#yet I hope you will enjoy it bc I still have soft fluff around the corner....somewhere

[joethehoeee]

"Why did you save me that night?" The question bore through his heart like a sharp dagger. The thoughts about that night hurt more than the phantom-pain of his broken horn. His back faced her, he was about to leave into the woods, like he always does if the guilt was to much to bear.

He tried to let his emotions deep in his heart. He wouldn't let them out. Not now. "Because you couldn’t save yourself." He answered coldly, his rough words rip through the cold air of the night. He knew that the words hurt her, even if she would try to play it off. He was a bloody asshole towards her. He knew it. He shouldn't be.

The red-headed women behind him scoffed in a playful tone, yet he could pick up on the small disapointment in her voice. "Is that all? Just because you pity my weakness?" She shoke her head with a hurt chuckle, was she nothing to him? The leaves on the trees nearby rustle from the wind as she spoke. He could hear her tho, his ears would always hear her voice even through the roars of the dark lord right next to his ear.

No...That's not all..., the voice in his stubborn head urged to tell her the real reason. "I...Loved-....Love you. I love you, Barbara. I loved you then. I love you now. I will always love you." He confessed, yet the voices only grew louder, ...no, that's not the only reason why you disgusting scumbag. Tell her. Tell her the truth. His voices echoed in his mind.

"What...?" Finally, he turned towards her, his eyes wide as if he hadn’t planned to say it out loud. The salt and pepperd hair streak fell over his face (like it always did since he let it grow out). His face consorted into a soft, yet somehow...guilty...look. He took a step towards her, one of his hands moved to her cheek to cup her face, wich was still hurt but the light in her eyes couldn’t be mistaken. His clawed thumb stroke the scar she had gotten from the night when all of it started. God he hated himself. HE was that light. But why?! Why would her eyes light up for him.

"I couldn’t let you die. I would've never forgiven myself if...not after-..." his voice grew softer and he tried, with all of his willpower, to not break down. But he couldn't stop it. Not anymore. Everything was to much for him...the lack of sleep, food, water and the guilt...it was to much. He opened his mouth again but-

Her soft and warm lips suddenly brush over his own cold ones. His tusks tickle her skin as he pulled her against him. He should stop. He knows that he should stop her right now. He does not deserve this. It dosen't matter if he showed guilt or redeemed himself by giving her a grave, bones or this damn jacket that he was hiding in his bag (for now).

He pulled away. He pulled completely away from her touch. He stepped back, leaving as much space as he could. "Walt-"

"NO. Don’t say it. You don’t. And you won’t ever will...not after..." He steps back, shaking his head furiously as she tried to walk towards him. Suddenly she stopped, just looking at him with a confused and hurt look on her face. "I don’t care what-"

"I know. But this isn’t what I-" he growled, more to himself than to her. "It's my fault." He looked down at his hands. Tears form in his eyes but he stopped them from rolling down his face. He could still feel and smell the childs blood. And hers...hers too. "Walt, I don’t understand...? What are you talking about?" She sighed. "Look I don’t care about your past...I care about you now. And I...I love you too..."

"It's my fault that Jim died."

"W-what...?"

"I...I killed Jim."

Wasn’t that fun?

Well technically he didn’t kill Jim personally but-

He was ordered to make the plan. It pretty much went like the battle of the bridge just that they won. Strickler made that plan. (At least i think so but if not then he made it in this AU.) He also didn’t do anything as Jim was killed and Barbara dies believing that he didn’t care (in that moment) but he was actually frozen in shock. He loved that boy even if he wants to deny it.

This conversation obviously goes on and would be a bit more detailed if I write an actual fanfiction but this should work out, for now.

Well second non-"canon" Version.

And with light-

Aaaand closeup:

More Context:

Barbara was attacked while she came home. In this version she wanted to dress a little up for her boys theater role. Tho, she almost never made it out of the house.

The times are a bit differently from the canon ep. Jim was killed and Gunmar got free like an hour before the school theater. Wich is why Strickler could save her.

Gunmar saw his weakness in her and Strickler couldn’t let her die just like that. He dressed properly (bc he knew he would now be Gunmars enemy wich made him disgusted of his former clothes.) and saved her. She was subconsciousin the burning building and he brought her to a save place.

At least until it wasn’t save and he fought against both Gunmar and Bular to keep her save. He lost his horn only a few days after that night.

#trollhunters #walter strickler #barbara lake #stricklake #toa strickler #toa trollhunters #stricklander #strickler #waltolomew stricklander #tales of arcadia #well I hope you like it #I will give more lore and writtings to you #at least for this AU #YOU THOUGHT YOU ESCAPED THE ANGST #HAHAHHAH #no #however...that means a lot of ✨️trauma✨️ #I hope you guys are ready uhm bc there will be more now- #I have those weird phases #yet I hope you will enjoy it bc I still have soft fluff around the corner....somewhere #and I can't draw his feet #I swear Walter #WHY DO YOU HAVE FREE FEETS #like damn just wear shoes 🙄 #No ....I love those disgusting grippers. But like why? I don't want to draw them #Barbara is too curious for her own good #this women needs to know #He needs to say it #sweet trauma and hard fluff this time #oh and is that Barb's burning house un the background? yes.

[taegularities]

colour me in: translucent | jjk (m)

Summary: And whenever the world seems to fall apart and your thoughts cast a shadow over your heart, he rushes to lift you to your feet. Conjoining your hearts and souls, again and again and again.

➳ pairing: Jungkook x reader ➳ rating: 18+ ➳ genre: fwb/f2l, fake dating; some healthy angst, so much fluff, smut ➳ warnings: y’all. So. Much. Fluff, talk about stars, talk about his hometown, mention of a wedding 😁, 1 nara mention, a guest appearance!!, and another guest appearance…, daddy issues mention, oc has a tummy ache :(, banter, conversation with her mom, badass oc, their friends <3, moving and work stress, overworking, kook panics in this one, oc does too, tears and tears and tea–, abandonment issues, overthinking!!!, they communicate too late bc they’re scared, pregnancy scare, mention of throwing up, kissing and hand holding <3, petnames, insecurities/slight envy; explicit sexual content: diving right into the smut as the chapter starts 🤭, tie around oc’s neck ha ha, oral (f. receiving) (over panties and without 🥲), fingering, brief masturbation (m.), making out, jk takes the backseat and oc drives for a while <3, bit of choking, they’re half clothed for a bit, tiddie and butt love, tears, flirting, big dick jk, soft dom jk, emotions omg 😷, unprotected sex, multiple orgasms, squirting, he unloads in her mouth 😄, and yeah, maybe more but i forgot – lmk if you notice smth! also… THE 👏 EN 👏 DING 🚨🚨🚨 ➳ word count: 35.8k 💀  ➳ a/n: here it is… after a long ass fight with tumblr and my tears, it’s here! i don’t have much to say this time except that this chapter means the world to me. and i hope you love it just as much. shoutout to @missgeniality for betaing parts of this and helping me with difficult scenes, i truly struggled!! <3 if you guys enjoy this one, let me know and don’t be shy to reach out!! love you and let’s dive in 🥺 ➳ listen to: say you won't let go by james arthur | full collaborative playlist 🤍

SERIES MASTERPOST | TAGLIST MASTERLIST | WIPs | DC SERVER

The whispers cease the moment your door closes.

The whispers of the world, of all traffic, of all passersby, of all echoes. And those in your head, susurrating since you left the glass building and its conference hall.

They dim the moment you drop your palm off the door; your heart is still a nervous mess as you take your shoes off, watch him take his shoes off. He places them neatly in the shoe cabinet, jacket hung on one of the coat hooks.

Right here, you’re surrounded by a tranquil, quiet dome. Not as subdued as the emotions the outer world elicits; just an arena that feels perpetually warm, sepia and still.

And amidst that warmth, there’s yearning. You feel it in every nerve of your body, burning through your limbs. Stunning sentiments pull at your soul, making it heavy; and your heart floats, perpetually above the clouds.

As he rubs his cheek with a soft hand — you know, because you were holding it just two minutes ago, clutching it in the car for dear life —, you take a step forward, your mouth open, but not quite capable of saying all that’s weighing on your tongue.

They’re good things; amazing things. And he hasn’t yet gathered all his thoughts either to truly voice what he’s been hiding since you left the chaos. Only opting for the living room, painfully slowly, as if he’s waiting to face you again.

And maybe… maybe he really is. And maybe he doesn’t need to talk at all.

Because he stops the moment you speak, tenderly calling, “Jungkook.”

It’s all he needs. Combined with the lightest touch to his elbow, a hint of your voice is all he needs. He wants to keep hearing his name. Again and again and again. And today, announcing it to the world, you promised that you’ll be doing just that.

Shit. What have you done to his heart? He wants to ask questions that neither of you has an answer to; or, not one that can be verbalised. One that could explain this euphoria.

So he doesn’t say anything at all.

Instead, he stumbles as he turns back to you again, taking a deep breath before his head tilts. The unbounded amount of want is swimming in his tired eyes, and you barely manage a hushed, “Should we—” before his fingers flutter and he—

Dashes straight toward you. One large step, both hands jacking up to take your face captive. He raises your head, eyes closing, mouth parting an inch before it’s locked with yours.

If he hadn’t started, you would have.

The same thumb always caressing your skin pulls your lower lip down. An unfaltering habit, tender whenever he spirals. You trip backwards, with him in tow, immediately gripping his arms with a wild, accelerating heartbeat.

Your soul was already awake, lit up from today’s events; but he dunks it in a brighter shine — and now it flushes pink.

For a while, your kiss’ sounds are all that echo off the wall, mixing with your sighs. He starts gently, head angled, diving deeper.

Every now and then, he tugs at your lip ever-so-slightly, teeth and tongue dragging over it. The wet muscle is soft against yours, and you let your touch drop down to his waist to hold him closer.

But there’s not that much time to dissolve into him right here, against your entrance door, because Jungkook backs away before you can bid your sanity adieu. Maybe that’s for later.

Maybe you need to be okay with his breath grazing your skin for now, for the words he murmurs so close to your lips, “You’re crazy for this. Absolutely crazy.”

You are. Both okay with this, and incredibly crazy.

There’s never been more certainty in your actions or your intentions than whatever you do with him. For him — if that deems you crazy, then you absolutely are.

Heated from the kiss, Jungkook steps away, but not without entangling your fingers with his. On the way to the bedroom, you ignore everything that doesn’t entail him.

Like, the humming of the fridge. Or the sound of the traffic outside, audible through the tilted window. And the buzzing of your phone; it’s been doing that for a while now.

Of course it is.

But you don’t hesitate to deposit it on your bedside table mere seconds later; you barely manage to put it there, nearly watching it slide down as Jungkook pulls you back. You clash against his body, and the tongue once again mingling with yours only enhances your disorientation.

God, you’re a lost cause. Nothing else to expect with his palm holding your jaw, arm slung around you, kissing you senseless.

Time slows down; the sensation turns electric. His motions are rhythmic, fingers brushing your neck. And despite the bitterness he must have felt at the conference, he tastes so , so sweet.

Heady desire growing, you grip the back of his head, pushing it closer. You’re insatiable. Yearning for more of his damp, soft lips, hysterical when he lets out a craving, small moan.

“Do you have any idea,” he starts, giving your neck no more than a handful of teasing pecks, “what that did to me?”

He moves back until you plummet into the mattress; your eyes follow when he leans in and falls to his knees. Placing a hand at the nape of your neck, tenderly moving your face a bit closer to his.

“Without a warning, too,” he continues, “what, were you planning to drive me mad for so long?”

Not the angry kind of mad. His smile and the fondness in his eyes reveal that much. No — the mad that a lover is.

“Did it work?” you ask, and he flashes his teeth, beloved crinkles around his eyes.

“Did it? What do you think?” He kisses your nose; then, the apple of your cheek. “You didn’t notice any of it today? Or any other time before that?”

“I wanted to… I want everyone to know. I was going to tell you when you came home, but… I wanted to say it in front of everybody. That,” you touch the collar of his blazer, rubbing it between your fingertips, “I’m done with their games. I don’t care anymore, Jungkook.”

“I know… You don’t care.” His hand leaves the nape of your neck, caressing your face. “But you care about me, yes? You care so much.”

It’s not really a question. It’s a statement, a reassurance to himself. A mantra, as if he needs to repeat it and let it reverberate in his mind until he’s grasped its meaning.

“I do,” you whisper, peeling the blazer off his shoulder by only a few inches, “and I want to stay. Can I… just stay here?”

“You’re crazy,” he echoes once more, emphasising his words with a shake of his head, “to think I’ll let you go again. You’ll see.”

Although he still establishes a brief, temporary distance between the two of you right after; you’re reluctant to stop feeling his warmth when he stands. He towers over you, and you muster utmost courage to not faint.

Because the sight is one to behold.

How he removes the blazer in a swift movement, discarding it on top of the table at the wall. He rolls up the sleeve of his shirt, but only one side, glancing at you throughout the ordeal.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” you ask.

“Why is your mouth open like that?”

“Do this exactly in front of a mirror, and… and you’ll know why.”

He smirks. “Right. And stare at yourself in the mirror for longer than a second, and you’ll know why, too.”

God, this guy…

And he actually doesn’t stop.

His pupils keep wandering; to your eyes, to your lips, to your heaving chest. To how you close your legs when he loosens his tie with tattooed fingers, lettered knuckles on full display. He opens a single button of his dress shirt; enough to reveal a patch of golden skin.

The tie dangles off his neck, doing wonders to your mind, and you resist the urge to grab it and pull him down to you. But you don’t need to; you only get to cherish the sight for another second.

Because right after, he pulls it over his head, baring the highly kissable mole on his neck before—

“What are you doing?” you wonder, eyes wide, and probably filled with anticipation as he puts the tie around your neck. “I’m…”

“Looks a lot better on you.”

One more shake of his head. You subtly catch a jerk behind his pants, and your gaze drops instantly. Behind the dark slacks, he’s already waiting for you, and the thought leaves you frothing at the mouth.

“You’re not looking bad yourself…” you say, drifting off, barely looking into his face as your hand reaches out. “May I?”

“What, baby?”

“Just…” 

You move forward, a palm to his thigh, and close your eyes before placing a kiss to the growing bulge. It twitches under your lips, and you drag your mouth lightly over his dick’s outline.

“Should’ve known,” Jungkook breathes, affected straight away, “but somehow, this is worse than your hand.”

“Really?”

He clicks his tongue when you do it again, unfazed by the layer between you as you give his clothed cock an open-mouthed kiss. Two of his fingers settle underneath your chin, and he raises your head in order to meet your gaze.

Then, he pushes you back a little, within a second back to one knee; then the other. He cocks an eyebrow as if to reprimand you, but then gulps down a chuckle as he says, “Really. But wait a bit more.”

You need to wait, because he prioritises your pleasure. One demand you’re ready to give into.

So, so prepared, when he asks politely, “Open your slacks?” You do. The way he drags his hands over your thigh and up to your hips, starting to discard your pants, is arguably less polite. “Here we go. Raise your ass.”

You help him out as best as you can. But he attaches his lips to your naked thigh the moment it comes into view, scattering kisses over your hot skin as he casts it off of you entirely.

You raise your feet a bit above the ground, and he uses the moment to separate your legs. Doesn’t even bother taking off your panties first; casually making himself at home between your limbs.

Light-headed, you open your eyelids halfway to glance at the blurry ceiling light; you never noticed when you closed them. Maybe when the sweetness spread over your thighs’ skin.

Maybe he’s as dizzy as you — only, when your whirling stare descends to his face, he’s smirking. And for a second, you don’t understand why. Puzzled, you keep looking, observing the tempting lick over his lips; the deep exhale; the barely-there blinking.

And then he says, “Never thought about it. But you should wear light-coloured panties more often.”

“…Why?”

But you soon get why.

Because you feel the arousal behind the fabric. How it glues your pussy to it, the damp spot probably growing. It’s visible — that’s what he’s liking so much.

He can see all of the desire you harbour for him, showcased so blatantly. And despite the embarrassment, watching his face flush in that rosy dust boosts your ego, too.

Your face burns.

“You’ve been like that for…” he starts, shrugging his shoulders in curiosity, “how long now?”

“Long enough. And I dare you to do something about it.”

Because fuck, he talks too much. In hindsight, only really when you need him to shut up; deliberately.

“Oh god,” he exclaims, dramatic as ever; as he raises a hand, you nearly think he’ll place it on his chest for further effect, but he only touches your knee, “now if you’re daring me, I’ll have to.”

“Mhm. I’m sure you’re not a sore lo—”

“Yeah, yeah.”

It’s a rude interruption, and the sudden push of his fingertip against your clit is ruder. It’s a momentary touch, fleeting, as opposed to the slow and calculated way that he buries his face in your panties. Eyes glued to yours for a moment.

And then…

Then, you relish the first taste of Heaven — as does he, you suppose.

Because the satisfied sigh is outrageous, hot against your covered folds. He licks over the damp stain, only the tip of his tongue; thoroughly salivated, because you feel the wetness seeping through the clothing.

There’s no moment between the start of his action and your immediate, ”Fuck.”

And to him, your reaction sets just the tone for a woozy night to come. He nods between your legs, gelled back strands tickling, hums so sweetly. You adjust on your seat, though the subtle change affects nothing; only drives you wilder as you shift deeper into his face.

His tongue is painting circles over your clit. Drawing out sensations, and you don’t understand how… there’s underwear between him and you. A barrier, aching to be removed, so how is he doing this, howishedoingit—

“No! Oh god—”

You can’t decipher why you voiced the rejection; you don’t want him to leave. Frustrated when he does, mouth open, waiting for you to speak up until you do, “Sorry. Sorry, I don’t fucking know…”

“Babe…” He shakes his head… He’s doing so much of this today. But one of the loose strands keeps moving so gorgeously over his forehead, so if it was up to you, he could keep doing it. “Don’t scare me like that.”

“Sorry…”

“Nah.” He says it when you press your lips together, hot and bothered as he licks another stripe along your cunt. “Didn’t mean it that way. Open that pretty mouth. Do scream, yeah?”

You could melt into the ground. Or into the sheets; he always knows what to say. No matter what the situation. A verbal monster once, a graceful poet another time.

They say, get you a man who can do both. But he can do all million things known to humankind and the book of romance.

His mouth works deeper into where you ache. Tongue action expanded, he returns to the panties, seeking one of your nether lips to tease it, pull at it. He’s ruining your garment, making it stick to your pussy.

Pries your legs open when he comes back to the clit, and then drops down to the overflowing sex again. The sensual gestures are toying with your nerves, and you still can’t figure out how. Leaves you waiting, yearning, craving the lack of a blockade in between.

And once the uncomfortable, wet cotton of your panties rubs against the inside of your folds, you finally speak up, “Why are you—”

“Sorry,” he interjects, aware of his bestiality. You see it in his stupid wicked smile. “I know. This is just…” Big eyes stare back down, albeit hazier than before; his finger touches the drenched patch for a second. “So good to look at.”

“You’re the worst.”

“Of course.”

Shit, he’s so cheeky. If you had the strength, you’d wipe that bubbly smile off his face; not good for your heart. Would smooch it away. But fret not — you’ll get your chance, too.

For now, you need to grant him this win. Not least of all, because it feels so good for you, too.

So you don’t defy him when he suddenly moves in more. Hooks a finger into your panties and slides them aside, letting them snap back against the juncture between your pussy and leg. And then, you guess the actual fun starts.

Because he throws one carnal look at you before his arms wander under your legs. You can barely gather your thoughts before he digs in again, properly this time. Lips directly attaching to your skin, he starts diligent work on soiling your body.

And god, does he do it well…

So experienced. Aware. Studied you and your body well enough — because the agonisingly slow tease isn’t random. He knows how much you hate it; knows how much you love it.

How it builds anticipation, and how it grows your desire.

He’s a little fuck, but maybe that’s why he never fails to break you this hard. You know he’s enjoying this — delighted when your eyebrows furrow, close to weeping as he breathes against your pussy.

Even though a man starved, he takes his time. For a second. Then another. And then parts your folds with his fingers, whispering, “Would you say that’s better?”

Like he’s at some meeting. Goddamn.

You blink, responding, “I don’t know. Better than the panties, worse than…” His finger slips in mid-speech, just halfway through when you manage a breathy, “this.”

“I… Shit, you’re… hot as fuck.”

Right.

Even you’re turned on by how your head tips back again, eyes rolling inward when he diminishes the distance and kisses your cunt. Nobody else is going to raise your confidence like he does.

“Mmmh,” he voices as the make out session intensifies, smacking noises sounding from below. He lifts his lips by a mere inch, only to mumble, “So hot. So fucking good.”

And that’s it — back to business.

“Nnnghkook…”

The arms he dropped under your legs sling around them, hooking in, and somehow, he’s able to reach to your back like that. Raises your legs in the process, pulling you in. Deeper in your heat, big button nose against your pelvis.

Your right hand attempts to grip his hair before you threaten to fall backwards, failing miserably. You immediately place both your palms back on the bed, because you doubt you can trust that damned left arm to hold you upright — quivering like this.

The tip of your tongue touches the arch of your upper lip, and then you tilt your head, warning him, “Fuck… if you don’t fuck my brains out today, Jungkook…”

Brains? Plural? Acting as though even one’s present in your head right now.

Jungkook chuckles, licking you dry; the little sound combined with the sinful ordeal is a delightful one. Contrary, but gifting the moment some reality. Some tenderness. You’re having fun.

He stops to throw the escaping strands back again — all in vain, of course — and brings his hand to your ass, moving you over the bed until you’re off the edge. You yelp, close to falling, but he holds you carefully.

Ass half dangling, he throws your legs over broad shoulders, kissing your thigh before he promises, “Don’t worry at all. Won’t leave a single thought in either of our heads.”

You wince when he bites the flesh of your leg, and then proceeds to advance his soft lips to the tender ache. He collects saliva on his tongue, probably ready to dive in again; moves in at least, tickling your pelvis with his breath.

His nose takes a deep breath, inhaling you, dizzy from your scent. And his thumb — it floats over your clit, preparing for more insanity. But when the position elicits some discomfort, you say, “Put me on the bed. Can I… bed properly.”

Fragments of sentences. They make him smile.

“Sure,” he says rather calmly; you’re anything but.

It’s not normal. Watching a guy like Jeon Jungkook push his hair back with his jaw on full display; tongue darting out.

He signals his approval once more as he pats your thigh, and you make quick work at weakly turning around and crawling onto the bed. You’re still trembling as you get on all fours, very conscious of what you’re doing.

Casually, you say, “I’ll get the lube, too.”

Of course you know what might follow. What will follow. He never stops raving, daydreaming, bragging about your ass — walking past you in the kitchen, just to grapple a handful and to innocently claim, “What? I love your butt.”

But before he strikes this time, you’re only barely able to grab the lube out of the drawer, placing it next to the pillow instead of handing it back to him. Because… because before you know it—

There’s already a finger to your pussy.

“Shit,” you curse, “you and your impatience.”

“Do you want me to wait?” he asks, as purely as the butt-love-statements as his touch retracts. Mellow voice; only a flutter of his lashes is missing, really. “I can wait.”

No, he can’t. Liar.

“No,” you repeat, readily letting your upper body fall. You bring your fingertips back to your ass, tracing it down until met with your arousal. “Don’t do this to me now.”

You know his answer before he utters it, “Don’t you do this to me now.” You hear a click of his tongue; a poised beam plays around your lips. “Alright. But.”

He snatches your legs from under your body until you’re flat on your tummy; you grunt just a bit. Not expecting the soft, little, “Do tell me if I do too much.”

As if…

He knows his limits. But the constant, caring pleads still always grip your heart; so you nod.

“Okay.”

Simultaneous with a fond slap, that word is the last verbal sign of his presence that you receive for a while. Whatever follows is a pure testing of limitations; of jumbling up your senses.

Because the moment Jungkook lifts your ass to his face, his tongue is already out. Experimental at first, of course, patient. He takes a second for languid kisses and soft necking, fingers exploring the inside of your thigh as if to soothe your restlessness.

And it helps. Your limbs shake a bit less, your mind focused on where his touches go. Fingertips near your folds. Lips kissing around your pussy. Then, repeating the same brush of his hands as before, but on your other leg, moving inward. 

Despite the first taste he already got, he’s suddenly changed his tactic; and you’re greedy. Mewling in tiny, quiet sounds, barely realising that they’re coming out of you. You repeat his name over and over, but it never quite tumbles out in its entirety.

So you keep it at moaning, eyes closed, so infinitely relaxed.

He moves back, gently asking, “All good?”

“So far… do more, please.”

It’s what he always waits for. You know. Jungkook has a fetish for your pleas, and the tiniest fragment of your beseeching voice is usually enough for him.

Like now.

Encouraged, he pushes your shirt up to your tits, halting right under them. He touches your naked stomach, brushing your belly button, grazing a palm over your lower back and straight to your ass.

The tongue ghosting around your sex finally dares a step forward. Gets a little taste of what’s to come. Circles around your folds, then to your nub; spit gathered on the tip, never too hard, oh-so-mildly — and maybe that’s what makes it even worse.

The lack of any force. How pleasant it feels. And you let him know — respond with a desperate, unheard sound, goosebumps sprawling over your skin.

Jungkook discerns it as a signal to go on; to do more. His nose buries between your ass, pushing his tongue in a little further, alternating between licking and kissing and collecting spit. Your lust shoots to the sky; you twist and move, but he holds you in place with a single hand.

And when he disappears, you regret it immediately. You hear him say, “Hey, hey… Don’t you want me to fuck your brains out, sweetheart? Isn’t that what you said?”

“Mmhyes, yes, please.”

“…Then stop moving.” His nails are harsh against your waist, and you whimper. “The more you behave now,” he leaves a kiss on your butt, loosening his grip around your waist, “the harder I’ll go later.”

“…Okay. Okay. I’m sorry.”

He chuckles. What an ass; leaving you physically and mentally covetting, and then enjoying your reactions.

“Are you okay with this?” he asks, biting a little, stroking your hips, holding onto your ass cheeks.

“Mhm.” It’s all you can voice at this point. You don’t have any power over your body; can’t lift it off the mattress. “Love it.”

“Perfect.”

And then, everything seems to happen faster.

Arousal and orgasm have already built from his advances, and he gives you the rest when he starts drawing circles around your pussy again. Heightens your senses, slurps and drinks you up. Every single time it feels like he’s learned something new; you swoon at the attention to detail.

What might he be looking like right now?

Perhaps he’s biting his lip. Maybe his eyebrows are furrowed, usually tell-tale signs of either him enjoying his meal or him enjoying his meal.

“Shit,” you mumble, but you don’t think he hears it — too busy sucking at your folds, adding a finger to the mix.

Sometimes, the licks are generous, wide-tongued; sometimes, he focuses on each part individually. The insides, the clit; how you sound, how you wind.

There’s truly an utter craze you feel for this man; no matter which hazy or soft or delicate situation, he fits you like a missing puzzle piece. Like a match made in Heaven. Knows what he’s doing.

Because he knows you. Because he studies you. Observes you.

Sex is only one instance of his attentiveness.

And perhaps that’s the whipped thought that pushes you over the edge eventually. Maybe that’s why the moment passes so quickly and explosions blind you all of a sudden. Why your face glows so hot, sweat collecting over your upper lip.

It must be.

Because as he stimulates you for another minute, your sensitive cunt submits, the knot in your lower stomach unwinding. He unties it fully, eliciting a stirring feeling that makes your pussy flutter.

“Holy shit…”

You only register your voice when the peeping in your ear stops. Your voice is still damped, the world around you vanishing a bit; except for him. Always except for him.

And.

You also notice that your fingers are hurting. Did you dig them into the sheets too hard? Tug too hard? You don’t know… but their pads are almost numb.

Jungkook’s mouth is still there, though lighter now, and his finger is slightly slapping your cunt, encouraging you to keep letting go. Catching you on his tongue.

And then… it’s over. You remain quiet.

You’ll be a mess for the foreseeable future; or at least, the upcoming one or two minutes. Your back and neck are already covered in a sheen of sweat; it’s so unbearably hot, as opposed to the recklessly approaching cold outside.

Remaining like this, you let him kiss your body through your orgasm, delicately soothing the pain his fingers caused across your ass. Hovering above the small of your back, he asks, “Can you move?”

“Not yet. But…” You scan the spot next to the pillow until you find the lube, throwing it back to him at last. “I can watch.”

No objection. So you turn around.

When you finally meet his gaze again, having started missing it, he’s already unbuckling his pants. Right there, towering above you, looking directly at you. Jaw chiselled, lips swollen.

You decide to spur him on; bring the tie between your covered tits before gentle fingers grasp them deftly. Rolling your digits around their outline before squeezing them. There’s an instant reaction: The hard bite of his lip, the rushed discarding of his clothes.

And fuck, he’s beautiful. So pretty how he despairs bit by bit, only letting his pants make it to his knees before his cock has sprung out. A true monster, bloodshot like this, further growing as it twitches and jerks… blue veins wanting to be licked.

But it’s lube-day, and neither of you can wait.

So you let him make a fist around his thickness, stroking it and momentarily letting out a groan. His chest seems to deflate, shoulders dropping as he jerks himself off once more, squirts some lube into his palm, and returns to his intentions.

“Good,” you praise, watching his cheeks grow rosier, “wish you could go all out.”

“I can’t.”

You know. You know, because he’s storing all his patience for what’s to come. With and for you.

Breath stagnating, you watch a drop of sweat trail down between his tanned pecs and then into his shirt; fabric sticking to his skin. He doesn’t notice it, dazy as hell, wiping his tip clear of the precum. Every damn time you’re in disbelief when his cock grows in size, firmer and rock hard.

So many veins adorning it as it rises to his belly button; you’re sure you’ll feel them against your walls, too. You get on wobbly knees, hair already a mess, both of you still in your soaked white dress shirts.

Jungkook’s mane is falling apart much as yours, messier now, but soaking him in so much more sex appeal. There are no boundaries to his beauty; it transcends your understanding.

Enough of watching, you mentally capitulate a minute later. Too many moans and clipped vocals fill the room, whiny once, deep later; so you float up once your body allows, targeting his cock straight-forwardly.

You only deliver one surprise kiss, helping him out as you drag your tongue along the tiny slit. He reacts, caught off guard, voicing, “Oh—”

But against his possible expectations, you don’t continue. Instead, you drag your hand along his cock only twice — up and down, feeling the smooth skin, the slippery lube, the hardness underneath.

And then, you order, “Sit. Please.”

“What?”

“Here,” you point to the headboard, on your knees, kissing his sides and up his chest until you reach the open button. “Sit down for me.”

He pauses. Waits for a moment, touching your cheek when your face aligns with his. And when you keep your begging, soft gaze intact, he huffs out a broken laugh, and states, “Not sure if I can trust you to not kill me. But…” A kiss to your left eyebrow. “Anything for you.”

And whatever happens next, passes by fast.

How he obliges, dick dangling in front of his body, waiting for ruin. How he hisses a little when the sweat-drenched back touches the cold headboard. And how you adjust your body, soon sitting in reverse, facing the closet.

Floating over his cock, straddling him, spreading your pussy with your fingers. He stutters behind you, grasping for words, but silences when you move and wiggle your ass a little, only dropping a few inches until your cock can prod your entrance.

And that’s all you do. Multiple times. Practising restraint, focusing on the closet, blinking rapidly. Perhaps you’re more patient this time, because from behind, you hear another sharp hiss, and then a somewhat agitated, but endlessly turned on, “The hell are you doing to me?”

“Nothing,” you promise; the jest costs you all your energy, “what are you talking about?”

“You’re so funny, aren’t you?”

His words are accentuated by sudden grabs of your ass. One or two pinches. You should’ve known. But despite his impatience, he never forces you down onto his cock. Lets you do.

“I’m not trying to be,” you argue, aligning yourself with him gradually. Preparing yourself mentally and physically. Leaking to no end. “You’re just delusional.”

“Must be. Too good to be real.”

If you had it in you, you’d laugh. But the approaching sins and the image of his affected expressions fog your brain. Your body burns, your lower tummy tenses; your muscles feel heavy as you loom over him, and you only endure another moment.

Because soon enough, your thirst overpowers every other thought; the weight of your desire drags your body down, thankful that he’s keeping his cock upright. And then, just like that… so easily, no resistance detected, you slide down.

His tip splits you open first, eliciting an immediate sensation. New every freaking time; like the craze he fucks your mind into space with wipes your memory each time.

“Hnnngh, this is just…”

Whatever it is, there’s no word yet invented for it. So you give up right away, squinting your eye shut until you see dots and forms, breath stuck in your throat. The lack of regular inhales muddles your mind, and you feel further heat rise to your cheeks.

“Go— slow,” he pants behind you.

Of course he’s not all the way in yet. No matter how much it feels like it; you could keep going and going. Hard and monstrous, burying inside you, no end in sight.

The filling feeling catches you off guard each time; the way he leaves no room inside, causing butterflies in your stomach, wandering straight to your pussy. A ridiculously perfect phenomenon, like a key to its lock.

God. You’re overspilling.

As soon as he’s bottomed out, you relish the feeling of his skin against your ass for a moment, registering how his fingers sneak to your flesh slowly. And then, you angle your body forward, clutching the sheets before you start moving.

You keep your pace slow. Put all your intention on delicate motions, all the way up with a whimper, and then slamming back down with a gasp. The farther you go, the wetter you get. Until you’ve probably left a shimmering liquid all over his cock, gliding too damn easily.

“That’s… that’s new,” Jungkook mutters. At least that’s what you think you hear. “Gotta do it again.”

And you’re not even done with this time. But you understand — oh, you fucking understand. There’s something about not yet seeing his face but imagining all of it. How fucked out he must look. How red the apples of his cheeks must be. How sweaty his hairline is.

You grip the sheets tighter, legs closer to his, head between your shoulders. All you manage between the heavy breathing is a high-pitched, ”Jungkook—”

“Yes. Yeah, baby. This is…”

“I know. I know, keep talking.”

Which is an unfair command. He can think as much as you; you can barely comprehend letters, even less put them into actual words. But somehow, he still mutters whatever nonsense he can think of.

“Gotta do it again,” he repeats as you fasten your pace.

“Why always play such an angel, huh?” he asks as you moan and whine.

“When you’re a… a fucking demon. Literally,” he declares when you blow out breaths, letting out a crying sound.

He feels glorious inside you. Solid and gorgeous. He holds your ass cheeks in a tight grip, the strength nearly bruising when you let a hand wander back between your legs, grazing his firm balls.

When you turn around to check briefly, slowing your motions, he looks up, meets your eyes. Apparently, he wasn’t gazing at you directly at all; and you imagine there wasn’t much to see other than a bouncing mane anyway.

What he’s actually so distracted by must be…

“How’s it… it look?” you ask, circling your hips, feeling every vein, as predicted.

“It looks…”

Must be art.

Combined with his love for your ass, he must be enjoying the view; at least judging from the constant kneading and spreading. Allowing a direct, front-seat show of his cock appearing out of you, disappearing inside of you.

Glistening. Sucking him in. It must…

“Looks so fuck—ing insane from where I sit.”

The swear word is interrupted by a millisecond, breathy as hell. Allows a glimpse into how delirious he might already be, possibly faring worse than you. Impatient, seeking more.

And you do know your Jeon Jungkook well.

Because not even another breath later, his body that slid down halfway, bolts up. You feel the shift clearly; it pulls you backwards along with him. Only, you realise the movement isn’t the only source straightening you so fast.

First and foremost, it’s the freaking hand. Covered in letters and more ink, tugging at the dangling tie and following it up to the slowly unravelling knot before… abruptly snaking around your neck. Fingers right under your jaw, lifting your head.

He tugs you in until your back collides with his chest, and to your chagrin, you notice that neither of you has gotten rid of those stupid dress shirts. You won’t be able to wear them again without drifting to this memory…

Sleeve open, he wraps his arm around your body, just under your tits, and whispers, “Why… drive me mad like this?”

“H–huh?”

“So far away. Weren’t you ffffu—” The messy zero you’re drawing with your hips interrupts his string of thoughts, and he spends a second finding it again before he finishes, “Weren’t you far away long enough?”

Shit…

This isn’t just an affair. This isn’t temporary. Your brain still can’t quite understand that you’ve actually occupied this man’s heart.

That your gestures and touches aren’t a fleeting dream, but blissfully real. That you’re his, and that he’s yours.

He’s right. You were far away for too long.

So you sneak your arm back, around the back of his neck and pull him closer by his hair. His lips brush your cheek and then retreat to your ear. Nibbling for a moment. Kissing it.

You don’t know what to focus on — on the way his teeth light up your nerves, or the way his hand moves down your shirt and bra, and up your body. Soon taking your tits captive, squeezing hard, pinching your nipples.

“Move a bit,” he orders, though you don’t really have to.

His hand remains on your neck, so he pulls you forward; guess he’s sick of the shirt, too.

“You too,” you murmur.

“Yes. Patience, love.”

No. Fuck no.

Is it the nickname or his actions that empty your head this time? You don’t know. But you react.

Moaning, but it soon transitions into a yelp when he jerks up suddenly, balls deep. Your voice breaks, and you’re breathless; grateful when he unbuttons your shirt, dragging it down your shoulders.

Helping him however you can, you pull at the clothing almost aggressively, over your hand until it’s stuck there. Sporting a shirt paw, you hear Jungkook laugh behind you, peppering more kisses to your shoulder as he says, “Ah… take it easy. You’re with me tonight.”

One quick pause, and then, “You’re always with me. No rush anymore, okay? Yeah, baby?”

He aids you out of the shirt and tie with tender pecks. Thoroughly affected when you only nod so softly, eyebrows kissing. He unclasps your bra swiftly, breathing against your neck as he bares your body once and for all, putting the garment aside.

And then his forefinger moves along your neck again, only barely touching over your vocal cords; feeling your gulp before he journeys further down, back to your tits. Probably leaving scars; his nails are reckless today.

“Wanted to see those pretty tits so bad,” he says, though he doesn’t halt here — tiptoes south to your pelvis, and then to your clit. “Been thinking about this all day.”

Really? 

So each of these touches consume his thoughts every damn moment of the day, too?

“You wanna see them… properly?” you wonder. You haven’t moved in a bit, lost in him, mentally tracing the lines he draws on your body. “‘Cause I wanna see you.”

“Mmmmhm. Doesn’t sound too bad.”

“Then I’ll…”

You don’t speak further; busy with your further advances. Your pussy feels lonely the moment you let him slip out. You’re terribly wobbly on your knees, your thighs visibly shaking as you turn around.

Jungkook holds a hand towards you, a safety net in case you tip over. He holds your wrist gently as you move over the mattress; never more than now are you glad that his isn’t as soft as yours back at the house.

Keeping your balance, you straddle him again, back in a similar position, albeit finally facing him now. And your eyes roll back just the moment he fills you up again.

Your legs are exhausted; the moment you start moving, you barely make it far enough, and Jungkook notices immediately, whispering, “My baby tired?”

And when you nod, he holds you tight, wrapping you in his arms, and—

“Hold– hold onto me, okay?”

You do. And then — he thrusts up once.

When your head falls, his eyelids drop a little, nose touching your jaw as he says, “I could fuck you all goddamn day.”

“Do it… you can now.” His head descends to your chest, mouth open. You’re not sure what you’re opting for, but you still call his name, “Kook…”

Repeatedly lunging in, he collects the words he needs to say, so irresistibly frenzied when he vows, “I’m yours. Okay? And… I need you to stay. Am yours, baby.”

Out of nowhere — or maybe not. Maybe these very sentiments were swimming in his eyes all the time; you could just not see them yet.

Lips a hair width apart, you opt for one single kiss, only a ghost touch. You tell him, “Promised the world. Will promise it to you… too.”

“Good.” His nails scrape your back, and you tug at his hair. A moan tumbles out of him, transforming into words as he holds your body in place, pumping into you, “Fuck, you– feel so good. Just you. So, so good.”

“Ngh, I—”

“I know, I can… can’t breathe, either.”

He kisses your shoulder, the skin flaming under his mouth. Although late, you imitate his prior gesture, peeling off his intruding shirt as smoothly and fast as you possibly can. It’s been a wall between you for too long now; you need to see those pretty tits, too.

And once the buttons open and the shirt flies, you finally bask in the toned beauty. Soaked chest, brawny, chocolate chip nipples as hard as yours. Soon pressing into you, lips thirsting for you, slamming against your mouth.

The fever rises, the temperature akin to lava. Your sounds are desperate and wanting, and you hold onto him for dear life. And before you know it, you’re not claiming your throne anymore.

Suddenly, you find yourself floating for a moment, and then sinking into the mattress, and then curling your hands into fists and him slamming into you harder, deeper, all the way in...

Fuck.

Towering over you, he spreads your legs wide, temptingly licking his thumb before it presses down onto your swollen clit. One jab. A second. Another and another and another.

“Yes. Yes, please—” you beg and yell, letting him pound you into oblivion.

The first hint of stars already grace the darkness behind your eyelids, but then Jungkook starts delivering rapid, light slaps to your nub. He’s chasing your high as much as you are; you know. The chaos unfolding doesn’t hold him back from observing your reactions.

Only focusing on his own end of pleasure when you’re done.

Tears gather at the corners of your eyes, and you cling to his arms, his hands pushing into your waist. And it takes just a moment longer. And another second. Several more shoves, the curve of his cock dragging along your walls and your sensitive spot.

Thoroughly drenched, both of you, as he drives all of him into you. Parting your legs whenever they attempt to shut again. And the universe finally expands, a million celestial bodies dying and imploding, much like you and…

Suddenly, you’re off the cliff.

Falling into a deep ocean. Or the vast night sky. You don’t know — you don’t feel real.

All you know is that your thighs and ass are wet. That you ruined yet another sheet. That Jungkook is out of breath, fucking you through your high, ensuring that you come back to him only bit by bit, so, so slowly.

Gentler now, you feel his body subside, down to you. His skin is glowing with sweat when your eyes crack open just a slit, though they instantly drop close again when he kisses you once more.

He does it only softly this time, as if he’s trying it out. Gauging your reaction. And you do reciprocate the touch, even if weakly. You’re still too gone to look at him properly, but that doesn’t deter him from casting another spell in your heart.

Because his words reach every fibre of you. Butterflies swarm your stomach as he says, “I still can't believe that you’re staying. You did this… you fucking did this—”

“Why not? Wh–why can’t you believe it?”

“Because you’re staying with me. You stayed with me. And…”

Somewhere, it stings. That he’s surprised by constant company. By someone not leaving… by someone worth all his affection glueing themselves to him. And yet, you understand.

That’s a pain the two of you share.

He stares through your gaze, as if he’s frisking for something specific. With each passing moment, it’s like he’s realising something new, yet unable to really verbalise it.

Like something’s burning on his tongue.

But all he does whisper is, “How do I ever stay away from you now, huh?”

“Don’t.” You touch his face, and he doesn’t waste a second to lean into your touch, kissing your palm. “Please just don’t.”

“Won’t be able to… And it sucks that—”

He frees your face from your stick hair strands, still moving inside you. His own tresses hang into your forehead; his thumb touches your lower lip.

“That I can’t be with you every damn second of the day. I mean…” He leans in. Pecks your eyelids; your heart bursts. “What if I can’t move an inch from you?”

You keep staring. Unable to answer. Keep looking and drinking in every emotion laid bare in his confessions. Your misty mind feels calm; not as heavy as hours ago.

And you’re woozy; so indescribably giddy when he adds, “You… you mean so much to me.”

Damn. Damndamndamn.

And you’re fucking obsessed with him. Want his kiss on you all the time; words tattooed on your brain, etched into your soul.

“Jungkook.”

“Huh— yeah?”

“Can you…” You gulp, drooling at the thought, and then spitting it out at once, “Finish in my mouth.”

“Shit,” he exclaims, though the word is more a maniac laugh than anything else, “you know exactly you— you can’t say this to me.”

You know. Because any image of his cock ramming your throat empties his head.

Once more, he mumbles, ”Damn it,” before he’s picking up on pace. You move your hands over his broad shoulders, soon curling your fingers in to hold tight — it’s what the situation suddenly requires. Because gradually, his hips slam into you faster.

The dull sound of his thighs meeting yours repeatedly is lewd, volume increasing when he starts jackhammering into you. Your rhythmic, breathless cries become irregular and broken, turning into screams, and you feel a droplet escaping the corner of your eye.

Throat dry and jaw aching from the parted mouth, you keen from the sensitive feeling inside. You’re so full. So invigorated. Holding onto him tight, so you don’t crumble.

And just as you yell out a dozen curses, Jungkook, voice raised, states, “Fuck, fuuuck, gonna come, babe, f— open your mouth—”

You do. Instantly, tongue out, choking because it’s so much harder to breathe like that. Jungkook trembles over you, lips wet; his arms threaten to give out, letting his body nearly collapse on you, but just a moment before he does, he pulls out.

Hurrying, his knees dig closer to you, cock and ass right above your face as he holds the length between strong fingers. Secured in his palm, he strokes himself over you, glancing into your hungry eyes.

“Pretty girl,” his other digits raise your head by your chin, and his body is swinging, unstable; shoulders high. “My sweet baby… You can’t just…”

Pinching your chin fondly, he digs his cock into your mouth, still pumping the base and touching his balls. You raise your head to not suffocate in the process, and he lets your chin go to grip your hair, lifting you halfway just in time before—

His load finally spills. All of it. So much of it. Hot and sticky, thick as the ropes shoot straight into your throat. You nearly gag, keeping yourself together, swallowing diligently as he empties his balls.

There’s fucking buckets of it, shit…

You close your eyes, focusing on breathing, and once he’s done, you close your lips around his cock. Still hard, although slowly softening, you lick the remnants of his arousal and whatever’s left of you. The tastes mingle, and your head spins…

And then, he pulls back. You’re beaten, gulping, smacking away the saltiness.

Still overwhelmed from the taste, you let your head fall back onto the pillow; but your fingers still seek his touch. The mattress next to you flattens again as his knees retract, and soon enough, laying down beside you.

Both of you are too done in to speak, even less to move. So you let a few minutes pass. Then, you find his fingers, entangling them with yours; waiting a bit more.

And only when your heart rate calms a bit, you stir, hearing him suggest, “Quick shower?”

You smile. The kisses aren’t over yet.

For a while longer, the profuse heat lingers.

The radiator is off, and some of the windows were open when you came home. And despite choosing to stay bare after the shower for some more, you don’t register any of the cold yet; you’re sheltered, safe and so, so warm.

Jungkook’s fingers keep trailing up and down way after you’re done, lips planting generous kisses to your scalp and face. He paves his way to the corner of your mouth and then up to your eyebrows; and when he reaches your nose again, you lift your head abruptly.

Chasing his kiss, even if for just a second, a hand on his cheek and shoulders rising. Occasional giggles and smiles, tickles and pinches keep you busy temporarily; you don’t know how much time passes, nor do you care.

You only snap out of your daydreams when his kisses gain on urgency, tongue diligent. A palm creeps dangerously close to your ass, threatening to slink to your beaten sex.

But your reaction is quicker than his sly attempt, and you say, “Wait— no. Can’t do it again.”

“I wasn’t going to.”

“Of course.” Damn his shoulder shrug. You tap his pelvis before you wrap a leg around his waist, teasing, “I didn’t feel the twitch at all.”

He shakes his head. “No, you didn’t. But it’s not my fault that you’re so stubbornly sexy.”

“Stubbo—” You giggle mid-sentence, imitating the shake of his head. “I hope you know I’d let you tie me down and do whatever the fuck—”

“My god. Stop saying it like that.”

“—but my body won’t let me yet. I also still stink.”

“Stink?” He shifts dramatically, burying his nose between your tits. His voice is muffled when he asks, “Do you?”

“Stop. You’re so weird,” you scold, but the word is drenched in laughter; you forcefully lift his head again. “We still need to change the sheets and the shower was quick. Do I not?”

“You kinda do. Like cherry blossoms.”

“Shut up.”

“What? Sue me for telling the truth. My girlfriend smells like cherry blossoms.”

Oh… oh?

Wait.

Your mouth shuts tight.

Did he…

The beam that spreads on your face is almost embarrassing; surprise, joy and affection conjoin, your guts twisting. You take a breath. Feel the sparkles in your own damn eyes; tender gaze directed at him.

And the freaking flutter in your heart; the temperature in your cheeks. Do these things ever stop?

The words sink in slowly; and Jungkook takes the time to ask, “What?”

“You… you haven’t called me that yet, have you?”

He’s perplexed. Guess even to him, it was a Freudian slip, because his eyes are wider than ever. He waits, thinks for a moment; then admits, “Uhm. No. I don’t think so.”

“Well, I… like the sound of it.”

“It’s… it’s true. You’re my girlfriend, aren’t you?” His eyes smile before he does; unrestrained devotion in them. “My baby?”

He says it so innocently, so sweetly that you can’t help but coo. Teasingly, you pat his cheek, telling him, “I mean I hope I am. Considering I’m moving in with you.”

“Yes. You are. Of course you are.” 

“…Girlfriend.” Sheepishly, much like a teenage girl, you keep your twinkle intact, still feeling the lasting gleam on your face. You must be reminiscent of the sun and the moon. Emboldened, you start, “Then… boyfriend. Can I ask you something?”

The term elicits similar glee in him, teeth out, grin bright. He waits wordlessly with sparkling eyes, and you touch his lip, asking, “How do you feel right now? About all that?”

“I feel… I’m in disbelief. You’re moving in with me and just. Somehow, even saying it feels surreal.” He sighs, searching for words. “I’m in disbelief and crazy for you. That’s all I know.”

Falling deeper and without an end is possible. Jungkook has taught you that; still does.

“…I was so scared you wouldn’t like me doing this,” you confess.

“What? Saying yes to being with me all the time? Sounds horrible.” He laughs. “I’m happy. And I’m happy that you’re happy, too. Okay?”

“I wasn’t for a while, you know? You make me feel good. Take me by my word and give yourself credit for it.” He needs to. He might have doubted his role in everyone else’s life so far, but his value to you needs to be clear at all times. “Not just now, Kook, but, you always make me feel good. I hope you know that.”

“I do. This time, I do…” Content, you smile; until he stalls for dramatic effect, mouth open to indicate something to come. Your beam expands to exhilarated laughter when he squeezes your ass again, adding with another snicker, “What kind of boyfriend would I be if I didn’t make my favourite munchkin feel good?”

“…There’s more than one?!”

Hmm…

That’s what you’d been yearning for all this time.

Because there’s something so vulnerable about your elation; the enlivened titter. About your newfound feelings. About these very first phases of a sensitive relationship. Something serene.

And the meaning behind your words keeps changing with him; carries much more weight, and makes you feel so much lighter. As if levitating on cotton clouds.

Girlfriend. Boyfriend.

Peace reigns supreme and for a while you’re hopeful enough to doubt anything could disrupt it. Even the world is quiet when you look out the window.

September isn’t yet harsh enough to cover all above pitch black, but it’s still dark grey and drab. The sky still somewhat illuminates the unruffled room through the tilted window.

But just when tranquillity reaches its peak, your phone vibrates on the bedside table; you flinch.

The screen’s shine overshadows the faded monochrome of the world. It’s unwelcome, intruding — and once you lean over, holding the blanket over your chest, you realise that the message is just as unsought.

Mom [7:12PM]: We need to talk. Mom [7:12PM]: I’m still at Charmante for another hour and a half.

…At this time?

Did you leave her this desperate?

“What is it?” a dulcet voice asks from behind.

You hear the bed creak a little, his body cold without yours. Despising the distance, he puts a gentle hand to your shoulder, planting a kiss right next to it; when you lack his desired reaction, he asks again, “Everything okay?”

“Hm?” You barely tilt your head, eyes still glued to the words that you’ve already internalised. You cover his hand with yours. “Yeah. Just. Look.”

You hold the phone into his face; the penetrant white floodlights his skin. The warm gold shines in the glow, his lips drier than before. They move as he reads, and then, they close, giving way to a hum.

The initial silence suggests that he might be thinking the same as you — to bail. To shut the phone again, slide it to the edge of the bedside table and drop back against his chest, above his heart.

But you should know Jungkook better; he won’t discourage a familial reunion, praying for a better outcome than he ever had. He’s always spoken for your relationship with them — thinking back, he has never truly badmouthed your mother.

So you’re not too surprised when he hands you the phone back, careful to not turn your mother’s two marks blue, and suggests, “Maybe you should go.”

You sigh. You don’t want to. It’s too early for confrontation; time hasn’t passed, and the issue hasn’t yet marinated. Then again, the problem might only grow if you postpone this.

But your heart is biased, angry, refusing to oblige to her demands one more time. So you ask for yet another confirmation, “Right now? But I…”

You turn back to him, shaking your head slowly, troubled. He props his head up, eyes staring down to you as you lay flat on your back, hands folded under your breasts.

“Give yourself closure, babe.”

“I got closure.”

“No,” he strikes back, fingers lifting to your jawline. He touches it lightly, brushing it delicately, “Actual closure. To finish this. And she deserves it, too, you know? She’s still waiting there, angel.”

“Jungkook, you…” You click your tongue, gaze swerving to the unlit ceiling light and then back to him. “You’re too good.”

“I’m sorry.”

You smile, and he throws a palpitation-inducing twinkle back. You know he’s right — it must have been a shock for her after all. More or less double-crossed by her own daughter, humiliated in a public setting — her brain must be frying.

Reluctantly, you stretch your arm to the side, tapping for your phone, and roll your eyes at Jungkook playfully when you open the message to type back. His body floats down, lips planting a barely-there kiss to your collarbone.

You [7:14PM]: I’ll be there in half an hour.

“Alright then…”

Your body lifts off the mattress with the idlest of movements. The afterglow might die once you’re there, but you guess you need the confrontation–fight? Argument?—to ensure more, blissful nights.

This time, you don’t bother with your clothing as much as you did when you prepared for the press conference. You slip into the first best jeans you find, throwing a cosy pullover over your torso.

Busy with the rush, you don’t notice that Jungkook isn’t standing behind you in his usual grey joggers but in jeans, too. He’s fiddling with your car keys, stuffing his wallet into a pocket, and you stare wide-eyed, waiting for an explanation.

And once your digging stare pierces through him, he reciprocates it with similar confusion, half his hand still in the pocket as he inquires, “What?”

“What are you doing?” you ask, gesturing up and down his body.

“What do you mean?”

The back and forth of questions leaves you further bewildered, and you step closer, softly snatching the keys out of his fingers as you say, “Babe… It won’t take long.”

You don’t think he quite understands — it seems that to him, it was a given this entire time that he’d accompany you to your work building. But when it seeps through, his expression changes, more relaxed.

His head tilts, blinking slowly as he assures, “I won’t let you go alone.”

“Kook—”

“It’s honestly not a big deal. You said it won’t take long, so I’ll wait outside.” He shrugs, forefinger at the nape of his neck, scratching. “Plus, I’ll just get bored here alone.”

A warm flutter engulfs your heart. You wonder how couples spend days, months, years together without burning up every moment during their togetherness. Because you don’t think you’ll ever get over the fire he sets ablaze in your lungs — how does one get accustomed to affection like this?

You don’t know.

Maybe you don’t need to know.

Not more than what his eyes say, at least.

“What did you do all the time I wasn’t here?”

His grin is playful, but there’s tender truth in his words, “Something any guy waiting for you would do,” big brown irides meet yours, fingers fiddling, “counted the seconds until I could see you again.”

Your laugh is sudden before you ask, “Is that a quote from SpongeBob?”

And the joy holds on as you leave the apartment and rush down the flight of stairs. The short comedic journey to your car is distracting — most of reality only dawns on you when you step into the car.

Reminiscent of the last time the two of you drove over to a confrontation — just a little after his vacation; just a bit before the heartbreak.

The streets are quieter and emptier at this hour, the repose enhanced by the gentle drizzle. It’s significantly darker than when you arrived home, though it hasn’t been too long since you drove this exact way in the opposite direction. Two hours?

Maybe it’s the cloudy, almost black sky, accompanied by the hushed sound of the rain that’s amplifying your fears. Because the calming ambience from a minute ago worries you the closer you get — this once, you’d rather bask in sunshine and daydreams.

But no.

Hope is on your side; you’re done worrying, right?

As you sit up straight in your seat, Jungkook glances from you from the driver’s seat, eyes shooting to and fro between you and the street. His lips part as he operates the wheel with one hand, using the other to wrap around your fingers.

“Don’t be nervous,” he says, squeezing once before he lets go, brushing over the back of your hand and gripping the wheel again, “there’s just so much she can say. You made a decision as a full adult and she’ll have to accept it.”

“Yeah.” You follow the streetlamps and their warm radiance, redirecting your focus on the next as you pass each. “I hope so.”

The ride home was different; you were filled to the brim with energy and adrenaline. Your legs were putty, so he insisted for you to freeze on the passenger’s seat, reluctant to hand you the keys to drive.

You were waiting for the streets to end, to shut his door behind you, and to breathe and sigh through a sleepless night with him. The anticipation, combined with the aftermath of the press conference made you restless — you wouldn’t stop gnawing on your thumb.

And he didn’t interrupt your thoughts, let you flick through them until he finally looked at you at a traffic light. Raising the back of his digits to your cheek, assuring, “It’s okay, angel.”

Maybe the breathy tone and the hundred promises wrapped into one reassurance prompted your reaction at his place at all.

Jungkook turns into your work street, and you hold your breath. Your heart knocks violently against your ribcage, disabling a proper thread of thoughts. Which is a shame, because you really wanted to draw a collection of snappy remarks you could retort in there.

Instead, you merely look at the entrance far at the end of the street, unmoving as Jungkook moves into a parking lot and kills the engine. You blink; then blink some more. The gulp, you think, is audible in the small space of the car.

“Do you want me to come with you?” he asks.

“No… I don’t think she’d want that.”

“Okay,” he murmurs, leaning forward to pinch your chin between two fingers. He moves your head toward him, eyes a liquid, wavy ocean at night. Affectionate. “She’s your mom. Despite everything, I know she loves you.”

“I don’t know…”

“She does. I saw it the night I picked you up and I saw it Monday morning, too. So.” The head tilt, the soft curve of his eyebrows, the care in his pupils — they’re a healing bandage around your heart. “Don’t be scared.”

He leans over the centre console armrest, still holding your face in his grasp, and presses his lips just barely, sweetly to your wrinkled forehead. You think the muscles react immediately, temples relaxing.

For a second, he lingers, and then he pulls back a fraction, looking at you from an inch-wide distance, and whispers, “Don’t be. I’ll be here all the time.”

Right — armour-clad, like a knight. You finally nod, a weight dropping off your heart. You cement his smile deeper into your mind; a coping strategy in case things escalate in there.

Once more, you squint at the entrance doors, though barely visible from here. Hand on the handle, you say, “If I’m not out in twenty minutes, call the police.”

Jungkook tsks, eyes rolling with badly hidden amusement, ordering, “Just go. Will be here.”

Yes. Breathe.

He’ll be right here when you come back. And it’ll all be over then.

The building feels sinister, empty like this. Nothing of the busy and lively mood remains; the lack of the chatter and footsteps drenches the entrance hall in gloom.

It reminds you of horror movie locations; you can’t help but hesitate as you walk in.

Especially today, the silence is unbearably odd; the press isn’t lurking anymore, isn’t swarming you anymore. You don’t want to imagine how hard it must’ve been to convince the reporters to finally leave.

You sigh…

In less than a day, they’ll have today’s highlights printed in newspapers and posted; feasting. Big, bold headlines will narrate the words you uttered; of course they will. With your family relishing a local celebrity status, the media would be damned if it didn’t make any profit out of you.

For the first time, however… you don’t care. You inhale.

And as you walk past the glass walls and up the stairs, clutching your work keys, you don’t feel the overwhelming urge to run away from this place anymore.

You’ve liked your job since you started, no doubt, despite your initial worries and fears. But the thought of losing against the world, or of losing him terrified you. Maybe you were too naive to fight those who wished you harm mere months ago, freshly out of college.

But now that you realise that you won’t be roaming these hallways in a couple weeks, that you have dropped the mic in a way they won’t be able to pick it up to hurt you again, you feel relieved. 

Feel a sense of responsibility. Like an adult.

Okay.

She told you she’d wait in an unoccupied office on the first floor — you usually frequent it with Zara, sifting through theories and changes. You wonder why your mother didn’t settle on her own office — then again, you imagine it must hurt to suffer defeat in the very room where she’s supposed to reign.

As you reach the room, your fist lifts to the door. Though you soon realise that it might be entirely unnecessary, judging the slight gap and the soft noise from within. So you gently push the ajar door open, met with a tired figure behind an imposing desk.

She’s lost in thought, but as you enter, her gaze slowly ascends, her posture reclining. And you see it immediately.

The usually cold eyes, now brimming with disappointment and sorrow.

Her eyes flit, as you assume unintentionally, into a corner. She dodges a simple greeting when you mumble a timid, “Hi,” and you drop the formalities right away. Don’t even attempt to sit — stand there, towering in front of her, not intending to stay long anyway.

And it seems her thoughts and intentions align, because she refuses to beat around the bush, a weary voice asking, “Why did you do that?”

“Mmh… You’re asking like I shouldn’t have.”

“Because you shouldn’t have.” Typical. Her point of view will always be her only truth. You listen on, but can’t help but tense. “Your father and I built this for you, and we intended to forward it to you. You know that.”

You don’t like that tone; you never have. It always ran over your spine as a shiver, weakening your knees. Even today, you’re conditioned to buckle just a bit. You exhale.

“Mom, have you ever heard yourself speak? You’ve never even remotely tried giving me anything else that way,” you complain, leaning to clutch the chair with one hand, the other gesturing around the room. “You built this stupid empire for yourself and kept it intact for me, so I can continue your work.”

You huff out a mocking breath, shaking your head just a little. “You never even asked me. You just told me to do it all.”

Her voice is sharper when she responds, “We didn’t hand it to you to make you suffer, for god’s sake.” She’s irritated, eyebrows deeply furrowed. “Christ, you were supposed to have a good future.”

“Yes, and I will! I’m happier than I have been all summer. Do you even have any idea what happened during that time?!”

You pause. She doesn’t answer, clearly sorting out a hundred answers.

Because a lot happened — most of it a direct effect of her or the media’s bullshit. Of course she won’t be able to pick out just one single thing.

So you explain, “Did you even understand that Jungkook broke up with me because of the thing you pulled with that dumb journalist?” You spit the word like a curse, grimacing. “And that he avoided me because he thought he was ruining me?”

You try to make it sound as ridiculous as you can muster, wondering if the realisation is dawning on her. 

“Did you even notice how I didn’t come out of my room for da—”

“Just why,” she interrupts, eyes shutting tight in disbelief and agitation, palms toward the ceiling, “would you jeopardise your life and emotions because of him?”

Jeopardise. Holy fuck.

She has a whack understanding of villainhood.

“Because he’s important to me! You can’t even imagine how hurtful it is to only be talking about work to you. You never ask me if I eat or sleep enough. You didn’t even give me a graduation present. He did! But you wouldn’t know!”

You think back to the lamp in your room, the one she has never seen — remember the dark ceiling, the aurora and stars projected to it. The touches that followed.

“He’s unbelievably important to me, Mom. Okay?”

“You’ve been with him for just a while.”

You grit your teeth. It’s like talking to a wall; a daycare child would catch the sentiment better than her.

“Yeah,” you say, scoffing, “and it makes me embarrassed for you, because I’ve known you my entire life and you never cared this much. Like, fuck, even Dad did.”

Her jaw clenches as you swear, nostrils close to flaring as you concede more pain, “Jungkook actually makes me feel human.” There’s a sting in your eyes. You blink it away. “I’ve been feeling like a person, which just… made me understand that—”

You gulp, your throat tied and your head heavier now. You wait, shrugging. Then—

“That I can receive affection, too.”

Your friends are your first memory of care; barring them, you only had a faint idea of what devotion entailed. Learning what it means to be genuinely important to someone had been on your bucket list — this year, you ticked it off.

“I just hate that he had to glue me together first for me to understand.”

Because she broke you first. The contrast couldn’t be more crystal clear.

She doesn’t dig your monologue. Her countenance fills with different shades of ridicule and embarrassment, shreds of anger thrown into the mix. Filed nails tap against an open folder, the other hand rubbing her forehead.

“You sound ridiculous,” she derides, “you can’t throw your future away because of love. It won’t pay your bills.”

“I’m gonna be a manager, though. I’ll pay my fucking bills. And Jungkook is working his way up, too.” Your latter statement gains a sceptical stare, followed by a skyrocketing eyebrow. It satisfies you. “He is. He’s getting his own part at an exhibition. We’ll be fine.”

She frowns, mouth already agape as she psyches herself up for another answer, and you already roll your eyes, prepared to interrupt.

“You—”

“You were so grateful last weekend,” you argue.

“Because you almost killed yourself!”

“No! If you’re so worried, then call! You could’ve called and asked where I was like mothers do. Made sure I was well and not drunk out of my mind!”

“Stop it,” she stands, her voice as damaging as a serrated knife. You flinch as she charges for you, and you breathe out, ready for a slap — but her body halts in front of yours. “How do you expect to run from this just by switching to another company? Novaura’s still mine, too.”

No…

You hold your breath. Straighten your back, hands sweaty as your nails dig in. She’s been predictable half her life; not always quite vile. But you know what she’ll say next, and you know it’ll be the most odious thing she’s ever uttered.

“And I could keep you here if I wanted to. They’d throw you out if I told them, too.”

Your eyebrows shoot up, and you blink, scorning, “You’re serious?”

A breath of laughter escapes your chest, and you shake your head in disbelief. You’re done.

You press your lips into a thin line before smacking them, nodding in faux agreement before you say, “Okay. Go ahead. But if you do, I won’t shut up this time. Today, I was being nice. I praised you, and none of my nice talk was actually deserved.”

Choosing your words carefully, you pronounce every syllable as if explaining molecular biology. She listens, not spitting an answer immediately.

So you challenge further, “You want to throw me out? Do it. It’s your reputation. I didn’t say anything wrong at the conference today, because it’s my right to choose the career I want. You’d be abandoning your own daughter if you pulled this through.”

You have her attention. Her lips stay sealed.

“And when they ask me,” you continue, eyes now fiery; you’re so done. So, so done. “I will let them know that you did it out of spite. Try finding an excuse why you did when we’re there. I won’t be at any disadvantage.”

You press into your palms one more time, relaxing your jaw, and opt to turn and walk away. Hurling one more glare towards her, you spit, “I have a degree, just a reminder.”

And that should be it.

Pride unfurls across your chest, warm in your stomach as you take long strides out of her office. You hear the quiet call of your name, suddenly desperate. But now that you’ve said your part of the truth, you don’t turn around anymore.

Only shut the door behind you hard; shutting all she’d hoped for with it.

Despite the satisfaction still bubbling in your stomach, you can’t shake the clump in your throat and the anxiety in your heart. The post-fight adrenaline pumps through your veins, and your fingers shake.

There’s discomfort in deserting your own mother; the irrational fears were to be expected. You didn’t do anything wrong, you know, you know. But your organ still thumps like drums, and you lift a hand to your chest. A vain attempt to calm your breathing.

And then… something miraculous happens.

The brisky gust of the evening brushes your cheeks; the bright lights of the city contribute to your sudden peace. They’re a reminder that the world is far wider than this damn building. Than her.

But more than anything, your worries dissipate when the strolling figure grows in your sight. As you walk the short distance to your car, you feel your heart lighten — your forehead and temples relax.

He has his hands on his waist, chin slightly raised as if watching the stars that hide in the city sky anyway. His steps are small, and his eyebrows calm. He looks serene.

And once his hands slide into his open jacket’s pockets, he looks down the street again, surprised when you’re mere steps apart.

“Ah,” he voices, one palm already out as he stretches it toward you, “barely fifteen minutes. I was about to come in.”

Deep sigh in, you let his arm pull you in his embrace, swiftly wrapped around your torso. He smells like fresh clothes, after-rain, and vibrant, like the lights in the sky.

Your arms sling around his body with an urgency, and you muffle your voice against his chest as you ask, “Already?”

“Already?” he repeats, though dragging the word more than you did. His arm squeezes you once as his other hand escapes his pocket, too, stroking your head. “Those weren’t days? I swear I felt myself ageing in there.”

Your fist thumps against his chest lightly, and you giggle against his sweater. “Don’t be so dramatic.” Eyes slowly unfocusing, you rub the zipper teeth of his jacket between your fingers, softly mumbling, “Thank you for being here. You’re the best.”

You feel a movement over your head; he’s lowering his chin to your hair, still caressing your head as if lulling you into sleep. And it’s working — you feel drowsier by the second.

But then, his chest rumbles as he hums, cautious as he asks, “Are you okay?”

Are you?

You’re about to start a new life where you desire, with whom you desire. Finding permanent residency in his presence the way he finds it in your thoughts.

A few more steps, and you can make yourself home. Not in those rooms, but in him. Because that’s what he is.

A blanket, a radiator, the comforting voice that soothes and heals. Worshipping you within the same four walls every single day.

You’re not just okay — you’re craving.

Leaving his warmth and scent, you lean back and look at him. His eyes are as big as you’re used to, awaiting an answer, genuinely curious. Your heart threatens to burst; the sting is painfully sweet.

“Yeah,” you answer, touching the purple sweater, “I promise I am.”

Because. Because that’s all you ever wanted.

It’s over. You’re going home — you are home.

You can’t remember whether it was your fingers clawing into Jungkook’s shirt or his hand brushing through your hair that kept you in the sheets twenty minutes longer than anticipated.

The plan was to snooze once and get into a routine with divided work. One prepares breakfast, the other makes the bed and cleans up before leaving the apartment.

But it seems that so far, your routine has consisted of lazy mornings. Tired hums. Quiet, hushed and slightly hoarse good mornings and entangled limbs.

You pressed between his shoulder blades as he strokes your head, planting kisses on your temple and your forehead.

“Slept well?” he asked today. Another peck in between. Then, drowsy and sighing, “Is the mattress okay, by the way? I like the firmer ones better since they’re good for your back, but I know you had a softer one, so if you need…”

“No, not at all,” you promised, warm and safe under the covers. “This is perfect.”

No… the softness wasn’t needed. Your muscles were so relaxed, you were sinking into the bed anyway. Sleeping a dent into it. At peace as his nails gently scraped over your scalp, massaging and caressing.

He could’ve lulled you into sleep like that; and his voice served as soft, white background noise. The words he used. The honey sweet tone. The past tense in what you had, and what you have now.

If you hadn’t been so lethargic, you would’ve floated through your chores. But when the clock ticked too dangerously fast and brought your working hours sickeningly close, you decided to eat out instead.

You always fool around at breakfast too much — stretching it longer than it needs to be. A café was, surprisingly, the smarter, more time-efficient option.

And a great opportunity and excuse to explore the places near you. Jungkook promised there was an amazing bakery nearby, and you trudged along, tummy rumbling, now that you weren’t in bed with him and satiated anymore.

“You’re sure you’ll be at home by the evening?”

You gather the remaining crumbs of your pastry with the pad of your thumb, waiting for Jungkook to slurp the last of his coffee. He nods, soon answering, “Mhm. I won’t be at work for long. Might come home before you do, actually.”

“Okay,” you suckle at your thumb, shoulders relaxing as you stare at the drizzle outside. The day started out grey. “And then tomorrow, I’ll be off work by the afternoon, so I should be able to bring more things over from the house.”

Tired from the morning, your eyes remain on the customers trudging in and out of the café. They shake the water drops off their umbrellas, or sigh at the prospect of stepping out into the rain again. 

Their expressions aren’t quite dispirited, but… perhaps a little dim.

You raise a side of your lips in empathy, and then continue, “And then on Saturday, I’m getting the truck to the house, for the rest of my stuff.”

“Babe,” Jungkook interrupts, pausing to smack the coffee’s taste away. His hand slides over the table, wrapping his fingers around three of yours. “Let me come with you tomorrow. You’re already doing too much.”

“Absolutely not. I won’t drag you there unless I absolutely have to. Besides,” your voice is soft when you lean forward, raising your entangled digits to your lower lip. “You’ve been busy plenty, too.”

And it’s true.

He’s been taking care of the apartment and cooking dinner these days. Organising documents with you, so you have whatever needed to change your address and whatnot. Doing small purchases for the household and vacating some of the closet to make place for your stuff.

Two weeks have passed since the press conference — and Jungkook has been a pillar of strength and sanity as much as you have been his. You communicate each night, regulating finances, dividing roles and sharing comfort.

You don’t think you’ve ever witnessed or felt a relationship as symbiotic as this one… and you’re just starting out.

His thumb brushes over your fingers, still reassuring you, much as you expected, “I honestly don’t mind.”

“It’s okay,” you argue, “we still have a lot more to do. Save your energy for that. I’d still love these deco vines for the living room, remember? Let’s get them together.”

Your words are breathy, as if you’re being reborn. A breeze of refreshment — and he feels it, too. There’s something about the thought of simplicity livening up your bustling days.

Mundane tasks, like shopping for casual things together.

Groceries. Decoration. Plants.

With all the planning of switching work and homes, the two of you have been incredibly breathless. You even told him about a meeting at your new place today, a discussion about trivial matters, general know-how and preparation you need to do.

The sliver of stress is visible in your eyes — you’ll be seeing the other managers today. And you’re nervous about it, unsure what vibe the meeting might set.

But despite the stress, you’ve been as bright as Venus in the night sky. He understands. If anyone does, then him.

Because the idea of strolling through Ikea's tableware department is balm to his mind. Your laughter sounding through its hallways, half your body leaning over the shopping cart, because you surely seem like the type to do so.

His voice is as gentle as the mizzle outside when he promises, “We’ll get anything you want.”

“Really?” Your smile is radiant, cheeks glowing as you press the lightest kiss to one of his knuckles. “Sounds good to me.” 

Time passing has always been a bummer. Despite the quiet noise in the café, the clock ticks as if in a deafening volume, a reminder that you need to let this hand go soon.

Sometimes, you do worry. About the attachment, and the healthy obsession with him. And on the other side, about every moment he worships you, and every second he misses you.

How there’s discomfort in being apart, even if for mere hours. Maybe that’s why he holds you so tight at night. Or why you’re constantly itching to get home.

Perhaps there’s a lingering fear that your time separated brought, a sneaking anxiety of being dragged apart again.

Yet, instead of dwelling in improbable what-ifs, you breathe in the air of the room, direct your senses away from the clock and toward the increasing patter of rain against the window panes. 

You squeeze the fingers around you harder, delving into one last soft conversation as you ask, “You’re at lunch with Joon later, right?”

“Yeah, he promised me burgers today.”

“What for again?”

“Because I’m his favourite staff member?” Jungkook lifts your hand to your mouth when you open it, shushing you with your own fingers. “Don’t say it. I am his favourite staff member.”

“‘Kay. Understandable.”

“You know…” He shrugs his shoulder nonchalantly, but the soft drop of his gaze, fingers fiddling and toying with yours betrays him. He’s still so delicate around you. “If you want, you can join.”

“Oh. Mmmh,” you think for a moment, but then click your tongue, insisting, “it’d be weird, I think. Dunno if he’d want it.”

“I would want it.”

He always does.

Yearning. Obsession. A humane way of falling in love.

You feel like a person. No matter how odd the phrase might sound in your head, the painful truth behind it is undeniable. You feel like a person.

“Okay,” you reply, slowly reclaiming your hand, reluctantly preparing to leave. “I’ll see if I find time and energy during my lunch break.” You halt, unblinking, before you look back at him with squinting, uncertain eyes. “Totes Bag Street, was it?”

The sudden, choking laugh erupting out of Jungkook is a surprise. If his coffee cup wasn’t empty yet, he’d still be sipping, probably ruining the white, silky shirt you’re sporting today.

You actually mean it, don’t you?

His trademark laugh is high-pitched, melodious, though a little more controlled in the public space, but the flashing of his teeth and his dimples implies genuine joy.

You already know: the lighthearted banter has become a hallmark of your connection. Doesn’t get old. Heartwarming — albeit right now, very confusing to you.

So you cock an eyebrow, questioning, “What?”

“Babe,” he simply mutters, hands coming together in a mock prayer. “Shit, you’re so fucking cute.”

He lowers his head between his shoulders, torso shaking, and you pull his palms apart again to dig with another, ”Hey. What?”

“Boats Track Street. Not Totes Bag Street,” he corrects, endeared by your wide eyes. The back of two of his fingers grazes your temple, and then down your face, before playfully pinching your chin. “You’re so cute. And a dummy. I mean it.”

“You’re a dummy,” you reply, forcing your face back and out of his grip. “Besides, that’s a pretty stupid name.”

“To be fair… I agree.”

A hesitant smile spreading on your face, your gaze wanders to the clock at the opposite wall again. The beam drops a little, giving way to a small sigh.

“It’s okay. I’ll probably be busy anyway… will join you guys another time.” You shove the chair back, getting off with a fatigued groan and a hand rubbing your tummy. “And I feel a bit weird today, too. Shouldn’t have eaten before bed because I’m feeling the effects right now.”

“Ahhh, I told you. No worries. I’ll make you something light tonight. And some peppermint tea.” His hands wave you goodbye, making a begone motion. “Go for now. The longer you stay, the worse the next hours will be for me.”

“Dork. You must survive.”

You huff, eyes rolling at the dramatics, and push your bag behind your body before you lean into him. A hand on his cheek, you watch his eyes close, setting your lips onto his.

The two-second long goodbye peck remains just that before his fingers, pushing against the nape of your neck, tug you in again.

Against your lips, he mutters, “Eat, okay? Call if your stomach bothers you. Anytime. And don’t be nervous. You’ll have fun.”

And before you can answer, he kisses you again.

Once, and then twice more. Your guts somersault, even when he finally lets you go. Your lungs feel dry all of a sudden.

All you have left in you is to nod. For your wobbly legs to step away. Looking back a few more times until the door opens, the bell chiming, your transparent flower umbrella spreading over your head.

Jungkook watches as your careful steps wander away, your head never lowered like every other passerby’s. They’re hiding from the rain, but you’re staring up, observing the movement of the clouds before your focus falls on the road — and a minute later, you disappear out of his sight.

His chest and muscles relax, a quiet laughter still tumbling out as he repeats, “Totes Bag Street.”

The sky may be colourless. The people might look into the world dimly.

But despite the rain tapping against the window, no inch of you is painted in a dismal, drab grey. You’re the brilliant, gleaming sun.

The location of your new job isn’t as fancy as the area around Charmante. The building certainly isn’t made of reflecting glass throughout.

There’s wood and actual walls; not every door opens with a chip, but a key, and the luxuries are limited. Compared to your old building, this one is humble, but it still oozes wealth and success — guess that’s what a subsidiary looks like.

The meeting room for today is somewhere on the third floor. Your mind races as you fix your clothes in the elevator, throwing regular glances into the mirror to guarantee that your hair sits as perfectly as three seconds prior.

You breathe deeply, exhale through a rounded mouth. Whether it’s this meeting or something you ate, your stomach does not feel great.

As the nerves start kicking in, you think of Jungkook’s hand in yours and the everlasting smile. You use him as your safe place; close your eyes for those few seconds that the elevator floats up.

And it works. Feels like an oasis, calm and lovely.

That is, until the bell pings, forcing your eyes open. You stare up at the number, nearly stepping out until you realise that — you’re not on the third, but on the second floor. Were you supposed to halt here?

No. And there’s nobody outside, waiting.

Until, someone is.

Rushed steps move to the elevator, a nice but stressed voice urging, “Ah! Keep the doors open, I’m coming!”

Strange. Oddly familiar voice.

You can’t say why, but you already prepare a polite smile, trying not to let the ticking seconds stress you out. Rationally, you know you’re not late, but the time passing messes with your nerves.

And it seems it doesn’t get better when the figure finally rushes in, pressing the already lit number 3 before he says, “Good. Just in time.” Looks back at you, delighted as if he expected you somewhere around, and adds, “Ah! Hello!

It takes a moment. Then another.

One more until you figure out who he is, why you feel like hurling and how maybe, just maybe, he might be heading to the same room as you — as another new manager of Novaura.

You blow a raspberry at the boxes in your backseat. 

Deciding to at least take your favourite box up with you, you leave the rest here for now; you don’t want to bug Jungkook yet. You can heave it all upstairs on the weekend, in peace.

It’s only moderately heavy — but with both your hands busy, the task is a hassle. You secure it under your arm as you close the door of your vehicle with your hip, clutching the phone previously tucked between your cheek and shoulder.

You straighten your head, reflexively looking up to Jungkook’s apartment window. To your apartment window. Doesn’t quite roll off the tongue just yet.

Somehow managing to open the entrance door, you sigh into the phone, giving Taehyung a relieved, “I’m finally back home.”

“Mmmh,” Taehyung voices, and you imagine his full lips in a line, tiny nods serious, “how’s it feel? Knowing that this is where you’re gonna be for the foreseeable future?”

“It feels… quiet.”

“What, he bore you to death like that?”

You giggle, taking deep breaths as you ascend the staircase; though slightly irritated by the slowly and constantly slipping box. You heave it back up.

“Absolutely. You’ve no idea, really.”

Taehyung laughs, but your joke doesn’t stick for long. You feel bad immediately — even in a playful tone, your heart knows nothing for Jungkook but praise. You guess that’s how kindness affects people.

And your brain stays mean, prolonging your pout — because it conjures pictures of a crooked smile, wrinkles around tender eyes, a tilted head as shoulders rise when the laughter reaches its peak…

A sting jabs your chest.

The longing is unbearable, and you’re barely another level from the apartment. He’s waiting for you on the other side of that flat’s door, and you know his pupils will widen in his dark brown eyes the moment they fall on you.

“No, that feels horrible to say,” you correct, shaking your head. You pause in the middle of the staircase for a moment, gaze fixated on a dirty spot before you shake your head once more. “You know Jungkook. If he’s not joy personified, then I don’t know.”

And it’s true — despite his own demons, you don’t think you’ve ever seen anyone spread this much comfort.

“I just meant that my mind’s been quiet. And a lot more peaceful. Not a hundred worries whirling around anymore,” you tell him, your steps upward slower now.

“Just ninety-nine, huh?”

You smile. “Maybe. But he’s not one of them.”

Dull background noise interrupts your thoughts; Taehyung doesn’t respond to you, but reprimands Yoongi in a distant mumble. He’s been doing it since he called, covering his phone to argue with his friend.

Apparently, Yoongi had been with him for hours before you picked up Taehyung’s call; they’ve been settling the rest of the arrangements, scurrying through paperwork. The apartment you considered is entirely their adventure now, but you aided in anything they needed.

Which basically just meant clearing things with the landlord and then answering his new tenant’s million questions. 

As in — how were you thinking of decorating it? Why were you going to take it? Did you calculate monthly costs including rent, water and gas? You didn’t mind, because Yoongi might be one of the most polite people you have ever met.

But it seems he’s reluctant to return to his dorm’s lonely walls, too.

Because Taehyung values alone-time, and Yoongi hasn’t granted it for hours. You feel kinda bad for Yoongi. And while the younger man attempts his hardest to maintain the gentle tone, you hear the exhaustion in his voice.

“I’ll drive you home after this, ‘kay?” he tells Yoongi; you snicker at the groan that returns. “You got this, bro.” Attention back to you, a murmur of your name. “Anyway. Everything should be good now.”

“I’m glad. That was… quite something.”

A euphemism, really. The handful of visits weren’t fun; not to mention the stuff you had to get over with for your own move. And then all those calls. You needed minutes upon minutes of preparation for each of them. One hell of a businesswoman, you are.

“No, say it as it is. ‘Cause it knocked me the fuck out. You guys really had to drag me into this.”

You feel guilty about making Taehyung your spokesman here; but as an already residing individual of the building, he was a great support in this matter. 

“We— love you,” you tell him, inhaling deeply between your words. You rub the dirt off your soles on the welcoming mat and hold the box tight, not opening the door yet. “Tell your forehead to feel kissed.”

“Nah. You’re gonna upset Eun.”

“Why? Eun and I are more in love then the two of you might ever be. She’ll choose my side.”

“Ha. Fair. Whatever.” His voice doesn’t carry an ounce of solemnity. Once again, you imagine him pulling a face, waving your statement off. “Enjoy your life. Your voice has been echo-y forever. Also, don’t forget to talk to Jungkook about what we discussed.”

Ah… yeah. There’s more than just one thing you need to clear, actually.

“Aye, aye, Captain,” you confirm, though arguing, “I’m surprised you haven’t done it yet.”

“You do it. I know he’ll like hearing it from you better.” He pauses to answer his friend; you don’t even know what he said. “Okay. I’ll go grappling with Yoongi then.”

“Good luck.”

“Buy me sushi.”

One last laugh before you cut the call.

The clicking sound of your keys turning in the lock is music to your ears and balm to your feet. You skip the threshold with a relieved release of air; the apartment smells like diffusers, so warm compared to the declining temperatures outside.

You don’t hear a movement until you get to your knees, seating the box next to the shoe cabinet. As you start working on your jacket, you register a shuffle from the living room, but no voice — Jungkook said he’d be home before you. Perhaps he’s painting; or gaming.

A short text message during lunch assured him he could start dinner without you; deep down, however, you understood he wouldn’t listen anyway. And the obvious lack of aromatic scents wafting from the living room proves it.

You don’t enjoy eating alone — and he knows.

Clearing your throat, you announce your arrival, bent as you take your shoes off and rub your aching heels for a moment. You wish you could float. Offer them reprieve.

Stumbling in the anteroom, you wait for a greeting, but it seems he didn’t hear or notice you. You lick your lips, standing straight, and then speak into the hallway—

“I swear I don’t have a foot fetish,” a short pause — nothing, “but can you massage my feet again today?” You wait. Not a word comes back. So you joke, “Actually, just massage my whole body? I don’t mind. Need some hands-on relaxation.”

Subjectively, you think you’re hilarious. You giggle on your way to the living room, cheerful despite the jam-packed day — but your laughter ebbs down soon. Because he’s standing in the middle of the room, lips pressed into a tiny smile, head lowered, hands in his pockets.

And right in front of him, a timid woman in a coat. Blinking at you.

Your eyes dodge her gaze immediately. It’s an impolite reflex, heart pounding as you watch Jungkook’s hand lift to his forehead, hiding behind his bangs as he rubs. When he looks at you again, there’s an equal amount of worry and amusement in his expression.

“Shit,” you mumble, another mishap, and you continue cursing internally. Stupid, stupid, stupid. And then, “I’m sorry.”

She looks like him. Same sweet aura, short hair, big eyes.

Her right digits are wrapped around the fingers of her other hand, mouth shut tight, though smiling. She knows less what to say than you, and the moment stretches and stretches and does not end and—

“Hi,” you finally murmur, bowing slightly before you cringe. Too much? Not enough? You clear your throat again, and then introduce yourself quietly. “You must be Mrs. Jeon. I… I didn’t know you’d be here or I would’ve come earlier! I’m very sorry.”

Are you rambling?

How horrid. You’d feel so uncomfortable if you were her.

Only, she barely showcases any sign of displeasure or irritation. Despite striking you as an introvert, her movements soon prove confidence — the type to know what she’s saying or doing, but in a humble and gentle way.

She unfolds her fingers and lets them dangle, soon moving up to clutch the strap of her bag. Looking between Jungkook and you once, she raises her eyebrows and shakes her head, as if to promise that there’s no reason for any tension.

You sigh when she speaks, “Oh, it’s alright. I didn’t stay long and I need to go in a minute anyway.”

“Oh?”

“I was going to leave ages ago, but,” she points to her son with rolling eyes, and the man in question shrugs in faux guilt before she speaks on, “that one wanted me to see you for at least a second. I wanted to meet you properly… prepare dinner and all, but. It’s still nice to meet you.”

Her eyes are kind, taking you in; if you could guess, you’d say she’s… excited. Urging to finally speak to her son’s girlfriend.

She moves a teeny tiny bit, as if opting to offer her palm to you, or to— maybe hug you? But maybe she realises the timing, or sees your terrified expression, because she holds back for now politely.

“I see. It’s wonderful to meet you, too.” Incredible how you spoke about initiatives just this morning, rambling in the office until someone had to interrupt you for their own turn. Now, you can’t get a word out. “But, I… I am still sorry I barged in so rudely.”

She grimaces, moving closer to you with a waving motion, “You didn’t barge into your own apartment. It’s all good.”

Jungkook doesn’t interrupt much; doesn’t interfere with his own jests and statements. They mirror each other so much, though. In the way they smile, and in the way they talk.

Even the manner in which she places her hand on your arm, reassuring you, delivers the same warmth. You tense for a moment, not quite expecting the touch; but it’s motherly. Soft. 

A new emotion floods your heart, but you can’t decode it. Too many thoughts streaming in, brain working overtime to come up with a full sentence without stuttering, without those dumb hesitation markers that your studies taught you to avoid.

And maybe you’ve succeeded — only, the clump in your throat, accompanied by a strange twist in your stomach builds a barrier now.

Her touch feels… good.

“Do you… would you like to sit?” you ask, voice softer by an infinite amount. “I have a variety of tea here, and you could choose one. If you…”

You want to talk. About whatever. Not the slip occurring a couple minutes ago; maybe you just finally want to know who made Jungkook the man he is today. It wasn’t necessarily his father, was he?

Somewhere, this incessant, constant comfort derived from. But.

“I’d like nothing more than that,” she admits, “but I have massage therapy in a bit, and should get going. An adult’s back.” You laugh, and she gestures towards you with an open palm. “Oh, don’t you work in an office? Take care of yourself, too.”

“Not just an office, Mom,” Jungkook interrupts, inching closer until next to you and rubbing your back, proud, “she’s a manager. She walks around a lot, so the problem are,” he nods toward your feet, “these.”

True. Just today alone, your heels made it feel like you ran a marathon. Learning about each corner and wandering around that building drained you.

“Ah… I thought so,” she says.

You blink in faint confusion until you realise. Jungkook lets out a breathy laugh, brief but telling, and his mother smiles in awkward amusement. Hell.

Your blood shoots back into your face, warming it thoroughly, and just before you can opt for another apology, she says, “You have him to take care of you. Make him spoil you! You do, don’t you?”

Her voice changes the moment she faces her son, a little strict but all in good fun; her eyes squint and he exclaims, “I do!” the moment you defend, “Oh, he does! He definitely does.”

She seems to like this. There’s a sparkle in her eyes, similar to the one you already know; perhaps she’s just as endeared as mothers–usually?–get, realising their children are happy and settling.

“We take care of each other,” you tell her then, and she responds with a content nod.

“Good. It’d be a shame if not. Taught him how to treat people.”

“He knows for sure, ma’am. I don’t think you’ll ever need to worry about that.”

You’re careful with your gestures, your smiles, your movements. Even though she’s made clear as day that she’s not to fear, you still shift your entire focus on the delivery of your words.

If you weren’t, you’d be more lax. Looking through the room, exchanging glances with Jungkook. If you weren’t so distracted, you’d notice that he’s playing with the ends of your hair.

And you’d see the way he looks at you.

With those barely blinking, calm eyes. An ocean of fondness in them, a light, lost smile around his face. As though you’re soothing him, pumping oxygen into his lungs.

You don’t see any of it; but his mother does. And you register the drift of her pupils, the minimal upward movement in her eyebrows as she shoots a glance at him — then back at you.

But when you follow her gaze to him, he’s already snapped out of it, clearing his throat.

“You should go before you’re late,” Jungkook reminds her, removing his hand from your hair, “I’ll go spoil her as you taught me, Mama.”

“You better. Pressure’s on.”

He smirks, lopsided as he slings an arm around her shoulder. She’s so much smaller than him. “Tell Dad Hi from me.”

A slight drop of his lips. He doesn’t look at her but the ground. Tell-tale signs of a distant ache, hidden behind an attempt to find a cure.

The sting is palpable, right in the middle of your heart, but it dissipates bit by bit as he smiles at you again. Genuine once more, back to where he was only five seconds ago.

You nod at her, one last, non-verbal confirmation that you feel cosy here. There’s something inarguably sweet in her instant care. How she instantly roots for your happiness. How she’s pouring all her empathy into you with a single look.

A stare that usually understands someone else’s pain; and then hopes for eternal peace for them.

She doesn’t even know you — does she? You wonder if he ever did speak about you.

“Okay then. Tell me if you need anything,” she says it to Jungkook, but promptly turns to you, promising you, “you can, too. Of course.”

“I will. Thank you so much.”

Purse lifted further up her shoulder, she starts a move toward the exit, already starting to wave you goodbye before she suddenly stops. Looks at you, and blurts, “Oh, and— has he uhhh…?”

She starts the sentence with hesitation, ending it with uncertainty and a look over her shoulder. You follow her eyes, barely catching him throwing a warning sign. His eyes are ripped open, head delivering tiny shakes, but he returns to normal the moment he catches you staring.

Okay. Something happened there that you’re not part of.

But that you’re supposed to be part of? You don’t know.

You’re curious, though. Already aware of what you’ll be pestering him with tonight.

She shuts up, letting out a short, tiny breath. Her small, sweet fingers curl just once before she releases them again, and she flattens her coat, nodding.

“I’ll leave you two alone then,” she declares.

“You should stay for dinner next time, though!” you offer.

“Of course. I’m eating with my husband after the appointment, so he’ll probably already be waiting, but. Next time for sure. And you should come, too, someday.”

Right. 

It doesn’t stop. It’s permanently odd hearing someone talking about that man other than Jungkook. Shouldn’t be, because she’s the closest and dearest individual to him, sharing a home and marital bed. But…

It’s like people don’t quite feel real from stories until one actually faces them. His mom’s subtle, harmless words about her husband make him feel realer, and Jungkook’s issues with them.

But most of all you wonder — why has he never visited here? You wish he had. You wish he would sometimes. But she didn’t even suggest bringing him with her next time. Or how his father would be delighted about a visit, too.

It doesn’t seem to faze Jungkook. Or maybe it does, but he doesn’t let it show. Or — worse. Has he gotten used to it? His father’s absence, or the term that defines their relationship.

Because he nods, a soft smile as a son usually throws at his mother. Casual but loving. He says, “Won’t keep you here then.”

Jungkook kisses her head at the door, and she stuffs her hands in her coat, politely bidding you goodbye.

You watch as she approaches the staircase, still waving when she turns around one more time. You sigh in relief — she was friendly. No panic. You didn’t fuck up entirely.

And despite the last moments of gloom that the mention of her husband evoked, you hear Jungkook’s chuckle resonate once the door finally closes. His steps move toward the living room, his shoulders shaking.

You nearly slide down the closed door as you watch him, head falling back before he falls into a wholehearted laugh. You imagine deep, multiple crinkles around his eyes, mouth wide in joy.

Eyebrows kissing, you follow him inside, nearly bumping against him when you realise he’s standing in the middle of the room, body still shaking from the chortle. He’s facing the ground, and you hit his arm from the back.

“Shut up,” you only order, opting to walk away.

But he turns to you, a hand around your elbow; he can barely breathe when he assures, “Okay. Okay, I’ll stop. Sorry, I just—” He sniffles as you look at him, sulking and trying his gloating not to make you laugh, too. “What were you doing?”

“That’s not funny!”

“I’m not trying to be funny! I’m serious.”

Which he clearly isn’t. The smile is too infuriatingly wide, and the tug at your arm too affectionate. He’s amused and you hate–love?–that you are, too. You keep the act of agitation intact for another moment.

But pieces of you break, your heart a melting mess when you watch his eyes nearly close, nose scrunched up. His shoulders rise — they always do whenever his laughter increases, bunny teeth protruding and the mole under his mouth a magnet to your lips.

And when he raises his hands to your face, cradling it, and speaks, you lose it entirely.

“What were you even saying, munchkin, huh? You’re such a little idiot, you know?” he playfully scolds, squishing your cheeks; peppering kisses on your skin and your lips; barely allowing you a moment to talk.

“And you’re—” you say between tiny kisses, distracted by the childlike, muah-ish sound effects that accompany his pecks, “so mean.”

“And you are the sweetest thing to exist.” The lovingly aggressive touch vanishes from your cheek to be replaced by sudden pinches; your protests are high-pitched, and unfortunately, enhance his statement. “Okay, okay. Come on.”

He flicks your chin as if to provoke you further, but dodges all your teeny tiny rage to come when he moves past your body. Warning abandoned, his fingers tweak your ass as he targets the kitchen, and you yelp, instantly slapping a hand over your butt.

“Freshen up and let’s get to dinner. And hurry. Gotta give you hands-on relaxation later.”

“You’re the worst, I mean it.”

But his evil snicker isn’t.

He might make your hackles rise, and test your patience the way he used to so long ago. Back when you’d seek him out in a miniscule dorm room, eyebrows furrowed just to see him a bit longer after class.

You’re always baffled how your foundation still stands; after all the shattering and agony and stings that fractured your heart. Only now, you’ll be surrounded by the bicker every hour of the day.

And you wouldn’t have it any other way.

Living through an odd day at work, driving around town and embarrassing yourself in front of your boyfriend’s mother makes one dizzyingly hungry, you realised. Stress didn’t let you eat properly today.

Even now, there’s something you need to reveal to him — but the moment you sit down to eat and crack the first joke, you don’t have the heart to. And then, combined with the rush still lingering from the awkward, wholesome interaction before, and the shift in mood, you soon do the worst:

Forget about the issue.

Your eyes meet the bottom of your bowl sooner than preferred, your stomach still seemingly as empty as before. Whatever magic Jungkook seasoned the dish with, you want him to sprinkle it on your tastebuds every day.

Jungkook is sipping on his water when you suddenly look up and place a hand on his bicep, shaking him for attention. A guilty Oh slips out of you as you watch droplets roll down his chin, and he tries not to choke as he puts the glass back on the table.

“Babe—”

“I’m sorry!” you exclaim, thumb wiping at the fluid dampening his chin. “Just. Can we have more? That helped with that sickness all day, and… I’m still hungry.”

Along with the lack of appetite, you assumed the stress and the constant overworking dragged the feeling of illness and stomach ache throughout the day, too. Jungkook keeps warning you about burnouts — doing a thousand things at once, you’ve been thoroughly burdened.

But honestly. Maybe it was just hunger for a real meal.

“Oh? I'm so glad it helped then! And sure,” he responds. “Go ahead, there’s enough for like four people.”

You blink. “And you?” He shakes his head, patting his full tummy, attempting another try at drinking. You argue, “I’m not eating alone, though!”

“Angel, I’ve had like two portions. I'll be full until next dinner.”

“Lame!” You shift on the couch, half of your ass holding you onto it, “And if we found ways to burn it off?”

“…Ah?”

“I mean… You like working out. So just work me out.”

“Shut up. You’re impossible.”

You’ve long given up — you’re not an ass. You would never force him to eat or not to eat, unless he hasn’t in hours. But you also need a foolproof way of amusing him.

Which, despite his very unimpressed expression, you know you did. His lips still twitch.

Sombre, his tongue pokes the inside of his cheek before he shakes his head. You pat his strong thighs, standing from the couch with a hungry groan.

“Fine. I’ll go heat up some for myself then,” you announce, but Jungkook’s shrill alarm bells ring immediately, his body jumping off his seat.

“Not the microwave.”

“Jungkook—”

“Not! The microwave. Just toss it in the pan and heat it up there.”

You tiptoe to the kitchen just a little faster, playful as he hurries after you. You spend your seconds explaining why the microwave won’t explode; how tickling you won’t change anything; how you’ll break something if he doesn’t stop.

But most of all, you spend your seconds allowing him to chase away all sorrows you carried for so goddamn long.

Shut up. You’re impossible.

His prior agitation truly wasn’t one at all.

Because despite your obvious jests, the calories lost on the couch rob you of all sanity at last. A hand in your hair, a body pushing yours down, free fingers roaming your sides and your legs, and lips never separating from yours.

He doesn’t strip you off a single piece of clothing. Doesn’t dig a hand underneath your shirt, focused on how your mouth feels, how his name rolling off your tongue sounds.

The eyes he stares into are vivid and bright, and he uses up all his power to not let them kill him. Your body wraps around his like the most tender of all embraces; he doesn’t need you bare for it, no matter how blank the thought leaves his mind.

Only needs the proximity. The tongue touching his, the nails testing his shirt’s quality.

You miss most of the movie that he suggested, eating each other up, a fist around the hem of his shirt until he nearly falls off the couch and wakes you from your dream. You giggle and joke, spending the second half of the film yawning, sipping the peppermint tea. 

Jungkook uses the quiet time for whispered conversations; massages your feet as you pleaded for, repeatedly asking for your comfort.

The moments aren’t anything big, in theory. You’re not in a fantasy novel, not throwing a ring into a volcano. You’re mortal and here, surrounded by humane domesticity and drowning in casual conversations.

Yet — even though you’re not living through spectacular adventures, you’re breathing through special moments nevertheless. Because not a single second spent with him feels mundane, after all.

Sometime as the ending nears, you let your legs fall, pulled close to Jungkook by your hip. You don’t quite understand when or how he does it, but miraculously, you land half on his lap, ass barely on the couch and cheek pressed to his temple.

Jungkook pushes a hand against your thigh, heaving you up further and moving you until you’re comfortable. There’s a light groan, followed by a feathery kiss to your jaw; and you wrap an arm around his shoulder to hold on, shifting even closer.

Your touchy warmth isn’t new to Jungkook; but it seems that the changes in your lives made your inhibitions disperse. Like you broke the bars trapping you so far.

Because the increasing clinginess feels carefree; you don’t overthink your movements tonight. Even before, there was lightness in your interactions; how you’d breathe in his presence, compared to when the world intruded.

The difference was still never quite veiled.

He saw it when he called from so far away all those weeks ago, staring at the distress in your face through a device — versus when he returned to your world.

Or just recently, when you stood on that tiny stage, talking down to reporters — as opposed to when you whispered for him to get you home.

Your shoulders always dropped in relief the moment you stood in his soothing radius. And yet—

There was quiet discomfort in your eyes. And today — today he doesn’t see that usual steam frying your brain. Your smile isn’t burdened; you’re weightless, like you’re breathing.

Overwhelmed and endeared, Jungkook gulps. The pricking needle rods his heart, simultaneously flicking the wounds. He could cry.

He watches you busy your fingers with his shirt, unable to put his thoughts into a coherent string of sentences; so he only says, “You’re so cosy today.”

“Hm? I’m always cosy.”

“Mmmh… a bit more tonight.”

Your forefinger traces the outline of his pecs over his shirt, and you nod with a hum before you declare, “That’s because I’m trying to establish a healthy balance.”

“A healthy balance? How so?”

“I need to be nice, because you’re not.”

His eyes follow your finger’s slow movements, so his voice is soft, barely concerned. But his brain can’t quite compute as he asks, “I’m not nice?”

“You’ve always been mean, actually.”

He laughs. Taps your thigh rhythmically, close to your butt. “How am I mean to you?”

“Like,” you press your palm flat in the middle of his chest, looking at him. There’s a crease between your eyebrows, the slightest hint of a pout on your lips. “You ass could’ve answered when I came home. You didn’t say anything! Or did you really not hear me?”

Oh.

Ogling into your anticipating, subtly piqued eyes, he suppresses a laugh. His lips form a thin line, but the glow in his dark eyes betrays him. Your hand lifts a little, ready to spank his pecs, but you close the gap again as you grant him another chance.

“Hey, if you tell me you didn’t hear, I’ll let it slide.”

You’re well aware Jungkook graduated as the best of his year in Teasing You, and holds the degree proudly to your face every day — but you also know he’s honest.

So you’re not surprised when he admits, eyes mischievous, “I heard you.” Your slow blinking, the scolding gaze are hilarious to him; he looks unspeakably pleased. “I wanted to see what you’d do.”

Now you do slap his tits.

“And you didn’t expect me to say that shit?!” you reprimand. He wraps his arms around you, his laughter a deep, genuine emergence from his chest. “I’m an idiot, in case you didn’t know.”

“Of course. I do know,” he suddenly deadpans. Wow. That couldn’t have come any more naturally. “I know you well, baby.”

“And yet…”

He waves your concerns off, hand soon returning to your back to pull you closer. “She’s chill. I knew you were gonna amuse her right away.”

“Oh god. You planned this… Wait. You didn’t shush her when you heard the door open, right?”

He doesn’t answer. Just keeps looking at you. And then… is he…

Is he zoning out?

“Jungkook,” you call again.

“Hm?” He stares at you beguiled, as if utterly distracted by whatever. “Sorry. Can’t hear you—”

“You so can. We’re alone and I’m speaking loud and cl—”

“Nah, you’re just so pretty. I can barely focus.”

“I hate you.”

But you don’t.

He doesn’t need to spell his intentions out for you to understand. He might be testing your patience, but there’s a hidden meaning in his words that he can’t hide as well as he intends to after all.

Because you know he just wanted you to be yourself instead of playing a different role; just like he has never pretended in front of your parents. He knows you’d try extra hard for him — but he needed you to come in and receive affection as the person that you already are.

Guess whatever you blurted was the first impression he wanted to leave of you.

“So,” you start after a moment, back to tapping his chest, “do you think I did amuse her?”

“Oh, she loved it.” Of course she did. You could see the Jeon-esque endearment in her eyes the moment you stepped into the living room. Humbles you. “She’s gonna adore you, too.”

“Ah. Like you adore me.”

Jungkook’s response arrives in the form of a long, semi-damp kiss, delivered to the corner of your mouth. You grimace, torso moving backwards at his gentle force. He adds another Mmmhhh to the gesture until you’re nearly falling off his lap, pushing him away again with a giggly, “Stop!”

He leans back with a content sigh, eliminating more of the distance between you until his head almost rests against your chest. But when you speak again, he looks up into your face.

“Hey. Your mom was saying something as she was leaving. What was it again?”

“Uhh…”

His pupils roll up in thought, one shoulder already rising to shrug, but then it drops again before he voices, “Oh… Yeah…” A break in thought; then, “I figured you’d be busy with everything going on, so I was being reluctant about asking. Didn’t wanna put you in a difficult position.”

You wait. He speaks on, “But my cousin’s getting married next month, and I’m invited.”

There’s a beat of a pause, and you anticipate, already sensing a presentiment before he spits it out—

“And you are, too.”

Hold on.

Weddings. More often than not, weddings happen in big places, filled with a great number of guests. Of friends. And… of family members.

If what he’s suggesting isn’t a hallucination, it means that’d be how you’d step into the battlefield. Attempting your best to be yourself, to charm his family with whatever strategy.

Is he thinking of the same thing?

Because you’re speechless.

You close the mouth you only now notice stood agape, trying not to show the bubbling exhilaration too blatantly. That’d be your first joyful event together.

Oh god.

You might squeal; faint of nervousness. If you could, you’d press your fists to your lips and stomp your feet and twirl your hair and—

“Wait… You want me to go to a wedding with you?” you finally ask instead, keeping your voice in a normal pitch.

“Only if you feel like it.”

“And… and you?” you inquire, wide eyes looking into his wider ones. He’s nervous, too. “Do you want me to?”

“I… yeah. I do. I really, really don’t want to go without you, actually.”

Shit.

“Where is the wedding?”

“Yeah, see, that’s why I was afraid to ask. You’re so busy and your job’s so new. But we’d—” He hesitates, as if scared of rejection. Clicks his tongue, evaluating his words. “The thing is that we’d have to drive all the way down. It’s back at home.”

You need a moment. Back at home; you’re home. Meaning, it’s not here.

Meaning, it’s in his hometown. Meaning, you wouldn’t just meet his family, but walk through a place of memories and deeply rooted, nostalgic affection, too.

Which is… such a huge fucking thing.

Especially for a girlfriend.

Eun always says it doesn’t do bringing a girlfriend or boyfriend to big events such as birthday parties or weddings. It’s disadvantageous for the pictures, she claims. Who knows how the future might play out?

But Jungkook isn’t concerned with these issues. Jungkook wants you all the way down there, lurking on streets with him that he grew up on; tripped on; played on.

These are places with core remembrances. So easily expanded when more are added to them in later years; and so easily shattered when hearts break.

But a heart breaking is not an option, is it? Not anymore.

“You’re… taking me to your hometown?” you ask. You immediately realise the choice of words, and don’t hesitate as you add, “I mean. You’d be taking me home. You’d like to—”

“Is that—” he interrupts, suddenly unsure, “bad? Did it change your mind? You don’t have to, I promise.”

“No. I actually might cry.”

His expression momentarily softens, a big, clear Awwwh written in it. Gentle fingers brush your hair back, observing the vulnerability in your eyes. But shit, you mean it.

You could cry.

Because you talked about this so long ago.

Back when he was miles away, yet so deeply settled in your heart. Sneaking his way into your head, eating you up inside. When he broke off a piece of you and took it with him as he left, no relief for weeks on end.

And when he came back, he promised he’d take you with him one day.

Is that it? Is that now?

“Fuck,” you curse under a quiet laugh, confused by the burning in your eyes.

Jungkook’s hand brushes over your cheek, eyebrows slightly cocked. He might not have expected you to react with such… emotion. You hadn’t either.

“Hey,” his voice soothes, “don’t cry. It’ll be good. And if it’s not, or if you don’t want to, we can just stay here and never go again.”

You’re gonna sob. How did you deserve him?

Of course you want to go. Of course you’d make the best of it. No fibre in you wants to reject his offer.

In fact, you’re already daydreaming. Because…

How’s it gonna be? Will you see more stars there? Will his family like you? His Dad like you? And what are weddings with boyfriends like? Will you be seeing him in every flower in the hall, in every kiss the couple shares?

“No,” you say, “I’ll go. I will go because you’re too obsessed with me to leave without me.”

Jungkook chuckles immediately, but not speaking before rolling his eyes, “And you’re a brat.”

You wait a moment, smiling in unison with him, and then ask, “Honestly, I… I’d love to. Can I just still ask…” You’re curious; but you also want to keep feeling that warmth. More tranquillity from his words. “Why would you not go without me?”

He doesn’t stall.

“Because it’s such a big event, and… so far away. I don’t want to leave you here. And the thought of being at the most lovey-dovey place without my favourite person sucks.”

You’ll freaking screech.

“Jungkook!”

Half of the name is muffled when your lips drop to the crook of his neck, back uncomfortably arching and face heating up. Your ass threatens to fall back on the couch, legs still over his, and he hugs you close as he snickers again.

He shakes your body gently, trying to lift your face. Calling your name when your breath tickles his skin, asking, “Are we embarrassed?”

“No.”

But when you look at him again, your smile is wide enough to freeze your muscles in place. He shakes his head, flooded with aching joy, and makes sure again, “So you want to go, yeah? Don’t need time to think or something? It’s okay if you do.”

“As if. I really wanna go. I’m gonna make this,” you touch his collarbones, then your own, “work.”

He smiles. Grants you a short break to organise your thoughts. And while what you query next shouldn’t come as a surprise, it does introduce a delighted shift in mood.

“What am I gonna wear?”

Jungkook puffs out a breath.

You don’t notice; your focus drifts, directed to the carpet. You mentally scurry your closet, quietly trying to recall appropriate attire for weddings. Which is odd, because you should have the entire catalogue of your and every other place cemented in your mind.

“What do I wear?” you repeat, back to looking at him, barely allowing him a moment to think. “And don’t say anything would look good on me. Serious answers only.”

“You know a question like this prompts nothing but unserious answers from m—”

“Kook—”

“Okay. I mean, you have such pretty dresses. Lemme just choose one and we’re supplied.”

It’s an easy idea; fair enough. Only, you’re barely listening, earning a side-eye from Jungkook when you say, “I should buy a new one.”

Which still doesn’t deter him, though. “Cool. I’ll go with you then.”

“Or will I seem overdressed?”

“It’s a wedding, baby. Overdress like hell.”

“And… if I’m underdressed?”

“You’re still gonna be the hottest around!” he exclaims, and you flinch just a little. He’s not truly agitated, but there’s playful frustration in his voice, a grin around his lips. “Don’t worry about the dress, okay? It won’t stay on you anyway.”

Jungkook expects you to react with similar scolding, using it to hide how timidly flattered you actually are. But you’re too fired up, restless in his grip as your voice grows shriller, “I’m so. Fuck, I’m so excited!”

“I am, too. But…”

His palm moves up and down your back, one eye squinting shut as you start swaying a bit, pumped with serotonin. Like a thrilled child. You’re so…

He lowers his gaze; you might just see the heart eyes otherwise.

“Okay, hey,” he tries again, calming you as his fingers grasp your wrist. “Should we go to bed for now, though?”

You wait with your answer, relaxing your body. Stopping your elevated sounds, you draw the deepest breath in history, and then breathe out a whispery, “Yeah.”

“Yeah. Good. Oh.”

“Hm?”

“You haven’t actually been to the bedroom yet, right?”

“Oh…”

True. Since you came home, you only conversed with his mother, then rushed to take a shower as she left, still filled with prickling and nervous emotions. And then you hurried back to him, starving, eating, watching TV.

And now you’re here.

Was something different about the bedroom, though? You don’t think so.

“You’re right,” you tell him, “no, not really. Just to shower. Why?”

“Just…”

“…What?”

“Okay. Hold onto me.”

“Hold ont— oh, f—”

You gasp for air when two strong arms replace his soft hands, settling under your kneepits and around your back. He shifts dangerously on the couch, moving forward before he starts to lift with a self-motivating grunt.

“And— off we go.”

You sling your arms around his neck immediately, hiding, letting out a panicked, ”Be careful, I’m sli—”

“All good. Relax.” His arms wrap more properly around your limbs, and you dare to listen. Allowing your legs to dangle, you let him carry you calmly, breathing air through O-shaped lips. “Good girl. I won't just let you fall.”

“You better not.”

“No. Just wait.”

He looks at you with a comical grin, throwing a kiss into the air and down to you. Using your feet to kick the door open, he halts at the threshold; for a second, he looks… up.

And just when he finally enters the room, you quietly follow his gaze. The question as to what to wait for gets stuck in your throat when you realise what it is he needed you to see.

Holy shit.

the chapter isn't over yet – much to go!! tumblr just doesn't allow more than 1k blocks/paragraphs. apologies for the scrolling, but i promise it's worth it :'D here's the rest! <3

#jungkook smut #jungkook fluff #bts smut #bts fluff #jeongguk smut #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #bts x you #bts imagines #jungkook fic #bts angst #jungkook angst #jungkook

[kookslastbutton]

When I Say Forever ༓ jjk (m)

✑ Summary: Today’s your wedding day and the slightly shy yet handsome, doe-eyed stranger who chased after you when you dropped your wallet on the street three years ago just happens to be the man standing before you today.

Original request: can you please write something about oc's and Jungkook's wedding? Your readers just need to witness it. We would highly appreciate it. Thank you!

pairing: jungkook x reader

genre/AU: fluff, smut, wedding au

word count: 4,696

warnings: a cute wedding where jungkook gets emotional and is very eager to be married, they get a little scolded during the ceremony ahaha, jk is romantic and prepares something very special for his lovely bride, mentions of absence of parents on oc's side (nothing gets too deep but I chose to go this route due to the very real factor that parents aren't always around), and finally sexual content bc come on it their wedding night 🥺

sexual warnings: soft dom!jk, sub!reader, swearing, explicit s*x, jk asks for consent bc yeah i don't even need to justify it, f*ngering, oral (both m. and f., multiple orgasms, dry humping, t*tty suck, heavy making out, overstimulation, possessive!kook, m*ssionary, c*wgirl, oc claws at his back which jk seems to have a kink for, a little bit of steamy rivalry at the end (just a hint), our kook is attentive even though it gets kinda rough

now playing: My You by jjk

a/n: my you has been one of my on repeat songs and im not sorry. Also, thank you for the request, i hope this is alright! Anyway pls enjoy! ❤

Dozens of cherry blossom trees are sky-high in the air, covering you as you walk down the aisle in the grass. Some of the blush pink and white blossoms shake from branches every few steps to shower over you in a cascading effect. The temperature is also perfect, a steady 68 degrees.

This is why you and Jungkook chose to marry in the spring–it was beautiful.

You look to your left, then to your right. Rows of seats filled with family, friends, and co-workers stare at you in awe. The only two people missing, however, are your parents.

With the passing of your father years ago and your mother's absence in your life since then, your half of the guest list isn’t extensive by any means. It's for those reasons that you both agreed a small wedding would be ideal.

Still, even with the minimized guest list, you find it difficult to hold eye contact with any of them. It's not because you're nervous exactly–you simply don’t believe your reality is real.

Was this another one of your silly dreams?

Are you going to wake up just as you reach the front?

You keep your eyes straight ahead and towards the man who's waiting for you with tightly clasped hands. He makes all your worries melt away in that instant.

No, you remind yourself. This isn't a dream.

The veil you’re wearing drags on the ground behind you and flows over the small train of your delicate, white gown. You chose a form-fitting sheath dress that’s made from the softest satin fabric. Its clean, sharp lines allow the semi-deep-v neckline to appear more elegant than revealing.

The closer you get the more Jungkook’s cheeks wet with his tears. He knew he was going to cry today. But he was hoping it’d happen towards the end so he could see you walking down the aisle to him without his vision blurring.

“Hi,” he whispers to you once you’re fully in front of him. He wipes his face with his thumbs as subtly as he can.

You bow to each other in greeting and, with the request to join hands from your officiant, you hand your bouquet of fresh-cut flowers to your maid of honor and place your hands in his gentler ones.

“Hi,” you reply, equally quiet and with a small smile.

Jungkook’s dark, raven hair parts in the middle with a few strands tastefully out of place. He’s wearing a black, pin-stripped suit with a matching vest and plain black tie. The white dress shirt underneath is buttoned all the way up to the top too and he’s kept all his piercings in, including his lip ring. He’s unbelievably handsome–and he’s yours.

When your officiant begins making the welcome speech, the guests settle down in their seats all at once. Yet you and Jungkook keep whispering to each other as softly as you can.

“You look amazing.” His thumbs rub soothing circles over the top of your knuckles.

“So do you.” Your gaze holds his reddened ones. The fact that he’s still on the verge of tears causes you to form watery eyes as well. But you blink them back. “I can’t believe this is happening.”

“I know. I feel the same way.” He pauses and grins at you. “Did you see who came with whom?” He gives a side-eye, gesturing at Jimin, one of his best men.

“I saw.” You and Jungkook start giggling at once because the person who Jimin brought as his plus one is perhaps the most annoying person in the world to him–your co-worker who’s had an insane crush on him for the last year. They insisted that Jimin be a “gentleman” and show them a good time while at your wedding.

“Do you think they’ll…you know,” you wiggle your eyebrows suggestively to finish the sentence.

Jungkook shakes his head lightly. “I don’t know, maybe. I can’t really bother to think about who’ll sleep with who when you’re gonna be the one under me tonight.”

Though he says it with the most sincere tone, more endearing than flirty, you swallow hard. It’s not your first time with Jungkook but you’re unsure what to expect tonight. You’ll be his wife after this.

“Why do you get to top?” you mouth.

Jungkook gives a half-smirk.“Why do you pretend to hate it?”

You open your mouth to form a response but the harsh clearing of a throat behind Jungkook orders you to stop.

“Everyone-ahem-can hear you,” Taehyung coughs. “Stop it for god sake.”

“Yes, if the bride and groom could please save the after-wedding affairs for later, we can move forward with the ceremony. Thankfully I don't see many children in the crowd today,” the officiant adds as humorously as she can and the crowd chuckles.

Oh god. You bite down on your tongue to keep from embarrassing the two of you further.

Once your officiant is able to finish her welcome speech she turns her attention to you. "__ do you want to marry Jungkook, to be your husband, to love and to cherish all the days of your life, today, tomorrow, and always? 

"I do. Yes."

She looks at Jungkook afterward. "Jungkook do you want to marry __, to be your wife, to love and to cherish all the days of your life, today, tomorrow, and always? 

He stares at you, wordless for a moment as every memory between the two of you hits him like a tidal wave. His hand starts shaking in yours, and tears start spilling from his eyes again.

"You okay?" You whisper and this time it's your turn to rub soothing circles on his hands, calming him down.

"Yeah," he sniffs. "I just never imagined myself to be standing here today. I love you so much."

Your officiant decides it's best to wait for the right time to speak but Jungkook smiles at her softly. "That means yes by the way," he jokes and the guests laugh in unison.

She turns to the ring bearer, aka Namjoon's eight-year-old son who stands on Jungkook's left by his father. "May we have the rings please?"

The boy walks over to her, hands over the small gold bands, then returns to his previous position.

"The couple will now exchange rings as a symbol of their love and devotion. I understand they have prepared their own vows thus binding promises to love, honor, and cherish one another. __, please place this ring on Jungkook’s finger and when you're ready you may begin."

You take the ring and begin slipping it on Jungkook's finger. "They say when you marry someone you become one. You consider each other in every decision, make compromises for the other, and be the strength when the other cannot. We've been together for three years now Jungkook, doing those exact things and I couldn't fathom stopping now. I love you and I promise I'll always be here next to you, however and whenever you need."

"Jungkook," your officiant hands him your ring. "Please place this ring on __’s finger and when you're ready you may begin."

"When I saw you years ago, waiting at the crosswalk, I thought you were the most beautiful and intriguing person I'd ever seen in my life." He puts the ring on your fourth finger. "And then you dropped your wallet and it gave me the best opportunity to approach you. Little did I know, the sight of a man running after would make you run too. But you took my number in the end and three years later, the love of my life is standing before me. Everything I am and have belongs to you __, always and forever."

Your officiant smiles at you both as Jungkook struggles to keep his distance from you a few seconds longer. He's been waiting for this very moment since the day you agreed to be his boyfriend. He just can't take it any longer!

"In the presence of...oh for the love of might," your officiant stops mid-sentence when she sees Jungkook shuffling his feet closer and closer towards you. "Never in my twenty years of performing marriages have I seen a groom this eager to get married. Go ahead and kiss your wife hun! Mr. and Mrs. Jeon Jungkook everyone!"

Massive grin on his face, Jungkook grabs your waist and dips you low into a romantic kiss. The crowd goes wild at the dramatic gesture, whistling and clapping behind you.

After about a million more tears, speeches, first dances, a surprise song preformed by the wedding party, and Jungkook practically ripping off the lace garter around your thigh with his teeth, the wedding festivities come to an end. But not before you both find yourself being guided to a secret place led by Taehyung.

The wedding party insisted you be blindfolded beforehand. So here you are, almost pitch black out and clinging to Jungkook's arm.

"I don't understand why I need to be blindfolded and you don't," you say.

"I'm not sure," he replies. "Maybe they got you a gift or something."

"We're here! Stop!" You hear Taehyung shout from a few feet ahead and Jungkook freezes in place. You're body jolts forward a little with the sudden pause.

"__." Jungkook calls your name softly. "Open your eyes."

You flutter your lids open and at first, the sight before you is hazy as you adjust to the night sky. But then, your jaw drops to the ground.

In front of you is a charming river surrounded by perfectly arched cherry blossoms with lanterns hanging from the branches. All the lanterns illuminate the entire length of the stream, including around the bends and curves. At the edge of the stream is a small dock where a wooden row boat floats with a set of oars inside.

"Oh my god." Your eyes trail as far down the river as you can. You've only ever seen this in movies, so you're incredibly overwhelmed by the sight. "Jungkook, are we-are we going in there?"

He watches as you openly gape at the scene in front of you. "What do you think? Do you like it?"

You whip your head in his direction. "Are you kidding? It's amazing! Did you know about this?"

His big grin tells you everything you need to know.

"He planned everything himself," Namjoon speaks up. "Come on, your boat's waiting. It'll take you all the way to one of the best hotels in Seoul. I know you're going on your honeymoon tomorrow but we thought a night up in a five-star hotel might be nice. Unless you want to go back to Jungkook's house of course but...we kinda already grabbed your suitcases for the trip and had them put in your room."

"You're serious?"

"Dead serious __."

You snake your arms out Jungkook's arm and swing them around him. "I can't thank you enough for doing this, Joon."

He places a gentle hand on your upper back. "Of course, but like I said. Jungkook planned everything so you should thank him more than me." He laughs and breaks away from you when he sees the younger man eyeing the two of you excruciatingly close. "I think your husband would like you back now."

Jungkook comes up behind you and sneakily slips your hand in his tatted one. "Are you ready?" He gestures towards the boat.

You nod and he pulls you towards the dock, helping you into the boat first when you approach it. He sits across from you after and grabs the oars of the boats, lowering them into the water one at a time.

"Wait!" Taehyung lunges over the edge of the boat with something small and black in his palm. "Don't forget this." He clips a tiny microphone to his shirt and you scrunch your eyebrows.

"What's this about?" You ask.

Taehyung only half-smirks at you and backs away from the boat. "We'll see you when you come back from the honeymoon okay? Have fun! But please, for the sanity of us all, don't text us any details. In the words of the wise, keep the private things private!"

Jungkook laughs and starts rowing the boat forward and down the stream. You, on the other hand, wave goodbye to everyone as you drift further and further away from the dock.

"So, husband," you sit with your elbows on your knees. "What's the mic for?"

Jungkook doesn't reply but shushes you instead. He tests the mic a couple of times before soft music comes from either side of you. Apparently, there are stereos lined down the banks of the river.

When he starts singing, you cover your mouth in overwhelming joy.

"Summer has already spread in the air

Breeze is already blowing.

The last cold snap is going out

The days were getting longer and longer

But my days were still going on and on and on

I got wet in the sunshower, I looked up at the night sky..."

At this moment the lanterns start twinkling, reflecting like raindrops in the water. You look all around you, taking in the change of atmosphere. Jungkook's cool eyes focus on you intently as he continues serenading you.

"It was quite a lonely night

In the blink of an eye, the dark faded out

Blooming under the sunlight

Memories with me and you..."

The boat rows left and you peer over your shoulder. Taehyung and the rest of the wedding party are barely visible by now. When you look ahead again, you see that you're about to go under a stone bridge. On the other side are more cherry blossom trees and a glimpse of downtown Seoul.

"All these lights are colored in by you

All these times are precious due to you

Four seasons have passed with you

Four scents were left 'cause of you

All the reasons why I can laugh out

All the reasons why I sing this song

Thankful to be by your side now

I'll try to shine brighter than now..."

Jungkook rows the two of you closer to the city as he finishes his song, passing a number of other couples taking night strolls together. The wind blows a little but it doesn't make you shiver at all—his voice warms your soul.

And when you lean in to kiss him once the boat reaches the dock near the hotel, fingers grazing his cheeks, your body yearns to be near his.

It takes little to no time for the two of you to find your hotel room. Jungkook swipes your keycard in the door and in you both go, your hand shamelessly yanks at his tie.

He presses you up the back of the door once it's locked shut and kisses you with a fiery passion. It's different from all the other times; neither rough nor soft, as he sucks on your bottom lip, eagerly begging to deepen the kiss.

"Kook," you let out a muffled moan when his tongue finds its way into your mouth. It's a wrestle at first, your tongues toying with each other. And once you get the hint that he's not about to back down you start threading your fingers through his hair.

"I love it when you do that," he groans and pushes himself against your body, grinding his growing bulge against your center.

You whine against his lips and grind your hips back into his. "I know you do," you tease and a strong pair of hands wander your waist before traveling behind to grip your ass.

You yelp when he squeezes your cheeks and starts rutting himself into you faster. He moves his pillowy lips to the side of your neck too, peppering you with kisses from the the sensitive area right below your earlobe and all the way down to your collarbone.

"Fuck," he grunts, nothing short of frustrated, when your dress stops him from kissing down any further. The hands gripping your ass move up to find the zipper of your gown. "Please, baby, can I remove it?"

"Yes, go ahead," you nod and retract your hands from his hair to let the gown fall off your shoulders. Jungkook watches lustfully as your bare breasts are revealed to him little by little. He's seen them a million times but each time is always like his first, his eyes never fail to dilate.

"Perfect," you hear him whisper under his breath. And when the gown pools to the ground around your feet with a heavy thump, he can't hold himself back any longer.

He needs you.

One by one he starts tearing off his suit jacket, then his vest and leather belt until he's left standing in nothing else left except his black underwear. His muscles bulge without even having to flex and his pecs are more than solid.

If he weren't the love of your life, you'd say he was damn intimidating. Yet the pleasure you get from simply viewing his perfectly toned body is ridiculous and what pushes you further is the gold band wrapped around his fourth finger.

Jungkook must be feeling the same as his hands are back on your hips in the seconds following, pushing you to the wall adjacent to the door and attacking the area near your collarbone again with his plushy lips. You whine when his large pecs rub against your pebbled nipples.

"God what have you been lifting these day Jeon? Half of Seoul?" You rest your hands on his biceps which tense at the touch.

"Uh uh," he tsks in response. "Can't call me that anymore. We share the same name now." He kisses your shoulder then moves his mouth over to a nipple. He licks one first, teasing it with the tip of his tongue until you moan for him to keep going.

"You have such soft boobies," he comments before finally sucking on one. Your head falls back from the pleasure it sends up your spine.

"Do you have to say it like that?"

He switches to the other breast, licking and sucking it firmly like the he'd done previously. "What's wrong with boobies? I like the word."

You chuckle and decide to let him have his fun. Pick you battles __, you hum to yourself.

Jungkook tugs at the string of your underwear after placing one last kiss atop each boob. He slowly pulls the thin material down your legs at your consent and you step out from them.

"Lean against the wall and throw your leg over my shoulder," he tells you on bended knees.

You do as he says, swinging a leg over his shoulder. The movement has his head face to face with your cunt which is not in the least bit dry from all the teasing and grinding earlier.

Jungkook sticks a finger in his mouth, wetting it with his spit and then rubs it back and forth between your folds. The lubrication mixes with your own arousal.

"Jungkook," you whine when he doesn't sink his finger in right away, despite the fact that you're well prepared for it.

He blinks at you through his lashes with a devious smirk. "What?" He asks. "You don't like this?"

"I do but I need more. Please," you beg. "Fingers. In me. Please."

He groans at the way your voice seems to crack the more you beg. Well, he's made you wait long enough. Jungkook pushes his finger into your velvet walls all at once, dragging it back and forth in search of your sweet spot.

He knows he's found it when you instantly buck your hips and the leg that's over his shoulder reflexively clamps down on him.

"Right here?" He curls his finger inside you and it has your pussy already throbbing for him. You don't even have to ask for a second finger before he does the honors himself, sliding another into you then proceeding to make a scissoring motion with both digits. "Or here?" He asks again.

"Anywhere," you barely make out through your gasps. "Just don't stop what you're doing."

"What if I wanna lick your pussy?" He pumps his fingers faster all while maintaining focus on your face. "Make you come all over my tongue."

"God Kook, do whatever you want," you reply and it's all the push he needs to remove his fingers from out of you to replace it with his mouth. "Fuck!" You cry as he desperately licks long stripes up your slippery folds, tongue dipping inside for additional pleasure.

He repeats the motion several times until he decides its not enough and sucks on your clit.

"Oh, that feels so good, fuck, fuck Jungkook," you moan with eyes closed and a shaky breath.

Your legs start trembling as your first orgasm of the night builds inside. It gets closer and closer as Jungkook works faster and faster before finally, the cord inside you breaks free.

Jungkook happily swallows as much of your cum as he can. He uses his wrist to wipes his mouth after, cleaning up any leftover.

"First time eating my wife out," he starts, guiding your leg over his shoulder back on the ground. "What a fucking turn on."

Jungkook stands up and pulls you into an embrace with both hands, your bare bodies press tight against each other. Then, without any warning, he swoops up your legs with one hand supporting your lower back and lifts your into his arms.

"Kook!" You call his name in suddeness of the action.

"Yes? What is it wife?" He carries you to the large, king size bed that's covered in rose petals and lays you on top. His handsome face leans over you with careful, attentive eyes while a hand reaches for one of the soft pillows nearby to slip under your head.

It's now that the weight of the moment hits you, as if you've just doven off a steep cliff and head first into the rushing rapids of the ocean.

"I love you," you say.

Jungkook sticks his thumbs in the band of his underwear and pushes it down until he can easily remove them. He's fully hard when he crawls over top of you after, and places his hands on either side of your head.

"I love you too." He lowers his head to capture your lips into a deep kiss. "Now," he continues, sitting up on his knees and shimmying his thighs up your frame. "I think I might need some help here."

He grips his pulsating length, tan tip leaking with pre-cum. You widen your mouth gladly and he shoves his length to the back of your throat.

"Mm!" You gag but to say you hate it would be a lie.

Jungkook doesn't move at first, letting you get used to the weight of his cock on your tongue first. He bites his lip as you hallow your cheeks the best you can.

"I don't want to come, I just want it wet okay?" He tells you and you nod in understanding. "Fuck, so good," he lets out a throaty growl after the first thrust.

You suck him as hard as you can as he fucks your mouth at a steady pace, making sure his cock will be nice and well-lubricated with your spit this time.

"Can't believe we're married," he thrusts faster, teeth clenching together. "My wife, mine forever. No one else can have you. I won't let them."

You blink your glassy eyes at him, thighs struggling to rub together due to the arousal pooling between your legs for the tenth time tonight.

You love him so fucking much.

Jungkook pulls himself out of your mouth while you're in thought, a string of spit following. He backs himself down your body until he can properly hover over you in a straddling position.

"Legs up," he commands and you wrap them around his waist in a criss-cross position. His wetted length finds your entrance with little guidance and pushes forward, stretching your walls so deliciously well.

"Oh my god," you shudder as his cock sinks all the way in thanks to both of you being incredibly worked up and lubricated. Your hands fly under his arms after two thrusts, to grip his back. "Fuck, you're so deep Kook."

"I know, holy shit," he grunts and beats himself into you. He likes the feeling of your body bouncing up and down underneath him so leans down on his elbows to fuck you faster and harder. "I think this might be the deepest I've been in you baby, so wet for me—fuck!"

He moans loudly when your nails claw his back. "Shit I'm sorry!" You relax your fingers immediately when he winces at the slight pain.

"No," he nips at your jaw. "I like it, keep doing it. Mark me up." He snaps his hips into yours and you claw at his back again, harsher than the last time; not enough to hurt him but enough to make him moan in your ear over and over again.

"Jungkook! Too much," you pant as he burries his head in your neck, trailing hot open mouth kisses to the area. "It's too much, I'm gonna come!"

"Fuck, that's the goal baby!"

"Yeah but, don't wanna come so soo—"

He shuts you up with his tongue shoving between you lips, kissing you with a purpose. You's body squirms at the pleasure and you find yourself clenching around his thick length that yes, twitches in response.

"Three years together and you still think I'll give you one round and call it quits. Since when baby?" He groans as he feels himself achingly close to his high (you too). "Tell me, since fucking when?" He emphasizes once more.

You're too lost in how close you are to your second orgasm to give him an answer.

"That's right, never."

One hard thrust later and you come on his length. It takes little time before he releases in you as well, yet he continues his pace.

"That's one down," Jungkook says, riding out both your orgasms which slowly works you up to another. "Not including any eating out. And if my memory serves our record is five. Don't you think we should surpass that now that we're legally bonded to each other Mrs. Jeon? In sickness and in health was it?"

"I'm still trying to recover from the first two orgasms I had tonight, including the fingering and you relentless dry humping."

"Baby," he coos. "My sweet baby, come here." With both arms Jungkook lifts your body with his until you're both in an upright, seated position. Your legs that were once wrapped around his waist rest on the mattress as he thrust up into your cunt. "Don't you know I just want to make you feel good? Why recover when you can be wrecked so heavenly over and over again?"

You moan and squeeze your hands on his shoulder. Jungkook studies your face, maintaining slow, calculated thrusts into you.

"Come for me again," he says.

And you do, sticky white liquid dripping down to the base of his cock and onto the sheets under you.

"You enjoyed that didn't you?" He smirks. "Let's see you get on all fours now. I'd love to see how well my wife takes it from behind."

You catch him off guard by pushing on his chest and guiding him flat on his back. "Mm no," you refuse him. "I think I'd like to get a taste of my husband as a bottom instead."

Jungkook's cock hardens inside you and his fingers settle around your hips as he smirks up at you. "Go ahead then," he tests. "Try getting yourself off."

"You think I can't do it?" You narrow your eyes and grind forward on his cock, earning you a deep growl from your new husband.

"We'll see how long you'll last before I have to flip you on your back and take over," he spats. "But good luck beautiful."

With a huff and determination in your eyes, you start a strong pace. Jungkook watches you with lustful eyes as you bounce on him– enjoying the show a little too much.

a/n: Thanks for reading! Lmk what you think 🥰

Masterlist

no reposting, copying, or translating my work– © kookslastbutton

#jungkook fluff #jungkook smut #jungkook x reader #jungkook fanfic #jungkook imagines #bts smut #bts fluff #bts x reader #bts fanfic #bts imagines #bts au #fic:whenIsayforever #requests #kookslastbutton

[chuluoyi]

romeo and juliet

- fushiguro megumi x reader

you were both young when you first saw each other. years later, you and your gentle childhood friend fall in love... but you're betrothed to someone else.

genre/warnings: modern royal(?) au, childhood friends to lovers, soft!megumi, fluff, forbidden love, arranged marriage, mild angst, comfort

notes: i love this request!! but i don’t know if this turned out good🥲 honestly, this is what unholy matrimony would be if done right in another universe *snorts* anyways i hope i did this right! enjoy!

had to repost it 3x bcs it didn't show up in the tags😭 based on this request: “Hey, can I ask a Megumi x Reader with the plot related to “Love Story” by Taylor Swift?” thank you anon!

listen to: love story - taylor swift duh

series masterlist | oneshot masterlist

Your father had always told you that you were promised to the Zen'in.

Ever since you were a child, he had groomed you to be the picture-perfect lady, and he always brought you to their ancestral home, a grand, maze-like estate you would always get lost in.

You were barely six back then, stumbling on your own feet as tears streamed down your face. You sought refuge in the gardens, hoping that someone would come to find you there eventually as you were tired of walking around.

And on that fateful day, the one who finally did was none other than the little Fushiguro Megumi, who looked at you with tilted head and confused eyes.

"Are you... okay?" he asked cautiously, and he was startled when your wide, teary eyes quickly focused on him. The next thing he knew, you immediately clung to his hand.

"I'm lost! Please help me!" you said with trembling voice, and Megumi merely blinked. This unknown girl suddenly latched onto him, well, who wouldn't be taken by surprise?

Yet, even as a child, Megumi knew how to treat someone right. Seeing you in distress, he immediately found a way to console you. "Okay... where are your parents? Let me take you back to them."

"I... don't know..."

He sighed. You were a stone throw away from bursting into tears, and he didn't want that. He had to find another way. "Don't be scared. This place seems scary, but it's not."

You scrunched your face, tears already pooling in your eyes. "How is it not scary? There are so many windows and leaves! This is more like a jungle rather than a house!"

"Well..." Megumi wracked his head and a light bulb went off in his head when he caught the sight of the flowers. He pointed at a pot of roses. "Look, they're actually quite pretty, right?"

At that very moment, your focus was completely captured by the flourishing plant, and your eyes practically shimmered with delight.

Little Megumi thought then, that you were quite lovely.

And your friendship started then, as he took you by the arm to lead you to the main foyer.

Years flew by, and the only thing that made it bearable to pay a visit to the Zen'in was meeting Megumi. You both would explore various hidden corners and knew every nook and cranny of the place. And when you reached your teens, the "playing" was replaced by studying in the library together.

"Hrrrgh, why—can't—I—reach—"

You gritted your teeth in frustration as you attempted to pull the book from the top shelf, only to fail miserably. Your were too short. But you refused to surrender, standing on your tiptoes once more, you stretched your hand as far as it would go.

Suddenly, the scent of fresh roses filled the air, accompanied by a warm presence behind you. Your back made contact with him, and a longer hand effortlessly retrieved the book you desired.

"If you're having a hard time, ask me for help, dummy," Megumi shook his head and handed you the book. "Here."

"Thank you," you pouted. Despite the frequent close proximity between you two, you still found yourself feeling giddy.

Megumi was always like this though. He was curt, but he cares. He would often cheer you up whenever you father smothered you with the talk that he couldn't wait for the day you would be living at the Zen'in estate and became their bride. He would get you flowers, let you put your head on his shoulder, or quietly watch as you cried, offering his silent presence.

You really, really hoped that if you were to be married off to the Zen'in, it would be to Megumi. He was easily the boy you'd pick over Naoya, the son of the main branch of family. You were never close to him, the way he stared at you sure gave you the creeps.

"I can ask for your help anytime, right, Megumi?" you mused, observing his cool profile as he turned the page of the book he was reading.

He regarded you with the straightest face ever. "Of course. I have always helped you since we were kids. Why wouldn't I do that now?"

"Then..." you breathed. "Can you take me somewhere... anywhere, just away from all of this?"

Megumi stilled. He knew about the conflicts in your heart. He knew you hated being played as a pawn in your father's schemes, and he hated that too, because he simply didn't like how sad it made you.

And he hated that there was the looming possibility that you might be out of his reach far sooner than he thought.

"Sure," he answered. "Where do you wanna go?"

And then, you began to do just that. Sneaking out to the gardens, finding secret meeting spots in the town—because you were dead if anyone should know.

Before you knew it, you both had each other's hearts entirely in your hands—before you knew it, his face was mere inches from yours as you both concealed yourselves behind a large cluster of foliage in the Zen'in gardens, your father and the Zen'in clan head engrossed in a conversation just a few feet away.

Your clear, wide eyes blinked up at him, and Megumi gulped. At that moment, he realized once again that you, his childhood friend, were really stunning. And that you trusted him wholeheartedly enough to go with him and be found in this position, with him.

He couldn't deny it any longer. He was in love with you. Have been for a while now.

And so even with the great risk of being found out, he led you deeper into the woods, his arm wrapped around the small of your back, and with a soft tug, he planted the gentlest, sweetest kiss on your lips—your very first kiss. Everything was sealed then.

"So, do you say yes, or not?" he mumbled afterwards, his cheeks burst into the color of peach. Meanwhile you, still breathless, touched your lips in astonishment.

"You..." you couldn't help the grin that was blooming in your face. "You like me?"

He turned away. "Who wouldn't? After making me run after you, lead you to safe places, see you cry—"

"Okay, okay!" you giggled, and the sound was like music to his ears. "Then it's a yes!"

You were the happiest with him. Amidst the intrigues surrounding you and the Zen'in clan, the times you spent with him were your saving grace.

"Am I pretty?" you boldly twirled in front of him, after meeting up at the outskirts of the town in one of your escapades. Megumi watched you from head to toe, taking note of how your flare dress hugged your form so elegantly, and the straw hat that framed your head only made you look even more adorable.

He didn't immediately answer, and when he did, all with red cheeks, you smiled brightly, expecting a compliment.

"Don't do that. People are looking. You're embarrassing yourself."

You pouted. "So I'm not pretty..."

To your surprise, he suddenly plucked your hat and pulled you behind the pillar, and then the round hat was beside your head, hiding your face—

And he stole a kiss.

"Megumi!" you jolted, blood quickly rushed to your beautiful face. "This is public place!"

His soft chuckle only served to make your heart soar even higher.

You were living the dream, with the man of your dreams beside you. This love story no one knew, you were content with it.

"By this point, all there's left to do is run," you heaved between chuckles and his feathery kisses as the two of you hid away to have your thirst in the gardens. "Can't we just run, Megumi?"

"I would, if I could," he gazed at you with a steadfast resolve. "Don't be afraid, we'll make it out of this mess, somehow."

This love is difficult. But it's real.

But so was your father. And his will. In the summer of your coming of age, it was decided that you were going to marry Zen'in Naoya.

Your love story with Megumi... would it end just like that?

"Please, don't go!" you begged. You could hardly believe this situation right now. What did he say? End things here—?

Megumi felt his heart clench. "It's been announced already. You are to marry him. We can... no longer do this."

"But!" you argued. "You s-said... you would find a way out of it somehow..."

Your eyes glazed over, and Megumi had to look away to keep his heart from breaking completely. "I'm sorry."

At the end of the day, he was still a mere son of the branch family and stood no chance against Naoya. If you were to become the bride of his cousin, even he had to respect that.

Your heart shattered into pieces. This day had been looming on the horizon, and you'd been aware of it for some time. Your father didn't exactly conceal his greed with how he insisted on your marriage to Naoya to secure your position as the clan's main wife, instead of Megumi.

Yet it still hurt. You didn’t expect your happiness to he this fleeting, and you were disappointed that Megumi didn’t exactly fight his way through this.

“It’s… for your own good,” he added, and grimaced when he saw how you started sobbing. “I don’t want to compromise your virtue. It'll get ugly fast if people think that we're having… dalliances. You deserve better—”

"Don't patronize me!" you yelled. "Don't t-try... to tell me how to feel!"

Frankly, you never cared about virtues or anything. Most of choices made in your life weren't yours, and if you could finally make a decision through jeopardizing your fickle reputation, then so be it.

"I love you too much to let that happen," Megumi said then, baring his own feelings, that he too, didn't want this any more than you did. "You know I would do anything for you."

"All there's left to do is run," you sniffled. "If you would do anything for me, you would run with me."

Just say yes, your little heart screamed. You stared at him through your wet lashes, desperately willing him to just forget all this nonsense about family, virtue, and just choose love—your love.

But he never did. That day, he decided to leave you. This love was indeed difficult, but you really thought it was real, and now you had never felt so alone.

Days went by longer after that. Now that it had been announced to the public, as per Naoya’s will, you would move into the Zen’in estate until the day of your marriage. You resented and barely knew him, and your gut feeling was proven true when he smirked before you, pulling you into one of the hidden compartments of this godforsaken place.

“Don’t think I didn’t know about what you and he were up to,” he spat viciously. “You should’ve already known that you are always meant to be my wife—and what did you do? You’re putting me to shame as you and that lesser bastard run around.”

“He would always be better than you,” you bitterly scoffed.

“Get it through your head already, you’re to become my wife, and that’s final.”

“You can’t do anything if I don’t want to anyway. Beware of upcoming scandals in the future.”

And with that, came the first day of your misery. Naoya locked you up in that desolate place.

You were missing.

Megumi had noticed it for quite a while. Even if you were no longer his, his heart still longed for yours, and ultimately he wanted to make sure if you were okay. You moving in into his home should increase the chances of him seeing you, and yet, it was as if you had disappeared into the thin air.

It was an understatement to say that he was just worried. He knew Naoya wasn’t exactly the kindest in this household, but he really expected him to at least treat you right.

He still remembered how the tears fell from your beautiful eyes, telling him not to go. Megumi was as heartbroken as you, if not more. He had the choice when you asked him to run, yet he willingly stopped and did what he believed to be the right thing.

Was this still the right thing though?

As the maids hurried past, yelling something that vaguely sounded like your name and the phrase "starving herself!", Megumi felt his blood run cold. Without hesitation, he forcefully grabbed one of them, demanding answers.

“Where is she? What happened to her?”

The maid merely cowered with worry and fear. “Master Naoya… specifically instructed us not to let the miss pass freely…”

Megumi didn’t quite recall what he did, but he couldn't forget the frantic pounding of his heart as he rushed through the gardens to find you in the small room tucked away in the farthest corner of the vast compound, near the servants' dormitory. He practically tore the door off its hinges when he opened it.

You abruptly spun around to face the commotion, thinking that it may be your shitty fiancé, utterly bewildered.

Megumi scrutinized you closely, and gradually, he could feel his anger simmering beneath the surface.

You were pale, your hair was a disheveled mess, but what truly infuriated him was the sight of your broken nails and the dried blood. All he could think of was that you probably tried to claw your way out of this place.

"Megumi?" your voice sounded too hoarse to his liking. You looked at him as if you couldn't believe he was real. His heart shattered.

He shouldn't have left you. He should've run with you. You shouldn't have to be alone and hurt like this.

"Save me," you croaked with small voice, eyes brimming with unshed tears and fear.

That did it. When he heard the approaching rapid footsteps, he made the swiftest, life-changing decision of his life.

He caught a hold of your arm, and pinned you to the wall. And when the entirety of the household arrived in your doorstep, Naoya included, he made it a show as if the two of you were having the most scandalous tryst of the town.

"This ends here," he grunted, casting a glare at his rotten cousin. "I'm marrying her."

"I got tired of waiting, you know," you giggled, peering at your beloved's sullen face. "My faith faded at one point."

Megumi hummed, clasping his hand in yours. "I'm sorry."

You rolled your eyes, staring at the clear waters under the cruise. "I kept waiting, but you never came... and when you did, you caused us to make the headlines."

Your wedding to Megumi was both the grand event and scandal of the year. The sudden change of groom on such short notice triggered disapproving glances from most of the people you knew in this infuriating town, but frankly, you didn't care.

"I thought you wouldn't fight for me at all,” you mumbled, fiddling with your fingers.

"I've always believed that if it would make you happy in the end, I would be fine with it," Megumi said, gently tucking your hair behind your ear as the wind swept by.

"And then? What made you finally let go of that righteous, self-sacrificing thoughts?"

The softest smile was graced his lips. "I love you, and that's all I really know."

You didn't give a damn about what anyone else had to say because, in this moment—as you sailed on your honeymoon cruise, and throughout this love story, from your childhood and forevermore, he is the prince, and you are his princess.

#fushiguro megumi x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jjk x reader #megumi fushiguro x reader #jjk imagines #jjk fanfic #fushiguro megumi fluff #megumi fushiguro fluff #HSHAHA i don’t know anymore #i legit repost it THREE times so it’ll show up in the tags #this is so cheesy overall aHSHSHS

[cheollipop]

ginger & cinnamon tea

navi | taglist

pairing: choi san x fem!reader

w.c.: 3.5k

tags: smut, fluff, established relationship, sick fic

after his roommate suggested a way to get rid of the sniffles, san – being the trusting friend he was – just had to try it.

warnings: praise, begging (so... much... begging), pussy-drunk! san, oral sex (f receiving), unprotected sex (boooo!!! 👎🏻), multiple rounds/orgasms, multiple creampies, a sprinkle of overstimulation, a hint of anal (m receiving), one (1) chomp, san's stamina is through the roof in this one oof, perhaps a slight breeding kink bc why not, I think that's all-

A/N: here it is... my first smut fic (yes, its another sick fic. we won't speak about it)... I'm absolutely terrified posting this, but I really hope you all enjoy reading it! a special thanks to alyssa (aka @toxicccred <3) for entertaining my horny thoughts for literally hours yesterday. mwah ily lots.

nsfw under the cut - minors dni!! 🔞

•───────•°•❀•°•───────•

San's sneeze blasted through your phone's speaker, your body flinching back at the sound.

"Sorry," he smiled sheepishly.

You shook your head, a small smile on your face as you watched his face sink deeper into his pillow.

"Does your head still hurt?"

He hummed. "It's not as bad. I think the painkillers have finally kicked in."

"What about your fever? Have Woo check it for you."

"(Y/n)."

"Have him make you some soup as well. With extra veggies-"

"Baby, calm down. It's just a cold," San chuckled, the sound coming out rough and gravelly.

You pouted, eyebrows furrowing, exhaling a long sigh. "I hate not being there for you when you're sick. This business trip wasn't even that important." You slumped back in your armchair, yet to change out of your clothes and into something more comfortable.

"You're coming back tomorrow," he reminded you, clearing his throat, the corners of his lips tugging upwards. "You can give me all your love and attention then."

His words brought a smile to your lips. Perhaps it was also the two dimples you loved so much peeking out to greet you.

"No kisses, though."

His bottom lip jutted out. "I guess I'll settle for cuddles."

"Then I'll be sure to put my all into them," you promised.

You kept the call open while you went about your nighttime routine, telling San about your two-day business trip, and how your boss got too drunk and embarrassed himself over dinner. Sliding under the covers, your skin glowing with the fresh layer of skin care he had bought you for valentine's day, you rested your head on the pillow. Neither of you spoke, simply pretending that the other was an arm's reach away as your breaths slowly evened out, falling asleep to soft smiles and pretty dimples.

--

The door opened after a few seconds of you knocking, a large smile on the man's face greeting you.

"Welcome back!"

"Thank you, Woo.” He pulled you into a hug, squeezing you once before letting go. You spoke while you slipped your shoes off, "how's he doing?"

"He's a big boy, don't worry too much about him." Wooyoung walked with you as you made your way to San's room.

You breathed out a laugh. "You know I can't help it."

Wooyoung only smiled, ruffling your hair before disappearing into his room – the door adjacent to San's.

Peeking into San's room, your eyes instantly met with his. He was sitting up in bed, holding a tissue to his nose. You couldn't help the grin splitting your face, nearly hopping with excitement as you made your way towards him. San threw the tissue god-knows-where and held his arms open for you, wrapping them around your frame once you were close enough. You pressed your lips to his forehead, smacking a kiss onto the heated skin before sitting by his side and relaxing into his embrace.

"I've missed you, my love," San muttered against your hair, kissing your temple. His voice was hoarse, and you could tell he had a stuffy nose.

"Me too. So much," you inhaled his scent, hands running up and down his clothed back.

Wooyoung peeked his head back into the room, gym bag slung over his shoulder. He smiled at the sight of the two of you holding each other so close, he wasn't sure where you began and where San ended.

"Alright, lovebirds, I'm going to the gym for a few hours," he spoke, unsure if you could even hear him from how deeply molded into each other the two of you were.

San waved at him with one of the hands wrapped around your back, and you sent him off with a quiet "have fun."

Wooyoung hesitated at the door, peeking in once more, the corner of his lips curling into a sly smirk. "You know…"

You turned your head to look at the man, raising an eyebrow at him, urging him to speak.

"They say some sweet lovemaking gets rid of colds prettyyy quick," he winked.

Heat rushed to your cheeks, and you could see San's ears turning a bright red – yet you weren't sure if that was Wooyoung’s doing or the cold's.

"Ya!" San grabbed the nearest pillow and threw it at him.

Wooyoung ran away, effectively dodging the swarm of pillows being thrown at him, his squeaky giggles echoing in the apartment even after the front door clicked shut behind him.

"Sorry about that. Just ignore him," San pressed a kiss to the crown of your head, tucking you back into his chest.

You let out a breathy laugh, nuzzling your cheek against San's collarbone. "It's Wooyoung, I'm used to his antics by now."

"You're right," he grinned, laying down on his bed, taking you with him.

"Is there anything I can do to make you feel better, Sannie?"

"Just let me hold you," he flexed his arms around you, squeezing you for a few seconds before relaxing again.

You hummed, letting your eyes flutter shut, your hand sliding under his shirt to settle against the soft skin of his hip.

You remained that way, limbs tangled up with his under the comforter, your cheek pressed to his chest as it rose and fell steadily. You felt his breath hitch, chest hiccuping as he cleared his throat repeatedly. You raised your head to meet his eyes, your hair disheveled and tangled from where his fingers had been running through it.

“Are you okay? Does something hurt?”

His hand smoothed down your unkempt locks, cupping the back of your neck and giving it a small squeeze. “I’m okay,” he cleared his throat again.

You stifle a laugh at his attempt to hold back his cough. “Don’t hold it back, you idiot.”

He pouted, muttering under his breath, “such heartwarming words.” He hid his face in the crook of his elbow and coughed, the sound ripping through his chest. He winced, eyes shut tightly and the corners of his mouth turning downwards.

“Oh, baby,” your fingers ran through his hair, scratching at his scalp before moving down to cup his cheek. San leaned into your touch, turning his head to kiss your palm, his skin heated against yours. “I’ll go make you some tea.”

“Don’t go,” he mumbled, taking your free hand in his and interlocking your fingers with his, giving them a tight squeeze.

“I’ll just be a moment,” you leaned in to plant a kiss on his cheek.

“Just stay here, I don’t need any tea,” San touched his forehead to yours.

You kissed the tip of his nose, then placed another one on his cheekbone. “Yes you do.” Untangling yourself from him, you made your way to the kitchen, stopping at his bedroom door. “Just call out if you need me.”

You left the room, finally allowing yourself to laugh at the expression San was giving you – bottom lip jutting out, eyes big and pleading.

He was so cute, you thought, as you stared at the boiling water. Dropping a few pieces of ginger into the water, followed by a stick of cinnamon, you left them to boil on low heat for a few minutes. You turned the stove off before placing a tea bag into the kettle and watched as the liquid slowly darkened.

Pouring the steaming tea into his favourite mug, you walked back to his room.

You immediately noticed his restless shuffling under the thick blanket, his breathing heavy and labored, a sheen of sweat reflecting the dim light from the small lap perched on his bedside.

"San?" You hurried to his side, setting the mug down by the lamp before placing your palm on his forehead, worried his fever might have returned. "Does anything hurt?"

"(Y/n), please…" He muttered, voice so breathy his words were barely coherent, still fidgeting under his blanket.

"What's wrong, Sannie?" You began to push the blanket off him, allowing the cool air to hit his heated skin.

Your worry faded as soon as you pulled it off his torso, leaving it gathered at his knees. Your eyes traveled between his pants – pulled midway down his thighs – and his hand, wrapped around his hard length, his hips thrusting into his fist with vigor.

"S-san! What are you doing?" Your hands twitched at your sides, not knowing what to do, your eyes stuck on San's lower half. Arousal pooled between your legs, waves of heat surging through your body.

"Please, (Y/n)- ah," he whined. His fingers squeezed around his girth, the breathy moan that escaped his lips going straight to your core. "Please, help me. Wooyoung said-"

"Sannie, Wooyoung’s an idiot. You need to rest," your voice wavered, prying your eyes off San's middle to meet his eyes.

"Please… please, please, (Y/n)."

You were stuck battling between your morals and your arousal, rubbing your thighs together as you struggled to speak. But San was looking up at you with hooded eyes, lips parted as he panted heavily, hips never ceasing their movement. You eyed the bead of precum leaking from his tip – how his hand smeared it down his length with its relentless movement. With those flushed cheeks and whispered pleads – how could you ever say no?

"What can I do to make you feel better?"

"Ah, San. Fuck. Your mouth is so-," warm, you wanted to say before San ripped another moan out of you, your hand fisted in his hair as he lapped at your cunt like a starved man.

He slipped another finger alongside the two he had stuffed inside you, curling them to drag along your walls, pressing against the spot that made your back arch, your breathy moans egging him on.

"Taste so good," he nuzzled his nose against your clit, his tongue slipping down to lick up the wetness dripping out of you and around his fingers. His hips rutted against the sheets where he laid on his stomach, eyes fluterring shut as he breathed heavily against your folds, drunk off your arousal.

"Oh, God. San- hnngh," your hips jumped off the bed, your hand on the back of San's head helping you push him closer to your core. "I'm about to- ah, baby, you're making me feel so good."

San's fingers thrusted into you harder, encouraged by your praise, pressing against your sweet spot every time he pushed back in. His tongue was back on your clit, alternating between lapping at it and sucking it between his lips. Your back arched once more as waves of pleasure rushed through your body, your thighs shaking around San's face as he helped you ride out your high, his fingers deep inside you while his tongue worked to swallow everything you gave him.

Panting heavily, your eyes closed, trying to regain your breath. "Shit, San."

San climbed up your body, his chin dripping with his spit and your arousal. "Did that feel good?" He looked at you through hooded eyes, his chest rising and falling at the same rate as yours.

“Yes, San, it was amazing,” you breathed out a laugh, jumping when the tip of his cock brushed against your sensitive clit. San leaned closer, his chest pressed against yours, head tucked into the crook of your neck.

"Can I-" San pressed his lips against your skin, taking the shell of your ear between his teeth, the hand not holding him up wrapping around his cock again. He pumped himself a few times before running his tip along your folds, his precum mixing with the spit and arousal.

You tucked a few strands behind his ear, holding his cheek in your hand, smiling when he nuzzled into the touch. "Kiss me, Sannie."

San shook his head against your palm. "I don't want to get you sick."

You moved your hand to his nape, pulling his face closer to yours, pressing a kiss to the corner of his lips, smiling against the skin. "I think it's a little too late for that."

That was all it took for San to slam his lips against yours and moaning into your mouth, his teeth clashing against your front ones, desperately biting into your bottom lip.

"Let me have you, please, let me," he whispered against your lips, diving back in to suck your bitten bottom lip into his mouth.

You nodded, reaching down to take his length between your fingers – eliciting a sharp hiss from the man above you – and positioned him at your entrance, adjusting your position to take him more easily. San pushed forward, his tip breaching your tight hole, sliding more of his length inside you as his tongue ran over the roof of your mouth, sucking your tongue between his lips. He bottomed out inside you, pulling back to pant against your lips, his moans breathy and needy. Grinding his hips against yours, your eyes rolled back with a whispered fuck.

San pressed his forehead to yours, struggling to keep his eyes open while your walls squeezed around his length. "Is that okay, baby? God, you feel so good, I could cum right now."

"It feels so- so good, Sannie," you cupped his cheeks, one hand slipping down to his neck. "Just- please, move."

With his lips attached to your neck, he gave a few slow thrusts, the stretch of his cock between your walls almost overwhelming. You wrapped your arms around San's shoulders, feeling his muscles flex under your touch.

"I need-" he panted against your skin, lips pressed to your cheek, peppering open-mouthed kisses all over your face. San bent one of his knees, pressing it into the mattress by your hips, your thigh hooked over his. "I need more, please. Can I have more, please baby?"

San's eyes were teary as they stared into yours, pleading, his hand squeezing the flesh of your hip, cock dragging against your walls.

Your hand slid down to his lower back, lips pressing against his jaw. "Take what you want, Sannie, I'm all yours."

Digging the knee by your hip into the mattress, San pushed his cock all the way inside you, rolling his hips until they were flush with yours, your eyes rolling back at the stretch. With a hand on the underside of your thigh, he bent it back until your knee rested under your armpit before he began to piston his hips, building a steady rhythm as he fucked the moans out of you. San’s lips pressed gentle kisses down the column of your throat, stopping to suck and bite at the flesh, leaving behind a trail of purple and blue bruises that you would scold him for later.

He breathed heavily against your skin, a mix of grunts and airy moans escaping his lips. “You’re so perfect, every last bit of you,” he took your nipple into his mouth, giving it a sharp suck before biting down on it, your body jolting under him.

“San – a-ahh – more, give me more.” Your whole body spasmed every time his cock brushed against your sweet spot, his hand pushing your other leg over his shoulder, folding you in half so he could fuck you even harder. “You feel so good, baby. So, so good.”

“Fuck. I’m not going to last,” he tongue made a trail up your cleavage to the hollow of your neck, moving to your face and slotting his lips against yours, running his tongue over your teeth.

Please, please, please, you repeated, unsure of what exactly you were asking for, San’s hips slamming so hard against yours it left your brain lagging. He brought the hand on your thigh down to your sopping folds, two fingers rubbing hastily at your swollen clit as he tried to bring you over the edge with him. Your walls clenched around his throbbing cock as a numbing wave of pleasure coursed through your body. San’s hips stuttered, managing a few more thrusts before stilling, cock pushed all the way inside your pulsing cunt as the familiar warmth of his cum took over your senses. A series of high-pitched moans escaped his lips as he emptied his load inside you.

He pulled out just enough to shoot the last rope of cum onto your mound, rubbing it through your folds with the tip of his cock, your legs closing in around his hips when he brushed against your clit.

He looked down at the mess he had made before sheathing himself back inside your cunt, pushing some of his cum out in the process.

“S-san!” Your hips jolted, trying to move away from him as you began to feel overstimulated.

“I’m sorry, please, just-” He rocked his hips into yours, his face tucked into your neck, his hot breath blowing against your skin. “I need more, (Y/n).”

Your thighs shook uncontrollably around him, the pleasure mixing with pain as your nerves went into overdrive. But San was looking at you with teary eyes, sniffing every other second as his nose started running. He looked so fucked out, hair disheveled and the sheen of sweat covering his body reflecting the dim light. He pushed his hips flush against yours, grinding slowly, unable to stop himself as waves of pleasure shot through his spine.

“Please… just one more… please, baby, will you give it to me?” He pressed his lips to your cheek, then to your nose, and finally your mouth, placing short sweet kisses on your lips while he begged you for more.

When the tears welling up in his eyes – a mixture of his cold and the pleasure overwhelming his every sense – dampened his precious skin, his eyes glimmering as he looked down at you, you knew you had lost this battle. Perhaps even the war, and everything in between.

“I’ll give you anything you want, Sannie,” you whispered against his lips, moaning into his mouth as his thrusts picked up their pace, the sound of skin slapping on skin echoing between the four walls.

Sliding his arms under you, he held you closer to him, your tits squeezing against his chest as his cock slid in and out of you, pushing directly against your g-spot with every thrust. San’s moans got louder – needier – as he pumped himself into you, desperately chasing his high.

“You’re taking me so well, my love – ahhh – fuck, (Y/n), every single inch,” he bit down on your shoulder, squeezing your waist so tight he was bound to leave bruises. “I’m going to fill you up with so much cum, it’ll be dripping out of you for days. You'll take all of it, won't you?”

His words made your walls clamp up on him, his thrusts faltering and turning sloppy. “Please, Sannie, want your cum so bad – hnnngh,” your nails dragged over the soft skin of his back, your eyes rolling back when his fingers made contact with your clit, rubbing at it desperately, reveling in the feeling of your pussy clenching around his cock. “I’m- fuck, I’m so close.”

"My pretty baby," he slid his tongue over your parted lips. "So beautiful, letting me fuck my cum into her."

Your hand slid down his slick skin to squeeze at the firm flesh of his ass, making him groan into your neck. Slowly, your fingers made their way between his cheeks, brushing over his puckered hole. San’s eyes rolled to the back of his head, pounding his cock into you with fervor as you sunk the tip of your finger into his ass, feeling it clench around your digit. A familiar warmth surged through you as San pumped his cum into you, sliding his cock in and out of your abused cunt as ribbons of white painted your walls. He slowly stilled his hips and you felt his cock throbbing inside you, his cum fucked so deep into you, you feared no contraceptive could stop you from bearing his children. He leaned in, pressing his mouth to yours as he filled you up; his lips parted after a few seconds, the pleasure leaving him too fucked out to do anything but moan and groan into your mouth.

“(Y/n), baby, you feel so good... it won’t stop coming out,” he ground his hips into yours, feeling more of his cum filling you up, a stream of it leaking out and pooling on his sheets.

The tears in his eyes, the euphoric expression on his face, his thumb rubbing slow circles over your sensitive clit, the feeling of his cock buried so deep within you still shooting out ropes of cum – you weren’t sure what threw you off the edge, perhaps it was all of those factors combined. Your toes curled, and you could swear you saw stars, vision blurring as your body writhed under San’s, clawing at his back while he helped you ride out your high.

Your legs didn't stop spasming even after San plopped down on his side next to you, reaching out to brush your hair off your face, his palm cupping your cheek, thumb rubbing against the flushed skin. “Are you okay?”

You blinked slowly at him, a lazy smile tugging at the corners of your lips. “Mmm, perfect.” You turned your body to face him, your knees shaking in the process – and San may or may not have smiled proudly at that. “You know, I would have hid your scarves a long time ago if I knew you could fuck like that.”

Your giggles vibrated between the walls as San attacked you, fingers prodding at your sides, limbs too heavy to fight him off your body.

--

Wooyoung peeked his head into the room, grimacing at the overbearing stuffiness. Looking around, he noticed the pile of clothes thrown into one corner, soiled towels tossed in the opposite direction. A pair of bodies slept soundly, tangled up together under the thick comforter, San's soft snores breaking through the stillness in the room.

Wooyoung’s hand reached up to cover his mouth, stifling a squeaky laugh as the realization hit him.

“Holy shit, they actually did it.”

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#choi san #choi san x reader #choi san ateez #choi san fluff #choi san smut #san smut #ateez smut #ateez #ateez x reader #ateez fanfic #ateez fluff #ateez oneshot #kpop fluff #kpop #kpop smut #choi san x you #choi san x y/n #san x reader #san x you #san x y/n #jung wooyoung #wooyoung #ateez x y/n #smut #ateez fanficiton #choi san fanficiton

[mayhemories]

Neteyam x reader dealing with the change between the forest and the reef. Fluff plssssssss but also kinda smutty.

I don't know how to describe it but can the reader want to mate with Neteyam bc they haven't yet and the reader doesn't know how to bring it up. and she is like worried about being a virgin

idk i cant stop thinking about Neteyam x reader sex on the beach

(doesn't have to be like actual smut if you are uncomfy)

What A Blessing

Oh, thank you so much for the request! I really enjoyed writing it. I hope I did it some kind of justice. I didn't commit to the smut in this part, but I was kinda envisioning a smutty pt 2. to this fic, so let me know if you'd want that <3

Pairing: Neteyam Sully x Reader (James Cameron’s Avatar) 

Requested: Yes | No

Warnings: Spicy Fluff? Straight Fluff. Neteyam has 1 (one) dirty thought, god forbid, let him live. Reader has a chat about sex and mating. 

Words: 2.6k

Author’s Notes: 

Minors DNI (no smut explicitly but still not for you guys, okay?) 

Listened to How Can I Make It OK? - Wolf Alice, nonstop writing this. So if you want the vibe, there it is.

Neteyam is 19, reader is 18/19, Lo’ak, Kiri and Tsireya are 17. Lil Tuk girl queen is the same age as the movie because I will protect her childhood. 

Please note that the reader utilises she/her pronouns. If you’d prefer male or gender-neutral pronouns in fic I’m more than happy to repost a male or gn version of the story, otherwise include any pronoun preferences in the request box!

Read below the cut:

Having Neteyam as your promised mate was a blessing. Having the security of someone so beautiful, strong and kind was priceless. A blessing. Having the Sully family as your fortress: Jake as your father-in-law and the Olo'eyktan, Neytiri as the mother you only ever dreamed of, Mo’at and all her teachings, the wisdom of the T’sahik that she instilled in you, for the future. Lo’ak as the annoying thorn in your side, but a thorn that opened your eyes to new sides of Pandora, nonetheless. Kiri as your sister in spirit, someone who felt Eywa like you did, someone who did not forget the power of her strength during hardships. And little Tuk, someone who made you laugh, and play and sparked the power of your imagination like it had been when you were little. 

And of course, your beloved Neteyam. With his broad chest, and broader smile. Honey eyes that could spring from docile to alert and tracking in seconds. With his sweet laugh and sweeter, protective nature of his siblings and his clan members. Being Neteyam Sully’s love was a blessing, was a strong fortress. Being in love with him was simple and easy. As was loving his family. Everything was perfect. 

Until it just wasn’t anymore. 

“No, Neteyam” you sighed. Sitting on the side of your shared bed, Neteyam kneeling in front of you, your hands weaved together. “I don’t understand.” your voice was soft, the tears streaking down your face were softer still. 

“My love, my father has decided,” Neteyam spoke softly, as if not to frighten you. “I must leave, my family must leave for the safety of the clan, for their longevity.” You loosed a sad chuckle, shaking your head sending rouge braids that Tuk has made flying around the perimeter of your face. 

“No, Neteyam, I don’t understand why you are talking like I am not coming with you.” You felt something fierce awaken in your small, beating heart. You were rarely like this, but when you were, Neteyam knew there was no point. 

“My love you know you can go anywhere, do anything you choose, I will never be able to stop you.” A sweet smile graced his lips, sighing he continued, “you know my only wish in this life is to keep you safe.” 

Gently, you wiped your face clean of salty tears, bending down to meet him on the floor of your sleeping quarters. You held Neteyam’s eyes with your own. And he knew in that moment, that he could never be parted from you. In this life and the next, he would always be with you. 

“I will always be safe when I am with you, Neteyam.” 

Finally landing the Ikran on the sand was instant relief to you. Your thighs were chaffed and your skin felt so dry like you had been whipped, skin peeling, ripped from the constant barrage of the coastal wind. Dismounting, your legs felt wobbly, like a baby taking its first steps. Neteyam kept his hands on your waist, stabilising you. You were no hunter, no rider really. That was all Neteyam. But, a keen herbalist, forager, spiritualist. You were his balance, or rather, you were supposed to be his T’sahik. 

The sun was so warm on your skin as you waited for the leaders of the Metkayina to accept your plea for refuge. You did not know if it was the delirium from the long flight, or whether the anxiety of being turned away caught up with you, but you felt like you were floating in and out of existence. One moment you were standing, the next walking with all your belongings to your new home, the next you were sitting in the intricately woven marui pod, unpacking everything and anything that meant something to you. 

Neteyam’s hands, calloused from the Ikran’s reigns and the grooves of his bow, found your slumping shoulders. Small circles being rubbed into your mistreated skin. 

“My love, are you happy?” Neteyam whispered over the sensitive curl of your ear. 

“Can I be honest with you, Neteyam?” You asked, turning to face him. He scanned your face for any signs of anxiety, happiness, indifference. Tightening his brows, as well as the grip on your shoulders. 

“Of course, always.” 

You smiled at that, he was still the same, despite it all. 

“I am worried I will not thrive here, that I will be dead weight.” You wrung your hands and wrists, head cast down, to escape his gaze, but also in shame, admitting your fear to him. To Neteyam. Your perfect Neteyam who could do no wrong. 

“I’m too worried, that I will be dead weight.” Neteyam sighed. Your head sprung up, confused. Your hands found either side of his face.

“Are you stupid or something?” Neteyam smirked slightly, his hands snaking up to rest on yours. “Neteyam, everything you touch turns to gold, you can’t really fail at anything.” He laughed at you, a proper stomach laugh.

“Care to share that tidbit with my father when you get a chance-” Rolling your eyes, you cut him off. 

“Neteyam, I’m serious.” You felt yourself starting to pout. 

“Take some of your own advice, huh.” Neteyam captured your eyes again. With a small peck on your pursed lips, he whispered: “You have medical training, you have intelligence and a strong heart.” One of his hands rested on your chest, roughly where you knew your heart would be. “You are connected to Eywa, you are connected to me. Forever.” You couldn’t help but smile. Oh Jesus, Neteyam he always knew exactly what to say. “My love Eywa will never turn her back on you, and I will always protect you from anything that might come.” 

Loving him was so easy, especially when he said things like that. 

He held your hands as you both stood up. 

“Now, let’s get some fresh water into you.” You chuckled, you knew you were dehydrated beyond belief. “And maybe some salve for that chafe too, huh.” He chuckled at you, pinching your side as you giggled, leaning into his safe arms. 

A blessing. 

The days quickly burned into weeks, the weeks into months. Your training with Tsireya and Ao’nung went well, to your surprise. You found breathing easy, as you could imagine the lungs filling and deflating. Though, Kiri teased you that Eywa decided you must be good at everything. Yet, all you saw was how naturally it came to Kiri and Tuk, themselves. You’d never admit it to Neteyam, but you preferred riding the Ilu. 

It came a bit harder for Neteyam and Lo’ak, but they were dedicated. Neteyam wanted to uphold the promise he made to Jake, that he would pull his weight, stay out of trouble, and bring no shame to the family. Lo’ak was driven by holding Tsireya’s attention. Which, you decided, wasn’t the worst idea Lo’ak had ever had. 

You liked Tsireya, Ao’nung… not so much, though after his big fight with Lo’ak and Neteyam, he had been more tolerable to be around. 

Tsireya and you sat side by side on the sand. You talked about anything and everything. She would often help you with your hair, and you would often help her with Lo’ak. You both had been trained as Tsakarem and loved the Sully boys. As different as they were, you knew better than anyone else, all Sully boys were the same breed.

Her fingers were in your hair, trying to get Tuk’s random braids and beads out before she properly weaved your hair into some kind of intricate braid pattern. 

“How did you know Neteyam was the one?” Tsireya asked, though you knew she sat right with you, you knew her mind was thousands of miles away, with a certain Sully. You giggled, knowing that you were like this once. Maybe, you still were like this, though your love for Neteyam was not so young and fresh and scary, all at once, like Tsireya and Lo’ak. 

Neteyam was running down the beach with Tuk, he felt sorry that he had not spent as much time with her as he used to. They collected every shell that she deemed pretty enough, placing them into a makeshift bucket Neteyam had fashioned out of a palm husk. 

“Look!” Shouted Tuk, Neteyam expected another pretty shell, but he looked up to where his little sister was pointing. “It’s (y/n) and Tsireya.” Neteyam smiled at her happiness, but also at how happy and content you looked. 

Giggling with your newfound friend, talking animatedly, using your hands, as you so often did when you were passionate about something. You looked so carefree in the late afternoon light, the pale pink hue stretching out across the sand. Neteyam realised, you finally looked your age. So young and full of life. 

The inappropriate edges of his mind could not help but think about mating you on the sand, then and there. All the mewling sounds that he knew he could coax from you, if only he was given the chance. 

He quickly shook his head, as if to throw the image out of his brain and onto the sand. He refocused on Tuk again. 

“Hey, don’t bother them yeah?” Neteyam said softly, holding a shell out for Tuk to take. “They look like they’re having fun.” Tuk twisted her nose up, but eventually agreed, digging her little fingers back in the sand, sifting to find the prettiest shell, just for you. 

“So,” Tsireya started again, still doing your hair. You watched Neteyam and Tuk, further down the beach. Your heart was warm, blooming in adoration for him all over again. “You love Neteyam that much, but you two are yet to mate” all the blood pooled into your cheeks, across your nose and the tips of your ears. Talking about your virginity with Tsireya was new, but not unwanted, you supposed. “How come?” She finished your hair, sitting across from you, cross-legged like children in lessons. 

“We haven’t spoken about it really.” You started, playing with your new braids shyly. “Neteyam was very sought after back home, I am not entirely sure what he did and did not do with others.”

Tsireya covered her mouth while she giggled softly, you mirrored her actions, still shy to be broaching the topic at all. 

“And you?” She asked. You quirked your eyebrows in confusion, not really sure what she was asking. “Have you ever done anything? With Neteyam or otherwise?” 

You knew you must be almost purple in the face, the blood pooling behind your deep blue skin. 

“We kiss of course, but that is all.” You kept your eyes on Neteyam further down the beach, worried the ocean breeze would carry your conversation. “so far.” you added, hastily, in case the wind did betray you. 

Tsireya looked behind her, at Neteyam and Tuk, and then back at you and your eyes, full of longing for the elder Sully boy. 

“Neteyam! Tuk!” Tsireya called out, you hissed. 

“Ah! What are you doing?” You still felt nervous after admitting these things aloud to Tsireya. 

“Come join us!” Tsireya ignored you, but beckoned the two Sully’s over. Tuk came bounding, a bright smile on her little face, braids bouncing as she ran. 

“We collected shells for you! And for mommy too.” She said proudly. Showing off her palm husk full of shells, some stunning, truthfully. Others were broken or chipped. But to Tuk, they were beautiful all the same. 

Neteyam sat next to you quietly, thighs brushing. You felt like you were going to pass out, still embarrassed from the conversation with Tsireya, which Neteyam knew nothing about. But his presence, though usually a blessing, was too much. 

“Oh wow!” Tsireya exclaimed, causing Tuk to smile wider. “Shall we take them to show your mommy? I feel like she would want to see them!” Tsireya asked Tuk in a sing-song voice. They stood up so quickly, Tsireya holding hands with Tuk, Tuk leading the charge back to the village. 

You were lost for words. Tsireya had set you up, alone, with Neteyam, just before eclipse. She confirmed this with a sly wink thrown over her shoulder. You couldn’t help but stare at their retreating figures.

It was stupid really. Neteyam was your promised mate, your love, your everything. And a few words exchanged in confidence with your best friend regarding your lack of sex life has caused you to be in shambles. 

Neteyam could see the remnants of blush resting upon your high cheekbones. And, he’s not stupid, he saw Tsireya’s pointed wink. Putting a braid behind your tinted ear, he started:

“So, what did you two talk about? You seemed like you were having fun.” Neteyam smiled, elbowing you in the side. 

Loving him was so easy, why couldn’t mating be easy too? Why couldn’t having sex with him be the easiest thing to do? 

“Neteyam,” You released a breath you weren’t even aware that you were holding. “Have we not mated yet because of my lack of knowledge in pleasure?” It was a stupid question, you knew that. But you couldn’t get the seed of the thought out of your mind, now that it had been sown. 

Neteyam felt all the blood in his body rush to his face, it was his turn to blush he supposed. 

“How could you even think that?” He chuckled, holding your face in his hands. The heat of your face radiating outwards. “Do you think I have so much experience? Of course not.” 

You felt foolish now, so you leaned into it for once. 

“So you do want to mate with me then?” You asked, your voice only slightly louder than a whisper. 

Neteyam laughed. 

Not a sweet chuckle, or a nervous giggle, a full-blown laugh. 

You instantly retreated into yourself, not expecting him to laugh at you, despite the foolishness. 

“Oh Eywa, help me,” Neteyam started, seeing your embarrassed figure pulling your knees to your chest. “My love,” Neteyam grabbed your chin in his strong fingers, forcing you to look him in his amber eyes, now lust-blown and heavy-lidded. “I think about mating with you every day. It’s the first thing I think of in the morning, the last thing I think about at night, I dream of it, of you my darling.” His genuine confession set your heart racing, your blush fighting tooth and nail to be at the forefront of your face. “My (y/n) I couldn’t even witness you sitting on the beach with a friend without thinking about it.”

He always knew what to say. Loving him was easy. What a blessing. 

That mantra ran circles around your mind as you listened to him. 

“If I’m being honest, we have not yet mated because I am scared,” Neteyam spoke softly again as if his admission was going to float away in the breeze. “I am scared that one day you will wake up and want to leave me.” His voice broke slightly. 

You audibly gasped, this boy. 

“Neteyam, you know I would never leave you,” your fingers found their home in his hair, despite his grip on your chin. “I love you, I see you.” 

Neteyam smiled. The eclipse rapidly approached behind him, and in the moonlight, his skin glowed, he radiated such pureness, you never wanted to let it go. 

Never wanted to let him go. 

“I see you too, my love. Always” He kissed all over your face, making sure to get every freckle, every smile line, every inch. “We can mate whenever you want my love, whenever you want.” 

“Eywa has blessed me with you, Neteyam.” You giggled. 

You couldn’t wait much longer, you needed to mate with him. Entwine your bodies and souls for life.

As he kissed your lips with his soft, plump pair, all you could think of was, 

Loving Neteyam was easy, so easy, like breathing. It was natural, it was right, it was forever. It was a blessing, it was a fortress. 

You will never know what you did to be so blessed with the gift of Neteyam. 

Additionally, you also couldn’t wait to tell Tsireya.

#neteyam sully #neteyam x reader #neteyam #avatar domestic #avatar twow #avatar 2022 #avatar 2009 #avatar #avatar way of water #jake sully domestic #jake sully platonic #jake sully x neytiri #jake sully x reader #loak #loak x reader platonic #loak x reader #tsireya #tsireya x loak #jake sully #kiri x reader #kiri sully #loak sully #kiri x reader platonic #tuk #tuk sully

[sweetiecutie]

Pairing: husband! Tom Riddle x fem! wife! Reader

Warnings: NSFW, kinda public sex but there’s no one around, fluff!!, kinda domestic and soft, inaccurate bc there’s no way sexy two pieces existed back in the 1950’s💀, once again my horrible knowledge of basic grammar

A/n: really felt like writing lil something for hubby Tom🥰 Sorry for disappearing for such a long period, I have lots of cool ideas and drafts but my adhd never allows me to finish any on them;( Anyways, wish you a very pleasant reading and hope you enjoy💖

It was a sultry sunny day, the kind you experience in the middle of September, when calendar summer is already gone but the sun still gladdened people with last warm days.

It took you only a few days of bothering and fake accusation of not loving you to convince your husband Tom to finally take a day off from his job at ‘Borgin and Burkes’ and go have some fun together on a beach. He was grumpy and pouty for the first half an hour, but then seemed to accept his fate, indulging your little whims and wishes.

You didn’t manage to talk him into taking a swim together, no matter how hard you tried, but Tom did, eventually, took his shoes off and rolled up the cuffs of his trousers, standing ankles-deep into warm sea water, watching you dive and dork around in salty waves.

You were currently laying on your side on a soft picknick blanket facing Tom, left arm bent in elbow, head propped up on your hand, your eyes lazily wandering all over your husband’s side profile. He was laying on his back right next to you, arms thrown behind his head, nape resting on his palms.

Tom had changed. The juvenile plushness was long gone from his cheeks, instead leaving place for his sharp jawline and protuberant cheekbones. His hair was a slightest bit longer than it used to be during your school years, framing his pale face in dark silky waves. You noticed how he was nibbling on the inside of his bottom lip ever so slightly - a telltale sign that Tom was thinking intensely about something faraway. You fought the urge to trace the outline of his nose with gentle fingertips, knowing perfectly well how grouchy and whiny he’ll get at this action.

Your eyes wandered lower, taking in his outfit - even despite the scorching sun and high air temperature Tom refused to ditch his usual suit trousers and, this time, baby-blue shirt - instead opting to undo quite a few buttons, allowing a generous view on his pale chest.

A sudden idea visited your mind so you sat up from your semi-lying position, throwing one leg over Tom’s hips, settling yourself atop his pelvis comfortably. Your nimble fingers ran up his chest, caressing exposed areas of his skin with tender touches, all the way to his face, cradling it softly in your hands; you leaned down to scatter small kisses all over his cheeks, nose and lips.

- Y/n, what are you doing? - Tom chided you softly, the corners of his lips tugging up in slightest of smiles, even though it was pretty obvious that he was unpleased with you interrupting his thoughts.

- Trying to seduce you, - you replied stoically, not a hint of embarrassment nor unease could be heard in your purring voice.

- Right here? - Tom asked, you could hear his voice rising just a slightest bit, giving out his astonishment.

- Yeah, why not? - you said offhandedly, your lips stretching in a cheeky smile, gazing down at your husband mischievously.

- What if someone sees us? - Tom rose yet another question, cocking one of his perfect eyebrows at you.

You made a show of looking around the deserted beach, not spotting a single soul being around; not only this place was secluded by dangerously high cliffs, making it extremely hard for reaching, but also the fact that it was Wednesday - a middle of a working week - reduced chances of anyone being around to zero.

You brought your sight back to Tom, shrugging your shoulders theatrically:

- I can’t see nor hear anyone, Tommy. - one of your hands reached behind your back, gripping on the straps of your two-piece swimming suit, tugging on it slowly, un-doing the tight knot. You didn’t bother to untie the second knot on your neck, instead deciding to pull the bra off over your head, throwing it teasingly on top of your husband’s chest. - I think you’re just being a buzzkill that you are, Riddle.

You made an accent on the last word, watching Tom’s eyes wander to your now exposed tits, noticing your hardened from still unpleasantly damp fabric of your bra nipples. You cupped your breasts, pinching your nubs with thumbs and index fingers, all while slightly rocking your hips against Tom’s clothed groin, sighing erotically at the slight friction it created against your clit.

You repeated your movements a few more times, circling and swaying your hips so sensually, putting more pressure into your thrusts, increasing a pleasant feeling against both your sexes. You peeked down at Tom through your eyelashes, noting the way his chiseled jaw clenched, his dark eyes never leaving your perfect body.

You smiled widely at his hungry stare, leaning down to place a soft kiss on his chopped from salty sea wind lips - he kissed you back almost immediately. Tom’s hands came from under his nape, picking your bra from his chest and tossing it aside before coming to rest on your waist, thumbs pressing gentle circles into your heated skin.

His slim fingers wandered all over your body, eventually reaching your plushy thighs - rough fingertips glided up and down your skin, rising herds of goosebumps in their wake, stopping on your ass, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

You could feel Tom’s dick hardening at your simple manipulations, his bulge growing noticeably bigger in his pants, rubbing against your soft ass with every smallest move you made. You didn’t bother taking Tom’s trousers off, just undoing his zipper and pulling his semi-hard dick out of his underwear. You wrapped your fingers around his shaft, pumping it slowly a few times, your eyes never breaking an eye contact.

You straightened up, standing on your knees; you struggled quite a bit while taking off your bottoms, since this position wasn’t the most comfortable. You heard Tom muttering quiet ‘oh god’ under his breath in feigned annoyance, obviously teasing you, for which you lightly smacked him on the chest.

Once done and completely naked you slightly scooted forward so that your awaiting pussy was hovering right above Tom’s heavy cock. You gave him a few more jerks before leading it to your slicked folds, sliding them along his throbbing shaft, properly slicking him up with your juices. After a few more moments you aligned his swollen tip with your pulsing entrance, lowering your hips slowly, gently sinking onto his length. A satisfied sigh left both of you once Tom was fully buried inside of your quivering warmth, your ass pressed tightly against his thighs.

His broad hands came to rest on the swell of your hips, molding and playing with soft flesh in between his long fingers. You let out a small whimper as you could feel Tom’s cock stuffing you full, his tip was pressed against your cervix so deliciously, all along with a pleasant stretch on your plushy walls.

You rose your hips carefully, still adjusting to your current position, sliding off half of his length, and sank back down onto his cock, providing such desired friction. You watched his adam’s apple bob as Tom swallowed heavily, and you repeated your actions a few more times, until you found a comfortable rhythm, impaling yourself over and over again on his steady cock.

Your hands came to rest on Tom’s chest, supporting yourself against his body, back arching at the pleasant feeling of his dick grazing all the right spots inside of your throbbing pussy. Soft moans spilled out of your lips as one of Tom’s hands went down to play with your clit, skillfully circling and massaging swollen nub with the tips of his fingers. Your head lolled back, a loud cry of your husband’s name rolled off your tongue as you quickened the pace of your thrusts, rocking against him so passionately.

Tom rested one hand on your nape, putting a bit of pressure into his touch, indicating for you to lean down. You did so, lowering your torso until your chest was pressed flush against his; your lips found his in a matter of moments, connecting in a fervid kiss, his tongue slithering into your mouth, making you gasp in surprise.

Your loud moan was swallowed by Tom’s greedy mouth as he unexpectedly thrusted his hips up into your perfect squelching pussy from underneath; his free hand was gripping onto your waist tightly, fixating you into this position. You broke your kiss, burying your flushed face into the crook of his neck as his hips picked up a quick pace, fucking your pussy raw with his throbbing cock.

- Yeah? You like that, you little minx? - Tom rasped into your ear, his lips brushed against your ear shell, making you tremble slightly. You nodded your head ‘yes’ fervently, leaving open-mouthed kisses all over the side of his neck.

- I love it so much, Tommy. Please, don’t stop, please, please, - you babbled out incoherently, your mind hazed and barely working from intense pleasure rolling through your body in waves.

Tom slid his hand from your nape and along your spine, all the way down to your jiggly ass, especially relishing to grab and mold your pliable flesh with his fingers. The hard, smooth strokes of his cock inside your slicked pussy caused ecstasy to well up inside you, your body prickling, almost painfully, in foretaste of a nearing orgasm.

Your hands grabbed on Tom’s biceps, you could feel his muscles flexing underneath your touch. You bit down onto his shoulder, eliciting a quiet hiss from the man underneath you, knowing how much he disliked when you left hickeys in such obvious places. His hand left your waist to slide in between your pressed bodies, fingers finding your clit, rubbing tight circles onto it, bringing you closer and closer to your orgasm.

- Tom, ‘m gonna cum, ‘m gonna cum, please don’t stop, - you mumbled into his skin, hot and bothered, and you felt him nod at your words, his hips picking up faster pace, snapping loudly against your pliant body.

White stars hit your vision, as you felt your orgasm rippling through your trembling form, setting every nerve in your body on fire in intense pleasure. You didn’t register all the moans and pleadings slipping past your lips as you babbled in your euphoria, your quivering pussy along with dirty words only brought Tom closer to his own release.

Tom followed you soon enough, cumming with a groan and a low moan of your name, dumping his thick load deep inside of you. You laid rigid atop him, both of you trying to catch your breaths, listening to the soft whisper of wind and sea. Surprisingly, Tom was the one who broke the comfortable silence:

- A few more moments and I’d go deaf on one ear, - Tom commented and you didn’t understand what he was talking about. It took you a few moments to realize that all this time you were moaning and screaming uncontrollably mere centimeters away from his ear, surely causing a lot of discomfort, especially knowing how sensitive man was to any sort of noises.

You chuckle airily, muttering quiet ‘sorry, darling’ under your breath, your hand going up to comb your fingers through his silky, now knotted, hair, massaging his scalp lovingly.

Dragging Tom all the way here was definitely a good decision.

Likes, reblogs and comments are highly appreciated! Feedback is basically the only thing that keeps writers creating new content

#tom riddle #tom marvolo riddle #tom riddle x you #tom riddle x y/n #tom riddle x reader #tom riddle smut #tom marvolo riddle smut #tom riddle x y/n smut #tom riddle x you smut #tom riddle x reader smut #harry potter #harry potter writing #harry potter x reader #harry potter x you #harry potter x y/n #smut #harry potter smut #harry potter fanfiction #voldemort #lord voldemord #voldemort x reader

[sakkiichi]

hello!! i saw that ur requests is open :D may i request gn! reader with blade? maybe a mixture of angst and hurt with comfort where the reader feels insecure of themselves bc they heard ppl whispering abt how the reader is not suitable to be blade’s s/o, things like that

would like to ask for a happy ending bc of my sensitive heart whehdhd

take ur time writing this! feel free to delete it if u dont have the motivation/ideas <3 have a nice day 🫶🫶

DON’T LET ME LET THE DARK TAKE OVER.

Hey, nonnie ! thank you for requesting, you’re actually my first request on here <3 I hope you like it and that this is what you wanted ! I’m sorry it took a while, I hope you still enjoy, dear.

Blade x gn! reader.

genre/cw: angst to comfort and fluff, mentions of insecurity.

word count: 800 words.

You’re starting to believe they are right.

The rumors, the side glances, the occasional snickers.

Maybe it wouldn’t bother you so much if the reason was another, but your heart was always on your sleeve when it came to him.

His swordsmanship skills were certainly the talk of town, and you knew well you can’t be liked by everyone, so the prospect of rumors arising when you and him got close was not far fetched.

And yet, your heart sinks every time wicked whispers make it to your ears.

You aren’t sure if you’ve started going crazy.

On the street, at the grocery store, at work… you can feel eyes boring into you whenever you go outside.

So you reach the conclusion it’s safer to stay home.

At least that way you don’t need to hear rumors added to the insecurities already spiraling in dark swirls inside your mind.

Your bed is more comfortable, anyway, yes, you’ll just call in sick tomorrow at work, it’s not like anyone will care.

Turning around in bed, you tuck the covers closer around you. You wish your lover was by your side right now.

‘And you think you deserve him?’ A cruel voice whispers at the back of your mind.

Your lids flutter closed; if you stay really still, maybe, just maybe, the whole world will forget about you.

“[Y/n], I’m home.”

Damn, maybe not everyone will forget about you.

Still, you don’t get out from your cocoon when you hear his footsteps; nor do you run to hug him as you used to, even when his soft yet slightly raspy voice reaches you, more desperate by the minute.

Then, light in rusty hues floods into the bedroom, relief palpable in your partner’s tone when he sighs:

“Good. You’re here.”

However, the stellaron hunter’s happiness is short lived.

You look… dimmed.

To Blade, you were the ever-light that rose in the zenith of his black hole infinities. Right now, however, all he can see when his eyes of bleeding rubies catch sight of you is colorless fog, dull gray over the rainbow speckled meadows you usually smiled in. A broken solstice of decaying ashen flowers.

“[Y/n]! [Y/n]!” Your boyfriend steps closer to your unreactive body. “Hey, I’m here, it’s going to be okay.” He carefully pulls the covers away from you.

Fallen moonbeams stain your cheeks, salty with bitterness and hurt.

“Ren…” You mutter, still not facing him. Your body trembles, you look so frail right now. “Why are you here?” You choke out, voice low, the broken crackling of lightning in the distance.

“I’ll always be here.” Blade tells you, softly, running a hand through your hair, turning you around to face him.

“But why?” You put your palms against his chest, over the steady heartbeat that used to lull you to sleep. “You could do so much better, Ren. Why stay?” Your teary eyes still won’t look at him.

“No.” Your lover states, sharp, the edge of metal cutting through heavy star-obscuring clouds. “It doesn’t get better than you, angel.” He says, chapped lips tender against your hair.

“But it does, Blade…” Your voice breaks, parted clouds weeping for you. “I hear them, everyone agrees that I’m not good enough for you!”

“Who is spouting such nonsense?” Your stellaron hunter asks, his tone taking on a dangerous lilt.

“Everyone! When I go shopping, the neighbors, even sometimes when I leave work… I-I’ve even gotten some passive-aggressive comments on whether we’re still together or not…”

His hold on you tightens, strong arms hugging you closer to him.

The fact that someone else has made you feel like this makes Blade’s blood boil. If it wasn’t because you would certainly try to stop him, he’d be ready to torn to pieces anyone who ever made you think you’re less than enough.

The stellaron hunter’s strength was never in his speech, so, as liquid moonlight trickles down your cheeks, he keeps you from breaking.

His once ensnaring grip was always devoid of thorns when it came to you, only deep crimson blooms flourishing in his wake.

“They’re wrong.” Are the venom laced seeds fallen from the vermillion petals that surround you. “You’re perfect for me, no matter what. You’re perfect, I won’t let anyone make you believe otherwise.” Each statement is punctuated by his arms squeezing you softly, so delicate in contrast to his icy tone, like the first fall of snow dusting over a rose garden.

And maybe it’s because you’re too tired, or perhaps because Blade’s caress is akin to watching the stars rise in a poppy field, but you don’t try to retort.

The moon is high when your lids flutter closed, your lover’s heartbeat a comforting lullaby.

In your dreams, you and him imprint angels in the snow.

In the real world, Blade kisses your temple, his arms secure around you.

The new dawn looks bright in the distance.

#honkai star rail x reader #hsr x reader #honkai star rail x you #hsr x y/n #hsr x you #blade x reader #blade x y/n #blade x you #hsr blade x reader #honkai star rail imagines #honkai star rail fanfic #honkai star rail oneshots #honkai star rail scenarios #blade imagines #hsr blade #honkai star rail fluff #hsr fluff #blade fluff #blade x reader fluff

[verinarin]

what about veritas making excuses just to hold your hand ? or just to touch you in some sort of way bcs he cant ask directly

this man is a menace because he knows very well that you absolutely believes in whatever he says and he abuses that fact to the max _:(´ཀ`」 ∠): | Fluff featuring worried Veri !!

support me on ko-fi ╰(*´︶`*)╯♡

You have been summoned by Veritas to help him with his newest research, ever since you accidentally broke a lot of his expensive vials you have been working for him to repay the damage, let’s be honest here you still don’t understand why the hell are those small pieces of glasses cost more than one month of your rent !

What you didn’t know on the other hand that he doesn’t care about those vials, yes they were expensive and he doesn’t mind the fact it’s broken, he was planning to buy a new one anyway, but you didn’t need to know this fact of course

You knock exactly three times on the glass door of his lab, of a sudden the door dissipates into thin air, you still don’t know what kind of magic he use for that damn door-

“Alright I’m here Veritas, what do you need me to do ?,” you huff as you see him in the corner, his brows furrowed as he concentrates on the vial that’s in his hand

“Come here and hold this for me,” he says curtly, you quickly oblige and hold his vial for him, what you don’t realise is how cold the room is, your hand starts to tremble because of the temperature “Stay still fool !,” he grunts as he holds your hand tightly with his own

He can’t help but feel something weird stirring up inside him, an annoying feeling that ails his heart, the softness of your skin against his own and the warmth it emulates, he quickly brushes the thought

His hand must be cold that’s why he enjoys the warmth of your hand instead, he justifies. You kept your mouth shut and your hand stable as he used his other hand to drop two drops of a foreign liquid he had to concoct before, however, you suddenly sneezed and the one drop of the liquid made contact with your skin

Suddenly you felt tingles around your body, Veritas quickly grabbed the vial and placed it back in safety “You’re an absolute idiot!” he yelled as he dragged your body toward his own, he swiftly examined the skin that had contracted with the liquid, you never see his this worried before

“I’m sorry t-the room w-was t-too cold,” you mutter as you keep your gaze towards the floor, you can’t help but feel like you’ve currently in an industrial freezer ever since that liquid touched your skin

“What do you feel right now ?!,” he replies as he brushes back the hair on your forehead to check your temperature, you’re ice cold this is a good sign for him, at least now he knows what you need is just a simple cup of herbal tea he could brew, all of the symptoms  you showed so far doesn’t seem to be extreme, it was a drop of a coolant solution after all

“So coold, really cold like someone just threw a bucket of cold water,” your body trembles, within a second he wraps his arm around your waist, while resting your head on his chest, “To share my body heat with yours is the most effective way to combat this,” he lies, yet you don’t need to know that do you ?

It’s all a blur from then, because somehow now you’re at his apartment his bed to be exact. Covered by layers of blanket your head rested on his chest as he holds you close, he feels like a heater underneath all of the layers he puts over you both, he feels rather awful to help you in this way but you seem to be feeling better after he brewed you that herbal tea

According to his deduction, you should feel a lot better after drinking it but you ask him to share his warmth again, he wouldn’t let the chance of being so close to you to wasted of course, “Feeling any better ?,”

“Yeah it’s warm and toasty here, I’m sorry to burden you and I hope you don’t mind the close proximity,” you huff as you look up towards him

He just sighs before smiling, “I’m actually quite fond of it now,”

He has always been fond of it ever since your hand accidentally brushed his own

#honkai star rail #honkai star rail x reader #dr ratio #dr. ratio #dr ratio x reader #dr. ratio x reader #dr ratio fluff #dr. ratio fluff

[reidreaders]

Girl's Night Out

Poorly Kept Secrets: Part 3

Summary: Part 3 in which Penelope accidentally spills Spencer's secret (you) to JJ and Emily!

Word Count: 1.7k

Warnings: kissing, use of y/n, established relationship, semi-secret relationship, not proof read, idk this is pretty much just straight fluff but lmk if I missed anything!

A/N: I'M ALIVE BITCHESS I took some time off writing bc college is hard but im back!! I had so many requests for part 3 to this story so I hope y'all enjoy!!

Part 1 Part 2

Things had quieted down around the BAU in the weeks since Hotch, Penelope, and Derek found out about you and Spencer. The three of them had agreed to keep Spencer’s secret, seeing as how he wasn’t ready to share you quite yet, which was massively relieving to him. The team hadn’t been called out on many cases lately, meaning that Spencer had more free time than ever to spend with you. You and Spencer had only been dating for a couple of weeks, so you were still in the getting to know each other phase of your relationship, so it was tough that he was away fighting crime most of the time. All that to say, it was a nice change of pace for the both of you. You spent your nights taking turns cooking dinner and choosing which movie to watch, you spent your weekends introducing each other to your favorite hobbies (you had a new found love of chess), and lately, you had spent your mornings waking up next to each other. 

You and Spencer had yet another dinner and movie date planned for that night. When he arrived home from work, you were already in his kitchen getting dinner started. 

“Hey, Spence!” you shouted from the kitchen, as you heard the familiar footsteps enter the apartment.

Spencer rounded the corner into the kitchen with a confused look on his face, “Hey?” he questioned, “what’re you doing here so early?”

“I thought it might be nice to have dinner ready for you when you got home! Plus, I might have missed you a little bit.” you grinned as you moved to be closer to him, throwing your arms around his neck as he moved to put his hands on your waist. 

“Well that’s really sweet of you,” he blushed, “I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t missing you today too.” he leaned in and closed the gap between the two of you. The kiss was soft and tender, yet full of passion. 

Spencer pulled away with a puzzled look on his face, as if something had just occurred to him, “How did you get into my apartment without a key?” 

Your eyes widened, guilt evident on your face. You had hoped that the imminent promise of dinner coupled with the fact that you were so excited to see him would be enough to distract him from the fact that you were seemingly breaking and entering. “Um…” you delayed your response, trying to figure out what to tell him, “I may or may not have bribed your landlord to let me in…” you winced, hoping he wouldn’t be too mad.

“Well, I’m gonna have to have a word with her about that.” He chuckled, leaning in for another kiss. 

You moved back to the stove to finish up cooking dinner, while Spencer set the table. The two of you sat down to eat and began what had become your usual dinner table conversation. You asked about his day, which he welcomed the opportunity to ramble on about. You didn’t mind when he rambled. In fact, you enjoyed it, hooked on every word that came out of his mouth. He asked about your day, and to be honest, you rambled just as much, happy to have someone in your life who seemed to genuinely care about how your day went. Needless to say, you guys had gotten much more comfortable around each other than you were the first time you had been invited over. Of course, it didn’t help that the two of you had been busted by his boss in desperate need of a babysitter.  

After you had finished eating, Spencer did the dishes, while you picked out a movie to watch with him. When you had first started dating, it quickly became very evident that Spencer had never seen any of the blockbuster movies you loved, nor had you seen any of the foreign films he held so close to heart. So, movie night became a tradition, taking turns showing each other your favorites. In the spirit of fall, you had chosen ‘The Fantastic Mr. Fox’, a childhood favorite of yours. 

You had raided his closet before starting the movie, desperate for something comfy to wear. You had chosen a pair of soft, flannel pajama pants and CalTech sweatshirt that smelled just like him. When you returned to the living room, Spencer was already laying down on the couch. You snuggled into him, squished between him and the couch, with your head on his chest and an arm thrown around his stomach. One of his hands was lovingly rubbing your back, but made its way up to your hair as he got more engrossed in the movie. This was your sweet spot. Nothing could put you fast asleep quicker than someone playing with your hair. You began to doze off, and Spencer, exhausted from a long day of paperwork, wasn’t far behind you. 

What the two of you did not know was that Emily, JJ, and Penelope had just finished up at a wild girl’s night out. The bar they had chosen was located conveniently close to all of their houses, and coincidentally, right down the street from Spencer’s apartment. The ladies had just begun their walk home when tragedy struck; JJ had to pee. 

“Oh c’mon can’t you just hold it?” Emily asked, anxious to get home.

“Yeah, we’re so close to your house Jayje!” Penelope chimed in.

“Guys, no! I’m seriously about to have an emergency. Now, can we please just find someplace to pee?” JJ begged, clearly desperate.

That’s when Penelope had a light bulb moment. “Oh! Why don’t we just pop by Spencer’s place real quick? I’m sure he won’t mind!” She said, excited to have found the solution to JJ’s ever growing problem. 

“Sounds good to me!” Emily said, followed by a “Thank God!” from JJ. 

As Penelope led her friends to Spencer’s apartment, she had completely forgotten about the secret she had promised to keep. She wasn’t used to Spencer having girls in his apartment, after all. 

When they finally arrived at Spencer’s place, JJ frantically knocked on the door, but got no answer. The two of you were fast asleep on the couch inside, with the movie drowning out any noise from outside the apartment. 

After knocking for several minutes, and receiving no answer, Emily decided to take matters into her own hands. She pushed past JJ to the door and tried the handle, revealing that it was unlocked. JJ raced down the hall to the bathroom, not noticing what the other girls had. 

“Oh no.” Penelope whispered to herself.

“Who is that??” Emily said a little too loudly for Penelope’s liking.

“Shut up! You’re going to wake them up!” Penelope whisper-yelled.

JJ had finally reached the bathroom by this point, slamming the door shut behind her. Spencer jolted awake at the sound, which in turn stirred you awake, too. He looked around for the source of the sound, but instead found two of his coworkers staring at him with wide eyes. 

“What are you doing here?” Spencer said exasperated, as he jumped up from the couch.

“Spencer, I am so sorry. I totally forgot about Y/N and that she’s a secret and JJ really had to pee and we were right down the street so I brought them here and I’m really, really sorry.” Penelope spat out, practically at the speed of light. 

You sat on the couch, barely awake and trying to process what was going on. You sat up to get a better look at the intruders and realized that you had seen them before in photographs. 

“So, are you gonna introduce us to your dirty little secret, Reid?” Emily smirked.

“She’s not my dirty little secret. She’s my-she’s just-” Spencer was cut off. All of the sudden you were next to him, extending your hand to Emily.

“I’m Y/N. Spencer’s girlfriend.” You said it proudly, even if the two of you hadn’t entirely agreed on what you were to each other yet. 

This statement elicited what was quite possibly a world record blush from Spencer. He was so happy to hear you call yourself his girlfriend that he had to restrain himself from grabbing your face and kissing you. 

Emily and Penelope introduced themselves to you and the four of you made small talk while you waited for JJ. You were happy to get to meet some of the friends you had heard so much about, even if the circumstances were less than ideal. 

JJ finally made her way out of the bathroom and noticed you for the first time, “Woah, what did I miss?” she asked.

Spencer jumped into action mode, determined to spare himself from another awkward explanation of why he hadn’t told anyone about you yet, “Nothing!” he said quickly as he began to usher the girls out of the apartment. 

You giggled under your breath at him. It was so endearing how determined he was to keep your relationship away from the prying eyes of his profiling friends, to give the two of you the space to figure out your feelings for each other, to spare you from yet another strange and unexpected encounter with his coworkers. 

As Spencer walked them out, you couldn’t help but eavesdrop. You listened to the girls asking him all kinds of questions about you. It was incredible how much they managed to ask him between the living room and the doorway. Once Spencer had finally gotten them out of the apartment, you heard him speak. “Can we please just keep this between us. I really, really like this girl and I don’t want to put too much pressure on her by introducing her to you guys already.”  They all agreed to keep his secret, solely because he did seem to really like you. 

Spencer shut the door and made his way back to you, “I’m really sorry about that,” he chuckled, embarrassment evident on his face, “I seriously have to talk to the team about them showing up here like that.”

“No it’s okay,” you assured him, still swooning at what he had said to his friends, “It was kind of nice actually.” you smiled.

“Oh yeah? How’s that?” Spencer asked, genuinely curious about what you could have possibly enjoyed about that encounter.

“Well, I get to officially be your girlfriend now…” you said sweetly.

Spencer blushed again, thrilled that you were excited to put a label on your relationship, “Yeah,” He giggled, “I guess something good did come out of all that chaos, huh?” he said before leaning in to kiss you, your first kiss as an official couple.

hope y'all enjoyed! I had so much fun writing this one, so I think part 4 will be up sometime next week! ALSO my requests are open so send me something to write :)

MASTERLIST

#criminal minds #spencer reid #dr spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid imagine #penelope garcia #jennifer jareau #emily prentiss

[lainiespicewrites]

Someone to take her home

Hey guys so I wrote this a while ago! This is a Henry one shot it an OFC because I'll die on the self insert hill! LOL it gives me so much comfort. Is that weird IDK. Anyway this story is kind of heavy. I wrote this to get out some feelings about an SA that I had experienced. I've always been someone that if I'm stressed I rewrite the situation with a comforting outcome or a better outcome to release the stress or make myself feel better. I wanted to sort of write myself a way to get some comfort from the trauma. And I hope having a character like this sweet soft version of Henry may help some of you too. I never reached out for myself for help and maybe I should have but if you experienced something please talk to someone. If you need someone to talk to or just want a place to let it out my DM's are a safe space <3 Just as disclaimer this doesn't mention any of the actual situation that happened to me. Just a filler to get out the emotion. Still this is a fluff with lots of love and sweet gentle young Henry bc I just know in my soul this was and is how he is as a person!

Warnings: Light Cursing, Trauma, Mentions of sexual assault. (Please reach out for help even if it's just talking to someone about your situation. My DM's are open if y'all wanna talk after this <3)

Description: OFC goes to college party and meets Henry and they become fast friends. and he helps her when things turn bad with a guy he warned her about.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I stared at myself in the mirror one more time. I needed to leave soon. If I looked any longer I would find something I hated and talk myself out of going. So I grabbed my bag and turned off my bedroom light. Nervous didn’t begin to describe how I was feeling. I’d never been to a party like this before. Sure I’d been out a few times in high school. But it was usually theater cast parties. And one time my friend and I stole some captain morgan from her parents liquor cabinet. But this was on an entirely different scale. 

Most of my drinking was a night in with the girls with wine or movie night drinking games. God I sound so boring. It’s not that I don’t enjoy partying. I was genuinely excited to be invited out tonight. Lilly and I had worked together for a few assignments in class. And we would say hi when we ran into each other in the dorms. But, I never expected to get a text this afternoon inviting me to her boyfriend's party. Purdue was an incredibly large campus. Upwards of 40,000 plus students. Yet somehow Lilly’s boyfriend Riley Hardesty seemed to know everyone. He was known for throwing huge parties all year. They weren’t exclusive. You could just be driving through the neighborhood and stop in.  But she told me a friend of  Riley’s had asked her about me. 

Matt Parker. I know of him. He’s in my English 204 lecture. But we’ve never talked. But he is really attractive. So maybe something good would come from all of this! I decided just to walk as my dorm wasn’t far from the house Riley and his roommates lived in. It was a cool night in mid october and I was definitely regretting the little black denim skirt I was wearing. I was smart enough to wear a cardigan but it was still cold. Thank God it's only 2 blocks down. I bit my lip nervously. Am I even going to know anyone here? Anyone I actually talk to? It’s too late now. I already got dressed and ready. I walked here. I have to go through with this. 

I took a deep breath and walked inside. Things were already full swing. I could hear the music outside before I even opened the door. No one seemed to notice me and honestly I was okay with that. I looked around scanning the room. Almost everyone had a drink in hand, standing around in groups talking. The smell of  pot hit me immediately as I started to walk through the house. I wasn’t  the least bit surprised. I made my way to the kitchen where I found multiple drinks, alcohol and mixers available. I kept it simple and grabbed a wine cooler. Something fruity. I was definitely going to need a buzz if I was going to be here longer than 5 minutes.

 I pushed my way out of the kitchen and found a quiet corner to drink and observe for a while. I was busy listening to some guys talk about last weekend's football game when I heard someone’s voice. And I realized they were talking to me. I shifted my eyes seeing a guy standing next to me. He was maybe 6’1, blue eyes, and brown hair with soft curls. I gave him a gentle smile,

“I’m sorry, what was that?” I asked. He smiled and chuckled softly. His smile was beautiful. 

“I uh, Just noticed your shirt. Are you a Def Leppard fan?” He asked. I looked down. I completely forgot that was the shirt I was wearing. I just thought a band t-shirt would look cute with the skirt. But

“Yeah! Well I know a few of their songs! My Mom was in her 20’s in the 80’s and she loved them!” I said. 

“She has good taste! They’re awesome! Are you here by yourself? Not trying to be creepy I just noticed you were by yourself over here and I wanted to make sure you were alright,” He rambled. I nodded.

“I look that out of place huh? Yeah, I um. I’m friends with Riley’s girlfriend. Well not friends necessarily. But I know her. Anyway she invited me because of some friend of Riley’s but I don’t know this isn’t normally my scene. Wow that was a lot,” I blushed. “Sorry,” I mumbled. 

“For?” He smiled, raising an eyebrow. “We’re talking. I like getting to know people! And I totally get it. This can kind of be a lot sometimes. I actually came with some friends but I needed to step away from all the crazy for a second. I’m Henry by the way.” He smiled, extending his hand. I took it and He squeezed mine softly. 

“Alayna!” I said. 

“It’s nice to meet you!” He smiled. “Which one of Riley’s friends? If you don't mind me asking,” He raised an eyebrow. 

“Matt Parker,” I said bluntly. “You know him,” Henry took a sip of his beer and nodded. 

“I do, He’s alright. We’re sort of friends I suppose. He may have good intentions. Listen, I know you don’t need my advice, but just be careful around him. I don’t know what you were expecting with him or hoping for. But he can be a little, well, if I had a daughter I wouldn’t trust him with her. But I could be wrong. I’m sorry, that was a bit much. I don't want to ruin your evening,” He said. 

“For?” I smirked copying his face from earlier. “You seem to have pure intentions. Just looking out for someone. That’s really kind of you actually. I honestly don't know what I was expecting. But I can handle myself. I didn’t really come out tonight for him. I wanted to actually let loose and have fun for once. I’ve been trying to have more adventures, meet new people, make new friends.” I smiled looking him in the eyes on that last part. He gave me a big smile and held out his beer bottle to cheers me. 

“To new friends,” He spoke and we clinked our bottles together. “I like you, I mean talking to you.” He said. 

“I like talking to you too! I was honestly super anxious about coming tonight. I was worried I’d be too anxious and awkward to have fun or it would be too much. Because this is a lot. I’m 100% sure I saw someone do coke off the kitchen counter. But I’m actually enjoying myself. Right now anyway.” I laughed. Henry chuckled. 

“Good! Well, I’m going to go find my friends but, what's your number? I’ll send you a text real quick and if you get overwhelmed or uncomfortable  or need to escape all of this for a bit come find me! Or text me. I’d be happy to be there for you.  And we can just chill out for a while.” I smiled and gave him my phone number. It was nice to meet someone as kind as Henry. You don’t meet a lot of people that… genuine and gentlemanly in places like this. He gave my shoulder a gentle squeeze before he walked off to find his friends. I wandered off to get another drink while I was standing in the kitchen waiting to grab another wine cooler. I felt someone lay their arm across my shoulder. 

“Hey gorgeous,” I recognized Matt’s voice. I gave him a soft smile. 

“Hi,” I spoke. 

“I’m glad you came tonight, You having a good time,” He asked, clearly buzzed. 

“Yeah,” I said tentatively “One hell of a party!” I laughed. 

“For sure!” He smiled and moved to the side of me taking his arm off my shoulder. “What are you drinking babe?” He asked. 

“Just Mike's lemonade.” I chuckled awkwardly. 

“Aw come on girl you can do something stronger than that huh?” He joked. I shook my head.

“I probably could but I’d rather not get sick.” I said. 

“Aw well come on at least do a shot with me?” He asked, giving me a puppy dog face and pouting. “Just tequila, we got training wheels!” He added. 

“I don’t know… I don’t wanna get too crazy,” I said. 

“Nah, it’ll be alright, it’ll just loosen you up a bit!” He spoke already pouring the shots. He slid one over to me. And a piece of lime. “Ready?” I picked up the shot and stared at it questioningly. 

“Alright,” He smiled. We clicked the glasses and hit them against the table before taking the shot. It was super bitter. I immediately followed it with the lime. But it didn’t help much. When I looked up again Matt had gotten me another Mike’s from the cooler.

“Atta girl!” He smirked. He took a step closer and I took the drink from him. Then I heard someone call his name from across the house. They were starting another game of beer pong. “That’s my que babe, but wait for me yeah? I’ll come back to you after this game!” He smirked and left a wet kiss on my cheek before running off to join the boys. 

Charming is certainly not a word I would use to describe him. But he’s nice. And he’s just trying to make sure I have fun. There’s no harm in that. I wandered around the party again. I opened up my new bottle and tossed the cap on a nearby coffee table. I thought about watching the beer pong game but I honestly wasn’t interested. I found the door leading to the backyard and saw there was a bonfire going. I stepped outside and found an empty seat by the fire. I watched it crackle for a bit and took a long sip of my drink. I felt a warmth inside me and knew it was coming from the alcohol. I started to relax as I listened to the fire and the white noise of the people chatting around me. It was a gorgeous night.

“Hey!” I heard a voice from behind me. “Funny meeting you out here!” Henry spoke, pulling up a chair next to me.

“Hey!” I said excitedly. “It’s calm out here. I like it!” I said. Henry smiled. 

“I do too, I love a good fire. Fuels the soul.” He half joked. 

“ I love the smell! Is that weird?” I laughed. 

“No,” He chuckled softly “Not at all! So, besides the band on that very cool shirt, What other music do you like?” Henry asked, leaning back in his chair and taking a long swig of his beer. 

“Oh all kinds. I’m a big lover of the stuff from the 70s though! Elton John, Heart, the Beatles, I guess they’re technically 60’s. I know it’s kind of old school but. I feel like they just don’t make music like that anymore.” I explained. 

“Classic! I like it,” He smiled. 

“What about you?” I asked. 

“Oh I’m all over the place too. I’m actually a big country fan!” He smirked. 

“I wouldn’t have expected that from you but I respect it. It’s not my favorite genre but there are definitely some good ones there!” I smiled. Henry and I chatted for a while. We talked about our majors. He's a history major. Where we’re from, he has an accent but I didn’t want to ask and be weird about it. He told me he’s from the UK. We talked about books, history and our friends. It was nice. A little while later I felt an arm around my shoulder again. I knew it was Matt. 

“There she is! Did you think I forgot about you babe?” He asked. 

“No,” I smiled blushing softly. He smiled. 

“Hey Henry! Are you having a good time, man?” He asked. Henry nodded and finished his beer. 

“Yeah! Actually I should go get another one. It was nice talking to you Alayna!” He smiled at me before he got up and left. I don’t know why but I could tell Henry wasn’t the biggest fan of Matt. He said they were friends earlier but I think he was just trying to be nice

I was shaken from the thought when I heard Matt’s voice again. 

“Hey, follow me!” He said enthusiastically. 

“Okay,” I smiled. I got up and followed him back inside. He led us upstairs and down the hall to what I assume was his room. 

“Too many people out there, I wanted to be alone with you,” He smiled. 

“That’s really sweet! It is pretty crowded.” I said. 

“Yeah,” He said blankly. “Are you enjoying the party?” He asked. 

“I am,” I said half telling the truth. I enjoyed talking to Henry. 

“God you’re so gorgeous,” He said. “I always want to talk to you in class but you always leave so quickly I never get the chance.” He said. 

“Thank you,” I blushed. 

“Can I kiss you?” He asked. I don’t know if I wanted it or if it was the alcohol but I nodded. He smirked and leaned in kissing me on the lips. It was gentle at first but then he quickly started using tongue. I felt kind of awkward. So I backed away. “Oh sorry, you okay?” he asked. 

“Yeah,” I lied. He just nodded and went back to kissing me. I kissed him back a bit but then I felt him start to feel me up. I froze. I really didn’t want that. He moved his hand under my shirt and I stopped him. 

“Uh Matt, I really don’t know about this.” I said nervously. He pulled back 

“It’s fine, nobody's gonna come in, don't worry about it.” He said and started kissing my neck. Oh god this sucks. 

“No I mean. I don’t… want to do this.” I stuttered. 

“Come on, it’ll be fun babe, it’ll be alright.” He kept feeling me up and continued kissing me. I felt stuck. He pushed himself against me, grinding into me. He moaned. I swallowed hard. Fuck, I really didn’t want this. 

“No, Matt, I really don’t want to.” I said again. 

“Shhh just go with it.” he said, shushing me. “You’ll enjoy it, I promise.” He said, sliding his hand under my skirt and rubbing his fingers against me. 

“No, stop Matt,” I said again, my voice quivering. He was definitely stronger than me. He used his other hand to take himself out of his shorts and he grabbed my hand putting it on him while he kept touching me, forcing his fingers inside. It hurt. I don’t know how but finally I found the strength to push him away from me. He stumbled back and fell against the bed and I ran out of the room. I could feel the tears stinging in my eyes already but I had to get out of this house. I quickly ran down the stairs and out the front door. Matt was pretty drunk so I don’t even think he tried to follow me. I walked a little way down the street and stopped letting out a sob. What the hell just happened. How did I let that happen? How could I have been stupid enough to trust him or follow him? I didn’t know what to do. I probably should have headed back to the dorm but I didn’t want to be alone right now. I took to my phone trying to think of who to talk to. 

I saw I had a text. It was Henry. “Hey it’s me! Henry I mean lol feel free to text me anytime.” I sent him a quick text taking a deep breath and trying to pull myself together. I didn’t want him to see me like this. I was so stupid. He tried to warn me. 

“Hey, it’s Alayna, where are you?” I sent it. To my surprise he responded almost immediately. 

“By the fire, You okay?” it read. 

“Would you wanna go on a walk with me?” I asked. There’s no way I could go back there. 

“Sure :) where are you?” 

“On the front sidewalk like 3 houses down toward campus.” 

“Be right there!” true to his word about 2 minutes later I saw him walking down the sidewalk toward me. 

“How are you?” He asked. 

“Good,” I nodded absentmindedly. 

“Were you leaving?” He asked.

I um,” I stuttered “Yeah, it was just… too much. I was gonna head home. I feel stupid I was just gonna walk home. I'll be fine, I’ll let you have fun. I don’t wanna interrupt your night.” I rambled. 

“No! Please do! I’d be happy to walk you home. Talking with you was the most fun I had tonight actually.” He stated simply. I smiled weakly.

“I’m glad.” I said. 

“Are you alright?” He asked me. I sighed trying not to get emotional. 

“Yeah, just a little overwhelmed and tired.” I lied. We walked in silence for a bit. I couldn’t believe how kind he was. The fact that he would leave his friends to walk me home. He was genuinely concerned about me. That feeling made me even more overwhelmed and finally after everything I could help but start crying. I felt like I had no control over my body as I started to sob. I felt my shoulders start to shake. Henry stopped and put his hands on my shoulders.

“Alayna what's wrong?” He asked me. I tried so hard to speak.

“He wouldn’t.. And I said… no, but he kept…” it all came out in broken sobs. Henry didn’t say anything. He just pulled me into him and hugged me tightly. After a few seconds. I started to calm down and tried to steady my breathing. 

“Shh it’s alright,  just breathe.” I heard him say. I slowed my breathing. “Did he touch you?” He asked gently, trying not to upset me again. I couldn’t speak, I just nodded. Henry went stiff. I looked up and saw his jaw was clenched. “Mother fucker,” He mumbled quietly under his breath. Then he spoke louder “Do you want to go talk to someone? Like report it?” He asked. Again his voice was gentle. I shook my head. 

“I can’t, I know I should but I really can’t, not now.” I said. He nodded. 

“Okay, well let's get you home.” He said. I started to walk again. Henry kept an arm around me as we walked. We were quiet the whole way there. He walked me all the way to the door. Wanting to make sure I got in okay.

“Thank you,” I said. But just as he turned to leave I grabbed his hand. “Wait, please don’t go.” I said, trying not to sound desperate. Not that I had the energy to care. 

“You want me to stay?” he asked. I nodded. 

“Yeah, no, I .. I don’t .. You don’t have to, I’ll be okay.” I said. 

“Hey,” He paused, grabbing my hand. “It’s okay, I don’t mind.” So I took off my shoes and slipped into the bathroom to change into some shorts. I laid in my bed and Henry sat next to me. “Do you want to watch something?” He asked. I nodded. And turned on my TV scrolling aimlessly. I stopped on some old 90’s sitcom. 

“Thank you, for staying,” I said. 

“You shouldn’t be alone right now. And I meant what I said. I had more fun talking to you tonight than with anyone else.” He smiled sympathetically. 

“I did too,” I said.  I sat up going to kiss him but he stopped me.

“Not tonight, darling. Believe me I would love to kiss you. But I think you’ll regret it later if you do this now. I like you. I’m not going anywhere. Let's take this slow. You’ve been through a lot tonight. I’ll still be here when you’re ready. But I think tonight you need to rest.” he said. The universe gave me Henry tonight. If I hadn’t ran into him. I’d have been alone after being sexually assaulted by a guy I barely know. Any other guy wouldn’t have treated me like him. He was so gentle and respectful. He was genuinely looking out for my best interest when he could’ve taken advantage of my vulnerability. I just nodded.

“I’m sorry that was stupid.” I sighed. 

“No, it wasn’t” he put his arm around me pulling me into his side and I naturally rested my head on his chest. “You don’t need to apologize. Try to get some rest.” He spoke gently. I could hear his heartbeat and my breath slowed to match the rhythm. Eventually so did he. I looked up to find him asleep with his arm still around me. I settled in snuggling into his side. All the noise around me slowly faded away and I finally got to rest, falling asleep in Henry’s arms.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

That’s it you guys please let me know what you think. I love you all so much! You’ve shown my writing so much love 🥰

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[cecilxa]

hiii since ur reqs r open, can i please have kaeya, thoma and childe (separate) with a reader who returns home after a tired day with a huge back ache and wants a massage and wants to be coddled and doted on but doesn't say anything bc they dont want to bother the boys but they find out. ty<33

relax in my arms forever, i'll hold you for eternity

contents: fluff, slight hurt/comfort, gn!reader, literally just guys wanting to take care of you :)

cw: food, mention of alcohol, slighty slighty suggestive, allusions of violence

a/n: tysm for this request anon! i hope you enjoy reading this as much as i enjoyed writing it! (this also turned out a lot longer than what i was expecting haha)

kaeya— pavo ocellus  ✯¸.•´*¨`*•✿ ✿•*`¨*`•.¸✯

There’s nothing more that Kaeya loves than seeing the look on your face when you’re elated. The way your eyes crinkle up in joy, how he’s able to see how happy you truly look, and the way it makes him fall in love all over again. On the other hand, there’s nothing more that he hates than to see the look on your face when you’re exhausted, too tired to even give him a small peck on his cheek. He hates the way you won’t talk to him, and he hates the way you think he’d ever think you’d be a bother. You’re acting like this right now, and- even though you’ve still not told him about your fatigue- he’s observant enough to figure it out rather quickly, even with only one eye. 

With his sharp tongue and glinting eyes, Kaeya is usually always up for a ‘nice’ chat- even better with some alcohol in his system- but somehow he’s reduced to placating tones and gentle words whenever you’re with him. He knows that you’re not in any serious danger; otherwise, he would’ve had to deal with a lot more than your tired face, but it still pains him to see you not happy and smiling like you usually are. Another yawn comes out of your mouth, and you lean up to stretch your arm muscles. He can hear the bones in your shoulder clicking as you do so. 

Well, that’s settled it, then. He’s going to give you a massage whether you like it or not. The telling signs of your muscle fatigue and the dark circles under your eyes inform him that you’re in desperate need of some good, old TLC, and what better way for you than for him to give you a special massage, courtesy of his never-ending love. He does want your smile back, after all. 

“Darling, sit down, and get comfy, hmm? Turn around so your back’s facing my chest.”

His velvety voice invades your senses, and- too tired to care- you oblige, shuffling around so that he’s able to properly reach your shoulders. His eyes widen when he sees the obvious hunch of your back, and he resolves to fix it much sooner than later. 

“Kaeya, what are you doing?”

You say to him, sleepily, stretching your arms out once again. He can hear them click once again, too. 

“I’m giving you a massage. No offence, darling, but I think you need it.”

Sighing, you mutter a few words back at him, so quietly that he can’t hear them, but takes it as confirmation for him to continue. He hums under his breath, gently placing two hands on your covered shoulders, making sure to cover the most surface area while still managing to maintain a firm grip. 

“Tell me if this hurts, and I’ll be less harsh.”

You nod, and he gets to work. 

It’s surprising how delicate yet steady Kaeya manages to be. Most people would’ve assumed that he handles things harshly, through no fault of his own; but through all of the battles and fights he’s had to endure. Instead, his hands knead the knots out of your muscles perfectly, and the steady rhythm of going around in circles and rolling the skin of your shoulders helps you melt further into his arms. They caress and tug, coaxing out the stress and fatigue that’s been building up, not entirely unlike his own personality. His hands hit every pressure point they can, and soon enough you’re falling into a light slumber, the soft hums of his voice pervading the air surrounding the both of you. Before you fully drift off to sleep, you hear him chuckle. 

“My, my, am I really making you feel that good?”

Blushing at his insinuation, you try to feign sleep, but one thing you may have ignored was that you should never forget how much this man knows your quirks and habits like the back of his hand. 

“Darling, I know you’re still awake. But, I guess I can play along for now. Your shoulders have loosened up quite a bit, all thanks to my handiwork. You can thank me later.”

He presses a sweet kiss on your forehead, scooping you up ever-so-gently, and silently pads over to your bedroom, placing you down onto the soft mattress. Covering you up with some blankets, he’s noticed that you’ve actually managed to fall asleep properly by now, and he delights in the fact that he’s able to take some time to admire you. 

He much prefers your peaceful, calm look, with no crease in your eyebrows, and no frown that he so hates. Cupping your sleeping face with one hand, he dons a particularly adoring expression.

“I hope you feel better. All for you, of course.���

thoma— rubeum scutum  ✯¸.•´*¨`*•✿ ✿•*`¨*`•.¸✯

Humming a merry tune, Thoma whistles cheerily, eagerly awaiting your arrival from work. He’s been cooking a variety of dishes, each one distinctly picked out to suit your tastes. The smell of food wafts outside, and the apron he’s wearing has been stained with various greases and condiments, which he knows you’ll scold him for. Hopefully, the food will win you over, but some kisses might work as well. He sighs dreamily. Just thinking of having a nice homemade dinner with you has his heart fluttering, the utter domesticity of being able to cherish and spoil you being too much for him to handle.

When he hears the door open, he perks up, eyes shining as he tries his very best not to run straight over to where he knows you’ll be, taking your coat off and hanging it on the rack he managed to buy at half price. He finally reaches the entrance and, a smile reaching his eyes, leans in to hug you, only for you to head straight to the kitchen, leaving him- for lack of better words- utterly gobsmacked. His mouth gapes open, thoughts only of you in his mind. Your usual routine is to hug him, then kiss him, then he’ll ask for some more and you’ll laugh it off, saying that you were hungry and wanted to have some food, maybe giving him a small peck out of pity. What happened today? Did you receive bad news? Has he- no- are you mad at him?

Racing towards the kitchen, not even caring that he’s running on freshly polished flooring, he finds you sitting down, a large sigh coming out from your mouth once you’re seated on a chair. You close your eyes, enjoying the relief that it gives you, when a plate of hot steaming food is placed in front of you. Thoma’s eyes are the first thing you see, overflowing with concern, and- are those tears? His hesitant voice calls out to you, gentle and careful. 

“Baby, are you mad at me? Because if you are, then I’m really sorry for what I did, but could you at least tell me what I did? I love you so much, I don’t want you to be mad at me.”

A sad smile etched onto his features, he takes the seat opposite you and begins eating his food dejectedly. You- too stunned to even reply- battle with your thoughts. On one hand, the only thing you want right now is to be doted on by your lover; but on the other, you don’t want to bother him even more; he’s already gone to all this trouble just for you. Your gaze softens.

“No, Thoma, it’s fine, you haven’t done anything wrong, I love you too.”

The concern doesn’t leave his eyes, however. 

“Are you sure? What’s wrong then? Are you tired? I don’t mind going to bed early, but please eat first!”

It’s almost comical how much he cares for you. You would laugh, but he’s hit the nail on the head; really all you wish for is to be doted on by him, being an extremely tiring day at work. A sigh leaves your mouth, making his frown even larger. You’ve made your decision, and there's no time like the present.

“Today’s been really tiring, Thoma, do you think we could take a bath together?”

His frown immediately disappears, morphing into a soft smile, immediately getting what you were hinting at. 

“Of course, baby. I’ll set it right now, finish your food first, though.”

You smile back, allowing him to see the fatigue in your eyes. 

“Thanks, Thoma.”

“Anything for you.”

—

When the food’s been gobbled up (it was suited to your tastes, after all), you and Thoma head to the bath to relax. He holds your hand the entire way, down to when you settle comfortably, back pressed against his chest. His arms cradle your waist, hands absentmindedly stroking your stomach, as you let the warm water relax your muscles. You can hear him humming, his chest rumbling against your back as he presses a soft kiss to your cheek. 

“Love you so much, baby.”

His nose brushes your cheek as he whispers those words, one hand of his reaching up for a bottle of shampoo. Ever so gently, he lathers your hair with it, hands massaging the roots of your hair. He scratches at the best parts, making sure never to be too harsh, as bubbles start to build up, leaving you oh-so-relaxed. You can feel him press tender kisses along your shoulder, lips grazing your skin in such a loving way that makes your heart beat just a bit faster. Once your hair’s been sufficiently massaged, he takes the showerhead, and rinses all the suds off, making sure to wipe away all the water that comes into contact with your eyes. He murmurs words in your ear, each as caring and tender as the hands that look after his lover.

“You’re so pretty, y’know that?”

With the water cascading down your back, and your lover’s hands carding through your hair, you would feel content staying in the warmth forever.

The soft smile- so full of love- that Thoma gives you, agrees. 

childe— monoceros caeli  ✯¸.•´*¨`*•✿ ✿•*`¨*`•.¸✯

After a day of working (fighting), there’s nothing more that Childe wants than to lie with you, see your face, and he can go to sleep happy. However, when he enters your shared home, he’s greeted with the sight of you all bundled up in a blanket, seemingly staring into a vacant space. 

His first reaction is to coo at how adorable you look, immediately having to resist the urge to tackle and smother you in kisses. His second reaction is to be concerned; no matter how cute you look, he does seem to notice that the expression on your face is slightly off, not like usual. Childe prides himself on being surprisingly observant, but maybe you would expect that based on his Harbinger status. And, if it were to concern you, he pays just a bit more attention than usual. 

His final reaction is anger. Whoever- or whatever- made you like this will pay the price. Usually with their life, but you’ve been trying to teach him not to resort to violence every time he sees you upset. Maybe he’s a bit overdramatic, but it’s better to be safe than sorry.

He still feels the itch of his fingers, waiting for a weapon to hold and use to maim; he still sees the usual red in his eyes whenever he catches you off guard, upset. But for now, he’ll have to settle for the clenched fists by his side, as the main problem here is to figure out how to make you feel better. He doesn’t like the distant look in your eyes, usually so bright and carefree, the numbness he’s observing in your body should be carried by him instead. 

Gently padding over to where you’re sat, he holds you tenderly and places you on his lap. Arms wrap around your waist as his head leans to rest on your shoulder. Mustering the best possible smile he can, he turns to face you with an inexplicably cheery tone of voice.

“What’s wrong, darling? If it’s someone, I can get rid of them, no problem! Anything for you, always.”

You mumble back, eyes slightly drooping.

“It’s nothing, Childe. Just a bit tired is all.”

His fists still haven’t unclenched themselves. Childe doesn’t believe you, not one bit, as he presses a quick kiss to your cheek. 

“You sure? I could do with a bit of practice… my aim’s getting rusty. Plus, it’s for you, so it’s no bother!”

Glancing at him ever so carefully, you hesitate. Truth is, you’re exhausted. All you want to do now is lie in bed forever and not come out, basking in the comfort of its warmth. Childe is an added bonus, but gratefully accepted nonetheless. However, you don’t want to burden him; you can see the faint eye bags he’s been trying to hide, and you notice the fatigue in his muscles when he cooks your meals for dinner. 

“Darling? Say something, at least.”

You sigh. The earnest look on his face is too much for you to handle; it reminds you of a loyal soldier too faithful for their own good. Well, that is what his job is, essentially. 

“Can we lie in bed together? I just want to be with you.”

He visibly perks up. The grin on his face widens, and you can see his eyes sparkle- no, not even metaphorically- you swear they actually sparkle. A blush forms on his cheeks, and he laughs like someone so in love that it makes a small smile on your face appear as well. He buries his head into your neck, hands unclenching to stroke your waist.

“You’re so cute! I just want to hold you in my arms forever!”

He does check on you as an afterthought, though. He’s not a totally bad partner.

“You sure you’re okay, though?”

“Yes, Childe. Better now you’re here.”

–

You can feel Childe’s arms wrapped tightly against your waist, his legs intertwined with yours, your head on his chest. You can also feel the soft thump of his heartbeat and it’s funny how even when you just look at him, it speeds up. You point it out to him and he pouts.

“Not fair that you’re so cute!”

Every so often (more like every other moment he gets the chance to) he presses a series of kisses to your face, one on your forehead, one on your cheek, one on your jaw, and one on your lips. They’re also particularly sloppy, but you can excuse that, for him. 

You don’t know how much time has passed, but you’re feeling a lot better, a lot less tired, and as loved as ever. He lets out a contented sigh.

“Love you.”

“Love you too, Childe. Could you get me some water, though? My throat’s feeling a bit dry.”

He immediately jumps out of bed, scrambling to the kitchen to get you a glass of water. You can hear the shouts of his voice as he runs off, energy at an all-time high.

“I’ve got it! Stay in bed and relax, baby! I’ll be right back!”

You giggle to yourself. He certainly takes the message, ‘love and look after’ extremely seriously.

a/n: tysm for reading until the end ❤️ likes, reblogs and comments are always, always appreciated!

#kaeya x reader #kaeya x you #kaeya fluff #thoma x reader #thoma x you #thoma fluff #childe x reader #tartaglia x reader #childe x you #tartaglia x you #childe fluff #tartaglia fluff #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #genshin impact fluff #genshin fluff #genshin x you #ahh second multiple chara fic! #i seriously underestimated how much time they actually take... #big respect to everyone who does muti character fics

[starlostastronaut]

DAY 09 | EYES ON ME

PAIRING: lee felix x reader

GENRE: fluff, meet-cute (theoretically)

WC: 1.23k

CW: fem reader (wears a dress, she/her pronouns)

PROMPT: "do you want to dance?"

i love ballroom dancing so naturally i wrote a one shot about that lol. and imagine dancing with felix. this is very self indulgent which showed off in the wc, bc i keep most of mctc around 0.8k lol. here is the dress reader is wearing and these were inspo for felix: pic one, pic two ;) im sorry for the delay, but personal reasons, anyway it's 23:55 here so i didnt fail yet lmao. hope you enjoy <3

title from shut up and dance - walk the moon

general masterlist here

<< previous | mctc masterlist | next >>

"Come on, mate, it's not that hard,” Chris said in English, to maximize the chance of not being overheard by the guests standing nearby. He placed his hand on Felix’s shoulders, turning him around. “Look, you just go up to her and ask. And if she refuses you - which she won't, by the way - you just come back here. There's plenty of people so you won't have to see her for the rest of the night. It's really that simple,” he instructed him, leaning forward so he talked directly in Felix's ear.

"Well, that's easy for you to say, Chrizztopher,” Felix grumbled, but still listened carefully to his words. He skimmed the room with his eyes, searching for a short black dress adorned with a beaded corset and embroidered blue flowers. Upon laying his gaze on you, a smile spread on his face, and his eyes softened. Chris was right; he had nothing to lose. You weren’t a part of the Stray Kids staff, so the chances of seeing you after today were low. “Okay, I'm going up to her,” he decided, saying it out loud to give himself confidence. He felt his friend squeeze his shoulders reassuringly.

“You got this, Lix. Go,” he nudged him in your direction and watched with a proud expression as his baby walked across the hall.

Meanwhile, you were standing at one of the tables with some of your coworkers. You had been JYPE's trusted and loyal employee, which is why you were invited to this gala event Park Jinyoung hosted at the end of the year. It was an honour to receive an invitation to the gala because the quests were carefully chosen each year. Sometimes it even happened that only certain members of a group got to attend. And despite working for the company for many years, this was the first time you were given the invitation.

You were spending most of the night with your friends and champagne glasses, occasionally dancing if someone asked you. Currently, you were playing a game of spot the idol, a tradition your friends, who were invited in previous years, invented. Every year, they would try to predict which artists would be the lucky ones, and this time they included you as well, since you were going to the ball with them.

“I think Sana is over there," you said, trying to discreetly point in the suspected idol's direction. “Red dress by-”

“Felix is coming,” one of your friends whispered urgently, interrupting you mid-sentence. You turned around, just in time for Felix to arrive at your table. He was dressed in tight-fitting black dress pants with a mesh dark blouse, covering it with a slightly bigger jacket that was black as well, to match the rest of his outfit. His blonde hair, which has gotten long enough to almost reach his shoulders, was curled into soft waves, framing his face and enhancing his fairy-like features even more.

Felix extended his hand toward you. “Do you want to dance?” he asked. He had a confident expression and a flirty smile on his face, but his eyes showed off his nervousness and obvious interest in you. Glancing over his shoulder, you caught a glimpse of Bang Chan and Han Jisung, both silently pleading with you to accept Felix's offer. You were going to anyway, but seeing his friends being so supportive. It warmed your heart.

With a smile, you placed your hand into Felix's awaiting one. “Lead the way.”

He beamed upon hearing your words, and like a true gentleman, he led you away from the table and then offered you his arm to take you to the dancefloor. The previous song was just finishing as you assumed the correct positions. A much faster song began playing - the DJ's surprise, as was announced just a second later. Two very different reactions then took place. Your excitement over recognizing it was cha cha was met with Felix's horrified expression as he watched other pairs begin to dance around you.

Felix licked his lips nervously. “I actually don't know how to dance this,” he confessed with his head down. “I thought they were going to play something like a waltz because they did for most of the night.”

“Don't worry, I can teach you. Just follow my lead, and we'll take it easy, okay?” you said while brushing your hand over his shoulder to calm him down.

“Shouldn't the guy do the leading, though?" Felix chuckled, already feeling a bit better. It made you feel happy to see Felix happy. The fans were right; the Felix effect truly works, you thought, suppressing a laugh. You knew Felix for all of five minutes, if you didn't count the occasional greeting when you met in the company building or at idol events, but you felt a strange fondness for him anyway.

You counted it and began leading Felix through the steps. As it turned out, he was a fast learner, which wasn't really a surprise. About halfway through the song, he was able to lead the dance on his own, and with a few instructions and your direction, you were able to perform some more advanced figures. When the song ended, you thanked him and congratulated him on his success with the dance. You thought now was the time for him to lead you back to your friends, but he surprised you.

“Stay for one more?” he asked, just as the first notes of a waltz song began to play. Unable to resist him, you agreed.

Felix's palm on your lower back strengthened its hold on you, pressing your body closer to his just as the dance required. He assumed the position, and with a confident attitude, he began leading you backwards. He gave you the luxury of only two steps to get used to the dance before he was leading you into a right turn, his firm but gentle hold on you not faltering even as you turned multiple times in a row. Turns were apparently his favourite, given the fact that they made up the better half of your dance, but attentive as ever, Felix made sure you didn't feel dizzy and slowed down from time to time to give you room to breathe. When the dance finally finished, Felix didn't let go of you; instead, he allowed you to slump against him and lay your head on his shoulder. Waltz wasn't even a fast, energetic dance, but, oh boy, were the constant turns exhausting. He began to gently sway you from side to side, following the example of other couples around you that slowdanced to the next song that began playing.

“Thank you for dancing with me,” Felix whispered into your ear at some point.

“The pleasure's all mine,” you replied, raising your head to flash him a happy smile. “You're a good dancer. I know you're great at hip hop, but I didn't expect you to be this good at ballroom too,” you said truthfully.

“What can I say, I'm a man of many talents.” Felix winked at you, undeniably following one of the advices Bang Chan must have given him. “Perhaps I can show you some more over a cup of... I would say coffee, but I don't drink that. A cup of anything else,” he added, grinning at you when you accepted.

taglist: @stayconnecteed @saintriots @vivioluh @ivaneedssleep @jazziwritesthings @darkypooo

©starlostastronaut 2023 | do not repost/translate my work without permission

#moony's countdown to christmas #mctc #lee felix x reader #lee felix #stray kids x reader #fluff

[skzddicted]

Hi! i’m new to your blog 🤍 can I request a fluffy felix scenario where the reader is really affectionate and keeps smooching him and he finds it so amusing and cute and the reader ends up dozing off in his arms after just talking about life 🥹

i loooved writing this request bc scenarios like these are on my mind 24/7 :] i hope you enjoy this!!<3

friday nights

lee felix x gn!reader (established relationship)

genre: fluff fluff fluff

warnings: none

wc: 546

pls take a look at the a/n at the end :))

reblogs and feedback are greatly appreciated!!

friday nights are always your favorite, they always bring you warmth and comfort. even in stressful times, you always give yourself a little break on fridays to spend your night with your favorite person, felix.

tonight was no different, you were cuddled up against felix’s side, a fuzzy blanket draped over your laps with some show playing on the tv; although that was only serving as background noise, since your boyfriend and you were both scrolling through your phones, occasionally showing each other something or talking about anything you could think of.  

after a while of sitting like that, you shut off your phone and tilted your head up to take a look at your lover, who wasn’t aware of your fond gaze just yet. 

he looked so soft and adorable, his bare face letting his cute freckles show, you couldn’t resist the urge to just grab his cheeks and plant a kiss on one, taking him by surprise. 

“what was that for?” felix asked, a big smile reaching his eyes.

“ just because,” you shrugged, a smile of your own tugging at your lips. 

with your hands still holding his face, you placed a kiss on his other cheek, then one on the tip of his nose, followed by dozens of others all over his beautiful face; and it was safe to say felix’s face lit up more and more with each kiss. 

you pulled back for a bit, taking a second to adore each and every one of his features, then, finally, you placed a big smooch on his pouty pink lips, pouring all your love and affection for the boy into it. 

from his side, the kiss was nothing short of every loving emotion, that ever existed, either.

pulling back to take a breath, felix started giggling, bringing one hand up to ruffle your hair. 

“you’re so cute.” he said, pulling you into his chest and laying down. 

now you were laying on top of him, head on his chest with one of his arms securely wrapped around you as he somehow maneuvered the blanket to cover the two of you again.

his fingers were now running through your hair and softly scratching your head in the process.

“lix,” you called his name, receiving a hum in response. “what do you think the universe looks like where i didn't go into the coffee shop that day and we never met?”

“hm,” felix took a couple seconds to think about it then started talking “i think we would’ve met regardless, just in another place and time.”

“because, you know,” he took a deep breath, “i think we’re meant to meet in every life and universe.”

“except for the ones we don’t exist in, of course.” he chuckled. 

a long hum came from you before a barely audible “i love you” left your lips. 

after that, you passed out, the feeling of felix’s fingers scratching your head and his warm body against yours being simply way too comfortable to not fall asleep. 

“i love you too, y/n” he replied, adoring smile never leaving his face. 

needless to say, the night was spent on the couch because felix didn’t have the heart to wake you up and drag you to the bedroom when you looked so peaceful sleeping.

masterlist

a/n : i’m thinking of making a taglist would anyone be interested? :)

#hehe yes i added a mini coffee shop!au >:) #stray kids fluff #skz #stray kids #felix #lee felix #lee felix fluff #lee felix drabbles #lee felix comfort #lee felix fanfic #lee felix fic #lee felix imagines #felix fluff #felix imagines #felix fic #stray kids fanfic #stray kids x reader #stray kids scenario #stray kids drabbles #fluff #comfort fic

[burnedwriter]

‘’destressing’’

A/n:this fic was created bc i was astronomicly down bad for Miguel,i dont have much to say hope you enjoy!

warnings:!gender-neutral reader,rough bj,face fucking,smut/fluff,size difference.

MDNI

It was around midnight,when you realized that Miguel was still working.Looking at his monitor with restless eye,the bags under his eyes ready to reach to the floor.You slowly make your way towards him,touching his muscular shoulder softly making him jump a bit,as he was unaware of your presence in the room.

‘‘its really late Miguel,you need to rest,you look so stressed’‘you said keeping your soft spoken voice,as it ecoed through the empty room.Massaging his shoulder,trying to release the tension from them,as he leaned into your arm,resting his head.

‘‘I’m fine mi amor, you dont have to worry’‘he said trying to reasure you,but it was clear that he  was about to pass out at any moment.

‘‘you know that you will do worst if you dont rest’‘you said trying to convice him with all you had,tyring to get him to get the rest he needed but he still wouldnt budge.

‘‘i said im fine’‘Miguel exclaimed,his voice slightly showing his irritation with you and about your demand for him to rest.

Seeing that no matter how much you tried,this little back and forth you had was going nowhere,removing your hands from his shoulders,you walked passed his side,placing yourself right infront of him.Getting a confused look from Miguel before you kneeled right infront of him.

‘‘what are you doing?’‘he asked looking down at you.Even though he was sitting he towered over you.

‘‘im destressing you’‘a sly smile on your,putting your hands on his thghs,pushing them to open in  a spreading position.

Placing your hand on his crotch. You were basicly touching his cock indirectly,since his whole suit is a hologram.Palming his cock,Miguel groaned leaning back on his chair.His cock growing harder showing through the suit.Miguel reached for something that made him deactivate his suit and freeing his hards cock,taking you back for a bit.

‘‘What are you waiting for?’‘his voice soft yet commanding,as he looked down at you.

Putting your mouth on him,using your tongue from the buttom to the top before turning your focus on the head,you grabbed his cock keeping him stable as you gave the head kitten licks and swirled your tongue around the head,tasting the precum,earning a hiss from Miguel at your  actions.Parting your lips , you slowly started to take him into your mouth.He tried his best to keep himself still so he doesnt gag you,but you gagged anyways when he hit the back of your throat.You waited for a bit to adjust to your throat being full.

After getting used to it,you started to bop your head up and down his cock in a steady pace while you looked up at him keeping eye contact.You continued to bop your head in a slow pace earning multiple grunts from Miguel.

Miguel got impatient by your slow pace,putting his hand on your head taking control over your pace into a faster one,making you choke on his cock over and over again.Drool starting to fall down your chin as Miguel used you as his personal fleshlight.

‘‘your fucking mouth’‘Miguel moaned,throwing his head back on the chair,never slowing down his pace.

The room filled with sounds of gagging and slurping along side with Miguels loud groans and moans.You could feel him throb inside your mouth,indicating that he was getting close to his climax.Miguel pressed your head down all the way.finishing inside your mouth.

‘‘swallow it all,i dont want to see you spill one drop of it’‘Miguel placing his hand on your chin forcing you to look at him.

swallowing his cum,Miguel trying to catch his breath while he helped you get up from your knew,but what you didnt know was what was going to follow,grabbing you by the hips and placing you on the desk when he realized you were about to leave.

‘‘Not so fast,i have to repay you’‘

#miguel o'hara #miguel x you #miguel o'hara x gender neutral reader #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x y/n #miguel o'hara x you

[wooahaes]

a-maze-ing time together

pairing: non-idol!yoshi x gn!reader

genre: fluff + established relationship au

word count: 0.7k~

warnings: n/a just very fluffy hehe <3

daisy's notes: fics i punch the wall n sob over bc i want him

Yoshi… admittedly found it hard to say no to you sometimes. All you had to do was look at him with that sweet, sparkling look in your eyes whenever you were excited for something, and he’d end up folding all too easily. Case in point: you’d brought him into this corn maze with you. He’d told you he’d never been in a corn maze before, although he had experienced a few mazes in his lifetime. But this? This had a different feeling to it. The sun was sinking in the distance, and all he could think about was the way you were a step ahead of him, hand holding his tightly.

“I think we’re lost.” 

Your laugh bubbled up, warm as ever. “That’s the point, Yoshi,” you looked back at him. “We’ll find our way out. Don’t worry.” 

He didn’t: he was with you. Even if he wasn’t, he was sure whoever was running this had a plan for finding the people who’d gotten lost within this place. He just intertwined his fingers with yours instead, following you as you made another turn. “It’s quiet.”

“Mmmhm.” Flexing your palm a little, you adjusted your hand a little—slowing down ever-so-slightly so that you’d be more in step with him. “Haven’t seen anyone in a while.” 

Was it wrong that he was fine with that? The two of you had split off from the other friends you came with, and he swore that Hyunsuk mentioned something about dragging Jihoon or Junkyu into the maze with him before all of you met back up for dinner. He hoped they’d already had their fun and left to enjoy the rest of this fair: he liked having this alone time with you. 

“Are you scared, Yoshi?” You teased lightly, turning back to him. For a moment, your gaze flickered down to the black cat plushie he had hugged to his chest—held there by his other arm—and he could see you smile. You’d won it for him earlier. He’d tried to win another for you, so that the two of you had matching ones, but he was unfortunately unlucky. 

He shook his head, but smiled a little a moment later. “What if I was?”

“I’d protect you, silly,” you laughed again, soft and sweet this time. “I’m your knight in shining armor, don’t you know?”

If shining armor meant the matching sweaters that he was also wearing… Then sure, you’d be his knight. Did that make him your prince…? He didn’t mind all that much, actually. Maybe he’d tease you about true love’s kiss some other time, and press one against your lips while smiling. 

“Is that why you bought this crown?” He asks after a moment.

The sunflower flower crown was still perched on his head. When he stood where the sun was at his back, he looked absolutely radiant before you: a true prince, in your eyes. “Maybe,” you hummed. “Don’t you like it?”

“I’ll buy you one before we leave,” he said, squeezing your hand. The hay crunched underneath his feet with every step, and he followed you around another corner. The smell of funnel cake hung heavy in the air, and he squeezed your hand tighter. “I think we’re almost out.”

You slowed to a stop, and grew embarrassed. “Oh.”

“You don’t want to leave?” He blinked at you, curious. Wasn’t the purpose of coming in here to get lost and eventually find your way back out? Plus the sun was still setting—it’d probably be harder to navigate with just the hanging lights.

You averted your gaze, and gave him the shyest nod. He laughed, taking the step he needed to take to stand before you, and leaned in to kiss your cheek.

“We can come back tomorrow,” he said. “And get lost again, if you want. I don’t mind.” 

You pouted after letting out a sigh. “I have work.”

“Then… We’ll come back next year,” he squeezed your hand again. “Okay?”

That put a smile back on your face. “Okay,” you said, as if making a promise to him. You leaned in, pressing a soft kiss against his lips. “Next year for sure.” 

Yet the promise didn’t stop him from coming back to the entrance with you before the two of you left. He squished into frame with you, cheek to cheek, as he took a selfie while the two of you donned matching flower crowns. It’d become his new phone background before the night was over, but it served as another reminder that the two of you would have to come back again next year and get lost all over again.

taglist: @twancingyunhao

#wooahaes.fall23 #wooahaes.fic #treasure imagine #treasure x reader #treasure x you #treasure fics #treasure fluff #yoshinori x reader #yoshinori x you #kanemoto yoshinori x reader #kanemoto yoshinori x you #kanemoto yoshi x reader