Tumgik
#now go stand in the corner and think about what you did
Note
Hii can you pls do a nanami and gojo(separately) make out fic pls??
Okay, let's do this with a little twist...
Getting caught while making out with JJK men
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Pairings: Geto x fem!reader; Gojo x fem!reader; Nanami x fem!reader
Word Count: 2,2k
Warnings: well, it's getting heated babes, not 100% proofread because I wrote this in my work break (again lol)
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Geto Suguru
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You know how wrong it is. This is not the right time, not the right place to stand in a lonely corner with Geto Suguru’s hands all over you and his lips hanging onto yours like you’re air and he cannot breathe.
“Fuck, we should get going”, you whimper into the lonely hallway.
In fact, getting going is the last thing you want to do right now. Not when Riko is busy saying goodbye to her former life, not when your emotions are all over the place. You hid your feelings towards Suguru for so long, tried to convince yourself over and over that you don’t hold those kinds of feelings towards him. But when he allowed Riko some privacy, when you saw the glimmer in his dark eyes shimmering down at you…
You were lost.
And you lose over and over again with his lips worshipping yours like no one did before, with him pressing you against a nearby wall. Countless nights, you pondered about the way it might feel to get hold like this, to actually feel him this close. But reality? Way too bittersweet, way better than anything you could have ever imagined.
“I don’t want to leave you ever again”, he mumbles against your parted mouth before starting a dangerous dance with both of your tongues intertwined.
That man who pierced through Satoru could be here every time, you need to fulfill this mission, need to concentrate on escorting Riko to Tengen-sama. After all, this might be the only purpose you have here at Jujutsu High: Completing missions after missions, doing as you were told.
No, fuck that.
This right here is what you live for. The sensation of Suguru hollering over you like a shadow, of him holding you like no one did before, putting together all your broken pieces.
“I love you”, you finally hush.
“I think I always did.”
“I feel the same way, (y/n). God, I adore you more than anything else.”
Just when you thought your kiss couldn’t get any deeper, couldn’t make you lose your breath even more, he grabs your chin in order to gain better access of your mouth. Now you’re all yours, whimpering under his touch like a little girl.
Out of instinct, you wrap your arms around his broad shoulders, allow your fingertips to grab his soft hair for hold.
“Huh, really didn’t expect to find ya here like that. Well, having fun before dying isn’t a crime, ya know.”
Your blood freezes instantly as you pull away and get greeted by the coldest green eyes you’ve ever seen. The man who fought against, Satoru. Without any doubt.
But…You eye him up and down, blood sticking onto his tight shirt without a visible wound.
Where’s Satoru?
“Leave her alone”, Suguru instructs the man seriously while positioning himself in front of you.
“You’re better off protecting ya little girlfriend from me. She’s cute. Maybe I’ll take her on a date when I killed you.”
Fuck fuck fuck.
Your heart drops to the floor, Suguru’s widened eyes revealing the urgency of this situation all too urgently. Out of all people who could have caught both of you this vulnerable, why on earth does it have to be him? There is no way Suguru will allow you to stay here while that stranger now knows…
“She’s your weakness, isn’t she? Maybe I can teach you a lesson about how freaking dumb love is.”
“Get Riko and escort her to Tengen-sama as fast as possible, (y/n)”, Suguru speaks out firmly while your eyes make contact.
“I can’t leave you here alone, if he defeated Satoru-“
He doesn’t interrupt you with words. No, instead he pulls you close, presses his puffy lips against yours until you feel like drowning in emotions.
“Get going. I don’t want this to be the last time someone caught us together.”
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Gojo Satoru
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“Get away from me right now.”
Oh, how desperately you try to sound angry while the truth is, that you want Gojo Satoru as close as possible. Your eyes dart left and right, search for the unpromising opportunity that somebody catches you in this position.
This position.
You, caged between Satoru’s arms in the male dorm you aren’t even allowed in, to be exact.
“C’mon, you don’t want me to get away from you. After teasing me the whole day and giving me that looks, you want me to go? Try better next time, princess”, he teases you while throwing his sunglasses to the ground without thinking twice.
“If we get caught here by a teacher…I can’t afford bad reputation, Satoru! What would my parents think, what if I get grounded, what if-“
“I know something better than using that mouth for hysteric talking”, he purrs with his face drawing closer and closer.
“Please, you aren’t even listening to me!”
A mix of panic, excitement and desire rushes through your veins, makes your eyes widen in sheer horror.
If your parents find out you were caught with a boy while actually, you are supposed to be a good student, you’ll be screwed. Especially when they found out which boy you were making out with…
Even though Gojo Satoru is considered the strongest jujutsu sorcerer of your timeline, your parents seem to hate him to the core.
“I don’t care that he’s your classmate. If you ever get involved with him more than necessary, you will leave this school without a second chance.”
You swallow hard. No, there is absolutely no doubt in the fact that your father made his point very clear.
But Satoru does as well. When he wraps his arms around your waist, he catches you just in time before your wobbly knees give in. No boy ever touched you like that, no other boy ever swept you off your feet like that. The butterflies in your stomach become almost unbearable while you can’t help but stare at his eyes.
Those oh so gorgeous eyes.
“I don’t want to hide my feelings for you any longer. Fuck your parents, fuck their threats. As long as I’m here, no one can hurt you.”
You let out your shaky breath you didn’t know you were holding.
And then your lips collide with his. Slowly and sweet at first until your very own longing becomes too much. You grab his back, pull him closer, allow him to access your mouth. He tastes like your favorite chewing gum and strawberries, so sweet that you cannot escape. Longingly, you allow him to suck on your bottom lip until a whimper escapes your lips. This is so much better than you ever imagined, so much sweeter than you ever dreamed of. There will never be a boy apart from Satoru who sweeps you off your feet like this, who makes you feel this way.
“Out of all boys, why does it have to be him, (y/n)?”
Your heart drops so suddenly that you feel like dying right on the spot. That low voice you know so well by now, that low voice that means nothing but trouble at the moment.
“S-sir…Yaga-sama I…I”
You fail to find the right words. In fact, all you are able to do is staring at him with glossy eyes and messy hair that reveal oh too painfully what you just did.
You crossed the line you promised your father not to. You came to the boy’s dorms even though you aren’t allowed to. And you got caught by your teacher doing so.
“Why does a nice girl like you waste her time with trash like Gojo?”, he continues.
“C’mon, you don’t have to be this me-“
“Please don’t tell my father!”
You let yourself drop to the floor, your head resting on top of your hands.
“I know it’s not my place to ask for something like that. But if you do…I will have to leave Jujutsu High.”
Thick silence hangs in the air, so quiet that you’re able to hear your tears fall onto the ground. You shouldn’t see Satoru anymore, should end this relationship before it started.
But truth is…you love him. Despite all the differences and your father’s hatred towards him, you love Satoru. You don’t want to leave him and Jujutsu High, you can’t stand the sheer fact of never seeing him again.
Still, it’s Yaga-sama’s job to inform your parents about your behavior, that you were caught in the boy’s dorm. And from there on there is no way out for you, no way to escape this fate.
“What are you talking about, (y/n)?”
Your teary eyes dart towards him immediately while you have to blink a few times in order to process what he just said.
“You caught me in the boy’s dorm with Satoru. It is your responsibility to inform my parents about that”, you reply with shaky voice.
“And risking that you’ll have to leave Jujutsu High? You’re the only useful student of this year and probably the only one who is able to tame this idiot down. I didn’t see anything today.”
“I am not an idiot”, Satoru protests with a sly grin.
“You can call yourself lucky a girl like (y/n) decided to keep up with you. I hope you won’t hurt her, Satoru. Or else, I might tell her father about it.”
And with that, he turns on his heels and walks aways as noiseless as he came, leaving both Satoru and you standing there bamboozled.
“So…what’s the worst your father would do to me?”
“Oh, he’d totally kill you if he found we made out”, you reply instantly.
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Nanami Kento
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“I might be gone for a few days, darling.”
Gently, he caresses your back the way he knows you adore it while wearing a saddened expression on your face.
“What mission takes a few days? Why aren’t they sending Gojo like they always do?”, you question with a pout.
You weren’t really able to meet up with your boyfriend Kento for what feels like ages. During work here at Jujutsu High, you aim to be professional, to not show each other affection. After all, this is your job and both of you take that very seriously. But now that you haven’t really seen each other after works for weeks, you can’t escape the urge to simply hug him, to feel his warmth and take in his masculine scent.
Kento breathes out audibly while stroking your hair. Truth is, he misses you like crazy. Despite his desperate attempts to stay away from you at Jujutsu High, he finds himself wrapping his arms around you as well.
“This is something serious. I can’t let the students go out on their own”, he mumbles against your forehead before placing a gentle kiss onto it.
Your stomach drops in excitement immediately. After weeks without affection, just a tiny kiss on your forehead seems to be enough to drive you wild.
“I get that. It just frustrates me a little”, you reply.
When your eyes find his, they are clouded by a feeling you know all too well. Time stands still when his grip around you tightens and his gaze drifts towards your lips. Your oh so longing lips that cannot wait to get kissed.
Without hesitation, you close the tiny gap between both of you. Even though you’re standing in the middle of a classroom at Jujutsu High, even though you both agreed on keeping your relationship out of work life.
You simply can’t right now. A swift motion is enough for him to lift you off the ground with ease while pressing your back against the cool wall. A whimper escapes your lips before you’re able to stop it, all senses directed towards him with your eyes closed by the sheer sensation.
“I missed you so much”, he breathes against your lips before continuing his sweet torture.
“Missed you as well…so…much…”
You allow your hungry hands to re-discover the valleys of his muscular back, his broad shoulders, his oh so perfect face. How are you supposed to stay away from a man like him longer than a few hours? Him with his character of gold, body of steel and brain?
“Nanami-sensei, I-…Oh.”
Your eyes dart open immediately and find a utterly surprised Yuji Itadori staring at you with his mouth open.
“Yuji, what are you doing here?”, you mumble while picking on your messy clothes in the most awkward way.
“Why didn’t I know that you two are a thing?”, the pink-haired boy continues, ignoring your lousy attempt to distract.
“Because this is our private life. Why are you here, Itadori-kun?”, Nanami replies in all seriousness.
“But…That’s awesome! You two go so well together! And I always thought that (y/n)-san is totally into you!”
“Watch your words, Itadori.”
“Yuji, can you please just…leave?”, you literally beg.
“Oh yeah, of course.”
“Wait, Itadori”, Nanami instructs the boy just when he’s about to leave the room.
“Don’t you dare to tell Kugisaki about anything you saw today.”
Yuji blinks a few times before nodding and leaving the room with a smile.
“He will totally tell her everything. You know that, right?”, you comment, still trying to catch your breath.
“Unfortunately, yes.”
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ghoulphile · 2 days
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it's always the quiet ones | c.h./the ghoul
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➥ pairing | pre-war cooper howard/the ghoul x f!reader ➥ word count | 700 ➥ warning(s) | 🔞 smut; oral (m receiving), throat fucking, choking, dirty talk, bathroom sex ➥ summary | based off this ask; We can see that Cooper tends to go for good girls (like @ghoulfuckersincorporated mentioned!), but what if he ran into a seemingly innocent - or at the very least kind - person… but they dirty talk like a sinner in the sack? ➥ notes | i humbly offer this drabble to @gingersforeverbox 🙈 masterlist | feel free to send in thots, questions, requests! | feedback is always appreciated ❤️
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It’s always the quiet ones, isn’t it?
At least, that’s what Cooper’s mama always said (and he wouldn’t know how right she was until he found himself shoved in a swanky club bathroom, slacks tucked under his ass as the prettiest — politest — lady choked herself with his cock).
Frankly, how he got here’s a hazy blur of bourbon and cigar smoke.
Whispered conversations and coy looks. The flash of cherry red nails, and a well timed head tilt; a pretty little thing cozied against him as nameless faces passed in and out of view.
Another pointless after party (though far smaller of an event than he used to pull) where vultures circled the room, waiting for their chance to pick at his bones. LA devotee’s ready to snap up the scraps of the once great Cooper Howard.
Dog eat dog; he couldn’t stand the petty games —the mindless indulgences.
So, he’d invited you as a buffer.
An acquaintanceship that’d gone back years, having met on set of one of his earlier productions, you were always cordial and had a kind word to say about anybody. Not a mean bone in that body… or so he’d thought.
Now, he’s not so sure he knows you half as well as he thought he did.
“Fuck!”
Air hisses through his teeth, his hands hovering over the sides of your head, unsure where to grip. Your hair looks awfully pretty (like it took a long time to force into shape), he’d hate to ruin the style. But if you keep trying to suck his soul out through his cock, he might just have to sink his fingers into those delicate curls and yank.
“S-Sweetheart, what are you — oh, ssshit.”
You peer up at him from beneath the spiky fan of your lashes and hum. His hips jump and you choke, your tongue pinned as your teeth scrape along his thick shaft.
Spit drips past your swollen lips, clings to your chin in sticky strings. The lower half of your face is a mess of smeared lipstick and pre-cum.
He pants, gazing down at you with awe. “How’re you so fucking good at this?”
He’s so big, stretching your mouth to the limit. A tender ache sets behind the hinge of your jaw, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes.
Those half-lidded eyes, dark and hungry, make it all worth it. The slack circle of his mouth, the pained furrow of his brows as he wrestles with his self control all the payment you require.
You pop off; trace along the throbbing vein with your tongue as the heavy weight of his cock slips free with a wet suction. Your thighs clench and your toes curl in your heels at the low-throated groan punched from his chest.
“Practice makes perfect, don’t you think, Mr Howard?” you press a sloppy kiss to his leaking slit, lapping up the salty beads of fluid. Your fingers roll his balls, dragging the tips of your nails along the sensitive skin to watch him shiver. “Besides, I’ve seen how you look at me.”
His eyes flick off to the side, blowing wide once he catches your reflections in the mirror. He gulps, his knuckles white beside his hips. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, sweetheart.”
“Please, spare me.”
You snort, roll your eyes and shoot him a catty grin. Laugh when his cock throbs at the teasing flash of your tongue.
“You’re sweet — as true a gentleman as they come — but you can’t fool me. You’ve wanted me since you met me... and I don't get my best dress dirty for just anyone.”
“...”
“Now, before you try to say otherwise, remember whose on their knees with your cock in their mouth.”
“...No. Y-You’re right but I… I shouldn’t want to.”
You wink, circle the crown of his head with a red nail. More pre-cum dribbles from the slit, sticky drops you kiss away with your tongue.
“It’s okay, Mr Howard,” you say. “I want you too. Now do us both a favor and fuck my throat until I can’t talk. Please, I want it to hurt — want you to make me cry.”
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freyaphoria · 1 day
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hello! (⁠ㆁ⁠ω⁠ㆁ⁠) i was wondering if you can make a hyung line version of this work of yours!
> https://www.tumblr.com/freyaphoria/751539404924960768/hello-i-was-wondering-can-you-do-a-yandere-maknae?source=share
thank you and have a great day~
Hi! I sent the draft by mistake, I hope you didn't see it, I'm soooooo embarrassed :,) Anyways, anon🔮 also asked this question, but since I deleted the post I sent, the question was also deleted TT I hope you both like it♡
Yandere Ateez: When their s/o starts showing affection
(Hyung Line)
maknae line
tw: knife, being drugged mentioned but not happened, stockholm syndrome, cat!:3, manipulative hwa >:(
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Hongjoong
Hongjoong and his seasonal allergies... He would definitely get sick at the slightest change of season. You were both used to this situation.
While Hongjoong was coughing at the top of his lungs, you looked at him from the corner of the living room door. His habit of not being able to take care of himself would prolong his illness for at least 1 month.
You didn't want to worry about him. He was nobody to you other than the one who is obsessed with you. So why were your feet heading towards the kitchen to make some hot tea that would soothe his throat?
Normally he wouldn't let you into the kitchen. If you did, he would never let you get close to knives or sharp objects. It was a very strict rule that he made once you tried to stab him. Because of the punishment you received, you took the teapot without even coming 2 meters away from the drawer where the knives were kept. You put various herbs in the teapot and started brewing them in water, just like your mother used to do for you when you were sick. You looked into the fire burning on the stove and thought about your mother; you wonder what she's doing now? Did she ever think that your ex-boyfriend had captured you and imprisoned you in a house in the middle of nowhere, or does she think you abandoned her and ran away? Or does she think you're dead?
What broke you from your thoughts was the sound of Hongjoong sniffling as he looked at you from the kitchen door. "What are you doing here alone?" Even though he was sick, Hongjoong was still the same Hongjoong: scary. With panic, you walked in front of the stove and tried to hide what you were doing. "How many times have I told you not to turn on the stove when I'm not there? Why don't you listen? What are you doing!?" When he grabbed you by the arm and pulled you aside, he saw the herbal tea boiling on the stove. "What is this? For whom?" "For you..." You answered weakly,afraid of his tone. "Huh? For me? Why? What did you put in it? Princess, remember the last time you tried to poison me, you failed." You suddenly interrupted him. "No! Not like that this time. I swear. You were coughing and I thought tea would soothe your throat." Hongjoong stood frozen, looking from you to the tea on the stove. You hadn't treated him like this since you broke up. He was emotional, but he hid it so as not to show you his weakness. He turned off the stove and kissed your forehead. Even though he was still suspicious of you and wasn't going to drink the tea, he thanked you. "Thank you my princess."
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Seonghwa
You didn't think it would be this dark outside when you opened the front door. The cold air hit your face and ruffled the thin satin dress you were wearing. Freedom was beautiful. But what were you going to do? Living alone was already difficult; On top of that, classes and work stress made it unbearable. Here, Seonghwa provided everything for you, he prepared excellent meals, you could read the books you wanted, and he loved you.
You closed the door and went inside. You quietly walked up the stairs and quietly entered the room that you shared together. You jumped when you saw Seonghwa standing and looking at you.
"Go away. Leave me like the others. What are you waiting for? I didn't lock the door." manipulative bastard. His eyes were filled with fake tears. You quickly went to him and hugged him. "I won't let you go. I decided it was better here." You said, showing Seonghwa's heart with your index finger. While Seonghwa was happy that you were finally showing affection to him and manipulating you, and you were sleepy in his warmth as he stroked your hair.
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Yunho
"I'm sure it was just a cat. Can you let go of my arm, tiny?" You screamed when you heard different sounds from the other corner of the basement at 3 a.m., and Yunho literally teleported to you 5 seconds later. "No! It is not a cat!" You were trying to speak out of breath. Being imprisoned in the basement for days had damaged your psychology, and Yunho was very sure of it now. "Let go of my arm and let me look." You slowly let go of Yunho's arm and pulled the duvet from your floor bed over your face like a shield. Yunho went fearlessly and started looking among the cardboard boxes in the corner. You were surprised at how he could see so well in the dark.
Yunho let out a laugh and bent down and picked up the poor cat that was cowering in the corner in fear. "Are you really scared of this little thing?" You let out a sigh of relief as the cat let out a weak meowing sound. Yunho walked over to you with the cat and sat on your bed. "You scared the hell out of me kitty! Thank you Yunho, without you I would have gone crazy until the morning." This was the first time Yunho heard you thank him. You laid your head on his arm and petted the cat on his lap. She's finally starting to love me , he thought. Yunho's heart was pounding like it was going to explode.
"Yunho? Are you going to let the cat outside?" The frightened cat in his arms reminded him of you: Small, cute and timid. "She can stay with us if you want. What do you say? What should we name her?" "Maybe... Tiny?" He chuckled and shook his head. "No. Tiny is your name. I wouldn't call anyone else by your name, not even a cat."
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Yeosang
You didn't know anything about Yeosang when he kidnapped you. He was your secret admirer. You even learned his name once during a phone conversation when the man on the other end called him by his name and you heard it even though the phone was on low volume. You were so hostile to him that you didn't want to know anything about him anyway.
Everything changed in one morning. You didn't know if he gave you a drug or if you started to get crazy and started to feel attracted to him, but suddenly you started paying more attention to his face. You were sitting on the chair of the table while he prepared breakfast for you. Normally you would look at the ground with your head down. But this morning you were looking at his face. His face was incredibly flawless, you thought. Like a statue, all facial features are proportional to each other and carefully placed. When he approached you and placed the plate in front of you, his hair came in front of his face and his birthmark was revealed.
His birthmark looked as red as a rose as the morning light hit his face. You didn't control your hands; Suddenly, your hand went to his face, the birthmark at the corner of his eye, and you touched it gently. He must have definitely drugged you. There is no other way to explain the fact that you caressed the face of the man you once hated and never looked at. Or was this what stockholm syndrome was called?
"What are you doing my dear?" He was trying to hide his shock. He would never show you his feelings. "Has this always been here?" You mentioned his birthmark. He chuckled at you and held your hand. "Yes, like my love for you, it was with me every moment of my life."
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a/n: My finals have started and I may not be able to return to your requests for a while (about 2 weeks). Normally I would write this after 2 weeks, but whatever. Feel free to give me suggestions! I hope you will like it. Love u all!♡
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aduck8myshoes · 22 hours
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I know the writers won't give us an endgame wlw sibling, but think about the bridgerton family comedy they could milk out of that! Imagine:
In either a cold open cut-off or a cliffhanger, Cressida impulsively kisses Eloise and runs away, leaving Eloise completely blue screened. Eloise has no idea that lesbibabs exist, bc regency, and she is having lots of feelings she doesn't understand. She needs knowledge which to her means books, but where would one even find such a publication?
Cue Eloise trying to casually ask her two most worldly brothers where to find books about girl kissing. B and C spend a good 20 seconds looking back and forth from her to each other and going on just incredible face journeys. She's like, I just overheard some stuff and was curious this is not about me at all ahahaha, and they all suddenly have very important things to attend to that are not this conversation.
(Read more because this got long lol)
Colin has seen women have sex with each other in brothels, but he is an oblivious mfer that just discovered complex emotions last season, and probably had no idea there could be romantic feelings involved. So of course he goes to his wife about it.
Penelope is like, wtf, where is this coming from?, and Colin manages to not blurt out that it's about Eloise for a whole 10 seconds. Pen, who actually has a modicum of emotional intelligence, has heard her recently reconciled best friend complain for years that she doesn't understand why women want husbands, and is like, oh, some things suddenly make sense. She tells Colin to not worry about it and go to sleep.
Bi-nedict, who does know what a lesbian is, has heard his darling sister complain for years that she doesn't understand why women want husbands, and is like, oh, some things suddenly make sense.
Being the selfless brother he is, he heads over to the nearest artist orgy and asks around for some literature. They're like, oh yeah for sure, we have a zine club! (And then gets dicked down/pegged like he deserves.)
A few days later he gets a discreet delivery of underground pamphlets with names like "A Treatise on Human Sexuality" and "Like Yearns for Like: Observations on Attraction" as well as some he will NOT be giving to Eloise. (Zine club is very educational)
The less salacious pamphlets get awkwardly passed off to Eloise before bed and she spends all night in a montage of reading, recalling memories of Cressida (or possibly just women in general) being attractive, and working her way though her mini identity crisis.
At breakfast Violet sees her be like "Thank you for your... help. It was very... helpful" while not making eye contact with B, and mentally steels herself for whatever nonsense her kids are up to now.
For the next several episodes we watch them stumble upon Eloise as she attempts to get Cressida alone to talk (and then "talk") and have to try to keep anyone from finding out about the gal pals.
(Benedict going to duck around a corner only to see his sister sucking face and ducking right back out: Hey Colin and Penelope why don't we spend this entire ball standing right here blocking the entrance to this side hallway for no reason.
Penelope, who hasn't seen E in like an hour, putting 2 and 2 together: Ah yes, what an excellent idea brother-in-law! The view of everything in the opposite direction of that hallway is most splendid from this exact spot.
Colin, looking around, probably still oblivious: did Eloise go home?)
Anthony and Kate could be dragged into the effort as well at some point when they see something they shouldn't while looking for their own make-out spot.
And then when the drama hits and the relationship is revealed, they all put on their best shocked Pikachu faces while Colin finally gets it and is like, "oh wait is that why she was asking about-" before Pen stomps on his foot.
Violet lets herself give up for a full minute and just bang her head on a table.
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paper cut | hirofumi yoshida (csm)
Hirofumi Yoshida x reader. Requested by @yutaleks to benefit @/ficsforgaza. I was going to do a kiss prompt but this happened and I just kind of ran with it. Thanks for your donation, Aleks!
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There's something about Yoshida that makes you seethe.
It isn't a personal slight. You've only spoken directly to him a handful of times, but he's never been rude or out of line. He isn't overly friendly with anyone, either. He's infuriatingly unreadable, though that perpetual smirk he wears makes you think he views everything as a joke. It drives you insane; you try very hard to not harbor true hatred for anyone, but Yoshida just might be the exception to your rule.
"Why are you being so quiet?"
You roll your eyes, but don't bother looking up. You know exactly who is standing over your table. "You're blocking my light," you say, jotting down a few more notes. You will not give him the satisfaction of your attention.
His voice drips with amusement; his tone is mocking, and you're horrified to see his hand plastered over the page you're trying to read. "Aw, sorry about that. Maybe it's time to take a break. You look really tired."
"Thanks for your concern, but I'm fine." You scowl at his hand and consider pushing him away from your book, but that would involve touching him. The thought alone makes you recoil; you opt to grab the corners of your book and tug it closer to you. He holds firm, bearing down with his weight, laughing.
"I'm serious. You really ought to go look out the window or something."
"Can you just leave me alone?" You raise your voice, feeling your face grow warm. A few feet away, someone says shhhhh and now you're angry and embarrassed. "What do you want from me, anyway?"
Yoshida leans down so that his face is less than a foot away from you. He ducks even lower to try and make you look at him. You avoid him still, leaning back in your chair and keeping your eyes downcast. "My friend thinks you're cute."
If you clench your jaw any harder, you'll crack a tooth. You swallow hard around the sudden dryness in your throat and dare a glance at him, though you still don't meet his intense stare. You focus instead on the row of piercings that follow the cusp of his ear. There are at least seven, with a possible eighth hiding beneath a dark shock of hair. "Well, your friend should tell me that, not you."
Yoshida laughs. It's low and breathy, and as close as he is, you can smell the bubblegum he's been chewing. "He's really shy, actually."
"What do you want me to do about it?"
"You should talk to him."
"No thanks, I'm busy." You grab for your textbook again and tug a little harder, but you catch your finger on the corner of a couple of pages. The sting of a papercut makes you suck in a breath through your teeth. A tiny line of blood appears at the surface, and before you're able to grab a tissue from your bag, Yoshida grabs your wrist.
He sticks your finger in his mouth before you can register what's even happening.
For the first time since he's stood at your table, you make eye contact. It doesn't surprise you that his eyes are sparkling with mirth and mischief. You're too shocked to pull your hand away; you feel his tongue swipe over the cut before he lets go, sealing it with a tiny kiss.
"Anyway," he says, slipping a folded neon pink post-it between the pages of your book, "you should call my friend. Maybe you'll like him, too."
He stands back to his full height and shoves his hands in his pockets before walking away. You watch him for a second, still not able to really process what just happened. Shaking your head, you decide it's best to just pack it up for the day. The pink post-it mocks you in much the same manner Yoshida did. With a sigh, you unfold it and somehow aren't surprised when you see what is written on the inside.
A phone number. A dumb smiley face. And Hirofumi Yoshida's name.
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just a reminder that I’ll fuck your life up as a blonde
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lavinaigrette · 2 years
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Obvious breach of ethics aside, I think Jack needs to be forcibly shipped off somewhere to make him reevaluate his decisions.
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amber-lucca44 · 2 years
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Me listening to music at 4 am: I should try to sleep now.
Taylor Swift: Bet.
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Omg it’s here!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
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the-chelseahotel · 2 years
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Taylor is this how you’ve been dressing lately??
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vinecoveredgarden · 6 months
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Paraphilias are Queer because "Queer" doesn't mean "gay" - it means fucking queer. It means "Society at large doesn't like this thing and it deviates from the norm, often with negative reactions or repercussions".
Paraphilias aren't orientations any more than whether you like blonde women or brunette women is an orientation - it's an attraction, it's a preference, it's a "I like this one".
Saying "Paraphiles aren't Queer because <thing they're attracted to> aren't a gender!" is fucking stupid. Do you hear yourself?
Are trans people queer? Are aro/ace people queer? But being trans has nothing to do with sexuality! And aro/ace people don't even HAVE a gender they're attracted to (in their respective attraction types - loving aces and horny aros I see you)!
Being a Paraphile is Queer because it goes against what society deems "acceptable". This doesn't make a paraphilia an attraction - it just makes it Queer.
You can be the most fucking cishet motherfucker alive and still be Queer for being fucking GNC. Not bisexual, not ace or aro, not agender or non-binary, just not preforming your gender "correctly". In the same vein, you can be the most allocishet on the planet and if you've got a paraphilias, congrats! You're fucking Queer!
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coldasyou · 2 years
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kraviolis · 1 year
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trying to finish the second half of this goddamn fic but my brain is pulling me in 70 different directions
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girls when she lives her life like it's a party and she's on the list and she looks at me like I'm a trend and she's so over it and I think her ever present frown is a little troubling and she thinks I'm psycho 'cause I like to rhyme her name with things
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scrunchie-face · 7 months
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I SAID “I LOVE YOU!”
You say nothing back
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wintaerbaer · 3 months
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bottle up old love (jjk) (m)
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summary: Jungkook may have broken up with you a year ago, but that's not going to stop him from coming to your rescue when he sees you being cornered by a creep.
pairing: Jungkook x Reader
rating: 18+ (MINORS DNI)
genre: exes to lovers, the holy trinity of angst/smut/fluff
word count: 4.6k (this was supposed to be a drabble 💀)
prompt: JK + exes to lovers + "I'm sorry" + "I hate you" + "Don't fucking touch me" + "Leave" (for @btsborahaee <3)
warnings: language, a short harassment scene at the beginning (nothing too intense), explicit content including: unprotected sex (DO NOT), fingering, praise kink, biting, marking, spanking, cum eating (sort of?), big cawk soft dom jk, cowgirl (yeehaw), creampie, cockwarming, i think that's all but this also wasn't supposed to be too smutty so clearly idk what's going on lol
MASTERLIST
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“Don’t fucking touch me!”
You spit the words at the man in front of you, pushing him back as he tries to make another grab at your arm.
“Why do you gotta be like that?” Seungcheol whines. “I thought we were having fun.”
“You and I have very different ideas of fun.” You take a step backwards towards your building. Somewhere down the sidewalk, footsteps clatter against the pavement.
“C’mon.” He matches your movement, reaches for you again. “Invite me up. You enjoyed the last time, didn’t you? I told you that was just a warm-up.”
The building’s brick wall is closer than you thought, and you bang your shoulder against it as you try to sidestep him. “Last time you didn’t follow me to a bar I didn’t even invite you to. How did you know where I was anyway?”
“Let me come up, and I’ll tell you,” he rumbles with a flicker of his eyebrows. He has you fully backed up against the wall now, and you press against the muscle of his chest to no avail.
“Stop!” you shout before he’s ripped away from you so suddenly that you’re left blinking in confusion, huddled against the brick.
There’s a thud–the sound of a fist hitting flesh–and a yelp before Seungcheol is reeling back with his hands clutching his nose. Blood seeps out from beneath his fingers, black even under the glow of the streetlamps.
“What the fuck?” he shrieks, and it’s only then that you take a proper look at your savior, looking every bit like he’s stepped straight out of the shadows with his dark hair, ebony clothes, and deep brown eyes.
And a lead weight drops into your stomach as you recognize him.
Jungkook sets himself between you and Seungcheol, looming over the latter as he continues to cover his face, whining. “I’m giving you ten seconds to get out of here.”
“Who the fuck are you?!”
“Ten,” Jungkook growls, taking a step in Seungcheol’s direction. “Nine.”
Seungcheol straightens–clearly a last-ditch attempt to look intimidating. Spitting blood onto the concrete, he peers at you over Jungkook’s shoulder. “This isn’t over, bitch.”
Then he spins and takes off running down the street.
Your hands grip your elbows. It may be a balmy summer night, but you’re shivering where you stand, unsure whether you’re more affected by Seungcheol’s behavior or the ghost who’s unexpectedly in front of you.
“Are you okay?” he quietly asks, gaze fixed on your face. You stare at your shoes and give him a brisk nod as a response before turning away, punching in your building code, and walking through the front door.
He follows closely, slipping in behind you and trailing a few feet. You let him for a little while, guiding him through the modest lobby and up the first flight of stairs. But when you’re halfway up the second stairwell–almost to your floor–you pause on the landing, spinning his way.
“What do you think you’re doing?”
His eyes are gentle, sincere. “Making sure you get in safely.”
“There’s no need for that,” you assert. “I’m already in my building. There’s a keypad. I’m good.”
“The keypad does almost nothing. I followed you in no problem.”
“So I should be worried about you then?”
He flushes, the tips of his ears going pink. “Please just let me see you inside.”
You want to argue back, want to shout at him and make a scene, but you know it’s no use. Know that he’s stubborn as a bull and will get what he wants one way or another.
It’s how he broke up with you after all.
You say nothing, only hustle up the last set of steps and down the dimly-lit hallway until you’re in front of your door, Jungkook tailing you the whole time with his hands in his pockets. You practically fumble your key in your haste to get it into the lock, letting out a satisfied sigh as the latch finally clicks open.
“There. I’m in,” you say as you step over the threshold, waving a dismissive hand at your unwanted companion. “Leave.”
But he hesitates just outside the doorway, teeth chewing at the corner of his lip. “What are you going to do if he comes back?”
“That’s my problem, isn’t it? I stopped being your concern when you dropped me out of nowhere a year ago.”
Your eyes sting at the memory, tears threatening to spill over. You don’t want him here. Don’t want to see him or have him anywhere in your vicinity. Not when it still hurts like this.
Though, truth be told, you don’t expect to ever be fully over him.
“We’re done, Jungkook,” you murmur. “You made sure of that.”
And you close the door in his face.
The distress subsides quickly once he’s out of sight–like he was never there to begin with–and you don’t linger, dropping your bag on the sofa and heading straight for the bathroom. This is how you’ve made it a year without him; it was weeks of crying before you realized that wallowing was doing you no good, only fueling your misery instead of providing any kind of catharsis. So you’ve done your best to simply push past it and cast away the anguish that bubbles up every time you think of him. Not allow it to linger like the shadows at the edges of the room.
You shed your clothes and turn the shower to a temperature that you’ll probably regret later. But for now, you savor the way the water sears your skin as you wash away the day with all of its unpleasant surprises. Taking your time, you scrub every inch of your body and carefully shampoo your hair (trying not to fall back into the fantasy that’s plagued you on occasion where it’s his hands and not yours spreading the bubbles over your form).
The self-care continues as you step out of the shower and leisurely work through your skin care routine, even taking the time to blow dry your hair. By the time you exit the bathroom, the fog on the mirror has dissipated, and you’ve once again successfully tamped down the memory of Jungkook and his hands and eyes and everything you ever felt for him.
Or so you think.
After popping into your bedroom to pull on some pajamas, you pad back into the living room for a glass of water, and your eyes are immediately drawn to the front door. Regret attempts to push its way into your consciousness against your better judgment. The man broke your heart, yes. But you do feel a little guilty slamming the door in his face after he just fought off a creep for you.
And speaking of Seungcheol, what if he does come back? You’re pretty sure he saw you punch in the building code the night you brought him home with you, and given his behavior, you wouldn’t be surprised if he filed it away in his head.
Anxiety winning out, you creep to the door and peer through the peephole. The hallway looks empty, drab beige walls taking up most of your field of view, but you jump as you spot a hulking shadow to the right. Your heartbeat races then slows, a closer look revealing hunched, unmoving shoulders wrapped in a familiar black t-shirt.
Jungkook swings his head to look at you as you open the door and glare down at him. His legs are pulled up, arms resting on his knees, and it might be endearing if not for the fact that he absolutely, positively should not be here.
“What are you doing?” you ask him for the second time tonight.
“He might come back.”
“And you’re going to what? Fight him?”
He shrugs. “If I have to.”
“Yeah?” You raise an eyebrow, challenging. “You’re going to sit out here all night?”
He shifts where he sits, wiggling his hips like he’s firmly planting his butt into his chosen spot. “Yes.”
You roll your eyes at him but don’t doubt that he would. Again, if there is anything you know this man to be, it’s stubborn. “You’re going to scare the neighbors.”
“Who, Mrs. Kwon?” A tiny smile plays on his lips as he glances in the direction of your elderly neighbor’s apartment. “I think she’d be delighted to see me.”
If you’re being honest, she probably would be. She’s always adored Jungkook and praised him as the “kind, handsome young man” who helped her put away groceries and fixed her leaky faucet one time. In the months following your breakup, she’d asked about him once or twice, patting your arm reassuringly when you awkwardly told her she wouldn’t be seeing him anymore.
“Don’t worry, dear,” she said. “He’ll come around.”
Well she’s turned out to be right in that he’s certainly back here again, still watching you from his spot on the floor. And you don’t know whether it’s his big doe eyes or the fact that he really would guard your apartment all night if you let him or the genuine fear that one of the other neighbors will make a fuss at his presence, but you feel yourself softening.
Turning abruptly, you stride into the kitchen for your glass of water, walking out of sight of the door, which is still wide open.
“You coming?” you call, pulling two glasses down from the cupboard.
There’s a rustle as Jungkook stands and shuffles into your apartment, closing the door behind him with a soft thud. For someone who was so determined to defend you tonight, he seems uncertain now that he’s actually inside. His hands are once again stuffed in his pockets, and his eyes flicker around like he hasn’t been here a thousand times. Hasn’t cooked you breakfast in this kitchen in nothing but his boxers. Hasn’t watched The Notebook with you on this TV and held you as you both cried.
Hasn’t made love to you on the couch.
You slide a water his way, and he murmurs his thanks, sipping at it lightly. It’s strange–seeing him here again–and you can’t help but think about the last time he stood in this room. It’d been a maelstrom of accusations and hurt feelings that culminated in him storming out, the slam of the door echoing in your ears.
“You never cleaned that?” He gestures at the rug that covers most of the sitting area in your living room, eyes on the dark purple stain roughly the size of your hand.
You gulp down your water and try not to follow his line of sight. Try not to remember how you’d knocked over a glass of wine in your haste to get his clothes off during another movie night less than a month before your breakup.
“I kind of forgot about it,” you say. “Stopped noticing it after a while.” 
It’s a lie. There was never a time when you didn’t notice it, the memory of him haunting you every time you sit down on the couch and stare at the garish stain. And still, you haven’t been able to bring yourself to try and erase it.
Silence worms its way between you again. With only the soft light from the tabletop lamp glowing next to the couch, Jungkook’s face is cloaked in shadow. And so you barely see his lips move when he speaks. Barely hear it with how quietly his whisper slips into the room.
“I’m sorry.”
Your glass almost drops from your fingers, droplets splashing across your knuckles as you catch it at the last moment and steady it on the countertop. Turning to face him, you find his gaze already on you, melancholy tinting his expression.
“What?”
He tongues his lip ring, shoulders dropping a fraction. “For how things ended. I’m sorry.”
You can see the sincerity in his posture, can see the sadness in his form. And yet, his words only fill you with a hot anger that bubbles out of you before you can swallow it down.
“I don’t know why you would be,” you challenge, “being that you didn’t even respect me enough to give me a proper reason.”
Jungkook huffs at that; you think he’s resisting the urge to roll his eyes. “Did it really matter?”
“Yes.”
He gnaws at his lip again, no longer looking at you, and his lack of an answer only riles you up further.
“Was there someone else?” you demand, causing him to flinch. It was the same thing you asked him when he told you he thought you should break up, standing in almost this exact same spot.
“No,” he murmurs after a moment. “There wasn’t anyone else.” He pushes a hand through his dark, silky hair. “There hasn’t been anyone else since either.”
This surprises you. Jungkook is, in your eyes, the handsomest man you have ever come face-to-face with, but even from an objective standpoint, he is exceedingly attractive. There is no doubt in your mind that he would easily be able to land a woman if he so desired.
“So then why?”
He sets his jaw, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows and fixes his stare out the window. And it’s this final refusal, this steadfast dedication to not explaining himself, that finally has tears tracking down your cheeks.
The sight of you crying has his attention snapping back your way, hands reaching out as if to hold you.
“Don’t touch me,” you gasp, recoiling until you’re out of reach. “I…I hate you.”
It almost seems as if your voice lands physically, and Jungkook staggers back like you’ve slapped him, remorse immediately wiggling its way between your ribs. You know you don’t mean the words even as they fall from your mouth, but it feels pointless to take them back now, the sentiment already thrown out there and hovering in the hollow space between you.
Jungkook muddles towards the couch–more of a defeated slump dragging his steps than anger–and you think he’s going to sit down before he whirls back towards you at the last second.
“The gala,” he mutters. “That’s when I decided.”
You know which one he’s talking about. Hosted by your medical school to celebrate the end of the academic year, it had been a night of food, dancing, and socializing. You had, of course, brought him as your date and introduced him to your friends and classmates, excited to finally allow him to put faces to names. As you comb through your memories of the night, you can’t pinpoint any warning signs, only remembering the way he’d smiled at you throughout. The way he’d pulled you close and danced you around the room.
“I don’t…I don’t understand.”
He rakes his fingers through his hair again, tossing strands of night over his forehead. A sad chuckle looses itself into the thick air of the room, and the final dregs of his resolve flicker away. “I realized that I didn’t deserve to stand next to you. That you could do much better than me.”
Whatever you thought his reason had been–whatever theories or thoughts had kept you up night after night for the past year–this is not even close to what you expected. And while you always thought finally receiving an answer would be freeing, would offer you some semblance of understanding, you’re surprised at the rage that boils in the pit of your stomach, bile rising in your throat.
“Are you fucking serious right now?” you growl, taking an angered step towards him. “You were feeling insecure, and you made the decision to break up with me without even thinking to, I don’t know, discuss it with me first?”
His hand goes to the back of his neck now, embarrassment showing its face as he peers at you from under his lashes. “I was stupid–”
“No, shit.”
“But can you blame me?” he presses. “There we were: you, about to be this incredible doctor with all of your doctor friends…” His voice falters, sorrow lacing his tone. “And I’m just a tattoo artist.”
The defeatist way he says it helps to dampen your ire some, even if a heap of frustration remains–the sad shape of his doe eyes softening your edges.
“Just a tattoo artist,” you repeat. “Jungkook, I have always been so, so proud of you. I was never anything but proud to have you as my partner. You must’ve known that.”
His teeth worry his lip, and though he nods, he doesn’t seem fully convinced.
So you continue on, closing the distance between you a fraction more. “You started your own business from nothing. And I saw how hard you worked: to get the building, to hire other artists, train your apprentices.” You shake your head–half in irritation, half in awe. “And look at you now! You’re thriving. The last I heard, if you want an appointment at Golden Tattoo, you need to book months in advance.”
His eyes are alight now, some hidden emotion glimmering under the surface, but he stays quiet as he soaks in your words.
“So how can you possibly act like you weren’t enough?” you push. “You are amazing, Jungkook. And I never gave a shit about any job comparisons people may have made.” One more step, and suddenly you’re almost chest-to-chest. As always, you’re unable to resist the pull of his gravity. Yanked right back into his orbit. “I only wanted you. I’ve only ever wanted y–”
He cuts you off with his mouth, strong hands snagging your hips to pull you against him, and your own fingers reflexively tangle in his black hoodie as your subconscious gives itself over to him. Like it’s been waiting for this.
“I’m not. Not thriving,” he mumbles against your lips. “Not without you. Been miserable without you.”
And in spite of your anger, in spite of the fact that you were ready to kick him out a mere hour ago, you find yourself kissing him back, relishing the slick glide of his tongue as he licks into your mouth.
You startle as the backs of your knees suddenly bump against the couch, and then Jungkook is spinning as he settles onto the plush seat, pulling you along to straddle him. He sucks at your neck until you can feel the blood blooming under your skin, painting you like the pretty ink on his arm.
Speaking of.
The fabric of his hoodie whispers as you pull it up and over his back and head, tossing it over his shoulder and into a corner. His arms now bare to you, you gloss over his tattoos with your eyes and fingers until you find the one you’d picked out for him; the lovely orange of the flower petals seem to glow even in the dim light of the room.
“Beautiful,” you whisper.
“Just like you.”
You look at him then, the twinkle of tiny galaxies in his eyes betraying his hope. And before you can go any further, you need confirmation.
“You left.”
“I did.” Fingertips press lightly against your waist like he’s afraid you might be the one to disappear now. “I’m sorry.”
“Jungkook, if…” You lick your lips. Can almost taste his regret. “If we do this and you leave again–”
“If we do this, I'm not going anywhere,” he insists, tugging your hips down to grind against him and ghosting a kiss at your jaw. “Just wanna be here with you. Just want you.”
And it’s all you need to hear.
You shed the cotton shirt you had thrown on after your shower and move to yank his own off, tossing it in the same corner as his hoodie. The muscles of his pecs and abs shift under your hands, burning hot where your fingers trace the contours of his torso. 
“God, I missed this,” he groans as he buries his face between your breasts, nipping at the skin there before laving the spot with his tongue.
You’d agree–echo the sentiment that your body has been aching for this–if not for the fact that you’re too busy trying to get the two of you naked, thumbs hooking into the waistband of your shorts.
But a tattooed hand covers yours, eases it away to take its place. “No,” he rumbles. “Let me.”
Wide palms and long fingers span your hips and thighs, grasping as much skin as possible even as he drags your shorts and panties down your legs and helps to steady you as you kick them off. They join the tangle of his own clothes
“Fucking gorgeous,” he growls at the sight of you finally naked in front of him. And with such speed that it almost seems like it’s involuntary, an impulse outside of his control, he’s immediately stroking at the apex of your thighs.
“Baby, this wet for me already?” A breathy sigh passes from his mouth to yours, almost laughing at the ease with which he glides through your folds. “Hell, I could just–”
A finger slips in and you gasp, Jungkook smiling wickedly at you as he quickly adds a second and curls them against your walls. You force your eyes closed as they roll back in your head, and you keel forward, babbling incoherently against the line of his collarbone.
“Use your words, love; you can do it.” He says it as if his fingers aren’t currently buried in you down to the knuckle. As if he’s not making you see stars behind your eyelids right now.
You choke down a breath, desperate for the oxygen. “Insane,” you pant. “I said you’re fucking insane.”
“Only for you,” he says before sliding his digits out of you and dipping them into his mouth. He moans at the taste, and even with his lips closed tightly, you can see the way he’s working his tongue around each finger, unwilling to waste a single drop of your essence.
Like you said. Insane.
He gives you a moment to catch your breath until you’re the one who’s getting impatient, hastily undoing his belt and tearing it from his pants with a hiss. But as you shift off of him so he can slither out of his pants and boxers–his length springing free to slap against his smooth stomach–you’re hit with an untimely realization.
“Jungkook, I don’t have condoms.”
He freezes, the color draining from his face (though admittedly, that may be because all of his blood has clearly gone south). The two of you stare at each other for a long second before he suddenly leans over, rummaging back through his pants pockets. He pulls out his wallet, rifles through it, then tosses it across the room in frustration, head tilting back against the couch as he groans at the ceiling.
“Fuck, me neither.”
You chew at your lip, a loaded quiet settling over the room as Jungkook wipes a hand over his face.
“I’m still on birth control,” you whisper, and Jungkook whips his head around, eyes wide and questioning like he’s not sure he heard you right. But you don’t repeat yourself, only hold his stare until he’s tentatively reaching out to graze his fingertips along your thigh.
“I told you. There’s been no one else.” His expression is earnest, eager. You trust that he’s telling the truth, and yet you also know that if you refused him, if you said you weren’t comfortable, he wouldn’t push.
So you swing a leg back over his lap, drag your wet folds against his cock. He moans, gripping your thighs hard, but he leans in to bite at your lower lip with a growl before pulling back to search your face.
“You?”
It hurts that he even feels the need to ask. Because how could you even want someone else? Who could possibly measure up?
You brush a reassuring, barely-there kiss against his already swollen lips. “No one else for me either.”
This seems to please him, but you still see hesitation behind his eyes as he asks, “What about the guy downstairs?”
A drunken mistake was what that was. All sloppy lips and fumbling hands that had left you feeling more empty than anything, and which resulted in you sending Cheol away before he had even gotten a peek at your bedroom.
“We made out once,” you admit, hating that you’re even having to think about another man when Jungkook is here in front of you. “But nothing else happened.”
“Good,” he grunts, but his fingers dig into your backside like he’s trying to reclaim you. And just a fraction of a second later, he’s devilishly tonguing his lip ring as he winds his palm back to bring it down harshly against the meat of your ass, the smack echoing between the walls almost endlessly.
“Ride me, baby.”
You’re quick to line him up–desperate, at this point, to have him inside of you–and begin to ease yourself down slowly, trying to give your body the space and time to adjust to the burning stretch of his girth. He’s always filled you to your absolute limit, tested the furthest boundaries of how much your body can take with his size.
“Yesss,” he hisses, nipping at your neck once again. “You’re doing great, love. Always take me so fucking well.”
You gasp as he bottoms out, struggling to catch your breath with the relentless push of him. If you were a betting woman, you’d put money on your intestines being somewhere in the area of your throat right now.
He wraps his inked arm around your waist, continuing to whisper his praises against the shell of your ear as he starts to guide your body up and down. Intoxicated by the smooth slide of his length, you soon find your pace, and your shared moans fill the room–the whole city probably able to hear you right now.
You move that way until the pressure building becomes too much and your legs start to tremble, quivering against Jungkook’s own muscled thighs.
“It’s okay; I’ve got you.” He bands his arms around you and presses you to his chest, holding you in place so he can thrust upwards.
Hard.
You’re practically screaming now, burying your teeth into his shoulder so as to muffle your sounds and not scare the neighbors. It’s all you can do to hold on for dear life as he rapidly pistons his cock inside of you, the slap of your hips like a metronome.
It builds and builds until it breaks and you’re falling apart in his arms, the spasms of your inner walls pulling him over the edge with you as he empties his seed deep inside.
The silence that follows in unlike the others you previously shared this evening–tension traded for serenity as you sit on the couch holding each other, you still contentedly stuffed full of him. He traces the ridges of your spine in a soothing pattern that has your eyelids drooping, your cheek resting against the warm skin of his neck.
“I missed this,” you whisper once your brain has finally remembered how to construct human speech.
“I missed you.”
You pull back so you can rest your forehead against his and gently run a finger over the lines of his face. “Where do we go from here?”
He hums. Tucks a stray hair behind your ear. “Take it day by day?” he suggests. “We don’t need to rush into anything if you don’t want to.”
“Mm, that does seem like a problem for tomorrow.”
A dark eyebrow quirks, teasing. “And what about right now?”
“Now?” you ask. “Do you remember the way to the bedroom? Or…” You shift your hips, already feeling him twitching inside of you.
“Or.” He jolts forward to capture your mouth in a hot kiss, and you smile into it, whole again. “Or sounds good.”
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a/n: pls like, reblog, reply, and/or send an ask if you enjoyed! <3
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