Conflict - R/Hr Fanfic
Today, I mentioned my dislike for one Ginny Weasley on the Romione Discord and I was met with polite side eyes. It made me remember this fanfic I wrote in 2004 (pre-HBP) in which I challenged myself to write a story where I liked Ginny but kept her fairly in character. Looking back at it 16 years later, I see all the cringe but I did accomplish my goal so I thought I would share.
Obviously, this is AU after OOTP.
Rating: PG (I think I say hell once or twice, which is par for any conversation with me)
Disclaimer: Characters aren’t mine.
Ginny Weasley was a woman of divided allegiances. Her heart belonged to two separate factions: institutions that had been in place since almost the beginning of time. As Ginny Weasley was a loyal person, she had a difficult time choosing a position when these two sides went to war with one another.
You see, Ginny Weasley was a girl and a sister.
Of course, one may think these two went hand in hand. In order to be a sister, you must be a girl. True as that was, there were so many instances when it was difficult to be both a girl and a sister.
Ginny had six brothers and she loved them all dearly. Bill and Charlie regarded her as all significantly older brothers regard their younger sisters - she was innocent and young and could do no wrong. Apparently, Bill and Charlie did not remember much of the girls they knew at fifteen.
Percy… She was a bit reluctant to talk about Percy. She could never truly hate him, not even if she wanted to. When Bill and Charlie went to Hogwarts, Percy took on the role of the eldest child. He treated her as though she was his personal responsibility. Part of her wished he would return to the family just so she could drive him mad again.
Ginny’s relationship with the twins changed constantly. Some days they wanted Ginny as their protégé. Other days they wanted her out of the way. She was excellent in both carrying out their plans and schemes or as their unwilling test subject. Beyond that, she was a bit of a pest in their eyes. They had each other and did not see a need for anyone else’s company.
None of her five oldest brothers posed any problems when it became obvious she was a girl. They allowed guilt-free participation in girly activities, like gossiping and giggling with other females her age.
Ron was the one who always brought conflict and strife when it came to her roles as a girl and a sister. Ron was not her “favorite” brother or the one she “loved the most”. None of her brothers were. That was just not how the concept of family worked. Ron was her closest brother, and they had grown closer this summer.
The two of them spent the first month of holiday at the Burrow where the only real company was each other and it had been very enjoyable. Ron really seemed to have matured the past year, and it showed in their conversations. Ron actually listened to her, even when she could tell he thought she was being ridiculous or nosy. She found they could talk about almost anything. Ron even managed to muster up the maturity to listen to (some) details about her past and present relationships, although every time, he, not so subtly, hinted her perfect match had messy black hair and glasses.
Yes, some people may think that having one’s brother as a close friend is a bit pathetic, but something her mother said long ago stuck with her. Her brothers, especially Ron, were the only ones who knew what it was like to grow up a Weasley; who knew the holidays and memorable events the family shared. There were things her friends could never understand and the same went for Ron’s friends. They could not know what it was like to be poor or grow up in the magical world or as the babies of a large family. For that reason, Ginny was not ashamed of her friendship with her brother. He was a great person and even when Ginny was angry with him, she always found herself rooting for Ron. Therein lay the first half of the problem.
Not all areas of Ginny’s femaleness conflicted with her sisterly obligations. Ginny had plenty of friends who were girls. In fact, all of her roommates could be counted among her girl friends. They were not the pour-your-heart-out-to-and-tell-all-your-hopes-and-fears friends. No, they were more of the stay-up-late-giggling-about-boys-and-gossip friends. Yes, Ginny recognized that giggling and gossiping were not the most sophisticated of activities, but she enjoyed the frivolous time she spent with these girls.
There was a girl who was slowly becoming the heart-and-soul sort of friend. Hermione Granger listened in the same genuine way as Ron. She was trustworthy and faithful. They could discuss the serious matters in life, as well as the more entertaining aspects. Unfortunately, Hermione Granger was the other half of her problem.
Ron and Hermione were best friends. Of course, in saying that she rolled her eyes or raised a suggestive brow. Because while Ron and Hermione were just friends, neither of them actually felt that way, and more and more people caught onto that fact, Ginny especially, because she was the only one who had managed to coax confessions from them both.
Hermione already confessed the prior summer at Grimmauld Place that she possessed feelings beyond friendship for Ron. Consequently, Ginny made it her goal to obtain the same confession from Ron that summer. It was not half the challenge Ginny originally anticipated. Two weeks into holiday, she spoke a few carefully chosen words about Hermione’s impending arrival and Ron caved. Irritatingly enough, neither one of them made a move to step past the line between romance and friendship.
With the stalling of their relationship, the bickering remained. Harry remained distant and removed from the whole situation, designating her as the go-between of choice. This brought out Ginny’s two personalities, Ginny the Sister and Ginny the Girl. It actually got to the point where Ginny could visualize miniature versions of herself perched on each shoulder. Sister Ginny wore a Weasley jumper with jeans and her hair was such a bright red that it could not exist in nature. Girl Ginny wore way too much pink and an extraordinary amount of makeup. And the two of them never agreed on anything. They bickered almost as much as Ron and Hermione. What made it even more difficult was they both always had valid points.
So when Hermione exploded into the fifth year girls’ dorm, where Ginny sat on her bed, organizing pictures in her album, she was not surprised to see Sister Ginny appear on her left shoulder and Girl Ginny on the right to see what the problem was.
“Oh Ginny, sometimes he is just so awful!” Hermione cried, flopping on Ginny’s bed.
“What did he do?” demanded Girl Ginny.
“What did you do?” hissed Sister Ginny.
“What happened?” Ginny sighed. It was a beautiful October afternoon and the last thing she wanted to do was discuss her brother with Hermione and her two personalities.
“Well, Ron and Harry came down with their brooms and I said, ‘Ron, I thought you were going to work on your Potions essay with me this afternoon.’”
“She nagged him about that yesterday!” Sister Ginny huffed.
“Encouraged!” insisted Girl Ginny.
“Oh please. Are you telling me that Hermione doesn’t nag?” asked Sister Ginny.
“Didn’t you mention that to him yesterday?” asked Ginny.
“Ha!” said Sister Ginny.
“Only because I - well, because I care about him. I want him to do well,” said Hermione.
“See, she means well!” said Girl Ginny.
“It’s because he’s much smarter than he gives himself credit for and if he just worked a little harder…”
“Well, I guess I have to agree with her there,” conceded Sister Ginny. “He is smart.”
“For a man,” agreed Girl Ginny.
“And then, he says, ‘Don’t nag!’ I told him that I, of course, AM NOT nagging and -”
“Hermione, might I ask why you’re so upset over an argument that seems so typical for the two of you?” Ginny prodded.
“Oh, good point! Now we’re getting somewhere!” said Sister Ginny.
“It’s not very nice to corner someone,” Girl Ginny huffed, crossing her arms.
“I told you; I just want Ron to do well!” insisted Hermione, but her pink stained cheeks told a different story.
“Ooo, she’s got a secret!” squealed Girl Ginny.
“Must you squeal?” asked Sister Ginny.
“Hermione,” Ginny prodded, her voice tinted with disbelief.
“Well,” she said, sitting up and primly straightening her skirt. “He just made a comment yesterday and I thought that - I obviously took it out of context.”
“What did he say?” asked Ginny.
“It’s not - it’s not a big deal. In fact, I obviously made a big deal out of something that was not.”
All three Ginnys patiently stared at her.
“Well, yesterday, he told me that he thought that I looked nice,” she said quietly.
“Good going Ron!” Sister Ginny said.
“What, she doesn’t look nice everyday?” asked Girl Ginny.
“And….” Hermione stopped and blushed.
“Hermione,” Ginny prompted.
“Well, yesterday when we were playing chess, he said it was sort of nice to spend time together by ourselves and - he kind of put his hand over mine. Of course, before I could respond, Dean and Seamus came in needing Ron to settle some sort of Quidditch argument. So I made some excuse and left.”
“She fled the scene?” asked Girl Ginny.
“See, she was in the wrong!” declared Sister Ginny triumphantly.
“Maybe his hand was clammy,” Girl Ginny said.
“Hermione, it sounds like he was complimenting you and trying to show some more than friendly affection. I don’t think my brother would do that unless he was attracted to you.”
“Ginny, I don’t know,” Hermione said as she rose from the bed. She began to pace back and forth. “All I wanted was to - to spend some time with him alone again this afternoon and so that’s why I pressed the issue, I guess.”
“Oh Hermione,” said Sister Ginny. “Homework is not the way to seduce my brother.”
“Food works well for seduction,” piped up Girl Ginny. “Or cleavage.”
“Okay, I can handle some things but let’s all please remember that this is our brother and I would prefer we never have the word seduction be uttered in the same sentence as his name,” Ginny told her two alter egos.
“Hermione, I bet if you just told Ron you wanted to spend time with him, he would happily oblige,” Ginny suggested gently.
“Hmph,” scoffed Hermione. “Why would he want to spend time with me?”
“If you want to bang your head against that wall, we’ll hang on tight,” suggested Sister Ginny.
“Because he just told you he does!” Ginny exclaimed.
“He’s just… making conversation,” Hermione said. Ginny glared at her. “Oh Ginny, I wish I knew for sure!” Hermione sank back into bed and sighed.
“I wish I could just tell her that Ron told me and this whole damn thing could be over with,” Ginny thought.
“Well of course you can’t,” said Girl Ginny. “And neither can I. But you can!” She pointed directly at Sister Ginny.
“What!” said Sister Ginny.
“What!” said Ginny.
“What?” asked Hermione.
“Just - just hang on a second. I have to think for just one second,” Ginny replied. “Now, what the hell are you talking about?”
“Listen. We can’t tell Ron Hermione likes him because Hermione is our friend and you cannot betray a friend. We all agree on that, right?” said Girl Ginny.
“Right,” confirmed Sister Ginny, looking a touch confused. Ginny herself was a bit confused as to where this was going.
“Now, you’re his sister. That means you can’t allow anyone to put him down or humiliate him or anything like that, right?”
“Correct,” answered Sister Ginny.
“But as his sister, it’s your job to embarrass and annoy him!”
“So,” Sister Ginny started out slowly. “I can tell Hermione that Ron likes her and it’s not really breaking a promise to Ron -”
“It’s being a little sister!” finished Girl Ginny.
“Wait a minute!” cried Ginny.
“This is perfect! I can’t even feel guilty because this is helping Ron. He can’t even be mad!” Sister Ginny exclaimed.
“Shouldn’t we stay out of this whole thing?” Ginny asked weakly. She needed to regain control before she was completely overruled.
“NO!” shouted Sister Ginny and Girl Ginny.
“Well, at least you two are getting along,” Ginny sighed.
“This has gone on long enough. It’s time for some serious interloping,” confirmed Sister Ginny.
“Just tell her. She’s your best friend and you should not keep secrets from your best friend,” pushed Girl Ginny.
“Don’t you want to do what’s best for your brother?” Sister Ginny asked.
“Ginny? What should I do?” asked Hermione.
“Tell her!” Girl Ginny urged.
“Say it!” pressured Sister Ginny.
“FINE!” yelled Ginny. Hermione jumped two feet in the air at sound of Ginny’s outburst. Ginny took little notice as she launched into her speech. “Hermione, Ron likes you. He told me himself over the summer holiday. He wants to tell you but he was just too scared to say it so I helped him develop a plan. He was going to try and slowly change your relationship. That should explain the decline in the rows and the increase in compliments and touching. Ron was going to see how you responded, and if he thought you liked him too, he was going to tell you on Halloween.”
“Halloween?” said Girl Ginny, wrinkling her nose. “Not very romantic, is it?”
“At least he was going to make a move,” said Sister Ginny.
Hermione was looking at her with wide eyes and a slight smile. “Really? He thought up a plan? It’s more than I managed.”
“Well, I did help him come up with it,” Ginny reminded her. “Anyway, with Halloween right around the corner, your bolting away from him last night probably made him doubt all the other responses he had been getting.”
“Which explains the fight earlier,” finished Hermione. “Oh Ginny, thank you! I’m sure it was hard for you to give up something Ron told you in confidence.”
“Well, it’s for a good cause,” Ginny said. “You are going to fix this, right?”
“Oh yes! I’ll - I’ll - I’ll meet him down at the Quidditch pitch right now,” she declared, standing up from the bed with a look of determination on her face. Suddenly, she deflated slightly. “Oh, but Harry will be there.”
Ginny chuckled. “I’m sure Harry will leave you alone.”
Hermione looked at her. “Does he know as well?”
Ginny was not sure if Ron had told Harry or not but Harry’s increased eye rolling and smirks in Ron and Hermione’s direction seemed to indicate he figured it out. “I’m not sure,” Ginny shrugged. “I’m sure he’ll leave you alone. He’s not as nosy as Ron.”
Hermione smiled as she glanced in the mirror, smoothing her skirt repeatedly. “Do I look okay?” she asked as she ran her fingers through her hair. “I mean, obviously my hair is a fright but it hasn’t picked up anything between here and the common room, has it? No stray quills, right?”
Ginny laughed. “No, your hair is fine.” While her friend’s hair was bushy, it wasn’t quite the disaster Hermione imagined it to be.
“Well, I suppose it’s okay,” she said, still smoothing it down. “It’s not as if Ron likes me for my looks.”
“Oh Merlin. She either has horrible self-confidence or she is completely blinded by love,” said Girl Ginny.
“Even I am not that delusional about my brother,” said Sister Ginny.
Ginny snorted. “Hermione, you do realize Ron is a teenage boy? I mean, yeah, he likes loads of noble things about you, but he definitely likes looking at you. Believe me; I’ve heard all about it. His eyes even glaze over when he stares at you, and you know he’s picturing you naked.”
“GINNY!” exclaimed an outraged Hermione, face burning red.
“Isn’t that a little too much information for you?” Girl Ginny asked Sister Ginny.
“I have five other brothers. I figured out a long while ago what they think about the majority of the time.”
Ginny ignored the two and turned back to Hermione. “Go on Hermione! You’re a beautiful girl; just go out there and tell Ron how you feel. While you’re at it, make him forget I was the one who let his secret slip.”
Hermione giggled. “I’ll try,” she said as she hurried out the door. Ginny sank back onto her bed.
“I hope I did the right thing,” she muttered aloud. “I feel a bit guilty for giving Ron away like that.”
“It had to be done,” Girl Ginny reassured her. “The arguments, the constant need for your advice…”
“It wasn’t good for your sanity,” finished Sister Ginny.
“My sanity? I’m in my room, talking to two aspects of my personality that have taken on distinctive voices and physical forms. Ron and Hermione were not the ones causing me to question my sanity. So if you’ll excuse me, I think I’ll go down to the common room and fill Harry in when he comes back up,” Ginny finished, standing up and walking towards the door.
“Harry?” Girl Ginny asked excitedly. “Is that open for discussion again?”
“You cannot date your brother’s best friend!” insisted Sister Ginny.
“And why the hell not?” asked Girl Ginny.
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bandslam bonus: everlong | jjk (m)
↣ pairing: drummer!jungkook x guitarist!reader
↣ genre: rock band!au; college!au; fluff; pwp; smut
↣ rating: +18
↣ word count: 8.8k
↣ warnings: unprotected sex, but v soft and mushy; oral; foodplay; rough sex (sIKE); fingering; multiple orgasms; hair pulling; biting; dick bulge; spanking; overstimulation; squirting; marking kink; size kink; big dick kook; possessiveness; crying during sex; jungkook fucks like an animal
↣ playlist: exist for love - aurora // thinking out loud - ed sheeran // chasing cars - snow patrol // perfect - ed sheeran // everlong - foo fighters // angel - aerosmith // empire - shakira // nothing else matters - metallica // trátame suavemente - soda stereo
↣ summary: Jungkook has a surprise for you on Valentine’s Day.
↣ notes: this is long overdue i’m so sorry. also, it picks up right where part 3 left off. i trust you’d have already read the entirety of bandslam bc the mere existence of this fic is spoilery. find the masterlist here. also, beta read by my love @dee-ehn
The familiar clink of bottles rang through your ears. Jungkook’s left hand wrapped around your waist and pulled you closer to him as you chugged on your crafty beers, the cold ale fizzing in your throat and refreshing your overheated body.
Your gig had ended and now it was time for the DJs to step up. Tonight, they’d booked two guys named Johnny and Mark. You knew them from your advanced music theory class. Usually, you saw Mark playing the harp instead of aggressively headbanging to EDM, but you figured everyone had sides to them. Johnny was much livelier, the louder half of the Sunny Side Up duo, but just as chaotic, and the pair was fully intending to turn the party up.
“You guys knocked it out of the park this time, whose idea was it to do Foo Fighters?” Hoseok yelled, cutting through the deafening music, the only one without alcohol as he was still working. Only an hour to go and then he would be able to let loose.
All of you turned to Taehyung, cockily raising an eyebrow through his rose-tinted glasses, doing finger guns. “Gotta pay homage to the masters, hyung.”
“It’s his favorite band,” you explained, watching the others softening their gazes now that they knew. Jungkook chuckled, discreetly squeezing your hip and scooching closer to you.
“Aish, get a room, you two,” Seokjin whined, flicking one peanut from the table at you. It landed on your forehead, startling you. “The bathroom’s available if you so wish.” He laughed.
Namjoon snorted and swatted his boyfriend in the arm. “Uncalled for and unnecessary.”
“You should update your repertoire with better jokes, oppa,” Jennie laughed, swirling her fruity cocktail mischievously, resting on Jimin’s lap. “It’s getting repetitive.”
“Agreed,” Jungkook said, leaning back on his seat after fishing the peanut out of your hair. He threw it back at Seokjin, hitting his nose.
“Woops,” he laughed, placing his bottle on the table. “It’s been, what, six months after that shitfest?”
“Five,” you corrected.
“Either way, it’s getting old. You should fish for better jokes, old man.”
“You said old twice, you punk,” Seokjin pointed out with a smirk.
“Only an old person would say that-”
“Ugh, dead god, shut up!” Lisa groaned, looking two seconds away from banging her head on the table. “Oppa, you have your boyfriend right next to you, do me a favor and cuddle with him, please? It’s Valentine’s Day, for fuck’s sake.”
“Yeah,” Jisoo lamented. “We’re single, let us live vicariously through you.”
“Amen,” Taehyung said, raising his bottle and taking a long swig of the beer, later ruffling his shaggy, electric blue hair. Last month it was dyed bright red, and during Christmas, it was bright pink. You feared for his scalp, but Taehyung somehow managed to keep it intact. You just hoped he wouldn’t be bald by 30. Ever since he returned from London he’s been more outlandish, but you supposed a change of scenery can do that for you. He still remained the same. If anything, his sense of humor had gotten better.
“Can we talk about that surprise you mentioned?” You muttered into Jungkook’s ear, your torso a bit constricted from your tight top. Jungkook smirked, squeezing your waist.
“Then it wouldn’t be a surprise.”
“Give me a clue, at least.”
“Well, if you must know, I’m not planning on letting you walk tomorrow.”
“Oh no,” you said, feigning worry, “every time you say that, I somehow end up bed-ridden the following morning.”
He laughed, “Well, you know I always keep my promises, babe.” He kissed your forehead sweetly. “I hope you don’t have anything planned for tomorrow, by the way.”
You snorted. “By what you’re telling me I might have to reschedule that brunch I had planned with the girls.”
“Wait, so you did plan something? And you didn’t tell me? The audacity.”
At Jungkook’s mock offense you laughed, poking him with the blunt end of your beer bottle. “I’m messing with you, the brunch is scheduled for Monday before we have to go to our lectures.”
At this, you rested your head on his chest. “Hmm, I’ll see that you get to your brunch safely, then. I’m not letting you go anywhere this weekend.”
“What’s that? Are you holding me hostage for two full days?” You said, looking up at him. He gave you a coy smile, his nose scrunching adorably. Whenever he did that, your heart did backflips.
“I’m gonna let you think whatever you wanna think. In the end, you’ll see what I’m talking about.”
His crypticness ticked you off. Whenever he was being evasive or mysterious it always ended in something that either exceeded or subverted your expectations, which in turn made you a hell of a lot more curious about what was truly going on in his head.
He couldn’t really contain his excitement. It was evident in the way he held you tighter, the way his eyes sparkled whenever you mentioned what was supposed to happen when you reached his apartment. You were really in for something wild.
You decided to tap out earlier than usual. Jungkook’s restlessness and your curiosity had made your time at the bar feel like a thousand years, despite only two hours passing by after your performance. It was close to midnight now, only several minutes to go, when Jungkook sent you an inquisitorial stare. You responded with an arch of your eyebrow. To which he asked:
Saying your goodbyes as fast as you could, you basically sprinted out of the bar, grabbing your equipment and shoving it into the trunk of Jungkook’s brand new car. He’d been saving for a while, and with a little help from his parents, and the chance of a pretty good deal, he bought what he called his “third most favorite thing in the world”, after his drums and, well, you.
Though the distance between the bar and his place wasn’t long, it certainly felt like you were cooped up in there for the better part of an hour. When you checked your phone, you were surprised to see only five minutes had passed.
“Freeze!” Came Jungkook’s voice from behind you just as you were closing the passenger door. He procured a black blindfold from his inner breast pocket, black leather jacket creating a hilarious contrast to the pink ensemble Taehyung had forced him to wear. He looked like a very punk Hello Kitty.
“Did you just have that lying around?”
“Shut up, I want to do this right, lemme put it on, please,” he whined cutely. You relented with a cackle, turning around to let him tie it properly around your head. “Don’t worry about your guitar, by the way, you can leave it there in the trunk. You won’t be using it.”
The way his lips came into contact with the outer shell of your ear gave you goosebumps. You shivered in the cold February air, only a military green bomber jacket providing you with any sense of warmth.
“I have it, don’t worry, now follow me and do as I say.”
He turned you around in the direction of the main entrance to his building. “Oh, so that’s how it’s gonna be tonight?”
“I mean, unless you wanna trip.”
You laughed, letting him guide you by the shoulders into the elevator. The trek to his apartment went by without a hassle. You knew the way by heart, so much that you didn’t even need a blindfold to know where you were standing. Briefly, you stopped and heard the rustle of keys. You already pictured him nervously trying to insert it in the keyhole. His building was a bit old, and the landlord still hadn’t made the switch to keypads like the ones in your apartment complex, which annoyed him to no end.
“Damn these fucking keys, fuck this,” you heard him lowly muttering to himself as he finally managed to open the door. You were greeted with the smell of flowers as soon as the door opened. Were those roses? Jungkook always leaned more to floral fragrances. His favorite scent was lavender. But this smell was a lot more potent, yet still pleasant and non-invasive to your nostrils.
Jungkook grabbed your hand reassuringly, thumb brushing your skin tenderly. “Follow me,” he said, pulling you along until you heard the door locking behind you. His apartment was warm, inviting. You could imagine the countless hours he spent making it look decent, even if you weren’t looking at it at all. Jungkook was very keen on details, sometimes more than you, coming up with countless heartfelt surprises for you during the short lapse of your relationship.
He helped you take your hot pink boots off at the entrance, allowing you to use his shoulder for support. You felt like pink, reverse Cinderella, with your Prince Charming undressing you instead. When he was done, you felt him kicking his shoes as well, then grabbing your hand once again and leading you further inside the studio apartment.
You came to a halt, presumably in the middle of his small, yet open living room. “Stay there for a second. Don’t move,” he said, hurriedly pressing a small kiss to your cheek in reassurance.
“May I ask what you’re doing?”
“Well, it’s pitch black here, I have to turn on the lights, dummy,” he jokingly explained, mildly cursing when you heard something rattle and fall to the floor. “I’m okay!” He called out, a slight giggle falling off your lips.
“Be careful,” you chided, arms crossed as you shuffled in your spot. Jungkook brushed past you, muttering something that you didn’t quite catch, but didn’t bother pointing out. Then you heard the fridge opening, and the clink of two glasses. “Am I hearing things or are you taking out a champagne bottle?”
“It could be wine, for all you know,” he protested, lurking around the cabinets, presumably for the corkscrew.
“But you hate wine, babe.”
“Touché.” Jungkook’s laugh filled the otherwise silent room, the slight clinking of flutes confirming your theory. “Don’t take the blindfold off yet. I still have one more thing to do.”
You were about to ask what it was, when he brushed past you once again, and you heard his speakers turning on. Soft, mellow ballads began playing, the old ones, the ones he knew you liked. Fuck, you had a weakness for the classics and he was hitting you hard with them.
With Aerosmith in the background, Jungkook’s arms wrapped around you from behind, face hiding in the crook of your neck and littering it with kisses. You felt goosebumps in your entire body. “Hmm, let’s take your jacket off, okay?”
You simply allowed him to do as he pleased, letting your arms fall so he could take it off your you, slowly, delicately, audibly draping it on the couch behind the two of you. “Ready?” He asked, lips trailing sensually the outer shell of your ear.
You bit your lip, gently nodding.
Quickly, the knot on the back of your head was undone, and you slowly opened your eyes after he removed the blindfold. To say you were mesmerized was an understatement.
Twinkling fairy lights illuminated the living space, hanging from the walls and adorning the furniture, creating a magical warm cocoon of love for you two. You spotted several roses lying around the floor, with a wide assortment of red petals covering it and leading to his bedroom. The fact that he bothered with something so trivial as Valentine’s Day made you feel insanely lucky, and your heart pumped quickly at the thought that he promised to fuck you senseless tonight.
“Wow,” was all you could come up with, mouth agape at the beauty of it all. When you turned around, you were met with his shirtless physique, gleaming under the warmth of the fairy lights, grinning at your surprised expression. “Wow.”
The only thing keeping you from seeing him in his naked glory were those pesky hot pink leather pants Taehyung had forced him to wear, but they cupped his ass just right, and his thighs too, so you didn’t mind at all. His hair, which Jungkook had decided on keeping long and fluffy, practically glowed, bouncing with every movement of his head.
A cute giggle fell from his lips, and he magically procured a rose from behind him, presenting it to you with rosy cheeks. “Happy Valentine’s Day, baby. I love you.”
You were so happy you could cry.
All giddy and mushy, you wrapped your arms around him in a warm embrace, pecking every surface of skin you could reach -- his chest, his shoulders, his neck. “I love you too,” you sighed dreamily, briefly locking eyes with him, the way they sparkled when they saw you making you weak in the knees.
“Come on, up,” he said, tapping the back of your thighs. You jumped, wrapping your legs around his strong torso like a koala. Your lips connected in a searing kiss. “I love you so much,” he whispered into the kiss, mouth curling into a cute smile as he walked across the apartment.
You felt something cold grazing your butt, and before you could protest, he was placing you on top of the kitchen counter, breaking the kiss. You pouted, but he comically tapped your nose and placed a fluttering kiss on it, leaving you briefly to retrieve the two flutes of champagne, handing you one with a little wink.
“To us,” he said, the most angelic smile on his face.
You mirrored his happiness, love coursing through your body. “To us.”
Glasses clinked, and you downed the champagne with unmatched thirst, the rich bubbly refreshing your insides with every sip. Glass half-empty, you saw Jungkook down it all in one go and place it in the sink.
“I’m saving some so we can make mimosas for breakfast tomorrow,” he explained.
“Ohh,” you cooed, bringing the flute back to your lips. “Maybe I’m getting that brunch after all.”
He laughed, taking your free hand and smooching your knuckles almost reverentially. “I’ve been thinking…”
You cocked an eyebrow, downing the rest of your drink and handing him the flute. “Yes?”
“I know it’s only been three months, and I don’t wanna pressure you into anything you don’t wanna do, but… Graduation is only a couple of months away,” he said, placing your flute in the sink.
You nodded, getting a bit of a hint as to where he was going with this.
“So… maybe, I don’t know. We did promise the band would continue after graduation, right? And Seokjin and Namjoon are moving to a bigger place because hyung got a better job, Taehyungie got that deal to move the studio to a proper place and not Jin-hyung’s parent’s basement-”
“Baby, you’re getting side-tracked-”
“My point is,” he said, placing his hands on either side of your waist. “Would you consider moving in with me once we graduate? I know it’s a huge step and it’s kind of sudden, but think about it! We practically live together considering how much time I spend at your place or how many times you’ve stayed here and-”
“Just think about ho- what?”
You laughed, cupping his face and squeezing his cheeks. “I said yes, Kookie. I wanna live with you,” you said. There really wasn’t much to think. It felt right. It felt natural. He was right in every way.
You nodded, connecting your foreheads. “I wanna wake up next to you every day and not worry about leaving my clothes back at my place.”
“Can we build our own studio?” He asked enthusiastically. “You know I wanna start recording our songs.”
“Who do you take me for?”
He laughed, bringing your lips down to meet his. “Fuck, I love you,” he said, audibly smooching you. “I love you, I love you so, so, so much, baby.”
“I love you too, Kookie,” you said, fingers gently caressing the nape of his neck, feeling the small goosebumps forming there. Your legs parted to accommodate him better, as much as your tight skirt allowed, and he took the chance to lift it up for your commodity. His hands blindly wandered the counter until he found the champagne bottle next to you, heavily dragging it across the granite, closer to you.
The kiss broke, leaving your breathless. “Shit,” he panted, out of breath as well. “The things I wanna do to you,” he mused out loud, gripping the neck of the bottle and holding it in front of you. You eyed him curiously. “Wanna know what I’m gonna do once we live together?”
You scratched his scalp gently, enough that you even felt the shivers running down his body. “Tell me.”
He pressed himself closer to you, chests colliding and mashing together. “I’d fuck you in every room, corner and surface, every day, every night, I’d show you how much I love you,” he said, nuzzling the base of your neck and nipping at your collarbone. The cold bottom of the bottle dug at the meat of your thigh, a stark contrast to the warmth emanating from your body. “How much I want you all to myself.”
“Hmm, getting greedy, are we?”
“You should know by now I don’t like sharing, baby,” he said, finding that specific point in your neck that drove you nuts. “I would devour you whole.”
Arousal pooled at your underwear, staining the lace you’d so carefully chosen in case something like this happened. You weren’t wrong, thankfully, but the lace was utterly ruined now, thanks to Jungkook’s wicked tongue. He never failed to surprise you.
“Fuck, take me, please, make love to me,” you said, eyes squeezing shut, head thrown back. Jungkook chuckled.
“All in due time, babe. I wanna take it slow tonight. Are you up for it?” He asked, big doe eyes filled with lust and passion and desire, but most importantly, with love. You couldn’t say no to that. You couldn’t say no to him. He had you under his spell.
“Yes,” you said, eagerly nodding.
“Good,” he smiled, holding up the champagne bottle. “Now, if you excuse me, I brought this champagne for a reason.”
“I thought you wanted to make mimosas tomorrow?”
He grinned. “There’s more in the fridge, don’t worry. I have this evening planned out in great detail.”
“Oooh,” you exclaimed. “Can I know what’s on the menu, good sir?”
He avoided your question, rather choosing to return to his previous spot on your neck, travelling upward until his teeth grazed your earlobe, hot breath fanning the skin. He nipped on your ear and it was enough for you to let out a tiny whimper, enough for him to smirk cockily. “Champagne-soaked pussy,” he breathed in your ear, and you almost choked on thin air.
He took your bewildered expression in, and all of a sudden, with the biggest shit-eating grin. Even after putting your differences away months ago, he always took pleasure in messing with you. Only that now he took pleasure in making a mess out of you, which was why precisely he chose to pour a generous amount of champagne down your shoulder, staining your tank top.
You squealed when the cold hit you, but Jungkook’s hot tongue was quicker, lapping up all the liquid he could, off your shoulder and your chest, lathering your sticky skin with kisses once he was done. He gave you a cheeky grin and a wink, then offered you the bottle to drink some. “Fuck the flutes, this is way more fun, trust me.”
You took it from him, gulping down a considerate amount until you felt the effervescence from within. Your mind was dizzy and you were horny as hell, and Jungkook’s sculpted physique did nothing to prevent the wild thoughts racing through your mind. He might as well been thinking of 101 ways he wanted to eat you out right now, because you knew that stare very well. That glimmer in his eyes was dangerous. But you were always a thrill-seeker.
“Do you like that?”
You nodded, discreetly throwing your head back to give him more access to your neck. He took that as an invitation, and poured more champagne down your skin, quickly licking you clean. Some of it dripped down your chest, soaking your bralette and your top, which he immediately noticed, watching how the fabric stuck to your skin.
His kisses didn’t stop, traveling south to mouth at one of your breasts through the soaked fabric, locating one of your hardened nipples and expertly suckling, playing with you as if you were his favorite toy.
You moaned, legs parting even wider, “Kookie, please.”
“What is it?” He said, disconnecting from you.
You pouted. “I need you.”
He chuckled sinisterly. “Be patient, baby.” Then, he poured some more champagne, this time more than normal, soaking you completely. He didn’t bother drinking from you, watching in awe your nipples hardened even further, sticking out from beneath your drenched top. He took a sip then placed the bottle next to you. A quick glance confirmed that less than half of the drink remained, so he’d need to use it wisely.
Coarse hands pulled both spaghetti straps down, yanking your top down until your lace-covered breasts came into view. He licked his lips hungrily, then dove to kiss the valley in between, collecting the remnants of champagne off your skin like it was the sweetest nectar. You arched your back for better access, wanting nothing more than to feel him consuming every single part of you, to feel him mold your bodies together.
He kissed the top of your left breast, right where he could feel your heartbeat. You fisted your tank top, the tackiness of the fabric beginning to bother you, but Jungkook’s solution to your problem was to grab it and completely rip it in half.
“You’re not going to miss it, anyway,” he deadpanned, throwing the useless fabric to the floor without care. You couldn’t bring yourself to complain, however, because your head was swirling with thoughts of him, your body completely responsive to any touch.
“Hmm, so pretty, baby, is that for me?” He said, toying with the strap of your bralette.
“You better not rip that one,” you warned. He poked his tongue through his cheek, smirking.
“Of course not, who do you take me for?” Jungkook asked cheekily, pulling you forward so he could have better access to your back, swiftly unclasping your bra and letting it fall to the floor to join your ruined shirt. Now that your breasts were free, he had all the free range to do as he pleased.
Leaning down, he took one of your breasts into his mouth, sucking at the stiff nipple and massaging your other breast with his free hand. His eyes, wide open, never left yours, hypnotizing and hungry. You bit your lip, stifling a moan, fingers tangling in his fluffy hair to keep him in place. Jungkook laved at your breasts reverentially, moaning to himself as he took you in.
He switched to the other, trailing a path with his tongue until his lips wrapped around the bud, pleasure coursing through your veins. Your underwear was completely stained, cunt throbbing with the need to have him ramming into you as soon as possible.
“K-Kookie,” you gasped, shivers running down your spine. You needed him now. “Please, stop teasing me, I need you.”
He released your nipple with an audible pop, straightening his stance and caging you in between his strong, muscly arms. “Where do you want me?” He asked cockily, lips hovering atop the crown of your head. You felt small next to him, and with good reason. Jungkook was a big man since day one, but over the holidays he dedicated most of his free time to hitting the gym, and boy, was it working.
Your breath hitched, languidly caressing his hard chest until you flicked one of his nipples with your thumb. He shivered. “I want your mouth,” you said, looking up at him with puppy eyes, “please.”
He grinned. “Say no more.”
You expected him to carry you and subsequently throw you into his bed, but you failed to remember Jungkook was full of surprises, and he also had the night meticulously planned. Maybe he foresaw your neediness and already had scouted the place where he would feast on you. And that was exactly what he did.
Pulling your body closer, until you sat on the very edge of the granite counter, Jungkook helped hike your skirt up to your waist, patiently helping despite the tightness of it, and knelt down on the floor in front of you. Parting your legs, he rested both of your feet on his shoulders, coming to face your wet, clothed cunt head-on.
You couldn’t properly see his face from this position, only the mop of hair inching closer and closer to where you wanted him most, and in a matter of seconds, he licked a long, fat stripe up your panty-clad pussy. You mewled, feeling the heat creeping up your cheeks at the way he growled. “So wet for me, baby, you’re dripping, shit,” he said, sticking his nose to your cunt, right above your clit, the barrier of your lace panties dulling any pleasure.
You resisted the urge to grind your hips right then. He liked to bask in the knowledge that only he could make you feel like this, that only he could get you this wet. It inflated his ego, and it turn made him fuck you harder, which was what you were aiming for at the moment. He promised you wouldn’t be able to walk tomorrow, you wanted to make sure he kept that promise.
“Pretty,” he muttered to himself, hooking a finger to the soiled lace and pushing it aside, revealing the wetness that seeped out of your cunt, dripping only for him. He breathed you in, taking a second to appreciate what was in front of him. “A fucking masterpiece,” he said, then dove in.
There was always a sense of calm urgency when he ate you out. Even if there was no rush, even if he dragged it on forever, it seemed urgent. Desperate, even. Like he couldn’t get enough of you and always pushed you for more. Like you were a bottomless barrel or an all-you-can-eat buffet. He always wanted more and you were happy to give it to him.
When he wrapped his lips around your clit, you gripped his hair tightly, just the way he liked, and kept his head steady. He groaned, sending vibrations up your body and making you tremble, “Mine.”
You nodded absentmindedly, too lost in the pleasure he gave you, sucking and licking your clit diligently, so much that you didn’t notice him slipping one long finger inside you. It was only when it reached his knuckle that you felt the intrusion, the grip on his hair tightening. You felt rather than noticed the grin forming on his lips, but said nothing. Instead, he chose to slip another finger inside, gliding easily due to your wetness.
“Oh fuck,” you hissed, “fuck, it feels so good, Kookie.”
“Hmm?” He asked you cockily, disconnecting from your clit briefly to keep talking. “Wanna know what feels better?” And then he curled his fingers inside you. You threw your head back, legs trembling from the pleasure. The sounds coming from your mouth only seemed to spur him on, thrusting his fingers inside you until he came to a halt.
“Let’s take this off,” he said, tugging at your skirt. Your vision was a bit hazy, but you didn’t protest when he withdrew his fingers from your pussy. Instead, you helped him lift up your hips to properly get rid of the garment, Jungkook taking your pantied along with it. Soon, your naked ass rested atop the cold granite, and he was taking the champagne bottle once again.
“And now, I feast,” he said, an insatiable hunger in his eyes making your throat constrict. He poured it over your abdomen, letting the gold liquid cascade down to your cunt, where he waited eagerly to drink it all, lapping and slurping obscenely loud until you were clean again, albeit a little bit sticky. But you didn’t mind.
He repeated the motion, this time starting from your tits once again, letting the bubbly free fall down your body. He licked it all up, not letting a single drop go to waste. When he was done, his chin glistened with a mix of your juices and the champagne, and never had you seen such erotic sight. You wondered if your boyfriend was hand-carved by the gods themselves. He must’ve been.
He shook the bottle and found it empty, he shrugged and placed it back where it was, his attention now focused on you. He didn’t say anything else, letting his actions speak for him as he slipped the same two fingers inside you once again. Only this time it was much more hurried, like he wanted to make you cum as fast as possible. You knew his mission had been set once he slid the third finger. He was preparing you for his cock.
A sadistic smirk crossed his lips once you cried out. “I’m gonna make you scream my name, baby,” he said, kneeling down slowly as his fingers curled within you. Your lip trembled, lewd noises coming out of your mouth. You almost took pity on the neighbors, but you were far too gone to care. Jungkook was the only thing in your mind. “Gonna make you cum so hard you forget what day it is.”
He didn’t let you sit on that thought, though, because he followed his words with that wicked tongue of his attacking your clit, just as his fingers grazed at your g-spot, curling and beckoning you to surrender your pleasure to him. You did, eagerly so.
Your orgasm began building soon after, you felt it taking over your whole body almost immediately, the sudden urge to just let loose. The tension that drove you insane. You tried to put your thoughts into words, but all that came from your mouth were broken, incoherent sounds. Jungkook kept a harsh, punishing pace on your pussy, fingers curling and stretching you open for when his cock inevitably splits you in half.
“So good, for me, baby, do you like the way my fingers fuck your pretty pussy? Hmm?” Jungkook spoke, returning his attack on your clit almost immediately after, harsh flicks of his tongue bringing you closer and closer to the edge.
“K-Kookie,” you croaked out, tightening the fist in his hair and pulling him closer to you. Jungkook’s nose grazed your mound, and you almost came with the growl that ripped from his chest. A fourth finger slid inside your heat, and you let out a painfully loud moan at the stretch. “I’m gonna cum,” you whimpered, tears prickling and stinging your eyes from the overwhelming amount of pleasure you were in.
Jungkook grunted into your pussy, angling his wrist to fuck you better, fingers curling at a particular angle. “Right there, oh my god, yes!”
The squelch that came from your wetness was borderline pornographic, but the way he closed his eyes and let himself enjoy eating you out was what eventually broke you. Your legs trembled around his head, closing in until he was trapped in a headlock, buried between your thighs. He didn’t move, choosing to keep the same furious pace as you came around him.
Your orgasm rained down on you like a torrential downpour, washing away all your stress, all the negative emotions away. Jungkook swam on the infinite ocean that was your mind. All you could see, feel, hear, touch and taste was him. Your end and your beginning.
Soon the pleasure turned into plain discomfort, overwhelming your senses, and yet Jungkook couldn’t seem to disconnect from your cunt, continuing to lap at your juices fervently. You pushed his head but he buried himself further between your legs. You knew what he was doing.
“Kookie, please,” you whined, trying to push him away from your sensitive cunt, the feeling bordering on painful, but his grip was stronger, a calloused hand forcefully holding you down. “Kookie!”
“I’ll make you cum again,” he muttered, fingers curling like a hook inside you, once again grazing your g-spot and making you yelp. He smiled sadistically, having located the treasure he’d been looking for, and proceeding to batter your pussy over and over again.
Tears streamed down your cheeks, legs trembling uncontrollably as your cries grew louder and the pain dulled, turning into unchained pleasure. You weren’t crying from the pain anymore, you were crying from how good it all felt. And soon enough, a second orgasm began bubbling inside you.
This one was different. You felt it deep within you, in the way your cunt throbbed and fluttered around his fingers, how you felt it to the very tips of your toes. You didn’t know what kind of demons possessed him to eat you out like this, but Jungkook fucked like a beast. This was no exception.
“I’m cumming, Kookie,” you warned him, voice weak and wavering.
“Hmm, yes, baby, let everyone know who you belong to,” he growled, leaving your clit and choosing to bite your inner thigh. The hand that held you down latched onto your breast, massaging and anchoring himself to you. His fingers did all the work, as his mouth was very busy sucking a bruise to your inner thigh, laving at it until a bruise formed to his liking. The thrusting didn’t stop, but once he was done marking you, he stood up, coming face to face with you.
You couldn’t resist it. You couldn’t resist not kissing him, not having those lips on yours claiming you completely. And so you went for it, and he accepted your kiss graciously. If anything, the pace of his fingers increased, until you were shaking, until you were merely putty under his touch.
“Are you gonna cum for me, baby? Hmm?” He said, breaking the kiss, hypnotized by the way you were utterly consumed by him. He had only eyes for you, and was determined to keep it that way for a long, long time. You nodded, at a loss for words, clinging to him like a lifeline.
You couldn’t take it anymore.
“Cum,” he said, pressing your foreheads together and capturing your lips in a searing kiss. You came with his fingers stimulating your g-spot, your entire body shaking as you gripped his shoulders for a sense of stability. His mouth absorbed each and every sound, but could not stop the tears from spilling, not the considerate amount of discharge that came from your battered cunt.
You did not realize what was happening until you finally came down and Jungkook’s fingers slowed to a halt. Much to your chagrin the kiss broke. Both of you panting from the adrenaline that coursed through your veins.
“Fuck, you made a mess,” he laughed, looking down to find your wetness coating the hardwood floor. “I better mop that. Also, my pants are wet too.”
You chuckled, still hazy from cumming so hard. “This is your fault,” you said, covering your face cheekily. You heard him laughing.
“It’s not everyday that I make you squirt like that,” he gloated.
“It’s the first time you make me squirt,” you pointed out.
“You’re awfully calm about it.”
“You just made me cum twice in a row, I think I’m dead, babe.”
Jungkook winced. “Right, sorry about that, come here,” he said, grabbing your legs and carrying you bridal style. You squealed, feeling tiny in his big, strong arms, burying your face in his chest. “If you’re feeling too tired we can stop, I know I kinda pushed you a bit there.”
You shook your head as he moved away from the kitchen and past the living room, kicking the slightly ajar door to his room open. “What happened to not letting me walk tomorrow?”
“You know it’s a figure of speech, baby. I don’t actually want to leave you bed-ridden.”
“Aish, you know I can take it, Kookie, don’t be childish,” you pouted, eyes widening once you realized Jungkook had decorated his bedroom with even more fairy lights. The bed was covered in fresh rose petals, the scent invading your nostrils. “Oh wow.”
He laughed. “You’re welcome.” He pressed a loving kiss to your forehead, lowering you to your usual side of the bed. You rolled over the petals until you reached the middle of the bed, some of the petals sticking to your sweaty skin. It was only then that you noticed the tent in his too-tight hot pink leather pants, surely straining judging from how he palmed himself over it.
“Take those off,” you ordered with an arch of your eyebrow. He eyed you cheekily, and you knew he was determined to put on a show for you. Jungkook smiled, biting his lip as he unbuttoned his pants and slowly dragged them down to his ankles, hips hilariously wiggling to the music that accompanied you.
“Never wearing these again,” he announced, kicking them away and fanning his sweaty thighs. “Too hot, too tight.”
“They made your ass look great, though.”
“Please,” he scoffed. “There are many pairs of pants that make my ass look great-”
“But none of them come in hot pink.”
He stopped to consider your statement, then cocked his head in acknowledgement. “True. But still, no more leather pants for me,” he said, hooking his fingers over the waistband of his briefs and dragging them down, his monstrously large cock springing free. You couldn’t help but salivate at the glorious sight of your boyfriend naked. It was truly an experience.
“Like what you see?”
You grinned. “I’d very much like you on top of me, right now.”
He laughed. “You’re gonna be very sore tomorrow.”
“I’m counting on it,” you winked. “Come here, it’s lonely without you.”
He smiled, eyes gleaming. “As you please, my lady.”
He climbed on the bed, your legs parting automatically to allow him to slot himself right in between them. At a closer glance, you could tell how strained he’d been due to a lack of touch, the tip red and angry, leaking pre-cum. He leaned down to capture your lips with his, pressing down all of his weight on you, nearly suffocating. You didn’t mind, however. You loved having him this close to you, having your sweaty bodies pressed tightly together, you loved the intimacy of it all.
You trailed the tips of your fingers down his spine, feeling every bit of taut muscle as he ground his hips against yours, cock pressed against your sensitive center. You moaned into the kiss and bucked your hips to meet him halfway.
He hissed, “Fuck, I need you now, I need you so bad.”
You brushed a stray hair out of his beautiful face, hypnotized by the lust in his eyes. “Fuck me,” you whispered. “I’m yours, fuck me.”
“Shit,” he responded, lifting off of you and sitting upright. He grabbed your legs and spread them further, gazing at your wet cunt. He tentatively stroked your folds with two fingers, eyes darting back to you to check your response. You hissed, gushing even more for him, and he bit his lip. “Is this okay? Are you sensitive?”
“I’m fine,” you pouted, “go ahead, I’m okay.”
He nodded, gathering some of your wetness and smearing it on his cock, a moan of relief leaving his swollen lips. “I’ve wanted to rip your clothes off since I saw you earlier tonight,” he said, angling himself better and positioning his cock over your entrance. “Want to fuck you so hard you forget your own name.”
“Please,” you whimpered, biting back a cry once the bulbous cockhead breached your entrance. Jungkook let out a guttural growl, slowly sinking into you and letting you adjust to his length. He traced small circles to the sides of your thighs as he bottomed out. “Fuck, so big.”
“Yeah? You like my big cock filling that little pussy of yours? Hmm?” Jungkook asked, rolling his hips torturously slow, shallow thrusts to keep you on edge. “You were made for me, baby, just for me.”
You shut your eyes, streams of color filling the darkness within, as Jungkook pulled almost all the way out, only for him to slam back in, filling you to the brim. You clenched involuntarily when you felt the tip hitting your cervix, toes curling at how deep he penetrated you.
His demeanor changed. Long gone was your sweet Jungkook, before you was an absolute beast that wouldn’t stop until both of you were satiated, until he got what he wanted and spilled all of his seed inside you. He pulled out and rammed back into you once again, repeating the motion once, twice, three times, until he set a punishing pace for both of you, fucking you raw, hard, fast, and deep.
“So tight for me, baby, such a tight little pussy,” he grunted, gripping your hips like a vice, sure to leave handprints the next day. He leaned in to kiss you messily, pinning you down with his weight until your bodies were pressed flush against each other. His tongue overtook yours, asserting control of your dalliance, leading the charge with animalistic growls and sadistic thrusts.
Jungkook rammed into you and you pulled him closer, as close as you could, and yet it still didn’t feel like enough. You wanted to mold into him so that your bodies became one. And he rammed all of his might into you, brushing well past your g-spot and hitting your cervix repeatedly.
The bed creaked beneath you from the force of his movements, headboard banging loudly against the wall, but none of you cared, too enraptured by the feeling, the chemistry between you.
His mouth swallowed all the moans that came from you, and you took all the grunts, the growls that emanated from deep within his chest as he pounded the absolute living shit out of you. It had been a while since he fucked you this rough, this deep. Jungkook tended to be on the rougher side, but tonight he fucked you like an animal.
Legs wrapping around his torso, you had him trapped right where you wanted him, but in hindsight there was nowhere else he’d rather be. It only prompted him to fuck harder into you, slowing the speed but keeping the same force and depth. You could feel all the ridges of his cock ruining you, his lips leaving yours in favor of your neck, leaving wet kisses along your jawline until he reached his favorite spot and sucked.
Your body was on fire. Scorching hot flames that licked the tips of your toes up to the roots of your hair. He was only adding more fuel to it with every grind, every thrust. Your nails raked down his muscular back, roughly digging them in and scratching him until you reached the base of his spine. Then, you grabbed a hold of his round, plump ass, squeezing the cheeks tightly like a lifeline. It appeared to spur him on, because he delivered a delicious bite to what he had claimed long ago was “his spot”, the spot he first marked you with in that public bathroom.
That September night seemed so long ago, but it had been merely five months since the incident. Though it all led you to here, which you couldn’t really complain about.
“You’re mine,” he grunted, licking a long, wet stripe up to below your ear, taking your lobe between his teeth and pulling outwards. “Say it, baby, I wanna hear you.”
“Yes,” you mewled, “I’m yours, Kookie, only yours.”
“Fuck yes,” he moaned, abruptly pulling out of you, untangling your legs from him and briskly turning you around with ease, like you were his little toy. You lied on your stomach, making your ass visible to him. He cupped the flesh just like you had done with him, squeezing and massaging your cheeks before delivering a giant bite to one of them. You screamed at the harshness of his teeth, but it only served to make you gush from the sweet pain it caused.
“You’re so fucking filthy, huh? Like it when I bite you like that, baby?” He smacked your other cheek, grinning when he saw you recoiling. You whined from the sting, but it came off as a moan rather than a playful complaint. Nevertheless, he got the message, planting a sonorous kiss to the same cheek he’d bitten.
You heard his cocky laugh permeating the air, his presence hovering over you and grabbing one of his pillows. In a display of tenderness, he rubbed gentle circles on your bum before lifting your hips up and placing the folded pillow beneath you. You mentally braced yourself for the complete obliteration of your pussy that was about to follow.
Soft lips trailed a path of kisses from the base of your spine to the back of your neck. “Are you okay?”
“Me? I’m thriving. You?”
“Ecstatic,” he answered with a laugh, placing a tender peck to your head, heavy cock resting on the small of your back. “I love you.”
“I love you too.”
He didn’t say anything else, retreating to his original position behind you, spreading your cheeks open for him. He had your legs caged between his, straddling your thighs so he could get a better access to your ass. Stroking his cock, he positioned himself back on the entrance of your cunt, sensitive and swollen, pushing in and hissing at the tightness of your closed legs. He let out a grunt form deep within his chest, gripping your hips with absurd strength.
“Fuck yeah,” he said, experimentally pulling out and then back in. You felt him even deeper than before, filling and stretching you out deliciously. You buried your head in his pillow, heavy with the scent of his shampoo, intoxicating, making your head spin.
“Harder,” you whimpered, toes curling at the feeling of him hitting your cervix. You could only hear him chuckling to himself, and then the sharp sting of him spanking your ass. You whined, but the sound was cut short with a particularly sharp thrust from him -- a warning.
Then he slammed into you again, and again, and again… Until he came close to repeating the same pace from before. The bed shook beneath you, the familiar creak mixing with the power chords from old 80s rock ballads, loud drums marking the punishingly hard pace with which he fucked you.
You fisted the sheets, rose petals sticking to your sweaty skin and releasing their sweet scent. It was an overload of smells, sounds, feelings, sending your brain into overdrive. Jungkook kept jackhammering into you, bruisingly gripping your hips and delivering occasional blows to your ass that had you screaming.
It was then that you felt the pleasure overtaking your body, brewing on the deepest parts of your very being. Your orgasm approached stealthily, announcing its impending arrival with a sharp thrust from your lover. “Fuck, I’m gonna cum, I’m gonna cum, Kookie, please,” you cried, tears welling up in your eyes.
Jungkook groaned, slowing to a halt and grabbing your hands, placing them behind your back and keeping them there with just one strong hand of his, fucking you harder than ever before. The headboard banged loudly against the wall, and you were sure you were going to end up breaking the bed at some point. You didn’t care at all.
He leaned down, fisting your hair with his free hand and pulling you up by your shoulders until your back rested flush against his chest. Now his cock dug impossibly deeper inside you, his hot breath fanning your ear as he ground his hips against yours, taking your breath away.
“Tell me who can fuck you like this, babe, say it,” he growled, licking the outer shell of your ear like a predator about to eat his prey alive. You thrived on the adrenaline of his roughness, on the sheer monstrosity of his actions. Jungkook reminded you of a feral panther with his movements, sharp and calculated, graceful yet terrifying. You were nothing but his prey, the meal he’d feast upon, his biggest prize.
He was your undoing.
“You, Jungkook,” you responded, breathless from how deep he nestled himself within you. He held you with an arm around your torso, the other one keeping your head upright by your hair, careful not to actually hurt your scalp. You were on the brink of explosion, teetering around the edges of the precipice, waiting for him to push you.
Then, a sharp thrust that had you seeing stars. “Feel that?” You heard him say, but you were far too gone. He slammed back in once again, his breathing ragged. The hand in your hair snaked down to your lower abdomen, pressing where his dick created a small bulge, protruding from how deep within you he was. “Feel my cock inside you? Gonna fill you up, baby.”
“Yes,” you rambled, “fill me up, Kookie, wan’ your cum, please, oh fuck.” You cried out loud when the speed and the harshness returned, an unforgiving pace that marked the beginning of your end, sloppy and wet.
Your ears picked up the most glorious symphony. A harmony of moans and sighs, of grunts and growls, the lewd squelch of the junction of your bodies amplifying the sounds of skin slapping against skin, accompanied by the bed creaking and the headboard banging against the wall.
He was close, so close to cumming, you could feel it in his breath, in the way he desperately held onto you to tether himself back to earth, to anchor his floating mind to the terrenal plane of your body in front of him. You felt close to vanishing completely, but he was the reason you felt more alive than ever.
“Fuck, I’m gonna cum, baby, are you gonna take it? Take my cum like a good girl, yes?”
You didn’t remember the sound that came from your mouth, but it appeared to please him. Strong arms kept you up, each latching onto one of your breasts and squeezing, pounding every emotion into you.
“Cum with me, baby, I know you can do it, cum with me, shit, I love you, baby, cum with me,” he rambled on and on, each syllable marked by a thrust. By now tears were freely falling down your face, mixing with the salty sweat that coated your skin. You hummed positively.
“Yesss, ah, fuck, I’m so close,” you managed to say, placing your hands atop his. “I love you,” you cried out.
His lips found your cheeks, kissing you desperately. You couldn’t resist turning around to meet his lips once more, and the feeling of your mouths connecting finally triggered your release silently. You were falling, enraptured, entranced, hypnotized, drunk on him.
Your cunt spasmed wildly around him, walls fluttering and clenching around his girth he couldn’t hold his orgasm off any longer, finally releasing his seed inside you with a loud grunt, muffled by the messy kiss you shared. Your bodies trembled together from the joint force of your orgasms, thrown together to the woes of euphoria, brought back down by gravity.
When the kiss broke, you had no strength left to hold yourself upright, but Jungkook managed to lay you both down on the bed of rose petals. Your head was still swimming, his cock was still inside you, still completing you, because you felt complete when your bodies melded into one.
He laid beside you, panting heavily into the nape of your neck, nose buried in your hair and inhaling your scent to stabilize himself, holding you close and refusing to let you go. “I love you,” he whispered, audibly sniffing, “so much, baby.”
You picked up the slight hitch in his voice. “Were you crying too?” You managed to croak out.
He chuckled. “You know how I get.” Then he hugged you tighter. You didn’t have the strength to pull away from him, nor did you want to. You could die happily in the sweaty, sticky mess you were tangled in. He was the heaven prophets talked about, your nirvana, the stars and the constellations in your night sky, your end and your beginning. And you loved him so. And he loved you.
You tried turning your head to face him, but it was almost futile given how his weight restricted your movement. It was clear he wanted you there, so you let him do as he pleased, tracing light circles to his tattooed knuckles and pressing your lips tenderly to them. “I love you, Kookie.”
“I love you too, baby.”
Before you knew it, the two of you were out like a light, tangled in each other’s arms, each other’s warmth, still joined together.
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Congratulations, LIA! You’ve been accepted for the role of OLIVIA. Admin Julie: It’s always a delight to see you in our inbox, Lia -- imagine our joy when we saw you’d returned to us in the shape of our favorite sparrow, Omi! It’s been some time since we had her in play, which is a shame, because she’s one of our personal favorites. But you’ve pinned everything about Omi down to a T, from their characteristic skill and allure in trapping others with a few words and sharp gaze, to the way they’re wound around Verona’s fingers and don’t seem to realize... or choose not to. You’ve enthralled us once again, and we cannot wait to have you back on the dashboard and knee-deep in the chaos with Omi in your hands. Please review the CHECKLIST and send your account in within 24 hours.
WELCOME TO THE MOB.
OUT OF CHARACTER
Alias | Lia.
Age | 22
Pronouns | She/Her/Hers
Activity Level | I’m about to start my summer program, but since I’m only in class three days during next semester on online, I imagine I’ll have plenty of freetime. But knowing me, I’ll most likely log on every few days to knock out a few replies.
Timezone | EST (PST in two months (~:)
How did you find the rp? | The tag a few centuries ago.
Current/Past RP Accounts | honestly, all of my best characters were in DV :/ All 17 of them
Character | Olivia AKA Yamamoto Omi
What drew you to this character? |
Omi is a character I’ve eyeballed during my time at DV, but someone I’ve never quite had the nerve to apply for. But it is the qualities that I initially shied away from that have inspired me to apply for them this time around. Even upon searching the origin of Omi’s name, I was fascinated by the worldliness and elusiveness it implied about their character. I came across two definitions, both of which I believe represented her character accurately:
1. OMI— magnificent; the sound of the universe
She is a walking contradiction— the product of love and violence— never truly lacking in either aspect within her lifetime. Maybe that is why she finally found community and comfort within Verona after venturing all over the world. As much as she might hate to admit, this very love and violence is what she’s comfortable with— it’s how she’s learned to thrive and survive. Though they never truly felt like themselves as they ventured around the world, they kept small pieces of each place they visited, all of which have made them into the Sparrow, the performer, that they are today. This is why I began viewing Omi as the sound of the universe. Vast and immeasurable, and not quite able to pinpoint to a single source. She is representative of an assembly of realities. She is never quite the same with each person she encounters, with them only receiving a snapshot or illustration of who she is, with the people she’s closest to receiving the most authentic parts of herself. To be a Sparrow is to participate— in Omi’s opinion— in one of the most precise crafts— an art form that only a select number can master. It is a performance, one in which they give their entirety to, oftentimes to the point that they sense themself slipping away, forgoing what they thought to be their true self and instead opting for the persona they have created. Somehow, being Omi the Sparrow is a far less difficult reality for her to face. What is expected of her is straightforward, her desires and fulfillment never changing very much. Omi the Sparrow always gets what she wants. Their heart is unbreakable, yet shared with everyone they encounter. The power and agency can be detected in her words, her mannerisms— she is completely sure of herself, and what she represents. But Omi— just plain Omi, questions herself constantly. She desires to be seen more than anything but is hesitant to show herself to another person. The weight of the secrets of others sometimes threatens to topple her over. What would their patrons think of their constant doubt? This was something they would never discover because she values her position more than she doubts herself. She loves luxury and security more than she questions who she is and who she’s become. She thrives in this simplistic power far more than she finds herself succumbing to it. And this leads me to what I love most about Omi. Her position allows her to wield a form of power that isn’t flashy or overt, or as obvious and clear cut as many people within the mob. It is subtle and it is dangerous. It is a power you least expect, which will certainly make her someone to look out for within the Verona. It is a power that she does not quite comprehend the magnitude and weight of as of now, but something I hope to develop over time.
What is a future plot idea you have in mind for the character? |
MONA— Their saving grace. There are seldom things Mona could do that would lessen the admiration that Omi holds for her, as this is the woman who they believed to have saved them, to introduce them to the boundless and limitless potential that they had. She did not introduce anything that was not there but instead nurtured the qualities that Omi already possessed for her to become one of the best, if not the best Sparrow that has glided through the various rooms and crannies of The Dark Lady thus far. Omi looks upon Mona as a big sister and is always aiming to please her, whether she recognizes that she’s actively doing so or not. But she is bound to cross her eventually— whether it is slight or monumental, and I believe Omi temporarily or permanently (dear lord idk if I could handle Mona not loving them pls sotkgoerkgose) falling from their grace would be an interesting concept to explore. So much of her existence is tied to Mona’s, and I think that it would take something like that occurring for her to recognize this. Who exactly would she be without Mona rescuing her? Would she have survived a day in the city without her? Having Omi deal with being without Mona would introduce some harsh truths. Could they truly rely on themself? Though she adamantly expresses her desire not to be possessed, is it that she truly enjoys being subjected to the whims of another person, so as long she is given the autonomy, luxury, and ability to wield some form of power? Would she simply be transferred from the hands of one power player to another, seeking out one of the mobs knowing they were the only other people who could give her what she truly desired?
FRIENDS ON THE OTHER SIDE— In the short time that Omi has spent in Verona, she’s acquired quite a few patrons from various walks of Veronesi royalty, but as much as she’s done her best to keep people at a distance, she’s also made a few friends. Chiko— whose hopes and dreams she’s carried with her since childhood— with them being one of the sole people to know Omi to near entirety. Felipe— the man who made her realize that even ghosts were capable of creating trouble for themselves, who she’d dared to offer real information about herself for whatever reason, finding something odd and compelling about the handsome enigma before her. Calina— their true match of wits, words, and worldliness— the person in which she’s entrusted with not just her fears and shortcomings, but her hopes and dreams, as well as them being that very person to set her heart aflutter. All of these people have something in common. In some shape or form, they are familiar with more than just Omi the Sparrow. I wonder what danger this could pose for her in the future. Would it be the person they are in essence that would land her in trouble? Chiko, the ruthless social climber, Felipe, who they knew trouble was always a short distance behind, and Calina, whose ties with the mob could only naturally come with trouble… couldn’t they? I want Omi to eventually land in some more trouble (maybe this could be something intertwined with my first plot, or potentially something entirely unrelated), and truly test how far she’s willing to go for the friendships she hopes to keep. Maybe it has to do with some information told to her in confidence; information she almost feels obligated to share with Mona. Will she refuse to do so, at the risk of the life and livelihood that she’s created for herself?
LOOSE ENDS— The past will always be the past for Omi— unless that past happened to make an appearance in the city of Verona. This isn’t something they would expect to occur, given that they have two dead parents, no siblings, or any known extended family. Maybe this would come in the form of Chiko— maybe some other unknown source would manage to dig up some sort of information to potentially be used against them. Regardless, I want Omi to be confronted with her past life, and for her to realize that the horror will always be apart of her, no matter how long that she’s attempted to evade it.
Are you comfortable with killing off your character? | Yes, but I think I would miss her more than any of my other characters ngl :(
In-Character Para Sample:
tw: mentions of death and violence
In The Dark Lady, Omi transformed into a blossom tinted mirror in which men and women alike looked upon in order to divest the realities they so desired. This functioned the similarity to a rose-tinted glass, their very persona the result of a thousand borrowed realities. In Omi, they sought the best version of themselves. They had the ability to morph into everything their patrons wanted, yet could not own, making them all the more desirable. There was something especially tantalizing about what appeared to be accessible, but ever so slightly out of a person’s reach. Even if the reality of things were that there was no chance in hell. Even if there had been a burgeoning disgust for each and every one of the wealthy, and corrupt person they encountered. Even if she’d been unable to scour away their caress no matter how many showers she subjected herself to in the early hours of the morning. How effortlessly she’d sold them a dream. How effortlessly they’d become enamored with The Dark Lady’s very own Japanese Cherry Blossom, a hand-picked artifact from Sakura to enjoy in their very own Verona. She bartered away a fantasy, and in exchange they fed her in secrets, each whisper only intensifying her power and allure. No amount of repulsion would change that they were damn good at their job. No amount of repulsion would change that she’d finally found where they’d belong.
They were notorious for their collection of extremely high heels, and rumor had it that not even a misstep had occurred in a single pair of them. Eyes danced over her as she glided into the casino, garnering an especially large crowd probably because of the fresh pixie cut she’d been sporting. Some days, Omi would linger, never quite sure whose attention she’d capture that day, but on other days, her presence had been requested by a specific patron. Today’s patron had been of particular importance. A well known Italian bureaucrat she’d actually managed to find rather endearing at times, despite her suspicion that he’d been spending more time with her than his own family. Nevermind that though. They had a sneaking suspicion that they were only moments away from stumbling upon a goldmine of information. They reckoned that this particular information could potentially make not just Mona, but both mobs particularly happy. Soon as they’d reached the Blackjack table, the patron, Patron E, swept her merrily into his arms, spinning her in place, resulting in her delighted laughter, clutching onto his shoulders to maintain her balance. Once he’d gotten his fill, she carefully placed a single kiss on each of his cheeks, taking in the scent of whiskey on his lips. No wonder he’d been especially playful. The whiskey had only begun their job for them. “Why, if it isn’t the most lovely person in all of Verona,” Patron E stated, grinning ear to ear. “I absolutely adored your old hair, bella, but with this cut, you somehow managed to become even more magnificent."
She smiles coyly, hands traveling down the lengths of his arms until meeting his hands, which he brought promptly to his lips for a kiss. "I was feeling spontaneous, E, but knowing you like it lifted a significant weight off my shoulder. Everyone else’s opinion be damned, but yours has always meant the world to me,” they coo in flawless Italian. “Is there anything else you noticed?"
His eyes drank her in hungrily, almost hungrier than usual, before returning to her eye level. "You’re wearing my good luck charm,” he responded with an almost childlike euphoria. Patron E had been referring to the deep V-Neck Dolce & Gabbana gown that had been purchased for her by another Patron of hers— Q— with the jet black of her hair only accentuating the Black sequins of the gown. She took it upon herself to take his hand and lift it above the both of them, completing a graceful, yet playful twirl to show off every sparkle and curve of the length of her body.
“Is that so?” she mused with her head tilted curiously on an axis. “It’s almost as if I wore especially for you, mio callo. You did tell me tonight was a big night for you, after all.” His eyes twinkled gratefully as he pulled out a seat for her at the blackjack table, settling into the seat next to him, her body positioned perpendicularly to his, taking absolutely no interest in the game before them. It had been a game she’d witnessed by the side of many men before him and would witness many men after him. Her knees were pressed against his thigh, with the leg closest to the table occasionally finding itself absentmindedly caressing his own. One hand consistently remained attached his shoulder, with their other hand assisting them in the delivery of their sweet nothings, cupping his ear to whisper everything he’d ever wished to discover. Together they laughed, flirted, and whispered— he drank and she carefully sipped, until the game finally came to a close, with him losing per usual. After that, the pair of them moved to a more intimate section of The Dark Lady, the place in which Omi would officially make her move for the information she sought. There he sat on the couch, with her comfortably positioned horizontally in his lap, her slender legs coiled around her legs, with her hand absentmindedly stroking his hair. She’d been telling him some story she’d invented ages ago, half-truths tumbling effortlessly from her lips as she illustrated her last days in Sakura. Once she was done, she began studying his features intently.
“See anything you like?” he asks her quietly, and she cups his chin before deciding he’d been worthy of an answer.
“I see something I like, but something different,” she began with faux perplexion. “Even beneath this red light, I can sense the excitement almost vibrating off of you. “It suits you. I wish you were always this happy when you saw me. Far less tense than usual.”
“Now, Omi, you know I feel most like myself when I’m with you. You always receive the best parts of me,” he says seriously as his hand cups her wrist. “But, to tell you the truth, I’ve come across some very good fortune. A good fortune that I believe will alter the trajectory of my life. I’ve struck a life-changing deal.”
“That’s amazing! I couldn’t be happier for you!” she exclaims softly, before falling into a demure pout. “This… deal won’t take you away from me now, will it?”
He chuckles at her pout as if him parting from her would truly be the most unfortunate occurrence in her 30 years of life. “Don’t you worry your pretty little head about a thing, Tesoro. The deal I’ve made has allowed me to acquire a large sum of money. And I have no plans of parting from you anytime soon.”
She smiles gratefully, yet sadly as if she can’t believe it. He looks at her, searching for an answer to her sadness. “What is it, il mio amore? Why do you look so blue?”
At that moment— the slightest pang of sadness sped through her. How effortlessly he had succumbed to her charm, to the point that she’d almost felt bad for the fool. “Well… the way you aren’t giving much information about the deal is only forcing me to draw my own conclusions. Ones in which I can’t help but assume that you’ve been put in a dangerous predicament, which is stopping you from telling because you’re afraid to get me into trouble.” He drew her closely, placing a soft kiss on each of her temples, then her forehead, then her lips.
“I wouldn’t let them harm a hair on your head, Omi. I hope you know that I mean that.” She resisted chuckling. She’d been nearly divinely protected. If anything it was him who wouldn’t be able to harm a hair on her head.
“Is this them you speak of…” she looks around carefully, knowing there was no one near, but doing it as if to accentuate her supposed fear. “The government…?” she offers him, and when he does not react, she places a long, lacquered pinky nail upon her lip. “Don’t tell me you’ve gotten yourself mixed up with one of the mobs, E—”
“Mixed up with the mobs?” he interrupts with a haughty chuckle. “Why, they’ve gotten themselves mixed up with me, dearest Omi. Sooner rather than later, both the Capulets and the Montagues will be feeding out of the palm of my hand.” How drunk had the man had to have been to have confessed such a silly sentiment? Or was it not the liquor at all, and simply Omi bearing witness to the limitless bounds of the male ego? Probably a mixture of both.
She shoves his shoulder gently, feigning shock. “You’ve either done something insanely brilliant or incredibly stupid. But I’ve always known you to be far too clever for the latter.”
With each curious caress, they’d managed to extract more and more information from their subject, his ego centering itself above all else— even his desire to live. He had to have known that, hadn’t he? Or had he simply been too foolish to even consider the danger he’d been putting himself in by leaving every detail of his plan upon Omi’s lips? How foolish he had beenShe shoves his shoulder gently, feigning shock. “You’ve either done something insanely brilliant or incredibly stupid. But I’ve always known you to be far too clever for the latter.”
“Someday…” he slurs, faced resting comfortably on her chest as she stroked the top of his head, his arms wrapped lovingly around her waist. “I’m gonna whisk you away. And just like that, you’ll be mine. Forever and always.”
Omi chuckles at this sentiment— ones she’s heard nearly a dozen times before. She’d had no desire to be one of his pretty things, not by him or any other person in this world for that matter.
“Why, E— I know if that were to occur, you’d be doomed to break my heart.” “Omi, you can’t truly believe that now… can you?” he says tilting his head upwards until their lips are only mere inches apart.
“I’m afraid I do, mi caro. Because the moment in which the magic begins to dwindle from your eyes when you look at me is the moment my heart is sure to break. I know that if we continue our occasional rendezvous that I’ll continue to be the loveliest I could be in your eyes. Oh— and I’m a terribly loud snorer. You wouldn’t sleep a minute in my presence.”
That had been enough to satisfy him, if only for a single moment. The very thought of him truly breaking her heart had been absurd, but the very thought of the blossom mirror cracking, the idea of her carefully constructed persona being exposed for being exactly that, alarmed her. Anything short of near perfection was unacceptable. She owed her to that and Mona. It would be at that moment that Omi would understand that she was no longer as good at her job as she needed to be. Surely that would not leave them desolate, they would still be a top-performing Sparrow after all. But they would no longer be the best, and no man or woman would ever take that away from them. Even if they meant keeping the majority of the world at a safe distance. Not when they’d finally found their people. Not when they’d finally answered their calling. Not when Verona was finally starting to feel like home.
Little did she know that this would be the last time she’d ever see Patron E. Just as she’d suspected, the information had been of immense value. Her reputation as the top Sparrow only increased tenfold, and she remained in Mona’s good graces, never tiring of her constant praise and doting. Word of his death returned to them from another one of their patrons even before it appeared even in the papers. Omi couldn’t help but feel a pang of sadness for his widow and children. No woman and family should have their livelihood threatened by the likes of a stupid, stupid, stupid man.
She did not wear Q’s dress after that day. When she asked about it the next time he saw her, she began whispering a delightful tale about how her suitcase had mysteriously wound up missing upon returning from a brief trip to Paris, knowing she’d wind up with a new one before the conversation concluded…
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