#and it’s like yes girl so true you can think that but maybe don’t make rash decisions when you feel like rotting in your bed forever LMAO

[ryuichirou]

How do the twst girlies behave in regards to their partners tits?

Thank you! For asking! Important questions! Anon! Yes! 💪💪💪

I wanted to compile this list with some others girlie-related asks, but let’s be honest, I am too slow for that, so it’s better to give you this list today and to tease that I have at least two other genderswap hcs in the process of writing.

There are some other hcs that I should’ve prioritised, but today my soul craved some girlies, so I gave in.

Riddle – somewhere deep inside her heart this girl is a little boob-obsessed. The more she thinks she doesn’t care, the more she cares and catches herself staring. But is it her that keeps running into boobs or the boobs that keep following her everywhere? Somehow she always ends up bumping into someone else’s huge breasts with her face… In terms of intimacy, I think Riddle would be too shy to do anything at first, but as she gets more comfortable (or just horny enough to stop thinking), she’d really want to touch them. Maybe even kiss them. Maybe even suck on them a little bit (Floyd would find it weird; Trey would too but also endearing in a way). Freud has a lot to say about Riddle.

Ace – she does a lot of “playful” touching, like poking it, pinching it, doing the “honk honk”. Deuce gets so angry and embarrassed that there is no way Ace would stop doing that anytime soon. She says that it’s a neutral “no homo” type of thing, but somehow she only does it with Deuce… Whenever they’re intimate, I think Ace spends a lot of time touching her boobs, she clearly loves them; even though if Deuce was to cover herself in a locker room, Ace would roll her eyes and say “we literally have the same boobs, don’t even bother covering them”.

Deuce – she is not obsessed with boobs, even though sometimes she wants to avenge herself by grabbing Ace’s. But also, bigger boobs make her blush for some reason. When they are so big that they’re impossible to ignore, she gets a bit nervous that it’d look like she’s staring… So she actually averts her eyes a lot, especially with people like Trey or, of course, Jack. She tries not to look at Jack when they run together because she starts staring at her heavy boobs jumping up and down and forgets how to run. She gets wet dreams about them sometimes, which kind of makes her sound more obsessed than Ace lol

Trey – ah yes, the one that works with dough all the time. Trey hands are both gentle and strong, and despite being somewhat wishy-washy in a lot of other areas of life, when it comes to touching boobs, Trey is very confident and almost does it without thinking. But she is still very attentive to the reactions of her lover, so she would know how and where exactly to touch. There is a rumor that a girl could cum with Trey just touching her boobs, but is it really true? Trey would say that of course it’s not , but can we really trust her? She also loves smaller boobs, and the majority of girls she’s ever been attracted to were petite in this area. She would treat Riddle’s like tender little berries…

Cater – she is not as obsessed as all the previous ones, but she acts pretty cute about it. I feel like she is the type to take cute pictures of herself pressing her cheek against her lover’s tit, or cover only the nipple with her fingers or a sticker; a lot of cheeky playful stuff. She also kisses a lot and loves leaving marks – those are pretty cammable too! Even though none of those pictures would go on the internet of course.

Leona – she is a pillow princess for the most part, and she acts like she doesn’t care about anything related to her partner’s physique at all, but big boobs make her think of Falena’s large honkers, so she actually enjoys Ruggie having tiny ones. She doesn’t do anything about them though and barely even comments on them, but there was one time when she fell asleep with her lips pressing against Ruggie’s boob like it’s a tiny pillow just for her mouth and chin. And the rest of her pose looked pretty uncomfortable, so it felt very intentional.

Ruggie – she doesn’t care all that much, to be honest. She knows how to pleasure a girl though, so she is pretty good at playing with boobs. She likes squeezing the nipples between her fingers and pulling on them, and diving deep into huge boobs with her fingers also feels pretty nice. She gets into it during the process I guess, especially with Leona’s size and shape. But when she isn’t aroused, she is just too used to seeing Leona sleeping in random places and random poses, a lot of times either bra-less or straight-up with some part of her tit out. Can’t lose your head over this – she’d stay headless at all times.

Jack – she bites. She tries to be more gentle and to suck and kiss instead, but the moment she feels the warm soft flesh against her teeth, she can’t help it and starts nibbing. This is why she tries not to get close to this area with her mouth in general, but that always results in her drooling pretty badly, which results in her wanting to hide her face, which results in her pushing her mouth against Deuce’s boobs again...  And with Vil, who is smaller than Deuce, Jack would lift it with her big tongue and put it in her mouth entirely. Actually, she is usually surprisingly okay with keeping it together, but when she actually sees naked breasts, it’s like something activates in her brain.

Azul – she also bites… When she gets too aroused, of course. Sometimes it’s because she is pissed off and horny at the same time, sometimes her being playful and “dangerous”. In general though, she doesn’t care about boobs too much, and she absolutely doesn’t care about big boobs – she doesn’t even consider it something that could be hot to her personally. With the smaller ones that are so unlike hers and the tweels, sometimes they make her react unexpectedly even to her.  Biting is one example lol But she also rubs them gently, talks about them being so cute and small, almost cooing but still being very condescending somehow. Azul is a bitch, huh. Oh, and when she is in her mermaid form, her tentacles are all over poor Idia’s or Jamil’s tiddies, she sucks them right in and squeezes them brutally, leaving a lot of nasty bright marks.

Jade – nipple torture. I mean. Sometimes. She loves doing stuff that would make it change it size and shape. Anything that would make it puffier, anything that pumps it, makes it longer, makes the bead more visible. She could do it by either rubbing them in a very specific way or with the help of mushrooms, potion injections, needles and other stuff. Sometimes she looks at people in the locker room and thinks who would be the perfect victim… Idia is a good option in terms of physical aspects... Other than that, Jade isn’t really into boobs.

Floyd – if there is a thing one could do to a boob, Floyd does it. She does everything. She loves putting an entire boob in her mouth and playing with it, she loves almost torturing boobs with her hands, loves squeezing them really hard, slapping them lightly, anything that could ever come to her mind. She loves all the sizes, but Riddle’s boobies feel unique because she doesn’t usually get to see someone who is this flat. One time she rubbed Riddle’s nipples through the clothes so hard that Riddle’s knees started visibly shaking… Idia is also flat, but a bit perkier, so Floyd prefers to tug on hers instead of rubbing them in. She could play with boobs for hours, it’s not even about pleasuring the girl to her sometimes, it’s just like a very fun toy <3

Kalim – it feels like she doesn’t care, but she does. She isn’t as invasive as Floyd, but she touches a lot, it just doesn’t feel sexual a lot of times, like she is genuinely just that physical. There are times though when she looks Jamil in the eyes and then looks down at her breasts and caresses them very carefully, as if admiring them, but not really knowing how to touch them. And sometimes she stares at Jamil’s breasts when they bathe together, and it makes Jamil want to cover herself, even though they’ve been comfortable around each other naked all the time ever since they were kids. Something is cooking inside Kalim’s brain…

Jamil – she wouldn’t touch Kalim at all in that way even if they were intimate, for a lot of reasons including because she feels like she isn’t supposed to. But when boobs bounce in her face, she really wants to grab them sometimes. And it might seem aggressive, but maybe she genuinely likes it when they bounce… She would be very grabby with Azul’s breasts if they were intimate, and would say that this is because her tits piss her off, and the way Jamil squeezes her teeth make it seem like she just wants to bite them off sometimes. But maybe it just means that she wants to suffocate herself with them… she is conflicted but she certainly isn’t uninterested.

Vil – Rook’s big boobs are a big source of comfort for her; when they were freshmen she used to put her face down here and muffle her frustrated moans with them whenever she would get angry. She thinks that it’s kind of childish now, but every now and then, when the stress overwhelmed her and Rook welcomes her open arms, Vil sighs and does it again. It ruins both Rook’s shirt and Vil’s makeup, so it’s better to do it at the end of the day. In a sexual setting though, she touches them, but not excessively, she’s mostly teasing Rook who doesn’t really like being touched too much. Still, she finds her breasts beautiful and hot.

Rook – a serial boob grabber. She is one of the biggest boob lovers of the cast; whenever she sees a pair of boobs, her hands move involuntarily, forming a perfect cupping position for this exact size and shape. She loves any kind of boob and sees beauty in all of them, so whoever she is with would experience… a lot. If she wasn’t pacified by Vil, her feral ass would’ve touched everyone’s boobs instead of saying hi, just because she can’t help herself. Speaking of Vil, other than writing poems about her beautiful snowy mounds with sun-kissed pinkish tips, she does all kinds of things with her boobs. She loves playing with them with her fingers, rubbing them, kissing them and especially leaving a lot of hickeys on them. One time she did it before Vil’s big swimsuit photoshoot and got in big trouble for that…

Epel – now this is someone who would enjoy screaming into the boobs to relieve her anger, and if Vil is feeling generous, she would allow Epel to do it with Rook one time lol But other than that, she stares at the bigger girls’ boobs for the most part. She thinks that this is out of pity because she can’t think of a worse fate than having large breasts, but nah, she just likes staring at them. Being a country girl, she feels the appeal on a very deep level; maybe Freud would have something to say about her as well. But then he would see Epel suddenly biting into Floyd’s huge tit (it’s because Floyd teased her!) and shut the fuck up.

Idia – it’s not like she is super interested or something, but… she finds big boobs so unusual and weird, as if sometimes she forgets that this isn’t just something that was invented by eroge. So naturally, she wants to squeeze them every now and then, but only when they hang out with Azul for a long period of time. And it’s always very sudden for Azul because Idia just hugs her from behind sometimes, squeezes them and instantly leaves, losing interest. Maybe one day she’ll get into it enough to touch them more or to bury her face in them or even bite (as if Azul would allow any of that), but for now she just randomly attacks Azul’s boobs and goes away to reflect on how heavy they are and how they don’t fit in her pretty big hands. With the Tweels though, the boobs are so huge that Idia gets completely overwhelmed. She wouldn’t dare to touch them… She could touch Sebek though, but once again, only under very specific circumstances! With Lilia’s boobs however, she doesn’t care at all – both are flat, so there is nothing but a feeling of solidarity there…

Ortho – as always, Ortho’s approach is somewhat scientific! She is very intrigued by boobs, and wants to learn more about how to interact with them in a way that would be pleasurable. She tried out different covers for her hands to make them softer and warmer for when she plays with them, but she also added some suction thingies for other kinds of stimulation… and was so confused when Idia said to her that this kind of shit only appears in hentai and doesn’t work irl. Weird, Vil-san seemed to enjoy it… Vil could be a huge help in general because Ortho really wants to crack the code of what to do to make Idia enjoy having her boobies touched. They’re similar in size, so it’s great!

Lilia – the absolute master of playing with boobs of every size. She likes boobies a lot; she is the type to be a menace by randomly appearing behind someone and grabbing their boobs just to see them jump. She is almost as obsessed as Rook, in some ways even more obsessed, and extremely experienced. It’s like whenever she sees a pair of boobies of her partner, she instantly has a plan of how exactly she’s going to play with them. She pinches Idia’s small ones, tugs on them and puts them in her mouth entirely to tease Idia; she touches Silver’s nipples very slightly and gently to see them perk up with little stimulation before squeezing them very hard; she is all over Malleus’ large boobs and massages them ferociously, diving with her entire face down there to cover them with hickeys and bites because Malleus can take it.

Silver – she doesn’t care really, but she does fall asleep on Sebek’s breasts every now and then. She always apologises when she wakes up, but is she really all that sorry? They’re very nice to sleep on… She is also the only lucky girl to be allowed to suck on Lilia’s tits, and she is always very gentle about it. Lilia thinks that it’s Silver’s treat for being her good little daughter, but Silver thinks that it’s her indulging Lilia and not the other way around lol Silver just looks so cute when she does it!!

Sebek – this girl so obviously tries not to look at other’s breasts. She is very easy to read; sometimes she even squeezes the air without realising it and grinds her teeth very hard. She fights the urge that she herself doesn’t even fully realise: the urge to squeeze, to mash, to grab, to lick and to bite. It’s getting so bad that she can’t even look at Silver’s anymore, even though they’ve always been very comfortable being naked around each other. Idia’s also make her feral because she is very small and the nipples seem perky, as if they’re teasing Sebek and asking to get bitten and pulled..!! With Malleus though, Sebek would lose her shit completely, it would take every single drop of will that she has to stay as composed as possible when presented with her liege marvelous large breasts. She’s in luck though because Malleus likes it rough.

Malleus doesn’t really care much about other’s breasts, but she cares about being a flirt when she’s feeling playful, so she might comment on how they look (especially with Sebek who gets very flustered about it). When she is being extra playful, she could bite Lilia’s or even nib on it a little bit, but she knows that Lilia hates it when she does it, so this is just Malleus being a cheeky little brat.

[sscrambledmeggss]

mentally i am a mess

[melzula]

well since requests are open i wanted to request a zuko fic?

zuko x waterbender reader in which someone from team avatar walks in on them kissing?

i feel like it’d be funny idk lol 😂

a/n: i love this trope it’s so funny. also it’s like subtly mentioned reader is a water bender since i didn’t wanna just shove it in there awkwardly. anyway hope you enjoy!

summary: a private moment between you and your boyfriend is interrupted by your unsuspecting friends

“Are you sure no one saw you come in here?”

“Yes, I’m sure,” Zuko says with a huff after closing the flaps of your tent. “You know, I’m starting to think you’re embarrassed to be seen with me.”

“You know that’s not true,” you argue with a frown. “I just enjoy having some privacy. I know those guys are going to make a big deal about us being together, and I just want to enjoy our relationship without having to deal with any prying eyes.”

“I know,” he admits with a sigh. “I’m just tired of sneaking around. Do you know how difficult it is not to kiss you or check on you after a fight with my sister? It’s torture.”

“It’s just until the war is over. There’s a lot at stake right now, and it would be a weird time to come clean. It’ll be over before you know it.”

“I hope you’re right,” Zuko murmurs with a frown, one that immediately melts away at the feel of your arms wrapping around his midsection. It’s hard to be upset when you’re smiling up at him with the purest look of adoration in your eyes. Despite everything, all of his flaws and mistakes and cruelty, you love him, and it fuels the warmth inside of his heart knowing he has someone like you. Maybe he would have joined the Avatar and his friends sooner if he knew it would lead him to you.

“At least we’re finally alone,” he notes with a faint smile before leaning down to press his lips against your own in a long awaited kiss. He hasn’t been able to give or receive affection all day, and it isn’t until now with your chest pressed against his own that he’s finally able to truly feel relaxed.

Unfortunately, you’re both too engrossed in each other to notice the rustling of your tent flaps as Sokka and Toph let themselves in without a second thought.

“Hey, y/n, Toph and I are gonna head into town, do you want to- oh, gross!” He cries after catching Zuko and yourself mid lip lock.

You both jump at the intrusion, knocking your head together on accident and groaning in unison at the impact.

“Sokka!” You cry out in embarrassment. “Monkey feathers, don’t you knock?!”

“It’s a tent! There is no knocking!” He yells back defensively, equally as upset as you are. “I can’t believe you guys were kissing!”

“We weren’t kissing,” Zuko argues, his face red with embarrassment. “We were… hugging… with our… mouths?”

“Oh, spirits,” you groan, your palm hitting your forehead in embarrassment at Zuko’s horrible attempt at lying. For a Prince, he has a terrible way with words. You’d think all that time spent with his Uncle would make his vocabulary more eloquent.

“If Toph could see she’d be very upset right now!” Sokka scolds, but the girl beside him simply shrugs.

“Actually, this works out great for me. Katara owes me five gold pieces now,” she says with a grin.

“You guys knew they were dating and didn’t tell me?!” The water tribe boy says in offense.

“I had a hunch, but Katara disagreed, so we made a bet.”

“Enough already! This is mortifying enough as it is,” you groan impatiently. “Sokka, we’ll talk about this later. For now, I need both of you out!”

After getting the two to leave the tent, you shut it closed with an irritated sigh. You’re absolutely humiliated, and you don’t think you can show your face to your friends ever again.

“So much for keeping it a secret,” the fire bender mutters.

“You,” you say with an accusatory finger pointed at the Prince, “need to learn how to lie better.”

“I know,” he admits meekly, awkwardly scratching the back of his neck. Sighing, you open your water pouch and tend to the growing bump on his head from your previous collision. You can’t stay mad at him when he looks so flustered and sweet, so instead you merely throw your arms around his neck and pull him back in for another kiss.

You can focus on coming clean later. For now, you just want to enjoy your moment of peace with the boy you love.

| zuko tags: @thebluelcdy @royahllty @the-firebender-girl @ilovespideyyy @yiyibetch @eridanuswave @lammello @a-monsters-love @knaite-solo @taeeemin @lora21

[hoshifighting]

    cold hearted!jeonghan + virginity loss

— after the rumors spread about Jeonghan, the coldest guy in the university, having the biggest crush on you, you ask him to be your first.

WARNINGS: +18, smut, virginity loss, oral (f. receiving), fingering, penetrative sex, begging, protected sex.

KINKTOBER MASTERLIST

it feels almost too easy.

you’ve spent years skirting around the idea, dropping hints here and there to guys you thought could be good enough, but somehow it never worked out. none of them felt right—not that it was about romance, but the hesitation always lingered when it came down to it. maybe it was nerves, maybe it was the wrong guys, but the frustration built up to the point where you just wanted to get it over with.

and then there’s jeonghan.

the guy everyone whispers about, cold-hearted, unapproachable, but with a reputation that’s impossible to ignore. girls gossiping in between lectures, bathrooms filled with whispers of him being distant yet insanely attractive. and somewhere along the line, you heard it—the rumor that he had the fattest crush on you.

the thought of it festered in your mind for weeks. yo know him, a few polite exchanges, some assignments you did together, pairing up on p.e... there’s a confidence in your gut that he’ll say yes.

you hadn’t planned on showing up at his dorm unannounced, yet here you are, standing outside jeonghan’s door with a racing heart and sweaty palms. knocking felt surreal, like a dream you might regret later, but you do it anyway because you’re desperate. a familiar, twisted excitement coils low in your stomach when you hear footsteps, and the door swings open to reveal jeonghan—leaning against the frame, as nonchalant as ever.

“what’s up?” he asks, eyes scanning your face like he’s trying to read your thoughts. the casualness in his voice makes you almost forget why you’re here. almost.

“can i come in?” you stammer.

he steps aside without a word, allowing you to slip past him into the small room. his dorm smells faintly of laundry detergent and something minty. it’s tidy, too—unexpectedly so.

“this is new,” he says, sitting on the edge of his bed, arms folded, watching you. “you showing up here and all.”

you laugh nervously, wringing your hands as you stand awkwardly in the middle of the room. “yeah, well… i’ve been thinking.”

his eyebrow quirks up, like he’s daring you to keep going. but you hesitate, biting your lip, trying to find the right words. you’ve played this conversation out in your head a thousand times, but now, under his steady gaze, everything feels impossible to say.

he tilts his head. “you’re not here to ask me about the assignment, are you?”

“no,” you blurt, suddenly sitting down on the chair next to his bed. you can’t meet his eyes. “it’s… something else.”

silence stretches between you. jeonghan waits, patient, but there’s something flickering in his expression now—curiosity, maybe.

you take a deep breath, your voice shaky but determined. “i want you to be my first.”

his eyes widen, and for the first time, jeonghan looks genuinely caught off guard. “what?”

“i… i want to lose my virginity.” you blurt out, no point in dancing around it anymore. you’ve been holding onto this for years, and you’re tired. tired of hearing your friends share their stories, tired of feeling left behind.

“you want me to do it?” he shakes his head, leaning back on his elbows, processing your words. “so what, you just wanna pop your cherry and bounce?”

“no!” you shake your head quickly, heart pounding as you try to explain. “i just… i don’t want my first time to be with some asshole. everyone else would treat me like a joke. but you… you wouldn’t, right?” your voice is small, and you hate how vulnerable you sound, but it’s true. jeonghan might have a reputation, but he’s never been cruel.

he closes his eyes, tipping his head back against the wall. inside, you can tell he’s thrilled—maybe he’s been dreaming about this. but the mask he wears is cold, detached, like he’s doing you a favor.

“you’re serious?” he asks, voice low.

“yeah,” you whisper.

he doesn’t move for a moment, just staring at you, like he’s deciding whether or not to believe you. then, slowly, he leans in, his face inches from yours. his breath is warm, and your heart skips a beat. it’s almost too much to handle, and you blink up at him, your voice a nervous squeak.

“are you… are you gonna kiss me?”

jeonghan furrows his brow, like it’s the dumbest question he’s ever heard. “what, you thought i was just gonna—” he stops, and you see the slightest flicker of a smile. “—get straight to it?”

you shrink into yourself a little, cheeks burning. “maybe?”

he chuckles, a low, rumbling sound that makes your stomach twist. “nah, you’re way too cute for that.”

before you can respond, his lips are on yours—wet, sloppy, and everything you didn’t expect. there’s no rush, no hurried fumbling. just him, kissing you slow and deep, making sure you feel everything. his hand moves to the back of your neck, pulling you closer as you melt into the kiss, your body buzzing.

then, he takes your hand, guiding it down to his lap, pressing it against the hard length straining through his sweatpants. you freeze, your breath hitching at the sudden contact.

“feel that?” he murmurs against your lips, voice husky. “that’s going inside you.. do you think you can take it.”

your fingers curl around him instinctively, squeezing just enough to make him groan softly. “i can.” you bite your lip.

“still sure about this?” he asks, his breath heavy.

you nod.

jeonghan's hands are all over you, moving so effortlessly, and before you know it, your clothes are off, tossed somewhere in the room. he’s slow, but it’s not the kind of slow that makes you feel exposed—more like he’s savoring the moment, taking his time like he’s got all night. and maybe he does.

when he spreads your legs, the sudden awareness of what’s happening, of how vulnerable you are, hits you. you instinctively cover your face with your hands, but you can still feel his eyes on you, taking in every inch of your body.

“cute,” he murmurs. “you hiding from me now?”

your breath catches in your throat, but you peek through your fingers to see him smirking, looking like he’s in complete control. and maybe that’s what makes it less terrifying—he’s not rushing. he’s not judging. he’s just... there.

when his head dips between your thighs, you tense, unsure of what to expect. your heart races, and you let out a shaky breath as his mouth hovers over you, his warm breath ghosting over your already wet folds. then he licks, slow and slick, and you almost orgasm there, the warm tongue on your clit making your eyes slightly roll back.

“fuck,” you gasp, your hands clutching the sheets beside you, your face burning.

he pulls back slightly, lips glistening, his eyes locking with yours. “relax,” he says. “we’ve barely started.”

and then his tongue is back, sliding through every fold, licking with a patience that’s almost agonizing. he’s focused, making sure you feel everything—every lick, every brush of his lips, every soft kiss to your inner thigh between his slow, sensual movements.

your chest heaves as you try to process the sensations, but it’s overwhelming. this is what you’ve been missing out on all these years? the thought is almost laughable now, especially when he sucks on your clit, gently at first, then harder, leaving it swollen and pulsing.

“oh my god,” you cry out, the sound escaping you before you can stop it.

jeonghan grins against you, winking naughty, and as if to rub it in, he gives your clit a playful suck, sending you squealing. he looks up at you, still grinning. “you like that?”

you don’t even answer, can’t answer, because your brain is too fogged up. you can’t think, can barely breathe, and he hasn’t even started properly yet.

his hand travels down between your legs, and he presses a finger against your slick entrance, not pushing in just yet, just applying pressure, teasing. “have you ever had your little fingers here?” he asks curious.

your face burns at his words, but you nod “just one finger,” you admit, shy and sly, like a secret you’re embarrassed to reveal.

the way you say it—so sweet, so unsure—makes him throb inside his sweatpants. he exhales heavily, eyes darkening as he pushes his finger inside, just the tip at first, slowly. “just one, hmm?”

you bite your lip, nodding as he slides the rest of his finger in. the sensation is new, unfamiliar, but not uncomfortable, his finger is a bit longer than yours. he’s careful, attentive even, and that’s what makes you relax into the feeling.

“you’re so tight,” he mutters as he adds a second finger, stretching you out even more. you wince slightly at the stretch, but the way he curls his fingers inside you, scissoring them slowly, almost instantly makes the discomfort melt.

your hips buck instinctively as he works you open, his movements precise, his eyes fixed on you like he’s studying every reaction. “how’s that feel?”

“good,” you breathe, the word slipping out before you can stop it.

he chuckles softly, his free hand moving up to caress your thigh as his fingers pump in and out of you, his pace maddeningly slow. “you’re getting impatient, aren’t you?”

you whine in response, your voice shaky. “take your clothes off,” you mumble, your neediness evident in your tone.

jeonghan pauses, amusement flickering in his eyes. “hmm? what’s that?”

“take them off,” you repeat, a little more urgent this time, your voice coming out in a needy whine.

he grins, leaning over you, his face inches from yours. “patience, baby,” he says, his voice soft, but there’s a teasing edge to it. “you really wanna see me naked that bad?”

you nod, shameless now, your body craving the sight of him, the feeling of him against you. he’s been teasing you for too long, and it’s driving you insane.

“just wait a little longer,” he says, his tone mock-sulky, like he’s the one being deprived. but there’s a smile playing on his lips, and you can tell he’s enjoying this, the way you’re practically begging for him.

his fingers curl inside you again, hitting a spot that has you arching off the bed, a soft moan escaping your lips. “you’re so cute like this,” he mutters, pressing a kiss to your inner thigh as he works a third finger inside you, stretching you even more.

you whimper at the new stretch, your body trembling, but it’s the good kind of overwhelming now. the kind that has you clenching around him, needing more.

“jeonghan...” you whisper, your voice breathless, desperate.

he smirks, his thumb brushing over your clit as he scissoring his fingers inside you, spreading you open. “i love seeing you like this,” he murmurs. “all wet for me, begging like that.”

you don’t even care how wrecked you sound when you plead, “please, jeonghan. take them off.”

he laughs softly, shaking his head. “soon,” he says, his voice dripping with promise. “just let me enjoy this a little more.”

jeonghan keeps his fingers inside you, watching every twitch of your body as you clench around him, so tight he almost groans himself. you’re so close, it’s written all over your face, but you don’t even seem to notice it—lost somewhere, breathing heavily but not quite there yet. and he’s not about to let you drift off when you’re so close to cum.

“mm, baby,” he murmurs, his fingers moving just a little faster, curling them in that spot he’s already learned by heart. “you don’t even know, do you?”

you blink, dazed, barely processing his words, but then you feel his lips on your nipple—a soft peck at first, then a sharp bite that has you gasping, your hips jerking against his hand.

“there you are,” he smirks, teeth grazing over your sensitive skin as he feels you clench around his fingers again, tighter this time. “you were drifting away, but i need you right here with me. focus.”

your body reacts instantly, the tension building again, winding tighter and tighter until you can’t hold back anymore. his fingers pump in and out, wet and slick with your dampness, and the obscene sound of it fills the room as he brings you right to the edge.

“fuck, jeonghan—” your voice is shaky, barely holding it together as your hips start moving on their own, grinding down onto his hand. you’re not even sure when it happens, but suddenly, the tight coil inside you snaps, and you’re coming hard around his fingers, your body tensing, then releasing all at once.

“oh my god,” you cry out, your back arching off the bed as you orgasm, wet and messy. you’re so slick that his fingers slide easily in and out, coated in the creamy evidence of your cum. jeonghan’s eyes are glued to you, watching the way your body trembles, how soaked you are, and the satisfied smirk on his face says it all.

“so fucking wet,” he murmurs, almost like he’s talking to himself, fingers still buried deep inside you. he slows down his movements, letting you ride out the aftershocks of your orgasm, his thumb brushing lazily over your clit. “you didn’t even realize how close you were, huh?”

you shake your head, still trying to catch your breath, your mind foggy from the bliss.

he leans down, pressing a soft kiss to your thigh, his eyes flicking up to yours. “wanna see me take it all off now?” he teases, pulling his fingers out slowly, letting you feel every inch of them as they slip free. your breath hitches, still sensitive, but you nod eagerly, the post-orgasmic haze making you a little desperate.

“please,” you whisper, your voice a little hoarse, but the need is clear.

he grins, sitting up and tugging his shirt off halfway, but he pauses, eyes scanning the room. “wait a second,” he says, a bit too casual, as he starts searching around for something.

“what are you doing?” you ask, frustration creeping into your voice. he’s making you wait, again, and you’re about to protest when he holds up a condom, waving it in front of you with a satisfied smirk.

“can’t forget this,” he says, climbing back onto the bed.

you roll your eyes, still breathless, but your gaze drops to his chest as he slides the shirt the rest of the way off. his hand runs slowly down his chest, over his belly, and lower still to the waistband of his sweatpants.

“calm down,” he teases, his voice sweet, noticing the way your eyes are locked on his every move. “i’m not going anywhere.”

your breath hitches as he pulls his pants and boxers down, finally revealing himself to you. his cock is hard, flushed, and slick with precum, and you can’t stop yourself from staring.

“fuck, you’re pretty,” you mutter under your breath, barely aware you said it out loud until you see the way his lips curl into a grin.

“you’re the pretty one,” he counters, his voice soft as he strokes himself once, twice, before rolling the condom on. his eyes flick up to yours again, playful but with a hint of seriousness. “ready?”

you nod, your body buzzing as he lines himself up with your entrance. he slides the tip inside, and you both groan at the contact. it’s slow at first, his cock pushing into you inch by inch, and you can feel the stretch, how full he’s making you feel already.

but then, right when he’s halfway in, you gasp, “wait—stop.”

he freezes instantly, his eyes searching your face. “you okay?”

instead of answering, your hand slips between your bodies, wrapping around the base of his cock. the sudden contact makes him shudder, and he squeezes his eyes shut, groaning low in his throat. you give him a little shake, feeling the hardness of him pulsing in your hand, then slowly start guiding him deeper inside you.

you guide him in slowly, inch by inch, until your hand has nowhere else to go, and he's buried completely inside you, balls deep. you’re panting, your body adjusting to the size of him, and when you pout your lips for a kiss, jeonghan leans in without hesitation, pressing his lips to yours, swallowing the little scoff you let out between moans. the sensation of him stretching you so perfectly has your head spinning.

he pulls back slightly, eyes glued to yours as he starts moving, his hips rolling in slow thrusts. it’s a sharp sting at first, but nowhere near as painful as you expected, and the more he moves, the more that sting fades, replaced by a growing heat that makes your breath catch in your throat.

you don’t even notice the way your lips curl into the nastiest grin, like you finally got what you’ve been wanting, and you’re enjoying every second of it. jeonghan sees it though, sees the way your expression shifts from tentative to pure satisfaction, and it drives him fucking wild. his steady thrusts falter for a second, and he has to bite down on the inside of his cheek to keep himself in check.

“fuck,” he breathes, his voice shaky as he watches you. “you look like you’re having the time of your life right now.”

you moan in response, not even trying to hide it anymore. “i am.”

that’s all the encouragement he needs. his thrusts pick up, sharper now, deeper, and with each roll of his hips, his balls slap against your ass. the bed squeaks in time with his movements, but you barely notice, too caught up in the pleasure. your moans spill out freely, louder and more unrestrained, each one sending a jolt straight to his gut.

jeonghan’s losing it, the sight of you, the sound of you—it’s gonna replay in his mind for days, haunting him like a ghost, but right now, he’s not thinking about that. right now, all he can focus on is the way your body feels underneath him, how you seem to want this just as much as he does. his hips move faster, thrusts sharper and more purposeful, and fuck, you’re taking it all so well.

“god, you—” he groans, his voice strained. “you feel so fucking good. you don’t even know.”

his pace quickens, his hips rolling harder, and you gasp, your body arching up to meet him halfway. he’s hitting all the right spots now, and your moans turn into desperate little cries, your fingers gripping the sheets as you lose yourself in the feeling.

he notices how much you like it—how your body responds to every sharp thrust, how your moans get louder, and that nasty smile on your face only grows. it’s too much for him, but he tries to bury the overwhelming need down in his gut, focusing on fucking you just right.

but even then, he can’t help it—the more you react, the more he loses control, his hips working in sharper, stronger thrusts, the rhythm getting rougher as he chases that perfect high for both of you.

“you like that?” he asks, his voice rough, but the way your body clenches around him is answer enough.

he can’t help but smirk at your desperate little gasps. each thrust brings a little more pleasure, and your nails dig into his back, urging him on as you match his pace.

“more,” you whimper, the need spilling from your lips like a prayer. “please, jeonghan, don’t stop.”

he chuckles, making your heart race. “as if I could,” he replies, picking up the pace even more. you feel that familiar heat pooling deep inside you again.

he can’t help but lean down, pressing a kiss to your neck as he continues to rock into you, relishing in every little sound that escapes your mouth.

“that’s it,” he murmurs against your skin, his breath hot. “let me hear you.”

your moans grow louder, echoing off the walls as you feel the pressure building within you again. your body thrums with need as you claw at him, the sensation of him filling you completely making everything else fade away. you’re lost in him, in this moment, and nothing else matters.

“i’m so close,” you manage to gasp, your words barely coherent as your hips start moving on their own, desperate for that release.

jeonghan feels it, too—your body tightening around him, the way you’re pushing back against him, and it drives him crazy. he grips your hips tighter, controlling your movements, thrusting deeper, harder, pushing you right to the edge.

“cum pretty, cum f’me,” he urges sultry, and you can feel that heat building to a boiling point.

“jeonghan—” your voice breaks, and just like that, you’re falling, you’re gripping him tightly, your body spasming as you cum, crying out his name as everything blurs into a haze.

“that’s it, baby,” he groans, his own pleasure rising as he watches you unravel beneath him. “so fucking beautiful.”

the way your body squeezes him as you ride out your orgasm sends him over the edge, and he follows you, thrusting harder as he lets go, filling the condom as you both collapse.

you both lie there for a moment, breathless, the only sounds filling the room are your mingled breaths and the soft creaking of the bed. jeonghan brushes a strand of hair away from your face, a lazy grin spreading across his lips as he looks down at you.

“so, do I get to be the one who pops that cherry again sometime?”

“if you’re lucky,” you tease bakc, but deep down, you know you’re both hooked, and this was just the beginning.

[saetoru]

Do you think there could be a chance where reader and bully! gojo meet again years later and try again? Maybe 🥹

part one here — contents. fem! reader, exes to lovers, neighbors to lovers, slight nsfw so minors do not interact, slight angst but it’s a hopeful (pretty much happy) ending, idk what else lmk what i missed

imagine you guys are neighbors—you accidentally meet when you’re both walking up to your apartment doors one night after work. he pauses, and you can feel eyes staring into you from the side so you look over and yeah. wow. there’s your worst heartbreak of your youth standing right there in all his glory, staring at you like you’re a figment of his imagination come true. like he never expected to see you again (you suppose he probably didn’t).

“hey,” he says softly. satoru has never been one to greet someone first, never been the one to reach out and bridge the gap himself. he always waits to be approached. that much has surprisingly changed since the last time you saw him.

“oh…” you trail off, “hi. it’s you.”

you don’t seem half as happy to see him as he does you—but that much is to be expected, of course. satoru didn’t have the luxury of moving on, you can tell because you still can read him just as easy after all these years. like he hasn’t changed the small quirks about him, like he’s still tried desperately to hold onto his past because that’s where you were. he still looks desperately in love like the night you left him.

it’s pathetic, you wanna say. to still be in love for so long. when it’s so clearly over and there’s no coming back. a small part of you is filled with this sick, evil satisfaction that he’s still thinking about you when you don’t spare him a single thought.

but you suppose you’re not at over him as you thought when there’s this much excitement bubbling into you at his suffering. maybe, if you were actually completely over him, you’d be indifferent to him. you wouldn’t forget, but you’d forgive. you’d hope he learned his lesson and spared another innocent, poor girl from what you suffered for simply loving him. for simply wanting him to feel cherished and special and worth someone’s time.

you hope he’s better now—not for yourself, but for someone else. he doesn’t deserve a second of your time.

“you live here?” he asks, mildly shocked.

you’re almost offended. does he mean he thinks you can’t afford to live in the same apartment building as him? or is he just that shocked to see you? nothing about satoru seems genuine—you can’t help but assume the worst in him.

“yes,” you say curtly, “i moved here for work.” (why did you add that? why are you giving an opening to make conversation?)

“oh, really? me too,” he nods. (why is he making conversation? why couldn’t he have just ignored that opening and spared you the trouble?)

“oh,” is all you say. it’s silent for a bit, and then, “well, i better—”

almost like he knows what you’re about to say, he cuts you off with a quick, “i teach now.” you blink, staring at him in confusion. he rubs his neck as he adds, “i uh…i teach at that high school down the block. so uh…that’s why i moved here.”

“that’s…that’s nice,” you nod awkwardly. why is he telling you all this?

“yeah, my students are really cool,” he adds with a grin—it’s…a bit cute, actually. because he means it. his smile is too fond for it to not be true.

this isn’t the satoru you know—at least, not the one you think is the real satoru. you’re not so sure which side of him is actually him.

“i’m glad you enjoy what you do,” you offer. there’s not much else to say. “i’ll be heading in now.”

“right,” he coughs, “s-see you around.”

and then you really do see him around.

sometimes, it’s when you both leave in the mornings—he lets you enter the elevator first and presses the button for you when he gets in. he always lets you exit first too, like he cares to be chivalrous even if you’re not together anymore. sometimes it’s when you’re coming home—he’s holding a bag of take out as he walks up to his own door. you suppose he’s never been one to cook, and that probably hasn’t changed. sometimes, you’ll see him at the grocery store too—his cart is usually just filled with snacks and sweets. it’s not a very adult like shopping cart, so something’s evidently never change.

and every time he sees you, he always tries to strike up a conversation. no matter how short of a window your time is. even if it’s the forty five second elevator ride from floor one to floor three, he’s determined to say something.

today my students got me a gift—it’s a pair of sunglasses, because he still apparently loves those.

i got to take my students on a field trip today. i’ve been planning it for weeks—they have to write a paper on it, though. they’re not too happy about that even if they enjoyed themselves.

today was my student yuji’s birthday. i let the others out early to celebrate with him—they’re apparently all a good bunch of kids. friendly and tight knit in a way satoru’s never experienced. he thinks kids should hold onto that. good friends are hard to come by, after all.

and you’re always guarded. always so cautious and careful when you talk to him. sometimes you try to be polite, other times it’s abundantly apparent you don’t want to converse. he doesn’t pay it any mind, though. just rambles away and away and away and talks enough for the both of you because he’s just happy you’ll listen. even if begrudgingly.

and then one night, it happens—it’s late and you had to stay extra in the office. you’re grumpy and tired and the only good thing about this is that it’s late enough that you probably won’t run into satoru today.

except he’s waiting right there, head against your door as he fidgets with the door knob and grumbles incoherently under his breath.

“stupid damn door,” he slurs, “jus’ fuckin’ open.”

“ahem,” you clear your throat—he stiffens. “any particular reason you’re trying to break in?”

he turns to face you—stumbles a little as his glossed eyes look at you in confusion. he’s drunk—you can smell the liquor on him.

“whad’ya mean? ‘s my door,” he holds an arm out to gesture at your door.

“no,” you sigh, pointing to the door next to yours, “that one is.”

“oh!” he perks up, “‘s why it wasn’t working?”

“most likely,” you nod awkwardly, “that’s usually how that works.”

you watch as he unceremoniously stumbles over his steps to his door—how he tries but fails to get his keys through the key hole before you sigh and take pity on him. you don’t have it in you to leave a drunk person out in the cold, no matter how much (bad) history you might have.

“here,” you sigh, grabbing his keys from his hand and opening the door for him. you try to ignore that brief moment of warmth where your hands brushed against each other.

“do y’know what today is?” he mumbles, breath fanning over your shoulder as you open his door.

“i….tuesday?” you ask, in confusion. he looks crestfallen when you stare his face.

“oh, n-never—” he stumbles a bit. you catch him before you realize. “never mind.”

somehow, you barely manage to help him to his couch before he’s passing out, too drunk to really register anything else. satoru never drinks much—it was the funniest part about him. you used to tease him for it all the time, for being a frat boy who can hardly handle some alcohol.

i like being in control, he’d say petulantly, i don’t need to be drunk to have a good time. i am the good time.

you take a quick glance around his place before you can catch yourself. it’s not very different from your place—the living room is the same size and the structure is more or less the same. his tv is a bit more expensive, and his furniture is more simple. that’s about it.

you glance down at him one last time before walking out and shutting the door behind you. you hesitate for a moment before turning on the screen of your phone to check the date—it takes you a moment, but then it hits you.

it’s the day you broke up. all those years ago. it’s certainly been a good few—you almost forgot the date, but apparently satoru remembers. he remembers enough to go get shit-faced drunk as if the memory is too much to bear.

does he do this every year? drink away his sorrows every anniversary of the day you left him? does he really still care that much? why hasn’t he moved on?

and then you stop thinking about it. it’s not your problem.

but then you just…can’t help but be a bit more gentle around him. it happens without your control. maybe it’s muscle memory. maybe you’re finally letting your muscles relax and do that involuntary thing of their own that they do.

evidently that’s to be more soft with the boy who broke your heart. except he’s a man now, you suppose. he should’ve been a man when you dated him—but you’re glad he grew up eventually. even if you couldn’t be there with him for it.

but you’re a bit more friendly with him now—you suppose you can coexist with your talkative neighbor that also happens to be your awful ex boyfriend. you answer him a bit more when he talks to you, ask him about his students when he brings them up—he brightens so much when you do. it’s….painfully endearing.

yuji is sweet, a little too kind for his own good. nobara is a little tough to soften up, but once you do, she loves tenfold. megumi is a grump, but he’s a real softie. yuta is a bit socially awkward, but he’s got a good heart. maki is all business and very studious, but she’s a determined young girl. panda is not a panda—his name is odd but he’s funny. toge is quiet, but he looks out for people.

they’re good kids. he cares a great deal about them.

and then you start to tell him about your job. how your boss is another baldy that’s annoying—just like the professor you both shared. he chuckles at that. your coworkers are a good gossip, but you’d never go hang out with them outside of work. well, maybe except for one—utahime is a nice person, even if a bit of a priss sometimes.

it’s nice, talking to him. he’s funny, makes banter easily like it’s second nature. sometimes….sometimes it feels like old times. you’re not so sure how you feel about that, but you think it’s not bad. you can be grown ups, the two of you. you can be adults and ignore your immature past. the hurt is still there, but it’s manageable now. doesn’t linger and doesn’t weigh on you anymore.

sometimes satoru still stares at you in that way he did all those years ago, sometimes he still stutters over his words and loses his train of thought when he meets your eyes. he still loves you—you knew that from the start.

you stopped loving him a long time ago. that’s what you thought, anyway—but sometimes seeing satoru is….too familiar. it makes you feel things you thought you buried away for good. maybe it’s just deja vu, maybe it’s just the history speaking for itself.

or maybe…maybe you’re starting to tread a more dangerous path. the one that led you to your first, and worst heartbreak. you can’t step foot on that path again, no matter what.

that’s what you tell yourself, anyway—but satoru and you are talking one night. in front of your doors, like usual. you’re excited from a raise at work, and he’s excited because his students have done exceptionally on their final exams and you’re both celebratory in spirit enough that it turns into a cheery hug—and then…and then you’re kissing.

that wasn’t supposed to happen, but it does. you don’t know who kisses who, but you’re both wrapped up in each other and your lips are pressed against the others and oh, he feels so, so familiar.

like home. even if it’s not always safe to be there anymore, it’s still your home. you can’t let go of that nostalgia.

and then his hands cup your cheeks and your arms wrap around his neck and suddenly he’s in your bed—your door was already unlocked and the two of you somehow managed to stumble through the entire apartment until your back hits your mattress. your place is similar enough to his that he finds your room without any issues.

it was never supposed to happen—the shedding of clothes and the desperately needy kisses. the way you held his face and he held you. the way he trembled as he touched you, scared he’d mess it up again. the way you laced your fingers and kissed him between his brows like old times.

and then he fucks you like he means it. has his head in the crook of your neck and sniffles into your skin, rolls his hips and makes you mewl his name while he tells you every good thing about you.

you’re beautiful, the prettiest he’s ever seen. you’re so soft when you love, so delicate with the ones who hold your affection, it’s too much for anyone to deserve. you’re laugh is like music, a melody that’s impossible to grow tired of. but the most important part? you look at everyone like they’re worth something—just for existing, just for being there with you and crossing your path. worth your time, and energy, and compassion. they never have to work for it.

it’s rare, finding someone like that. it’s even more rare to get them to fall in love with you—satoru has never stopped regretting letting that go.

he whispers that all through breathy moans and the occasional cracked sob. whimpers when your fingers lock into his hair and pull the strands when his swollen tip kisses that spot he never forgot how to find. you cum first, falling apart with a gasp—and he cums right after, like feeling you is what it takes to make him come undone.

you still do that thing you did—rubbing his back as he spills into you, soothing him as he pants harshly into your skin. the only difference is that you don’t kiss his head sweetly and call him yours. god, he misses that so, so badly.

when his body slumps over yours, it’s when it hits you, what you just did.

“oh no,” you breathe, “oh god. we….we shouldn’t have done that, should we?” you ask tiredly.

satoru’s lip is trembling—he can’t bear to have you regret him. not again.

“i love you,” he says desperately, “i…i never stopped.”

“obviously you didn’t love me enough,” you mumble, not looking at him. it’s something you’ve realized—looking satoru in his eyes makes you weak.

you can’t have that.

“i’ll love you more than enough now,” he promises.

“what if i say i don’t love you anymore, satoru?” you challenge, “it’s been years. i didn’t wait around for you.”

his breath shakes at that. you think you got him there, but apparently he’s determined. it shocks you.

“then i’ll love enough for the both of us.”

for a moment, you can’t help but think if only everyone could see him now. years later. gojo satoru begging you to let him love you hard enough that you don’t have to. being okay with half of you because that’s better than none of you.

it’s almost comical. maybe a little sad. entirely avoidable if he’d just been brave from the start.

“that’s not fair to you,” you sigh, “you’re an asshole but…but you don’t deserve that. you deserve someone who can love you—”

“then i’ll show you,” he grabs your hand, pressing it to his face as he looks at you with enough hope that it’s almost too cruel to crush it. even for someone like him. “i’ll show you how to love me again. it’ll be easier this time. i promise.”

there’s a tear that slips down his cheek—and then another and another and another. and your thumb, just like muscle memory, swipes it away.

you want to tell him—it’s always been so, so easy to love satoru. easier than anything in the world. easier than loving yourself. it came like second nature, flowed through your blood stream and pumped through your heart. you loved him so easily.

you wish he’d loved himself a little bit easier back then. maybe he’d have realized who was worth keeping and who wasn’t. maybe he’d be happier now—a selfish part of you thinks you could’ve been happier that way too.

“satoru,” you sigh, “i have more self respect these days.”

“i know,” he nods, “i’ll be good—so good. i promise. i’ll wake you up with breakfast in bed and we can have three cats and i’ll pay for the vet visits. just like you always wanted.”

you can’t help but chuckle at that. he’s always known how to be charming at the right times.

“and what about the fancy window i always wanted?”

“i’ll get you one of those too,” he swears, “find us a nice place by the school and your job and we’ll be the best cat parents ever. and i’ll be good. so good.”

“i can’t do that all again,” you shake your head, “crying over someone like you is not worth it.”

“i won’t make you cry,” he insists.

something in you screams to believe him—that voice from your youth. that one that never quite stopped falling in love. that one that can’t ever really let him go.

“you don’t deserve me,” you mumble, pulling him close. he tucks his head into your neck, kisses your skin and breathes you in like he needs you to live.

maybe he does.

“i know,” he murmurs. “but i love you. i’ll make you love me again.”

“good luck,” you snort—your hand weaves into his hair, and your lips kiss his head.

well….maybe he’s already succeeded.

[peachesofteal]

Cool Girl

Ghoap x female reader / 18+ / previous

The sunrise stabs under your eyelids with malicious intent.

You don’t have much of a hangover, but your face is still puffy, under eyes swollen. You’ve been crying all night, and it’s painfully obvious.

Not to mention the lack of sleep. The vomit induced by your overwhelming anxiety, the bile still scorching your throat. You haven’t slept more than an hour. You look like the walking dead.

You tried to have a serious talk with yourself around two o’clock in the morning. You told- no you promised- yourself you’d leave well enough alone. You’d put them out of your mind. You’d move on.

They never wanted you. So why are you so insulted that they did exactly what they said they would? You weren’t theirs. You’d never be theirs.

Good enough to keep in bed. Good enough to keep out of sight. But not someone they’d consider theirs.

You’re no one’s. You’re just… yours.

Which is fine. It’s more than fine. You’re cool. You don’t need them, or anyone.

Your hand won’t stop shaking though. It shakes when you turn on the water for the shower, shakes as you try to shave. It shakes through your first cup of tea and then your second, shakes when you curl up the couch and huddle under your blankets, staring blankly at reruns of some laugh tracked sitcom. It’s because you haven’t slept or you’re hungover or something-

And it only stops when your doorbell rings.

You slam your eyes shut. You’re not expecting anyone, and that alone makes you feel like there’s probably someone on the other side of the door that you decidedly do not want to see.

The glance through your peephole confirms your suspicions.

It’s Johnny. He’s standing squarely in front of your door, bouquet of flowers in his hand.

Your head starts to pound, and he knocks on the door.

“I know ye’re home, bonnie. I saw yer car in the garage.” You’re frozen on the other side, separated by a piece of metal and wood that suddenly feels less substantial than it ever has before.

When the lock doesn’t click, he knocks again. “‘m not leavin’ until I see ye.” You groan.

“Stalking me now?” You spit when you open the door and he grins sheepishly.

“Naw...” He doesn’t elaborate and you stand in the frame of the door, trying to block him from peering over you- though it’s no use. You watch his critical gaze take inventory of what he can in your flat, and then he returns his attention to you, holding out the flowers.

They’re tulips. Maybe twenty, twenty five stems, all in a spectacle of color. They’re beautiful, and your favorite.

It surprises you. That they even know that about you. That they would remember a comment you must have made in passing.

It gives you pause. It’s confusing.

“Got these for ye.” He’s… such a boy. A grown man, a decorated military man, a strong man but still… such a boy. He’s never looked more like a boy than he does now, eyes wide and nervous, shifting his weight from leg to leg. He blinks, eyelashes feathery and dark, and you’re left to wonder if he gets it from his mom or his dad. Does he have sisters? Brothers? Nieces or nephews? You ached for those pieces of them, before.

Now, the lingering questions fill you with embarrassment.

He steps forward, and you shrink back. His gaze flickers, and then clears, holding the overflowing bundle of colors towards you.

“Thanks.” You say stiffly, careful to avoid his fingers when you pull it free.

“Can I come in?”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.” He chews on his lip.

“Ye look tired, love. Did ye get any sleep?” You sniff, hand resting on your hip.

“I’m fine.”

“Ye dinnae look fine.”

“Why are you here?” You’re cracking with exasperation, legs going weak. You’re not strong enough to stand here and survive an onslaught.

“Need to talk with ye, like we said last night.”

“There’s nothing to talk about, like I said last night.” You parrot with a irritated exhale.

“Ye know that’s jus’ not true. We need to talk about what ye saw, what ye think ye saw-“

“What did I see? Since apparently you know what I’m thinking now.” You’re too tired for this. You don’t want to do this. You want to crawl back into bed and hide under your blankets.

“Ye think ye saw us with another woman, or on a date, but-“

“I saw your hands on another woman. I saw her smiling at you like-“ you shake your head. “It doesn’t matter what I saw,” he swallows, mouth pressing into an uncomfortable line, “I always knew this wasn’t real, that it didn’t mean anything but-“

“Ye agreed. Ye always said ye didnae want a relationship.” He reminds you sharply, and you nearly swallow your tongue.

“Yeah, I didn’t, so.” The lie is foul on your tongue, rancid and spoiled, but you give it life regardless. Fuck them. You’re fine.

“But yer mad ye saw us with another woman.” He raises an eyebrow, and you never wanted to punch someone so badly.

But instead of a rising tide of anger, you get an overwhelming wave of despair, and tears prick at the corner of your eyes.

“Ah, no, love. Please, please dinnae cry. ‘m sorry, this is such a mess. We never meant for any of this.” Your hand starts shaking again, trembling against the plastic wrapped around the stems, and Johnny’s expression changes from sad to worried. “What’s this?” He tries to reach, fingers grazing the back of your arm.

“N-nothing, I’m just tired.”

“Love-“

“Just… go away.” Your patience snaps, shatters, and his face falls. It almost makes your feel bad.

Almost.

[spiritsdiary]

— PRAISE with QIMIR/THE STRANGER

wc: 786 | content: p in v smut, i was again reasonably tipsy while writing this

❛❛good.” he breathes the word into the skin of your shoulder, watching intently as you work.

you wonder if he does it on purpose; if he’s feigning complete obliviousness to how suggestive he sounds. like right now— saying good like that when all you’ve done is properly mix a poison the way he taught you. maybe it’s because you’re a quick study when your reward is him.

when you first met qimir, you thought he was just like every other apothecary owner you utilized when necessary: clumsy, generally oblivious, a drunk who saw nothing wrong with being intoxicated before noon. to your defense, he played the part very well. it was only when you mentioned that you’d be extending your stay for a while and could use some work that you started to see the cracks in his facade.

spending so much time with him gave you a glimpse into his true persona— something darker, yes, but instead of scaring you off, it drew you in. you had a feeling that there was more to him underneath his baggy clothes and perpetually messy hair, but you never thought that all you’d have to do was let him teach you his trade in order to find out what more was.

“good,” he says again now as you insert the stopper into the vial of poison. “that’s perfect.”

you chew on your lip as you think about the last time he said that to you. “anything else you need from me?”

he hums, fiddling with the material of your sleeve at your wrist. “stay while i close up?”

you never understand how he’s able to get you to do what he wants so easily until you’re in bed with him.

his arms are so much more built than you’d imagined, his whole body really, and the first time he used that hidden strength to get you exactly where he wanted you, the words “thank you” genuinely slipped past your lips. you told yourself you were thanking the maker.

you do a lot of thanking the maker these days.

he moves differently in bed than he does in all other aspects of his life. here, he’s fluid, powerful, commanding. and he spares no detail.

“yes, yesyesyes,” he moans out when you sink down on him, his hands gripping your hips tight enough to leave bruises, slowly beginning to guide you back and forth. “just like this. you know how to do it.”

your hands are gripping his shoulders, anchoring yourself to him while he clutches at your back, and your hips seem to move with a will of their own. you don’t care if it exhausts you. if his pleasure is at your own expense.

“there you go, pretty girl,” he says, voice deep with desire, passion, for you. “let me see how good you are.”

you lean forward and press your lips to his, let him pry you open with his tongue, pull depraved sounds from your mouth. his hips cant up into yours as you do everything he taught you, everything that you know makes him feel good.

it makes you feel good too, knowing you’ve earned every gasp and moan and touch he gives you. he’s a different animal when it’s just the two of you, and you love knowing that you’re the only one that can bring it out of him.

“qimir,” you whine into his mouth, right when he hits that spot inside of you that has you seeing white. “good?”

you need to hear him say it. he needs to tell you.

“so good. so warm, so tight, so beautiful, fuck—” his hand is between your legs, thumb brushing you with practiced ease. “always my good girl.”

“only me?” you can’t think properly, not when it feels this good, this right to be so close to him, skin to skin, mouth to mouth, soul to soul with the way he reads your mind.

he nods, pushes your hair back from your face.

“only ever you.” he says it with such a passionate intensity, his dark eyes searching yours.

it sets you aflame, has you crying out mere moments later, collapsing into him as he gives you everything he has to give.

there’s something darker inside of him. a deep, yearning darkness prowling under his skin, simmering in his bones. you can practically feel it as you slide a hand over his chest, his pounding heart. like it’s calling to you.

“you always do so good for me,” he’s whispering into your hair, letting you press yourself against him. “sometimes i think i dreamt you up.”

you smile, kissing his neck just to make him shiver.

maybe there’s something darker inside of you too.

m.list

© spiritsdiary 2024. do not repost without permission.

[bunny584]

OBSESSED: YUTA (PT. II)

A/N: Special grade lover boy finally has you, his dream girl, in his hands. Surely he’ll be able to handle it…right?

S/N: This one is for the anon(s), the Yuuta girlies. I hope this means I get to rush Yuta Phi Alpha next year!! 🤭 (you can read part I here )

C/W: Yandere themes, aged up characters (21+), Mature, 18+

Any minute now.

You should be calling, any minute now.

Yuuta rolls his favorite pair of your underwear into a cylinder.

Even. Perfect.

He tucks it next to the 14 other perfectly even cylinders he’s taken from you.

An impressive collection, considering that it’s been only 3 months since he’s been back from Morocco.

3 months since you eviscerated the barrier between fantasy and reality.

You touched him. You kissed him. His building blocks came crashing down at your feet.

And yet, you still don’t see him.

It’s been torture.

Purgatory.

Falling back into the platonic, easy insteps of friendship. Breathy giggles. Air tight hugs. Feather light kisses.

On his cheek.

Friendly gestures as thin as the air on the summit of Mount Everest.

Leaving Yuuta the same way, every time.

Desperately tugging his cock.

Filling your stolen lingerie with his seed. Marking you. Branding you as his over and over again. In the confines of his quiet, sterile apartment.

Sullied by his lewd coping mechanisms. Babbling your praises day in and day out. The paintings on his walls know you by name.

Because you’re his.

Yuuta has chosen to love you every minute between sunrise and sunset and sunrise again. Ever since his cold met your warmth.

From afar. In the dark. Meticulously crafting the blueprint of your future together. Where you love him, freely. Openly. Without input from your friends or exes.

You need him.

Why else would he be the first person you call after every date?

Agonizing about whether you said the right thing. Or wore the right thing. Leaving a long list of people Yuuta has to take care of.

Not that he minds. He loves helping you.

Beautiful, silly girl.

Can’t you see?

He’s already created a gorgeous life for you two. He’ll give you the stars. The moon. A whole galaxy if you want it.

True, mutual love.

He just has to make you see it.

See him.

“There you are.” Your ringtone is his personal call bell.

Yuuta was starting to think you were going to use your girlfriend’s shoulder to cry on instead of him.

You were supposed to be out on a third date tonight. But you’re not. When it comes to picking up the pieces after your frivolous little flings — Yuuta is always your go to.

“Hey you.”

His palm caresses the heavy bulge in his pants. Tone is steady. Unassuming.

“Yuuta?” Soft sobs intertwine with his name, and it’s decadent.

“Hey. Hey.” Yuuta’s fingers impatiently tug down his zipper. Adams Apple sliding down the column of his neck, swallowing a moan.

You sound so pretty like this.

“What’s wrong, beautiful?”

“Can I…can I just come over?”

“Yes..of course you can.” Each word rolls off his tongue carefully. A stark contrast to the storm winds rattling his heart around its cage.

Broken, teary whines kiss his ears and glide down his spine. Yuuta pulls his cock free. Smearing pearly beads of pre cum around his swollen head. His body is so well trained for you. Primed to your voice. Your touch. Your gaze.

“You’re the best, Yuu.”

A satisfied grin blooms across Yuuta’s face. He uncurls his long fingers from around his base.

No more self indulgence. Not yet.

Tonight is about you.

“See you soon.”

—-

Is this wrong?

This is wrong.

…right?

Your fingers plait together. Shifting weight between your feet.

Staring at Yuuta’s door, knowing your dark-haired, sleepy-eyed friend is probably watching the clock. Anticipating your arrival.

Maybe you shouldn’t vent to him about other guys.

Maybe you shouldn’t use him to soothe your broken heart.

But he’s so soft with you.

Patient. With open ears, open arms. His capacity for you seems limitless.

Always peering at you with those deep set, graphite eyes. Opaque, winter fog. Quick to muddle your sense of direction if you look into them long enough.

Kind, but so, so unsettling.

Before you can reason yourself away from his apartment, Yuuta pulls open his front door.

“Hey pretty,” his mellow greeting is a warm weighted blanket around your shoulders.

“Hi Yuu,” your arms snake around his neck. Because it’s comfortable. He’s comfortable.

His toned arms sink into your lower back. As if your waist was tailored to the contour of his muscle. A low sigh breezes against your neck.

“Come in.”

Yuuta is hushed. He always is. Perpetually whispering secrets for your ears only.

You follow the gentle sorcerer into his apartment. Low lit. Shadows from the candle wicks dancing along his walls. Beckoning you into his lair.

“I made you some tea, is that okay?”

Yuuta’s lithe fingers fidget against his thighs. Almost 4 years of friendship and he still hasn’t shaken his nervous ticks around you.

Sweet boy.

“Yes please,” your smile is already less gloomy.

Yuuta mirrors you with a lopsided smile of his own. Small dimples dusting a boyish charm over his otherwise haunting features. He shuffles to the kitchen. And you take in his broad shoulders. Lean, muscular physique.

He really is handsome.

Eerily beautiful.

Effervescent porcelain skin, deepened from the Moroccan sun. Acute, angular jaw line. High cheekbones. Thick, raven hair that’s always a little storm-tossed.

A crescent moon against a clear night sky. Watching over souls trapped in their own personal graveyards.

There’s something about him that always seems…heavy.

Constantly balancing the weight of the world on his back.

Or something.

You settle in the couch just as Yuuta materializes into the living room. Stealthy, quiet footsteps. If he wasn’t the one who let you in you could be convinced that you’re alone in his apartment.

“Be careful, it’s still hot.” Yuuta warns. His eyes linger on your lips. Memorizing each pucker.

He’s so close.

Sweet steam kisses his face with each blow. And he sits there. Perfectly opposite of your mug.

Unphased. Unblinking. Still.

Close enough to take a sip of his own.

“Thank you for letting me come over on short notice, Yuu.”

Your thighs startle beneath his wintry touch. Both palms, larger than you remember, knead the fleshiest part of your hips.

“Don’t thank me. I’m here for you.” His tone descends. A deep drawl laced with conviction.

“I’ll always be here for you.” Yuuta repeats, pads of his fingers indent into your skin.

Your eyes metronome between his.

Slowly evanescing into his firm, glacial touch. Hazy from his half lidded gaze. There’s no time space continuum between you two.

“Yuuta—“

“Tell me what happened.” Shards of glass rain down his dry windpipe. Willing with every cell in his body to remain neutral.

The gates open.

You’re so animated. It’s captivating. How you feel so many things.

The way your eyes flutter while telling him about how you were stood up. A call came out of the blue. A short, unsatisfying cancellation of your dinner date.

And Yuuta leans in. Nodding. Petting your mouth-fucking-watering thighs. Forcing himself to remember to move his eyebrows. And blink. And look away from Aphrodite every so often.

He knows the story.

He wrote the story.

And for the record, gorgeous. Your crush sounds pathetic when he’s begging for mercy.

Weak.

A man like that is beneath you.

Yuuta’s jaw loses tone.

Pretty crystals line your eyes. Your bottom lip is swollen. Red like Merlot stains on a bottle cork. Your mini skirt rides up a quarter inch higher by the second. Mostly from his fingers. Every time you gesticulate he caresses just a bit higher.

White noise fills the space between Yuuta’s ears. He’s inebriated. Incapacitated by the honey that seeps from your mouth every time you speak.

And he can’t keep ignoring the way his cock is thrashing against its barrier. Begging. Pleading for reprieve.

The Apple in the Garden of Eden.

And the consequences of his inevitable bite mean nothing to him.

“Please,” Yuuta interrupts. Barely above a whisper.

Your eyebrows crawl together at the center of your barbie doll face. So oblivious. Blissfully unaware of how you fuck his brain to nothing but smooth, empty, mush.

“I’m sorry I’m rambling—“

“No. No.”

Yuuta’s body moves before his mind can catch up. He slides off the couch to his knees. Nudging his hips between your legs. His muscular arms hook beneath your legs at lightening speed.

You have no time to gather words when he pulls you to the edge of the couch.

“Yuuta?” Delicate hands fly to his shoulders. Steadying yourself in this new, sudden position.

You’re heady. Shocked. Glassy eyed. Fully flushed from your button nose to ears.

You have no idea how addicting you are. Working sticky heat out of Yuuta’s needy length without even touching him.

He presses his lips into your inner thigh. Instinctively gripping your hips forward when you reflexively jump back.

“So perfect,” Goosebumps cascade along where his moist mouth traces.

“Y-yuuta, we...we’re friends.”

Yuuta drags his drunken gaze to meet yours. Resting his head in your lap. Feathering his icy hands up your butter soft skin.

“You’re so pretty.” He murmurs. Purposefully evading your observations.

He has some observations of his own.

Yuuta doesn’t miss the way his praise affects you. How your breath hitches. And your nails dig into his shoulders. Pupils blown to a full moon.

And the slow growing damp spot at the apex of your pink cotton panties. Yuuta can’t bring himself to stare at your precious rose. Not yet. He’ll cum in his pants if he looks now.

His slender nose traces up your quivering leg. And you bloom. Thighs drifting further apart. Making space for him. Inviting him in. Rewarding him.

“I can make you feel better.”

You gift him a pitiful little whine in response. Timid fingers travel into his nape. Yuuta’s heavy eyelids curtain his vision.

The room is spinning.

And Yuuta is kneeling at the only alter he will worship at. The only alter that will ever receive his devotion.

Those years of waiting. Wanting. Watching. Unsent love letters. Saved texts. Practiced conversations in the mirror. Stolen trinkets. Pieces of you he’s kept along the way.

It was all worth it.

Because the love of his life is spread open for him. Vulnerable. Needy. Melting beneath his touch like your body knows it belongs to him.

Yuuta couldn’t hold back if he wanted to.

“D..do you know how perfect you are?” Yuuta asks the warm, sore flesh beneath his lips. Admiring the trail of bruises he’s left up your inner thigh.

“Yuu, you don’t mean that.” You mewl and squirm like a brand new kitten. Mousing his hair between your fingers.

“I mean it. Y..you’re so…” his voice trails off when his trembling, pale digits finally press into your wet heat.

“S-soft. You’re so soft.” Drool pooling in his mouth chips away at his coherence.

Yuuta’s stormy eyes find the meeting point of his hand and your sex. The sight alone bucks his diamond hard shaft off of his leg. The friction from his damp boxers and rigid jean blurs his vision.

“Oh pretty girl.”

“Mmghhhh Y-Yuu..ah god.”

Both of your husky musings collide. Yuuta drives his long two fingers into your accepting, driveling opening.

He immediately curls up into your pleasure point. Eliciting the most dreamy, listless curve to your back. Tossing your head into the pillows behind you. Gripping his roots into your hand.

“Y-yuu, I need…please.”

Whimpers wrap around Yuuta’s cock and jerks him out of his fucked out state.

He didn’t realize he was open-mouth staring at how your cunt squeezes and tugs on his fingers. Leaking your dew onto your thighs. His fingers. His couch. Saliva streams down the corner of his mouth like he’s a starved animal.

He blinks up at you. Debauched. Lusty. Filthy in the way your hips are undulating against him. Taking your pleasure right out of his hands.

“I need…I need to hear you say it baby.”

Yuuta swipes his tongue against your clothed pussy. And you nearly buck off the couch.

“Please, y-yuu,” diamonds line your eyes again. So much pleasure in the pain of being teased.

“Say it, baby.” His breath kisses your swollen clit. “T-tell me what you need.”

“Lick..please, suck…Yuu,” He’s never heard a more beautiful plea. And his restraint was already teetering on a hair string.

Yuuta’s other free hand rips your panties away from your dewy folds. And his spine is set on fire.

The dull ache in his pelvis crashes into him like he’s at the deadly meeting point of the Atlantic, Pacific and Southern oceans.

“So..so pre..god.” Nonsensical words. Unintelligible noises.

Then his tongue circles your bud and he is gifted a taste of your elixir.

Somewhere between his pathetic sobs into your pussy, your gorgeous melody filling the room and how you grind your pretty petals along the length of his tongue — Yuuta isn’t sure he’ll be able to survive this.

At some point he pulled his cock free from its restraint. Spearing high and heavy in the air. Constant needy dribbles of pre cum staining his shirt, rolling down the length of his shaft. One or two drops even escaping to the floor between his knees.

He hasn’t stroked his length once. And he is this close to release.

And it is infuriating.

Yuuta hates how closely he is riding his peak right now.

Because he is not nearly done with you yet.

He wants you on his tongue. On his cock. For hours. He needs to coax orgasm after orgasm out of his one true love.

“Y-yuuta,” your right hand pulls at his head with all your strength. Yuuta has to bite back a whine.

His murky gaze meets your darkened one.

“Inside.” A clear, high-pitched command.

And Yuuta couldn’t dream of denying you. Of saying no to you, ever.

“O-okay, yes baby.”

He stumbles to his feet. Shakily working his jeans and boxers into a pile around his feet.

Your wide eyes and oh shaped mouth stains his face cherry red.

Why are you looking at him like that?

Is he not enough?

Were your other lovers bigger?

He’ll get rid of them if—

“Yuuta…will it fit?”

You shatter his spiral to stardust. He can breathe again for the first time since you came over.

Yuuta eagerly chases you up the length of the couch. Until he’s nestled comfortably in your legs. Your heat kissing along his drenched rod. Mixing your arousal with his.

“It’ll fit, because you’re made for me”

Yuuta rasps through tight lips. Burying his head into the gentle slope of your neck.

How is everything going exactly right and completely wrong at the same time?

He is more disciplined than this.

He is supposed to be in control.

But your warm, sweet petals sheath his length.

And you begin to circle your hips underneath him. Rubbing your nectar along his cock like you are marking him as yours.

Yuuta loses his sense of reality.

Unrelenting waves of heat ram into his groin. His cock stutters and beats against your precious cunt. He can’t bring himself to look you in the eye. Because everything dampens.

“No…n—no no wait!”

Yuuta smears protests into your neck. Hips rutting against your opening. Pressing you deep within the cushions. Rabid, uncontrolled movements. Ascending in pace faster than you can keep up.

“Fuck, fuck..”

“Yuuta? Are you cu—“

You have your answer the moment his hips hover over yours. Cupping his thick, blushing tip.

He fails to contain his explosion. Yuuta is mortified when stark white globs contrast your black mini skirt.

Air settles thick between you.

Circulating breaths between his clipped and your shocked ones. Decades pass between you before silence is broken.

“Don’t worry, Yuu! This doesn’t change anything.” Your smile is light and playful. Kind in the way that makes him fall in love with you again.

But…what do you mean?

Of course this changes everything.

He can please you.

He knows that.

This was just…

This was just one time.

The first time.

Amidst the cyclone of thoughts decimating Yuuta's brain, you’ve managed to wiggle around him. Currently lacing up your strappy heels.

Yuuta’s mouth lolls open but words fail to materialize.

Once you’re satisfied with your appearance, you prance over to his side. Still frozen on the couch with a handful of his cum. In the messy remnants of his unwanted peak.

Your lips meet his cheek. And your next words run his blood subzero.

“We’re still friends! We’ll always be friends, Yuu.”

Yuuta’s steely eyes laser into your retreating figure with sniper precision.

Beautiful, silly girl.

You two will never be just friends.

[oddinary4bts]

Chasing Cars | ch 12 (jjk)

☆summary: when your brother goes to study on a semester abroad, your life collides with his best friend Jeon Jungkook, who's coincidentally your roommate. Will you survive the collision, or will you crumble into dust?

☆pairings: brother's best friend!Jungkook x younger sister!female reader

☆rating: 18+ (minors DNI, some chapters have mature content)

☆genre: forbidden love?au, college!au, slice of life!au, smut, angst (as usual a lot of it), fluff

☆warnings: jungkook is stubborn and it leads to some sort of miscommunication?, reader feels cheated on, alcohol, clubbing, cursing, promises to exes fuck everything up basically

☆word count: 7.3k

☆a/n: new week, new angst-filled chapter :') I hope you guys still love it :') thank you to @moonleeai for beta-ing, you're the best <3

☆series masterpost

☆add yourself to the taglist here!

☆☆☆☆☆

If I lay here If I just lay here Would you lie with me and just forget the world?

Chasing Cars, Snow Patrol

☆☆☆☆☆

Saturday, May 4th  

You’ve barely slept. Whenever you close your eyes all you can picture is Jungkook and Gabrielle. Gabrielle and Jungkook. 

Just a friend from high school…

You don’t know why, but that lie is the one that hurts the most. Maybe because you thought he was opening up to you, telling you about his past, but he’d shrugged it off, lied about it like it was just second nature. It’s sour, bitter, and you think you might hate him for it.

You feel cheated on. You’re fully aware that you weren’t dating, that you were just a maybe, but you hate that it was taken from you just like that, in a stupid video call from your drunk brother…

It really does taste vile, bitter, sour, and everything in between.

Ria left earlier today. She had to work, but she told you to invite Yoongi or Nabi, to not isolate yourself. You don’t feel like seeing anyone - yes, you could be miserable with Yoongi, but you don’t want to hear the told you so that your friends will say in the aftermath of what happened last night.

Taehyung didn’t even text you once. You wonder if he saw you crying, before Ria hung up the call for you. If he did, you think he’s unbelievably cruel for not even texting you anything, but then again maybe that had been his plan all along. To show you Jungkook’s true nature, the one he’d hidden from you in the last few months.

Were there any other girls? If he’d so easily kissed his ex after just a few days in Paris, does that mean he might have easily done the same thing here, with other people?

You feel nauseous. Thinking about everything makes you feel nauseous.

As does the text that sits on your phone, sent early this morning, while you were in and out of your troubled sleep.

[4:23 am] JK: can we facetime tonight

You haven’t replied. You don’t even want to talk to him, or see his face. You don’t want those treacherous doe eyes to ever meet your gaze again and yet…

Yet you want some closure. You want to tell him off, to break him like he broke you, but that would be assuming he felt for you the way that you did. Which, you highly doubt since he kissed his ex like you’d never been in the picture to begin with.

You sigh, rubbing your face, trying to keep the tears in. They keep sneaking up on you, like you’re not done grieving for what could have been, and frankly, you don’t know if you’ll ever be. You reckon the first step in the right direction might be to seek that closure, to talk to him and be done with it, permanently.

You didn’t think there was a time when you’d have to be done with Jungkook. Everything that you were building, everything, now just rubbles that will slowly turn to dust.

And so you finally open your phone, heart squeezing uncomfortably as the conversation with him pops up. You ignore the texts from before yesterday night, those where you believed he was falling in love, too, and you reply,

[2:09 pm] You: sure at what time

You put your phone away after you press send, sighing deeply as if that might shake the weight of the world off your shoulders. You figure you should stop rotting in bed - it’s not like it’s helped make you feel better - and so you get up, heading to the kitchen.

You’re not hungry. You’re not hungry, but when you see the spicy ramyeon he bought to help train your spice tolerance, you can’t help but crave some. Because you don’t want to let him go, don’t want to let go of all of him. So you put some water on the stove, preparing the noodles as if that might change what happened last night.

It doesn’t. The only thing it does is make you realize that you’ve indeed improved your spice tolerance, as you eat and you barely even have to sniffle. It makes you sad, far too sad, because what was the point?

What was the point of developing a spice tolerance if you won’t eat with him anyway?

Tears pool in your eyes, and this time you don’t bother keeping them in. You let them flow freely, memories of him swirling in your mind. You think about every time he cooked for you - that first time on Valentine’s Day. You think about New York, about every night you’ve spent cuddled up in his arms.

There won’t be any new nights, any new memories. Everything that you and Jeon Jungkook once were is in the past now, to forever haunt you.

You push the noodles away. You’ve only eaten half of the bowl, but the thought of eating more makes you feel sick to your stomach. Instead, you drop your head on your arms on the table, body rocking with sobs.

You don’t even know why you’re crying so much. Why your body holds so much pain for what Jungkook did, when part of you had been expecting it all along. Yet you break and break, like you’re glass thrown from the roof of a building, exploding upon impact with the ground.

It takes a while before you stop crying, the post-tears clarity filling your brain. You straighten, wipe your cheeks and the snot on your upper lip, and then you get up. You throw away the rest of the noodles, and then walk back to your room, trying to hold onto the clarity. 

You slow down in front of Jungkook’s door, imagining him to be behind. To never have gone to Paris…

It only makes you want to cry again, but you’re done crying. 

You don’t want to be crying for someone that cheated on you.

You finally make it to your room. Your phone awaits you on the night table, face up to the ceiling so that you can see that Jungkook texted you multiple times. You steel yourself, grabbing your phone, and then read his texts.

[2:28 pm] JK: we’re at the restaurant rn [2:28 pm] JK: so maybe in an hour and a half? [2:29 pm] JK: we finally went to the catacombs today [2:29 pm] JK: you were right it’s hella creepy

It’s like he’s unaware that he broke your heart, that he destroyed the trust you had in him. It makes you think, did you imagine everything that happened yesterday?

Was it all just a nightmare?

You wish it was, but the tear stains on your sheets are proof enough that it truly happened.

[2:35 pm] You: call me whenever

You spend the next hour lying in bed, looking up at the ceiling, trying to chase him out of your thoughts. Trying to figure out what you’ll tell him: there’s no way you’ll pursue a relationship with him now that that happened. But maybe he’ll have an explanation, reassurance that not everything was a lie…

You don’t know if that would make you feel better. Maybe relieved in some way, yes, but the throbbing in your chest would likely not be lessened by such reassurance. You fear it’d be worse. It would mean losing something that was real, and you don’t know if you’d survive it.

When your phone finally rings, you consider not picking up. You consider ghosting him, disappearing from his life before he has the power to hurt you more, but you’re weak for him.

Far too weak, and you pick up after a few seconds.

He’s obviously called on Facetime, and the moment he comes into view, a soft smile on his lips, you feel like you’re breaking all over again.

The last time you saw those lips they were pressed against another girl’s mouth.

“Hey,” he greets you.

You can’t find it in you to speak around the lump in your throat, so you just offer him a tight-lipped smile. He frowns, eyebrows almost touching over his eyes.

“Is something wrong?”

Of course he’d notice, but… is he that oblivious? Anger cuts through the sadness, and you raise your eyebrows.

“Don’t you have something to tell me?” you ask.

His frown deepens. “I…” he trails off, and then something changes in his demeanour. The frown disappears, his lips part and his eyes widen, filling with fear. “You… Is this about Gabrielle?”

You laugh, so bitterly you taste it on your tongue. “Are you being serious?”

“Yes?” he lets out.

He looks terrified. It’s a strange sight, and it makes unease settle deep in your stomach.

“Tae called me last night,” you reveal.

“Oh.” He pulls on his piercings, eyes dropping. “Oh.”

“What the fuck was that, Jungkook?”

Your question strikes him deep. You see it in the way his shoulders drop, like he’s burdened with the weight of the world.

“Nothing happened,” he tries.

But he doesn’t meet your gaze.

“I saw you kissing her,” you spit. “Don’t fucking lie to me.”

“Peach…”

You scoff, yet the nickname brings tears to your eyes. “What the fuck was that?” you ask again, and you hate that your vision is turning blurry, hate the way that you are so completely, irreversibly weak for him.

“It really isn’t what you think it is,” he says.

“You spent the evening locked up in a room with her.”

He closes his eyes, and his phone shifts just enough so that you see his surroundings better. He’s in a park from the looks of it, much like he’d been when you’d facetimed on Wednesday.

“I promise it really isn’t what you think it is,” he insists. He meets your gaze, his big doe eyes so pained you almost want to believe him.

You sigh deeply, and a single tear falls on your cheek. You dry it with the back of your hand. “What was it then?”

A muscle feathers on his jaw as he clenches it, yet he remains silent. His lips stretch in a thin line, horror filling his gaze.

“I really thought…” 

You can’t finish the sentence. I really thought we’d work. You can’t finish it, as your heart breaks and breaks and breaks until you’re back to where you were last night, struggling to breathe as you’d watched him kissing her.

“I made a promise to her years ago,” he admits, his voice wobbly. “I can’t tell anyone, but I swear, peach, it’s not what you think it is. I’d never do that to you.”

“But you did!”

His mouth opens and closes a few times, like he wants to say something but can’t.

“I can’t…” you trail off because you don’t want to say it. 

You don’t want to be the one to kill the relationship when it hasn’t even started yet. Though you reckon he killed it when he kissed her.

“I can’t be with you,” you whisper, as if the words can’t be uttered aloud.

“Peach…”

“Stop calling me that,” you burst. “Stop fucking calling me that when you basically cheated.”

He frowns, his jaw clenching again. “We weren’t even exclusive.”

“Excuse me?”

Undiluted rage consumes every inch of your body, taking away the pain. All there is is the blaze of anger, and it burns and burns until you think you might turn to embers.

“I don’t know why I said that,” he immediately replies, eyes so wide he looks like a deer in headlights. He takes a deep breath and swallows as the movement of his Adam’s apple shows. “Please just trust me on this.”

“No, Jungkook,” you say. “I can’t trust you when it took you all of a few days with your ex to end up kissing her.” You close your eyes, shaking your head. “You told me Gabrielle was just a friend.”

“And she is!” he says. “She really is, peach. She’s nothing like you.”

“Why the fuck did you kiss her then?” you ask, blinking away tears the second you open your eyes again.

“She kissed me,” he answers. “She kissed me when Tae opened the door. I didn’t even know he was on the phone with you.”

“You’re aware that it sounds like lame-ass excuses?” You scoff, shaking your head again. “I can’t fucking believe you. I should have listened to Colton.”

You see the blow that it is to him. His waterline turns silver, and he clenches his jaw hard. His shoulders drop even more, and you think you hear the sound of breaking.

You doubt he deserves to be breaking over his own mistakes.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers. “Peach, I’m sorry. I’ll make it up to you as soon as I’m home, and then we can…”

“There’s no we,” you interject. “There’s no we anymore.”

“Please.” He’s begging. You never thought you’d see a day when Jeon Jungkook would beg for you, and it hurts fiercely, replacing the anger.

You’re on a roller coaster, and you don’t think you’ll ever be able to get down. 

“What did you promise her, Kook?” you ask, your voice infinitesimally small.

He closes his eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose. “I promised her I’d never tell anyone. So I can’t tell you.”

You’re crying again, though this time it sweeps in softly, gently. No rocking sobs, no shaking hands. Just tears, heavier than the sun, rolling down your cheeks.

“Then there is no we anymore,” you whisper.

Because you can’t be in the shadow of his ex. There can’t be secrets between the two of you - especially not when his parents want him to marry her.

“Peach, please.”

“Stop, Jungkook.” You shake your head as more tears spill from your eyes. “Stop.”

“But I can’t lose you,” he says, and you think you spy a tear on his cheek too.

It feels out of place, like it’s a waterfall in the desert, or maybe oxygen in space.

“I can’t be with someone who keeps secrets from me, Jungkook.” You pause, taking a deep breath in to give yourself courage.

“But it’s just…” he trails off, and you watch as defeat takes over him.

You wonder if he ever had to fight for anyone before. If he even has it in him to do it. Though you don’t think you’d want to be with him even if he fought for you. 

Not after last night.

“It really is nothing,” he finishes, though he sounds just as unconvinced as you are and that, most of all, tells you that it is truly over.

You and Jeon Jungkook weren’t meant to be together in this universe after all. You should have known - you saw the signs and chose to ignore them. Maybe because your pink-tinted glasses coloured the red in such a way that it became the most beautiful colour you’d ever seen.

But now that the glasses are gone, you think, were you just blindsided all along?

“Have fun on the rest of your trip, Jungkook,” you whisper.

“Peach…”

“Do not ever call me that again,” you say softly, but you mean it.

You can’t afford him calling you that.

He tries your name, but you shake your head no. He curses underneath his breath, clearly unaware that he did it loud enough for you to hear, and then says, “So that’s it?”

You shrug, like you don’t care at all when in reality it’s taking everything in you not to break down right now. “That’s it,” you confirm. “We don’t even have to tell Tae.”

He nods. “Okay.”

Okay.

Everything, crashing down into a single flat word. Everything, ending on a note of heartbreak that rings and rings in your head until you think you might go insane.

You should have known you weren’t the muse behind the song, behind the poem and the art. You’d always been meant to break away, weren’t you?

You don’t remember hanging up. All you remember is staring at your reflection on the screen, and the sound of your breaking heart in the background.

*****

The thing with the end, it’s that it never really is just the end. The end of something is the beginning of something else, and sometimes the new beginning is better, sometimes it’s worse.

You think beginning your life post-Jungkook in a club might be good. The distraction of the flashing lights, loud music and alcohol is an effective one, yet you know it for what it truly is: escapism.

You don’t know how Ria and Nabi convinced you. You do like clubbing, but Nabi hates it. So maybe it was the fact that she suggested it, that she said it’d be fun that made you want to go. You even invited Yoongi, but Yoongi said he wanted to have a night in, so it’s just you girls tonight, and you reckon it has to be enough.

You follow Nabi past the coat check, waiting for Ria as she drops off her own jacket. A few seconds later Ria meets with you, and she hooks arms with you both to head towards the bar.

“Let’s get some shots before we go dancing,” she suggests, almost screaming so that you can hear her over the sound of the music.

“Dancing?” Nabi lets out.

“What do you think clubbing is for?” Ria teases, and you offer a half-hearted smile at that.

In other circumstances you likely would have laughed, but a smile is a good start, no?

“I don’t know,” Nabi grumbles.

You reach the bar, and you stand behind a group of four guys who are also waiting for shots, or so it seems. You glance at them, and your gaze meets that of the one who’s leaning against the bar, looking your way. You politely smile out of reflex, looking away a second later as you try to focus on Ria and Nabi’s now surprisingly heated discussion about the pros and cons of clubbing.

You think clubbing is good. Clubbing is empty mind, busy body, and right now it’s all you need.

It’s all you need not to run back to the Facetime call this afternoon, and the finality of Jungkook’s path in your life.

You close your eyes, take a deep breath and slowly let it out. Though your heart is aching - it hasn’t stopped since this afternoon - you’ve been good at ignoring it. At pretending that you’re fine, that you didn’t lose something that mattered to you far more than you should have let it to begin with.

You don’t think Jungkook deserved the devotion you had for him. Not when lying to you, when refusing to tell you the whole truth is more important to him. And you’ve gone down a spiral after the call. Stalking Gabrielle on social media, understanding why he kissed her in the first place.

If you were even a little bit gay, you too would probably want to kiss her. She’s attractive, elegantly so, in the same way that all people who are born into old money are. She’s from the same universe as Jungkook, has a beautiful smile and striking green eyes that you can only envy. Her hair - somewhere between blonde and red - is also amazing, probably because she has the money to maintain a good hair care and skincare routine.

You do have your own skincare routine too, but nothing that having a lot of money can pay for.

“Hey, you girls want shots?” one of the guys says, mostly in your direction.

Maybe because Ria and Nabi are still bickering next to you.

“Huh…” you let out, heart momentarily stumbling in your chest as you look at Ria next to you.

You nudge her, and she finally acknowledges the guy, staring him up and down once before smiling her ‘I’m on a mission’ smile. It works right away: the guy smirks, extending a hand for her to shake.

“I’m Jacob.”

She unhooks her arms from yours and Nabi’s, shaking his hand. “Ria. And this is Y/n and Nabi.”

You nod your head and wave weakly in greetings, and Jacob mirrors the motion before setting his gaze on Ria again. 

“So, do you want them shots or not?” he asks.

She tilts her head to the side prettily. “Sure, we’ll take them.”

And that’s how you find yourself downing shots with guys that look straight out of a frat - Jacob, Chad, Elijah and Lucas. Lucas is the one who smiled at you earlier, and he easily finds his way to your side as you drink the shots.

After that first round, Lucas suggests a second one, and you all end up downing Jaggerbombs, the sweetness of the Red Bull contrasting the taste of the alcohol in just the right way. Ria suggests heading to the dancefloor next, and no amount of pleading gaze from you and Nabi makes her change her mind.

She truly is on a mission, and you think it might be partly because she needs to stop thinking about Seokjin. Not that you would ever tell it to her face though.

You end up dancing with Nabi, both of you slightly uncomfortable with the unknown males. In another world, you’d probably be dancing with Lucas, indulging in his company, but right now the last thing you want is to sidle close to a man.

Pretending isn’t making you forget how, just a little under a week ago, you were breathing Jungkook in like he could be the oxygen in your lungs. 

You tense. You fucking tense, and Nabi immediately notices, leaning in to say in your ear, “Everything okay?”

You shrug. “I’d do without the guys, but I guess it was to be expected with Ria in a club.”

Nabi winces, offering you an apologetic look. “Do you want to go?”

“No,” you say, shaking your head. You even snort at the way her features fall in disappointment. “Do you?”

“I don’t know,” she admits.

The song ends, blending into another one, and you pull her to the side as a girl walks behind her, parting your group.

“Do you want to go to the bathroom?” you suggest.

She pouts, looking up to the ceiling as if in deep thought, then nods her head enthusiastically. “Yup, let’s do that.”

You chuckle, and then you pull her towards Ria. Ria glares at you when you pull her away from Jacob, yet leans in when you make to speak to her.

“We’re going to the bathroom,” you tell her.

You don’t give her a choice. You grab her hand, pulling her behind you as Nabi leads the way to the bathroom. 

The music isn’t as loud in the hallway, the red lights giving Nabi’s white top a tint that makes it just a little creepy. There’s already a line, and you stand at the end of it, turning to face Ria.

“Can we do no guys tonight?” you ask her.

Her mouth falls open. “Oh. I’m sorry. I didn’t even think-”

“Don’t worry about it,” you reassure her.

She still looks apologetic, and it lingers for longer than just the bathroom trip - you have to pull her in a dance after you’ve taken more shots for her to stop looking forlorn. She’s reluctant at first, pouting, and you pull her closer.

“What’s wrong?” you ask.

“I’m really sorry,” she repeats. “I’m so dumb sometimes.”

You offer her a scolding look. “You’re not. Besides, it’s mostly for Nabi that I asked that.”

Ria glances towards Nabi, who’s dancing next to you but completely oblivious to the conversation. “Right.”

And that is that. Ria recovers her playful mood, and you dance and laugh and drink with your friends. You think Jungkook slips out of your thoughts on the fourth shot you down, and by the sixth, your mind is swimming in way too much drunk bliss to even feel the ache in your chest. It’s liberating - you feel like a bird who’s flying for the first time, and so you cling to the feeling as best as you can.

Nabi decides to leave before you and Ria, Namjoon picking her up on his way back from Yoongi’s place, where they apparently gamed together. You don’t care - you’re drunk enough to want to ride into the sunrise, to party until it’s light outside and the world has forgotten about your existence.

Luckily for you, Ria is one for such parties as well, and so you dance and dance and dance, taking another shot ten minutes after Nabi left. 

This time, when Ria pulls you back towards the group of guys, you follow her grudgingly. You even let the dancing tide push you closer to Lucas, who leans in and says, “Hey you”, in a way that makes you think maybe true solace lies in another person’s lips.

It’s early. Far too early. But you’re also far too drunk to care, and so when he pulls you closer to dance with him, you let him do so. You let him sway your hips to the music, let him lean his forehead against yours. Your eyes flutter shut, and you breathe in the same air, and the rhythm is everlasting.

You sigh in contentment. You’re back in New York, back at that DJ show you’d attended with Jungkook. It’s his hands you imagine on your hips, his breath that you breathe in, his sweaty forehead that rests against yours.

It’s him. Because it’ll always be him.

He kisses you, and you kiss him back, hands grabbing at his shirt. He kisses you all wrong - the lack of piercings a stark contrast to your usual.

It hurts. It hurts, and the hole in your chest gapes open wide.

You pull away from the kiss, eyes snapping open to see Lucas’s startled face. His eyes are brown, but they’re not Jungkook’s shade. And he doesn’t have that small scar on his left cheek, or the eyebrow piercing. He doesn’t have the mole under his mouth, or the doe eyes that you fell in love with.

“Shit,” you let out.

“Did I do something I shouldn’t?” Lucas asks, and he lets go of you immediately, as if you burn him.

“No,” you reassure him, yet panic is swelling in you, like the tide when the moon is high. “I just…” You shake your head, letting out a sound you know to be a broken sob. “Just got out of a relationship.”

“Babe,” Ria says from behind you, stepping in between you and Lucas. “Everything okay?”

“I want to go home,” you tell her.

She doesn’t know that you mean to him. She can’t know - you can’t even allow yourself to think so. Yet you can’t help it, the alcohol inhibiting the control you had on your emotions until you’re crying on the dancefloor, just a heartbroken twenty-something who might have flown too close to the sun.

“Please,” you add when she doesn’t react, just looks at your tears like they are foreign entities.

But then she snaps out of her drunken daze, and she pulls you away from the dancefloor, away from the reminders of Jungkook. She helps you get your coat while you sniffle to the side, your eyes red-rimmed. And then she helps you get into the Uber home, holding your hand all the way.

She walks you up to your apartment, but the second you’re inside Jungkook is everywhere, and you need the loneliness. You need to be alone, you need to be able to indulge one last time. So you reassure her, tell her that you’ll be fine, that you can hang out tomorrow, and then you push her out the door.

It takes you thirty minutes to shower and take your makeup off, and another five minutes trying to convince yourself that you should sleep in your bed.

You lose the fight, and you fall asleep in Jungkook’s bed, crying softly as his scent wraps around you like the embrace of a ghost gone too soon.

Tuesday, May 7th 

You’ve slept in Jungkook’s bed every day since Saturday, chasing him like you used to chase cars around his head. This morning, when you woke up, you made the bed, took one last look into this part of your life and then closed the door behind you like you’ll ever forget the hours you spent tangled up with him, fast asleep or losing yourself in him.

He’s coming back today. Taehyung is coming back today, and though you’d once wished for Tae’s return, now you’re dreading it. You don’t want to see him, don’t want to see Jungkook, or Jimin, or Sera, or even Ariane. 

You want to rewind time to the week before Jungkook left, but life doesn’t work that way, does it?

You finish work late, a while after they’ve returned from their trip. And maybe you sit in the car for a long time also, dreading the moment you’ll have to go in.

[2:39 pm] bröther👽: just landed [3:47 pm] bröther👽: it was a shitshow but we’re home [3:48 pm] bröther👽: ari is going to stay at ours for a few days [3:48 pm] bröther👽: we’re planning dinner? are tacos ok [4:31 pm] bröther👽: yeah so it’ll be tacos

You haven’t replied to any of the texts. You want to tell him that you’re good, that you’ll spend the evening locked up in your room anyway, but you can’t bring yourself to do so. In some twisted way, you want to see Jungkook, want to see if this is affecting him the same way that it’s affecting you.

You reckon that might make you a bad person.

You sigh, leaning your head back against the headrest. A car passes in the street, its headlights illuminating you for a few seconds before it’s gone, the dim neon light of the streetlights returning. 

You’re aware you can’t stay here forever. You have to go home, have to walk up the stairs and see Jungkook again. And so you take a deep breath, close your eyes for a few seconds so that you can steel yourself, and then you throw the car door open.

You can’t stop, can’t slow down. So you practically jog up the stairs after you’ve slammed the car door shut, locking it over your shoulder. And then you burst into the apartment, hands trembling as you still there to notice Taehyung and Ariane in the living room, lounging on the couch.

Jungkook’s bedroom door is closed, and you’re not sure if it’s a relief.

“Y/n!” Taehyung bursts, and he gets up from the couch to jog to you, immediately engulfing you in a bear hug.

You hug him back, fists closing around handfuls of his shirt, and you hide your face in his shoulder so that he can’t see the tears pricking at your eyes.

“Tae,” you whisper back. “How have you been?”

“Good,” he answers. “Happy to be back though.”

He pulls away, grabbing your purse from your hand so that he can drop it on the table by the door. You busy yourself with taking off your shoes, feeling shy under Ariane’s watchful gaze. She smiles at you when you look her way, and you smile back, offering her a small, polite nod. She gets up from the couch, walking your way so that Taehyung can properly introduce you.

She’s nice. She’s a warm person, and you feel the kindness oozing from her after just a few sentences exchanged. You know you’ll like her, and you’re relieved Taehyung finally found someone to make him forget his ex from high school.

As Ariane insists on cooking tacos for you all, you think she’s far better than Taehyung’s ex anyway. You do feel bad that she’s cooking at your apartment, but she says she loves cooking, and that you should just enjoy your brother’s return for now.

As she cooks, you and Taehyung sit at the table, telling each other stories from the last few months. Evidently you avoid mentioning Jungkook, instead focusing on what was going on in your friend group. Taehyung pulls Ariane into the conversation once in a while, and she admits she chose to do a semester in Paris because her grandfather was French, and he’s the one who chose her name.

It’s a comfortable conversation, a moment that almost makes you forget that Jungkook is hiding in his room, doing whatever it is that he’s doing. Thinking about him makes your heart strain in your chest, and you mindlessly massage the spot, as if that might chase the ache away.

What does help is when you decide to get up to actually help Ariane, and you take care of setting the table and preparing the lettuce. It busies your mind a little, and though you’re still speaking with Ariane and Taehyung, you manage not to let your thoughts wander back to a certain doe-eyed man.

You’re sitting down to eat when Taehyung finally mentions the elephant in the room, saying, “Should we ask JK if he wants anything?”

Ariane chuckles. “Feel free if you want to deal with him.”

You hope they don’t hear you gulp, and you innocently say, “What’s wrong with him?”

“He’s been weird for a few days,” Taehyung answers. “He’s been short with everyone, and he refuses to talk when we ask him what’s wrong.” Taehyung pauses, furrowing his brow. “Why?”

You shrug. “Just wondering.”

Can he hear your heart beating out of your chest? You definitely can, and it’s pumping in your ears, making you feel dizzy.

The knowledge that Jungkook hasn’t been doing well hurts far more than you expected it would. It’s like you just got stabbed right in the heart, and you’re bleeding out where you’re sitting at the table, on Taehyung’s left.

You avert your gaze, looking at the bowls on the table, eyes focusing on the steam rising from the cooked ground beef. You act like you don’t care - you grab a taco shell, and immediately start to prepare your meal, while a strange silence stretches. 

It’s uncomfortable, awkward, and Taehyung flees by getting up and heading to Jungkook’s room. You hear him knocking on the door, and you can’t help but strain your ears as you try to hear what they’re saying.

“You hungry?” Taehyung says after you’ve heard the door opening.

“Not really,” Jungkook replies, and hearing his voice is shattering, wrecking, like the car you were riding just smashed into a wall at full speed.

Your eyes fill with tears, which you furiously blink away hoping that Ariane doesn’t notice. She’s luckily looking towards the hallway though, and you successfully clear your gaze before she turns again.

“I think he’s upset because of Gaby,” she comments as she starts making her own taco. “He started being like this when she stopped hanging out with us.”

Right. Ariane is Gabrielle’s friend. Her best friend even, if what Taehyung said is true. 

You’re not so sure anymore if you’ll be able to get along with Ariane after all.

“Ah,” you flatly let out. “That sucks.”

She shrugs her shoulders. “He’ll get over it. Gaby said he’s the one that broke up with her anyway.”

You gulp around the lump in your throat, and though your hunger has entirely vanished, you bite into the taco so that you don’t have to talk.

It works, and you eat in silence as Taehyung walks back into the room, exchanging a knowing glance with Ariane. He sits back down between the two of you, and then he’s making his taco too, and though the atmosphere is awkward, you don’t have to partake in any more conversation.

You force yourself to eat a second taco, knowing Taehyung would tell you off if you don’t considering you usually eat at least three, if not more. It’s sickening, and you’re on your last bite when Jungkook appears in the door frame.

Your gazes immediately meet, and everything seems to stop around you, to disappear from existence. There’s just you and him, and you take in his dishevelled appearance, the dark circles under his eyes and the hollowness of his gaze.

All light has gone out from his eyes, replaced by shadows and darkness you recognize far too well.

They’re haunting your own eyes, too.

“I’m heading home for the summer,” he tells no one in particular, though his gaze doesn’t leave yours.

Like he’s trying to take everything in one last time, trying to commit you to memory like you’re doing with him right now.

Though you don’t want this to be a memory. You want to remember his lips on your skin and the light in his eyes and the way he’d always hold you close. You want to remember what it felt like to be his – or to believe you were. You don’t want any of the heartbreak, but it takes over everything, and your gaze drops to the table.

“What?” Taehyung lets out. “Right now?”

Jungkook nods. “My father needs help with his company.”

“We literally got home like six hours ago,” Taehyung points out. “Shouldn’t you get some sleep first?”

“I’m good,” Jungkook says. “It’s not that long of a drive.”

It actually is. It’s nearly four hours, and you highly doubt Jungkook’s father asked for help. Or maybe he did. Maybe Jungkook lied about his strained relationship with his family to get you to…

You stop the train of thoughts. He didn’t lie. You were there, and you saw it with your own two eyes. 

You force yourself to meet his gaze again - his eyes haven’t left you. He offers you the saddest smile you’ve ever seen on his lips, and his gaze fills with words unsaid. You can almost taste them on the sharp inhale of breath you take, and you want to tell him to stay.

You want to tell him that you’re in love with him. But it’s too little too late, and so you swallow the confession, shove it down until you can forget its existence.

He nods, like he knows then that you truly are over, and then he says, “I’ll see you guys soon.”

You watch him go - your heart goes with him, and you feel like you’ll cave in on the emptiness in your chest. 

Taehyung follows him to the door, leaving you alone with Ariane. This time, she doesn’t miss the agony on your features, and she asks, “Are you okay?”

You sit back in your chair, nodding once, yet you answer, “I don’t know, I feel sick.”

She offers you a kind smile. “You don’t need to eat anymore,” she reassures you. “You’ve worked all day, maybe you just need some rest.”

“Maybe,” you repeat flatly. “Let me just clean up the table.”

She stops you with a hand on your wrist. “Tae’s not done, I’ll get him to take care of it. Just go to bed.”

You nod curtly, and you hope she doesn’t see the silver lining your gaze, threatening to spill over. You do put your plate away in the sink, to be washed later, and then you head to your bedroom, seeking the cool reprieve of your own safe haven.

You can’t help yourself, glancing towards the door as you leave the kitchen. Jungkook is already outside, and Taehyung is speaking with him leaning against the door frame. You think it’s a relief you can’t see Jungkook from here - you’d probably have broken down right then and there, and you doubt you would have survived the embarrassment. 

You lean against the door of your bedroom once you’re finally in, and you take a deep breath, eyes fluttering shut. When Jungkook’s pained features appear behind your eyelids, you immediately open your eyes again.

There’s a box on your bed, next to a folded piece of paper. Curiosity replaces the agony in your chest momentarily…

Until you see your name on the folded piece of paper, and realize what this is.

Tears fill your eyes so quickly this time around that you can’t stop them, and they fall freely on your cheeks as you take a wobbly step forward. 

He’s left you a letter. And the box is clearly a jewelry box - there’s something so strange about the sight that it breaks your heart all over again, until the throbbing in your chest is so stark you barely can feel the paper as your hands reach for it, unfolding it carefully.

Your vision is blurry behind your tears, and as you see he’s written lines and lines of words for you, you let out a broken sob as you sit on your bed. 

It takes you five minutes before you’re actually able to read, and you read it so many times you think you know the letter by heart.

Hey peach, I know you asked me not to call you that. I promise this is the last time, and I’ll never bother you with that name again. I just didn’t know how to start this letter… I hope you’ve been doing okay. The last few days have been shit for me, and I feel really fucking guilty for everything. I wish it’d never happened, I wish I’d come home to you so that we could tell Taehyung about us… but as you said, there is no us anymore. Thank you for the few months we spent together. You taught me a lot about myself, and I really enjoyed spending time with you. I’ll look back fondly on the memories I have of us. I really want to apologize. For everything that I did. I wish I’d never gone to Paris. I’m sorry that I left, and that I let old promises to Gabrielle ruin what was between us. I’m sorry I wasn’t more upfront about how I felt for you too. It was all just so new to me, and I thought we had a long while ahead of us to figure everything out… I’m sorry that I was wrong. I don’t expect this letter to change anything. I just wanted to let you know how I feel, and I don’t think I would be able to speak to you face to face. Maybe that makes me a coward, but it is what it is. I got you a gift in Paris, before things went to hell. I couldn’t bring myself to return it or keep it, so I hope you enjoy it. You don’t have to keep it either, I just wanted you to still have it. Finally, I hope you have a nice summer. I hope you have fun, and I hope you find someone that treats you the way that you deserve. Someone Taehyung would approve of hopefully! You deserve it more than you can imagine. Take care, Jungkook

Your gaze is blurry behind the tears again, yet you manage to blink them away. You think, maybe you’ve run out of tears. Maybe you’ll go dry and desiccated like you died in the desert, and you think, maybe you deserve it.

You’ve never received a love letter. And though Jungkook didn’t confess, you feel like perhaps you’re holding his heart in your hands like he’s holding yours in his. Perhaps he did care for you, perhaps Gabrielle really was just a momentary mistake.

You take a deep breath in, and though it’s shaky, it does ease some ache in your heart. Not everything - the hole is still gaping wide open, and you reckon only time can fix it.

You put the letter down, picking up the jewelry box instead. Your hands are still trembling, yet you manage to open it to reveal a thin, shiny gold chain. The pendant that sits on the velvety cushion breaks you all over again, yet you don’t hesitate before putting it on.

Your fingers, suddenly steady, secure the necklace around your neck, and then your hand falls to the pendant. 

The peach sits light in your palm, a reminder of what your relationship with Jungkook should have been.

Prev | Chapter 12.5 | Next

☆☆☆☆☆

:'''''') the letter right? Did I cry writing it? Yes I did. Did I cry the fifteen times I've reread it? Yes, I also did. What did you guys think of this chapter?:')

All rights reserved to @/oddinary4bts, 2024. Do not copy, repost or translate.

[honeekyuu]

talk too much. [suna rintarou x reader]

ten. ruin

previous || masterlist || next

a/n. uhm....... yeah.

warnings: swearing, phone sex

✗ !!! minors do not interact !!! ✗

✗ !!! ignore timestamps !!! ✗

“No you didn’t-”

“I did!” Suna laughs on the other end, and you giggle into your cup in response, brain fuzzy and warm. “I walked into a room full of fourth years and pulled out my canvas and when I looked up— boom. Naked ass man, dick in my face-”

“Stop!” you wheeze, shaking your head. “How the hell did you not realize-”

“I was nervous! I was so nervous to be there that I didn’t even realize I was in the wrong fucking room.”

“Did you leave?!”

“No! Of course I fucking didn’t!” You hear two sharp thuds on the other end and know just by the sound that Suna’s pounding his fist on the table. “I tunnel-visioned my way into a nude modeling class as a first year — you really think I had the courage to get up and leave after that?” 

You take a long sip of your mixed drink, leaning back against the arm of your couch and sighing deep after you swallow. “So? Then what happened?”

“Uh – I missed syllabus day of Art as Identity and drew a charcoal recreation of some random guy’s penis. Komori has it framed in his kitchen. It’s a talking point for guests and friends alike.” 

“I can’t believe you’re this much of an introvert,” you say, shaking your head with a giddy grin. “You’re so loud with me-”

“Okay, go ahead and add salt to the wound-” he barks sarcastically, snickering when you break into laughter. 

“You’re funny, Suna,” you say openly after a minute, sighing into the admission. “More people should know how funny you are.” 

“Just you’s enough, I think — and maybe your friends, just so they like me,” he responds, quiet filling the space between you for a moment. You chew on your lip while you think.

“What’d you think of them?” you whisper after a moment. “My friends.”

“Your friends?” he repeats, confusion seeping into his voice. “I mean, I always thought Suga was a weird dude, but he’s overall pretty chill and funny. Especially with Alisa – they fight a lot, don’t they?”

You smile fondly. “She likes to make him angry. He’s really easy to rile up.”

“Yeah, I could tell. They seem like good friends. I feel like I got to know you better by meeting them.”

You sigh quietly, the question burned into your mind starting to feel like guilt. You shouldn’t ask, because the truth is that your friends are the perfect friends. They’re both perfect, and you don’t know where you’d be without them. And you’re not in the habit of comparing yourself to your best friend, because you know she’d kill you for doing that.

But still, the question lingers.

“And… Alisa?” you ask, feeling the terrible guilt burn in your throat like bile. “What’d you think of her?” 

You can hear the wheels turning in Suna’s head, the silence on his end growing haunting as the seconds tick by.

“I think she’s beautiful,” he says, and – through the horrible, disappointed swooping in your gut – you realize that him being this honest even when he can tell what’s bothering you only makes you trust him more. He knows what you’re looking for, and he makes no move to sugarcoat his thoughts for you. Your respect for him grows. “But me acknowledging that she’s beautiful and me having feelings for you can both be true. Can’t they?”

You shut your eyes, sighing. You feel like an idiot. “Yes.”

“Just because your best friend is beautiful, that doesn’t mean you’re not.”

“I know.”

“I can think she’s beautiful and also think you’re the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen-”

“Oh, my God,” you laugh, embarrassed. “I get it, Suna. It was a stupid question.”

“Yeah, it was,” he says, and you can hear his smile. “Promise not to do it again?”

“No,” you mutter. He laughs.

“Okay. I can live with that.” You feel the conversation end there, and, despite the embarrassment, you feel glad that you asked. “I was thinking about something a minute ago actually,” he says, interrupting your thought. “You call me by my last name.” 

You quirk an eyebrow, the previous conversation forgotten, and purse your lips. “Is it not your name?” 

“Yeah, but…” He swallows audibly and then laughs to himself. “Your friends also call me Suna.”

You warm, seeing where this is going. “Would you rather me call you Rintarou?” His name feels foreign in your mouth, as if your tongue is just as nervous as you are, but you kind of like the taste of it.

His name feels important.

The other end of the line goes completely silent, long enough that you pull your phone away from your face to check that the call’s still connected. 

“Shit,” he breathes finally. “I dunno anymore. I was gonna suggest it, but I dunno if I can handle that, Y/n.”

Your name sounds important on his tongue, too.

Your chest starts to flutter with nerves, but the alcohol wants you to push it. “What about Rin?” It tastes intimate and presumptuous, that cut of his name from three syllables to one. You want him to taste it, too.

“Christ,” he laughs. “God, Y/n. You tryna kill me? You sent your friends to wound me critically and now this?”

“I think I like that one, actually,” you breathe. “Rin.”

“Stop it,” he laughs weakly.

“Rin.” You roll it around in your mouth, sinking deeper into your couch while you consider it.

“Cut it out,” he whispers, soft and breathy.

“Rinnie.” You like the way your lips wrap around it. You like the space it takes up and the way your voice cradles it, round and warm.

“Y/n.” His voice isn’t round and warm. It’s sharp. Thick with warning. Dragging your own name down your back like the back of a blade, leaving your skin pebbled with goosebumps and the base of your spine tugging at a knot under your navel dangerously. “Cut it out.”

You shiver and press your thighs together. “Okay,” you breathe, a soft whine coating the sound. The alcohol wants you to push your luck, and it’s so wonderfully easy to listen. “Sorry, Rinnie.”

“Shit,” he groans quietly. “Don’t do this to me, Y/n. Please.”

“Do what?”

“You know exactly fucking what.”

Your stomach flips at his tone, and there’s a pulse of desire between your thighs that has you biting down hard on your bottom lip. Your head is warm and staticky and desperately likes the sound of Suna’s voice, especially when he talks to you like that. 

“So?” you whisper, the courage there but incredibly small and entirely driven the liquor in your cup. “Are you hard?” 

Suna’s exhale is sharp, surprised. “W-What?” 

“You said over text.” Your face burns, but the idea of Suna Rintarou getting turned on by a combination of your voice and the way you say his name has you pushing out of your comfort zone. You want him too much. “That if I called you, you’d get hard. Are you?” 

He breathes hard for a beat, the sound shaky. And then he whispers, the sound soft and right in your ear in the most delicious way. 

“You know I am, pretty girl.” 

“How long?”

“Since you said my name.”

You shiver, pressing your thighs together hard. The flip of your nerves, low in your gut, is sharpened and heightened by the buzz of vodka in your veins, and you gasp quietly, trying to bring your heart rate back to normal.

“You should do something about that,” you whisper, skin vibrating when you do. You’d never be this confident sober.

He whines in response.

Suna Rintarou whines in your ear, desperate and impossible to deny. 

You feel your body become addicted to a man you’ve never met. 

“‘re you sure?” he breathes. “I don’t wanna do anything that you don’t-“

“Want you to do it,” you whisper, pulse racing and legs damn near going numb from how nervous you are. “Wanna hear you touch yourself.”

“Fuck,” he says, sharp and laced with frustration. “Fuck, Y/n — how am I supposed to say no to that?”

“You’re not,” you try. “Unless you really don’t want t-“

“I do. Fuck, I do.” He sounds the most sober he’s sounded all night, direct and honest and making your heart feel like it’s going to rip out of your chest. “Will-I…” You hear him swallow. “Will you do it, too? Are you turned on?” 

Your heart jumps into your throat, hope and desire mixing dangerously with the vodka. “Yes.” 

“What’s that an answer to?” he laughs, weak and nervous. 

“Both.” 

“Fuck,” he groans. “Will you? Want you to feel good, too.”

“Really?” Your voice sounds insecure, even in your own ears. You still aren’t used to that — to him. 

“Yes,” he urges. “God, yes. I want to make you feel good so badly, baby.” He swallows. “Can I talk to you? Make you feel good like that?” Your shaky exhale must speak for you, because he just gives another weak laugh. “Yeah? Is that okay?”

You’ve never been so full of want that it makes you cry, but you’re pretty damn close at this singular moment in time. 

“Okay,” you say, voice wavering. Suna’s exhale on the other line is just as shaky. 

“Okay,” he whispers back. “Shit-Uhm. C-Can I have a picture, baby? If that’s okay?” 

You whine in protest, already embarrassed, but you can hear how nervous he is. How unused to this he is. That this is just as terrifying and embarrassing for him, that he’s putting himself out there for you. 

It would be rude not to reciprocate. 

You take a steeling breath and pull the phone away from your face, setting it on the coffee table and putting it on speakerphone. “I look kind of messy,” you say. You start to adjust your clothes, grimacing at the frumpy shirt and shorts you’re wearing.

“I like messy,” he says, and you laugh pathetically. 

“It’s not very sexy.” You pull your hair down and ruffle it to be as attractive as possible, and then you consider your shorts for a full two seconds before throwing caution to the wind and getting rid of them. They land on the floor with an audible fwip, and Suna’s silent on the other end.

“Please tell me you didn’t just take all your clothes off,” he breathes finally. “I don’t know if I’m in a state to emotionally handle that right now.” 

You giggle, face burning and heart pounding in your ears as you open your camera and angle it favorably. ”Not all my clothes.”

“Shit.” 

You cross one arm over your torso and use it to push your breasts up, watching them swell in the camera. A rush of heat burns at your ears and neck, and your lip wobbles while you take the picture. 

Lifting the phone close, you examine the photo. You can see all the flaws that you’ve always seen, and it makes you freeze with insecurity. Makes you want to delete it and back out.

But then you hear him, his quiet ‘baby?’ on the other end, and you remember who you’re talking to. 

You hope he won’t see all the flaws you do — but there’s a piece of you that knows he will see them, but not as flaws. Because that’s who he is. 

Breath held tight in your lungs, you send off the photo, and then your head starts to pound with anxiety. 

Will he like it? Will he think it’s awkward? Will he realize that maybe he thinks you’re pretty, but he’s not sexually attracted to you the way he thought he would be—

“Oh, holy shit-” Suna’s voice is tight, thick with an emotion that’s so clearly lust that even you can’t deny it. ”Holy shit, Y/n. You’re so fucking-” He cuts off, taking a shuddering breath. “Fuck, I might start drooling.” 

You laugh, the tension breaking a little. “You’re funny-”

“I’m not joking.” Your breath catches at the sharp snap of his voice — your heart lurches, and desire swirls violently in your gut, because Suna Rintarou’s voice is starting to do that to you. “I’m not fucking joking, Y/n — you’re the sexiest girl I’ve ever seen.” 

You blink, sinking low on the couch. “What?” 

“Fuck,” he groans. “Y/n, you turn me on so much. I’m so fucking-” He laughs. “God, it’s embarrassing.” 

Your fingers shake as you press the phone desperately to your ear. “You’re so fucking what?” you ask meekly, nervous but craving more with every second that passes. 

He laughs again, self-deprecating. “I’m so fucking hard right now. Because of you. Because of this one photo.”

Your free hand drops between your thighs before you can think too long about it. “And you haven’t done anything about it yet?” 

“Oh, my God,” he groans, and you can hear the want in his voice. The strain in his tone as he tries to keep himself in line. “God, I’m not gonna last. I’m not gonna last with you, Y/n.” 

The pads of your fingers press to your clothed clit when he says your name — important, full — and it makes your desire curl and snap. You moan quietly, pursing your lips together to stop the sound — just a moment too late. 

“Fuuuck-” he says, reacting immediately to your voice. You hear shuffling, and then a burning, brutal exhale of relief, and you know he’s touching himself. The low whine trapped in his throat tells you as much. Tells you how badly he’s trying to keep his head on straight for you.  

You don’t want him to do that. You want him as lost as you are.

So you shut your eyes and lean your head back and let the alcohol take control. Let the fuzzy static in your head grow louder, let the desire throbbing in your core grow stronger. Let the choked whine in Suna’s throat take over, pulling you that much closer to the edge.

“Rin,” you breathe, yielding control to your limbs and smothering all hesitation in favor of slipping your hand past the band of your underwear. When your fingers touch down to your core, cold fingertips to searing hot skin, you moan louder. Loud enough to be heard and not caring enough to stop it. “Fuck, Rin— Can I have a picture, too?” He groans on the other line, shaky and uneven, and you whine in response. “Please? It’s only fair…”

He doesn’t say a single word back — just gives a trembling breath when you beg — but your phone buzzes against your face a moment later.

He’s got his hand down his sweats, the outline of his cock clear and the outline of his hand wrapped around it even clearer. His face is flushed a deep, searing red, and his parted lips are swollen and pink, eyes hooded with desire as he looks up into the camera. 

He’s in bed. He’s in bed, drunk and touching himself while thinking about you — the you in the photo, the you on your couch, touching yourself while you think about him, too. 

“Christ,” you whisper, eyes flying across the screen while your fingers dip low and slip with terrible ease past your entrance — two fingers in, the stretch heavenly, when your eyes land on the outline of his cock. “I don’t know if I can take you, Rinnie.” 

His inhale is shocked and laced with a moan, and then he’s coming undone in your ear. 

“You can take it, baby. I know you can take me so well.”

“Oh, God,” you gasp, back arching off the couch and fingers curling hard against your walls. “You would make me-”

“Gonna make you take it,” he finishes in a voice so rough and broken that you know he’s stopped trying to keep control, too. “Wanna make you take it, wanna show you how good you are for me. How much you’re made for me-”

“Oh, my God, I’m-”

“Wanna make you come around me. Wanna make you fall apart on my cock, pretty girl.”

“Rin,” you squeak in warning, your gut curling hard with desire, tension so close to snapping. “Rinnie, I-”

“Want my name on your tongue when I come inside you.” His voice is pitching up, breath stuttering and syllables twisting short in his mouth. “Want my name in your mouth when I ruin you for anyone else.”

It’s only right, then, that you cry his name when your orgasm slams into you full-force, pulsing and crashing down over you without warning.

By the time you come back to yourself, your walls are twitching with aftershocks around your fingers, and your breath is loud and heavy in your ears. 

Suna’s own breath is shaky in your ears, too. He whispers your name, tired and drained but still full. Still important.

You might have ruined him for anyone else, too.

[remuslupinslittleslut]

No, like this

Anon asked: I need more of the teach me dynamic like that was so hot. The way Remus helped Sirius ate you out using his hair holy fuck that was hot. maybe it’s like Remus gets jealous cause it’s close to the full moon so he shows the boys how to properly fuck a girl and it’s super rough maybe and then James and Sirius are just there jerking off like super turned on by the scene cause wow Remus is really good at making reader be loud.

And YES! I love this dynamic and this ask was so very lovely and gave me so much inspiration THANK YOU BABE <333

Here's a very jelly remus, pre full moon, showing his friends how to fuck his girl hot damn

Masterlist. (Teach us part one. And part two. Though it can easily be read on it's own, just the same dynamics <3)

“No, you’re doing it all wrong,” Remus growled.

You were laid out on your back, James on top of you, hips moving against yours at a steady rhythm. It was good, really good. But the full moon was getting closer, and Remus was aggravated, jealous and very territorial of you.

James whined at the harsh words, and you kissed his nose telling him, “You’re doing well darling, keep going.”

He did, though not quite as confidently as before. His head came down to rest in the crook of your neck, and you felt his cheeks were heated from embarrassment. You and Remus had taught both James and Sirius a lot since your first night together, and they’d both made great progress, all the while Remus was perfectly okay with sharing you – as you also did share him with his friends.

James had just started to get it right with each thrust again – making you moan and whine, telling him what a good boy he was being – when Remus interrupted yet again.

“No, move,” he said, standing up and pushing James off of you, making all three of you gasp (Sirius wouldn’t miss this show for anything in the world), “let me show you how to fuck her properly.”

It was, to put it plainly, rude. You would have to talk to Remus about it later, that he can’t act that way with your littles, but he was so sexy, towering above you, hands tugging at his buckle, trying to free himself for you. You knew what was to come would be life changing-ly amazing, and you did not want to get in the way of Moony when he was tearing at the seams of Remus like this.

Remus was finally naked, standing next to the bed, where James still lay, “I said move.” James did, shying away, trudging toward Sirius’ bed.

“Arms above your head, darling,” he said, steadying his body above yours. You did as you were told, knowing not to argue at this moment. “See, you’ve gotta tell a slut what to do, she’s too dumb to think on her own.” This wasn’t really true – though you loved letting go of all your common sense to let Remus take full control, so you did.

He didn’t give any warning before he pushed himself into you, widening your tight little hole, taking your body from you. “Little sluts like this don’t need to be warmed up, she can take it, right love?” You nodded, knowing you hadn’t been given permission to speak.

His hips snapped against yours at a brutal pace, it almost hurt, you knew it would later, but the way the head of him pushed against your walls felt too good. While he was fucking you, he kept narrating the whole thing, “yeah, that’s right, touch your little cocks to my girl, hear that? My girl. You’ve gotta move faster, harder, like this.”

It was so hot, having your life fucked out of you by your boyfriend while your other two partners watched, touching themselves. You could finally show them the Remus you knew, the Remus who could make sure you didn’t walk straight for days – he’d been so nice and soft since you invited James and Sirius, but now he was back, with his back-arching, toe-curling, orgasm-giving sex.

You hadn’t been quiet for a while, and when your orgasm washed over you, the sounds coming from somewhere deep in your throat only got louder. “There you go, see this, this’s how you make a girl come.”

Pulling out of you, Remus kissed you once, deep and hard and dirty, before he flipped you over, pulling on your hips to make your ass stick out. Leaning down over you, he kissed down the back of your neck, biting and pulling at the skin, hard teeth scratching soft skin. “You ready, little one?” He asked, almost softly, and when you nodded your head he pulled back and pushed in, in one sweeping motion. The angle from this position was even better and you felt your eyes roll back as you dropped your head against the pillow, feeling another orgasm come creeping.

Holding himself up with one hand on the headboard, the other kept a tight hold on your hair. “Now this is how you fuck a girl real good, she won’t be able to think straight when I’m done with her, shame you’ll never be this good,” the cockiness could be heard in Remus’ voice as his hips kept pushing against yours, your ass shaking with every thrust. “Go on then, come, all over your hands from watching my girl take my cock, go ahead… You too, princess, go ahead, let go f’me…”

Somewhere in the back of your mind you registered some grunting from the other bed, though most of your senses were filled with Remus, the wet sound of him thrusting in and out of you, the smell of him on the pillow, of both of your juices mixing somewhere further down on the bed, the taste of him left on your tongue, the sight of a veiny arm holding him up, the feeling of him all over you, against your back, the hands in your hair, his cock inside you, pulsating and ejaculating, filling you up with white, hot spurts of cum, the feeling of it running out of you, the wet patch on the bed between your legs.

And then… nothing.

When you woke up, it was to a hot, wet rag on your face. “Hi, love,” Remus said, kissing your forehead, hand holding your cheek still. “Welcome back, you went out for a bit, but don’t worry, I’m gonna take care of you now, okay baby?”

Smiling, you reached your hands up – not a small feat, considering your arms felt like boiled spaghetti – and took a hold of his face to pull him back down to you, pressing your lips against his.

“And now this is how you perform proper aftercare, don’t ever skip that,” he said, a pointed look directed at his friends, who he was about to treat with some of the same love that you’d received.

Tagged: @remussbitch

[fallstaticexit]

The Art of Being Seen - a Nancy Landgraab story

୧‿̩͙ ˖︵ ꕀ⠀ ♱⠀ ꕀ ︵˖ ‿̩͙୨

𝔓𝔞𝔯𝔱 𝔗𝔥𝔯𝔢𝔢- 𝔚𝔦𝔣𝔢

Prev / Next / Beginning / Pillowfort

Part III - Wife - Nancy recalls her life as a wife, mother, and businesswoman (we begin at the year 1998 and then time skip to 2007 and again to 2015). Nancy has chosen to put her past behind her and is working hard to continue elevating her family's business while raising two rambunctious boys with her husband and business partner, but is it all truly enough to keep her past and her desires at bay? Can she continue playing the perfect wife and mother when temptation shows up at her front door?

Trigger Warnings: infidelity, drug use, sex and nudity.

Transcript under the cut

Nancy Narrates: [Geoffrey proposed our junior year of university. I said yes]

Nancy Narrates: [Not a minute after graduation, I was walking down the aisle. I was ready to become a wife]

Nancy Narrates: [Ready for my parents to look at me with pride in their eyes]

Nancy Narrates: [I was going to be great]

Nancy Narrates: [On that day, I made a vow to my best friend]

Nancy Narrates: [A promise to stand by his side, in sickness and in health]

Nancy Narrates: [To be true and faithful to him]

Nancy Narrates: [So help me God]

Nancy Narrates: [I decided to pack away my past and leave it all behind me. This was the life I chose. I chose to be good. Normal. I chose him, and all that came with it]

Geoffrey: Goinggg uuup!

Nancy: [laughs]

Nancy: [whispers] Hey, you’re not asleep, are you?

Geoffrey: [grumbles] M’sorry. Too drunk for more, I think.

Nancy: [chuckles] It’s fine. You can sleep.

Geoffrey: [sighs] Hey. I wanna have a buncha babies.

Nancy: Oh, so you’re really drunk then.

Geoffrey: M’serious. Want 4 boys, 4 girls. All name Geoffrey Jr. and Nancy Jr. At least one’s named is Zachary.

Nancy: Hey, listen here, lover boy. Let’s just enjoy this. Just you and me and us trying not to drown in the work my parents give us.

Geoffrey: And then babies?

Nancy: [hums] Maybe babies. Give me a year to think about it, ok?

Geoffrey: [sighs happily] I love you. My wife.

Nancy: I love you too.

Nancy Narrates: [I was elated. I was a woman who was capable of loving a man. I was a woman who was capable of making love. I’ve never felt more hopeful. My future never felt so bright-]

Nancy Narrates: [And just like that, the high was over]

Geoffrey: Hey, Nance? Are you missing work again today? Your mom has been really... erm, Queenie-ish the past week with you being out. I’m scared she’s going to actually bite me. [chuckles nervously]

Nancy: Damn you, Geoffrey! What happened to a year? It’s barely been 90 days!

Geoffrey: Wha-

Nancy: I should have known, you can barely pull out of the driveway properly!

Geoffrey: Wait, you’re pregnant?

Nancy: [scoffs] You don’t sound very sorry about it!

Geoffrey: You’re pregnant! I’m going to be a dad?!

Geoffrey: [sings] I’m your baby’s daaadddy!

Nancy: [sniffles, laughs] I can’t believe you did this. I could strangle you.

Geoffrey: Hey, we did this. Me and you.

Nancy: God, what are we going to do with a baby? I don’t even think I’ve ever met a baby.

Geoffrey: We got this, Nancy. It’s us, we’re talking about. We’ll be great!

Nancy Narrates: [Who would have thought; a wife and soon a mother. This was the life I chose]

-

Queenie: You should head home, Nancy. I’ve scheduled you a prenatal massage to your residence for this evening. I’ll have my intern take over your projects for the time being.

Nancy: Oh. Thank you, mother. That’s very kind of you.

Queenie: It’s the least I could do. You are carrying my grandson, after all.

Queenie: [murmurs] My lucky girl.

Nancy Narrates: [A wife, a mother, the perfect daughter]

-

Nancy: [howls]

Doctor: We’re going to give one big push, ok mom? You’re doing great! Ok, now push, Mrs. Landgraab!

Geoffrey: You are doing great, Nancy! Wow! You’re amazing! That’s it, just keep breathing. In and out. In and out-

Nancy: Aughhhh! Geoffrey, shut the fuck up!

Geoffrey: Okay!

Doctor: And push!

[infant wails]

Doctor: Congratulations mom and dad! A boy!

Nancy Narrates: [This was the life I chose]

[buckys-wintersoldier]

Reader being really annoying to Bucky, but an absolute sweetheart to everyone else. When he’s complaining about it, he calls the reader “a brat.”

Nat pauses his rant and deadpans, “She’s not a brat, she’s your brat.”

Bucky tracks the reader down in the compound and tests Nat’s theory. She’s right, the reader is Bucky’s best.

(I’m so sorry, this has been brainrot material for me for over a week, now, and I just had to share it with someone else.)

Hey, sorry for the late reply. This one had my attention immediately but when I tried to write something it came out as shit thing so… yes. Absolutely love that idea! Bucky would definitely do that.

His brat | B.B

You’re such a brat, aren’t you? At least Bucky thinks so until Natasha tells him that you’re not just a brat, you’re his brat.

Pairing -> Avengers!Bucky Barnes x Brat!Reader

Wordcount -> 944 Words

Warnings -> Reader being a brat, idiots in love, teasing

Events -> Hot Bucky Summer | Week 10 | "Shhhhhhhhhhhhhh.", Gagged, Voyeurism, Somnophilia | @buckybarnesevents

Masterlist | Bucky Barnes Masterlist

You’re a brat, at least would someone ask Bucky, that would be his answer. You tease him, call him grumpy, grandpa.

You earn a rolling of his eyes whenever you do it, now it only needs you walking past him and he is already knowing that you’re going to say anything, whatever it is — it’s a teasing him.

Secretly he hopes that it means something, but being a brat doesn’t mean anything right? Maybe you just don’t like him? Or you just have another problem with him and don’t tell him about.

As bad as your teasing and joking can be, he feels his heart racing and a smile almost creeping in his face when you’re around, or just walk into a room.

But once again you teased him — this morning. You had a bunch of magnets and put them all on his metal arm, giggling as you also put wiped cream into his hand and slid your fingers over his forehead until he threw his hand into his face.

It needed a while to clean the arm and himself. And now he is sitting with Natasha on the couch, watching television while they talk.

“She is such a brat, always doing this jokes. And this morning! She put wiped cream on my hand and tickled me! Plus my whole arm was stuck with magnets,” he complains, moving his hand over his face and arm to make it more clear.

Natasha chuckled, pointing to the underside of Bucky’s arm. “There is still one stuck,” she smirks as he removes it with a groan.

“See! Such a brat this girl,” he mutters, throwing the magnet to the table but unfortunately for him it gets stuck on his finger and he throws his head back annoyed. “Even the magnets themselves tease me!”

The red haired woman nods her head, smirking. “You know… she isn’t a brat…” she says. Bucky turns his head to face her, narrowing his ocean blue eyes. “She is your brat, Bucky.”

Bucky shakes his head. Maybe Natasha is right? But maybe you just hate him and that’s why you’re teasing him all the time.

But after the talk he wants to find out if it’s true, are you his brat? Bucky doesn’t follow you around, but whenever you’re training or during dinner or if you’re in a room together he watches you intensely.

Around Steve you’re all sweet, asking him about his day, laughing with him, and being the sweetest one you can be. Even with Sam you’re nice, helping him out if he asks.

Not even the new agents are teased by you as much as you tease and annoy Bucky.

And with the girls you’re nice anyway. Bucky knew already, but it hits him then — you’re really not a brat, you’re his brat.

He then makes a plan, there are two options you act around him like you do, right? Either you’re head over heels in love with him as well or you’re really just annoying around him — and he hopes it’s the first option.

Bucky waits in the floor as you get up from the couch, excusing you by your friends because you need some more snacks.

As you walk out of the room and into the floor you’re already pushed into the wall with a soft yelp. Ocean blue eyes stare into yours and you notice the handsome face of Bucky with a wide grin on his pink, plump lips.

“Hi, doll!” He grins, his big hands holding you by your hips and pressing you firmly against the wall. “Thought I would thank you for the wiped cream this morning.”

“U-uhm, yes. You’re welcome,” you stutter, being catcher off guard. “Y-yes I- uhm.”

“Cat got your tongue, darlin’?” Bucky asks, his lips only inches away from yours and a whimper leaves your lips. His voice is low and his tongue darts out to wet his lips as his eyes move from yours to your lips and back to your eyes.

“N-no,” you whimper, almost leaning into him to chase his lips for a soft kiss but he leans back with a grin.

“Mhm, not? Then do you want to tell me why you’re always such a brat?” Bucky asks, one of his hands trailing up and down your side, causing goosebumps all over your body.

“I- I- Bucky, please,” you say, your tone pleading as you look over his handsome face to his plump lips — they look just so kissable.

“What do you want, doll?” He is such a tease right now, and you know he won’t give you what you want unless you ask him for it — ask him to kiss you.

“K-kiss me, please,” you whine, pouting softly as he chuckles.

“Kiss, that little bratty mouth of yours?” You nod, hands sliding to his chest to fist his shirt and pull him closer to you. “Yeah, always such a brat and now begging for me to kiss you.”

“Please Bucky, your brat, only your brat, always your brat,” you mumble, leaning closer to him. And then he finally brings his face closer to yours.

“Yeah, that’s it, doll. My brat, only mine,” he smiles, pressing his lips softly against yours and you sigh softly. After so much teasing and trying to get his attention, to be close to him — he finally kisses you. “But we should talk about your attitude, my sweet brat. Maybe a punishment would help you to be a good girl for me, even though I really like your bratty side.”

Reblogs and comments are really appreciated, as well as likes. But if you want to support your content creators, comment and reblog, it will make them way happier!

//Taglist// @kandis-mom @sergeantbarnessdoll @identity2212 @km-ffluv @lunaalovesyouu @armystay89 @suz7days @etherealdisneyvillainness @pono-pura-vida @somnorvos @meowmeowyoongles @randomawesomeperson102 @rogersbarber @sebastianstanisahotmf @loki-laufeyson68 @winterschildren8 @bxtchboy69 @jeremyrennermakesmesmile @bucky-barnes-lover @felicitylemon @cjand10 @bookishtheaterlover7 @casa-boiardi @futurequeen2018-blog @flstrawberry @capsbestgirl77 @nervouseden @jiyascepter @princesscore-angel @mrs-katelyn-barnes @sasha-writing @blackhawkfanatic @fanfictionreaderfan @multiversefanfics @angelbabyyy99 @looking1016 @aphrodite-xoxo @im-alestan @holylulusworld @iris-xoxo-juhu @fanfictionreaderfan @lives-in-midgard

@whatever-lmaoo some fluffyyyy for you!

[3verythingiknowaboutlove]

yeehaw

how spencer convinces reader to stay in rather than go out

MDNI | suggestive fluff!

word count: 1217

warnings & tags & stuff: fem!reader, def some nsfw descriptions of spence, all around suggestiveness, fade to black

author's note: second piece of writing yayy!!! this was originally gonna be smut but i got scared lol. anyway please lemme know your thoughts im DYING to improve. sooo yes i hope you have a wonderful day and here this is ig! 😚

Sitting alone in your room, you tugged on a pair of never-before worn cowboy boots. They were most definitely not broken in, and you knew you were in for an uncomfortable night of baby blisters on the bottoms of your feet. However, life is full of compromises, and these were too cute to pass on.

Especially for a night of line dancing with your boyfriend’s coworkers. Who knew that FBI agents got down like that?

You stand and plug in your earbuds, choosing to absolutely blast ‘Fearless (Taylor’s Version)’ by Taylor Swift. Also known as the only tolerable country music.

Dancing out to the kitchen, you wrap your arms around your lovely boyfriend who was preparing a cup of tea, absolutely not dressed for a night of country conviviality. Spencer looks you up and down, a teasing smile playing on his face.

“Hey cowgirl,” he says, gently removing your earbuds. “Penelope has been texting me on average every 10 minutes about how excited she is for tonight. I hope you’re ready.”

“Oh god,” you laugh. “I wish you were coming too.”

“I know. But that sounds awful,” he says in his matter-of-fact way. “Hey, I do have something for you,” he mentions. You look up at him, and he runs quickly upstairs to grab his bag. He comes down and brandishes his very own cowboy hat. “From the times Penelope didn’t have you to drag along with her and I was her chosen victim.”

“For me?” You ask excitedly. He puts it on you. Although it’s a little big, it 100% completes the look. You look up at him. “Think I would make a good cowgirl?” He peers down at you, trying to tell if you’re joking.

“No,” He goes the serious route and you furrow your brow at him. “You hate the dirt. And the heat,” he explains, emphatically defending himself.

“I guess you’re right. I don’t really do well with horses either,” you murmur.

“You do make a cute cowgirl for the night though, even if it’s not your true calling.” He ruffles your hat.

“Yeah?” You smile. “It’s not too much with both the boots and the hat?”

Spencer blinks.

“Have you met Penelope? She always has a lot going on. More than this.”

You giggle.

“They’ll all adore you, JJ, Emily,” he reassures, stroking the side of your waist.

You had known Penelope for a few months, ever since you started dating Spencer. But you had yet to meet the rest of the girls on his team. You were definitely excited, they seemed really cool. But you were definitely also nervous.

Spencer, jarring you from your thoughts, whips out his very outdated phone that he somehow still manages to operate, and opens the camera.

“Smile.” You do so, showing off all your teeth. You move to look at the picture, and Spencer tilts the screen toward you. “See? Adorable.”

You stand on your tippy toes for a kiss, and he complies quickly. A little too quickly to not have any meaning behind it. Your eyes flit down, and you notice a slight bulge in Spencer’s pants that wasn’t there a few minutes ago.

You raised your eyebrows and looked up at him. “Can I convince you to stay?” He whispers, half smiling. You tilt your head.

“Maybe” you say shyly.

“What if I told you that the chances are slim to none that you are actually going to line dance tonight? Penelope and JJ always end up sitting at the bar, and Emily always gives up half a song in and joins them. Without fail,” he says. You purse your lips, heart beating a little faster for whatever reason.

“That could still be fun,” you reason.

“Not in those shoes,” he says, rubbing your hip softly. “I know they must hurt; they’re brand new and you’re already shifting your weight between your feet much too frequently.”

You look down at your feet. He was not lying. “You’re too observant. This is why you basically always have your way with me.” You exhale.

“By caring about you? I could keep going. I know that you hate country music. And no, Taylor Swift does not count. She’s an outlier. And she was born in Pennsylvania. That’s barely real country music. You’d be miserable all night.”

“Yes, you would know about ‘real’ country music, Mr. Las Vegas,” you counter.

“That would be Dr. Vegas to you,” he quips, bending down once again and giving you a kiss. You reciprocate, kissing the corner of his mouth. “What if I told you I really wanted you to stay? Bad?”

“Bad? I guess I’ll stay, if it’s bad. But you have to be the one to text Penelope,” you say begrudgingly. As if you weren’t as releived as can be. And as if Spencer didn’t know that.

He smiles and allows his arms to wrap around your waist. Spencer’s kisses become slower, you could feel every aspect of them. His lips, of course, but also his stubble. The air being pushed out of his nose. The hand swiping it’s typical resting spot, your cheek. His tongue delicately tracing your mouth. It all feels so calculated for you, so measured.

And you, on the other hand, are a mess, trying to keep up. Your heart is pounding and you’re sure your face is noticeably hot. And by the time Spencer leads you to your room and sits you down on the bed, its temperature has only increased.

You kick off your boots. He sits next to you, his hands holding your waist, ever so firm. He brings them up, thumbing the inside hem of your tank top.

“All good?” He checks.

“Yeah,” you say, head spinning with all the good chemicals.

“Deep breaths for me, okay? Gotta keep your blood flowing appropriately,” he reminds you, leaning back and taking you in. “Pretty girl.” You blush and his hands move to your lower back over your tank top, delicately brushing over in a way that gives you goose bumps. You shiver.

His eyebrows shoot up in surprise. “You’re sensitive in your lower back. God, there’s still so much more to learn about you.” He breathes out.

“Good. I was scared you’d get bored, with your perfect memory and all,” you joke.

“Bored? The human brain is limitless. Your brain is limitless. I wanna know everything I possibly can that goes on up there. Everything that makes it feel good. It’s the least boring thing I can think of.” You blush and look down.

You lean in for another kiss, this time to his jawline and neck. Your hands slide up his stomach under his shirt a little and and you look up to him.

“Okay?” This time you ask.

Spencer nods. “Okay.” Your hands trace up under his own shirt, and you immediately lean in to kiss him, holding his chin.

All of a sudden he’s everywhere. Even sitting next to you, he manages to take over every ounce of your body. He’s kissing your mouth and forehead and cheeks, one hand is holding your face, and the other is mapping your stomach.

“Can we try something new then? If we wanna do and learn everything?” You whisper. One quick tête-à-tête later, you’re sitting on his lap, shifting your hips softly as he held your waist for you.

“I guess I was wrong. You’re gonna be an amazing cowgirl.”

[facioleeknow]

The art of pleasure ch. 4

Charm ° Hwang Hyunjin

When one girl in your class makes fun of you for being a virgin at a party, you are left distraught. It's only natural that you decide to whine about it to your best friend, Bang Chan; but he does more than lending a shoulder to cry on, he comes up with a solution. He and his 7 friends will help you and teach you all about the pleasure of the flesh. What could go wrong?

Genre: College AU, smut 18+ ONLY WC: 1.8k+

Warnings: fraternity skz. inexperienced reader, experienced hyunjin, unprotected sex, clit play, creampie, hyunjin likes hairy pussy, first time, virginity loss

The art of pleasure masterlist

A week after your little encounter with Changbin, you were still thinking about him. His charm was unmatched, no man had ever treated you and made you feel like a woman as much as Changbin. The way his body had reacted to you, to your touch, to your mouth, had made you feel like the most powerful person in the world. His soft loving eyes had made you feel safe and appreciated.

Everyday your fingers hovered over his contact, you yearned to call him, to hear his voice, feel his hands in your hair and his mouth on yours. You had never wanted a second date so badly in your entire life.

Unknown number:

Good Morning, it’s Hyunjinnie<3

I’d like to take you out this weekend if you’re free <3

The hearts made you smile, Hyunjin was as much a lover boy as Chan had said. A frown quickly subsided, you could not keep thinking about Changbin while being with another guy, it wouldn’t have been fair to him. And frankly speaking, you were hellbent on enjoying to the fullest this new date; Hyunjin was gorgeous and famously picky with his hookups, being chosen almost felt like an honor and you wanted the opportunity to brag about it.

The number you called was so familiar that it was engraved in your memory and even under hypnosis you wouldn’t have been able to forget it.

“Hello??”

“Channie, I need your help!”

“What-what is going on, baby?” Chan has never sounded that out of breath in his entire life.

“Baby? Are you talking to a girl? Do you have a girlfriend?” a muffled female voice resounded on the other side of the phone. Chan tsked, you had never heard him do that, with you he was nothing but extremely polite. 

“You can go, I’ll call you.” If your phone hadn’t displayed Chan’s contact name, you would’ve thought you had  called the wrong number. A chill ran down your spine at his icy cold tone. Maybe the stories about him being a fuckboy were true after all…

“Chan? Were you with a girl?”

“Don’t worry about it baby,” he mumbled into the phone. He sounded like a child caught with his hands in the cookie jar, he knew what you were thinking and he was embarrassed that you had to witness that side of him.

“Don’t worry? Were you fucking Chan?” The conversation was getting more and more absurd with each passing second and the tension and embarrassment was palpable even if you were in two different places.

“Yes?”

“Why the hell would you answer your phone, then?”

“Baby please, don’t push it! Just tell me what you need,” he whined. You could picture his face in your head with accuracy, lower lip slightly pushed out and sparkly round eyes.

“Alright,” you sighed, you could never resist him when he got like that, “I have a problem with our lessons, are you free to talk?”

“I’m sorry, I’m a little busy these days, baby. Can we hang out this weekend?”

“I have a lesson with Hyunjin this weekend, Channie.”

“That’s perfect! I’ll see you saturday!” 

He hung up without even waiting for your answer. Damn fuckboy.

Laying on Chan’s bed felt weird and gross after the call from a couple of days earlier, even worse knowing that your friend might have finished what he had started.

“What’s with the face?” his voice soft and muffled by the skin of your neck against which Chan’s face was smushed.

“Just wondering if I’m laying down on crusted jizz,” you teased, half serious half joking.

“Baby!” he whined again, his feet kicked lightly against your legs.

“Alright, alright, you big baby, now stop kicking me!”

“What did you want to talk about anyway?” Chan cuddled even more into you and started nosing at the spot behind your ear. Suddenly the room was starting to feel hot.

“I can’t stop thinking about Changbin, the way he made me feel…I’ve never felt that way before.”

Chan scoffed and suddenly detached himself from you. The atmosphere in the room shifted in a matter of seconds, from warm and friendly to icy. 

“You can always go on a date with Changbin after the lessons, focus on what’s in front of you, not behind.” Even if he was irked, his advice was always on point.

“And you’re worried about Hyunjin right?”

“Yes, it wouldn’t be right to him..” your best friend’s attitude had completely changed and suddenly you felt judged. Chan sighed.

“Thank you Channie, are you sure you’re ok-”

The sudden slam of the door against the wall made you and your friend jump in your spots.

“Hyung, how do I look? Good enough for Y/N?”

Hyunjin stood at the door in all of his glory; he wore baggy black pants, a tank top and a red cardigan. He looked delectable.

“Y/N, I was about to come get you,” his smile was the brightest you had ever seen and made him even prettier if that was even possible. You got up quickly.

“You should go,” Chan wasn’t even looking at you as he bid you goodbye. You were conflicted, leaving would mean things would stay weird with Chan but you were starting to feel quite horny and your vagina was starting to do the thinking instead of your brain.

Your indecisiveness and the weird atmosphere in the room were broken when Hyunjin took your hand and gently dragged you outside of the room.

“Bye Channie,” you whispered.

Hyunjin’s car was clean and tidy, it perfectly embodied his lover boy persona. He drove steady, with confidence; his right hand delicately caressed your thigh over your skirt, he didn’t make any move to raise the hem of your clothing to touch the rest of you. You were getting impatient, you wanted his hands on you. Wetness seeped into the cotton of your panties; he was so hot and riling you up so effortlessly that you almost hated him…almost. 

Suddenly his index finger ventured past the fabric of your skirt and came in contact with your skin. An electric feeling spread from his touch through your entire body, your pussy pulsed in response. God you were so pathetic and so wet. 

Right when you were debating whether to jump him or not, the car came to a stop.

“We’re here, pretty,” Hyunjin murmured softly as not to break the sacred silence that was in the car. 

The view in front of you was breathtaking. The lights of the town shone under you forming tiny little dots on the ground. Above the night sky presented itself in all of its glory, you had never seen so many stars in your entire life.

“What do you think? Do you like it?” Hyunjin was behind you, his hand ghosted over your waist.

“I love it, it’s really pretty.”

“You’re really pretty,” his breath fanned against your neck, his whole front was pressed against your body and you could feel every single part of him.

“Hyunjin, please touch me, I can’t wait anymore,” you whined. In a heartbeat Hyunjin spun you around, like he was waiting for your words, and his lips were on yours. The kisses were soft, slow and passionate, his hands were confident in their ministrations as they moved across your body. Hyunjin was an exceptional kisser, the best one so far and you were happy you decided to stop thinking about Changbin and just enjoy the moment. 

So immersed in the feeling of his soft lips you didn’t notice his hand sneaking under your skirt and inside your panties. The rhythmic movement of his fingers on your clit elicited a gasp from you, Hyunjin smiled.

“You don’t shave?” the boy moaned. You froze in your spot, Minho hadn’t minded so you thought Hyunjin wouldn’t either.

“God, baby, that’s so hot, I need to have you,” your lover moaned out before you could answer. It was one of the most sensual sounds you had ever heard.

Your kisses got deeper and more sensual, the more the tension rose the more Hyunjin slowed down until all of his movements became languid and intense. His hand in your panties stroked your sensitive bud gently, giving you enough stimulation to curl your toes but not enough to make you cum.

“Lay down, pretty,” Hyunjin gently pushed you back towards the blanket he laid down while you were admiring the view and you complied, tonight you had no desire to disobey him. Above you, he shook off his cardigan showing off his toned arms and then slowly pulled down his pants and boxers. He smirked, he was giving you a show. His cock sprung free from the confinement of his underwear and slapped against his stomach, he was long and veiny. You wanted him in your mouth but maybe another time.

“Are you feeling okay?” the boy laid down on you, your bodies pressed together, his cock against your clothed pussy.

“I'm gonna die if I don't feel you inside me, Hyunjin.” He chuckled at your impatience, but his fingers hooked under the waistband of your panties and he dragged them down quickly. He was as affected and impatient as you.

“Are you ready?” The tip of his cock prodded against your entrance and, after your nod of approval, breeched you. It was a weird sensation, an intrusion that wasn't purely unwelcomed, but Hyunjin soothed the discomfort immediately by pressing his thumb against your throbbing clit making you keen out loud. 

“God, you're so warm,” he grunted against your neck. His strokes were slow and powerful, he was sensual even when fucking with no feeling attached. The tip of his cock hit a spot deep within you that made you see stars and bite down on your lip with every stroke.

“Are you close, beautiful? I can't last long, you're too warm and wet,” he moaned and panted inside your ear. His thumb sped up the circles on your swollen clit and you cried out in pleasure. This was only your first time but you were already hooked on this feeling, or maybe Hyunjin just knew what he was doing.

“Where do you want it?”

“Inside, please.”

His thrusts became harsher and harsher, your tits bounced everytime his pelvis came in contact with your ass and thighs. Moans and pants came out of his lips, he wasn't scared to be vocal and you loved it. A long, strangled whimper sounded in your ear and suddenly hot spurts of cum spilled inside you. The feeling of his release was the last thing that took you to get over the edge. Your body shook in pleasure and your thighs tightened around Hyujin’s waist.

You figured you almost passed out because when you came to, Hyunjin was laying on his back and you on top of him, your thighs still locked around him.

“Was it good enough for a first time?” His hand lightly scratched your scalp.

“It was great, thank you Hyunjin.”

A comfortable silence fell between you, the only thing that could be heard was yours and Hyunjins breathing and heartbeats.

“I'd like to paint you next time, you have a really pretty pussy.” You poked his side and he giggled.

“You haven't seen it.”

“But I felt it. Will you let me?”

“Maybe next time.”

@kflixnet

[melzula]

All I Ever Wanted

pairing: zuko x reader

notes: this was originally requested by an anon but i also took inspiration from mitski’s song “your best american girl” while writing this. give it a listen during your read !

summary: as a peasant and servant girl for the palace, you should have known better than to fall for the Prince

The sun is warm against your skin and the grass is soft beneath you as you land on your back in a fit of giggles. Azula is unamused by your antics, but Zuko finds himself laughing right along with you. It’s a peaceful summer’s day in the palace gardens, and you spend it as you would any other day by playing with your friends.

“I caught you,” you tell him with a breathless laugh after turning your head to face him.

“No way, I was just going easy on you,” he argues with playful grin, his nose nearly brushing against your own due to your close proximity on the grass. Your heart beats fast in your rib cage as you try to ignore the rising heat on your face and play it off as a result of your exhaustion and not your nerves from lying with the Prince. You haven’t realized it yourself, but you have a crush on Zuko, a painfully obvious one that he hasn’t seemed to notice yet. What you also don’t realize is that he reciprocates the feeling, and he shares the thrill that comes with being your playmate.

“Are you two done yet?” Azula finally interrupts with a roll of her eyes as she offers you her hand and helps you up from the ground. “It’s my turn to hide this time.”

“I don’t think we can play anymore,” Zuko notes with a frown as his mother makes her way towards your group. You quickly bow in respect to the Fire Lady, but she waves you off with a smile.

“I’m sorry, y/n, but Zuko and Azula must attend their fire bending lessons now. I’m afraid playtime is over for today,” she informs you apologetically.

“Yes, Fire Lady Ursa,” you reply politely before turning to give both of your friends departing hugs. “Bye Zuko, bye Azula!”

“It’s too bad you’re not a fire bender,” Azula remarks after halfheartedly returning your embrace. “Maybe dad would let us play with you more if you were.”

Her words make your body hot with embarrassment and shame, and though you don’t voice your discomfort Ursa is instantly able to pick up on it. With a scolding glare, the Fire Lady quickly urges her daughter to apologize.

“Azula, that is not a nice thing to say to a friend.”

“But it’s true,” the girl mutters under her breath only to have her mother drag her away before she can get the chance to say anything else. Zuko hesitates then, giving you an apologetic look and promising to play with you tomorrow before rushing after Ursa and Azula.

You’ve never really cared about being a non-bender, but there’s something about Azula’s words that has you questioning your worth. As the daughter of a royal family servant with no title or money to her name, you knew you were lucky to be able to grow up in the palace and play with the Fire Lord’s children. However, you never once realized that you weren’t their equal. They were royalty, a Prince and a Princess destined to become powerful benders and ruthless leaders of the Fire Nation, and you were simply a girl who would one day grow up to live a life of servitude. You had no real future or purpose ahead of you, not like they did, and yet you were the only one unaware of your unfortunate fate.

Perhaps it’s because they never treated you in such a way, and your mother did her best to shield you from your true heritage. For now you could grow up blissfully unaware of the fact that your friends would one day outgrow you.

“Mom?” Zuko asks once they’re safe inside the palace. “Do you like y/n?”

“She’s a sweet girl,” Ursa notes with a faint smile, “and she makes you both happy. So yes, I like her.”

“Then why doesn’t Dad?”

The Fire Lady’s smile fades into a remorseful frown, and she simply ushers her son forward with a shake of her head. “Let’s not worry about that now. You’re going to be late for your lesson.”

Zuko isn’t satisfied with her answer, but he isn’t give a chance to discuss it further with her. For now, he remains content with the fact that he likes you, and his mother likes you.

That is enough for him.

~~~

The day is calm as you carefully hang the clothes to dry and enjoy the warmth of the sun basking on your skin. It’s rare that you get tasked with the outdoor chores, so you savor the opportunity for as long as you can. Doing the royal family’s laundry certainly beats scrubbing the floors of the palace, and you are grateful the spirits have taken mercy upon you today.

You’re freshly fifteen and the summer is just beginning. You’ve grown into a well-mannered young woman, and you’re old enough now to be able to take on some of the work that once fell to your mother. One day you will take her place and continue to serve the royal family until you’re no longer physically able. You’ll never get to leave, but you consider yourself grateful to live on the palace grounds. You will forever have a roof over your head, food on the table, and, most importantly, your friends.

You take great care to pin Azula’s dresses down without getting any creases or wrinkles in the fabric, and you’re so lost in thought that you don’t notice the figure carefully creeping up behind you. You’re too busy reciting the words to an old Fire Nation folk song your mother had taught you to pay any mind to your surroundings, and it gives Zuko the perfect opportunity to catch you by surprise.

“Y/n!” He exclaims with a grin as his hands land firmly upon your shoulders. You nearly jump out of your skin at the act, and your reaction has the Fire Prince laughing so hard his cheeks begin to hurt.

“Zuko!” You scold with an irritated scowl as you chuck a handful of clothespins at him in retaliation. “You need to stop doing that!”

“I’m sorry, you just make it so easy,” he teases with a light nudge to your side before taking it upon himself to pick up the pins you’d discarded.

“Shouldn’t you be getting ready to leave for Ember Island?” You ask him with a quizzical look as you resume your previous work of hanging the clothes.

“That’s actually what I was coming to talk to you about,” he admits with a sheepish smile. “I want you to come with us.”

“What? You’re not serious, are you?” You retort apprehensively, halting your movements to gauge his reaction for any hint of insincerity or humor.

“I am serious. You deserve to have fun once in a while too,” he notes with a careful smile. You’re too oblivious to notice the look of admiration on his face and definitely too concerned with finding a way to let him down gently to realize he’s inviting you because he likes you. Despite your own feelings for the Prince you’ve developed over the years, you’re much too self-depreciating to ever believe Zuko could possibly feel the same. If only you knew.

“I can’t just up and leave! There’s work to be done, a-and my mother would be so upset with me if I abandoned my chores and-“

“Azula will tell our father she wishes to bring you along as a personal servant so you can come with us, and someone else will be tasked with taking on your work while you’re away. There’s no way your mom could be upset with you for serving the Princess, could she?”

“Azula would really do that for me?” You question meekly, a hopeful glint in your eyes as you hang on to his every word. You’re trying your best not to get your hopes up, but you wish for nothing more than to leave the capital city to see the ocean for the first time and feel the sand beneath your feet. As the daughter of a servant and now a servant yourself, you know you’d never get a chance like this if not for the fact that the siblings had grown fond of you over your years of friendship together. You’re lucky, because you know without them you’d truly be nothing more than a floor scrubbing peasant.

“Of course she would, she wants you there just as much as I do,” Zuko assures you. Gently taking your hands in his own, he gives them a comforting squeeze and looks into your eyes with a loving smile. “We leave tomorrow morning. Bring enough clothes to last you three days and a bathing suit.”

“I don’t own one,” you admit with an embarrassed frown, but your friend doesn’t display any sign of judgement in the slightest towards your shortcomings.

“Then I’ll take you shopping myself when we get there.”

Your heart melts at his words, your gaze falling to the ground bashfully as you try not to dwell on the fact that he’s still holding your hands. You’re in love with the Prince, and the Prince is in love with you, and everyone but you has figured out just how much you mean to each other.

Even Fire Lord Ozai, who odiously watches the scene unfold before him from the top of the palace balcony.

~~~

The shores of Ember Island are beautiful.

The waves almost seem to sparkle underneath the moonlight as they crash peacefully against the shore, and down below the lively chatter of your friends carries through the air and fills your heart with contentment. You’ve had the most perfect time here at the beach, and it pains you to know that tonight will be your last night of freedom before you must return home and resume your life as a servant girl.

The wooden doors behind you carefully slide open and closed, and soon a familiar warmth joins you out on the balcony. For a while you say nothing, simply enjoying the closeness of him as you watch Azula, Ty Lee, and Mai practice tricks in the sand below. You don’t know how to thank the Prince for all he’s done for you, for always looking out for you since you were children, for never once treating you as less than for your heritage. You don’t know how to tell him that you love him with your entire being.

So he does it for you.

“I got you something,” Zuko says after a moment’s silence, waiting for you to turn your gaze to him so he may pull out a small clam from beneath his robes. You raise a curious eyebrow at his offering as he gestures for you to take it.

“A clam shell?” You note inquisitively as you turn the gift around in your palms, carefully feeling out its grooves and intricate ridges.

“Open it,” he directs you quietly, anxiously watching your movements with bated breath.

You smile curiously at your friend before delicately pulling the top half of the shell open to reveal the contents inside. Your eyes widen in surprise at the gift that greets you, and you immediately look up to Zuko to ensure this isn’t some kind of joke.

Inside the clam sits a beautiful gold necklace with a dainty sun pendant resting in the center that shimmers under the light of the moon. It’s beautiful, and it’s certainly worth more than your own life, which is why you immediately try to hand it back to him.

“I-I can’t accept this!” You hastily insist with a quick shake of your head as you struggle to return the clam to him. “It’s too nice!”

“You can accept this,” Zuko reassures you as he carefully pushes the gift back towards you. When his efforts fail due to your persistent attempts to give back the shell, he lets out a sigh and carefully removes the necklace from the clam. “Y/n, I want you to have it.”

“But why?” You demand apprehensively, almost flinching away when he moves towards you with the necklace. You’re completely overwhelmed by his gift and unsure of what it means or why you’d ever be deserving of such a thing. You don’t want to take advantage of his kindness or his status, and you feel like he’s done more than enough for you by bringing you along on this trip, so it just feels wrong of you to take it.

“Because you deserve nice things too,” Zuko explains, and after giving you a pointed look you finally allow him to carefully put the necklace on you. The sun rests daintily along your neck, and he thinks it suits you perfectly. “I brought you on this trip because I wanted you to have fun for once, but also because… well, because I love you, and I thought a romantic setting might make it easier to tell you that.”

“You love me?”

“You haven’t noticed?” He retorts with a meek smile. “I’m not the best at words, but I know that I’ve loved you since we were children feeding turtle ducks in the pond and playing tag in the gardens. You have the purest heart of anyone I know, the sweetest smile, you are everything to me. I hope that by accepting this gift, you’ll be accepting me as someone worthy enough to be your boyfriend.”

“Oh, Zuko…” you murmur softly, eyes full of tears as you throw yourself into his arms and hug him as tight as humanly possible. You’re still shocked by the fact that the boy you love will all your heart feels the same, but you try to remind yourself not to look a gift horse in the mouth. Zuko is right when he says that you deserve to enjoy what life has to offer just as much as he does, so maybe it’s time you finally start allowing yourself the chance to finally let your guard down. You can be more than just a servant girl from the palace.

You can be happy.

~~~

You sit quietly before the vanity mirror as your mother tediously brushes through your hair to ensure not a single strand is out of place. The wrinkles in her skin crease with her nerves as she carefully begins to pin your hair back into the perfect top knot. Immediately after your return home from Ember Island, you were informed that the Fire Lord wished to speak with you. You were expected to drop your chores for the day and make yourself decent before presenting yourself to him. His request to see you surprised you considering the fact you previously believed he didn’t even know of your existence, but it made you nervous all the same. If anything were to go wrong during your meeting, you’d be jeopardizing both yours and your mother’s jobs.

“Make sure to sit up straight and no slouching,” she reminds you quietly while stopping to admire her work. “Hold your tongue until he allows you to speak and thank him for all he has done for us. It is a great honor to speak to Fire Lord Ozai, so you must treat it as such.”

“Mother, what could the Fire Lord possibly want to talk to me about?”

She doesn’t meet your eyes at first, looking away as if contemplating carefully what her next words should be. With a sigh, she sets the brush down and looks at you through the reflection. “Word has spread quickly about you and Prince Zuko, and I think he knows.”

You swallow nervously at her admission, absently brushing your fingers against the sun that hangs around your neck. You never once considered what Zuko’s father would think about his son’s choice of a partner; Ursa had always treated you as one of her own, and Azula considered you to be a good friend, but what would Ozai say of the peasant girl who had stolen his son’s heart?

You don’t have much time to mull over it further as a guard arrives to escort you from your quarters to the throne room. All eyes seem to follow you as you walk through the palace, the gold and red hues overwhelming your senses as you do your best to remain calm. You have no idea what awaits you at the end of the hallway, but there’s no escape now as the grand doors open and you’re pushed inside.

Ozai sits on the throne with a wall of flames roaring behind him. His features are stoic but his gaze is menacing as his eyes watch your meager form approach. You immediately bow in respect to the man once you reach him and kneel before his seated figure. Just as your mother instructed, you say nothing until you are spoken to.

“So you’re the girl my son has chosen to be his partner?” He drawls with a raised brow, obviously not impressed by the person before him.

“Yes, sir. It is an honor to present myself to you, my Lord,” you profess as earnestly as possible while adding another bow for good measure. You need his approval not only to continue dating Zuko, but also to ensure you and your mother are both able to continue living behind the palace walls. Even if you are there as servants tucked away in the peasant quarters, it certainly is a better place to be than out in the streets.

“I know who you are, child,” Ozai scoffs callously as he peers down at you from his place on the throne. “You are the peasant girl who managed to worm her way into the lives of my children. You are a lowly servant with nothing to your name and nothing special about you, and yet you have managed to corrupt my only son."

“Fire Lord Ozai, I-I apologize if my actions have upset you,” you quickly try to interject, but he holds a hand up and signals you to halt your pathetic rambling. Ozai does not have the time nor care to hear your excuses or explanations. That’s not what this meeting is for.

“Do you know how poorly it would reflect on me to have Zuko galavanting around the palace with a servant? Do you know how poorly it reflects on him to be seen with you? It’s a disgrace, and it is something I will not tolerate.”

“I know,” you utter quietly, trying to make yourself appear as small as you feel on the inside. Despite what Zuko has told you, you know that his father is right. You are nothing compared to him. He is the sun, the Prince, the heir to the throne. His future ahead is bright, and there is much for him to accomplish. You have no future, no plans for your life, nothing as grand or important as him and Azula. You are not the sun or the moon or even the stars that hang in his sky, you are insignificant, and you will never be worthy enough to be his.

“A future Fire Lord cannot have a maid as a wife. You must break his heart so that he no longer wants anything to do with you, so that he can move on and find a girl more worthy of becoming the future Fire Lady. You must make it appear to be your own doing and not mine, otherwise it won’t work. Have I made myself clear, child?”

“Yes, Fire Lord Ozai,” you whisper softly, a single tear sliding down your cheek as you bow to the cruel man before you. “I understand.”

~~~

The clouds that hang overhead are gray as Zuko makes his way towards the servants’ quarters. It is unheard of for any royal to ever set foot on these grounds, and so all eyes watch the Prince curiously as he approaches your humble home and knocks gently on the door. Movement sounds from the other side, and after a moment he is met with the startled face of your mother. It’s clear that she hadn’t been expecting him, and he takes her by surprise when he bows to the woman in respect.

“I apologize for coming unannounced, but I was hoping I could speak to y/n,” he utters with a look of defeat on his face. His sullen features make his lack of sleep obvious, and his eyes are full of desperation. You’ve been avoiding him for weeks and he has no clue as to why, but he hopes to figure it out soon before he starts to spiral any further.

“She’s…” your mother begins to say, glancing unsurely behind her before looking back to him, “she’s not feeling well. You can come back another time.”

“But-“

“Please, Prince Zuko, we can’t risk you catching whatever it is she’s come down with. You must go.”

She gives him no time to argue before slamming the door in his face. Zuko is stunned, but his shock quickly turns to anger as he lets out a frustrated breath of flames from his mouth before stalking off to cool himself down.

His footsteps fade into the distance as he departs, and you can only sit by the window of your room and watch him walk away. There’s a tightness in your chest that makes you feel as if you can’t breathe, and once he finally disappears over the horizon you break down into an inconsolable mess.

You love Zuko with all of your heart, so it kills you to act as if he means nothing to you. You’re trying to do what Ozai has demanded of you, but it’s agonizing and difficult. You’re too much of a coward to face him and break it off for good, so you’ve resorted to avidly avoiding the Prince at all costs. You hope that by pushing him away he’ll take it upon himself to end the relationship; it would be much less painful that way, but he’s too stubborn for his own good, and he’s persisted despite your best efforts.

The days seem to blend together as you lock yourself in your room while your mother continues to turn Zuko away. You haven’t done any of your chores or worked in days, but Ozai has not faulted you for your incompletion of tasks. Breaking Zuko’s heart is your task, and so long as you keep your word he couldn’t care less what you did with yourself.

After another week has passed, suffocation finally catches up to you and you’re forced to leave your room in order to get some fresh air. You sneak out at nightfall when the palace is quiet and your mother is sleeping so that no one can detect your presence. You retreat to the well out in the back and stare contemplatively into the water below. Clutching the sun that hangs from the gold chain around your neck, you admire the moon’s reflection in the ripples and wish you could be anywhere else but here in the Fire Nation.

“I thought I’d find you here,” a voice utters quietly, causing you to jump in alarm at the intrusion. You turn to meet the solemn gaze of the Prince, and as your back hits the cool stones of the well you find that you are cornered. You can’t avoid him now, and it’s a fact both of you are aware of.

“Zuko, I… I was just leaving,” you stammer hurriedly as you try to push your way past him, but he catches you by the arm before you can get away.

“No, not until you talk to me!” He demands, his eyes full of desperation and despair. “You’re supposed to be my girlfriend, yet you keep avoiding me. Why? Was it something I did?”

“No, Zuko, you didn’t do anything,” you insist despite refusing to meet his gaze. You’re terrified that someone will see you both together and alert Ozai, and you wish he would just release you so you could go back to hiding away in your room.

“Then why won’t you even look at me?”

Slowly, you peek your head up to meet his exasperated face. It seems he’s not going to give up without a fight, so you’re going to have to resort to doing what you’ve been trying to avoid this entire time.

“I don’t love you.”

“W-What?” Zuko stammers in quiet surprise, his hold on your arm loosening slightly. He doesn’t believe what he’s hearing from you, and his mind is scrambling to process your words.

“I don’t love you. I want nothing to do with you,” you repeat firmly, your eyes hardening as you stare up at him and yank yourself free from his grasp.

“Y/n, you don’t mean that-“

“I do mean it! I feel nothing for you, Zuko. I never have. I just felt like I couldn’t say no to you because you’re the Prince, so I had no choice but to say yes to being your girlfriend.”

Hurt flashes across his features and you’re dying inside at having to be so cruel to him. The heart of your childhood best friend is in your hands and you crush it with every word despite how much it pains you. But it’s better for both of you this way, it must be. Ozai will never let you be happy together, but apart he still has a chance to capture the promised future ahead of him. You’re doing him a favor, and you hope one day he’ll be able to see it that way too.

“I don’t understand,” he murmurs weakly, tears beginning to well in his eyes. Then, with frustration clear in his tone, “This doesn’t make any sense!”

“Did you honestly think we could actually be together?” You retort in disbelief. “Azula always said you were a fool, but I didn’t think you were this naive. A servant and a Prince don’t belong together, and you’re the only one who can’t seem to get that!”

“Alright, fine,” Zuko mutters indignantly. His sadness has quickly morphed into anger, and you hate the way it makes you feel. “Can I just ask you one thing?”

You say nothing in response, and he takes your silence as a sign to continue.

“If you don’t love me, then why are you still wearing the necklace?”

Your eyes widen slightly as your hand immediately flies to your neck to clutch the pendant, and your heart slowly begins to sink to your stomach as you realize you’ve been caught in your lie. It’s your turn now to be at a loss for words, unsure what to say as you simply stare up at him with your mouth slight agape.

“You don’t mean what you’re saying,” Zuko says firmly as he moves closer to you. “Someone else is speaking for you, aren’t they?”

“I…”

“What’s going on, y/n?” He presses gently, carefully resting a hand upon your cheek. “Why are you acting this way?”

“I can’t tell you,” you argue weakly, your own eyes becoming full of tears as you allow yourself to melt into his touch. You’ve missed the feeling of his warmth and the comfort of his closeness, and despite your mind screaming at you to remove yourself from him your heart keeps you planted in place.

“That’s nonsense, of course you can. You’ve always been able to tell me anything, so why can’t you now?”

“Can’t you just believe me when I tell you it’s for your own good?” You plead emphatically despite the wavering of your voice.

“How can this possibly be for my own good?!” He retorts in exasperation. “I’ve been miserable without you. Life feels empty when you aren’t around, and I don’t know how to deal with the fact that the girl I’ve loved all my life can’t seem to stand me.”

“It’s not like that!” You cry defensively as the tears finally begin to fall.

“Then what is it?!” Zuko demands, and you can’t seem to take any more of this torture. The lies are killing you, and you can’t help but to finally crack under pressure.

“I’m not good enough for you!” You finally exclaim as you pull yourself away from his touch. You try to choke back your sobs but the ache in your chest makes the task difficult, and you can do nothing but let your words flow freely after keeping them bottled in for weeks. “I-I have nothing to offer you, nothing that makes me special, nothing ahead of me like you do. It’s an embarrassment to the Fire Lord for you to be with me, and it will be an embarrassment for you to have me as your Fire Lady.”

Stunned by your admission, it takes Zuko a moment to process your words. He steps towards you and you flinch, effectively breaking his heart in the process. It’s clear you’re frightened, but not of him. Your fear is geared toward someone else, and the culprit must be responsible for you now feeling this way.

“Who told you such nonsense?”

“Your father,” you admit quietly much to Zuko’s dismay. His eyes immediately harden and his chest is immediately tight with anger, but he does his best to keep his emotions at bay so as to not upset you further. “He spoke to me when we returned from Ember Island and told me we couldn’t be together. Ozai demanded I break your heart so that you can move on and find another girl more suited for this life than I could ever be. I didn’t want to, I still don’t want to, but I’m doing this so that you can have a better future. I’ll only hold you back, Zuko.”

After taking a moment to digest your words, Zuko carefully steps towards you again. You don’t reject his advances this time, so he allows himself the opportunity to carefully wipe away the steady tears that fall down your cool cheeks. Despite how much of a mess you assume you must look like, the Prince still sees you as the most beautiful girl he’s ever laid eyes on.

“I don’t care what my father says,” he assures you gently as he takes your hands in his own. “You’re not an embarrassment, and there’s no other girl that could ever compare to you. I love you, y/n, and I’m not going to let anyone ever get in the way of that.”

“You mean that?” You ask with a quiet sniffle, holding his hands tight as if he’ll leave if you let go.

“Every word. Let my father and anyone else who disapproves of our relationship say what they want to say. I want to be with you, and I hope you still want to be with me too.”

His looks to you with pleading eyes that seek your reassurance, and for a moment you hesitate. Being with Zuko is all you’ve ever wanted, and now he stands here before you professing his loyalty and his love to you. The boy from your childhood had stolen your heart, and you’d be lying if you said you wanted it back.

You know being with him won’t be easy, especially not with his father’s adamant disapproval of your relationship, but you trust Zuko, and so you have to trust that everything will turn out okay. You meet his desperate gaze and gift him a faint smile, and despite knowing you’ll regret this, you wordlessly lean in to meet his lips in a kiss.

You can worry about Ozai’s wrath later. But for now, you allow yourself to melt into his embrace by the moonlit well as you share your first kiss in weeks. It feels right being in his arms once more after spending so much time apart, and you hope you’ll never have to be without his touch ever again.

| zuko tags: @ilovespideyyy @yiyibetch @eridanuswave @lammello @a-monsters-love @taeeemin @livelaughlovekuni @lovialy @alexatiu