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oddinary4bts · 1 year

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When the End Comes | ch 4 (jjk)

☆summary: Seven years after you've started dating Jungkook, long distance creates a wedge in your relationship. When the only solution seems to be breaking up, you go your separate ways even though love still lives in the two of you. Will you find a way back together, or has the end come for you and Jeon Jungkook?

☆pairing: photographer!Jungkook x lawyer!female reader

☆rating: 18+ (minors DNI, there is mature content in every chapter)

☆genre: breakup!au, slice of life!au, angst with a big A, smut

☆warnings: fear of getting stood up, alcohol, pet names, curses, Jungkook's scars, angst, stubborn Jungkook, pessimism, depressive episode, cliffhanger at the end I'm sorry, explicit content: jerking off, oral sex (male receiving), Jungkook taking pictures of them during (I apologize, I have sinned), balls sucking/fondling, pain kink (Jungkook), deep throating, mouth fucking, unprotected sex, hickey, clit play, degradation, fingering, cum play (ish?)

☆word count: 14.3k

☆series masterpost

☆a/n: Rereading each chapter to edit is a challenge bc I just be sobbing the whole time :') I hope you enjoy this one, though it does really hurt oop

☆a/n pt2: Thank you to @moonleeai for beta-ing this, you are the best <3 and thank you to @jessikahathaway for supporting me with this project, you are amazinnng

☆Read The Forgotten Spaces here, the prequel to When the End Comes! It does not need to be read to understand When the End Comes, but I think it still should be read first to have a better understanding of the characters in general!

☆Add yourself to the taglist here (if you were on the taglist for The Forgotten Spaces, you're already on the taglist for When the End Comes!)

☆☆☆☆☆

But love never leaves a heart, where it found it, found it You found it Someday, I'll fall into you That's where I'll be now when the end comes

When the End Comes, Andrew Belle

☆☆☆☆☆

Friday, September 8th

You clutch the gift bag in your hand. It feels strange to be meeting Jungkook again, after last weekend. And even after last weekend, you’re not sure where you’re standing.

Did he spend his whole week thinking about you the way that you were thinking about him?

You texted a little, over the week. Each time a notification from him popped up on your phone, you felt like you’d gone back in time. Like maybe, maybe you took a time machine to a past of better days last weekend. It’s bittersweet in a way, because you feel like there is still so much left unsaid between you and him.

But he’s willing to try. Even if you broke him, even if you’ve been wondering if there’s anything salvageable after all, he’s willing to try. Willing to meet you at a Korean barbecue restaurant halfway between his place and yours.

You check the time, anxiety flooding your veins. He’s running late, though he texted you to tell you he was almost there. A part of you wonders if he’s going to stand you up – you think you’d deserve it. Because you’re not sure you deserve this chance, yet you don’t want to lose it, don’t want to let it go.

You look down at the bag. You bought the gift on a whim this week, and you have no idea if he’ll still want it. It’s a lens he was looking to buy months ago, before he left for Paris, and there’s a high chance that he’ll have bought it for himself since then…

You just couldn’t think about anything other than that to gift him. Even though his work was your demise, you know Jungkook loves photography. Always will, no matter where you two will end up. And since it was his birthday last weekend – before you’d reconnected – you thought why not? Why not get a gift and show him that you still care, that you remember?

Because you’d never forget, when it comes to him. You think, if you had dementia, he’d be the last thing you’d lose, if at all.

You worry at your lip, glancing around. Luckily enough for you, there is a bench outside of the restaurant, though you can only sit on a corner of it as the rest is still wet from the rain earlier. It was raining when you left work, but it fortunately stopped as you were getting ready for the date.

You sigh, looking down at your phone again. Twenty minutes late seems like a long time, considering that Jungkook’s not one to be late usually. A sense of dread takes ahold of your heart, and you already feel tears forming in your eyes.

You were foolish, stupid. Idiotic, if you thought there was a way things could be set right.

You get up, looking towards the door of the restaurant. A couple are waiting in the hall, arms around each other as they hug with not a care in the world. It aches deeply, makes you crave the physical intimacy last Saturday held and you gulp as you swallow around the lump in your throat.

Still you stay rooted in your spot. There’s a light tremor that starts taking a hold of you, and you regret not putting a jacket on even though it isn’t remotely freezing today. Your eyes fall to the gift bag, and you think about May. About the moment you’d let him go – has he gotten too far for you to reach him now?

A tear wins. Or perhaps it’s the gravity, growing ten times stronger as your heart breaks again. As the hope gets lost to you, replaced by that same deep sorrow you’ve become accustomed to. You sigh, the breath of air trembling on the way out.

And then you almost let out a scream as someone touches your arm.

Jungkook startles just as much as you, taking a step back, his big, doe eyes widening even more as he meets your gaze. Your mouth remains open, yet no words come out. You just take him in, take his appearance in – his piercings, the beanie he’s wearing, his flushed cheeks. He looks like he was running, and you think maybe he was.

“I’m sorry,” he tells you.

At that your eyes drop to the bright pink bouquet of flowers he’s holding, and something inside of you heals, as if you’ve found a cure to the disease.

“Oh, Jungkook,” you let out. You meet his gaze again. “You didn’t have to.”

He pulls at his piercings, shrugging sheepishly. “I wanted to.”

It’s warm. Whatever is blossoming in your chest is warm, a stark contrast to the winter you’ve been stuck in since the night you lost him.

“Thank you,” you murmur, and you blink away the tears in your eyes.

You freeze when he wipes the one that’s already rolled on your cheek, frowning slightly at the sight.

“The florist I wanted to go to first was closed,” he says as an explanation. “I had to run around to find another one.”

You offer him a small smile, and his features immediately smooth out into a soft expression too.

“I was scared you were…” you trail off, wetting your lips as you refuse to voice your fear.

Refuse to admit you didn’t have faith in him.

“I thought you would,” he answers carefully. “Hence why I ran.”

You nod. “I…” You look down at the gift bag, holding it up. “I got you a birthday gift.”

His smile is teary when you look at it next, and you take a moment to delve into the depths of his gaze. There’s a small twinkle there, though it is faint, barely even noticeable. If you didn’t know him like the sun knows the moon, you wouldn’t recognize it.

He’s hopeful. It’s strange – there was no hope in Jungkook’s gaze last weekend. Or there had been, for a fraction of a moment, until it had been blown away by the wind. You can only hope that this time it will hold on strong.

“You didn’t have to,” he says, though the curve of his pink lips tells you he appreciates the thought.

He grabs the gift bag, not looking through it right away. Instead, he hands you the flowers, and you delicately take them, bringing them close to your nose so that you can inhale the fragrance. Your eyelids flutter shut, and a content smile moves on your lips.

“Thank you,” you murmur as you meet his gaze again. “And…” You motion towards the gift. “You deserved it. I think you’ll like it.”

There’s a moment of awkward silence, as Jungkook looks down at the bag. He offers you a tight-lipped smile, and you cock an eyebrow.

“What?” he lets out.

“Aren’t you going to…” you vaguely answer. “Open it?”

“Oh, now?” He chuckles awkwardly, glancing around before pointing towards the restaurant. “Shouldn’t we go in to give our names?”

He’s got a point. Especially considering that it’s a Friday evening. So you do just that, giving your phone number to the hostess as she tells you there will be a thirty minutes wait. You and Jungkook move back outside after that, and he guides you towards his car, a few streets down.

“How was work this week?” he asks on the way.

“Better,” you admit, remembering how you’d told him that you didn’t like the new department in which you worked.

And it’s true – it has been better. Maybe because the excitement of receiving texts from him through the days made it easier to handle. Or maybe it’s because you haven’t been so damned cold since last weekend. All in all, work has been easier, even if it isn’t as interesting as it used to be.

“I’m glad,” he says, offering you a smile.

Silence surrounds the two of you, only interrupted by a car honking in the street. You startle a little, and Jungkook chuckles.

You’re struck. His chuckles have healing properties, you’re convinced of it. They spark hope into you, so bright you think you’ll be blinded, retina forever burned. Yet your eyes don’t lose focus on him, even as his lips return to a neutral expression.

“What about you?” you ask as your heart picks up in your chest. “What were you up to this week?”

A small crease appears between his brows, but it disappears so quickly you think you might have imagined it. “I’ve been going to the gym,” he answers. “And looking around for some jobs.”

His last sentence turns the hope into a firework show inside of you. “Yeah? Any luck so far?”

You reach his car, and as he always does, he opens the door for you. You blush, something you haven’t really done with Jungkook in forever, and you’re struck thinking that this feels new.

Perhaps this will be a new chapter in your relationship with Jeon Jungkook after all.

“Thank you,” you mutter as your cheeks burn. You sit in, and he closes the door before moving around the car to get in. You watch him do so, and he sits next to you, turning the car on just long enough so that you can roll the windows down.

“Now,” he lets out, eyeing the bag. “What’s this?”

For some reason, it makes you chuckle, and he shoots you a dumb smile that makes you think you’ve delved right into the heat of summer, warmth spreading through you. It erases the winter, replaces it with blooming flowers and bright sun rays, golden sunsets and the feeling of a soft breeze threading through your hair.

Needless to say, you want to cling to it before winter comes again.

“Open and you’ll see,” you answer, your heart racing as you glance at the bag, before going back to his smile.

He nods, and he opens the bag, taking out the paper first. Your heartbeat increases tenfold because, what if he doesn’t like it?

What if he takes it as an affront that you’ve given him something photography related?

But then he sees it. Sees the lens you bought for him, and his features turn somber, but not in a bad way. They settle into a calm expression, with a softer smile that barely even tugs at the corners of his lips. He takes a deep breath, and then looks towards you again.

Teary eyes find yours, and you think maybe this is it. Maybe this is where the end will find you. Lost in the swirling depth of his gaze, in the forgotten space of you and him.

He whispers your name, emotion making it heavier than the whole world. You nod once, as no sentences take shape in your mind to reply to him. You’re not sure you have to say something – he sees in your eyes the emotions you can’t quite voice.

“You really didn’t have to,” he adds, and you watch his Adam’s apple bob as he gulps. “Fuck.”

He looks down at the lens, takes it out of the bag so that he can examine it thoroughly. You observe him as he does so, as if you’re watching a show. And you think, maybe he is a show – a movie meant for you to admire on and on until you go old and blindness seeps into your gaze.

“I wanted to,” you reply.

He shoots you a quick look, just as teary as the initial one. “Thank you.”

“Of course.”

And then he laughs, a small vulnerable laugh that has you blinking back the wetness building up on your waterline. You echo it with one of yours, though it comes unexpectedly to you. But then again, you reckon you share the same feelings.

You always have, haven’t you? Your soul is in sync with his, has always been, no matter if distance put an end to the story of you and him. Or tried to, because he’s here today.

So are you, and if he allows it, you’ll never leave again.

“I’ve wanted this lens in forever,” he says, voice small as he turns it in his hands, looking at it in every possible angle. “You…” he trails off, meets your gaze and smiles again. “You remembered.”

You nod. “How could I forget?” You worry at your lips, shy away from his gaze to watch your wriggling fingers in your lap. “There isn’t a day I didn’t think of you.”

The revelation seems out of place, in a parked car on the side of a busy street. Yet it comes naturally to you, and meets him just as naturally. Because he nods, and then reaches for you. Grabs your jaw, gently, so that he can turn your head towards him. There’s a moment when you think the whole world holds his breath, and then he leans forward, brushes a soft kiss on your lips.

“I missed you,” he admits as he pulls away, letting go of your jaw reluctantly.

A tear slips on your cheek, and you quickly dry it. “I missed you too.”

And though the moment is heavy with emotion, you don’t want to run away from it. When you were younger, you would have fled like a deer hearing a branch crack in the woods. But today, today you want the weight of this emotion to rest upon you, like a weighted blanket that reminds you you’re alive.

The emotion lingers, past this moment and into the next. As you get the text that a table is ready for you and him, and you move back to the Korean restaurant. As you sit in front of him, watch him smile and laugh in time with you at the stupid jokes that you make.

You and him make more sense than you realized. Or maybe you forgot. Maybe the distance made you forget, but right now you think you know he’ll always be the one. And if you lose him again, he’ll be the one that got away, and you’ll search for him through every connection with temporary people.

Because there can’t be permanent people after him. He’s permanently inked into your heart, carved into your bones.

“How has your family been?” he asks when there’s a lull in the conversation.

You offer him a tight-lipped smile, though you know he means your father, Isabel and Louis.

You know he’d never talk about your mother as part of your family.

“They’ve been great,” you answer. “Dad’s been looking to retire, or at least to have a lesser charge at work.”

Jungkook furrows his brows, but says nothing as he puts some meat on the grill between you and him. You observe him as he does so, wincing when flames erupt and he pulls his hand away – quickly enough, thankfully.

“How old is he again?” Jungkook asks after that, meeting your gaze again.

“Fifty-nine,” you reply. “But I don’t think it’s about his age. He just wants to spend more time with Louis.”

The softness that takes over his doe eyes makes you want to curl up in him, against him. Makes you want to listen to his beating heart until the day that it ceases, decades away from now. It’s a strong feeling, and you’re forced to blink away tears again.

“Don’t cry,” Jungkook gently says, and he reaches to pat your cheek.

It makes you laugh. Of course it does, and he offers you a dumb smile again. For the first time that night, you notice that yes, it does reach his eyes. The smile lights up his gaze, though there’s wariness, etched in the lines of his face.

It’s not that you missed it before. Maybe you just didn’t want to see it. But right in this instant, it’s all you can see, and it makes his smile fall until his eyes follow, moving to the grill. He turns the meat as you busy yourself with eating japchae.

And you don’t like this silence. You don’t like the ache that it carries, so you force yourself to try. To try and fight for him and prove that, after everything, he really is where the end will be, when it comes for you.

“What about your family?” you ask, throwing him a lifeline in the storm you’re sure he’s been plagued with too.

“They’ve been great,” he answers. “My brother’s wife is pregnant again.”

For a moment you forget about the torment between you and him as your mind zeroes in on the fact. “That’s amazing!” you let out, and your smile comes easily. “They must be so happy.”

Jungkook looks at your smile, taking a deep breath. It seems he takes a decision then, because his lips curve up, and some of the wariness fades away. He looks softer like this, younger, and your heart shines under his light.

“It really is,” he says. “I was thinking on going to Korea to see the baby when Yuri gives birth.”

In another world, you would have said you’ll go with him, but right now you don’t think you can. So, instead, you reply, “That’s a good idea. I’m sure your family will be happy to see you.”

He nods, and then he puts some meat in your bowl, taking the two other stripes for himself. You mindlessly pick one of the pieces up, mixing it in ssamjang before eating it. You wince as you burn your tongue a little, and quickly eat the meat so that you can take a long gulp of water.

Jungkook must have expected you to burn yourself, because he laughs at your expense as he refills your glass. “You good?”

You nod. “Sorry, just burned myself.”

“Don’t apologize.”

So you don’t. For the rest of the evening, you try not to apologize. And you think you succeed – you both speak as if distance wasn’t a thing between you. As if time hasn’t come to pass between you too – as if you’ve never been apart. As if, seven years ago, the stars told the truth as they sparkled in the July night sky.

You finish eating while chatting like this, while sharing thoughts about movies you’ve seen. As he tells you about working out, about Bam and the songs he’s been listening to. He drinks a beer as you speak, and you once again take a moment to admire him.

You’d never admit it, but the beanie makes him look good. Comfortable and soft – as does the jean jacket, you reckon. But then again you know Jungkook would look good in anything, one of the advantages of him being gifted with pretty privilege.

And when he clinks his glass with yours, claiming you have to finish drinking even though you’ve only been drinking water, you still laugh with him, still down your glass as he chugs the beer. And you wonder, how long will it take to erase the distance?

Will it take more than this moment in time, to undo the distance and rebuild the closeness?

And you think, maybe it just needs now. Because as you walk out, bellies full and minds buzzing with a slight tinge of alcohol, you accept Jungkook’s extended hand. You let him guide you to his car, even though yours is parked on the other side of the restaurant. He opens the door for you again, but you hesitate for a moment.

Long enough to step closer to him instead, and pull him down so you can peck his lips. He looks surprised, and his features fall serious as you share a long look.

“Can I come over tonight?” you whisper.

He nods. “I thought it was a given.”

Of course he would. And you’re not even mad that he would. You’re rather relieved, and you can’t help yourself. You can’t help pulling him down in a more heated kiss, even though you hate public displays of affection. There are just words your lips can’t say any other way than this, and he gets it. He’ll always get you. He always will, and he kisses you with the same intensity, one hand cupping your cheek gently while the other presses on the small of your back, resting flat as he pulls you in. You hold his delicate waist, sighing in the kiss as your thumbs draw idle lines on his sides.

Jungkook pulls away to press a kiss on your forehead, lingering there for a small eternity that leads to you wrapping your arms around his waist. He lets you do it, and you wonder if his soul has found yours. You hope it has, for there are things your soul can say even better than your mouth can.

Apologies don’t mean much when they are shaped in words. But you think your soul could show him, and maybe, maybe tonight he’ll allow you to show him.

“Are you parked somewhere you can leave your car overnight?” he asks softly, lips moving against your forehead.

You nod. “I am.”

“Then let’s go home.”

*****

It comes as a surprise, when you realize Jungkook has moved in the same building as Kiko and Yoongi. Even more so as they run into you on the way in, knowing smiles on their lips as Jungkook holds your hand tight. They don’t really say a lot – both of them aren’t man and woman of words, except when they pour them into the lyrics of a song.

But Kiko does hug you. Does whisper in your ear that she wishes everything will be set right for the two of you, and when you pull away to meet Jungkook’s gaze, you think it already is. Especially as you’re clutching the flowers he got for you, and their sweet fragrance surrounds you.

And then they walk away, as they were leaving to go on a late walk, and you and Jungkook walk in the building, making your way to the elevator. Jungkook presses the call button, and then pulls you close to his chest so that he can press a kiss on the top of your head.

“Well, that was awkward,” he says.

You chuckle. “It wasn’t really.”

His grip tightens around you before he lets you go so that you can enter the elevator. He follows you in, and he intertwines your fingers as he presses on the fourth floor. As the elevator starts moving, you pull him closer, tilting your head back as you pout slightly.

“What?” he asks.

“Kiss me?”

He doesn’t need to be asked twice. He immediately dives in, and you’re surprised with the strength of the kiss. As if he’s pouring his entire soul in it, and you think maybe he is. After all, you kiss him back with all the fire in you, and it’s burning brighter than it ever has.

Unfortunately, the moment is short-lived as you reach his floor and the doors slide open. He pulls away, presses a kiss on your forehead as if he wasn’t sucking on your tongue a moment ago, and then he pulls you behind him as he walks towards his door.

It’s further down the hall, and you wait excitedly as he unlocks. Though you’re a little worried about seeing Bam again – what if he doesn’t recognize you?

Which, you reckon was a stupid thought, because the dog comes barging out, tail wagging wildly, when Jungkook manages to get the door open.

“Bamie!” you exclaim, and Jungkook carefully takes the bouquet of flowers from your hand to allow you to bend down and pet the dog.

He licks at your face, whimpering as if he thought he’d lost you. It brings tears to your eyes, and you giggle like a kid as you pet him, rubbing his short fur as he keeps running all around you.

“I think he’s happy to see you,” Jungkook deadpans, and you burst out laughing.

You look up to try and look at Jungkook, but Bam jumps in your vision, which makes you giggle again. And then, something magical happens. Something you didn’t think you’d hear again – Jungkook laughs that childish laugh of his, the one that usually only comes forth when he’s really happy.

You act by pure instinct. You stand up, wrap your arms around Jungkook’s neck. His giggle dies against your lips, but he’s quick to kiss you back as he snakes his inked arm around your back. You let out a breathy sound, and then burst into a fit of giggles as Bam jumps on you.

“I think he demands attention,” you state and Jungkook nods as you part, though he keeps his arm close to you.

“We should take him on a walk,” he says, and you notice his cheeks are flushed red. You reckon yours probably are too, but there’s something about seeing the effect that you have on him, even after everything, that makes you come undone.

“I’m so happy to be with you right now,” you murmur.

He gulps, eyes shining suddenly. “Me too.” He adds your name softly, before repeating, “Me too.”

You walk in his apartment after that, to put the flowers in a large glass of water since Jungkook doesn’t own any vase. Meanwhile, he disappears in what you assume is the bedroom, only to reappear with his camera. To your surprise, he’s already fitted the new lens on it.

It’s endearing. There’s something so incredibly endearing at the thought that your gift is loved already, that Jungkook already wants to use it. It makes a line of silver appear in your eyes, and you don’t even blink it away as Jungkook angles the camera towards you to take a picture.

“Huh,” he lets out as he looks at the picture. He adjusts some settings, and before he’s had time to take another picture of you, Bam comes up to you, jumping up. His two paws rest on your waist as you laugh, and that’s when Jungkook snaps the picture.

You glance his way to see him smiling softly, and then he nods appreciatively. “I’m going to use this lens way too much,” he comments.

It makes you laugh. “I’m glad.”

And then you’re going outside with the dog. Jungkook brings the camera, and he snaps pictures of the surroundings, of you and Bam. He even takes one of the three of you, though you reckon the angle is clearly unflattering.

It doesn’t feel like it matters. Because you’re struck realizing that this, this moment matters. It matters enough for him to want to commit it to memory, and you wonder if he’s going to add it to all the frames you left behind.

But then again, did he even put them up in his new apartment? From what you could see when you were in, there was no picture visible.

It aches, but then he tells you to smile and you do. You immediately do, because there’s nothing easier than smiling when you’re with him like this. The wariness still clings to him, but it’s barely visible, like a mirage that’s about to fade in the distance.

“Stop taking pictures of me,” you say as he takes another one.

He lets out a noncommittal sound, shrugging his shoulder. “Why?”

You pout as blush creeps on your cheek. “You haven’t taken this many pictures of me since… Chicago?”

He shakes his head. “I took more pictures on our first trip to Korea.”

A beautiful trip, where you’d met his family for the first time. You had gotten along with everyone well, even though your Korean was poor. You got better through the years, but you still have a long way before you can speak in Korean without feeling like everyone is going to judge you.

“That’s beside the point,” you mumble. You motion towards Bam, who’s patiently sitting next to you. “I’m pretty sure he’s done.”

Jungkook pouts, and butterflies take flight in your stomach. “Sorry,” he apologizes.

You’re not quite sure why.

“I just…” he adds, and then shadows cloud over his features. They resemble the sorrow that was surrounding him last weekend, and just like that you think summer has ended. “I haven’t used my camera since…”

You don’t need for him to say it, because you know exactly what he was going to say. Still, it hurts, and your gaze drops to the ground.

“Gosh,” you whisper. You let out a strangled sound. “I’m so sorry.”

He doesn’t say anything. Just grabs your hand, raising it to his mouth to press a gentle kiss on your knuckles.

“We said we’d try,” he reminds you, or maybe he’s trying to remind himself. “Let’s try. For real. So no more apologies.”

“I feel like you deserve thousands of apologies and more,” you admit.

He kisses your forehead, and it’s against your skin that he whispers, “I just want us to move on from what happened.”

You nod, wrapping an arm around his waist to loosely hug him. Unfortunately, Bam pulls on his leash, and you have to let go of Jungkook far too quickly. Still, you meet his gaze, nodding your head again.

“I want to move on too,” you tell him. “If I could, I’d erase everything but…”

He holds out his hand for you to interlace your fingers with his. “But it’s in the past.”

He’s right, yet you see the wariness. It’s still there, though you think soon the mist will dissipate with the rays of the sun. So you follow him in, let him feed Bam before he shows you around his small apartment. It feels like him, in ways you can’t really describe, and you want to stay. You think, if he’d ask you’d never leave again.

“I like it,” you tell him as he finishes the tour in his bedroom, which is only occupied by an unmade bed with white sheet and a small night table with his pair of glasses on top. You notice the LED lights, and a smile moves to your lips. “Please tell me these still shine purple like they did at the house with the boys.”

Jungkook nods, offering you a grin. “Yeah. I thought it’d be great to have a… reminder of a simpler time.”

He turns them on, and you get it. You get it so much you grab the lapels of his jean jacket, pulling him closer to you. His lips are upon yours in an instant, hungry, insistent, ravishing a kiss that makes you light-headed. Especially as he grabs your face, holds on to it like it’s a life buoy in a storm. The piercings push into your bottom lip, their colder temperature making your tongue dart to them, as if to warm them.

Jungkook groans, and then kicks the door of his bedroom shut. He’s had to stop kissing you for that, but he’s kissing you again half a second later, and it’s even more intense, more desperate.

You let go of his jacket, hands blindly moving to his belt as he pushes his tongue in your mouth. You suck on it, moan lightly when he groans again. You fumble with the buckle, but soon enough you get it undone, and you move on to the button of his jeans.

You just want him. Need to feel his body against you, in you. And clearly he needs the same thing, as he pulls away from the hug to take your shirt off. Right as you get the button undone, and then unzip his jeans. You slip your hand in, letting out a breathy sound as you find him already hard. He sits heavy in your hand, and you squeeze him unabashedly.

“Fuck,” he curses, head thrown back as his eyes close. “Baby.”

The pet name has you drop to your knees, and you pull his pants down just enough for his dick to spring free. He doesn’t try to stop you, and you admire him for a time. Admire the brown base of his tip, the veins that run along his length. A bead of precum appears on his slit as you look, and you’re quick to lick it clean. The salty taste fills your mouth, and you look up at him, to see him watching down on you, strands of hair falling in his eyes where they’ve escaped the confines of his beanie.

“Suck it, mmh?” he says.

You grab him, jerking him off loosely. “Yeah?”

His eyes darken behind the strands of hair. He bites at his piercings, cocking his head to the side. And then he’s glancing away and to your surprise, he asks, “Can I take pictures of you while you suck my dick?”

You swirl your tongue around his tip, and he bucks his hips forward. In answer, you sit back on your heels, looking up at him innocently. “Right now?” He nods. “You want to take pictures of me while I suck your dick?”

“If you want to,” he answers. “If you don’t want to it’s fine.”

You close your lips around his tip, sucking once. “You’ll keep the pictures to yourself?”

You don’t know why you’re agreeing. Only know that the lust in Jungkook’s gaze is making you forget everything about common sense. But then again, you highly doubt that Jungkook would ever do anything to harm you.

Jungkook’s mouth falls open as he was about to answer, but when you take his dick as far as you can, he’s silenced. And he’s hard in your mouth, a rod of steel you’ve missed since last week.

“Yeah,” he finally breathes out.

You sit back on your heels. “Then it’s fine.”

He smirks, nodding his head as he finishes taking off his jeans and underwear. “Wait here.”

You purse your lips as he walks away, and you watch him leaving his room to head to where he left his camera. You patiently wait, feeling shy even though you have nothing to be shy about. This is just Jungkook – it’s not like he hasn’t seen you half-naked and on your knees for him before.

It takes him a moment to come back, but when he does, it’s to sit on bed. He’s still hard, and he leans back on a hand as you move closer.

“If you want me to stop, you tell me, okay?” he gently says as you run a hand along his thighs.

You glance at his scar, the familiar knot of skin giving you more confidence than you expected. “You’re going to jerk off to these pictures, mmh?”

He gulps, angling his camera towards you as you lean closer to his dick. You lick at it, and the shutter goes off.

It has you dripping in your panties, unexpectedly.

“So what if I do?” he asks as you grab his dick, stroking him.

The question is rhetorical, and your answer is to wrap your lips around his cock as your eyes flutter shut. You swirl your tongue around the tip and hollow your cheeks as you go down. You hold the gag reflex in as he hits the back of your throat, and you can’t help but moan as you hear his camera again.

You flick your tongue at his frenulum on the way out, and then you stroke his dick as you sit back. You move one hand to his balls, squeezing gently before thinking better of it and leaning forward, sucking on one. He grunts, and you keep your eyes locked on the camera as you jerk him off faster.

Another picture added to the list. And you’re dripping wet. Already you want to sink on his dick, want him to be so deep inside of you that you’re just one.

“Kook…” you murmur, and then you’re back to sucking on his dick, though this time you make sure to squeeze his balls too, the way that he likes it. Hard, but not too hard, and you’re choking around his dick in no time as he starts fucking up in your mouth, clearly forgetting about the pictures.

It goes like this for a while, with his dick growing impossibly hard. Your jaw aches by the time he pushes down on your head, hand lost in your hair. You gag, and he moans loudly. You think he’s coming, but he somehow manages to keep it in before pulling you off.

“Shit,” he curses. “Sorry.” He breathes for a moment, as you wipe your mouth and chin from the drool.

“It’s okay,” you reassure him. You glance at the camera. “Any good pics?”

That brings him back to the land of lust and passion, and he offers you a smirk. “We can look at them after. I’m not done with you yet.”

You laugh, because you know you’ve barely started. Know you’re likely to be unable to walk tomorrow. Because the lust in his gaze hasn’t shone so bright in years, yes, but also because you almost lost each other.

Or maybe you have, and this too is just a dip in the past.

You stand up, hands snaking to your back so that you can unclasp your bra. Jungkook watches you carefully, before taking a picture as you massage your breasts. It makes you bite at your lower lip, and you look at his hard dick where it rests on his stomach.

“Can I ride you?” you ask breathlessly.

He smirks. “You don’t want me to finger you first?”

Instead of replying, you finish undressing, taking off your pants and panties at the same time. You then push on his jean jacket, and he takes that as a cue to remove it. You motion to the shirt too as he was about to lean back on his hand and he cocks his head to the side, an eyebrow raised. When you nod, he takes it off too, and it makes his beanie fall.

His hair is a mess, and you can’t resist but step forward so that you can push it back, though you think the jet black strands are currently untamable. You give up after a few seconds, pushing on his chest so that he lies back.

His eyes are on you as you climb on his lap, and you grind along his length, coating it with your juices.

“Shit,” he lets out again. “You’re fucking dripping.”

You nod, moving up just enough so that you can grab the base of his dick. His tip prods your entrance, and he pulls at his piercings as you wait there, teasing him with a corner smile on your lips.

“Fucking tease,” he growls.

It undoes something in you. Because yes, you wanted to tease him. You wanted him to beg you to fuck him, but now you sink down on him, until he reaches your cervix. Even the pain of him hitting the back of your pussy doesn’t make you move, and your walls clench around his dick as he grunts out a curse, followed by your name.

“Kook,” you purr. “Fuck me good.”

He chuckles as you circle your hips, and his free hand rests on your hip as he angles his camera to take a picture of you again. “You can’t do the work?”

He says it condescendingly, and you find enough challenge in you to start bouncing up and down. It shuts him up, and the following moment is spent with you fucking yourself on him as he groans under you, your breathy moans filling his room. Soon enough he stops taking pictures, putting his camera down next to him so that he can hold your hips with his two hands.

And then he’s fucking up in you, and you cry out as you lean forward, wrapping an arm around his neck while your other hand holds on to his shoulder.

You’re a mess, yet your heart clenches in your chest as he fucks you like this. As you remember a land of winter, that somehow doesn’t feel as distant as it should. Maybe because of Jungkook’s wariness tonight, or maybe because you know all good things come to an end.

The thought douses your arousal, until Jungkook stills deep inside of you and whispers, “I want to be with you, like this, forever.”

You nuzzle your face in his neck and suck a mark on his skin. “Me too.”

And then he’s fucking you again, hard and quick. He holds you close, grunts in your ear as you lick at his neck. It’s an abundance of sensation, and your brain focuses on the way he hits your clit whenever he pushes up. Whenever his hips snap against you, and soon there’s an orgasm in the distance.

It finds you when he lets you sit up so that you can fuck yourself on him again, and his thumb finds your clit to press expert circles on it. It finds you hard, and your pussy spasms repeatedly on his dick. He helps you through the high, and when you finally come down, a dumb smile tugs at the corners of your lips.

“Fuck,” you let out.

“Felt good?” he asks with a teasing tone to his voice, the one you know he only reserves for you.

To hear it right now makes you love him so much you think you’ll die on the spot. Because yes, tonight has been great. Yes, it’s almost been like before, but what if he doesn’t take you back?

What if, in the end, this was just an extended moment meant to be closure for you and him?

“Yes,” you still reply.

Because no matter how much your heart aches in your chest, you’ll never lie to him.

“Good,” he says. He sits up, wraps an arm around your waist to steady you as he brings his mouth to yours.

You go in for the kiss. Meet him halfway, and you moan against him as he moves under you, albeit clumsily from the position.

His lips will make you drunk. Make you dumb, make you forget that there’s a world outside the door. That, in that world, you might not belong to him anymore. But then again, you think you do. To you, you always will.

“Lie on your side,” he says after a moment, lips moving against yours.

Jungkook pecks your lips one last time before you move, and then he kneels behind you. His dick prods your entrance again, and he grabs his camera to snap another picture.

“You’re so fucking hot,” he praises as he pushes the tip in, taking another picture. “Such a good little fucking slut.”

And then he pushes all the way in, until all of him is embedded in you. You grip the sheets as a broken moan escapes your lips. He holds your hip with one hand, fingers digging in the supple skin as he fucks you hard, chasing his own orgasm.

He looks good doing it. Long hair sticking to the sweat on his face, eyes narrowed in pleasure, mouth open as soft grunts echo through the room. The purple light makes his honey skin glow somehow, and you feel another orgasm reaching for you, though it doesn’t hit right away. It just feels so good – as he always does – and you can’t help but clench your walls against him.

That’s what undoes him. He comes, ropes of white painting your insides, as he swears and says your name in a litany that almost makes you go over the edge too.

“Baby,” he says at the end.

It feels like a confirmation. Like a confirmation that, maybe, maybe you will work this time around. That maybe distance won’t destroy you again – maybe you’ll grow old and gray by his side.

“You came so much,” you say as you feel his hot cum sitting deep inside of you.

He pulls at his piercing, nodding once. And then he pulls out, and he takes a picture of the cum dripping out of you. He decides to push it back in, curling a finger inside of you, and your walls clench as you moan.

“Touch your clit,” he tells you.

You don’t need to be told twice. You quickly move your fingers to the sensitive bundle of nerves, drawing quick circles on it as he pushes another digit inside of you, fingering you until the second orgasm finally finds you.

You cry out his name, a broken plea that doesn’t really make any sense as your vision turns white. And it stays that way for a long time, blinding you until ecstasy is swimming in your blood. And when you come down from the high, all that you can think is how much you missed him.

“Kook,” you breathe out.

“Baby…”

He puts the camera away, and then bends to press a kiss on your lips. It’s soft, and you grab his face to hold him in place, not even wincing as a bead of his sweat rolls on your cheek. You kiss him with a heart heavy with emotions, trying to show him that you’re never going to leave again. When he pulls away, you notice his teary gaze.

“Can we be together again?” he asks, and you watch in horror as a tear rolls on his cheek. You sit up, drying it with your thumb.

And you don’t care if it was too quick. Don’t care that there’s a high chance it won’t last. You still answer, “Yes, Kook. Yes we can.”

He smiles, nodding his head. “Let’s take a shower. I want to hold you tonight.”

You want to cry from the statement, want to tell him that you wish he could hold you forever, but the words get lodged in your throat. Instead, you follow him as he gets up, interlacing your fingers with his as he leads you to the bathroom, uncaring that his seed is rolling down your inner thighs.

He turns the shower on, and soon enough you’re standing under the hot water. He watches you carefully, presses a kiss on your forehead when you stand in front of him. You wrap your arms around his waist, holding him as close as you physically can. Even then it’s not enough – you want him under your skin, or to be under his.

You don’t think you’d survive being parted from him again. Maybe that’s why you let him fuck you again when you return to his room, slower this time, lips entwined in a never-ending embrace. Love flows between you and him, and it’s etched in the way your bodies move together, in the way you’ve been molded perfectly for him, and him for you.

You wonder if outside, the stars are shining. And you’re struck thinking that tonight, tonight they’ve aligned for you and him again, the universe agreeing for this second chance between you and him.

So you hold him close, and pray that this time around, forever is waiting for you.

Saturday, September 9th

Jungkook wakes up slowly. Softly, the same way waves hit the shore at low tide. He’s unusually warm, and he frowns as he shifts, trying to turn on his side. Then, he realizes his arm is stuck under something. His very dead arm, and he cracks an eye open.

That’s when he remembers that it’s you. You’re the one sleeping next to him, mouth slightly agape as you breathe softly. You’re also the one crushing his arm, and he tentatively clenches and unclenches his fist to try to get the blood circulation back on track. It doesn’t really work, so then he stops, figuring he’s going to have to make you move somehow.

But you look peaceful, in the light of the rising sun. Serene, like there’s never been anything wrong in this world. This morning, Jungkook wants to believe it. Wants to believe that happiness is all he’s ever known – that accidents, heartbreak and pain are all constructs of his imagination.

He’s too realistic for that. Or perhaps the breakup has made him pessimistic. Because the peace of the moment doesn’t really linger, and he’s stuck reliving the moment you left, that night in May. Stuck reliving the wait for you to come back, only you never did.

Or maybe you did, months later. Maybe you really are back, and this time you’ll stay.

You mumble something in your sleep, startling him. It takes him a few seconds to realize you’re still deep asleep, but when you move he quickly does too, pulling his arm from under your head. You frown, lick your lips, and then your features smooth out as you return to your peaceful slumber.

He turns on his side, watching you carefully. He’s aware that watching you sleep is creepy, but he can’t help it. Not when his bed has been empty for months.

He stays like this for a while, unable to fall back asleep. Because, what if you’re gone when he wakes up again? He doesn’t want to risk it.

Unable to help himself, he gently brushes a strand of hair behind your ear. You sigh, and he’s afraid he’s woken you up. When a small smile appears on your lips, his heart skips a beat, yet you don’t show any other sign that you’re awake. He assumes you aren’t, and then decide to take a picture of this moment.

He feels like he’s going to need it. Like all the pictures he took yesterday – he was desperate to commit to memory as much of you as he possibly could. He feels bad – he said he’d give you a chance, he is giving you a chance, but some part of him is just waiting for it to blow up in his face.

Maybe if he expects it it will hurt less.

He carefully grabs his camera where he left it on his night table. He doesn’t dare take a look at the pictures you took yesterday, a little ashamed that he asked you to do that in the first place. Silently, he takes a picture of you, and then puts the camera away.

Only, the reminder of the kind of pictures he’d find in the camera was enough to make his blood stir, and he picks it back up almost immediately.

And then there you are, in all your glory. Beautiful as ever, pussy filled to the brim with his cum, with his cock. Tits squeezed in your hands, in his, and his dick goes rock hard as blood leaves his head.

He wants you again, and he wants you now. He doesn’t care that it’s early morning, that he never liked waking up early. All he can do is put the camera down and slide closer to you. He pulls you back into his embrace, and you sigh softly as he wraps his arms around you.

Jungkook holds you tighter, nuzzling his face in your hair. The inebriating scent of your shampoo fills his nose, and his dick twitches in his underwear.

You hum, and he holds you tighter. “Morning,” he says, voice low and gravelly.

You make another sound that can pass as a hum, but you move against him, until you’ve wrapped an arm around his middle. There’s a moment where silence reigns again, and Jungkook is afraid you’ve fallen back asleep, but then you say, “Morning.”

He smiles. “Slept well?” he asks, kissing the top of your head.

He’s convinced you’re smiling against him as you say, “Want to sleep more.”

He whines, which earns him a chuckle from you that makes the wariness settle back in, even as his heart feels full in his chest.

It never felt full without you. Another reason why he needs to be ready for the blow, whenever it comes.

“I want you,” he admits. “Can’t sleep.”

You hum again, and your hand slides down his back. You squeeze his ass, and then move the hand back up. “You’re going to have to try.”

He whines, lips jutting out in a pout. “Boring.”

At that you laugh, pushing him slightly until you’re able to look him in the eye. He keeps the pout on, knowing that it always worked with you before.

“It’s not even morning,” you point out.

“The sun is up.”

You roll your eyes, though your lips are curved upwards, your gaze beaming as you hold his. “We fucked twice last night.”

He shrugs, rolling on his back so that he can stare up at the ceiling. He pulls at his piercing, the new one, and then turns his head towards you again. “Yeah, and?”

“Surely you don’t need to fuck right now,” you tease.

He frowns, looking away again. “Not my fault if I haven’t fucked since… May. Last weekend doesn’t count.”

“I’m pretty sure it does,” you say, laughing lightly. You prop yourself up on an elbow, blinking away the tiredness as you meet his gaze again. “And besides,” you pause, features turning confused as a crease appears between your brows. “Haven’t you fucked while we were…” you trail off, motioning vaguely around you.

And then something occurs to Jungkook. Something bad – maybe the explosion was closer than he expected it to be. Maybe he’s been standing in the radius of impact, waiting for the bomb to go off. And maybe your sleep deprived brain forgot the measure of protection, maybe it forgot he was standing there.

Because your eyes go round with fear, right as a drop of lead solidifies in Jungkook’s stomach.

“What?” he lets out.

What a stupid question to ask. He wants to beat himself up, because he knows.

He knows now that you’ve been with someone else. Why else would you be surprised that he hasn’t?

“I’m just saying…” you try, but it’s too late.

The bomb has gone off, and all that’s left is rumbles.

“Get out,” Jungkook says, and somehow it’s lacking bite. It’s lacking anger, lacking any signs that he cares for you.

It surprises even himself – doesn’t he care? Or is there nothing left of him in the aftermath of the explosion?

“Kook.”

“You’ve fucked someone else,” he states. When you don’t say anything, just watch him in horror, he sits up in bed. “Get out.”

“Come on,” you let out this time, following him up. You wrap yourself in the blanket, his blanket, and he wants to rip it from your body. Doesn’t want anything that’s his to be in contact with you anymore. “It didn’t mean anything,” you say, and you’re suddenly blinking back tears. “It was just one-time.”

“Frankly, I don’t want to know,” Jungkook says, and he really doesn’t. Doesn’t want to think about another man’s hand on you, or he’ll break.

He’s done breaking for you.

You don’t fight the tears, as you understand that the end really has come. At least that’s what he thinks happens – you just sit there, gaze heavy with tears until they fall, little droplets that carry a world of regret.

After all, the distance really was enough to break you up, wasn’t it?

Jungkook watches you, surprised that his heart is not clenching in his chest. No, he feels nothing as he watches you – he’s already cried enough for you.

“We were broken up,” you murmur, holding his gaze. “It’s not like I cheated.”

At that he laughs, shaking his head. If you can’t understand that he’s done, that he doesn’t want to have anything to do with you anymore, then he’ll do it the harsh way.

“I don’t give a fuck,” he says. “I couldn’t be with someone else. I tried, and you were all I could think of. And…”

“You tried!” you interject. “You tried and you’re giving me shit for it?”

He gets up, trying to put distance between you and him, as if that’ll make the fight easier.

“I still chose not to do it,” he coldly states. “The girl was willing, she even kissed me and…”

“You kissed someone else?”

He laughs again, the absurdity of the situation dawning upon him. “Yeah? Tae set me up on a date, and the girl kissed me at the end and I told her I couldn’t. I didn’t fuck someone else.”

The way he’s throwing the blame at you feels selfish, especially as more tears join those already sliding down your cheeks.

“How is that fair, that you’re mad at me when you literally went on a date with someone else?” You pause, choking on a sob as you try to dry your cheeks. “Come on, Kook, it meant nothing.”

“Who did you fuck anyway?” he asks.

For a reason unknown, your tears stop. Entirely, there a moment and gone the next. “Why do you want to know?”

He doesn’t. He doesn’t fucking want to know, and he scoffs as he runs a hand through his hair, pulling at the strands. “Get out,” he says again, still as stern and void of emotion.

“It was Harrison,” you still say. “I switched departments because I didn’t want to see him again after that.”

Now, there’s an inkling of pain tickling the carcass of his dead heart. As if there was still more, for him to feel, even after everything. As if pain is but a constant of his life now, and he thinks maybe it is.

“Your colleague?” he repeats, dumbfounded.

He’s met Harrison a couple of times, throughout your relationship. He’s always thought the guy was decent, but now something very ugly settles deep in his core. Something that tells him, ‘Hey, maybe he’s only ever wanted to fuck her, maybe he was waiting for his chance’.

The words are on a loop in his head, and he doesn’t even think he can see you anymore. All that he sees is Harrison with his hands on you, in his ever-too creative mind.

He startles as you put a hand on his arm. He shrugs your grip off, steps away from you. “Don’t fucking touch me.”

“Kook, I swear, please listen to me,” you beg, and now you’re crying again.

He shakes his head. “I don’t want to.” At that he shuts his eyes, runs a hand on his forehead and then through his hair. “I really don’t want to. I don’t want you to be here anymore.”

“It didn’t mean anything,” you say, an echo of something you said earlier. Though this time you say it differently, as if you too sensed the finality in Jungkook’s tone.

He doesn’t think he’ll ever want you to be around anymore. He was stupid to give you a chance after you broke his heart – you chose to break up, months ago. Why would it be different this time around?

“It doesn’t matter,” he tells you, as softly as he can. Because he knows you’ll break even more, and some dark, twisted part of him is satisfied that this time, this time he’s the one with all the power over you. “I’m done, Y/n.”

The words sound like thunder, in all their calmness. In all their softness – or maybe that was the sound of your heart breaking. Whatever it was, Jungkook really is done. He wants you gone, wants to be able to break in the quiet peace of his home.

A home you aren’t a part of anymore.

You nod. He expects you to fight more, but you nod. Choke out a sob, turn around, and start putting your clothes on. He figures he should dress too, so he does, picking up discarded items of clothing on the floor, not caring that they probably aren’t clean. All that he cares about is to get you out of his apartment, out of his sight.

And when you’re ready, he walks you to the front door. Lets you say goodbye to Bam, a crushing parallel to the time you’ve said goodbye in May. Bam still looks confused, and Jungkook feels bad, for a moment. Because you were the dog’s mother – he’s been looking for you ever since May. Jungkook can only hope that, this time around, Bam understands that it’s farewell.

When you straighten, you mutter an apology. Jungkook ignores it, holds your gaze expecting something to hurt, but he’s just empty. Empty and tired, and all he wants is to go back to sleep and to never wake up again.

“I can’t let you go,” you let out, voice stark with pain.

He shrugs. “You should have realized that in May.”

You close your eyes, and you look so fragile. Like glass – it never survives the shockwave of an explosion, doesn’t it?

“Please,” you beg. “Let me make it up to you.”

He laughs bitterly. “How? You’re going to go back in time and not get fucked by him? You’re going to go back in time and not break up?”

You look like you want to curse him, and he almost wants you to. He wants you to fight, wants you to make him feel something other than this emptiness. Instead, you shake even more, sobs racking through you.

“I wish I could.”

“Leave.”

“Jungkook, I swear,” you insist. “Let’s not lose each other over this.”

He wets his lips, tongue pushing in the inside of his cheek next. “We’ve lost each other already. It’s time we realize that we have.”

And that does it. You fall silent, defeat washing over you like a tsunami wave – there’s nothing left after its passage, and you look tired, sick, standing there right next to the door.

“I’m so sorry,” you apologize again.

He shrugs. “It’s whatever. The past is the past.”

You look like you want to say something else, but somehow you remain silent. Somehow you look at him for a time, bloodshot eyes taking in his features as if it’s the last time you’ll ever see him again. He surprises himself by doing it too, mostly by instinct. Because right now, looking at you makes him want to be sick, but he knows that it won’t last.

He knows that the echo of pain in the distance is a good indicator that he still has it in him to break for you. That he’ll break for you forever, perhaps. Because he doesn’t think that there’s an end to you and him. It’s always going to be a cycle, and it’ll never end well.

“Goodbye, Jungkook,” you murmur.

He offers you a tight-lipped smile. “Goodbye.”

All he can do is hope you know it means farewell.

Thursday, October 5th

You used to love fall. The cooler weather, the long walks that smell like soil and fallen leaves and pumpkins. Nowadays, you hate fall.

You hate it because he loved it, and every reminder of him is poison to you. And though the season is still early, the days are getting shorter, and the longer the night, the more you drown in thoughts.

You haven’t slept in weeks. Have barely eaten too, and you’ve been off from work for a week. It’s allowed you to stay in, to just sit and try to breathe, hoping that it’ll help.

That it’ll fix something that’s never going to be fixed.

You’re lost. Lost in a town that used to be your home, lost in memories that used to be beauty brought to life – now, you’re seeing the ugliness in beauty. Because beauty is temporary, and like all temporary things in life it doesn’t last long enough. Beauty, and the ending temporality of it, leaves nothing when it goes but a bitter taste in mouth.

Perhaps that’s why you haven’t been able to eat properly.

You haven’t spoken to anyone, since the early morning he asked you to leave. Yet for some reason, you’ve felt the need to go outside today. To walk around, aimlessly perhaps, but you couldn’t stay inside a second longer. Too many tears were shed in your apartment, and you hoped the cool weather would help you feel better.

It does, a little. Because you feel like you’re breathing him in every time you inhale, and then carry him out on an exhale. You feel close to him, in a distant way that’s bound to only make you break harder tonight, but right now you can’t bring yourself to care. You do hate the reminders of him, but you need them. Viscerally, as he was the oxygen in your lungs for so long.

You’re going to have to learn how to live without him, one step at a time.

So you take another step, let your instinct carry you where you have to go. Maybe it knows how to heal.

The sun is descending in the sky, and the absence of clouds lead to a sea of azure you’d swim in if you could. You’d soar up high, so high that there isn’t oxygen anymore, and maybe then the pain would cease. You’d ride a sunray into the night, where you’d finally be able to fall into a well-deserved slumber.

As you look up, a tiny bird flies across the sky, a small speck of brown that goes so fast you think you imagine it. Like the years with him – they went by so quickly, the crushing wheel of time spinning down the slope towards the end.

Seven years ago, almost to the day, you kissed him on a hotel roof lost in Chicago, under clouds painted with fire. Who knew seven years later you’d be trying to live without him, clearly failing at it.

You sigh, pushing the thought away as you reach a crossing. You wait for the light to turn green, then follow the parallel white lines across the road. You avoid a pile of leaves, though a strong gust of wind makes some of them swirl around you, spinning like Mother Nature’s tiny dancers.

The foliage in the trees along the street is golden and red, bright colours that look out of place in the bleakness of your heart. You follow them, wonder if they know that they are about to die. The answer is one you’ll never have, and so you walk under the trees, the autumn breeze playing with your hair.

You don’t know where your steps have been carrying you. You’ve long gone past the places you usually go to, heading towards the middle of the city. The no man’s land between you and Jungkook, spread wide in a maze of streets you want to get lost in.

So you do. You press on, walk until the sun becomes a ball of melted gold nearing the horizon, and it’s on the corner of a street that a glint in a vitrine catches your eyes.

You eye the rings, crafted by an expert hand. Bands of gold, with diamonds and emeralds and gems you don’t know the name of. They look expensive, elegant, and you wonder if you would have had a ring on your finger one day, bought by him.

Recklessly, you walk into the shop, wishing to peruse its vitrines, hoping they’ll offer you dreams to survive the night. And you can almost see it – a ring on your finger, a proposal under a star-sprinkled sky, an intimate wedding for you and him. A dance, always and forever, of love shared like a secret in the night. Your secret, as the end would have one day come for you and him, an eternity of life later. You would have been old and grey, yet your love would have been young and eternal.

In this dream, he would have never taken the job overseas. You’d have stayed here, together, growing old by his side. You would have gotten more dogs, maybe even a cat, and you’d have lived happily ever after.

You wonder if, in a parallel universe to yours, the dream is unfolding. If parallel-universe you has the chance to experience it, and you think she does. You think she does, and the love is so strong it’s shaking through universes, picking you up like you’re just a leaf in an autumn wind.

Because why else, then, do you find yourself buying a gold band? Too big for you, masculine in its simplicity. Something you think he would have worn, had you been in that other universe.

You sit on a bench outside, after, as the last of the sunlight finally fades away, replaced by a blue dusk that matches your mood far better than the sun ever could. You have no idea where you are in the city, no will to brave the trek back home – you’ve been out for hours at this point.

You grab your phone, long forgotten in your purse. You haven’t touched it all day, and to your surprise you’ve received a couple of texts while you were walking, all by the same person.

[04:37 pm] Jimin: hey, this is going to sound crazy [04:37 pm] Jimin: and I’m really sorry to be telling u this [04:37 pm] Jimin: can u go check on JK? [04:38 pm] Jimin: he’s been unreachable for days and at this point I think he’ll only talk to u

You want to text him back to fuck off, to leave you alone, yet you hold on tighter to the velvety box in which the gold band hides. After all, even if you’ve received the texts hours ago, you’re realizing perhaps that that’s where your steps have been leading you anyway.

It’s stupid – he asked you to leave. Hasn’t contacted you once since then, and it’s like the wedding and the week after never happened. Like you’ve been broken up for months, like you barely know him anymore. He’s a stranger now, in your life, something you’d never thought he’d become someday.

And why would he talk to you? Why would he want you in his vicinity, when he made it clear as spring water that he was done, that the end had come to pass between you and him?

But if the end has come, why is that you’ve been feeling like you’re surrounded by him, today? Like you’ll always be – just a drop of water in the sea of him. Perhaps you are weak, to feel for him the way that you do, but seven years ago, the cataclysm that started you and him shook you, and its repercussions are still felt today. Will be felt until your dying breath, until all that’s left of you is stardust.

So you let your feet carry you, weightless in the way that you’re moving forward. Like you are once again but a leaf carried by the wind, and you can only hope that it’ll let you land in the right place.

You don’t really know how you make it to his building. Perhaps you were closer than you initially thought you were – all that you know is that you recognize the building, and that you sense his proximity through the walls.

Your heart reaches for him, longs for him in a way you can’t ignore anymore. Because you’ve been dead, without him. Just a shell of what you should be, of what you want to be. Because yes, you could learn to live without him. After everything that you’ve been through, you know well enough that you are strong enough to do it.

But you don’t want it. You want that dream you’ve found in the jewelry shop, want to make it possible. Want to prove that, no matter who would ever get close to you, he’ll always be the owner of your heart.

So you walk in. Reach the elevator, press on the call button. Then on the fourth floor, reminiscing the night you rode the elevator in his company, right before the fall. The new fall, a harshest one that made you reach those low levels of hell that living without him are consisted of.

You awaken when you are standing in front of his door. You think you can almost hear him inside, moving around through his home. You wonder if he can hear your heartbeat, where you’re standing. If he too can tell that you’re nearby once again, even though you shouldn’t have been.

Even though farewells have come to pass between you and him.

You don’t knock. You don’t have to. To your surprise, the door opens in front of you, slowly, before you’ve even managed to raise your arm to knock. Then his voice fills your ear, as he tells Bam to wait. You just stand there, dumbfounded, and then his eyes move from the floor to your face, and his mouth falls open.

Bam jumps on you, tail wagging wildly as you take a step back from the force of impact. You pet him on the head, pushing him back to the floor as you try to focus on Jungkook.

And then it dawns upon you that you have no clue what to tell him. You reckon you maybe should have prepared something in advance, because you’re wordless standing in front of him.

“Hey,” you eventually say, and you think the world has time to revolve around the sun three times before you manage to say something else. “How are you?”

His mouth slowly shuts, and you watch his Adam’s apple bob as he swallows. He pulls on Bam’s leash, tells the dog to sit, before he finally addresses you. Just your name, and the way he says it make it sound formal, like you’re just a stranger.

“What are you doing here?” he asks after another moment.

You look down at your hands. At the box you’re holding, and his eyes follow after you. “I was thinking of you, today,” you admit.

He sighs, and his eyes shut. “You were?”

You nod as he meets your gaze again. “When am I not?” Your comment doesn’t ask for a response, and he doesn’t offer you one either. “Jimin told me you’ve been unreachable.”

“Yeah,” he lets out. “I’ve been busy.”

“Oh.” You try to look behind him, as if you’ll find his reason to be busy there. “Can I talk to you?”

He says your name, this time like an apology. “I told you we were done.”

You shrug. “I know.” You gulp, fingers playing with the velvet box as if it’ll help ground you. “Can I walk Bam with you, then?”

He looks conflicted but he gives in. Says yes in a defeated way that rips your heart from your chest, in a way that makes you cling to the ring box even more, hoping that it’ll offer you salvation.

Being outside in the early fall evening with him feels like the Earth has finally returned to its normal axis. You don’t say anything, unable to find the words, and he remains silent too. You just enjoy his company, watching over Bam as he sniffs at plants before peeing on a pole.

Stars are twinkling in the sky up above. The breeze is still soft tonight, caressing your features in a gentle embrace that resembles the one he’d used to offer you, though it’s far colder than his. You spare a glance at him – he’s already looking, and he doesn’t look away as your gazes connect.

“What are you doing here?” he asks again.

You wet your lips. “I don’t know,” you admit. “I’ve been thinking about you.”

“How is that an explanation?” A shrug of your shoulders is all the answer he gets. He scoffs, shakes his head slightly, and then his head turns toward the door of his building. “I have hot chocolate inside,” he tells you, once again sounding defeated. “Do you want a cup?”

Turns out salvation wasn’t to be found in the velvet box you’re holding, but in the gentle angles of Jungkook’s features, behind his big doe eyes that will forever feel like home to you.

“I don’t want to intrude,” you tell him, voice soft. “I just wanted to… talk.”

“Then let’s talk over a cup of hot chocolate,” he says.

Which is what you do. You follow him in, feeling like you’re out of place in his life. Like he’s only giving this to you because of what you used to be to one another. Yet you don’t care. You’re slowly finding words, your brain shaping them into sentences to change an ending you can’t come to terms with.

Jungkook prepares the hot chocolate in silence, as you sit at his small dinner table. You play with Bam as he does so, a game of tug-of-war that you’re bound to lose as the dog is far stronger than you. Yet you still indulge, as you’ve missed Bam far more than you even thought possible.

The game is only interrupted when Jungkook rests a cup of steaming hot chocolate on the table next to you. You let Bam go, and the dog trots away to go play somewhere else, you can only assume.

“What did you want to talk about?”

You’ve left the ring box on the table. You’ve noticed Jungkook glancing at it repeatedly since you’ve put it there, and you worry at your bottom lip.

“I wanted to apologize again, for what it’s worth,” you answer. “I felt horrible when it happened, and just wanted to forget all about it.”

His features turn harsh, and his eyes drop into the cup of hot chocolate he’s nursing for himself. It reminds you of a café, of a conversation you had years ago, that led to you opening up to him, and to him opening up to you.

“I love you,” you continue. “I haven’t stopped loving you, and if I’d known that breaking up would hurt so much, I would’ve fought harder. I wish I had, and I wish I’d never let you go.”

“But you did…” he says when you remain silent for a few seconds.

“But I did. And I understand if you hate me for it. If you don’t want to ever see me again. But shit, you’re the only thing that I’ve been able to think about. Just you, and everything that could have been, had I been stronger.”

You grab the cup of hot chocolate, the warmth of it slowly seeping through your cold fingers. For the next few minutes, you don’t say anything, and neither does he. You just drink the hot chocolate, hoping you’ll find more words to say at the bottom of the cup.

“The distance was hard,” Jungkook eventually says. “I don’t blame you for wanting to end things over it.”

It surprises you. Makes your brain go entirely empty, and you just watch him with wide eyes for a few seconds.

He shrugs as you don’t say anything. “What?” He looks down, tongue darting out to play with his piercings. “I’ve been thinking about everything too.”

“Yeah?”

He nods. “I over-reacted, when you told me you had sex with Harrison,” he admits.

Totally not expecting the conversation to take this turn, you’re stunned silent.

“I was shocked, and needed time to process,” he continues. “You were right, the fact that I went on a full-on date is just as bad, differently. We were broken up, we didn’t owe each other anything.”

As much as it pains you to agree, you still do, nodding your head. “We didn’t.”

He purses his lips, holds your gaze for a few seconds before glancing down at his cup. The silence is more comfortable now, as you think maybe, maybe then the dream you’ve dreamed about isn’t just a distant mirage of what could have once been. It’s foolish, but you can’t help it.

You think your heart is beating for the first time since you left that morning weeks ago.

“Did you want to speak about anything else?” he asks after he’s taken a long sip of his hot chocolate.

You take a deep breath, and somehow courage finds you on the long exhale. “I don’t want us to be over.”

You think you hear him gulp. “You don’t?”

Blinking away a few tears, you shake your head no. “I really don’t. I walked around all day today, and all I could think about was you. All I could think of was all the years between us, from when we met to a few weeks ago. And I don’t know, I refuse to accept that the end has come.”

“When does it come, then?” he asks.

“When the end comes?”

He nods.

“After years and years,” you say, allowing yourself to voice your dream. “Hopefully after we’ve had years to live together. After we’ve gotten married, and maybe even after we’ve had kids. Not that I want some.” You pause, and you look down at the table, unable to carry the weight of his gaze anymore. “Or maybe after we’ve had plenty of dogs, a cat or two. After we’ve had a house with a white picket fence, after we’ve danced under a thousand different night skies.” A tear rolls on your cheek, and you do nothing to stop it. “After we’ve travelled the world together, after we’ve had a chance to live, together.”

“And what happens after we’ve lived together?” he presses.

You shrug. “Then we die together. Then we turn into stardust and memories. I don’t care. As long as it’s with you, I don’t care what happens to me.”

Blurry behind the wall of tears in your eyes, you see Jungkook run a hand through his hair. “You don’t?”

“I don’t,” you echo. “I just want to get to love you.”

At that you do cry. And not just a little bit. Your heart longs and yearns for him, reaching in the space between you, trying to find a beat to sync with. You wipe your cheeks dry with trembling hands, before pressing the heel of your palms on your eyes, hoping to stop the cascade at the source.

“It’s a nice dream,” Jungkook says after the few minutes it takes you to collect yourself, your hands falling to the table.

“Is it?”

He nods. “Yeah. I don’t think we’d do a white picket fence though. I’ve always found cedar trees make a better fence.”

Something stirs inside of you, and you want to take a hold of him, and to never let go. “Yeah?”

He sits back in the chair, looks up to the ceiling as he blinks away the silver in his own gaze. You wonder if he’s crying because he saw you cry, as the sympathetic crier that he is, or because he shares the emotions in your heart.

“Where would you want to get married?” he asks then.

You push the velvet box towards him. “This is for you.”

He doesn’t acknowledge this, instead repeating the question.

“Somewhere in the countryside,” you answer. “Maybe the cottage where it all started.” You think about Julys of a world ago. “Under the night sky.”

“People don’t usually get married when it’s already dark.”

“Right,” you let out. “Then we’d have a ceremony for just us two when it’s dark outside.”

At that he grabs the box, opening it. You reckon he must have known what the content was, because he doesn’t say anything as he takes it out. As he tries to put it on his finger, though it doesn’t fit. It’s too tight, and it makes him chuckle, a sad sound that almost kills you on the spot.

“Do you think we’d dance under the stars?” he asks as he turns the gold band in his fingers, and light glimmers on it.

“Yes,” you say, nodding your head. “We always would.”

“So you came all the way here to tell me this?”

He meets your gaze again, for the first time in a while. He looks struck with emotion, much like you feel – the depths of his eyes are swirling with love and ache and yearning. You fall forward, fall in his eyes, trying to find home again.

“I came here to ask you to marry me,” you finally say, as it dawns upon you that, yes, your steps were leading you to this all along. “Jungkook, will you marry me?”

He smiles, a world of sadness etched in the sweet curve of his lips. “Can it be this easy?”

You shut your eyes. “It can. Please. Let’s not lose what we have again.”

“When would you like to get married?” he asks.

“Are you saying yes?”

He plays with his piercing, takes a deep breath as he chases tears away from his gaze but to no avail. You watch the two drops as they slowly roll down his face. “When would you like to get married?”

“In July,” you answer easily.

“Next year?”

You nod.

He holds your gaze for a few seconds more, then looks at the gold band again. His fist closes around it, slowly, as if he’ll be able to crush it in his hold. For what you don’t know. All that you know is that his features grow tortured, pained. It doesn’t last long – another deep breath later the expression is gone.

“I need to tell you something,” he says then, his voice so small you can barely hear it.

You prepare yourself. As well as you can, expecting the blow before it comes. You sense it – in the eternity it takes for him to speak again, you see every moment of you and him before this day, your life flashing before your eyes as if you’re about to die.

And then he says it a first time. At first you don’t even understand the words, as if he’s speaking a foreign language. So you let out, “What?”, hoping that it will change the cruelty that this world holds.

But nothing can, after the end has come. Nothing, especially not as he repeats the words, softly, their meaning tainting the dream you’ve just painted with him, until all that’s left of it is a bitter aftertaste in your mouth.

“I’m permanently moving to South Korea.”

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I'm sorry for the angst, for the cliffhanger, for them to be so stubborn and for how life is working against them now. I hope you don't hate me too much after this :') let me know what you think of this chapter!

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deanbrainrotwritings · 7 months

Text

— DEMONOLOGY AND HEARTACHE

SUMMARY : dean is a devout catholic and has never known a life outside the church, all his resolve is broken by the temptation of a hellish seductress

PAIRING : priest!dean winchester x demon!reader (f.)

CHARACTERS : none

WARNINGS : explicit(18+), smut, p in v, oral (m. receiving), corruption kink, praise kink, priest au, priest kink, sub/dom dynamics, sub!dean, defiling holy stuff

WORD COUNT : 4.9k

A/N : title from an atreyu song. dean’s not undercover, just pure corruption. I’m going to hell. my sister said his seed is holy, lmaoo. this one fills my “Go to hell!”/“Where do you think I came from?” square for my @jacklesversebingo card. enjoy Dean’s holy seed (and I’m sorry if y’all are religious, I used to be religious, too, to make it worse) XX

Green eyes illuminated by moonlight. They flit across the dark and empty space of the nave casually. There’s a draught that makes him shudder, but he remains unphased. He makes sure the lights are off, double checks that the doors and windows are closed, and continues onward to his room to rest for the night.

He’s still in his vestments, blending in with the darkness. He only becomes darker in the shadows of the hallways, making his way to the staircase leading to his room. The wooden stairs creak beneath his formal shoes, olden oak that’s more silent in the day, thunders in the silent dark.

A crucifix greets him when he’s at the top of the staircase and he makes the sign of the cross automatically, but slowly, with reverence. Moonlight kisses his delicate features; green eyes twinkle like a billion stars, gold lashes like the lustre of the sun’s reflection on the moon’s surface, freckles show clearly now beneath the exposing light.

His splendour is unmatched even inside the grand cathedral.

He makes his way blindly to his bedroom and wipes a hand over his stubble, scratching lightly at his jaw, thoughtfully planning out his next day. He gets to his room and begins to toe off his shoes as he pushes the door open all the way.

He expects moonlight to strike his face, but it’s quiet and dark. He can smell firewood and something foul, unfamiliar. He thinks nothing of it, he can feel the breeze pushing between his curtains, and assumes it’s something outside. He turns around to shut the door and holds the wall for balance as he pulls his shoes off all the way.

“Father,” he hears a soft voice, unknown to him. He turns quickly, half-scared, half-confused: how did someone get up here and why is there a woman in my room? were the first questions asked in his mind. The dim light on his bedside table lights up his room and reveals a nun in her nightgown sitting on his bed.

He recognises her now and relaxed, only slightly. She’s new and arrived two weeks ago. Sister… something or another; it’s been a busy couple of weeks.

She watches him curiously, her brows furrow and her eyes mysterious. She leans back casually on her arms, too relaxed for his comfort. The top of her nightgown undone, two strings hang loosely over her breasts. A chill teases his spine and rides up to the top of his head, prickling the freckled skin of his body. He doesn’t move.

“What are you doing here?” He asks quietly, offering his hand to her to get her to stand from his bed. She stares at it indifferently. “You should be in your quarters,” he adds, reaching out for her arm instead.

“I’ve been thinking about what I confessed to you yesterday, Father,” she murmurs, shaking her arm out of his hand. He sighs tiredly, but smiles kindly at her anyway. He can’t remember her confession, everyone confesses multiple times about multiple things, and goes to him—searching for repentance.

“You’re forgiven, you need to move forward,” he reassures her.

“I don’t think I can,” she replies almost instantly. He raises a brow, but lets her continue. “Does that… make me a bad person?” She asks, concern and guilt laces her voice.

“No, it makes you human.” He purses his lips and takes her soft hand in his, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “You should sleep, we can talk tomorrow,” he tries again, loosening his grip on her cool hand, but she keeps holding onto it.

He narrows his eyes, his jaw clenches when she lifts her cotton gown. He raises a brow when she’s standing up on her knees, and a crease forms between his eyebrows. Her other hand curls around the back of his neck and he opens his mouth to question her, moving back slightly. Instead, her grip becomes firm and her warm lips press against his lips and he stiffens, confused.

He can feel her hand around his wrist moving and her gown ruffles. He feels her warmth beneath his fingers, wetness against his fingertips, that makes him gasp and pull away. He snatches his hand away from between her legs and sees that she’s smiling knowingly.

“What are you doing?” He asks in disbelief, but his heart is pounding, sending blood to his cock. “You need to leave,” he clears his throat. Heat, like hellfire, washes over his body, and turns away to hide himself when his face flushes and his cock twitches.

“Come on, Father,” she murmurs provocatively. He closes his eyes and breathes deeply before turning to face her with a glare. “I know what you’ve been dreaming of,” she laughs mischievously, sitting back on her legs. She pulls down the top of her nightgown, freeing her breast to play with her nipple. Her other hand moves down between her legs, she opens herself by parting her legs, and starts to tease her wet slit while he watches.

“Go to hell!” He shouts at her, looking away and trying to get out of his room. He reaches the doorknob and gets the door open only for it to slam shut.

“Where do you think I came from?” She asks darkly, and his stomach sinks. He shakes the doorknob wildly and pulls as hard as he can, but it doesn’t budge. He feels her hand grab the back of his shirt and she flings him across the room so he lands on the bed. He scrambles up on it and tries to get away when her eyes flash completely black. “You’re getting rusty, Dean, ignoring all those omens,” she shakes her head and tsks, climbing up on the bed with him.

He thinks about what she says, he never thought much about the mutilations because of the wolves that roam freely, or the electrical storms because of the cold and the usage of heaters, or the crop failures due to the weather. He shouldn’t have brushed it off, but he hadn’t encountered demonic activity in years. This whole time, it was circling him and he didn’t even notice.

“Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus,” he starts to whisper, grabbing the rosary from around his neck. “Omnis satanica potestas, omnis incur-” She grabbed the rosary from him roughly, quieting the exorcism from continuing, and stared at it with a wicked smile before pulling it harshly.

“That won’t work on me, baby.” The beads fell over his body when the rosary snapped. Wooden beads and black beads bounce on his bed, then scatter loudly onto the floor, rolling and sliding across wood until they stop on their own or hit a wall.

“You… you were making me dream all those things,” he accuses breathlessly. She nods wordlessly, stepping in between his parted legs with her hands on his bent knees. She bites her lip, stares lustfully at the black attire he wears. A holy man.

“I know… you liked it,” she whispers, causing him to swallow nervously. “I watched you pleasure yourself every time you woke up,” she admits shamelessly, fingers meeting his belt to get it off. He squirmed and grabbed her hand to stop her, but his cock was hard just remembering his hedonistic actions and the lewd dreams that haunted him every night for weeks. “What was it like dreaming of how soft I feel? Do you think your hand feels as good as I do inside? Do you want my mouth like you loved using it in your dreams?” She continues to tease, leaning over him, hands sliding up the front of his body.

He was warm and taut beneath her hands. His body hums with pleasure, he aches to touch her despite knowing it was wrong. He craves to feel her body beneath his own, wrapped around him so tightly. He hates himself for it, but it’s all his mind could think of, especially when he could feel her warm breath over his tingly lips.

“What do you want from me?” He asks quietly, staring deeply into her black eyes. She blinks and they return to normal eyes again, a sweet smile growing on her face. It could’ve fooled him, that warmth that sparkled inside—it must actually be hellfire.

“I want you to beg me to fuck you, I want you to need it really bad,” she whispered hotly, tracing the buttons on his shirt. He swallowed anxiously, but he couldn’t resist the temptation of her pink lips and soft skin, supple breasts in plain sight, smooth thighs pressed against his. His whole body longed for the feel of her lips, her hands, for everything of hers to be on him.

“I… I can’t do that,” he choked out. He grabs her hands and moves them away from his body then scoots up on his bed to put some distance between them.

“You can,” she encourages him with a wicked smile, crawling up to him. “You will,” she promises, reaching between his legs for his belt.

He squirms, weakly attempting to push her away because that’s what his instincts told him to do. She’s a demon, he’s a priest. She is unholy and he’s supposed to be an intermediary for God, Jesus, the angels, the Holy Spirit, and everything else that’s good. He can’t just lay with a woman, especially when she comes directly from hell.

She didn’t make a single move. She just waited for him and her hair fell prettily over her shoulder when she tilted her head at him expectantly. Her skin looked smooth and her lips were pink and they looked soft. He could easily remember what they looked like around his cock in his dreams. He didn’t want to give in to her, he spent years in the church, he has every scripture memorised, and he’s helped hundreds of people without expecting so much as a thanks.

But he wanted to really feel what he’d felt in his dreams for two weeks. He craved it like he’d never craved sex before—or anything else for that matter. Here, in a holy place was a very sexy woman in his bed, a woman who crawled her way out of hell and became fixated on him. For weeks, she tormented him, planted herself in his dreams and gave him glimpses of her in real life as a nun covered from head to toe.

Now, she sat between his legs, with nothing underneath her sleeping gown. The pure white dress hid the true darkness of her soul. He rubbed his fingers together, though they were dry, his slacks tightened just remembering the feel of her wet folds against his fingertips. He’d never been this hard and desperate before, it usually went away quickly when the guilt of his libidinous thoughts consumed him.

He’d never done anything bad before, never strayed from his teachings or from the rules. Here she was, tempting him to take a bite of her, tempting him to give himself to her for her pleasure, for his pleasure. Demon or not, no one’s ever gone out of their way to get to him, that was a messed up thought, but it turned him on.

“Please,” he chokes out. It shocked him. He stared at her in surprise, but she just looked back at him arrogantly. Slowly, as if waiting for his protest, she tugged his belt and got the leather out of the buckle. He started to breathe heavily, aroused by her gaze and thought of being defiled.

She starts to pull the belt from the loops of his slacks and he willingly lifts his hips when it catches beneath him. He gives in easily when she pops the button out of the slit. He even lets his head fall back into the pillow and rolls his hips upwards when she slowly pulls the zipper down.

She starts to pull his pants down, he can feel the rough scrap of his boxers against his skin when she tries to do it all at once. He doesn’t care anymore, with his thumbs hooked at the sides, he pulls them down with her help. He can feel the cool air kiss his cock, slowly as she exposes him. He moans softly when he’s fully free, he knows there’s precum leaking at the slit, it feels colder.

He feels like a wanton whore and he’s barely made a sound. He can hear the delicate fabric of his clothes hit the floor, it makes him feel more excited.

“Wow, you really are blessed,” she murmurs, her warm breath blowing over his cock. He fists the sheets, feels it twitch instantly, and opens his eyes to stare at her. “It’s just as pretty as the rest of you,” she praises, keeping eye contact with him. He bites his lip and he’s about to respond with a ‘shut up’ when she lets a string of her saliva drip onto his tip.

The words catch in his throat. She leans forward, her soft hair falls over her face, and her tongue makes contact with the warm head of his cock. He doesn’t know what to do with himself when she hums at the taste of him. His body stiffens and it feels even better than he dreamed. When he lets his head fall back into the pillow, he catches a glimpse of the crucifix over his bed. She turned it upside down.

“Father,” she whispers, “don’t look away from me.” He looks back at her, her soft hands manoeuvre his body so he has his knees bent upwards again. He feels exposed, vulnerable, sinful, and dirty.

“Don’t call me that,” he requests softly. He reaches for her jaw to guide her back down onto him. That excites her, he can see her eyes livening. His stomach flutters.

“Dean,” she sneers when she wraps her hand around the base of his cock and starts to twist her hand upwards. He growls lowly, shyly lifts his arm, and puts it over his eyes. “I prefer calling you Father. It makes this way hotter. Don’t you think?” She asks teasingly and then laughs.

“No….” He trailed off, spreading his legs a little wider when she leaned forward to kiss his stomach.

“Call me whatever you want, Father,” she whispers against his skin, trailing her lips downwards as she jerks him off. “Whore, demon, hellspawn… Sister,” she smirks when he whines, then sucks on his hip bone. A red mark blossoms on his skin. “I’m so wet,” she tells him, teasingly flattering her palm over the tip of his dick, “this is the most fun I’ve had in ages.” He watches the little smirk on her face and while he’s curious about what she does in hell, he can feel his impending release.

“Please,” he begs quietly. It makes her stop instead. She puts one hand on the inside of his thigh and spreads him open the way a man would do to a woman and she stares down at him curiously. He wiggles to close his legs but she’s stronger than he is, and keeps him as she has him. She pulls gently at his balls, then pushes, and eventually finds a pace where it starts to feel more intense.

“Jesus Christ,” she murmurs with a chuckle, “you’re so fucking sexy.” He flushes at her words and watches her lean down to suck on his balls. He moans loudly and tangles his hand in her hair, then tugs so she moves upwards. “You’re built like a god, any man would be jealous,” she teases, letting him guide her.

“Do what you did in my dreams,” he suggests, then slid his hand down her shoulder and inside the top of her nightgown. He fondled her breasts and innocently held eye contact with her.

“What did I do?” She asks playfully, placing one small kiss on his leaking cock. He glares at her, but she shrugs like she has no idea what he’s talking about. She continues to tease him instead, bites down on his thigh and sucks until he’s whining.

“Please, suck it,” he begs bashfully, pulling his hand out of the gown. She moves up his body, he’s sure it’s to embarrass him when she stares down at him.

“Suck what?” He groans at her question, lifts both hands to tug frustratedly at his hair. She moves away nonchalantly, slowly begins to lift the white gown upwards, revealing inch by glorious inch of her perfect body. He watches her touch herself with his mouth parted in astonishment, her hands play with her breasts and she teases herself between her legs.

“Suck my cock, please, I want to feel your mouth,” he rushes out quickly. He sits up and takes her waist, dragging her forward until he has his warm mouth on her nipple.

“I’m gonna make you feel so good, Dean,” she promises, playing with his hair. She rubs her thighs together and lets him switch from one nipple to the other. He stares up at her the whole time, his eyes shimmering with lust. “I hope this haunts you forever,” she sneers. Giving his hair a sharp tug to move him away forcefully and go down on him. He grunts softly and wraps his hand around his cock, slowly sliding a dry hand up and down.

“That’s my job,” she scolds, slapping his hand away. She settles between his legs, and without warning, she wraps her lips around the tip, sending a sharp electric feeling running up his spine. It’s unbelievable how wet she feels around him, how warm her mouth feels engulfing him inch by inch. His stomach becomes taut with the way she runs her tongue along the bottom vein, sucking when she lifts up slightly, then does it over and over.

Her slowness drives him crazy. She was merciless in his dreams, passionate and focused on making him reach the ultimate pleasure, but now, she’s just torturing him. One of her hands follows her mouth and the other slides up his chest beneath the buttoned black shirt. Her nails scrape his chest gently but her fingers brush teasingly against his nipple. He arches his back and moans loudly, he doesn’t care that the night amplifies his voice and carries his pretty noises quickly down the halls of the holy church.

She slides her hand away from his chest and blindly finds his wrist. He grips the sheets tightly, moaning and groaning. The sounds he made travelled to her clit, it pulsed, her walls clenched around nothing, and she dripped between her legs with a flood of warm heat. He let her place his hand on her head, his fingers tangled in her hair. She’s not going to give him what he wants, she wants him to take what he wants. It’s the ultimate goal for her, to make him loosen up and fuck her mouth.

“Please, I want…” he trails off, both his hands now resting on her head. She drools around his cock and hums when he pushes her down farther. She wants to shove him deeper into her, to take him fast and hard, but it turns her on more to make him needy and desperate. To make him be the one that uses her demonic mouth and hellish body for his pleasure.

She holds onto the back of his thighs and pushes them so they’re almost at his chest. When her nose is pressed against his pelvis and she swallows around him, he holds her there.

“Oh, Jesus,” he moans, his balls draw inwards and his stomach coils. She moans softly and starts to pull off him, only to start sucking and bobbing her head up and down just as he wanted her to. He gets louder somehow and rougher, his grip on her hair is almost painful. The sounds of her throat getting fucked makes him shudder and squirm. He needs to cum so bad. “Yes, don’t stop…” he breathes out.

She hums again, he thought it was a promise that she wouldn’t stop, but when he makes that specific grunt he tends to make when he’s about to cum and when he stiffens and gasps, the warmth of her wet mouth is replaced by the drag of cool air from the room.

He whines and his eyes fly open. He watches her smirk and wipe her mouth with the back of her hand. She still has one hand on his thigh, bending him and keeping him open. He gets shy again, but she doesn’t let him keep his dignity. She gets closer to him and she leans over him to whisper, “you taste so good, Father, I’d imagine it’s all the holy fuckery you consume and spew to others…”

“It turns me on. You make me so wet and needy. Your mouth is mine.” She kisses him softly, even though her words offend him. He glares at her for her blasphemy, but his eyes close when her soft, sweet lips make contact with his. The tenderness of her kiss fools him, takes his mind off her offensive expressions, and keeps him complacent.

Her tongue prods at his lips. Her lewdness makes him eager, she’s thorough, licking across his lips slowly. When he opens his mouth to her, her kiss is hungry. She traces the inside of his mouth with her tongue, like a cartographer, she’s precise and she makes him breathless. She barely pulls away, allowing him to catch his breath temporarily before resuming.

She’s warm when her tongue brushes against his, velvety and sweet. She tastes like wine and fruit, bitter and sweet. The taste of her is divine, opposing her unholy nature and the filthy words she uses to worship him. She pulls away again and straddles his hips. He barely recovers from her kiss when he feels her rub herself over his cock.

He feels his stomach do flips like a dog excited to show his master tricks for a treat. She moans softly and continues rolling her hips. He bends his knees and grasps her thighs painfully, watches between their bodies how she slides her wetness up and down his cock. She begins to unbutton his shirt and carelessly throw the clerical collar behind her when she fully gets the shirt open.

“Wait,” he stops her breathlessly, “is this your body?”

She raises a brow and looks down at herself with a nod. “Had to dig it out of a hole in the forest. I was a witch, a badass one. Those stupid hunters,” she grumbles the last bit under her breath, lifts herself up and positions his tip at her entrance. He raises a brow, too, a smile of amusement grew on his lips as he bit down on it. “Why? Do you like it?” She smirks, but his response is cut off by a moan when she lowers herself on his cock.

She feels even better than he dreamed. He huffs out a breath, he feels sweatier with the shirt and the suit jacket he still wears, but if she doesn’t feel like letting him take it off, he doesn’t mind. She grinds down on him and finds his hands to place one on her breasts and the other between her legs.

“You feel fucking amazing inside me, Dean,” she praises. His stomach lurches, the use of his name turns him on more, and he bucks his hips up. With a little moan she starts to lift herself up, he can feel every inch of her against his cock, the wetness, the warmth. He doesn’t think he’ll last as long as he did in his dreams. He carefully thumbs between her folds and feels for her clit. Her gasp guides him and he gently flicks it until she’s riding him faster. She leans back against his bent legs, arches her back, and he squeezes her breast roughly. “That’s right, you’re doing so good,” she says softly, spreading her legs to open herself more to his adept fingers.

Her words spur him on, the bedsprings start to squeak, the headboard starts to hit the wall, the upside down crucifix rattles on the wall. His senses are high. She feels amazing wrapped around his cock, her breathy moans fuel the fire of his orgasm. She tightens and squeezes around him, walls clamping down and keeping him inside her. He starts to get louder, too, he can’t help it. Groans slip from his lips and he whimpers occasionally, he can feel her react each time, and he doesn’t plan on shutting up.

“You’re so good, so goddamned perfect,” she cries softly, it’s the hottest thing he’s heard or seen. She gets sloppy and desperate, staring down at him covetously. He stares back, even if he wants to shut his eyes and hide away from her gaze. He rubs around her clit faster and watches her fall apart, little by little.

She sounds, looks, and feels even hotter. In his dreams, he understood her intentions and how hot it would be if they had sex, but the reality of it is far more intense and intimate compared to any of his dreams. She filled his mind with fantasies he’d never had before. Having sex in the confessional, on the altar, in the Bishop’s office, and countless locations that were far too holy—in his opinion—being defiled by both of them. He pinches her nipple roughly, she moans and tightens around him. Then, he flicks her clit faster, watches her seize while whining his name.

“Be a good boy and cum for me, Dean. Want you to fill me up,” she says breathlessly. He throbs inside of her and whimpers involuntarily, feeling himself spill inside her as if his body worked according to her commands.

“God,” he moans, bucking his hips upwards. He abandons her clit and her breast, and bruisingly digs his fingers into her thighs. He moans softly, letting the orgasm take over his body and mind. He pulls her down with both hands on her hips and keeps her on his cock shortly, her walls flutter and she inhales sharply. “You’re beautiful,” he murmurs, his eyes half-open.

“Holy fuck,” she gasps, toes curling as she falls apart at the sensation of his cum warming her up. She slowly moves up and down, letting him feel every inch of her pulsing walls along his throbbing cock. Her fingers find her clit to intensify and lengthen her orgasm, finishing what he’d begun. She doesn’t expect his tenderness, but he sits up and tangles his hand into her hair and kisses her deeply.

He mimics how she’d kissed him earlier. His inexperienced tongue traces the roof of her mouth and he brushes his tongue timidly against hers. She deepens the kiss, encourages him to keep doing what he wants to do and tugs his hair. His quiet moans make her horny again and he pulls away. Now that she’s abandoned her clit, she shoves his clothes off his shoulders.

She kisses his neck and his chest. His mind starts to drift now that he’s basking in the afterglow, her lips ghost downward and she lightly touches his nipple with the tip of her tongue. He stiffens and focuses on her again. She moves off his softened cock which is coated in a mixture of their release. She chuckles and then beholds him in his entirety.

He glows and he’s flushed, pink and shiny with sweat. His cock rests on his thighs and he has a mark on his hip from her lips. His lips are swollen, almost red from biting them, coated in saliva—hers and his. His hair is a mess, sexy and soft. He looks guilty now, but she moves forward and looks him in the eyes when she licks the cum off his sensitive cock.

“Don’t worry, Father,” she murmurs before sucking gently on the tip. He gasps and clutches her hair, pulling her off him forcibly. “Even for this… they’ll forgive you, Dean,” she whispers darkly. She gets off the bed and he watches her walk to the small altar he has. She steals a white cloth then walks around his room curiously. She stops in front of a photograph of Jesus and she opens her legs to clean herself.

His eyes widen as he watches her, “hey, come here.” He takes her attention away successfully and watches her drop her leg to walk towards him. “Why are you interested in me?” Is the first question that comes to mind as he panics. “Will you… be less interested in me if I sin more, like we did tonight?” He has the feeling part of her interest in him is simply the fact that he is the weakest, the most susceptible to sin, lust, and making mistakes.

“No… because you’re not going to stray from your beliefs,” she reassures him. “You actually believe, because of your father. Stay the way you are, Dean. You’re going to repent and you’ll mean it, but when you’re with me… you’ll sin again and I’ll defile you, over and over,” she smiles down at him and then climbs onto his bed again, she settles behind him, leaning against the headboard and the wall.

“Until when?” He asks, turning around to look at her.

“I don’t know,” she shrugs, then her eyes flicker down to her body. She parts her folds with two fingers. “Taste me,” she tells him. He tears his eyes from her face to look between her legs. His mouth waters and he slowly gets down into his stomach and stares back up at her. He gently prods her clit with his tongue, her other hand moves into his hair while his tongue slides between her two fingers. “Don’t you worry about the when right now… you and I will have our fun.”

➥ god, if you are above

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therhythmafterthesummer · 1 year

Text

Are You There, Wolf? (M) ~Lee Know

Pairing: Werewolf!Minho x Human!F.Reader Themes: Supernatural/Fantasy AU | Smut | Fluff | Best Friends to Lovers Word Count: ~8k | AO3 Synopsis: Minho had always deemed himself a bit of a weirdo. In his humble opinion, he’d only become even weirder with time, especially after he acquired his supernatural… condition. He’d never cared much about it, not when you’d always been there for him, and hopefully you would always be. [This is an instalment of my WereRoomies series. You don’t particularly need to read the other instalments related to Minho to understand this, but it’ll add more depth to the story if you do, so I highly recommend it~]. Warnings: Minho’s POV · mentions of shooting guns [it’s an off-handed comment made by Minho, nothing serious, but figured i’d put a warning] · mentions of gambling · mentions of cheating [but no one cheated] · mentions of blood, injuries, and violence · near death experiences · Minho was dumb and in denial for a long while · mentions and depictions of monster fucking shenanigans · graphic depictions of intercourse (smut warnings under the cut).

Author’s Note: this originally started as a smutty drabble inspired by an ask from an anon… somehow it grew hands and beat me up and made me black out and now we’ve got a full instalment. a chunk of it is just stuff that happened in other instalments, but with Minho’s input. hope you enjoy ! special thanks to @notastraykid for reading this and letting me know it wasn’t the worst piece of literature she’s ever read.

Due to all the abovementioned warnings, this story is intended for an adult audience only. Minors please do not interact.

Minho's previous WereRoomies instalments: Camping With Wolves & Dog Unleashed

Smut Warnings: mentions of oral · somnophilia [all acts related to it are consensual] · unprotected penetration [piv. no barrier method, but reader is presumed to be on birth control] · creampie

Disclaimer: the story represented in this work does not represent Stray Kids in any way; anything described in this story and all actions performed by the characters are purely fictional, this was created just for good fun.

Minho always believed himself to be a rational man. He was also an animal, yes. But his animal instincts were, essentially, stunted.

He wasn’t sure if it was because he was born human and turned into a werewolf when he was very young, or if there was something wrong with him in general–he honestly wouldn’t be surprised if that were the case.

Jisung–who’d been the first other werewolf Minho ever befriended–believed it to be the first option. He had encouraged Minho to go to a specialist and ask, but Minho never really paid much attention to it.

He figured that, as long as he didn’t feel ill or that he didn’t hurt anyone around him, it didn’t really matter.

However, just how many psychologists and therapists by trade seemed to choose that career path in order to understand their own brains and behaviours, sometimes he wondered if his own inability to understand his animal needs was what fully drove him into becoming a vet.

Sure, he had always cared for animal’s safety, he always knew one too many facts about many different critters, and with all the injured animals that seemed to come his way when he was a kid, he had spent more time at the vet’s office than he did in his own home. He supposed all things combined played a role in his career choice, and that had certainly helped him understand himself a little better… kind of.

Minho was a simple man. A man that, in a sick twist of fate, ended up becoming the dictionary definition of a monster.

He’d admit that for a long time, he blamed himself for what had happened to him. ‘Maybe if I hadn’t taken that detour through the woods that time I wouldn’t have been turned’, ‘Maybe if I had been paying attention to my surroundings I wouldn’t have been bit’, ‘Maybe I did something horrible in a past life or this one to warrant such an event’, he’d always think about these things whenever the pains and aches caused by his condition were a bit too strong to bear.

It took him an even longer time to accept the fact that it hadn’t been his fault at all. Nothing could’ve ever prepared him for the situation. He would’ve never been able to predict that a giant wolf would come out of nowhere and bite him completely unprompted.

To this day, over ten years later, Minho still couldn’t remember what the wolf looked like.

It all happened so fast… All he could remember was the fuzzy canine shape, the sound of growls and snarls and of his own bones cracking inside his body, along with the searing pain that spread from the gash that the creature had left on his side.

He couldn’t remember the bleeding, or the amount of time he spent laying on the forest ground, or even the moment he was eventually found. One second he was in an immense amount of pain, and the next he was completely fine, as if nothing had happened, laying on a hospital bed with his best friend hugging him and sobbing against his chest.

Minho could’ve never imagined that that event in the woods would change the way he interacted with the world forever.

One seemingly normal evening after what he thought had been ‘an accident’, while he was hanging out in his best friend’s home, doing their weekly watch of Kamen Rider, it was like something suddenly started rattling inside of him. Like an itch one can’t seem to scratch satisfactorily.

He couldn’t breathe, his joints hurt, all his muscles seemed to burn, and before he knew it, he was feeling parts of his body he had never felt before. His vision felt different, his sense of smell was overwhelmed, and although his surroundings were familiar, it was almost like he was seeing them from someone else’s perspective.

Needless to say, he was having a full on meltdown right then and there. Especially when he caught what he thought would be a glimpse of himself on a reflective surface, and what he saw instead was a dog… Well, more accurately, a wolf.

To this day, he was very grateful that it all happened while you, his best friend, were there with him. Minho honestly wasn’t sure how he would’ve reacted had he been on his own. He could still remember the panic he felt, how much he was crying, how much you were crying. Things would’ve probably been very different if you hadn’t hugged him tight and reassured him time and time again that you’d be there for him… That you wanted to figure this out together.

When he had finally understood what had happened to him in the woods, and after many trips to the local library to do some digging on the internet, you both came to the conclusion that the most logical explanation to his newfound condition was that he was now afflicted with lycanthropy… And it wasn’t the psychological kind.

Which was crazy.

Completely absurd.

But what seemed to be sourced in fantasy and myths was literally the only thing that matched his symptoms perfectly.

Everything was confusing for a long time after that. Everything was too loud, too bright, too intense… His already sensitive senses seemed to be overstimulated all day, every day–even worse than before–and he could hardly cope.

He could hear conversations that were happening metres away from him, he could hear people’s breathing and their heartbeats and sometimes other internal organs as well… It was honestly driving him a little bit insane.

Minho realised very quickly that having a supernaturally enhanced sense of smell when he was starting high school was quite possibly one of the worst things to ever happen to him. Having been turned into a werewolf was hard enough on its own, now he had to deal with teenagers that seemed to hold a grudge against soap.

When it all got too overwhelming, he simply got close to you. As close as he could. He was sure he had memorised the rhythm of your heartbeat at this point, and the constant, familiar sound always seemed to help ease his sour mood.

‘Have you gotten a new perfume? Or a new fabric softener?’ He couldn’t help but ask one day. He’d noticed recently that there seemed to be a scent of lavender lingering around him whenever you were close. He didn’t mind. In fact, it actually comforted him quite a bit.

‘You know I don’t use fabric softener, dummy. And no, I haven’t gotten a new perfume’, your answer puzzled him a bit, but it wasn’t until a handful of months later, when he finally met Jisung, that he understood what that lavender scent was.

When Minho first met Jisung, he was honestly a bit surprised. Mostly because the second Jisung was within his radius, it was almost like he could tell the younger boy was a werewolf, too. There was something about the smell of roses and cotton radiating from Jisung that just gave it away, although Minho didn’t know how, or why.

Jisung quickly became an integral part of his friend group–although, to be fair, ‘group’ was a big word to use, considering you were the only real friend Minho had, and the one he consistently hung out with. What used to be a simple pair of weirdos became a trio of weirdos, and Minho was genuinely happy about that.

He immediately felt like he could trust Jisung, and in the long run, Minho was grateful for his presence. Not only because Jisung was funny and eloquent and he also enjoyed watching niche TV shows, but also because Jisung helped him understand this unexplored side of him.

‘You’re an alpha, clearly’, Jisung told Minho once. As if that meant something important. ‘Your scent is kind of… Like, you smell of vanilla and a recently lit bonfire. Somehow very alpha-like, but milder than what I’m used to, I suppose…’

Jisung explained to him all these werewolf designations of alphas, betas, and omegas that were based on a werewolf’s inherent nature… He explained what scents were, how to tell what status a wolf had based on their scent, and when he confirmed that humans did, in fact, also have a scent, Minho just knew then that that lavender scent he always smelt when you were close was simply your natural scent. Just like cotton and roses was Jisung’s.

Meeting Jisung–aside from meeting you–was possibly one of the best things that could’ve ever happened to Minho. Not only did Jisung become one of his best friends in this whole wide world, not only did he help Minho understand his newfound nature, but also, thanks to him, Minho was finally able to find a family of his own.

Being honest, in his hometown, Minho didn’t have anyone but you. His mother barely even gave him the time of day–mostly because she was busy working two or three jobs to support them both.

When his now step-dad came into the picture, money was no longer a problem, but by that point Minho had already been turned, and that, coupled with the fact that his step-dad wasn’t really that good of a man, was enough for him to distance himself from his relatives.

Minho also had Jisung for a while, but he eventually left town because his entire pack was moving out. That was fine, he was sure they would meet again eventually. Besides, technology around that time made it so it was hardly possible to not be in contact with someone.

After high school, when Minho finally decided to pursue higher education–to pursue his dream of becoming a vet–the university he wanted to study in was, coincidentally, in the same area where Jisung was living then. And not only was Jisung living there, he was in a pack. A different one from his childhood one.

Back in the early stages of his friendship with Jisung, he had explained to Minho that werewolves usually lived in packs, just like regular wolves did. Jisung’s childhood pack didn’t treat omegas that well, from what Minho could recall. So, being an omega himself, Jisung always felt like a bit of an outcast. The fact that he had found a pack where he was actually comfortable was a big deal, and Minho was genuinely happy for his friend.

Even though the pack was essentially only three young wolves, Jisung always spoke highly of his two other packmates. ‘Chris and Changbin are amazing people, dude. Never met wolves like them aside from, like… you. I think you’d be a great addition to our pack, and Chris agrees! Come meet them, you won’t regret it’.

And he didn’t regret it. Not one bit. If anything, joining Chris’ pack, becoming close to him and Changbin to help them lead it, was the third best thing that could’ve ever happened to Minho.

‘Changbin’s my right hand. Although it doesn’t make much sense to have a second in command when we’re, like, three dudes only, I feel like at any point more people could join us, so I like to be prepared’, Chris, the leader–the alpha–of that pack of Jisung’s wasn’t that much older than Minho, but there was something about him that exuded leadership and comfort. It was so obvious even someone like Minho, who wasn’t that in touch with his wolf instincts, was able to tell this man was a real alpha.

‘It’s very customary for the alpha of the pack to have at least two other people next to them to deal with all possible pack matters, and Jisung believes you might be suitable for that. He said, and I quote, that you have a heart of gold. He vouches for you, and I trust him, so if you want to join and help me out, you’re more than welcome to. Hell, you’re welcome even if you don’t want to help me lead specifically, but it’s important you know that as a pack, we must always look out for each other’, Chris’ proposal was straight forward. No matter what role Minho would fill in, he was welcome to join them.

Being honest with himself, Minho wasn’t really that much of a leader–not in his opinion, at least–but the prospect of joining a pack seemed to tickle something on the back of his mind. He supposed it was one of those instinctual things he didn’t understand well, but, in a way, Chris made him feel reassured, so he told him he’d be happy to join and help him out however he could. With one condition, though.

‘You see, I’ve got my best friend… Not sure if Jisung has told you about her. She’s human, and she’s very important to me. If joining your pack of werewolves means I can’t see her anymore then I’m not doing it’, Minho loved Jisung, and he had a good impression of Chris and Changbin, but, truly, if joining them meant he had to leave you behind, he’d much rather stay on his own.

He knew from Jisung that the moment you moved into a werewolf den, a lot of decisions had to involve the alpha’s approval, and considering you were human, Minho had a genuine fear of Chris telling him that humans simply weren’t allowed. He’d honestly much rather shoot himself in the leg than have to cut ties with you. You’d been the only constant in his life, and losing you was something he just couldn’t afford. You meant too much to him. Maybe more than he would’ve liked to admit back then.

Thankfully, Chris didn’t seem to have major issues with that. If anything, all he did was ask to meet you before you could stay at his den, and as long as you were someone that could be trusted, he wouldn’t have any problems with your presence at the den. That was fine, there was no doubt in Minho’s mind that Chris would like you and see just how nice you were.

He had obviously been right. Your first time meeting Chris couldn’t have gone more smoothly. Not even fifteen minutes passed and he was already dragging Minho to the side and telling him it was all good.

‘I think she’s nice. It’s fine by me if your kitten drops by or stays over whenever you guys want’, Chris had patted him on the back, with a teasing grin on his face, taking special care to stress the word kitten–which was a nickname Minho had given you randomly one day years ago while trying to cheer you up.

Giving you that nickname had been a moment of weakness, a moment in which he also had been sad and his inhibitions had lowered a bit. The pet name just fell out of his mouth, it had practically been a perfect textbook definition of a Freudian slip, considering Minho had, quite stupidly, developed a crush on you by then.

Chris was a good person, but he also seemed to enjoy teasing Minho whenever his more than obvious crush presented itself, even when Minho himself was in denial about it.

Minho was convinced you didn’t feel anything other than platonic love towards him, so he always tried to delude himself into thinking he absolutely didn’t have a crush on you. You were his best friend, one of the most important people in his life, and he would never risk losing you over what he believed to be unrequited feelings.

Sometimes, though, it was almost impossible not to think about you in ways that would definitely be considered inappropriate. It was easy in his day to day life, but, twice a year, he had to face the fact that his feelings for you went beyond your friendship…

Minho was well aware that he was a weird guy. Throughout his life, he had only ever cared about animals, Kamen Rider, and you and Jisung. He could hardly hold a normal, civil conversation if it didn’t involve any of those things, he said things and had odd habits that could potentially put off people around him, and that was only on his human side. His wolf side was a whole other can of worms.

He already had a hard time understanding his basic human needs, and that seemed to triple when it came to his animal needs. For a long time he couldn’t tell when he needed to go on a run, or when he was in a bad mood because of a weird scent around him, and no need to even get started on whatever the hell was happening with his ruts…

Figuring out that he now had to go through days of unbearable horniness was by far one of the weirdest experiences Minho ever had to deal with during this whole ‘being turned into a half animal’ thing. After he reached sexual maturity, twice a year, he had a time period of around four to five days when every single one of his instincts and senses pulled him into a trance-like state in which all he wanted to do was fuck.

But not only did he want to fuck… He specifically wanted to breed someone. And even more specifically, he wanted to breed you.

It was awful. The whole ordeal was physically, emotionally, and mentally exhausting.

The first time he went into rut, he was sure the pain he was feeling came close to the one he briefly felt back when he had been bit and turned. His body was increasingly warm, he was sweating buckets, his cock was hard for an almost criminal amount of time, and nothing he did made it better.

Even if he managed to make himself come, it barely helped him feel relieved. If anything, it got him more frustrated, to the point where he would start breaking things around him–both intentionally and unintentionally.

The worst part of going into rut, though, was the thoughts he had throughout those days. He could only think of you. Of kissing you, of tasting those utmost sensitive areas of your body, of bending you over and ramming himself into you until he got tied to you and got to fill you to the brim with his cum…

Logic was something that didn’t exist for him in this time period, so those thoughts ran freely in his mind for the duration of his rut… thoughts that he had to come face to face once his rut subsided and he could think like a human again instead of a horny dog.

Needless to say, Minho couldn’t look at your face for a whole month after he went through his first rut. He was haunted by the images his imagination had produced at the time, and he was convinced you didn’t deserve that, that he had somehow broken your trust. It was something he never spoke about with anyone. Not even Jisung. He made a vow to keep this a secret in order to protect your friendship.

Little did Minho know that his friendship with you didn’t need to be protected from anything…

Many years after his first rut, sharing a bed with you during one fateful trip to the woods with the whole pack, was all it took for the line of your friendship to blur completely. Minho had been in denial about his feelings for so long, he had been completely blind to your feelings.

That night, with his senses enhanced by the moon, with his animal instincts bubbling to the forefront of his human mind, that need for you seemed to be impossible to ignore. While he laid with you on that bed, under the covers, being your big spoon, he couldn’t help but get lost in how fast your heart was beating the tighter he hugged you, he was drowning in your lavender scent, and he genuinely didn’t want to be rescued.

You staring at his mouth for a moment too long while he hovered over you had suddenly ignited a spark of hope deep within him. That, added to your increased heart rate, and what he couldn’t mistake for anything other than arousal lingering in your scent, was quickly making him delirious.

‘Kitten… Why are you… Why are you looking at my mouth?’

‘Just thinking…’

‘About?’

‘Things I should not be thinking about’.

After the words came out of your mouth, and with all the sensory inputs around him, Minho suddenly felt so incredibly stupid.

How had he never noticed that your body seemed to react to him in the same ways his did to you? How long had it been doing that? He had been blindsided by his own desperate attempts to not drive you away from him with his feelings, he had never noticed you looking at him in the same way he looked at you.

He wasn’t sure if it had been the moon reinforcing his stunted instincts just enough to enhance his questionable sense of awareness, but as he looked at you, as he saw just how blown your pupils were, as he watched you stare at his mouth, all caution flew out the window. For once, he decided to take a chance, and the moment his lips made contact with yours, the moment the tiniest of moans left your mouth with the contact, he just knew he had made the right choice.

Kissing you, after so many years of trying not to think of what it would feel like, was even better than he could’ve ever imagined. Minho was ravenous, desperate to feel as much of you as he possibly could, and you, very clearly, were in a similar state.

You both agreed–while still kissing, if he might add–that you needed to discuss the situation, but, admittedly, neither of you wanted to stop. So you didn’t, but only after reaching a compromise to talk about it later.

Minho honestly couldn’t even tell how many times you both had sex that night. It seemed like he’d entered a time pocket in which the only thing that mattered was indulging in each other’s body as many times as you possibly could.

By the time you were both thoroughly satisfied, he simply hugged you close under the covers, relishing the feel of your bare skin against his, relishing the feel of your head on his chest and his arms around your frame. Hugging you to sleep, especially this intimately, was everything he could’ve ever hoped for.

It wasn’t like he’d never hugged you to sleep. He’d shared a bed with you many times in the past, but doing it after having your lips on his, after knowing how it felt like to be inside you, and the mere idea that you reciprocated his feelings, was enough to make him fall asleep smiling to himself like a fool.

Even the next morning, when Minho woke up, still very much naked, when he turned around to find you already awake and looking at him, he couldn’t help but smile like a fool once again. Especially not when you were smiling so bright yourself.

“Morning”, you mumbled, immediately shuffling closer so you could tuck your head under his chin and hug his waist.

“Morning, kitten”, Minho pressed a kiss to the top of your head and hugged you even closer, slotting one of his legs between yours to further tangle your limbs together.

You just hummed, nuzzling his neck before you started to press kisses on it. Your soft lips on his skin sent a shiver down his spine, which certainly didn’t help ease the effects of morning wood.

Minho was drowsy, maybe even still horny, but he needed to have this conversation with you, or he was sure he’d explode. “Can we talk about it now?”

You pulled yourself away from his neck to look him in the eyes. Reaching forward with your hand, you pushed his hair out of his eyes, and the movement made them fall shut. “What do you wanna talk about?”

You kept playing with his hair for a bit, then traced the features of his face with the pad of one of your fingers, until his eyes opened again.

“I need to know where we go from here”.

You took a deep breath, mulling his words. Finally, you retracted your hand from his face to hold his hand instead. “Minho, I let you do things to me last night that I’ve never let anyone else do. I don’t know about you, but I hope where we go from here is a relationship”.

Minho couldn’t help but wonder then if he would ever stop smiling like a fool after all this. “So you’re my girlfriend now? Is this what we’re doing?”

“Only if you’re my boyfriend”, you chuckled, leaning in to press a brief kiss on his cheek.

Minho hugged your waist, and he pulled you closer into him. “Mmm… Your ex is gonna have a field day if he ever finds out”.

Your ex had spent the last leg of your relationship with him convinced you had cheated on him with Minho. During the big fight that led to your breakup, he had told you how obvious it was that Minho had feelings for you. At the time you just dumped his ass, and Minho, Jisung, and you spent a whole evening just dragging his name through the mud.

That relationship didn’t last long anyway. He was probably, in Minho’s opinion, the worst partner you had ever had. He was insecure, misogynistic, and manipulative. You hadn’t cheated on him, but Minho supposed there was one thing he had been right about… he did have feelings for you back then.

You scoffed at the mention of your ex, rolling your eyes. “Just like your ex probably will, too”.

Ah, Minho’s ex… It had been a long time since Minho had been in a relationship, but how could he forget the ex that made him choose between him and you?

He could admit it was an asshole move to be involved romantically with someone while having feelings for someone else, but back then he was so deep in denial he couldn’t even acknowledge what he felt for you. Regardless, you were still his friend, and he’d never choose anyone else over one of his friends. In his opinion, someone that cared about him would never make him choose in the first place.

“I guess we’ll have to let them froth at the mouth with rage and believe whatever they want to believe. That is, if they still care”, Minho chuckled, rolling you on your back to start pressing kisses all over your face, making you giggle.

That seemingly innocent act of smothering your face with kisses turned into a much less innocent mess of lips and tongues. Minho came to find out that making out with you was absolutely exhilarating, especially when it ended with his mouth between your legs.

Fucking you that morning might’ve not been the smartest move to make when you both were about to walk into a kitchen full of people with enhanced senses, but Minho figured that if anyone commented on it, he didn’t care. It wasn’t like he was going to keep it a secret, anyway.

Although, he’d admit that having Jisung scream it to everyone in the room caught him off guard. Just like learning that everyone had placed bets on whether Minho and you would get together last night also caught him off guard.

He figured he deserved that last one, considering he himself had also gotten the rest of the pack to place bets on whether Chris and his girlfriend would fuck last night or not…

In any case, other than the bet, the whole pack seemed to seamlessly embrace this new dynamic between you and Minho. After all, starting a relationship with you didn’t change things much.

You still lived almost an hour away from him, you still encouraged him to indulge in his interests, you still talked every day… If anything, the only major difference was that you met more frequently now. Seeing you weekly instead of monthly was certainly an improvement.

It was kind of amusing to Minho how everything was almost the same. He still took you places, still held your hand and hugged you and brushed your hair out of your face whenever he felt like it, but now he could let his fingers linger on your skin for longer, he could lean in and press a kiss wherever he wanted on your face, and, at the end of the day, he could take you home and fuck you dumb for as long as you’d let him.

There was only one thing, though, that seemed to be a problem… It was something he didn’t really want to acknowledge, but he knew would explode on his face at some point.

Minho was an animal.

Eventually, he’d go into rut, and knowing you, he was sure you’d want to help him go through it.

Minho had never spoken to you about his ruts, but he knew you’d learnt a great deal about it from the other girls at the den as well as Jisung. You’d never brought it up to him before, and he was sure it was because you simply knew he didn’t want to talk about it.

Now that you were his girlfriend, it was only a matter of time before he’d have to face this problem head on. Because that was what this whole thing was to Minho… a problem.

Even if during his rut all he could think about was you, he usually got violent. Very violent.

He’d punch walls and break numerous pieces of furniture and appliances, and having you there with him could put you at risk of getting caught in the cross-fire. If he ever hurt you, Minho would never, ever forgive himself. Especially when he just knew you would. You would make excuses for him, you’d enable him and his animal ways like you always did, and he just didn’t want to put you in that position.

Granted, he should’ve probably told you all this, and he had been hyping himself up to do it, but you had been faster than him. The night you finally asked him about his rut he had been severely unprepared to handle the situation.

Minho told you he wouldn’t spend his rut with you. He could’ve probably worded it better, but before he knew it the situation escalated and you were having an argument and he had unintentionally made you feel unwanted, which was just so far from reality…

He wanted to tell you just how much he wanted you, but before he could you’d put space between yourselves and left him there on his own. It was late at night when it happened, but he wasn’t necessarily worried for your safety when you left, because he just knew you’d either go to one of the girls’ flats or to Jisung’s.

Forty minutes after the whole ordeal, he received a text from Jisung confirming his suspicions. The younger wolf told him you were at his place and that he’d take care of you for the night, which Minho was immensely grateful for.

He spent the entire night tossing and turning, wondering how to best word his predicament so he wouldn’t inadvertently hurt you and make you feel unwanted again. Essentially, his reservations when it came to spending his rut with you had nothing to do with you, and all to do with him.

So, the next morning, he made his way to Jisung’s and waited patiently for you to wake up. Jisung had given him a rundown of what had happened the night before, without revealing too much of what you’d told him since he usually liked to keep your conversations as private as possible–just like he kept the conversations he had with Minho as private as possible whenever he spoke to you.

So, when you woke up, Minho immediately explained the situation. He confessed to you how he’d always wanted you, how he couldn’t stop thinking about you whenever he went into rut, and how he got incredibly violent during that time period, so violent he feared he would harm you in any way.

You understood, of course. You always did.

You apologised for jumping to conclusions, and for forcing him to talk about something when he was clearly not ready to do it, which he appreciated. He also apologised for not communicating properly, an apology that you also seemed to accept. At the end of the day, he understood why the whole thing happened in the first place, and he made a mental note to try and not keep things like these from you ever again.

Funny thing, how the universe always seems to play with people like they were little pieces in a funky little game.

When Minho did go into rut, he was so out of it he completely forgot to let you or anyone else know. You had a tendency to drop by his place unannounced, which he didn’t mind, but that day, it was far from ideal, to say the least.

He was sweating, frustrated, in pain, and the second he heard the beeps of the front door’s lock and the smell of your scent hit him, he just lost it.

It was all a blur after that. He tried to hold back, to tell you to leave, but you didn’t. Of course you wouldn’t leave…

To his surprise, that violence that seemed to seep out of him whenever he went into rut wasn’t there. His thoughts were plagued with only you and your lavender scent and the need to pleasure you and to pump you full of his pups.

When he finally managed to do all that, he quickly realised that he’d only ever been violent because he couldn’t have you. In retrospect, he should’ve known. But he’d proven to be tone deaf enough to not understand what his needs were, and this clearly wasn’t an exception.

Nothing had felt quite as fulfilling as spending that rut with you. It was all he’d ever wanted and more. His almost endless supply of cum, his knot, his insatiable need to fuck and fuck and fuck… You’d taken it all like a champ, and even when he wasn’t that in tune with his inner wolf, he could still feel just how proud it was, how proud he was of you.

The word mate kept repeating over and over in his mind the entire time, and he supposed you were his mate, all things considered.

Forever was a big word, but Minho figured that, at least at that point in time, he couldn’t ever imagine his life with anyone else. Especially not now that you were finally sharing your feelings with each other after years and years of pining.

For all he knew, anything that could have potentially been a problem in his relationship with you had been addressed after that. Minho was happy, you were happy, and it all seemed to have taken its natural course.

Except for one maybe not so small thing…

Minho wanted you to move in with him. He’d honestly wanted it since before you got together. He missed you often, and he wanted to spend as much time with you as possible.

The distance during the week was starting to stress him out way more than he’d like to admit, and even if he’d been slowly making space in his flat for you, he knew he’d ask you sooner or later. He hadn’t brought the topic up after you got together because he knew your job was important to you, and moving in with him would probably mean you’d have to quit and find something else closer to where the den was.

He could offer to support you financially, but he just knew you wouldn’t have wanted that. The second you’d started working and being financially independent, you couldn’t imagine ever having to rely on someone else–that was what you had told him all those years ago, at least…

You moving in with him made so much sense, though. Some weekends, Minho would go over to your place, but you’d told him several times that you preferred his home over yours. You’d told him it was more lively, that you enjoyed the presence of the other pack members, and that the only thing you genuinely liked about your flat was that Sir Percival was in it.

Sir Percival was your elderly cat that you adopted when you were a child. He was one of the many cats Minho had rescued, and he was probably the reason you ever spoke to Minho in the first place. Back then, the day you met, you approached him only because he was trying to save Sir Percival’s entire litter that had been abandoned by the side of the road.

So, yes. You moving in with him to Chris’ den just made all the sense in the world to him. Especially at moments like these.

Whenever Minho got to lay on your bed like he was doing now, he could certainly understand why you felt that his flat was more homely. You hardly had any decor in your room, and the whole flat was in a similar state. You never particularly liked this place in the first place, but you stayed because it was close to work and rent was relatively cheap.

‘I’ll probably move out soon, so no need to go all in on the decoration’, you’d told Minho years ago when you moved in. You kept putting it off, and now here this place was, void of anything that would highlight your wonderful personality other than the cat toys littering the floor, and the cat tower in the corner of your living room.

Whenever Minho came over, Sir Percival always avoided coming to your room unless it was absolutely necessary. The cat had told Minho that if he ever walked in on them having sex again he’d purposefully ruin the mood by throwing up a hairball, so he preferred to stay in the living room, even if it meant he couldn’t sleep by your feet like he loved to do.

That was fair, Minho supposed. He didn’t feel comfortable having Sir Percival in the room when you were getting intimate, either, so he appreciated the privacy.

Right now, though, since he had woken up in the middle of the night and hadn’t been able to fall asleep again, he was wondering if he should go out and bring Sir Percival to bed. Maybe his warmth and his purring could help him fall asleep again…

Unlike Minho, you were sleeping soundly next to him, with your back turned to him. If he stood up from this bed he might wake you up, and he didn’t want you to be in his situation… So he settled on focusing on your steady breathing while he waited for sleep to claim him again.

It was just as he was almost asleep again that a minute sound made his body jerk awake.

It came from you. It was a whimper, barely even audible. But how could he not hear it with his enhanced senses? When you were so close?

It would’ve worried him, had the smell of your arousal not knocked the air straight out of his lungs.

Minho would’ve never imagined his sleepless night would’ve taken him to this intersection, but here he was. He realised he could do one of three things… One, he could ignore the fact that you were right there next to him, presumably having a wet dream… Two, he could wake you up to reenact whatever it was you were dreaming about… Or three, he could use this as an opportunity to indulge in something he hardly ever did…

Since he started a relationship with you, Minho and you had many opportunities to try new things. You were quite open to try any and every seemingly odd activity in the bedroom–be it anal, or role-play, or some light bondage, you were always down to try it. And when Minho brought up his little fantasy of touching you while you were asleep, you’d been more than ecstatic to try it out… To the point where he was sure if he hadn’t brought it up, you would’ve done so eventually.

There was something about the fact that you trusted him enough to let him do things to you while you were unconscious that excited him. Maybe it was a projection of all those nights back then that he’d spent trying not to fantasise about you when you slept together, or maybe it was simply the act itself that he inexplicably enjoyed… Regardless of what it was, your little whimpers had his mind clouding a bit.

Sometimes, before you fell asleep next to each other, you’d turn to him and tell him ‘Maybe I’ll wake up to a surprise tomorrow…’ with that lilt in your voice that just let him know exactly in which way you wanted him to wake you up. That had been the case last night, and Minho had considered doing it a bit later, when the sun was starting to rise at least. But he figured, since you were already having a bit of fun in your dreams, maybe a midnight treat wouldn’t hurt.

Scooting closer to you, his hand found your waist. He held you tight while he pressed his nose to your pulsepoint, right under your jaw. He could hear your blood flowing, your heart rate increasing, and the scent of your excitement had him almost salivating.

Dragging his hand from your waist to your hip, he carefully caressed your body over the fabric of your sleeping gown, just as he pressed his growing erection against your ass. A tiny moan escaped your mouth, but your steady heartbeat let him know you were still pretty much asleep.

Whatever it was you were dreaming about had you shuffling the tiniest bit, enough for your ass to rub against his crotch, and he could already feel a bit of wetness soiling the material of his sleeping shorts. His own fluids, to be precise. It was one of those things that shocked him after he turned, just how much fluid his body could produce. Be it saliva, or sweat, or cum… It was slightly inconvenient, but at the very least, you always seemed to enjoy it, so he supposed it wasn’t so bad.

Minho dragged his hand from where it’d been caressing your hip up your torso, stopping only when he was finally able to cup one of your breasts. He generously fondled and squeezed the flesh, not holding back one bit. If you woke up, you woke up, and if you didn’t, you didn’t. Simple as that.

Dragging the pad of one of his fingers over your stiffening nipple, he relished the way your heartbeat picked up, as well as the way you started to writhe a bit in his hold.

“You’re so soft, baby…” Minho couldn’t help but mumble against the skin of your neck, and you whined, almost like you were reacting to him. And maybe you were. He liked to believe that to be the case.

He pinched and twisted your nipple between his fingers, pressing kisses on your neck and grinding his now fully hardened length against your ass. “I wonder what you’re dreaming about, my kitten… Is it me? I hope it’s me…”

Minho was very quiet, but he hoped you could hear him even in your dreams. He figured you might’ve, considering how fast your heart was beating now.

He was genuinely planning on dragging this out for as long as possible, but when you mumbled something akin to his name, he simply couldn’t hold back any longer. He removed his hand from your breast after one final hefty squeeze, only to bring that same hand between your bodies. His digits made contact with your entrance, and he couldn’t help but take in a deep breath at just how wet you were.

He wondered how much of it was your own arousal, and how much of it was his own cum that might’ve remained there from when you had sex last night before going to bed. He didn’t come inside often, but when he did, the thought of you having a part of him within your warmth did things to him, it tickled a secluded area of his brain, and it certainly excited him. He supposed it was instinctual. One of those wolf things he hardly ever paid attention to.

Delaying no further, he freed himself out of his sleeping shorts, just enough to drag the tip of his cock up and down your drenched folds. Minho almost got winded when he heard the moan that came out of your mouth in response to his motions. Your lavender scent wrapping around every single one of his nerve-endings enticed him, and he just couldn’t deny himself anymore.

He usually preferred to make sure you were well stretched enough to take him in, but considering you’d been stretched plenty last night, he figured you’d be just fine. And he was proven correct when he finally pushed himself fully within your warmth, when the wetness between yours legs let him slide in with ease.

Minho couldn’t help but groan at the feeling, just as a moan of your own escaped your mouth.

“You’re so warm, baby…”

He pulled his hips back, only to push them forward to start a slow, pleasant rhythm. His hold was tight on your hip, your heart sounded like it was close to leaping out of your chest, and the second your walls clenched on his length, he just knew you’d wake up soon… You’d wake up exactly to what you had wanted.

“Oh–oh, Minho…”

There was no mistaking it anymore, your barely audible moans had slightly increased in tone, and you’d started to push your hips back a bit.

Minho just hummed in response, dragging his hand from your hip to your lower belly. You placed your own hand on top of his, lacing your fingers together and sighing contently.

The kisses he left on your neck and the exposed skin of your shoulder seemed to spur you on, the movement of your hips increased in pace, and he just increased his in return. He was mumbling nonsense against your skin, tightening his hold on your interlocked fingers, getting completely lost in the feel of your tight warmth around him.

Before he knew it, you had turned your body a bit, and he had pushed your legs apart to get better access to your heat.

With an arm below you for his hand to hold yours, he took advantage of this position by using his other hand to pull one of your legs over his hip and for his fingers to find their rightful place between your legs.

You just kissed him. You kissed him like you’d die if you didn’t, mumbling words of appreciation of your own between each kiss, broken up by moans and sighs and whimpers with every thrust of his hips and every circle drawn on your clit.

“You’re so good to me”, you mumbled, tightening your hold on his hand, moaning so prettily he almost blew then and there.

“And you to me”, he replied simply, picking up his pace, relishing your scent and your warmth and just… you.

Time always seemed to slow down whenever you had sex, especially at these hours of the night, to the point where he could never tell how long it’d been since that first thrust. All Minho could register was how incredibly good he felt, how your heart was thumping fast in your chest, and how hard you were clamping around his cock.

The sounds you made whenever you came undone under his touch and his motions were like music to his ears, they spurred him on, borderline urged him to come himself. And there was certainly hardly anything he would’ve enjoyed more right now than to blow his load while you were still spasming around him, while all you could mumble was his name, while all he could mumble was yours.

Your chest rose and fell with your deep breaths, and while the after effects of his orgasm still clung to every single one of his senses, you pulled him in for a slow, tender kiss. Minho immediately melted, holding you tighter and still enjoying the comfort of your inner walls.

When you pulled back from the kiss, he brushed his nose against yours, making you smile and giggle, and you sounded incredibly sleepy even after all that had transpired just minutes ago. He pulled you into his arms, entangling his legs with yours as he pressed a kiss to your forehead.

Everything was calm around you. The room was barely illuminated by the lampposts outside your windows, and Minho suddenly felt like humming a random song you’d been listening to earlier in the evening… So he did, all as he caressed your hair.

You nuzzled your face further into his chest, wrapping an arm around his waist and holding him tight. Right then, Minho figured that every choice he had ever made, that everything that had happened to him, had taken him to this moment, and if that were truly the case, then he honestly wouldn’t have changed it for the world.

“Babe?” You mumbled, the sound slightly muffled against the fabric of his vest top.

“Hm?” Minho kept caressing your hair, your back, holding you close and keeping you there.

“I love you”.

He honestly couldn’t help but smile. Of course he knew you loved him. You’d shown him just how much countless times before. Not only throughout your relationship, but way before that… He’d honestly known since that time you hugged him when he had shapeshifted into a wolf the very first time.

“I love you, kitten, baby… So much”.

You pulled away from his chest and looked at him, with a blinding smile on your face. Granted, he could hardly see it in the dark room, but he saw enough. Enough to know just how much you cared.

But alas, Minho was first and foremost your best friend, and even if he was melting on the inside with your confession, he just had to be annoying about it. “I can’t believe you beat me to say it first, though. I won’t ever forgive you”.

You gasped dramatically, bringing a hand to your mouth for emphasis. “Here I am? Baring my heart to you? And this is what I get? Fine, I won’t ever forgive you for never forgiving me”.

You were just about to turn away from him, he just knew. So he held you tighter, keeping you in place while he laughed. Your façade crumbled immediately, and you laughed with him, all while he kept pressing kisses on your cheeks.

“Guess I’ll just have to say it as much as possible to get the upper hand”, Minho mumbled against your cheek, just before he started leaving behind an ‘I love you’ after every kiss he pressed on your heated skin.

When your chuckles died down, and he was satisfied with the amount of times he had professed his love, silence enveloped you both once again. Minho simply laid on his back, hugging you close as you laid your head on his chest, right over his heart.

He wasn’t sure if it was the admittance of his feelings, or the hormonal rush of a good fuck, or your lavender scent that seemed to make him delirious sometimes, but, before he knew it, the words were coming out of his mouth with no way to stop them.

“Would you like to move in with me?”

No take-backsies now, he supposed.

You took in a deep breath, but remained silent for a moment.

It was just as Minho was about to panic that you finally spoke. “Do you think Chris would accept Sir Percival into the pack as well? I’m not leaving him behind”.

Minho couldn’t help but chuckle. “He’ll have to. Otherwise I’ll threaten him until he does”.

It was all a bluff… mostly.

Minho would respect any decision Chris took, but if it came to it, he kind of knew that if he laid out why it was important to him to take in both you and Sir Percival, Chris would agree, so he wasn’t particularly worried. Sir Percival already respected Chris, from what Minho knew, so he was almost ninety percent sure it wouldn’t be a problem.

You took in another deep breath, pulling yourself away from Minho’s hug so you could straddle him instead. With your full weight on his body and your hands on his chest, you looked down at him, taking in his features.

“I guess I’ll need to start applying for jobs, then”, you just smiled brightly at him.

Minho held your waist, smiling at you in return right before he pulled you down for a kiss. With you and Sir Percival there at the den, his family would finally be complete, and he felt as if his heart was about to burst at the thought.

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General Masterlist Minho's WereRoomies Instalments: Camping With Wolves & Dog Unleashed

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cozage · 1 year

Note

Good morning, how are you doing ?

I'd like to ask for a scenario (maybe a one shot) where the asl brothers react to a female reader being cheated on, if they're going to beat the guy up or just comfort them, maybe even confess to them

Also I'm not sure if you accept more than 3 characters but if ever

I would also like Shanks in platonic… I just see him as a father figure to the reader (you don't have to add it, the three brothers are enough)

Here, thank you for considering my request and I wish you a good day / evening

A/N: This is my first AU I hope it turns out okay???

Au: Modern day college kind of? Idk they’re not pirates but they are still gremlins

Characters: female reader x Ace (a little?), ASL, Shanks

Cw: breakup, cheating

Total word count: 1.5k

There When You Need Us

The handle to your door begins to jiggle, but the lock stops it from turning any further.

“Hey!” Ace yells from the other side. “Why weren’t you in class today? And you didn’t pick up on the transponder snail earlier.”

“Go away, Ace,” you yell at him from under the covers. The last thing you need is for him to rub it in your face about how right he was about your boyfriend. Ex-boyfriend.

“Just tell me what’s going on!” He starts to bang on the door, and you groan.

You’re about to get out of bed and let him in, but the banging comes to a sudden halt, and there’s silence outside your door. Then, you hear the soft click of the lock releasing, and the door springs open. Ace stands in the door frame, grinning mischievously with a hairpin in his hand.

His face falls when he sees your puffy eyes and the tissues strewn throughout your bed.

“What happened?” He asks, walking over to your bed and sitting on the edge, his face full of concern.

“I don’t want to hear it, Ace.” Your voice is raw from crying so much. “I don’t need you rubbing it in my face, okay?”

“Rubbing what in your face? What are you talking about?” You can by his expression, he genuinely doesn’t know. Belmeppo must’ve kept it hush. Couldn’t have him ruining his parent’s perfect image of their perfect family.

“Bel. He-” your voice catches in your throat, and you don’t want to say it out loud. Saying out loud makes it real.

But Ace finishes the sentence. “He cheated on you, didn’t he? That bastard.” His words evoke another round of tears, sobs escaping your lips.

“He said he never loved me,” you sobbed, turning back into your pillow to muffle the sounds. “He was just using me.”

Ace was quiet for a few minutes, letting you cry as much as you needed to. His heart ached seeing you so broken over some stupid guy. You deserved someone so much better than anyone in this small-minded town. You deserved someone who would hang the sun and the moon and all of the stars around you.

“Sabo? Luffy? It’s Ace.”

“What does she need? Medicine? Water? Takeout food?” Sabo’s voice came from the other side of the transponder snail, and you froze.

“Revenge.” Ace’s voice was dark and ominous, and you could hear Luffy cheering on the other side of the transponder. His excitement almost made you laugh.

Ace got off the bed and stood next to your pillow. He patted your head gently, running his fingers through your hair

“I’ll be back soon, okay?” His voice was so soft and gentle, you thought you imagined it.

“Ace, don’t-” you got up to stop him, but he was already out the door, softly closing it behind him.

After a few minutes, you heard your door open again.

“What did you-” You stopped when you realized it wasn’t Ace.

“Hey kiddo,” Shanks whispered, peeking in. “I know I said I wouldn’t bother you, but…” He pushed the door open a bit more, holding a mug of hot chocolate. “Can I come in?”

You nod, wiping your face to remove any stray tears, though it didn’t do much good. Your eyes were still red and swollen from a day of crying, but your adopted father didn’t comment on that. He simply handed off the mug and sat on your bed next to you, waiting for you to start the conversation.

You take a long sip of hot chocolate, allowing the warmth to rush through your body. “Don’t say I told you so.”

A smile dances across Shank’s face. “I wasn’t going to.”

“Mmmmhmmm.” You take another long drink of hot chocolate, whipped cream tickling your nose.

“There’s a time for that,” he said, wrapping his arm around your shoulder and pulling you close to him. “But now is the time for hot chocolate and hugs.”

Your vision starts to get blurry again, and you wipe away the tears forming in your eyes. You take another drink, trying desperately to refocus yourself and keep calm.

“Do you know where Ace went?”

Shanks laughed and placed a kiss on the top of your head. “Probably best you don’t know.”

You groaned. “He’s going to get arrested.”

“Only if he gets caught. And if he does what I told him, he won’t.”

You shoot him a look. “What did you tell him to do, dad?”

“Already told you.” He gave you another kiss. “Probably best you don’t know.”

You shook your head in disbelief. “You’re all just a bunch of troublemakers, I swear.”

“Hey now,” Ace said, walking back into your room. “What’s wrong with making some trouble?”

You smiled when you saw him, the first real one you’ve had today. Sabo and Luffy walk in behind him, smiling proudly. They’re all breathing heavily, and their skin is glistening with sweat.

“You should’ve seen it, Y/N!” Luffy cried out, pumping his fist in the air. “We totally-”

Sabo pounced on Luffy, covering his mouth before he could spill out any more information. “We’re not supposed to tell her, idiot. Keep your mouth shut!”

“Fine, fine!” Luffy giggled mischievously. “She’ll find out soon enough anyway.”

You groaned at that statement. “Why can’t you guys just make my life easier for once?”

“Because,” Ace walked over and sat on the other side of you. He looked at your face and frowned, then wiped the whipped cream off your nose with his finger. “That’d be a boring life. And we’re not boring.”

Shanks took this moment to take his leave from your room, satisfied that the brothers would keep you adequate company. “Do any of you want hot chocolate?”

“Me!” They all yelled in unison, and Shanks left the room to fulfill the request.

Sabo sifted through your game drawer, pulling out UNO. It was a game the four of you frequently played at your house, and it felt comforting to fall into some kind of normalcy. After you all got tired of screaming about cards, Sabo picked up the remote and flicked on the TV, and you all found a funny movie to watch to pass the time.

The brothers stayed with you long into the night. Normally once the sun started to dip below the mountain, Shanks sent them home, but tonight he was generous in letting them stay. He could hear you laughing in your room, which was more than worth the call he’d have to make to Dadan about her boys being home late.

The four of you were curled up in your bed and watching a movie when Shanks appeared in your doorway, and you felt your heart sink a little at his facial expression. He always wore the same look when he was about to disappoint you.

“Do you three want to stay over? It’s a bit late to head back up the mountain, but it’s about time for bed. Class tomorrow for everyone,” he said, eyeing you.

“Sleep over!” The boys yelled in unison. They were always on the same page.

“In the other room,” Shanks said sternly. It didn’t escape his gaze that you were resting your head against Ace’s chest, his arm was wrapped around your shoulder. You hadn’t seemed to notice or mind it, but Ace’s cheeks turned pink when he realized he had been caught.

“We can all fit in this bed!” Luffy said defiantly. “And we’ll go straight to sleep! Pleaseeeeee!”

Shanks laughed and shook his head. “Come on boys, your options are the guest bedroom or a hike up the mountain.”

Ace quickly got up, and he and Sabo pulled Luffy out of the room along with them. With all of the noise and bodies gone, you suddenly felt very empty and alone. You hadn’t thought about Belmeppo since the brothers had joined you, but now it was all you could think about. You were tired of crying, so when the tears started to come, you refused to let them spill out of your eyes.

You laid down, trying to sleep, but the dream world refused to take you. You tossed and turned for several minutes, until you heard your transponder snail ringing softly next to your head.

You let it ring a few times, scared of who it might be. But finally curiosity got the better of you, and you picked up.

“I told you she’d pick up!” Sabo’s voice echoed through the speaker, and you could hear his muffled voice from the other room.

“Shhhh! Shanks will hear us!” Ace scolded, and you giggled at them.

Ace’s voice softened when he spoke to you. “We can’t be with you, but at least we can fall asleep together.”

“Yeah,” Sabo agreed. “We’ll always be there when you need us.”

“Thanks, you guys.” You curled up next to your snail transponder, falling asleep to their bickering and random spoken thoughts.

#one piece #one piece imagine #one piece scenario #one piece x reader #portgas d ace #sabo #op sabo #monkey d luffy #luffy #asl trio #portgas ace x reader #✧˚ luffy✧˚#✧˚ace✧˚#✧˚sabo✧˚

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yutahoes · 3 months

Text

Caramel

(Part Three)

characters: stripper! Yuta x female! Y/N genre: chaptered, SMUT, fluff, angst word count: 3k words summary: Y/N has everything in her bitter life, not until she meets a sweet-looking stripper. warnings: matured theme, stripper au!, third person POV, alcohol consumption, rusty smut writing, lots of kissing, horny Y/N, breast sucking, fingering, badly written female orgasm, Yuta is down bad, mention of oral - male receiving, some detailed descriptions of Y/N just to prove a point, you can skip or change it to your preference

Part Two

It was bizarre.

The valet was obviously amused when the familiar car parked and he took the keys from someone else. The staff in the building were evidently startled to see the tenant from the penthouse escorted by a guy in cowboy boots, leather pants, and just a denim vest with no shirt inside.

Y/N tried to keep her composure to herself as they boarded the elevator with questionable looks. She can easily reason out that she was drunk but when Yuta offered himself, she felt as if she was woken up with a splash of cold water.

The girl had to admit that she felt warm - bothered, in a certain sexual way - watching him dancing privately for her. When he kneeled in front of her, she badly wanted to trail her fingers on his skin. And when he did let her, she yearned for more. Truly, human beings cannot be easily contented. At least she knew a horny person cannot.

Once again, she can blame it all on alcohol. But if she was totally drunk, she should have gone home alone. She should have slept alone. Not with someone else.

Not with this gorgeous man standing in the middle of her receiving area. A man she suddenly wants. So bad.

“This is an amazing apartment,” Yuta claimed as she handed him a glass of orange juice. “But you said you live the other way.”

Y/N nodded, sitting on the couch. “That was my parent’s house,” she explained, then put down the half-empty glass on the nearby table. “This is more of my own apartment unit.”

Yuta gave a hearty laugh before sitting beside her, “Flex.” He put down his glass next to hers and stretched his arm on the headrest of the sofa before sliding to sit closer to her. “Are you still drunk?”

He was so close that she could smell him. Is it cologne? Why does he smell so good? Maybe she is still drunk - not with alcohol - but with the scent of him. “You said you don’t do extra services?”

“I don’t,” he was inching closer that his breath felt ticklish against her lips. “Can I kiss you?”

She could always blame it on alcohol because who in their right mind would suddenly kiss someone because of that question? But this is Yuta. Handsome. Sexy. Sweet-smelling. Intriguing. Yuta. His lips were so soft and minty, with a tinge of sweetness from the orange juice. Sweetly addicting. When his tongue slipped between her lips, she was sold.

This wasn’t his first rodeo, Yuta had the same experience before but why does this feel utterly different? Her lips were velvety smooth, the taste of alcohol and juice from her tongue making him dizzy with want. In a swift motion, he pulled her to his lap. His arms pulled her closer, not breaking the steamy make out even if he needed air. If this is the way he’ll die, he’ll perish a happy man. She’s intoxicating. It’s making him insane.

His fingers started undoing the zipper from the back of her dress, letting the front fall. His lips started trailing butterfly kisses from her cheek, her neck, her shoulder, to the exposed skin of her chest. The black lace brassiere only adds to his growing excitement. She is so hot. He’ll probably kill himself if he stops now.

Y/N’s lips were plump, breathing harshly, as she stared at him with hooded eyes and flushed cheeks. “Fuck, you are insanely hot.” Yuta complimented, “I want you so fucking bad.”

“My room is that door over there.” He didn’t need any repeated instruction as he carried her up to what she claimed as her room. The bed looked soft specifically when he gently dropped her to the mattress. Slowly, he removed the denim vest while taking in her visuals. Her fucked up look, the haughty expression on her face, and her half-naked state, made him want to thank the Gods for a chance encounter with this woman.

He started kissing her once again, lightly grinding his body into contact with hers. A soft moan escaped her lips, arousing the blood in his system. Never had he experienced this level of want before. He’s like a mad predator craving for prey.

He didn’t even have a drop of alcohol tonight but he could taste the whiskey on his tongue with how he kissed her. His fingers started slipping her dress down, kissing each inch of the skin getting exposed. The whimpers came out of her lips, making all the muscles in his body alive. Maybe she anticipated this, Y/N did say that she went on a date. And somehow, Yuta was thankful that it didn’t end well and he had the golden opportunity to snap the front clip of her brassiere.

She looks exquisite. A Goddess lying in front of him. Yuta might have saved a planet in his past life to land a chance with someone as gorgeous as her. He kissed her neck, trailing to her shoulder. Her fingers tickled his nape, sending goosebumps all over his body. His teeth gently grazed her collarbone which earned a sudden jolt of movement from her. “Did that hurt?” The girl nodded as he placed a soft kiss on the part he gently bit earlier, “Sorry.”

Inch by inch, he moved down. Kisses getting impatient as he neared her breasts. “Can I?” Y/N nodded. His right hand cupped her firm breast, thumb gently caressing her erect nipple. He pressed fluttering kisses on the left breast, his eyes lingering on her. Y/N was panting hard, her thumb trailing on his cheeks while nodding. A signal he knew he needed. A simple gesture that took away all his inhibitions. Her back arches as he sucked on each nipple in turn, warm tongue softly teasing the erect nubs.

The whimpers coming out of her lips put his body in its feral state. He wanted more.

His lips traveled south, open-mouthed kisses on the skin of her abdomen. Yet he needed more. Much much more.

Yuta’s finger hooked the waistband of her underwear, pressing gentle kisses, but she gently tugged his hair, urging him to look at her. “Don’t,” Her eyes were hazy, lips parted. “Don’t kiss that part.” She whispered in between heavy breaths. The side of his lips curled up. How cute.

He pushed himself up to kiss her on her lips, nibbling her bottom lip as she arched her body up for what seemed like a contact to his. His hands trailed down: to the side of her breast, then the curve of her waist, down to her thigh. It then went up between her legs to press his middle finger on the wet spot of her underwear.

Y/N pulled him closer, closing her thighs as she released a moan. “Yuta, please.” He was weak. His mind was already set on the idea of fucking her hard, making her beg for him, calling his name in the most erotic way possible. But the seniors in the club, namely Johnny and Taeyong, would always remind him to never ever have sex with a woman without condoms. That is the golden rule in this profession.

Honestly, he could disregard that rule. Be his own rules.

But she’s a successful, well-established woman. She had her whole life laid out in a flowery way in front of her. He cannot ruin her life just because of his mistake. Just because he forgot a fucking condom.

The man pulled himself up, removing the skin-to-skin contact. “We can’t. I couldn’t.” Her eyes widened in surprise and Yuta had to mentally punch himself for disappointing her. “I shouldn’t have sex with you without condoms,” The girl pursed her lips. “But if you let me touch you, I’ll make sure you’ll be satisfied tonight.” There was a visible hesitance on the girl before she shyly nodded her head. “Words, Y/N.” He urged as his thumb swiped on her bottom lip.

“Yuta,” she called with a whimper. “Touch me, please.”

His thumb was quickly replaced with his lips, hand quickly slipping past the waistband of her underwear to cup her nether region. He loved how her body responded to his kisses and touch. She wrapped her hands on his head, lightly tugging his blonde hair. His mouth sucked a spot on her neck as he pushed his middle finger inside her. A strangled moan escaped her lips, her back arching.

Yuta took a moment to watch her: parted lips whisper silent whimpers as if they’re prayers, body arched, hips grinding against his hand, thighs crossed as if she doesn’t want his hand to leave. And he doesn’t want to.

The man slipped his pointer finger inside and her body jolted as if electrified, lips whispering pleads. Yuta smirked, thumb rubbing circles on her clit. Another finger was inserted and she held his forearm, pushing her fingernail on his skin that it started to hurt. But the guy never cared less and didn’t stop exploring her insides. The sound of her wetness and heavy panting made the smile on Yuta’s face grow. She's close, he could feel it.

Her body started shaking, erotic moans escaping her lips, but Yuta increased the pace of his fingers, even alternating fingers to give her immense pleasure. The girl closed her eyes shut, clinging to Yuta’s arm as liquid started spilling out of her vagina.

Y/N was breathing hard, pulling the blankets up to cover her nakedness. “That was amazing,” she whispered in between labored breaths. “Should I do something for you?” He shook his head, lying beside her in bed. “You definitely should start taking extra services if you’re this great.” Yuta lightly chuckled at that statement, everything coming out of her lips was such a confidence boost. No wonder he’s so attracted to her. “You’ll stay the night, right?” she asked in a sleepy state.

“I’ll leave early tomorrow.”

—--

Y/N had always been an early riser. Yet today, she felt like she didn't want to get up. Her head was throbbing badly as she cursed the alcohol she drank. But that wasn’t the only stupid thing she had done last night. Immediately, she sat up and then pulled the blanket to cover her naked breasts. He’s not here. He did leave early.

A knock on her door startled her. Maybe he’s still here. “Y/N,” But that was clearly Jungwoo’s voice. “If you’re up, there’s hangover soup here.”

Why is Jungwoo here? And why did he know that she was drunk? Wait, where is Yuta? Did Jungwoo perhaps see Yuta?

After making herself presentable, she went to her dining area where her stepbrother was. Jungwoo was just smiling at her knowingly and she lightly cursed, he knew. “Your guest said that you drank a lot last night so I ordered soup,” He emphasized the word ‘guest’ with a wide grin. “And I thought you had a bad date last night.”

Y/N did. And maybe that was the reason why Jungwoo is here. She remembered texting him and of course, just like a real brother, he came here to comfort her. Like every other time. Why the hell did she have to look for other comfort? Surely, last night was purely her fault.

“Did you have a great night?”

She took a sip of the soup to hide a smile. Y/N thought it would be blurry, she was pretty hammered last night. But she could clearly feel Yuta’s warm skin against hers, his soft lips, and his sweet smell. The girl bit her lip to prevent herself from smiling at how amazing the experience from last night was. “Clearly, you did,” Jungwoo noted. “He’s pretty handsome.” Y/N nodded, he is.

Then her eyes widened at that, “You saw him?”

The guy in front of her stifled a laugh, “He quietly went out of your room and I was sitting here.” He narrated, “I asked who he was and said he was your guest before leaving.” Jungwoo even shared that he was in a hurry and that he looked adorable as if a deer caught in headlights, making Y/N giggle. “He even said he was sorry and left that.” He pointed at something on the table.

She stood up to check what it was, surprised that there was cash on the table. “He didn’t take it?”

“Money?” Jungwoo stared at her accusingly, hand on his hip. “You paid him for sex?”

Y/N was just staring at the cash above the table. Obviously, this was what she gave him last night. Why did he leave it here? Did he dislike the experience? Or is it because nothing really happened?

Yuta is such a wonder.

---------

As soon as Yuta entered the dark strip club, his co-workers were howling at him. He sat on one high chair of the bar before asking Ten for a drink, “What happened with the rich girl?” Johnny teased, earning a glare from the younger guy. “Did you have fun?”

In one gulp, he finished the whiskey and handed the glass back to the bartender. “Yong, can I borrow money for a cab fee home?”

The three, his two stripper friends and the bartender, were looking at him in puzzlement. “She’s loaded. What happened?” Ten asked.

“I didn’t take her money.”

Taeyong looked startled. “Did her husband find you?” Johnny asked, earning another glare from Yuta. “Nothing happened?” Yuta nodded his head, “Well, you did get her drunk.”

“It was amazing but,” Yuta trailed off, staring at his fingers. He can still remember how smooth her skin was, how warm she felt under him, her small whimpers, and how addicting she tasted. “I wanted more.”

“Did she reject you?” Taeyong asked in a worried tone.

Yuta breathed heavily, “I forgot the condom.” The three gave a disappointed whine. “I badly wanted more.” He mumbled lying his head on the bar table.

The three shook their heads. He looked like a helpless man.

Ten just tapped his shoulder before Johnny handed him a condom, instructing him not to remove it from his pocket while laughing to himself.

Taeyong just shook his head, “The first time is always like that, Yuta.” But Yuta knew that there’s more to it. He knew what they were pointing at, a rookie mistake. But it’s not. He might have done something unforgivable if not for his self-control. “You can’t possibly be in love with her, right?” He shook his head. There’s no way. He only conversed with her twice, for crying out loud. He cannot fall in love that easily. He’s not that crazy.

“In our line of work, you cannot fall in love with her.”

Taeyong had always been the older brother Yuta didn’t have. He always knew what to correctly say, at all times. And he’s probably right. They were right. This is a rookie mistake, the result of not taking extra services. Now that he was presented with an opportunity, he just blew it. Maybe he felt guilty that she was willing to spend so much for him and he could not give her the equivalent pleasure.

Just like when he was young and playing soccer, he’ll probably get the hang of it with practice.

It has been months since he first started working in the club. Taeyong and Johnny were both superstars, the well-known ones who kept the club working on its feet. Although he’s slowly getting traction for his private dances, Yuta had never once imagined that he’d take the same path as his friends. It’s nothing personal. Maybe it’s just preference.

Or it’s probably from the fact that he would observe the two, with gorgeous faces and amazing bodies, then compare them to himself. He’s confident with his dancing skills but not with his body.

Yuta now believes that words can be very powerful. As he watched himself in front of the full-body mirror, he realized Y/N was right. He looks fine. His mother would often gush at how good-looking his son was. And Y/N claimed she would pay a million for his handsome face. So why is he feeling so inferior to the other guys? His body looks fine. Not as muscular as Johnny’s but he’s bulkier than Taeyong. Why is he so insecure about it?

Maybe it’s not bad to get paid for extra services. He can do it, right?

Yuta has his own rules. First, the golden rule: No condoms, no sex. Second, they could only touch him with his permission. Third, and the most important of all, no kissing. It’s nothing personal, he kept convincing himself. But Ten proves otherwise when he keeps offering other drinks from his usual whiskey and orange juice.

It’s been weeks and the money, as well as clients, kept flowing. He even had a regular who only wants to suck him and he would let her. She’s paying for that service. And to force himself to cum early, his mind would be elsewhere. To someone else, specifically.

All the clients are faceless, it was the technique Johnny had shared when he wanted to get the job done. But all he could think about is the cherry red lips wrapped around his cock, head bobbing that the shiny hair sparkled under the lights, big round eyes begging him for more. Whatever color the underwear was, he would always imagine the black sheer lace quality fabric underwear. The smooth skin against his fingertips and the lovely moans. The way his name rolled erotically against her tongue. The sickening sweet smell of high-end perfume.

And the taste of whiskey and orange juice. From her tongue.

How is she? He wondered. Does she also think about him?

Yuta chuckled to himself, shaking his head. That would be highly impossible.

Part Four

#yuta #yuta nakamoto #nakamoto yuta #yuta smut #yuta nakamoto smut #nakamoto yuta smut #yuta chaptered #nakamoto yuta chaptered #yuta nakamoto chaptered

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petalsnow · 1 year

Text

Best Friend (18+)

bang chan x felix

word count: 3.4k

genre: smut, fluff - 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI

warnings: non-idol au, friends to lovers, dom!chan, sub!felix, swearing, excessive alcohol consumption, both characters are under the influence, oral sex, unprotected sex (don’t do this), cumming inside (don’t do this), praise kink, degradation kink, confessions of love.. i think that covers it but if i missed something let me know!

summary: no matter how hard felix tries, he just can’t shake his feelings for chan.. but he never expected him to feel the same way.

this is a fictional story. nothing in this fan-fiction represents felix, bang chan, or stray kids as a whole, NOR does it represent their relationships between each other. read at your own risk.

18+ content below the cut.

———

felix knew for a while now. he was painfully aware of the feelings he had for his best friend. but that was the problem, and the root of all of this weird tension between them. he was supposed to be his best friend. felix grew up with chan. they were neighbors, classmates, and even part of the same dance group throughout high school. but as time passed, their hang outs grew scarce and their communication dwindled down significantly. after all, they’re both in college now. both busy with their studies and part time jobs. this is whenever felix started to realize his feelings for chan weren’t just the average “bromance” type. he found himself thinking about chan late at night, his chest tightening from the pain of missing him so much. he often would lay in bed and scroll through his camera roll, eyes grazing over pictures of the two of them throughout the years. he hated the feeling. it felt wrong, it felt pathetic. felix of course has no idea how chan feels about him, but he can only assume it’s not mutual. it would be strange if it was.. they’re practically brothers… (felix tries to convince himself). after many long and painful nights of missing his friend, felix decides it would be a good idea to text chan and ask him to hang out. it’s been a few months since the last time they saw each other, it doesn’t seem like a weird request. felix opens up their message thread and finds himself twiddling his thumbs, overthinking what he wants to send. after several back spaces and heavy sighs, he finally decides to press send: felix: hey! i have break from classes today if you want to come over and drink or something. he figures that sounds casual enough and nervously waits for his reply. which comes sooner than he expected, and the blonde headed boy’s head shoots up quickly at the chime of his phone channie: felix! hey!! of course, i’ll be over within the next hour if that sounds okay. i’ll bring some soju. felix finds himself unable to fight the smile that is now beaming across his face and quickly texts back, felix: sounds great bro, see you then. the casual “bro” was thrown in there of course, on purpose. ———

felix has been getting ready for the entirety of the hour that chan said it would take him to arrive at his apartment. changing his outfit five times, changing his hairstyle, and even applying a small amount of makeup just to brighten his eyes and cover a few of his unwanted blemishes.

he is staring at himself in his full length mirror, his final look consists of a comfortable white tee, a oversized light brown cardigan, and some comfy grey sweats. he didn’t want to dress up too much and give himself away.. but he did want to look appealing, and felix is convinced he did just that.

he’s tidying up his hair when he hears three knocks to his front door and his heart inevitably leaps in his chest, he gives himself a final look over and all but sprints to the source of the noise. he takes a deep breath before twisting the nob and revealing his (handsome) “best friend”.

“ahhh felix!” the older boy grins from ear to ear, pulling the smaller boy in for a warm embrace. “how have you been?? i feel like it’s been forever” he adds

“i’ve been good, same shit different day. you know how it is.” felix responds casually, trying not to reveal the enormous smile he now posses.

“ah yes, i get it dude.” he groans in agreement as he pulls away “want me to throw the soju in the fridge?” he questions as he brushes past felix and enters the apartment.

“yeah, that’s perfect” felix nods, shutting the door as his friend heads into the kitchen. felix awkwardly clears his throat, trying to keep himself as nonchalant as possible “how have you been?” he chimes as he follows behind him.

“tired, stressed, exhausted.. the usual” his friend chuckles, taking two bottles of soju out of the pack before placing the rest in the fridge. he smiles, handing one to his friend. “but that’s what these are for.” he smirks.

felix laughs and happily takes the bottle into his hand, twisting the metal cap off. “we both going to drink a bottle by ourselves?” he quirks an eye brow, taking his first sip before chan can reply.

“just like old times.” chan grins back at him, taking a gulp of the liquid down like a champ. “plus, if i don’t drink this whole thing, i don’t think i would be half as enjoyable to be around with how stressed i’ve been lately” he adds.

before felix has time to process what he’s saying he replies with, “you’re always enjoyable to me.” and his face quickly turns a light shade of pink at his abrupt honestly. “j-just because we always have such a good time together.. ya know?” he clears his throat, breaking the intense eye contact with his friend.

chan giggles and walks over to felix to ruffle his hair “of course i know what you mean, i don’t think you’d keep me around for this long if you didn’t enjoy my company.” he says playfully before squinting a little a felix with the newly established proximity. “are you wearing makeup?” he cocks his head

felix swears he could shit himself right there on the kitchen floor. his pink cheeks now turning a deep shade of red. “yeah.. just a little insecure with my acne lately..” he tries to play it off, shoving chan playfully (and so he won’t be so close to notice such details).

“ahh, i’m sorry for pointing it out then” he replies. “come on, let’s go chill in the living room, i’m tired of standing” chan smiles and walks comfortably through his friends apartment, like he owns the place. which, he may as well, he’s been here more times than he can count.

felix silently agrees and plops himself on the opposite side of the couch from chan.

they spend a while catching up, their soju bottles growing lighter and lighter as each minute passes. trips to the fridge are made to retrieve more, several times.

hours have passed now and the sun has fallen from the sky, the apartment lit up only by the glow of the TV screen. empty soju bottles are littered across felix’s floor and both boys are laughing and throwing their heads back over the couch.

“bro, no way you told a girl you loved her on the FIRST DATE?” felix asks in purse disbelief, the alcohol molding him into a bold and now (very) loud person

“and that is why i will never drink tequila on the first date ever again..” chan groans as he hides his face, unable to keep himself from laughing as felix cracks up at this embarrassing story.

their laughter dies down before felix adds to the conversation again, “i haven’t been on any dates in forever, i just don’t have the interest in any girls around here i guess” he shrugs, toying with one of the bottle caps in his hand.

“really? i figured you’d have a list of girls lined up waiting to beat down your door.” chan responds, taking the last sip of the last bottle of soju before resting it on the coffee table close to the couch.

felix chuckles at this and flicks the bottle cap in chan’s direction. “could say the same for you.”

chan catches the cap and flicks it back at felix with a small grin. “sort of, but none of them have kept my interest. more of a one night stand kind of guy lately.”

the bottle cap drops to the floor from chan’s poor aim and felix, now without any distraction, looks up to meet his friend’s gaze.

“i don’t know if could do one night stands.. i feel like i get attached too easily” felix sighs sweetly.

“you always were the hopeless romantic type” chan smiles softly, shifting his position on the couch to fully face felix. “it’s cute.”

felix gulps, sobering up a little at his comment. “t-thanks. it’s kind of embarrassing actually.. it gets lonely” he swallows hard.

chan frowns at his friends response “you can always call me, yeah? you don’t have to isolate yourself”

“no i just mean.. it gets lonely like, romantically. i constantly crave affection and physical touch but most people just want a one time thing and i just can’t see myself being okay with that.” felix explains, toying with a button on his cardigan.

“i know that’s what you meant.. my offer still stands.” chan replies, confidence never wavering in his tone.

felix can’t help but quickly look up, meeting his eyes in a small panic. he doesn’t know if he’s reading too much into it or if chan is trying to hint at what he thinks he’s trying to hint at.. he opens his mouth to reply but chan beats him to it.

“i like you felix.” chan adds, boldly. the alcohol has clearly taken over at this point.

felix blinks hard, at a loss for words. “w-what do you mean?” he asks

“i like you, more than just a friend.” chan clarifies for him. “i’ve felt this way for a while, but we’ve been best friends our entire life and it always just felt so wrong, so i’ve never mentioned it before or made a move.” he shrugs, “but i’m super drunk right now and i’m tired of keeping it in.. so here it is” he nods, looking away from felix and down at the couch in an attempt to make him less uncomfortable.

felix’s adams apple visibly bobs from how hard he gulps, he feels like he’s dreaming. because there is absolutely no way chan just confessed his love for him. after a few seconds of awkward silence, felix finally finds the courage to reply.

“i feel the same way..” he says, barely above a whisper. “… that’s why i wore makeup, and invited you over..” his words slurring “shit, i spent an entire hour getting ready for you…” he’s pouring out now.

chan’s heart aches in his chest at the boy’s innocent confession. “you did all of that for me?” he asks.

“yeah, all for you.” felix nods, still fidgeting with his cardigan. “i love you channie..” his voice cracking, his feelings that have been pent up for years, overflowing thanks to the soju.

“oh felix..” chan trails off, shifting his position to move closer to him, taking felix’s hands into his own to rub his thumb over them. “i’m so sorry you felt like you couldn’t tell me sooner.” a sadness washing over his expression

felix sniffles, a small tear escaping one of his eyes. “it’s not your fault, i would’ve never expected you to feel the same anyways.” he whimpers

“i do.. i always have.” chan comforts him, removing his hand from felix’s grasp to wipe the tear off his cheek. “no crying, you’ll mess up your makeup.” he smiles softly, felix’s eyes finally meeting his own.

“kiss me, please..” felix quietly begs.

chan doesn’t need any further encouragement before pressing his lips into felix’s. it’s soft, loving, and warm. chan’s body pressing further into felix as the kiss deepens, felix’s hands finding their way to rest on either side of chan’s face.

the kiss quickly grows more aggressive and sloppy, the sexual tension growing thicker as chan grinds himself into the boy underneath him.

“fuck, we have to stop. i don’t know if i can control myself if we keep going.” chan pulls away from the kiss, catching his breath.

“what makes you think i want you to control yourself?” felix asks, searching chan’s eyes, his hands still resting on his friend’s cheeks.

chan all but melts into felix at his words. “you’re going to kill me.” he growls, dipping his head down to attack felix’s neck with open mouth kisses.

“nooo, you can’t die. you haven’t even fucked me yet.” felix giggles at chan’s desperation and because his kisses tickle there.

chan chuckles are his response and leans back to remove his own shirt, revealing his toned physique.

felix looks up at him in awe. “you’ve.. really been working out lately.” he trails off, mesmerized by the image on display before him.

“yeah, to attract cute little twinks like you.” chan winks before tossing the shirt across the room and leaning back down to reattach their lips.

felix whimpers at the new contact, his fingernails lightly scratching against chan’s back. “need you now.” he manages to get out between kisses.

“i thought you’d never ask” chan mutters before tugging off felix’s cardigan and tee shirt, quickly tossing them across the room as well. “you’re perfect” he moans, drinking in the boy’s small build.

felix blushes, crashing his lips back into the older boy instead of trying to think of a good response. both of the boys have grown rock hard, their bulges rubbing against another at their make out session continues.

“god, felix. i can’t take it anymore, i need you now.” chan moans. shifting to lay on his back. felix crawls i between his legs, slowly tugging at the waist band of chan’s sweatpants.

“can i?” felix asks politely, his innocent doe eyes staring into chan’s.

“fuck yes, of course.” chan’s nods quickly, leaning back into the couch as the boy removes his pants in a swift motion.

“no underwear?” felix cocks his head to the side, nestling himself between chan’s legs.

“never” chan chuckles, resting his head against the arm of the couch to watch felix’s performance.

felix hums softly and takes chan’s length into his small hand, giving it gentle strokes at a steady pace.

chan whimpers, closing his eyes at the pleasurable sight and feeling. “feels perfect ‘lix.”

felix smiles at the pet name as chan’s dick grows harder in his hand, before softly placing his mouth over his erection.

he has a hard time fitting it all at first, but as he gets more comfortable with the size, he begins moving his head faster and deeper.

“s-shit” chan swears, his hips slightly bucking upwards to meet felix’s warm and heavenly mouth. “you’re… so fucking good at this.” chan gasps, running his hand through the top of felix’s hair, slightly pushing his head further down onto his cock.

felix moans around his dick at the small gesture of dominance, which encourages him to go deeper.

chan feels like he’s going to explode, his moans grow louder and he feels a fire burning in his abdomen. he lets felix continue for a couple minutes before he just can’t take it anymore.

“get off, i’m going to fuck you now.” chan asserts, pulling felix off his cock, quickly removing the younger boys sweats in the process.

chan scoffs at felix’s lack of underwear too. “no underwear?” he parrots to the blonde.

“never.” felix retorts with a cheeky smile, chan placing a sweet kiss to his mouth before turning the small boy around and bending him over.

“shit, do you have condoms?” chan snaps out of his lustful spell, checking around the room

“i’m clean..” felix mutters beneath him

“you sure you’re okay with this..?” chan trails off, rubbing the small of felix’s back “i can go get condoms if you want me to.” he reassures him

“no, i’m sure channie.” felix whimpers “please, just fuck me already.” he begs

and just like that, chan’s lustful spell has taken him over again. chan bends down to lick a bold stripe over felix’s tight hole, eating him out quickly but effectively to get him prepped for what’s to come.

felix mewls at the sudden contact and pushes his hips into chan’s touch, his eyes rolling into the back of his head.

“as delicious as you taste, i can’t wait anymore, need to feel you ‘lix” chan moans, rising back up to line his cock up with felix’s wet and swollen hole before slowly pushing into him.

“oh fuck… holy shit” chan growls, pushing in and out of the younger boy slowly, setting a soft pace at first. “you’re so fucking tight.”

felix is a whimpering mess beneath the muscular boy, toys curling and back arching. “y-you’re my first.” felix confesses in a high pitch.

“damn right, and i’ll be your last.” chan grunts, slowly increasing his place, caressing felix’s back as he adjusts to his size.

the more comfortable felix gets, the more his ass starts meeting chan half way between each stroke. the room is filled with both of their moans, and the sound of felix’s ass against chan’s dick.

“channie, you’re so big, i fucking love your dick.” felix moans out, gripping the couch cushion beneath him.

“yeah? you’re gonna lose your mind on my cock baby?” chan encourages him, smirking as he slams his cock into his sub. “gonna make you forget how to speak, turn you into such a good cock slut just for me to use.” a hard slap landing on felix’s ass.

felix let’s out a small scream, his eyes welling up in tears at the over stimulation and effect that chan’s words have on him. “p-please, just want to be yours.” felix whines.

“you’re already mine, no need to beg baby boy.” chan grunts, leaning down to press kisses to the back of felix’s neck, wrapping an arm around the small boy to support his collapsing body.

felix melts into his touch, eyes closed and mouth open wide as he lets out the most beautiful sounds chan has ever heard.

“channie.. g-gonna cum.” felix barely manages to get out, gasping for air.

“that’s my good boy, cum for daddy baby. i know you can. show me.” chan encourages in felix’s ear, increasing his pace as felix slowly reaches his climax.

with a loud moan and a tightening grip on one of chan’s thighs, felix let’s go. his cum drenching the couch beneath their bodies, his chest heaving as his high passes over him.

chan peppers kisses all across felix’s neck and down his back as the boy comes down from his high, his pace slowed down significantly.

felix collapses underneath him, trying to catch his breath. chan chuckles softly and maneuvers felix to lay on his back now, their eyes meeting again.

“hey” chan smiles down at him, felix wrapping his legs around chan. “you gonna come back to me?” he asks, felix’s gaze still miles from him, lost in pure bliss.

felix flutters his eyes and draws in a deep breath before nodding at chan’s question. a soft smile creeping across his freckled cheeks.

“you gonna be okay if we go a little longer?” chan questions, placing soft kisses to his cheeks. “i’m almost there.” he reassures him.

“yeah, want you to finish too.” felix sighs sweetly, leaning into chan’s touch.

“okay baby, let me know if it’s too much.” chan adds, and felix nods before chan realigns himself with felix before sliding back into him.

“perfect..” chan whispers “perfect for me.”

his pace is more steady now, deep and slow stroke into felix. he won’t last long now.

“love you channie, love you so much.” felix whines, back arching off of the couch

“god damn it, i love you more felix.” chan groans loudly, his pace growing sloppier at the younger boy’s confession.

chan lands a few more strokes before he meets his climax

“god, i’m cumming baby.” chan throws his head back as felix tightens around him.

“inside, please channie.” felix begs him, spreading his legs further

that’s all it takes to send chan over the edge, emptying himself into felix’s tight hole with a loud moan.

his jerks his hips into felix a couple more times, making sure he gets every drop into him before slowly pulling out and falling onto his back into the couch.

both of the boys catching their breath before either of them break the silence.

felix is the first to slowly sit up, peering over at chan who is still trying to process what happened. felix crawls over chan’s body, arms on either side of him, caging him in.

“you still just a one night stand type of guy?” felix playfully cocks his head to the side.

“shut up and kiss me.” chan rolls his eyes before felix giggles and presses a kiss to his lips.

“i’ve waited for this my whole life” chan whispers, meeting felix’s eyes

“you have no idea..” felix whispers back, eyes glazing over with tears.

———

the end :) i hope you enjoyed <3

#stray kids #stray kids smut #bang chan #felix #chanlix #chanlix smut #skz smut #lee felix #channie #christopher bahng #felix smut #channie smut #bang chan smut #dom bang chan #sub felix

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azullumi · 2 years

Text

ayato and alhaitham — boyfriend messages ☆彡

summary — phone calls and messages exchanged between you two.

characters — ayato and alhaitham (w/gender-neutral reader)

tags — fluff, modern au, established relationship, no use of emojis in text ; headcanons

word count — 736

note — i fell asleep early yesterday so i couldn't write anything. ignore the mistakes bcs i didn't proofread this yet.

KAMISATO AYATO

He's formal when it comes to his typing, always making sure to have the proper capitalizations on his texts as well as punctuations and grammar. You barely see him—actually never see him using emojis nor emoticons to add more feelings on his messages as he reasons that he could just call you to show you what he's feeling. He did, however, try it once but it didn't go quite well as the emojis he used often didn't match what he was saying.

On that note, he prefers calls with you than texts, especially when the camera is turned on for the both of you. It makes him happy seeing your face especially when he works and it makes it easier for him to talk to you as he doesn't have to hold the phone the whole time and struggle with finishing his tasks. He also loves hearing your voice—he could listen to you talk for hours even when everything that you are saying is just pure nonsense and he can't process anything inside his head.

It is clear and obvious that he wakes up earlier than you because of the fact that the first thing you see in the morning when you open your eyes and check your phone is his good morning messages sent at the time the sun is either still down or is still just rising, he's always the first one to message you each day as if he's having a silent competition with others to see who messages you first. You never want to guess what time he wakes up—or wait, does he even sleep?

Always expect to have messages from him to hangout, go out on a date, or anything—he always comes and picks you up, insisting on it when you denied at first but was persistent so you just got used to it— and honestly, the majority of your messaging history with him is just him inviting you out as conversations are mostly held when the two of you are face to face together. He prefers to talk about everything while you two are having a meal or taking a stroll instead of having a screen in front of your face.

ALHAITHAM

Sarcastic remarks being said, banters exchanged to one another, and teasing that leads to small fights or arguments and ending up with either of the two of you apologizing only after 12 hours—minimum— to 2 days later at most. Can't stand his personality? Just sit down, he tells you. Sometimes, you question yourself: does he even care? But then you remember how he always makes sure to text you every day and check on you once in a while or how he never replies late to your messages despite being known for not even reading or answering to others—only when he wants to.

However, despite all of those banters and arguments, there is still affection in your messages—no matter how small or simple it is, no matter how obvious or subtle it is—like him calling you and willingly helping you with your research and projects after calling you stupid in text, at times you'll ask him to accompany you to somewhere and he'll go with you without asking, or when you'll tell him about how you're stressing about your essay and how you will print them because you're busy and you might end up forgetting it, but then he'll show up to your class with a cup of coffee and your papers in hand even when you didn't ask him to.

He's not a fan of calls or facetimes but he wouldn't mind it—when it's you—to be honest. He doesn't talk a lot though and would prefer just listening to you and responding to your rambles from time to time, making comments and asking questions especially when it's about gossip and tea—you probably don't know how his interest always gets piqued whenever you tell him about those stories. He's a gossip guy, you see.

However, even when you and he aren't talking on call and are just doing their own thing, he doesn't complain because he gets to watch you as you go on complete focus, either because you're studying or finishing something that is nearly due already. Your eyebrows scrunched, eyes narrowed or squinted while reading, as you purse your lips into a thin line, he's amused by the expression on your face and couldn't help the light chuckle that emits from his throat.

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ficsbyuzi · 14 days

Text

ALL THE WAYS LEAD TO YOU

PART-7

Read part 6

Masterlist

Characters - Aemond Targaryen and Inara Maegyr (OFC) in a modern AU.

word count - 2550

warnings - +18, fluff, pining, slow burn, mention of emergency medical condition

A/n: No header because I was feeling lazy :( I will add it later. This is not even proofread :'(

Updated: Header is on

Get well soon

Inara had been waking up every morning to the sound of her doorbell ever since she got injured. Every day, without fail, a bouquet of yellow and white roses awaited her on the doorstep, with a small gold-colored card nestled carefully among the petals.

Every morning, the sight of those roses made her silly heart flutter, filling her with an emotion she both loved and tried to suppress.

The message on the card never changed—always the same few words, unsigned.

But she didn’t need to see a name; each petal whispered his identity to her.

Those flowers didn’t smell like roses when she sniffed them, closing the door and carrying them to her coffee table. They carried his scent.

A scent so familiar, she could recognize it in a crowd of thousands. A scent she was missing terribly.

Does he miss me the way I miss him?

Inara hadn’t been to the production for a week. Her recovery leave coincided with the outdoor shoot on the beautiful beaches of Driftmark. She missed seeing Aemond.

She missed the quiet exchanges they shared in passing, the way his gaze would linger on her just a little longer than necessary. The way the air around both of them palpated with an unspoken tension.

What was this feeling that had begun to swell in her heart at a mere thought of him? Why did she feel helpless against the beat of her heart that turned erratic at a mere thought of him?

She did not realize when something that had once felt as distant as a star, began to seem within her reach.

But as it did, she began to let herself wonder about the possibility of crossing the vast expanse between them. About the possibility of being with him, becoming his. Entirely.

Inara had been back at work for only a few days. Aemond was out at Driftmark, overseeing an outdoor shoot. Her duties were light for now; she had mostly been helping with the crew's medical needs - minor scrapes and bruises, nothing too demanding.

She sat in her office, a book on dermatology open before her, while she smiled at her phone, scrolling through online pictures of Aemond.

The intercom in her office buzzed, the sharp ring snapping her out of her rosy reveries.

The voice on the phone sounded panicked, alerting her.

“Dr. Maegyr, there is an emergency, first floor, Chairman’s office.”

Already rising from her seat, grabbing her medical aid kit, she asked, “Who is it and what happened?”

“It’s the chairman, Viserys Targaryen. He has collapsed in his office.”

Inara ran to the first floor, hurrying towards the chairman’s office, her breaths coming in quick, sharp bursts.

The door was ajar, revealing a scene of urgent activity inside. Several staff members hovered anxiously, their faces pale with concern.

Viserys Targaryen, a frail, senile figure clad in a black suit, lay on the floor clutching his chest, his breath shallow and labored. Nearby, a woman in a deep green fitted dress, no older than forty-five, sat with tears pooling in her eyes, face etched with profound worry.

“He was not feeling well since last night,” the woman said, her voice trembling as she noticed Inara. “I told him not to exert himself... but he insisted on coming…” Her voice trailed off, choked by her distress.

Inara took only moments to deduce that Viserys was suffering a heart attack.

“We need to call an ambulance,” she announced urgently to the gathered staff, swiftly opening her medical kit. She pulled out a strip of medicine and uncovered a tablet, requesting the elegant woman, who she guessed was his wife, “Please, help me loosen his tie and collar; we need to make him sit upright.”

With practiced care, Inara held Viserys’s head, checking his breathing as she placed the tablet in his mouth. “Sir, I need you to chew this medicine. Can you do that for me?”

Viserys groaned weakly, his response more a labored exhalation than coherent speech. Inara gently and firmly guided his jaw, helping him to chew and swallow the tablet. Once she was certain he had ingested the medication, she took another tablet and placed it in his mouth, then carefully fitted an oxygen mask over his nose and mouth.

Turning to his distressed wife, Inara spoke with calm authority, “Ma’am, we need to get him to the hospital immediately. He is having a heart attack. I’ve administered first aid, but he needs to be properly examined.”

Viserys spent two days in the hospital, and Inara ensured she visited him each day after work. She took care of his medical tests, reviewed his reports, and managed his medication.

On the day of his discharge, Alicent, with a look of earnest gratitude, insisted that Inara accompany them home.

“Please come with us,” she said, her voice tinged with anxiety. “I want you to come with us and make sure everything is alright.” She took her hands in hers, eyes pleading, “I trust you..and I know that you would ensure that the hospital is sending him with proper aftercare and nursing staff.”

The drive back to the Targaryen mansion was a quiet one. The car pulled to a stop at the front entrance, where a team of nurses and caregivers awaited them. Alicent and Inara assisted Viserys out of the vehicle and into a wheelchair, which was then gently guided towards the grand entrance of the mansion.

They were led to a grand room with a massive bed, where the medical team had set up a comfortable area for Viserys. The room was vast and suffused with an ancient grandeur, the high ceilings and dim chandeliers casting long, shifting shadows that whispered of histories untold. Inara felt small within it, like she had stepped into another world - one far removed from her own.

“Father, how are you feeling?” The soft, poised voice came from a woman who glided across the room with an air of elegance. She was strikingly beautiful, around the age of Viserys’ wife, yet exuding a sharper presence.

Inara’s gaze swept across the room, taking in a group of the most ethereal looking people she had ever encountered. They all stood with somber expressions, their features strikingly similar, with the same silver hair and pale complexions that shimmered as pearls under low-light.

She was hit by a wave of recognition. The absence of someone specific suddenly became palpable. The realization struck her with a jolt that she was surrounded by Aemond’s family.

Viserys' daughter glanced toward Inara, her violet eyes narrowing slightly, as if assessing the stranger in their midst.

Inara felt the heat rise to her cheeks, her throat suddenly dry as the weight of everyone’s gazes pressed upon her.

Overwhelmed, she made an instant decision to leave. There was no point in lingering, not even for the sake of professionalism. The room’s suffocating elegance, the piercing gazes of Aemond’s family, the palpable reminder of his absence - it all was too much. She almost regretted agreeing to accompany them.

"I shall take my leave, ma’am," she said, her voice quieter than intended as she stepped toward the door.

"No, please, wait."

Inara felt a gentle hand on her arm, urging her outside the room, away from the heavy atmosphere.

“You did so much for us, I will make sure your time is compensated.” Alicent said softly as they stepped outside the room.

Inara shook her head, her tone polite but resolute, “It was only my duty."

"At least let me arrange a ride back home for you, Dr. Inara," Alicent offered and saw the hesitation flicker across Inara's face.

Inara paused, weighing her options, before nodding, "If it’s no trouble, thank you."

Alicent made a quick call to the security team, organizing a car. She then turned back to Inara, preparing to see her to the door herself.

“Please, ma’am, stay with your family. I’ll find my way out.”

Alicent took Inara’s hands in her own, her grip warm and laden with unspoken gratitude. As her fingers brushed across the faint scar on Inara’s palm - the remnant of her injury - Alicent paused. Recognition dawned in her eyes, slow but unmistakable, as if a puzzle piece had quietly clicked into place.

For the first time in three days, Alicent truly saw her.

The realization softened her even more. Gently, she touched Inara’s cheek, her voice dropping to a whisper of affection. "Thank you, child," she said, her words filled with a maternal warmth that left Inara momentarily speechless.

Inara only blinked, caught off guard by the unexpected tenderness.

Inara descended the grand staircase, her footsteps echoing faintly in the expansive gallery that stretched toward the main doors of the villa. Removing her doctor’s coat, she glanced around for a sign of house help, but the vast, silent hallways offered none. Everyone either retreated to their rooms or were in Viserys’ service at the moment. Her parched throat and exhausted muscles, both naggingly reminding her that she hadn’t had a drop of water in hours, ached for relief and rest.

To her left, a dim light spilled from what looked like a large, sleek kitchen. The journey home was long, and she needed something to quench her thirst. She hesitated only a moment before making her way towards the kitchen, hoping to find a staff member. But the space was eerily empty and dark.

Feeling a little out of place, Inara hesitated, uncertain whether to search for a glass or quietly leave.

As she fumbled her way through the kitchen, her back collided with something - someone.

Startled, her breath caught in her throat as she spun around, only to be pulled into a strong, warm chest with an arm snaking around her.

“Shh, it’s me.” Two calloused fingers from the source of the voice she had been longing to hear, came to gently rest on her lips. An undeniably familiar scent cocooned her, wrapping her in a comforting embrace.

Aemond watched her as the fear in her eyes gradually faded, leaving her gaze half-closed in relief and surrender. His fingers lingered on her lips, brushing softly as he gently dragged her lower lip before finally pulling them away. She let out a trembling exhale, her pulse still racing.

“Your father.. He..he had a heart attack wh..while you were..” she stammered, her voice barely above a whisper, the embarrassment creeping into her speech, her cheeks. She glanced down, trying to pull herself free from his grasp.

But he didn’t let go.

"I was just... I came for a glass of water," she said, trying to pull away again. Her attempt was half-hearted; his fingers sliding down her arm and leaving a trail of warmth made it all more difficult for her to step away.

Gradually, she relaxed into his touch, her tension ebbing away. Her arms, initially folded in reluctance, began to open. Before she could decide what to do with them, one of her hands came to rest on his bicep while the other found its place near his shoulder.

A satisfying hum rumbled in Aemond’s chest, the sound of which told of the satisfying smile on his lips.

“You’re back,” she murmured, her voice soft and still hesitant. She wasn’t ready to meet his gaze, afraid she might dissolve under the intensity of his proximity, and in heat that seemed to pulse through them both.

Another hum in response, that came out with an exhale on her forehead and a deeper rumble. Her eyes threatened to shut.

“I… I should go,” she whispered, but her words lacked conviction.

He tilted his head slightly, a faint smirk curling at his lips. “Should you?” His velvety rasp sent an intoxicating shiver down her spine.

Inara’s lips parted, intending to mention her ride waiting outside, but the words faltered. A reluctance gripped her, as if voicing her departure might shatter the fragile, unexpected moment they were sharing.

To her dismay, she felt his arm loosen around her, a subtle withdrawal that hinted he was stepping away. She turned, ready to leave, but his palm flattened against her stomach, halting her movement.

“Wait, come here,” Aemond’s voice brushed against the shell of her ear.

The touch unfurled another wave of pleasant warmth beneath her skin, one that filled the space between her body and her very being. It made her weightless, as if she might float away if not tethered to him. He gently tugged her back, refusing to let her leave, and she drifted, ready to follow wherever he led.

He guided her towards a counter, lifted her with effortless ease and settled her down on a stool. Her startled gasp was met only with a soft, dark chuckle, a sound that sent another jolt of hot desire coursing through her.

He moved to fill a glass with water and she watched him entranced, captivated by the smooth grace he exuded.

“Here,” he said, extending the glass towards her. As she looked up, her eyes met his violet ones, shimmering behind the subtle brown tint of his glasses.

Inara offered a smile - soft, relieved, and full of unspoken affection. A smile he loved and that made his day. With the sight of her, after weeks, so close and so real, he gathered every ounce of control he had, not to pull her into his arms and claim her lips with his own.

Inara set the empty glass back on the counter, an awkward silence now descending upon them, filling the space with an uncomfortable stillness.

“Your father is stable now,”

Aemond took a step closer, holding her gaze, the desire to touch her again overwhelming him. He tenderly tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear, his thumb brushing her cheek as his hand rested lightly on her slender neck.

“Cole told me everything. Take a day off tomorrow, hmm?”

Inara only nodded, almost reluctant to voice her response and break the beautiful spell that they both seemed to be under. As if she feared disrupting the delicate, dream-like moment between them with her own voice. Her hand, almost instinctively, settled over his, as if to anchor herself in that fleeting, intimate exchange.

“Aemond... I...I was mi..” She began, lost in the haze of their shared connection., but could not finish as the room got flooded with a harsh light, pulling them out of their little bubble.

Aemond’s hand fell away as Inara stood to see who had disrupted their moment.

A woman stood in the doorway, her silver hair gleaming in the light, just as Aemond’s. Her face was an unreadable mask, her eyes betraying little of her thoughts as she took in the scene. She advanced towards them, her gaze briefly touching Aemond with an expression of disapproval before focusing on Inara.

To Inara’s astonishment, the woman, Helaena, extended her arms and enveloped her in an embrace.

Aemond was taken aback by the unexpected gesture of his elder sister. Touching someone was a rare behavior for her.

“Everything will be alright,” Helaena murmured, her voice so low that Inara might not have heard it if not for the closeness of the embrace.

Helaena released her, reverting to her normal voice and gently tugged at Inara's hand, “Come, I’ll see you out.”

Confused and unsure, Inara looked back at Aemond. With a final, lingering glance, she followed Helaena toward the exit, leaving the warmth of his presence behind.

@zenka69 @mamawiggers1980

#aemond targaryen #modern aemond #aemond x oc #aemond one eye #prince aemond #aemond x reader #hotd fandom #hotd fanfic #hotd aemond #aemond and alys #aemond #prince aemond targaryen #aemond fanfiction #aemond x you #aemond fluff #aemond fic #modern au #modern westeros

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madfantasy · 8 months

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To fan art and fiction enjoyers:

Please excuse my rage slipping if it happened over having to address this literal mediocrity of a subject in comparison to endless things that actually matters in real life. Because this would be at the scrapping bottom of it, but since the occasion presented itself, here we are:

Do you know there are some, let's say, manners, being in fandoms, and/or in using social media in general? NOOO? 8U

Well, Lets start somewhere!

Like it or not, YOU NEED TO ACTUALLY READ STUFF PEOPLE WRITE. Before you follow, before you comment, before you interact, because if you come across something you don't like, or you started to assume things— that's a you problem and not the fault of the poster.

If you DO NOT enjoy a character, a pair of ship, or a certain head cannon, filter the tag it's used for, Google has free tutorials on how. Most social media have these settings and most decent posters tag their posts correctly. If you keep seeing that pair, you can block the people who create it. You are free to do so ofc but WHY WOULD U come on main and air that out? Personally I find it so bizarre and it could show the type of person you are to other people — a toxic company over fictional substance — and I'd say that is not a flex, more like showing your dirty nappy in public. Those characters you love are not real and so not effected by your high ground stance, but actual humans that share you that love notice and get that impression, and it's a weird one. You SHOULD, of course, set your boundaries, and usually where that is be in your profile, on your bio or a pinned post.

Loving bizarre, villainous, creepy concepts DOES NOT EQUAL morality, nor loving good sunshine and flowers does. It's what a person does in real life what counts, not what they consume in entertainment. In fact, it is not a sign of a good person those who be shaming humans who like different fictional concepts. Or when someone keeps using ai generators knowing full well it's based on constant data theft of all sort of human creators across generations and can not exist without the continuance of this theft. Or those supporting creators that they know did irl crimes. Or those who are Policing what's can and cannot go into fiction as if the fickleness of preference have never let alot of things survive its judgement. And I can go on with the miniature examples. You are forgiven if you did not know before, some people learn through experience, but not anymore when you continue this behaviour. And maybe if you can't differentiate between reality and fiction, and what's more important than what, maybe, just maybe, you shouldn't be consuming fiction.

DO NOT POST WHAT YOU DID NOT CREATE. Do you like it when people keep posting your selfies that you only ment to share for funsies and what not? Isn't worse if you did not post that selfie in the first place or never wanted it to be used like that? It's the SAME FOR ART. This is the artists work just as much as your face is yours. Social media at the baseline is about who ever the poster is, their posts are theirs. So you posting an artist's drawing, with no permission, no credit to them, no nothing, is not allowed and people can report that. Don't be an ignorant thick fig and play the victim when schooled like this precious dear\s .Reposters disconnect so many content from their creators and this is how alot of beautiful things in life die, by simply not knowing they are loved, shoved into the over consumption machine..

And lastly, You don't have anything nice to say to OP? Don't say anything! It's not your misguided duty to educate people on how embarrassingly self centered you are, it's okay to be a basic #&★— I promise. It okay to feel out of place in a niche that doesn't concern you. It's okay to realise other people have different perspectives of the fiction work you enjoy. You can sit down.

And I'd like to add, Mani is a safe space for au and ships even if I don't like em, cuz they are only FICTION and will remain FICTION no matter how much I loved them or hated them.

Good day, dears🍀

#text #im probably blabing but i felt its needed #Severus Snape #fiction

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duckapus · 4 months

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So in the Self-Help Hotline AU I'm starting with just seven Ashes, eight when you include the central Ash who's just starting out. I'll probably add a few at certain milestones (definitely when he goes to a new region (including the Orange Islands that totally counts) possibly after movies and similar Big Legendary-Related Disasters but I'm undecided there). Arceus gave them all nicknames because otherwise it'd start with the chat filled with nothing but "Ash Ketchum" and it'd be impossible to tell who's talking.

Mini-Me: The central Ash who just got a Pikachu who hates him but is technically giving him a chance (you really think he couldn't have just ran away whenever, even during the fishing line bit?) and left Palette Town on the Pokemon Journey of a lifetime. An arrogant, overconfident little dumbass elementary-schooler with a heart of gold who constantly switches between having an ego nearly as big as Gary's and having no self-esteem whatsoever with no in-between.

O.G.A. / TheLlamasErrandBoy: The Ash from the end of the main timeline (or at least a timeline so extremely close to it that it's functionally the main timeline), with all the character development and Trauma that entails. Arceus gave him Admin Privileges and Dipped after explaining what the chat was made for so he's allowed to change nicknames and immediately abuses that power to roast The Original One Itself.

QueenOfTheWorld: Ashley Ketchum. She had a few Realizations during the stuff in Celadon so she's transfem. Her Journey had the fewest differences from the Main Timeline of the six AU Ashes since being a girl didn't change that much about her life.

L.G.M.: The version from my Invader Ash AU. By now he's aware that his mission wasn't what he thought it was and is fine with being Earth's hero instead of its ruler. He's still morally a very dark grey and kind of crazy though. He is still an Irken and still loyal to the Empire (particularly Tallest Delia) after all.

Aaron Jr: an Ash from a world where the Aura Guardians never faded into obscurity and he received formal training from a young age. Insists that he doesn't count as a child soldier since he stumbled across disasters on his journey for Chosen One Reasons just like the other Ashes did rather than the Order deliberately sending him to solve those problems. Actually the fact that this literal child keeps ending up in so much danger despite their best efforts is one of the Order's biggest headaches. The fact that he's so good at dealing with it (and is one of the most powerful Guardians in decades) only eases their worries a little.

Spooky: A version of Ash who succumbed to the injuries and exhaustion he sustained during the Spearow chase and became a Misdreavus due to a hasty halfway-too-late resurrection attempt from Ho-Oh. He's currently a Mismagius, a master illusionist, the World Monarch just like most of the other Ashes, and has long since come to terms with his death and species change. He does still have a vengeful hatred (and slight fear) of the Spearow line, but can you really blame him?

MyJobIsBeach: An Ash who stayed in Alola to help fully establish the League after becoming the Champion. He did technically go through the plot of Journeys but instead of being a research assistant he just kept running into Goh and Chloe while working his way through the World Coronation Series. He is still friends with them but not quite as close as in most timelines.

DoTheMario!: An Ash who's somewhat more familiar with the Multiverse than the others because his world is permanently linked with a version of the Mushroom Kingdom following a recent adventure. As in, he just finished dealing with the related Big Disaster and stabilizing the connection (since for Complicated Space-Time-Continuum-Could-Get-Torn-Apart reasons they couldn't sever the connection) a couple weeks before the chat got made. Since the point of divergence was so recent (and post-series) he's the second closest to the Main Timeline out of the starting lineup after Ashley.

#pokemon anime #self-help hotline au #ash ketchum #ashley ketchum #invader ash au #aura guardian #misdreavus #mismagius #super mario #death mention #might have mini-me catch the lead spearow just so spooky's hatred of said spearow is actually relevant #his version of it Was directly responsible for his death after all #so mini-me catching not just A spearow but THE spearow would be a Big Deal for him #the order of adherence to canon goes og ashley mario beach spooky aaron lgm. mini-me doesn't count since the chat IS the divergence #these guys are honestly pretty tame compared to what i Could throw at mini-me #like i said before arceus doesn't want to overwhelm him. so he's saving the REALLY wild aus for the later regions

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zkoh001 · 1 year

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All the ninjago kiddos! That I remembered, lol.

Also I'm not sure if Echo counts, but this is my art soooo... He does now

Fun fact, way before Dragons rising was an idea, I had a little theory/AU thingie, where the ninja got sent to another realm, where time passed differently. (How funny, it was way before SotFS...) So basically these kids formed a replacement ninja team to fight the evils treathening ninjago, discovering they themselves are elemental masters. And that's been in my brain, slowly adding all the new kiddos to it. Might make some art, and a post about that too, because I would love to draw them.

Here's my spitballing on these dummies and their designs.

The Darkleys kids!

The little shits. They would be the ones to have kidnapping as their first resolve.

- I kinda didn't know Sally existed, but I liked all the art, so she does now. Also, she loves pink, I love pink, we all love pink

- Brad is definitely the muscle of the group, with a big heart, but not the greatest mind. Also, he has a babyface, that's very hard to make look evil.

- His design kinda grew on me with time, but it still feels a bit lacking...

- There's this theory that Gene is Skylor's brother, and Chen's son, that I kinda absorbed into my brain and ran with it so yeah.

-Also, the hand thingie is not a glove, it helps hold his hand together after a nasty injury :)

- The bowlcut was uniform at Darkleys, but Gene was such a nightmare they just gave up with him.

- They have matching pins and earpieces. Cause of course they do. Also, dumbo boots uniform.

The Paperkids!

Antonia and Nelson are a given, and I just kinda added Unagami on there, since he waved at them once. Also, I think it would be cute if they were friends.

- I know he doesn't anymore, canonically, but I like to think he still wears his purple gi under the jumper. Who knows when someone will need the purple ninja?

- He has a scar from the injury he had when he met with the ninja. Also, am I the only one who tought something much worse was going on than a broken leg? Obviously a kid show can't have a terminally ill kid, but fsm that's still how I remembered it.

- Antonia! I loved drawing her hair. Also kinda like her badass big sis vibes.

- She has her hands out to make sure the two kids, but mainly Nelson, don't go missing somehow (happens more often than you think)

- Even if he can shapeshift, I like to tjink Unagami keeps his line-marks in whatever forms, since it's apart of his skin. He can hide them, but it takes effort, so he just doesn't bother.

- He can change his form generally, but you could still tell it's him by the lines, eyes, and hair

- He has a little nick in his eyebrow, and so does (did i guess) Jay. I just think that's a cute detail

The Forgotten ones...

Just called that cause I had to add them on a separate canvas after forgetting them. I forgot Skales Jr, shame on me, I tought Jake and Nelson were one character, and I was still debating Echo. But here they are!

- It was surprisingly not that hard to draw him, even tho I was very scared

- Since he has white on him, I was trying (and failing miserably) to replicate those partially albino reptiles. Also added some pink scales, since he is also Selma's son, who's pink.

- I don't know to this day why Echo was introduced only to be left behind.... Nevertheless he's a sweetheart

- I guess if you count Mr.E, but then he would be dead... Unless the kids fix him (lightbulb moment)

- Also, ahy is his head weirdly tiny? How did that happen?

- Jake. Goddamnit, how were you the hardest to draw? Somehow I couldn't get the head right...

- The giant pants is an idea that lived in my head. I like yo think he would be able to fix ancient artifacts with hairties, ductape, and sheer force of will.

- He might have a bowlcut, but cmon, are you telling me he wouldn't at least try to replicate whatever the hell Kai's hair was in the beginning?

I guess that's it folks, lemme know if any of you are interested in my weird Ninja kids au thingie!

#ninjago #ninjago sally #ninjago gene #ninjago brad #brad tudabone #ninjago nelson #lil' nelson #ninjago antonia #ninjago unagami #unagami #ninjago skales jr #skales jr #echo zane #ninjago echo #ninjago jake #ninjago kids #ninja kiddos!#I also have elemental powers and colors assigned to most of them!

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oddinary4bts · 1 year

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When the End Comes | ch 1 (jjk)

☆pairing: photographer!Jungkook x lawyer!female reader

☆rating: 18+ (minors DNI, there is mature content in every chapter)

☆genre: breakup!au, slice of life!au, angst with a big A, smut

☆warnings: angst, like. Just angst. Curse words, Jungkook's car, mentions of Jungkook's accident, mention of reader getting kicked out in TFS, explicit content: breast/nipple play, hickey, oral sex (female and male receiving), fingering, hair pulling, jerking off, squirting, praise, pain kink (Jungkook), balls squeezing (lmao), unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it)

☆word count: 9.4k

☆series masterpost

☆a/n: First chapter is here and it's time to CRY (I apologize in advance for the therapy bills) :') Thank you to @moonleeai for beta-ing this, you are the best <3 and thank you to @jessikahathaway for supporting me with this project, you are amazinnng

☆Add yourself to the taglist here (if you were on the taglist for The Forgotten Spaces, you're already on the taglist for When the End Comes!)

☆☆☆☆☆

But love never leaves a heart, where it found it, found it You found it Someday, I'll fall into you That's where I'll be now when the end comes

When the End Comes, Andrew Belle

☆☆☆☆☆

Wednesday, April 19th

The setting sun turns the living room into liquid gold, bathing you in golden warmth that traces your features delicately from where you sit on the couch. Spring is upon you – outside, you can hear birds singing, and the gentle wind of spring carries the smell of melted snow, of wet soil and of early leaves.

You sigh. Your phone has been dead silent all day, as it’s been for weeks now, and the loneliness of it keeps the winter cold close. Always.

Jungkook said he would call. He often says it, often promises he wants to go to sleep with your voice at his ear, since he can’t sleep with you in his arms. Years ago, when he first started his job in Europe, he did, calling you every night when you got home from work and he went to sleep in a European city too far from you.

He usually leaves for a few months at a time. Never more than three, and he usually stays for a month after that before leaving again. He’s been photographing for museums all over Europe, and his latest job at the Louvres in Paris seems to have been keeping him more occupied than the others.

You’d think it’d make sense – the Louvres is the Louvres. But you miss Jungkook. Miss the early years of your relationship, when you spent almost every day together. When he moved in with you in your first apartment, the one he had found for you while you weren’t even dating yet.

A deep ache has settled inside of you this time around. Because, even if he says he’ll try, even if he promised it wouldn’t be like the last time he was away, this time is worse. Far worse. You’ve only spoken to him on the phone once since he left half a month ago, and he texts you sparingly throughout the week.

You never thought there would come a day when your relationship with Jungkook wouldn’t be what it was at the beginning. Hell, the honeymoon phase lasted for almost three years, and then you had another year before he started working overseas. The first months he had spent away had rekindled the flame, passion and desire burning through you the moment you laid your eyes on him again the day he had come back.

But distance is difficult. Distance can tame even the wildest flame, and you’re starting to believe it has tamed the flame between you and Jungkook. You hate it – every night for a week you’ve fallen asleep with a heart so heavy it felt as if you weren’t going to wake up. And every day you’ve woken up feeling even worse, and you don’t know what’s going to help anymore.

You turn your head, catching sight of the frames on the shelves by the window. They too bathe in setting sunlight, shining like the glass is made of gold. From where you’re sitting, you can’t really see the pictures, but you know them by heart.

There are the pictures from his first photo exhibit, when you were still in college. Pictures of you, of him falling in love with you and you falling in love with him. Then there are pictures of that first Christmas, and of the first time you celebrated your birthday with him. Pictures of you, of him holding you, and of his hand in yours. Pictures from when Jiho gave birth to her first child Lisa, and then a picture with you two on a camping trip with Lisa and her younger brother Charles. That trip happened two summers ago, replacing your usual annual visit to a cabin in the woods, the year after the dance crew retired. Because as much as you and your friends loved that cabin in the woods, loved the dance crew, you eventually grew out of it.

There are pictures from Heather and Bridget’s wedding last fall, pictures of your story with Jungkook as it unfolded through the years.

No new pictures have been added since that last picture in the fall, because nothing worth taking pictures of happened since then. Jungkook has been gone most of the time, and when he’s here he’s too tired to do anything, preferring staying in and cuddling on the couch as you watch hours of Netflix without ever speaking.

You see the doom. It’s been coming for you, tightening around you like a scourge. Nothing you’ve been trying to do has helped – not even the nice lingerie pictures you sent him two nights ago. Not even the letter you wrote for him, though he did have flowers delivered to you at the firm.

Your coworker Harrison made fun of you for the flowers, teasing you like he’s taken to teasing you whenever something related to Jungkook happens. Which, as much as you hate admitting, is not much anymore.

Sometimes, when he’s away, you think he’s a ghost in your life. You wish you could turn back time and go back to the night where it all started between you. The July night of years ago, or perhaps the night of the hotel roof in Chicago. You struggle to pinpoint where you’d go back, but you do believe that anything would be better than the now.

You blink away the blurriness in your eyes, taking a deep breath to steady the aching beats of your heart. You glance at your phone – your empty notification screen stares back at you, a reminder that for all he says, he’s stopped trying this time around.

You figure you could call him. Could make the effort, but you’re tired. Tired of trying when it seems like it doesn’t work anymore. And so your aching heart keeps beating in your chest, and you put your phone away to cook dinner when it’s become clear that he won’t call.

And when you go to bed, after having taken the dog out one last time, your phone still lies empty, the picture of you and him that you have as a background taunting you, haunting you until troubled sleep finds you in its hold.

Friday, May 5th

Jungkook hates himself. Hates how every time he says he’ll call you, he ends up falling asleep. He doesn’t know why; it’s like his heart fights against his body. But tonight, he’s determined to call. He’s been meaning to show you the lights of the Eiffel tower, when the clock strikes midnight, and he promised he will tonight.

You haven’t replied to his text. He’s been feeling you slipping through his fingers for a few weeks. You barely reply when he talks to you anymore, sending one-worded answers most of the time. Maybe that is the reason why he’s been struggling to call – there’s an impending doom lingering around your relationship, and he wants to avoid it for as long as he can.

He’s been replaying your fight earlier last week on repeat since it happened. You, screaming that he said he was going to change, was going to try to call more and make more effort before he went to Paris. Him, telling you that you should be understanding, that he’s doing his best and that most nights he goes to bed before you’ve even finished work. You’d told him sometimes you wished you could hate him, as it’d be easier than loving him from afar. The words struck harder than a physical blow could have, and since then the doom has been clearer in the distance, as if it’s getting closer.

Just thinking about it hurts too much. He can’t wait for his contract with the Louvres to be done. Can’t wait to be home, and to tell you in person just how much he loves you.

He thinks his love has just been growing stronger. Through all the years, it’s just been growing inside of him, making him into a better person with every beat of his heart. The thought brings a smile to his lips, strangely enough, even though there’s still pain in his heart.

He still remembers when you first got Bam. He thinks that day is the one that made his love grow the most, until he thought his heart was going to burst in his chest. It fortunately never did, and he looks at his phone’s background quickly, needing to see you.

There you are, in all your glory. Hair a mess as you hold a tiny puppy in your arm, with your eyes sparkling like they’re holding the light of the universe. Of his universe, and it hasn’t changed. Still, today he knows if he were to see you, you still would hold the light of his universe.

After all, it started a July night seven years ago, and it’s never going to go away.

Thirteen days until he’s going to be home. And he decided to take a longer break this time around – he doesn’t have another contract yet. He’s been approached by the Victoria and Albert museum in London, but he’s told them that he likely won’t be able to go until late October.

They said they’ll be happy to have him whenever his schedule allows.

He’s yet to tell you – it’s a surprise, and he reckons your relationship terribly needs it. And he’s excited, as it means months that he’ll get to spend with you.

He’s going to take some small photography jobs back home until then, and spend the rest of his time with you, whenever you’re not at the firm. He reckons he can always meet you there for lunch – he used to do that when you first got the job at the firm where your father used to work.

Jungkook sighs, and he glances at the time on his phone. It’s almost time to call, and he’s proud he’s been able to stay up, sitting on the balcony of his Airbnb, watching the Eiffel tower in the distance.

The Louvres is paying for the Airbnb, and they really chose one of the best in the city. The view of the tower is beautiful, night and day, the architecture of it satisfying in ways he can barely comprehend. He took pictures of it through the different weathers, and he’s excited to show you when he’ll be back.

Five minutes before the clock strikes midnight, Jungkook lets out a long yawn as he goes to your profile, hitting the Facetime button. He’s told you he would call, up to the very minute, and he doesn’t want to disappoint this time around.

He watches his face on the screen as it rings. It rings and rings, and yet you don’t pick up. Something unsettling grows in his gut, and he pulls at his lip piercing in worry as he calls again when the call claims it failed to connect.

He tries four times more, until the Eiffel tower is sparkling in the distance, and your form still has yet to appear. So he looks up, watches the show and then heads to bed, each of his step feeling heavier than the last.

The next morning, he wakes up to some texts of yours.

[04:21 am] bby <3: sorry, i was out for dinner with friends from work [04:22 am] bby <3: I assume u’re asleep now? [04:41 am] bby <3: good night

For some reason, he can’t bring himself to reply.

Thursday, May 18th

It’s been raining all week. The world, crying as if it’s coming to an end. It’s unsettling, and you miss the sunrays. Miss the warmth that they carry, because now the world seems void of any.

You’re not looking forward to going home. It’s the first time that the thought of seeing Jungkook is scaring you – you have a feeling the distance between you is more than just physical, and you’re afraid to see him.

Afraid to be faced with the fact that everything changed irreparably.

You’ve slept in his clothes every night of May. It hasn’t made you feel closer to him, has only made you feel like he’s drifting further away, like a piece of wood lost at sea, pulled away by the current. And as much as you long for his return, you fear he’s crossed a threshold now.

You fear you’re not into it anymore.

The thought has made you cry countless times. You never thought you’d get to a moment in life when splitting with Jungkook seemed to be an option. You thought you were made of forever, of an eternity built just for you. You thought he’d always be enough for you, and that you’d always be enough for him too. But when Taehyung and Jo got engaged and said that they’d marry the first weekend of September, you realized that you want that for yourself too.

You want to start growing with your partner, you want them to be around. And Jungkook just isn’t.

You’ve spoken to Jiho about it. A haunting conversation, that you’ve been replaying in your mind constantly since it happened a week and a half ago.

She came over, only to find you cradling the picture of the July night sky, the one Jungkook had given you after his exposition. She sat next to you, tired eyes surveying your profile. When you started crying, she pulled you in a hug, and held you against her chest as you sobbed.

When you calmed down, she ran a soothing hand on your back. She waited for you to patiently find your words, and when you had, they spilled from your mouth, with no dam to stop them anymore.

“I think I’m going to break up with him,” you told her. It had you chasing more tears away, hating the weakness of your heart as it broke in your chest. “I can’t do the distance anymore. I want something like you and Hobi have, like Jo and Taehyung have. I want someone to wake up to every day and… I don’t… I don’t think loving him is enough anymore.”

She offered you a sad smile, her features sober as she nodded once. “Will you regret it?”

A lone tear spilled on your cheek, holding all the answers she needed. You let it roll down your cheek, let it fall in your lap. Jiho nodded once again, understanding, and added, “I’ll be there for you.”

Your decision was made that day. You don’t think you’ll change your mind, but you’re afraid to see him. Afraid to be faced with the reality of it.

The worst part is, you think you already started getting adjusted to living without him. Hell, the distance has been a good training, so you think you’ll be okay after. It’s just the during that scares you, because you know that when he breaks, you break too.

You know how much you broke for him once. You know you’ll break again, know the first days are going to be hell, but you know that in the long term, it’s the right decision.

At least you hope so.

Jungkook texted you that he got home in the middle of the afternoon, and that he was going to take a nap. He said he couldn’t wait to see you, and you’ve had to swallow countless lumps in your throat whenever you’ve thought of the words.

You take a deep steadying breath as your shift ends, leaving you with no choice but to head home. Harrison notices your fallen features, and he offers you a kind smile.

“It’s going to be okay,” he promises.

You want to tell him he’s a liar, but all you do is offer him a tight-lipped smile in return.

*****

The apartment in soundless when you finally reach home. Outside, the wind plays in the leaves, splashing water against the windows. It makes for a relaxing sound, yet it does nothing to relax you.

You take off your shoes by the door and drop your purse on the small table just a few steps in as Bam comes to greet you. You pet the dog mindlessly, scanning your surroundings to see if Jungkook is coming too, but it seems he fell asleep. You stop by the kitchen, grabbing a glass of water as you survey the world outside the window, hoping it holds any kind of solace. It doesn’t – the world is crying, and you think by the end of the night there’s a high chance you will be crying too.

You sigh, try to swallow around the lump in your throat but it doesn’t work. You choke on a sip of water, and startle when Jungkook asks if you’re okay.

You didn’t hear him sneaking up on you.

You turn around, the sense of impending doom growing tenfold at the thought that he’s going to be right there, in the flesh, when you set your eyes on him. And he is – a sleepy Jungkook is standing in the door of the kitchen, leaning against the frame as he offers you a small, tired smile.

You’re not sure what to do at first, and when he opens up his arms for you you rush towards him, leaving the glass of water on the counter.

His embrace is familiar, warm. If he wasn’t gone for so long, you think it’d be enough to keep you here, forever. You both remain silent, and your heart beats achingly in your chest as you try to hold him closer, as if you can be one.

As if that’ll make him stay.

“Hey,” he says, voice choked with emotion.

You only hold him tighter, and tears burn behind your closed eyelids as you hide your face in his neck. He smells familiar, like home. He smells like the clothes you’ve been wearing in an attempt to gather the courage to break up with him.

You hate yourself deeply, then. You think about the years, and aren’t they enough? Isn’t the love enough?

He grabs your shoulders, delicately, to push you away. And then his hands move to your cheeks, and he’s tilting your head back to press his soft, pink lips against yours. It’s barely just a peck, and it hurts so much you think you’ll die.

“How was work?” he asks when he pulls away, resting his forehead against yours.

You breathe in slowly, and then out, your breath mingling with his in the space between you. “Long,” you answer, because it’s the truth.

“I’ll cook you dinner,” he says.

If he notices you holding your breath as your heart keeps on breaking, he doesn’t say. Instead, he pulls away, leaves you standing by the door as he moves in the room proper. You’re not sure you’ll survive a dinner with him, not when the inevitability of what you’re going to do is looming over you, like a sword of Damocles ready to cut the link between you and him.

“Okay,” you breathe out.

You sit at the table as he fishes ingredients out of the fridge – stuff you clearly didn’t buy. Which means he went grocery shopping, and you just ache so fiercely the air turns to poison in your lungs.

“Do you want to chop the vegetables?” he asks.

You gulp before nodding curtly. “Sure.”

You move closer to him as he puts said vegetables on the counter, and you grab a knife as he hands you a cutting board. It’s familiar, domestic, and it helps lessen the pain somehow. To have this moment, with him, even though your decision is made.

“You’re silent,” Jungkook comments as you finish dicing an onion.

You purse your lips, head hanging low as you reply, “I’m tired, sorry.”

He turns on the stove, placing a pan on top of it. As he’s putting oil in it, he glances at you. You barely notice from the corner of your eyes, but you still can tell he’s trying to figure how to reach you, in the dark place where your mind has gone.

“Something happened?”

No. Nothing happened. Nothing happened when it should have. Was distance really enough to kill your relationship with him?

Needing the conversation to move away from the current subject, you reply, “Not really.” Swallowing around the lump in your throat, you add, “How was Paris?”

“It sucked,” Jungkook is quick to answer. “It was a lot of work and I barely had time to explore the city.”

“Mmh,” you hum, nodding your head.

You freeze as he moves closer, taking the knife out of your hands. He forces you to turn towards him, and he presses a kiss to your forehead.

“I took some pictures of the Eiffel tower for you,” he admits. “It was pretty at night. Made me think of you.”

You shut your eyes tight, and for once you win against the tears that were threatening to spill. “You did?” you let out when your eyelids finally flutter open again. “You can show me over dinner.”

“I’d rather just spend time with you for now,” he says, softly, and you hate that his big, doe eyes feel like heaven. “I… I missed you.”

You think he knows. You both know what’s coming. But you want this last moment with him, so you say, “I missed you too. Way too much.”

“You’ve been sleeping in my clothes,” he teases, but it’s lacking the usual lilt to his voice that makes you roll your eyes playfully.

“Yeah.”

He pulls at his piercing, and you focus on that because his eyes are going to read every little treacherous thought in your head, and you don’t think you’d survive that.

He doesn’t say anything else before he busies himself with putting the onion you diced in the pan. You lean on the counter to watch him cook, handing him the ingredients that you know he’ll need.

You’ve cooked together a thousand times before, and never you would have thought that there’d be a last time. You clench your jaw against the pain, and though you don’t feel hungry, you sit at the kitchen table with him to eat.

You manage to get some food down. Jungkook is an amazing cook, and you’ve always loved his food. It’s something you know you’re likely to miss, when he won’t be around anymore.

Fuck.

After dinner, you do the dishes while Jungkook brings Bam outside, as he usually does when he’s here. He’s back before you’re done, and you focus on finishing to clean the dishes, trying to ignore him.

He’s been silent through the meal, and you’ve avoided the glances he’s sent your way. But when he grabs your wrist, gently, you meet his gaze.

His eyes shine. It takes you a few seconds to register that it’s because tears are welling up in his innocent gaze, and you wish you’d die right on the spot.

“Why is it awkward?” he asks.

You purse your lips and then bite the tip of your tongue, as if it’ll help. “Can we go to bed early?”

You don’t know why you asked that question. You convinced yourself to break up right away, but then again you think you need a last time.

You need a goodbye.

He nods, blinking the tears away. His hand moves until it’s wrapped around yours, and he pulls you to the bathroom. He turns on the shower, but before he’s taken his shirt off you step in front of him, fist closing around a handful of fabric so you can pull him close.

There’s urgency in the kiss, along with yearning. It’s quick, it’s heated and desperate. You wonder if he can taste the goodbye on your tongue – does it taste bitter for him too?

Though he seemed startled from the sudden kiss, he’s quick to kiss you back, to grab your waist and pull you closer, as if that’ll make you stay. And while you kiss your mind runs with the memories – the first time you’d kissed, in that hot tub. The kiss on the hotel roof, the kiss after he’d helped you move in your first apartment.

More than that, it’s a memory from four years ago that resurfaces the most. It takes the centerpiece of the stage of your mind, and you find yourself back in your old apartment, the first one you’d ever had. The day wasn’t a special one – just a random Sunday, one Jungkook convinced you to spend in bed. He’d held you all morning, littering small kisses on the top of your head. At some point, you’d made love, slowly, lazily, as if you had all the time in the world. Halfway through it, Jungkook had stopped, resting his forehead on yours. Against your lips, he’d whispered, “Will you still love me when I’m old and grey and grumpy?”

Back then you’d laughed, before wrapping your arms around his neck to pull him into a kiss. After, you’d replied, “You know I’ll never stop loving you.”

And as you’re kissing him right now, you hope he knows that you’ll never stop loving him.

His tongue swipes at your bottom lip, seeking to deepen the kiss, and you let him in. Taste the dinner in his mouth, like he’s sure to taste it in yours too. It eases the bitterness somehow, and when his large hands move to your ass, you let out a breathy sound.

He swallows it as if it’s the ambrosia of the gods, and then he pushes you back towards the counter next to the sink. The shower runs in the background as he pulls you on the counter, large hands guiding you. You instinctively spread your thighs to allow him to step closer, and then you wrap your legs around him. His hands find your cheeks again, and he kisses you fervently, hungrily, yet his touch remains gentle on your cheeks, thumbs swiping back and forth.

When oxygen becomes needed, both for you and him, he rests his forehead against yours.

“You think we can wait after the shower?” he teases, and this time it has a little bit of the usual bite.

It only hurts, because now you’re not so sure he’s aware of what’s to come. He probably only thought that it was awkward because of the distance – physical. Not because the end is coming. So you let him believe it, agree to take a shower.

You let him wash your hair, a thing he’s taken to doing six years ago whenever you take a shower together. Something about him liking the scent of your shampoo. After that, you let him wash your back, but you can’t bring yourself to do it for him. To your relief, he admits he took a shower before he napped, to wash away the airplane vibes off him. So it mostly goes unnoticed, and then you’re getting out of the shower. You barely have time to dry yourself before he’s pulling you to your room, to your shared bed.

To the bed where you’ve cried yourself to sleep every night since you’ve made your decision.

He sits you on the bed, thumbs swiping on your cheeks gently when he bends down to peck your lips once.

“I’ll be right back,” he says.

You watch him leave, thinking you should find it funny that he’s butt-naked, as you are. Yet you don’t laugh, just put a hand over your aching heart as you wait for him to come back. It hurts even more when he comes back with your heating pad, a tentative smile on his lips.

“I thought this might help,” he says as he walks over to you, offering it to you.

You look at it, not knowing what to do. “Why?”

“Aren’t you…” he trails off, motioning towards you. “I don’t know, you’ve been weird. Thought you might be on your period, or having cramps?”

He’s too sweet. Too caring. Why can’t he be like this when he’s away too?

“Oh,” you let out. “I’m not.”

He looks puzzled, and his eyes drop to the heating pad in his hands. “Oh. Do you…” He gestures with the heating pad, but you shake your head no. He looks disappointed, and he puts it on the dresser before coming to sit next to you.

There’s a moment of silence, and you glance at the TV on the wall. The black screen reflects the grey light from the rainy world outside, and you turn to look out the window next. The rain is still relentless, and the trees outside look greener, darker, though that might be because the sun set behind the clouds, and night is slowly taking over the world.

Being with Jungkook has never been awkward before, and you hate that it is right now. You’d wish for one last moment, for a memory to treasure, but now you think you might have just been selfish.

He glances at you, pulling at his piercing. “Did something happen with your mother?”

He’s trying. So hard. Doesn’t he feel the distance between you and him?

“No,” you reply.

As a matter of fact, you only talk to your mother three times a year now. Without fault, she calls on Christmas and your birthday, and five years ago you’ve started calling on hers too. Other than that, you barely even text.

“Then…” he trails off before shrugging. “Whatever. Do you want to sleep or should we watch something?”

“Can we watch a studio Ghibli movie?”

Jungkook glances at the Totoro plushie, nestled in the pillows at the head of the bed right next to Appa. “My neighbor Totoro?” You nod once. He offers you a smile, nodding his head too. “Sure. As long as I get to hold you.”

You worry at your lip, though you still say, “Yes.”

A minute later you’re nestled in his embrace, and he’s starting the movie on the TV. You barely can focus though, mind zeroing in on his naked skin against yours. You want to ask him to stop with his overseas job, to come home permanently, to build a future with you here, without distance between you and him. You want to tell him you love him so much it hurts, want to tell him the months away from him are killing you.

All you do is watch the movie as if in a daze, and halfway through it, you tilt your head to look up at him. He sees you looking, and his tongue darts to his piercing as he glances down.

Your eyes go to his lips, and you reach to steal a kiss on them. This time, it’s incredibly slow, painfully so, and his arm tightens around you as his breath gets caught up in his throat.

You rest a hand on his cheek, before sliding it to the nape of his neck to keep him as close as you possibly can. He turns his head to deepen the kiss, and you turn the other way as you push your tongue in his mouth. You gently tug at the hair on the back of his neck, appreciating its silky softness.

Committing it to memory. Remembering when it was so long he could tie it back in a small ponytail, remembering when he cut it shorter for the first time. You’d teased him saying that he was a stranger, and you reckon you’d take that stranger back again.

You’d take the sweet innocence of the third year of your relationship again over what it now is.

Once, you thought you’d always want to see the end. To be able to glance back on the past, to swim in the nostalgia of the memories that it holds. Today, as the end comes, you realize you were wrong.

There’s no beauty in the ending.

Jungkook moves until he’s hovering over you, between your legs. You wrap them around his dainty waist, and you pull him inevitably closer as your hands run in his hair, while his hold him up on each side of your face. It takes him a few seconds, but soon he leans on his elbow, and one of his hands lands on the top of your head while the other moves to cup your breast.

He squeezes gently, fingers expertly pinching your nipple the way he knows that you like it. You moan softly, desperately, and he does it harder as his tongue meets yours.

“Fuck, I missed you so much,” he says as he pulls away, and then he’s littering hot kisses on your jaw, and on your neck. He sucks a hickey on the spot that connects your shoulder to your neck, and then laps at it to ease the sting. He’s still pinching your nipple, and though it hurts you just want more.

He doesn’t disappoint. His kisses move lower, until he’s sucking on your other breast, tongue circling your nipple as it hardens in his mouth. He flicks it once, make sure it’s perched nicely on your chest before he moves to the other one, repeating the action.

Your core heats up with need, but even this demonstration of the passion between you and him doesn’t do anything against the ache of your heart. The pain wins, and you shut your eyes tightly in an attempt to focus on the sensations. To focus on him as he moves lower, slowly, pressing wet kisses on your stomach, down to your pelvis, and then on the inside of your thigh as he pushes your leg on his shoulder.

“I want you,” he murmurs between your legs, as if he’s speaking the words directly to your pussy.

“I want you too.”

That much isn’t a lie. You do want him, all of him, even though you’re aware it’s going to be the last time. So you try to disconnect mind and body, and the moment he sucks on your clit you think you succeed.

You lose your hand in the strands of his hair, tugging as his tongue starts a hellish rhythm on your clit, never once faltering as you squirm under the ministrations. When your juice is coating his chin – which you reckon doesn’t take long – he moves lower, dipping his tongue inside of you.

“So sweet,” he praises once he pulls away, just enough for you to feel his lips moving as he speaks.

“Kook…”

The nickname barely crosses the threshold of your lips, yet the grip he has on your waist, where his hands have found a home, tightens. The only indication that somewhere behind his lustful gaze, Jungkook is aching too.

“Baby…” he says back, and then he returns to press figure-eight on your clit, though this time he pushes a finger inside of you.

It curls to hit the right spot inside of you, and he slowly rubs against it, before he decides better and starts to finger you, slowly. Digit moving in and out, keeping that right arch to make you see stars in no time.

When he adds a second finger, you tug on his hair, hard. Mostly by reflex, but when he meets your gaze as you look down at him, you pull harder. His fingers remain deep inside of you as he meets your lips for a heated kiss that tastes like you, and your hand blindly aims for his dick.

He’s rock hard, as he always is when you fuck for the first time after he’s been away. You sigh in satisfaction, thumb collecting precum on his tip that you spread on his dick. Instinctively, he bucks his hips as you start jerking him off, with the tight grip you know he likes, and you make sure to flick your wrist when you go back up.

He grunts against your lips, and his fingers start to move inside of you again. You don’t know when they stopped, but you know that he’s grown impatient now, and he’s unforgiving. When he pushes his thumb against your clit so that he can rub it at the same time, you moan unashamedly loud, another sound that he swallows like a man starved while his lips move against yours.

You time your ministration on his dick to those of his fingers on you, and soon enough a knot forms at the pit of your stomach. It grows impossibly tight impossibly quickly, and when Jungkook moans in your mouth you lose it, the knot uncoiling as your orgasm finds you.

He fucks you with his fingers through the high, through every wave of your orgasm, your legs shaking as he keeps going until you squirt.

“Good girl,” he praises as you cry out his name, your grip on his dick growing tighter. It has to hurt, but obviously Jungkook likes pain, so he only bucks his hips, seeking for friction.

It brings you back to the present, to this bed, and you return to jerking him off as his fingers leave you empty. He brings them to your mouth, makes you lick them clean until he’s satisfied and pulls them away. He kisses you, languidly, and your tongue dance with his as he grunts from a particularly skilled flick of your wrist.

“I want to suck you,” you say in between kisses, and he doesn’t let you do it for a time.

He’s too focused on your mouth, and you reckon you want him to keep going at it. To trap you in this moment with him, so that it may never end.

So that you may never have to break up with him.

“Can I fuck you first?” he asks, bucking his hips once more. “I want to feel your tight pussy swallowing my cock.”

“I want to suck you,” you insist as he’s sucking a new hickey on your neck.

He pulls away, meets your gaze with a lazy smile on his lips. “Well then of course.”

In another world his comment would have made you laugh, but the only thing it does is make you push him until he’s lying on his back and you’re kneeling next to him.

You look down at his dick. It’s just as pretty as you’ve always thought it was, with the brownish base to the tip that’s currently flushed red with arousal. Precum makes it glisten in the dim light from the world outside, and you let a blob of spit fall on it to add some lubrication to your jerking off.

When you feel ready, you bend down to lick a stripe along his dick, from base to top, following the thick vein. He groans, and he puts your hair in a makeshift ponytail so he can watch as you swirl your tongue around his tip.

The taste of his salty precum fills your mouth, and you hum in contentment. You wrap your lips around his tip, sucking hard once before teasing his frenulum with your tongue. Your free hand moves between his legs, and you grab his balls, massaging them gently.

They’re already tight, and you know he’ll come if you suck him for too long. You still can’t resist, and you take him as far as you can, swallowing around him so he can feel your throat constricting on him. It makes him moan out your name, which in turns makes you moan against him.

“Fuck, baby,” he lets out.

You move up until almost just his tip is in your mouth, before going all the way in once more. And then you start bobbing you head up and down in a quicker fashion as you drool on your chin, your spit coating his dick.

You squeeze his balls once, not daring to do it for longer than a few seconds. You don’t want him to come, so you let go soon after, hand moving to his thigh. You find the hard knot of his scar, and you lightly trace it with your fingers, almost instinctively.

Another part of him that you want to commit to memory. His scars – they made him into the person that was right for you. You hate that distance undid it, wish you could turn back time but alas it’s impossible.

So you focus on his dick, moving your hand away from the scars. He doesn’t let you suck him for a lot longer. Soon, he pulls you away by the hair, bringing you to his mouth instead. You kiss him as you climb on top of him, and right as he pushes his tongue in your mouth, you grab his dick to align it with your entrance.

Even though he fingered you before, he still stretches you as you sink on him, and you let out a broken moan as you dig your nails in his shoulder, where your other hand has been holding you up since you climbed on him.

You sink down until he’s fully imbedded inside of you, and then you rest your hands flatly on his chest, feeling the muscles of his pecs under your palms. You meet his gaze, hating how he’s looking at you carefully. For a moment, you both don’t move, taking the other in, and you’re struck with the realization that maybe he does know. Because his eyes are infinitely sad, infinitely pained, but when he blinks you think you might have imagined it.

You’re going crazy. You used to be able to read him like the back of your hand, but it seems the pain in your heart is keeping you from doing so, from picking up the book where you left off. Perhaps because you’ve gone blind, or maybe you forgot how to read altogether.

Jungkook feels like a stranger.

“Baby,” he lets out.

“Jungkook…”

He wets his lips, and then brings you closer. Forces you to bend down until he’s wrapped his arms around your waist. He starts moving, incredibly slow, and says, “I just want you close.”

It hurts too bad, and you hide your face in his neck. He tightens his grip around you, and after that all that can be heard in the room is your heavy breathing, mingling with the sound of the TV.

He feels healing, as much as he’s breaking you. Or you’re breaking yourself, you don’t know anymore. You wish to stop time, to interrupt the chronology of it, until all that’s left is this moment in time.

You know you can’t.

Jungkook doesn’t stop moving for a long time, as you let out breathy sounds against his neck. He’s not grunting anymore – you don’t think you or he are enjoying this, right now.

“I really want to suck your dick,” you murmur against his neck, lips tickling him.

“You’re not into this.”

Of course he’d sense it. You wrap your arms around his neck as he slips out of you, and you refuse to move for a little eternity.

“I’m okay,” you lie.

“Stop saying that you are,” Jungkook answers, and his voice has taken a cold tone. Maybe because he’s freezing – you don’t think he’d purposefully speak to you like that. “I know you aren’t.”

“Kook…”

He says your name, a loving plea that could have changed the ending, if the months hadn’t passed.

“We need to talk,” you breathe against his neck.

You think you hear his heart breaking. Like a car wreck: it’s so loud you don’t think you’ll make it out of the crash. Only, he did get out of it once – you can only hope he’ll get out again.

He runs his hand on your back, loses it in your hair. He’s gentle, infinitely so, tracing your body to remember you by when you’re gone. At least that’s what you think it is.

“Yeah?” he lets out with a small, quivering voice.

A tear spills from your eye, falling onto the soft skin of his neck.

“I can’t do this anymore.”

He holds you tighter, turning his face so that he can press a kiss to the side of your head. It’s a desperate move – it holds the weight of the universe.

“I…”

He never finishes the sentence. His words are lost to him, and you steel yourself for the glimpse you’ll give him. And when you do, you see his eyes shining with unshed tears.

“I can’t do the distance anymore,” you tell him.

He nods once. “I’m staying until November.”

He blurs behind your tears, and they roll down your cheeks freely. You don’t try to dry them, and neither does he.

“But then you’ll go again.”

He doesn’t need to say anything to that, because you both know it to be the truth. His reply is physical: his arms let go of you, falling on the bed on each side of him.

You move to sit next to him, instinctively grabbing a blanket to hide yourself. Jungkook shuts his eyes before pressing the heel of his palms against his eyelids. As if that’ll stop him from crying, from shattering into thousands of little shards that will go by the wind.

The end has come. It’s upon you, it’s right this instant in time. You think you’ll forever hate this moment – will you ever recover?

“It’s just better for both of us,” you say, your voice breaking into a sob on the last words. You wish you could be stronger, but you break too hard for him. “It’s been so hard and… we both don’t try anymore.”

“I’m staying until November,” he repeats. He sounds choked, and when he pushes himself up, allowing you a glimpse of his face again, you see that he too is crying. “Please.”

“Kook…”

“No but…” he stops, laughs a laugh that turns into a sob. “I tried.”

“You didn’t.”

Maybe he did. Maybe to him he did, but it wasn’t what you needed.

“You don’t get to tell me I didn’t,” he says and he scoffs, pain laced with his next words. “When I tried, you were the one that was unavailable.”

Because you were already done then, you realize. It’s a startling realization, and you wish it wasn’t real. But it is, as real as the rain lashing at the window, as the agony in Jungkook’s gaze.

His doe eyes are pained, tormented, and you wish you could ease it. Comfort him, but you’re the source of the torture now.

“Yeah,” is all you manage to say.

He looks at you for a time, holds your crying eyes, and then he loses it, hiding his face in his hands as sobs rock through him. You’re shaking like a leaf where you’re sitting, and you feel like you’re going to be sick.

“I’m sorry,” you choke out.

“We can make it work,” he tries.

You’re shaking your head no, sobs racking through you too, when he glances at you. “We can’t. We tried, Kook. We tried and it didn’t work.”

“It’s the distance,” he says. He dries his cheeks, sniffles hard. “What if I drop the job?”

“It’s your dream,” you remind him. “Don’t.”

“I don’t give a shit about this dream if it means losing you,” he insists.

Your expression is apologetic, and suddenly your eyes clear up. Too much – the clarity in your mind feels dizzying.

“It’s too late.”

The words fall like a meteorite – you think they hit harder than the one that killed the dinosaurs, millions of years ago. They hit him so hard you think they disperse the pieces of his heart to the four corners of the Earth.

You want to be selfish, you want to keep a piece of him for yourself, to remember him by, but you let him go. You have to, if you want to make it out alive.

“Come on,” he pleads. “We’ve been through so much…”

You swallow around the lump in your throat. “I know.”

There’s finality in your voice, and he hears it just as well as you do. You think he’ll fight more – Jungkook never backs down from a challenge – but to your surprise he goes incredibly still.

“Nothing I can do or say will make you stay, huh?”

You shut your eyes. “I’m sorry.”

He goes cold then – like hell. Empty, freezing over, and he steps out of bed to grab some clothes in his luggage that he’s yet to unpack. You watch him, watch the last tears on his cheeks falling as he bends down. No new ones join them – he’s retracted somewhere inside of himself, probably in an attempt to protect himself. You’re not sure he’s aware of the coping mechanism, but you can recognize it.

He was in that same place when you met him again the year after his accident, before you started dating. Once, he told you that you were the one to rescue him from it.

Who will rescue him now?

You start crying again, and you force yourself to get out of bed. To grab some clothes as he’s zipping his luggage after getting dressed.

“Stop,” you tell him. “I already have plans to go stay with Bridget and Heather.”

He stops moving, and then slowly gets up. He glances at the door of the bedroom. Bam is looking through the small gap, and he gently pushes on the door to open it wider.

“What about the dog?” Jungkook asks, sounding so detached you can barely recognize him.

It breaks you even more. You’re selfish – you wish he’d fight more. You wish he’d convince you to stay, but now he looks like he doesn’t even care anymore.

You probably deserve it.

“You can keep him,” you say, as you struggle to put your clothes on, hands trembling so much it makes you lose your fine motricity. “When you-“ A sob breaks the sentence. “When you leave again I can take him in.”

Jungkook nods, and then he glances towards the television. The movie is still playing, yet it’s nearing the end now.

Everything comes to an end.

“Fuck,” Jungkook curses loudly, and he moves to the bed, grabbing the remote so he can turn the TV off. He then looks at the bed. “You’re leaving with those?”

“Jungkook…”

“You’re fucking leaving with them?”

He’s motioning to Totoro and Appa, and you cry some more as you nod. “Okay. Yes. I’ll come back later for the rest.”

“Okay.”

There’s an immense silence then, as you finish putting your clothes on. As you go to the closet, where you’ve already packed a duffel bag with stuff for a week. Jungkook scoffs when he sees it, and it almost makes your legs give out under you.

“You weren’t going to give me a chance, were you?” he asks bitterly, reproachfully.

“My decision was made,” you answer with a small voice. “I just… it’s too hard.”

“Yeah. Whatever.”

You know Jungkook often hurts others when he himself is in pain. It’s something he said he didn’t want to do anymore, a side of him he told you he hates. You’re not surprised to see it come to the surface right now – you don’t think he’s ever gotten his heart broken like this before.

So you’re not surprised when he adds, “We should have broken up when we fought on the phone. Because why was I so fucking stupid to think you still loved me?”

Your heart breaks. It’s been breaking, but now it’s different. Burning, throbbing pain takes over the beating organ, and you struggle to breathe. The air is boiling in your lungs, and it’s so fierce you feel it in every inch of your body.

“I do,” you tell him. “It’s not because I don’t love you…”

He laughs. He bursts out laughing, and it’s a little crazed, a little scary. “Right. Yeah. Tell that to yourself.”

In that instant, you remember when you’d told him you loved him for the first time. At his art exhibit, choked on emotions you thought you’d always know. You don’t know them anymore, but he’s wrong.

You’ll always love him.

“Kook…”

“Will you fucking stop calling me that?” he asks, and he finally meets your gaze again.

“Sorry…”

He sighs loudly, tongue poking at his cheek. “Are you leaving now?”

It’s weird – the way he says it reminds you of your mother when she kicked you out years ago. It reminds you of the early days with Jungkook and you don’t think you can move. You’re stuck in the spot where you’re standing, watching him as he watches you.

When his gaze breaks and he lets out, “Please”, you finally start moving.

First to the bed, to grab Appa and Totoro, and then towards the door.

You push the door open, and Bam wags his tail as you walk out. You’re crying again – you’re not sure you ever stopped – but the sight of the dog makes everything worse. Because it’s not only Jungkook you’re losing, it’s Bam too.

It’s your life. You’re losing everything that matters to you, in an attempt to save yourself. In an attempt to find something better for yourself, something that won’t ache for months at a time like being with Jungkook now does.

“Hey, Bamie,” you say, and you hold the plush toys away as he tries to bite into Appa’s paw. “I’ll see you soon, okay?”

You bend, and you let the dog lap at your cheek, as if he can dry your tears. When he stops to look at you curiously, head tilted to the side, you press a kiss to the top of his head. You can’t move for a time and, as if sensing it, Bam remains entirely still too.

He only moves when you stretch, and it’s to press his body against your legs, as if trying to stop you from leaving. Tears cascade down your face, and you tell him you’re sorry, too. You repeat that you’ll see him soon again, hoping that it’ll help, and then you’re walking around him. Walking towards the door, walking towards the crying world outside.

Jungkook follows behind, silent as ever, hands lost in the pockets of his sweatpants, eyes lost in the void. You put down your stuff by the door, put on a light coat and grab your keys. You store them in your coat pocket, and then head to the door, to put on your shoes.

Every step feels like lead, like death, and you just keep crying. It only stops when you meet Jungkook’s gaze, when you’re ready to leave.

Or as ready as you’ll ever be.

“So that’s it?” he asks.

“That’s it,” you agree, and you wish you didn’t. Wish those weren’t the words you said.

He nods once, looking like he’s burdened with a great fatigue. “Alright.”

You want to scream at him to say more, but he doesn’t. Only stays silent as he looks at you, doe eyes so big. His waterline is wet again, and he’s got red splotches all over his face. He’s fighting the tears this time around and you wish you’d give him a reprieve, wish you’d be able to leave but, once again, you’re rooted in your spot.

Maybe because you still have more to say.

“Thank you for…” You pause, take a deep, shaking breath in. “Thank you for the years. I had a lot of fun with you.”

“Please go.”

You nod once, and then you turn around. It occurs to you that your hands are full, and you look at the doorknob as if it’s foreign. Jungkook must have noticed, because he steps forward, his hand reaching for it.

He stills halfway there, with his arm right next to you. And then you hear him choke on a sob, and you drop what you’re holding to face him, to pull him into a hug.

You don’t know how long you cry, holding onto each other like this. Because the moment you’ve wrapped your arms around his waist, Jungkook wrapped his around your shoulders, and he hid his face in your hair.

You cry and cry, together. The last thing you’ll ever do together, you reckon. You wish it wasn’t the case, wish the ending was still at the end a very long road, but it’s come short tonight and it’s too late to stop now.

You break against him, holding him. He’s shaking in your arms, as much as you’re shaking in his. Both of you trembling leaves in the wake of your end. And then you fall to your demise, carried away by the wind.

You don’t know when you let go of him. Only come to your senses when you’re in bed, sometime between dusk and dawn, away from him.

You’re never going to hold him again.

Teaser | Next

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Pain. I'm crying again from rereading one last time before posting. Please don't hate me oop- let me know what you think of the fic! Did we like it, even though it hurts? All rights reserved to @/oddinary4bts, 2023. Do not copy, repost or translate.

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secretswiftymarvelfan · 2 years

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Burnin’ Up - Firefighter!Chris AU (Part 13: Bring Your Partner To Work Day)

A/N: It’s my birthday! so to celebrate my 24 years of life on this planet here the next part of Burnin’ Up!

Summary: Some say to fully understand someone you have to walk a mile in their shoes

Word Count: 8.7k

Warnings: Fluff! Language! Suggestive Phone Conversations! SMUT! 18+ ONLY! MINORS DNI!

Dividers by @firefly-graphics

Meet the Characters!

Series Masterlist / Masterlist

Chapter 13: Bring Your Partner To Work Day

You had a slow start to the day, whenever you had the day off you took advantage of having a lie-in. Waking up only once your body was ready to wake up, not when your alarm told you to. When you did finally wake you reached for your phone smiling to yourself when you saw Chris had texted you. Your smile widened when you saw it was a picture of Dodger in his new harness which proudly displayed his position as fire station pup.

You texted him back as you climbed out of bed saying just how handsome Dodger looked. Chris of course texted you back just before you stepped into the shower fishing for a compliment so you told him he was as handsome. He had replied by the time you were back out of the shower asking what your plans were for the day, so you responded with a selfie of you in your towel. Chris instantly responded to that saying how jealous he was of your towel and sad that he wasn’t there.

All throughout the morning you and Chris texted back and forth, whenever he got the chance to text while at the station. You were currently finishing up a batch of brownies when you heard your phone buzz on the side. Grabbing a tea towel you quickly wiped your hands clean before grabbing your phone. You chuckled to yourself when you saw the picture of Chris’ burnt lunch that Paulie had made. You smirked to yourself responding with a picture of your fresh brownies, Chris replying saying he was even more jealous now.

You smiled to yourself grabbed a Tupperware box and began moving enough brownies over for all the crew to have one. Chris had told you that they were having a relatively quiet day so it wouldn’t be that much of an issue if you stopped by to drop the brownies off.

However, when you arrived at the fire station you could see it swarming with kids and their parents. You looked through the crowds spotting Chris standing outside with Dodger beside him, a warm smile on his face as he crouched down to be at eye level with the kids. Walking over you smiled when you heard him recounting the story of how he and the crew rescued Dodger.

“so he lives here?” one of the little girls asked.

“no, he comes home with me when work is done” Chris explains as he scratches Dodger behind the ear.

“Does he fight fires?” one boy asks.

“no when we go on a job, Dodger stays here nice and safe, we have him to boost morale because firefighting can be hard sometimes” Chris explains.

“and dangerous” another little boy adds.

“yes it can be dangerous but we work to make sure everyone is safe” Chris nods, he then glances up and spots you, his smile growing.

Chris answers a couple more questions before the current group of kids and parents move over towards the fire engine where Jamie and Paulie were standing giving tours of the truck. Once they were gone Chris stood up and walked the short distance over towards you, a warm smile on his face as his hand found your hip and he greeted you with a kiss on the cheek.

“hey what are you doing here?” he asks thumb brushing against your side.

“a little birdie told me someone was a little jealous of my brownies so I brought some for all the crew” you explain holding out the box of brownies.

Chris gives you a broad smile as he accepts the box “you are amazing” he grins.

“so what’s going on here? I wasn’t expecting all this?” you ask nodding around at the crowds.

“community open day, parents can bring their kids to learn about firefighting and fire safety” Chris explains “each station holds at least one every year”

“oh that’s good, we hold something similar for troubled kids” you nod “what happens if you get called out?”

“We won’t unless there’s no one else that can respond, dispatch knows we have this in the diary, our aid car is still on call but the rest of us aren’t until this finishes at 5 pm,” Chris says as he guides you into the station and up the stairs to the break area.

“so you might still get called out tonight even after doing this all day?” you point out leaning against the small kitchen island.

“yup so an energy boost like this will be a lifesaver” Chris winks holding up the box of brownies before putting them away in the cupboard.

“I do my best” you smirk as Chris walks back over towards you.

Chris stops right in front of you, arms wrapping around his waist pulling you closer, his head dipping to capture your lips in his. You smile, humming in contentment, your hands instinctively gripping his large biceps as he tilted you back slightly.

Once he pulled away your hands moved to rest on his chest “I better go, let you get back to all the kids” you smile lightly tapping his chest.

“no stay, hang around for a bit,” Chris says with a slightly pleading tone, his arms wrapping around you tighter.

“but you’re busy” you point out with a small sigh.

“I’m not actually, now that Dodger’s on a break I'm kinda a free agent, I can show you around, teach you all about the superior emergency service” Chris smirks.

“I didn’t know you knew about working in the police force” you smirked tilting your head as you looked up at him.

Chris threw his head back laughing loudly, his arms pulling you even closer so you could feel the rumble of his chest as he laughed “I walked straight into that one didn’t I?” he chuckles smiling warmly down at you.

“yep” you grin “but I’ll take you up on that tour if it's still available”

Chris smiles nodding his head “of course it is, now c’mon” he says taking your hand and leading you back downstairs.

Over the next hour or so Chris showed you around all the different areas they had set up. You would stand to the side whenever Chris was explaining things to the children. You couldn’t help but smile as you watched him, he was completely in his element around the kids and you guessed that was because of his niece and nephews. He made sure to always crouch down to their eye level, he’d help lift them into the fire truck. The kids loved him too, he’d already been given multiple drawings the kids had done at the activity table.

“do you really wear all this?” one of the boys asked pointing at the table that held all the different gear the crew would wear.

“yep, this all keeps us safe while fighting fires so if we went into a fire without it we could get seriously hurt,” Jamie says sending Chris a pointed look.

Chris whistles innocently glancing around, rocking back and forth on his heels making you chuckle.

“is it heavy?” a girl asks.

Chris gives her a lopsided grin as he grabs his helmet from the table “I dunno why don’t you tell me?” he says as he put the helmet on the little girl.

The little girl giggles holding onto the helmet “it's heavy” she squeals.

Chris chuckles taking the helmet off her, putting his hand on her shoulder to steady her “yep so we all have to be very strong, and we have to be able to put this all on very very quickly” Chris says as he puts the helmet back down on the table.

“how quickly?” a boy asks.

“less than two minutes quickly” Chris explains “from the moment the alarm goes off we want to be dressed and on the fire truck within two minutes” you couldn’t help but arch a brow thinking you could easily do that, Chris catches you though and a mischievous look forms on his face “it’s harder than it sounds trust me, in fact why don’t we do a little race to prove it?”

“oh this will be fun” Paulie grins rubbing his hands together before grabbing all the gear on the table.

“as lieutenant, I’ll volunteer myself on behalf of the firefighters,” Chris says hand on his chest “who wants to volunteer for the parents?” various children tug on their parent’s arms trying to get them to do it but there were no takers, Chris then looks over at you “how about you? fancy a go?”

“oh no, no I’m good,” you say holding up your hands.

“Nonsense, you look strong enough,” Chris says waving you off as he walks over to you “a quick race, you might even win” he smirks winking as he takes your hand and pulls you towards where Paulie and Steve were setting up the race “it's nice and simple, you just have to get dressed, fastest wins but I’ll give you double points if you manage to do it in less than two minutes” he explains winking at you.

“fine, prepare to be embarrassed Evans,” you say doing a couple of stretches.

Chris lets out a small scoff shaking his head but when you look over with an arched brow he doesn’t actually say anything, he just prepares himself for the race “Jamie you got the stopwatch ready?” he asks.

“good to go, competitors are you ready?” Jamie says holding up the stopwatch.

“ready,” both you and Chris said at the same time, earning smirks from the rest of his crew.

“Okay, on your marks, get set, GO!” Jamie shouts and both of you and Chris race off from the starting marks.

The first thing you had to put on was the trousers, you managed to slip them on easily but as you were pulling the suspenders up onto your shoulders you spotted Chris had already moved on to the boots. You quickly moved on determined to beat him.

As you slipped on the boots you realised Jamie must be a couple of sizes bigger than yours, you hoped it wouldn’t affect your chances but you were already stumbling “this isn’t fair these don’t fit!” you exclaim as you grab the jacket and slide it on.

“you’ll be fine, you can still beat him! Go” Paul calls out spurring you on.

Glancing over at Chris you could see he was also pulling on his jacket. You were neck and neck so you were still within reach of victory. Feeling spurred on you zipped up the jacket and grabbed the ventilator. It was much heavier than you expected but you still managed to lift it onto your back. Once you had it comfortably on your back you grabbed the helmet and put it on, you were just grabbing the gloves when you heard a whistle to your side. Looking over you could see Chris was fully kitted out, arms crossed, a smug smile on his face.

“Seriously?” you complain, shoulders dropping in defeat.

“you still have 30 seconds if you wanna do it under 2 minutes” Chris points out nodding to the gloves in your hands.

You roll your eyes sliding the gloves on, holding them up to show you had finished. Chris and everyone else cheered, while you hadn’t beaten Chris, you still managed to do it in under 2 minutes which was pretty awesome.

“considering the gear doesn’t fit, I think you did a very good job,” Chris says walking over to adjust the jacket and the straps of the ventilator “you could have a career as a firefighter” he adds with a smirk, tapping the top of your helmet so it covered your eyes.

“I am very happy with my current career thank you,” you say pushing the helmet back up so you could see him.

“I bet I could convince you” he smirks, speaking quietly enough so only you could hear him.

“c’mon let's get a picture of the two of you,” Paul says stepping forward and holding up his phone to take the photo.

Chris grabs the back of your jacket, gently turning you to face Paul. You were expecting him to lower his hand for the photo but he didn’t and you didn’t mind one bit. You gave a thumbs up as you smiled for the photo, your head instinctively tilting towards Chris.

You had to admit you had a newfound admiration for firefighters. Ever since the conversation you had with Chris following the RTC where you told him about your mother you had made a conscious effort to open your eyes and make your own opinions. But wearing all this heavy gear and knowing the dangers that he put himself in to save lives you were honestly in awe. He could be wearing all this for hours, running into buildings, climbing ladders and saving lives. Frankly, you didn’t think it was something you could ever do.

As you glanced up at Chris he smiled down at you, his eyes narrowing slightly when he noticed the look on your face “either way… I am very, very impressed” you grin making his smile grow.

That evening Chris and the crew finished up all the chores that they needed to do around the station before slowly making their way to bed, everyone opting for an early night in case a call came in. Chris was one of the last still awake, clearing up the pots and pans from dinner.

“hey, do you want a hand?” Paul asks walking over.

“Nah I’m good, get some rest” Chris smiles with a small shake of his head.

“good I was only offering to be nice” Paul smirks, Chris letting out a snort of laughter as he looked over at his friend.

“well in that case you can-“ Chris starts before Paul interrupts.

“nope you already said no, can’t take it back” Paul argues shaking his finger at Chris, Chris rolls his eyes in response “it was nice to see Y/N visiting today” Paul comments as he moves to lean against the island.

“yeah, it was a nice surprise” Chris agrees, smiling to himself as he recalls the sight of you dressed up in Jamie’s gear.

“and the brownies were pretty great too,” Paul says making Chris chuckle “but I mean it was nice to see her actually want to get involved in this lifestyle” he adds.

Chris frowns slightly looking over at Paul “what do you mean?” he asks.

“well think about it, how many of your exes have ever made the effort to visit you at work, or even just pop in to say hello” Paul points out.

Chris’ frown deepens as he tried to recall a time but he simply couldn’t. with every failed relationship he only ever saw them when he wasn’t working or on his days and evenings off. He could even recall having to physically drag himself out on a date following a shift when all he wanted was to get some rest, but because it was the only time he’d see his girlfriend at the time he had to go. He’d always work around her, never the other way around. If he was honest his exes only ever liked the idea of him being a firefighter, they wanted the fantasy associated with the career. They’d bail and blame it on him when it got tough.

“yeah…” Chris mutters “yeah I guess you’re right”

“she’s definitely a keeper,” Paul says, Chris nodding in agreement a smile playing at his lips.

“yeah, I knew that a long time ago” he admits.

A mischievous grin grows on Paul’s face as he grabs a nearby white teatowel, draping it over his head like a veil “I can hear the bells, just hear them chiming” Paul sings swaying side to side.

Chris instantly grabs the tea towel from him, twisting it up and using it as a whip to smack Paul in the side. Smirking when he heard the satisfying crack as it made contact.

“Oh Jesus fuck man” Paul complains clutching his side.

“go to bed before I do it again” Chris warns pointing in the direction of the sleeping quarters.

"fine, fine I’m going,” Paul says holding his hands up in surrender, Chris watches him sceptically as he makes his way out and rightfully so as Paul begins to sing “going to the chapel” as he walks away.

Chris shakes his head as he gets back to cleaning up the kitchen. As he cleans his mind begins to wander, the silence of the station giving him ample opportunity, all his thoughts being solely of you. When he was done cleaning up he knew he should head straight to bed but he knew there was no point. He felt completely awake and he knew he would just spend the next hour or so tossing and turning.

So instead he grabbed his remaining brownie from the Tupperware and moved to sit down on one of the stools. Pulling out his phone he first scrolled through Twitter and Instagram, smiling when he saw a picture you had posted of the brownies you had made. Without a second thought, he dialled your number.

The line connects after a couple of rings “hey, I didn’t think you’d still be up” you admit, your voice like music to Chris’ ears.

“yeah, still feeling buzzed from the open day so I’m just eating the brownie you brought me” Chris explains, it wasn’t strictly a lie, he just omitted that it was your presence at the open day that was making his mind buzz.

You laugh softly down the phone, Chris knowing you were shaking your head at him “yeah because eating sugar is really gonna help you fall asleep”

“it might when I get the sugar crash” Chris points out making you laugh even more.

“touche, is everyone else still up?” you ask him.

“Nah they’re all asleep now, Dodger is snoring loudly from his bed, I think everyone is silently praying for a full night’s sleep” Chris admits as he finishes off the brownie and brushes the crumbs off his hands.

“yeah well you all deserve it, the open day was really nice I’m sure it’s inspired lots of kids,” you tell him.

“yeah, it was a pretty great day, got a lot better when you turned up” Chris smiled.

He could hear you bashfully chuckle quietly down the line “it was great to see you too, maybe I’ll stop by more often” you suggest.

Chris’ smile grows even more at the idea “I would love that” he admits.

“okay” you whispered, Chris able to hear the smile on your face in your tone.

“so what are you up to this evening?” Chris asks moving the conversation along.

“not much, just had a bit of a pamper evening, self-care and all that,” you tell him.

“oh yeah like what?” Chris grins.

“Well I had a nice bath with a glass of rosé, had bubbles, salts, the works,” you tell him “and now I’m just relaxing in bed in my bathrobe while I pay zero attention to the TV programme I put on”

Chris lets out a quiet groan “and I’m guessing your bathrobe is the only thing you have on” he says.

“oh, you could be a detective with deduction skills like that” you smirk making Chris groan again as he easily pictured it.

“god you’re killing me here babe” he mutters shaking his head.

“oh don’t act like you don’t love it” you chuckle.

“me loving it too much is the problem, you’ve got me thinking of ways I can sneak out and see you,” Chris says glancing around to make sure he was still alone.

“is that permission to start a small fire in my apartment?” you ask making Chris laugh.

“Only a small one” he smirks.

“I think we’re onto something here, you’d burst in wearing all that gear, putting out the fire with ease before moving on to make sure I’m alright,” you tell him.

“and how would I do that?” Chris asks.

“well I’d be in shock, fire is a scary thing you know so you’d have to do a full private examination” you continue “bathrobe discarded just in case an ember snuck under and burnt me”

Chris dips his head, groaning quietly as he pictured your naked body “gotta be thorough” he agrees.

“Exactly, I’d be so shaken up that I can barely stand so you would make me comfortable on the bed, your hands running over my entire body,” you say, Chris hears you shift instantly knowing that you were mimicking the actions in real-time.

“then what would I do?” he asks wetting his lips.

“well all the gear would start to get in the way, so you just discard all of it,” you tell him.

Chris hums in agreement “I wouldn’t need it anymore”

“Exactly, and to get the best view you’d climb up onto the bed with me, caging me in with your large strong body…” you continue “you’d then lift my arms above my head, I might even let you use my handcuffs to keep them there”

Chris has to shift in his seat and readjust his trousers which were growing increasingly tight “that is a good idea” he manages to say.

“then from there you would continue to… examine my body, using those large hands of yours to your advantage” you mutter, your breath catching slightly.

“gotta make sure the chest area is okay” Chris agrees.

“oh yeah you give my chest area your full attention” you drawl “then once you were certain I was uninjured you would help me relax”

“fires can be traumatic” Chris hums.

“very… and you’d use those long fingers to calm me down in the way only you know how” you mutter before letting out a small whimper, sighing softly “I miss you a lot right now” you admit quietly.

Chris chuckle softly “me too, and I don’t think I’ll be getting any sleep now after that”

“Sorry,” you say, but Chris knew you weren’t really sorry, you were enjoying it as much as he was.

“but I can make it up to you, visit you after you finish work and finish the job,” he says with a smirk.

“That sounds like a very good idea, but only if you don’t get called out on a job tonight, you should spend tomorrow resting up if you do,” you tell him.

“I’ll be fine,” Chris says shaking his head but you were having none of it.

“Chris promise me that if you get a job tonight you stay home tomorrow,” you tell him firmly.

Chris chuckles nodding his head “okay, okay, I promise” he grins “I can still call you though, right?”

“yes, of course, you never have to ask to call me,” you tell him.

“Great, I’ll talk to you tomorrow then” Chris smile “sleep well, goodnight”

“goodnight Chris, I love you” you smile.

“I love you too” Chris grins before hanging up.

“Enjoy your day off yesterday?” Ben asked as you met him outside the precinct.

“Yeah it was nice, I paid Chris a visit at work which was fun, they were doing an open day so there were lots of activities set up” you explain as you walk inside.

“Did he let you turn on the siren?” Ben asks with a smirk.

“No, but I did put on the uniform,” you say pulling out your phone to show him the picture Paul had taken of you and Chris.

“Aw, that’s cute” Ben coos “are you seeing him this evening?”

“No” you sigh sadly “they got called out to a warehouse fire in the middle of the night so I told him to just rest up because he’s gonna be exhausted”

“Oh yeah I heard about that on the news this morning, it was a pretty big fire” Ben comments “were you worried?”

“I was asleep so I didn’t know about it until I woke up but I saw he texted me, but I saw he’d texted the ‘i’m fine’ code at the same time so I wasn’t worrying for long” you explain as you walk into the elevator and press the button for your floor.

“That’s good, and the codes are working well?” Ben asks.

“Yeah really well, Chris likes to call certain ones in more than others” you admit, thinking of the various times he’d text you with a code 69.

“By the way you’ve been glowing I already know what code that is” Ben smirks.

“No comment” you chuckle as the elevator door opens and you both walk out towards your desks.

As you do so you notice your Captain was already waiting for you. You glance down at your watch to check you weren’t late, your captain being a stickler for punctuality, but you were perfectly on time, early even. Meaning it had be something important if he was waiting for you.

“Captain, is everything okay?” You ask putting your bag down at your desk.

“There was an apartment break-in last night, I’m assigning the case to the both of you since you have the best numbers for robbery” your captain explains, arms crossed over his chest.

“Of course, we can head straight over,” Ben says nodding his head in agreement.

“Good, the CSI team are already there trying to establish a point of entry and collect any evidence,” your captain tells you.

“Did the responding officers take a statement from the victim?” You ask.

“Yes, here it is,” he says passing you a printout of the statement.

“Great thank you, c’mon Benny we got work to do,” you say nodding over to Benny.

“After you sarge,” Ben says with a small salute.

Making your way back out of the precinct you followed Ben over to his car climbing into the passenger seat. As he drove you read through the statement, rubbing your chin in thought.

“The victim says the door was locked when she returned to the apartment last night” you tell Benny.

“So the perp got in through the window” Ben deduces.

“Maybe, but she said the windows were also locked and intact when she returned” you say pursing your lips in thought.

“Weird, hopefully CSI have found out the point of entry” Ben hums.

Arriving at the apartment building you were directed upstairs by the footman, Ben commenting how swanky the building was on the elevator ride up. Reaching the apartment you were immediately met with the head crime scene investigator.

“I have to say this one is a bit of a head-scratcher” he admits nodding into the apartment.

“You haven’t found a point of entry?” Ben asks.

“No we’ve ruled out that they climbed the fire escape as the ladder was so rusted it wouldn’t reach the ground” the investigator continues pointing over to the windows where his team were sweeping for prints.

“I’ll make sure that’s passed onto the fire department” you mutter, ignoring the smirk Ben sent your way.

“And there’s no evidence of forced entry through the windows either” the investigator explains.

“Could the locks have been picked?” Ben questions.

“There’s no evidence of it, no scratches or anything on either the windows or the lock on the door, the perp could have been extremely careful but they would have had no way to lock the windows or door behind them when they left” the investigator sighs.

“Right we’ll talk to the victim see if we can clear some things up, let us know if you find anything” you tell him.

“Will do, the victim is next door with a neighbour” he tells you pointing down the hall.

“Thank you,” you say before walking down the hall to the neighbour’s apartment.

Knocking on the door, both you and Ben smile softly when it opened “hi I’m Detective Sergeant Y/L/N and this is Detective Sykes, we're here to investigate the robbery next door” you say to the woman who answered.

“Oh yeah, she’s just inside, c’mon in,” the woman says stepping aside to let you and Ben inside.

Walking in you spot the victim sitting on the couch, her hair dishevelled and a tired look on her face. The couch still had the pillows and blanket from where she’d been sleeping, but you guessed she hadn’t done much of that anyway.

“Hi, I’m Detective Sergeant Y/L/N and this is Detective Sykes, how are you feeling?” You ask her gently.

“Exhausted, freaked out and violated” she mutters shaking her head.

“That’s understandable after everything, but we’re gonna try and solve this as quickly as possible so you can get some peace of mind” you reassure her, getting a muttering of thanks in response.

“I’ll put on some coffee, would you like some detectives?” The neighbour asks.

“No we just need to ask some questions and we’ll be getting out of your hair” ben says shaking his head.

“What do you need to know?” The victim asks hugging herself.

“We just want to clarify a few things, are you certain that you locked the door?” Ben asks.

“100% I always check that it's locked before I leave,” she says shaking her head.

“Okay, do you know if anything was stolen?” You ask her.

“Not that I could immediately see, I came home from seeing a friend and the place had been completely ransacked” the victim mutters “i-i can have a better look later when I’m allowed back in”

You nod your head “that would be greatly appreciated but do it within your own time, don’t rush” you reassure her.

“Thank you,” she says quietly.

“What time did you leave your apartment and how long were you gone for?” Ben asks her.

“Um I left sometime between 7 and 8 and was gone about 3 hours or so, I’m sorry I’m not really sure” she apologises shaking her head.

“That’s okay that gives us enough of a timeline to work from” you reassure her.

“At the moment it looks like the burglar was able to unlock and lock the door behind them, can you tell us who has any spare keys?” Ben asks.

“Uh my parents have my spare key but they’re out of state at the moment,” she tells you.

“What’s their address in case they were also burgled and that’s how they got hold of your key,” you ask, noting down the address when she told you “and is there anyone else who would have a key?”

“Um the building supervisor would have a master key, and um my landlord, my ex had a key, our relationship ended really badly so I changed my locks so his key wouldn’t work” the victim sighs shaking her head.

“Okay that’s great thank you, we’ll go talk to them to see if they’ve lost their keys, hopefully we’ll have some answers for you soon, in the meantime if you do find that is anything missing call this number” you say passing her your card.

“I will thank you,” she says.

You give her one more reassuring smile before you and Ben make your way back out of the apartment and towards the crime scene. You paused by the door looking in at the investigators working away, pursing your lips in thought as you tried to make sense of the situation. There were so many questions left unanswered, usually by now you had something to go on, a point of entry, stolen goods or other evidence left behind at the scene. Burglaries were some of the hardest crimes to prosecute, evidence and the perp needed to be found quickly before goods were sold on. But at the moment you didn’t even have stolen goods.

“If all the people she named still have their key…” you say thinking out loud.

“It's got to be one of them who did it,” Ben says finishing your train of thought.

“Exactly” you sigh “which is horrible considering they’re all someone she should trust”

“So what’s our next steps?” Ben asks.

“I noticed a camera in the lobby, we need to ask the super for the footage to establish an accurate timeline and any comings and goings, ask about his whereabouts at the same time” you say turning to face Ben “also ask the doorman who was on duty last night and if they saw anything”

“We also need to question the landlord, what about the ex-boyfriend? Are we ruling him out?” Ben asks as you both start walking back towards the elevator.

“No so far he’s the only one with a potential motive,” you say shaking your head “he might have known where to get a set of the new keys so we can’t say for certain it wasn’t him”

“True, hopefully the further we get into this the clearer it’ll become” ben comments as you step into the elevator.

“I hope so” you sigh “for her sake more than anything”

When you got home that evening you dumped your bag on the couch before heading off to go have a shower. You had stayed at the precinct longer than you normally would waiting on the CCTV footage and all the different statements from witnesses and suspects to come in and be verified. Jumping straight into the shower you hoped that maybe it would spark a light bulb moment, but it didn’t.

You changed into some comfy clothes before sitting down on your couch and spreading out all the documents you had brought home with you. rubbing your forehead tiredly you stared down at all the information you had collected so far in the investigation hoping that something would jump out.

You were reading through all the statements that had been collected hoping to find some discrepancy or something out of place when you heard someone knocking on your door. Letting out a long sigh you pushed yourself up to go answer the door, it was probably Mrs Coolridge asking if you’d seen her cat again. But to your surprise when you opened the door you were greeted by Chris smiling down at you.

“hey babe” he grins as you look up at him in surprise.

“Chris, what-what are you doing here? You should be at home resting, how did you even get into the building” you say shaking your head.

“one of your neighbours let me in while looking for her cat, and I spent all day resting up so I’m perfectly refreshed and good to hang out with you” he beams proudly.

“Are you sure?” you ask him “I really don’t mind if you wanna go home and relax” you offer.

“100% why go home when I can stay here and relax with you” he smirks stepping forward, cupping your cheek to tilt your head back as he kissed you softly.

You let out a small hum in contentment, all your resolve breaking with a simple kiss “okay, I can’t argue with that” you grin “let me just tidy all this up” you say stepping back towards the couch to tidy all your work up.

“what is all this?” Chris asks shutting the door behind him as he follows you over.

“oh just a case we got assigned to today, apartment burglary but it’s a real confusing one, I was hoping I could make a breakthrough, the victim was rightfully shaken up over it all” you explain starting to put everything away.

Chris steps closer putting his hand on your arm to stop you “hey don’t pack it all up on my account” he tells you softly.

“yeah, but you don’t want me working while we’re hanging out,” you say shaking your head.

“it doesn’t bother me, I understand you have to take work home sometimes,” Chris tells you softly “why don’t you take me through it all? You might work something out by explaining it all” he suggests with a small shrug of his shoulders.

“Really?” you ask, uncertain that he could really want to help you work when you should be relaxing.

“really, hey I know I’m not a cop but I’ve watched Law and Order so I know what I’m doing” Chris smirks making you snort with laughter “so how about we put on our detective hats, pop some beers and order some Chinese and go through all this”

“sounds great, thank you babe” you smile reaching up to kiss his cheek.

“Anything for you,” he says softly before clapping his hands together “so take me through it, what have we got,” he asks moving to sit down on the couch.

“well, the victim left the building at 7:35 pm and walked a few blocks to her friend’s apartment where she stayed for a few hours before returning at 10:42 pm” you say sitting down next to him and pointing at the CCTV footage that showed the victim leaving and returning “when she returned her apartment was still locked but had been completely ransacked” you add showing him the crime scene photos.

“How did the burglar get in? through the window?” he asks with a frown.

“no they wouldn’t have been able to climb the fire escape because the ladder was too rusted, and there was no evidence of entry through the windows anyway” you explain “I’ve already passed the information about the fire escape on to the local fire station” you add when you see him go to say something.

“I’ll ask my dad to chase it up, the fire escape isn’t gonna save lives if people can’t actually get down to ground level” Chris mutters shaking his head before standing up and heading into the kitchen to grab you both a beer.

“thank you,” you say as he walks back in and passes you your beer.

“no worries, do you want your usual from the Chinese place?” Chris asks sitting back down and pulling out his phone.

“yes please, and can you ask for extra fortune cookies?” you ask hopefully.

Chris smiles nodding his head “already on it” he says tapping away on his phone “so how do you think the burglar got in?” he asks.

“the current theory is that they had a spare key, and so far we only know of 3 spare keys existing, her parents had one, her landlord and the super, and none of them reported their keys missing so we think it had to be one of them” you explain.

“whoa, that’s shitty” Chris comments with a frown.

“yeah, but they all have solid alibis and none of them were spotted entering or leaving the building during the time that the crime took place” you sigh.

“oh that’s not helpful” Chris frowns “did the burglar take anything?” he asks.

“no which is the weird thing, they could have potentially been in the apartment for 3 hours and they took nothing, and they left no evidence either, no fingerprints, nothing,” you tell him making his frown deepen.

“so they must have been looking for something specific and didn’t find it or decided to leave before they did” Chris points out.

“or…” you say suddenly getting a brain wave “they never intended to take anything in the first place”

“why would someone do that?” Chris asks shaking his head.

“well robbery is a violating crime, knowing someone was in your house and touching your things can make someone feel vulnerable so what if the burglar's motive was to make the victim feel unsafe and vulnerable, not to take anything, I mean her laptop was on the coffee table in full view, why wouldn’t you take something like that,” you say holding up the crime scene photo and pointing to the laptop.

“it would be the first thing I’d grab, would any of the suspects benefit from making the victim feel unsafe?” Chris asks.

“I don’t know, I can’t see a parent being so cruel, plus her parents were out of state, the landlord would stand to lose because he’d lose a tenant, maybe her ex-boyfriend?” you mutter rubbing your chin in thought “he did have the weakest alibi”

“Did he have a key?” Chris asks taking a sip of his beer.

“no, at least technically he didn’t, he had a spare key but after they broke up and he kept showing up unannounced she got the locks changed” you explain.

“so he has the motive, priors and the opportunity but not the means,” Chris says.

“yep, but guess what?” you say looking over at him.

“He wasn’t seen on the CCTV either” Chris sighs.

“yup, bringing us straight back to the beginning again,” you say shaking your head.

“Whoever did this thought it through a lot, or is a superhero who can phase through walls and can turn invisible,” he says making you snort with laughter.

“it does feel like we’re going after a ghost” you sigh shaking your head tiredly.

Chris wraps his arm around you and pulls your closer, kissing the top of your head “you’ll work it out though, just gotta find that one piece of evidence that breaks the case open” he reassures you.

“yeah, hopefully sooner rather than later” you sigh resting your head on his shoulder.

Over the next hour, you and Chris talked through the case as you ate Chinese and drank beer. Even though you weren’t making any progress you were definitely finding it helpful to talk it all through with him, it helped you make sense of it all. You were having fun with it too, Chris would suggest theories each of them more outlandish than the last, making you laugh each time.

“what if she’s secretly part of the mafia, and the police were getting too close and sniffing around her business so she staged this whole burglary so that in the eyes of the police she was just an innocent woman not this notorious mob boss” Chris suggests as he put his container of food down.

You snort with laughter shaking your head at him as you lie on the couch, feet in his lap “that would be impressive” you say reaching out to take a fortune cookie “although we can’t really rule out her staging it though, even if I do think its impossible, she looked too shaken up” you add shaking your head “hey maybe the answer is in here?” you say holding up the fortune cookie.

“only one way to find out” Chris chuckles.

You break open the cookie and pull out the fortune “oh this is a bit depressing” you comment as you read it.

“what is it?” Chris asks shifting closer.

“Beware the calm before the storm, basically don’t enjoy the good times because they might end,” you say passing him the fortune and popping half of the cookie in your mouth.

“yeah that is a bit depressing” he admits as he reads it himself.

“so what if a storm’s coming, you should just live in the moment and enjoy it, not worry about the future,” you say as you finish off the last of the cookie, when you don’t hear Chris respond you look over to see him smiling over at you warmly “a thunderstorm however, that’s worth worrying about” you add making Chris laugh, his large hand squeezing your leg.

“you’re getting better at those though” he points out.

You hum slightly, he wasn’t strictly wrong if you were with him it was fine, manageable. You’d wake but you wouldn’t be frozen in fear, but Chris would wake with you too, he’d wrap his arms around you letting you bury your head in his chest so you couldn’t see the flashes of lightning, his hands would cup your ears to muffle the noise of the thunder.

It was a completely different story if you were alone, your heart would be racing as you clutched onto something that smelt like him in some attempt to calm yourself down. He would always call you the following morning to check in with you but you’d find yourself lying and playing it down.

“Now as fun as it is playing criminal minds and trying to get into the heads of whoever the burglar is, why don’t we stop now and I can help you relax,” he says leaning closer.

You arch a brow, pushing yourself up onto your elbows to look over at him “and how will you do that?” you ask.

“well…” Chris says running his hand up and down your thigh “I was thinking of using that pretty picture you painted for me last night as inspiration”

You bite your lower lip as you look over at Chris through your lashes, you knew exactly what picture he meant. It was one that you almost regretted but only because it left you restless for the rest of the night, unable to find a release without him. You had seriously considered calling him again and begging him to pay you a visit. And going by the look on Chris’ face he had been in the exact same situation.

“it was pretty inspirational,” you say tilting your head.

“it was damn near teasing, that’s what it was” Chris corrects, he wrapped his arms around you easily pulling you up onto his lap before standing up from the couch and wrapping your legs around his waist.

You grin down at him, one arm wrapped around his shoulder as your other hand cupped his cheek, your fingers running through his beard “if it helps, it killed me just as much as it killed you” you tell him as he carries you into your bedroom.

“a bit, but you weren’t the one trapped at work” he smirks as he places you down on your bed, fingers slipping underneath your hoodie and lifting it over your head “the question is…” he says as he bends down in front of you, pulling down your shorts before pressing a kiss to the top of your thighs “are you gonna let me use your handcuffs?”

You smirk and you lean back slightly “on my belt hanging on the back of the door,” you say nodding towards your bedroom door.

Chris grins, kissing you deeply before moving off towards your door, grabbing the cuffs and walking back towards you. he places the handcuffs and the key down on your bedside table before returning his attention back to you. cupping your cheek he tilts your head back so he could kiss you deeply again, your arm wrapping around his shoulder to keep him there.

His other hand moves behind your knee to begin shifting you back onto the bed, closer to the metal barred headboard. Once he was happy with where you were he removes your arm from around his shoulders and moves it to above your head, he then grabs your other arm and moves it above your head.

“ever done this before?” he asks as he grabs the handcuffs from the bedside table.

“no, you’re the first” you admit, it had always been something you’ve wanted to try but you never felt comfortable enough to suggest it and your exes, especially Jake were never into it.

A lopsided grin grows on Chris’ face “well I’m honoured to be your first” he says before moving to fasten the handcuffs around your wrists, securing you to the bed “not too tight?” he asks gently.

“no it's perfect,” you say shaking your head gently, shifting slightly underneath him “so are you gonna start your examination?” you ask.

Chris smirks leaning down to kiss you “yes, and I’m going to be very… very… thorough” he mutters as he presses kisses down your jaw and neck, his beard scratching against your skin.

Your back arches as his hands begin to explore your body, his beard scratching as he nipped and sucked at your neck. His large hand cups your breast making you gasp as he massages, squeezes and pinches your sensitive peak.

“Hm you seem to be very sensitive here” he comments with a smirk.

“Only the good kind,” you say with a breathy chuckle “I’m sensitive other places too”

“Oh really?” Chris smirks as he presses a kiss to your lips “are you sensitive here?” He asks, tracing his finger down from your sternum to your navel.

“You’re getting warm” you mutter, your chest rising and falling in anticipation.

Chris hums as he sits back on his ankles, his hands running down your thighs before resting behind your knees gently pushing them apart.

He ran his hands up and down your thighs slowly “what about here?” He murmurs

“Warmer” you gasp, your hips shifting as you tried to get closer to him.

A lopsided grin grows on his face as he runs his hands down your thighs, one moving to your hip, the other cupping your core “what about here?” He hums, tongue poking out to wet his lips.

You gasp your head pressing back against your pillow, hips moving into his touch “red hot” you managed to say.

“Perfect” Chris whispers as he leans down to capture your lips in his.

You smile into the kiss, tilting your head as the kiss deepens. Your hums of contentment turn into moans when Chris ran his fingers up your folds, collecting your slick. His fingers find your clit sending shock waves through your body. Electricity courses through your body as he rubs circles around your clit.

He was playing you like an instrument and it only got better when he slowly presses two fingers inside you. A loud moan escaped your lips, head thrown back, hands straining against the handcuffs. He gradually coaxed you to your peak, working you through your high.

As you caught your breath you looked over at Chris, a smile growing on your lips as you watch him remove his top and sweatpants. Your eyes run over his body, appreciating every muscle, every tattoo. His erection standing proud.

“Like what you see?” Chris says with a smug smile when he catches you staring.

“Just as much as I did the first time we did this” you smirk back up at him.

Chris laughs shaking his head as he smiles down at you “glad to hear it babe, glad to hear it” he grins as he moves to hover above you “I love you” he says softly.

You smile back up at him warmly lifting your head enough to kiss him slowly “I love you too” you whisper.

Chris grins as he cups your jaw and kisses you softly once more. As he kisses you he slowly presses into you, the both of you groaning as he fills you up. It was a feeling you would never get used to it and you didn’t want to either. It was like a drug and you were hooked.

You hook your leg over his hip urging him to move. He grins into the kiss as he slowly starts thrusting into you, his hand gripping your thigh as he thrusts deeper into you.

“Fuck yes Chris harder” you moan your hips moving to meet his.

Chris smirks as he sits up, both hands moving to your hips lifting them slightly as he thrusts harder and deeper into you “fuck babe you feel so good, squeezing me so tight” he groans.

You wanted the moment to last forever, just live in this moment in time forever. But you could already feel your peak growing closer and you were desperate to hit it. Your chest heaved as your hips moved to meet his. Chris heard your wordless plea as he moved to rub your clit once more.

“C’mon sweetheart, let go, I know you want to” Chris mutters, his brows furrowed in concentration.

You didn’t even get a chance to reply as your orgasm hits you like a tsunami wave, your walls clenching around Chris making him groan. You feel him hit his own peak shortly after you, painting your walls with his spend.

Your chest was still heaving as Chris removed the handcuffs from around your wrists, gently moving your arms to rest back on the bed. You whined quietly as he pulled out of you and climbed off of the bed. He soon returned with a warm washcloth and gently cleaned you up. Once he was done he climbed back into bed with you, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you closer.

“How do you feel now?” He asks as you rest your head on his chest, hand resting over his heart.

“Thoroughly relaxed” you grin looking up at him.

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