#and just did a rough translation of what they are like in my language

[crstormzy]

ok so i just finished watching tangled ever after (2017) ((yes i know i'm late for the party but i'm always late for everything so just keeping up with the theme there...)) and i have so. many. thoughts.

like, it's 4:45am where i live and i lost my ability to form coherent sentences somewhere around 2am so i may not even make much sense but just

cassandra

like, all of cassandra

"it's not that i don't think you're good enough for rapunzel. i don't think you're good to anyone" was golden

and and and

"we don't keep secrets from the ones we love. not ever... woman, you gotta hide that hair!"

uuuughehwh eugene why do you have to be so adorable this is comedic gold you are a true find!!!

and i just love the proposal scene so much

eugene's speech is so sweet, him calling rapunzel his best friend made me go all mushy inside. i love the build up with her anxiety and the conflicting feelings and how, at the end of the day, she doesn't force herself to go into it (and i love how he also doesn't try to force her either)

and i think it's so telling how he takes the time to properly apologize and, when he says he doesn't understand, promptly follows with saying he will keep trying until he does. not trying until she relents. not trying until he can change her mind. no. trying until he can understand her.

and i also love the queen so much she's great

(in other news, i feel like i could throttle the king with a smile on my face. i get him, of course, but i still kinda wish i could throttle him. just a little.)

[sergeantbarnessdoll]

Winter Soldier + Choking kink + Unprotected sex + His first orgasm in years, make it rough, violent, sexy. 🥰

thank you Shannon. 🫶🏻 you naughty beastie.

Caught Myself A Cute Little Doll » Bucky Barnes/Winter Soldier

Pairings: Winter Soldier x Female Reader

Summary: The Winter Soldier caught himself a cute little doll.

Warnings: Smut (18+), language, violence, dirty talk, kissing, hickeys, unprotected sex, rough sex, metal arm kink, size kink, praise kink, hair pulling, choking, tit slapping, crying during sex, pet names

A/N: @katherineswritingsblog and I were talking about this and she dropped it in my ask box🥵❤️‍🔥 she also provided the gif for it🩷

A/N #2: I used Google translate for the Russian translations. I’m sorry if I got anything wrong.

Written on my phone. My apologies for any mistakes.

Header made by @buckys-wintersoldier

GIF IS NOT MINE! Credit goes to the creator.

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!!🔞

You jumped on the Winter Soldier’s back and put him in a head lock. His metal arm reached back and easily threw you off of him. You groaned in pain when you hit the ground. You lifted your head to see him walking towards you with a knife in his right hand. You quickly got on your feet and got into your fighting position.

“You wanna fight dirty? We’ll fight dirty.” You said. “No weapons. We’re going to use our fists.” You tell him.

“You’re gonna wish you didn’t say that, кукла.” The Winter Soldier says, smirking behind his mask.

He put his knife back in the holster and got into fighting position. You threw the first punch, missing due to him dodging your punch. You threw another one, punching his mask and made it fall off of his face. You stared at him, admiring his features. You didn’t know the Winter Soldier was hot.

You were quickly snapped out of your thoughts when he punched you in the face. You hissed in pain and bent over, holding the part of your face he punched. Normally you can take a punch, but that one hurt like hell. A whimper left your lips when his hand grabbed a handful of your hair and yanked your head up.

“We’re not done yet, кукла.” He says.

He threw you back against the wall, making you fall to the floor. He walked over to you and bent down, wrapped his metal hand around your throat and pulled you up, pinning you against the wall. You waited for him to throw more punches, but he didn’t. The Winter Soldier couldn’t help but look at the way your mission suit looks like on your body, hugging your curves just right. He couldn’t help but wonder what you look like without it on. He went to unzip it, but you instinctively smacked his hand away.

“What do you think you’re doing?!” You asked.

The Winter Soldier didn’t listen. He unzipped your suit all the way, revealing your black lace bra and panties to him.

“Looks like I caught myself a cute little кукла.” He says with a smirk.

“I’m not your кукла.” You practically hissed.

“You will be by the time I’m done with you.” He says huskily.

He took your mission suit the rest of the way off, dropping it on the floor. He reached a hand behind your back, expertly unclamping your bra and letting it fall off of your chest. The Winter Soldier licked his lips at the sight of your bare breasts. He brought his right hand up to your breasts, rubbing his fingers against your skin before smacking one of your breasts to make it jiggle, making you hiss in pain and your eyes water. He did it again with your other one, making you hiss in pain again.

His right hand found its way to your panties, ripping them off and shoved the ruined material in the pocket of his tactical pants. His metal hand let go of your throat so he can unbutton and unzip his tactical pants. You took the opportunity to get your breathing under control due to how tight his metal hand was squeezing your throat.

You watched him pull his hard cock out of his boxers. His tip was leaking with precum. He’s big. The Winter Soldier’s hands got a good grip on your hips and picked you up. You instinctively wrapped your legs around his waist. He reached a hand down to stroke his cock a couple times before lining it at your tight entrance. He slid his cock inside of you without warning. He didn’t even let you adjust to his size. The stretch of his cock stung, but it also felt good.

You got a good grasp on his shoulders when he started thrusting at a fast pace. Your eyes fluttered shut and your mouth fell open. Your head felt back against the wall, enjoying the feeling of his cock inside of you. You could feel every vein and every inch of his cock.

While you were in your little world, the Winter Soldier was in his own. He can’t remember the last time he had sex. What he does know that it feels amazing. He sped up his thrusts, fucking you at a rough and violent pace. You already know that you’re going to be sore after this, but you couldn’t care less in the slightest about it.

He kissed along your shoulders and up to the side of your neck. You tilted your head to the side to give him more access. You moaned when his teeth bit your skin hard enough for a hickey, marking you as his.

Your nails dug into the material of his tactical vest the rougher he fucked you. His cock was hitting all of the right spots perfectly, making a pornographic moan leave your lips. The rougher his thrusts got, your eyes watered more. You didn’t even realize tears rolling down your cheeks. That urged the Winter Soldier on. The sight of you crying on his cock made him fuck you at a relentless pace. You quickly became a crying mess. That’s when the pleasure became unbearable. You weren’t sure how much you could take.

“Pl-Please slow down a little.” You pleaded, trying to reason with him.

“No.” Is all he said.

You whined. That earned you his metal hand around your throat again, giving it a squeeze.

“Quit fucking whining and take what I give you.” He practically growls.

You whimpered and nodded your head. His metal hand remained around your throat. He continued to fuck you violently. Your pussy clenched around his cock when he hit your sweet spot. A loud moan left your lips and your nails dug more in his tactical vest.

“Fuck…” He moans. “I should’ve just fucked you instead of fighting you.” He says, followed by a grunt.

“Why didn’t you?” You sassed.

“Don’t fucking sass me, little girl.” He growls. “Sass me again and I won’t let you cum.” He says.

You quickly dropped the sassy act. You should’ve known better than to sass him, but you did it anyway.

His right hand left your hip and found its way to your clit, blindly finding it. He found it with ease. His fingers applied pressure on your clit and began rubbing it. Your pussy clenched around his cock again.

“You’re so fucking wet for me.” He huskily says. “Did fighting me make your pussy wet?” He asks.

“Mhmm, yes!” You say more in a gasp.

The Winter Soldier chuckles to himself. He continues to rub your clit as he fucked you faster. Your legs began to shake against his waist. The pleasure became more unbearable than it was a moment ago. You weren’t sure how much longer you were going to last.

“I’m gonna cum!” You whimpered.

“Hold it.” He demands.

“But-” You shut your mouth when he gave you a warning look.

“I said hold it.” He repeats.

You whimpered, feeling your pussy become sensitive due to how rough he was fucking you and his fingers rubbing your clit. Your legs continued to tremble against his waist. Tears were streaming down your face at this point.

The Winter Soldier felt his cock twitch in your pussy, feeling his orgasm building up quickly. His first orgasm in years. His thrust became sloppy the closer he got to his orgasm. Before either of you knew it, he came inside of you, painting your walls white. A white ring of cum formed at the base of his cock.

“Cum.” He says, finally giving you permission.

Your eyes rolled to the back of your head and a loud moan left your lips when you came. You came so hard that you soaked the front of his tactical pants. He smacked your breasts a few times as he fucked you through your orgasm. His thrusts came to a halt. He slowly pulled his cock out of your pussy, making you whine at the loss of his cock inside of you.

He put you back on your feet. Your legs were so wobbly that you fell to the floor, leaning your back against the wall. You sat here panting and stared up at him, watching him put his cock back in his boxers and zip and button his tactical pants. He crouched down in front of you, his metal hand grasping your jaw. He kissed you roughly, making you moan against his lips. He pulled away from your lips and stood up, leaving without saying a word. You sat on the floor naked with his cum dripping out of your pussy as you caught your breath.

You finally stood up and put your bra and mission suit back on. You were left without panties due to the Winter Soldier ripping them off of you and putting them in his pocket. You walked out of the room, making your way outside of the building.

The Winter Soldier watched you from a distance, smirking to himself. He knows this isn’t going to be a one time thing and you knew it too. He’s going to see his cute little кукла real soon.

🦾🦾🦾🦾🦾🦾🦾🦾🦾🦾🦾🦾🦾🦾🦾🦾🦾

-Bucky’s Doll

[xreaderbooks]

Asphyxiated | Azriel

Summary: you overhear your mate talking to the inner circle about someone being clingy and annoying, and you decide to remove yourself from the court and your mate to avoid further humiliation.

based on this request

Warnings: language, insecurity, eavesdropping, feeling unworthy, court of nightmares, there's a stalker, some random OC, angst, miscommunication, fluff

Word Count: 2.9k

Azriel Masterlist | Navi | Wattpad | AO3 | Masterlist

"Azriel," You sing his name as you walk into your secluded home. A decently sized cottage to fit your tall, broad, wide-winged mate, that you designed and built together, just outside the city of Velaris. "Look at what I brought you."

You walk into the sitting room where you and Azriel enjoy each other's company in peace, however rare the occurrence. He appears troubled in his sleep as you've found him lying on his back with his wings spread open and a hand draped over his eyes.  He removes his arm from his face and blinks your way, feeling your presence as you enter the room.

"What do you have there?" His melodic voice makes your stomach flutter in a frenzy as it always does and you hope the bond doesn't translate too much to him, or his shadows, the gossipers that they are.

With a bright grin, you bring the box from behind your back and show him a white box with clear plastic for the perfect view of the treats inside. "Cupcakes," You reply cheerfully, awaiting a grateful response. "Went by the river today and Hilaria was working at the shop you like, did you know she found a job? how great for her!"

Azriel grumbles slightly and your smile falters but you don't let it show, opening the box you move to the couch and sit beside him with the room he gave you tucking in his wings.

"You got my favorite," Az murmurs, carefully taking out the beautifully decorated dessert. You take the statement as a note of appreciation for how well you know him, that much was obvious as you've known each other since birth practically, and in love with each other for half of that time.

He bent his neck down to kiss your cheek and muttering a thank you.

"Don't get too excited now, I heard from Rhys about where you're next assignment is gonna be and I expect a little something when you get back," You tease.

Azriel exhales through his nose and it sounds like a small laugh, "I'll be sure to return the favor if all goes well, love."

"What's wrong?" You ask, the energy in the room has been off since the moment you arrived and you couldn't deny it frightened you a little.

You and Azriel have been going through a rough patch, it happens as often as he overloads himself with work but you have always managed to work through it, it's never too serious mostly the both of you missing each other.

Whenever Azriel was working, you were home, and whenever you were working- he was home. You've spoken to Rhysand about your and Azriel's assignments but it wasn't about when he wanted you both to work, it was simply what needed to be done when it needed to be done.

Both of you being spymasters of the night court, it wasn't ideal to send you both on the same mission unless needed. Most of the time, either one of you or both of you were needed in separate places.

On the days, weeks- if you were lucky- months, that you had 'easy' assignments or days off, you spent it together. You and Azriel would spend time in bed or with your family, going on outings, and trying new things to add to the excitement of life. You loved to be together, your relationship being very sacred to both of you.

"Just tired," Azriel shrugs. You know him better though, something was bothering him that he didn't want to tell you.

You felt his frustration through the bond, you wanted to help him but knowing Az he'd tell you when he was ready.

~~~

"-the fucking shop, I mean honestly how close is she trying to get?"

You didn't mean to eavesdrop. Originally you were coming by to talk to Rhys and Feyre about some of the rumors going around the court of nightmares, nothing too concerning but something that needed to be checked on the next visit. When you heard the muffled voices in the townhouse sitting room.

"Perhaps if you spent less time with her?" Mor suggested.

You couldn't think of anyone else Azriel might be spending time with if not for you. Did Azriel want to spend less time with you?

Your brain immediately jumps to conclusions, Azriel has been in his thoughts as of late, and he hasn't told you what's been bothering him. You thought it had something to do with the distance, perhaps a lack of communication. It was putting a strain on your relationship but you didn't think even more distance was the answer.

Azriel shakes his head insistently, "I don't spend time with her, ever. She finds me somehow, it's maddening and I can't tell Y/n to stay away while I figure out how to solve this, she's always just there."

It was like a dagger in your heart. If you were always there it was because you felt like you never spent time together, how were you supposed to have a relationship if you were never together?

You thought for sure, Azriel felt the same.

"She is a bit clingy," Cassian nods. You felt another pang in your chest, Cassian who was your partner in crime, Mor who was your favorite person to talk to about anything, and your mate had all agreed that you were too much.

"A bit is a bit of an understatement," You heard Feyre chuckle.

You almost couldn't believe what you were hearing, your fault for listening to a conversation you weren't privy to you suppose but you would've never guessed your family felt you smothered them.

Perhaps you were too clingy, you were over at their house every other day. You felt like you were dividing your time between the people you loved, maybe they didn't want you there, and you were an imposition on their daily schedule. You felt embarrassed and humiliated that they were in a meeting to discuss what to do with you.

"I can talk to her if need be, brother," Rhysand gives Azriel a reassuring nod.

Azriel shook his head, "No, no need. I will speak with her, it's my relationship, my responsibility."

Cassian snorted loudly, "Your need to fix things yourself is admirable brother, truly. Let us pray that this will not dig you a deeper grave."

You didn't hear the rest, didn't need to.

Silently, you slipped out the doors of the townhouse. You didn't want to lose your friends so if they wanted space- you'd give them space.

~~~

You disappeared for the rest of the day, and the next. You left a note to Azriel so he wouldn't worry- not that he wouldn't appreciate your shared home now all to himself. You still had your apartment in the city that you rented out when you moved in with Azriel.

There were currently no tenants as there were renovations to be done.

You avoided your room at the townhouse knowing you weren't as welcome as you thought. You didn't show up to training with Cassian and Azriel that morning. Instead, you met informants and did some investigating yourself.

You sent a letter to Rhysand with details on the Hewn City problem, told him that he should look into it as soon as possible, and asked if he wanted you to get a handle on it instead.

He replied with a note giving you thanks and telling you that he'd deal it himself but would call on you with the rest of the inner circle when the visit would happen.

Days passed by until it had officially been a week of no contact. Azriel had sent you letter after letter requesting to see you. You denied them all with sweet words to show that there was nothing wrong, that you didn't overhear what they said about you.

Where'd you go - A

Miss you -A

Come back, our home feels empty without you - Azriel

Are you alright? - Desperately need to see you, Az

Several letters with pleading undertones, each one more than the last.

Then letters from Cassian about training, you reassured him that you were following the usual routine. Mor had invited you to Ritas one night and lunch another day- you declined both with excuses of having too much work to focus on anything else. You didn't realize how much they felt it was an obligation to do things with you.

Eventually, the time came, and Rhysand called on you for the visit to the court of nightmares. You were anxious at the thought of seeing them again, maybe as time passed they would feel better with you around now that you gave them space.

~~~

You dressed appropriately for the setting, your leathers, and weapons strapped to your body. The scowl was natural as you hated being here, glares sent to everyone who looked your way, intimidation being the only way to survive this gods-forsaken place.

Bowing in front of Rhysand to fit the narrative, Feyre sent you a curious as you bowed to her, you felt her stroking the inner walls of your mind- a request to enter. You shut her out with strong mental walls, standing once she allowed you, and took your place next to Azriel, slightly behind him and Cassian.

Azriel's eyes followed you, he tried to brush a finger against your hand as you passed him but you clasped your hands behind your back. Through the bond, you felt a sting in your chest. You spared a glance at your mate, you missed him so much your body craved to be near him but you resisted.

It went as well as it usually did, a dramatically villainous speech from Rhys, with some added threats to those opposed to his reign. The High Fae in attendance got drunk on Faerie wine and danced with the whole night ahead of them.

Azriel attempted to talk to you over his shoulder, "Are you upset with me?" He muttered to you with a crease on his forehead.

You shook your head, "No, why would I be?"

"Where've you been?"

With the few looks you've gotten of his face he looked stressed, circles under his eyes, his hands were clenched and you could tell that it was to keep him from fidgeting.

"Now is not the time," You told him, straightening when you saw a reveler get too close to the High Lady.

"We're done here anyway," Rhysand's voice echoed in your mind. You didn't doubt Azriel heard him as well. You took your leave, Azriel right behind you, he caught up so quickly he held your wrist you didn't notice until you felt the world shift and you realized he traveled you both to your cottage home with his shadows.

Azriel had stood in the same spot he landed while you backed away from him a couple of steps.

"You've been avoiding me," A statement. It was heavy with questions, with want of information you didn't want to divulge.

You asked one of your own, "Have you watered the plants?"

"Have I watered the plants?" He scoffed out the last word. "I've barely been able to function without you, Y/n."

You flinched although he didn't yell but the tone in which he spoke felt like he was scolding you.

He continued, "Yes, I watered the plants."

A weak smile was pulled out of you, he probably loved those plants as much as you. You weren't as much a gardener as Elain but you managed a small garden of your own, they were like yours and Azriel's children, something you both grew together. A garden of both of your favorite flowers and fruits and vegetables.

"Seems like you've been functioning just fine," You responded in a smart tone, it just slipped out.

"Tell me what I did, please, it's driving me mad." He stepped in your direction, shadows reaching to touch you, and you saw Azriel forcefully reigning them in like he wanted to reach for you too.

You softened at the sight, "It's not something you did, Az."

"Something I said, then?" He didn't refrain from fidgeting now, in the comfort of the home, he fidgeted with his fingers. "Something I didn't say, I know I didn't want to talk about what was happening before, but I'll tell you whatever you want me to if you promise not to leave again."

You just about melted, you felt yourself wanting to sway at his beseeching. "What was happening before?" You questioned in barely a whisper.

"Hilaria happened. She- Nothing happened- I swear to you, she grew attached. She grew attached to me," He grimaced as he said it. "She was everywhere I happened to be, it wasn't normal, I've warned her off so many times I was glad you didn't notice. I didn't want you to be uncomfortable with her. The moment she got a job at the sweet shop, she got too close, you went there and I knew it wasn't a coincidence."

Azriel had a fucking stalker and you didn't know about it. That was what he was so stressed about. Hilaria- an Illyrian female who had a shitty life, Azriel had given her refuge, because she had no family left to care for her, and a female alone in that camp was no place to be.

You helped Azriel find her a living space, and gave her safety for her to heal from the traumas, she must've mistook that for something else entirely. You couldn't help but to feel bad for her.

"I went to Rhys, he and the others offered their advice and I tried to talk to her about her behavior. She didn't take it well, so we sent her to Dawn court with the assurance that they would do all they could to help her."

"You talked to the others about this?" It all made more sense now. 

He nodded.

"Did Cassian say she was clingy?" You needed to be sure you were getting all the details now.

His brows furrowed, "How did you?"

"Because I was there when you were talking, but I didn't know you were talking about Hilaria." You sat on the couch slowly, forearms on your knees, hands clasped.

You laughed incredulously, slapping your hands to cover your face and running your hands into your hair. "I thought you were all talking about me."

"What?" Azriel's eyes were on you, deciphering your words when he pieced them together. "Why would we ever?"

"You weren't telling me anything about what was going on, I thought I was prying too much, I do spend a good bit of time with everyone, it wouldn't be too far off."

A smile tugged on his lips, one he was trying not to show. He was trying not to make you feel foolish but it was too late. "I love you, but this was not your wisest moment."

You grabbed a pillow from the couch and threw it at him with little force, "Az!"

"You had everyone concerned, they thought they had offended you in some way."

"Of course not!" You shook your head in disbelief, at how easily your insecurity took over.

"Now my family has some attachment issues, you couldn't get rid of them if you tried, you would probably want space from them yourself."

You rolled your eyes knowing them all too well, centuries with them and you still felt undeserving.

Azriel kneeled in front of you taking your hands in his and settling them on your lap then caressed your face in his hands. "I could never not want you near me, you're everything to me, understand?" His hands gave your head a gentle shake in emphasis.

"I don't think you understand where my mind was at the moment," You avoided his gaze. You didn't want him to know, the feeling of not being worthy enough for him, how you compared yourself to everything in his past and it didn't seem plausible for him to accept you. When he did accept the bond, it was the greatest moment you ever had the pleasure of experiencing.

Azriel was the love of your life, with and without a bond. It was hard for you to accept that he loved you without it if it wasn't for the fact that you trusted him to tell you the truth. He came to you and confessed his love and then the bond happened. You would have continued to pretend you weren't in love with him, otherwise.

"Do you not understand," Azriel sighed, "Do you not understand my love for you, at all?"

"It was easier to believe that you needed space from me," You confessed, shutting your eyes tight. Warm lips landed on yours, you were startled for a second before reciprocating the kiss.

He kissed you breathlessly, a minute, two or three- you didn't know how much time passed. Your blood pulsed in your ears, or was it his? it was rapid and created an electric current in your veins.

"I want to drown in your love, to be asphyxiated by it until all I know is you, in this life and after. I could never get enough of you." He whispered the promise on your lips with his eyes closed. You nudged your nose against his to open his eyes.

The warmth of his hazel eyes graced you and you murmur his name, he nudges your nose in response. "I love you."

Hours into the late night, after Azriel insisted on a bath together, you had a late-night snack nuzzled on the couch catching up on the lost time. You whispered sweet nothings to each other in bed with limbs entangled, and long-lasting kisses.

[amaranthineghost]

HE’S SO PRETTY WHEN HE GOES DOWN ON ME ( charles leclerc. )

charles leclerc x reader

charles goes down on her and she can't help but admire his pretty eyes staring back at her.

warnings: smut, mostly google translate french (highschool does NOT teach us how to talk dirty okay, bare with me)

author note: as much as I would've wanted to write this for lando, it HAS to be charles, and I feel like this is so different from my usual thought and emotion heavy writing! incoming charles obsession??? like if people requested imagines for him, I'D WRITE IT...

HIS GREEN EYES MIMICKED THE SHIMMER OF PALE EMERALD. sunlight peeked through the curtains, though in a few hours time, it would fall from its peak in the sky and the room would eventually begin to darken.

his biceps filled out the sleeves of his freshly-washed blue shirt, straight from the load of laundry she had done hours ago. veins like lightning under his tanned flesh to suggest his touch was rough, yet his callused hands were so gentle against her skin.

goosebumps crept across her body with every graze of his body on hers, every small breath against her ear as he mumbled something dirty to her in french. though she didn't know exactly what, she could pick up on the cognates between languages.

he tasted faintly of chapstick, her chapstick, that transferred from her lips to his as he couldn't keep off of her. with lips as swollen and pink as hers, he graced nearly every part of her body with his kiss. she was his oxygen and he was deprived.

but it was hard for him to ever be deprived, considering how even when they weren't in such a position, he was glued to her, hands grasping or resting at her sides and his breath down her neck.

when he'd reluctantly part from her sweet-tasting lips, his veined hand would snake down from the long strands of her hair in his palm, coming to rest on her jaw. prominent veins in his arms would indicate force was used to push her head up to expose the smooth skin of her neck and collarbone, yet his touch was tender.

still, he felt her gulp under his palm.

light trails of saliva from his kisses down her jaw to her collarbone and neck, leaving red marks of irritated skin that would later bruise.

he knew she wouldn't be able to cover it up. he nipped at her skin with the purpose of showing it off, and she could get him to stop if she really wanted. but she didn't want that.

the hand on her neck reminding her of the easy power he had over her, and how she loved the gentle dominance he displayed.

because it hadn't taken much convincing earlier to get her into their bedroom. despite it being midday, he wanted to take care of her, in more ways than one.

she didn't object, she wouldn't when he looked at her with those damn eyes. his strength and her weakness.

now laid on her back with his body looming over her, his knee between her legs to put pressure just enough, but still not satisfying the desperate need to have him. and yet they had both managed to stay clothed all up untill this moment.

kissing up the staircase, his hands grasped at her waist, hoisting her into his arms, and gotten them to where they were now.

the tension had been building with every step he took, his pretty eyes watching her squirm, though he was the one to be so eager to please her. he couldn't give a shit about himself.

disheveled hair and tired, green eyes while his greedy hands roamed down her clothes, grasping at the skin of her thighs. still, he took his time as he usually did with his hands over her body, memorizing every dip in her skin.

fingers teasing under the edge of her white laced tank, bumps rising on her stomach as the material rode up her torso. he watched her nipples harden through her top, feeling his sweatpants getting tighter as he watched her subtle reactions. subtle reactions that gave him more than a little confidence in his attempts to please her.

because if he didn't then what was his purpose of living if not to please her?

his eyes remained on her the entire time, even if hers didn't meet his. she felt the burning sensation of his gaze over her heated skin. desperation for him between her thighs became increasingly unbearable, she wanted him. she needed him.

but he always took his time. it was agonizing, but she always came hard because of it.

from teasing her barely exposed skin to massaging into her ribs, he watched her expression every step of the way. it was slow, as per usual, agonizing.

his hands finally found her breasts, gently squeezing the flesh in his palms while he circled her sensitive nipples with his thumbs, exerting small noises from her.

removing one hand momentarily, he pulled down the lace of her tank, leaving messy kisses down from her collarbone to her other breast. but he didn't give her that little satisfaction, not yet.

“shhhh, patience, mon amour,” he spoke with a rasp in his voice, muffled slightly as she felt the vibrations of his voice against the flesh of her breast.

fixing her top with his other hand still teasing her chest, his hand caressed her waist under her small shorts.

trailing down the joint of her hip, his fingers traveled slowly down to and along her inner thigh before dipping under the fabric of her shorts. he played with her panties, pulling the hem away from her slick cunt. she whined at the contact of air to her core.

he bit his lip at the sight of her, fuck she was gorgeous lying before him and so desperate for a simple touch of his hand.

his knuckles brushed over the wet patch - that he caused- on her underwear and she inhaled a sharp gasp. he tsk’d at her reaction, shaking his head with a smirk on his face.

���tu es une petite chose désespérée,” (you are a desperate little thing). he chuckled breathlessly, eyeing her body squirm at such simple actions from him, “très sensible…” (very sensitive).

he teased her with words she could only guess the meaning of, pulling the hem of her panties back only to release it from between his fingers to slap back onto her skin. the sound filled the silence of the room and she flinched slightly at the feeling.

though she didn't have much time to react in any other way when his two fingers ran up her wet cunt, her folds rubbing against the soft cotton of her soaked panties. he teased her clit, rubbing circles with his thumb in an agonizing pace.

biting her lip and grasping at the pillows above her head, she clenched her thighs around his hand, trapping his fingers out of desperacy to feel more.

he only chuckled at her need, her attempt for a sliver of control. because he knew she had none.

he still managed to slip his hands away from her core despite her desperacy to keep him close and use him, which he didn't mind, but he preferred to have control. the warm hand from her chest emerging from the bottom of her lace tank to pry her legs apart, which didn't take much force from him. though she whined at the lack of contact.

hands placed on her knees, sliding his callused hands down the front of her thighs to rest at the point on her waist the top of her shorts rested. firmly grasping handfuls of the flesh of her hips, he tugged her body sharply against his.

unfortunately for her, his hands left her side - which she objected to - for merely five seconds to slip his blue shirt from his torso.

“calme,” (quiet) his tone was firm, yet a smirk etched its way onto his face as he saw the way her face changed as his toned torso was now in full view for her to marble at.

he let her as her fingertips barely reached his skin. she returned the smirk as she saw the rising goosebumps from the sensation of her nails down his abs before reaching where his v-line was interrupted by the tops of his sweatpants.

he shook his head at her actions, catching her wrists with both his hands and pushing them into the pillows above her head. “it's your turn now, belle,” his voice was raspy as he whispered in her ear. fingers fidgeting with the hem of her tank as he waited for her permission.

instead of giving it to him, she’d rather try to turn the teasing back on him, but unlike her, he loved the show she gave as she peeled her top from her body slowly.

on contact with the cold air, her nipples hardened again and charles could swear he salivated at the sight of her bare chest, as if he hadn't seen it plenty of times in the past.

“tu es trop jolie pour moi, ma chérie,” (you are too pretty for me, my dear) he muttered under his breath, hands full of her breasts as he couldn't resist himself.

okay, maybe her slow strip-tease did work on him a little bit. a little too well because now he wanted to see all of her.

shuffling his way till he stood at the foot of the bed, hastily slipping off his sweatpants without breaking his gaze on her body. the rise and fall of her bare chest, her hands returned to their spot on the pillows, her legs now crossed and hips moving to find friction against the cotton of her clothes to give her something to go off of. biting her lip as she tried, all while he watched.

the sound of his sweatpants hitting the floor as he disregarded them across the room, his attention on her never faltering as she watched him crawl across the bed back to her.

his toned shoulders and biceps, veiny forearms and hands, eyes locked on hers, disheveled hair and half-lidded eyes. the heat of his gaze made her squirm as he crawled back up to her, bodies pressed together as his head once again dipped into the crevice of her neck.

kissing down her body, he went further, and further, and further till he stopped at her stomach, hands on her hips to her thighs to unknot them just enough. hands back to her hips to lift her just slightly and with his fingers around the hem of her shorts and panties, slowly slid them down.

he's so pretty when he goes down on her, green eyes watching as he dipped lower, and lower, and lower. gold-skinned eager baby, blue shirt out the laundry now across the room.

his warm breath against her stomach as he watched her carefully, analyzing every little movement and subtle reaction. every brow crease, mouth twitched, nose flare, every swallow and gulp that traveled down her throat, small fly-aways from her hair starting to matte down to her skin.

biting her lip as he lowered down her body, dangerously close to the spot between her thighs. close enough to feel his breath against her thighs, and he could feel the warmth radiating from her.

anticipation building in her stomach, hips rolling to close the gap from his face to her cunt, but his hands holding her down firmly stopped her. a whine in desperation slipping past her lips, pushing her head further back into the pillow in anguish.

“regarde-moi, chérie.” (look at me, darling) he spoke so sweetly, yet so tauntingly, like he'd never give in to what she wanted if she didn't do what he needed her to.

“charles, please…” she begged because she wasn't entirely paying attention to what he was asking of her, especially when he spoke another language. she didn't have time for translation.

he shook his head, pressing his face into her inner thigh as he chuckled at her tone, so needy and only for him.

“look at me, amour,” he repeated in english after kissing her thigh.

now propped up on her forearms, watching her beloved monégasque boyfriend looking back at her with a smug smirk on his face.

she scowled back at his expression, opening to make a snarky comment about it. her jaw hung open after he finally closed the gap after waiting too long, his tongue licking a single stripe up her cunt.

she rolled her eyes in annoyance, falling back down into her pillows as she groaned in annoyance, “fuck you, charles.”

“i’m sure you'd love to, darling,” he teased before tasting her again, humming into her cunt which incited a hand through his hair, pushing him closer and a whine to slip past her lips.

when he'd done enough teasing for his own enjoyment, he indulged further into her core. his hands snaking around to the crevice where her thigh met her hip to pull her further into him.

squeaked moans barely making it out of her mouth as he worked away at her clit, her hand in his dark hair to push him closer in fear he would stop.

nips at her folds and whines whenever he would do so, tugging a little harder on his hair causing groans from him. vibrations of his groans through her clit, stimulating her more and more.

legs trembling as her thighs clamped tightly around him, and he didn't dare stop her. he was in heaven. she was sweet, perfect in contrast to her bitter attitude only seconds ago. he nearly broke eye contact when he was first reminded of how she tasted.

caressing her hips, he refused to part with her cunt, his lips coated with her slick as he heard the pattern of her moans falter.

she was so easy to tie in knots, and so easy to untangle too, shuddering harshly as she barely let out a moan. tugging tighter at his hair, pulling him closer as if he would leave her unsatisfied as she came undone on his tongue.

he didn't stop after the first, or the second. it wasn't until she was close to her third that he even considered a break. after the second, his pace slowed to small movements from his tongue, lightly teasing her now sensitive clit.

soft tears ran down her cheeks at the overstimulation between her legs, but she didn't stop him. it felt too damn good.

the third came the slowest, but hardest as he managed to coax it out of her patiently.

by the time he had pulled away, his hair was even more messy than before, her slick covered his lips and chin, his tongue licking away the remnants of her on his face. his shoulder slightly red at her barely clawing away at his skin.

by the time he had pulled away, tears streamed down her cheeks, hair matted to her forehead, her arched back dropping down the sheets, and her hands that were previously in his hair now gripped tightly at the pillows by her head. her eyes, hazy and tired, her chest rising and falling with hastened breaths as he crawled up to her, running a hand through her equally-matched messy hair and wiping stray tears that he caused, even though he knew it wasn't a bad thing.

without a word, he got up, leaving to slip into their bathroom. she heard the faucet run from her position on the bed and she rolled to the edge, peeking at his actions.

she knew he would take tender care of her, no different to how he did so every time.

—

proofread by @foreveralbon <333

[madwomansapologist]

ᡣ𐭩.ᐟ a hound left without a leash

★彡 synopsis: your love is constant, ever-present and ever-growing. toji finds it endearing. how you're not afraid of being soft around him. but he can’t be like that. his love isn't gentle and quiet like yours: it's remorseless, made of sharp fangs soaked in blood—five times toji felt loved by you, five times he loved you back.

content warnings: established relationship, fluff & angst & smut, domesticity, movie night, toji is soooo in love it's embarrassing, touch starved meet clingy, he's bad at feelings don't give him space, devotion, beach date, hurt/comfort, his love language is acts of service it's not his fault he only knows how to kill, violence (not towards reader), gaslight if you squint, voyeurism, sex toy, manhandling, lots of spit and bites and scratches, creampie, cockwarming.

bella's note: inspired by the song valentine by laufey. y'all say thank you, @gothsuguru for making like three posts about toji that reminded me of my love for this deadbeat killer.

word count: [4.3K]

(It took Toji by surprise the first time he noticed it.)

Toji tried to focus on the action movie—clearly made with no aspiration beyond gathering as much money as possible. He really did. Before learning the bland protagonist’s name, heavy eyelids and comfy blankets came together with a sickening plan to betray his determination.

There was no movie to pretend to watch by the time Toji woke up. The television was turned off, the living room silent if not by his untamed heartbeat. As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, blurs turning into discernible shapes, Toji breathed no more.

Only after seeing it on the television that Toji was able to feel it on his body. Fingertips running through his still-damp hair, thumb pressing softly against his temple. A constant movement, warm and calm. It made him think about waves in an empty shore.

A contained laughter guided his eyes away from the screen. Leaning on your shoulder, Toji saw you. Eyes narrowing at your phone, undoubtedly fighting to stay open, the tip of your tongue between your parted lips. Caressing his hair, you nibbled on your tongue.

For you, it was an old habit you couldn’t get rid of. For Toji, it was a telltale of your concentration.

Once he learned there was a way to read you, Toji aimed to collect all your telltales. He has all those little signals memorized to translate your behaviors into something he can fully understand. Into something he can transforming into actions.

Distant gaze means hesitation, which in turn means say something, anything, goddamnit. Trembling lips and fervent rage, scrunched nose and jealousy, discreet smiles and nauseating happiness. Toji could fill libraries with everything there is to know about you.

Staring at the soft muscle, Toji knew what your concentration required from him: silence, just for a while. Toji gave you what you needed, hoping somehow you knew what he meant by it—I love you, I love you, I love you.

Wondering about what you needed him to do for you Toji didn’t even notice your nails scratching behind his ears, where you knew he’s sensitive enough to melt into your palm. If he had, maybe Toji would’ve fallen asleep on your shoulder again and rest properly for once.

Toji can’t remember the name of the movie that lulled him to sleep. If he was at your home, if it was late at night, if it was during an unexpected blizzard. Toji can only remember that your eyes weren’t on him, and your touch was gentle.

Scrolling endlessly as you kept him awake, Toji thought once more about how soft your skin is when compared to his. It lacked scars. You lack roughness, precision, disgust. All those things Toji once believed being an adult meant: you don’t have any of them.

(The first time he noticed your love was gentle and quiet, Toji didn’t knew how to react.)

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

(Obviously, Toji never lets you win.)

“Just throw me, Toji”, you practically meowed his name. When he completely ignored your presence, you pinched his cheek. Toji took a deep breath. “Please. Pretty please.”

Your cold hands cupped his cheeks, trying to get Toji to look at you. Pouting, plush bottom lip on display, you stared at him through your lashes. You knew it would take one look at you for him to fold and give in.

He slipped away from your hold, so fast you only noticed he was gone when Toji was already laying down on your beach sarong. That made you giggle. He does that all the time. Moves faster than your eyes can comprehend.

It’s so alluring you couldn’t even force yourself to get mad over Toji mistaking your new sarong for a sheet.

“Brat, I’ve told ya”, he tilted his head back. Toji rest his arm over his head, in a not-so-subtle way of ensuring he wouldn’t accidentally sneak a glance at you. Toji could feel on his bones that you were pouting. “I’m not doing that.”

Maybe because you both went on a whim to a beach on a random tuesday, maybe because this one isn’t as popular as you feared, it was truly a peaceful day. No kids running around, no loud music blasting through someone else’s phone, no drunks yelling just because.

It’s so close from being a perfect day, now all you need is to hear Toji saying yes, darling, anything for you. Not that you ever heard that before. At least, not worded like that.

With a melodramatic sigh, you walked to where your stuff was. Searching among all the bags tossed around, you found just what would change his mind. As your malignant plan developed inside of your mind, a grin spread across your face.

Sitting on his lap, your soaked thighs clamped around Toji’s thick waist. Sighing once more, you rolled your hips with the poor excuse of searching for a more comfortable position. Warm fingers pressed down on his hips; nails close enough to ghost over his happy trail.

“Behave”, Toji groaned, free hand closing around your hip. He easily held you in place. You smelled like salt and malice. “I won’t change my mind.”

You bent over Toji, soaked bikini pressing down against his toned chest. Scratching his forearm, you brushed your nose against his cheek. “Can I try to convince you?”, you whispered sultry against his ear.

Softening his hold on you, Toji smirked. “You’re a fucking menace.”

Splash.

Pouring cold water on his face, you took advantage of his surprised state to run away while you’re still able to. Laughing more than you could breathe, you tilted your head back to look at Toji. “Now tell me something I don’t know.”

Just like you expected, Toji looked at you.

Just like you always forget, Toji was fast. Really, really fast.

Colliding with his chest, you frowned as your mind processed that Toji was right in front of you. As a pair of arms wrapped around your waist, you knew there was nothing you could do to escape his grip. You tried to anyway.

“That’s cheating”, you yelled. It made him laugh like hell, chest vibrating against your stomach. Lifted up far above the ground, you moved your feet uselessly. “It’s so unfair, you need to let me win sometimes too!”

A slap against your ass shut you up. “Annoying brat”, Toji threw you over his shoulders. You tried to squirm away, but decided to settle for just complaining once he bit your thigh. “As if. You can earn your victory or stop acting like a bored cat for once.”

Giggling, you pressed your elbows down on his shoulder. “Toji. My love”, your voice imbued in honey and sugar made him face you. Smiling angelically, you pointed at the cliff providing the shade you two enjoyed all day. “Throw me in the water. From up there, please.”

Another sigh. I’m almost breaking him, you thought. “Why? Just… why?”

“Because I want to jump so badly but I’m a coward”, you pouted. His eyes fell towards your bottom lip. “So just throw me. Pleeeeeeeaase. Pretty please.”

“If you drown, I’m not saving your ass.”

“Deal”, you kissed his jaw.

Another slap. “Spoiled, annoying brat.”

(Except, obviously, Toji always lets you win.)

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

(If you had asked, Toji would’ve confessed in a heartbeat.)

Toji took of his shoes and frowned at your heels fallen out of place. Murmuring to himself about how when he does it with his sneakers it’s a crime deserving of death sentence, Toji closed the buckles of your heels and put them inside the shoe rack.

He knew something was off once the silence lingered. Never one to doubt himself, Toji didn’t hesitate. He analyzed the floor, searched for different scents, checked the front door’s handler. Passing through every room with a hand near his hidden gun, Toji didn’t breathe until seeing you on your bed.

Although, what Toji saw didn’t make him any more relieved.

It’s late at night and you’re still wearing your responsible-adult clothes—that’s how you call those you buy solely so your coworkers won’t judge you. Earrings intertwined with your sweaty hair, necklace pressed against your collarbone, belt too tight to be comfortable.

Moonlight showed him your puffy eyelids smeared with mascara. Half-open as you stared at the ceiling, you didn’t seem to acknowledge Toji’s presence. You didn’t seem to acknowledge anything at all.

“Hi, love.” Toji kneeled down, whispering in order to not startle you. He pressed his chin on your pillow, hands moving your hair away from your face. “Are you here with me?”

Another tear rolled down your face once you blinked. Toji pressed his thumb against your skin, stopping it from falling into your ear. You tried to turn your face away from him, but hesitated once the warmth of his hands made to your heavy mind.

“Need to sleep”, you murmured, voice so thin Toji felt his throat shut.

Soaked in sweat, Toji ran his fingers through your hair without bothering you. He scratched your head, draw figures on your scalp, avoided any knots. Your name, his own, any other word he could think of: his fingertips wrote on your head. For what felt like hours, that’s all he did.

You tilted your head, staring at him. Toji can’t remember ever seeing your eyes like that. Dim. He wondered where you lost your light, and made a quiet promise to return it to you. “Sorry.”

“Don’t.” Toji simply continued to caress your head. “Tell me what to do.”

For the first time in hours, you thought about what you needed. With a single phrase, Toji reminded you that you had a body. “Can you get me my towel?”

Toji would’ve done anything, everything, you asked him to.

With your towel on the mattress, Toji assisted you to sit down. One hand on the small of your back, another cupping your cheek. You melted into his touch, but closed your eyes once he kneeled in front of you. Running away from his careful gaze, you grabbed your towel and forced yourself to walk into the bathroom.

It didn’t surprise you that Toji followed you. Or that he took the towel from your hands, unclasped your jewelry, slid your clothes off of you. Neither as the water hitting your body was on the temperature you prefer, as he hugged you tightly under the shower, as he didn’t make questions you couldn’t quite answer.

Not even your worst day would make you forget how soft your Toji is.

Toji relies on your body to tell him what you need, but once or twice you will say it yourself. Can you get me my towel? You want to be clean again. And knowing what you want, Toji knows what to do.

In no rush, he put your shampoo on his hand and massaged your head. Once your back found a support on his chest, he rinsed your hair while protecting your eyes. After moisturizing, he brushed your hair until he could feel no more knots. Washing the remains of conditioner away from his hands, he moved to the rest of your body.

It didn’t feel weird, and that did surprise you. To feel his hands on your naked body without feeling desire or desired. It wasn’t uncomfortable. Far from it. As Toji washed you, you just felt less lonely.

“Toji?”

He kissed your scalp, massaging your shoulders. He drawn little hearts on your skin. “I am here”, Toji hummed.

“It’s nothing”, you closed your eyes. That was a lie. You meant to say thank you, and I’m sorry but knew he would get mad if you did so. “Just wanted to hear you.”

“I am right here.”

(He would’ve confessed to mimic you, because Toji’s love is anything but gentle and quiet.)

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

(You wouldn’t ask him to. You would never.)

Ignoring the sorcerer’s terrified eyes, his movements were harsh and cold. It felt just right. To have a combat knife between his fingers again. How natural. As if his hands came from a mold, one made to wield blades and nothing more. That would make sense. For his body to be assembled instead of born.

Gun left aside; chair dragged across the concrete floor. Toji sat in front of the muzzled sorcerer, spreading his legs as he sharpened the blade. Moonlight made it clear. Cold sweat, stunned eyes, shaken limbs. He was a scared, coward animal.

“Don’t cry now”, Toji cocked an eyebrow. Spreading his legs, he admired the thin edge. Perfect. Dragging out the silence for one more instant, Toji stared at the walking corpse. “Not when you begged for this.”

A clan left behind; hellish decades erased within an insurgent decision. Toji doesn’t need to be a Zenin to have enemies. Blood-stained hands collect them just as easily. But after slaughtering enemies enough times, those smart enough to be considered dangerous by others knew better than facing him.

But rumors travel fast and, in his absence, fools gained confidence.

This late on his life, Toji couldn’t tell if it was instinct or muscle memory. He simply knew the sorcerer was about to do something stupid. The knife’s handle hit the man in the temple. As he fought to continue conscious, Toji observed his skin turning purple.

He felt proud. This night left no wound or bruise on his skin. There will be no perplexed gaze, uncertain touch, questions that can’t be answered honestly. Once he comes back to his home, you will have no reason to worry.

“You hurt her.” Toji wondered how long it would take. To get back to you. To return your caring gaze, feel your caring touch, hear your caring questions. “Now I’ll hurt you.”

It begged. It tried to negotiate, numbers rising as Toji continued in silence. If rumors travel fast, so does the truth. Toji turned soft, a rumor that thing discovered to be a lie the moment it decided to bother you. Toji can be bought, a fact that never once included you.

“What do you want?!” And the tears came back. They usually do, with loud and unstoppable sobs. Don’t matter who they are, in the end they beg just the same. “I can give it to you. Tell me your price.”

“Your right hand”, Toji tilted his head, sliding the edge of the knife against the armchair. “You touched her with your right hand.”

Toji was merely taunting the sorcerer. He would never use a combat knife to torture someone. That doesn’t sound like him at all. Toji will saw both hands with a dull knife.

(But you didn’t need to ask him to. Toji would always.)

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

(Toji didn’t need to say it.)

It took him long enough to unlock the door to your apartment. The voice of a senator on a news channel welcomed Toji. Heels inside the shoe rack, handbag and headphone forgotten on the couch. Hearing you hum in the shower, Toji turned the TV off.

He could picture it so clearly. You stretching your neck and walking barefoot into the living room, rubbing your eyes just to immediately remember about the mascara. Calling for him. Hearing nothing in response. Choosing something loud on the TV and deciding to take a long shower because it’s friday, I deserve this.

Toji sighed, relief washing over him in waves. You’re back to being you.

He put the takeout on the table and organized the groceries on the kitchen cabinet—his excuses for staying out longer than usual. Toji was careful with them. Food from your favorite restaurant, cleaning products you mentioned before. Lies build on solid truths.

He doesn’t have an excuse for the scent of antiseptic soap, but once your products made to his nostrils Toji realized he wouldn’t need one. Scents way too sweet, enough to confuse slightly his keen senses. There is no way you’re able to smell anything but yourself.

As the bathroom door opened, Toji grabbed a towel on the laundry and locked himself inside it before you could get a hold of him. He doesn’t think you would notice, and if you did you wouldn’t waste your breath on it, but Toji won’t risk it.

Washing himself once more, Toji tried not to wonder about what would make you despise him more: what he did, or that he doesn’t feel any remorse. Would it make it better for you if Toji cried in the shower? If he stared at his clean hands and saw blood on them? Toji could pretend for you. He really would.

You’re safe and sound, mere steps away from him. Toji showers hearing your loud music. Toji can picture that too. You waiting for him as your sleepy eyes challenge your determination—you always fall asleep before he gets to you. You being you. No shaky breathes, no unstoppable tears. He could never feel remorse.

Toji went after you with a towel around his hips. Following the music most likely coming from your phone, he gently opened the bedroom door to not wake you up. Leaning on the door frame, Toji chuckled.

With your eyes closed, you were far from sleeping. Wrinkled sheets falling out of bed, toes curling against the mattress. Damp towel forgotten on the floor. A hand squeezing his pillow, the other hidden between your thighs. Forearms moving in the rhythm you created to yourself; small gasps concealed by a song.

Spit gathered in the corner of your mouth, mesmerizing Toji. How he wished to sink his teeth into your glossy lips. A broken moan and your back arched, his eyebrows furrowing in synchrony with yours. You did it as the waves of pleasure became too much, and Toji as he finally saw what you had between your legs.

From the blunt and bulbous head to its thick length, it was truly no wonder why you were so quiet. All way out, then all way in. Your concentration was on fucking yourself with the dark purple dildo, the rest simply too much for you little brain.

He never saw that one before.

Wrist burning from your incessant movements, your free hand abandoned his pillow to press down on your clit. A simple and precise touch that made you whimper. Feeling shivers down his spine, Toji smirked.

Your eyes fluttered open.

A beat later, they meet his and widened. All way out. Mouth hanging open, you chuckled. It sounded like you were about to lose your sanity. Then all way in. “There you are.”

Toji crossed his arms, leaving his place at the door to a new one at the end of the bed. “Putting on a show for me?”

“Not on purpose”, you laughed it off. It felt so dirty. For you to talk normally while doing something so lewd. As if you weren’t fully exposed—as if he wasn’t too. “I could say the same about you.”

Skin reddish because of the hot water, black hair dripping wet. You followed every drop, burning him with your ravenous gaze. Veins evident on his thick neck. Long fingers pressing down on his forearms, a reminder of how bad you miss his touch. Huge thighs, even when relaxed.

He dropped the towel. “Not on purpose”, Toji lied.

A knee sunk on the bed, his hands caressing your heels. Toji forced your legs up, tilting his head to kiss the side of your foot. He put one on each shoulder, another knee sinking down on the bed. Grabbing at the fat of your thighs, Toji pulled you closer.

Toji has a way of making you feel weightless.

He bit his tongue, a hand massaging your thigh. Always the cocky asshole, Toji rubbed your overwhelmed clit with his thumb. Staring into his hungry eyes, you grinned.

Holding the firm base of the dildo, Toji pulled it out of you. The sounds your cunt let out, soaked and soft, made him squeeze your thighs. With a pop, there it was, covered in lubricant and your excitement. Your core clamped around nothing.

Toji spat on you, fingers rough against your sore lips as his other hand pumped his cock. You swallowed watching Toji compare with your dildo. You both could see the truth. How your toy was much bigger and ticker.

Salivating, Toji was so proud of you.

Bending over you, forcing your thighs against your chest, Toji admired your sweaty face. He kissed your temple, pressing the dildo’s tip against your lips. “Your collection only grows”, Toji groaned. “That’s a new one.”

“Not new”, you lapped at the protruding head. “Is for when I miss you.”

Toji sank his teeth into your shoulder, hiding his burning cheeks against your skin. Fingers ran through his hair; nails scratched his forearm. “You saw me this morning.”

His tongue was everywhere, moving too fast for you to keep up. Kissing your shoulder, licking your neck, biting your collarbone. Toji is always too much. How perfect of him. “Are you that needy you can’t go hours without me?”

“Miss you all the time”, you struggled to breath. Pulling him by the hair, you made Toji face you. Lost on his dark eyes, time seemed to stop. “Say you miss me too.”

“Miss you all the time”, Toji obeyed. It wouldn’t matter if he didn’t. Not when you can see his flushed cheeks. As a reward, you kissed the scar on his mouth—you would’ve kissed it anyway. “Think about you all the time.”

You bit his earlobe, nose sliding against his neck as you searched for that sweet spot able to make Toji stutter. Once you did, mouth sucking it without mercy, Toji gave your hips a strong squeeze. His calloused hands would mark you tonight.

Toji humped on your thigh. You could feel precum leaking against your skin. He settled for leaning his forehead against yours. “You smell way too sweet.”

“I can get new lotions”, you offered. “Something you like better.”

“Don’t.” Toji cupped your face, ignoring your clit to rub the length of his cock against your slit. Pushing your head against the pillow, he kissed your forehead. “I like you sweet.”

Toji didn’t meant to slip inside you. He wanted to taunt you some more. To fuck you with your dildo and make you scream right into his open lips. Toji wanted you drooling. And once you begged him enough, showing what a polite woman you are, Toji would make you cry with his tongue deep into your walls.

But you were so wet.

“T-Toji!” You gasped, eyes wide as you felt all of him. Pulling his hair, you bit his bottom lip. “Can feel you so deep…”

“I know”, Toji grabbed the headboard, thighs shaking. So fucking welcoming. Thumbs stroking your hips, his mind was a mess because of you. “I know.”

Your eyes meet his. A part of Toji wanted to look away. To hide how fragile you make him. How your gaze burns him deeply. The other wanted to never shy away from you. To never know what it feels like to not be watched by you.

No one ever sees him, the one who left it all behind. No one but you.

His body collapsed against yours. His hands pulled your hair, making you tilt your head so he could continue to torture your neck. Thighs forcing yours open, chest pressing down against yours. You could feel the rhythm of his heartbeat. This gigantic man crushing you against the mattress, so heavy it was difficult to breath.

Drunk on his overwhelming intensity, you admired Toji. His hips rolling up, so slow you could feel the trace of every vein on his cock. His length inside you, never giving you a break. His hair dripping on you, a blend of water and sweat.

“Remind me… to thank my new friend”, Toji tilted his head, pointing at the dildo besides your pillow. His raspy voice was more addictive than cocaine. “Got you ready to take me all in.”

Fighting his grasp on your hair, you hugged his shoulders and forced your head up. Sharing an open mouth kiss, your drool fell on your chest. It felt so cold. Or perhaps your skin was too feverish. Toji devoured your every moan, hands tightening around your hips.

“Missed you so much”, you whimpered. His forehead leaned on yours, eyes closing as Toji tried to not lose himself. You continued to admire him. “Missed being yours.”

“You’re always mine. All the time”, Toji groaned. His tip hit your most sensitive spot; your eyes closing on their own. Toji rubbed your neglected clit, a hand grabbing the roots of your head. His grip firm yet gentle. “Look at me.”

You obeyed, staring into his dark eyes again. You could swear you saw stars on them. Toji leaned his forehead on yours, your touch enough to make him forget everything but your name.

“There you go”, he whispered. “Focus on me, pretty. Don’t look away.”

Searching for those stars again, the waves of pleasure strong enough to shatter your mind. There was nothing but that spot you and Toji turned into one. Blinded by a fog, crushed by him, you came looking into his eyes.

Toji filled you with all he had. His head fell on your chest, it all too much for him to bear. It all too good for him to fully believe it was real. Gasping, he couldn’t move. He couldn’t speak. He couldn’t do anything but breath on you. Sweet you.

Running your trembling fingers through his hair, you collapsed against the pillow. Toji was heavy enough to make you breathless, but you didn’t want him to move. You wanted him as close as he could get.

“Welcome back”, Toji murmured. Mimicking you, Toji ran his fingers through your hair. You felt him smiling against your skin. “I missed you.”

You knew exactly what he meant by that. “I love you too”, you whispered.

all rights reserved to © madwomansapologist

[esamastation]

ladyjazzhands: Ezio x Shen Qingqiu, somehow

There's a foreigner staying in the Warm Red Pavilion, who speaks not a word anyone can understand. Shen Qingqiu hates him on sight.

He's everything he loathes in a man. Leering and smarmy, with unkempt short hair and beard, armoured like a rough barbarian, with the manners and body language of one used to throwing his weight around, he dominates every room he is in. Shen Qingqiu can't see why, but somehow every courtesan present seems drawn to his presence and he's never seen without a woman or two under his arm.

Well, he does see why. The low, purring words he speaks to the ladies of the brothel might fall all but to deaf ears - but money speaks its own insidious language. Even though his coin is strange, it's plentiful and heavy and always easily parted to his adoring audience as the foreigner teasingly lures the courtesans to him with the foreign coins dancing nimbly on the backs of his knuckles.

They play for him, they introduce him to the local food and wine, and then they take him up stairs for more, and Shen Qingqiu wants nothing more than to see them do to him what they'd done to another barbarian, not long ago. There's nothing quite as satisfying as seeing rough men being thrown out of a window by a group of giggling women.

Alas, aside from looking strange, speaking language no one understands and acting like the worst sort of letcher, the foreigner has done nothing but favour the ladies of the Warm Red Pavilion and clearly they intend to only adore him back.

At least, until his coin purse would run dry.

"How long has he been here?" Shen Qingqiu asks the Madam, as the owner of the brothel joins him for tea.

"Oh, Ai Qiao? He arrived here this morning," the Madam says, as one of the younger courtesans pours for them. "Though he appeared in town sometime yesterday. No one is sure when, exactly - but he made his presence known late afternoon, in the market - where he attempted to find someone who spoke a language he understood. Which he did not find."

Shen Qingqiu narrows his eyes. "He's far inland, to be without a guide or a translator," he mutters, considering. "How did he end up here?"

"Oh, he found his way here - he might've seen one of my girls running errands," the Madam muses and gives him a look. "Does Xiao Jiu know him?"

"No," Shen Qingqiu says and sips his tea. He doesn't know the man's style of clothes either - and more damningly, he doesn't know his language. Though Shen Qingqiu hasn't ever had the time to truly dedicate to learning other languages, he is confident enough to say that he at least knows most human languages by sound. The cadence of Ai Qiao's speech alone is completely unknown to him, never mind the sound he makes, the words he speaks.

There are few things he can deduce, if somewhat begrudgingly, about the man's attire. Though the style is absolutely nonsensical, it's not without finesse - the armour was not just well crafted but to some extent artistic, with floral designs hammered into the metal. The leather straps of it are well made and well maintained and the man's clothes are clearly well tailored and well kept. White like that, on a warrior - there's only so many people Shen Qingqiu knows who can wield a sword and keep white clothes clean, and all of them are immortal cultivators.

It could be indicative of a wealthy warrior without much experience. There were many rich idiots out there who clad themselves in even more extravagant armour that would never see battle, showing off their wealth and claiming bravery where they had none. Except…

Shen Qingqiu clutched onto his cup.

Even outside the aura of mortal danger around the foreigner, Ai Qiao's armour isn't without a scratch - in fact, beneath it's shine and polish, it's quite well worn and battered. And then there is the man's armament - which is… extensive. Sword, crossbow, numerous throwing daggers, bombs… never mind the things hidden in his sleeves, whatever they are. All which the foreigner wore with casual confidence even Liu Qingge would find unnerving.

The man is a killer, there is no doubt in Shen Qingqiu's mind - if not a murderer. And he is currently in congress with who knows how many of Warm Red Pavilion's girls. Even with all the training Shen Qingqiu had given them, and all the weapons he'd done his best to supply with them… none of them are fit to face against a trained killer.

The Madam looks at him, and sees right through him. She smiles knowingly, but is kind enough to not draw attention to his white knuckled fingers or his clenched jaw. "I will have the girls prepare a room in the back," she says. "Will Xiao Jiu play for us tonight?"

"This one will," Shen Qingqiu says. "Let me know when the foreigner falls asleep."

-

The foreigner doesn't fall asleep. For more than two sichens he partakes in the women of the pavilion before making his unwelcome presence known in the hall where Shen Qingqiu is playing the qing. The man saunters in confidently with his armour askew and his knife belt loose, his hair a worse mess than before, grinning with great satisfaction.

"Li-mei," Shen Qingqiu says under his breath to his most recent student in the brothel, a fifteen year old girl who's watching him play intently. "Go see to the girls he left behind."

The girl bows and slips away to take the hidden ladder upstairs. In the meanwhile Ai Qiao is already being attended to by another courtesan at loose ends, who takes the man's arm eagerly and leads him to a table - and to an expensive bottle of wine.

Shen Qingqiu continues to play, keeping his glaring to a minimum while watching the foreign killer. Though it's clear he can't understand a word Ding-er says, they get along just swimmingly, as the man teases her into giggling with his low words and appreciative touches.

Two sichen with who knows how many women and the man still has an appetite for more.

Shen Qingqiu plays, keeping his posture proud and his movements elegant, not letting his worry or disgust show. He doesn't relax until young Li-mei returns to him to tell that, "They're sleeping - all of them," with a giggle. "I think the patron wore them out!"

It takes effort not to verbally express his abhorrence and keep his fingers moving smoothly over the strings. "All of them - how many of them did he have?" Shen Qingqiu demands with disquiet.

"Four," Li-mei giggles.

Incredible - no, impossible. The girls of Warm Red Pavilion might not have the stamina of cultivators, but they have more stamina than to be laid low by a mortal man. Shen Qingqiu narrows his eyes, still playing, and asks, "And they were all… well?" Had Ai Qiao knocked them out - had he struck them, drugged them?

"They looked quite snug and comfortable to me," Li-mei answers, amused. "And the patron left enough coin to cover all their services."

Shen Qingqiu casts a look towards Ai Qiao, who's now listening to Ding-er speak, smiling even though he can't understand a word and urging her on with his hums and murmured encouragement. His fingers, Shen Qingqiu notes, are gently stroking the edge of her collar, where her hanfu leaves her shoulder exposed. The touch is as covetous as it is appreciative. One could even call it proprietorial.

It's nothing he's not seen hundreds of other men do to the women of the brothel, and he's not stupid enough to interject - this is their occupation, and men like Ai Qiao is how they make their living. And a man like this, lustful and generous in his lustiness, is exactly the kind of customer a brothel loves - one who showers several girls with coin and doesn't hold back. And yet…

There is something about this one Shen Qingqiu cannot stand. At first he thinks it's the beard, the attitude, the foreign manners, the way he can't even sit properly. The low tone of his voice, the smarmy smiles he gives everyone, how freely he expresses his desires despite the language barrier. But no.

It's the look in his eyes - dark, shrewd, calculating. It sends cold shivers down Shen Qingqiu's back.

Ai Qiao would be out of the brothel by morning, Shen Qingqiu swears, even if he had to throw the man out himself.

-

Ai Qiao is plied with wine and snacks but doesn't let himself be drawn into a bedroom - instead he sticks to the main hall, chatting nonsensically with Ding-er and then with many other of the women who find themselves at loose ends as the night wears on. The courtesans take turns trying to teach Ai Qiao new words, giggling uproariously at his horrendous pronunciation as he struggles over sounds his own language clearly lacks.

Shen Qingqiu keeps playing and watching and gritting his teeth as the foreigner lets himself be humiliated by the giggling courtesans that have once more begun flocking around him, seemingly as entertained by them as they are by him. Every now and then someone would find their way in his lap and the man would dote upon them, but beyond that he seems satisfied in simply being there and enjoying their company.

And he refuses to tire and go to sleep. He outlasts all the other patrons, who either get ushered into rooms or outside once their coin begins to run out. Ai Qiao's purse remains quite heavy, even with all the coins he's so happily shared with the girls around him, and so he keeps going and going - until finally the hour grows so late that even the women, used to late nights, start tiring.

Shen Qingqiu himself would be asleep by now, if this was a normal night - but he is still on high alert and Ai Qiao doesn't even seem drunk anymore, bidding the sleepy ladies fond good nights with kisses to their hands and some more coins in their palms. Infuriating man.

"Xiao Jiu," the Madam murmurs, coming to his side. "It's late."

By which she means, most of the patrons of the brothel are asleep, and she doesn't want him to play anymore lest he wake them up.

With a slow breath, Shen Qingqiu brings his last piece to a conclusion and then rests his aching fingers on the qing strings. "Very well," he says. "This one shall have some wine now."

Giving him a look, the Madam sighs. "He's been the perfect quest all night," she says quietly. "You need not be so wary. All is well, I promise."

Shen Qingqiu doesn't bother to answer and with a shake of her head the Madam rises and goes to seek her own bed for the night, trusting her women to care for the last patrons they have - namely, Shen Qingqiu and Ai Qiao. Scoffing after her, Shen Qingqiu takes his time going over the Qing and easing it into its case before accepting the bottle brought to him by Ling Ji, one of the older courtesans present.

"Xiao Jiu played beautifully, and for so long," the older courtesan comments while pouring for him. "It has made this a lovely night."

Shen Qingqiu accept the compliment with a nod and distractedly accept the cup - and by then, Ai Qiao is watching them, his eyes considering, his lids low. In an instant Shen Qingqiu is back on the very end of his already frayed nerves, his face growing hot with fury - and, to his utter revulsion, Ai Qiao smiles at him.

Most of the girls are yawning around the man now, and with more kisses and coins bestowed to their hands, the man bids them goodnight - and then he rises. With clear intent and that confident swagger he'd entered with, Ai Qiao approaches the dias where Shen Qingqiu had been playing and is still sitting - and it's plainly obvious what the man's purpose is. He's still smiling - and then one he's smiling at is not Ling Ji.

Shen Qingqiu goes from hot to cold and then back to hot as his fury blazes into pure rage.

Shen Qingqiu rises to his feet in outrage and, clearly delighted, Ai Qiao bows to him - completely wrong and all too theatrical, swinging his arm strangely. The man says, "Ezio Auditore da Firenze, mia cara signora," clearly an introduction. "È un piacere conoscerti." And then he tries to kiss Shen Qingqiu's hand.

Shen Qingqiu throws his wine at his face before he can.

-

And Ezio absolutely took it as a challenge, haha.

[sonarspace]

໒꒱ welcome to the jujutsu kaisen masterlist .ᐟ 18+ only. be sure to check out my rules before you request.

return back to ➜ main masterlist ⁞ pinned post

♯ MULTI - HEADCANONS

touch ; just a fluff headcanon

valentine's day ; how they'd celebrate v-day with you.

taking care of you ; how they'd take care of you after a rough day

wishes ; morning b-day sex.

casual intimacy ; physical touch as a love language.

snip, snip, snip ; giving a trim to your boyfriend turns into something more

sharing ; in which geto shares his girlfriend.

no nut november ? ; no nut november or nut november. who knows..

all they want for christmas is you! ; the holidays are all about giving—and these men don’t hold back.

touch me, take me, kiss me ; where celebrating new year’s with your best friends turns into something much more intimate—one kiss at midnight isn’t nearly enough.

♯ ONE SHOTS / FICS

؛ ଓ SUKUNA RYOMĒN

whipped loverboy ; somehow, you’re the one person sukuna’s whipped for. he’d never admit it, but you know he’s all yours.

love sick king ; down bad sukuna

new throne ; sukuna lets you try out a new throne

holly, jolly, sinful ; where the krampus you feared is far from the monster in the stories, and santa isn’t the saint you thought he was.

؛ ଓ SUGURU GETO

needy ; geto’s craving all your attention, and he’s not stopping until he gets it.

twin xl ; a night that changes everything.

the last night ; spending a final night together, you and geto make every second count.

more than friends ; a shared brownie brings out old feelings, and after years apart, you and geto finally cross that line.

feral ; geto's not sure how you’ll react to his new haircut.

؛ ʚ FEM!GETO

bubbles ; in a steamy bubble bath, things heat up fast.

appointment ; in a waxer’s chair, you’re completely at her mercy, and she’s got you blushing from more than just the heat.

؛ ʚ BOXER!GETO

knockout kiss ; he’s got more than just a championship title on his mind.

batter & bruises ; the morning after.

؛ ଓ SATORU GOJO

teasin’ ; he can’t resist pushing your buttons, keeping you at the edge with every touch and word. he knows just how to play with you... until you beg for more.

when im down on my knees, you're how I pray ; your boyfriend gives you a good reason to stay home from work.

sweet syrup ; emotions are all over the place when fwb!gojo stands you up… for another girl?

study break ; being in the same class as him was bad enough; having him as the professor’s insufferably smug assistant made it worse.

blowout all the candles ; you made satoru gojo feel something he rarely ever did—normal, and undeniably special.

؛ ଓ KENTO NANAMI

deception ; bad dreams are just dreams after all.

rain, regrets, & redemption ; a rainy night brings nanami back, along with memories, missed chances, and a spark that refuses to fade.

؛ ଓ CHOSO KAMO

love cramp ; choso's addicted to you.

؛ ଓ TOJI FUSHIGURO

breaking point ; toji’s job was simple: watch, report, and move on but when the lines between his mission and his desires blur, he’s forced to confront a breaking point he never saw coming.

i’ma care for you, you, you ; what starts as a quiet attempt to keep toji sober on new year’s eve turns into something far more intimate—because for the first time in years, he’s found something worth staying sober for.

♯ DRABBLES / ASKS

؛ ଓ SUKUNA RYOMĒN

fluffy brain rot

smutty brain rot

nicknames

؛ ଓ SUGURU GETO

missed you

sleepy

sweet like sugar

birthday celebration

recharge

؛ ଓ SATORU GOJO

blindfold

forever more

warmth

taking care of you

؛ ଓ KENTO NANAMI

waves of love

safeguard

coworker!nanami

؛ ଓ CHOSO KAMO

choso with glasses

؛ ଓ TOJI FUSHIGURO

empty ... send requests :D

© SONARSPACE. 2024 | DO NOT COPY, TRANSLATE OR REPOST MY WORKS ON OTHER PLATFORMS.

[halcyone-of-the-sea]

I’ve read a variation of soft and rough König and I’ve enjoyed both but I’d love to see your take on his character.

I can’t deny I have a preference for soft König. I think his size is a major concern, especially if his partner is on the smaller side, which leads me to believe he’d prolong the inevitable and the pining and anticipation would be off the charts on his end. But maybe his SO thinks he’s not as interested as she initially thought.

Add in the fact that he’s gone for long periods of time in which there is little or no communication and perhaps she considers moving on. The ol’ miscommunication trope if you will, with a happy ending. Thanks!

Overflow the Stars

Pairing: König x F!Reader

Synopsis: One more abandoned date night later, you're left wondering if the man you're infatuated with is really interested in you at all.

Word Count: 5.8k

Warnings: Angst, feelings of insecurity, body issues, allusions to König's past w. bullying & his anxiety, size difference, fluff, soft!König, happy ending

A/N: This is my apology to the German-speaking people out there - I think I butchered your language (feel free to correct me). I'm so sorry lmfao. But, Anon, this request was adorable to write, hope you enjoy it!

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*

You wanted to say you were surprised when he didn't show up – really, you did – but in the back of your mind, you already knew he wouldn’t. It was hard not to feel disappointed when you swirled your tiny cup of Franziskaner tensely, watching the whipped cream sink away into the concoction of dark espresso and milk; calling attention to the same feeling in your chest.

König had a strange habit as of late, and with a delicate furrow in your brow and perhaps even a smidge of sadness in your eyes, you wondered what you had done wrong. Why had he been avoiding you so…violently? While you wouldn’t have called yourself perfect by any means, nothing you had done over the course of your meetings was strange or downright embarrassing. 

You admitted that the man had never been the type to run away from something, and sighed as you brought the cup to your lips and sipped. Caffeine sits on your tongue along with a bitter revelation as the rain begins to pick up in velocity outside. The small and quiet café where you’re spending your afternoon is warm and unburdened by the weather. 

Do you think…he’s even interested in me anymore? The sharp thought brings a pang to your chest, fingers over the warm cup flinching back as if struck with lightning. O-or he doesn’t like being around me?

Your relationship was still new, very new, and if you were asked you would say it wasn’t even dating yet. König hadn’t asked you to be his girlfriend. 

But it had still been going well.

“Or so I thought,” you take a breath, watching the fog on the window as the streets of Vienna are rapidly being emptied of tourists and locals alike. Your shoulders are painfully tight.

Aggressive rainfall like this into the cold seasons was unusual, but it wasn’t like mother nature cared about the whims of anyone but herself. It’ll freeze overnight, leaving a bitter chill that puffs from breaths and a shaky few steps out the door across hardened ice. You’d probably go out – alone – for a walk in the morning to clear your head, or try, at any rate.

Lately, all you could think about was the bear of a man that was supposed to be sitting in the empty seat ahead of you. The cursed wooden chair burns your eyes; its dark wood and red cushion stab your vision over and over until you’re sure you’ll bleed tears instead of water. 

He was supposed to be here.

Taking another shaky sip of your drink, one that König had recommended to you himself a few dates ago, the brief moments of warmth it brings to your bones does little to satisfy you. You doubted anything short of a hulking figure trying to stick their knees under the small table could do just that.

The giant man you called your possible future boyfriend was avoiding you, and your subconscious was breaking itself to try and understand why. As if that gracious plea had been heard above the glossiness of your eyes and the gentle hum of the café workers who shuffle about, the phone in your pocket jumps. 

You don’t want to admit how fast your hand snapped to your thigh, sneaking under the layers to draw out black metal. A single link to König when he was overseas or out of sight that you were told was unwise to use. He was rarely able to answer you, but for what it was worth, he always tried to call back later. 

Even if recently, it had been a brief state of events. 

“I-I can’t talk right now–”

“Forgive me–”

Your lips thin.

Pulling the phone out, you immediately look at the contact, though you already know the message before you read it. The sunken whipped cream finally falls under deep chocolate-colored waves.

“Sorry, Bӓrchen, I’m stuck in the building for the day! I swear I’ll make it up to you for missing–” You don’t bother reading the rest, thumb already scrolling upward to see the numerous times other excuses have been made. 

His parents were needing some help moving furniture, he was drowning in post-operation reports, or simply just too tired. You weren't stupid. But every time you had stuffed down your pride and responded cheerfully, dressed to the nines and standing in your living room while your fingers shook over the keys.

Holding back tears. 

It would hurt less if he’d just tell you to your face what you were thinking. Maybe all of this was just… 

Your thoughts trail off. 

But that didn’t make sense – König was never malicious!

Placing down the phone, you leave him on read, feeling the pitying eyes of the baristas burning into your skin like a brand. They knew as well as you did that he wasn’t showing up.

When he calls sometime later, you shut the device off completely. Staring out the window at the dimming light, you lean your head into the glass and try not to cry as you watch couples rushing for cover from the rain; laughing and holding the other close. 

The empty chair stays motionless in the corner of your eye.

—

The first time you met König, you were left gaping at the sheer size of him. 

Towering over ninety percent of the other patrons in the art shop, he had looked down at the package of charcoal pencils in his large, scarred, hands. Turning them over to read the description on the back like an expert with delicate eyelashes that you’d kill for. 

You yourself had been cast in his shadow quite by accident, looking along expansive shelves for a sketchbook – your friend had gotten into a watercolor phase lately, and what better to give her than a birthday present she could actually use? The only problem was that you had no idea what was considered good quality or not, but had a strange suspicion the man beside you did. But what a happy accident it all turned out to be.

König had a black surgical mask on, but the milky-white scar that ran up his right eyebrow and disappeared into his auburn hairline was still starkly visible. Expressive dark eyes blink down at his object from a surprising height. Between picking up multiple books, running your fingers over the paper and whatnot, you can’t help but stare at the pure strength the man emanates. Compared to you, he was utterly gargantuan in both mass and height. A bear and a bee, you thought with a stifled giggle.

He blatantly appeared to know more about this stuff than you did as he placed the charcoal pack down and picked up another.  

“Erm,” you begin, and his head snaps down to yours immediately, head of hair falling into gentle curls near the ears. He had looked partially surprised to hear you speak to him, and his eyes had flickered around instinctually. But it was only the two of you in the aisle. “I’m sorry to bother you, Sir, but you seem to know a helluva lot more than me about art supplies.” Your voice was cautious, and you were afraid you’d seem rude for disturbing him, but all he did was stare and wait for you to finish speaking. Feet every so often shifting, or his hands twitching as if he never was able to stay still; he blinks a few times like a rabbit. “Any suggestions for watercolor?” A small laugh meets the air as you move your hand to show off the wall of possible options for paper. “I’m not much of an artist, but my friend’s birthday is coming up – thought I’d get her something she’d actually use this year. She wasn't too enthralled with the plant I got her for her twenty-third. Killed the thing in a week.” 

A nervous chuckle is softly met and your face heated as his own did. There’s a moment of a clearing throat before the man nods carefully, and the sparse freckles over his forehead shift. His biceps flex.

“O-of course, Ma’am,” his accent is quite strong, and you like the guttural raspiness of his tone. “I prefer Saunders Waterford, though I don’t manage to use it often. Better, eh, was ist das Wort?” He stumbles for a moment over the proper descriptor. “Beständig. Durable.”

A tilt of his head later, and you’re beaming, picking up the large pad with careful fingers, testing the weight in your palms as one would an apple. 

“Wonderful! It looks like I owe you one, eh?” Looking back up, you watch his eyes widen as you notice him blatantly staring. Face crinkling into a shy display of heat and curiosity, he slightly moves back, a large hand going to scratch at the base of his neck as his sweatshirt bunches. 

Chest tight, you stick out a hand and offer your name with a smile. It was only customary, but the action was pure instinct more than thought-out. All the while restraining a shiver, his limb encompasses yours so completely and radiates a large amount of heat.

“A pleasure,” your voice wavers, but it’s not so much nervousness as it is genuine intrigue. For a man so blessed with the tall gene, he really had a considerate hold – barely squeezing your skin in fear it would break. 

The action makes your chest squeeze.

“Ah, guten tag,” he utters, nodding with a firm shake, though his eyelashes caress his cheeks as his eyes rove away, “König.” 

A bit awkward, isn’t he? You have to ask yourself. Not that it was a bad thing – in fact, you found the nervous tensing of his thighs to be cute, along with that red tinge that was over his pale ears. So very opposite of how you expected him to act.

That was when you noticed the dog tags, as well, though you found no purpose to say anything. But everything about this man had caught your attention as a large billboard would, and the comparison has you practically bending in laughter. He probably could be a billboard with a build like that. No doubt he’d catch a lot of attention.

You tilt your head and release his hand, nodding to König’s charcoal pencils. 

“I bet you can make some killer drawings with those things, huh?” The beast twists them in his hand and turns down to stare at the supplies as if he’d forgotten they’d been there at all. “You draw often?”

“Ja,” his eyes brighten, and the crinkling of his eyes tells you that a small smile pulls at his lips. “Whenever I’m able. I,” König pauses before his shoulders move in a soft movement akin to a shrug. “I…find it calming.” 

Your ribs move in reaction to an interested sound. 

A bear that likes to draw.

“You’re better than me, I’d just get frustrated if something doesn’t look right.” A deep laugh echoes off the shelves before a lapsing silence settles like a bird’s wings. Overcome by a sudden urge to speak, yet having no other words to say, König’s voice meets your ears before you can find something to say.

It’s slow, the tone, bathed in hesitation and even a smidgen of armor; like the outcome of your response was already measured and taken as null compared to the giant’s own thoughts.

“I…don’t suppose I could show you some if you’d be interested.” At your widening lids, his twitching hands come up to his sides, eyes blinking rapidly as a vermilion hue blossoms like a flower over his visible skin. Dark eyes like broken obsidian pay more attention to your shoes than your face.

“N-not, eh, scheiße, I only meant I–” Watching him stutter was similar to what a high schooler would do when he was called out during an assembly. Though, your giggle makes him clear his throat and pause with a stiffening spreading to his legs. His body seems to deflate, taking your reverence for his soft inward nature as making fun or at worse, a blatant rejection. The delicate makeup of his psyche was on display, though you didn’t know. “I’m…I’m sorry, Ma’am–”

“I’d love to see your artwork, König,” you begin, pulling the watercolor pad closer to your body instinctually, cheeks hot. The man perks up, and you can see his heart hammering through his clothes when his eyes blaze with light. “How about I give you my number and I’ll text you a day I’m free and we can work something out? A local café or library sound good?”

“I…yes, that sounds wonderful.”

—

You throw your soaked coat on the hook as you shut the door, hating how the frigid rainwater had wetted your hair, though still holding it as a blessing. At least no one could see the tear tracks as you walked back to your apartment. 

Kicking off heavy boots and peeling the slick layers of fabric from your chest with a sloping sound, you flick on the lights with a shaking finger and a sniffle. Wet footprints are left over the rugs and hardwood as the phantom shuffles over them, beelining to the bathroom to strip. 

Your mind was preoccupied as you slipped out of heavy fabric, the pile already on the floor creating a large puddle that you threw a towel on and left as it was. 

“He…he’d tell me if he didn’t like me anymore, right?” Whispering, the broken words meet air as you toss on a large shirt – the hem meeting your knees as a pair of thick sweatpants follow. 

Quite the look for someone who was having an internal battle. Your friends would say you looked like you were minutes away from grabbing a tub of ice cream and sobbing over a rom-com. The quick-witted part of you confessed that the idea wasn’t even that bad if you threw in a glass of beer. Preferably the shitty kind so you could complain about it and distract yourself.

“Get it together…” You would not cry over a guy that hadn’t even asked you out officially, but with that familiar sting in the back of your eyes, you hissed that König wasn’t just any guy.

You’d really liked him, and for what it was worth, your heart would have exploded if he had asked you out. 

He was kind – respectful. Utterly adorable when he was speaking so passionately about his artwork and his parents who he held on a larger-than-life pedestal. König’s heart was just as big as his body, that gorgeous, bear-like body, and…oh, you’d wished he would like you just as much as you liked him. 

Before you could stop the wave of hopelessness, the tears were already dribbling down your face, and the dark apartment was echoing with the barely-there sobs that hit the walls.

—

When you hadn’t answered him in the next two hours and his calls were going to voicemail, König was hit with a train’s worth of worry. Feet tapping faster than unusual and eyes were finicky as they passed over documents.

Although his contract with KorTac wasn’t exactly like his own had been in the military, the hyper-vigilance was still ingrained bones-deep. The Austrian man held his personal relationships tightly – and if someone wasn’t answering him, the anxiety reserved for large, uncontrollable, crowds reared its ugly head. König wasn’t sure when it had happened, but you had entered that loyal group consisting of his parents and a few work friends in an incredibly small amount of time. 

He really should have bit the bullet and gone out with you today, the man acknowledged as he slipped out of his office and tried once more to get in contact with you. König watched the icon of your smiling face go straight to the familiar voice that in any other circumstance, he would have wanted to listen another moment too.

“...Thanks for calling! I’m not able to speak with you right now, but go ahead and leave a message–”

“Come on, Bӓrchen.” König lightly growls, hanging up and stuffing the infernal device into his cargo pant’s side pocket. 

His usually hidden face was twisted up with worry, so commonly lit with bloodlust on Ops now left in a state of unknown. It was stupid to think like this, but how could he not? In such a small amount of time, you’d made him fall for you like a bird does the sky; that thin line between falling and flying caught underwing. 

That was why he’d been making excuses, you see. 

You were so…good…that he’d been worried about the way he carried himself; second-guessed small actions like a hand on the small of your back in public, or a comment about how nice you looked. 

Did she take that the wrong way?

Why did I tell her that?

I hope she doesn’t think that I’m rude…

You were messing with his mind with every turn, but it wasn’t even all that, either. His size also played a part. Your form was so small as it trailed beside him on walks through the city – it fit in the clutch of his arm easily. 

König was just scared he might break you, he’s never had to be…gentle so often before. It was against everything he’d been taught in the last decade or so.

Pushing open the front door of the KorTac: Private Military Contractor building, the man pushes on with a frown over his scarred lips and a drawn-in expression. He hadn’t even noticed he’d forgotten his surgical mask in his office, along with a jacket, and braved the volatile winds and slapping rain in a slight jog, an athletic shirt tight across his chest. 

By the time he’d reached your apartment building, his hair was dark and stuck to his skin, slight puffs of breath escaping his lips and wracking shivers along his spine. König ascended the stairs in double steps, agile as his heart pounded. 

Being ex-military left him with an undeniable state of readiness.

With heavy knuckles and panting breath, his hand quickly rasps against the door, and after a second of no sound, he does it again. 

“Bӓrchen, it’s me. Are you there?” König’s shoulders are set, ready to batter the door down at the barest hint of something wrong. He calls your name but like a voice on the wind, there’s no answer. Not even a shadow under the barrier, a whiff of your shampoo.

Grunting, strained eyes going grim, the man’s hand encompasses the handle, arm and body going parallel to the wood. His hips tense, feet grinding over the floor as they set. But the nearly missed footsteps that his ears twitched at gives him pause. 

After a few moments of intense listening, his body stone-stiff and eyes spaced out, there’s a clicking of a lock. 

König moves back swiftly, hands going to rest at his sides, and when your face graces his vision, a large weight is lifted. Until he realizes that your eyes are red-rimmed. His lids go startlingly wide, fingers coming up to curl into themselves near his middle, but you speak before he does.

With a hatred for interrupting others, König keeps his lips sealed and watches with a concerned once-over and nervous lungs.

Your hand is clenched over the door frame, the muscle of your tongue licking at your lips as beads of water fall from your locks. 

“What are you doing here, König?” With a voice more hoarse and dry than a desert. The man itches at the side of his hawk nose, hesitant about what he sees. 

You’d never been like this before – always so happy. 

“I…” He trails off quietly, seeing your eyes unwilling to meet his own. “Are you…alright?” 

The Austrian’s fingers jerk when you laugh, and a surprised blink later he’s coming closer to check on you, hand almost outstretched before he sees the size difference and thinks better of it. He just taps on your cheek instead, delicately, like a hit from a flower. 

“Sweet one? Please tell me what is wrong. You weren’t answering your phone.” He wants to beg for you to look at him, plead. “It made me worry for you. Why did you not respond?” 

“So you want me to respond when you’re obviously bailing on me for what,” you pull back, disappearing partially behind the door. König watches with a still body as your arms go to wrap around your waist, dread creeping up his throat. “The third time? Fourth? I guess I’ve lost count.” 

The man’s lips go thin, eyes crinkling as an expression of pure self-hatred takes hold. He had stupidly hoped you wouldn’t notice that. When times got tough for him in the past – whether with the schoolyard bullies or an operation on wrong, avoidance was usually his best tactic; it was one he had fallen back into time and time again without fail. But he’d never told you that. 

And now he looked like a proper Arschloch. 

But you’re not done yet. When you leave the door open and disappear inside the dark apartment, König follows after like a lost puppy, water still dripping from his strong chin and stuck in his stubble. Cursing himself out in his head. 

“Ach, du Depp, jetzt hast du‘s getan. Die eine gute Sache ruiniert, die du hattest, oder...?" He mutters, slipping out of his boots and frantically looking after you as your form goes to the couch. König closes the front door and stays in the foyer, fingers twiddling and mouth opening and closing. 

You hadn’t even looked at him yet, and you’d barely seen him without a mask on. 

The Tv was on, playing some show that he’d never seen and he doubted you were watching. Your body plops to the couch with a shrieking of springs and bouncing of pillows. A small huff escapes your lips, though you speak no more. 

König clears his throat again, a nasty nervous habit along with the fidgeting, as he takes a few steps forward. The finger of his right hand goes to spread through his hair, pushing the strands back like a red wave and unintentionally slicking them to his skull. The clicking of his jaw reverberates in his ears as he resets it, picking at the palate scar under his left nostril. 

He opens his mouth to speak but closes it fitfully and already his face is reddening. König looks away from you for a moment, breathing before shuffling over like a guilty child would on drowned socks. He places one leg on the floor and kneels down in front of you so he can better look into your creased face. 

“Bӓrchen,” he liked calling you that – little bear – because the comparison was enough to make him smile every time it passed his lips. It was such an endearing term that it became difficult to look past the blatant harm he could inflict on you if he wasn’t careful. While his size made him perfect for the field, home life was, well, let's just say he could easily force his way through a crowd. Not that he would, of course. But at any rate, that was what you were to him – a little bear. “I…I have to confess to you that I have been avoiding you, yes? That much has been,” a stiff breath is taken in. “Obvious.” 

Your head turns to the side, knees brushing his own as you hold your hands in your lap. Behind König the show continues to play, spreading a silver light over the living room and the continuous droning of voices.  

Not knowing whether it would be frowned upon or not, and with a steadying breath for confidence, the man loops a cold finger under your chin; bringing you back to him and finally setting your glossy eyes ahead. 

He sees you blink in surprise when you find him maskless, and a faint smile flicks over his lips when your expression goes shy. Cautious like a bird.

“It was of no fault of your own, Sweetling, I ask that you believe me. I’ll try to explain the best I can, Ja? If you’ll let me, though, I know that I don’t deserve it.”

“If you don’t like me anymore, you can just say it…Stop dragging me on, please.” His heart stops, mouth still partially open before a sharp breath is sucked in. “I don’t know if I can take that anymore.” The pang in his chest hurts immensely, like taking an arrow and peeling back skin. You look at him so hopelessly, broken beyond belief as though a piece of you was being ripped out.

“W-why do you say that?” König tries to desperately stop the wetness of your tears from falling, shaking his head and cupping both of your cheeks, rubbing at the flesh in agony. “No, no, no, Dear One. That’s not what it is at all, I beg of you to listen.” In the fever, he switches between his native tongue and English, fingers shaking though not from the drenched clothes. “Meine Schöne, oh, meine Schöne. Bitte hör auf zu weinen.“

He takes quick breaths and finds in himself that he would do anything to stop you from crying – take a bullet, run a marathon, or learn to fly. Name it, any of it. Anything to wipe away the sadness that lives in your expression as if it even belonged there in the first place

“Do not cry over me, please, I-I,” König’s tongue trips over itself, but he persists, a similar burn in the back of his nose. “I…You scare me, Bӓrchen,” that gets your attention, creased eyes and a loose jaw going to give him full observation. 

What?! Your expression screams.

Face on fire, the Austrian continues with intense eyes, dark obsidian awash with pure light that reflects stars. Overflowing with anxious tears that he refuses to let fall. 

He can’t lose you. No, no, not you. You were the best thing to happen to him in a long time. Damn him – damn his own consciousness that’s more of a betrayer than Brutus. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go… 

“...What?” Your voice wavers, nose twitching so adorably that the man is momentarily stunned. 

“I am afraid of you, my Dear. Utterly and wholly.” König sucks down a breath, now the one unable to continue the stare-off. His foot shifts. “I am afraid of what you do to me. Your smile, Gott, your smile. A-and the way you speak, how you react so honestly to my paintings like you care with all of your heart.” He laughs wetly when you smile dimly, continuing as he caresses your skin. “Everything down to your very bones is like…like…” König’s words fumble, because comparing you to something earthly was impossible to him. 

“Ever since I met you in that art store, I cannot string together words with any semblance of meaning when I am around you. Bӓrchen, you have entrapped my mind, and I am afraid.”

He watches you breathe in slowly, tears no longer falling, though the evidence still haunts him. The man’s chest lets go of a tightly wound knot, the anvil on the other side just narrowly missing his heart as the sweat on his brow evaporates.

“A-and,” König sighs, shaking his head and moving his hands to tightly hold your own in your lap. How could he explain the last part of this dilemma? He bluntly states, “you’re small.”

A brief moment of silence bleeds like a wound, long and slow, until a tiny snort echoes. Full-blown laughter emanates not even a second later, and he watches your body heave forward and slot itself with your nose in his shoulder. König’s blush stains all the way down his neck, but minuscule giggles also fall from him in retaliation to yours. His great arms wrap themselves around your waist, dragging you slightly closer as he breathes deeply. 

Your scent pulls him under like a ship at the water, riding great waves with sea beasts under the waves guiding the vessel along its course. 

“Everyone’s small compared to you.” Your mumbling in his shoulder makes his grip tighten, side-eyeing your visage as his head tilts down. “Not my fault you got every gene that made you sprout like a damn tree.”

With your lips caressing his neck, he blinks softly down at you, amused, as his breath mingles with your hair. He lets you speak, getting it all off your chest and feeling stupid for how he had been avoiding this.

“You’re afraid because you’re so big, then? That you might hurt me?” 

“Ja.” Your hands circle around his shoulders, and with a sigh that leaves the man short of breath, you shimmy back and face him, fingers playing with the base of his neck; pulling at tiny hairs. 

“Don’t you think being worried about that means something? And, c’mon,” you smile lightly to him, and he watches closely, fingers moving along your spine. “With how conscious you are of your body, it’s hard to imagine anything ever happening.”

Hands grasp his neck, and with a bobbing Adam’s apple, König yields to your pull, angling his head to you as your back straightens. Watching with awe; your silhouette bathed in silver light and eyes fatigued, though never more beautiful. You’re beaming.

“I’ve never felt safer than when I’m with you, okay? So stop worrying about it, you big dope – and stop ditching me!” The Austrian’s dark eyes are fastly moved from one spot on your face to another, cataloging every bump and pore to memory. 

He’d never been this close to you before, though he’d fantasized about it. And what you were telling him…it’s like his body deflates with relief, and a genuine, boyish, smile blossoms. 

“Safe? W-with me, Bӓrchen? Oh-oh, my…” A kiss suddenly hits his forehead, and if you continued doing things like this, he was sure he’d explode. His body was vibrating with pure bashfulness; it was so odd to be complimented and doted on by someone that wasn’t his close family. For someone to reassure him of his flawed concerns. 

She feels safe with me. 

How could he tell you how happy that made him to hear aloud?

“Hey,” hands cup his jaw, and his spaced-out eyes snap back to you instantly, blinking away the rose-colored fog. You shake his head back and forth until he’s chuckling, like a kid again, and his grip catches your wrists to make you stop. Your breath fans over his blazing cheeks like a wind sent from Zephyrus himself, and the sticking clothes to his body matter little. “No more leaving me hanging, okay? I miss you, König. I want to be around you.” 

The eyes that travel down his scarred and freckled face leave him slightly self-conscious, but as if sensing this, your lips curve. Before he could utter a grunt of surprise, your kiss had connected with the scar on his forehead, as well as the palate. Just brushing the top of his lips as his large nose poked your cheek. 

“Mein Gott.” König gasps, eyes fluttering shut when you pull back and a grin slashes your face. A whisper meets the room.

“Thank you for showing me your handsome face, mein Schöner, I’ve been wondering what you looked like.” Shyly scanning his features, the redhead lets your fingers trace his flesh, shivers left in their wake, and a soft sigh. 

If he opens his eyes, he’s afraid he’d start crying. So he lets you touch his scarlet flesh, nearly the same shade as his hair, though the auburn is more deep-set. Shivering every time you lay another press of your lips to a blemish; more addictive than drugs. 

“You’re going to kill me,” König pleads, “but if this is punishment for causing you pain, I will gladly bear it.”

“Sly.” You smirk, pressing one more peck to his nose, and pulling back. He grumbles in his throat before his eyes peel open slowly; pupils blown wide and mouth parted. “Are you alive down there?”

“Barely. Perhaps I’ll need another kiss to tell, yes?” 

“You’re horrible.” Looking at his clothes, your eyes suddenly go grim. Like you’d just noticed the state of him now that he was kneeling in front of you and struck by your beauty. “And shivering.” You huff. “Why didn’t you start by saying you were soaked to the bone, König?” 

He looks to the ground, and you try to shuffle past and grab him a towel, but his arms trap you. You find yourself in a chest faster than you can blink, hands splayed over a pec that jerks as you’re lifted up. 

König hears you squeak and laughs, throwing you up into a bridal-style hold easily. Laughing chest-deep, you curl under his chin and quickly comment, “what are you doing?!” 

“Hush, Bӓrchen,” the man squishes you closer, “I’ll find a towel, don’t strain yourself.” 

You direct him to the bathroom after he sets you on your bed, hearing the pounding of rain outside as he sneaks off. 

The room smells of your shampoo, and König takes a pastel towel from the wrack after half-closing the door, slapping it to his head and violently rubbing it back and forth. Lost in his elevated thoughts and happy demeanor, the knock on the wood is almost missed. He’s just about to take off his shirt and wring it out when he blinks at the sound. 

“König – I’ve got some spare clothes, but I doubt they’ll fit you well enough.” An amused twitch of his lips later, he’s opening the door to your soft face, staring down at it. Standing shyly, your eyes crease; head tilting. “Sleepover?”

The man looks at the pile of fabric and nods kindly, a lofty feeling in his bones.

“Yes, please. They’re perfect, vielen Dank.” It isn’t long before he’s coming back out, a shirt that barely fits over his wide chest and a pair of sweats clinging to his hips. But he didn’t mind. 

They smelled like you, and thus, he smelled like you. König quickly found out that drawing wasn’t the only thing that could calm him. 

An embarrassed smile and a sheen of giddiness never leave his face.

He slides into bed with you, and you quickly latch under his arm, limbs tangling with his own as his fingers twitch over the width of the base of your shoulder blades. An easy expulsion of air leaves him as your weight settles, back curving to the make of the mattress. 

The words leave him in the delicate silence; water hitting the window and during the exploration of souls. Cheeks hot and heart hammering. 

“Sei mein?” Be mine? 

He feels your grin, nose nuzzling his flesh like it was the perfect pillow, and his heart speeds like a shooting star.

“Mein Herz war immer deins. Ja.” My heart was always yours. Yes. 

He stays awake for a long while, listening to your breathing and staring at the ceiling, running knuckles over your spine and staying silent. 

Smiling.  

[akolnoix]

Chain of Pronouns

A Partial Re-Translation Patch for Kingdom Hearts: Chain of Memories (GBA)

Kingdom Hearts is a tricky series, where the details really matter. As such, it’s a shame that some interesting elements of Kingdom Hearts: Chain of Memories did not make it into the official English release (and, from what I know, none of the other language versions). So here we are!

So What’s Changed?

The most important changes in this patch are, as you might’ve guessed from the title, pronoun related.

There is a section of the game, from the beginning of Twilight Town to a certain point in Destiny Islands, where Sora (and the NPCs in Destiny Islands) inexplicably change what pronouns are used to refer to Naminé. The official English release does not convey this element at all despite how much emphasis the game puts on this aspect, and thus loses any potentially significant implications of it.

As there’s no perfect English equivalent for あいつ aitsu, (a very informal/rough pronoun that is technically gender-neutral but leans toward masculine connotations, and is a strange way for Sora to refer to Naminé or Kairi), there are two versions of the patch.

“they” version. This is the one I recommend , as I believe it best conveys the intended experience; where there is a noticeably strange shift in language, but in such as way as to be fairly easy to write off as unimportant to the casual player.

“he” version. This one tosses all subtlety and ambiguity out the window and feels less natural, but conveys the masculine possibilities of the original that the other version can’t. Pick it if you’re feeling very daring.

Then, in the final stretch of the game, jp Naminé uses gender neutral terms in a way that seems potentially relevant, due to the pronouns situation stated in the previous section, and she is talking about two distinct people in her final conversation w/Sora, not just one. Both elements were lost in the official release.

Other Changes

Tweaked some word choice/phrasing for dialogue to more clearly convey repeated motifs (if you’re familiar with the jp terms used, 大切な / に taisetsuna/ni is generally denoted with “precious,” and 大切な人 taisetsuna hito with “dear”) as well as references to other parts of the game (primarily between Hollow Bastion and the floor 6+7 interludes)

They don’t call Sora the Keyblade master anymore, as this was sort of an impossible to predict localization misstep with the original release. (How were they supposed to know that jp script would start using the English phrase "Keyblade Master" as a distinct concept like 10 years later?) I did this just for fun.

This project was primarily built upon the contents of the essay “‘That Person’ How a Pronoun Revealed the Heart of a Story”, and would not exist without it. Read it after you finish the game (or before, if you want), it’s fantastic work.

Special thanks to this gba khcom quote generator and this transcript (both of which saved me SO much time and effort) as well as all my friends, whose excitement and input were invaluable.

Don’t want to actually play the game? Once I’ve settled on a final version, I’ll be putting up a cutscene compilation (for both versions) on youtube.

[babyhatesreality]

Agent Jellybean

Daddy!Stucky x Little!F!Reader

Warnings: DDLG (SSC), f! reader, reader is named but name scarcely used, language, reader has anxiety, fluff.

A/N- today's story brought to you by a massive wave of anxiety.

YOU ARE RESPONSIBLE FOR YOUR OWN MEDIA CONSUMPTION. THIS STORY IS SFW- THE REST OF MY BLOG IS NOT NECESSARILY SO. MINORS DNI. I DO NOT CONSENT FOR MY WORK TO BE STOLEN, COPIED, OR TRANSLATED ONTO ANY OTHER SITE BUT MY OWN. Likes, comments and reblogs are deeply appreciated.

You had had the worst nightmare you could remember last night. Fortunately, you were in Daddy and Papa's bed with them already, so the second you whimpered in your sleep, Bucky had instantly awoken. He held you close, trying to help you gently wake up, but it had been so intense and terrifying that by the time you realized you were awake, you were already shaking and crying so hard you couldn't stop. Bucky and Steve spent the rest of the night soothing and calming you, but you hadn't fallen back to sleep, nor had you truly been able to shake the dread you had been feeling as a result of the dream.

Bucky had kept you in his arms all morning, knowing all too well the toll that a nightmare could take on a person. He cuddled and kissed and comforted you while Steve packed a day bag for you to come with them upstairs while they worked.

You were resting your tired head on Daddy's shoulder as the three of you got off the elevator. Fury was waiting for you, which normally would make you perk up as you loved the gruff director. But you were still too anxious and exhausted to do more than give him a little wave. He looked a bit surprised- normally you were bouncing off the walls- but quickly understood the situation when he saw the ache in his agents' eyes as they continued to touch and soothe you.

"Rough night?" Fury asked evenly, but one couldn't mistake the hint of sympathy in his words. Steve gave him a tired smile and reached out to stroke your hair as Bucky kissed your forehead.

"You could say that," Steve said quietly.

"Do you two need the day?" Fury asked immediately. But before they could answer, you did.

"No," you mumbled, popping your head up. "Daddies gotta be heroes." Your sudden burst of energy over, you slumped back down onto Bucky's shoulder. Fury's eyes met Steve's in surprise, and was met with another tired smile.

"We told her we would stay at home, but she didn't want that," he explained. And it was true- when Steve said that to you at the breakfast table, you almost had another meltdown. He was quick to retract it, and Bucky just tightened his grip on you, both of them assuring you that they wouldn't do that. You settled down after a moment, but then your feelings got even bigger.

The real reason you didn't want them missing work was that you were already feeling guilty that you had kept them up last night, that they were both so worried about you, and that you couldn't let go of the scary feelings. When Papa suggested missing work, all you could think about was the people that were going to get hurt because they weren't there, and that was what sent you over the edge again. After you settled down, you then felt guilty for being naughty and throwing a tantrum when they were only trying to help. You were a bundle of big mean feelings, anxiety, and exhaustion, so all you could do was hold on to Bucky as tight as he was holding on to you.

Of course you didn't tell Nick this- your Daddies didn't even know you were feeling guilty- but you watched for his reaction to Papa's answer. He slowly nodded once, like he was thinking. His face was lined with frustration.

"What is it?" Bucky asked.

Fury took a deep breath, sighing heavily before he answered. "We picked up another former Hydra agent last night," he answered gruffly. "Some...intense programming on this one. Barnes, I was going to ask if you can be in the interrogation room, but...it looks like your services are otherwise needed," Fury said carefully, realizing the sticky situation you were all in.

Bucky and Steve locked eyes over your head. They both knew that the best shot of saving and rehabilitating the agent was to get the Winter Soldier in there. Bucky's eyes pleaded with Steve for a solution. He couldn't let you go- he absolutely would not do it. But the idea of helping to save another person from his own personal nightmare....

In another surprise move, you picked your head back up again and reached out to Steve. "I go with Papa," you said quietly, holding your arms out. Steve instantly pulled you into his strong arms, patting your back gently as you rested your chin on his shoulders. Bucky stepped to Steve's side, smoothing your hair from your face.

"Are you sure, baby girl?" Bucky asked you gently, his blue eyes filled with worry. "I can stay with you- it's okay."

You shook your head a bit and snuggled back into Steve. "You a hero Daddy, you gotta go be a hero."

Steve leaned over and gave Bucky a gentle kiss. "It's okay Buck, I got her," he said lovingly. "Go be a hero." Bucky smiled at bit- hearing you and Steve call him a hero helped to heal something that was still a bit broken inside. He gave you a long kiss on the temple.

"I'll be real close by baby, okay? Papa's got you, you're safe. And I'll come back as soon as I can, I promise." Before he could second guess himself, he turned down the hallway towards the interrogation room. Fury watched him walk for a moment, then turned back to Steve.

"If you're up for it, I could use you and Natasha in a strategy meeting with Stark in the conference room in ten," he asked hesitantly, feeling awkward about which way to step with you. Steve patted you on the back and smiled.

"See you there."

You tried to let the bad feelings go while Papa carried you down the hall towards his office. At least you felt slightly less guilty that you'd been clinging so desperately to Bucky all morning, and now were in Steve's arms, showing him how much you needed him too. The thought made you nuzzle gratefully into his neck. He responded with a gentle chuckle and a long kiss on top of your head.

Papa carefully placed your bag in his office, thinking that if you got overstimulated or upset, he could quickly bring you back here to calm you down. He then proceeded to the conference room, hoping that maybe he could get you to fall asleep before the meeting started and catch up on your rest.

But even cuddled in his lap, as he rocked you gently back and forth, you still couldn't get rid of the big feelings. The world was just too large right now, and you were too tired to sleep or cry or do anything other than just try to make yourself smaller and smaller.

After a few minutes, Natasha, Tony, and Fury entered the room. Fury had clearly given them both a heads up, and they came over to both give you a gentle kiss or stroke your cheek before settling into their chairs. The chatter wasn't words that you could follow, so it was soothing to hear voices that you knew and loved. You began to relax just the tiniest bit.

After a while, you started to feel a bit squirmy, like something was wrong. You realized what it was, and so you gently patted Steve's chest to get his attention. He immediately looked down at you with a smile, and that made you feel better. You held up your hand to the side of your mouth and whispered (so you wouldn't interrupt the meeting), "Papa, can I go get Jellybean please?"

"We can go get her together and come right back if you want to, Peanut," he whispered back, not wanting you to put yourself in a stressful position. But you shook your head.

"M'okay," you whispered. "Need Jellybean, please?" Papa smiled wider and gave you peck on the cheek.

"Okay, Peanut, go get her and come right back, okay? You remember how to get to the office?" When you nodded, he sat up a bit and let you climb off his lap. You tried to be as small as possible as you walked to the door, opening it as carefully and quietly as you could. You missed Fury raising an eyebrow at your exit, then turning to Steve for an explanation, as did Nat and Tony. Steve smiled widely at the concern on their faces, touched that they were worried about you too. "She's fine, she's just getting Jellybean." Natasha and Tony nodded in understanding, but Fury looked confused. Steve clarified. "Jellybean is her stuffed bunny."

"I was wondering what happened to her," Natasha said. "She's never without that bunny when she's upset."

"She likes bunnies, huh?" Fury asked, looking at his agents.

"She loves them. She and 'Bean have been inseparable since the first day we got her," Steve answered, smiling softly at the memory of your delighted shriek of joy upon meeting the fuzzy gray bunny. Just then, you pushed open the door just a bit, peering anxiously around the edge, afraid you had disturbed them once again. Fury leaned into your line of sight.

"It's alright, Little One, come on in," he prompted you kindly.

"Thank you Mr. Nick," you said shyly as you squeezed past the door, Jellybean cuddled in the crook of your arm.

"Ah, and I see you've brought Agent Jellybean," Fury continued. You stopped suddenly in your tracks, looking up at Fury in wonder. "Excellent. Let me know if she had any insights to this mess, hmm?" he said to you, gesturing to the screen behind him. "She's one of our best stealth agents, you know."

"She is?" you asked in hushed wonder, perking up the slightest bit. "How do you know?"

"Because I'm the director of SHIELD. I know everything."

You turned to Jellybean. "He knows EVERYTHING," you whispered to the bunny. Fury kept a straight face while both Natasha and Tony bit their lips to contain their laughter. Steve had the sweetest look of both mirth and mischief on his face, touched that one of the toughest, most bad-ass men he knew cared so much about you that he was willing to grant the title of "agent" to a stuffed rabbit, even in play.

"You're damn right, I do. Now let's get on with this meeting," Fury said pompously, turning back to the map as if nothing had happened. Steve's heart melted as he saw the first smile of the day on your face. You still walked as quietly as you could, desperately needing to be back in Steve's arms, but as you cuddled back into your place on Papa's lap, he could feel some of the tension release from your body. He subtly rocked you back and forth until you finally fell asleep, finally calm in his arms with your beloved secret agent bunny.

[leavingsunsets]

Helllloo!!

I would like to request a senkuu x reader if possible! (Preferably some angst + romance but anything works!) Been looking for some inspiration and I love your work!

Also hopefully you're okay if I draw some of your work too

Thank youuuu!! (>u<)/

im okay with you drawing my work! saw some of ur art, and wow! glad ur a fan tehee :33 i see you've given me an angst plot, with romance? yes i will definitely fulfill this. i waaaassss ssupposed to make this action filled with scene wit reader dying in battle of treasure island arc and senku going "WHAT" and head in hands and sobbing and the gang has to go back to the mainland hat on stomach like ":(" but exams and research defense finished and i also jus watched cute little vid of an old couple so this is jussttt hmmm a softer angst set between events ig

"ʟᴏᴏᴋ ᴍʏ ᴡᴀʏ."

[ꜱᴇɴᴋᴜ x ɢɴ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ]

It wasn't really a secret. You didn't even try, honestly.

Since the first of times of where you'd glimpsed his face at school, to the latest catch of him swirling fluid in a beaker, you've always been confident in your feelings.

Albeit a bit clumsy in your attempts, you were honest, never mincing them, never embarrassed.

"Senku, I really really like you!"

"Yeah, okay, could you pass me that screwdriver?" he says, both of you 6 years old in his room, as he gestures to the tool beside you.

"Senku, I want to date you. I heard Aimi had a boyfriend recently and I was thinking-" your voice goes interrupted as the loud sound of Senku's machinery overpower yours. 13 years old, another one of his favorite past times.

"Senku, if we were both nobles in medieval fantasy and I had to marry someone in order to get a persistent suitor off my back, I'd go to you. Offer a contract with an eventual divorce, but then we fall in love in a slow burn romance and start rethinking about our agreement."

"Can you- just- HELP ME, DAMN IT." Senku heaves, 16 years old, face turning red as he struggles to hold the boxes of equipment you came to help him with.

All these confessions, all these words, even before everything changed. The clatter of a can hitting the ground.

...

In this new life, surely, you know, Senku's had an absolute goal for this world. To rebuilt it as it was, from his own two hands. In your own way, you've had to learn how to pace your feelings.

Instead of words, as you always did, you decided to translate your affections into a language that matters most in a time like this.

Actions.

For every problem, every step he takes, you take with him. Express your thoughts, concerns, ideas. Any progress, you're there to celebrate with, any process, you're there to assist.

Declarations of love aren't so frequent, though you do like to sneak it in rarely. Announcing it in bursts of passion at the top of your lungs. Quite an antic you do, much to his embarrassment. It's become a well known fact, and often a joke between company.

Though, sometimes you wonder if it's what makes him doubt it. Your overt confessions, cheesy poems and bustling energy that could rival Taiju's. Was it too clumsy? Too obvious that he feels it's an exaggerated farce for show?

To this, you whisper gingerly in the dead of night, in the earliest of mornings,

"Senku. I really really like you."

In the times of uneventful hours, peacefulness in comfortable silence,

"Senku,"

You know, of course you do, of all people.

No one knows him more than you and that fact would've made you happy of such a thing if it couldn't break your heart more. The love of your life, saying everything said in a language that matters most in this time.

An unreadable glance. When the sun beams down brightly and you stare at him lovingly like he's hung the stars in the sky.

Winter strikes mercilessly, days are rough, tensions are high. When everything's all good and done, a bold pinkie inches towards his own. He doesn't pull away, but his hand moves back just as further.

Late at night, behind the tree he leans upon, watching, just watching. His ruby eyes enraptured by the night's celestial pearl.

Gaze too high, to see you.

You close your eyes.

You don't think you can ever stop loving him, despite that. That man doesn't like dragging things out, so you're sure a rejection is soon to come. Whether you approach first or not.

Why he doesn't do it sooner? You know why. As much as he doesn't reciprocate, you know how hesitant he is when it comes to close relationships such as you. Is he scared of breaking your friendship?

It's not the warmth you're looking for, but it's the warmth you can get. Even so, you would never expect him to return just as much as you've given. You love him for him, and not for anything else.

Tragic, how terribly you do.

Maybe one day, you'll learn to forget, to move your heart from where it isn't supposed to be. Maybe one day, you would stop gazing at him with something much more than fondness, waiting for his eyes to find its way back to you.

But until then,

"-I love you."

[kirkodiletears]

This used to be a part of a post, but I decided to make it into a separate one, because it speaks of crusual things for understanding SVSSS, it's plot and it's characters.

As I found out recently, there's a huge misunderstanding going on in the English-speaking segment, probably dew to an English translation of SVSSS (only a speculation, I myself never had this problem, although I read in several other languages as well, so I can compare) concerning the fact whether or not PIDW was originally planned by Airplane as a yaoi with bingqiu as an OTP. (Spoiler: yes, it was). Some readers are mislead by two quotes, that they take as a contradictory, which in truth, they are NOT.

The first one is from a Chapter "The story begins". It is the last chapter of the novel, after this the extras start. And this particular chapter is a culmination: this is where the truth is reveled. Like in a detective story, where we finally find out, who the killer is. This meant to become a real "bomb", that makes a reader go WOOOW!!! And this is THE KEY for understanding the whole story: the plot and the characters, especially Luo Bing-mei (and Luo Bing-ge). And it speaks about the original INTENTIONS of the Airplane, that he betrayed in order to please the crowd and that came true in the universe of the System. (original scrapped outline(c))

The second quote, from the extras, on the other hand speaks of an EXISTING PIDW, (original outline(c)), that he actually wrote, but never finished, because he died and woke up in the Universe of the System. And it gives us a glimpse into the way he planned to finish it.

The first quote, from the final chapter:

Shen Qingqiu looked him up and down. “You don’t look crushed at all after all this foolish messing around ended up completely changing your own novel.”

Shang Qinghua said, “You can’t say it like that ah. Maybe you think it’s just all foolish messing around that isn’t worth a damn, but for Bing-ge, your foolish messing around is probably the meaning of this entire world.”

... holy s***, Great God Airplane Shooting Towards the Sky was able to say something like that?!

Shen Qingqiu was terrified. “F***. You didn’t turn back into the original character, did you?”

Shang Qinghua said seriously, “Don’t be like that. I’m also a young person with literary ideals. Of course, I have my own reflections and emotions.”

Shen Qingqiu laughed coldly. “What literary ideals? How come all I saw in the original work was shameless fanservice?” Not to mention his hand speed that could produce ten thousand words a day, and the courage to even occasionally explode with twenty thousand. If he didn’t have such equipment, there was no way 《Proud Immortal Demon Way》 would have been able to hold out before it was serialized!

Shang Qinghua spread his hands. “You think that I always wrote shameless content that lacked any integrity from the very start? I’ve also written belles-lettres4 before, but they were all unpopular, so I had no choice but to go down a path that catered to the masses. It must be said that writing novels is a very lonely undertaking. Rather than writing a stallion male protagonist who’ll be stereotypical in the end, it’s more in line with my philosophy for writing to create the current Bing-ge━this kind of weirdo male protagonist whose character is a bit more complicated, has contradictions and conflicts, and has a rough destiny.”

Shen Qingqiu concluded, “So, your philosophy for writing is to write about gay guys?”

Shang Qinghua: “Do you look down upon gay male protagonists? Works of art and artists all like to create gay guys. Belles-lettres favors gays, do you know that?”

He waved his arms wildly and passionately. “Cucumber Bro, if the System hadn’t chosen you, this faithful die-hard reader, perhaps the plot wouldn’t have deviated so thoroughly, thoroughly to the point that it deviated all the way back to my original scrapped outline. Even though the me back in reality━who couldn’t endure the loneliness and was under financial pressure━chose to finish writing 《Proud Immortal Demon Way》 according to other people’s preferences and what they found cool... now, all thanks to you, essentially everything that I wanted to write has already unfolded in front of my eyes. Cucumber Bro!”

He patted Shen Qingqiu’s shoulders with deep sentiment and solemnity. “You... are the chosen one; as for my career, I have no more regrets!”

... why did it sound like the System and this world were both products of Shang Qinghua’s resentment over scrapping that outline and going with what was mainstream?

Shen Qingqiu, who shamefully became this kind of “chosen one”: “Who’s your faithful die-hard reader?”

Shang Qinghua waved his hand and one-sidedly declared his victory. “I’m not going to talk to you; you’re an anti-fan.”

Shen Qingqiu was about to say, “I’m only an anti, not a fan!” when he suddenly heard Shang Qinghua starting crooning something like, “Emotions are warm, kindness hard to bear, lips moving together, desires turning the evening to the next morning, never resting from dawn to dusk.” The crucial point was that melody, which sounded extremely familiar to the point that it made Shen Qingqiu’s hands and teeth itch. He pointed at him and said, “Shang Qinghua, what are you singing?”

Shang Qinghua continued to croon. “The warmth of emotions makes gratitude hard to bear. Lips to lips, locked in a kiss. Let this night linger ‘til tomorrow’s dawn. Day after day, night after night; never to end. Will tomorrow be another today? When ‘til Zheng Yang reaches its zenith? As Zheng Yang ascends, the voice of Autumn stirs. A sheathless Xiu Ya, a spurt of cold nectar. Tragic pleas amidst choked sobs, thus in vain; for he rises again5...”

Shen Qingqiu was in disbelief. “F*** you—why don’t you just try and sing another line?”

Shang Qinghua said, “Great Lord Shen, why aren’t you listening to what I’m saying? You must never go around casually f***ing people. Bing-ge will go crazy. I’m telling you, this Resentment of Chunshan is equivalent to Shi Ba Mo6. You two are the legendary national homos, do you understand? I have no problems with you shutting me up, but ultimately it’s useless. You can’t possibly make all the countless people in the world shut up...” (NB, Ch 81)

The second quote, from the extras:

【 Basic completion of Proud Immortal Demon Way’s original outline achieved (slight deviation in romance plotline); objective complete. Retrieving function to return to original world; download complete. Activate Return Home sequence? 】 Basic completion of the original outline? That he agreed with. All the holes that needed to be filled had been filled. But this “slight deviation of romance plot” wasn’t quite right. Bing-ge was now fully gay; how could you say that was a “slight deviation”? Ah, fine, fine, in fact, in his original outline, Bing-ge hadn’t even had a romance plotline; he had been doomed to fade away, alone and unaging forever. If you insisted on adding a romance plotline, all right, that was whatever, so putting aside all the System’s rambling…this meant he could return to his original world?! (Seven Seas, Ch. 26)

Basic completion of the original outline and filling it's plotholes - THIS is what's talked about in this quote! Not the scrapped original outline!

The English translation, which I only read recently, in my opinion is not very clear, in comparison to, for example, Russian translations, and not just the most popular version by Псой и Сысой, for ex: there are more than one, and they all pretty much nailed it. 感情线 used in original (that's what, apparently, caused the doubts for some reason, in spite that the quote itself absolutely clearly speaks of 《Proud Immortal Demon Way》’s original outline, the one big "error of a novel", that needed to be redressed, and not the scrapped original outline that never saw the daylight) itself refers to a "romantic plotline". So the author himself tells you, that his original Bing-ge had none. But how come? Why is that? Bing-ge, as we know, has got a huge harem, he for sure cannot be the case of dying alone without love!.. Or can he? Apparently, this is exactly his fate - no love. And the Airplane, the way he planned the original scrapped outline, knows better than anyone else - there's, well, none. The Protagonist's harem is nothing to do with romance whatsoever (see the quote below from the forum as an example, what the readers of PIDW themselves think of the relationship between Bing-ge and his harem). It all has to do with protagonists coolness and power and getting everything, including all the women, because he is super powerful and he is the center of that universe. It's about power, it's about lust, it's about influence and control, and showing, who the real boss is. But not love or romance. PIDW is not a romantic novel in a slightest: its a third rate pornography and a ode to toxic masculinity, so distasteful and disgusting, that the resentment of it's author with his own creation was powerful enough to create the whole new universe (The System) just to correct it! And this particular quote speaks of Bing-ge not having ANY SIGNIFICANT RELATIONSHIP, LOVE. Псой и Сысой for translating 感情线 in this particular case use much more explicit and profound "заслуживающие упоминания эмоциональные привязанности" ("the emotional connections worth mentioning"), rather than abstract "romantic plotline". Because the only significant person in his life pushed Bing-ge away. (And we know, who that person is, thanks to the System Universe - his shizhun.) Romance has nothing to do with the amount of partners he fucks - they are not of any romantic or emotional significance for Bing-ge. This is how his relationship with the harem is described by the PIDW reader's forum in the novel:

"Airplane really doesn’t know how to write romance plotlines, best if he just doesn’t. I feel like Luo Binghe doesn’t have feelings for any of his wives, he just wants to use them. And I can’t see any of those women with real moving emotion for him. "(NB, Ch. 73)

So - no romance for Bing-ge in PIDW, the Airplane didn't grant him this privilege and happiness. And yes - the ending for the tyrant he's become in PIDW is not happy in a slightest.

So, binqui did not appear out of nowhere, and yes - it has always been there from a beginning, in the core of everything. Implied. This is not only canon: it is the exact essence of it, the base, the foundation, which explaines everything that happens in the novel and even beyond - in PIDW, where the mighty protagonist that has everything, except the only one thing he really needs - the love of his shizun - is doomed to an eternal unhappiness and loneliness.

[poppy-in-the-woods]

My Ride or Die

Plot: Noah is your husband. Five years ago, he killed a man that was attacking you. The judge ruled that, since he shot him several times after he already had been stabbed by you, it was no longer self-defense. He got twenty years, and that was two and a half years ago. Today it’s his birthday, and you prepared something special for the conjugal visit.

Pairing: Noah x Female Reader

Word Count: 2904

Rating: Mature/Explicit

Tags: smut, oral sex (female and male receiving), rough sex, love bites, strong language, convict!Noah, mentions of violence.

Author's note: This is, as usual, unbeataed. I also wrote it directly in English to practice, and it has only been proofread by DeepL (I follow the rule that if the translation is grammatically correct, then everything is probably right). Let me know how I did, and hope you enjoy.

@artificialbreezy

It was Noah’s birthday, and, like the last two, he was locked away. He didn’t regret it one bit; what he did, he did it for you, the love of his life. It was odd that you didn’t visit him the previous week, since you’ve been pretty consistent with your weekly visits, but he knew you would never miss it if not for a good reason.

“Davis!” one of the prison guards called him.

Noah was watching TV with his friends, Nick, Folio and Jolly.

“What?” he asked, turning around to look at the man.

“Conjugal visit,” the guard said.

He got up, his friends wolf-whistling and patting his back.

“Lucky bastard!” said Jolly.

Noah followed the guard to the designated space, through several corridors and doors.

“Have fun with that pretty little thing of yours,” the guard said, with a gross tone.

Noah ignored him and entered the room. The door closed behind him with a loud clank, and the lock clicked in place. You got up the bed and ran to him, hugging him.

“Sorry I missed the last week, I got an unexpected change of schedule at work,” you said. He said nothing, but hold you in his arms, pushing you flush against his chest. “I should have called you, but I didn’t want to spoil the surprise, and you know I can’t keep a secret from you.”

“You prepared a birthday surprise for me?” he asked, smiling, pulling away just enough to look at your face. You nodded, smiling back at him. “Let’s see it, then.”

“Sit down and close your eyes,” you instructed him. “And don’t open them until I say you can.”

“But I like to watch you undress!” he complained, pouting.

“You're gonna have to go without it this time,” you replied.

“Okay,” he sighed, defeated, and sat on the bed, closing his eyes.

You undressed, putting your clothes on the chair that was in a corner. The whole room was pretty austere, just the bed, one nightstand and the chair, no rugs and no decoration. A door led to a small bathroom. You stood before him, resisting the urge to hug yourself.

“You can look now,” you instructed him.

The lingerie set you were wearing, in fiery red, was the most lace-y and risqué you owned, with lots of pieces and transparent panels. It also showed you new tattoo, his name, right between your breasts.

“Baby,” he panted, almost drooling at the sight.

“Do you like it?” you asked, turning around slowly so he could appreciate all of it.

“I fucking love it!” he said. You straddled his thighs. “I can’t wait to take it off, though.”

You chuckled, kissing him, grinding your hips against his crotch while his hands roamed your body to finally settle on your hips. He squeezed your barely clothed ass, pushing you against him; his cock was fully hard now.

He began undressing with your help, and let you push him down on the mattress once he was fully naked; pushing the fabric of the panties aside, you rubbed your pussy against his erection, coating him in your juices. He bit his lip, suppressing a moan.

“You feel so good, baby” he said. “I can’t wait to be inside you.”

 You kissed him, smiling, and got up to retrieve a condom from the nightstand. During your first conjugal visit, Noah had joked that you were fucking on tax-payer’s money, and you couldn’t help but remember every time.

He got up, resting on his elbows, to watch you roll the condom over his dick. Without wasting any time, you sat on his lap again, guiding him to your entrance, sinking slowly until he was fully inside. You both moaned at the same time.

“Have I told you this is the best pussy I’ve ever had?” he said.

“Just once or twice every time we fuck,” you laughed.

“Well, that way you won’t forget,” he said, gripping your hips with such force it might leave some bruises. You started moving, moaning into his ear. He kissed your neck. “I spend every day we’re apart daydreaming of us, fucking each other’s brains out.”

“Oh, yeah? Where?”

“Huh?”

“Where are we in those scenarios of yours?” you clarified.

“Oh. Well, it varies… our home, the woods, the beach… this prison,” he admitted. “I imagine it’s empty and we fuck in every room and office that there is.”

“You do?”

“I once almost got in trouble because of it,” he laughed.

“You gotta tell me that… after we’ve finished this round,” you said.

“Agreed,” he said.

You picked up your pace, riding him like he was a wild stallion you wanted to tame, and it was not an exaggeration, because while he let you be on top, he refused to be a passive part, and moved his hips in time with yours, all while praising you and exploring your body with his hands and mouth.

“Fuck, baby, I’m gonna cum!” he said after more or less ten minutes, giving your butt another squeeze.

“Cum for me,” you encouraged him, gently tugging at the roots of his hair.

“But you haven’t…”

“It doesn’t matter,” you interrupted him. “It’s your birthday, you get to cum first, and I’m not gonna stop until your balls are empty. Be a good boy and give it to me!”

Noah came, loudly moaning your name. You kissed him, your hips stopping gradually. He laid back on the bed, breathing shallowly.

“Good God!” he exclaimed, pushing his hair out of his face. He turned his face to you. “How can you manage to fuck like that and still look so innocent right after?”

“It’s a gift,” you joked, lying beside him. “Tell me about that story you mentioned before, please.”

“Okay. So the other day, there was this guy, a newbie, that decided to pick on me at lunch. He kept trying to bust my balls (and not in a fun way), so I pushed him. He tried to punch me, but failed, and I punched him, you know, to show him who’s boss. That afternoon, the warden calls me into his office,” he began, resting on his side to look at you more comfortably. “He tells me ‘Davis, you gotta watch out that attitude or I will be obligated to put you in isolation, and you won’t be seeing your wife for a month.’”

“What a prick,” you commented.

“Right? The thing is, the moment he mentioned you, all I could think of was us, fucking on his desk,” Noah laughed. “I could picture you so vividly, butt-naked over his paperwork, legs curled around my hips, hands on my shoulders, head thrown back and mouth open in a silent scream of pleasure… I got a hard-on. Can you imagine?” he asked, you laughed. Yes, you could imagine it.

» I was so hard and he was still berating me, ‘Davis this’ and ‘Davis that’, and ‘watch out, lest some more years are added to your sentence!’. And then he realized I was not listening. He looked at me, really looked at me, you know? And I was totally spaced out, cock fully hard and gripping my own knees so hard my knuckles went white, trying to contain the urge to touch myself. Because in my mind, I had already made you come three times, and now you were riding me, just like you did now, your glorious tits bouncing on my face, and I swear I could have come with that thought alone. He had to ruin it, though, snapping me back to reality.

“What did he say?”

“He screamed my name, full volume. ‘Snap out of it, son, she’s not here and she won’t be for a long time if you don’t control yourself! I could send your sorry ass to isolation for this alone!’” Noah told you, doing his best impression of the warden. “So I apologized to him and he dismissed me. I went back to my cell, still half hard, and jerked off.”

“That’s kinda funny” you admitted.

“I missed you so much…!” he sighed, resting his forehead against yours. “I miss you every day, the touch of your skin, the sound of your laugh, and your smell… wish I could bottle it so I could get drunk on it!”

“I miss you too, my love. I hate that you have to be here, but I’m grateful that I can still see you,” you said, kissing him briefly, “and that we can still have these moments.”

“I hate that I am in here too, but I would do it again if I had to. Killing for you is always worthy,” he said, resting on his back again.

You moved to rest your head on his shoulder, hugging him and putting a leg between his. He had saved you and ended up there for you, the least you could do was support him through his sentence.

“You’re the best husband I could wish for!” you said, caressing his tattooed chest. “Think you’re ready for round two?”

“Fuck yeah I am!”

“Help me take this off,” you asked, touching the lace.

“Sure, baby!” he said, his nimble fingers working the clasps.

After a minute, you were as naked as he was. Looking at him, you knelt on the floor. He looked back at you a bit confused.

“I made you a promise before: until your balls are empty, and I fully intend to keep that promise,” you reminded him.

“Okay, but you still haven’t come,” he pointed out.

“I can touch myself while sucking you, if you want,” you suggested.

“Or you can sit on my face and we give oral to each other at the same time,” he countered.

“You’re sure about that?”

“Damn sure! C’mon, baby, you have a seat waiting for you here,” he encouraged you, laying down again.

“Okay, as you wish, it’s your birthday.”

“You’re damn right it is!”

Noah always had a talented tongue and he loved eating you out. It was kind of hard to concentrate on sucking him off while he was working his magic with your pussy, though. Then he added two fingers to the mix, massaging your G-spot the way he knew you liked it, and it was impossible to concentrate.

“Noah, my love, I can’t think if you keep doing that,” you warned him.

“Don’t worry, just ride my face and then you can kneel on the floor and finish sucking me,” he said.

“O-okay,” you panted in response. “But let me turn around.”

You changed positions so you could make eye contact with him. His free hand flew to one of your boobs, massaging it. You put our hand over his and arched your back, moaning. You had toys back at home, and you always thought of him while you masturbated, but nothing compared to the real deal. The orgasm shook you with such force it made you see white and tears rolled down your cheeks. You collapsed on the bed beside him.

“Baby, what’s wrong?” he asked cupping your face with a worried expression, wiping away the tears with his thumbs.

“I don’t want to go home,” you said. “I want to stay with you, in here, forever.”

“I don’t want this to end either, but we’re having a good time, aren’t we?”

“The greatest time, that’s precisely why I don’t want it to end,” you said, pouting. “I’m gonna hug you so tight the guard will have to take me to the cell with you. I can sleep in your bed, I don’t mind,” you half-joked.

“I think Nick would mind if we don’t let him sleep,” he laughed. “And you know I can’t resist you when you’re so close.”

It was true. Luckily, you had a similar sex drive to him. You kissed him, desperately, blindly, and he kissed you back with equal fervor. For a couple of minutes, you lied there, closely embracing, trying to devour each other, all teeth and tongue and ragged breath, until you couldn’t take it. His lips moved to your neck while you took a gulp of air. His cock was still hard, heavy against your leg.

“How do you want me to take care of this?” you asked, caressing it.

“Let me fuck you hard,” he said.

For him, hard meant fast and rough, leaving bite marks all over your body, and it usually left you feeling a bit tender downstairs for a couple of days, the slight discomfort a sweet reminder of how much he loved you.

“Okay, let’s do it,” you agreed.

He began by marking your body, biting and sucking everywhere, claiming you as his.

“Fucking love this,” he said, pausing for a moment and gently brushing the tip of his nose to the black letters over your sternum.

“Glad you do,” you replied, fingers running through his hair.

“Pass me a condom, baby,” he asked.

You did, watching him fumble a bit with the foil package before he rolled it over his erection, mentally bracing for what was about to come. It wasn’t that you didn’t like it that way, but you still needed to prepare. He squirted one of the single-dose packages of lube over the rubber to make it easier on you.

Maybe your mother was right and you had a masochistic vein, you thought while he fucked you hard in several positions and you touched yourself.

“Harder!” you demanded.

“I don’t think you can take it harder, baby,” he said, panting.

“Please,” you begged.

“Okay, since you ask so nicely…” he said.

He pushed your face against the mattress, hand fisting the roots of your hair, your ass in the air, and he penetrated you again, making you whimper.

“You okay, baby?” he asked.

“Yes!”

“Good. I love you, so, so much!” he exclaimed, pounding into you.

“I love you too!”

You were feeling the orgasm so close it was nearly within reach.

“Almost there, baby!” he warned you.

“Cum for me,” you commanded.

You reached your orgasm more or less at the same time as him, your walls contracting around him, and he screamed your name while he emptied his load in the condom. He collapsed on the bed beside you, panting. For a moment or two while you recovered, none of you moved or said anything. After that, you turned to look at him and hugged him.

“You almost rip my dick off,” he joked, smoothing your hair.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, you milked me dry.”

“I told you, I made you a promise,” you smiled.

“My balls are empty,” he laughed.

“Good, because I’m pretty sure I won’t be able to have sex for two weeks, and then my period is due,” you informed him.

“Normal visits, then,” he said. “Can you bring me a pastrami sandwich from the deli I like?” he requested.

“Sure!”

“You’re so good to me!” he sighed, kissing the top of your head.

“You’re certainly lucky that my libido is as high as yours and I like the same sex stuff you do,” you laughed.

“Yeah, I am lucky. But next time we’ll focus on you, okay?”

“Yeah, sure, you still have one more birthday wish, if that’s how you want to spend it, fine by me,” you said, kissing his clavicle. “I love when you give me lots of orgasms until I can’t take it anymore.”

“I certainly love doing that,” he chuckled, “and you’ve been such a good girl you deserve it.”

Not long after, you had to go. After one last kiss, the guard took Noah deep inside the prison while you left. His friends were still hanging out in the tv room.

“How’s the missus?” asked Folio.

“She’s okay. Her boss is still an asshole, but it’s no big deal,” he said, sitting on the chair.

“Saw her crossing the street. She was almost limping,” Jolly commented.

“We had a heated birthday lovemaking session,” Noah explained, with a smug expression.

“I bet, I thought I could hear her screaming your name a couple of times,” Nick laughed.

“Last week she got my name tattooed between her tits,” he told them. “I can’t wait ‘til it’s healed so I can lick it while we fuck.”

“Damn, that’s hot!” Folio sighed. “Wish I had a missus like yours.”

“We all wish we had a wife like Noah’s,” Jolly laughed.

Later that night, when Noah and Nick were alone in the cell, Nick dared to bring out a subject they usually didn’t talk about. He was the only one who knew Noah and you from before the prison, and the three of you had gone on a bender quite some times.

“You think if we tell the warden about that one wild night in Miami, he’ll let me go in with you the next conjugal visit?” he half joked.

“No way. Besides, that was years ago and we were drunk.”

“I know. Still, it was the best head.”

“She does give pretty killer blowjobs,” Noah admitted, smiling. Maybe you could give him one next time before he dedicated himself to you.

“Take care of her, man, or some free guy will snatch her up!”

“That could never happen. She’s my ride or die and I’m hers.”

While they were talking, you were writing a letter.

Dear Noah,

It’s only been a few hours since we last saw each other, but I already miss you...

[gxbbyhoneybadger]

Can you please do a part two of mission .???!!!

Oh my! Well, of course anonymous user. Never though there'd be a sequel but oh well! Part 2 is right here now!

Mission XXXIV-XXXV

Part 2

Pairing: !Yautja!Scar x !F!Shy!Reader

Summary: Y/n wakes up in a different place, her home no longer anywhere and instead placed within a strange cell with different Warriors watching her. Soon she's delivered to kneel in front of an Elder—next thing she knew, she was mated with Scar. Becoming first Yautja mated couple ever in their history, but for Y/n to permanently be respected as one of them, she must first become a Warrior.

Warnings: Adult language, threats, assault, scarification, death, arguments, anxiety, fluff, teasing, sexual tension, eventual smut, gentle to rough smut, clawing, biting, comfort.

A/n: The Roman numerals in the title translate to 34-35. So it means Mission 34-35 . . . Or Mission-69 heheh. I also did some studying on their language, (keyword: some.)

Fun Fact (Maybe): I saw a comic page and read that the Yautja can "speak" through their own sign language: Hand-signal of the Hunt. Or Silent Hand.

Part 1

Minors DNI 🔞 18 below the cut.

--

~Y/n pov~

Was my bed always this cold? I fell asleep in his arms, and I finally woke up alone in a dark place. I gasped as I backed up and hit my head on the cold wall, I shivered as I tried to figure out my surroundings. I was naked, the only thing I had was my old blanket, I hugged it as I stood up on my feet.

My thighs ached from—I shuddered remembering that I lost my virginity to whatever creature he was. I walked to the cell bars and tried to see if there was anyone here, "H-Hello?" I said, "Hello! I-Is anyone there! Can you please tell me where I am!?"

I could hear muffled beeping noises from down the halls, everything was unusual and unfamiliar for me. "Please! Anyone-! Gah!" I yelped—two large beasts walked in front of me. I stepped back and watched them, they wore similar masks with different designs. Around seven feet tall, both musclar beasts.

". . . W-Where am I?" I whispered, they clicked and growled lowly to each other. I could hear some soft of soft engine humming around us, where was I? "Please! Tell me where I am!" I begged.

They both looked to the left as another creature like them clicked out and order or some sort of command, one of them unlocked the cell before the second walked in towards me. "W-Who are you-? Hey! Let me go!" I yelped—he pulled me out by my arm and pushed me to walk forwards. I'd instantly get killed if I tried to fight any of them, I just obeyed and went along with their orders.

~3rd pov~

The Yautjas led Y/n deeper into their ship when it just landed on their planet, Yautja Prime, she was given a collar and had her wrists chained before she was brought out. She was so lost in the new world, being pulled along like a dog and shown off as an accessory to the other fellow Yautjas who lived there. Each one stared at her with confusion and judgement, thinking of her as a weak opponent to kill.

The two dragged her to a large empire, the large stairs led into a hall which opened up into a room where a Clan Leader sat. He had multiple spikes and grown dreadlocks that almost touched his thighs, his claws tapping on his throne chair as Y/n was forced to her knees in front of him.

She was terrified and lost, she held onto her blanket as she watched Scar, wearing his silver mask, approach the Elder. She couldn't understand what they were saying, but it sounded close to a argument, or Scar trying to convince the Elder to allow something. Y/n glanced behind her and saw the other Yautjas, all glancing at the Elder and Scar before down at her.

She was shaking like a leaf while she knelt there defenseless, Scar stepped aside as the Elder snarled while standing up. He raised his left hand and signaled one of the Yautjas to bring him an item; she jumped when she heard the familiar screeching of a Xenomorph before one of them killed it. The seven foot creature handed the Elder a severed finger of the Xenomorph and approached Y/n—he removed her chains as his eyes examined her frail form.

She gasped when his rough hand held her shoulder, her eyes found Scar's as the Elder clenched her shoulder for her attention. "W-What are you doing?" She asked him. "You are Blooded." The Elder said to her, his tone deeper than Scar's was. She let her eyes close when he brought the acidic finger to her cheek, scarring her skin permanently with a symbol of her Xenomorph kill.

Scar was informing the Elder of her kill, and how she managed to use one of their weapons against their enemy species, how she proved to be an ally and a warrior. She clenched her jaw in pain from the burning feeling, he then stepped back and looked at the Warriors. Y/n gulped as she reached up to feel the permanent mark on her cheek before everyone roared in unison—she covered her ears again. After they were done the Elder Yautja approached Scar and held his shoulder, clicking and snarling as they communicated in their language.

Scar growled but the Elder snarled back, before looking at her. "W-Why am I here? What's going to happen to me!" She whimpered out with fear rattling her nerves. A Yautja approached the Elder, his dreadlocks were short and he looked slightly smaller than Scar did—in his hands he carried some sort of pelt from one of the creatures that probably lived on this planet with them, something was packaged within it.

The Elder Yautja pointed at her and the Yautja walked to her before dropping it at her knees, "W-What is this?" She asked, she heard the muffled snarling and clicks coming from the other Yautjas behind her. Her hands trembled as she reached for the package, untying the skin like thread and unfolding it.

Seeing a few pieces of rather revealing clothing, if you can even call it clothing. "I-I don't think this is appropriate-?", "Dress yourself." The Elder growled out to her. She lifted the strange light green colored top that would just barely even cover her breasts. Her sides would be bare and the bottom would reveal her legs, she sighed from the outfit choice but stood up with the pieces before glancing at Scar. "Do I. . . dress up here?"

The Elder looked away and communicated with Scar instead, Y/n with no other choice, started to slip on and try the outfit, of course still having the blanket over herself. The bottom was similar to a thong beneath the hanging pieces of cloth attached to it, she pulled it up and let the cloth hang—covering just her front and rear, reaching to her knees while her thighs and waist were exposed. She grabbed the top next, seeing that it'll only cover her breasts and nothing else, she'll be showing sideboob, but hopefully the front will be hidden.

She tied a knot with the strings behind her neck and let it remain covering her chest just barely. She rechecked to see if she was fully covered before looking at Scar and the Elder who were now looking at her—she sighed and dropped the blanket. Showing her new two-piece outfit that she'll most likely have to keep on for however long she's kept here. She hugged her arms when the Elder signaled for them to leave, Scar walked to her and escorted her out of the temple.

"Why am I here? What is this place?" She questioned Scar, now covering her stomach as she passed dozens of more Yautjas. Everyone of them were males, adults or in their teen years. Some wore armor, while some didn't. The weather was warm and sunny, it didn't feel cold at all. "Where are you taking me?"

Scar led her to a further place away from the others, approaching a medium sized hut. Skulls and bones remained hanging around it, his trophies of past hunts. He led her inside left her there. "Well, this is great. I get fucked by some sort of alien, fall asleep and wake up to a knockoff Pandora planet like I'm in some sort of Avatar movie, and now I'm wearing this slutty outfit like I'm a stripper or something! I don't even know your name, that big one in that temple was looking at me like I was his next meal, I don't know what's going on and you still aren't saying anything to me-!"

"Scar." He growled as he approached her, easily overshadowing her as he watched her. "S-Scar?. . . That's your name?" She whispered as she slightly stepped back. "Top-Knot ha-as agreed to ma-ake you Blooded ally. He accepts yo-ou, but for yo-ou to keep your non-co. You mus-st become a kv'var-de." Y/n could piece his words together, but she didn't understand that word.

"A-A what? A kavalar?" Scar shook his head and knelt on one knee to be close to her height. "Kv'var-de. . . Hunter." He said. Y/n looked at her clothing then at him, "What if I don't want to become a hunter?" She whispered, "I'm weak. I'm not like you or the others out there. . . I'm just. . . Human."

He snarled, tilting his head but remained watching her, "M-di ooman can kill kiande amedha." He growled out. ". . . Huh?" His mandibles clicked as he stood again. "We te-each each othe-er." He said before walking out of the area and into another small room in the hut. She was left confused and lost in their language, how long is this going to last?

~Y/n pov~

Scar was true to his word about teaching each other something. He showed me how to sign, speak, and understand their language, after he tested my learning by signing a sentence out for me. Which I barely understood, so he flicked my head for messing up—it shouldn't have hurt as much as it did, but I forgot how much bigger and stronger he was compared to me. I'd teach him how to pronounce and understand English words and sentences, and in return, I'd be able to smack his chest—which I doubt even hurt this S'yuit-de.

He'd throw tiny insults here and there at me, call me a Hulij-bpe jehdin, which I finally found that it meant Crazy One, or Crazy Individual. So in return for learning his language, I called him S'yuit-de kv'var-de, which meant Pathetic Hunter, or Idiot Hunter. And I knew it offended him when he'd just quietly glare down at me, but I enjoyed it. At least four or three days have passed already and I've been dragged out into the unfamiliar world, I'd watch how he'd hunt and kill our next meal. It was upsetting but oddly satisfying to see. I saw the trees and strange like flying creatures that they had, but nothing prepared me to see the females who passed through.

I could feel their judgemental eyes lingering on me when I wasn't looking, they were taller than the males. Around eight feet tall at most, broader and rather aggressive. "Why are they staring at me?" I whispered to Scar. "They do not approve of ooman-dei."

They don't approve of human women. . . That explains it. They'd snap and flare their mandibles when I looked at them, I kept my eyes and head low out of submission, to not pose as a threat. I felt like I was at a new school and the mean girls were already scheming against me. Scar pulled my arm and held me against his body when a Yautja approached us, it was a female and of course she started to communicate to him.

My broken understanding of the Yautja language could only pick up so much. They rarely talk, but they used sounds to communicate to one another. The female arched her back and flared her mandibles at Scar, he roared at her before she shoved my shoulder back. Almost shoving me to the ground if it weren't for Scar's hand.

He told me about this. When a Yautja pushes your shoulder with their hand: they're challenging you for a fight.

I started to panic, my strength was nothing compared to Scar's, or even a female! I didn't know what they were clearly arguing about but it made her pissed off to the point where she wanted to fight me. And most likely kill me during that fight. "What's happening?!" I asked. She roared at me and Scar finally shoved her backwards out of defense when she tried to grab me.

He picked me up and his lower mandibles were flaring, before he carried me away from the female who was staring me down.

~~~

He didn't bring it up once, but it was on replay in my head, I'm pretty sure he sensed my confusion since he decided to lay beside me on the large furry cot. It was soft and comfortable to lay on, something I didn't expect. ". . . Scar, how long am I going to stay here." I asked him.

He raised his hand and tested me, he signed out what I could possibly read out as: Until you become Hunter. I held my head before asking, "How much time do I have until the Elders test me?"

He signed again: Two Weeks.

I groaned and laid on my back as I looked at the ceiling, I still wore the same revealing outfit before looking at him. "Why was that female mad? Did I do something wrong?" I whispered to him. "M-di. . . She wanted me to breed her." He answered.

"Why did she challenge me?" I questioned, slowly scooting closer to his larger frame and resting my head on his bicep. "I said m-di to her. I told her that you were my mate." I looked at him and felt my heart jump out of my chest. His mate. His mate!

"I-I—You told me that Yautja don't mate for life, you just. . . Reproduce?" Scar lowly purred before his sharp eyes looked in mine. "No-t you and me." He replied. I rested my face on his large pec and bit my lip, feeling that flutter of butterflies swirl in my gut when I thought of being his. His alone. He's not going to mate with anyone else except me. It then led me to getting an idea that would probably scare the crap out of any other chick, but not me, clearly I'm the crazy one for wanting to fuck this Yautja.

I sat up and sighed as I let my head hang back, "Do you still think about it? That night we spent together?" I asked him, he let out a deep growl before I turned and straddle his large hips. His eyes opened and found mine, "I still think about it." I added—letting my hips slowly grind against his loincloth, which I felt growing stiffer every passing second.

"Prove that you are not just kv'var-de, but a good Pauk-de as well." I smirked. Kv'var-de meant Hunter, but Pauk-de meant Fucker. His growl reverberated through me before he shoved me onto my back, pinning my arms above my head as he growled at me. "Do no-t temp me, Hulij-bpe jehdin." He warned, his dreadlocks brushed against my shoulders and arms. I let my right leg graze his waist as I arched my back on purpose—letting my top press perfectly against my breasts to show them off to him.

"What if I want you tempted?" I giggled, his mandibles clicked and snapped, he growled before placing his jaws on my shoulder and biting down on me. I gasped and let out a choked groan when he released my skin, licking up the blood that formed from the small puncture wounds.

"You need me to ell-osde' puak." He snarled out, I understood those words clearly: You need me to fuck you. "Sei-i." I mewled, yes, yes, I did want him to fuck me. I don't know what's been up with me, but I've been craving more of Scar ever since I got here. I've been pissing him off to make him snap, but clearly he has restraint. Maybe all I needed to do was make it obvious.

I lifted my hips into his and bit my lip when I felt his erection, "Come on, puak me, Scar." I purred. His jaws snapped in front of my face, I only responded by lifting my head and licking his mandibles. He held my wrists down with one hand, and let his other reach down to move my cloth to the side. A soft sigh left me when I felt his large length rub against my folds, "Kwei ooman-dei. . ." He snarled. Sly human woman.

I wanted to try something I've never done, but I wasn't sure. "Scar, please." I begged. His repetitive clicking was a sign of him chuckling at me, I whimpered when he notched the tip of his unnatural cock inside of me. Slowly pushing each inch into me, I could feel my cunt being stretched and accepting his invading length.

His hands clenched my wrists while he continued to sheath himself inside of me—finally gasping when his full cock was buried inside of my velvet canal. My legs hugged his sides as I arched my back, "Scar!" I moaned out; his scale covered body was emitting heat onto mine, his hand undid my top before he cupped my breasts. Squeezing and kneading them—exploring my body with his hand.

Slowly, he started to roll his hips into me. He earned multiple mewls, grunts, and moans from me; hisses and growls came from him, his tongue trailed up from between the valleys of my breasts, up my throat and into my mouth. I whined as I pressed my tongue against his forked one, he pulled out and heavily thrusted himself into me.

"Eek!" I yelped, I felt his claws tickle my side as it brushed down the side of my ribs and my waist to hold my thigh open. He watched as he slowly pulled out to the tip—then sinking back into me. Purring as he enjoyed the sensation of his cock being squeezed by my tight cunt, "More, more, Scar!" I pleaded as I clenched my knuckles.

Scar enjoyed being in control, taking his time and relaxing in the experience. He told me that the females were aggressive during their mating, and from what happened this morning, I believed him. Scar's pumps into me was satisfying to hear, it felt so amatory. He finally released my wrists and gripped my hips—he stood on his knees and lifted my lower body off the bed. I cried out when he continued to fuck me in such a lewd position.

It was so hot to see this Predator take what he wanted from me, such a sweet way but with harsh strength. "Ngh! Yes! Yes! Scar! Ah, keep going!" I exhorted out. Scar's snarls turn into a growling purr as he dug his nails into my flesh—I felt his thrusts get a bit harder. My mouth was agape as he started to get quicker with his grinding. He stilled inside of me fully for a moment and lifted my back towards his face—dragging his tongue over my breasts and tasting me.

I hummed with satisfaction as I let my body melt in his hands, he was so strong, it didn't bother him to hold me and fuck me at the same time. I touched his dreadlocks and licked one of them, he roared before he started to piston his cock up into my stretched cunt. "Oh fuck!" I screamed out with agonizing pleasure. The room was already hot and so was the weather, my body was shedding sweat as he grinded his musclar self onto me.

I dug my nails into his shoulders as he kept going, moaning at each heavy pump he made—my nails dragged down his skin but he didn't care. I doubted he even felt it. His skin texture was so different compared to mine, his strength, his eyes, his demeanor and culture. Everything was unique about him.

My end was nearing, I was going to cum, I was so close to cumming. I let my hand started teasing my clit as he kept fucking me, his large paw cupped my head while he wrapped the other around my waist—still keeping me midair. Weak and broken gasps croaked from my soaked lips as he kept getting rougher.

That tight band—tighter and coiling up in a tight ball, about to blow. The light from the stick of dynamite about to denote within my nerves—my hands instinctively grabbed his dreadlocks and held on. He roared again and hugged my torso tightly. Thrusting faster than before, my tongue was hanging out like a bitch in heat, my heart racing faster than a race horse as I finally squealed—feeling my juices coat our lower areas.

The spark ignited and finally blew. The shocks burned through my limbs and my sight went white as I shut my eyes, my breath lost from my lungs as I climaxed on his thick cock still ramming into me. My sensitive squeaks and cries were ignored by Scar—he was lost in the wave of his own pleasure.

I knew we'd be here all night, I'm tired out, but he won't be anytime soon. He told me he finished quickly last time because I was exhausted, but now, I'm sure he'll stop. I wrapped my arms around his shoulders and rested my head on him, he still didn't slow down. My body was beginning to feel like lead as I tried to speak. But I couldn't.

I was too exhausted by this. So exhausted, I wanted to sleep. . . Which I did eventually.

~3rd pov~

The sun had risen, and so did Y/n. She woke up to a messy cot, her top on the floor as she remained wearing the bottom piece. She woke up to an empty bed, Scar was gone and she didn't know where he went. She got up and tied on her top once again before heading walking out of the room to find him.

"Scar?" Y/n muttered, crossing her arms as she slowly walked around the hut, checking the meat room, the main area and even outside next. No sign of Scar. She was worried until she remembered that he was probably out on a hunt. Sighing, she walked to the room again and sat on the bed. Relaxing into the pelt as she thought about him.

She just woke up, fully clean and even tucked into the pelt, he cleaned her and fixed her up in bed. She lightly traced her lips with her fingers as she smiled at the thought of a extraterrestrial being treating her like a lover. Some time passed and he returned to the hut, she looked and saw him drop a strange creature on the ground before entering the room. Carrying a box with him.

She crawled on her hands and knees on the bed and sat as she looked at him, "I missed you." She said. Scar let out a deep hum as he approached her, she reached up and planted a kiss on his shoulder. A growl escaped him as he handed her the box. She took it and started to open it up, her brow arching when she saw the odd outfit.

"What is this-?. . . Wait a minute." She mumbled, pulling out a fishnet outfit with solid pieces of armor on important places such as the breasts, and the nether regions. Reminding her of Scar's own armor, she lifted the fishnet outfit and saw a silver mask that looked similar to Scar's just without the blooded mark. It wasn't big, but it was her size. Arm cuffs and a small weapon within it. She looked at him with a confused look.

"Today. . . yo-ou Kv'var." He said to her. She gulped as she looked down at the custom made armor.

Today, she hunts.

_______________________________________________

I hope you enjoyed the sequel!

[sailoryooons]

Lights | Episode 1 | jjk (m)

❀ Pairing: Idol!Jungkook x Producer! F. reader

❀ Summary: Meeting Jungkook was a chance of fate. A moment frozen in time, eyes meeting across a room full of lights. The more the two of you advance in your career, the more lost in the lights you become. What if you never find your way back?

❀ Word Count: 15,069 

❀ Genre: Heavy angst, Idolverse, strangers to lovers, eventual smut

❀ Rating: 18+ Minors are strictly prohibited from engaging and reading this content. It contains explicit content and any minors discovered reading or engaging with this work will be blocked immediately. 

❀ Warnings: Discussions of manipulation in the music industry, there are gentle hints at the potential for Jungkook and reader to be addicts, general topics of competitiveness between kids growing up, recreational drinking, references to people using sex as advantage, allusions to topics of promiscuity, recreational drug use (weed), reader’s agent straight up trying to get her to have sexual relations with people, implications of using people, reader is aggressively goal-oriented, Jungkook and reader are a little naive and sort of love-at-first-sighting, explicit language, explicit sexual content, three sex scenes, sex in a public place (restaurant bathroom), oral (m. and f. receiving), spit play, spit in general, light degradation, rough sex, sex under the influence of alcohol (both are able to consent and want it), Jungkook drives after drinking (not implied or referenced that he’s drunk but he is driving after having glasses of wine), nipple play, vaginal fingering, reverse cowgirl, ass play (f. receiving), missionary, fucking from the side, a little bit of come play, voyeurism if you squint, a hint of possessiveness, literally so many bodily fluids like a ton, reader kind of being in something like subspace and being fucked stupid/to sleep basically, aftercare referenced, implied toxic relationships with past coworkers/current coworkers, references to vicious/toxic work industry, light depictions of cocaine use (not explicitly seen) by a side character, honestly Jungkook and reader are a lil cringe in this and moving very fast but they have addictive personalities idk what to tell you, there are hints to their addictive personalities, talk about social anxiety needing medication/alcohol to take the edge off (not good to do people!!!), very light hinting at traits that will be a problem 

❀ Published: October 6, 2023

❀ A/N: This might be the most gratuitous thing I have ever written - it actually might be too much sex? At what point is it too much and just too much come and kissing and the word c*ck, genuinely? Anyway, my goal with this chapter wasn’t so much plot as it was to introduce how volatile these two have the potential to be. If you’ve ever known someone who has struggled with addiction, you will notice the little innocent behaviors that have the potential for utter disaster. These are two people who are wildly native and very much think they are in control of their life, but who are a little reckless. It will seem like they get together fast because they do with like.. Very little regard for anything else. I really hope you enjoy this story. I think it will become sort of a little thing for me to put parts of past traumas I have into it to finally let them go, maybe! Also - I am using the western naming pattern in this with first name last name because of the ambiguity of where this story takes place. ❀ A/N 2: This story was originally named ‘Hiraeth’ but after chatting with a kind anon, I realized that the definition and translation of the word did not fit and lost cultural context from its original meaning and thus changed the title to Lights. Thank you @here2bbtstrash for the loyal beta read and @gimmethatagustd for helping me get VERY unstuck multiple times by letting me talk in circles and offering words of wisdom.

❀ Disclaimer: All members of BTS are faces and name claims for this story. This is entirely a work of fiction and by no means is meant to be a projection, judgment, or representation of real-life people. Any scenarios or representations of the people and places mentioned in works are not representative of real-life scenarios. This series does not attempt to paint a realistic depiction of idols, or the industry, or draw comparisons. None of the scenes or elements in this series in any way reflect how I perceive the music industry and do not represent any opinions. This is not intellectual commentary, it is just straight-up fiction. 

Series Masterlist | Masterlist | Ask | Lights Playlist | Previous Episode | Tag Lists | Next Episode

Jungkook looks like sin. It’s the first thought you have as you pause at the bottom of the stairs, eyes nearly blinded by the twinkling lights above. But there he is, standing in the glow of flashing purples and pinks, looking right at you.

He’s standing at one of the booths on the far end of the club, which has been rented for an event that you don’t remember the details of. His eyes land on you, and though you’ve never met, you suddenly feel a connection snap into place, something magnetic. For a moment, everything goes quiet, like in those romance books you used to read when you were a teenager.

Before, it used to seem a little silly. You didn’t think it was possible to suddenly see no one else in a room full of people except one person.

Now, it doesn’t seem that preposterous. You’re only able to take in a fraction of information in the second that your eyes connect with his: round face, long, wavy hair, and an arm full of tattoos with a drink held in his hand. 

He is stunning. You already knew that from the other two times you’ve caught a flash of him at events, but every time you see him in person, you’re awed all over again by the effortless way he catches the eye.

The tension between the two of you breaks as someone knocks into you and you stumble, trying not to twist your ankle with the high heels you’re currently wearing. Too short to see over the rest of the crowd, you lose sight of Jungkook. Music comes rushing back to you, the vibration of the base and the hum of synth making it nearly impossible to hear what your agent says next to you.

“What?”

“Do you remember the list I gave you?” Mila demands, grabbing your wrist and pulling you through the crowd. It hurts a little as she drags you along, impatient after arriving at the event late because you had a problem with your wardrobe for the evening. “That list is imperative.” 

“Yes.” 

The list is impossible. You have memorized at least two dozen people that your agent expects you to talk to and rub elbows with tonight. Some of them are certainly doable - people at your own company, artists you’re familiar with. Others are ridiculous, including idols that are several calibers above your station as a newly promoted producer at ILIA. 

Sure, you have the new glow of recent popularity after some surprising award wins and being likable on social media - which matters to your company as much as producing award-winning records - but you know what they all think. You know that they think your parents paid someone or that you fucked your way out of being a junior producer. 

It helps that neither is true. It doesn’t help that you would have done it anyway, if it meant feeding the simmering hunger inside of you that never seems to fade, your desire to win outweighing everything else. 

“You should catch up with your old friend Luna, she should be easy. You trained with her in the early building stages of ILIA.”

“Yeah,” you mutter faintly. “I remember her.”

You remember almost all of them. Something about spending your formative years with a bunch of teenagers being pitted against one another to be the best has made their faces and names permanent. Even the ones who didn’t make the cut or quit on their own.

Quitting is a foreign concept to you. It’s not as foreign as Mila kissing the cheek of some manager at some company you don’t know, pushing you toward them. You don’t care about who he is. There’s nothing he can offer you if he’s not someone who makes music. And as far as you’re concerned, you’re under the careful and powerful tutelage of the Suga. 

Yoongi is a better connection than almost everyone in this building and you know it. 

Suddenly you regret turning down his offer to stay at the studio and work. Yoongi has the agency to say no to scheming agents and public relations teams. He’s already paid his way to be able to do whatever he wants. Specifically, he’s paid in manipulation, blood, sweat, tears, and drama.

You are fresh meat swimming alone in shark-filled waters. Still, you look people in the eye as you shake hands and force smiles all night, going through your mental rolodex of names and achievements. You exchange phone numbers with a few actresses, promising to get drinks. You’re sure they wouldn’t want to if you weren’t fresh off an award-season win. Still, it’s something. 

You spot Jimin in the crowd, feeling relief as you step up toward the series of booths that you spotted Jungkook near earlier. 

“Finally someone tolerable,” Jimin yells when he sees you, tossing back the rest of his champagne. He has kohl smudged around his eyes, making his gaze far more intense as he gives you a once-over. “You look ravishing. Are you sure you don’t want to take me up on the offer to come home with me?”

It would be a lie to say you both haven’t flirted with the idea. There’s something genuine in your friendship, though. Something difficult to find, a twin-flame soul that you’d be hard-pressed to ruin for a bit of publicity. Even if Jimin is the most divine creature you’ve ever laid eyes on. 

It’s out of the question, though. Jimin has become your safehaven in a house of cards world.

Looking him up and down, you let out a long whistle. His hair is freshly dyed bubblegum pink, glittering earrings looped through his ears that scatter the light. Tight black pants with a designer belt and a silk shirt tucked into the waist make him look elegant, the textured Chanel blazer cut perfectly to his narrow frame. 

“Honestly, Mila doesn’t care whether we fuck or not. She still sells that rumor to the press. Doesn’t matter if it’s true. ”

Jimin makes a face at your agent's name. He glances over to where she’s talking up someone from X Entertainment. “She’s a fucking snake.” 

“Well, she’s the snake assigned to me. It’s not like I picked her. As soon as they saw me as marketable, there she was hissing at my door and telling me I have to get in glam to wipe my ass.”

“So bite back. I know you have it in you.” You grimace and reach for a glass of champagne from a tray as it passes you. Jimin sighs as he looks you up and down. “I know you have fangs, little monster.”

You sip the champagne and make a face. It is far too sweet, fizzing on your tongue. “A dragon does not kill the sheep because it feels threatened. It kills when it pleases.”

“My girl. Let’s go around the room, shall we? I want to keep those rumors going.”

With a laugh, you take his hand and let him lead you around the room, passing Mila who grins at you as you go. You try not to leer at her, irritated with her obsession with your relationship with Jimin. When she first noticed that you and Jimin hit it off, she surprised you with an entirely new designer lingerie line. Just because, she had said. A girl should feel powerful and sexy. 

After a few attempts, Mila has finally learned you’re not a dumb little lamb. You’ll take her advice when you want it, but you refuse to let it be at the expense of the single person you trust outside of Yoongi, though Yoongi does not entirely count. As your mentor and senior, he would be horrified to hear you call him a friend. 

After nearly an hour of fake smiles, forced laughter, and far too much champagne, you’re tired and buzzed. You’ve talked to at least ten people on Mila’s long list of celebrities, execs, investors, and influencers that she’s pushed onto you. Another member of that list is standing a few feet away from you, laughing loudly at something Jimin says as she puts her manicured hand on his arm. 

As you contemplate whether or not you should bite the bullet and risk saying hello to Luna, someone behind you says, “She hates you. I think she still holds it against you that you got a producer deal without debuting.” 

Whirling around to identify the voice, you stop short. Jungkook Jeon stares down at you, his eyes just as dark and alluring as they were earlier when you made brief eye contact from across the room. This close, he is taller than you expect. His skin-tight white shirt leaves nothing to the imagination, showing the defined muscles of his stomach and chest, and his perfect, tapered waist. 

It’s a face you’re familiar with, pasted across fashion campaigns and media outlets as he talks about his new single. Your heart is pounding as you drink him in. Soft lips, round cheekbones, and gentle eyes that darken considerably when he watches you look him over.

“Yeah,” you say back, swallowing the rest of your champagne. The carbonation catches you by surprise, making you cough as you swallow the sweet liquid the wrong way. 

He laughs and takes the flute away from you, sticking it on a tray as a server passes by. “Bad swallower?” Instead of answering him, you put one hand on your chest as you cough and the other on his arm, steadying yourself as you lean over and cough, clearing your throat. “Damn, Mozart. You okay?”

“Yeah,” you rasp, feeling your face warm in embarrassment. You remove your hand from his arm and ask, “Mozart?”

“Don’t you do all that composing and shit?”

“I do that producing and shit, yeah.”

“It’s about the same. You’re Min’s prodigy, which means you’re Mozart. And he’s Haydn.” 

“I’m sorry, you know the names of classical composers?”

He smirks. “I know your name.”

“Well, I’m afraid I don’t know yours.” 

It’s a lie. You both know it is, and the grin that spreads across his face is downright devilish as he sticks his hand out. “Jungkook,” he says. You shake his hand, admiring his tattoos. And his fingers. But mostly his tattoos. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“Pleasure is mine.”

“I would love to make that come true.”

You raise a brow. “Is this how most of your conversations go? Telling people that others hate them, name-dropping classical musicians, and making sexual innuendos?”

“Honestly? No, but I am having a great time. I will, however, drop the innuendos if they’re not your style.”

You smile. “I didn’t say that.” 

His answering smile makes your stomach flip.  “Want to get a drink?”

“Depends. Are you going to tell me about all these people who hate me?”

“This is my promise to you that I will only ever be honest with you. So yes.”

You gesture toward the bar. “Lead the way, then.”

Bodies press against you as the two of you snake through the crowd. Jungkook turns a few times to check on you and flashes you a quick smile to reassure him that you’re okay. It’s cute, you think. You don’t know much about him, but you’re impressed thus far. 

And perhaps a little intimidated by his star power and reputation. 

At the bar, the crowd pushes you closer, knocking your arm into his. He steadies you, keeping his hand on your elbow. “What’s your poison?” 

“Vodka soda!” you shout back to him. He nods and leans against the bar, giving your order to the bartender. Jungkook draws attention like moths to a flame, people looking at him and whispering behind manicured hands. “Thank you.”

“Anything for you.”

You narrow your eyes as he waits on the drinks, one elbow propped on the bar, his other hand still on your arm. He bites his bottom lip, staring at you. “One might try and say you have something up your sleeve.”

“Nope, just my heart on my sleeve. You’re cute and I’ve heard nice things about you from Jimin. We grew up together.”

“Wait, really?”

That is a surprise to you. Jimin has never mentioned growing up with Jungkook or being remotely friendly of the sort. You frown as you think about it, wondering if Jimin left it out for a reason or felt that it was an unimportant fact. 

“Mhmm.” Jungkook hands you a drink, the glass already sweating from the humidity of the club. “What, Jimin doesn’t brag about me?”

“We don’t gossip about people in the industry.” 

Carefully, the two of you navigate back toward your section. Jungkook finds an empty booth and slides in, patting the seat next to him. You sit down and lean back, kicking your legs out in front of you and crossing them at the ankle. Your dress is short but remains modest, enough to keep people guessing. You take a sip of your drink, the burn making you hiss.

“I so rarely see you at events,” Jungkook says after a sip of his dark drink. “I’ve wanted to introduce myself for a while and then you came in and it was like we had a moment.”

“You mean you wanted it to be a moment.”

“Maybe I did.” He smiles. “So where have you been hiding?”

“Legend of Zelda isn’t going to play itself. I come to the events I feel like are worth it.”

Actually, you come to whatever Mila drags you to. Jungkook doesn’t need to know how most of your time is spent in a music studio with the caffeine shakes trying to perfect songs to make sure you don’t get tossed out on the street.  

He narrows his eyes. “Tears of the Kingdom?”

“Obviously. I’ve been building weapons of mass destruction for days.” 

Jungkook tilts his head back and laughs. “What other games do you like, Mozart?” 

Talking to Jungkook is a pleasant surprise. He isn’t at all what social media makes him out to be. You find he’s incredibly kind, certainly flirty, but also wildly endearing. You feel a little guilty at assuming his veneer would be thin and made of plastic like the rest. 

It certainly doesn’t feel like you’re talking to someone who went number one on Billboard the week prior. Jungkook doesn’t talk about other people he knows or ask about work. He flits through topics like a curious bird, quizzing your interests, scrunching his nose, and pouting when you say something he doesn’t like. 

It’s cute. He’s cute, and you’d be lying if you said that the longer you sat next to him,  you haven’t started to think about what it would be like to taste him. Even if he moves on the next day like his reputation has led you to believe. 

But… there’s something there. A spark, though perhaps a trick of the lights.

-

“You want me to what?” you ask, lowering your voice as you lean into Mila’s ear. 

A raucous chorus of Happy Birthday is being poorly sung on the dance floor. You hadn’t even realized this event was for someone’s birthday, and you have half a mind to ask who the hell you should be wishing a happy day of birth to, but Mila is bitching you out in front of the building’s restrooms. 

Even tucked away in the hall outside of the bathroom, you speak in hushed tones, worried someone will overhear her scheming. She looks down her beaky nose at you, eyes like an eagle. “Fuck him,” she repeats slowly, drawing out the syllables like you’re a toddler. “He’s into you and it would be great for publicity.”

“I’m sorry, but since when do you dictate my sex life?” 

Not only are you a little too buzzed to have this conversation, but the very implication that your agent thinks she can make you fuck Jungkook is hilarious enough to have you start giggling hysterically. Mila watches you with narrowed eyes as you cover your mouth, laughing behind your hands. 

“You are not a naive little girl,” Mila hisses at you. “He wants to fuck you, so let him. He’s attractive, he has influence, and he’s with one of the big four companies. It would be good press.”

“You and the fucking press, you’re obsessed!” 

“No, I’m right. My job is to be right and to tell you what to do, and right now I’m telling you that Jungkook is already known for sticking his dick in anything he can. He’s been staring at you all night. You’d be doing yourself a favor.”

You take a step back from her and hold up your hand. “If I fuck him, it’s because he’s hot and I want to. Not to play political chess for you, understood?”

“In my experience, you either become interesting or watch your career fade. Your time of being interesting is ticking. Your call. I’m getting out of here. Do what you want, like you always do.”

What Mila says hurts but you refuse to let it show, holding out a hand to gesture the way out of the hall. She walks by you brusquely, sweeping her blunt, black hair over her shoulder as she goes. You stand in the dark, the door to the bathrooms opening and closing, flashing bright light and then leaving you in with colors pulsing in front of you as your eyes try to readjust every few seconds. 

A loud group of girls startle you as they stumble out of the bathroom, laughing raucously. They’re a tangle of legs and heels and sweet-smelling perfume, nearly running you over as they sway, a collective mass of bodies. They look exactly like the women you cut out of magazines and pasted in your journal as a kid, dragging your finger over the pretty dresses and the designer names listed in the captions.

Luna stops short when she sees you, straightening and brushing her freshly dyed silver hair out of her face. She is cherubic and beautiful, her round cheeks flushing naturally and doll mouth always rosebud pink. You feel trepidation as she regards you, the girls in her group hanging back a bit as she assesses you.

“How are you?” she questions, settling on polite while flashing you a pointed smile and holding out her arms. 

Fake. Fake. Fake. Fake.

You feel a flicker of anger at yourself as you let her pull you into a hug, resentful that you must play this game. She smells like vodka and vanilla, and when she pulls away, you see the barest hint of white on her nose. You brush your finger back and forth on your nostril. 

“Oh.” She wipes it off with the back of her hand, giving a short, shallow sniff. “Thanks.”

“You look nice,” you offer stiffly. Your tongue is heavy from drinking and you scramble for compliments to say, even if they aren’t true. “I like your new song.”

“Thanks! I have the best producers and writers available out there. They really know exactly what they’re doing.” 

You feel the strain in your smile tighten. Moves and counter moves. “That’s good.”

“My team is great. I’m so thankful I had the opportunity to be with S3vn.”

Luna’s voice is polite. Happy, even. But you hear the double meaning in her words. Remember the way she cut your hair before a major review day when you were sixteen. She’s become better at being mean in a nice way. And you have become better at being unaffected, knowing it is her least favorite response.

“It’s nice to see you, Luna.”

Her smile drops when you don’t get upset. You turn and leave the hallway, palms sweaty and head spinning. Swallowing thickly, you wipe your hands on your exposed thighs and walk back to where Jungkook is sitting, surprised to see Jimin has joined him. He narrows his eyes as you approach, but his expression is overall unreadable.

You sit back down silently on the other side of Jimin, staring off into space. The room feels like it’s spinning. You’re toeing the line of buzzed and drunk, so you sip some water, letting yourself go silent as you absently stare into the crowd, watching the cascading lights, a little lost in them.

Jimin waves his hand back and forth in front of your face. “Are you listening?”

You blink a few times, turning to see him and Jungkook looking at you. “What?”

“Jungkook invited us to an after-party. J-Hope is having some people over.”

“Oh.” 

Chewing on your lip, you let your eyes drift to Jungkook. He gives you a tentative smile, nodding his head in encouragement.

“You should come,” Jungkook encourages with a coy grin. “I’d have fun with you there.”

“Do you want to go?” you ask Jimin quietly, looking back at him. He still has a vague expression, one you can’t figure out. “I’ll only go if you do.” 

“Sure,” he offers. “What’s the worst that could happen?”

-

“So you’re Yoongi’s prodigy? No shit!” Hoseok asks, looking at you from the front seat of the van. City lights blur on the other side of the window and it’s hard to hear him over the screeching singing in the car and the blaring music. “You’re about as hard to meet as Yoongi is!” 

J-Hope - Hoseok, as he has asked you to call him - gives you a bright smile. You just stare at him, shocked that he has any idea who you are. You make a mental note to thank Yoongi for even mentioning your name to him. Hoseok is an absolute powerhouse and someone you’ve followed for years. It’s a good connection.

“Told you that you’d want to meet her,” Jungkook says, voice deep. 

Jungkook’s body presses against yours in the packed-tight vehicle. His hand is on top of your knee. His cologne smells like amber and sandalwood, making your eyelashes flutter as you breathe in. You lay your head back against the headrest of the seat, letting it roll to the side a little to test his reaction when you place your head on his shoulder.

He turns his head toward you, his breath fanning against your forehead. You smell his mint gum. If you look up at him right now, your mouths would be close enough to kiss. “Hi,” he says softly. 

“Hi.”

“You have pretty eyes.”

“I grew them myself.”

Jungkook’s laughter is abrupt. You grin at his mirth. He has a cute laugh, totally at odds with the edgy tattoos and the way he carries himself. The paradox intrigues you.

“That wasn’t very smooth, was it?” 

He shakes his head. “It’s honest. I like it. Your reactions are probably the most genuine thing I’ve seen all night. I like genuine.” 

“There’s not a lot of that to go around.”

“I know. That’s why I’m glad we locked eyes from across the room.”

You roll your eyes. “Okay, The Lonely Island.”

Hoseok lives in a luxurious apartment on the east side of the city. The entrance is private in a parking garage, away from wandering eyes. Everyone piles out of the car and when you slide to exit, you find a tattooed hand waiting to help you out.

Grinning, you take Jungkook’s hand. Your fingers tingle where they’re interlocked with his, warmth spreading across your palms. Once you’re out of the car, you start to let go. Jungkook squeezes his fingers tighter, urging you to look up at him. There’s a question in his eyes, gaze flicking down to where your hands are clasped. 

A small grin lights up your face and you squeeze his hand back. He leads you toward the elevator, swinging your hands back and forth. You know this game well: Jungkook is priming you. The hand-holding, the compliments, and the staying near you all night are all his signals to you that he wants you to go home with him.

You want that too, but you also don’t want it to come easy. It’s a risk to make him work harder for it, but you want to see if he will.. 

“Cute,” Jimin mutters, raising a brow as he walks next to you. 

Hoseok’s apartment is a dream. It makes sense for someone with as many writing and choreography credits across the industry as him, in addition to having two top charting albums, a clothing partnership with a popular designer, and countless brand endorsements. 

It’s much nicer than the small but flashy apartment ILIA has put you in. Where your apartment feels like a model home that you can’t leave fingerprints in, Hoseok’s feels authentic. There are hand-selected pieces of art on his walls, a towering bookcase of awards and plaques, blankets and pillows thrown over the couches, books and video game controllers on the coffee table.

Someone gets control of the speaker system and starts pumping hip-hop through the two-story apartment. You navigate to the kitchen where you run into Hwasa pouring drinks. She screams when she sees you, abandoning her bartender duties and making everyone in the kitchen flinch and turn in your direction. You let go of Jungkook’s hand, casting your arms open.

“Helllooooo?!” She grips you tight, kissing your forehead and both cheeks. You laugh, immediately feeling yourself relax having seen a familiar face. The greeting is a little more than you expect, but she’s drunk and happy. You take it in stride. “I cannot believe you’re here and with… well isn’t that new?” 

“Hello, Hwasa.”

“Jeon,” she greets, narrowing her eyes. She tucks you into her arm, pointing a finger at Jungkook. “You better not fuck with this girl, understand me? She is way too cool for your bullshit.”

He rolls his eyes. “What bullshit?”

“I’m so serious. I like her.”

Hwasa lets you go and laughs it off, giving Jungkook a quick kiss on the cheek before going back to her drink-making. Jimin is nowhere in sight, having drifted off to a corner of the living room to chat with Hoseok, leaving you with Jungkook. 

Jungkook scratches the back of his neck awkwardly. “Sorry about that,” he ventures.

“It happens.”

“Still awkward.” 

“It is,” you snark. You bring your fist up to your mouth, speaking into it like you’re giving an interview. “Jungkook, how does it feel to be put on blast for your spicy endeavors right when you walk into the party?”

You hold your fist out to him, offering him the mic. “Spicy endeavors?” 

“Promiscuous has negative implications and we are sex-positive here.” 

“Wow, such forward-thinking media. I’ve never heard of that before.”

“You never will again, I’m afraid.”

Jungkook shakes his head and chuckles, gesturing to the drinks all over the counter. “You want a drink?” 

“I do.”

With a drink in hand, you both return to the party. There’s dancing going on in a corner of the living room, a card game going on in the dining room, and a smoke session going on around the couches. Jungkook sits on the arm of the couch next to Jimin and another girl you don’t know.

You freeze up a little, unsure where to sit. Jungkook doesn’t seem to notice, reaching a hand out as he joins the conversation around the coffee table. You hesitate for a second, a little caught off guard before placing your hand in his and letting him pull you against him, leaning onto his thigh with your hips pressed together. His arm loops around the back of your thighs, hand resting on the outside of your leg. Your hand drops on his shoulder as you lean into him. 

People you know stop and say hi, their eyes lingering for a long time on the way you and Jungkook lean into one another. You ignore them, content to let them wonder how it is a little producer from ILIA got her claws into Jungkook for the night. 

When a weed pen is passed to Jungkook, you watch with curiosity to see what he’ll do. He takes it but looks up at you, raising his brow in question and holding it out like he’s asking for permission. You’re surprised but you nod - you don’t control what he does.  It’s sweet. Surprising, but sweet.

Jungkook takes two short pulls, blowing the smoke in the opposite direction from you. The girl next to him whines, swatting at it and smacking his leg, giggling. You pay it no mind, unworried about the flirting. He’s not yours, and even if he was, it’s your waist he has pressed against him.

Jungkook holds the pen up to you and you make a face. “I don’t know whose mouth has been on that.”

He snorts. “Alright, Mozart. I have my own. Would you prefer that?”

“Yes, I would.” 

Rolling his eyes but smiling, he passes it over to someone else and stands, your hand falling from his shoulder. “Come on, brat. We’ll go to the balcony so we don’t have to share.”

“Thank you, that’s what I deserve.” 

He giggles. “You can’t even say that with a straight face.”

“Imagine if I meant it.”

Jungkook navigates the apartment easily. You follow him, not unaware of the gazes and whispers that pass. You lift your chin. Let them talk. The only opinions that matter to you are those of your bosses, Yoongi, Jimin, and occasionally your mother on a good day. 

Right now, nothing else matters. 

It’s cold outside. You shiver while Jungkook shuts the sliding glass door to the balcony just off the bedroom. Light floods in from the hallway into the room, casting a golden glow behind you. Jungkook leans on the railing, pulling a weed pen from his pocket and waving it in front of you like a prize. 

You snatch it from him, sticking your tongue out. Bringing it to your lips, you suck gently on the tip, filling your mouth with acrid smoke as you inhale. It burns a little, making your eyes water as you let the air and remaining smoke out before passing it back to Jungkook. He echos your movements. 

Leaning against the railing, you look out at the city. It is dazzling from this high up, a home made for a god to watch over their creation. Silence hangs between you, occasionally passing the pen back and forth. The wind feels good, though a little cold. And you appreciate how quiet it is, the sounds of the party muted through the windows. 

Down below, the street looks mostly empty. It’s so far down that you’re not really sure. Your high starts to hit, dulling the edges of everything and making you feel a little soft and floating. You grip the railing a little tighter, looking at Jungkook from the corner of your eye. 

Fuck if he isn’t beautiful. 

“What?” he asks, a smile in his voice as he side-eyes you. “You’ve got a look on your face.”

“Nothing.”

“Mm. Not nothing. What?”

“You’re not what I expected. It’s a really nice change of pace.”

“Ah,” he answers, ducking his head. You grin, realizing that he’s blushing and trying to hide it. You poke his arm, laughing as you prod at him. “Stop, you’re making me shy.”

“You? Shy?” 

“Oh yeah. I am a mess around people. I might seem good at it, but it takes champagne and sometimes a Xanax to get me to operate at a level that’s normal with everyone else.”

“And then do you stay up all night re-thinking every single interaction you had and punishing yourself like why the fuck did I say this very weird thing?”

“Yes!” he exclaims, frowning and tilting his head up toward the sky. “It is exhausting. Sometimes I’m so worried I’m going to embarrass myself that I skip an event altogether and take the fucking verbal beating from the company.” 

“Ugh, Mila would fit right in.”

“She’s kind of a snake, huh?”

You hum. “Jimin called her exactly that earlier tonight.” 

“My agent hates her. Says she’s a total control freak and vicious.” You snort. That is an understatement. “Makes her successful, though. She has some of the world's biggest names under her.” 

“Yeah, but I didn’t choose her. She was assigned to me. Honestly, I don’t think she thought I had any potential to bring her success and be a household name until I won that award for producing Hwasa’s song.” 

“It was a good song.”

You smile distantly, looking out at the hazy lights of the city. Everything feels a little slow and dreamy, your thoughts fluid. “I liked it. I want to do better - be better. A lot of it’s about connections though and I… am not great at that part.”

“I think you’re doing pretty okay.”

Jungkook shifts closer. He’s turned to you, so near that you’re almost touching. He looks down at you through long lashes, watching for your reaction. You look up at him, a little starry eyed and dizzy at his proximity. This close, you can see the freckle just under his mouth. You want to kiss him, but you hold back, feeling your insecurity worm its way in.

“Yeah?” you ask, a little breathy. “Are you saying there’s a connection here?”

“Uh-huh.” He tucks his bottom lip between his teeth. He reaches a hand forward and brushes the underside of your chin, tilting your face up toward him even more. “Come home with me.”

The breath leaves your lungs. You’re not surprised that he’s asked, and yet your body still reacts, adrenaline taking over. His gaze is hungry as he watches you, waiting for your response, finger still propped under your chin like he might kiss you.

“Take me on a date,” you assert. Perhaps it's the drinks and the weed that makes you so bold, but you want more than anyone else has had from him. You want to be different. “Dinner.”

He tries to fight a smile, tonguing the inside of his cheek. The action is wildly attractive for some reason, nearly making you waver and let him take you home now. “Do you like Italian?”

“Yes.”

“Good,” he says. “Tomorrow.”

“The day after. I’m busy tomorrow with work.”

He narrows his eyes. “Damn. Gonna make me wait in agony, huh?”

You grin. “I’m worth waiting for.”

“You very much are. Day after tomorrow at eight. Wear something nice.” 

“Fine. Wear those necklaces you wore for your Vogue shoot.”

He cocks his head to the side. “Oh?” Jungkook purrs. “You like the necklaces?”

“I like to imagine what they look like dangling above my face.”

He shakes his head. “You’re gonna be the fucking death of me.”

“Good. The day after tomorrow.” You take a step back, a wicked grin on your face. He drops his hand, staring you down. “Don’t be late.” 

-

Jungkook isn’t late and you wish that he was. Cursing over and over again, you pull the knee-high boot up your leg, thankful for the supple, flexible leather that fits your calf. You nearly fall over tugging on the next, finally getting your boots on and standing up straight in front of your mirror out of breath and flustered. 

The outfits had not gone according to plan. Something about going on a date with Jungkook has you feeling all out of sorts, going through enough outfits that your bed is now covered in them. You refused to tell Mila that you were going on the date, knowing that if she caught wind of it, she’d send paparazzi. As it is, Jungkook has assured you he’s gone through the hoops for a private dinner at an upscale Italian restaurant near the river. 

Turning in the mirror, you decide that the short, black dress over sheer black pantyhose paired with platform boots and a long, black peacoat will have to do. Grabbing your phone, you text Jungkook back quickly that you’re coming downstairs, apologizing for the delay.

Jungkook: Like you said, you’re worth waiting for. 

Me: Oh, I can take longer… 

Jungkook: Don’t make me come up there. 

Jungkook: Actually, on second thought, make me come up there.

As you pass your kitchen, you double back and run to the alcohol cabinet, pulling a bottle of tequila down quickly to shoot back a quick swig. It burns your throat, making you cough and squeeze your eyes shut as you hack for a moment, corking the bottle and gasping for air. 

At least it will take the edge off. 

Wiping the traces from your chin, you rush out of your apartment, letting the tequila burn its way through you to set the first layer of calm. In the elevator, you take in a slow, deep breath for five seconds. Exhale for five seconds. Inhale for five seconds.

The elevator dings, making you flinch. Clutching your purse to steady your trembling hands, you step out onto the ground floor of the parking garage where you find Jungkook parked illegally and leaning on the side of the vehicle. 

Slowing your steps, you appreciate the boy and then the car. Jungkook is dressed in black slacks with a belt at the waist and a black, tight-fitted turtleneck. The material of the shirt forms to his body, showing his defined arms and toned chest. 

Jungkook’s hair is slicked back, a single dangling earring on his left lobe paired with the rest of his signature hoops. You have no idea how a single piece of jewelry changes everything about his energy, but your heart rate skyrockets as you approach him, a little shy. 

He lets out a low, slow whistle. “Fuck. You are a knockout.” 

“You look pretty good yourself.”

“Nah, Mozart. You look…” He shakes his head and scratches the back of his neck, laughing a little. “You’re gonna fucking wreck me.”

A nervous laugh escapes you and you chew the inside of your cheek as you stop in front of him, hands crossed in front of you. He pushes off the car, which is a sleek Porsche, and sticks his hand out to you. Tentatively, you place your hand in his. 

Leaning forward, Jungkook places a kiss on your cheek. Your lashes flutter, skin warm. He pulls away with a small smile. “You look beautiful. I mean it.” 

“You’re making me nervous.”

“No kidding, I feel like my heart is about to come out of my chest.”

He’s going to be the death of you. It’s endearing, how honest he is, letting what he’s thinking pour out of his mouth. You’re unsure if it’s part of his game or if it’s genuine, and it puts you a little on edge, trying to guess what’s going through his mind. 

Lacing his fingers with yours, Jungkook escorts you around the car and opens the passenger. The interior of the car smells clean and is lined with white LED lights and red leather seats. You raise your brows as you slide inside, your coat protecting you from the cold leather. 

Jungkook closes your door and rounds the back, slipping into the driver’s side. He turns to you, tilting his head to the side. You fiddle with the buttons on your coat. “What?”

“Kiss me,” he says, sounding breathless. “Kiss me so we don’t have to be nervous anymore.”

“You just want me to kiss you.” 

Jungkook puts his elbow on the center console and leans forward. He looks down his nose at you, eyes focused on your mouth. You squeeze your thighs together, trying to fight a shiver of adrenaline threatening to take over. “So what?”

“Ask me nicely,” you murmur, leaning toward him. You look him in the eye, trying to still your hummingbird heart. This close, you see the flecks of gold in his irises, swirls of brown and caramel. They’re beautiful, framed by silky lashes. “I’ll take it into consideration.”

“Please kiss me.” 

“Hmm?”

“I am begging you to kiss me.”

“Almost…”

“I need you to kiss me.”

So you do. 

Jungkook’s mouth is soft. He laughs in surprise but leans into the kiss, slotting his mouth against yours firmly. It’s innocent and sweet, just a gentle brush of lips. You pull away, noses bumping against one another as he rests his forehead on yours. 

It’s quiet and cold in the interior of the car, only the sound of your shallow breathing and the hum of the engine audible. Something electric courses through your veins, ignited by the feeling of his mouth against yours and you immediately want more. You’ve never felt this sudden, carnal desire before. This need to fall into him. 

For a second, you fight it. Then, you give in. 

Leaning forward, you catch Jungkook’s lips in a real kiss. It’s slow at first. You catch him off guard but he’s quick to keep up, sucking your bottom lip into his mouth greedily. Dizziness makes your world spin. You press up against the center console, sliding your tongue gently against his. Jungkook reaches a hand up to your face, cradling you as he deepens the kiss. 

His mouth tastes like spearmint gum. Your skin is overheating, and you suddenly feel  stuffy and constricted in your jacket. Jungkook breaks the kiss, panting against your lips as he presses chaste kisses to the side of your mouth and lips. 

“Did you drink tequila?” he asks, voice husky. He starts kissing your jaw and your head lolls to the side, eyelids fluttering. “Tastes like it.”

“I was nervous,” you pant, almost moaning as his tongue flicks out to lick at your skin. “So I took a shot.”

“I make you that nervous?” His teeth pull at your earlobe. You sink further into the seat, starting to turn boneless. You feel like you’re melting at the joints, abruptly unable to string together a sentence under the attention of his greedy, warm mouth. “Cat got your tongue?”

“You’re supposed to take me to dinner.”

“Oh, I am. And then we'll order ice cream, and then we’re going home.” 

“Oh?” 

“My home. I have necklaces to show you.”

“Fuck.” 

Reluctantly, Jungkook pulls away. His lips are wet and a little dark from kissing you, his eyes wild. You watch him from where you’re sunken in the seat, a little wrecked from just kissing. You realize that Jungkook has the potential to ruin you. To crack you open and devour you.

And you let him. 

Reaching across the car, you cradle his face, thumb pulling at his bottom lip, damp with your lip gloss and spit. “Pretty,” you murmur. His tongue darts out, laving across your thumb. You grin. “Dangerous.” 

“Not with you.” 

“I’ve heard that before.”

“Well, I mean it.”

“We barely know each other.”

He shrugs. “I don’t care. I have a sense for these things.”

“Mmm.” You drop your hand from his face. “Dinner, then. And ice cream. And then home.” 

-

Jungkook’s first lie is that he’s not dangerous with you. He nearly kills you several times on the way to dinner, leaning over at almost every stoplight to bring your mouth to his again. His mouth is addictive, each kiss intense and intended to make you fall further and further into this waking dream you’re in. 

By the time the valet opens your door to a private entrance at the restaurant and helps you out, you think you might be entirely drunk on Jungkook’s kisses alone. He laces his fingers with yours, pulling you close as you walk up toward the back of the restaurant.

Inside is a dark hall, barely lit by fixtures in the ceiling casting gold light. It takes a moment for your eyes to adjust as Jungkook gives the host his name. To your right is a curtain with the soft hush of diners and piano music. To your left is another curtain with no sound coming through. 

“Thank you for choosing us, Mr. Jeon. Right this way.”

The host bows his head slightly, guiding you to the left curtain. He pulls it open and gestures for you to enter. You step through after Jungkook, raising your brows when you realize it’s a private dining room. It looks reserved for events and parties perhaps, but the room is furnished with a single table and rich, mahogany chairs. 

Velvet drapery covers the walls and a large, crystal chandelier hangs over the table. The heels of your boots click on the hardwood floors as Jungkook leads you to your seat, letting go of your hand to pull out the chair. You flash him a smile, sitting as he helps you scoot in. 

He sits across from you, adjusting his shirt sleeves. Your eyes momentarily get sidetracked when you realize he has on the layered necklaces you ask for, and you grin before averting your attention to the host who instructs that the chef and the sommelier will be with you momentarily to talk about your dining options for the evening.

When he leaves, it’s just you and Jungkook with the soft sound of piano trailing from somewhere distant. You level your gaze on him, watching him watch you. The setting feels intimate, leaving you a little overwhelmed but in a good way. You’ve gone on dates, but not like this. 

“What?” he questions gently. “You have a look on your face.”

“I’m just impressed, is all.”

“It only gets better from here. I have so many ideas for dates.” 

“Oh? Plural?”

“Mhmm.” He leans back in his seat, tonguing his cheek. “If all goes well, anyway.” 

“So far so good.” 

The sommelier and the chef arrive together, hands tucked behind their backs. It’s hard to pay them much mind. Jungkook is distracting, even as he gives them his full attention, nodding along and answering their questions. He looks to you for input, but you feel a little useless, barely listening to what they’re saying. 

“Trust me enough to order?” he asks, leaning over the table conspiratorially. 

“Well, you’re with me, so you must have good taste. I trust you.” 

His foot nudges your ankle under the table playfully. He orders a round of appetizers and wine. When the sommelier asks you to sample it, you follow Jungkook's lead, inhaling the dark red lightly. It smells strongly of cherries and something sweet, making your mouth water. The taste is lush and wonderful, pleasing to the palate. 

The sommelier bows and leaves the two of you alone, vanishing behind the curtain. Jungkook lifts his wine glass to you, smiling. “Here’s to our first date and many more.” 

“Cheers.” 

After a sip, you set your glass down and look at Jungkook from across the table. “Was it absolutely painful, waiting for today?”

“I hardly survived, to be honest. All day yesterday I lay in bed dreaming of today.”

“Hmm. Is that all you dream about?”

His gaze darkens. “Careful, Mozart. I dream very vividly.”

Jungkook does impress you. With his knowledge about a wide variety of topics, with the charming expressions he uses as he speaks, with… him overall. He’s multifaceted in a way you rarely get to see with others, and you feel giddy as you listen to him.

Though you have a similar experience getting into music, it’s nice to hear Jungkook’s story. You keep it light, avoiding the darker parts of going through trainee programs and how competitive and hard it was to be a kid, growing up while working. 

He asks you about music. Not just the music you work on, but the music you grew up listening to, your favorite genres, and the technical aspects of making music. Jungkook is intelligent and familiar with the mechanics of making records. He asks questions and nods along, interested and curious in learning. 

You can’t remember the last time you had a conversation go this well, even outside of dates. When you urged Jungkook to take you on a date, you weren’t sure you’d end up liking him. Now though, as he lets you take the last stuffed mushroom because you can have whatever you want, you realize that you like him. 

It is such a dangerous game to play, especially with the rumors you hear about him. 

Instead of thinking about it, you enjoy dinner. You both finish the bottle of wine and he orders another. You’re feeling loose and warm, laughing more often and giving him lazy smiles. Even without the wine, you want to drag him to the bathroom and get on your knees. Now with a few glasses in, you’re thinking about it more and more. 

Dinner sobers you up a little, but it doesn’t remove the heat between your legs and the growing desire to kiss him again. You think about the way his mouth moved against yours, tongue gentle and talented. Your mind wanders into places less innocent, especially after dinner comes to an end and ice cream is brought out, as promised.

Jungkook carves the spoon through the dessert, leaning forward with it held out. You smirk, leaning to meet him halfway to let him slide the ice cream into your mouth. Cold vanilla melts on your tongue. It’s good and creamy, but you hardly pay attention to the taste, eyes fastened to Jungkook’s. 

“Good?” His voice is deep, soft. “I want to taste.”

You pick up your spoon, picking up a small scoop. You hold it out to him and he repeats your motion, bending to meet you. His eyes don’t leave yours as he eats it, tongue running over the bottom of his lip after to catch any extra. 

“Fuck.”

“Yeah,” he agrees, getting up abruptly. He holds his hand out to you and you place yours in his. He hoists you up and surprises you by pulling you into his chest. “We’re going.” 

You lean up on your toes, stealing his lips with yours. They taste like the wine you’ve been drinking. Your mouth tingles as you kiss him and your thoughts are cottony and slow, only focused on the way he hums, leaning forward to swipe his tongue eagerly into your mouth.

The kiss turns a little messy. You’re woozy, letting him bend you backward as he steals the breath from your lungs. Jungkook is intoxicating, your hand dropping his to wrap around his neck. You thread your fingers through the waves at the nape of his neck. They’re silky soft, sliding between your fingers. You tug a little, pulling a groan low in his throat.

“Careful or I will fuck you here,” he pants, spit-slicked mouth moving against yours. You run your tongue along his bottom lip, tasting more wine. “Devil.” 

“What’s stopping you?” 

Jungkook pulls away from you, holding you at arm's length. You stare up at him, eyes heavy. You feel arousal pool in your stomach with the way he looks at you, his mouth wine-stained. 

“That’s how you want it?” His tone is threatening. Laced with something carnal. Your stomach flutters as you nod. You’re not thinking about anything but him, not worried about anything. “Fuck.”

Without hesitation, he grabs you by the hand and pulls you across the floor. You follow him eagerly, heart hammering as Jungkook all but kicks the private bathroom door open. He yanks you inside and spins you, pushing you toward an elegant sink.

The bathroom is dark. The walls are painted black and the gold-fixtured lighting is dim. It would be romantic if Jungkook wasn’t flicking the lock behind him and advancing on you. Just as he reaches for you, you surprise him, dropping to your knees and looking up through your lashes. 

He raises his brows, looking down at you, heat behind his eyes. You lift your hand to the zipper of his pants, slowly pulling it down, pausing for permission.

“Go ahead, baby,” he murmurs, nodding. “Take what you want.”

Licking your lips, you do exactly that. Your fingers are nimble as you undo the button at the top of his pants. You pull them down a little, just enough to get them out of your way. You eye the hardening outline of his cock against his briefs, breath catching. 

You look up at him. “You have a huge cock, don’t you?”

He sticks out his tongue between his teeth. “Why don’t you find out, hmm?”

Leaning high up on your knees, you lick the outline of his cock, watching as he shivers. You run your tongue to the tip of his cock, stopping to mouth at it. He curses, hips twitching as you soak the fabric with your mouth, placing your hands on his thighs.

Muscles twitch under your palms. You dig your nails in and scratch upward, the fabric hissing underneath your fingers. Reaching the waistband of his briefs, you pull down agonizingly slow. Jungkook’s fingers twitch at his sides, but he lets you do what you want, breathing heavily through parted lips. 

Jungkook’s cock springs out. You feel your mouth water at his thick length, already hard from the barest stimulation. Pearly beads of precum decorate the dark tip. You hum, contented as you stick your tongue out and give a quick kitten lick to the base of his shaft. 

He hisses, hips twitching forward. Teasing him, you trace your tongue along a vein on the underside of his cock until you reach the tip, circling the swollen head with your tongue generously. Jungkook closes his eyes, his head falling backward.

You grip him firmly, gathering saliva in your mouth before spitting on his cock. He moans out loud and you grin, pumping him slowly while ducking under your hand to lave your tongue across his balls. He curses and a hand shoots to your head, not pushing you, but fingers pressed tight against your skull.

“Fuck, you like being a little slut?” he growls. 

“Mhmm,” you answer back, pulling his cockhead into your mouth. His salty precum melts on your tongue. 

Jungkook fills your mouth. You feel the stretch on the sides of your lips as you take him in properly. You let spit pool on your tongue as you slide down his cock, slurping gently as you do. It’s messy and wet and a little clumsy, the wine making you uncoordinated. 

It doesn’t matter. His fingers press into your hair as you set a rhythm, bobbing your head and sucking gently while your hand pumps what you can’t fit in your mouth. Jungkook pants above you, his soft moans echoing off the tile. 

The sounds he makes spur you further. Drool runs down your chin as he succumbs. You watch him through misty eyes, the crown of his cock kissing the back of your throat as you try to take him further than you can manage. You feel your throat constrict, coughing a bit as you pull off of him, twisting your wrist as you work him and gasp for air.

Spit and precum connect your lips to his cock in a thick string. It breaks when you cough, eyes stinging. 

“Yeah?” he asks, gritting his teeth. “Like choking on that fucking cock?”

You run the flat of your tongue over his frenulum, making him wine. “Like hearing you moan,” you admit. The slick sound of your hand stroking him makes you squeeze your legs together. “It makes me so fucking wet.” 

“Show me.”

Jungkook’s hands go to yours. He pulls you up by the wrists. Your knees feel wobbly but he holds you steady, pressing you against the counter. He steals a searing kiss from you that is more tongue than lips, hands skimming up your arms and down your sides until he’s at the hem of your dress where he pauses. 

“This okay?” Your eyelids flutter open. His nose is pressed against yours, eyes steady. “We can stop whenever or if you’re too drunk.”

“I’m not.” It’s true, you’re a little drunk off the wine, but your head is clear. You know exactly what you want and your thoughts are concise. There are no hesitations and you don’t care that you’re in a bathroom, face wet with mixed fluids. “Want it.”

“Mmm.” 

Jungkook slips a hand under your dress, fingers brushing over your soft thighs. It feels good, his dragging touch enticing. Your head tilts back, allowing him to press hot, wet kisses on your throat. His fingers pick at the garter belt secured to your pantyhose, making him groan.

“I wanna see these later.”

“You will.”

He licks your neck. “Good.”

You close your eyes, enjoying the feeling of his mouth sucking gently at your throat while his hand slides to your underwear. He presses the pads of his fingers over the silk, just enough to make your thighs close around his hand, gasping. 

“You are wet.” There’s a smile in his voice. He moves his fingers in a gentle circle, applying pressure to the damp spot on your underwear. “Sucking me off did that?” 

“And the ice cream.”

“Oh? Watching me eat ice cream, huh?”

“Sorry about it.”

“Don’t be.” He hooks a finger and pulls your panties to the side, touching your sticky folds properly. A moan slips out of your mouth. You can feel your heart slamming in your chest so hard you think you might have a cardiac episode. “You can watch me eat your pussy later.” 

Between the implication that there is a later and thereby more after this, and the way Jungkook’s fingers slip up and down your heat, you’re a goner. It feels so good, some of the pressure between your legs relieved as he teases your clit.

Spreading your legs wider, you lean hard into the bathroom counter. It hurts where it presses against your spine but you ignore it, content to let him push you until your head hits the mirror. 

Jungkook’s fingers tease your hole, leaving your cunt clenching. You whine, bringing your hands to his face to pull him off your neck and to your mouth, biting his lip playfully. 

“Fuck me,” you ask between kisses, mouths smacking loudly. “Wanna feel you stretch me out.”

“Can’t even wait until we’re home?”

“You can fuck me there too.”

He laughs darkly. “Demon.”

Jungkook removes his hand from between your legs and bends at the knee, grabbing you behind the thighs. You jump lightly and he lifts you, putting you on the counter. Your dress hikes up, baring your glistening cunt to him, underwear still pulled to the side. 

Balmy air kisses your skin. It’s hot in the bathroom as he cages you in, tattooed hand pumping his cock. You’re bent out of shape, spreading your legs and feeling the strain of the straps on your garner belt as you stretch them. 

Reaching between your legs, you pull your underwear farther to the side, ensuring they won’t be in the way. He shakes his head, eying your heat hungrily as he runs the tip of his dick up and down your messy folds. It feels good but it’s not enough, making you squirm and whine audibly. 

He tuts at you, sliding his hand up to press the head of his cock into your dripping hole. Your eyes roll back, feeling the pressure of him splitting you open as he sinks in. The stretch of him aches in pleasure-pain, your pussy opening up for every inch that he feeds you.

“Shit you’re tight,” he gasps, falling forward to rest his head on your shoulder. His back muscles strain against his shirt as he pushes in the rest of the way, bottoming out until you’re stuffed full, walls fluttering around him. “God, I could come just like this.”

“Pussy whipped?” 

“Fuck, I’m gonna be.”

One of your hands goes around his neck, nails pressing into his skin. He sucks in air sharply. Your other hand drifts to his ass, grabbing him and squeezing. “Please make me come. I need it.” 

Instead of answering verbally, he starts to fuck into you. It’s not a slow build or something passionate. It’s needy and heady and desperate. He sets a brutal pace and you can’t help but let out a loud moan, the shape of his name escaping you.

The feeling is addicting. You cling to him, jostling against the sink as he fucks you. The wet sound of your cunt around him is loud and lewd, backtracked by your breathy moans getting louder and higher-pitched. You feel yourself shaking, fingers digging into him as he grabs your hips, holding you down to the counter.

Jungkook’s breath fans your neck, his face buried there. He curses, occasionally biting your tender skin, making you squeal. You can feel the ghost of a smile against you, his tongue soothing your stinging flesh. 

Grabbing one of your thighs, he hikes your leg higher. You slide into the sink, nearly bent in half as he changes the angle. He hits your spot on the upstroke, almost sending you into an orgasm immediately. The tension in your stomach is so tight you think you’re going to unravel. 

Instead, it climbs higher and higher. You can barely breathe as he straightens to fuck you even harder. The faucet digs into your back. You don’t care, grabbing the counter as you cling to it for life, babbling. Nothing that comes out of your mouth makes any sense and just when you think you can’t take it anymore, you come. Hard. 

Everything in your body locks up. You spasm around him, squeezing his cock for everything it's worth. Your orgasm is swift and powerful, taking the breath from you for a long moment before you finally manage to gasp for air, sagging against the sink. 

With a few messy pumps, Jungkook comes with a loud curse, head tossed back, hips slamming yours. You can feel your release between the two of you, sticky and running down your thighs. His thrusts slow until he’s left softening inside of you.

Come leaks when he slowly pulls out. The drip is obscene but you’re too fucked out to care, looking up at him in a daze. It smells like sex in the bathroom and a light layer of sweat covers your skin. 

Carefully, Jungkook tucks himself back in his pants before ripping paper towels out of the dispenser to gently wipe at your thighs. You laugh and let him take care of you, grateful that he does. He swipes one greedy finger up your pussy and pops it into his mouth, making your jaw drop.

“Fuck, I can’t wait to eat you out later.”

You chew your lip as he finishes wiping the mess from your lower half. “So there is a later, still?”

He looks dubious. “I told you that you were coming home with me.”

“I know I just thought maybe…”

“That I was gonna fuck you in a bathroom and that would be what I wanted?” You nod. “I told you, I want more dates. Something about you, Mozart. Also, you letting me fold you in half in a bathroom makes me want to drop down on one knee.”

It pleases you to hear that more than you care to admit. 

With Jungkook’s help, you ease off the counter. At a glance in the mirror, you burst into hysterical laughter. Your mascara is smudged, your mouth is wet, and you look wrecked. He laughs too, caging you in and reaching around you to turn on the faucet, running the tips of his fingers underneath and bringing them up to gently wipe under your eyes.

You smile at him as he attempts to make the running makeup less noticeable. When he finishes, he turns off the faucet but remains pressed to your back, arms looped casually around you. He has a small smile, staring at you in the mirror.

“What?” you ask, laughing.

“This is going to sound stupid,” he prefaces. “But I just feel something here. I don’t know how to explain it.”

“Post-nut clarity?”

He presses his pelvis into you. “No. It’s just like this really silly… I don’t know. Crush. But it just feels right.”

Surprisingly, you understand what he means. This spark you feel with him is new to you. There’s never been anyone else you feel so natural with, so immediately attracted to. Certainly not enough to throw inhibition to the wind and suck them off in a bathroom. 

Something about Jungkook lights you up, a candle catching fire and burning through the wick hot and fast. People might call it reckless and immature, but you don’t know how else to explain this innate desire to jump in head-first with him. 

“I feel it too.” 

He kisses the back of your head. “Come on. I’m not done with you yet.” 

-

You feel lost in the lights on the way home. Jungkook’s hand settles on your thigh, thumb brushing back and forth. He’s a little subdued, focusing on the road. You don’t distract him, content to adjust the air conditioning so that it cools you off, your skin on fire from the wine and Jungkook. 

The night certainly went in a direction you weren’t planning, but you don’t mind. Jungkook excites you. Perhaps it is a little rash and naive, but you don’t care, enamored by the layers of him. You want to peel back more, to dig to the core until he’s yours. 

Whatever the madness is, it appears to be equal. When Jungkook pulls into the luxury apartment building known for high-profile celebrities and government officials, he’s on you again, pulling you across the car to meld your mouths together. 

Dull pain blooms in your mouth, lips bruised from kissing him. You don’t care, eager to slot your tongue against his, brushing against the wet-rough feel of it. 

“Come on,” he whispers, tugging your bottom lip with his teeth. “Let’s go upstairs.”

It should not surprise you when Jungkook swipes a key fob and selects the penthouse apartment, but it does. It shocks you even more when the elevator opens into a four-level home. Your mouth drops open a little as you enter, Jungkook’s fingers laced with yours. 

Floor-to-ceiling windows stretch the entire four-story home. From where you stand in the entryway, you can see multiple open-concept rooms, each ornately decorated with a modern style and neutral tones. Nothing about what you can see screams Jungkook, suggesting that his label has put him here - has the money to put him here.

The thought itself is staggering, momentarily reminding you who you just let fuck you senseless in the bathroom at an upscale restaurant. Letting Jungkook’s hand go, you wander into the main room of the apartment, stepping down into the sunken living room with large, curved couches surrounding a coffee table.

Above you, a massive glass artwork of floating lights hovers. They’re turned off, but it looks like a sculpture project most likely commissioned by a wildly expensive artist. Jungkook joins you in front of the towering windows overlooking a wide terrace. The sheer curtains do nothing to hide the twinkling lights of the city. 

It gives the illusion that you’re among the stars. Jungkook leans over and presses a button on the remote. The curtains quietly begin to roll open, revealing the view in full. It is breathtaking, much more magnificent than the view from Hoseok’s apartment. 

“They really pulled out all the stops for you,” you murmur, turning to look at him. He toes the carpet, twisting his mouth as he blushes. “This is insane.”

“It’s too much.”

“A little bit. But it’s cool.”

He smiles and reaches a hand out. “Let me show you the rest tomorrow after breakfast.”

You take his hand and let him pull you along toward the winding staircase. “I want waffles.” 

“And in the morning, I’m making waffles!”

You both dissolve into laughter at the Shrek reference. Jungkook pulls you up the steps until you’re on the top floor, which is made up of a spacious bedroom with windows that overlook the city, an ornate bathroom you can only see the door to, what you assume is a walk-in closet, and an additional terrace with an infinity pool, firepit area, and bar. 

The bedroom is more of Jungkook’s style. It’s not nearly as pristine, the sheets and blankets rumpled, all dark grey tones. There are shoes by the closet door and a shelf in the far corner with action figures and collectibles that you don’t recognize. 

In the middle of the room stretches an impossibly large bed with modern sconces on either side. Medication, a glass of water, and a watch are on the nightstand next to the bed. And no signs of other suitors, you notice, but you push the thought out of your mind as Jungkook pulls you backward toward his bed, smiling.

This time you’re slower. He sits on the bed, pulling you by the waist to straddle him. Your knees sink feather-soft into the mattress on either side of him, settling yourself on his thighs as you draw him in for a kiss. You hold him gently by the jaw, fingers spread and pressing warm into his skin. 

Jungkook’s hands skate around your hips to your ass, squeezing gently as your tongues dance together. Your buzz from the wine is gone now, replaced with desire burning through you, hot as a torch. It doesn’t feel needy and crazed now, but a little softer. More intimate. 

Carefully, Jungkook leans backward, taking you with him. You squeal into his mouth as you land on top of him, arms giving out. You crash into his chest, though not too hard. 

“Sorry,” he mumbles. He places his hands on your waist and precariously rolls over, managing not to knock heads and limbs as he places you under him. His knee slots between your legs, hands leaving your waist to bracket your head. “God damn, you are beautiful.”

It’s strange. You feel beautiful - or at least, you feel desired under him. Perhaps it is not the same thing, but the way Jungkook looks at you with swollen lips and starry eyes, you feel powerful. Godly, even. 

He dips back down, pressing a kiss to your mouth and one to your jaw. He leaves a wake of heat, stealing your breath away. Leaning back, you give him access to map the tender flesh of your throat and collarbones, threading your fingers through his hair. 

Eyes closed, you let the world spin. His mouth is the finest delicacy, pressing kisses that are butterfly-soft all over your heated skin as he pulls the straps of your dress. You help him by slipping your arms out. He gathers the fabric and pulls down, sitting up as he does so.

Silk rolls against your skin. It’s cool in his bedroom, making you shiver as he reveals your lacy bra and matching garter. He tosses the dress, sitting high up on his knees as you lay splayed out for him. 

“You know,” he ventures. “Normally I don’t like lingerie.” His fingers trace the swells of your breasts. Your chest rises and falls rapidly, goosebumps breaking out on your skin from the tantalizing touch. “But I could get used to it on you.”

“I only wear it on special occasions.” 

Jungkook lowers himself, planting a wet kiss on the top of your right breast. “What’s the occasion?” 

“I needed something to hold up my pantyhose.”

His laugh cools the fresh trail of spit he leaves on your skin, earning a violent shiver from you. He notices, eyes flicking up to look at you. They’re endless pools of dark, watching your every move as he slow-drags a finger up your stomach to the top of your bra. He hooks his finger over the top of the cup and pulls gently, the fabric scraping your over-sensitive nipple. 

Everything he does feels overwhelmingly erotic. You watch, hypnotized and out of breath as he sticks out his tongue, circling your nipple lazily but not giving it attention directly. You let out a wavering moan, voice gone. 

Oh so slowly, Jungkook flicks his tongue over the hardened peak of your nipple. You bow up into him, wanting more. He tsks at you and you go flat on the bed, fisting the sheets tightly to ground yourself as he grins, delighted. 

“You listen well, huh?” You nod, head heavy. You can’t think of any words, thoughts bleeding together like liquid spilled across a watercolor canvas. “Is that how you like it? Being told what to do like a good girl?”

“Yes.” You suck in a sharp breath as Jungkook scrapes his teeth generously over your nipple. 

“You weren’t a very good girl when you got on your knees and swallowed my cock whole in the bathroom.” He flicks his tongue back and forth, sending your eyes to the back of your head as you squirm underneath him. “You were quite the dirty girl, huh?”

“Both.”

Instead of answering you, Jungkook envelops your bud fully, sucking gently. Pleasure rolls through you, your pussy beginning to slow ache with arousal. Your head falls to the side, and you’re only able to pant and dig your nails into his sides where you grab him, either to hold him to you or push him away; you’re not sure.

Jungkook’s mouth is wicked, lavishing your tits. He sucks greedily, noisy as he slides his tongue from one breast to the other. When you look at him, you see sin. Your chest shines in the glowing light of the city with the evidence of his oral fixation, turning you on even more. 

Your underwear sticks to you uncomfortably and your toes curl. It feels so good but you need so much more, dripping in a way that is maddening as he starts to trail his mouth downward. He is so so slow, tasting your skin, hands skimming your sides, scraping blunt nails across your sensitive flesh. 

He’s hardly done anything and yet you’re shaking underneath him, more sensitive and turned on than you’ve ever been. You cannot recall ever being this close to falling apart from just having someone touch you and play with your tits.

But it’s the way Jungkook looks at you. The movements of his hands on your skin. The way every single brush of his tongue and every drag of his teeth scraping over you seems perfectly timed. Attuned. 

It feels like Jungkook already knows every part of your body, and something about that both terrifies and excites you, kicking your adrenaline into high gear, heart rattling, pulse beating in your neck. 

With hooded eyes, you watch Jungkook unclasp the garter belt. He is gentle and methodical, pulling every layer of clothing off with a touch so reverent that it can only be holy. He is solely focused on his task, tasting your skin when his mouth draws near enough to feel you. 

When he has you naked and shaking, he sinks to the floor in front of the bed, hands pressing your thighs open. You feel how much of a mess you are, slick and cold as the air hits you. You whimper, pussy aching to the point of madness. 

Jungkook chuckles. “Yeah? Does it ache, baby?”

“Uh-huh.”

He blows cool air right onto your pussy. The sensation is a pleasure-sting, making you twist in his hands, trying to angle away from him to escape the cold. He laughs again, pinning your hips firmly to the bed while he presses hot-mouthed kisses to your inner thighs. 

“Eyes on me,” he murmurs into your skin. “I told you that you were going to watch me eat this pussy.” 

With effort, you lean up on your elbows, watching with your mouth parted as Jungkook tilts forward agonizingly slow to run the flat of his tongue up your cunt. Your fingers squeeze the sheets, thighs flexing under his firm hands. It feels so good but it looks even better. 

He smirks, dipping down again to slow-lick you from top to bottom. You’re hypnotized, feeling your stomach lurch violently at how good it feels and how good he looks sliding his tongue through your wetness. 

“Taste just as sweet as that ice cream,” he murmurs, sliding his hands closer to the apex of your thighs to hold you open. He catches your clit with his lips, sucking softly. Your head falls back as sparks explode under your skin. “Mmm. Like this so much better though.” 

“Feels so good,” you rasp, lifting your head to fixate your eyes on him again. “Fuck, Jungkook.” 

His tongue dips into your hole, tasting you further, drinking you in. “How do you like it?” he asks, tongue slowly zigzagging upward to circle your bundle of nerves. You’re trembling under him, fingers going numb with how tight you hold the sheets. “Slow? Fast? Messy?”

“Messy.”

He hums and brings his entire mouth to you, sucking greedily, tongue laving back and forth. You fall backward, unable to support yourself as he complies with your request. You bring a hand up to cover your face, trying to catch your breath. 

“Shit,” you gasp. 

Jungkook presses his face into your cunt, licking and slurping at you. The sounds are pornographic and you don’t care, your other hand going down between your legs to card through his hair, pulling gently. He grunts in appreciation, fucking his tongue into you, wiggling expertly. 

You feel thoroughly fucked. Your limbs are heavy, the world spinning as he devours you. He lets your hips cant against his face, encouraging you with soft little hums, mouth smacking against you. 

“This fucking pussy,” Jungkook swears, sucking harshly at your folds. “Fuck.”

“Wanna taste,” you beg, thoughts sticky. “Lemme.”

“Fuck.”

Jungkook’s tongue slides through your folds before he stands up, leaning over you. You turn to look at him - his eyes are blown, the bottom half of his face shining with your juice. You whine and open your mouth, sticking your tongue out eagerly. He follows your lead, grabbing your jaw and squeezing as he gathers your slick and his spit in his mouth before letting it drip into yours. 

You can barely taste yourself but you fold your tongue in anyway, closing your mouth to swallow. He seems dazed, pupils dilated and wild as he crashes his mouth to yours. Your teeth click together and you lick into his mouth, tasting yourself properly for a moment before he breaks away and drops back down, attaching his mouth to your pussy.

This time, Jungkook is vicious. He pulls you to the edge of insanity, your thighs closed around his head, his grip on your legs iron. He whips his head back and forth, tongue pressed hot and heavy against you. You climb climb climb climb -

You break. 

Everything in you seizes. You writhe in his hands, coming hard against his mouth. He doesn’t stop, mouthing you through your orgasm until you’re screaming and pushing at his forehead, the stimulation morphing from white-hot bliss to pleasure-laced pain. 

Jungkook lets you push him away only for him to climb up your body, ripping his shirt up as he goes. Your arms feel heavy and sluggish as you pull at his belt. Your fingers fumble, unable to work the button and the zipper, making him laugh.

“I got it,” he whispers, leaning forward to steal a brazen kiss. “You good?”

You nod, unable to form words. You are good, but you’re still dizzy from the orgasm. 

Still, seeing him strip off his shirt has you ready to go again. You lean forward, hand running up the flexing planes of his abs as he shuffles out of his pants. His body is beautiful - cut lines meeting soft skin, whorls of ink staining his arm and chest. His thighs are powerful, flexing as he kicks off his briefs, freeing his hard, heavy cock. 

You reach for him, grasping him in your hand and guiding him toward your messy heat. Jungkook groans as you run his swollen head up and down your folds, making his cock shine with your arousal. 

“Just like that,” he rasps, nodding his head. “Make it nice and fucking wet.”

After a few shallow thrusts, you take the tip and press down into your entrance. You feel a slight ache as he stretches you open despite having fucked you less than an hour ago. You pant through it, watching between your legs as he presses in until his hips are flush with yours. 

It is a tight fit. Full. But so, so good. Jungkook leans forward, placing his hands on either side of his head. You look up to see his necklaces dangling in your face, making you grin. You tug on them, bringing his mouth down to yours for a slow, gentle kiss. 

When he pulls away, he smiles. “Wore them just for you.” 

“Mmm good. Fuck me, please. Feels so full.” 

Jungkook’s left hand goes down, hiking your leg up around his waist. This time is different. He sets the pace slow, pulling all the way out and then gliding back in. You’re drenched enough to make the slide easy, your walls stretching around him the more he fucks you, setting a steady rhythm. 

Pleasure spreads from your cunt outward, unfurling like a blossom. The gentle drag of his cock is mind-numbing, your hands sliding up your stomach to cup your chest, squeezing your tits. He groans in appreciation, picking up his pace a little, the wet slap of skin against skin backtracked by your loud, heavy breathing. 

Sheets cling to your damp skin. You feel your chest heaving, Jungkook’s skin sliding against yours as he pulls you closer. You raise your hips, rolling into him, meeting his thrusts. Your hands slip on his arms, trying to find purchase on anything to ground you. 

“Fuck,” he gasps, trying to catch his breath. 

He pulls away and grabs both of your legs, making you slip. He’s careful not to pull out, pressing your legs together and hooking them side-by-side over his right shoulder, leaning in. The strain on your thighs feels good and the angle hits deep. 

You bring a hand to your mouth, biting into your knuckle. The pain is like a relief, an outlet to channel the pent-up orgasm building like an indestructible storm inside of you. 

Soft, deep moans drip from Jungkook’s mouth. Your feet flex, your body curling as the pleasure spreads. It’s like you can't sit still, every part of you exposed and raw, sparking with electricity as he drives his hips forward relentlessly. 

Your sweaty calf slips off of his shoulder. He slows and taps you on the leg. “Wanna ride me, baby?”

“Yeah. Wanna sit on it.”

“Good girl.”

You preen under the praise. He pulls out, leaving a wet trail of fluid as he does. You’re both a little fuck-drunk and uncoordinated, switching places as he tosses himself on his back, reaching up to grab pillows and stuff them under his shoulders and head.

Facing the windows, you throw a leg over his hips, surprising him by turning your back to him. He growls and slaps a hand on your ass, the sound loud in the room. You moan, spurred by the sting as you shift down to his hips. 

Grabbing his wet cock, you hover over the tip, carefully sinking down his shaft. This angle makes him so much deeper - you swear you feel him in your stomach. Speared to capacity, you take a moment to breathe, overwhelmed and overheated. Jungkook doesn’t mind, content to knead your ass and hips, fingers pressing into muscle and relieving tension. 

“That feels so nice,” you sigh, head rolling to the side. You close your eyes, pussy twitching and stuff full. 

“Yeah? I’ll give you a massage this week.”

“You’re promising me so many things.”

“Have to keep you on the hook.”

“And on your cock?”

He squeezes the globes of your ass. “Definitely on my cock. Feel so good wrapped around me.” 

Leaning forward, you put your hands on his shins, using him as leverage to slowly lift yourself. The drag feels delicious, and when you drop back down, it feels like the air is punched from your lungs. You fuck yourself on him at your own pace, listening to the sound of him falling apart, occasionally his hands cracking your cheeks. 

Biting your lip, you drive yourself to the edge of madness, shaking as your head falls forward between your arms, his name dropping from your mouth. Jungkook slides his hands under you, adding his assistance as he lifts you up and down his cock, helping you bounce. It’s wet and nasty and you don’t care, enjoying every second of it.

“Can I play with this pretty little asshole?” he asks, voice rough. 

“Uh-huh.”

Wet fingers slide between your cheeks. Jungkook presses a finger to your tight rim, not enough to breach but just enough to give mind-melting stimulation. You grind yourself in his lap, focusing on the way it feels every time you roll your hips. Jungkook’s finger circles your asshole in time, making you nearly sob as you work yourself to an orgasm, so fucking close to coming for the third time that night. 

He encourages you softly, come on, baby, and yeah just like that, get yourself off dripping from his lips. It’s like honey to your ears, sweet and syrupy. You work him faster, fingers going tight in the sheets as you hit your stride, arching up toward another release. 

It builds and builds until you’re right on the edge, so so so close that you’re nearly screaming, eyes squeezed shut, breath held, legs shaking. 

You fall over the edge, barely able to keep your rhythm. You feel your pussy flood around him. You’re gulping down air, hips still moving, broken cries interrupted by mindless babble. 

When you start to slow, Jungkook sits up. He nearly knocks you over but he catches you, carefully laying you flat on your stomach. You go boneless, barely there, and floating. Your last orgasm makes everything watery and opaque, Jungkook’s voice is like syrup when he speaks.

“You okay?” You nod vigorously, sticking your ass up a little bit. You’re a little bit useless, but you want him to come, want him to use you. He notices, laughing as he spreads your legs a little, mess running down your folds. “Such a good girl for me, giving me this swollen cunt to use. Fuck, you’re perfect.” 

Tired and spent, you roll your head to the side, closing your eyes, just content to breathe as Jungkook starts to fuck you with abandon. It still feels good, making you tremble underneath him, bordering overstimulation. You toe that line of electricity, fingers twisted in the blanket, breath hissing. 

Jungkook chases his orgasm, bending down to press a hot kiss onto your shoulder as he comes, tongue licking over the sweat and salt of your skin. 

Time moves differently then - at least it feels like it. You don’t know how much passes between Jungkook’s orgasm and him pulling out, or him finally getting up and waking you up. You’re dizzy when you look at him, head cottony and full of almost-sleep. 

Wordlessly, he takes you to the bathroom. You don’t have the mind to look at your surroundings or pay attention to what anything looks like, content to let him pull you into the shower and turn on the hot water. You’re barely there, lost between exhaustion and a post-bliss aura that makes you soft. 

When Jungkook kisses you in the shower, it’s not with the intent to start something else, but it does wake you up. You become a little more lucid, kissing him sweetly, innocent. Afterward, Jungkook wraps you in a fluffy towel and guides you through his bedroom to another room in the house, too tired to change his sheets.

You crash down in the bed together, heavy-limbed and sated. Jungkook pulls you close, already half asleep, eyes shut and mouth parted. You curl into him, realizing you fit perfectly into the curve of his body. Like you were made for him. 

Quickly you fall asleep, your last thought being that perhaps Jungkook is made for you.

-

Morning comes with a brush of a gentle mouth against your shoulder. You hum, turning your head toward the source of the touch. Jungkook’s lips press against yours, morning-slow, tired-soft. You’re sore everywhere - most notably between your legs - but you let him drag you into a lazy makeout session.

Neither of you are really awake. The sun has not come up yet, the world awash in dark grey. Warm blankets wrap around you, heat trapping between your body. Jungkook’s hand slides down your waist and dips between your legs. You part them, sighing as he swipes his fingers through you and groans when they come away wet.

No words are spoken. Only butterfly-soft breaths and gentle gasps of air as he sinks two fingers into your heat from behind. You open yourself up to him, falling into the feel-good stimulation of his touch as it brushes your G-spot.

It doesn’t matter that you’re tired and sore. You want more of Jungkook - cannot get enough of him. Already you’re thinking about the next time you can have him. Even as he lines his cock up with your entrance, pushing in slowly until he’s snug to your core, you’re thinking about how many more times you can take him. How many more ways you want to. 

You’ve barely started and you’re addicted. Craving him. Reaching a hand around behind you to cradle his head to the back of yours, feeling his warm breath fan your ear as he fucks you slowly. Delicate. Far too intimate for the two of you, almost strangers. 

If someone had told you two days ago that your night would start with locking eyes with Jungkook, a world-renowned artist, and end with securing a date that led to this moment, trembling in his arms as he makes you come again, you’d have thought they were crazy. 

Now, you can’t imagine it turning out any other way. Can’t imagine not feeling him shift his hand around to play with your clit, bringing you swiftly to another cresting orgasm, leaving you shaking and broken and near weeping in his arms, coming down from your high as he finishes himself off, cock twitching inside of you. 

Jungkook’s hand leaves your pussy, sliding up your stomach until he reaches the underside of your jaw. He grabs you, turning your face to his, stealing your mouth in a sloppy, searing kiss. 

“Mine,” he mumbles against your mouth between kisses. “Mine.” 

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[deathworlders-of-e24]

Danny, Security Chief

Part 1

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“You know, the GAIL asked specifically for a Human security officer for this position. Yours was the first name on the list.”

Admiral Townes had said those exact words to him not 48 hours earlier, and here he was, in a rocket ship filled to the brim with races from 25 different species with different needs and different temperaments. Danny knew this was gonna take up a lot of his time.

Daniel Ducane, or Danny if you were a drinking buddy, liked it when things were quiet. He’d only really joined the service because of his family, both his mom and granddad had done it, and Danny genuinely did enjoy the feeling of helping people. God knows why he said yes to this posting though, an ‘experiment’ to push people to their breaking points. People usually either broke before then or they didn’t. Usually the former, and since the mission was a year long this time, Danny expected he’d get busy sooner or later. Apparently ‘keeping the peace’ aboard the Noah was such a high priority they’d even given him a commander rank the second he took the job. Weird.

Right now Danny was on his way to the Captain’s office for a briefing. Making his way down the halls of the ship, he took note of the many different species aboard. Several of them noticed him as well, some going so far as to stand at attention while he walked by. Danny even noticed how some of the crew took note of him. He wasn’t deaf to the rumors circulating about humans, about how we evolved on a deathworld practically designed to eradicate anything that wasn’t the best of the best. Humans had somehow conquered every other creature on their planet without any natural armor or weapons, by being these strange pursuit predators, apparently just too stubborn to give up the ghost.

When asked, Danny conceded that sure, Earth is kinda rough around the edges compared to other planets, but it was pretty quiet there these days. He liked that. His last posting had been on a security detail at the Doun embassy on earth, and he’d been asked a thousand times how he’d survived in the hellish landscape that had been ‘Arizona’. The Doun homeworld had an exceptionally long rotation period so most of it was frozen a majority of the time, a cool -4 on a hot day. He’d told anyone who asked “you just wear some sunscreen and short pants, you’ll be fine.” The idea of short pants was unheard of on Doun. They didn’t ask a lot of questions after that.

The door to the captain’s office hissed open, and Danny stepped in.

“Sir, security chief Ducane reporting for briefing.” Danny stood at attention, the only thing out of place being the black ball cap he always wore. It clashed with his gray uniform but he didn’t care too much about that. The hat wasn’t negotiable.

Captain Nadh, a Mergal man, stood up to meet him. The Mergal were insectoid, with two main limbs at what would be his shoulders if he were human, and a set of sub arms tucked into his abdomen. His left main arm was missing, replaced with a chrome prosthetic. His legs bent backwards like a grasshopper’s, and his body was sectioned into three different parts like an ant’s. The Mergal standard uniform was a two piece wrap, one around the neck with his rank proudly shown, and another like a skirt or kilt around his waist.

“At ease. Good to meet you, Ducane. My name is Captain *sssccchhht* [Proper Noun: Pronounced; Skitch] You came highly recommended from your last CO, so I’m hoping your brought the same level of commitment to the Noah.”

“Aye aye sir.” The Captain’s base language was a bit hard to understand to human ears, what with the lack of lips in favor of a set of short mandibles, so the translation was a beat slower than normal. Danny didn’t mind too much.

“Allow me to be honest, Chief Ducane. I specifically asked for a human security chief on this mission. I know your people have only been part of the GAIL for a few decades, but human exploits are known across almost every system by now.”

The corner of Danny’s mouth twitched up, and he had to stifle a laugh.

“You hired me…because I’m a Deathworlder, sir?” Danny asked. Skitch laughed, a low pitched chittering sound.

“Takes one to know one Ducane. I’m Mergal, everything at home wants to eat me, the plants, the animals, other Mergal.” Skitch laughed again.

“I wanted a human. I hired you because your record, your training, and your personality profile all tell me you’d be the best fit. You’d have full control over your team, train them how you’d like, outfit them with the best gear we have available, I think you’d be very happy here.”

Danny took a beat, then smiled. “Happy to keep things quiet for you sir.”

“Very good. Dismissed.”

Danny turned back to the door.

“Oh, Ducane, before you go. I got your clearance for your…requested gear and personal kit. I’ll trust you, until proven otherwise, but are you certain the equipment you requested is necessary?”

“You were honest with me, boss, so I’ll be honest with you. I like it when things are quiet. But I’d be an idiot if I wasn’t ready for things to go loud.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Danny put his feet up on his new desk and let his head rest back against the chair. He hadn’t brought a lot of stuff on board, so ‘decorating’ his office hadn’t taken that long. Two photos, one of his parents and siblings with himself, the other of him with the other members in his old unit back in his army days.

Two family photos, he thought to himself, and smiled.

He’d already squared away his duffel and his foot locker in his quarters, so all that was left to do was meet his new team. He’d seen the 3 other humans that’d be on the Noah with him, but none of them were on the security force, so that meant the 10 other crew were all going to be non human.

2 teams of 5, he thought. That way one team can get some sleep while there’s still half on duty at all times.

Danny had never really considered himself a leader before, but never really a follower either. He’d always just been part of the pack, watching someone’s six while someone else watched his. It was going to be different leading the pack this time. But hey, Rangers lead the way, right?

This is gonna be fun, Danny thought as his team came through the doors.

“Everyone fall in! We got work to do.”