#Happiness t-shirt for plant lovers

[gardeningloverfamily]

Gardening T-shirts are my Escape from reality See Your T-shirt:

Broccoli is as Strong as a plant-based Ganis T-shirt See Your T-shirt:

You can't buy happiness, but you can buy a tree T-Shirt See Your T-shirt:

[helengie]

Plants Make Me Happy, Plants Whisperer, Vintage, Love Plants T-Shirt

https://www.teepublic.com/t-shirt/53756867-plants-make-me-happy-plants-whisperer-vintage-love?store_id=2653754

[suhsweet]

whatever you want ⟡ kmg

wc: 2007 | pair: bf!mingyu x afab!reader | genre: smut (18+, minors go away), established relationship | tags: somnophilia, half-asleep mingyu, kinda sub!mingyu?, reader happily does all the work, unprotected piv, barely a hint of a size kink, mention of reader having longer hair, pet names: baby, angel

summary: when mingyu’s tired, but you’re needy, he lets you use him however you please

author's note: i didn't realise that i started this blog, and this little drabble on mingyu's birthday cause i forgot about it… what a wonderful coincidence lol. happy birthday to my first kpop bias, and my dream husband <3 please enjoy my first piece of writing on tumblr EVER

It must’ve been around three in the morning when you woke. A thin sliver of moonlight peaked through the windows of your shared bedroom with Mingyu. Beside you, your lover slept peacefully. His light breathing, evenly paced, reached your ears. His lashes fluttered lightly as he slept, and his hair was mussed from the tossing and turning he often does to get comfortable.

Your hand gently came up to cup his cheek— light enough to avoid disturbing him, but heavy enough to not tickle him. You ran your thumb over his cheek while your eyes travelled over his features. The mole on his nose, the sharp slope of it, to his jaw, to his soft lips.

You carefully snuggled closer to him, close enough to kiss said mole, and said lips. Being so close to him, with his breathing caressing your face suddenly had you feeling needy for him. He should be awake, kissing you back, and running his fingers through your hair as he slowly rolls you onto your back as he breathily groans your name, and brings his large hands down your body towards your—

Sleep was keeping him from you. And you, with your wild imagination, now feeling extra needy, couldn’t possibly wait until morning.

You and Mingyu, little freaks, had spoken about fantasies and kinks once you were well into your relationship. Somnophilia was one of his, and you knew he was happy to have you touch him while he was asleep. He said, and I quote, “That is the hottest thing I can ever imagine you doing to me.”

So, with the sheets pushed off of you, and you now upright, you bent down to kiss your boyfriend’s cheek while adjusting him onto his back. The mix of Mingyu’s bodywash and cologne clouded your senses and you found yourself draping a leg on either side of him. He was wearing his ridiculously hypnotizing grey sweatpants again, alongside his oversized white t-shirt that hid the toned body underneath.

For a few moments, your quiet breaths and whimpers filled the air. You felt a hand slide up to cup your ass, which was busy grinding on his cock. The friction of your core pressed against him was both easing and heightening your desire for him.

“Baby?” Mingyu’s words came out as a husky whisper.

You smiled softly, “Gyuu.”

You were a siren, Mingyu decided—a succubus. The way you had whispered one word— his name, with so much sensuality had him aching for you instantly. But a glance at the clock told him that he would have to be up in less than four hours for work. He wasn’t in the right mind to please you; he hadn’t been awake for long enough.

Mingyu’s eyes closed once more, both from pleasure and sleep. You began kissing his neck again, then slowly trailed them up towards his sharp jaw, to his smooth cheek, to reach those lips… A throaty groan came out of him, and he lazily reciprocated your kisses. His hand came to cup your cheek and he slowly pulled away. His words came out slurred. “Gotta get up for work in a few hours.”

You rose and planted your hand on his chest, you hadn’t stopped grinding against him. You added more pressure on the point where your bodies met. Mingyu watched you helplessly, groaning with pleasure.

You smiled sweetly, a gleam in your eye that had Mingyu’s cock twitching. “I’ll be quick. I need you.”

“‘M too tired, baby.”

That was a no, and you immediately stopped. The fog in your mind cleared slightly, and you realized how selfish you were to put your lust over his rest. Thank God for the night’s shadows that veiled your flushed face. You smiled, embarrassed.

“I’m sorry,” you kissed his cheek gently. “I was-”

His hand was on the back of your head, stopping you from pulling away. Mingyu’s head turned to meet your lips once more. “I didn’t mean that you should stop. You’ll need to do all the work.”

“Are you sure?”

With his eyes on you, you recognized the lust hidden behind the sleep in his eyes. They were still half-lidded and would remain that way while you smiled at each other. He looked so dopey that you couldn’t hide your giggle. You had your answer.

He smiled at the sound and sleepily kissed your jaw. “Do whatever you want with me, baby. I’m all yours.”

Giddy, and buzzing from the idea of using Mingyu like a toy, you resumed kissing his neck and reached your hands under his shirt to feel his warm skin. His eyes, still half open, watched as you lowered yourself to the foot of your bed to face his arousal. You palmed it through the fabric of his pants, eyeing his reaction. He smiled softly, encouraging you.

Pushing down his sweatpants and boxers, his erection rose to greet you. You kept your gaze on him, to watch his face scrunch up with want as you slapped it against your tongue. He hissed as you filled your mouth with him, running your tongue against the texture of the head and veins. As began to bob your head up and down, making the filthiest sounds, Mingyu moaned even louder.

Yes, a succubus indeed. Mingyu watched in fascination as you pleasured him. The sight of you and your siren-like eyes was more than enough to make him explode. He flopped an arm across his face. In his head, he tried his best to recount the entire roster of players of his favorite baseball team—anything to distract himself from the angel between his legs.

“Are you falling asleep on me, Gyu?” Your voice was the definition of innocence. You were well aware of his little trick to lasting longer. Your right hand remained on his length, stroking it with your saliva glistening in between your fingers. The slick, wet sounds filled the room.

“Never,” was his response. His arm stayed over his eyes. “Want to be inside you.”

You weren’t one to deny him. Your right hand kept stroking him as you rose on to your knees and pulled down your panties. Mingyu, now watching you once more, tugged at the shirt you wore. His shirt. The perks of having a giant as a boyfriend: oversized sleep shirts. You looked at him, and he blinked at you drowsily. His fingers ceaselessly tugged at the shirt, and you gave in, taking off the shirt in one swift go.

“Finally.” Mingyu immediately let out a deep breath at the sight of you. His hands lazily traced the sides of your body, ending up the swell of your breasts. “My baby’s so sexy.”

You preened at his words. Back to straddling him, his cock still in your hand, you began to lower yourself onto him. Mingyu dragged out a long groan as you lowered yourself to the base of his cock at an achingly slow pace. You swirled your hips, enjoying the sensation of him literally stirring your insides.

Fatigue had Mingyu’s arms fall back to his sides, and he watched you with bleary eyes. If he wasn’t careful, he would’ve drooled. Every stroke you made on his cock had him panting audibly. “Yes, baby. Use me. Use me.”

The words caused a hot flush of desire to run through your body, top to bottom. You pushed the hem of Mingyu’s shirt upwards to reveal his toned stomach and ran your fingers over every ridge, the sensation making him shiver.

“So deep Gyu, so full,” you whimpered. 

“I told you that this is the hottest thing ever.” Mingyu looked up at you with a toothy grin. “Waking up to the most gorgeous girl in the world, so needy for me that she uses me when I’m sleeping… You’re making my dreams come true, angel.”

His words spurred you on, and you could feel your incoming climax. You fell onto him and buried your face into the crook of his neck, your favorite place. You almost wanted to cry from the pleasure. “I’m so close to coming.”

Mingyu turned his head to kiss your jaw. His hand cradled your head, the fingers carding through your hair. His breath was warm as he groaned right into your ear. Your pussy clenched at the feeling of it. “Please, baby. I want to feel you soak this cock with your pussy. I need you to use me like a toy.”

“My toy,” you mumbled thoughtlessly.

“Yes angel, your toy. All yours.” With your head buried into his neck, you didn’t witness Mingyu’s face scrunching up in pain. His jaw was clenched. He was so close to coming, but he needed you to come first. He wanted to be good for you. “Make that pretty pussy cum with my cock baby. Then I’ll fill you up.”

“Yessss,” you hissed and rode him harder and faster. Your head was spinning, and in your gut that knot that built up with every stroke on Mingyu’s cock started to unravel. You trembled on top of him, and your sweet moans caused Mingyu to start chasing his own release.

He held onto your hips as he planted his feet on the mattress and started thrusting upwards into your heat. Like a madman, he moaned deliriously. They were long, dragged-out raspy groans and pants that matched each thrust. The onslaught of his movements had you moaning desperately, and the sound was music to his ears. Such soft moans that contrasted with the deep bass of his groans.

“Cum with me Mingyu,” you rasped, bouncing on his hips with as much fervor as him.

He nodded like an obedient puppy, so desperate to please you. He pulled you back down towards him to make your foreheads meet. Mingyu loved looking into your eyes, loved being so close that he could melt into you. He loved the way your hair created a curtain around yourselves. It was only the two of you in that moment.

His head tilted back as his lips searched for yours. You met his lips, and allowed your release to take over. Mingyu held your head in place as you moaned into his ear, causing him to tip over the edge with you.

He pistoned himself faster into you as your legs gave out. You heard him babble nonsensical things as his bliss took over. He mumbled something about how much he loved your eyes, and your hair, and how cute you were. He loves you, he loves you, he loves you. His other arm, which was wrapped around your waist, tightened while he gave three final strokes. You felt it, the warmth that filled your core and heard his moans fill the room.

Soon enough the room fell quiet agin, leaving just your heavy breathing. Mingyu looked up at you in wonder. His fingers pushed your hair back to gain a better view of your beautiful, flushed face. “We should do this every night.”

Smiling to yourself at the thought, you cleaned yourself up. Once you returned, Mingyu had already wiped himself down with a tissue, and fixed his clothes. You opened your mouth to say something before noticing the soft snores that came from him. He must’ve been really tired, or you literally sucked the life out of him like an actual succubus.

As you clambered back into bed, and wrapped your body around him like he was a body pillow, you decided you would have to make an extra strong cup of coffee for him in the morning.

[bunny-jpeg]

hey!! can i please order a blueberry muffin with an espresso shot and maybe a vodka shot on the side, served by danny ricc? thanks!! x

bakery menu

want to submit your own order? then check out the menu! there is something for everyone and i love getting new orders! i am currently hard at work trying to get through all the current ones! as for this one, i have gotten a few for ricciardo and i've been looking to write him more so thank you for your order!

blueberry muffin ("i don't think it'll fit.") + espresso shot (dirty talking) + vodka shot (rough sex) served by daniel ricciardo (formula one)!

cw: smut/pwp, size difference/kink, dirty talking, sleepy but rough sex, desperate!daniel

the summer break felt good. you were exhausted, so you could only imagine what your boyfriend of the last few years was feeling. the back to backs was wearing him down so it was nice just to be sprawled out in his apartment in monaco.

daniel's strong arm draped over you as you stayed snuggled up next to him. the sun shined through the large window and you two stayed tangled up in one another.

you opened your eyes a little at the feeling of the sun against your face. you then sighed and rolled over to face your lover. soft kisses on his cheeks slowly woke him up.

"happy saturday, my love." you said.

he smiled a little, "happy saturday, first saturday we've had together in a while." if he wasn't racing then he was practicing for racing or traveling. there had been very few moments since the season started where you two simply existed in each other's presence.

it was comforting, it felt like home.

he went in for a kiss on the lips purely by instinct, he sighed contently when your lips pressed against his. he kept those arms wrapped around you tightly as you both laid in bed.

he kissed at your face more and you melted into his touch. your eyes went wide for a moment as he put you on your back and looked down at you. you could see the tinge of pink across his cheeks and he chuckled a little. "still look as beautiful as ever. even with bed head." he rubbed his morning hard on against your front.

you made a small noise and felt a curl of pleasure in your gut. you looked up at your lover and smiled, "i mean you're alright. the morning breath is a bit much." then laughed when daniel started to tickle you.

"i want to make up for all the times we were apart. with you at work and me on the track." he knew very well that he made enough that you would never have to work again, but you were determined to be a productive member of society. but, sometimes he wished he could take you away to the track and have his good luck charm there all the time.

you reached up for him and started to take his t-shirt off. the sight of his bare chest made something grow warm inside of you. it was like every time you saw him, even with the nicks and bruises from racing. he was still so painfully hot.

you got your head up on the pillows and got off your sleeping shorts. it had been so hot in the city that you two were basically sleeping in your underwear most nights.

he got his own shorts off and rubbed his underwear clad cock up against your stomach, pre-cum staining the front of his briefs. he groaned, "were you always this beautiful, i mean, you always were beautiful. but there's something about you right now that is just getting me so turned on."

you chuckled, "i think you're just half asleep, my dear. how about once i tame the rat's nest of my hair.

"nah, nah." he leaned in closer, and worked to get his cock out of his underwear, "i like the rat's nest. my sleepy baby wanting to get fucked out." he planted a kiss on your cheek, "i don't think it'll fit. i think my girl's cunt is too small."

you whined, "c'mon, danny." you rolled your hips and little to entice him. and it made the blood all rush to daniel's cock, you noticed it and looked up at him with such a sweet expression, "if you don't fuck me, no one else will. because i only want you, so it's not fair if you don't fuck me."

daniel felt a pain in his chest and his cock bob. he swallowed and said, "that's what i like to hear, babe." he stroked his cock a little bit and eyed your naked form. stripped of all clothes now, and so beautiful.

he grabbed you by the waist and rubbed his exposed cock up against your wet slit. there was something about having sex so early in the morning, with nothing else on the schedule. just the two of you.

he groaned a little bit, "this is all mine." daniel's dirty talk was something else. as he rubbed up against you, his tongue went wild, "so pretty under me, letting me fuck you so early in the morning. you're such a good girl for me. you are meant for me, and only me."

you felt the pleasure pump through your body. you grit your teeth for a moment as you felt him slip his cock into you. despite his initial remark, it did fit.

he moved against you slowly, he found his heartbeat in his ears as he rocked against you. he could feel the heat of pleasure in his head as he moved against you. you were just so painfully good under him.

his bulkier frame crowded your space, it made you feel small against him. he loved the feeling however, you were so sweet under him. painfully adorable in a way that he couldn't fully put into words. all he knew was that he wanted you, he yearned for you so badly that he didn't know what else he could besides bury his cock into you with a quickened pace.

he had you pressed further into the bed as he held you by the hips. he groaned, those big hands on your soft skin, moving you to his liking as his cock bullied against your sweet, slick pussy.

"i love you." he said as he swallowed back his pleasure.

you looked up at him, your eyes a little hooded from the sleep and pleasure. your cheeks felt hot as you said, "i love you too, please, danny. i need you."

he chuckled, "don't worry, babe. you got me, you got me until the day we die. you're my forever." he kissed at your face, feeling the heat pool in his gut as he moved against you.

the feeling between you two was hot as the two of you fucked in the morning light. you whimpered a little and felt the pleasure in your brain.

his strokes were rough as he fucked you on the bed. you held onto the covers tightly as he pushed his cock as far it could reach. and even that was deep enough for you. he leaned in to kiss you passionately as he thrusted his cock in and out of you.

his strokes were rough and they made you see stars. he loved when he bullied his cock into your pussy. the sight of you was beautiful when he pleasured you. he tensed his jaw for a moment before he said, "you're so painfully hot, babe. look at you, all needy under me."

you whimpered, "please, danny."

he chuckled, "i've got you, babe. fuck, you feel so good under me. right where you belong."

his words made you flushed as he continued to move. you felt the heat of orgasm through your system.

"fuckin' hell, danny!" you whined as you arched your back a little.

he picked up the pace and watched your grip onto the covers under your back. he admired the sight of your nude body under him. every curve, mole and mark was just beautiful to him. it made the blood thump in his ears as he kept his cock buried in you.

he swallowed and felt a shiver run through his body as he continued to thrust up against you. it was music to your ears, when you let out a sweet moan as you climaxed. his kept his gaze on him as he panted wildly.

"so beautiful."

"i love you." you panted.

he chuckled, "i love you too." then quickened his pace to meet his own orgasm. his cock buried as deep as it would go as he fucked you into the bed you shared. his pace was rougher, and his tongue felt looser as he said, "i only want ya, no one else can have you while i'm still alive. you're my girl, my one and only. from those pretty eyes to your prettier cunt. the way it takes me so well." he gasped before he came inside of your sweet slick pussy.

he slowed down his pace to a stop and kept his cock inside of you. he was still pretty hard, his heart was thumping heavily in his chest. he rubbed the sleep out of his eyes, that was one way to wake up.

you laid there, blissed out under him. he licked his lips at the sight of you and felt his cock twitch inside of you. he smiled down at you before he laid you on your side to get comfortable back into bed.

he slotted himself behind you and spread your legs. he sank his cock in once more from behind. not to rut against you, but to just hold you. to be comfortable next to you. he wanted to feel close to his woman, his beautiful light in his life.

while you both laid in bed, so intimately close, the sun shined down on both of you. you two were perfect for one another. <3

[minisugakoobies]

Paradise | JJK - Epilogue

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader

Genre: smut, neighbors to lovers (not quite friends but not quite strangers), slow burn, love triangle, Stripper!AU

Rating: M (18+)

Warnings: it's happy ending time!, lots of domestic cuteness, fingering, oral sex (f receiving), shower sex, teasing, dirty talk, someone gets a lap dance 👀, sex in the champagne room, aka sex at work (don't be that coworker!), unprotected sex (monogamous relationship with alternate bc), multiple orgasms

Word Count: 9.1k

Disclaimers: NSFW, obviously I don’t own BTS - they just inspire me

Summary: That sexy man on stage - the one currently giving your friend the lap dance of her LIFE - is your super shy neighbor, Jeon Jungkook?!

A/N: And now we've reached the end! I can't believe it's been three years this month since OC and Jungkook's story began!! A gigantic THANK YOU to everyone who has liked, commented, reblogged, recommended, and/or sent asks about Paradise. This is for you! 💜

Unbeta’d as usual. Please don’t be a silent reader, I’d love to hear from you!  Tell me what you think of the ending! 💕

Previous Chapter ♦️ Paradise Masterlist

Bzzzzzzt

Saturday afternoon dawns bright. You can hear birds chirping outside the windows, joined by the buzzing of bees.

Those are some loud fucking bees.

No wait, that’s your phone.

Bzzzzzzt

You grab it off the nightstand.

Huh, nope. No missed texts or calls.

Bzzzzzzt

What the hell is that sound?

Throwing back the covers, you lug yourself out of bed, snatch a t-shirt from the floor and yank it on, and traipse down the hall, following the incessant hum.

Bzzzzzzt

The noise leads you to the bathroom, where your boyfriend stands over the sink, examining himself in the mirror. 

“Hey, jagi,” Jungkook greets you warmly. “Did I wake you? Sorry.” He leans over, planting a soft kiss on your cheek.

“No, it wasn’t you. I heard some sort of buzzing.”

“Ah, yeah, that was me.” He holds up some sort of metallic grey tool. An electric razor? But he doesn’t have one of those. You know by now that he waxes for his job, and what little hair ever appears on his face he takes care of with a simple disposable razor. “Testing this out.”

“I didn’t know you had one of those,” you say, leaning against the doorway. 

“I don’t. Namjoon-hyung let me borrow it.” He tilts his head left and right, staring at his reflection.

“Borrow it for wh-oooh my god, Kookie, no!” 

Your question becomes a wild wail as your boyfriend brandishes the razor and in one swift move shaves off a chunk of his hair. Watching the dark locks tumble into the sink feels like a scene from a horror movie, unfurling in slow motion.

You glance at Jungkook. Where glorious waves once adorned the side of his handsome face, there is now naught but stubble. 

Meanwhile, Jungkook chuckles as he examines his handiwork. “What’s wrong, jagiya? You don’t want to see a fresh new me?”

“Not if it means sacrificing your gorgeous hair!” you pout.

Of course you love all of your boyfriend. Goes without saying. But his hair! It’s so pretty and thick and silky and fluffy and - 

-and he’s going to shave it all off??

Bzzzzzzt

Another swath joins the first. Two sad curls at the bottom of the sink. 

“Kookie, why?” you lament. “Your pretty hair!”

“Relax!” He laughs, running his tattooed fingers over the scruff that remains where he’s shaved so far. “It’ll grow back eventually. You’re starting to make me think you only love me for -“

Upon catching sight of the expression on your face, he trails off, eyes widening.

“Don’t be stupid,” you reassure him. “I love you for so many reasons. More than there are stars in the sky.”

He grins, turning away.

“Your hair is just, like, 25% of that. Maybe 30.”

“Okay, I’m kicking you out now.” 

“Don’t bother. I’m going. I can’t bear to watch anymore.” You spin on your heel, heading for the kitchen. “If you need me, I’ll be crying into my cereal, mourning over breakfast.”

“Could you mourn me up a smoothie while you’re at it?” 

As you raise your hand over your head to flip him off, he giggles, pausing in his task to admire the way your ass peeks out from under the t-shirt of his that you’re wearing, before disappearing back into the bathroom.

In the kitchen, you quickly whip up a banana smoothie, appreciating how the obnoxious whirr of the mixer drowns out the evil buzzing echoing down the hallway. Sticking the smoothie into the fridge to keep cold until your boyfriend finishes murdering his hair, you sit down to enjoy a bowl of your favorite sugary cereal.

It hasn’t taken much for you to acclimate to Jungkook’s schedule over the last few months since Jennie’s wedding. You’ve all but moved in, hanging around his apartment (usually napping) until he gets home from work in the early hours of the morning. Most of the time, you stay up for a bit, talking and helping him unwind (sometimes fucking, sometimes giving him a gentle massage to soothe his muscles, sometimes just letting him lay with his head on your chest). Usually near dawn you fall asleep, and then wake at noon to spend the afternoon together until he leaves for Paradise in the evening. 

So you've become accustomed to a midday bowl of cereal by now. Of course, it helps that you’re no longer bound to the 9-to-5 life, ever since you quit your job.

The bathroom is rather quiet for several minutes, so you figure Jungkook’s completed his horrible task. So you brace yourself for the sight of a shorn head - 

-only to be surprised when he strolls into the kitchen with a sharp undercut.

“Well?” He turns this way and that, striking poses as he walks over to you. “What do you think?”

His dark hair is slicked back, revealing a shorn section on each side of his head, perfectly highlighting his brow piercing. Long strands still flow on top, a swoop falling into his eyes as he smirks at you.

It defies the laws of reality, the way something like this can make your hot boyfriend even sexier. How is it even possible?

Standing, you extend your fingers, letting them run over the short hairs, enjoying the pleasant prickle. 

“I think I owe Namjoon a thank you card,” you murmur. The soft stubble tickles your fingertips, like fuzz on a peach. “Maybe even a gift basket.”

His smile grows as he draws you into his arms. “See, you were worried for nothing.”

“I really thought you were going to shave it all off!” you exclaim. Nuzzling his face into the curve of your neck, he laughs, amused huffs of breath dancing over your skin. 

“Nope.” He slides your hand into what remains of his hair, lithe fingers encouraging yours to wrap around his locks. “I am thinking about dyeing the rest, though. What do you think sounds better - cherry red or buttery blonde?”

“Blonde!” Did you blurt that out a little too fast? Maybe, judging by the cock of his eyebrow.

“Blonde it is.” 

“Do you want your smoothie?” You reach for the fridge door, but he stops you.

“I gotta clean up first. All those little hairs…” His eyes drop to your lips. “Time for a shower.” It’s an invitation that you’re all too happy to accept. 

Jungkook first steps under the spray of water to rinse away the hairs still clinging to his face and neck. But as soon as you join him, he crowds you against the wall of the tub, mouth meeting yours, hand diving between your legs, opening you up to take his cock. He’s a bit rushed in his movements, driven by a fervent need to bury himself inside you as quickly as possible, but you don’t care, just as desperate to feel him yourself. It doesn’t matter how many times the two of you do this - every time you need him just as much as you did the first time. 

When he slides into you, you let out a loud moan, knees already too weak to stand on. He holds you pinned against the tiles as he thrusts into you, wrapping one of your legs around his waist to help keep you up. “So good, jagi,” he grunts, setting a fast pace. All you can do is hang on, every stroke of his thick cock into your throbbing cunt making you sob his name, until your panting gives way to cries of ecstasy. He spills inside you then, his lips pressed to your cheek, breathing soft words of love across your skin. 

In the afternoon, after Jungkook has gone to meet Namjoon at the gym, you decide to take a walk downtown to get a little work done. It’s surprising to you how much has changed in the last few months. Before, the thought of working on a Saturday would’ve sent you into an anxious (and annoyed) spiral. But now? You’re not bothered by it at all. Apparently that’s what happens when you like your job. 

Not long after the wedding, you’d gone to the interview Wendy had graciously hooked you up with. Jungkook had helped you prepare, but you were still nervous as fuck. You needed to escape your current company. You needed this new job.

But as the interview progressed, that nervousness turned into a different sinking feeling. Because as the interviewer droned on and on about your responsibilities in this new position, it became more and more clear that you were essentially interviewing for the same job you were trying to leave. It wasn’t a way out. It was a trap. If you took this job, you’d be caught in the same quicksand, dragging you down again. 

Despite your growing sense of trepidation, the interview went incredibly well, and you felt pretty confident that you would be hearing from the company soon. Which left you with little time to figure out if you wanted the new job or not. 

In the end, it was your promise to Taehyung that made the decision for you. His presentation to the bank was a success, and with his new loan, he’d opened his own studio. Even though you’d done countless presentations over the years at your company, helping too many of their clients to count, this was the first time you’d actually felt joy at the result of your hard work. Helping Taehyung to achieve his dream was a special moment.

It also gave you an idea. A week later, you declined the new job offer. And turned in your notice to your employer. No more working for others.

Time to be your own boss.

It’s just a few blocks from your apartment building to where you’re headed. The bell hanging over the door chimes pleasantly as you let yourself into the little shop. Taehyung’s photography studio is technically closed on Sundays, but with the key he gave you, you can come and go as you please. It’s an arrangement that suits you well. 

As you’d expected, Taehyung is sitting in his office in the rear of the shop when you get back there. He nods a quiet greeting, then perks up when he sees the second cup in your hand. You’d stopped at the coffeehouse on your way here, knowing that Taehyung is still splitting his time between Paradise and his studio, which means he’s usually exhausted on Saturdays.

“You really are an angel,” he murmurs, grabbing the cup.

“I know,” you grin, taking a seat at the makeshift desk Taehyung had created for you. He’d been so grateful for your help that he’d insisted that you use his office as your own temporary workspace while you established your consulting business. You were in no position to turn down free rent, but you’d agreed to only if he let you act as his interim bookkeeper. It was only fair. “Where’s Yeontan?”

“I gave my assistant the day off,” Taehyung replies. “He’s back at the apartment with Ji and Min.” He pauses to stretch lazily. “Thanks again for helping with the move the other day. We still owe you and Kook dinner.” 

“Don’t worry, we’ll make sure you pay up.” You never turn down a free meal, though honestly, it was enough of a reward for you that you’d gotten to watch your friend Jisoo fall in love with her two boyfriends over the last few months. That’s the word she’d used for them both the other day, when you all helped Taehyung move into Jimin’s place. You hadn’t seen Jisoo this head over heels for anyone since… well, since you’d known her.

Taehyung sips his iced Americano. “What are you working on today?”

“Going over the stuff Felix sent me. We’re meeting with the bank on Tuesday.” 

Having Taehyung as your first official customer had been a blessing. After he’d raved about you to the other dancers at Paradise, you’d suddenly found yourself with a whole list of potential clients. There was Felix, who wanted to buy a food truck for his baking hobby and start a brownie delivery service; Namjoon, who was considering creating an urban nursery for the plants he grew in his tiny greenhouse; and Bang Chan, who wanted to discuss the possibility of running his own gym. Even Hoseok wanted to introduce you to a friend of his who was thinking about opening up a male strip club called Outlaws. You’d barely struck out on your own and yet your calendar was already packed.

You pull out your laptop and settle in. “What about you, what’s on your slate today?” 

“Just going over some shots.” 

The other dancers at Paradise were the best hype team. They’d spread word of mouth about Taehyung’s photography and the studio had been booked since day one. Not that his talent didn’t bring in customers on its own. But it was so touching to see the others rally around Taehyung like that. 

The other dancers had also embraced you warmly. You’d already met most of them from your visits to Paradise or the night of Taehyung’s exhibit, but once Jungkook introduced you as his girlfriend, it was like you’d gained an entire family of siblings overnight. And now that you’re on the inside, it’s so easy to see the way they care for one another. No wonder Jungkook loves working there so much. 

Well, that, and the tips he makes.

Taehyung slides over so you can see his screen. “It’s Jennie and Yoongi’s session, if you want to take a look.” 

“Oh, yes, please!” 

Jennie and her husband had recently booked a photography session to announce Jennie’s pregnancy. As Taehyung slowly scrolls through the shots, you try and fail to will yourself not to tear up. Your friend’s baby bump gets bigger every time you see her and it’s unreal to think that it won’t be long until Baby Min is here. 

Wordlessly, Taehyung hands you a tissue. 

“Thanks.” 

After spending so much time with Taehyung over the last few weeks, you understand why Jungkook adores him so much. He has a very comforting presence, which is nice for you right now, since building a company from scratch is a nerve-wracking experience. 

“So, tonight’s the night, right?” 

Again you grin, nodding. “Yeah.” 

“How are you feeling?”

“Excited. But also if I’m being honest, a little scared.” 

Everyone - all of your friends and family - has been super supportive for you during this time, lending their help whenever asked. But no one has been more supportive than Jungkook. He’s listened to you rant about your worries and fears at two in the morning when you know he wants nothing more than to hit the pillow and snooze until noon. He’s made you meals when you were too busy to tear yourself away from your computer to eat. He’s spent so much of his own time taking care of you that you started to fret you’d turned into another job for him. 

But when you voiced this concern to him, Jungkook shook his head. “Taking care of you isn’t a job,” he’d said. “I do these things because I want to, not because I have to.”

You’ve never known anyone like him before. Never known someone who could be so selfless, so freely giving of himself all the time. So freely giving of his devotion, in every sense of the word. You can’t help but want to worship him yourself. 

Despite his claims that he’s doing these things of his own free will, you still feel like you owe him something. A sign of your appreciation. Hence your plans for tonight.

“Why scared?” 

You finish your drink, but don’t put the cup down, twirling it in your hands as you think. “What if I make a total ass of myself?”

“Not gonna happen.”

“Easy for you to say,” you snort. Of course he’d be confident, if he were in your shoes. Taehyung radiates an aura of exceptional self-assuredness. It’s difficult to imagine him being rattled by anything. If tomorrow he was told that he needed to perform emergency brain surgery, he’d snap on his surgical gloves without so much as batting an eye. 

“Listen, I know Jungkook. More importantly, I know how much he loves you.” Taehyung flashes you a reassuring smile as you look at him. “There’s nothing you could do tonight to change that.”

The funny thing is, you’re pretty sure he’s right.

Jungkook’s already making dinner when you get back to his place. The delicious scent of gochujang jjigae draws you into his kitchen, where he stands facing the stove, his back to you. Walking up to him, you can’t resist sliding your arms around his waist.

“Hi,” you sigh, burying your face between his shoulder blades, breathing deep the ocean scent of his cologne. 

“Hey jagi,” he hums, a happy note vibrating through his chest as he rests his tattooed hand on top of yours for a second. “Food’s almost ready. Can you grab some bowls?” 

As you reach into his cabinet, it strikes you just how domestic this moment is, getting ready for dinner with Jungkook, like you’ve done so many times before. Thankfully, he’s the one who usually does the cooking, while you help however you can (typically just by staying out of his way - it’s what you do best in the kitchen). It’s unbelievable how easily you’ve fallen into this routine with him. Not a trace of fear in you as you reflect on it. 

“I wasn’t sure if you were gonna be back in time to eat with me, but I made enough for two just in case.” He joins you at his little table, ladling stew into your bowls, before he takes the seat across from you. He’s dressed like he usually is for work, just a hoodie and sweats, since he’ll be changing into costumes all night.

“You’re too good to me, Kookie,” you simper playfully with a sweet grin, but you really mean it, knowing that if you’d texted him that you wouldn’t be back, he’d still make extra and put it in the fridge for you. 

He rolls his eyes, but the tips of his ears betray him, turning pink. The two of you dig into your meal, quietly enjoying the food and each other’s company. 

“I meant to ask you,” he says after a few minutes, “do you know when Jin-hyung will be back in town?” 

When you’d called things off with Seokjin, you’d made him promise to keep in touch while he was out traveling for his cooking show. He’d taken that pledge to heart, texting you brief updates and sending photos from the road. You’re glad to have made another friend from this whole experience. Especially one whose name you can drop to make hard-to-get dinner reservations. (Seokjin gets a real ego boost when you do that - he’s the one who suggested it in the first place.)

Though things had gotten off to a rocky start between Jungkook and Seokjin, they’d become fairly good friends themselves. It doesn’t really surprise you, since they have more in common than they thought (not even counting you) - both are talented and determined, funny and handsome, not to mention both give a hell of a lap dance. Also, it’s hard not to love Jungkook, no matter how you meet him. 

“Um, I think last time I heard from him, he said he’d be back in two weeks for a short break.”

“Good. That should give me enough time to finish.” He doesn’t say anything else, but you can read between the lines so well with him by now. 

“Jin’s going to love his portrait,” you reassure him. 

As soon as Seokjin had seen Jungkook’s artwork, he’d wasted no time in commissioning the younger man to paint his portrait, to be hung in his newest restaurant. You know that Jungkook is thrilled at the opportunity, but he’s also a little nervous, wanting to impress Seokjin. It’s pretty cute, truth be told. 

You glance up to find Jungkook watching you with a small smile. 

“What? What are you looking at? Am I a mess?” You grab your napkin, dabbing at your face, but he shakes his head. 

“Nothing. I’m happy you’re here. I feel like I’ve barely seen you the last few weeks, you’ve been out working so much.” 

“Oh, right.” You scratch your ear, giving him an apologetic look. “I know, I’ve been busy.”

“I’m not saying that’s bad!” Jungkook raises his hands. “I just… missed you.” 

“Kookie,” you sigh, heart bubbling over with fondness. Your boyfriend is such a sap.

You set down your spoon and rise to your feet, locking your arms around him. He looks up at you with so much love in his eyes you nearly pinch yourself. But you don’t have to. This isn’t a dream, it’s your life. Silently, you thank the universe for everything you did that led you to this man. Then you press a gentle kiss to his waiting lips. 

“I missed you too. But I’m hoping all this will be worth it.”

“It will be, jagiya,” Jungkook asserts, cupping your face gently. “I know it’s hard. But you know what you’re doing. And you’re not alone - you’ve got so many people in your corner. Like me.” He grins, kissing the tip of your nose lightly. “I believe in you.” 

There’s a sudden lump in your throat, making it impossible to speak, so you let your lips express what you feel. What’s left of your dinner sits forgotten as you climb into his lap, kissing him until you’re both breathless. Only then you’re able to whisper a quiet thank you. 

Jungkook’s right. You can do this. Especially with him by your side.

Sparkling Rosé ✨ (8:15): Are we still on for brunch tomorrow?

Bestie 😇 (8:17): Yes! I miss you guys

Bestie 😇 (8:17): This baby’s not even here yet and they’re already keeping me busy

Bestie 😇 (8:18): Plus I’ve been craving waffles for days

Sparkling Rosé ✨ (8:19): We miss you too! 

Sparkling Rosé ✨ (8:19):  And you too, YN! You work too hard

You (8:20): I know 😔I miss you all too

Lovely Lisa 💋 (8:21):  I’ll be there!

Queen Ji 👑 (8:22): Yes we’re doing brunch because YN needs to tell us allll about tonight!

Sparkling Rosé ✨ (8:23): OH THAT’S RIGHT!

Lovely Lisa 💋 (8:23): Ahhhh that’s tonight?!

Sparkling Rosé ✨ (8:23): Break a leg! 🙌

Lovely Lisa 💋 (8:24): LET’S GOOOOO

Queen Ji 👑 (8:24): You are going to KILL IT

Bestie 😇 (8:24): *airhorn.gif*

You (8:25): 🙈🙈

You (8:25): We’ll see

You (8:25): But thank you 😘

Queen Ji 👑 (8:26): Oh no! None of that

Queen Ji 👑 (8:26):  Trust me, you’ve got this

You (8:27): And just how are you so sure about that?

Queen Ji 👑 (8:28): Jimin told me. He never lies

You (8:29): I knew I should’ve asked Namjoon

Sparkling Rosé ✨ (8:29): As if he wouldn’t tell me

Sparkling Rosé ✨ (8:30): I like the guy but he can’t keep a secret to save his life

Lovely Lisa 💋 (8:31): Relax, you’re gonna be amazing! Just have fun with it

Bestie 😇 (8:31): Yessssss have fun

Queen Ji 👑 (8:32): But also put your back into it

Bestie 😇 (8:33): You should probably stretch first

You (8:33): Yes, eomma, I will

Bestie 😇 (8:34): I’m going to kindly ask that you never call me that again

You (8:35): But you’ll be hearing it all the time soon!!

Bestie 😇 (8:35): Not from you though! 🙅

Queen Ji 👑 (8:36): Sorry, eomma, we’ll behave

Bestie 😇 (8:37): Oh god, *especially* not from you

Bestie 😇 (8:37): Okay I’m out. I’ll see you all tomorrow. But don’t forget!

Bestie 😇 (8:38): 📣You’ve got this! 📣

Queen Ji 👑 (8:38): She’s the best mom

A few hours later, you find yourself alone in an unfamiliar space. A small room, containing only a handful of pieces of dark furniture. Velvet curtains drape three of the walls, while the fourth is a mirror. A crystalline chandelier hangs from the ceiling, the glass reflecting the soft lighting, scattering shimmering spots of illumination around the room as the bass pumping from the overhead speaker makes the decoration bounce.

You wipe your sweaty palms on the skirt of your dress, wishing you could take your friends’ advice and relax right now. Instead, your nerves are jumpy and your pulse is racing. The waiting isn’t helping. 

As you switch seats for the tenth time since you got here (you can’t decide which is a better place to sit, on the pleather couch or the matching chair), you adjust your dress, hoping you look more confident than you feel. Confidence is key for what you’re about to do, according to Jimin. 

Maybe you should’ve thought this through more. More practice would’ve been helpful, too. Why did you decide to do this now? You’ve really got to work on your patience, you think, eyeing the couch again before moving seats again. 

The curtains sway slightly as the door to the room opens. Immediately your mind empties of all thoughts as your adrenaline kicks in. It’s showtime. You sit up, trying to strike an enticing pose, waiting for the man who opened the door to finish locking it and turn around. 

“I hope I didn’t keep you waiting t- baby??” Jungkook freezes, head cocking to the side in confusion. You knew that Jimin had told him he had a Paradise customer waiting for him in a private room.  “What are you doing here?”

“I wanted to surprise you,” you grin, suddenly feeling really shy. Which is the exact opposite of what you need to feel right now, if you’re going to pull this off. “So, um, surprise!” 

Jungkook smiles, obviously thrilled with your surprise, and crosses the tiny space in two strides. You stand to greet him, taking in his outfit, a silky black shirt unbuttoned over a pair of black leather pants. He looks just like he did the night of Jennie’s bachelorette party, only with a new haircut. The fabric of his top is soft beneath your fingertips as you lay your hands on his shoulders, accepting his kiss hello. 

“Not that I’m not happy to see you, but… you know you didn’t have to pay to see me, right?” Jungkook murmurs against your lips. “I’ll dance for you any time.” 

You do know that, because he’s danced for you several times now. Sometimes he likes to get your opinions on a new routine, and other times… other times, he just feels like dancing for you. 

Knowing all this, you nod, smoothing down the folds in his shirt, trying to distract yourself from the way your stomach is tying itself in knots. Relax, you remind yourself, taking a deep breath. There’s nothing to be nervous about. It’s Jungkook. 

“I know. But this actually isn’t about me tonight. It’s about you.” 

Applying a little pressure on his shoulders, you push Jungkook onto the couch. He looks up at you questioningly, but doesn’t say anything, merely takes a seat. That’s so like him - to read you so well that he understands you’ve got something planned, so he’s letting you lead the moment. Just that tiny act of deference heartens you, leaving you more sure about what you’ve got planned. 

You walk over to the panel on the wall that controls the overhead speaker. Your phone is already hooked up, and with a few swipes, you change the playlist.

“I wanted to do something for you, to show you how much I appreciate everything you’ve been doing for me.” For some reason it’s easier to explain why you’re here without looking at Jungkook as you do it, so you fiddle with the phone a little as you speak. “I know the last few weeks have been stressful, because of everything I’m trying to do, and I just… I want to thank you. And I thought this was the best way to do it.” 

When you turn back around, Jungkook’s watching you with such a rapt expression that you can’t help but feel almost foolish about being so worried about this. It doesn’t matter if you can’t give him a show on the same level that he does. You’ve got his full attention no matter what you do. 

You’ve got his love. 

With that comforting thought, you take a steadying breath, in and out, and then begin. 

Dancing is really not your strong suit, but the biggest lesson Jimin taught you is that it’s not the moves themselves that matter - it’s the attitude with which you perform them. It’s all about setting a mood.

So you let the music guide you. Let yourself sink into the groove set by the drums and bass. Jungkook lets out a tiny “oh, fuck,” when you start to shake your hips. You fight the urge to giggle, biting your lip in a sultry manner instead. You’re wearing a cute but simple dress, something that will be easy to remove when the time comes, but you dance like you’re dressed in the sexiest outfit imaginable, sliding the skirt up your thighs a little to tease him. 

Even though you’re only a few feet away from Jungkook, you take your time approaching him, dragging out the anticipation. His hands rise automatically, reaching for you, but you dodge his grasp, taking them in your own hands instead. Something else Jimin taught you - lay down the rules right away. 

“I’m here to dance for you, Kookie. So let’s get one thing straight - I’m the one in charge.” You squeeze his hands to draw his attention to them as you place them at his sides. “That means no touching me, unless I say it’s okay.” 

Jungkook blinks at your words, but he doesn’t argue or try again to touch you. “Yes, baby,” he says, eyes brimming with adoration as he nods at you, and again you feel a surge of confidence. 

With your back to him, you place a hand on both of his knees, guiding him to spread his legs apart. Then you lower yourself into his lap, laying back against his chest and tilting your face towards his. If either of you leaned forward the slightest bit, your mouths would touch, but you resist the urge, and he waits breathlessly to see what you’re going to do next. 

You bring your arm up, then trail your hand down his chest, across your breasts and stomach, and on to his thigh, just skimming past his crotch. His hips buck slightly beneath you, and you grind in his lap, giving him the friction he seeks. 

“Don’t worry, I’ll touch you all you want,” you whisper. 

Jungkook groans loudly. You glide around the couch until you’re behind him and run your hands down his arms and over his chest. The silk of his shirt is starting to stick to him where he’s sweating. You’ve barely started and you’re already having an obvious effect on him.

It’s not just his temperature that’s rising, you note with a smug smile when you return to your spot in front of him. The tight material of his pants barely restrains his erection. Again you sit on his thighs, facing away from him, throwing your legs out in a wide stance as you pop to the beat. 

“Shit, baby, yes,” Jungkook praises you with a deep groan when you lean forward, giving him a good view of your ass as it bounces. “Where’d you learn to dance like this?” 

“Well, um…” you pause to bend further, nearly touching the ground, enjoying how Jungkook swears quietly when he gets a glimpse of your panties, “you know how I’ve been so busy lately?”

“Uh-huh…” Jungkook responds mindlessly, far too occupied with the sight in front of him. He’s being so patient, keeping his hands at his side like instructed, but the telltale twitching of his fingers lets you know that he’s fighting hard to behave.

You decide to take pity. Just a little. Turning, you straddle him, and grab his wrists. “Here you go,” you wink, placing his hands on your hips. “Just hold on for me.” 

Jungkook hums, vision trailing up your body from where your hips are swaying to where your breasts are now in his face. 

“I was working, but I wasn’t at Taehyung’s studio. I was taking some lessons from Jimin.” 

He looks up at that. “Wait, you were what?” 

The surprise on his face makes you giggle. There’s that wide-eyed Bambi look that you love so much. As the next track on your playlist starts, something a little slower, you shift into a grind, dragging your ass over Jungkook’s lap. He hisses, fingers tightening their grip, almost bruising in their hold, but he doesn’t try to guide you like he usually does when the two of you are in this position. It impresses you, the restraint he’s showing. 

It makes you want to make him lose control. 

You run your fingers through his hair, lifting it off his face, and lean close to his ear. “I wanted to make this good for you, baby. Give you exactly what you deserve.” Your lips hover across his cheek, not touching, but your breath caresses his skin, making him shudder beneath you. 

“Jagi,” Jungkook swallows thickly, eyelids heavy with desire as he peers at you. “You’re amazing. I can’t believe you’ve been hiding these moves from me.” 

You bite back another big smile. “You haven’t seen anything yet.” 

His hands fall from your waist as you spin around, nudging his legs apart. Following the rhythm of the music, you undulate your body down his, your back sliding down his chest, then down his lap, until you’re on your knees. Then you place your hands on the ground in front of you, lowering your bottom half to the floor in a slow humping motion, before flashing him as you whip your legs into a split in order to roll yourself onto your back.

“Holy fuck, jagi,” Jungkook gasps, digging his hands into the couch on either side of his thighs, desperate for something to clutch. “You’re finally gonna do it. You’re going to be the actual death of me.” 

Despite yourself, you start giggling. “Kookie! Don’t make me laugh.” You take your time rising to your knees, then to your feet, playing with the hem of your skirt. “I want you to take this seriously.” 

“Oh, I am, baby, believe me.” Jungkook bites his lip, nodding. His eyes follow the path your hands take, dragging the skirt up to reveal your lower stomach. Meanwhile, one of his hands has found its way to his crotch, squeezing his hard cock through his pants. You’d considered making another rule earlier, that he couldn’t touch himself, but truthfully, you want to watch him enjoy himself. 

“Good boy,” you purr, and Jungkook whimpers loud enough for you to wonder if you’ve tapped into something previously undiscovered about him, but you’re too busy to ponder it any further as you swing your hips, using his knees to help you drop yourself down to the floor again in a low squat. 

The power you feel as he watches you is beyond intoxicating. What you’re doing right now is nothing compared to the skill he displays when he dances, but you understand a little better why he does this for a living. You feel like you could do anything right now. 

As you come back up, you lean into him, hands on his chest, your face so close to his, and this time the need to kiss him is too strong, so you stop denying yourself, connecting your mouths briefly, just enough to have him chasing you when you pull away. Before he can protest, you distract him by pulling your dress over your head in one swift movement. 

“Baby,” he moans, eyeing the matching lingerie set you picked out especially for tonight, his favorite color and his favorite texture, the black lace just begging him to run his fingertips all over it. “Is that new?” 

Of course he’d notice. He’s got the contents of your underwear drawer practically memorized. Not surprising since most of the sets are from him. He’s got a thing for nice lingerie and you’re more than happy to indulge him. 

“Bought it just for you.” With your back to him, you straddle one of his thighs, centering yourself on the thick muscle, and roll your hips in slow figure eights. Grabbing his hands, you wrap them around you, placing one on your bra and the other just over the band of your panties. “Do you like?” 

Jungkook’s answer is a wordless growl as he strokes the lace. You hum, tossing your head back so it rests on his shoulder, and slip the hand over your lower stomach down further, until he’s cupping your mound. 

“Ah!” you gasp, hips jutting forward when his eager fingers go rogue and press against you in a sign of his slipping control. “I - I’m guessing that means yes.” 

“It means fuck yes,” Jungkook declares. “You’re driving me insane right now, you know that?” 

“I think I’m getting the idea,” you reply, trying to focus on finishing your dance and not just outright humping his hand. Tracing your fingernails down his forearms makes him loosen his grip enough for you to climb off him. As the next track plays, you drape yourself over the side of the couch so your back hits his lap, and lie there shimmying to the beat for a few seconds before unhooking your bra and tossing it aside. 

“Jagiya,” Jungkook rasps roughly, tongue licking furiously at his lips, and even though you’re only maybe halfway through the routine you’d been practicing, you decide to skip to the end, because clearly your boyfriend is close to breaking, and frankly, so are you. 

You throw your leg over his lap, straddling him again. Taking his hands, you lace your fingers together, using him as a counterweight to help you dip backwards, so low your head nearly brushes the ground, before you roll back up, pressing your forehead to his. You stare at his mouth and he stares at yours as you inhale a steadying breath to speak.

“You can touch me now.” 

The current of electricity simmering between you suddenly blazes out, igniting the air around you. His hands slide to the small of your back, and your arms loop around his neck, both of you pulling each other as close as possible as you meet in a charged kiss. Jungkook moans into your lips, tongue chasing the sound. Your mouth parts to let him in. 

Jungkook’s hands keep moving, gripping your waist, your ass, your breasts - it’s like he’s been starving for you, like those few minutes that he wasn’t allowed to hold you were an eternity and now that they’re over he must take his fill. Your skin vibrates beneath his fingertips, so much pent-up energy ready to burst, and you seek an outlet, grinding your hips down onto his. 

“Kookie,” you whine helplessly, and Jungkook grunts in response, rutting his erection against you, fitting between your legs so perfectly, the two of you like puzzle pieces coming together to form a complete picture of lust. 

“I’m here, jagi,” he murmurs, lips brushing along your jawline and back to your mouth before continuing down the other side. “I’m here.” 

In a second, you’re on your back, watching Jungkook peel off his shirt before he covers your body with his. His kisses are just as greedy as his touches, and you lose yourself in him, devouring the desire on his lips with a wild ravenousness of your own. 

But as he trails kisses down your body, you open your eyes and stare directly at the chandelier hanging over you, and a thought hits you with startling clarity - oh, right, you’re still at Paradise. At Jungkook’s place of work. 

“Jungkook. Jungkook,” you repeat, threading your fingers through his hair to tug his head off your breast, where his tongue was lapping at your nipple. “Should we do this here?” 

Jungkook blinks at you a few times. “Isn’t this - don’t you want to?” 

Of course you want to. But all those times you’d pictured this moment, your best hope was that he’d enjoy the dance and promise to thank you in private later when he got off work. You hadn’t really considered that you’d do such an amazing job that the two of you would fuck on the spot. (Okay, that’s a lie, you’d considered it a lot. But still. Imagining fucking your boyfriend at his job and actually fucking your boyfriend at his job are two very different things.)

“I want to,” you reassure him, brushing a wandering drop of sweat from his brow. “I just don’t want to get you in trouble.”

Jungkook laughs, leaning up to press a kiss to your cheek. “Baby, trust me, I’m not the first one to do this. There’s a reason “no sex in the champagne room” is a saying.” He sees the mix of confusion and disgust on your face and laughs again. “I’m not worrying about it and neither should you. But if you are, we don’t have to do anything. This has been more than enough for me.”

“So… you liked your dance?” you ask in a tiny voice.

Jungkook lets out a pained groan. “Baby, I loved it. I can’t believe you did all this for me.” His hand brushes over your hip, playing with the lace there. “You’re too good to me, you know that?”

“Not true.” If anything, he’s the one too good to you. “But I’m trying.” 

He kisses you again, slow and sweet. You feel yourself melting into his embrace. Any remaining concerns vanish as Jungkook lowers his head, taking your nipple into his mouth again with a messy kiss. If he’s not worried, why should you be? Besides, as you arch your back, chasing Jungkook’s tongue as he drags it down your torso, only an apocalypse could stop you now, and maybe not even that. 

“You know,” you start, gasping slightly when his teeth graze lightly over the swell of your stomach, “I’ve fantasized about this.”  

Jungkook glances up at you. “Oh yeah?” 

“Yeah. I mean, I usually pictured you dancing for me, but, um, we always ended up fucking.” A flash of heat licks the back of your neck as you meet Jungkook’s eye. 

“That’s usually how I imagine it, too,” Jungkook informs you. The casual admission of this mutual secret fantasy stokes your arousal. Jungkook flames it further when he ruts his hard cock against you. “Sometimes you ride me, sometimes I bend you over this couch, but it always starts with me giving you a private show.” 

Your breath leaves you in a hiss. “Fuck. That sounds good.” 

“Which one?”

“Both,” you groan, rolling your hips. “All of it.” 

Jungkook kisses your neck to smother his laughter. “It’s not too late, you know. I can make those fantasies come true.” His tone deepens as he speaks, becoming darker. Oh, you know this tone so well. He’s shifting to demon mode. 

“Another time. I mean,” you clarify immediately, not wanting him to misunderstand, “you can give me a private dance another time.”

“Aww, is my baby too worked up right now?” he teases, and this time he doesn’t bother to even try to hide his laughter when you whine, pressing your hips into him again. “Okay, jagi, I promise I’ll dance for you another time. I won’t make you wait any longer.” 

Again he slides down your body, kissing over the soft lace of your underwear. He pulls your thighs apart with his hands so he can stick his face directly between them. His stuttered breath blows hot over the damp material barely covering you. Impatient, you reach to push your panties down, but Jungkook grabs your hands and pins them over your head. “Kook!” 

Jungkook shakes his head at your pouty cry. Leaning over you, he catches your bottom lip with his teeth, pulling it to his mouth for another wet kiss. 

“Let me, baby,” he coos sweetly, and then he takes the lace band in his teeth and slowly drags your panties down your body using only his mouth. 

“Fuck that’s hot,” you moan, unable to tear your gaze away. Jungkook hums, dropping the sodden silk on the ground before lowering his lips to kiss your pussy. He’s sloppy and loud, and in a brief lucid flash of sanity you pray that the music covers the sounds out in the hallway. 

Jungkook always moves at his own pace, in his own time, and nowhere is that more evident than the way goes down on you. He loves building you up slowly, so slowly, until you’re going out of your mind begging him to let you cum. Tonight, however, he’s moving fast, slipping two fingers inside you, getting you ready for him.  If asked, he’d claim it was for you, but the truth is that he needs you as much as you need him right now. 

“Love the way you taste,” he murmurs, fingers spreading you wider, dragging his tongue over your clit. He curls his fingers, smirking at your gasp, and repeats the movement. It feels so good, too good, so your hand snakes out and grabs his wrist, and he stills, looking up at you in confusion. 

“Wanna come on your cock,” you explain.

He groans, reclining back on his knees. “Whatever you want, jagiya,” he says, fingers flying to the laces on his leather pants. He’s used to taking his time untying them on stage, drawing the moment out seductively, a marked contrast to the clumsy way he tugs on them now, trying to undo them as quickly as he can. 

With only a little bit of struggling, he pushes his pants down, then kicks them off completely. He wraps one hand around his hard length, thumb and forefinger pinching slightly just below the flushed head. Your teeth sink into your lip as you stare at him, taking in sight of this gorgeous man kneeling between your legs, looking every bit as hungry as you feel. 

“Tell me how you want it.”

You clench unconsciously at Jungkook’s command, mind running through all the possibilities. Honestly, you don’t care how, you just need him inside you now. 

So you reach out, gently prying his fingers away from his cock. Jungkook sighs when you take it in your hand, a sound of deep-seated contentment, like he’s been waiting all night for you to touch him. You understand the sentiment, thighs twitching as you slowly pump him a few times, using his slickness to make your movements easier. 

“Just like this,” you say, guiding him towards your slit. He hisses as you slide his head through your folds, and presses forward a bit, helping you coat him in your arousal. 

“Okay, jagiya,” he murmurs. He arranges himself between your legs, lifting one calf, then the other, over his broad shoulders. You shiver, breathless with anticipation as you catch the feral glint in his eyes. “Just like this.” 

A harmonious pair of moans fill the room when he enters you. He waits for a moment, because as rushed as his fingering was, it wasn’t enough to fully stretch you out enough for him. When you whisper, “okay,” he starts to move. The first few rolls of his hips are slow and easy, him savoring the tight warmth of your cunt around him, you delighting in the sensation of being filled so completely. He kisses the side of your knee, staring down at you as you whimper beneath him with every languid thrust. 

When your hands stretch out for him, he leans down, bending you in half to press his mouth to yours. He sinks deeper into you, your bodies locking together more closely, and you lace your fingers through his hair, until you’re breathing each other’s kisses like air. You whisper Jungkook’s name and he sighs yours back. 

“Love you so much, jagi.” 

His mouth nudges your head to the side in search of that sensitive spot behind your ear, and you open your eyes to catch sight of the two of you in the mirror. Even if the room were pitch black right now, you’d be able to see yourself lying there, the way you’re lit from within. Your love for Jungkook burns inside you like a star in the night sky, pulsing bright and steady. 

“I love you, too.” 

Jungkook’s pace steadies, his pelvis starting to bounce off your ass with more speed.

“Oh, fuck, yes, baby,” you moan, watching him piston his cock inside you. “More, please, Kookie! More!” 

Never let it be said that your boyfriend doesn’t listen. He pulls out, getting off the couch, and, with strong hands gripping your thighs, positions you with your hips resting on the arm of the couch, to raise you high enough for him to plunge back in from a standing position. 

And then he gives you exactly what you asked for. 

Jungkook fucks you hard and fast. His furrowed brow drips with sweat as he snaps his hips into you. You know nothing could break his concentration now - eyes sharply focusing on your expression, ears listening for the change in the pitch of your voice. When he feels your walls starting to constrict, he grips your thighs to tilt you just enough to find the right angle to tap your sweet spot with every pump - 

“Jungkook!” With a loud gasp of his name, your climax arrives. Your cunt pulsates so tightly around him that Jungkook clamps his arms around your legs, pulling your ass flush against him so he can grind into you.

“Oh, fuck, jagi, ‘m so close.” His voice is already wrecked, sounding rough and broken. He bends slightly at the waist, forcing your legs closer to your stomach, putting you at an odd angle, but you’re still buzzing with pleasure so you don’t notice the stretch, just let out a low moan as Jungkook starts to move again. 

He bends further, sliding his hands behind your back, and then he lifts you, using that surprising strength of his to hold you as he slides around to sit on the couch. Your legs support you just long enough to straddle him, and then you sink down onto his cock, more than happy to collapse against Jungkook as he fucks up into you. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he chants, bringing one of his hands up to cup your cheek. “Always so good, jagi.” You meet his gaze, struck by the love you see in his eyes. No matter how often he looks at you like this, it makes your heart sing every time. You kiss him before sitting up, meeting his thrusts with your own movements.

“Come for me, Kookie,” you murmur sweetly, drawing your boyfriend’s eye with the movement of your hand as it heads down your stomach. Your fingers rub at your clit, rolling the engorged nub around, and the delicious drag of his cock inside your constricting walls has you hurtling towards a second orgasm just as Jungkook reaches his first.

Your playlist begins the last song as the two of you cling to each other on the couch. Jungkook’s arms are still locked around your back while you rest your head on his shoulder. He sings along quietly to the music, his soothing voice wrapping around you like a blanket. It’s a favorite song of his, just as it’s a favorite of yours - the song from your rooftop dance at Jennie and Yoongi’s wedding.

When the music ends, Jungkook sighs. “We should definitely do this again.” 

You laugh, sitting up. He grins at you and you lean forward to press a light peck to the tiny mole under his lip. “I may have booked you all night.” 

“Like I was gonna let you walk out of here anytime soon,” he scoffs. He stops your giggling with his kiss, lips soft and lingering, and you sigh, hugging him close again. 

There’s a part of you that can’t believe you just fucked your boyfriend in a strip club, but somehow it felt inevitable that you two would end up here like this. Like from the moment you walked in here all those months ago, there was no other way this would go. 

It was such a strange trip to think about. You had to go all the way to Paradise to meet the love of your life who lived next door. Fate could really take the most roundabout way, but the journey was more than worth it. 

“You really didn’t have to do all of this for me.” Jungkook’s voice brings you back to the moment. 

“I want to do everything for you,” you reply with a shake of your head. “You deserve the world, Kookie.” 

“I have everything I could ever want, jagiya. Right here in my arms.” 

Normally, this is where you would roll your eyes at him for being so sappy, but that’s hard to do when you’re blinking back tears. Instead, you squeeze him a little tighter, so he knows that you feel the same way. 

“You know…” Jungkook starts after a few seconds, then stops. You shake him a little to urge him to go on. “There is something else I’ve been thinking about. Something I want to do, but I wasn’t sure if you’d be into it.” 

“What is it?”

He glances down, and there’s the shy bunny smile that you remember from all those months ago. “I’d love to paint you.” 

“Naked?” you whisper, hand to your chest, looking scandalized.

He laughs, nose wrinkling in glee. “That actually wasn’t what I meant but I’m absolutely down if you are.” 

“We’ll see,” you grin, kissing his cheek. “One thing at a time. Right now, we’ve got this room to ourselves, and I believe you promised me a dance.”

“Yes I did,” Jungkook agrees, chin jutting out to catch your next kiss with his lips. “Anything for my love.” 

“I love you, too,” you sigh, kissing him back. 

************************************************************************

A/N 2: Yes, there will still be some drabbles down the line, but this is the end of the main story! Thank you for sticking with me! 💕

If you liked this fic, please consider reblogging! Likes do not help it get seen by other readers. 💕

Masterlist 💜 Find me on AO3 💜 

© 2021-22-23-24 by sunshinerainbowsbts/minisugakoobies. Crossposted to AO3. Please do not copy or repost.

[obitohno]

fantasising about werewolf! bakugo, who—unbeknownst to you—has spent majority of your friendship secretly grooming you into accepting your fated role as his bondmate.

fem! reader, 18+, werewolf! bakugo, human! reader, friends to lovers, bondmates, hidden feelings, pining, mutual pining, possessiveness, making out, masturbation, dry humping, dubcon

1.8k

reblogs are appreciated ~

it starts with a touch.

it’s a gentle brush of his fingers to your elbow, one day, grip tightening around the bend of your joint as he steadies your balance. clumsily, you’d somehow managed to trip over your own feet, stumbling into the open threshold of his apartment, your forehead dangerously close to colliding with the warmth of his chest. admittedly, you are a tad dismayed when he’s able to save you the shame of face-planting the very comfortable-looking space between his pecs, the broad muscles hidden beneath the stretch of fabric that you recognise to be his favourite band t-shirt. you choose to pointedly ignore the bout of disappointment that settles at the back of your throat when he straightens you upright, grunting something indecipherable under the heat of his breath as he kicks the door shut behind you. you follow him into the comfort of his apartment, but whilst you’re free to ogle at the shape of his back as he leads you into the living room, you’re blind to the way that he forcibly hides the smug curl of the corners of his mouth with a twitch of his lips.

over time, his touches become more frequent.

again, you’re oblivious to the way that there’s a deliberate brush of his fingers whenever he’s passing you the remote, eyes already gluing themselves to the television, missing the brief flash of irritation that gleams the colour of his own crimson. there’s a press of his shoulder when the two of you are invited over to a movie night at kirishima’s, a group of five crammed onto a second-hand settee that was made for two. he’s purposeful in the way that the warmth of him is almost fire-like when his skin touches yours, but again, he’s humbled, for you bare no visible signs of reacting, too busy giggling along to something stupidly un-funny that shitty hair has spouted. the redhead can’t fathom as to why bakugo spends majority of the evening glaring scornfully at the side of his face when he should be focusing on the movie instead.

but, eventually, there comes a time when you start to lean into the palm of his hand when he’s grabbing at your bicep to tug you inside whenever you appear at his doorstep, and it leaves him feeling smug when you coo about how warm he is. he’s surprised, yet satisfied when you even go as far as to slug your feet onto his lap when the two of you collapse onto the settee after sharing a meal one evening, expelling a happy hum from the back of your throat when the pad of his thumb kneads at your heel.

after this, tactfully, he switches to scent.

it isn’t obvious, he doesn’t think, the way that he greedily inhales when you greet him at the door when he stops by after a late-night patrol. except, maybe it is, because he swears that it’s taking you a tad longer than usual to lock the door shut behind him. your scent sits on the tip of his tongue as he stands in the middle of your living room, watching as you disappear into the kitchen to flick the kettle on. momentarily alone, that wild part of him is frantic, forcing his nostrils to flare, a low groan bubbling in the pit of his stomach as his ribs expand to accommodate the stretch of his lungs as he eagerly breathes you in. it’s overwhelming, the sweetness of your scent that clings to all four corners of the room, and bakugo can do nothing as it entices a longing that coils deep in his stomach when you return from the kitchen—two steaming mugs of hot chocolate in hand—his eyes snapping towards the column of your throat.

there, bakugo just knows that you smell the sweetest, the gleam of his stare narrowing in on the very space where he, primeval beast that he is, aches to embed his canines into. his gums itch, threatening to do just that, and he forces himself to swallow down the urge around a scalding mouthful of hot chocolate.

it’s just after this when he starts to realise that although your scent is very much you, it is his own that he often catches latching into the strands of your hair, or seeping into the threads of your clothes. you don’t notice, of course, the way it drives him feral when you steal a well-worn hoodie of his, the fabric draping over your shoulders as it’s too large for your frame. he insists that you keep the hoodie for yourself, mumbling an excuse about how he no longer wears it (he’s lying—the fabric is saturated in his scent), a gluttonous instinct of his now placated when you agree easily—happily, he thinks— slipping the fabric over your head. you’re enshrouded by a bubble that tastes of his musk, and the fire that singes the blood in his veins is one that he can’t get rid of, even when he desperately fucks his cock into the palm of his fist later that night.

eventually, torment has him resorting to sound.

the beat of your pulse is one that bakugo has long memorised, ingrained into the very makings of his own dna. it’s usually a throb that dulls in the background, his instincts latching onto the sound even if he’s busy acting as if he can’t hear each steady inhale that is drawn between the very lips that he struggles to refrain from gawking at each day. it’s a task, one that takes months to perfect, especially when he has to learn that not every spike of your pulse is a cause for alarm.

but, somehow, the gentle thud, thud, thud that he becomes accustomed to has morphed. he’s not entirely sure when it happens, but almost a year has passed since the two of you became friends, and one day, he notices. you’ve invaded the private space of his home once again, only, this time, you’re lazily sprawled across his bed, tittering away to yourself when you make a joke about how his hero name should’ve been ‘boomshakala’. he’s swearing at you, shoving the flat of his foot against your hip, and although there’s no malice in his actions—his grin is far too wide for someone who does a very good job at being angry all of the time—there’s a tiny noise choked out from the back of your throat.

t-thump-thump-th-thump.

there, he thinks, is the spike of your pulse, again. it’s fluttering, uneven as you peer at him, mouth frozen on the shape of an exclaim that isn’t voiced. you’re staring at him, wide eyed—mortified—because did you just moan?

he’s still, watching you, the glower of crimson tainted by a molten heat that bleeds into his irises, and you find that you can’t look away. he looks hungry—starved—and you dare to think that maybe there’s a small chance that he—

he’s on to you.

literally.

you aren’t able to finish that final thought, because now he’s shoving, pressing you to the mattress, looming over you as he pins you still with the weight of his hips, grinning a smile that is all teeth and little else. you’re gawking up at him, a little wide eyed, dazed as your lips part, wetted by a flick of your tongue. unabashed, bakugo has decided that he cares very little for being inconspicuous, and now, he blatantly stares at the way you lick your lips, his own tongue wiggling from out of his mouth to mirror your actions.

and holy fuck, does he have fangs?!

you suppose that you ought to be terrified—because you’re definitely confused—and yet, suddenly, bakugo’s senses are overwhelmed by the existence of your very present arousal. the musky scent is dulled by your hesitation, your fingers, soft and pliant, wedged between the crooks of his own. but where your legs are hooked around the width of his waist, he can feel the way that your clit has begun to throb wantonly as you murmur his name so breathily that he’d’ve failed to hear the syllables—broken on the shape of another moan—if not for the fact that his sense of hearing far surpasses that of a human being. there’s a perspiration that has built on the nape of his neck, and he’s sure that you can feel the way that his cock has engorged, flooded with blood that surges south when you allow him to curl a possessive hand around the width of your pretty little neck.

‘you’re mine,’ he snaps, leaning close enough to catch the stutter of your breath on the curve of his cheek, leaning to tongue over the seam of your lips before you can reply.

bakugo was right. you do taste sweet. sweeter than he’d imagined, too. you’re gasping, the fragile skin of your throat jumping as your pulse quickens, and to his surprise, you’re keeping up with the repeated press of his lips, returning his affections with as much fervour as he’s giving. your fingers are twisting into the shock of blonde that rests atop his skull, and a stroke of his groin to yours has you choking, pulling on the strands with a sharp tug. in turn, bakugo snarls, lips tearing from the shape of yours, teeth dragging along the length of your neck. again, he was right, because here, your scent is as sweet as your taste.

‘tell me you’re mine,’ he demands, desperate as he ruts against you. he groans, the pitch low before it catches on a keen that has your toes curling within the confides of your socks. dizzied by how quickly he’s rendered you into nothing but putty, you’re unable to voice your surprise when the tips of his fangs catch on the dip of your collarbone.

things are moving quickly—too quickly, you should think—and yet you’re just as desperate as he, seeking friction as your hips roll to meet his.

‘say it,’ he’s all but begging, breath hot on your skin as it tickles its way down the shell of your ear. pinned beneath him, you shiver, and he huffs, seemingly upset by your silence. ‘say it—say you’re mine.’

his teeth actually nip at the jut of your jaw, and you cry out, mildly incredulous and incredibly turned on.

‘y-yours,’ you relent, gasping, moaning sweetly into the meat of his shoulder. ‘all yours.’ sated by your promise, he listens to the rapid thump of your pulse, the sound almost deafening at it strums at your clit, increasing in tempo when the hard lines of his cock nudges once, twice, thrice, accompanied by the scratch of his canines at the crook of which your neck meets your shoulder.

there, he decides, is where you’ll wear his mark.

pride has his blood stirring, his nostrils flaring as he devours the scent of you—whom he can now finally claim as his own. his lips curl around the shape of a smirk, and he sneers one word against the beat of your jugular.

mine.

you have no idea what you’ve just agreed to.

© obitohno. all rights reserved. do not repost my works.

[iliketangerines]

hello! i was thinking of expanding your works of rare kharacters 💐💐 could i request some rough, consensual sex with geras? geras warning her he can get rough but the reader being a little bratty, egging geras on, telling him she can take it, she can - but can she? thats for u to know & me to find out 👀👀

take your time

a/n: god i need more geras content in this world

pairing: geras x afab!reader

warnings: nsfw (MDNI) pussy eating, overstimulation, finger fucking, squirting

you poke at your boyfriend’s shoulder, wondering what he’s doing with the hourglass, and he says that he is simply managing it and making sure everything run smoothly

you nod and go quiet at his side, waiting for him to finish his work for the day, watching how his fingers deftly move through the grains of sand

Geras takes his time, going through each thread of time carefully, but he finally finishes and turns to you, holding his hand out for you to hold

beaming up at him, you take it and drag him off the dining halls despite him not needing to eat like the others

he doesn’t mind though, not when you look so happy piling food onto his plate and watching him eat, and so he indulges in your little display

after dinner, you take him to your room and pull him onto the bed, taking your time in undressing yourself to get comfortable in your pajamas, a loose t-shirt and panties

he lies on the bed until finally you snuggle up to him, and you tell him about your day in an animated voice, hands waving everywhere

Geras simply chuckles and keeps an arm wrapped around you as you speak and he listens, and finally you settle down and tap at his chin for kiss

he can’t deny you, not ever, and so he leans his head down to kiss you sweetly on the lips, your hand coming up to cup his cheek

you keep moving your lips against his, only pulling away to adjust yourself so that you sit in his lap and you can lay on his chest

your lips are slow and sweet, and your tongue presses against the seam of his lips, which he gladly lets in for him to taste

your hands are now fully cupping his face, and his own large hands squeeze at your waist as you sigh into his mouth

finally, you pull away and say that you want to give him all of you and that he hopes for him to do the same thing with you

Geras purses his lips and says that he does not want to hurt you, lightly squeezing at your waist, and you pout at him, saying that you can take it

he chuckles at your determination and say that you really couldn’t, you’d be a blubbering mess begging for mercy in no time, and you gasp at him in fake astonishment

you slap at his chest and say that you wouldn’t, you can hold your own against Geras, and you move your hips down on Geras’s lap, grinding into his cock

he bites his lip, moving his hands down to grip at your hips and saying that you really shouldn’t test him, but he doesn’t make a move to get you off his lap

smirking down at him, you keep moving yourself, feeling himself slowly get hard underneath you, and you say that you think he’s scared, maybe he’s a one pump chump

Geras frowns at that, he was many things, but he considered himself a good lover, one able to satisfy his partner’s needs

and you were so much smaller than him, everyone was smaller than him, but you seemed so fragile to him

if he ever got rough, fingers digging into your skin because he always wanted more as he kissed, bruises would bloom so easily

it almost scares him to think what would happen if he got lost in the pleasure and got too rough with you

but you still stare down at him with that determined smirk and say that you can take it, unless he’s scared that he won’t be able to make you cum

Geras frowns at that and flips you two over, your legs wrapping around his waist as you squeak in surprise

his forearms plant themselves right beside your head, and his hips grind into your barely clothed cunt as he asks if you’re sure

you nod, a little breathless at the rare show of strength, and Geras leans in to kiss you, tongue pressing insistently against your lips

one of his hands go to grope at you through your shirt, roughly squeezing at your chest, and you let out a little whimper at the roughness, your hands coming up to hold onto his shoulders

his hand reaches underneath your shirt, hitching it up to above your breasts, and he pulls back from your lips to admire them for a moment before going back to kiss you again

his fingers pinch and pull at your nipples, making you squirm and gasp, back arching to get closer to the warmth of his skin, and you moan into his mouth

Geras is relentless with his fingers, pinching and pulling at your sensitive nipples until they’re puffy and raw, and he finally pulls away to admire his work

he tells you that you’re doing so well for him, trailing kisses down your jaw to your neck and sucking dark hickeys into your skin

grinding his hips into the mattress to relieve some tension, he kisses down your stomach, tongue darting out to lick at the bare skin, and he rips off your panties, too impatient to slide them off of you

you gasp at him ripping your underwear off, and you go to chastise him

but then his teeth sink into the meat of your thigh, and your thoughtdmelt into mush as you let out a little whine and gasp at the sting

he just laves his tongue over the bite but continues to nip at your skin and leave marks all over your legs

your whine for him, bucking your hips forward to try and get him to touch you where you need the most, but he just places a thick arm over your hips and holds them down

his eyes never leave your slick pussy, how it clenches around nothing and how your want leaks down onto the mattress

he would ruin you later, but he just wanted to tease you, remind you of who was giving you this pleasure whenever you look in the mirror

he takes his time sucking and biting the sensitive skin, and finally you gasp and beg him to please please touch you, you need him

Geras sighs and presses a kiss to the inside of your thigh one more time before finally sticking his tongue out and licking a fat stripe up the length of your pussy

it presses against your clit just right, and you let out a little whine, gasping at the feeling and making Geras grin at your reaction

his lips wrap around your slit, sucking on it, and it makes you whimper and twitch underneath his hold, trying to move closer to him

he pays no mind to your struggles and runs his tongue in firm long strokes against the sensitive bud, his free hand coming up to trail up your thighs before spreading your folds

he slides two of his fingers in, and you whine and fist the sheets at the stretch, seeing stars and moaning out his name for more

Geras just hums as he just solely focuses on you, tongue flicking against your clit and fingers curling to find that one little sweet spot of yours

you squirm on the bed, shaking and trembling as he gives and gives pleasure, you let out a loud groan of his name when his fingers press against something inside of you

he smirks against your pussy and pushes his fingers against the spot continuously, listening to the wet squelch of his fingers thrusting into your wet pussy

you clench around his fingers and keen as you cum, back arching off the bed and eyes squeezing shut, and Geras hums into your clit

you let out a choked moan at the feeling and try to grind your hips further into his face as he lets you ride out your thigh

but he doesn’t stop, needing to taste you, needing all of you and to relieve the stress pent-up in his body from managing the timeline

his tongue keeps lapping at your clit, and his fingers keep pumping into you and fucking right into your sweet spot

in almost no time, you’re squirming on the sheets, gripping onto them for dear life as the pleasure explodes behind your eyes, and you cum again

the overstimulation is starting to set in, and you sob out that it’s too much, too much for you

Geras finally detaches his lips from your clit, looking up at you with a slight tilt of his head and one eyebrow raised

he says he thought you could handle it, and you stutter out an excuse, but he interrupts the thought as he goes back down to torture with sweet pleasure

bringing you your high over and over again, all you can is take it and try to move away from him, hand pushing at his thick arm

but he doesn’t budge, just hums at your attempts to dislodge him, and you start to cry as the pain stings along with the overwhelming and neverending pleasure

tears stain the pillow when you finally stop struggling and just let him wrack your body with orgasm after orgasm

but then he stops, detaching from your pussy and releasing your hip from his hold as he crawls back up to kiss you, and you can taste yourself on his mouth

Geras smiles down at you and pulls down his pants, and you give a weary glance down and whimper at the sight of his cock

you look at him with watery eyes, but he just kisses your cheek and says he’ll make it fit before placing himself along your folds and rutting against your pussy

it’s slow and torturous, his hips grinding into your yours as he cock slides against your swollen clit to wet his dick with your want

he swallows your moans and whines, lips pressed firmly against yours

finally, he leans back to rest on the back of his calves, and he takes himself in one hand to line himself up with you

he pushes into you slowly, thick cock stretching you out fully, and you whine and whimper at the feeling, a fresh set of tears falling down your face

Geras wastes no time in gripping onto your hips, moaning out your name as he bounces you on his cock

his hips thrust in time with how his hands grip onto you and move you slightly up and down, and his tip bullies against something devastating within you

you can only throw your head back onto the pillows and let his cock fill you up, a slight stomach bulge from wherever he thrusts into you

his thumb comes down to rub at your clit, and it draws a keen out of you as your pussy clenches down on his cock fucking into you brutally

Geras grins down at you as you cum once again, fingers digging bruises into your skin as the pleasure sinks into his nerves and soaks his body

he wants to cum, needs to fill you because you’d just look so beautiful leaking with his cum, and Geras doubles his efforts

his hips slap against your noisily, the sound of your pussy filling the air along with his grunts and your quiet whimpers, and his thumb rubs at your clit insistently

it’s too soon, too close to your last orgasm, and you pant and whine as your back arches off the bed, squirting all over his torso

Geras groans at the sight, slamming your hips down on him as he cums deep inside of you, hips rocking into yours to let the both of your ride out your highs

you’re both panting, and he looks down at your marked body, smiling to himself at how debauched you look

he can feel cum leaking from the edges of where his cock fills you up, and Geras pulls out only to fuck his fuck back into you with his fingers

Geras wipes your hair from your sweaty forehead and gives you a quick kiss as you fall asleep almost immediately

he chuckles to himself at the sight and walks off to find some water and food for you

turns out you really couldn’t handle it after all

[starmapz]

shame on me || chapter ten || moving on

gojo satoru x female vessel reader

❝gojo satoru is the strongest sorcerer. when you come along with power to match his own, his responsibility to the world gets the best of him and his first impression is poor to say the least. when he needs your help, by some miracle you're too kind to deny him. or maybe he's just manipulative enough to convince you. either way, you're stuck training his student, a vessel like you. what could possibly go wrong?❞

warnings || 18+ only. contains explicit content. enemies to lovers. extreme angst. graphic descriptions of injury and death. hurt/no comfort. hurt/comfort. fluff. major character death. anxiety. panic attacks. extreme slow burn. eventual smut. p in v. oral (f! and m! receiving). praise. overstimulation. unprotected. fingering. mating press. slight nanami x reader. happy ending!

additional tags || gojo is a dumbass but very lovable. very very very minor love triangle, will not be a main theme. no competing. takes place after season 2. au where gojo is not sealed and the shibuya incident does not go down the same. nanami is alive. choso is around. no major manga spoilers but will contain themes and ideas touched on later.

wc || 6k.

edited but not beta-read.

series masterlist || main masterlist || previous chapter || next chapter

The smell of lavender wafts in the air as blossoms dance in the cool breeze at your feet. Clouds cover the sun and threaten rain, although the forecast didn’t call for it, so you had decided to water your plants regardless. 

Off to the side, Gojo lays in the grass, the top button of his uniform unbuttoned with a white T-shirt visible beneath, his blindfold laying at his shoulders. His arm is draped over his eyes in place of the fabric, only moving when Taro returns the ball he’d been throwing.

Your lesson with Itadori had been cut short when a mission had called for him and Kusakabe. In reality, you knew Kusakabe simply didn’t want to partake in the mission and had called for Yuji, but regardless it would help your student learn. Besides, Kusakabe was responsible one way or the other.

Taro barrels past both you and Satoru in a flurry, dropping his ball at Gojo’s side before taking a wide turn to chase after the ball again. Following his movement past you, your gaze travels to the cabin that had been your home so long.

You’re sure the entire place is covered in a layer of dust, a thought that leaves a pang in your stomach and you wince at the realization. For a while now, you’d been wanting to grab some of the dresses left behind in the cabin given that your arrangement with Gojo seemed at least somewhat permanent, but no matter how often the thought arose, you always convinced yourself otherwise.

“You’re gonna drown your Carnations.” Satoru sits upright, leaning back on his outstretched arm with his hand splayed in the grass. Strands of snow-white hair sway in the gentle breeze as he twists to look at the flowers at your feet.

You turn your attention to the watering can in your hand, blinking and tipping it back as you realize he’s right, you’ve been watering them the whole time you were lost in thought. It certainly wouldn’t help the flowers in any way but you supposed at least it wouldn’t kill them. Sighing, you run a hand through your hair, pushing it out of your face.

“Whatcha thinkin’ about, Pretty?”

Your heart does a backflip that you choose to push aside as you set the watering can at your feet. Satoru’s intense stare is set on you as he watches you grimace and take a step back away from the garden.

“Would you mind doing me a favor?”

“Need some muscle?” He asks with a cocky grin, not missing a beat.

“No, Satoru,” you roll your eyes at his suggestion, shooting a glance at your old cabin. “I just wanna grab a few things from my cabin, I was hoping you could keep me company.”

“‘Course.”

You almost hate how quickly he agrees and hops to his feet without a second thought or a moment’s hesitation. You’re certain you could ask for the moon and he would move mountains to bring it to you. It’s an uneasy thought that you’re not only growing accustomed to his presence, but more than ever you’d begun to seek his presence.

He’d become your rock. It was hard to deny it anymore. He didn’t dare leave your side and even Yaga had agreed it was the best course of action to keep him near you if it meant preventing another incident.

Still, you wondered if the reason he was always nearby was truly out of a duty to keep you and Yuji safe, or if he just wanted to be with you in truth. In reality, it was most likely the latter.

Even Miriko had grown accustomed to him. Every once in a while Satoru would wake up to Miriko sitting enjoying a coffee and he didn’t seem to think twice about it, not minding her presence either.

They’d even had a strange heart to heart where Satoru had apologized. Her admission that she didn’t mind him had felt more like a parent’s approval of a boy you brought him, though the parent and the relationship lacked from the situation. Either way, it made you want to bury your face in a pillow in embarrassment, despite being stuck in her innate domain. The best you could find was a ripped and rugged sail.

Looking at the big picture though, things had become easy with him. It was easy to slip into conversation with him, easy to sit with him on the couch as he explained his favorite reality show, easy to talk about the cheesy romance book you were reading. It all felt natural.

Satoru hops to his feet, grabbing the cabin key for you since he’d taken it a while ago in order to gather some of your belongings. When he returns, his tall stature towers over you at the base of the stairs to your old cabin, invading your personal space as he always does with a grin and the key dangling from his forefinger.

You reach up to take it, shooting him a disgruntled glare as he holds it juuuust out of reach.

“Nuh uh, whaddya say?”

“Thank you for bringing me the key you stole?”

His smile falters, brow scrunching in mock frustration. “Well when you put it like that it doesn’t sound as good,” he grumbles playfully, his hand falling just low enough for you to jump and pull the key away from him.

You playfully shove his chest and hop up the stairs to the door.

The sight of the inside of the cabin catches you oddly off-guard and you pause in the door. Satoru collides with you, bringing both hands up to rest on either of your upper arms and hold you both upright. He mumbles a ‘sorry’, letting you take in the sight before you.

The cabin is, indeed, covered in a layer of dust. The overcast sun of the afternoon filtering through the window casts enough light to see the dust that hangs in the air, all signs of life dissipated from the cabin. Unwashed mugs still sit in the sink, a blanket is casually laying over the back of the couch, a fork and plate sit on the table, and some of Taro’s toys still litter the floor.

Satoru’s thumbs rub soothing circles on both of your arms as he takes a step forward with you, his warmth remaining a close and comforting presence. Swallowing your nerves, you let out a breath and lead the way upstairs to the bedroom where your clothes are.

The sheets are still thrown aside as if someone had just woken up and photo frames still line the walls. A small photo frame holding a photo of you and your dad, as well as one of Taro sopping wet from diving headfirst into the ocean hang neatly on the wall. Kento’s charge cable lays expectantly on the bedside table alongside an old tie, twisting into your gut like a knife.

But you don’t cry. For the first time, you take a deep breath and soldier your way into the room, opening the closet and sifting through for the summer clothing you’re looking for. Satoru holds his hands out expectantly, letting you throw anything you want to bring into his arms. Your hands pause on a perfectly pleated tan suit, pulling your lower lip between your teeth at the sight.

But still you don’t let yourself cry.

A reassuring hand squeezes your arm and reminds you that you have support. You’re not alone anymore.

So you turn to Satoru and nod to him to lead the way back out the door, stopping to grab the photo frames of your dad and Taro on the way out.

“Thanks, Satoru.” You lock the door behind you, swallowing an uncomfortable bile that had risen in your throat as you lock away a part of your past. Securely in the past, but never forgotten, never really gone. Always in your heart, even if you are trying to make room for new memories. New people.

Gojo shoots you a handsome smile, those cheerful blue eyes flickering shut for a moment as the corners of his eyes wrinkle. 

“Is that your dad?” He asks curiously, peering at the photo frame in your arms. It pulls you from thoughts threatening to spiral and you hold the photo out to him, nodding.

You’re considerably younger in the photo, wearing a jersey from your dad’s favorite team at a game. It’s before you ever met Miriko, when times were simpler.

“The one and only,” you confirm.

“He was nice when I talked to him,” he mentions, catching you off-guard as you remember that Satoru had at some point answered your phone when your dad���s calls became more and more frantic.

“Oh right, how did that go?” You ask curiously.

“He was pretty worried obviously, but he said he was happy someone was taking care of you. He seemed nice.”

“Awh, that’s-”

“At least, after he yelled at me.”

You pause, blinking at Gojo. “He what?”

He shrugs with an immature tilted smile, as though being yelled at by your father had had somewhat of an effect on him. “I took responsibility for what happened. He wasn’t happy about that but who can blame ‘im?”

You smile sheepishly. “Sorry about that,” you chuckle sheepishly.

“Nah, he was just worried.” He shrugs it off easily, following you into the cabin and to the guest room. Your room. He hands you the dresses in his arms one by one, commenting on each and every one about how pretty they are despite your obvious dismissal of his comments.

As he hands you a small black dress, his lips quirk upwards. “You should wear this one.”

“Not happening,” you mumble shyly, trying hard to ignore the heat in your cheeks as you choose not to humor him.

“You’d look stunning,” he grins with lidded eyes as he leans into your personal space. You’re accustomed to this too of course, but still your breath hitches in your throat at his close proximity. “Not that you don’t look stunning already,” he corrects suddenly, blue eyes widening with a moment of boyish innocence.

Though he liked to be a flirt and be a menace, sometimes it was easy to forget that he wasn’t as sly as he thought he was. You smirk at him, unable to deny that it was in those little moments where his confident facade broke for a more sweet one that you were charmed by him.

“Cute,” you mumble, returning to hanging the last of the dresses in your arms. Gojo’s eyes light up like a Christmas tree as he grins at you, hanging the last dress for you once you had freed him of his dress holding duty.

“I know I said it already but…” you pause, looking up at the tall sorcerer. It’s not often you get to see those gorgeous blue eyes in full, not covered by either fabric or glasses, but you’re glad you get to see them as he stares happily down at you. It’s such a stark contrast from the way he cautiously regarded you for so long and it’s so refreshing to see him so filled with hope and… affection. Like the carnation he had left for you. “Thank you, Satoru. Really.”

It feels natural, when you choose to wrap your arms around his middle. He seems surprised for a moment, his body shifting to look down at your small form wrapped tightly around his frame, but it only takes a second for him to tightly wrap his around you in return.

When Satoru hugs you, it feels like he expects the world to end. Like if this is his final moment with you, he’s going to savor it. His arms are wrapped tightly around you, fingers gripping at your bare shoulders for purchase. His warm breath fans over your head as he buries his face into your hair, the feeling of his light, nearly unnoticeable stubble lightly tickling your scalp.

His hand slides up your arm, holding your head tightly into his chest. His heart beats hard against his chest, giving away the nerves that he didn’t often let show. It’s easy to forget that Satoru can be vulnerable too.

He doesn’t let you pull away, like his life depends on holding you. Like this moment is everything to him. Because it is. His heart pounding in your ear is all the proof you need, and it sends yours spiraling as well.

“Satoru?” You try to glance up at him by tilting your head to the side, but all you can make out is his shoulder and the mop of white hair.

He gives you one last tight squeeze before hesitantly letting you go, eyes still shining brightly, though this time he looks strangely relaxed.

Shooting him a lopsided smile, you continue. “I thought that would be a lot harder, honestly. With you there, it wasn’t so bad.”

If that boy had a tail to wag, it would be swinging. He grins so widely you almost don’t recognize him. Shoko’s comment about him looking like a puppy around you is beginning to make more and more sense the more you truly notice this side of him. It’s refreshing to see him be genuine and vulnerable with you.

“I’ll always be here for you, Pretty.” And god, his voice is so genuine, you almost want to-

If I didn’t know any better, I would assume you’re falling for Six Eyes, of all people.

Your eyes widen suddenly at Miriko’s comment and in a rush to disprove her, or maybe convince yourself it isn’t true, your hands settle on his chest and you all but shove him out of the room, surprising you both.

“Sorry, um, thank you!” You tell him in a rush that has him clearly confused as he stands outside the door, unable to do anything but watch as you shut the door in his face.

“Did I-?”

You open the door again, a tinge of guilt heating up your cheeks at the sudden action.

“Just gonna change, it’s fine!” You insist, words spilling over your lips as you close and lock the door again, staring at the handle and leaving him shocked and confused.

Sliding your back down the door and sitting with your hands covering your face, you all but groan as Miriko laughs in your mind. If even Miriko’s getting a rise out of this, you know you’re in deeper than you thought.

My, I would almost think I hit the nail on the head, did I not?

Shut. Up.

–

Saturday mornings had become your favorites. You would sleep in until the sound of dawn cicadas and birdsong awoke you and without fail, the smell of bacon would follow soon after. Satoru would make you breakfast- he’d even perfected your eggs- and you would make him coffee, exactly to his taste with a few too many scoops of sugar.

He loved those mornings just as much as you did and he was sure to tell you that, chatting with you throughout the mornings as you took to listening to stories. Stories about missions, about his students, once in a while he might even open up about Suguru. Those fleeting moments of vulnerability further endeared you to him, little to his knowledge.

It was cozy.

This morning, the scent of fresh bacon and light sizzling from outside your room is missing and you frown. Your eyes flicker open and you rub the remnants of sleep from your eyes with a slow yawn. 

You don’t bother to change out of the oversized shirt you’d worn to bed, throwing on shorts before peeking out of the room and searching for Satoru. The kitchen is empty and there’s no sign of him in the house, either. Closing your eyes, you don’t even sense his cursed energy nearby.

You know he’s likely out on a mission or something of the sort, but you can’t help the way your chest flutters as you hope that he’s okay. Especially given that he’d insisted on not taking missions since Kenjaku’s appearance.

Going to grab your phone, you shoot him a text. The first one you’ve ever sent that isn’t in regards to business or groceries.

10:04 AM || You: hey, everything alright?

After hitting backspace an indescribable amount of times, you hit send and decide you’ll make your own breakfast. Throwing together bacon, eggs, and toast, you make yourself and Satoru a plate.

Surely he’ll be back in time for some food, after all. 

As lunch arrives with an untouched plate of bacon and eggs still sitting on the table, your worry grows tenfold. Grimacing, you open your phone and to the text that stares back at you mockingly. Surely he isn’t upset with you over shoving him out of the room yesterday, right?

No, he doesn’t hold a grudge like that. Not over something so inconsequential. That’s not Gojo.

Your thumbs move to type again, hitting send before you have the chance to meander over the specifics of the message.

1:31 PM || You: satoru? please let me know if you’re alright

With a forlorn sigh, you set your phone down and open your book back up, trying to focus on the words. Try as you may, focus eludes you as you re-read a paragraph for the dozenth time. With a finger to your temple in exasperation, you toss the book in front of you, staring at the clock. Two in the afternoon and not a word from Satoru?

Picking up your phone again, you dial his number, but it doesn’t even ring. Is his phone dead? You have half a mind to go looking for him, but then again he is an adult. He can take care of himself.

As the afternoon sun moves gradually to set, warm rays of light drifting across the surface of the coffee table before you, you wonder if it’s worth it to make him a plate for dinner. He had to be home for dinner, right?

4:32 PM || You: i’m making dinner, i’ll leave a plate for you

You pause, hesitating over the send button as you send one last message.

4:34 PM || You: please be okay.

Homemade Yakisoba in-hand, you struggle to eat your meal as worry twists your stomach. It eats every last ounce of hunger until you’re just about ready to grab Yuta and Yuji and find him yourself.

Of course, that’s when the front door lock clicks and you suddenly sense him. His overwhelming cursed energy and that bubbly presence, as he kicks the door open with a slam. You jump, eyes wide at the bags in his arms.

“You would not believe the amount of trouble I went through today-”

“Where have you been?”

“Hm?” Satoru pauses, setting both bags on the kitchen table as he spins to face you. “I was grabbing some things.”

“I texted you.”

“You did?”

“A few times.”

He pulls his phone from his pocket, fiddling with the side button and realizing sure enough, his phone is dead. He shrugs it off, turning back to his bags excitedly as he continues his ramblings about how ‘he looked everywhere’ and ‘it was so hard to find’, though he doesn’t specify what he’s going on about, nor is that where your focus is as you practically look over him for signs of wounds or wear.

“I was worried about you.” You interrupt him suddenly, standing in front of the couch still as you stare at him in the kitchen. His brow knits in confusion beneath the fabric of his blindfold as he turns to face you again.

His shoulders fall back to a relaxed position as he sees the concern etched into your features and in two long strides he’s standing before you, leaning down just a bit to be at eye level. “‘M sorry,” he apologizes genuinely. “I shoulda charged my phone.”

“No kidding,” you grumble, though in truth you’d already forgiven him. Pulling an apology from him is about as easy as pulling teeth so to receive one so easily, it’s hard to stay mad. He cheekily reaches down to grab your hand, gauging your reaction as he brings it up to his lips, leaving a charming peck on your knuckles.

“Forgive me, Sweetheart?”

As though he didn’t just light your entire body on fire with one action, one name, you nod shyly, losing any and all words.

“Good, now come see what I got,” he tells you excitedly, looping his fingers with yours as he tugs you along to the kitchen table where one small plastic bag and a larger paper bag reside.

The paper bag has a very familiar logo on it and you don’t need to look inside to know Satoru’s grabbed Kikufuku. The plastic bag, on the other hand, is small and nondescript.

“I didn’t think I’d be gone so long but I couldn’t find it anywhere,” he insists, pulling something out of the bag and spinning towards you with it behind his back before you have a chance to see what it is.

Tilting your head curiously, you attempt to peek around him, but he blocks your vision.

“Would you believe that this shit is rare now? I actually had to leave town and go to some little store in the middle of nowhere to find it, and after-”

“What is it?” You interrupt his ramblings.

He grins, presenting to you none other than Digimon Rumble Arena 2 on GameCube. Unable to help it, you giggle, which easily turns into a full-blown laugh.

What a lovesick idiot.

“You asshole, I spent all day thinking you were hurt or missing or worse and you were just- just looking for Digimon?” You giggle gleefully as you shove his chest. He grins down at you, insisting that you hold the copy of the game.

As soon as the copy is in your hands, he sheds his jacket and hops over the couch, legs spread as he lounges comfortably on the side you’d come to know as his.

“C’mon, this asshole wants to play Digimon. And he already apologized,” he derides with a sly smile, enunciating his words in jest.

“Hold on, hold on,” you insist, grabbing the extra plate of Yakisoba that you’d made, as well as your own that you’d barely touched. He thanks you, happily eating as you open the cabinet beneath the TV, pulling out an Indigo Gamecube and plugging in a matching controller and an orange one.

You hand him the orange one, player two of course, and join him on the couch.

The game comes back to you naturally and much to Satoru’s dismay, you destroy him. Every. Single. Round. Still, he’s trying his best.

“I swear I’m good at games,” he insists.

“You chose the wrong one if you were trying to impress me,” you tease as your Gabumon digivolves and knocks his Flamedramon flat on the ground.

His head hangs back as he lets out an exasperated groan at his fourth loss in a row. First, he’d insisted he was just rusty, then the stage was the problem, then the Digimon. He was running out of excuses.

“I almost had you that time!”

“Sure,” you shrug, holding in a laugh.

“No, seriously! You were so low!”

“Mhmm.”

“One more, this time I’ll win,” he insists, sitting upright as he leans forward and removes his blindfold.

“I don’t think your Six Eyes is gonna help you.”

“You don’t know.”

You raise an eyebrow at him as you hit the rematch button and it drops you back into an arena, but not only is Satoru serious about winning this time, he’s equally serious about cheating to win.

As soon as you knock him down the first time, he prods your side.

“Cheater!” You cry out in shock as he manages to land a hit on your Gabumon. You shoot him a disgruntled look and nudge his knee. He snickers happily as he continues to fight dirty, taking any opportunity to poke and prod your thighs and sides playfully.

Still, it’s not enough for him to win.

“Looks like you’re still the loser-”

Pushing off the couch before you have time to finish your sentence, Satoru leaps on top of you, using his strong arms to pin you down against the soft cushions as he moves his fingers along your sides, tickling you without relent.

“No!” You cry out, unable to help laughing as you squirm and push against him.

“Take it back! I’m not a loser!” He insists, not letting up.

“No! You cheated!” You gasp through ragged laughs as you try to grab his wrists and push him back, but his grasp on you is too strong.

“Say it! Say it and I’ll stop!” He teases with a devilish grin.

“Please!” You beg, not letting up as you playfully struggle against him. “Toru!”

That stops him dead in his tracks as those wondrous blue eyes lock onto your red ones that flutter open behind long lashes. He purses his lips, his white hair hanging down and just barely tickling your forehead from his close proximity.

With his knees and arms on either side of you, you’re in a painfully compromising position that sends a jolt of electricity up your spine, lighting your entire body on fire at the realization.

“You’ve never called me that before,” his voice is strangely husky, and you swallow as heat pools at the base of your stomach.

“Do you not like it?” You breathe, settling your hands on his biceps. You run your fingers mindlessly over the muscles, biting your lip as your eyes stray to his toned arms before flickering back to his intense gaze.

“I like it,” he says quietly, his breaths coming short and fast as his eyes follow your movements. He swallows hard, watching the way you bite your lip. A muscle in his jaw spasms as he hovers over you, the intensity shared between you both immense.

It’s as though time has stopped and only you both exist in this moment. Through all your doubts, all the time he’s been patient with you and given you the time and space you needed, you couldn’t deny the pull he had on you any longer.

Still, even as the world stands still for you both, as the evening cicadas hold their breath and the last remnants of the setting sun illuminate his long white lashes in the most beautiful and brilliant way, he waits for you. He doesn’t dare move, doesn’t make the move that he so desires, betrayed by his immense pupils.

The ball was in your court.

Nothing but adoration and anticipation glimmering in his features.

Adoration shown in the way he spent all day looking for a particular gift for you, just to see you smile even if only for a moment because he craved your smile like a drug, like an addiction.

Adoration in the way he teases you because he loves the way you can match his backtalk.

Anticipation that makes your toes curl as his sharp and handsome features stare back at you with an equal anticipation.

“Kiss me, Toru,” you whisper, letting go of all of your doubts and inhibitions, of everything holding you back. Giving in to him finally.

“Thought you’d never ask, pretty girl,” he breathes, moving down to his elbows as his lips softly meet yours. His touch grazes the side of your face as you fasten your grip on his biceps, feeling them flex beneath the pads of your fingers.

In contrast to the feverous anticipation in his eyes, his lips move slowly against yours, soft and sweet. The candied taste of his tongue ignites and sparks an eagerness in your chest and you slide your hands up his arms, cradling his cheeks as you bring him closer in an effort to quell the blooming heat in your chest.

Satoru takes the opportunity to deepen the kiss, his tongue swiping along the bottom of your lip for permission. You part your lips, your tongues fighting for purchase as he puts every ounce of passion into the moment.

When you part to take a breath, both of your chests heaving, his eyes slowly flicker open to meet yours. They may as well be glowing in the way he regards you with such care and ardor.

You can’t help but smile, giggle even, both because his snowy locks are tickling your forehead, and because it feels good to be cared for by him, and it feels good to care for him. You’d both been doing it for so long at this point that it almost felt foolish how long you’d held back.

“D’you still think I’m a loser?” He teases breathlessly.

“Shut up,” you groan, pulling him back to you. One of his arms moves from its position holding him above you as he glides his fingers down your side until they find purchase at your waist. He kisses you so tenderly, so delicate like the flower he’d been taking care of to the best of his ability still sitting beautifully atop the kitchen table.

When he pulls back, he’s got a wide grin and expectant eyes.

“Let me take you out.”

“Shouldn’t we stay near Yuji to keep an eye on Sukuna?”

“One day won’t hurt him. Let me take you out tomorrow.”

You chew on your lip in thought, threatening to get lost in the galaxies that are his eyes. They flicker to the movement of your lip as it slips between your teeth, his pupils dilating at the sight.

“What did you have in mind Mr. Gojo?” You prod, watching the way his eyes darken without fail at the name you used for him, practically melting against you like honey. He shuffles his hips in an effort to get more comfortable as his cock twitches in his slacks, a movement he knows you can feel and he knows you’re goading on.

He’s trying to be more romantic than that, though.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” He purrs into your ear, peppering kisses from just below your earlobe down your jaw, before returning to your lips. In spite of the hunger growing between both of you, the kiss is honey sweet, and he lets out a relaxed sigh that you swallow between your lips.

“Nothing-” you pause as a peck from the tall man interrupts your statement, “-too fancy, okay?”

He nods solemnly, a note of earnestness in his features as if taking your words to heart. “Promise.”

“And nothing too busy, I don’t like crowds.”

“I know, Sweets.”

“Oh, and nothing claustrophobic, makes me nervous with Miriko.”

He says your name in a chiding tone that tells you that he knows that already. Regardless, you smile calmly at him.

He leans in for one last peck before sitting up and adjusting his slacks in an effort to make his very obvious boner less uncomfortable. His kiss-swollen lips smile happily at you as he drapes his arm over the back of the couch behind your shoulders with a calm breath out from his nose.

“I think you might be the better Digimon.”

“I have the power of Gabumon,” you tell him as you flatten your hair from the way it’s knotted and sticking out after laying under him.

“To think that you called me a nerd,” he comically rolls his eyes as you give his chest a light shove. He kisses your temple oh so softly.

The words to tease him back die on your tongue as you admire his profile, his sharp features trained on the looping character select screen. He looks tired, as he always does though he hides it well, but peace settles comfortably over not just his facial features, but his muscles.

You smile at the sight, wondering what weight he carries with him that he chooses not to confide in anyone, what it truly means to be the strongest.

After all, you’ve seen the way he’s treated by others. You’ve seen the way that not only he, but Yuji and Yuta as well, are expected to act by the higher-ups and even Yaga. You’ve seen the way he’s treated as inhuman at times by others.

Hell, you’d seen the way he’d acted inhuman. Not even just in battle, but the way he would stand stoic and take your verbal berating without a single reaction and not bat an eye at the interaction, simply because that was how he was meant to act. It was almost as though it was a trained reaction.

He had trained himself to be what he was expected to be.

It was sad, really. To think that the goofy, caring, and even charming individual who sat with his eyes closed in bliss to your side had had everything taken from him on account of being the strongest.

And just like that, everything clicks. As if you’re seeing Satoru, really seeing Satoru, for the first time. Everything he’d acted on that had led you here, to this moment, all makes sense.

Would he have been so aggressive upon first meeting you if he hadn’t been told to act in such a way? If he hadn’t, would you be here, now, sitting at his side?

Leaning into him, you watch his peaceful expression quirk into a smile as he pulls you into his chest, enveloping you into a hug. You hum contentedly, closing your eyes as you rest your head on his shoulder.

The soft light of the sun has long faded, leaving you both basking in one another’s presence. The interruption of the looping song on the TV has long been tuned out as your hearts seem to beat in sync. Slowly but surely, it seems he’s filling holes in your heart and healing wounds on his own accord.

You could have cuddled that way for five minutes or five hours, you wouldn’t have any way of knowing, time a concern of the past. As Satoru’s breathing steadies, the rise and fall of his chest growing rhythmic, you giggle to yourself and give him a small shake.

“Toru, you should get some rest.”

“I am,” he retorts cheekily, not bothering to open his eyes.

“You better not fall asleep on our date tomorrow.”

“I won’t,” he insists, “but let me have this for one more moment.”

Your chest flutters at his insistence to keep you in his arms as he nuzzles his face into the crook of your neck.

One moment really is never just one moment with him, though.

When his breathing grows rhythmic again and small snores part his lips, you giggle and move from his side without disturbing him. You move around the kitchen and living room, cleaning up from your afternoon of games and fooling around.

You lift the case for the Digimon game, your thumb smoothing over the front cover.

What a wonder, to think that Satoru Gojo had spent all day looking for this for you. You couldn’t even be upset about his lack of communication when it was clear that in his foolish mission to find the game, it had simply slipped his mind.

To think that this was the same man who you’d struggled to get along with for so long, who seemed to oppose you at every turn, and now you were practically fawning over him. You smile to yourself with a shake of your head. How the times had changed over the past two months.

Satoru shuffles, cerulean irises focusing on you as he realizes you’ve left his arms. An easy smile spreads over his drowsy features.

“Ready to get some rest now?” You ask him.

“Yeah, yeah.” He pushes himself to his feet, offering you his hand as he pulls you up off the floor from where you’d been putting the Gamecube away. Effortlessly pulling you up to him, he squeezes your hand and leads you to your door.

"G’night, sweet girl,” Satoru all but slurs languidly as he tries not to yawn.

“Goodnight, Satoru.”

series masterlist || main masterlist || previous chapter || next chapter

a/n || a bit of a shorter chapter since the next one will be the big date but when I tried to put them all into one it was a bit of a mega chapter so i hope everyone enjoyed this sweet little moment with toru ♡

[cowgirlcherrie]

after the storm. ⚡︎ florist! abby drabble

╰   * a/n: no plot for this either but rather a spin off on my headcanons ! just a little treat for my patient babis who were waiting for more ♡ in simple words this is about happy accidents. . .

song(s) — after the storm. kali uchis & tyler the creator , falling in love. laufey

3:40pm new york. 

Abby didn’t do love.

Although it would be nice and she yearned for it. She wished with the very small penny that she would find in her sage dickies, somewhere blanketed with an old mint gum wrapper and her brown leather wallet in her pocket. Tossing her very last penny into the Washington Square Park fountain wishing for a lover as considerate or even more than her. One to build flowers for and be her muse. 

One to make stockings with around the holidays where she would plant mistletoe around the house, using it as an excuse to merge lips with her lover; and to make floral centerpieces for the family dinners.

Was it too much to ask for?

Abby felt like a late-bloomed flower in comparison to her peers. They were going to wine and dining events with their partners, fancy yachts in the summer, and getting engaged. Everyone was falling in love around her whilst she fell behind and was tormented into watching. 

On this typical, almost mundane Saturday,  the rain flooded down the crevices of the tall buildings hugging the wood and brick of the apartments and offices. Golden Canary taxis beeping as passengers let out screeches rushing to the nearest hut under the rain. Abby stood frozen in her floral shop. Figure in front of the window pane, as she let out cracked whistles through her dry lips, hands in her pockets. The jingling of her keys almost matched the sound of how hard the rain came down. Rocking on her toes, to and fro. Abby being alone for the evening took a number. It was vacant around the shop, the smell of roses, chrysanthemums, and daisies merged together itching at her senses — she could feel a faint sneeze drifting up her nostrils from the dust in the vents. 

She liked the glass windows. Largely panned giving everyone a wide view into the small business, including herself who had gotten nosy at strangers on the concrete. She admired the different people that she would see. The couple where the girlfriend would beg her partner to buy them a bouquet or a rose; The children dug in the crates begging their parental figure for dandelions to make wishes. It was all too pure for Abby, making her heartache at how the flowers brought unity to everyone around her. It was innocent, lovely and made her love her job even more. 

Abby itched at the nape of her neck, swinging her braid to the back as she bolted outside in a hurry to bring the cart of flowers inside as the wind picked up; business was dying down now that people seek shelter instead of enjoying nature. Abby stuck her left foot out kicking the wooden stopper in the door, door chimes ringing as her hands gripped the cart of the flower display. 

Abby underestimated the rain, her body was instantly covered in droplets her black t-shirt clinging to her chest almost becoming uniform with her skin. Providing a roughed, sloppy kiss to every curve and outline of her tender body. Abby let out grunts as she pushed the cart inside having to do it all alone until she heard footsteps. Not slow ones, but rather rapid, almost like the sound of the motorcycles against the pavement, bikers revving up at the stoplight. 

You were in a hurry, and it seemed as though the day couldn’t get any worse. You wanted to cry and bawl up into your bed, holding the sheets so tightly as sobs flowed through you as the serotonin in your body decreased. Tears weld up in your eyes as you run through the city streets, an oversized blazer above your head with some distance as you used it to shield you from the rain. Why me? – you would cry out, thick lashes sticking to the sunken skin of your eyelids as your face grew puffier in tears. That was all you wanted to do. But naturally, you couldn’t find a way to win. Not only was it raining, wet wind smacking your face, but you were going to miss your train because you weren’t moving fast enough. You were through for the evening. Briefly, your running slowed down in front of a flower shop catching your breath, heaving as your hands lowered letting the rain wash over you like a fresh cold shower.

You lost.

And to confirm it, a black Sudan drove by; hitting a pothole, splashing murky rainwater onto your work outfit leaving you drenched and soaked furthermore. Blinking rapidly, a loud gasp echoed behind you, followed by a falling ceramic flowerpot that collided with beige concrete, the sound echoing like an ice machine. Making your head snap to your left seeing a just-as-wet figure, cursing under her breath as her hands gripped the edges of the table.

She seemed just as stressed as you were. Considering the flower pot on the floor with dirt smeared and washing away into the city drains like mascara on a wet face made you wince. Picking up the still intact flowers surrounded by the broken glass.

She looked like she could use some help.

“Hey!” you shouted, but your voice was low compared to the rain that was drowning you out, the girl didn’t answer steadily pushing the cart in between the long rectangular door. “HEY!”

She stopped moving the cart, lifting her eyes up from the cart in front of her. Her lashes were long – her face free of any makeup, a light dusting of rose across each cheek, contoured and sculpted edges, giving her a bronzy look under the summer solstice. It didn’t help that the rain was making it hard to see turning your vision into endless mush. The flowers behind her almost popped out and came to life…full bloom and kissable touch. You were stuck, still breathing…but heavily of course; you zoned out somewhere lost in her ocean of eyes, before snapping out of it at the sound of someone’s car alarm going off on the street.

her tattoos and soft face almost mocking each other at her inquires as a floral shop owner.

Everything got louder almost amplified. Obnoxious noises match your heartbeat. Her lips were parted as she eyed your wet figure up and down. 

“Let me help!” the both of you shouted at the same time. Followed by sweet sweet laughter amidst the rain. 

“No, seriously let me help” This time the woman in front of you was whispering, almost merging voices with the pellets of rain hitting the metal of the table. Blonde hair sticking to the sides of her face.

There was a silent agreement. You put the jacket you were using as an umbrella back on your arms, followed by locking your purse over your shoulder as you reached to the other end across from Abby lifting up the table with the count of 3. The two of you carry the table back inside, this time no spills.

You weren’t sure why but she was like a breath of fresh air, beautiful and in her own world almost as if the heavens planted her there for you to see. It was purely an accident that you stopped in front of the flower shop. Hell, you could have chosen Mimi’s Bakery or that’s vintage! Threading and clothing warehouse but your body chose  Lovestrung Florals. How glad you were that you did, new feelings brewing inside of you as your brain struggled to find the right words. 

The broken flower pot remained, in unity with the concrete hugging each and every crevice of the holes in between the rocks. Going unnoticed by both you and Abby as the two of you worked together, not even catching the single cream-colored rose that was deteriorating under the harsh application of rain. Drowning in water as the petals peeled off and ran down the sidewalk into the city drains, tainted with dark mud; changing like the seasons. The sun begun to peak out embedded through the grey clouds casting a bright glow haze on the busy Soho streets.

“Now let's get you inside, don’t need your beautiful self getting sick now do we?”

[saltsicklover]

Slamming Doors - BRB - Broken House

This was written as a oneshot but I have an idea on how to expand the story if there is interest for it! Please let me know what you think, I'd love to hear from you!

Title: Slamming Doors

Series: Broken House

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 2700+

Rating: R

Warnings: Talks of death, sick parent, car crash, pet names, lots of crying, lots of yelling, ANGST, misunderstandings.

Doors aren't meant to raddle on their hinges. Doors aren't meant to be slammed that hard. 

Honey like to think it's always better to be on the in swing of the door, rather than on the out swing. 

If she is on the in swing, Bradley would be storming in. It is like this often, the picture frame hung next to the door perpetually crooked from how often that damn front door is slammed. The corners of that frame are even chipped from the time or two it hit the tile floor. 

At least, if he is coming home, she has a chance to calm him down. To take his face in her hands and comfort the man she loves. To kiss his lips and agree that the Captain is a dumbass who doesn't have a damn clue about how to do his job. She is always there to comfort him, to take the weight of the day off of his shoulders when things have been bad. 

Hell, it isn't even always bad. Sometimes, maybe more often than sometimes, Hangman or Phoenix would be toting Bradley in, his arm held tightly over their shoulder, and he would drunkenly kick the door shut, the front of the house rattling with the abrupt closure. He would slur his words and hiccup, but always be happy to leave his friend's arms the moment he spots her. 

It is different now, though. 

Now, Honey is on the out swing. Bradley has her walking out after a fight, too heated to work it out. 

The front door slams again, the picture frame rattling lightly against the wall. Bradley walks into the living room before dropping his duffle bag in front of the couch. It is filthy, he is filthy. The arms of his flight suit are tied low on his hips, his white t-shirt completely stained with grease and gear lubricant. It looks angry, deep brown and jet black against the stark white of the cotton. Days like this, Honey would be in his arms as soon as his bag hits the floor, but today is different. 

Honey stands on the other side of the room, her back to her lover. 

Bradley and Honey are somewhere between whole heartedly committed and casual. She practically lives in his small home with him when he isn't away on deployment and there to take care of his plants when he is. It has been this way for almost two years, a little house right down the road from the beach in Pensacola. 

NAS Pensacola isn't home to Bradley, and Florida isn't home to either of them. They met by happenstance, both stranded in a storm at a little bar-motel in Maryland. He was there for work, she was there trying to track down information on her father. One drink turned into three, one night turned into a long weekend, and the two have been intertwined ever since. Honey followed him to Florida, still on her search for her father, who she never called by name. She'd said it was too painful and she wasn't ready to talk about him until she could talk to him. They hadn't intended on dating, and Honey had intended on getting the information she was looking for and then be moving on. But they had to go and fall in love. 

"Honey?" Bradley finally looks up at her, taking in the slump of she shoulders. The whole energy in the house wrong. There is no candle burning on the coffee table, the blinds aren't open to let the sun in, and Honey hadn't found her way into his arms yet. Something is most definitely wrong. 

He bends down to untie his boots as he waits for his lover to answer his call. She doesn't move to turn around, nor does she say a word. Her eyes are locked on the photo of Bradley and Nick, his father, that is hanging up on the wall. In it, Bradley sits atop Nick's shoulders, both wearing grins so big she could practically see the ache in their cheeks. Her eyes trace over the frame, then Bradley, down to Nick, then back up again to repeat the process. Honey has been standing there, eyes glued to the photo for the better part of the last hour.  

Before she found herself in front of the photograph on the wall, she had been staring at the photo in her hand for much too long. She has been holding it so long that there are fingerprints on the glossy side of the photo, both in full and partial prints not kept to the edges. 

Honey had been dusting the mantle earlier that afternoon, her body poised on a stepstool to get the shelves above the fireplace too. As she was cleaning, she bumped a framed photograph of Bradley and his mother, Carole, posed together on his High School graduation, shortly before she had passed away. Her arms were wrapped tightly around his frame, partly out of love, partly to keep herself standing upright. She had insisted on standing for the photo, even though Bradley wanted her to stay in her wheelchair. 

Bradley had told Honey about his mother so many times before. He loved showing her the photographs and telling her stories. He is so proud of his parents; but Honey knew he was a Mama's boy. That was likely because she was the only parent he had for a majority of his life, between deployments and his father's untimely passing. 

The relationship he had with his Mother was special. It was something that allowed Bradley and Honey to bond over when they first began dating. Her father walked out on her and her Mother before she had her first birthday. Honey was a Mama's girl too- her Mother passed away five years prior due to a driving accident. Black ice in the middle of winter was no joke, and Honey's mother should not have been out driving in the first place. 

Both effectively orphans, the pair bonded quickly. Lack of family tended to do that to people. 

Bradley tired to get Honey to talk about her father, to share just a little bit of information about him. All he ever managed to learn was his Navy association. He grimaced when he found out, knowing just how many deadbeats there are in the Military. 

After Honey had knocked the photograph off the shelf with her elbow, it hit the floor and shattered. It took her ages to clean up the glass, and she even managed to save the photo of Bradley and his mother from being ruined. What she was not expecting was the photograph hidden behind it. 

In her hand, she clutches a photo of Pete Mitchell and Bradley at his high school graduation, both smiling and happy. Bradley has the hope for his whole future in his eyes, that much is clear enough to see. Pete has an arm around Bradley, pulling him close as he holds a photo of Nick in his other hand.

The photograph lead her to where she stands now, unwavering in her place, even as Bradley calls her name again.

"Honey, what's wrong?" Bradley crosses the room, his untied shoelaces hitting against his boots with small clinks from the plastic aglets. He reaches a hand out to her, gently pulling her hair over her shoulder. "Honey?" 

She turns to him, eyes glassy. The sight of Bradley swims, tears distorting her vision. Her cheeks are red, like she has been straining to hold back her tears. Quickly, he eyes the rest of her form, taking her in in her entirety, trying to pinpoint her distress. His eyes land on the photo she has creased in hand. Gently, he takes the photo from her hand before pulling her into his chest. 

The grease smeared shirt across his chest becomes a home for a lose tear as he brings her into his frame, her face pressing into the expanse of his chest, near his shoulder. 

"I broke a frame while I was cleaning," Honey begins, her voice so quiet he almost misses it, "I'm sorry, Bradley," 

"Oh, Honey," Bradley coos lightly, "You don't have to be sorry, it's okay. The frame can be replaced, no need to be upset, Sweet Girl,"

Honey sniffles against his chest, bringing a hand up to try and brush a tear from the fullness of her cheek. She almost chides him for thinking she would be upset over something so small, but she can't find it in her to make the joke out loud. 

Bradley smiles to himself, thinking about how caring his girl is, but the smile immediately disappears as he looks at the photo he had taken from her moments before. This is not the photo that was on display. Bradley would never have a photo of Maverick up in his house, not after the older man pulled his papers for the academy. Absolutely not. 

"Honey," Bradley pulls back, his eyes glued on the photo, "Where did you get this?" 

"It was in the back of the frame- behind the- behind the photo of you and your Mom," She hiccups through the sentence, anxiety rising up in her chest again. The taste of bile is sour on her tongue as she looks over Bradley's expression. His brows are furrowed, eyes narrow and angry as he locks eyes with the photograph. 

"Who is that?" Honey asks, even though she already knows. 

"Pete Mitchell," Bradley's voice is laced with so much venom it gives her goosebumps. She raises her eyebrows but Bradley doesn't need prompting to continue. "He flew with my Dad, was the reason for his accident. If they didn't have to eject, my father would still be here today. And then, when I applied for the Academy, he derailed my career by years when he pulled my papers. I haven't spoken to him since," 

A noncommittal hum is the only thing Honey can muster in response. Honey can feel her skin flush hot and cold but tries to push the feeling aside. 

"I need to talk to you about something," Honey's words sound heavy coming off of her tongue. The tone snaps Bradley's eyes right up to her, the picture being abandoned on the coffee table. 

"What is it?" 

There are so many things Honey wants to say. She wants to plead for Bradley to tell her everything he knows about Maverick. There is a part of her, deep inside, that is still eight years old, still the same little girl who realized for the first time that her father wasn't coming back not because he couldn't but because he didn't want to.  

Honey wants to tell Bradley that Maverick is her father, to explain that the man standing next to him, clad in a leather jacket and dark washed jeans is her father. The man who didn't want her. She wants to bond over their appeared shared hatred of the man. Honey wants to curse his name and burn every photo of him that the two are in possession of. She wants to say fuck you to Pete Mitchell all together, with the man she loves by her side. 

But instead, the words that leave her mouth are much, much worse. 

"You can't talk about your father anymore," 

The words aren't tactful, but they aren't exactly a lie either. She has always had a hard time listening to Bradley talk about Nick. There has always been something so fucking bitter inside of her whenever he would talk about him. The knowledge that her father is a Naval Aviator, just as Bradley's had been was just too close for comfort for her. But now? Knowing that the stories of his father are also stories of her father. That broke her. 

"Excuse me?" 

The statement catches Bradley off guard so much he almost feels dizzy. If it weren't for the clunky air conditioning unit in the window behind Honey humming away, he might've blamed the feeling on stifling Floridian humidity. But, unfortunately for them both, he heard her correctly. 

"That's not what I meant! Shit!" Honey starts, but Bradley's expression doesn't turn any more pleasant. 

"I mean, fuck, I can't listen to you talk about your father anymore!" That sentence isn't any better. Honey can hear her own blood rushing through her ears, the same way she can feel the heat rising to her face with it. 

"What?" 

The venom is back in Bradley's voice, anger is beginning to boil behind the color in his eyes. Suddenly Honey wishes she could rewind time, just two fucking minutes. 

If there is one thing for sure, Honey may just be fragile like that picture frame, but Bradley is fragile like a bomb. 

Bradley's fists ball at his sides, knuckles going white as he squeezes them tight. Honey can't take her eyes from his face, from the vein that bulges in the side of his neck. She notices how his lip curls forward, his mustache sloping downward with his frown. 

"I just-" Honey takes a deep breath; it's ragged as it goes in and back out, catching on the broken pieces of her heart, "I can't have flashbacks from memories that aren't mine- I can't have this image in my mind of a man that I didn't know," 

Bradley is fuming now, listening to the words as they come out of his lover's mouth. He already had a shit day, having come down on new assignment back to TOP GUN. He didn't want to tell Honey, worried about what she might say. Worried that she might not pack up her life and go with him, or worse, that she wouldn't be here waiting for him to come back. 

Honey isn't explaining herself well, but he doesn't know that, nor can he calm down enough to figure out exactly what she is talking about. At face value, she is bad mouthing his father, the great Nick Bradshaw, mother Goose, and Bradley won't stand for that. He misses the words coming out of her mouth and the new tears that have made their way down her cheeks. 

"Shut up!" Bradley yells, his hands coming up to grip tightly in his hair. The words cut Honey off mid-sentence, and she obeys the command, more out of stunned compliance than choice. 

"Brad-" 

"No!" He points a finger right into her face, anger fully taking him over. He hasn't been this angry since Mav pulled his papers, the almost forgotten feeling burning beneath his skin. Honey's lip quivers, but she pulls it into her mouth, between her teeth to keep him from seeing it. "You do not get to stand here, in my house, and talk shit about my father!" 

"No! Brad-" Honey holds out her hands, pleading for him to just listen, for just one second. Just long enough for her to get this mess of a miscommunication figured out. 

"Enough!" Bradley's voice practically shakes the room, "Get out!" 

"What?" Honey's voice is so unbelievably small now, like she doesn't trust herself to speak. 

"Get. Out. Now." Bradley can barely look at her. Honey knows when she has lost a fight. So, she moves past him, grabbing her purse from the couch on her way past. She makes it to the door, her hand still on the handle before she speaks one last time.

"You like to think you are so much like your father, all good heart and good man, but in reality, you are just like mine," 

Honey slams the door behind her, the sound echoing though the house. She doesn't stop long enough to hear the picture frame fall from it's place on the wall, the glass shattering against the tile. 

There is too much left unsaid, the words that made it out taken to far and just wrong. Nick was the kind of man she always wished her father would have been. Kind, good, loving. And when she didn't find that in her own father, she found it in Bradley instead. Bradley liked to say that his father would have loved her, enough for both himself and her father combined, and she believed it too. But now, as she walks away from Bradley, she can't help but know just how disappointed Nick would be in her. 

Because, doors aren't meant to raddle on their hinges. Doors aren't meant to be slammed that hard. And now, Honey knows exactly just how much better things are on the in swing of that front door. 

[gardeningloverfamily]

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[asahicore]

cold brew - sjh

part 3 of the coffee mini-series // prompts 22 and 61 of the 100 kisses list (surprising your lover from behind, smacking a kiss on their cheek + smiling in-between kisses)

pairing. boyfriend!junghwan x fem!reader

synopsis. On a hot summer day, you and your boyfriend make a bet as to whether more iced americanos or more cold brews will sell, and Junghwan already knows what he wants if he wins.

genre. summer au, coffee shop au, just fluff and kisses

word count. 1.3k

a/n. the way i wrote in the previous part that i wouldn't take three months again to post the next part of this mini-series and then ended up taking a year and two months... you guys love me <3 as always thank u to @zreamy for her impeccable beta-reading services, hope u all enjoy and pls lmk ur thoughts!!!!!

summer.

The thing about working at a café in a student city during the summer is that it can get excruciatingly slow. 

Many locals and tourists still come to get their caffeine fix, but long gone are the students who spend hours taking advantage of the free wifi and free pot coffee refills. There’s less orders to prepare, less tables to tend to, so outside of rush hours, if you haven’t brought anything to entertain yourself with, you’ll be bored half to death. Fortunately, your manager Yeonjun isn’t the “there’s always something to do” type, so he’s more than happy to let you read a book or mindlessly play Solitaire on your phone if everything else is in order.

Today is the hottest day of summer so far. Fortunately, it’s your day off. Your boyfriend, on the other hand, isn’t so lucky.

If it were any of your other colleagues, you would’ve happily stayed home, fan on highest setting, napping in front of a rerun of The Office. But Junghwan isn’t just any colleague, and so you force yourself off of your couch and head to your workplace.

The café is unsurprisingly empty when you get there - so empty, in fact, that even your boyfriend is not behind the counter, although he’s the only one working this shift. You sneak to the back in hopes of finding him there, and indeed, he’s in the storeroom, restocking shelves. Always the responsible worker - he could easily be slacking off, but he’s decided to be productive and do something everyone else, Yeonjun included, has been putting off for the past week.

You take a few seconds to admire him like this with his back to you, the muscles of his broad shoulders shifting under his black t-shirt, his long strands of hair tickling his nape; you can feel their softness in your hands just by looking at them. The sight of him almost makes you release a dreamy sigh, but an idea pops up in your head.

You stealthily make your way to him, and, making sure he’s not holding anything fragile, wrap your arms around his middle and smack a firm kiss on his cheek. He’s startled but immediately relaxes when he sees it’s just you. With a relieved smile on his face, he places his hands on your waist and bends down to trap your lips in a delicate kiss. 

“You don’t know how happy I am to see you right now.”

“You mean filling jars with Peruvian beans isn’t an enthralling activity?”

Junghwan sighs and looks at the coffee jars like they’re responsible for all the sorrow in the world. “I thought if I did this, Yeonjun might give me a bonus, and then I could take you out on a nice date.”

Your heart skips a beat. Your boyfriend is the sweetest, stupidest boy you know. “Junghwan, that’s…”

“Super romantic? Thoughtful? Makes me an amazing boyfriend?”

“I love you, but-”

“That’s great news, because I love you, too.”

You give him a look. “But,” you continue, “as well-intentioned as Yeonjun is, he’ll look at the shelves and assume an elf came during the night. If you want a bonus, just steal 100 bucks from the counter. He probably won’t notice.”

He gazes down at you like you’ve just declared your utmost affection for him and not told him to steal from your employer. “You’re so smart, you know that?” 

You giggle and plant another kiss on his lips. “Course I do. Now get back to work, or I'll report you for improper behavior.”

“But it’s so boring,” he whines. “Look, there’s so little to do, I started counting how many iced americanos and how many cold brews were being sold just to see which one was more popular.”

You frown. “Hwan, we sell way more iced americanos,” you say as if it’s obvious.

“I don’t know, my research is saying they’re toe-to-toe.”

A smile appears on your lips as you step away from him. “Alright, let’s make a bet then.”

“A bet?” Junghwan echoes, his lips mirroring yours.

“Mh-hm. I say more iced americanos will sell, you say cold brews will, whoever loses has to grant the other a wish.”

His grin widens. “Deal.”

“Deal.” As you shake hands on it, he pulls you in and presses his lips to your forehead.

“I’ll get back to work then,” he whispers against your hair.

There’s only two hours until the café closes, and it’s empty enough for you to sit at a table and sip on an iced americano - which Junghwan hadn’t agreed to count in the tally - and read until his shift ended. You squint your eyes at him every time a customer comes in and orders a cold brew, but you’re kind enough to let him sit with you whenever he has nothing to do.

You help him with some of the closing duties, like counting tips and restocking everything for the morning shifters, although you leave him to do the mopping and wiping of surfaces.

You’re sitting on the counter, dangling your legs as you wait for him to announce the results. He takes his sweet time, cleaning the coffee machine like he’s never seen the thing before, pretending to muse about who will win when he already knows the outcome. “I hope I can trust you enough not to have rigged this contest,” you say, and he shrugs playfully.

When he’s all done, he fishes the sheet of paper on which he’s counted the orders out of his pocket and ceremoniously clears his throat. “And here are the results…” he says, drumming his fingers on the counter as you shimmy your shoulders to the rhythm. “twenty-eight iced americanos, and thirty-three cold brews.” You gasp, but before you’ve even had the time to complain, he adds, “Which means you have to grant me a wish.”

You sigh, defeated. “Fine. What do you want?”

From the smile growing on his lips, you know he’s up to no good. “I want a kiss.”

You glare at him lightheartedly, but you can’t stop yourself from smiling at his words. “That’s something you can get anytime.”

Inching closer towards you until he’s standing between your knees, palms splayed on the counter on each side of you, he says, “Yeah, but it’s the only thing I want right now.”

All your pretend defenses crumble the moment his lips touch yours. In these past few months, it’s become a familiar feeling, but you can never get enough of it. Especially now that you know each other better, your lips move against each other’s expertly, every tilt of your head and change in pace always in perfect sync. It’s one of those moments where you feel like you understand each other completely, like there’s no one better suited to kiss you or him than each other. This knowledge makes you giddy, makes you wrap your arms tighter around him as you smile into the kiss.

He detaches his lips from you just long enough to say, “What are you smiling about?”

“You.”

You try to fall back into the kiss, but both of you are smiling too wide, and you can’t stop giggling between each press of your lips against each other’s, not even bothering to stop when you knock your teeth. Even when you’re laughing more than you’re actually kissing, you don’t pull away, both lingering in this bubble where only the two of you exist.

Later, as you walk back to your place hand-in-hand, he asks you what your wish would’ve been if you had won. “I would’ve forbidden you from making me watch one of the Shrek movies for a month,” you reply, making him laugh.

“Well, it’s a good thing I won,” he says, bringing you closer to him by the shoulder and planting a kiss at the top of your head. “Because I really wanted to watch Shrek tonight.”

© asahicore on Tumblr, 2024. please do not repost, translate, or plagiarize my works. support your creators by reblogging and leaving feedback!

permanent taglist: @zreamy @sunghoonmybeloved @lalalalawon @sd211 @w3bqrl @raikea10 @wntrnghts @moonlighthoon @4imhry @rikisly @loves0ft @iamliacamila @theboingsuckerasseater9000 @chaechae-23 @baekhyuns-lipchain @hyuckslvr @vernonburger @amorbonbon @fluerz @jakeflvrz @enhastolemyheart (ask to be removed/added!)

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[eddiebabygirldiaz]

several sentences sunday

tagged by @heartshapedvows @bigfootsmom @daffi-990 @jamespearce9-1-1 @wikiangela @messyhairdiaz @exhuastedpigeon @disasterbuckdiaz @king-buckley @colonoscopys @try-set-me-on-fire

thank you beloveds! <3

here's some of drunk confession fic which yes has gotten completely out of hand but i am so close! just gotta get through the mess of buck's spiraling

He follows the sound of Eddie's happy humming, tugged along by an invisible string wrapped around his sternum, all thoughts of fleeing completely gone, vanished like dust on the wind, because never has he actually wanted to leave Eddie.

And even now, twisted up and wrecked by what he has done, soaked in fear and anxiety and stupid hope, Buck can’t bring himself to walk away, not from Eddie. It’s impossible really, something he could never be forced to do. Buck has firmly planted himself wherever Eddie is and he’ll be damned if anything uproots him.

So Buck takes a deep, steadying breath before walking into the kitchen, timidness winding through the muscles in his shoulders and making them hunch around his ears, an unconscious attempt to make himself a smaller target.

Eddie’s back is to him, his muscles visibly bunching beneath his threadbare t-shirt as he divvies up some scrambled eggs and bacon and jam covered toast onto two plates. His hair sticks up in wild tufts at the back, a few strands curling cutely behind his ears.

The back of his neck is exposed, looking so long and lean and like it’s welcoming Buck in with a plea, so tempting it makes his mouth water. Buck quickly tears his eyes away from Eddie’s neck, his gaze catching on the wrinkles in Eddie’s shirt.

It has the rumpled air that means it's the shirt Eddie slept in, and Buck wonders how his fingers would fit into the wrinkled fabric, if he could tuck a piece of himself into the soft cotton so Eddie could carry him around and be touched by him all day long.

tagging @elvensorceress @spaceprincessem @diazass @malewifediaz @spagheddiediaz @captain-hen @athenagranted @chronicowboy @shitouttabuck @arthursdent @hippolotamus @shortsighted-owl @gayedmundodiaz @watchyourbuck @loserdiaz @folk-fae @bucks118 @butchdiaz @devirnis @rewritetheending @honestlydarkprincess @thewolvesof1998 @housewifebuck @lover-of-mine @hoodie-buck @lemonzestywrites @jeeyuns @eowon @paranoidbean and anyone else who wants to share!

[class-1b-bull]

how would they react to their s/o getting them a dog for their birthday?

Not proofread we die like men

Awase - he almost instantly got himself and his dog matching t shirts. He calls his dog anything but their given name but he loves the lil guy so much

Sen - he said that he didn't care for the dog at first (and he still says he dosent care for them) but theyre his best friend and he would take a bullet for his dog. He talks to his pet in a really high pitched baby voice when no one else is around lmao

Kamakiri - if its a bully breed hes fine but if its a small dog like a chihuahua he kinda scoffed at first but he likes the little guy. He calles him ferocious and trained him to attack peoples ankles on command

Kuroiro - he named them greg the dark overload and ruler of hell or some shit like that and then its just a corgi that wont stop trying to drink toilet water or smthn like that. He loves it more than life itself.

Kendo - at first she says its sweet and is gushing about it but then it turns i to a lecture lmao. Like she tells her s/o about how pets are big responsibilitys and how they should have talked before deciding to get her a dog lmao.

Kodai - she takes standard care of her dog and is really appreciative for the little guy but its a bit hard to tell just how much she cares for the dog on the surface. Her dog follows her around so much and simply sits with her when in groups and stuff. Her dog has her personality lmao

Komori - she loves the dog so much. She uses pet safe dye and keeps giving her dog crazy colors and making them little outfits and stuff <3 her little fasion model frfr

Shiozaki - she loves the dog so much <3 trained them to help her dig in the yard for her garden and plants. Pretty standard reaction overall other than the garden thing

Shishida - bro probably told his s/o that giving someone a dog without talking about it before hand is irresponsible because dogs are a lot to take care of but after the initial thank yous and lecture he spoils his dog way more than he should. He treats his dog better then most people treat their lovers lmaoo. Anyways dog is spoiled as hell

Shoda - he has the most energetic dog ever and its so funny watching him and his dog together because shoda is always just standing there and his dog is just running up the walls and doing back flips next to him lmaoo. Overall he really liked getting a dog for his birthday

Pony - she absolutely adores her dog. She definitely refers to it as her and her s/os child and she would badly photoshop pictures of the dog onto pictures of babies she found on the internet for 'proof' that the dogs rlly her kid

Tsubaraba - he loves the dog so much and he was ecstatic when he got them. He keeps putting sunglasses on his dog and using pictures of his dog as reaction images

Tetsutetsu - he adores his dog so much <3 he does literally everything with his dog and they are both so chaotic when together. He shares one braincells with his dog and normally the dog has it.

Tokage - pretty standard dog owner but she keeps putting leather jackets and shades on her dog while theyre around the dorms just because she finds it funny (it is)

Manga - he will dip his dogs paws in paint and have them step on a canvas and paint what he sees in the dog prints so most of his art right after getting his dog had paw prints in the pictures. When his s/os bday came around he painted them a picture with the dog paw prints dotted around

Honenuki - his dog rarely eats actual kibble. He promised his s/o that he will raise the dog to be happy and healthy and he is raising the dog that way but it does get sick a bit often from eating human foods that honenuki gave them that ended up upsetting their stomach. The dog hasent gotten sick it a while since honenuki found out exactly what makes his dog sick and what dosent

Bondo - he was really grateful when his s/o gave him a dog for his birthday and he spoils that dog so much lmao.

Monoma - he refers to the dog as his and his s/os kid when no one else is around and the dogs collar has a little bowtie to match Monomas hero costume (his s/o got the dogs collar) whenever Monoma takes his dog on walks they go by class 1As dorms just so he can go inside and give them a hate speech

Reiko - Honestly there isnt really anything special I can mention about her and her dog/ how she reacted when originally getting the dog but she does dress up her dog for halloween so thats cute ig <3

Rin - he let his s/o name his dog when they got the doggy for him but everyone else keeps putting his dog in stupid outfits when rin isnt around lmao

Gif anime- Fullmetal alchemist brotherhood

[nishiyako]

OH MY GOD….please more of Rave boy denki!!!

Maybe they meet at the bar and end up at one of each other’s apartments…..

Private Party 2 (NSFW)

Paring : RaveBoy!Denki x RaveGirl!Reader

Tags : Motorcyclist!Denki, Slight Dycryphila, bar setting, alcohol (mostly Tequila), body shots, peer pressure, recorded (body shots), motorcycle ride, handcuffs, missionary, vaginal penetration, cream pie, nails, happy ending!

Summary : You meet up with the boy you hooked up with at the rave at a bar with some friends, after some chatting and body shots, he decides to give you a ride on his motorcycle and take you back to his place for a round two.

Click here for ⤵

Private Party (pt. 1)

You wearing his T-shirt and staring at the new contact on your phone and love bites on your neck, your friends started asking questions.

You arrive at the bar around midnight with your friends talking about the blonde you met at the rave, the music was loud but weak enough for you to hear their eager whispers.

"What was his name?" One of them asked. You never got his name, to be honest. All you got was his number. "What does he do for a living?" Another voice asked. You also didn't know. All you knew was that he had enough for V.I.P. tickets at the rave. "Was he cute?" Fainally, a question you could answer.

"The cutest," you said enthusiastically, he had this bright blonde hair and yellow eyes that shined in the dim litted bathroom stall, his gentle hands that held you up against the wall, peirced ears that listened to evey noise you made.

The more you spoke, the more interesting the conversation became.

The bar door creaks open as you see your blonde lover with some friends, another spiked light blonde, a redhead and one with matte black hair followed with a pink alien, they were an interesting cast to say the least.

Kaminari saw you sitting on a stool wearing his familiar T-shirt, a smile formed as he walked towards you.

"You actually came." You were surprised, honestly, but you had no idea what you had done to his simple mind. "Why wouldn't I?" He said with a laugh.

Cute girl invited you to a bar with friends, who could say no?

The groups introduced themselves to eachother, shaking hands and exchanging names yet you and Denki never broke your eye contact, eyes filled with lustful intentions.

Still remembering the little rendezvous you had in the bathroom stall.

Once everything settled down, Denki called a worker, the first one he saw. "Mind if I get a V.I.P room for my party?" He tried to say it under his breath, but that didn't stop your friends from noticing.

Your group (including you) watched as he handed the suited worker a black card with his name on it. Your friends smiled at each other before giving you a grin as well, cute and rich? You seem like you've gotten the full package in one night.

You all get ushered to the room, LED lights rimming the ceiling and silky sofas against the walls, different art pieces and plants were hung on display as everything was centered by a striper pole and stage.

Hand selected shelf of different kinds of alcohol and Hennessy behind a private bar as the worker fetched an extra bartender from the bar.

Everyone took their seats on the velvet couches ofcourse forcing you and Kaminari to sit beside each other.

The groups were starting to merge as you and your little "boyfriend" kept to a separate world, getting to know each other.

Denki Kaminari, UA graduate and taking a year off before college. He already made good money from subtle hero work, and he lives alone in an apartment.

This is what you learned after some minutes of chatting

The bartender was positioned behind the table as the group started their orders (which are all paid by Denki).

The speakers were connected to Mina's phone as she played the music for the group.

Still the same EDM music they played at the rave since both parties were present.

The get-together was peaceful, tame even. until someone mentioned body shots, you weren't sure who started it, but this started to quickly spread as they started talking about you and Kaminari doing some for the camera.

You feel like you were back in highschool, being paired with your crush for people's amusement.

You looked at Kaminari, both cheeks already flushed red as the thought of licking your body flooded his once voided brain.

"Wanna do it?" He asked you for the crowds excitement, "what's a- body shot..?" You asked, countering his question, "I can't tell you, but I know you'll like it." His smile seemed genuine as he waited for your response.

Slightly smudged eyeliner highlighting his electric yellow eyes that were staring into yours, his smirking lips you could kiss forever if he'd let you. How could you say no?

You nodded as they started taking out their phones in excitement, "Take off the shirt, I'll just get some stuff." He said, standing, and you followed what he told you to do.

Laying shirtless, wearing only your bra as you were hugged by the velvet of the sofa as he brought over tequila, salt, and some limes.

"This is gonna be a bit cold, okay?" He told you, he made a line of salt down your shakey body and placed a cut lime in-between your lips making it possible to sound every embarrassing sound you made, he started to twist the cap of the vodka as he poured the Tequila in the valley of your stomach.

He held your hand as you anticipated his next move. Tough tye rules said not to. He could help it. Tequila on your belly, salt up your body and a lime in your mouth. Everything was perfect.

Cameras were rolling as your friends knew you never encountered anything like this.

He started drinking the tequila off your body, warm lips against your soft skin. He then licked the fine salts off your equaly fine body, making you shiver as he tasted you like the treat you were. he then pinned over you, taking the lime from your mouth, lips almost touching like a broken kiss.

He threw his head back, sucking in all the flavors of the lime before spitting the hollow skin on the rugged floor. Your shared friend groups cheered as the cameras were lowered, now saved in electronic memory.

"You okay?" He asked you with a laugh, you were speechless, you didn't know what to say, so you just nodded. Cheeks red and eyes fixated on him and him alone.

Your little reactions were priceless. He's defenetly gonna ask one of the friends to send the video later. Just so he can have the memory in his own pocket.

The shirt back on and the party continuing, everyone decided to keep drinking, laughing and groups only getting closer as you and Denki also grew closer.

He watched your legs press together, rubbing for an addictive friction. The cause is his little tequila stunt staring at your body.

"Hey," you heard him whisper in your ear. You looked at him with curious eyes, "How about..." he pointed to you, then to himself then to the door. You laughed at his offer, "No, I'm serious, I'll drive." He says, pulling out some keys.

He drove alone, his friends had a separate car from him so they wouldn't notice if he was gone. You didn't understand his logic. Why wouldn't they just be in the same car?

You both snuck out of the bar with his red-headed friend Kirishima. He had swore to secrecy as he opened the passenger seat of his pick-up to fetch two motorcycle helmets.

"You drive safe 'kay? That Tequila was pretty strong." He said passing the helmet to his friend, tone was obviously worried."We'll be fine! Thanks again man, no idea what I'd do without you."

"That's what bros do," the redhead responded, laughing before giving him a fistbumb. Their bond was almost brotherly as they said their goodbyes for the night.

Kirishima rushed back into the building as you followed Denki to a farther parking area while you held a helmet in your hands.

Then you saw it, a flashy Yamaha R6 with custom yellow and scene decals scattered on the metal. Parked beside some boring Harley Davidson cruisers, it made it look even cooler.

"My place or yours?" He asked as your brain started to connect the dots, and now it made sense that he drove differently. "Yours is fine." You say, though it wasn't smart to come over to a guy place when you just met him, you knew kaminari wasn't the type to do something wrong.

He is starting in the hero business, after all. He wouldn't be heroic to take advantage of a girl so late at night.

He placed the helmet on his head, visor and metal now covering his face as he put on some gloves, using velcro to tighten them still colorful bracelets over the fabrics.

You the followed his lead, placing the extra helmet on your head as he helped you onto the shiney sports bike.

He reved the engine, it was loud, ear piercing actually.

You held onto his waist, pressing your chest against his back. His gloved hand caressed yours as the bike started moving out of its parking.

He did mention he did a few street races, mostly drag races. Bike with 599 cc carried the both of you with ease on the road as cars were rearly around at this hour, it's really felt like just you and him were in the world.

You held on as the both of you rode through the city watching the lights fly by the both of you, you rested your head on his back as you watched the setted night sky glimmer faintly with stars, once at a stop light, you felt his hands hold yours as if to ask if you were okay, you just snuggled closer as you felt safe with him.

You snuck one of your hands under his white muscle tank as a giggle slipped out of your lips. It sent shivers up his spine. Your soft hands caressing his skin as he tried his best to focus.

"Keep doing that, and we might crash." You heard him laugh, sentence slightly mumbled by the helmet on his head. If you were gonna tease him, why not go all the way?

Your other hand ventured down to his hips, the to his sensitive inner thighs. "I don't think that's a good idea -" quivers in his breathy sentence made his visor fog.

You were risky, and he loved that.

Once you both arrived, he didn't waste a single second, taking the helmet from your hands and storing in some cabinet.

You saw his apartment pretty tacky, but you appreciated the posters on the wall, all good bands and artists you recognize.

His hand held yours, pressing you to the door you entered from. "You fuckin' tease, couldn't even control yourself." He accused, ready to ravish you right then and there. Two times in one night? This boy was an animal.

His leg pressed between yours, pressing against that special spot in between your legs. What made it worse was the thing denim you were still wearing.

His lips pressed against yours in a kiss, still tasting the salt-lime vodka on his lips.

His tounge violated you mouth as you could do anything but squirm in his hold, he wouldn't even let you come up for air until you hand to dig half-moons into the back of his palms with your nails.

You try to catch your breath, saliva coating your lips.

"Down for a round two? sweets." The nickname being a reference to your sweet lips and sounds. He waited for your response.

You thought about your friends, how you ditched them again for some blonde, a sense of guilt plagued over you.

But Denki left his too, in a sense the both of you are equal.

Both of you so needy for eachother that you've snuck off twice was almost laughable, almost like it was love.

"Only if you want to." You reasoned, smile formed on his lips as he showed you to his bedroom.

He let you lay down on his bed as he undressed you with his own hands.

Fainally, seeing you naked in front of him left him speechless, admiring as he towered over you.

Eyes tracing every curve and detail of your body, memorizing even the smallest details.

"You're still fucking breathtaking." He complimented, fucking you in a bathroom stall was something but having you bare in his own bed ment something to him.

The lights were dimmed as he undressed himself in a hurry, kicking off his baggy jeans and slipping off his muscle tank and jewlery as you waited patiently, watching his body move as his painted nails snatched the fabrics.

The then climbed on top of you, having you under him while his hands held your writs, restricting you like an animal with its prey.

Your hair spead on his pillows as he forced your hands above your head, then you suddenly heard a click.

You struggled to move your hands free from the metal restraints as he kneels in between your spread legs

"Ever been fucked in handcuffs before?" He asked slapping down his underwear, alredy springing out rock hard, white pearls on the top of his flushed and impatient tip.

"This is defenetly a first.." you confessed, who knew rave boys would be so deviant?

He positioned against you, tip just breath inside your heat.

The blonde slowly pushed in, making you feel fuller every inch that enters. You let out a sharp moan as he fully enters you. He curses under his breath, feeling you take him so nicely.

He lifted your hips at an angle to enter you carefully, he saw you, eyes closed and mouth agape moaning like a whore, he loved rave chick's but he felt something new with you, seeing you so vounrible he wanted more of you.

His hands wandered to your waist, caressing your soft skin keeping you planted on his sheets making you resist the temping bounce of his cock.

Black painted nails digging into your skin from pleasure. It stinged on your skin, yet everything still felt so good, so addictive.

Having a second round made the both of you even more sensitive than before. It was like everything got turned up a hundred percent.

Looking so fucked out from all the sensations, nails digging into you, cold metal around your struggling wrists, and cock plowing into you harder than ever.

He wanted to get you addicted, so cock drunk you couldn't think of anyone else, just him.

Using sex wasn't the best way to make someone fall inlove with you, but the way he handled you you started to second guess that fact.

Moaning into eachothers agape mouth, heavy breaths and moans echoed through the room.

Your legs wrapping around his waist to bring him deeper into you, your insides alredy the shape of his cock.

Prefect little cock sleeve. That's what he took you for in the moment, but he knew you were more than that after a little chat and vodka.

"You're such a good fuck, yknow that?" He complimented, breath and voice shakey as he reached his limit. He didn't know what to say nor what he could do to show you but all he wanted was for you to feel good.

And danm did you, insides so sore as the bed creaked from your joint movements.

"Kami' I don't think I can -" You cut off your sentence at the feeling of the knot in your stomach threatening to snap at any moment.

His eyes looked at tours, half hooded and filled with desire. His head snooped lower, mouth almost against your neck feeling his impatient breaths against your skin.

You couldn't take it, everything was too much. The pleasure has gotten you overwhelmed as tears puddled around your eyes.

Nothing hurts. Nothing was uncomfortable. But the pleasure and pain pushed you past your fragile limits.

The knot snapped. Your eyes widen as you feel his warm seed inside you, making the mix fluids seep onto the bed sheets.

Legs shaking as your body was against his, hands struggling with the secure handcuffs.

You calmed down from your little high, as you caught your breath.

He looked up to see you.

His hair was a mess and a small drool at the corner of his agape mouth, his hooded eyes now at attention as he saw you.

Tear stains down your cheeks as you tried to find breath.

He panicked for a bit. He never had a girl cry during sex but why did he kind of like it?

Seeing you so satisfied to the point of tears made his alredy insane ego only shoot higher.

"You okay?" His voice smooth as silk. You nodded, thankfully for tonight.

A few moments later, out of the handcuffs, he has his arms wrapped around you for your comfort, your eyes barely opened.

Suddenly you sit up from him, releasing yourself from his cuddles, you didn't take him for the clingy type but you weren't complaining.

"I should get going. Who knows what time I'll be home if I don't start moving now." You say, a pout formed on his lips. He didn't want you to go anywhere.

Then an idea formed in his void of a brain "or you could sleep over" his suggestion was unexpected, you mean this isn't just a one night stand?

You asked him if he was sure. You thought he just wanted to hook up. You could tell he was kind of offended at your guess.

"No? I really like you and I think this could be something, maybe something serious if we try." He said, hand holding yours, "if you're down, of course."

Being his girlfriend the same night you met him was risky but whose gonna stop you.

"Yeah, I'd like that." Small smile formed on your lips as you snuggled against him one more.

3 years later, he still calls you 'sweets' stealing kisses from you and calling you 'sweetheart' if he's feeling cheesy.

Taking you to raves and motorcycle rides whenever he can. Making you feel divine every time you and him are together.

For 'just a guy at an EDM festival', he'd make a great husband.

•••

A/N : AHHHH, I've been waiting to write another RaveBoy!Denki fic! I'm so happy someone likes this promt as much as me. Thank you so much for the ask and suggestions, Anon! <33

[songmingisthighs]

Genesis

introduction pt. i | pt. ii | pt. iii

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ch. lxxx - shut up

fashion mogul!mingi × reader

buy me coffee ?

!! A T T E N T I O N !!

things aren't always what it seems but when even the truth is left unheard, what can people do? one musn't lie but what if the lie is more accepted than the truth? the scariest thing in this world isn't monsters or demons. it's people with no agenda and time to waste.

"I shouldn't have eaten that much," Mingi groaned, face-planting on his bed dramatically, making you laugh at his silliness. "I told you but you wouldn't listen, now just suffer in silence," you teased.

You both had spent the whole day together, shopping and clearing out his room. Or at least he did because he refused to let you lift anything heavier than the t-shirt he had hanging on his work chair. Of course, you complained about not being able to help but of course, Mingi wouldn't budge whatsoever. And he knew you'd get tired from complaining alone so he let you ranted your whole heart out before you told him that you needed to sit down.

The whole day, it felt like you two were really a couple from the way he was talking to you and telling things about bean to literally every person you both interacted with. It didn't help that a clerk tried flirting with him and called you his sister and that he was welcoming his niece or nephew. Luckily, Mingi immediately corrected her in his happy-go-lucky manner, completely oblivious that she was trying to flirt with him. It made you feel somewhat special that you had managed to put Mingi in a situation where he was so happy that reality or even awareness of reality could be skewed.

"I told you that much food would be bad but you refuse to hear me out," you rolled your eyes playfully which earned you a deadpanned look from Mingi. "You need to stop being right," he groaned, rolling his body over without realizing that he made himself closer to you. "Excuse me, I need you to elaborate, what was I right about?" You didn't even bother to suppress your cocky smirk as you turned your position slightly to face Mingi. Mingi copied you and settled himself lower to face your stomach, "Bean? Baby, are you there? Your mom's being a meanie to your daddy," he pouted as he sent a glare at you.

"You're ridiculous," you snickered but Mingi didn't shift his attention from bean and instead, his hands craddled your stomach and he spoke in a tone suitable for babies, "You're gonna come out all healthy and ready to defend daddy against mommy over stuff like what to watch during movie nights or what to eat for dinner," "Or if I'm babysitting you while your dad goes on dates because his might or might not want kids on dates," you muttered before you could stop yourself.

That got Mingi's attention back to you because he snapped his head up whilst blinking confusedly, "What?" He definitely heard you clearly.

Embarrassed, you shrugged your shoulders and waved your hands, trying to change the subject but Mingi pushed himself to be level with you and took your hand in his. "No, what did you mean by me going on dates?" Words were spoken but you could only focus on the way his hand was big and warm, "(y/n)?" He ducked his eyes slightly to meet your avoiding ones, "I just need you to elaborate, (y/n), I'm not judging at all. You can tell me anything."

You wanted to tell him that Yunho's words got to you and that maybe it would be better for you two to define your relationship considering how touchy-feely, close, and romantic-adjacent you both have been, you had to prepare for whatever might happen in the future so boundaries needed to be set and expectations should be altered. Now, how the hell can you address the thought without sounding like an insecure lover? You were neither insecure nor a lover so you should do your best to not sound like a loser. Maybe Tomorrow By Together had a point when they said loser=lover.

"Can you stop looking at me like that?" You groaned, dropping your head back in frustration only to have your head hitting the headboard. Your body froze in shock as your head adjusted to the sudden impact while Mingi tried his best to not laugh (which he failed miserably because you heard him laughing) as he tried to help you. "Are you okay?" he asked in between sputters, crawling up to pull your head gently into his chest, rubbing the spot that made contact with the headboard with his thumb as if you were a child. "How can you ask if I'm okay while laughing at me, you ass?" you grumbled, face burning from embarrassment but despite that, you turned your face into Mingi's broad chest and nestled, feeling safe. "How can I not? It was funny!" he chuckled, unaware that he had rested his cheek on your head as he pulled your body closer to his to comfort you. Despite his sweet (and warm) gesture, you whined and hit his chest which did absolutely nothing to stop him from laughing at you even more. "You're an ass! I hope bean isn't as mean as you!" you screeched but your voice was muffled by the fabric of Mingi's shirt which was an excuse because you really do believe that his concrete-like chest gave the actual sound-proofing effect.

When his laughter finally slowed down, Mingi pushed you away slightly to make you look at him and even though you were glaring up with hair disheveled, Mingi still found you endearing. "Okay, that's not fair, how can you expect me to not react like that when you look this adorable? I wasn't making fun of you, I just couldn't resist you!" Mingi didn't even think twice and before he knew it and before you could do anything about it, he pressed a soft kiss on your nose.

Your eyes widened as the embarrassment melted off your face but the warmth stayed but this time, it was from whatever emotion caused your stomach to flutter. Seeing your eyes wide, Mingi's eyes widened as well as he sputtered, trying to explain why he did what he did. Or say sorry first. Whichever he decided as soon as his breath stop short-circuiting because how was he supposed to know whether to apologize or explain himself first when you were looking at him like that?

"I-I-, (y/n), I-" his sputters stopped when he felt your hand slide up his chest and rest at his nape, leaving a trail of flutters in their wake and his breath hitching.

Like magnets, the both of you felt a sudden pull towards each other and you only realized this when you saw Mingi's face drawing near with his eyes fluttering close. A thousand thoughts ran through your head at that moment, mostly questioning whether or not you should be doing what you were doing with him and panicking over what it would mean if you two were to actually kiss. But there was this feeling in the back of your head that what you were doing was right, it was right for you and Mingi to be in that position and it made your heart skip a beat.

Apparently, it wasn't the only feeling you had because before Mingi could plant his soft, plump lips on yours, he felt his lips land on your shoulder instead.

Confused, Mingi opened his eyes and was about to scold you for tricking him when he saw you sitting up with eyes widened, staring down at your stomach. "Mingi, did you feel that?" you asked, eyes still glued to your stomach. Mingi's first thought was that something was wrong with the baby so he sat up because he thought that you might need to go to the hospital just in case. But before he could even jump into action, you grabbed his hand and put it on your stomach. "A-am- What are we doing?" Mingi asked, confused because it had been exactly 10 seconds since you placed his hand in your shirt so he could make direct contact with your stomach in case you were imaging things and he was becoming more aware that his hand was shoved into your shirt instead of the usual shirt-out-of-the-way belly showcase. "Shh! Just wait for it!" You hissed, still waiting. "I am! It's just that you could've warned me before shoving my hand into your shirt," he scoffed but settled on his spot.

The way Mingi pointed out your action made you hyper-aware of the position you both were in; in bed, just the two of you (because bean can't be detached from you just yet so technically bean can't be counted), almost kissing, and now his hand is a couple of inches away from your boobs. Heat rushed back to your cheeks and your heart skipped once again.

It was then that Mingi yelped.

"Did bean just kick you!?" he asked in a shaky voice, eyes wide like saucers as he looked back and forth between you and your belly. You nodded excitedly because you felt it too, you felt your baby kick for the first time. "Mingi, bean just kicked for us," you sighed happily, feeling emotional that your baby had made their existence and awareness so real for the first time. You didn't know what made you more emotional though, the fact that bean just kicked or the fact that you liked saying 'us' for you and Mingi.

"OH MY GOD, BEAN KICKED AGAIN!" Mingi screeched, immediately scrambling to push your shirt up and resting his face on the side of your stomach, "Hi bean, this is your daddy speaking. Kick once for 'I'm gonna be a soccer player' and twice for 'I'm gonna be a cancan dancer'" he grinned. You scoffed and slapped his shoulder, "Excuse you, bean is barely developed and you want them to pick a career?" Mingi momentarily looked back at you to pout before returning to your stomach, "I just wanna know how to support my baby best, I want bean to have all the love and support they can get," he muttered.

You could sense his sincerity in wanting to make sure his child would never have to doubt his love and care. That paired with his lack of skill in communicating his true intention was both endearing and funny and you couldn't help but want to comfort him. Mingi's pout dropped when he felt you patting him gently on his head, "Don't worry Mingi, I'm sure you're going to give bean all the love and attention you can give no matter what bean decides to do in the future." Your acknowledgement made him feel both comforted and giddy because usually, people would just brush him off, thinking that he was overthinking things to be funny instead of realizing that it was a genuine concern for him. But you seem to be able to understand his emotions more than his words and it felt good.

"Okay, now we need to see what kind of music bean is into since bean can give us some answers now," Mingi stated, reaching over his side of the bed to produce the device he usually puts on your stomach to play bean some songs. "I hope you won't play bean your sad fuckboy music Mingi," you sighed but Mingi waved you off, telling you that he has taste in music and that you were just jealous that bean might inherit that side of him.

Just like that, you both were focused on bean, trying to get your baby to kick again whilst letting Mingi do his experiment of 'can my baby give me answers?'. The almost kiss was never forgotten, it was just pushed aside momentarily because even while the two of you were enjoying the new achievement, two things lingered annoyingly in your heads;

"What would've happened if we had kissed?"

"Why am I disappointed that the kiss didn't happen?"

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