold Dusa affectionately. "Happy birthday!" She skitters, almost purring in a strange, Dusa-like way.

Meg is next, though she holds her distance as per usual. She's smiling, and her whip is stowed. "I've gotta hand it to you, [Y/N], I don't usually tend to care for birthdays, never mind my own...but you got me a morning in the lounge. So...thanks for that."

It was a strange way to go about saying happy birthday, but for you, it was more than enough. You nodded. "I can't believe Nyx pulled it off. Surely there are some wretched shades out there being overworked now, no?"

Megaera simply shrugs, but the creeping grin on her face tells you she hopes it's the case.

Thanatos clears his throat, and you realise he's held something out to you. It was a bottle of nectar. You gasp, taking the weighted spherical bottle in awe.

Zagreus squints at it, still by your side, before suddenly looking at Thanatos. "I gave you this bottle of nectar yesterday!" He says, indignant. Thanatos smiles - a rarity on its' own - and simply dismisses the Prince.

"Regardless of where you got it from...Thank you, Than, this...this means a lot." You say, your voice still awestruck by the honey gold liquid you're holding.

Zagreus of course brings you plenty, but even so, its' beauty never ceased to amaze.

You visit Sisyphus, who gives you Pebble (one of Bouldy's brothers, who has a delicately punched smiley face on one side), then you visit Orpheus and Eurydice, who gives you a kiss on the cheek and some cake, then you meet with Patroclus, who takes your hand very hesitantly and prays for you, for your good luck this year. He says he'll see you at the house, and on your way back, you find Asterius.

Zagreus prepares for a fight, but Asterius is unarmed, and he quickly realises.

"Asterius? What are you doing here, without your axe?" He asks. Asterius chuffs.

"Your father gave us a small break this morning, small one. You said something about celebrating someone's birthday last we clashed blades, and so, naturally, I assumed it would be your lover's. Was I correct?"

Zagreus stows his blade and you nod a little. "That's right, Asterius sir." You clarify. "It's good to know he gave even you and Theseus a break, too."

Asterius snorts, though it's not one of amusement or malice, simply a noise. He rifles through a pouch he has, before handing you a weighty box. Inside is a handaxe, crafted by the minotaur.

"You have no weaponry when you wander out here, I've come to notice. This is for when we meet in the stadium. For if you need more than simply the blessings of the Olympians." The bass voice of the bull rumbles, and you hold the axe firmly with a grin. Zagreus chuckles next to you.

"I appreciate this, Asterius. Thank you. Send our regards to King Theseus?"

Asterius laughs.

"I don't think he'd take it well, but I wish you a good day despite."

Asterius leaves, and you and Zagreus are amusedly quick to do the same.

Eventually, after a day of exploration, you cuddle up to Cerberus and thank Nyx on your way through, before laying down with your Zagreus.

"Today was fantastic, dearest." You say. Zagreus holds you close, playing with your hair. "I'm glad. But there's still one present you've yet to receive, my dear~"

It's 1AM right now. Use your imagination.

#hades game #hades supergiant #zagreus #x reader #zagreus x reader #hades megaera #hades thanatos #hades dusa #hades achilles #hades patroclus #hades eurydice #hades nyx #hades hypnos #birthday imagines #drabble #imagine #birthday drabble

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girls-alias · 5 months

Text

Dean's Dream P6

Title: Dean's Dream P6

Part 5

Words: 1,064

Relations: Dean Winchester X Reader

TW: Foul language.

Prompt:

Dean is captured by a Djinn and dreams of Y/N.

My confession resulted in us talking most of the night, my mind more consumed with learning about her than trying to sleep with her. Even watching her as she told one of her favourite stories was mesmerising. She explained that no memory came back before she got it, it made my hope dwindle but she was still happy and I knew I could be too. It reassured me that I was okay and that she was by my side. She understands me in ways I didn't think were possible.

When she explained that I was a manager of a mechanics she clarified that I could change jobs and do anything I wanted. I had given her the same choice and she was eternally grateful as she loves her job now.

Once the night was setting in, we grew tired. She happily clung to my body as we cuddled. I stroked her hair wanting the reminder of her being in my arms, the reminder that she is mine. I smiled when her breathing levelled out and I knew she was asleep, I closed my eyes and soon followed her into her dreams.

I woke up to the bed shifting, Y/N stretching beside me. I quickly looked at her, happy she was the last thing I saw last night and the first thing I saw this morning. She smiled, her eyes sleepy as she squinted in the light. I smiled brightly.

"You want pancakes for breakfast?" She asked, her tone riddled with drowsiness, her smile innocent.

"You're perfect," I chuckled as I rushed to be close to her. She giggled as I wrapped my arms around her and began kissing her quickly on all areas of her face. Her giggling didn't stop till I kissed her lips. She hummed happily before I pulled away. She kissed me back before moving to get up. We hurried downstairs as she was hungry and I was practically chasing her, my sudden need to be touching her at all times seemed to overtake my body. She giggled as she hurried down the stairs, stopping once she was in the kitchen. I instantly wrapped my arms around her, kissing her sweetly. She pulled away with a smile.

"How can I make pancakes if you're kissing me?" She asked rhetorically but I smirked.

"Very carefully," I commented making her laugh. We compromised, I hugged her waist from behind as she cooked. I often pressed kisses to her shoulder as I watched her.

She was just flipping the second pancake when my phone started to ring on the kitchen counter. It seemed like muscle memory to reach over and answer it.

"Hello?" I answered, my focus going back to Y/N as I watched her smile at the sound of my voice.

"Dean," Sam's voice called through the phone. He sounded different than when I had seen him yesterday but what startled me most was his panicked tone.

"What's wrong? What's happening?" I asked, worry overtaking my senses.

"Dean, come on. Wake up," He instructed. He avoided my questions as if he hadn't heard them. I knew for sure I had said it out loud because Y/N's full attention was on me and she looked concerned. The pancake in the frying pan was the last thing she cared about right now. My breath quickened as I worried. "Dean!" He shouted. I quickly looked to Y/N, begging mentally she had answers to give me.

"Go to him, I'll be right behind you," She quickly spoke, rushing to grab the car keys for me. I smiled, thanking her as I accepted them. I hesitated to rush out but turned back to kiss her.

I opened my eyes, my eyes falling short. It felt like when you expect another step but your foot falls flat and it startles you, that's what happened to my eyes as I expected to see my beautiful girlfriend in front of me, only for my eyes to have nothing close to fall on. I instantly noticed the dim room was dirty. I felt lonely. I felt cold and weak. My weight seemed light, and soon realised I was suspended in the air. My confusion and inner panic spiking.

Sam soon rushed to me. Blood running down his cheek, and faint bruises made it hard to establish if the fight was recent or far enough in the past to almost be healed. He offered reassuring words as he got me to my feet. My weightlessness soon turned to a weight I couldn't handle. Sam practically carried me as he draped my arm over his shoulders, helping me walk as he slumped over slightly. He started walking me away. I looked around a little panicked.

"Y/N! Where's Y/N?" I asked, my worry of her being forgotten washing over me. Sam looked at me confused.

"Who?" He asked as if I were crazy.

"My girlfriend, your best friend." I clarified but his expression didn't change.

"Dean, you don't have a girlfriend and I can't even think of anyone named Y/N." His words tore me apart.

In the moment the words stung me, I believed he was lying, I hoped he was joking. It was over time that I began remembering what had happened. The Djinn had captured me. I was simply dreaming. It felt real, she felt real, my feelings felt real. My feelings are real. It took me a while to realise that this life was the real one, that I was a hunter and always have been. My life is about living on the road with my brother killing monsters and demons.

It took me even longer to come to terms with the fact that Y/N wasn't real. I had dreamt of her, no wonder she was perfect for me, I made her up to be the perfect woman for me. I know what I like deep down and she was the picture of everything I loved. Now even half a year since I woke up from the dream, I look for her in my bed when I wake up. I call her name when I'm nervous. I reach for her. I beg for her... She's never there. I've willed myself to dream of her again, done everything I can to just dream of her for even 1 hour but I've never seen her. I have to learn to I've without her.

Masterlist Part 7

#fanfiction #fanfic #supernatural #supernatural fanfiction #dean winchester #dean winchester fanfiction #dean x reader #dean winchester smut #dean winchester x you #dean winchester fic #dean #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester fluff

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qawcamiz · 1 year

Note

Zhongli x fem reader where zhongli is working all week and can barely spend time w yn so when he got free time yn tried to lead him to 'it' but zhongli won so he got to eat her out instead ☹️☹️☹️💖💖💖 I can't see any zhongli smuts 💔💔💔

Overtime

(NSFW): angst & smut, oral sex/f receiving (no proofread as usual :sadface:)

a/notes: I can't believe y'all... it's almost week for uhhh and yall r asking for these 💀💀 ANYWAYS I've been so busy, my apologies for not updating for like weeks idfk TT, I'll try to be more active now, I'll be doing the requests !!

notes: if there r mistakes, MY BADD!!! I'm writinf this amd irs like 5am rn 🔫 ILL B FIXINF IT TMRRRWWW 🙌🏻😭😭😭 IM SO DLEEPY RN

Zhongli puts his career first, which is tough, considering his job entails a lot of work and a very short rest. He barely even spends his time with you, he just has to commute to work every day. Every morning you wake up without Zhongli by your side, heck it's indeed a miracle you can fall asleep without his presence, but that's all there is to it. It's not like Zhongli doesn't want to be here at home with you, it's more like he has to get to work early every morning and is only able to come home late at night because his boss won't let him go home yet, which means he'll never get to sleep properly.

every time Zhongli comes home he sees that you fell asleep on the couch, reading a book you've borrowed from his bookshelf. You always read whenever you're tired, it seems like your dearest thing to do. So it isn't odd seeing you curled up on the couch while reading the same book over and over. Zhongli realized that you tried to keep yourself awake to wait for him to get home from work so you could cuddle in bed before going back to sleep. he feels so bad about it, you're always tired after the long day you had and he couldn't even spend some quality time with you. but one thing is for sure, Zhongli loves how peaceful you look when you sleep.

One night, Zhongli informed you that he would be able to go home early tonight and you immediately brightened up. You were so delighted to hear him telling you that he was coming home later than expected. So you made a bunch of dinners as quickly as you could to make him feel better about leaving early. You were so happy with the news to the point that you imagined what tonight would be like with him finally by your side.

But all of those images shattered when Zhongli went straight to your shared room, Not even bothering to close the main door behind himself or even share you a glance. He looked as if his whole world had crumbled down around his feet and you felt so helpless, but it was too late now, he already went inside and closed the door softly behind him. Although it bothered you, You soothed yourself that it must probably be because he was just drowsy from working hard all week, but deep down you knew that it wasn't just that. The fact was that both of you barely talk considering his occupied schedule, you know you shouldn't pressure him or expect anything in return for such a short amount of time together. But still, you can't help but miss him, so you waited anxiously until his eyes landed on you.

Looks like, for you, The fascination he had been feeling towards you all this time had dissipated completely in an instant. Like he didn't feel anything anymore, it was as if everything he had felt about you before disappeared overnight. Now, it felt empty, void, almost as if you were a spirit, and nothing could bring you back into existence again. Even worse, you felt lonely without your boyfriend.

Was he seeing someone else? Did he find somebody else better than you? Many questions lingered inside of your mind and you wanted to resist the urge to just shout out all these questions, but all that came out was your heartbroken cry. You were so hopeless, so frustrated that you felt like crying tears of blood. But somehow, you managed to hold them back. Your feelings mustn’t affect him any further, he needs to take care of himself right now and you’d rather give him space than force him. If he wanted to spend the rest of the night with you, He would have done it by now...

When you finally got the courage to go and see what had happened, Zhongli was standing in front of the closet, staring blankly. His back facing you and his left arm hanging limp at his side as if he couldn't muster up any strength to move. Your breath hitched as a tear fell from your eye and your body moved forward automatically, without thinking. You weren't aware of what you were doing but what you know is how it felt so good to finally have your arms wrapped around him. You buried your face in his back and held him tight as if trying to keep him from vanishing into thin air.

He stayed silent, unmoving in your embrace, and you were about to break down completely when he suddenly turned around. His head rested against your shoulder as he wrapped his arms tightly around you, holding you tight too. Your eyes teared up even more and you sobbed openly, clutching onto him as if you'd never seen him for decades. You were so terrified, but you also felt like laughing hysterically. The relief, joy, and satisfaction you felt were overwhelming, it took a second for you to calm down enough to breathe properly. But you didn't let go of him either. As if you needed to reassure yourself that he was there. That he was there. “I miss you... so much... Zhongli..." you cried into his shirt, still clinging to him as tightly as possible.

"I miss you a lot too, I'm sorry..." he said softly, rubbing circles in your back to calm you. You knew Zhongli wants to say something, but all of his words failed him and you could tell he was struggling just as much as you are. After several minutes, when you calmed down a bit and your breathing returned to normal, "Y/n... I—"

You cut him off by pressing your lips against his, silencing him instantly. You didn't care, all you cared about was making up for the lost time. You kissed him like you meant to kiss him forever and you weren't willing to let him go even for a single minute, And Zhongli noticed how fast and frantic your kisses were getting, but he didn't complain at all. He just held you tighter and deepened your kiss, letting himself forget how hard he had worked today, how tired he felt, and most importantly, he forgot that you were waiting for him. All he know was he wants you, and you want him, so what was stopping the both of you from doing this?

His kisses were soft and gentle, but it wasn't long before his hands wandered under your shirt, running across your skin teasingly, making goosebumps appear on your exposed skin. Then they traveled southwards, caressing the curves of your stomach, then moving downwards. And all of a sudden you found yourself gasping for air, feeling so overwhelmed and breathless by his touch, but at the same time, he continued kissing you as if he hadn't done that in months, which he did.

Then, he unbuttoned your shirt and began kissing all along your collarbones and down to your chest, sucking on the spot where his thumb had just touched moments before. You whimpered softly, wanting nothing more than to feel his mouth on yours again and again, to melt into him, as if your bodies were made to fit perfectly together, like pieces of the same puzzle. You grabbed onto his hair, pulling him closer and deepening your kiss. Zhongli groaned and pulled away slightly, his lips brushing against yours once more.

You felt Zhongli's large palm against your breasts, you kept quiet, you didn't want to ruin this moment. Instead, you just leaned into his touch and allowed yourself to relax and enjoy his warm mouth on your skin. But Zhongli was relentless, he loved playing the seductress whenever he felt like it, so he proceeded to push you back onto the mattress and straddle you in one swift movement, pinning you down to the mattress with his strong arms as he kissed you again. You wrapped your legs around his waist, holding him tighter, craving his kisses and touches.

Suddenly, Zhongli's hands started roaming all over your body, and you could barely even breathe, he was touching you everywhere and you wanted nothing more but to let him touch you even more. You looked away as you felt yourself growing wetter when he pressed his body against yours, and soon you could feel how hard he was becoming against your abdomen. It made you feel so divine as if he was your heater and you just wanted to snuggle up closer to him, so you did. You let yourself fall deeper into his kisses as your hands ran through his hair, gripping the strands, he started grinding up against your crotch, making you moan and gasp out loud.

You took off his tie and loosened his suit jacket, pushing his shirt down to reveal his toned torso underneath. You started tracing circles on the skin below his chest with your hand, trying not to think about his bulge pressing against your stomach. Just then Zhongli's hands reached up towards your bra, undid it, and pushed it aside. Your breast tingled painfully as he sucked the sensitive flesh, and before you knew it you were squirming beneath him and reaching down with your free hand to unbuckle his belt. You tugged at his trousers impatiently, you needed him to get rid of them so you could feel him inside you again.

Zhongli seemed to have understood what you were hinting, However, he wanted to tease you a little first before he gave you what you wanted, his fingers fiddling with the zip of his pants, you were waiting for him to open it, but he suddenly stopped, looking at you with lust clouding his gaze. He was aroused to see you beneath him, after the exhausting day, you could see it clearly, but instead of saying it aloud, he just stared at you for some seconds longer, He slowly leaned forward again, kissing you deeply, and he started sucking and nibbling at your lower lip, while his other hand stroked gently down your thigh, grazing against your inner thighs. he took off your panties slowly, making sure to take his time to tease you, teasing your clit with his fingers before sliding his finger inside. Your back arched as you moaned softly, he placed another soft kiss against your neck and trailed down to your collarbone, leaving hickeys in his wake. You gasped loudly as his tongue entered your mouth, taking his time to taste every part of you.

After a while, he pulled away and removed his finger from your cunt. You panted heavily and looked at him, "W-Why'd you stop...?" you asked, your voice laced with disappointment. Zhongli didn't answer and continued on his way down to your stomach, trailing kisses along the length of your belly button. When he was close to you, he stopped and raised his face again, giving you an enigmatic smile as he gazed at you with burning eyes. Your hands instinctively reached his hair and tangled your fingers in it as you felt his tongue on your clit. The heat from his saliva seeping between your folds was almost unbearable and you gripped his hair harder, needing more of him.

Zhongli licked up your clit and you clenched your teeth when his warm tongue swirled around your clit, circling it delicately as he suckled your clit harder. Then he slid his tongue slowly between your folds, swirling it around delicately as he teased you relentlessly. You could hardly stand it anymore, you clutched the sheets and tried your best to remain quiet, hoping Zhongli wouldn't hear you. Fortunately for him, he did, because he smirked evilly and slowly moved his tongue inside of you, slowly pumping your clit, driving you crazy.

Your whole body shook uncontrollably with each thrust his tongue gave, your body twitching and tensing with pleasure now and then. He was relentless and merciless with his tongue, sucking on your clit faster and harder, driving you insane until you couldn't stand it any longer. you broke out into a string of incoherent sounds and moans as he continued to pump his tongue furiously inside of you, sucking harder and harder and making you lose control of your body.

"I-Im close..." you whimpered in pure ecstasy, grabbing tightly onto his hair, digging your nails into his scalp painfully, and Zhongli smiled wickedly, knowing he was going to drive you to insanity until you couldn't handle it anymore. His tongue went faster and faster, thrusting in and out of you with fervor, and before you know it, you were coming. He watched with satisfaction as your whole body shuddered violently and you came undone around him, cumming all over his tongue.

When you finally came down from your high, you were panting harshly and covered in sweat, your head resting against the pillow as you waited for your breathing to settle down. you released Zhongli's hair from your grip and sat up, wrapping your arms around your midsection. He watched as you adjusted yourself, and then turned to look at him, still a little out of breath.

"sweet as ever... do you want to keep going?"

#genshin impact #genshin impact headcanons #genshin imagines #zhongli smut #zhongli x reader #zhongli x you #zhongli x reader smut #zhongli #zhongli lemon #genshin zhongli #genshin impact zhongli #Genshin impact smut #genshin smut #genshin hcs #genshin

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braidlottie · 9 months

Text

LOSING YOUR WISDOM

summary: lottie cares for you after getting your wisdom teeth taken out.

tags: lottie x g!n reader, reader is cryin a lot bc of the anesthetic/laughing gas, but lottie is SO sweet :3, mention of meds/pills

wc 755 i think :3

“sweetheart, you have to go.” lottie mumbled at you from the connected bathroom as the bristles of her toothbrush glided across her teeth. when you didn’t answer, lottie looked to see if you were asleep, and you were.

you were wrapped in your own little cocoon, snoring your morning away. lottie sighed but smirked lovingly and rinsed her mouth, setting her toothbrush in the holding cup and walking over the the end of the bed, smiling to herself. she didn’t have the heart to wake you up. but she did when she looked at the time.

“we gotta get you up darling, cmon,” lottie whispered and your eyes flew open, taking in a deep breath in. you stretched and let out a little yawn. “m' not leaving.”

“yes, you are. don't make me drag you out of this bed by your feet.” lottie playfully smirked and you groaned, sitting up and slipping a shirt on. “whatever. but you have to promise me to cuddle me when we get home.”

“you already know i would, baby.” lottie chuckled, kissing your head.

“you’re gonna be fine, sweetheart.” lottie put down the magazine she was reading when she saw your knee bouncing up and down while you waited. you just shrugged, laying your head on her shoulder.

“y/n l/n, we're ready for you.” a nurse said to you, snapping you out of your thoughts. you were really overthinking this whole wisdom teeth thing.

“uhm, can lottie come with me?” you timidly asked and the nurse nodded and smiled politely, opening the operating room door for the two of you. your heart drops as you sit in the operating chair. the doctor finishes up the IV and tips your chair all the way back, ready to start the procedure.

“it's okay darling. i'll be right here when you fall asleep and i'll be in the same place when you wake up, alright?” lottie reassured when she saw you starting to panic. “i love you.” you slurred, the anesthesia already kicking in. “i love you too angel, so much. go to sleep now, it's alright.” lottie stroked your cheek with her thumb until you fell asleep.

when you woke up from the gas, you squinted your eyes from the blinding light above you, turning your head to look for your girlfriend. and there she was, in the same spot, already holding your hand.

“hi, darling. i’m right here. they just finished up with you, i can tell the nurse that you're ready to go when you want to, okay?” you nodded and tears suddenly spilled out of the sides of your eyes.

“i wanna go home.” you mumble, your mouth full of cotton. “okay, it's okay baby, i'll get the nurse okay? i'll be two seconds.” lottie promised and she rushed back with the nurse, verifying that it's okay to leave. “you ready to go love? let's go.” lottie kissed your wet cheek as she wheeled you out to her car and helped you get in and buckle your seatbelt. the two of you (mostly lottie) said goodbye to the nurse and drove off.

“how are you feeling, angel? you did so well.” the older woman put a hand on your thigh, the other on the steering wheel.

“m' sleepy.” you tugged on the air freshener that was dangling from the rearview mirror. she shook her head and brought your hand down, entangling it with hers. “yes honey, that was the laughing gas, it's suppose to make you a little drowsy. you're okay.”

you whined, unbuckling your seat and laying your head in your girlfriend’s lap. “wanna lay with you. please.” you let another tear fall and land on lottie's jeans.

“oh, y/n/n, you have to stay buckled in, little one.” lottie pouted, looking down at you shaking your head. once she finally stopped at a red light, she propped you back up in your seat, strapping you safely in as you cried in protest.

“oh goodness, you’re okay, baby love,” she cooed over your crying. “we’re almost home.”

“tell you what, after i drop you off at home and get your medicine from the pharmacy, i’ll go get you a little treat, hmm? you want some jamba juice?”

you immediately perked up and nodded, lottie smiling at your reaction. the light finally turned green and lottie took off, trying to bring you home as quick as she could. “love you,” you sniffled, rubbing your eyes with your fist. lottie chuckled and patted your knee. “i love you too, my sweetheart.”

#lottie yellowjackets #yellowjackets #yellowjackets x reader #lottie matthews x reader #lottie matthews #lottie matthews fluff #adult lottie #i didn’t know what to title this #erm #:3

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alphabetboyluvr · 10 months

Text

throttle - jjk | six

one/ two / three / four / five / six / seven / eight / nine / ten / eleven

warnings - heavy on the angst, we finally learn jungkook's true motives, we learn about what happened to his mother, mentions of death, written before we knew jk's birth time so (1) inaccurate saturn placement, general smut, titty sucking, unprotected sex, very intense breeding thoughts from jk, it's angsty!! he dnf :( sad :(, hair dye, showering, fingering, jungkook's time runs out </3

throttle has 3 defined acts - this is the end of act 1

word count - 20k

minors dni // posted to wp late 2021 // series masterlist

It's warm when you wake.

Daylight pours in through the curtains, of which neither of you bothered to close last night, and it rudely intrudes on the intimacy you've fostered together - yet when the man beside you begins to stir, small squeaks signalling that he's now awake too, you don't seem to mind all that much.

His hair is tousled like the waves of Busan's shoreline, lapping against the sand, adding a soundtrack to the sound of his breathing. You love it when he looks like this; serene and secure in the sanctuary of your company.

Last night's tête-à-tête is a distant memory, chalked up to a misunderstanding between the minds of two lovers who aren't yet aligned, but are getting pretty close to it. Rome wasn't built in a day, and nor was any love worth withstanding the test of time.

You're still learning about one another. Prior to last night, you knew nothing of Jungkook's romantic past, and while part of you is smug to have your initial assumptions about him proven right, it also makes your chest feel all heavy, too. Melancholic, almost, but you think it sounds far too poetic.

When you're met with his drowsy morning gaze - all puffy and unable to open in the way his eyes typically do - you can't imagine anyone ever wanting to hurt him. The thought of his eyes turning black when he looks at you, instead of their usual deep chocolate brown, has the chime in your stomach ringing like an alarm bell. You never want that. Ever.

He yawns, and says good morning to you with a smile that seems almost surprised to still see you in the sheets with him. He pulls you a little closer, nestles his nose to the crown of your head and inhales. He'll never get sick of that scent. Sick of you.

You're like gasoline spilt in the forecourts before a spring shower. It'll wrangle with the puddles of rain, which will pour and pour and pour - but still, it'll remain. An iridescent rainbow that refuses to fade.

You'll never wash away, he thinks. Forevermore; eternal.

He knows, just like you predicted, that he'll think of you whenever he passes gasoline puddles. Five, ten, twenty years from now. It won't matter how distant the memory of your laughter becomes, nor if he even remembers the colour of your skin as it blushes after a few too many drinks.

What he will remember is how your hair always smelt like gasoline.

It's a gateway drug to everything you are. One sniff; he's hooked.

Though he doesn't wish for death often, he hopes that when he does go, it'll be in his car. Hopes that an oil slick on a wet road will be the reason why. He'll smile as he thinks of you for one final time.

You'll get your vengeance, love.

But why waste time thinking of the inevitable future, when he could just revel in the present?

He's the first to suggest sleeping in, staying together, for a little bit longer.

"I'll call my dad, see if we can switch to this afternoon instead. You cool to run your errands in the afternoon? I'll take you to that place I wanna show you this morning. Then you're free to do as you please with your day."

A nod grants permission for him to set about altering his plans, and you watch him with curious intrigue as he opens up his contacts and heads straight for his father. You don't even have your father's number, anymore.

It's oddly comforting to hear Jungkook on the phone with his dad. The call is short, more formalities than anything, but you can hear his father's voice vibrate through the speaker.

You're integrated into Jungkook's life, now, you think. You're a part of family affairs, his plans, without even so much as a second thought given.

'Thank you' seems like a strange thing to say, but you consider it.

His openness with you is rancid. So sweet, so sickly; enough sugar to rot even the most frigid of hearts.

It makes you wanna tell him everything; who your father is, and how you can't call him anymore. You think Jungkook would understand, or at least he'd try to - and that would be the most meaningful thing a man has done for you in quite some time (though you're sure Yoongi would disagree, and cite one of the many things he's done for you that have gone unnoticed).

The words you want to say to Jungkook are lost in the feather down quilt, expert seams flawlessly keeping the pair of you pristine. It's like a shield, in a way. The world can't hurt you when you're beneath it. The needlework is exquisite, the finest cotton - Egyptian, you assume, but know better than to ask.

Not because you don't want to know, but because Jungkook hates itches he can't scratch.

He wouldn't have a clue of the sheets origins, but you're almost positive he would ask the reception staff for clarification later that morning, just to be able to give you an answer.

You don't want to trouble his mind with such trivial things. Especially not if it's working as hard as yours seems to be right now. You're counting every thread - two, four, six, eight - just as a way to distract yourself from him.

He's playing with your hair, and asking about your dreams - you didn't have any - and it's getting pretty overwhelming just how much of your brain you seem to be willing to share with him.

Sixteen, thirty-two, sixty-four; you're asking about his, too, and he doesn't hesitate to answer.

He's talking shit about a praying mantis that stalked him as he slept, and reaches for his phone so that you can google what it means together. He doesn't hide his screen, doesn't clear his notifications, doesn't check what he was last searching for to spare himself from embarrassment.

Not that it matters, but he'd been checking to see if Lotte World was open. It's endearing, the way he seems to want to experience life with you. Comforting. Snug.

You lose count of the threads, and you don't care to start again.

"Positive and negative," Jungkook muses over his dream as he scrolls, holding his phone up in front of you both.

His arm is looped around the back of your neck, and you're busy watching the tendons of his wrist flex beneath his skin as his thumb flicks up and down the screen.

There are Seven Natural Wonders of the World, but you think the adjudicators must have gotten it wrong.

They clearly hadn't met Jeon Jungkook.

He's brighter than the Northern Lights; gets you higher than the peak of Mount Everest. More breathtaking than the Grand Canyon, more fire in his heart than Paricutin. Gets you wetter than Victoria Falls, but that's not really what constitutes him as being one of the greatest natural wonders of the world (though it surely helps). He rivals the Great Barrier Reef, and Guanabara Bay; expansive, a facilitator of life, new beginnings.

But the Great Barrier Reef is dying, and Guanabara Bay is the product of erosion. Everest is a death trap, the Grand Canyon too, and Paricutin forced hundreds from their homes. Droughts around Victoria Falls are threatening its very existence, and soon, what once was could be no more.

The only wonder worthy of comparison to Jeon Jungkook is Aurora Borealis. They burn brighter than before, making their way through their eleven-year cycle undisturbed, undimmed. They're magic in the mundane, and so is he.

He hums, unaware of how you're romanticising him to be far more than what he is, and it sounds like he's frowning. You reach over, thoughts absent, and take his phone to continue reading for him.

"To dream of a praying mantis could mean many things," you recite mindlessly. "Firstly, it could indicate that you need to remain calm and assess situations before you dive right in. Be patient. Alternatively, it could indicate that you are preying on others. Have you been calculated recently? Devious? Perhaps reflection is due. There are positive indications associated with the insect, though. A baby praying mantis suggests a bright, wise future ahead. To dream of being attacked by a praying mantis suggests that you are faced with a test that you are strong enough to pass."

You ignore all the bad, because of course you do, pass him back his phone and say, "see? Nothing to worry about."

He locks his phone, and lets it drop down onto the bed. The hushed clunk of it hitting your sheets is drowned out by his voice, all dulcet and dreamy in your ear.

"Wasn't worried, baby. Got you here with me." His lips press against your temple. "I got you."

Hook, line and sinker. Yeah, he's got you good.

But within half an hour he's got you coming undone; got you mewling his name, got you gripping his neck as he fucks himself into you like he always does so well. He's got you where he wants you, got you in missionary 'cause of that one time you lied and said it was your favourite, got your nipples in his mouth 'cause there ain't no way he can have you naked and not indulge himself just a little bit.

Jungkook has you. Has his way with you.

But you have him, too; have him whispering how gorgeous you sound, how much he loves the way you feel.

You have him coming undone.

Perhaps, neither of you 'have' nor 'has' the other.

Perhaps, you aren't commodities to be owned.

If anyone was to own you, though, you think you'd quite like it to be him. You think he'd keep you forever. He once said he would, so it's not like it's a foolish thing to daydream about.

And so you do just that as he weaves through traffic in the hustle and bustle of Busan. You think he's mad for choosing to drive instead of just getting the subway, but Busan is spread out so far that it would have taken a handful of changes to get to where he's taking you.

He's still not told you where you're going. Even when you ask for a dress code, he simply says, "as you are, baby. You're perfect."

He calls you baby a lot lately.

It used to just be when you were naked, but he calls you baby when you're all wrapped up now, too. When he puts his hand on the small of your back, to guide you in whichever direction he wants, and when he pulls your hand to rest on the gear stick beneath his, it's 'baby' that he hums.

In fact, he calls you baby so much that CC has taken a backseat.

The radio drones through the speakers, neither of you connecting to the aux. It's all very grown-up, you think, listening to the traffic news, and whatever is currently charting. It doesn't hit in the same way that your playlists do, but it reminds you of driving to the coast with your parents as a kid. The memories are fond - cherished by you - and it's how you like to think of your family.

Or at least it is, until the disk jockey segues into the morning news. There's the usual mindless garbage, celebrity gossip, upcoming festivals and community events - and then there's politics.

"The Mayor of Daegu Metropoli-" is as far as the broadcaster gets before you change the station. Jungkook doesn't react initially. In fact, it takes him a few seconds to reply, and when he does, it's inconspicuous.

"Not into politics?"

"Not into politics."

You're sharp as you deliver the lie, and Jungkook can feel the blade of your tongue slice his heart. He's deserving of it, admittedly, but you aren't aware of that. Not yet.

He switches the radio back. "I am."

You want to be sick, but you put it down to the fact that Jungkook drives a little faster than he really should do, and that breakfast had been substituted for sex. "You are?"

"Uh-huh."

Silence resume as you listen to the broadcaster. It's an innocent report about cities linking for eco-initiatives. Apparently, Daddy dearest will be visiting Busan just as you're leaving. It's an odd thought. You've taken pride in not keeping tabs, and yet here you are, wondering if you'll pass his car on Monday morning as you leave the city and he enters it. Unlikely.

A possibility, but unlikely.

When you pull your hand back to your lap from beneath his, Jungkook lets you. It's a call for attention. You want to see what he does. Want him to pull it back, want him to question why you've pulled it away - but he doesn't.

Instead, he talks.

"I hate politics," he admits. There's a sternness to his face. An honesty. "I can't name you a single politician who actually seems to care about the communities they represent. They're bastards," his voice quietens. "The lot of 'em."

Only then does he reach for your hand, again. He's the one searching for comfort, now.

There's something about the way Jungkook doesn't look at you, but grips your hand far tighter than he had done before, that has you concerned. It's unlike him.

"I agree," you tell him. "S'why I don't care for it."

He nods, pulling his bottom lip beneath his teeth, as if he's trying to stop a secret from coming out.

You wouldn't mind if one did. You'd quite like to know his secrets - even the deep, dark, scary ones. Especially those ones, actually. His jaw rocks gently, the pillow of his lip being massaged by his teeth, eyes hard on the horizon line.

"Probably should have given you a little warning as to where we're going," he eventually divulges, pouting his lips and letting air squeak through them as he inhales a breath.

Your lift your brows and furrow them slightly. "Why's that?"

The question is answered as soon as he flicks his indicator on. You look to the sign above the highway, and that's when you realise you're going off the beaten track. There's only one destination listed on the reflective sheet of metal: a marine life conservation hub.

Something tells you that you're not headed towards the marine life conservation hub.

Something - or someone- by the name of Jeon Jungkook, and the way as soon as his indicator is flicked off, his hand is holding yours oh-so-tightly, again.

Your eyes follow the trajectory of the road, and the small row of parking spaces covered in fine gravel. You're partway up a short mountain, and you know exactly why you're here.

Mounds of earth rest neat and uniform on the mountainsides, clustered together, decades of tradition lacing the soil. There's a small path that stretches to the upper elevation, where a set of mounds lie perfectly still, small statues and floral arrangements decorating them in the most beautiful of ways.

You know hillsides like these. It's been a while since you last visited one, but the memories of places like this tend to haunt people.

He doesn't reply to your earlier question. He doesn't need to. You already know exactly where you are.

His name escapes your lips, voice quiet, but pacifying. You rub his thumb with yours, which only makes him squeeze your small hand even tighter.

He's silent, but he's hoping you know that he's sorry.

Sorry for a whole host of things. Too many to list. This - taking you to a fucking graveyard unannounced and non-consenting - is what he's currently apologising for in the guise of silent squeezes.

"Your mum?" You ask, as he pulls into a space on the gravel parking lot.

He's only mentioned her once, and the fact that she would have been 'rolling in her grave' at the thought of him being rude to you. You'd clocked it at the time, but had never dared ask since. Figured that when he was ready, he would tell you. Seems like he might just be ready.

Jungkook nods, and when he looks at you, he seems younger. Eyes wider, searching for refuge; finding it in you.

"Mum."

When he makes no attempt to move, seemingly a little frozen in place, it's you who starts to squeeze his hand right back. "You wanna go see her?"

And again, he nods. There's a bottle of soju in the back from one of his many GS25 trips, so you reach for it, knowing that there was no way the pair of you could visit somewhere of such importance without an offering of some kind. He whispers a thank you, as if you've done something of value. It's just soju, and it's his, regardless. You wish you would have known. You'd have insisted on picking up banchan, or something more substantial.

There's reluctance as he leads the pair of you, second-guessing his every step. It's important that he shows you this part of him, although, when he thinks about it, he's sure he could have just explained it. Over a coffee, or on a walk by the river. He didn't need to be so dramatic about it all. The past has happened, and he lives with the consequences.

But that's this thing - the past has happened, and Jungkook is still living with the weight of it like it was just yesterday. The consequences of it rule his daily life. He needs to show you, because simply telling you wouldn't have been justice enough.

His mother's grave is well-kept. Tended to. The flowers - large, white, and glorious, though you're not sure what kind - are wilting slightly, but are fresh enough to put the dead foliage of the winter mountain to shame. The mound above her is small, so you think that perhaps she was, too.

You just can't help yourself, can you? Another assumption made.

Your thoughts are cut short as he reaches for the bottle of soju from your hands, and nods towards the small ceramic dish that's been collecting rainwater. Supplies are low - the winter is incredibly dry, and had it not been for a storm that blew in a few days ago, it would be empty.

"Can you?" he asks, but doesn't finish. You let go of the soju bottle which is now secure in his hands, and head towards the direction of his nod, to rinse off the flat stone ready for offerings - though a cap full of soju doesn't feel like enough.

He walks further ahead, while you tend to the service stone, pouring soju into the bottle cap, and tossing it in the woodland as an offering to the mountain God; a thank you for watching over his mother. It's been too long since he last visited. Things have just gotten so busy, and he's under so much pressure. He can't think straight, let alone do anything that makes any sense and - oh God, the weight of it all - it's all just too much. He can't handle it. Refuses to. If he could scream right, he would - but nothing comes out.

His lungs are heavy in his chest, heart pounding. He doesn't know why he gets like this. He thinks it's the guilt; the fact that his mother would hate what he's become. She didn't raise him to be like this. Vengeance wasn't part of her vocabulary. She was kind, and she was considerate, and she cared so deeply about him.

In a lot of ways, you remind him of her. The acknowledgement of this only serves to make him feel worse.

When he finally turns to face you again, you're waiting by her grave, watching him with curiosity. You've been to many graves, but only ever those of your own family members. Never somebody else's. Traditions vary, and you don't wanna do anything that he wouldn't appreciate.

It had always been the same in your family; the eldest men bowed first, down through to the youngest, and the women watched on. The respect of women wasn't worth anything, you see.

As Jungkook comes to stand beside you, he takes your hand, positioning you directly next to him.

"Will you do it with me?" he asks so timidly that it almost doesn't sound like him. "Please?"

You're hesitant. It's a big ask, not because it's a difficult task, but because you know the first bows are always reserved for those closest to the deceased.

"I never normally do it alone," he adds, noticing your reluctance. "I'm normally with my brother. I just... I don't want to do it alone. I'm no good at shi-" he cuts himself off, not wanting to curse. "I'm no good at stuff like this."

It's a request you can't refuse. You follow his lead, getting to your knees, torso folding to the earth as a sign of utmost respect. He holds his bow for longer than you expect, but you match it second for second. He rises and repeats. You follow suit.

You think it's important that you don't overstep boundaries, not in a place so sacred to the boy beside you, so you let him take the lead. Not once do you move before him, but when he resumes to a seated position, you turn your body to face down the mountain.

It's not tradition, not really, but it feels like the best way to honour his mother; to provide her time with her son, but still offer support should he need it.

"I'm not doing recitals," Jungkook says tenderly, a pain in his chest pinching and soothing when he sees what you've done. "You don't have to face that way."

But you shake your head.

"I do," you reply with so much kindness in your voice that Jungkook thinks it's a wonder he hasn't melted and become at one with the earth, too. "Just pretend like I'm not here."

He wants to laugh at such an instruction. How the hell could he be expected to ignore you, when the way he feels about you burns brighter than the North Star whenever you're close by.

Instead, he just tells you that you're dumb, and sits beside you, facing his mother's grave. You hear him unscrew the cap of the bottle, metal cracking just how it always does upon its first few opens, followed by a small glug.

You twist your head, and catch him pouring soju into the bottle cap, before he places it in front of his mother. He nods towards her, as if she could actually see him once more, then brings his arms to hug around his knees, pulled tight to his chest. The bottle is still in his hand, so he takes a swig. There's a faint grimace as he swallows it back, and then he passes the bottle over his shoulder to you.

It's kindly received, and his actions are mirrored by you once more, a shot finding its home in your throat. The soju is lukewarm, the heat of his clammy hands altering the temperature.

The bottle is passed back and forth, Jungkook silent as he tries to muster the courage to speak up. There's so much he wishes he could say, but so little that feels safe to divulge. It's not until the bottle is halfway done that he seems to have the strength.

"It's been four years," Jungkook eventually says. You stay silent, the words you want to say threading through your lips like cotton through a needle, keeping your mouth shut. Nothing that could be said would make any of this any better for him. "Doesn't get any easier."

Instead, you lean your head on his shoulder. You're still looking down the mountain, and he's facing up towards the peak. His head rests against yours, and there's comfort to be found in his posture. The support he feels from you goes beyond that of physical.

"It was a long time coming, so we had time to prepare," he adds.

He brought you here because he wanted to share this part of himself with you, so he knows he needs to make the effort to actually speak up. Nothing cryptic. No half-truths.

"How can you prepare a kid for that, though? 'Hey Kook, mum's really sick'," he imitates the voice of his older brother. "'Probably won't make it through the winter'. She did, though. Make it through winter, that is. The hospital couldn't figure out what was wrong with her for the life of them. First, they said it was a pancreatic thing, then decided it was liver. Kidneys, bladder - you name it, they tried to pinpoint it as that. Round and round in fucking circles. So much time wasted. Years. I was 14 when she first got sick. 19 when she passed."

He lifts his head from yours and hugs his legs tighter into his chest. He hates this mountain. It's like he's got hayfever, even in winter, as his eyes start to warm a little. Realistically, he knows that it's perfectly apt to cry in such a place, but he doesn't want to. Doesn't want his mum to think he's upset. Doesn't want you to think it, either.

Deep down - although really not that far down when he comes to think of it - he's still just that scared boy, knowing he's going to lose the person he loves the most in the world. Funny, how history likes to repeat itself, even if in a slightly different hue. The colours of grief are always the same.

"She ended up getting referred to a specialist in Daegu," he sighs, knowing that he's about to divulge far more than he should.

He's thought about this alot. Thought about what he'd say to you before he knew you - like, really knew you - and how he'd deliver the lines with such venom your throat would swell and you'd choke on the faux pars of your family, just like his mother had.

But none of this was your fault. You were still just a kid, like he was, when all of this transpired.

You had no jurisdiction over budget cuts or the shift patterns of overworked hospital staff. You weren't the one syphoning money out of the public health sector, and you weren't the one who followed orders to treat common symptoms with the same cheap medicine, regardless of the fact it could have been wrong for the patients.

You weren't the one who decided that those who benefitted from the specialist centre were expendable. You weren't the one who cauterised their funding. You weren't the one who ignored the pleas and cries for help from the families of those suffering.

You weren't the negligent medical staff who mistreated Jungkook's mother, and you weren't the man in charge of the budget who decided that her life didn't matter anymore.

But your father was.

And so Jungkook has thought about this moment a lot. He's thought about how he'd tell you that you deserved to lose just as much as he had. He's thought about how he wouldn't feel a damn thing except for satisfaction when your father got his just deserts.

Now that the time has come, however, all he can do is shrug.

"They were great. The staff at the centre in Daegu, I mean. Really fucking great. Genuinely wanted to help - but you know Daegu," is all he could really muster. "They don't have the money for shit like that. And nor did we."

Daegu's local government did, however, have the funds for a fucking waterpark installation, which opened three weeks after the clinic was shut down indefinitely. "We sacrifice the good of the few, for the good of the many," your father had once told you, and it makes you just as sick now as it did back then.

"Anyways," he tries to downplay it, as if the memories don't haunt him. "Funding got cut. Mum got sicker. It was..." he struggles to find the words to articulate just what he went through. "Dad was always a hard ass, yanno? Do your homework, go to school, you wanna end up with a shitty job? Drop out like me! That kind of stuff. It's only 'cause he wanted what was best for us, he just.... didn't really have a nurturing bone in his body. Just how he was built, I guess." He pauses. Gathers his thoughts. Shrugs. "Mum... Mum was soft. Do you need help with your homework? How's school? You can be whatever you want to be. Didn't have a clue what I wanted to be, just knew I wanted to be like her. Seeing her get sick..."

He stops talking. There's a heaviness that looms over him like a cloud blocking the sun in the height of summer. It's stuffy and claustrophobic, yet there's nothing that can be done to ease it.

"The specialist centre treated her for as long as they could, ran as many tests as they could afford, but-" He cuts himself off. "Well, I mean, we're at her grave, aren't we? Doesn't take a genius to work it out."

He doesn't mean to be so scathing with his tone, the words delivered with a snarl typically reserved for his boxing opponents (or Namjoon when he takes the lead in a drag race), it's just that he doesn't know how to articulate himself. Not when it comes to this topic. He's never shared it with anyone before. Never thought he would.

And especially not with you.

There are parts he leaves out. Just little tidbits. Anecdotes, like the way he spent the night his mother died just driving and driving and driving, only coming to a stop when his tank had exhausted the very last drop of gas - at which point he just sat, grief-stricken, cheeks wet until sunrise.

He didn't speak to anyone for weeks. Didn't do anything except fill his tank up, get out of town, and occasionally train at the club. The force of his fists against another person never helped, though. Even beating the shit out of Taehyung didn't lift his spirits.

How he quite ended up in his current predicament is a little more complicated.

It started the same as any other night he'd crawl through the streets, red tail lights leaving a trail that evaporated into nothingness, thanks to the winter fog. Eventually, he ended up in Daegu. It was a common occurrence.

The shadows seemed darker in Daegu; sinners glowing red in the haze of smog and winter frost. It felt like home in a way. Somewhere to hide when he no doubt sold his soul to the Devil.

Sometimes, he'd drive in circles around the affluent streets, just hoping, praying, to see the Mayor out for an evening stroll. Of course, it would be an accident when he put his foot to the floor, full throttle, wheels turning in the Mayor's direction. A freak mishap. A car fault.

And if he were to suffer the same fate as Jungkook's mother? Oh, well what a fucking shame that would have been.

He never did see the Mayor, though. Of course he didn't.

But he did, however, spot Kang's. The light had still been on, drawing him in like a moth to a flame. He knew Kang's, thanks to his club in back in Busan, and he wanted to fight. Wanted to pummel any fucker who voted the Mayor into power. Wanted to break their nose; have them swallowing their teeth.

Of course, seeing a jumped up kid - who, as Namjoon put it, looked 'fresh out of nappies' - with a vendetta against the most powerful man in the city had the older boys amused. Truth be told, they laughed in his fucking face. Told him he was in the wrong place, 'cause there ain't no way any of them would be caught dead voting for that pompous fucking twat.

Jungkook learnt a lot that night; learnt that he wasn't alone in his fight, and that other people had lost unfathomable amounts of their lives, their livelihoods, and their loved ones, as a result of your father, and his wasteful, inhumane policies.

Though not a single one of those boys shared the same story, they all shared the same callous, complacent antagonist.

And they all wanted vengeance.

That wasn't the only thing he learnt that night, mind you. It was also the evening he learnt your name.

It'd be romantic, if the situation had been... well, anything but what it was, really.

He learnt who you were, what you meant to the Mayor, and just how you could be the winning ticket for their vengeance lottery. A plan was devised over a few too many Soju's, and before he knew it, he was playing the long game. They wouldn't initiate the plan for years. Sleeping dogs had to lie, dust had to settle.

There was another election; your father reinstated to his position. Only after then did you stop making public appearances with him, and the rest of your family. You didn't seem to be part of the in-crowd anymore. Didn't really matter to the boys. All that mattered was that you had fewer eyes on you, now. You faded into obscurity; Jungkook into obsession.

See, he's like you in a lot of ways. He makes assumptions, too. Had this whole idea of who you would be mapped out in his head. Pin by pin, you realigned his red string; tied it around his pinky and linked it with yours.

"Dad isn't who he used to be," Jungkook finally admits. His Mother's suffering may have ended with her passing, but his Father's seemed to only begin as hers ended. She passed a baton, Jungkook thinks, and his Dad is still running the race. "Doesn't really talk all that much. Loves to fucking gamble, though. All of her life insurance is gone. Half of my salary goes to the loan sharks that he owes from a bad spot he got himself in a few months ago. S'why I needed to come, had to check that everything was okay and that he hadn't got himself into too much trouble. Nasty fuckers, sharks are."

"How bad is it?" You ask, knowing that sharks are more like parasites. "The sharks, I mean."

"Um," he pauses, and shrugs. There's no way you'll be able to understand what it's like being in financial difficulty. Not a fucking chance. "Pretty bad. They were hounding him to the point where he just locked himself up in the house, wouldn't answer the door for weeks. My brother's just had a kid, he can't afford to help, so I'm stuck footing the bill for the interest Dad's having to pay. 'Bout half my salary. I'm gonna be paying them off till I'm six feet under. Bastards raise the interest whenever they fucking feel like it. I'll never be able to pay it all back, not all of it, and Dad's too fucking out of it to get himself a proper job. Whole situation is fucked."

That's a tiny little lie. Should everything go to plan, he'll have the money he needs to pay the sharks off within a week or two.

Should everything go to plan.

See, this isn't about vengence. Not now. Not anymore. This about surviving the sharks - but Jungkook has blood on his hands, and it makes him so much more tempting.

When you lean your head on his shoulder, comforting and reassuring all in one gesture, he swallows back a sob.

He's sharing all this because he wants - no, needs - you to understand why he made the choices that he did before he knew you. He needs you to know that the guy who is going to fuck you over next week isn't the guy who's been, well, just fucking you for the past couple of months.

He rests his head on yours, hair interlinking, silky and smooth, as if you're one.

The way that he feels about you oozes from him like the blood of a fresh wound; red and hot, sticky and sickening. Yet he knows that he'll never let the wound heal. He'll pick at it like it's a scab, because he'll never want to lose the feeling that the potential of a happy ever after with you gives him.

His body relaxes a little, spine curving, posture sloped. There's no need to remain poised; no need to be anything other than the imperfect version of himself that you seem to like so much.

"I'm so sorry that this happened to you," you whisper, eyes closing to hide the foot of the mountain you're sitting on. It feels so wrong you being here. Feels like you're intruding; encroaching. Perhaps you're the parasite.

The weight that's lifted from Jungkooks shoulders presses itself against your sternum. It cracks your ribs and impales the snapped bones into your heart. It's quite aggresive, you think, for a secret.

They say a problem shared is a problem halved, so if this is only a mere fifty percent of the pain that he's endured, you don't even want to imagine his reality. Now is not a time for pitying yourself, or lamenting the fact that it was your father who ruined Jungkook's life by proxy. You're sure it wasn't your father's intention, but you also know that he wouldn't have cared had he known the impact that his choices would have.

So much is left unsaid. Nothing you can do nor say will erase the hurt caused by the man who provided for you. A private education, wanting for nothing, your heart's desires fulfilled all came at a cost. Jungkook is just one of the many receipts; ripped at the edges, ink faded, paper creased in such a fashion that it can never be undone.

The guilt will weigh on you for eternity.

There's a part of you that wants to tell him. Wants him to know who you are, where you come from, how you ended up here - but you're convinced as soon as he knows, he'll wash his hands of you. Especially now. It feels kinder to just stay silent.

And so you do. You let him process his grief, and follow his lead when he decides that enough time has been spent by his mother's side. There's little chatter as you make your way down the hillside, his hand outstretched whenever you come to a rocky patch, just in case. It seems he doesn't want you to fall.

He also doesn't mind the silence. In fact, he quite likes it. He knows you're probably uncomfortable. Burial sites aren't exactly on the itinerary list of many romantic getaways, and he's not deluding himself about your actual reason for staying silent.

You make assumptions. He knows this, and wonders if you just assume he knows who you are.

But if he tells you - for definite - that he knows, and that it's okay, and that it doesn't change a single thing about the way he feels for you, it'll be game over.

For him, for you, for God knows who else.

By keeping you in the dark, he thinks he's keeping you safe until he can figure a plan that really will ensure your safety.

The drive to the nearest subway station is silent, too. You lie about your errands, and tell him that catching a subway would be easiest, simply for the fact it is closer to you than any of the bus stops.

You just want to be out of the car.

It's not that you don't want to be with him; it's that you do. It feels wrong to lie to him, deceiving him.

Opposites attract, or so they say, but they're wrong. You're birds of a feather, apples that have fallen from the same tree, left to rot in the height of a Daegu summer.

Your day is spent without him, and yet you're utterly consumed. He's in every shop window, his laugh rattling in the exhaust pipe of every shitty car that drives past. There's no escaping Jeon Jungkook. He's not the kind of guy you can just forget.

In fact, you're so consumed by him that all you want to do is head back to your hotel and lay in wait for his return. You don't know when that will be, and refuse to text him when he's spending much needed time with those closest to him, but the idea is so tempting that you find yourself sprawled on the sheets for hours regardless.

Your day is wasted, but you think that days without him are wasted, anyway.

It's nearly seven by the time he gets home. There's a hum as a keycard is tapped outside your door, the metal of the lock grating against itself to bid the intruder of your heart a welcome entry. Your eyes move to the door, because of course they do. Watching the man you... enjoy spending time with come 'home' to you is something that you never realised you would enjoy so much.

You wonder if it's the highlight of his days, too.

The location never matters, for it's in his eyes that your find your home - though 'home' looks a little different when his eyes are all puffy and bloodshot, his dark irises acting like a curtain. The window is covered. He's hiding his soul from you.

Hard to notice, though, when his cheeks are wet, and you mistake that as his biggest vulnerability.

"Hey," you whisper, legs unfolding as you stand and walk towards him. The door shuts by itself, Jungkook not caring for it. He doesn't even toss his bag down; just kind of stands there. Sniffs. Shakes his head, goes to speak, but chokes on his words and how big they feel in his throat. "It's okay, it's okay," you reassure, a hand on his cheek, the other on his collarbone. "You're safe. What's up?"

He leans into your touch, jaw tense, eyes resting shut. It's been a long time coming, and he knows it. Wonders how the fuck he hasn't already broken. He wasn't made for shit like this; for lies and deceit, especially not when it's someone that he really cares for the will suffer the consequences of his actions.

All he wants, all ever seems to want, is to be in the shower with you. Doesn't even care about stripping bare. Wants to be saturated with the promise of purity; in the way he feels for you, how you feel for him, and how your life could be together.

There's nothing inherently sexual about his desire, though he knows he wouldn't be able to resist to the eroticism of having you naked and wet - it's just not his intention. He simply wants to be close to you. Wants to care for you. Wants to wash your hair and rinse you off; ease the burdens of everyday life.

He forgets that water isn't strong enough to cleanse him of his sins. It will run black, always, because of what he's done; what he will do. Like ink bleeding from his tattoos, he'll still be left with scratch marks of the choices he's made; scars in the place of his missteps.

No answer is given to your question. Instead, he sobs a little harder. Hugs you, now. Drops his bag to the floor and holds you so tight he's afraid you might break.

He'd rather this, though.

Rather his affections for you be the breaking point, and not his sheer cowardice that will no doubt shatter your perception of him.

Your arms wrap around his neck, feet strained to the very tips of your toes, your hand in his hair. You've never been good with those who cry; never known how to comfort. It's not your fault. Just how you were raised. Nannys and au pairs were all well and good, but they never had a mother's touch. Your scrapes and scratches got bandaids and banana milk, but never any kisses better.

There's a curious softness to the way your hold Jungkook. There always has been. You've never really understood it; the need you feel to nurture him. Perhaps part of you always knew - could always tell - that the loss of his mother had been more profound than he could articulate.

You don't want to mother him. It's not your job. Maternal instincts aren't your thing - but the way you care for Jungkook is so pure, so unadulterated, that you find yourself wanting to ease him of all his pains.

And so even though it's not your job, you'll kiss his wounds better, just so that someone does. You'll fulfil his needs. Be everything he needs. Why would he ever want for another when he could simply just have you?

Your lips press against his temple, willing him to heal. Whatever's wrong is clearly bottled up inside, and a small part of you hopes that your lips could draw the venom from within. It's fruitless.

"Tell me what you need," you say softly. You're not a mind reader. Life would be much simpler if you were."What do you need?"

He thinks it's a stupid fucking question. Doesn't understand how you can be so oblivious to it all; but also doesn't realise how much of an impeccable liar he is. It's a learned trait. He wasn't born to be like this.

He was born to be soft, to be gentle, just like you. Under the bravado of your sarcasm and vulgar language, you're nothing more than a heart in search of its place. More fool you for thinking his ribcage would be a fitting dwelling for it.

And so Jungkook tries a little softness back.

"Need you," he finishes his sentence with a slight hiccup, his irregular breathing throwing everything out of whack. "Need to know you'll stay."

It's cruel, the way he makes you promise the idea of forevermore, when he knows full well that come next week, that heart of yours? The one sitting comfortably in his chest beside his own? Yeah, come next week it will be in his hands, blood coating his fingers as they dig into the muscle and tear it apart.

How beautifully unaware, you are.

"As long as you need," you whisper back. "I'll stay for as long as you need me, Kook. You don't need to ask. You know you don't."

And that's the kicker.

It's what has him in such a sorry fucking state.

Your hairband around his wrist, and the scrunchie on his gearstick, had been the catalyst to his tears; you're his demise.

There's a dusty footprint on the dash, right by the passenger seat glove compartment. It's yours, small and insubstantial, from the drive back from the beach the day before. Anyone else and he'd had tapped their legs, made them put their feet down.

In fact, he did with you, too. He'd tapped your leg, and was met with refusal, so instead he had just wrapped his hand around your ankle, and kept it there until he need to change gear down from fifth. He knocked it straight into third, and as soon as he was off the clutch, his hand eased off the stick and wrapped around your ankle once more.

It's gonna be you, it's gonna be you, it's gonna be you.

When he's cold and alone in the weeks to come, it's gonna be you he thinks of at night.

When he spills a couple drops of gas onto his clothes at the pump, it's gonna be you he thinks of when the scent of it makes him feel all lightheaded and nauseous.

When he gets into the ring at Kang's and is perishing just to feel a little rush, it's gonna be you that he thinks of.

It's gonna be you.

Far sooner than you realised, and for far longer than he can even imagine.

"Shit," he hisses, pulling away from you and heading towards the window. His back hunches as he leans on the ledge with one hand, pinching the bridge of his nose with the other. He sniffs back the evidence of his upset and shakes his head. "Sorry. Just been a long day. That's all."

You perch on the side of the bed, understanding that space is needed. You're not good with comfort, but you are good with recognising the needs of others, at least.

"No bother," you shrug, not that he sees it. "We don't have to talk about it."

"Nothing to talk about," he says as he turns to face you. His features are all red and puffy, the friction of sleeves against his cheeks tarnishing them in flecks of crimson. A weak smile is plastered on his lips, and he knows it's not convincing. "I'm good."

And so you pretend that you are convinced, for the simple fact that he wants you to be. "I know. Was just saying. If you did wanna talk, you could. If not? We can do something else."

Jungkook's mind jumps to fucking away the upset. Seems like a good distraction.

But he also knows that if he fucks you right now, he'll cry. He won't mean to, but he'll feel the way you pulse around him, and he'll start thinking about your heart, and then his nose will be nestled in your hair, and he'll be thinking about all that he stands to lose, and then he'll break the fuck down; buried in your pussy, suffocated by the adoration he feels for you. It's a grave he's dug himself.

He pouts as he shakes his head, bottom lip protruding as if he doesn't give a fuck what you do. "Not fussed. What do you wanna do?"

You hold out your hand to encourage him to walk towards you, and he does it without a second thought. He kicks his shoes off by the foot of the bed and takes your hand, climbing onto the mattress with you.

"Not fussed, either," you hum all rather pleasantly, pushing a few strands of his hair back and out of his face. The blonde is growing out, and there's a warm band where the toner has faded. It doesn't look bad, but you also know there's nothing better than fresh hair to boost a mood. It's your classic hot girl in crisis mood. He might not be a girl, but he's hot as fuck, and seems to be in a crisis, so maybe it could help. "Why don't we dye your hair?"

There's a grin on his lips, his brows lifting as he pushes your hair behind your ear, too. "Dye my hair? You saying you hate it?"

"God, you're so dramatic," you laugh - and that's the exact reason why he's so bloody dramatic. He loves to hear you laugh.

"You do hate it?!" he cries, feigning pain. "You think I look like shit?"

"The shittiest," you confirm, though the way you're smiling at him says otherwise. If your smile was anything to go by, he'd think you love his hair.

He'd be right.

But maybe it just went with the territory; a byproduct of loving him for everything he is.

The thought of you loving him flashes in his mind like a weather warning: Storms ahead. Take cover.

It's replaced by mindless banter; you telling him how ugly you think he is, and him pretending like his feelings are hurt. There's a tussle between the pair of you, just for an excuse to be touching one another. It's inevitable that you end up on top of him, holding his hands above his head to stop him from tickling at your sides. He lets you take this role of dominance, even though he could overpower you if he really wanted to.

He wants you in charge; wants you calling the shots.

"Let's dye my hair," he agrees and seals the deal with a kiss. "You gotta do it too, though. Yin to my yang."

"Matching hair?" You raise a brow as your hair hangs delicately around your face, tickling at his.

"Matching hair," he nods, because fuck it. He's never gonna get to do the couple shit with you. Never gonna get you a matching pair of sneakers, never gonna switch the sim card ports in your phones. If this is his only chance, he's gonna take it. "You'll do mine, I'll do yours."

It's a fair trade. One you can't argue with - and so you simply smile. "Alright, fuck it. I'm in."

────────────

"Forgotten something?" you hum, as Jungkook makes a u-turn on your way out of the city. You're not really surprised, nor concerned about his change in direction. You trust him. Wherever he goes, you'll follow.

The blue of Busan's endless harbour darts past you, teasing you, mocking the freedom you think you have. You're shackled, cuffed to the armrest, a prisoner of the way your heart beats a little faster, a little harder, whenever you're inside his Pony. It never eases. It's just like that chime in your stomach, which only gets louder with every rev of his engine.

You're sad to leave the city. Had never cared much for Busan before. You care for him, though, and that's what makes the difference.

"No," he says with a small smile, one that he's trying to hide. There's excitement in his gaze, celestial entities sparking in his midnight eyes.

"Hotel's a little further up," you add.

"I know," he smiles again, simple and pure. You're a bad listener, he realises. Stubborn. Believe your own assumptions, even when presented with contradictory evidence. It's a flaw, yet he can't help but find it endearing. "We're not going there."

He glances over towards you and catches the way your face changes as you recognise the road you're heading down.

He loves that little thing you do with your brows; the way they furrow for just a second as you try to figure out what's happening. It's a common occurrence, brief confusion, and it only ever flashes over your features for a moment or so, but it's undeniably one of his favourite expressions of yours.

You're holding it now, brows still pushed together as a grin rests on your lips in disbelief. He flicks his indicator, and it's all but confirmed: you're heading towards your bucket list hotel, the one you've dreamt about for years but never fancied booking alone.

It's been mentioned between you once, maybe twice - and he remembered. Maybe it's the bare minimum. Maybe it isn't as much of a big deal as you think it is - but your heart swells like proofing dough in a baking tin, waiting for heat to transform it into its final form. Soft and warm, it'd be everything he needs to survive.

And yet the only thing you can articulate is, "fuck off."

He takes it all in good humour though, because he knows you, and he understands that you're overwhelmed with an abundance of delight. It trickles from every part of you, your happiness infecting him like some sort of disease. A glorious cause of death he thinks it would be, to perish from your pleasure.

"Can't," he grins. "The booking is under my name. You need me here, Little Miss Clutch Control."

The change in his tone from factual to flirty has you all hot and bothered. You didn't expect such a lame term of endearment to get you feeling like this, but something about hearing it in full glory really gets to you.

The car pulls to a stop, but neither of you get out. You continue talking, bantering, existing next to one another. You're prolonging it, the anticipation that makes your hands all clammy, feet tingly. He's the one to break from the cautious climate between the pair of you, when he says, "if you go check us in, I can bring our bags."

They say that you should never meet your idols; that the disappointment of them being just like any other human breaks the infatuation.

The same can be said for a hotel.

You've dreamt about this moment for so long. The room is gorgeous - not quite the top floor, but close enough - and it looks exactly how you always imagined it. White marble coats the floor, the walls, the ceiling, too. It's grand and demure, but it's cold. The bed is flush to the floor, and there's little else to look at other than the view which pours in. It's blue. Cerulean. Sky and sea, with nothing in between.

It's everything you expected, and everything you wanted.

But what you want isn't always what you need.

You find yourself missing the old hotel. Just a little bit. You miss the intimacy you felt in the previous room with Jungkook; the warmth, the limerence you shared. It's hardly surprising. That room saw your fledgling romance crash and burn, but it's also where you patched each other up and promised not to let it happen again. A lot was learnt beneath those sheets. On top of them, too.

Still, every inch of you - your face, your body, your posture - is draped in delight. You're radiant.

The hotel really doesn't matter. It's the effort that he's gone to which has you so enamoured. It's more than you think you deserve.

But most of all? You can't believe that he actually cares so much about your desires, your dreams, your wants, that he tries to turn them into realities.

"Gone to a lot of effort for 'just a friend from Daegu,'" you simper into his lips as he joins you by the window, watching a ship seep across the ocean.

He smiles. Pecks you once. Twice. Holds it a little longer. Withdraws. "My best fuckin' friend," he growls, a little frustrated with the way he knows you're gonna be using that against him for months (if you make it that far, that is). Pinkies beneath your jaw, thumbs on your cheeks, he kisses you again. "Stop saying shit like that, C."

"Or what?"

"Or," he laughs tenderly against your lips. "I'll be left with no choice but to show how much your... 'friendship' really means to me."

The worst part of it all is that Jungkook actually believes it. He really does think you're his best friend.

It's a shame. He always thought that once he found his best friend, then that would be it. He'd settle for life. Loyal like a dog, is Jungkook, yet he'd always anticipated his mating habits being like those of a wolf. After all, what's a soul mate if not your best friend?

Big, big shame.

For now, though, his focus is on the present. There's a future outside of these four walls, and he'd love for you to be it.

And so he behaves in such a way that he convinces himself you could be. You; his, eternal. No sharing. No take backs. In this shit together for life.

Comfort comes in the form of his smile, and the way he makes you feel so secure in yourself. He laughs at all your jokes, reciprocates humour that matches your own. Tells you tales of childhood, and has you thinking maybe one day you could have little terrors of your own. You ask him what he'd call his kids - and proceed to tell him that his hypothetical son, 'Manta Ray', would 100% hate him. He asks you what you'd call yours. You list your girls names. They're pretty. Standard. Nothing remarkable. For a son? You look at him, lashes low, smile saccharine, and simply say, "Manta Ray."

It's that statement which has Jungkook determined to fuck you raw tonight; fill you up, toy with the idea of what it could be like to get you pregnant. It's far too soon for any of that, but the thought of it gets his balls all tight, cock twitching in his sweats. He thinks about the way your body could change; all shapely and swollen because of the semen he's fucked into you. He thinks about your tits, and it's when he thinks about tasting your fucking milk that he knows he has to stop. He's way too far ahead of himself, all horny and engorged, wetness seeping from his tip.

It's inevitable that you'll end up naked at some point.

But it's not just because he's like a dog on heat, right now.

See, your dream of staying in this specific hotel comes in two parts.

The first is sweet; innocent pleasure found in the harbour view.

The second is far less innocent. It's still about the view, but more so about how much you wanna get railed in front of it.

Jungkook wises up to this pretty quickly, without complaint.

It's impossible not to - primarily because he's reclined on the bed, legs spread, cock hard as he strokes his thick shaft, watching you strip for him by the time night has fallen.

He takes in the sight of you under the silver moon; ethereal in the way she beams on you. The curves of your body are accentuated by the shadows, his lips desperate to devour every inch of your skin.

You're made for the moonlight, he thinks, made to be more than just a being of the sun.

He's always thought he belonged to the night, but maybe he was wrong. Maybe he belongs to you.

It's not long before he's taking in the rest of you in; your scent, the way you sound, the tremor of your sternum as you laugh while he dapples kisses down your body.

You're celestial, laid bare, your soul for the taking. His lips are tender against your skin, as if he knows he could steal it. Keep it forever.

He's trying not to. He doesn't want to keep you, not like that, and not forever. He wants you to find happiness after him - but selfishly, he never wants anyone else to hear your laughter, not when it's coated in syrup, sweet enough to devour.

It's all very conflicting.

He can't wrap his head around it.

Can't make sense of any of it - but he can wrap his lips around your swollen pussy, tongue teasing as his fingers find their home inside you. He can make you forget the world, and that's exactly why you'll never be able to forget him.

His name is lodged in your throat as you come undone for him; a block of ice that melts with the heat of his limerence as he kisses through your post-climax comedown.

Body heavy on top of yours, his cock digs into your thigh as he ruts a little, unable to stop himself. He tries to hold back, but your tongue is in his mouth, hands are in his hair, and you're moaning.

The sound of your desire vibrates against his lips; has him shifting his hips until the tip of his cock is kissing your soaked entrance.

You tell him that you want him. Need him.

He shakes his head, and smiles, though he doesn't find much happiness in the admittance that comes with the gesture. "I'm no good for you, CC."

"Bit late for that, don't you think?"

His lips press into your throat; travel down to the hollow of your collarbone, skirt the tops of your breasts, and then he kisses right where he thinks your heart might be.

"You're so good for me," he whispers, lips brushing against the skin of your bare chest. You're more than he's ever deserved; more than he'll likely ever experience again. There's a fear - a very valid one - that this could be the last time. Part of him doesn't want it to happen. It will all feel so final, he thinks. Alternatively, perhaps it would give him closure - but what about you?

He's trying to do right by you, but it's so gut-wrenchingly difficult when all he wants is to give you what you want, instead.

He's slow as his hips begin to pulse, pushing ever so gently against your entrance before he retracts. He repeats this; once, twice, three times. Asks if you're ready. Waits for your nod. Feels his heart ache when you do. Sinks into you, slowly. Sheaths himself within your walls. Whines as he hits your cervix, balls ghosting your perky little ass as he does so.

Full capacity, you're stuffed with his cock, and yet he pushes just a little deeper to hear the way you gasp.

It won't take long to have him unloading himself into you. Doesn't even thinks he needs to fuck you. Your throbbing walls could milk him, even if he stays entirely still on top of you. He knows he'd make you so filthy, cunt throbbing, plugged with his fingers because he wouldn't want any of his creamy load to escape your pussy.

He knows exactly how he'd fuck you, how he'd position you afterwards, how he'd keep you reaching Nirvana again, and again, and again, just to increase the chance of fertilisation.

Jungkook is losing his fucking mind.

He's always been thankful for your birth control, because he loves to fuck you raw, but he hates it now. Wishes your body would just let you mother his future children. Doesn't give a fuck about anything else.

You're it.

He thinks you're fucking it.

His lips wrap around your nipple, mainly to stop himself from saying things he can't take back. Doesn't imagine you'll react too well to him growling about how much he wants to see your belly all round, tits engorged and leaky, body destroyed (though he'd argue it was beautiful) thanks to his insatiable cock and need to keep your pussy as his.

His mouth is warm; wet and gentle but firm with its movements. He's doing it with intent. You know why. You know what he's thinking about, cause you're thinking about it, too; how you're built for him to ruin in the most beautiful of ways, and how it's only fair he should reap the rewards.

"I know, baby," you husk, fingers stroking his hair as he groans against your soft chest. There'll never be another him. Ever. "It's cause we're good for each other."

There's something going on with him. He's always fucked you well, fucked you right. This is more than that, you think.

You aren't an idiot - but as vulnerable as he may seem, now doesn't feel like the right time to ask. You've dated men in the past who grew irate when sex would be interrupted by matters of the heart, and you've been conditioned to not 'ruin the moment.'

Jungkook wishes you would. Wishes you'd tell him to stop, tell him that he shouldn't do this, tell him that you don't want him - but you do, you do, you do.

There's movement; your hips working against his own, your hot walls milking his length.

He knows he shouldn't let himself indulge in such a ludicrous fantasy. You'll never get the picket fence. Never get the rose garden. Never take the kids to basketball practise on a Sunday, and fuck in the car as soon as you get a moment of peace together.

On the contrary, you think he should indulge in these little dreams - but there's hesitation, and it confuses you. All of his movements stop. His forehead rests against yours. He's inside you, still, but not how he was.

"You wanna stop?" You ask with a voice so tender that Jungkook just wants to melt into you. His lips find yours, pressure controlled, restrained.

One hand is supporting his body above you, the other holds the underside of your jaw. There's no further discussion, just mewls; groans of want, need, desire. Your legs wrap around his thighs, encouraging him to follow through on the pleasure that the hardness of his cock is promising.

He could do it. Make you his. Fill your sweet little cunt up so well like he always does. Have your back arching, body at his disposal. It'd be so easy.

Or at least, it would be if he wasn't getting soft.

It's not you. Fuck. God, no. Nothing to do with you. He's just so inside his head over everything - the way he feels, the fact he knows you arent built to last - that he's finding it hard to focus. That family he thought of? The happy one he could have with you? It'll never exist.

Jungkook can't think straight, let alone keep his prick straight.

You can feel that his cock isn't as firm as it was, but you think maybe it's just a blip. Maybe Jungkook trying to make himself last longer? You're not really sure of the mechanics involved in that, but it seems plausible.

You move your hips to give him a little encouragement, your pussy stroking against his shaft ever so gently. You're wet - so fucking wet - for him, and it gets him even more wound up.

Why is his body not responding in the way he wants it to? Why won't his head just let him fuck you like he wants to fuck you? Unfair, he thinks, so unfair.

You don't mind the fact he's not rock hard. He's only human. It's natural for things to not always go right, and it's not like he'd be the first boy you've ever known to have performance issues. It happens to everyone at some point or another - yourself included.

"What do you want me to do?" You offer, because you think it will help; think that by showing you don't mind helping out, it will make him feel more comfortable.

But he knows you've noticed and it's fucking mortifying. This never happens to him.

Then again, he's never fucked a girl he likes as much as he likes you. Naive of him to think he could trust his body not to betray his mind at such an important moment. Only fitting, really, considering that it's his mind that will betray his heart when it matters most.

It's a cycle, and Jungkook's struggling to get to grips with the pedals. He'll fall off, crash and burn, if he's not careful.

"Shit," he hisses as he bridles his hips and pulls himself away from you. His back meets the mattress with so much force that your body shakes, cold and alone without the weight of him on top of you. He lies next to you, staring at the ceiling, cock limp, jaw tense. So fucking embarrassing. "Dunno what's wrong with me."

You tell him that it's normal, nothing unusual, and that you don't care - but it's not normal. Not for him, and especially not when it comes to you. He's been a walking boner since the moment he met you. Hard as a steel pole for weeks. In fact, if anything, he's barely soft these days.

"Just give me a moment," he says, though he doesn't move. He's trying to focus.

He breathes, in and out, slowly, his eyes glued to the ceiling, tattooed hand draped across his sternum. In, and out. He remains flaccid, cock resting shamefully against the top of his thigh.

This is, he thinks, hands down the most mortifying experience of his adult life.

You don't give a shit, but he's so uptight; lips pressed shut, eyes hard, as he seems to look anywhere but your direction. It gets you feeling all insecure. You didn't think you were the problem at first, but now it's starting to feel like you are.

The awkwardness is uncomfortable, and the fact that you're naked is even more so.

You're both on top of the quilt, so you can't even hide. Instead, you have to reach down the bed for the closest piece of discarded clothing - Jungkook's flannel shirt.

It's about now that he wants to die. Not like a brutal, slow death (the kind that he knows he deserves). He just wants to be zapped like a fly with an electric bat. The kind you see Ajummas with during the summer, wafting them around in the air, tasing everything they come into contact with.

He rubs his palm across his face, and when he's done, his hand comes to rest over his pathetic cock. The worst part of it all is the minuscule trail of precum that has oozed from the tip of his cock and onto his thigh, tangled in his leg hairs.

He could have fucked you. Could have fucked you so well.

But instead, he's watching you get dressed - although he isn't even doing that. He can't even bring himself to look at you.

He had asked for a moment, so you decide to give him just that. You head towards the bathroom unannounced, and Jungkook wants to tell you to stay, but he can't get any words out.

Door locked, closed, metal threaded through a loop, you're alone - and you fucking hate it. You're embarrassed and ashamed and confused. Your acceptance of his performance issue was genuine, but it doesn't stop it from hurting. You think his desire is dwindling, and you don't know what you'll do if it burns out completely.

You breathe. Take a second to reset yourself. Everything is fine. Everything is okay. Jungkook is just having issues. It's not me, it's not me, it's not me, you tell yourself, though you don't really believe it, and then you head back towards the bedroom.

When you return, Jungkook's got his underwear on.

He's sat with his back to you, facing the sea view, legs crossed, knees raised for his chin to rest upon. There's a crease in his stomach, his posture pathetic and feeble.

You'd never tell him, because you know that he trains so hard at the boxing club, but you sort of like it when torso creases like this. It makes him seem human. Soft; his hard exterior subdued, just for you.

The bed shifts as you walk across it and plonk yourself down beside him, mirroring the way he sits. There's a tugging in your chest, like your heart is clawing against your ribs, begging to be let out so it can go and sit beside Jungkooks. You tell it no, that it has to stay put.

But then he inhales a sharp breath through his nose, and you can hear he's torn himself up over what just happened. Your head rests on his shoulder, and your heart pacifies. His bottom lip is beneath his front teeth, the pressure so great that it feels as if he could burst through the skin. He doesn't ease up.

Silence remains. You can hear the waves crashing through the double glazing, and you wonder why you find such peace in something so hostile. The sea could kill you without a care in the world, and yet you'd let it, if meant your final moments were as peaceful as this.

"I'm sorry, CC," Jungkook eventually whispers. His voice shakes, and your lips press a gentle kiss onto his shoulder.

"You don't have to be."

Oh, but I do, babe. You'll never know how sorry I am.

You continue, knowing Jungkook won't clarify any of his misgivings. "C'mon," your head knocks back. "Let's sleep. Check out is early."

And so he settles into the sheets with you. Doesn't really say much. Just spends an eternity looking at you. Such a sight to behold; a work of art framed by the sea view.

That's the thing about works of art: you can see all their imperfections up close.

You've an eyelash that sticks out straight, while the rest of them curl. There's a small scar just below your ear from a childhood accident. He must have pressed a thousand kisses against that spot and never realised before.

He's never paid much notice to your piercings - lobes, double; helix, single - but he notices now that the stud in your cartilage has a stone in it. Opal, he thinks, but isn't sure. He wonders why you chose that one. Doesn't think you chose it just because it's pretty. You put too much weight on intangible things like fate and karma to have not chosen something specific.

You'd had a field day when you found out he was a Virgo, but he didn't have a clue what you meant when you said, "Saturn in your seventh house? Curious."

He was even more confused when you apologised for the fact you have Mars in your seventh. At the time he'd made some juvenile joke about sticking his seven in Uranus, but he wishes he'd listened more carefully, now.

It was the first time you'd shown belief in something other than the power of peach teas to remedy a bad mood, and it was significant. Not to him, admittedly, but to you. In turn, it made it important to him.

There's very little he actually can say about you - concrete things, like your childhood hangout area downtown, or the career path you had dreamt about. He knows how you laugh, what kind of humour gets you, but not what makes you sad. Doesn't know how you grieve.

How much of you does he really know? Or has he just been infatuated with the idea of you?

After all, you're everything he was hardwired to hate. Perhaps he's fooled himself. Maybe the wool he's been pulling over your eyes is over his, too.

He's the one who's been knitting, though. The crochet is a product of his own making. He's only got himself to blame.

But of course, neither of you are to blame. Not really. This was never meant to be more than what it is. You're just a friend from Daegu, after all.

It doesn't feel like that, no, but for all intents and purposes, that's what you are. You aren't his girlfriend. He's never asked for more, and nor have you. Keeping things simple has only served to make everything so much more complicated.

"Hey," he whispers quietly, just to get your attention. He's embarrassed, and it shows in the way he's nibbling down on his lip, but he doesn't want to be. Deep down, he knows that there's no shame to be found in what happened, and yet he can't help but think maybe you like him a little less, now.

Maybe that would be good. Maybe you should like him less. Actually, he's certain that you should.

But he doesn't want that. The idea of you looking at him with anything less than utter adoration has his stomach in knots. He's so used to it now; the way your pupils widen, lashes flutter. It's juvenile, and he knows it doesn't mean as much as he thinks it does, but he's convinced that your eyes don't lie.

He and you both are nothing but spinners of yarn; the tellers of tall tales, romancers of wrong-doings. Rumplestiltskins' of sorts, spinning gold where there once was straw.

You murmur a noise, but your eyes are still shut. It isn't enough for him. Needs to be greeted with your eyes; to be welcomed home. And so, he tries again, thumb stroking your cheek, the side of his head nestling into his pillow as he shuffles in a little closer. "CC?"

A delicate breath huffs from your nose as you smile, curiously smitten with how tender his voice sounds. Part of you is tempted to feign sleep a little longer just to have him addressing you like that again, but you find your eyes open - and once you're looking at him, it's borderline impossible to stop.

"Morning," you smile, even though the moon is still peering in, checking in on the lovers she's nurtured to a point of no return.

"Morning," he smiles back. The clock on the wall behind you read 2:24am. "Missed you."

"Been right here," you counter, as if the chime in your stomach isn't ringing like Jungkook's phone always seems to do whenever he's getting lost in you. His thumb strokes at your cheek again, then pushes your hair behind your ear. He wants to see all of you. Every inch of your skin, every fleck of colour in your iris, every strand of hair; wants it all. The hollow of your collarbones, the slope of your shoulders, the curve of your chest beneath his flannel shirt. All. Of. It.

"Too far away," he pouts.

"Too far?"

"Too far," he doubles down, still stroking hair behind your ear just because he can. Your head nestles into the pillow as you figure out what he's after. 'You' is the simple answer, but what exactly he wants from you is unclear.

"I can be closer," you whisper.

All he does is nod. He doesn't want to ask for what he wants, fearful of repeating his earlier mistakes - and to be honest, he doesn't really want to fuck, anyway.

But Jungkook hasn't fucked you in a long time. Sure, he's been sleeping with you - having sex with you - but he can't qualify it as fucking. It's too brash. Too careless. Inaccurate.

The way he fucks himself into you lately is deliberate; a facilitator of the way he feels. And he's not gonna call it what it is, because the term makes him uncomfortable, but it's undeniable.

Jungkook fucks you like he loves you. Kisses you like it will be his last, touches you like it's still the first. He's tentative. Tepid. Tactful.

More than anything, though? He's absolutely fucking terrified.

The fear doesn't leave; not when your body grinds against his, not when you end up on top of him, not when he's kissing you like he means it, stroking your skin as if you bruise like a peach. It never dilutes. Never ceases.

He can be rough, if he wants to be - but he doesn't.

He wants softness, with you, always.

And he'll only have himself to blame when he loses it all.

────────────

There are 38 boxes of hair dye facing Jungkook, and he thinks they all look the same.

You had been in Daegu for less than a minute when you reminded him to swing by an Olive Young to pick up some hair dye - and how could he ever refuse any of your requests?

It's so simple making you happy. A peach tea from a drive-thru on the way home, no complaints when you change what's playing through the aux after 20 seconds because you get bored, the way his hand squeezes your knee at red lights. Making you happy is the easiest thing in the whole wide world - but of course it would be.

There's no hardship that comes with your happiness. Everything Jungkook does is second nature, as if he's been doing it his whole life, and not just a few months.

"See, this one is ashy," you say, and he pretends as if he understands. It's been twenty minutes now, and no conclusion has been reached. You thought it would be easy, an in and out job, but Jungkook is full of surprises. It's not like you mind though. Learning his ways - how he behaves when no one else is watching - is a luxury that very few are able to indulge in.

He catches your gaze occasionally, and the way you marvel at him without even realising it. It makes him smile. Make him blush. Has him scared you're gonna start noticing his imperfections.

You won't - and even if you do, you'll file them under 'endearing habits' or 'cute quirks'. He's nothing short of perfection as far as you're concerned.

Foam or serum? Powder or liquid? He didn't remember it ever being this hard before.

But of course, it wasn't. He wasn't actually the one who had dyed his hair blonde. Namjoon's sister had; a trick to foster intimacy with him when he wouldn't reciprocate her longing gazes after casual fucks.

He hadn't told you that, obviously. Didn't have a death wish - but he did remember that, for a short period of time, her attempt at faking closeness seemed to have worked.

It was a moment of madness for Jungkook, one too many sojus and he'd been seduced; a couple more and all of his clothes were on Naejeon's bedroom floor. He did as he always had done with her; took her from behind, spanked her ass when he was done and offered to drive her home after the alcohol had worn off - but he'd been foolish and gone back to hers that evening. While he was still a little bit worse for wear, he'd agreed to let her do his hair. He thought it'd be fun. She thought that maybe he'd realise there was more between the pair of them than just a good time after dark.

It wasn't long, and it wasn't love, but Naejeon had him reassessing whether or not it was just fucking, through the simple means of hydrogen peroxide coated strands of hair.

As much as he lamented the time he had spent with her towards the end of their arrangement, for a while she had been good for him. He'd become kinder, more gentle, and it seemed you were the one who reaped the rewards.

"And ashy is..." he carries his words on, as if the answer is on the tip of his tongue, but you know him well enough now to know that they're not. He's overwhelmed by the choices, simultaneously wishing he could pick without a care in the world, but also worrying about making the wrong decision.

"Bad."

"-Bad, yeah, that's what I was gonna say," he bullshits, but you don't mind the white lies all that much. He goes to say something, then cuts himself short. "And why is it bad again?"

It's the fourth time you've explained colour theory to him. "It's bad because you need a warm tone over the blonde, otherwise it will go green."

"I like green," he speaks with a small pout, not realising the green his hair will go isn't the same green as the trees in May. It will be murky, and grotty, like the streets in April rain.

"So do I," you smile. "But not for my hair. How about this one?"

His eyes follow your hand to one of the thousand boxes: a deep crimson red. It's not a shade he was expecting, nor one that he thinks will work on your hair. You know it won't, so you add "we can just bleach a little bit first. Like the underneath layer, or something."

His head tilts, a dimple forming as he tries to imagine what it will look like. You can see he isn't sure, and that he feels a little hesitant. He wants to do this. Wants to reinvent himself with you - an artist fixing up an old oil painting, filling in the cracks, restoring it to its former glory - but he's scared that what's done cannot be undone.

Ironic, really, that it's his hair that he's scared of. Consequences have meant little to him as of late, and yet here he is all pouty, huffing through his nose a little bit because the poor baby can't decide.

It makes you laugh how childish he can be. He just needs a little push you think; a helping hand.

"You trust me?"

The question is asked so flippantly that it would seem unfathomable for the trust between the pair of you to be broken. Flirtatious in your tone, he knows this is all just fun to you. Maybe he should loosen up. Maybe it should be fun for him, too.

Yes is the answer to your question - not that he'll give it to you. Words are dangerous. They can be used against him.

"I think you're mad," he tells you, but there's a smile that he just can't hide. It rests on his lips, crooked and glorious; sun breaking through a storm. It's yours, you think. Mine, all mine. "Get the bleach, you little fucker."

"See," you grin back, all big and pleased, and Jungkook thinks he'll never be able to smile without you. "You do."

You do as you're told; grab the bleach, get in line. Jungkook stands behind you, kisses your hair, tells you he likes it enough as it is, but that he's excited to do this with you. And then he's whispering some bullshit about how he wants kombucha, but the one he likes is sold out, as per usual.

When you go to pay, his card is already in the machine. It's on him. Everything during your trip has been. There's something charming about it; chivalrous. You've never needed a man with a white horse, but you got yourself a boy with a red Pony regardless.

Scarlet in colour, his car screamed danger when you first met him, but as you ride in the passenger seat, feet on the dash, hand beneath his on the gear stick, you feel safe. There's a world out there around you and yet none of it can penetrate the metal body. You like to think it's bulletproof.

It's an old car. A heap of shit, if you will, especially by today's highway standards. You had made a point to pay your respects a little longer at the road safety shrine at Haedong Yeonggungsa when you visited in Busan.

A bullet would tear through it - but how lovely it is to pretend that you could be invincible together.

You ask if he fancies doing his hair at your place.

It's the first time you've ever offered.

You asked if he trusted you earlier that evening, and now you're the one showing him that you trust him.

This is bad. Really bad, in fact. In too deep; six feet under. He's sinking, buried in the way that he feels for you, but thinks that it's just his guilty conscience that's tickling at his tummy.

Your apartment isn't too dissimilar from his; a little one-room, cheap and drab, but brightened by your personality. There are photos on the walls, pictures with friends, postcards of art, memories of times you barely remember, now. Your bed is sort of hidden, a shelving unit separating it from the rest of the room. The first thing he notices about it is how many pillows you have. Plushies, too. He looks bewildered, but you simply shrug and smile. "Never take me to an arcade."

Your statement only serves to make that an insatiable desire of his. He's obsessed with the idea of you in front of the machines, neon lights glowing in your eyes, lips parted as you aim for yet another ridiculous plushy.

In fact, it's all he wants to do now, go to an arcade with you. Considers saying fuck it to the hair dye, and heading downtown instead.

But you usher him into the bathroom, and say, "c'mon, buddy. I gotta bleach mine first before we can put colour on."

Perched on the closed lid of your toilet seat, Jungkook watches on in awe as you get to work on your hair. The way you called him buddy plays on loop in his head. He thinks it's a joke because of the fact he told Taehyung you were just a friend, and he'd be right to consider that. He realises, rather quickly, that he doesn't ever want to be just a friend to you. Impossible, he thinks.

Mindless chatter takes hold as you paint bleach onto your hair. It's only on the underneath layer, and it washes out to be the most god-awful orange, but it's fine. All you need is a base for the colourful dye to stick to.

You've done this before, he assumes, but doesn't like that he's picked up that trait of yours - so instead, he asks about it.

"Shoulda seen me in high school," you smile. "Rebellion was my middle name."

It's said in jest, but Jungkook wonders just how true that is. You're the black sheep of a family you're pretending doesn't exist.

"Did it win?" He teases. "The rebellion?"

He likes the idea of your defiance being nurtured at an early age. You've always had fight in you, or so it would seem. It's something he finds attractive, the way there's bite behind your bark, and yet he appears to have you tamed.

You don't look at him as you smile, putting on a pair of latex gloves and reaching for the tub of crimson dye. The plastic container fits into your palm like it was made to be there. This new identity? The one that matches Jungkooks? Made for you.

Painting the dye onto your hair without much care, you shrug. Consider telling him about your family. Stop yourself at the last minute.

"Rebellions endure," you tell him, all matter of a factly and as if you know what you're talking about. You don't. You're a sham. Wouldn't know rebellion if it bit you in the ass. Stupidly, you think that disowning your family counts as an act of rebellion - but you did it all so quietly that no one even noticed. Rebellion would have been publicly denouncing them - also would have saved Jungkook a whole lot of hassle, that's for sure. "There's no winning. Just perseverance."

He doesn't agree. Thinks that life is a rotating door of winning and losing; a turnstile in the subway that will let anyone through given they can pay for the fare. That's what life boils down to for Jungkook; who has money, and who can spend that money.

The ones with the wallets always win.

Give it a week, and his wallet will be fat enough to run with the big boys - and yet he's never felt less powerful in his whole entire god damn life. He's watched girlfriends fuck about with his friends, his family disintegrate, his mother die. You - and your stupid fucking smile, the way your eyes always land on his lips before they meet his eyes, the smell of your gasoline tainted hair - trump it all.

He's a loser in this game, whether he 'wins' or not.

There's no winning without you.

There's a clamminess to his palms, a beating in his chest that goes a mile a minute, far too fast for a healthy heart. You're a comedown short of a cocaine upper, and Jungkook knows that his addiction has grown out of hand. Cold turkey is going to leave him in tatters, but he can't seem to ween himself of your body, your touch, the way your pinky loops with his. He knows what this is. Knows that the way he feels is far too much for what you are.

You catch him looking, his stare stern, and hard, and it has you smiling. He looks so serious - angry, almost - but you know he isn't. He's just thinking. Contemplating. He does it when he eats, too, and he's never angry when his belly is full. When you smile, the furrowing of his brows eases, and he begins to smile, too.

"What?" He questions, his eyes so fond that you can't believe you get the luxury of a man like him looking at you like that. Lucky bitch, you think. Luckiest in the whole wide world.

"Nothin'," you grin back, and he rolls his eyes. He looks so pretty, a strand of hair hanging over his forehead as you wait for the dye to process. His will be brighter than yours - just the tips of his hair where the bleach once was, but you think he'll look so pretty with a little colour against his honey skin.

He won't be able to hide the way he's paired with you. You've always scoffed at the couples who walk down the street in matching shoes, matching clothes. You think it's cringe. Vomit inducing. Gross.

But you're also so smitten that your lips are constantly curved into a smile, eyes fond as you look at him. You're absolutely infatuated.

So is he, but chooses to downplay it. Has a smirk on his lips as if he isn't obsessed with every little thing you do. "This is so dumb. Can't believe we're doing this."

"You suggested it!" You protest.

So hot, he thinks as you whine. He just wants to have his way with you, right then and there on the spot. Feels like he can never be close enough to you.

"So? Didn't think you'd agree," he smiles as he sinks his lips onto yours and forget all above the fact he's supposed to be careful.

Within half an hour, he's spraying you in the face with the showerhead, when he should be rinsing your hair instead. He laughs when you squeal, not caring for the fact you're both still fully clothed. A kiss is gifted and received, then given back, water from the shower hitting you both.

You're both in black, so the running red dye doesn't matter, despite the grout in your tiles turning pink.

"This doesn't seem like the most efficient way to rinse out hair," you husk against his lips, but he ignores you. Presses your back to the wall, and supports his body with a palm on either side of your head. The shower is clamped beneath one of his hands as the head sprays directly onto the wall, but he doesn't care.

"Yeah you're right," he agrees, his showerless hand cupping one of your breasts and squeezing it through the fabric of your soaked shirt. "Would be far easier if you weren't wearing this."

You laugh now, 'cause he's just so bloody predictable. A one-track mind, but you're glad he's thinking like this again. He's so much more himself when he isn't in his head over things.

His shut down yesterday has scared you; left you thinking that maybe he didn't want you anymore. The way his lips are on your neck, rough, teeth present, not caring about the crimson water running down your throat, suggests otherwise.

"You're a menace, Jeon Jungkook," you whisper, voice airy and light as it dances around the room, weaving between the droplets of water that pitter-patter on the ground. A menace; a maverick. Both could be true. When you look at him and see the way the dye is dripping down his skin, too, you think 'masterpiece' may be more apt.

He holds the showerhead over himself, letting the water run faster, more freely. The red feels never-ending, as if he'll be forever tainted by the colour of your love.

He then does the same to you, deliberately aiming straight for your face just to fuck with you. He loves how cute you sound when you squeak, body instantly shifting to defend itself.

"No, no, no," he koos, pulling the shower away and hugging you close just so that you don't retaliate against him.

The way his clothes stick to his skin is uncomfortable, but you love the way his muscles feel beneath the drenched cotton. His chest is strong, arms even more so. Needless to say, he's obsessed with the way you look too: his shirt over your shoulders, water collecting in the fabric and forcing it to stick to the contours of your curves.

Reaching for the taps, he knocks the temperature down a little bit.

"I'm sorry, baby," he whispers, pressing a kiss into the side of your head. The shower pours onto your feet, but you can feel it travel up your legs. There's a shift in your position as Jungkook says 'You should lift my shirt a little bit."

You feign naivety. Pretend like you don't know what he's going to do. "Like this?"

It's inched just a little further up, resting just above the lace trim of your underwear. You're a tease; Jungkook your favourite victim.

He nods. Swallows. Rests his lips ajar as he struggles to breathe. "Just like that, C."

The heady nature of the steam fogging up the bathroom fails to hide the fact he looks nervous; intent on succeeding where he had failed the night before. He watches as your lips part, brows furrowing.

The way your chest heaves isn't lost on him, but he finds himself lost in you, and the way you look at him when he begins to hit just the right spot with the steady stream of water. You grip onto his arms, rising to the tip of your toes. A moan husks in your throat, and he smiles.

Crown of your head to the tiles, you let your head tip back, eyes closing. Your showerhead isn't something you often indulge in for pleasure by yourself, favouring your hands or a toy instead - but there's something so deeply erotic about the way he's watching your body respond to the water that he's controlling.

Occasionally he'll dip his hand down to your clit, not wanting the showerhead to take all the responsibility for what Jungkook knows will be his favourite part of the day. It's noticeable, the way a little extra moan will escape your lips whenever he uses his fingers. It's ego-boosting. Cock-swelling.

Your nails begin to dig in deeper to his muscles, no doubt leaving a print on his skin. Your whines, sultry and slow, take dominance over the running water which has been soundtracking your build-up.

"That's it," he keens, finally slipping his middle finger into you. He curls it, and the way you silently gasp has him smirking. He's still got a firm grip on the shower, his wrist moving in small circles to make sure he hits all the right places. "You gonna come for me, C?"

You're not there yet. Just a little further. A little more. A little - oh, fuck -deeper. You wanna tell him yes, yes you will, but all you can do is nod. Your eyes are shut, too embarrassed to look at him when you know you're going to finish in record time. The way you moan is sinful, and it only gets worse when you feel his tongue circle one of your nipples through the soaked shirt. He sucks, and lets it go with a pop.

"Keep-" you try and speak, but it's lost to the pleasure that's running down your spine.

He laughs. "Keep what?"

The question is answered by the way his lips wrap around your other nipple in place of a question mark. His tongue works at the swollen bud through the shirt, massaging it just enough to have your hips grinding against the pressure of the water, riding on his finger.

It's when he adds a second finger that things really start to become out of your control. Nothing you're saying makes any coherent sense. His replies are simple hums that vibrate against your chest as he sucks on it.

The thing that tips you over the edge is his third finger. The sounds you're making are lewd, and filthy, reserved only for him.

"The way you take me, baby," he grits against you, amazed by everything you are. "God, you take my fingers so well, don't you?"

"Kook-" you try, but are cut off with his lips against yours. His tongue is in your mouth, your hands in his hair, heart pressed against yours - and then you're unable to think, let alone kiss back. Your moans melt into his mouth, onto his tongue, and he devours every single one of them.

"Shit," he moans right back. "Yeah. Fuck my hand like that. Like that, CC. Coming all over my fingers aren't you?" His teeth graze your neck. "Filthy fucking slut."

The hands that are in his hair drop to his throat, and squeeze. His eyes are on yours as you ride out your high, but it's a warning you're giving him. He knows this. He likes it.

"Not like that one?" He teases, jaw hanging slack in a crooked kind of fashion that makes him look like he's from an 80's movie. You shudder a little, the ends of your orgasm still washing over you.

On the contrary; there's nothing you'd enjoy more than being bent over his leg and having him call you nasty little names while he leaves handprints on your ass. You're just fucking with him. Know that he'll take the graze of your nails as an indication you wanna fight. And you do. Just in such a way that you end up fucking, too.

You're still shaking as he withdraws his fingers. He looks at them, how they're coated in your juices, and debates who should get the honour of licking them clean. His eyes are on yours as he licks a stripe up his index finger.

"Fucking hell," he husks, lips wet from your mess. No one's ever tasted as good as you before. He doesn't think anyone else will ever compare.

He was gonna be strong about this; gonna take a sample and then give you the rest - but he just can't help himself. He sucks on his fingers - index, middle, then fourth - one at a time, before all three are in his mouth.

If you were breathless before, then you think you might have stopped breathing altogether, now.

He stares at you. Sucks. Withdraws, but only a little. Pushes his fingers further into his mouth. Closes his eyes. Groans. Moans. Grunts. Begins to withdraw. Opens his eyes. Releases his fingers with a kiss at the tips.

His eyes look down your body, then up to your eyes. "Where were we again? Ready to shampoo?"

The visual of him sucking on his fingers plays on repeat in your head. You need to see it again.

It's almost embarrassing how paper-thin you are when you shake your head, and say, "rinse and repeat. Gotta do that again."

He raises a brow. "Which part, C?"

There's a playful nature to him, pleased and protected in how easy he finds it to get you coming undone. He feels safe, now. There's security to be found in your eyes; a sanctuary, a dwelling, a hearth. Somewhere to curl up on the cold nights. A place to congregate. Someplace to call home.

You'd give him a key, if you had one. Put it on a chain around his neck. Maybe you'll just match your door code to his, instead. Cute couple things. The kind of shit that makes you roll your eyes and gag a little.

Ironic, really, when you think about it, as you wash the remainder of the dye from his hair. He reciprocates, but you don't think he's done it properly. It's only now that you pull his shirt off your body and let it fall to the bathroom floor with a loud slap. He sits on the closed lid of your toilet, still fully clothed, drenched, ruby red hair framing him perfectly.

It suits him, even now, before it's styled pristine in that rugged kind of way he manages to perfect so effortlessly. He watches as you run the water through your hair, and you're surprised when you glance in the mirror to find him looking at your face. You thought his eyes would be elsewhere.

In all honesty, they had been - you just caught him at a good moment.

Smiles are exchanged between the pair of you without your consent. Funny, how everything with him is involuntary, but in the best possible way. You don't have to think about happiness, it just comes.

"You look like a mermaid," he tells you, cheeks dimpled and bright. You cast your eyes to your legs - which are very much legs and not a tail - and give him a questioning look. "The hair," he clarifies. "I mean the hair. Bet you'd look fit as fuck with a tail though."

"My lord," you groan, tilting your head back in jest. "I'm dating a dude who's into fish?"

"Dating, eh?" Jungkook's ears grow red and hot, but he hides them well.

He wouldn't mind it if you were dating. Would quite like it actually.

You ignore him for a moment, caught out in the admittance of how you view the relationship between the pair of you. You don't feel embarrassed as such, you just didn't want to be the one to elevate the status of what you are.

"Not anymore," you say. "I prefer men who like girls with feet."

"I'd let you give me a foot job any day of the week," he protests almost too quickly. You reach over to knock the tap off, so Jungkook reaches behind himself to pull the towel down from the rail. He stands as it falls, opening it up for you to wrap around your body.

Gestures like this are normal for Jungkook; thoughtless thoughtfulness. You notice it often, and you always say thank you, but he just shrugs. He doesn't see it as a gesture. He's doing what he wants to do, and what he wants is for you to feel comfortable. He wants to ease your burdens.

Perhaps it's guilt. The knowledge that he's about to be the biggest burden you've ever encountered.

Or perhaps it's the language he speaks when words aren't enough.

Perhaps, just maybe, he's in lo-

The moment is cut short when Jungkook's phone begins to ring in the kitchen. You usher him out, tell him to get it, and head to your bed. Flopping down, still wrapped in your towel, you listen in to the conversation - "Jin? Yeah. Yeah. Back in Daegu. Tonight?" - and notice the way his posture changes. His back grows tighter. Voice becomes agitated. He's whispering, but is seething. You sit up, eyes trained on him.

He glances over to you, brows hard, eyes narrow. He looks away. Looks back again. Looks like he might fucking cry.

"No Jin, tonight is a bad idea. It just is, alright! No- Fucking hell, would you listen to me alright? Jin, she- No! No."

He looks at you again, eyes wider than the full moon peering in through the kitchen window. Divine feminity washes over him and berates him for his choices - but you mistake it for the sheen of a good man.

It's guilt that glitters in his eyes when he looks at you. He thinks you're gorgeous, but knows you must be a little bit stupid, too.

How the fuck did you let him in this far? Why didn't you see right through his facade? Why didn't you just cut him off?

God, he adores your brain - is absolutely enamoured with it - but fucking hell.

A beautiful fool is what you are, and to play a fool is to lose.

He wishes you never agreed to go on that fucking date. He only asked in the first place because he couldn't bring himself to let you get hurt, but it's gonna be so much worse now. Infinitely more destructive. Physical pain you'd have gotten over. Maybe even forgiven.

But this?

Jungkook's standing on dynamite. If he even takes one step toward you he'll catch the tripwire that will strike a match on the wick, and everything will be in fucking tatters.

It already is.

And all the while, you're reaching into your wardrobe to find him a pair of sweats big enough for him.

"I don't care what Joon says!" He hisses into the phone as you finally find the pair of sweats you had in mind. They're far too big for you, but hopefully they'll do the trick for him. "How far am I? From Kangs? 'Bout half an hour."

You close your wardrobe and look at him, head tilted, brows pinched together. He's barely a five-minute drive from Kangs. Ten tops. You figure he must just want more time with you before his boys steal him away.

"Jin?" He says into the phone, but is met with what must be a response he doesn't like. "Jin? The fuck man! Just listen to me! Please! Plea- fuck."

His words are interrupted by the crack of his phone hitting the steel sink basin in your kitchen. Shoulders hunched, he rests his palms against the counter, his breathing accentuated by the way his back is moving.

You're not scared, but you are cautious. You know he boxes. Know he has the potential to lose his temper.

If only you knew how well he's controlling his emotions in this moment. He should be given an award. A medal. A plaque. Jeon Jungkook, Container of Emotions, 2022.

Or perhaps 'Liar of the Year' would be more apt.

"You good?" You asked, edging towards the kitchen, sweats in hand. "Here, change into these. You'll catch a cold, otherwise. I'll put the heating on tonight."

Jungkook shakes his head. Stays silent. Sniffs. Is cold when he finally growls, "no, you won't."

"It's fine," you promise. Your heating bill is never that expensive. "I don't mind."

"C-" He begins, but cuts himself off.

When he turns to face you, his eyes are black. Just like they are in your nightmares. You always thought you'd die if he ever looked at you like this. The way your skin crawls has you thinking you might.

"What?" you speak so quietly that Jungkook wants to set himself alight on the gas stove top behind him.

He closes his eyes. Hangs his head in shame.

"You trust me, right?"

Something about his tone, his demeanour, has you frozen. Your kitchen light is off, bathroom too, and there are shadows on his face that obscure his intentions. 'No' echoes in your head, but you can't bring yourself to speak it into existence. 5 minutes ago, it would have been an unequivocal, unwavering 'yes.'

He tries again. Eyes wide. Still focused on the floor. Petrified. You mistake them for being honest.

"Tell me you trust me, C."

"I-" you choke on your words, heart lodged in your throat. He refuses to look at you. Heat gathers on your lash line, and it confuses you. He confuses you. You don't understand what he's asking of you. He's in your home. You invited him here. Is that not proof enough?

"C," he demands an answer. His eyes are on you now, finally looking in your direction. They're black, and they look right through your skin, as if he's watching the way your heart beats beneath your ribcage. You find yourself cowering into a shadow of the woman you are, and it's just another thing he adds to the list of reasons to hate himself.

You're meek and pathetic when you nod in response and say, "of course I do. Why would you even ask that?"

He's never seen you timid. Never seen the way you used to be before you left your family and became a human in your own right. There's something deeply unsettling about the way he's managed to revoke you to this version of yourself, and he knows this just as much as you do.

He sniffs back a sob. Turns away from you. Rakes his fingers through his damp hair, and turns to face you again. Jungkook is struggling to survive inside the vessel of his which has been taken over by a fucking monster.

"Yoongi," he speaks quickly, not wanting to waste time. "Your co-worker, right?"

You nod. Say nothing.

"He lives around the corner, right?"

There's no reason for Jungkook to know that. No feasible reason at all. You can feel your pulse. You're panicking. Why does he know that?

"Take the fire exit and go to his, okay?" He says. "And fucking stay there until you hear from me, alright? Don't leave his place. Stay with him."

He expects you to nod. Expects the pathetic demeanour that's masking who you really are to agree with him. Yes, Sir. No, Sir, Three bags full, Sir.

But you stopped letting men tell you what to do a long fucking time ago. You don't take orders from any man - and you especially don't take orders from boys.

You stand straighter. Taller. Raise your chin, and look at him through your nose. For a second, you almost forgot who you were.

"What the fuck is going on, Jungkook?"

The question is stern. Sterile.

Fuck.

He's so taken aback by the way you address him that he feels winded. Cannot breathe. Will die.

"You said you trust me-"

"Yeah, and you'd never given me reason not to trust you before now, but what the fuck is this?" You gesture between the pair of you. "You say jump, I say how fucking high? Nah, fuck that, Kook. What's going on?"

He paces, pushing a tense hand through his damp hair, before rubbing his face with his palm. The red runs through his fingers like a warning sign. Danger. You better run, too.

"C, you just gotta trust me-"

"Trust?"

You laugh now. At him. Trust? When he's behaving like the sketchiest dude you ever met? You think the fuck not.

"I don't trust you," you spit, and rightly so - although you know you're being reactive. You should be calmer. Evaluating the situation, considering why he's asking this of you - but you've seen red, and it clouds your better judgement. "It's earned, not owed. Either you tell me what's going on, or you get the fuck out of my house."

"C-"

"Do not try and reason with me, Jungkook," you assert. "You tell me, or you go."

And that's when he realises.

That's when he knows there's no coming back from this.

"I can't," he whispers, the crack in his voice so painfully tortured. "I can't do either of those, C."

"You're gonna have to."

"C-"

"Kook."

"Plea-"

No, you think. You told him not to try and reason with you. What does he think he'll achieve? You'll magically say yes?

Incorrect.

"Get out."

"I can't."

"I'll even open the door myself, if I really have to."

"C-"

"You've got thirty seconds."

"C-"

"Twenty."

"You gotta just-"

"Ten."

"You're not even giving me a second!"

"Five-"

"Fine."

"Four."

"You want the fucking truth?" He shouts.

"Three," you smile. Yes. I do.

"You really want the truth so fucking bad, do you?"

Oh, you big fucking baby, you taunt internally. Men. Always too good to be fucking true. Always have to do something to go and fuck it all up.

You toy with the possible answers of what the truth could be. Fucking someone else? The other woman planning on showing up for a fight? Maybe the mother to a child of his, or something like that. He seems to be good at running from his responsibilities, so it would make sense.

"Two."

He pauses.

And then he thinks fuck it.

You want the truth? You'll fucking get it.

"I know who your family are, C. Know all your dirty little secrets. Everything. And I also know that if you don't shut the fuck up and listen to me, you're gonna get real fucking hurt tonight. That's why you have to trust me. You have to get out of here. Something bad is gonna happen thanks to the past you keep trying to hide, so I need you to trust me. I don't want you to get hurt."

Bull. Shit.

This might all make sense to you one day.

But for now, all you can focus on is the audacity that the man in front of you has.

You reach over to your front door, and open it wide. His time is up.

"I don't fucking trust you. Now get out of my apartment before I call the police and have you arrested for breaching the peace. Clock struck one, Cinders. Time to flee before I find out who the fuck you really are."

He looks at you, helpless and confused. This isn't what he had expected. Not in the slightest.

"C-"

"One. Now fucking leave."

────────────

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nagaparadise · 1 year

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Okay, hear me out. What if the reader is sleeping with one of the Nagas, his tail wraped around and between their legs, and they wake up really horny but also trapped with his tail so they decide to just grind against it until they come or the Naga wakes up and takes care of them? What do you think they'd do? Especially curious about Rune's reaction but happy to hear about all of them 😁 I just feel like the scales would feel really good. Also... Love this blog❤️

Your mind was heavy with drowsiness, but the cool scales between your thighs lit a fire in your stomach and groin. At first you began to grind absentmindedly, but quickened your pace when you realized just how satisfying his scales felt against your sex...

Similar to the horned viper, Rune's scales protrude a lot, to the point where they can be rough and a little spiny to the touch. You found that they chafed against your thighs just slightly, but the pleasure you felt as they rubbed along your groin was addicting. You could feel yourself nearing your orgasm with every pass along his hard tail, and once you hit your limit, you found yourself carelessly releasing a loud, drawn out moan. Coming down from your high, and with your head still heavy with sleep, you were about to nestle your head back into Rune's chest when your eyes happened to flutter open to see his golden eyes burn with slight disapproval, and you realize that he must have been watching you the whole time.

"I see you've had your fun," Rune growls as he pins you down with his four arms. "But now it's my turn."

The Forest Guardian's scales don't protrude too much, but they're a lot softer to the touch, and felt delightful along your thighs and groin. Your grinding was very carefree, and you felt like you were closer to falling back asleep than reaching your orgasm until you felt fingers dance along your thighs, and inch closer to your sex.

"Awake already?" A warm puff of air passed over your ear and shoulder, and was followed by a small kiss. "Allow me to help, my love."

Halloran's scales are very smooth and don't protrude at all, meaning that you had to harshly grind against his tail just to get some sort of satisfying friction. This woke up him right away, but luckily for you, he was in the exact same mood as you. Without a second thought, his tentacles slid around your thighs, torso, and groin, with its suckers clinging onto the inside of your thighs and groin. His hands and tentacles grasped the sides of your waist, encouraging you to continue, which you do without hesitation.

"Where I'm lackin' in one place I make up in another," he says with a grin, and his tentacles squeeze harder into your sex, eliciting a moan from you. "Just leave it to me, dear. I'll make sure you get your desires."

#naga #exophilia #terato #monster x reader #smut #rune post #guardian post #halloran post #Also thank you very much! 🥰

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