#between all these fucking white boys getting hour long matches.

[happyendingsong]

half thinking about getting to london for eve x tjpw at the end of the month -_____-". aja kong is such a get obviously and miyu is unreal but i don't know the tjpw roster well enough to be super stoked about the rest of who's confirmed. and i don't care about anyone on the eve side APART FROM session moth we love you session moth

[osamucide]

hello barkeep! may I please get a shot of Mr. Sigma? I promise I haven't gotten to many already:))

FLAVOR PROFILE—overstimulation + Sigma

“Oh, fuck, fuck, fuck—please! Please, ‘s too much—”

“You can handle it, pretty boy,” you coach him softly, his pretty champagne-colored eyes screwing shut per sheer overwhelm, not for the first or last time tonight, as you stroke him at a pace that does not match your gentle voice.

“N—can’t cum anymore!”

Sigma writhes helplessly, wrists caught behind his back—you’ve had him like this for what feels like hours now, and he’s long since lost track of how many times he’s busted between your unforgiving fingers. His cheeks and nose are red, eyes brimming with tears which he can no longer distinguish as ones of pleasure or pain—but fuck, he can’t lie and say he’d rather be anywhere else, not when you’re coaxing another unbelievable orgasm out of him, like you know all the places to keep touching to keep him arching and fucking desperately into your hand.

“Ngh—ah—baby, ‘m gonna—”

“I know,” you shush him, reducing him to heaving gasps and the whites of his eyes. “I know, good boy. Give it to me, please?”

And he does, against all he thinks his body is still capable of—his spent, raw, throbbing cock weeps out another impossible climax, and he swears he hears himself babbling how much he loves you between his broken moans, but he can’t be sure—he’ll have to consciously tell you through the next one.

[libbyfandom]

Let’s take a look inside Modern!Reader’s Camera Roll! Featuring Mizu and BES Characters

Your and Mizu’s legs tangled together as you cuddle. A movie is playing on the tv in the background.

A blurry picture of Mizu and Taigen in the middle of their weekly smack down. You don’t even remember what caused this one. In the corner you see Akemi leaning in and making a peace sign.

A screenshot of a designer purse you sent to Mizu while swapping ideas for Akemi's birthday gift.

Ringo in the kitchen, proudly beaming as he holds up his newest batch of cookies. There’s flour on his chin and apron.

Video of you zooming in on Mizu sitting on a roof with no visible sign of how she got up there. “How the actual fuck did you do that?” Your monotone “done with my girlfriend’s shenanigans” voice is heard behind the phone. “I climbed.”

Mizu and her adoptive father at a baseball game, wearing matching jerseys, sunglasses, and serious expressions. It’s quite cute.

A mirror selfie from your bed, wearing Mizu’s oversized sweatshirt and leggings.

Nude you sent Mizu while she was at work.

Nude you sent Mizu while she was at the gym.

A video of your locked front door, someone furiously banging on the other side. “I KNOW HOW TO PICK LOCKS, YOU BRAT.”

Akemi helping you wrap Ringo’s birthday presents.

Mizu and Taigen drunkenly hugging each other at a bar, Mizu’s head tucked under Taigen’s chin. (Blackmail material)

Sunset orange sky.

Sunset orange sky.

Sunset orange sky with a slender hand in frame flipping the bird.

Mizu and the boys during a very intense round of Mario Kart. Everyone’s leaning toward the tv, gazes focused. Mizu’s squatting on her seat at the couch.

Your hand holding Mizu’s wrist wearing the pretty silver charm bracelet you got her. Charms: Waves. Katana. Two interlocking hearts. Her birth flower. Moon.

A saved video Taigen sent of everyone but Taigen trying to crawl under a gap in a fence. You are clearly struggling, and Taigen starts to half heartedly pretend to kick at your head. The video lurches sideways violently and cuts off, like someone shoved him.

Screenshot of notes app grocery list.

A video of Mizu laying on you, fast asleep as your hand is in her hair and your thumb gently massages the place behind her ear. The only noise you can hear in the video is the white noise of the mic and her soft breathing.

Group Selfie you took of everyone playing Monopoly, half an hour before Ringo wins in a landslide. The first signs of frustrations are starting to show in several players' faces.

Ringo, looking at the camera with the saddest puppy dog eyes as a hand from out of frame holds up a hand written sign that says “Capitalist” at chest level.

A selfie of you and Akemi out at lunch together. Akemi is halfway through sipping her drink and is making a funny face.

A video of Mizu with her long hair down, swinging it around in a circle as she headbangs to a heavy metal song you still can’t make out the lyrics too.

A video of your lap, thighs squeezed together and shaking as a slender arm from out of frame makes a slow rolling motion from where their hand is hidden under the blanket between your legs.

A video of who you think might be Taigen getting chased by who you think is a screeching Akemi from far away on campus. You keep trying to zoom in but can’t tell. Every student in frame of the video is frozen and twisted around to stare at the scene.

Mizu’s hands filled with all the seashells she collected at the beach.

A little crab on the beach.

The gang eating food at a food truck at 1 am.

Your hand holding a bag of sour gummy candy Mizu really liked so you can remember to buy more later.

A close up of Mizu’s opened mouth, tongue hanging out, showing her new ball piercing, tongue coated and dripping with your cum. She was really impatient for it to heal so she can use it.

Picture of a squirrel on campus!

Mizu sitting on the floor holding Akemi’s new calico kitten up to her face and nuzzling it.

Saved mirror selfie Mizu sent from the gym, squatting in front of the mirror with her hair up while wearing her self cut cropped shirt and biker shorts.

A confused Taigen reaching up to grab the cheap, paper "Drama Queen" crown you just put on his head.

Akemi cutely posing with her hands under her chin with her newly dyed burgundy hair.

An old photo album showing little Mizu with her adopted dad. He double checked Mizu wasn't around when he showed you. The four slightly grainy photos in the shot are slightly different versions of one moment of Mizu being carried on a younger Eiji's hip. She looks unsure at something behind the camera, her little face pinched with that signature little pout she does. Younger Eiji has a slight smile on his face. ("I never liked having my picture taken myself. But I knew she'd need these to remember the versions of who she used to be, and that there are people that want to remember them too.")

Mizu. Sitting at the kitchen table. Just how she is in this moment.

[yourfavoritewitchbitch]

Gator Tillman x Fem! Reader

Blurb with my new favorite duo, Gator x Bunny

You give Gator a few gifts for Christmas!

18 + only! Minors DNI!

Warnings: Porn, with plot. Reader is referred to as Bunny or Bun. No use of Y/N. Established (albeit toxic) relationship. Ass play. Anal. P in V (wrap it before you tap it!). Creampie mentioned.

Special thanks to @starksbabie for the perfect graphic of Bunny's tattoo and always indulging my endless Gator thoughts!

Word count: 2.7k

Merry Christmas ya' filthy animals! Enjoy!

Christmas morning arrived with a fresh layer of snow.

Gator had to leave early for his day shift, making sure to fuck you into the mattress before leaving bed.

He was never gentle, but it was slower than you were used to. He tried to roll his hips instead of snapping them as you came around his cock. His patience would never allow him to make love, always so eager for your cunt to pulse around him.

“Merry Christmas Bunny, love you.” he mumbled against your lips, as he finished inside you, leaving you a complete mess before the sun had the chance to rise.

Since he'd left the house, he'd been in a bad mood. Leaving the warmth of bed and your body pressed against his, always left him bitter, but especially today.

He hated working Christmas.

He trudged home, expecting you to already be asleep. He had to stay over his already 12-hour shift when Roy asked him to take care of something else for him.

No doubt being spiteful for not making it to their Christmas dinner this year, opting to spend the night celebrating with you instead.

He pulled into the drive, all the lights in the house were off, all except the twinkling tree in the front window still aglow. It cast a rainbow of colors out onto the front lawn, kindling something within him.

Happy to be home. Happy to come home to you.

Your nerves were alight with excitement.

You weren't sure you'd be able to pull this little stunt off until he'd texted you earlier that he was going to be late, which would automatically mean he'd be coming home in a bad mood.

A bad mood, you were sure he'd fix my fucking you stupid.

You were laid out on top of your shared bed in an outfit you'd been hiding for months.

Your body was covered in a red velvet skirt and matching bra, both trimmed in white fur. Forgoing any panties for the main surprises you had in store.

Your legs were crossed, red fishnets that stopped at the plush of your thighs squeezing them just right.

To top it all off you had a pair of fluffy white bunny ears adorning your head.

You hadn’t been sitting there long when you heard the front door open and close.

Your heart began to pound. You were never nervous, but your nerves were getting the best of you right now. You'd never done anything of this caliber for anyone you'd dated. You were fucked if he didn't like it.

His heavy boot steps stopped down the hall. You figured he must think you were already asleep, toeing them off trying to be quieter.

You straightened up a little as you saw the handle slowly turn.

There was soft candlelight around the room, joining the glow of the bedside lamp.

He opened the door and his head popped into view. As soon as he saw you his jaw dropped, eyebrows shooting up.

“Hey handsome, Merry Christmas.” You giggled.

“Holy shit, Santa must've gotten mixed up, because, "he licked his lips as his eyes traveled up your legs, “I haven't been a very good boy this year. Not for this present.”

“Oh baby, you've been a naughty boy. But you're my naughty boy.” You took the moment to uncross your legs, allowing him to see your bare cunt glistening in the low light.

“Oh fuck,” he mumbled as he practically launched himself onto the bed, immediately slotting himself between your thighs.

He'd already removed his outerwear leaving him in a thinner short sleeved shirt and cargo pants.

You wrapped your legs around his waist, feeling his thick cock already beginning to strain in his pants as you moved your hips to meet his.

Attacking your lips with fervor, he almost knocked the bunny ears off with his excitement. It was all tongue and teeth, as he nipped your bottom lip, sucking it slightly before releasing it.

“Baby,” you breathed out, pushing his chest slightly so you could get the word out, and unlatch from him.

He moved slightly, so he could look down at you, “yeah?”

“I've got a big surprise for you. Well, two actually.” you grinned. “Why don't you lay back and get comfy for me.”

“I thought this” he tugged the little ribbon situated between your breasts, “was the surprise?” He grinned back.

“It's part of it but you have to let me up.” You nipped at his jaw.

“Ugh… Do I have to?” He whined, as if he couldn't bear the thought of not touching you for the few minutes it would take but was already moving out of your grasp.

You slid over, moving slowly so it didn't reveal itself too soon. He situated himself on the pillows, after you'd told him to go ahead and remove his clothes.

He spit in his palm, then stroked his hard length a few times as he watched you.

Making a show of it all, sliding the straps down slowly one by one before finally undoing the latch and letting the bra slide off your arms and onto the floor.

He was already drooling at the site of your bare chest, something it seems never ceases to amaze him.

“Fuck, look at my girl's fuckin’ perfect tits.” He praised.

The skirt was short enough, when you bent over it would give the perfect view of your backaide. You slowly turned around, letting it ride up the globes of your ass, using your hands to aid in lifting it just enough.

You could see him in the reflection from the mirror, he was mid-stroke when he noticed it, completely stopping with his mouth agape. Nestled in-between your cheeks was a fluffy white bunny tail.

“What's the matter, Gator?” you cooed.

“Oh, fuck Bunny, you're going to be the death o’me. C’mere.” He patted the bed, but you still had one more thing for him that you were sure would leave him speechless.

“Patience baby.”

You slowly started to drag the skirt down, intentionally showing him only the left side of your body. You asked him to sit on the edge of the bed as you walked over.

“One more thing,” you turned around. On your right cheek, there was a small portion of skin covered, the edges sealed with tape.

“What's all this?” He asked. Pulling you in by your hips to gain a better look.

“Go ahead.”

He cautiously lifted the edges; the fresh ink was revealed slowly to him. It was his own name, in perfect letters with a small heart etched beside.

He ran his thumb just underneath it, which still drew a small hiss from you.

“You did this f’me?” He asked quietly.

You wish you could've seen his face, so you finally turned around.

“Of course, baby. You like it?” you said as you cupped his cheeks.

“Like it? I fuckin’ love it. C’mere.” He gripped your waist pulling you forward, as you moved to straddle his lap.

He pulled you into his chest, as you wrapped your arms around his neck, your lips meeting once more.

Moving in tandem against one another, as you finally ground your hips into his. You moaned out once his cock met your clit.

That's all it took, he lifted you up with him, as you locked your legs around his waist laying you back on the bed, never letting his lips leave yours. Bunny ears falling from your head in the process.

With his chest pressed tightly to yours, he pushed you into the mattress.

He reached in between you, guiding his cock between your folds bumping your clit once, twice, three times before catching your entrance pushing in just enough to have you gasp out and grip his shoulders.

You arched into him as he slowly eased the rest of the way into your aching pussy, stretching you out for him.

“Fuck, Gator.” You moaned out, as he hadn't prepared you to take him fully even though you were soaked.

“I know you can take it sweet thing, probably thought about my dick stuffing this tight little cunt all day, huh?” He nudged his nose against yours, as you nodded, mouth slack. Already so cock drunk you could barely think, and he hasn't even begun to fuck you.

He pulled out just as slowly as he pushed himself in, letting you feel every ridge and vein on his exit. He slid out, barely leaving the tip before he plunged back in.

You moaned out, as he spoke “That's it baby. Let me hear you.”

He sat up so he could set a harsher pace, putting your leg in the crook of his elbow so he could get deeper with each thrust, pulling small uh, uh, uhs from your lips.

He leaned in close to your ear, his hips never faltering as he spoke, “It's only right I give her what she needs before I fuck that ass and take what's mine.”

His filthy words and the way his cock was brushing that spot within you over and over had you on the verge already.

You clawed at his back, fingernails leaving deep red scratches behind. He loved the way you left your marks on him.

“That it baby? Need a little help?” It came out a little patronizing, but you only nodded.

He let your leg fall back down, as he lowered his thumb to your bundle of nerves. Pressing in tight circles, just the way you liked it.

The coil within you wound tighter and tighter.

“Come on baby, I can tell you're close.”

And you were, the pressure kept building until it finally snapped. With a scream of his name, your back arched higher off the bed as he stopped toying with your clit to pound into you even harder, working you through your orgasm.

You were clamping down around him, “fuck Bunny, your so goddamn tight,” he slowed his pace to keep himself from cumming too soon.

Your chest was heaving as you came back to yourself. He placed a sweet kiss to the side of your mouth.

“That felt good, huh?” He hummed.

“Fuck, Gator, you know it did.” you giggled.

He pressed a kiss to your neck, as he sat up.

“Come on baby, I've been a good boy. Let me have my present.” He begged.

You rolled over, propping your ass up into the air getting onto your knees.

He groaned at the sight. It was all doing it for him. The bunny tail and his name scrawled high across your right cheek.

He leaned down and placed a kiss right above his name. It sent chills across your skin at the tender notion.

He smoothed his hand down your other cheek before pulling it away and bringing it back down with a sharp smack against your skin.

It made you jolt forward, as you cried out.

“Fuck, Gator!”

But he quickly grabbed your hips before you could fall against the mattress. He soothed your now reddened skin beneath his palm.

He didn't say anything, just calmly eased his fingers to the bunny tail. Slowly, he began to ease it out of your tight hole.

You moaned at the feeling. He watched intently as it finally came out with a slight pop, as he threw it somewhere into the room.

“Mmmm, think you're ready for me?” He said as he spit right onto the ring of muscle, watching it slightly contract as he spread it around with his thumb, slightly breaching your entrance making you throw your head back with another moan.

You reached over to the nightstand, grabbing a small bottle of lube, and handing it to him over your shoulder. It didn't matter how prepared you were, it was never enough.

He squeezed a generous portion out of the tube and onto his waiting hand. Bringing it down to his length, spreading it from his ruddy tip down and back up.

His left hand laid gently on your lower back, you took the hint and lowered your upper body to the mattress.

He brought his tip to your entrance, breaching, while shushing your light protests.

“Relax Bunny, I've got you.”

His words soothed you, relaxing further as he pushed in. You exhaled letting him do all the work.

You hissed, as he thrust in slowly, inch by inch.

Anal was his favorite, no one let him do it until he met you. He loves watching your ass bounce with every thrust.

“That's it baby, just relax. There we go. There's my good fuckin' girl.” He tried to be patient, your ass was so tight he could barely contain himself, as he reached the hilt and groaned with satisfaction.

He stilled, letting you adjust, his hands firmly gripping your hips. Your hands fisted the sheets, preparing for what came next.

He pulled out halfway as you whimpered, quickly sheathing himself back in as he pulled your hips back in time to meet his thrust.

“Oh fuck, Bunny.” He threw his head back in ecstasy.

Pulling back out, now setting a slow pace. He moved to place his foot flat on the bed, giving himself better leverage to plow into you.

He started to pick up speed, as you started to unravel beneath him once more. As if he'd suddenly remembered the tattoo, he smacked your ass just below the fresh ink.

It stung, making you whine and moan, as tears began to line your lashes. You needed more.

“P… Please Gator.” You begged, a little muffled where your cheek was pushed into the bed.

He barely heard you over the sounds of skin slapping and his own moaning.

“What's that sweet thing?” He said, not missing a beat.

You raised up enough so he could hear you plead clearly.

“Please Gator, I need t’cum.” You cried out as he smacked your cheek once more, making you whine out again.

“Ok baby, since you asked nicely.” He leaned over you, kissing your back, before dipping his hand between your thighs.

He trailed his fingers lower, gathering your slick before bringing them back up to circle your sensitive bundle of nerves.

He didn't let up, his other hand holding you in place with a bruising force.

“C’mon. Cum for me and I'll cum inside this tight asshole. This ass is all mine.” He sped up his motion to your clit.

Your lower abdomen started to tighten. A hot white heat flooded your lower body as your orgasm washed over you. Your pussy clenched around nothing as your ass strangled Gator’s cock.

“Oh fuckfuckfuck.” He started to cum as soon as you did. Pumping you full of his sticky spend, with a few more thrusts.

“Jesus Christ,” he mumbled as he fell over your back, careful not to crush you with his weight, as he pulled carefully out.

Your limbs felt like jello and gave out immediately once he let go, falling onto your stomach and stretching your legs out behind you.

He walked into the ensuite bathroom and came back with a fresh moist washcloth for your new tattoo. He'd taken care of his own, so he knew what was needed.

“Need t’keep it clean, Bunny.” He chided with a tisk of his tongue, no malice behind it, you could tell he was grinning even though you could see his face.

“I got too excited, Gator.” You pulled the pillow into your chest as he finished cleaning it and rubbed some aquaphor over it.

“I know, baby.” He threw the cloth into the corner bin. “Roll over, let me take those off.”

Forgetting you'd still had the fishnets on, you did as he asked, lifting one leg up, placing your foot on his chest. His hands quickly rolled it down over your thigh and calf letting it fall to the floor with the rest of your clothes once it was free. He did the same with the other, kissing your ankle before letting it fall back to the bed.

You rolled over as he laid in behind you, wrapping his arm around your waist, pulling you close.

“You know you're mine forever, right? Can't get rid of me now. You're branded.” He breathed out, against your cheek.

“Yeah, I know.” Your soft voice came out, now sleepy. “I love you, Gator. Merry Christmas.”

Maybe next year he could give you what you deserved. A little black box with a diamond worthy of you tucked inside because he knew he was a lucky man, if you'd ever have him.

[mothduchess]

Kitsune HRT Part 2

Pre-Medication --------------------------------

"It wasn't this bad the first time around." That was my first thought as I sat in the park with eyes on the birds flitting about. The various thin layers of my outfit, colored browns and pinks, was decorated with a smattering of crumbs from a delicious sandwich that I had bought an hour earlier. It was the first time I was out of the home in what felt like months, and in large part it was thanks to an accessory I'd dug up out of the bowels of my closet: a fluffy fake fox tail, bought at a convention years ago. Who'd have thought that such a minor purchase would feel like a life preserver nearly a decade later? "Was it really that long?" I looked closer at the park; the rusting metal frames of damaged swing sets and playful slides that I once clambered upon sat side by side the colorful plastics of new play sets. It was hard to recall memories of this place, even being right there. What was that little boy wearing? What did he even like? "Stars, I think?" Two decades later and here I was: an echo of that little boy. My fingers wove together as thoughts passed between my ears as a hollow gust. My cloudy walk down memory lane was cut short by the sound of soft foot falls against the weed-eaten pavement. Looking up, there I beheld a man in cotton white fur and a green shirt that had surely been the warzone for many moths at some point. He wore his smile like a shining helm, ears wobbling atop his head proudly. After staring a few moments, I tucked back into mys- He sat next to me; he was already stretching out his feet and pulling out a water bottle. My senses couldn't help but notice how soft the lightest brush of his fur felt when I scooted to the side. Of course, he wasn't fully a rabbit - patches of human flesh poked through beneath his shirt, and legs seemed off in a way that I had no ability to express. He turned towards me, black pearls gazing at my hunched figure. "You okay?" Mentally, probably not. Physically...? "I... think so." "Shitty heatwave am I right?" "Yeah. Fucking ridiculous. Nice breeze though right?" He chuckled with a few short nods. Judging by how water fell short of his lips and his attempt to catch the droplets, his quasi-snout was a recent shift. "Note to self - buy a straw," he muttered. Words tumbled behind my lips. I wanted to ask him so many questions, but what if I was wrong? There was a chance he wasn't like me for why he chose to change, and I knew how shitty it was to be asked questions out of the blue. That peskering swarm known as anxiety billowed forth from its hive that had nestled itself within my bones. "-iss? Hey, you alright?" Ears that existed only in my daydreams perked up at the question; I turned to face him. "You got water?" "Uhhh... no." He handed over his water bottle with a friendly smile. As I drank, he leaned back for a spot of sun bathing. "Nice tail. Noticed it on my laps." "Thanks. Would've worn some other stuff, but it's a bit warm for that." "Sure. Furry?" "...Dunno." "You don't?" "I'm still figuring things out. Turns out, not all furries are-.... well, apparently furries only *like* anthropomorphic animals. They um. They.... don't...." "This was a mistake. Just leave." I shook my head and went to get up. As I did, he grently grabbed my wrist - my head bolted around in surprise. "Hey. I don't know if my read's wrong on this. Maybe it is. But have you ever looked into making that tail real?" I took a long pause. He was a stranger, in the middle of the park. The rabbit had grabbed my arm, and it felt awkward to simply leave. The clouds overhead began to part, however, with a flock of birds streaming by. "...Yes," I squeaked out. He pulled away, and handed a card. With a quiet farewell salute, he gave a knowing nod and took back to the pavement. My heartbeats matched his steps in tandem as he quietly walked off; my fingers toyed with the hems of the long skirt I wore, my other hand clutching the card and spinning it over. A breeze of wind blew away the buzzing stillness of anxiety. I looked towards the card after a long minute of standing.

I swore I could smell roses.

Kitsune Transition (Pre-Medication) Week 1:

-The tail works!!! So much fewer dysphoric feelings. -kinda sucks with my cute skirts though, need a new anchor -wish it was cold enough for the gloves

-Can't believe that guy gave me this card -(wish I knew his name, thank you rabbit dude)

-Just one small step forwards. You got this.

------------------------------------------------------------------------- <PREV FIRST NEXT>

[wannaeatramyeon]

need more writing of taehoon asap!!!!

how about reader and taehoon go a simple date together, going to a cute cafe, and then them hanging out around his room?? 🩷

(add some teasing and suggestive things 🫥🫥)

-ps, can i be 🍫 anon?

Hi Anon! Thank you for requesting! Spoiler alert - you don't make it back to his room. Oof!! Edited to add of course you can be 🍫anon!!

Seong Taehoon x Reader: Two menaces walk into an arcade...

'cute' date with your boyfriend

Taehoon bites his tongue, and it's no easy feat.

He cannot cause a scene before you've even arrived.

Still. The girls seated at the next table must have a deathwish if they point their finger and giggle in his direction one more time.

In his periphery, he sees more staring... and a finger wagging at him yet again. He snaps.

"Fuck you looking at?"

Frustratingly, their giggles get louder and Taehoon wants to tear his hair out.

The braver one of the group, or stupidest - depending on how you look at it, approaches him. Sashaying over, confident and cocky, she holds out her phone. "Can I have your number?"

Taehoon scowls, leg twitching at her audacity. Just as he's about to tell her to piss off and maybe throw a kick her way to emphasise his point, he feels an arm around his shoulder.

"This one's taken. Fuck off." Tone saccharine and syrupy with a smile to match, even as you flip her off with your other hand.

"Excuse me?" she reels, aghast with your language and attitude.

"You're excused," You pull the chair out from under her, taking a seat as she stumbles out the way. "Now go."

As a last ditch attempt, the girl looks at Taehoon. Like he's the knight in shining armour that would save her.

Taehoon pulls out an expression that is usually reserved for you but he knows not many can resist. The one that walks the line between seductive and arrogance.

He arches a brow and lazily peers at her from beneath his long lashes, he smirks when he sees her gulp as his bad boy charm takes hold.

A last little bit of false hope before he lands the finishing blow.

"You heard my girlfriend. Now fuck off."

.

.

Really, he only had himself to blame when you plastered yourself to his back, finding the milky white skin of his neck far more fascinating. He doesn't move at all feeling your body pressed against him, distracted with unleashing a combo of moves.

"Quit it." Taehoon snaps as you nip at his neck, eyes still fixed firmly on the screen.

Afterwards, Taehoon had grabbed your wrist and dragged you to the arcade. A quick detour he had said, before you continue on your evening with him.

You were the one that suggested the cafe, both finding out once the food arrived that it was more suited for pretty social media pictures, the meal itself being tasteless and overpriced.

Reluctantly, you gave in. A truce for your shitty choice and his shitty encounter.

...There was nothing quick about it.

The detour turned into an hour of you hovering around, having circled the entire place five times, trying and failing to win yourself a plushie on the claw machine (which totally should be Taehoon's job, by the way), and now attempting to entertain yourself by watching your boyfriend knock out his opponent.

Yawn. You are very much not entertained.

Until now.

You go in for another bite.

"Seriously!" He shoves your head away with far less force than you deserve, then hand returning to its position on the joystick, not missing a beat.

You huff as he resumes his button mashing, but your patience and penchant for terrorising your boyfriend is almost on par with how much of a terror Taehoon is to everyone else.

Third time's the charm when you latch on, sucking away at a particularly tender spot. Taehoon's eyes flutter shut, the sound of his groan is drowned out by the game announcing 'K.O!", ruining his chain of victories.

Oops.

The computerised voice registers and suddenly you find yourself looking into the eyes of your very pissed off boyfriend.

"Do you want to die?"

You give him the smile of yours that you know he finds adorable but he continues to glare daggers. The vein throbbing on his temple does not subside. He will not be manipulated.

"Taehoon~" you try, your sugary sweet tone from earlier returning.

"No."

"No?"

He scans the arcade and your eyes follow.

Ah, you should have noticed that it had emptied out, not a body in sight.

The general public - usually your last wall of defence. Taehoon normally at least toning it down and somewhat behaving himself for your sake, caring about your propriety.

If no one is around though, that's a whole other story.

Taehoon fiddles with the hem of your skirt. You had thought it was particularly cute when you put it on this morning, and now you regret your hubris.

He looks at you, fangs bared and you gulp.

Shit.

A resounding SMACK lands on your asscheek, the sting causing you to yelp and your eyes to water.

Your hand immediately moves to cover your ass from any further assault, but Taehoon captures them both and holds them steady.

The bastard smiles. "Here's the attention you deserve."

Even through the pain, you feel a thrill of excitement as your mind wanders, thinking about what he would do to you in this empty arcade.

Taehoon all but abandons the game, focusing now entirely on you.

[didishawn]

omg i adore your writing <3 could we get a second part to your last pedri and ferran fic ?? where y’all go home and finish what you started ?? ;)

Post match pt 2 (Pedri x Reader x Ferran) smut

This is a continuation to this fic

Warnings: smut, lots of Spanish, oral sex, Ferran cums by grinding against the bed

Masterlist

Before you can truly take in your surroundings, you are home, Ferran is in between your legs and you are between Pedri's, his thick cock in your mouth and his hands buried on your hair, he moves you how he likes it.

Ferran has lips on your clit, sucking softly as he knows it has you squirming, two of his fingers have a rough pace inside of you, his hips are rutting against the bed to relieve himself, he never would have guessed the sheets to feel so good against him -bit he guesses being as horny as he is, anything would be good enough.

Your mind has long since succumbed to pleasure, back on the shower when you couldn't even stand straight, your boys surely know how to have you trembling.

You are pliant to Pedri's pace as he moves your head, you twirl your tongue around his tip as he likes. You suck him good, your spit everywhere, falling off your mouth as he almost touches the back of your throat. You almost choke on him as Ferran slams his fingers inside, his pace also rougher.

Pedri is breathing hard, he leans down and kisses your head, still, moving you however he likes.

"Dios, amor, eres toda una experta en esto" he groans "Más te vale estar haciendolo bien allá, Ferran" (shit, love, you are an expert. You better be doing a good job over there, Ferran)

The boy separates from your clit, his mouth is wet with your juices, a deer look on, his face "Pues claro, no es mi primera vez, ¿sabes? Ni la segunda, ni la tercera" (of course, it's not my first time, you know? Nor the second, nor the third)

"Solo asegurándome de que nuestra chica disfruta como se merece" (just making sure our girl gets what she deserves)

It's payback, they both know, after being so good for them back in the shower on the Camp Nou, doing your best to serve them good after such a match and win.

You have been at it for hours, you let them fuck you on the car, kitchen, and couch, not even you understand how you have lasted so much. The sun is rising on the background, and you edge closer to what your belive to be the last orgasm of the night, but with these two you can never know.

You are grinding into Ferran's face as Pedri is doing with his cock inside of your mouth, Ferran too becoming close to orgasm as his hips grind quicker, his cock is sensitive yet manages to paint the sheets white with his orgasm, grunting into your pussy, making you moan at the vibrations and in return turn also bringing out a load groan form Pedri as he ruts quicker into your warm mouth.

You let go of Pedri's cock, hand jerking him off, he smirks at your puppy eyes "¿Quieres que me corra en tu cara, amor?" you desperately nod "Dios, como te adoro" (you want me to cum on your face, love? God, how much I adore you)

You are close too, walls tightening around the fingers inside you, squirming under the pression of Ferran's lips around your clit, sucking softly, yet determined, he won't let go off you, doesn't matter how much you squirm, he keeps you in place by the strong grip on your hips.

A strong thrust and an intense suck has you cumming on his face, his tongue slurping everything you give him, your orgasm face enough to throw Pedri off his edge too, your face painted white by his cum.

The three of you are breathing deeply, struggling to move as you are all trembling.

Ferran cleans you as Pedri changes the sheets.

The three of you lay on your bed, you are comfortable in between your boys' arms, finally falling sleep with the sun fully on the sky.

No one on training dares to question them for arriving late when seeing the marks on their necks and rosy cheeks.

[xxxevilfilms]

Okay hear me out… Yandere!Devil Jin/Jin x Hwoarang but like romantic but a little fucked up…? Devil Jin being the part of Jin that drives him to keep fighting (and kinda “keep tabs on” aka stalk) Hwoarang because he subconsciously loves the contact and scent of his sweat and noises Hwoarang makes and tasting his blood off of him and he just “kinda” got carried away that ONE TIME but at least he stopped himself from killing him and he becomes more obsessed with Hwoarang and possessive after he saves him from the grenade in Tekken 7 and even more in Tekken 8 when Hwoarang tells Jin that Devil Jin is just another part of him <3 I imagine Devil Jin being all of the wild, perverted, emotional, creepy/obsessive, sadomasochistic, and selfish parts of Jin that he represses so hard (for example he’s seen how Steve talks to Hwoarang and has decided he Does Not Like Him) and being turned on by at the idea that Hwoarang can handle and even enjoy the dark side of him and adoring his feisty-ness. Also they choke eachother. If I could draw, I would draw Devil Jin losing himself in riding Hwoarang’s dick with his hands wrapped around Hwoarang’s throat. Based off how he is in game compared to Jin, I imagine he’d be sexually and emotionally unrestrained and dramatic lol Alright, I could keep going but I’m gonna cut it here, feel free to use creative liberties here, you’re an amazing writer and I trust you, thank you for coming to my Ted Talk.

Split Lips | Jin Kazama/Devil Jin x Hwoarang

Summary: Hwoarang comes home to a hungry devil who isn't used to being alone for more than a few minutes.

Warnings: Possessive Behavior, Blood (lots of biting and anal bleeding), Yandere, Auto-Erotic Asphyxiation

Kinks: Very Rough Anal Sex (No Lube), Sadism/Masochism, Dirty Talk, Blood, Yandere/Bottom!Jin, Dom/Top!Hwoarang

A/N: Hwoarang has a yandere situationship with Jin who's really bad at being subtle about it, but Hwoarang tolerates it cuz at least the sex is good. I tried doing a thing where Hwoarang is kinda the dom in this scenario and Jin is the obsessive, sadomasochistic brat who loves pushing his buttons, so hopefully I portrayed that well. Hope you enjoy!

Jin is fucking crazy and Hwoarang is okay with that.

Jin tries to be subtle about it, but Hwoarang is aware of the piercing gaze that follows him at all hours of the day and the fleeting, intrusive touches that rake his flesh at the dead of night when Jin thinks he isn't paying attention. Any sane person would try to bridge a reasonable gap between themselves and their stalker (boy?)friend for their own safety and sanity, but Hwoarang, against his better health, likes it. It's hard to find any guy or girl who can match his freak, and Jin, despite his tendencies, is the only idiot in the world dumb enough to keep up with him.

The bites on his neck and the scratches on his back are worth the hassle is what he tells himself.

After a long session in the gym that is supervised by a lurking devil who thinks Hwoarang isn't watching him, Hwoarang comes home to black feathers and rummaged belongings. He ignores it in favor of going to his room to rest his legs, where that same devil quietly waits for him, quick to approach Hwoarang as if he wasn't just eyeing him like a piece of meat hours ago. Hwoarang has a mind to call him out on it, but knows Jin will play coy, acting like he's doing his best to keep Hwoarang out of trouble.

He doesn't shoo Jin away when he hugs him from behind, nose tucked into the crook of his neck, smelling him too deeply for comfort. It sends a shiver down his spine, aggravated further by wet, white teeth that nibble at his skin.

“I was starting to think you forgot about me,” He says, needy like a teenager. “You were supposed to be home an hour ago.”

“I gotta life outside of you, ya know,” Hwoarang turns to face him, patting his cheek. It's red and warm beneath his palm. “You're gonna have to get used to that eventually, creep.”

“I'm used to routine,” Jin grabs his wrist, holds it to his lips. “You should be as well.”

“Needy bitch,” Hwoarang smirks, heart beating in his throat when those same teeth threaten to pierce his flesh. “You should learn how to mind your business.”

“Your business is my business,” He bites him finally, drawing blood that runs down his arm, drips to the floor. It hurts, but it hurts in ways that never fails to make his cock throb. “Just as your body is my body and your soul is my soul,” He licks his wrist clean. “We are one and the same, you and I. Don't forget that.”

“That's a pretty way of saying you wanna wear my skin.”

“Don't say that,” Jin regards him like prey, gaze hungry and wanton. “It might just happen.”

“Creepy fuck...” His lips curl when he pulls his arm from him. “What, you want me to say sorry? Is that it? Sorry for not having my dick out for you 24/7?”

“That's a start,” He hurries to grab his waist, desperate for contact. “Your neglect has left me starved. I can only think of a few ways that you can rectify that.”

“Tsk,” He sucks his teeth, horny, sick of playing games now. He grabs Jin by his neck to drag him to the bed, leaving him with bruises when he throws him on the mattress. Jin seems pleased, and spreads his legs for him so he can get at the teeming cock that peeks through the leg of his boxers. Hwoarang smirks at that and preys on Jin like a rabid animal then, the way Jin wants to get fucked.

“You’re such a slut for cock,” He leans down, bites so hard into his shoulder he tastes blood. “Can’t even last a day without a dick up your ass.”

“Finally, you take responsibility for your mess...” Jin moans, clinging to his back with sharpened claws this time. “Take me, anata, make me--”

“I don’t remember taking orders from you, bitch.” Hwoarang is back to holding his throat, squeezing so hard that it makes Jin gasp. “You’ll get my cock when you get it.”

He can feel Jin tremble beneath his touch, prick throbbing against Hwoarang’s thigh. God, he’s such a creeper, but fuck did it make him hot.

Hwoarang lets go of him, reluctant to do so since he likes seeing Jin choke, but forgets about it in time. He busies himself with stripping Jin of his clothes, peeling off a tight tank top and suffocating underwear to get at what he wants most. Jin is too thrilled by what Hwoarang makes of him and pounces on him, calling upon his devil’s strength to switch positions with his companion. Hwoarang shakes his head then, dazed by how fast Jin had manipulated them, and looks up at the younger man to tell him off, but is greeted by sunken pools of gold that stare back at him with barely contained lust.

“Fuck...” Hwoarang shifts a little. “Couldn’t hold it back, huh?”

“Your fault.” He fans out his wings. “We’re hungry.”

“Too hungry to get wet for me, too?”

“No time,” He uses those claws to shred his boxers. “Your body calls to us.”

Hwoarang chuckles at that, enjoying the idea of Jin hurting himself. He doesn’t stop him nor chide him for his haste, too horny to care too much about Jin’s health, and lets him be. The beast kneeling above him doesn’t seem to care for his own well being either and is quick to sit down on his length to impale himself, moaning like a spent whore. Hwoarang watches him with bated breath, at the trickle of red that leaves a searing trail down his shaft, and gives Jin the defilement he so desperately needs from him.

“Lookit you,” Hwoarang grasps his hips and pounds him good and slow, earning pained moans and breathless whines. “Ruining your cunt like this...” A slap to his ass has him crying like a baby.

“You hurt us so good, pet...” His claws slide up his stomach, his chest. “Can we do the same to you?” He licks his lips when he presses his thumbs into his Adam's apple. “Can we see you weep for us...?”

Hwoarang’s breath hitches. The pressure on his neck is suffocatingly tight, makes his cheeks hot and his head hurt, working him up.

“Oh, yes,” Jin moves easily now, beating wings scattering loose feathers in his ecstasy. “Fuck us, rape us, make us bleed,” His grip grows tighter, like a vice. “Tear us apart...”

Hwoarang’s eyes roll into head, spit falling from his lips as he’s choked out by this limitless evil who rides his cock like it’s the only thing in the world that matters to him. Such delicious, painful torture makes the older man plow him faster, hips splattering blood and slick along ivory skin he wishes he can bite into. Instead, Hwoarang gets off to the visual, to the hands crushing his throat, until he finally reaches his limit.

He fucks his come into his ruined hole, seed mixing with his pain. It drips from his ass in pink streaks and messes his crotch, but he can’t find the will to care. 

“So soon, anata?” Jin lets go of Hwoarang’s neck to beat his bouncing prick off. “We’re hardly done with you... Not yet. We need more, we need you.”

“You slut...” Hwoarang coughs a little, soothing bruises with his fingers. “Who the fuck said I was done with your greedy ass, huh?”

Jin smiles, a full one that shows off sharp teeth and a pointed tongue, the same smile that Hwoarang stares at when he offers his mouth to his stalker’s plump cock to finish him off. It’s evil, demented, unholy in every which way, and yet Hwoarang, in his pursuit of forbidden pleasure he can never hope to experience with anyone else, can never get enough of it.

[hmmidnight-hunt]

Day 2 — Gaz

Your very own sinner

Kinktober day 2: Roleplay | T!tfucking — Fem!Reader

NSFW, MDNI — TW: Religious imagery, mentions of religious trauma

This one got taken down from T!kT0k a few hours after uploading it full there so now it’s fully censored and I am fully pissed 🤠 anyways, enjoy my fav boy Gaz in a semi wholesome context hihi -Midnight

“Come on, just give it a shot. Please?”

You groan in response, for what is probably the seventieth time this week. It had been nearly a month since Kyle had started bugging you about ‘spicing things up in the bedroom’, and he’d been dead set on trying roleplaying ever since.

As much as you could brush it off as a silly phase of his at first, it is harder to ignore him now that his lips are pressed to your nape, his hands grabbing at your hips with just a tad bit too much force for it to be innocent.

“Kyle, I’m trying to get ready here.” It’s an attempt at dismissing his shenanigans, and it’s also true. A few stray hairs are sticking to your lipgloss, and your arms are twisted behind your back — knuckles brushing against your clingy boyfriend’s chest — and fiddling with a rebellious zipper on your white top; you and Kyle are preparing for a Halloween costume party some friend of his was throwing. You had decided upon matching costumes. Something cliché, sure, but it was the best you could come up with with the short notice.

“I know, means now’s the perfect time, love.” He is met with yet another roll of your eyes. He snickers behind you, looking at the reflection in front of him. An angel and a devil, both looking back at him.

We did say it was cliché.

“Make yourself useful and help me with that top, yeah?” You sigh, arms falling back to your sides in frustration, your eyes meeting his in the mirror.

“Mh, with pleasure, baby,” The sergeant mutters in your ear, nails grazing up the exposed flesh of your back towards the source of your annoyance. It makes your spine straighten and tears a soft, held-back moan out of your throat.

Kyle chuckles. “Your back’s always so sensitive, God, I love it.” His words make your cheeks heat up, and his warm breath on the shell of your ear is like a match in a gas tank. Calloused hands delicately pull the fastener up, his fingertips pressing slightly into your muscles to flatten the fabric of your cropped lingerie-style top.

You swear you can physically feel the tension rise inside the small bathroom of your one-bedroom apartment. It is beyond you, how you still get butterflies when your long-term boyfriend flirts with you. You’re not one to complain, though.

“Thanks,” You reply in a breathless whisper.

“You’re beautiful,” He murmurs, resting his chin upon your shoulder. There’s a sweetness to his tone, something more genuine than the shameless courting he has been relentlessly shooting at you all night long. It’s just gentle. Soft, even. “My sweet little angel… Bet I could corrupt you.”

Ah, there it goes.

His strong arms snake around your waist, pulling you flush against him. There is no room left for you to doubt his arousal, now. You look at his mirrored image as he scatters kisses along the pulsating vein of your neck, your hand finding their way to his own in a familiar motion.

“This top on you, baby, the things I wanna do to you right now…” You bite back a smirk. Kyle has always been good at both sweet whispers and dirty-talking, and truth be told, his efforts are slowly paying off. Right now, you’re the powder, he’s the fuse.

It’s only a matter of when the spark will ignite the both of you.

“You’d want me dressed in a trash bag, love,” You reply, a sheepish smile tugging at the corners of your lips.

“You’re right.” You know you are. It still earns him a soft scoff on your part.

“But dressed like that? God, bloody fucking hell, I could just—“ He halts himself with a sound, something somewhere between a sigh and a whimper, palms trailing up towards the swell of your chest.

You don’t think he notices when your hands grip the edge of the sink a little tighter.

He does.

“I want to take you to Hell myself so we can sin together, angel.” His voice is suave in your ear, and although you manage to keep a face close to straight, the goosebumps everywhere on your body betray you. His thumbs travel over the ivory velvet of your top, over the hardened buds that peak through the fabric, and your lips part in a breath.

There are the ass men, there are the legs men, and then there’s Kyle ‘Gaz’ Garrick. Who likes to be buried balls deep between your tits.

The man smiles into your hair, gently pinching the sensitive flesh between his thumbs and index fingers.

“Please?” He repeats, and it’s the slight crack in his gravelly voice that sends you crumbling down.

“Fuck,” You murmur.

“I’m trying,” He responds.

Cocky bastard.

“Can’t pretend to resist my handsome devil much longer, can I?” You internally cringe at yourself for playing along with his religious-trauma-inducing scenario, but any embarrassment on your part is wiped away with the way Kyle’s face lights up in the mirror, and with the twitch you feel low against your backside. He really is enjoying this, isn’t he?

No words are even needed. He takes a half-step back, grabbing at your hips, and yanking you around to face him. One of his hands lifts to your face, cupping your cheek, pulling you in for a kiss, while the other drops low and pushes at your inner thigh, prying your legs apart.

“Be a good little angel, drop to your knees,” he mumbles against your mouth. Heat pools in the pit of your stomach. You obey, a string of saliva breaking between your lips as they part.

For a moment, everything is rushed. Kyle unbuckles his belt, you seize it and throw it God-knows-where. You pull his trousers and underwear down, his length springing free, and he racks his fingertips in your hair to comb it back. He pushes your back against the side of the bathtub to make it arch and you place a kiss right next to his hard-on.

“God-”

“Don’t name my Lord in vain,” You tease, and you see his tongue poke at his cheek behind his smile. Both amused and frustrated.

You reach back to unzip your top — after all the trouble you went through to get it fastened, seriously, the things you do for him — but your attention is drawn away by a thumb pressing into your gloss. You welcome it.

“No, keep it on, if we’re to sin, I want it to stain you, baby.” It feels even more blasphemous when you look up at him with those doe eyes, glimmery pink lips wrapped around his finger and shining under the light of the bathroom, your synthetic wings pressed down against the porcelain of the tub. A real-life angel submitting to him, he thinks.

The heat that paints your cheeks puts your cream blush to shame. Maybe you are into this.

His free hand hooks underneath the velvet of your costume. He lowers himself and pulls on it, just enough to let his cock slip in, inching between your squeezed tits. Soon, his tip peeks through on the other side, a rosary of precum droplets rolling down the sensitive flesh. Both his hands grab a handful of each mound, pressing them together around his shaft. A desperate moan slips out of his chest.

“You’re twitching already?”

“For you? Always,” he breathes out. It’s his way of worshipping you: His chestnut eyes gazing deep into yours while his body venerates yours in the simplest way possible.

He pulls out, then bucks his hips back in, over and over. A kind of lascivious melody grows, a choir of moans highlighted by the rhythmic slapping of his skin on yours. You snake a hand down your torso to take care of the wetness that’s soaking the flesh between your thighs.

“You feel like Heaven, bloody Hell–” He mewls, mostly to himself. The way his thrusts pick up to an almost frantic pace is a clear signal of how close he is.

“Don’t ruin my makeup–” You warn. You might like the way you look with his essence smeared across your face, painting obscenity over your skin, but you’ll be damned before Kyle can have you pull out your palettes again.

“Stick your tongue out and swallow me, then,” He grunts, fingers tangling in your hair to bring your face down, pushing his way inside your mouth with a string of new curses.

You swirl around the tip of his cock, and Christ, it feels good, but the mock innocence in your eyes when they meet his once more has them rolling to the back of his head, long ropes of his warm seed spilling down your throat.

He pulls out without a warning, and the white slick trickles down your chin and onto the creased velvet of your top before you even have a chance to swallow it.

The devil pulls you up against him, tongue quickly finding yours. You’re both a breathless, sweaty mess.

“Such a messy little angel…”

“Baby, we’re gonna be late—“ You try to object when his hand replaces yours inside the lace of your underwear.

“We already are, let me show you what true sin feels like.”

[atstageleft]

My Foolproof Not Well Formatted 8-Step Guide To Being Super Duper Sure You Want To Stay Alive (Part 2)

5 - walk with your friends at night and feel the strong urge to protect them, even though you're 5 feet tall and not that strong. allow your voice to soften and grow light and airy when you tell them, "everything will be okay - i'm right here." quickly let it fall back to normal when you remember you're both adults and not two scared children.

suddenly, you’ve just turned seventeen and you’re back home and the sun’s sinking down behind all those houses on the hills, you’re looking into the spot in the sky where cerulean meets orange and see how the sunlight intermingles with the atmosphere and turns grey. 

colour theory – orange and blue are opposites on the colour wheel. you wonder how nature can just allow them to collide and become one like this?

you’re telling tristan to walk in front of you so you can keep an eye on him. you tell him to take one, two, three big ol’ steps in front. he always ends up inching back in line with you and nellmarie. 

the average weight of a six-year-old boy is about 20 kilograms. he’s barely able to scoop half-full spoons into his mouth. you can never convince him to finish what’s in front of him. you can lift him with ease – he’s most definitely not 20 kilograms heavy.

his limbs are short and easy to fold in – he can squeeze himself into ridiculous spaces during hide-and-seek. he can scream, but not loud enough. 

you can tell nellmarie is itching to move off and walk alone, but you make sure you match her pace and keep an eye on her because the way the corners of her mouth droop downward and her eyes always point at her feet concerns you. she says she’s fine. you ask if she and tristan want to play just dance once you guys get home while dinner’s in the oven.

your heart sinks when you realise you’ll never be able to convince her that being a kid shouldn't be something to want so desperately to run away from, but then again, what good did being a kid offer her for the past eleven years?

tristan stops to pick something up – something thin and long and white. it’s a fucking needle.

you cut the daily neighbourhood walk short, make a prompt uey back home, drag a seat from the kitchen, lean it up against the bathroom sink and pump 2-3 pools of dettol into his little hands and scrub into his palm, in between his fingers, massaging his knuckles, until both of your hands are white with bubbles.

6 - buy a coffee every morning before class.

pay a visit to the coffee shop across campus every day, sometimes alone, sometimes accompanied by spencer.

spencer always gets a chai latte. he used only to get it hot, but you told him he could get them iced earlier this year, once the days started getting freakishly hot. he didn’t know you could get them iced. 

the first time he gets the iced chai, he finishes the drink before you even cross the road back to campus. he gets embarrassed by how fast he'd finished the drink – you hadn't even put a straw through yours yet – but you feel like you’ve done something good. 

place your order and recognise the man who's taking your order. he remembers your name, but will always ask what you'd like that day.

it's always been an iced latte on oat milk, but you think one day you'll order something else.

watch the barista pull the shot of espresso. watch as ice tumbles from the metal scoop into the cup. watch as everything moves like clockwork. 

the white of the milk curls up into dark espresso, the same way the smoke from your mouth used to pour out, weaving and dissipating into the cold dark air. 

always walk into tutorials accompanied by a symphony of rattling emerging from your cup. 

taste the coffee. the shot must have run too fast, the espresso’s become too acidic, otherwise, they might be using new beans that lean towards a fruitier taste rather than a nutty, chocolatey flavour profile, which is what you'd prefer.

you will always drink all of it within the next hour.

7 - wonder if you should call your mother.

understand that you will one day.

8 - tell people i love you. let the phrase stream out of you in abundance. remember the ways people confirm that they love you, too.

come to the conclusion that myk isn't just tolerating you.

realise this when you’re sitting in myk’s room at 2 a.m. 

you’re both drawing on pieces of card and talking about uni, then family, then religion, and the conversation keeps moving and moving and suddenly your heart begins aching for the pain he’s felt before, gratitude swelling in your chest like a chemical reaction – starting off as a prickle in one corner of your ribcage, then blossoming into something warm, something sweeping. 

you apologise for sticking around for so long and he smiles and says, “no, don’t worry, i’m genuinely happy you’re here.” 

come to the conclusion that sophia isn't just tolerating you.

realise this when you’re sitting in a study room with sophia at 5 a.m. where you’ve both been sitting since 6 p.m.

the table has become littered with empty iced latte cups. 

you both watched each other go through the motions, your hands aching from the way you begun violently mashing the buttons once your brain became a slush of meaningless academic keywords and phrases. 

despite everything, you look at sophia and you become so thankful that there is another person, another heartbeat in the room. 

look at sophia and myk while all of you are sat together in myk’s kitchen and feel so much love for them you can barely find the words to describe it apart from “i love you guys.” 

find out that spencer takes note of when you eat and when you don’t.

you linger outside of the classroom next to him as he and luca discuss where they want to eat. spencer turns to you for your opinion, and you shrug and tell him you’re not hungry.

he asks if you’re sure you’re not hungry, because “last time, you didn’t eat literally the entire day and you know, nourishment is important and i'm worried about you.”

you leave the building together and he wraps an arm around you. you take his free hand into yours. you walk together like this, feeling big and cool and unfazed like you often pretend to be with spencer. he says, “it’s just you and me, rei. just you and me against the world.” 

you’re not entirely sure why he said this at this exact moment, but you nod along. 

think about the time you grimaced because you let a cruiser linger in your mouth for a second too long and you could taste the vodka.

thom asks how, because he can barely taste anything (which, yeah, it’s a fucking cruiser). you notice how his throat quivers and his eyes dart to the floor once he connects the dots. 

he leans forward and gives you a long hug. a stream of drunken reassurances begin careening out of his mouth, muffled by your flannel. you rub his back, telling him "it's okay, it's not that bad."

he pulls you closer and he begins repeating, "it is that bad that you don't think it's bad. it is that bad. it is that bad."

end every interaction with any of your friends with "i love you."

[streets-of-vale]

SoV - the Runaway (1.5)

/== Table of Contents ==/

Not taking a chance, as soon as Jaune was out of sight, he activated his kit again. Swelling his chest to its maxim B-cup size, rounding his hips, and behind further, and slimming his thighs slightly. With a blink, his eyes swapped from pink to deep almost forest green, and his hair shimmer for a second going from pink and white to neon blue, streaked with red. With his body changed, he did his clothes, making them all black with white barbed wire designs, while also lower his heels from three-inch to two-inch heels.

Stopping next to a parked car, he fished out a small make-up kit, and used the side mirror to apply a blood-red shade of lipstick, that matched his long nails. Stashing the kit back in his pocket, Jaune moved off, giving his rear end a hypnotic sway, keeping with the image of being a “working girl”. Jaune hated this act, but it had served him well in the past, and would probably save his life in the future as well.

“All the world is a stage.” Jaune muttered to himself, partially quoting a famous play, before adding his own to it. “And you’re a bit player who is going to get his ass wasted.”

Jaune walked another block before catching another bus. Unlike the last time when he hid, trying to be unnoticed, this time he did the opposite. He winked and wiggled, waved and kissed, putting on a show, of someone looking for attention from everyone around them. Internally, he was petrified that whoever was after him. Whoever had wasted Noir, would know about his body kit, so he forced himself to act as if he had nothing to hide. Even if that meant he got groped more than a few times.

“Oh, a big boy are we?” Jaune faux moaned out, before licking his lips and wiggling his ass in the lap of the gang banger that had yanked him off his feet. “Keep that up, and a girl might get the wrong impression.”

Jaune felt humiliated, but he couldn’t let it show. He had been in similar situations before, he knew the cards to play, and to be honest if he had to he’d play the T-girl hooker role, he’d do what needed to be done. Especially if it put bodies between him and being found. Fortunately, it didn’t progress that far. No, he was just passed around between the gang members, both men and women. Giving lap dances, and getting fondled.

He stayed on the bus for almost forty-five minutes before it reached the main depot, his chosen destination. Dropping the hip sway, he just made a straight line to the locker bank.  Pilling a slim chain up from between his tits, he moved through the aisles of rentable lockers, until he found his. Opening it up, he pulled out a black pack. Inside he knew was a change of clothes, and a couple grand in lien. It was his emergency stash.

Locking up the locker, he moved out of the storage area, and took a seat in a nearby CCT-Booth. Popping some lien into the slot, he paid the connection fee and dialed his boss’ contact number, making sure to keep the video disabled.

“You better have a fucking good reason to be calling me on this number.”

“It’s Jaune.”

“Where the fucking hell are you?”

“I’m on the street, lying low.”

“You really dog-fucked yourself, Jaune. What the fuck were you thinking, taking a side job? You ain’t no enforcer, or hired gun. You’re a courier!”

“How? Who?”

“That don't matter. Get your ass back to the club. And I mean now!”

“I… I’ll be there in an hour or so.” 

“Where are you?”

“I’m around.”

“Don't play with me, Jaune. Don’t even thinking of fucking playing with me. Where are you?”

“I’m on my way.” Jaune disconnected the call before Junior could say anything else. Jaune sat there for a few minutes, trying to collect his thoughts.

“Of course he would find out you fucking ass…” Jaune cursed at himself as he climbed out of the booth, “He’s an info broker, and you shit the bed big time.”

[critical-chris]

All Quiet on the Western Front (2022)

"Germany will soon be empty"

For a handful of years after college, I never read a book. I obviously had to read things in everyday life, but the most progress I made in any single book was getting halfway through American Psycho before putting it down for three years. By the way, that book gets batshit disgusting in the second-half stretch, and makes me shudder at the thought of a rat as much as the book our film of the day was based upon.

When 2022 rolled around, I thought about what resolutions I could pretend I'd follow through on. Exercise, diet, all the usual ones you give up by the Lunar New Year (January 22nd this year, I had to look it up). After looking at the near empty bookshelves in my office, I thought 'why not start reading books this year?' And a resolution was born, and I'm proud of myself for reading 12 titles total, one per month, before Christmas. My last book ended up being Stephen King's It. A book so thorough in it's set-ups, themes, and length (1100 pages, go fuck yourself Stevie) that it made me hate the 2017 movie adaptation and its sequel after revisiting them. For the record, I think the TV movie with Tim Curry is a better adaptation of that story.

I kept today's movie in my Netflix queue forever, waiting to get done with It and move to this title so I had a chance to read the 1929 novel before seeing the most recent adaptation (apparently there were 1930 and 1979 movies made about the book). 159 quick pages breezed by, and I finally sat on my bare mattress, with the sheets in the wash, to watch Edward Berger's 2017 offering.

When I was reading All Quiet on the Western Front, I realized I was becoming the very thing I rolled my eyes at for years: people who can't stop telling you how much better the book was than the movie. Even when I was a kid, I loathed the classmate that talked about how much better the Harry Potter series was than the films. Yeah, shithead, we all read them and yeah, asshole, they were mostly all more detailed and richer than the movies. Except Order of the Phoenix, yeesh that book is a slog to finish. Snooze city.

Therefore, I'm not going to spend much of this review talking about the differences between All Quiet on the Western Front (2022): the book and the movie. I'll save those points for the end if anyone is interested in reading the major ones I noticed. With that out of the way, let's get on to the review--

First, the movie is all in German (as it should be) so make sure you're in for 2 1/2 hours of intently watching this film. I have no idea if there is a dub available since I know Netflix likes to do that sometimes, but please don't watch anything dubbed. Just read the damn movie, it's so much better when you don't have to suspend belief when words don't match moving mouths.

This movie follows a group of bright-eyed, young adult German recruits enlisting in the army during World War I, sent to fight in the trenches on a path to Paris in what they believe will be three days long. They are subjected to the brutal, grim, unforgiving reality of trench warfare and beaten down from idealistic teens to emotionally dulled war fodder. It is realistic and critical of its depictions of combat, war politics, and loss.

I'm a big fan of war movies, and was always fascinated with World War II history like every young white boy who couldn't fight to save his life. However, I had not researched World War I as much but was fascinated with the release of 1917 and was looking forward to this film, expecting it to be another vicious depiction of The Great War. And fuck was this movie heavy and took a more Hacksaw Ridge approach to the violence.

The cinematography in this movie is perfect in my opinion. The trenches and battlefields are constantly muddy and fog mists down and blinds the viewer and soldiers from the terror hiding within. These scenes are countered with the warm-lit luxury of political leaders' offices far from the front lines, and French countryside. I've seen some complaints about the movie feeling dreary and depressing. Uh, yeah that's the point. Nobody claims Saving Private Ryan is too dreary because it's the fucking point.

The acting, all by German actors I've personally never seen before, is also great. I swear the lead actor Felix Kammerer who plays Paul is just the German version of the kid in 1917. Albrecht Schuch is fantastic as Kat, who ends up having the closest bond with Paul. Everyone else is decently well-rounded or just play their character trope before being horribly killed, frankly.

I liked the addition of the political storyline headed by Daniel Bruhl negotiating Germany's terms of surrender (although refusing to say it). I thought is was a good underline of the movie's theme that government and politics think of soldiers as means to an end and second priority to their own desires.

There's nothing I can really mention that could have been done better in this movie. While it was an important part of the book, maybe they didn't have to show the scene of Paul stabbing the French soldier half to death and watching him die in a crater. That could have taken the 2:30 hour runtime and cut it down to 2:15 by cutting that alone, which is a bit more palatable of a runtime. I'm annoyed by the recent wave of movies with 2:30+ runtimes that really have no business being that long. Marvel, I'm looking at you in particular.

Overall, this is a very successful war film, a decent adaptation of the source material, and a movie I'm sure will garner a few awards.

All Quiet on the Western Front: 8.2/10

Now, for those of you interested in differences between the book and the movie, and what I thought of their choices, here we go-

The major difference I noticed is the removal of the plotlines where Paul goes on leave to visit his family and when he serves as a prison guard, and when he and Kat lie in the hospital. Instead, they have written out the political storyline of the generals hammering out details of surrender, and giving background on the mustached general who eventually sends off the troops on a fools errand at the end of the movie. Personally, I liked the political storyling to emphasize the disconnect between the government and it's soldiers, but I think the book did it the better way.

In the book, it shows not only the disconnect between the leaders and men, but also the soldiers and their families, neighbors, and fellow citizens. They've been through so much shit they can't function normally in society, and begin feeling sympathy for their captured enemies. I think that would be a bit more interesting than the film's choices. If you haven’t read it, I recommend you do so.

[thewritersaddictions]

Prom Night '86: Billy Hargrove- Bench

Pairing: Billy Hargrove x Fem!Reader

Pov: Billy

Warnings: Smut/Fluff, Dom!Billy, Sub!Reader, Clueless reader, Prom Night, Semi-Public sex, 18+.

Summary: Your prom is cut short when Billy has enough when he sees that all the guys can’t keep their eyes off you. You don’t mind getting a little dirty.

WC: 3.5k

A/n Firefly-graphics for dividers

Stranger Things Master List // The Adults Master List // Series Master List // Prom Night '86 Master List

You had really convinced him to come to this damn joke of a prom. Hawkins was nothing like California. You had even gotten him to dress up. Not that according to Billy you didn’t enjoy his bad boy clothes. You just wanted the night to go perfect. Saying that even the controlling nature of Billy couldn’t ruin that night for you.  

Billy watched from afar. The gym was loud and it gave him a bad headache, but he’d go through any sort of pain to just get a small hint of a small on her face. Billy loved the way it made her eyes lights up when she smiled, when she laughed and even, he couldn't stop the happy smile that would cross his features.  It wasn’t that cold in Hawkins, but it was always so much better in California.  Spring breezes that floated up skirts of hot girls on the side of beaches.  

Billy really had it all before he was forced to travel to the dark and dank town of Hawkins, but things got much brighter and even warmer when he met Y/n. He had been the player of the town reaching new heights that even Steve hadn’t passed yet. Mothers were fawning over him, and fathers were disapproving of him. Just the way Billy liked it.  

Back to the joke of what his prom was going to look like. When you had told him that you wanted to go, he was quick to shut you up with a long and meaningful kiss. It had shut you up for just long enough for you to forget about it until the following day. Literally for days Billy listened to you ramble on for hours about the fact that all your friends were going, and that you guys should go to.  

It was starting to make Billy want to pull his own hair out. You couldn’t possibly be so serious, about the whole prom shit right? Apparently, you were serious, “Billy I swear to god, I will break up with you if you don’t take me.” You insisted, there you were sitting in his front seat. The Camaro carried the three of you to the high school. Max was sitting in the backseat behind me. “God damn Billy, you gonna take that from your girlfriend.” She huffed out. “Oh Red, he’ll take anything from me.” Y/n said with a wink and then turned back to meet my gaze.  

Red a cute nickname that Y/n had given Max the second they had met. Y/n was really the first girlfriend that I had brought home and showed off to my broken family. My father was unaware that I was willing to meet one girl and keep her, max’s mother was sweet as pie even to me. She wore a perfect smile when Y/n and them first met.  

“Shut up Max.” I throw to the back seat; she rolled her eyes and went to dig through her bag. I brought my attention back to my girlfriend. “So, what are you going to do big boy?” Y/n asked, she knew what she was doing. She was being a complete and utter tease. Her lip stuck between a pair of white polished teeth. A wink here, and that classic smirk that would have warned anyone else away.  

I had a mental war with myself. Spring and the damn girl, the fucking thing of it was that I knew she was be beautiful regardless if she wore a full gown or nothing at all. My girl was mine to glory at, and that was it. “So..” She questioned me again. I rolled my eyes, a sigh leaving my lips, and then finally a small quiet “Yes.”  

All up in flames is how this was going to end.  

So from that morning on, all Y/n talked about was her dress, the shoes, the fact that I had to match her or it just wasn’t going to work. Months this had gone on for. Months of Y/n not letting me see the dress, all she said was “You need to wear black.” With a shrug of my shoulders, I kissed her on her forehead and travelled to my next class. Not that I was always present. I took the time when I got home to go through my closet. I had dark reds, purples, even whites. But fucking nothing that was black.  

The next day it was something else, “You need to buy me a corsage.” Y/n said standing at my car. Her ass pressed up against that hood. “Well hello to you too.” I quipped. There we waited for Max. Always in her gaggle of kids. Kids that I had no time for not when there were more important things that I wanted to do to Y/n.  

“Always fucking waiting for Max.” I breathed out. “You need a corsage you said earlier.” I said, the air was becoming longer then I was willing to endure. “Oh yeah the girls were talking about all their boyfriends getting them one. It has to match their dresses shit.” Y/n said her words coming out in a grumbling manner.  

Clothes, flowers, rides, shoes, everything that Y/n needed I gave her that night if I was going to endure the bullshit at the same rate, I was going to do it right in every way. At least that was the plan until it was taken away from me by the assholes that were at this stupid fucking event. Dragging me to prom would be an understatement. Dragging, pulling practically shoving is what Y/n had done to me even though I had yes to taking her to prom never meant that I was going to dance around with her in the small smelly gym.  

Maybe I hadn’t been clear about what I meant by yes, but I no longer had a chance to tell her that. Again, she was dragging me towards the shitty walls of the gym. “Come on” She whispered; her heels clicked against the concrete ground. “Y/n I said I would take you, but not that I would stand around and dance with you.” I said I was trying to be forceful and strong with my words.  

But those eyes, the same eyes Y/n gave me when we were in the car. The same look she gives me when she’s pissed off with me, and I know there isn’t a damn thing I can do to make it right until she’s not mad with me anymore. “Fine, then I’ll just go dance with other guy.” She said pulling her hand from my arm. Anger isn’t the right word for how I felt, she was mine and she knew that. She knew the right things to say to piss me off. She knows the right things to say to make me boil over and take her hand back into mine.  

Dragging her instead towards the fucking doors. I could feel her smiling at me. She was always cheery when she got her way, and she always got her way. We walked in the music was moderately loud, and it sucked. “Manic Monday, my favorite” Y/n blabbered on about. We weren’t given anything but the looks that we received were enough for me to keep us in step. We quickly made it to another set of doors. Couples stood close together, teachers standing on the edges of the gym floor. Everything about this felt odd and just straight wrong. Y/n and I could be anywhere we wanted, but she wanted to be here, so here I stood next to her anyways.  

With a peck of her lips on my cheeks. Y/n was gone, I watched from the table that had an astray of food and drinks on it. She had walked up to her friend group. Some people that look familiar to Max’s friends. She smiled and danced. Her hips swaying with the music, her hair flowing in her motions. A smile brighter than I’d ever seen before.  

And yet again it was taken away from me. From us.  

Even though Y/n was dancing with her friends the guys couldn’t help but come up, butting in and taking her from them. I had watched it many times over the time we had been together, and Y/n always handled herself with grace. Her dress gave an excuse to show off her tanned skin. I love the way that it curved around her form. I loved the way that she stood tall. Rejecting every guy, that was until the guys didn’t understand what no meant anymore. “Fucking men.” I whispered under my breath.  

I marched over, the guy had his wrapped tightly around her forearm. My eyes were burning with fire, and rage. “Fucking enough.” I said as I made my way up to Y/n. The guy didn’t take notice to me, only kept talking to Y/n. “What are you gonna do about it huh, you wore this dress just to be a slut. Right? Get all the guy's attention here tonight.” I had enough of listening to this asshole ruin my girl's night. She was supposed to be having the time of her life right now.  

I grabbed onto Y/n’s waist. As the guy continued to pull at her. When he did turn that cocky look on his dumb face left, and all that could be seen was the scared little boy that was behind a suit and drunk off his ass. “Whatever, you.... you.” An arched brow and the word died in his throat. “Thank you.”Y/n said her hand coming to rest on top of mine. “Of course, but I want to show you something.” I said to her. Kissing her temple.  

I walked us out towards the bleachers near the track. The lights weren’t on, but the schools nighttime lights brought enough light to us “What are you planning mister?” Y/n asked as we walked. “Something that you’ll understand when we get there.” I answered. Nothing more let my lips until we got the bleachers. I let Y/n sit on the first bench. The silver material was bright even in the nights sky.  

“Billy?” She questioned me. I kissed her, my hands coming to rest on her cheeks. Keeping her close. When I left the kiss, Y/n cheeks were warm, and her eyes were blown out. “What was that for?” She asked. ” Hm, I don’t know.” I said, coming back for another kiss. This one deeper, my heart raced and bumped faster against my chest. I could feel the way that Y/n hands started to search for any part of me. 

Searching for any part of open skin. It was cold but her warm hands searched and found a sliver of open skin. I had left my shirt open to the breeze before I picked Y/n up earlier tonight. “Was this your plan? Bring me out here and have your way with me?” Y/n says, her words coming out in huffs. Her breath was already becoming rigid. “No, but...” I must choose my words carefully. I don’t want to ruin the moment that I’ve created. “I just want you know that I’m yours and you’re mine. Regardless of any assholes here tonight.” I said my words practically falling apart of the seams.  

Her breath grew harder for her catch. “Boys will be boys Billy.” She said finally the moment between us was growing longer and longer. “Yeah, but you will always be my girl.” I spoke. Before diving back into her lush lips. Pressing out bodies was nothing I missed the feeling of. She was always so warm, and that warmth was even between her lips. The sweet taste of hers was imprinted on my mind, and on my lips. Every time I got a true kiss from her it made me melt a little inside.  

 Kissing Y/n always turned into something even better. Y/n was a crazy lover, the way she rocked her kips into me when he made out, the way her moans vibrated off my ears, and into my mind. Y/n was everything that I wanted all the time. She was the most beautiful person I’d ever meet. Smart, kind and gorgeous, something I couldn’t have wished more for. Y/n was the only girl that I had loved, and I wanted nothing more than to show her that tonight.  

Hands searching on each other. My hands had found the nape of her neck pulling at strands of hair. Moans were filling the small space and the air around us. Bucking hips into me. Standing on my ground and I was flooded with her all around me. The bench around us was getting cold but our own matching body heat kept us warm. Her hands had found the buttons that hadn’t been fastened together. Nimble fingers cold from the nights air, snapping buttons like Y/n had no patience for a stupid thing like clothes. I laughed at the notice.  

“Always so impatient.” I commented. “Oh, shut it, Billy, and get me unzipped.” She spoke. I didn’t wait to be told twice. Her fingers found the zipper. Dragging it down her warm body. Twitches as the cold air hit our skin. A new feeling washing over the both of us. The black dress that Y/n had given nothing left to imagine about her body, but she was always amazing to me. Nipples that stood up, the cold making them perky against her breasts. Wet kisses that I lined down from her mouth, to her chin, down the vally of her neck to the valley of her breasts. Landing on a cold and perky breasts. Her breasts were amazing just like every other part of her, but I loved her nipples the most.  

My mouth falling open around them. Another moan leaving Y/n as I started to play with the between my teeth and tongue. Her hands had given up on my skin rather finding themselves in my hair. Pulling and tugging at the short and long strands. “Come on, you know you wanna pull harder.” I said between switching breasts and nipples. My cold air making a brisks contact with her other breasts. The needing of her flesh was starting to consume me at every level.  

Dress sitting half-assed on her body. The squirming that was coming from underneath me was killing me. Bucking of hips and high-pitched moans as I teased her nipples between my teeth. Harder tugs at my hair the roots starting to hurt, but I welcomed the pain.  

Anything to make her feel good.  

Anything for my girl.  

When I released her nipple from my mouth the moan and sigh of helplessness could be heard. “What? What else do you want baby girl? You can say it, use your words.” I coaxed her. “Please... Please Billy.” She tried to get out. “I need more then that love.” Another coax. “I wanna suck you off Billy.” She said, eyes blown even larger than before. She was serious. Climbing from underneath me, her dress hugging her hips. Her knees getting dirty as she sat down on the ground, pushing me hard down onto the bench. “Come on big boy, you got any words for me now.” She said teasing me. Her fingers again finding the buttons on my slacks. The only pair I owned. The belt flying over to the ground, the growing erection was hard to conceal now, pressed hard against the fabric of my boxers and slacks. “Oh, pour boy, so hard and yet nothing to help you release.” She teased, my hand come down cupping her chin, “Get to sucking before I leave you here half-naked and all wet.” I said with a wink. “Yes, sir.” She said saluting me before undoing the button and zipper on my slacks. Her hands weren’t cold by the air was cold and by the time she reached down pulling me out of my boxers I was hard as a rock.  

The tip of my cock red already. Soft fingers and hands coming to wrap themselves around my girth. She winked at me, before diving down her mouth licking at the tip of my cock. Pre-cum had gathered itself there and I would feel a spot on my boxers. My mouth felt like heaven. Died and came back just for her to wrap her mouth around me all over again. Warm and so fucking wet. Little kittens lick here, then she would swallow me down half-ways before bobbing her head. Keeping her pace at a solid place. Her moans vibrated through my cock straight up to my spine right into my brain.  

I couldn't help but wanna reach for her hair. When her hand came up reaching for my hand and placing it in her hair I knew. I felt her mouth slack around my cock before I pushed her mouth down on the rest of my cock, “god, just so good.” A moan, the sounds of her having a hard time breathing caused me to take advantage of her lax throat. Shoving my cock further down her mouth. Gagging wasn’t even what I could call that. I was getting closer the edge, closer to cumming down her throat. “Imma...” I tried to warn her, but her mouth stayed wrapped around my cock, pleading eyes looking up at me from the ground. Tears were edging themselves off her eyes, she was damn beautiful right now. Cock shoved so deep in her throat that she could barely breath and still she wanted more.  

“Immma cum Y/n.” Her tongue licking up the vein of my cock, I spilled down her throat, her eyes rolling in the back her head and swallowing it all. Before popping off my cock. “Oh, that was tasty.” Y/n said before I fell forwards and smashed out lips together, tasting myself on her tongue but I didn’t give a shit about anything else. I wanted to be inside more than two hours ago. When I had seen her in that damn dress. The dress that I was zipping down her flesh. The dress that had dirt marks on the knees were she had sucked me off.  

“No panties?” I asked her before I fully slipped the fabric off her hips. With a wink she shrugged her shoulder “What a goddamn tease you are Y/n.” I said, my fingers brushing over wet puffy lips. Soaking the tips of my fingers. “NO panties.” I said answering my own question. I couldn't help but let my fingers slide into her heat. Her pussy practically dragging me in. Sucking me into the warmth of her pussy. I moaned out at the tight feeling of her gummy walls even just around my fingers. My cock was always standing at attention when it came to her pussy. It was like a drug, an additive drug.  

My cock just slipped right in. The tightness keeping my snug in her wet, warm pussy. We both moaned at the feeling. I could feel her pulse in her pussy. Her moans fell around us, I pounded into her pussy like I owned every part of her. Skin slapping together, and moans that filled the air before I could slap my hand around my mouth. My other hand kept her hips close to mine. I was probably bruising her skin, but I didn’t care, and I don’t think she did either, her forearms were planted on the bleachers. A hand fishing down between her legs reaching for her clit. “Oh, you sweet thing.” I said, the hand that I had slapped across her face to keep her quiet I took off. I reached her clit big thumb and forefinger teasing her clit and pinching her sensitive clit. Her head fell forward hitting the bleachers with a loud clank, but her moans were the only thing I could hear. The pounding on her pussy and playing of her clit had her squeezing me. Her pussy fluttered around me as she reached her edge. “Billy, please can we...” The words dying in her throat. “Please can we cum together Billy?” She asked, words mixed with tears, her voice was hoarse from me using her throat.  

“Yeah, we can cum together baby." I said answering her. A few harder and more ragged thrust into her pussy before she was coming up on her edge. I was barely holding on. My hand was causing a large bruise around her hip. “You ready baby?” I asked even though it was a stupid question. Of course, she was ready, Y/n was blabbering mess of incoherent words mixed with swears, and pleas to fuck her harder and faster.  

“Come baby, let go baby.” I said into her ears. I released far into her pussy. And she spazzed around my cock. Her head fell forward again into the metal of the bleachers. “Fuck me, Bill.” Y/n said when she finally came to, her breathing was coming back to average. My cock slipping out, own cum mixed falling down slowly on her inner thighs.  

I brought her dress back up her frame, zipping it up before turning her in my arms. The spot where she had hit her head was red. “You hit your head pretty hard back there.” I said my thumb coming up to lightly brush over her skin. Y/n winced at the pain, but just looked up at me. “I love you, Billy.” She spoke. Her eyes filled with something that I couldn’t really describe. “I love you too Y/n.” I said kissing her softly on the lips.  

Completed on 12/18/22

Posted on 12/18/22

The Adults- @yourfavdummy

[kepamount]

part thirty-seven - dream come true

blue moon 🌙 - MM19xreader, smau, crack comedy, fluff, angst and smut

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a/n: and here is the thirty-seventh part of blue moon!! it's been months omg, i really hope this is worth the wait!! lmk what you think and hmu if you wanna be on the taglist! x

taglist 🤍: @masesangel @moneymasnn @rmvb24 @sad-fridge2323 @shannon-jade-99 @lazysportsfanfornhl @user8292 @japanesekel @ofxinnocence @heli991113 @audreyhereee @ithinkimokeei @blue-k-98 @sugarwatermelon @chxrryrose @untitled92260 @silverlightprincess

‘y/n! Hurry!’ Isla calls from across the beach, and I roll my eyes amusedly, rising up from my seat and lifting up my lehenga skirt so I don’t trip over the hem. Steph picked my lehenga out and even though it’s absolutely beautiful– a blue so light it almost looks white – I’m wishing I’d worn something else because it’s a bit heavy. My arms begin to ache as I walk to where all of the unmarried women stand in an excited little gaggle, waiting for the bride to throw her bouquet.

I glance over at Steph as I walk across the sand, my heart melting as it has done every time I’ve looked at her throughout the day. The smile hasn’t left her face for single moment. She looks absolutely radiant, the most beautiful bride I’ve ever seen, and I don’t think I could possibly be happier for her and Ben.

Ben’s been almost as excitable as Steph all day, laughing and joking with his bride and his groomsmen at every possible opportunity. His cheeks must hurt from the way he’s been grinning nonstop. Though I suppose all of us are just as happy as him. It’s been the perfect day.

Our flight landed yesterday morning, giving us enough time to spend a few hours sunbathing on the beach, and the boys’ flight landed in the evening, so we made sure to have Steph hidden away in the villa before Ben could see her. We’ve kept them separated for a week, knowing their reunion today was gonna be much sweeter after the distance.

The ceremony didn’t start until late afternoon so we had almost all day to get ready, all of us swanning around the villa in our matching dressing gowns with glasses of wine in our hands, taking plenty of time with our hair and makeup and outfits. As the maid of honour, I had to equally split my time between getting myself ready and getting Steph ready, but I didn’t mind too much – she’s been so relaxed all day so I didn’t feel any stress at all.

The ceremony went so smoothly – no-one tripped down the aisle, no-one lost the rings, there were no interruptions or hiccups, and neither of them fucked up their vows. In fact, their vows were beautiful – there wasn’t a single dry eye in the wedding party.

As soon as the ceremony was over, we went back to our own villas to change into different outfits for the reception, coming back down to the beach at sunset. We gave our speeches – the bride and groom’s parents, and the maid of honour and the best man. Me and Mason worked on our speeches together, perfecting them, and we’d spent so long on them that we’d managed to memorise each other’s as well as our own – I was reciting his in my head as he read it out loud, smiling to myself about how good the final product was.

Then we toasted to the bride and groom, and the food was brought out. As soon as we were finished eating, we all got up to dance, having spent the last few hours singing and dancing along with the music, having the time of our lives.

Most of the guests, including my family, have gone back to the hotel that we hired out for the wedding party, leaving just Ben and Steph’s close family and friends, and a few of the drunker people who would stay out here partying until sunrise if they could. The wedding planner’s staff have taken all our things up from the villa to the hotel for us – I would have been happy to stay in the villa tonight but the other girls all said they wanted to share rooms with their boyfriends, so we’re moving up to the hotel instead.

But now it’s time for the bouquet toss. Steph wanted to preserve her actual bouquet, so she had two smaller versions made – one to throw, and one for Isla and Cal’s baby, when the little angel is born. Isla’s holding it now, the petals of it resting against her massive baby bump, and she’s leaning against Callum with a tired smile.

She’s 8 months along now, though her stomach is round enough that I keep wondering if the baby might decide to make an appearance any second. We were all worried about her flying, Steph even suggesting we postpone the wedding until after Isla’s given birth or just move the wedding domestically, but Isla insisted that they didn’t make any changes, having a full medical team on board the flight to make sure she and the baby would be okay.

She was nervous for Steph’s reaction at the start, but there was nothing to worry about because Steph was ecstatic. The pregnancy affecting the wedding didn’t even cross her mind, and we’ve all been trying our best to make sure both the wedding and the pregnancy have had equal attention and haven’t been interfering with each other.

To make life simpler, Isla and Steph decided that I would have to be the only maid of honour because we all knew that Isla wouldn’t be able to do all of the duties so far into her pregnancy. She’s still been very involved though, and partied it up with the rest of us at Steph’s hen-do. I’m sure she’d be spending the entire night on the dancefloor tonight if she could, but she’s barely been able to stand up for longer than ten minutes at a time with her swollen feet.

She’d also be in the middle of this group, fighting to the death to get her hands on the bouquet, but Cal would probably shackle her to himself if she tried now – he’s been so protective over her these past few months. It’s been so nice to watch the way he dotes on her, so loving and caring and excited to start a family with her.

And Ben and Steph have been so cute to watch too, with their pre-marital bliss. They’re already so domestic, on the exact same wavelength – they laugh at each other’s jokes without even having to hear the punchline, and they haven’t argued once over wedding planning. Both couples are perfect together.

Mason and I are a slightly different story. Our relationship is still very much platonic, despite how we’ve spent the last 10 months glued together by the hip. We’ve leant into romance every now and then – his hand resting too low on my back, our fingers brushing together too lingeringly, our eyes locking together for just a moment too long – but he’s been respecting my wishes, which I appreciate.

When we got back home from rehab, I told him I wanted to take life a lot slower. Enjoy the journey, let things happen naturally, not spend my entire life rushing. And I told him that included us, which he agreed with. To be fair, I didn’t think it’d be this slow. I was expecting it to take a few months, half a year max. But it’s not long ‘til we get to a year since I left rehab, and we’re still just friends.

But it’s been fun regardless. Spending so much time with him, without any expectations. I go to all his matches and he comes to all my shows. We’ve been on a few short holidays together, and we spend every single one of his days off together, usually on some sort of daytrip to the beach or to a theme park. And we’ve spent so much time helping with wedding planning, and helping get things ready for the baby.

Some days, we’d be at a cake tasting in the morning and then a furniture shop to order a crib in the afternoon. At the hospital for a scan in the morning and at a florist to choose flowers for a bouquet in the afternoon. Meeting the wedding planner to discuss venues and colour schemes followed by shopping for baby clothes. Painting the nursery followed by a dress fitting in the afternoon (yes, Mason somehow managed to worm himself into coming to the dress fittings and got to see Steph’s wedding dresses before anyone else other than me, Isla and Steph’s mum, which he gloated about at every opportunity).

Every minute of every day with Mason is fun, but my favourite days are the days when he comes over early in the morning, when I’m still fast asleep. He climbs into bed with me, pulling me into his arms and burying his head in my neck.

We get up a couple hours later and cook breakfast together, covering the kitchen surfaces (and each other) with the ingredients, before collapsing down onto the sofa and putting on an episode of the Netflix series we’re watching at the time.

We either spend the entire day lazing around the house, napping and eating and watching TV, or he drives me to the recording studio or the dance studio or an interview or whatever I’ve got in my schedule for the day. And he sits there, watching me write music or sing or dance or talk to the camera about whichever stupid topic the interviewer’s asked me about. He always has this look on his face, a mixture of pride and awe and affection and something else, something so strong and raw that it would make my heart stop momentarily.

I look over at him now, stood only a few feet away, dressed in a very flattering black suit, laughing with Trev. He used to lift a hand to run through his hair when he was laughing but he lost that habit when he had his buzzcut.

When Mason sent a message into the groupchat saying that he was at the barber’s, I facetimed him straight away, insisting he kept me on facetime whilst he got his haircut. My heart sunk lower and lower as his barber cut more and more of his hair off, and I couldn’t hide my hatred of the buzzcut at the start (I may or may not have shed some tears as I watched his hair fall to the floor). Mason didn’t really like it either but he did it to shut the haters up on twitter, which I couldn’t really fault him for.

He’s let it grow out now, not as long as it used to be but much better than the buzzcut. He used to have those boyish good looks with his longer hair, but this shorter hair makes him look much manlier, and the change in his physique only adds to that effect. He’s really bulked up – his shoulders are broader, his chest is stronger, his arms are bigger, and don’t even get me started on his thighs.

But my favourite features on him are the same at they always have been – those big brown eyes with their mischievous sparkle, and the happy grin he wears so often. It’s on his face now, my stomach filling with butterflies as I watch him.

My feelings for him go well past friendship, that’s for sure. All I can do is hope that his feelings match mine, though I can’t help but doubt it more and more with each day that goes past without him making a move.

‘Hoping to catch the bouquet, y/n?’ Soph teases, noticing where my eyes are focused and nudging me. ‘Definitely not,’ I say drily, Soph and Sasha both raising their eyebrows at me. ‘Why? Don’t act like you’re not completely obsessed with him, y/n, because it’s clear that you are,’ Sasha says pointedly, and I roll my eyes amusedly.

‘Whether or not I’m obsessed with him is beside the point. I don’t want him to feel rushed into a relationship with me if that’s not what he wants,’ I say mildly, and both of their mouths fall open. ‘Are you being serious? You think he doesn’t want a relationship with you?’ Soph demands, and I let out a soft laugh.

Before I can respond, the girls around me all gasp, and the three of us quickly turn to see the bouquet flying through the air. Right towards me. Before I can react, the stems of the flowers whack off my forehead, and I let out a little yelp of pain, stumbling backwards a couple steps with my hand pressed to my head.

The heel of my shoe catches on my lehenga skirt and I almost go flying, losing my footing and feeling myself falling back towards the floor. Before I hit the sand, a pair of arms come around me, keeping me upright, and I look up to see Mason. He helps steady me, only letting go when I’m firm on my feet, everyone watching with a mixture of concern and amusement, and I let out an embarrassed laugh.

‘I’m fine. Just clumsy. And in pain after Steph’s murder attempt,’ I say pointedly, the girl rushing over to see if I’m okay. ‘I’m so sorry,’ she says through giggles, pulling me into a hug, and I roll my eyes, hugging her back. ‘That was intentional. You literally chucked it at me,’ I murmur so only she can hear, and I can feel her laughing against me as she says, ‘you’ll thank me later.’

She lets go of me, handing me the bouquet from where it’s been abandoned on the floor, and I raise an eyebrow. ‘Does it count as mine if it hits off my forehead?’ I say drily, everyone laughing. ‘Of course. It chose you,’ Steph grins, and I just shake my head amusedly at her.

The DJ starts the music up again, everyone falling into their own conversations, and Steph heads over to her husband who’s waiting for her on the dancefloor, leaving me stood with Mason. ‘How’s your head?’ he chuckles, and I shoot him a look.

‘Great attempt at sympathy.’ ‘I’m sorry. It was funny though. Here, let me kiss it better,’ he murmurs, leaning to press a kiss to my forehead, sending a shiver through me. He puts an arm around my waist, the two of us stood side-by-side as we watch the others dancing.

‘Looks like you’ll be getting married next then,’ he says after a few long moments of silence between us, and I laugh, looking down at the white bouquet in my hand. ‘I don’t know about that. Kai and Soph will probably be next,’ I say, watching the two of them together, Soph forcing Kai to dance even though he’s terrible at it.

‘We’ll have to beat them to it,’ he jokes, my heart skipping a beat. ‘We?’ I ask, looking up at him, and he grins easily. ‘Of course. We’re the best man and the maid of honour – it’d be tradition for us to be together. And anyway… no other idiot is gonna tie himself down to you, is he? It’ll have to be me. I’ll take one for the team,’ he sighs, as though it’s the worst task in the world, and I gasp offendedly, hitting him on the shoulder as he laughs.

‘I’m joking, I’m joking, y/n!’ he exclaims, pulling me into his arms so I stand with my back pressed against his front, his chin resting on my shoulder. He feels so big like this, his hard chest and big arms enveloping me in a warm and safe embrace.

‘It would be an honour to… tie myself down to you,’ he says amusedly, and I roll my eyes. ‘Tie yourself down? You make it sound like it’s a sacrifice. Like you’re committing yourself to a life of handcuffs,’ I point out, and he chuckles softly, warm breath fanning down across my bare chest.

‘A life of handcuffs? Kinky, but I’m down. As long as you unlock them on match days. I don’t think I’d be able to play very well with the bedpost hanging off one arm,’ he jokes, making me laugh despite myself, ignoring the dirty part of what he just said. ‘Can’t be any worse than how you normally play,’ I tease, the boy laughing, and I can feel the vibrations through his chest, making me feel warm.

‘Excuse me, y/n. I’ll have you know that I’m Chelsea’s Player of the Season, two years in a row,’ he murmurs amusedly, and I let out a soft laugh. ‘Maybe this season, you should focus more on getting past the Champions League quarter final instead of Player of the Season awards,’ I giggle, and he lets out an offended noise. ‘Ouch. That was low,’ he says, pretending to look hurt when he turns me around to face him, keeping one of my hands in his.

‘Don’t worry. The trophy’s coming back to London this season,’ he says confidently, and I bite my lip to hold giggles before I speak. ‘You really think Spurs can win it?’ I ask, both of us laughing after that. ‘Absolutely not. We’ll be the ones bringing it back. It’ll have dark blue ribbons on it,’ he says assuredly, and I just raise an eyebrow at him.

‘I’ll believe it when I see it,’ I tease, and he just shakes his head, pulling me into his arms. ‘You don’t have enough faith in me.’ ‘Because I’m, like, 99% sure it’s not gonna happen,’ I say, both of us well aware how much of a lie that is (I’m Chelsea’s biggest fan – if anyone believes we can win it all, it’s me), and he just chuckles.

‘I’ll prove you wrong. And then I’ll make you eat your words,’ he grins, and I tilt my head questioningly, heart fluttering. ‘Yeah? How, exactly?’ ‘When we win, I’ll get my medal, and then I’ll bring you down onto the pitch, and you can put the medal on. And when you’re posting selfies on your Instagram, wearing my Champions League Winners medal, you’ll realise you were wrong,’ he says, tone sounding like there’s more he wants to say, and I can’t help but raise my eyebrows again.

‘That doesn’t sound much like making my eat my words. That’s more of a reward, don’t you think? Not really a punishment,’ I reply, and his eyes darken very slightly. ‘Oh, so it’s punishment you’re after? Don’t worry, babe, I’ve got plenty of ideas on how to punish you. Most of them involving-’ ‘y/n! Mason! Come and dance! It’s the last song!’ Steph calls, both of us snapping out of our little bubble, and Mason instantly leads me over to the dancefloor with a little grin on his face.

I put it out of my mind, trying not to think about what he just said, and instead I enjoy the last song at my best friends’ wedding, my heart full as I dance with the people I love more than anything else. We sing the lyrics out at top volume, my voice sure to be hoarse in the morning, but I don’t even care. The smile on Steph’s face is giving me enough happiness to last the rest of my life – I can deal with a sore throat, even if Lisa won’t be happy about it.

When the DJ ends the music and bids us goodnight, we chant for another song but he’s already packing away, so Ben starts playing Blue Is The Colour from his phone. The boys erupt into loud cheers as Steph exchanges an exasperated glance with me, making me hold back laughter. ‘What you got this rubbish on for? Play Blue Moon,’ Jack grins, Ben pretending to swing for him.

The boys belt out the lyrics, somehow managing to pull me and Steph into their huddle, and we cling onto each other to keep ourselves upright, giggling uncontrollably as the boys jump up and down, knocking us around. When the chorus ends, we push our way out of the huddle, the other girls dying of laughter, and I feel the most contented feeling in my heart at seeing the smiles on everyone’s faces.

We begin to make our way up to the hotel slowly, getting distracted every few seconds with the boys’ stupid drunken behaviour. My feet are killing me in my heels and I link my arm through Mason’s, leaning on him for support. ‘Want my shoes?’ he offers, and I shake my head, laughing. ‘I’m okay. Thank you, though.’ ‘Are you sure? I’ll carry you if you want,’ he grins, and I raise an eyebrow.

‘I don’t think you’re strong enough to carry me and this lehenga together. This skirt is heavy as hell,’ I say, and he looks sceptical. ‘It can’t be that heavy if you’re managing to wear it.’ ‘Excuse me, Mr Mount. Are you calling me a weakling?’ I ask confrontationally, and he gives me a look. ‘Yes. Because you are a weakling.’

‘Says you. Your knees nearly buckled last time you lifted me,’ I remind him, and he rolls his eyes. ‘y/n, I’d played 90 minutes and you jumped into my arms as soon as I walked through the door. I was tired and surprised. In other circumstances, I could lift you a lot easier and for a lot longer,’ he says reasonably.

‘Excuses of a weakling,’ I tease. ‘No weakling has arms like this,’ he says proudly, flexing an arm, and his bicep strains against his suit jacket. Now I’m the one whose knees are buckling. ‘Those arms are deceptive. They can barely lift one of my holiday suitcases, let alone me.’ ‘It’s because you overpack. Your holiday suitcases are ridiculously heavy. I could lift you easily. For… 12 minutes at least,’ he smirks, the random number making my eyebrows furrow in confusion.

‘That’s an oddly specific amount of time.’ ‘It’s the amount of time I’d need to get you there a couple times,’ he grins, my stomach turning, and I roll my eyes. ‘You wouldn’t last that long.’ ‘I wouldn’t? Says the one who started crying three minutes in,’ he taunts, and I nudge him to shut him up, looking around to make sure no one’s listening. Good thing they’re all too busy pulling Dec out of a bush.

‘You’re saying that like there wasn’t a build-up. I almost spent ten minutes cutting up the bloody pizza while you were teasing me, so you can’t try and use that against me,’ I say defensively, and he just chuckles. ‘Ten minutes is nothing. I could do worse.’ ‘You wouldn’t be able to resist that long,’ I grin, and he raises an eyebrow.

‘I’ve been resisting for a year and a quarter,’ he says pointedly, my heart skipping a beat. ‘You’ve been resisting me for a year and a quarter. There were probably plenty of other girls you didn’t resist,’ I say offhandedly, and he just looks at me in mild shock.

‘You don’t seriously think I’ve been sleeping around that whole time, do you?’ ‘Not sleeping around, as such. But sleeping with other girls? Yeah, of course,’ I say, and he lets out a harsh laugh, like he’s not at all amused. ‘I haven’t slept with anyone since you in Greece,’ he says shortly, the air around us quickly turning cold. Unease fills my chest at how tense he is now, though I can still feel the way my heart leaps at hearing that he hasn’t slept with anyone since me.

‘Mase…’ I begin quietly, but he waves me off instantly. ‘It’s alright. You don’t have to apologise or anything. It was a valid thing to think. But I was being serious when I said I would wait a lifetime for you, and that hasn’t changed. You still mean just as much to me now as you did then,’ he says softly as we near the hotel entrance, the others slightly behind us.

Before I can reply, Ben joins us, clapping his hands down on our shoulders with a massive grin on his face. ‘Best man. Maid of honour. You know you two have to fuck tonight?’ he says bluntly. All those celebratory drinks must have worn down his filter. Mason starts choking in shock, and I can’t help but laugh. ‘Ben, that’s the newlyweds. We’re not the ones consummating a marriage,’ I say slowly, like I’m having to teach something to a toddler, and he rolls his eyes.

‘We’ll be fucking, don’t worry about that. But it’s tradition for the best man and the maid of honour to do it too. Usually in a broom cupboard during the reception or something, but I don’t think the two of you disappeared at any point, so you’ll have to make do with the suite I booked for you,’ he says cheerfully, Mason letting out a fed-up sigh.

‘The last time you interfered, she ended up in rehab,’ he says drily, Ben choking this time as I burst into laughter. ‘It’s not gonna happen again. And, anyway, it’s not interfering. Everyone else has got suites as well,’ he says mildly, Mason raising an eyebrow. ‘Everyone else is in relationships.’

‘When are you two gonna stop lying to yourselves? You’re in just as much of a relationship as the rest of us are,’ he says, Mason and I silent. What am I supposed to say? Yeah, I’d love to stop lying and be with him, but he won’t make a fucking move. ‘God, don’t both of you speak at once,’ Ben says sarcastically, Mason and I laughing.

‘There’s two rooms in your suite. Two separate beds,’ Ben says lightly as we walk into the hotel lobby, leaving us stood alone as he goes to get all our keycards from the reception desk. ‘Bagsy the bigger room,’ Mason jokes, and I roll my eyes. ‘We never sleep in separate beds,’ I say, and it’s the truth. Every holiday, every trip, even when we stay the night at each other’s houses, we always share one bed. ‘Maybe we should,’ he says cryptically, my heart dropping.

Callum’s appearance stops me from replying this time, and I find myself cursing both of my best friends’ other halves. ‘Mason, can you come to mine and Isla’s room for a couple minutes?’ he asks, Mason’s eyes widening slightly. ‘Um… I love you, bro, and I love Isla too, but not like that-’ ‘Bro, shut up,’ Callum laughs, shaking his head.

‘Isla’s got this pregnancy bed thing that she’s been using and she needs me to set it up but I don’t know what I’m doing.’ ‘Doesn’t Isla know how to do it?’ Mason asks, Callum raising an eyebrow as he glances over at her. She’s leaning back in an armchair, her eyes fluttering shut every few seconds, and my heart aches for her. She must have been so tired, but she’s been putting on a brave face and staying chirpy for Steph.

‘Calm, bro, don’t worry. I’ll help,’ Mason says straight away as Ben comes over with our keycards. We all head up in the lift together, Jack and Declan jumping to make the lift jolt before Isla whacks them over the head with her bouquet. Our suites are all on the same floor, and we bid each other goodnight as we split off through our own doors. ‘I shouldn’t be long,’ Mason says before following Cal and Isla, leaving me to enter our room alone.

I shut the door behind me and head into one of the bedrooms, the silence making me feel on edge. The first thing I do is turn on the TV and put MTV on, playing some music to fill the deathly quiet. I unpack my bag quickly before getting out of my lehenga, my body relieved at no longer being weighed down by the layers and layers of material.

I let myself lie on the bed in just my underwear for a minute or two, enjoying the cold air from the aircon on my skin and thinking about Mason. Maybe it sounds crazy but I really had started to doubt whether he still felt the same about me. But now, in the space of two minutes, he’s reiterated that he’d wait a lifetime for me and then said that maybe we should sleep in different beds. The mixed messages are really not it.

I let out a sigh, getting up off the bed and grabbing my Mount shirt. It’s the one he gave me before I went to LA, and it’s all soft and practically threadbare at this point because of how much I’ve worn it. Mason keeps telling me to throw this one away and wear one of the other trillion Mount shirts I own, but none of them mean as much to me as this one does. Getting rid of this would be like throwing away a piece of my heart.

I wash off my makeup and finish my skincare routine with my legs crossed on the bed, scrolling through tiktok and having to watch every video multiple times because I keep getting distracted with thoughts of Mason. I feel like my body’s crackling with electricity as I wait for him, desperate to just speak to him and finally sort things out. I’m tired of this back and forth – my commitment issues are hating me right now but I need to define our relationship.

I hear the door open as I’m spraying on some rose water, and I have to take a deep breath to try and slow my heartbeat, embarrassed at myself for getting so excited at him literally walking into our hotel suite. ‘y/n!’ he calls and I practically leap out of the bed, feeling even more embarrassed at myself. ‘I’m in the bedroom!’ I call back, listening out for footsteps. Instead, I hear cupboards opening and closing, and I know he’s looking for a snack in the kitchen.

‘Which one?’ he calls back amusedly, and I roll my eyes to myself, walking across the room to the door and sticking my head out. I know him too well, the sight of him rooting around in the snack drawer making me smile. ‘This one,’ I say, the boy looking up with his beautiful grin, white shirt tight on his body and eyes sparkling in the warm kitchen lights, and the realisation hits me like a ton of bricks.

I’m completely, totally, hopelessly in love with Mason Mount.

It feels like my heart’s exploding in my chest as he tilts his head, motioning for me to join him. I walk across the room slowly and he watches me as I do so, looking at me like I’m a vision of beauty even though I probably look a mess with my natural face, even more so wearing just the worn Mount shirt. I take his outstretched hand and let him pull me into his arms. He holds me against his chest with a hand splayed on my back, and the other strokes my hair softly, light tingles dancing across my scalp.

I can feel his heartbeat, strong and steady, and the warmth of his body seeps through his skin to mine, thawing me out. He pulls away from me after a few moments, and I ache for him, the inches between us feeling like so much more.

‘What’s up? You seem… off,’ he says, leaning against the counter, and I don’t speak for a moment, just looking at him. He’s discarded his suit jacket, his muscles straining against his shirt, the black ink of his tattoos visible through the thin white cotton. He’s also taken off his tie, the top couple buttons open to reveal a thin gold chain around his neck.

‘We need to talk,’ I blurt out, meeting his eyes to stop myself from ogling his handsome figure, and he raises an amused eyebrow. ‘Do we? What about?’ ‘Us,’ I reply, and he lets out a soft sigh, turning away from me and leaning on the counter with his forearms pressed against the marble. His side profile is so pretty, Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat, jaw strong and nose prominent. God, I love his nose. I wanna si-

‘I disagree. I don’t think we need to talk about it,’ he says heavily, pushing the thirsty thoughts out of my head and replacing them with nerves. ‘Why not?’ ‘You already know how I feel about you, and it’s torture for me to keep telling you in a trillion different ways only to be brushed off or rejected again,’ he says, my mouth dropping open.

‘Rejected?’ I echo, and he looks at me with just as much disbelief in his face as what I’m feeling. ‘Yes, y/n. You’ve rejected me more times than I can count.’ ‘When have I ever rejected you?’ I demand, and he lets out a humourless laugh. ‘Every single time I flirt with you or talk about us as a couple, you get all quiet and awkward like you feel uncomfortable. And that’s fine – you don’t have to like me back. But stop stringing me along. Say it as it is,’ he says tiredly, and I’m lost for words. He thinks I don’t like him?

‘Mason, you can’t be serious,’ I say, voice soft with shock, and he just looks at me for a few seconds. ‘Yeah, I am being serious. You make me think I have a chance, when you reciprocate my affection and intimacy and flirting, but then you shut me down when you completely ignore my feelings. It’s like… you give me the green light so I put my foot down, but then you turn back to amber. You’re clearly not interested. So if you wanna have this conversation to get me to back off, I understand, and I’ll stop,’ he says, defeat tinging his voice, and I feel my heart ache more with each word.

How can two people who spend so much time together be on such different pages? How can he not know what he means to me? ‘We need to work on our communication,’ I say after a momentary silence, and he raises an eyebrow, looking like he’s holding back laughter. ‘Why?’ ‘Because I can’t believe that you think I want you to back off,’ I reply quietly, and he just stares at me expressionlessly. ‘So… you don’t want me to change the way I treat you?’ he asks slowly, like he’s confused, and I let out an irritated noise.

‘Of course I don’t want that, Mason! I don’t want you to stop with the flirting or the intimacy or the affection, the dirty jokes or the compliments, the way you look at me or the way you hold my hand. There’s only one thing I want you to change,’ I say all in one breath, my heart hammering in the chest at the thought of what I’m about to say. He looks taken aback, surprised at my sudden outburst, and he remains silent, waiting for me to finish speaking.

‘I want you to change… what our relationship is. I need you to make a move. A proper move, not cracking a joke about us getting married or telling everyone I’m off limits. How can you spend all this time showing me so much love but you still haven’t asked me to be your girlfriend? The reason I get quiet when you talk about us as a couple is because I’m confused, Mase. You make me think you want me but you haven’t asked me to be yours yet! I know I said I need time, but I didn’t mean nearly a whole year!’ I exclaim, the two of us just staring at each other, the only noise the music floating faintly from the bedroom and my deep breaths.

After a long few seconds, he holds a hand out again and I take it, letting him pull me into another hug. I slide my arms around him, feeling the contours of his body, the curves of his muscles beneath my fingers, and I let my hands travel up his back, letting my nails run through the short and soft hairs at the nape of his neck. He presses his hands into my back to hold me close, impossibly close, like he’s trying to intertwine our two bodies into one, and I can hear his heartbeat through his chest, a slow and steady rhythm that makes me feel safe. He feels like home to me, and he always will.

‘We’ve spent more time together in the past few months than we’ve spent with anyone else. Maybe we should have spent some of that time talking about our feelings for each other,’ he says lightly, making me laugh into his shirt. ‘You think? It would’ve saved us a lot of stress,’ I say drily, and he chuckles, the vibrations reverberating around his chest and making him skin hum against mine.

‘Listen, y/n,’ he says seriously, moving apart slightly so we can look at each other, his hands still resting on my back and my arms still looped around him. ‘If at any point since Santorini, even for a second, I made you think that I don’t want you to be mine, I’m so sorry. Because it’s what I want more than anything else. You mean everything to me. You’re the most amazing girl in the world. You’re funny and compassionate, and so talented, and you’re far too clever for me to keep up with you, but I’d happily spend my whole life trying anyway. You’re so beautiful that I literally feel my heart stop every time I look at you, and your smile makes me melt. You’re strong and you don’t take my shit and you always help me to stay humble. You can be a bitch but I love it because it makes your sweet moments even sweeter. You’re a legend and a star and a queen and an angel and an absolute dream come true. It’d be the honour of a lifetime if you were mine,’ he says softly with the most handsome smile on his face and so much love in his eyes.

By the time he’s finished speaking, tears are running down my face, and I can’t stop myself from beaming, heart overflowing with love for him, love so strong I can feel it thrumming through my veins with the rhythm of my pulse. How could I be so lucky to fall in love with someone so perfect, and even luckier to have his love in return?

‘I love you, y/n, but it’s more than that. It’s so strong. I feel it with every part of my body, every piece of my heart. I’m in love with you. I have been since the day I met you, and I will be for the rest of my life. Even longer than that, actually,’ he adds on, making me let out a watery laugh. ‘Even when you’re dead?’ I ask, and he nods with a content smile on his face. ‘Forever, babe.’ ‘I’m in love with you too,’ I smile, hands on the back of his neck to pull him down towards me.

When our lips press together, it feels like it’s the first time, a piece of my heart slotting into place, making me feel whole. There’s none of the fire and passion, the lust and desperation of all our previous kisses. This one is steady and slow, like he knows he has the rest of his life to kiss me to his heart’s content. There are no wandering hands or clashing tongues. His fingers press into my back with a soft pressure, and his lips move against mine with nothing but love. He doesn’t taste like tequila or saltwater. He tastes like warmth and home.

When we break apart, we’re both smiling like lovestruck idiots, and I keep my eyes locked with his, trying to brand this moment into my mind for eternity. ‘Aren’t you gonna ask me then?’ I ask with a smile, and he chuckles, raising an eyebrow questioningly though he knows exactly what I mean. ‘Ask you what?’ ‘To be your girlfriend,’ I say with a roll of my eyes, the boy contemplating the question for a moment.

‘I don’t want you to be my girlfriend, though,’ he says, confusion filling me. ‘What?’ I ask, and he shrugs. ‘I don’t want you to be my girlfriend. I want you to be my wife,’ he says casually, my heart stopping momentarily. ‘…Your wife?’ I echo, and he laughs at my shock. I feel like I can’t breathe as I watch him let go of me and reach into his back pocket, pulling out a small blue velvet box. A ring box. I gasp, hand covering my mouth as he gets down onto one knee, looking up at me with big brown eyes full of hope.

‘I know you want a big fancy proposal with a huge diamond on an engagement ring, so consider this a… pre-proposal. Like a verbal agreement before signing the contract,’ he explains, the football reference making my roll my eyes, and I nod to get him to carry on, the boy laughing at my impatience. ‘And I know you don’t want to get married for a while yet, so that’s also something we can come back to in a few years. But I just want you to know how much you mean to me, and how much I want you to be mine,’ he says softly, before holding up the ring box and opening it, prompting another gasp.

It’s the Van Cleef and Arpels butterfly ring, but this one’s customised, silver with sapphires set into it. It perfectly matches the blue butterfly pendant on the bracelet he bought me in Santorini, the one that’s on my wrist right now and has been every day since he took me to rehab. It’s so beautiful that it brings tears to my eyes. He had this made for me.

‘I’m in love with you, y/n, and that feeling grows more and more every single day. I want to spend the rest of my life with you, every waking moment and every sleeping moment too. I want to have a family with you and grow old with you and go through photo albums with our grandchildren to show them how beautiful their nani or dadi was. So… would you do me the honour of being my wife? y/n… will you marry me?’ he asks, eyes bright with tears, and I nod, steadily crying with the biggest smile on my face, heart full.

‘Yes, Mason. I’ll marry you,’ I whisper, wonder on his face, as though he can’t believe his luck. I grab his hands, pulling him up from the floor and throwing myself at him in a hug, his disbelieving laughter making my skin warm. ‘I’m so in love with you, Mason Mount,’ I say as I pull him into a kiss, his lips curving up into a smile against mine, butterflies filling my stomach.

He breaks away after a few seconds, eager to put the ring on me, and he slides it onto my left ring finger. It’s the first time I’ve ever worn a ring there, having spent my life saving it for an engagement ring, and it fits perfectly, my heart melting at the sight of it on my hand. I hold it up to the light, admiring it, and he pulls me into his arms, pressing a kiss to the top of my head. ‘I love it.’ ‘I love you,’ he says instantly, the words making me warm, and I laugh, kissing him again.

‘We’re not gonna tell the others, are we?’ I ask, and he shakes his head. ‘We’ll keep it a secret for a bit. To everyone else, we’re just boyfriend and girlfriend. We can’t tell them all that we’re engaged on Steph and Ben’s wedding day, and I’ll save the proper proposal until after the baby’s born. Let everyone have their moments, and we can share ours with them after,’ he says sensibly, and I nod in agreement. ‘Our little secret,’ I say, and he lifts my hand to his mouth, kissing the ring instead of my skin this time, the action making my stomach turn with excitement. He’s really put a ring on my finger – I’m engaged!

‘It’s so beautiful, Mase. It’s perfect.’ ‘Perfect ring for my perfect fiancée,’ he says softly, my heart skipping a beat at the word. ‘Mason Mount’s my fiancé. Oh, yeah, that’s my fiancé, Mason Mount. My fiancé’s a professional footballer for Chelsea and England. No, I’m not here alone – I’m here with Mason Mount, my fiancé. Lisa, can you reserve a seat in the front row for my fiancé please? My fiancé scored a goal today, did you see? Oh yes, me and my fiancé summered in the Bahamas this year,’ I test the word out, putting on a snooty voice as Mason laughs at my roleplay.

‘Summered? Who uses that word these days?’ he asks, and I raise an eyebrow at him. ‘People who have a fiancé. I’m gonna have to start using all sorts of new words now. Charcuterie and sandalwood and opera-’ ‘Babe, being engaged doesn’t mean we have to turn into rich people from Downtown Abbey or something,’ he laughs, and I raise an eyebrow. ‘I beg to differ. I need to start training to be your trophy wife, and I don’t wanna be a typical WAG. I wanna be serving businessman’s wife, not footballer’s wife,’ I say, and he rolls his eyes amusedly.

‘Maybe you should marry a businessman instead then.’ ‘Maybe I should,’ I reply simply, and he gives me a look. ‘Don’t even think about it. You’re mine, y/n,’ he reminds me, the words echoing in my head like the perfect melody. You’re mine, y/n. ‘I’m yours,’ I agree, ‘and you’re mine too, Mason Mount. Always and forever.’ ‘I’m glad you know it,’ he murmurs, pressing his lips to mine in an innocent kiss, though when he breaks away this time, I feel myself wanting more.

‘Show me,’ I whisper, and he raises a questioning eyebrow. ‘Show you what?’ ‘Show me how much you love me,’ I say quietly, shy at being the one to initiate this, but my boldness is rewarded at seeing the way his eyes darken, lips parted in surprise. ‘Fuck. Are you sure?’ he asks, and I nod with a coy smile. ‘Okay. Come on then,’ he says softly, holding my hand and leading me to the bedroom, my heart beating harder with each step.

‘I thought you’d pick me up and slam me against the wall,’ I joke, and he chuckles gently. ‘I don’t wanna fuck you like the best man and the maid of honour having a quickie in a broom cupboard,’ he says, making me giggle as we enter the bedroom. ‘How do you wanna fuck me then?’ I ask, and he grins, pulling me into his arms. ‘I don’t wanna fuck you. I wanna make love to you, like the luckiest man in the world making love to his beautiful fiancée,’ he murmurs before pressing his lips to mine, happiness settling in my heart.

[whatifyoulivelikethat]

twelve hours, m | jjk | ... and now

pairing(s): jungkook x reader

summary: You have twelve hours to make Jeon Jungkook fall in love with you. He's about to get married. You're the entertainment at his bachelor party - a burlesque dancer. Long ago, he used to be the class representative and you used to be the class delinquent. Nothing has changed and, yet, everything has.

this is part ii | click here for part i | total wc: 23k

warnings: rated M (18+) for language; this story contains parental child abuse and graphic violence, including the reader becoming physically scarred and having panic attacks; rich, this bachelor party is on a fuckin' YACHT, the best man is LOADED; JK and reader interacted in high school; angst and fluff and feels; cheating; this is mostly smut XD; (in part i) high school smut + intense adult smut (fem reader, striptease, semi-public sex at school, nipple play (he's a bit obsessed with them), dry humping, m-masturbation, handjob, cumming on tits (and diamonds), cum-eating, mirror kink, spitting, tit fucking, m-receiving oral, scratching / biting / marking, penetrative sex, doggy); shifts back and forth between Jungkook’s POV and your POV

non-idol!AU; film director!Jungkook x wealthy, burlesque dancer!reader — ft best man, art trader!Kim Taehyung; dancer's bodyguard!Kim Namjoon and bodyguard!Kim Seokjin

> eyebrow pierced, tattooed, and long black-haired JK (with undercut) in a black suit because that's what we need in this life > look for TXT's 'you and me and the sky at 5:53' :)

--

time left: 06:49

No.

Don’t leave me.

It was the same then as it was now.

Jungkook reached out and grabbed her arm, pulling her back to him. Her eyes widened, pivoting quickly on her toe, snapping her heel down and cutting the turn short, black skirt flaring out. The swift glimpse of her legs in the high slit, the gentle bounce of her breasts in the slinky fabric. Her manicured hair bounced, dyed blue-black and giving her skin a surreal quality.

He held on.

Please don’t disappear.

“What?”

Her brows knitted together. She didn’t pull her arm away, but she was steadfast in her posture, not letting him push her around. Not that he ever could.

“He asked me to escort you back,” Jungkook found himself saying. “If not for your sake, then for his peace of mind. I don’t want to be a liar.”

Her features softened.

His fingers around her arm, touching that soft skin once more.

I care. I care a lot.

Jungkook realized that, in a way, he had never moved past those classrooms, those touches, those kisses, those moments.

“You can let go now.”

She said it patiently. Always patient with him despite his overzealous and sometimes clumsy antics, putting up with it even when she didn’t have to. He looked into those eyes and found those walls were falling away, little by little. Winged liner, red lipstick, it didn’t matter, it was the same expression, defiant eyes and hint of a scowl on those lips. Ready to fight, but not him.

She was always a fighter and the opponent was always life itself.

“I don’t want to let go.”

He didn’t expect himself to say the truth, but he did.

She smirked, reaching up, her fingers covering his tattoos for a moment, placing them on the back of his hand. This warmth. This feeling. It was not the same as the rest, and he knew that now.

“Hm, well, you must realize this looks a bit awkward. You wouldn’t want to give anyone the wrong impression, would you?”

Wouldn't want someone to see you talking to me, right?

“You will let me escort you?” he insisted.

She pried his hand from her arm and lowered it, turning the other way.

“You are welcome to do as you like. I won’t stop you, golden boy.”

-

time left: 06:41

He followed you, surrounded by moonlight reflecting off water.

It streamed through the windows, lighting the red carpeted hall along with the dim sconces. You found yourself stepping in each lighted square, avoiding the thin dark beams of the windows, a little game for yourself, like how children avoided the cracks in the concrete sidewalks, except you were on a lavish yacht wearing Louboutins with a handsome man in step behind you.

It was quiet and yet it wasn’t. Small sounds, footsteps, distant muffles of talking through the walls, the faint sound of bass as you walked away from the party, the sound of the ocean ever present, your own breathing.

Jungkook’s breathing.

Familiar.

Once yours.

You looked to your right, to the window, seeing his reflection. His profile, hands in his pockets, tattooed arm standing out against the black background of his clothes, dressed formally but always a bit sheepish about it, as if he wasn’t sure if it looked good on him, but it always did, even the school uniform. He still had the youthfulness about him, even as a man.

Your eyes found his and he was watching your face in the glass of the window.

You stopped abruptly, pivoting on one heel to face him.

Impulse.

Your younger self would have bristled, glaring, accusing the eyes and snapping, what are you looking at?

Jungkook started, realizing you had noticed, and tripped, his black hair suddenly disturbed and tumbling over his eyes as he struggled to catch himself, hands flying out of his pockets.

You caught one, lacing your fingers with his, and gripped tightly, yanking up.

He righted himself, gasping. Looking up, bent over and long legs awkward, somewhat like a fawn trying to get on its legs for the first time. Those big brown eyes, parted pink lips. Familiar.

Your joined hands fell exactly where the window beam was, shrouded in shadow.

“Something on your mind?” you chuckled, shaking your head.

He straightened. You loosened your grip on his hand, but he held on. You frowned slightly, raising your brows.

He swallowed hard.

“Can I hold your hand? Please.”

Back then, you would hold his hand, hiding behind corners and dashing past, holding your breath, light steps, leaping from shadow to shadow, bodies close, breath mixing. Showing him all the secrets of the school that you had found while wandering, a fun little game with a reward at the end, school uniform being shed, skin to skin, his body against yours, his heartbeat in time with yours, his lips on yours.

You shrugged and turned back around, his hand tightly around yours.

-

time left: 06:35

Jungkook held her hand.

In an instant, he looked down, staring at their joined hands.

This was different.

And then he saw them.

Scars, all over the back of her hand. He could feel the scar tissue on her palms too, lines on her fingers even though she was holding him loosely. He had memorized every centimeter of her beautiful hands from back then, and these lines were not here before. These were not scars from living life. These had been cuts, healed now, unseen from far away and even up close. Perhaps they had been filled in with tattoo ink in a color to match her skin tone so they were less noticeable.

No one would know unless they were holding her hand or looking for it.

Without knowing it, Jungkook clutched her hand tighter, a sudden ache in his chest.

He had found bruises on her sometimes.

I fell down the stairs. It's nothing.

He had found welts.

Stupid fight with some dumbass.

He had found a criss-cross pattern of cuts on her leg.

I tried to jump over a fence and fucked up.

He glanced at her other hand loosely by her side. The same. He could even see her palm and there were many, many lines, all over her palm, healed cuts. Drugs? But he knew it wasn’t. Not because he had a romanticized idea of who she would be in his head, but because that was the nice answer.

That was the reasonable answer.

“Oh!”

“Excuse me, miss.”

His eyes flickered upward to see a young woman in a short midnight blue dress pausing, looking from her to him, cheeks flushed, not being subtle about it. The glittery fabric picked up the moonlight, accenting her curves and long legs. Pretty.

But not sensual.

Not immaculate.

Not teasing and sculptural.

The grip on his hand tightened so much that he inhaled sharply, fingers nearly crushed by her hold.

“Have a nice evening,” the woman in black purred, edge of ice indicating the stranger to move along, or, more accurately, fuck right off.

Jungkook knew he shouldn’t, and yet.

His heart skipped two beats as she dragged him along.

He had no problem looking away from the other woman and fixate on the back of that neatly pinned, blue-black hair, graceful shoulders, corseted waist, swaying hips.

And her hand in his, not letting go.

-

time left: 06:22

“This is it.”

You turned to see Jungkook looking around, mouth open, gawking at the entrance of the intricately carved wooden door. It was one of the grander, first-class rooms. The red doors were much farther apart and the sconces here were glided with glass-blown lampshades, casting swirls of orange across the white walls, dimmed now from the late night.

“It was nice to see you again.”

It was, even with the bitter taste in your mouth that seemed to linger.

His eyes came back to you, dark brown and clear, focused on only your face, long black strands framing his cheeks, the small mole underneath his lower lip trembling.

“I hope you have your happiness now, Jungkook.”

You did.

You felt a strange, unmovable pressure on your chest. The time wasn’t up yet. You could still try. You could keep your hold on his hand and drag him into the room and hold him close to you, skin to skin, lips on his, and show him all you’ve learned. You could. You could see it in those eyes. He would follow you now, maybe because of the alcohol, maybe for old times sake, maybe out of impulse and bad choices.

You let go.

You let go, because you didn’t want to be a bad choice.

Not to him, Jeon Jungkook.

“You were my small happiness, back then,” you said softly, feeling yourself smile.

It was better not to have regrets. At the time, even you didn’t know how important he had been. The thought of being withdrawn from that school and not being able to see him again made you fight back for once, and it ended in the very thing you didn’t want. It fucked up your hands, it fucked up your life, but somehow you found yourself here now, in expensive clothes on an expensive boat with expensive tastes, able to make a choice between selfishness or selflessness.

Maybe you hadn’t changed much after all, since you found yourself choosing the latter.

You turned away and pulled your hand out of his.

Or would have, if Jungkook hadn’t grasped your hand tighter, yanking you back and shoving you against the door of your suite. Your hand automatically raised to push him back, but he put his whole weight on your body, sandwiching you between the door and himself, making you gasp, trapped between dead timber and muscular hardness.

Now his face was in your face, breathing hard, dark brown orbs shaking and shining with wetness.

You froze, lips parting.

“You were my happiness too.”

He was panting, warm exhale on your lips.

“Not a small happiness. The happiness.”

He squeezed your hand like you were going to disappear.

“I didn’t know then, but I do now,” Jungkook shuddered, towering over you even in your heels. He stared into your eyes. “Your smile.”

You blinked slowly, confused.

“Your smile. I’ve never seen it reach your eyes.”

Heart racing, suddenly breathless.

“Except when you thought I couldn’t see, like when my back was turned or my face was turned away from you,” he whispered, leaning his forehead against yours, long black hair curtaining your faces, sending you back to the shadows. “I saw it though, in reflections. In windows. In mirrors. In those beakers in the science room.”

Was that so? Had that been you? You made it a point not to smile back then, because there had been nothing to smile about. But maybe… maybe when eyes weren’t on you, maybe when you yourself didn’t notice, but, somehow, Jungkook had noticed.

You realized that your introspection had diverted your attention from him, so you made eye contact again, airless at his closeness. Your eyes and his, lost in sweet dreams.

“I want to kiss you.”

He tilted his head and hesitated.

“I want to kiss you all the time,” he said to your lips.

His expression was clouded with shame. It was ugly. It made his handsome features ugly and you didn’t like that. You wanted to make it go away. You closed more distance, fingers pressing down on the back of his hand, your other hand raising and resting on his hip, lashes lowering.

“Then kiss me,” you said to his lips.

-

time left: 06:13

Jungkook kissed her.

From then and now, it was the same.

Euphoria.

But this time, it wasn’t clumsy with colliding teeth and too much tongue that did nothing, sloppy with no purpose. This time, his lips were soft at first and so were hers, breathing in each other’s scent. She smelled warm and musky, like blackberry and evergreens, expensive and lush, but somehow still her, still that girl from back then, comforting and intense, sometimes with the hint of metallic blood, but that never bothered him. Her hand on his hip, stroking it under the layers of fabric, making him shiver, caressing the back of his hand with her fingertips, delicate sigh in his mouth.

The faintest flicker of tongue on the edge of her upper lip, swiping down into his open mouth.

He moaned, feeling the strong wet muscle thrust into his lips, coaxing his tongue, teasing, pressing her body to his, breasts against his chest, their deep open necklines exchanging heat in the air between their skin but not quite touching, and he found himself letting go of her hand, reaching up to grab her breasts.

Her fingers closed around his wrists, forcing him to stop.

He gasped in her mouth, eyes opening.

“They’re not stress balls, Jungkook,” she snickered.

He was breathing hard, ribcage shuddering, heartbeat thundering in his ears, getting louder as he realized her red lipstick was a little messed up, feeling the stickiness on his own lips.

“You need to slow down. You can’t just grope me out in the open.”

His impatience spoke for him.

“Why not?”

His voice was low, octave deepened from lust.

Her lips curved into an amused smirk. “Oh? You have changed. You used to be so worried about someone seeing us. If anything, you should be more worried now, considering your beloved.”

“She’s not my beloved.”

She was still holding his wrists, but her head tilted, watching his eyes carefully. He sucked in a shuddering breath, feeling the guilt.

“We… we thought it would be a good idea. Because our friends told us we look nice together. It would help her career. I wouldn’t have to invest too much into it.”

He felt ashamed, but he didn’t look away because he didn’t want her to think he was lying.

“I never found a smile like yours. I accepted that I never would.”

Her eyes darkened.

“It’s dangerous, Jungkook. Ill-advised.”

He smiled and he didn’t know if it reached his eyes because his vision was blurry.

But he knew it wasn’t a lie.

“You always were. I should have chased you to the ends of the earth, even if you were only a ghost.”

He lifted his hands, hers with his, and cupped her face, running his fingertips over her cheeks, smooth and soft skin, transported back to that moment in the abandoned literature club room, her face cast in an orange glow, actually swirls from glass-blown sconces, but the past and present connected, turning it into rays from the setting sun that lit up her features, and he said what he had said then, because it was the truth.

“You’re really pretty.”

She raised an eyebrow.

“You are.”

He leaned forward and kissed the side of her lips gently.

She chuckled.

“You really are something, Jeon Jungkook.”

Her hands let go and she reached into the deep neckline of her dress, plucking something from the corset. His eyes widened as she pulled out the key card from between her breasts, smirk dancing on her lips. She winked at him.

“A lady has many hiding places.”

She flicked her wrist and inserted it into the door, unlocking it without looking.

The door opened and they stepped into her room.

-

time left: 06:02

“Hnnnnnnngh…”

“Dude can snore.”

“Help me turn him to his side. Don’t want him to vomit in his mouth and asphyxiate,” Kim Namjoon grunted, helped by Kim Seokjin, jerking Kim Taehyung’s body to the side. They backed up and Taehyung immediately flopped to his back, snoring away.

Seokjin thinned his mouth into a line. “Seriously?”

“Ah, here, let’s roll up the towels and use them to prop him up.”

“He’s not as cute as she is.”

“Well, she also doesn’t get piss drunk... ever.”

“Still a better cuddle buddy. Comes with built-in pillows.”

Namjoon blinked at Seokjin and shook his head, letting the odd comment slide. They managed to jam the bath towels next to Taehyung and force him to lay on his side, placing a pillow in his arms that he immediately hugged, squeezing it tightly. The snoring lessened as well.

“Guess we should go back,” Namjoon sighed, rubbing the back of his short hair.

Seokjin scoffed. “No, we shouldn’t. They’re probably all over each other as we speak.”

Namjoon frowned, raised an eyebrow at the other man. “Really? I don’t know. She seemed very hesitant about it. She said she didn’t love him.”

Seokjin snorted, somehow still elegant with his handsome face. “You really believe that?”

“That’s what she said.”

Seokjin rolled his eyes. “That’s what everybody says when they don’t want to admit they’re in love with someone.”

“That’s also what people say when they are, factually, not in love with someone.”

The black-haired man raised his hands and held up his index fingers, wriggling them in the air and bending them ninety-degrees, squiggling them around each other and poking the tips together repeatedly. Namjoon blinked at him.

“What are you doing?”

Seokjin rolled his eyes as if it was despairingly obvious what he was doing. “A visual representation of what they’re doing right now.”

Namjoon contorted his face in confusion, raising an eyebrow.

“… Becoming worms…?”

Seokjin groaned. “Having sex, Namjoon.”

“… How is that…?”

-

time left: 05:53

The door to his dreams unsealed and they tumbled inside.

The orange glow of the hallway lights spilled into the room, bleeding into the cool glow that came from the open windows, curtains pulled back to reveal the shimmering sea and bright moon, a contrast of artificial dusk and true nightfall. She pulled him in by his belt, hooking two fingers under the leather, step by sweeping step, grace that made him breathless, orange and silver and shadow, all mixing together, and then the door closed and then the sea and the moon replaced the sunset dreams.

It was a heavy thunk, closing with finality.

The room had many ornate mirrors in it to make the room seem bigger. The had gold vintage frames of different shapes and sizes, reflecting the contents of the room, the large bed and red silk sheets, the black leather chairs and black marble table bolted down to the floor, the matching marble vanity laid out with several black leather cosmetic bags, all zipped up neatly. The had small details on them – red zippers, silver locks, the designer logo engraved into the leather. The suitcases leaning against the wall matched the cosmetic bags, three of them, one larger than the first two.

Jungkook breathed her name, raising his hand, fingers spread.

Her fingertips touched his, halting him.

“Let me do it.”

He spied his expression in one of the mirrors.

The silver moonlight lit up his face and his eyes, reflecting the lust and trust in them.

He looked back to her and nodded.

“Okay.”

Glamour. Fantasy. Descent.

That was the only way he could describe the way she moved, glamour in the way her hand slowly retreated from his, a steady wave and sweep, clearly deliberate. Even in smeared lipstick, the small smirk was present on those lips, stepping around him with a swing of her hips and gentle clicks of her black patent leather heels, the slinky fabric flowing with her actions and also clinging to her body at the same time, using the arc of her stride to spread open the high slit. Letting him watch. He almost turned to follow but she placed a few fingers on his arm, purring softly.

“Don’t move.”

Fantasy, the way she slipped behind him like a shadow, and then Jungkook had to look up into the mirrors, catching glimpses of her behind him. There was no music, but she moved as if there was. If anything, the sound of the waves seemed to form its own music, and he was suddenly more aware of it, the splashes against the hull of the boat mixing with the bass of his heartbeat and the wispiness of her breath, stepping up behind him, body heat making him gasp, looking into a mirror to his left, a window illuminating his right, her hands slipping between the space of his ribs and upper arms, fingers spread like wings, warm exhale on his neck.

No words.

Just a simple kiss to the base of his head and her lips murmuring his name on his skin.

Descent.

One by one, teasing the buttons apart, her fingers ghosting the exposed skin, his heart racing as he watched those hands, peeling apart the button placket, unwrapping him like a decadent sweet. He watched his own expression framed by long curls of black, his teeth sinking into his lower lip, small mole below quivering, seeing more and more of his chest being exposed, somewhat self-conscious, but there was something spellbinding about only being able to see her hands and forearms, pointed black nails decorated with crystals that caught the light, undoing all the buttons until she reached his pants.

“I can–”

“Shh. Don’t let your impatience prevent you from enjoying your own striptease.”

His cheeks heated a little and he lowered his hands, breath hiking as she firmly gripped the bottom of his shirt and pulled it out. Jungkook took a step back, his back hitting her chest, and gasped again, feeling the softness, but she adjusted her position so her body wasn’t touching his anymore, chiding him playfully.

“Never had someone take off your clothes, Jungkook?” she chuckled against his neck, making his hairs stand on end.

“Ah, well…”

He watched those deft fingers undo the last two buttons. Then they spread apart his black shirt, reaching in, fingertips spreading out over his abs and pecs, tracing the contours of his muscles, switching between her nails and the pads of her fingertips, prickling and dainty. He couldn’t sure her face, but he saw his, and only now registered his own moans, so absorbed by her sensual movement and her touch that he didn’t even realize the embarrassing sounds falling from his lips.

“Not… since you…”

She snickered. “Seriously? What fool wouldn’t want to tear the clothes off this lovely body?”

He could feel and see his flush in the mirror. He looked away quickly, down to her hands exploring his body. “Well, I just… figured it’s easier if I do it. No one has ever been like you.”

“Hmm.”

His hands raised. He traced her knuckles, causing her to pause, caressing small circles on his sternum.

“You want to tear the clothes off my body?” he breathed, not daring to see his own reflection and know his reaction to whatever her answer was.

“I do.”

He placed his left hand on hers, heart beating faster and faster.

“Not tonight though.”

He pulled her palm away from his racing heart, not wanting her to know her effect on him, letting it linger beside his ribcage.

“Tonight, I will show you all I’ve learned, because I was always a better student than you, class representative.”

He found himself laughing a little, suddenly sheepish. “Yeah. Your name was always in the top five percent. I was pretty bad at school. I don’t know why everyone voted for–oooh…”

Her fingers touched his nipples, rubbing delicately, sending strange shivers all over him, shallowing his breath, making him look up and see his dark nipples being teased by expert hands. Her nails nicked them lightly and he whined in his throat, feeling them harden against her fingertips, surprised at the arousal from the simple touch, something he never paid attention to or cared about. His hair was covering part of his face.

Jungkook reached up and pushed his hair back, pressing his chest into those hands.

Saw one of her eyes behind his head, sharp and sultry with winged liner, twinkling as she watched him.

“I voted for you because I thought it would be funny since you weren’t even trying.”

He didn’t really have a response for that, too busy looking at his own face and body, shivering as she tweaked his nipples and pushed them in slow circles, his arms descending to lower the shadows, letting them suspend by his sides.

She shifted beside him and half of her lips appeared, on the toes of her heels, whispering close to his ear, seductive and dark.

“You were good-looking then, and you’re even more handsome now, Jungkook.”

The sound of the ocean, the silver moonlight shining off her blue-black hair giving her skin a surreal quality, almost doll-like, the mirror reflecting his expression, desire and anticipation.

She removed her hands and grabbed the collar of his shirt, yanking it down.

He inhaled sharply and her face disappeared.

Dress shirt stripped from his body and flung away, the crisp black fabric flaring out, a shadow cast aside.

Jungkook spun around.

-

Does this man know the meaning of calm the fuck down?

You rolled your eyes inwardly as you witnessed Jungkook turn around, facing you again even though you told him not to the move. He had always been like this, overzealous, but he didn’t seem as clumsy as before, although…

He grabbed your tits.

Hah.

He blinked rapidly, surprised. “Huh?”

You shook your head and knocked his hands away, sighing. “Pasties, Jungkook. To cover my nipples.”

You reached into your dress and scooped your breasts out, trapping them between the v-neckline. His eyes bulged slightly when he saw the smooth black satin circles flush to the apex of your breasts. They fit perfectly, seamless so they were unseen even under the slinky fabric of the black gown.

“W-Whoa…”

“What? I’m a burlesque dancer. Of course, I have fancy nipple covers. This is basic wardrobe.”

He tilted his head. “I’ve never seen any like these. They look like they’re part of your body.”

You tutted. “Obviously, they aren’t. You know I have nipples.”

And you reached up and peeled them off, flinging them aside carelessly.

Jungkook gasped, staring at your nipples with wide eyes.

“Don’t act like you haven’t seen nipples,” you scowled. “You better not be a virgin with how hot you’ve become.”

His hands shot up and you grabbed his wrists again, forcing them back down.

Jungkook whined, eyes shifting back up to you, begging to touch them.

You stiffened slightly. What kind of reaction was that?

“They’re so big,” he whispered huskily, visibly shuddering, shaking with the craving to touch them. “I remember they were soft. And…” His breathing hitched, trembling in your hands. “I remember they tasted so good. Amazing. No one has ever tasted as good as you.”

His eyes flickered back down, biting his lip. He tried to break free, but you held. A single glance exchanged and you let go, realizing he was going to do something other than attack them. Instead, he collected the straps of your dress and pulled them back up, slowly, moaning as the slinky black fabric skimmed over your breasts, your prominent nipples sticking out, hardening from the light friction.

“Fuck, that’s so fucking sexy.”

Well, maybe he did have some appreciation for the visual after all.

“You see why I need the pasties.”

He pulled the straps up, whimpering as he watched your nipples strain against your dress, lifting your breasts in the confines of the fabric and lowering them, lifting, lowering, repeating the gesture.

You raised an eyebrow.

“Jungkook… are you bouncing my tits on purpose?”

His dark brown orbs darted to you. Guilty.

“Um… y-you won’t let me touch them…”

You weren’t sure whether to sigh or to laugh. You just shook your head, backing up out of his grasp. His hands were still outstretched, lips forming a small pout. You almost regretted it, but his expression quickly changed as you casually flicked down the straps, freeing your breasts again, dropping his hands and linking them together under his waist, waiting, now invested in what you had in store.

Oh.

He chewed on his lip and gave you an expectant look.

A flutter in your chest.

The side of your lips curved upward, tongue sliding out to graze the edge of your upper lip before disappearing.

You reached back, leisurely undoing the fastenings of the corset, sweeping your legs so the high slit flared apart, turning around, letting him witness the slow undress. Every action was deliberate, the wide arc of your leg moving the skirt aside to prevent you from tripping as you turned without using your hands, the wide stance of your feet to relieve pressure on your heels and to prevent the dress from sliding down too soon, and even the position of your fingers, poised so you could run a nail down your spine as two of them pinched the hook-and-eye and separated them, traveling down to the top of your ass. Every movement was thought out, details that made up the bigger picture, constructing your ultimate goal.

A sensual striptease.

You caught his reaction in a mirror to your right.

His sparkling brown eyes were wide, jaw dropped.

A lot of people had seen you take off your clothes, but no one made you feel as satisfied as Jeon Jungkook, then in his school uniform and now shirtless in his slacks, hands twisting in front of his crotch.

Then you saw your face.

You were smiling.

You really did smile when you thought he wasn’t looking.

Another glimpse at his face and you found him staring at you, silver moonlight glinting off his eyebrow piercing and flooding into his eyes, bringing out the stars within.

You released your hand and your dress tumbled to the ground.

He sucked in a shuddering breath, your name drifting from his lips.

“H… Holy shit…”

You did have an amazing waist-to-ass ratio.

Proper corset training and specific hit workouts to perfect your craft contributed. You couldn’t simply be pretty. You had to be strong and flexible to do the stunts and to walk in your red bottoms for the entire performance. Christian Louboutin didn’t make his shoes to be comfy. He made heels to make feet look enticing and sexy.

The price to pay for glamour and vanity.

It did give you some powerful calves though.

You lifted one shoe, flashing that blazingly red sole of your heel, balancing on one leg for a second.

This was to prevent you from getting tangled on your now fallen dress. You tightened your core, shifting your weight, knowing it would give Jungkook an irresistible view of your plump derriere in your high French-cut black satin panties, the particular style adding illusion to the already stark proportion.

In short, your ass looked fucking fabulous.

You stepped out of your dress, one leg, then the other, taking care not to step on it, adding a little flourish of your hands to create those body lines, ever the performer. You glanced at the mirror and was pleased to find Jungkook hadn’t moved, although his hands were now firmly open, palms down on his crotch, whimpering in his throat.

“Soon,” you promised, and you would keep it.

He nodded, swallowing hard.

You turned your fingers inward, hooking each index finger on the sides of your panties, rocking your hips slowly, lowering your lashes, following the beat of the sea, tugging down the right side a few centimeters and then the left, listening to his breathing and controlling yours. You bent over slowly at the hips, sticking your ass out, listening to his low moan as your glistening slit was revealed, sliding your undergarments down your thighs and calves, placing them carefully onto the floor.

You gradually straightened, breathing out, keeping it as one smooth motion.

You stepped out of your panties.

Now you were clad in only your black patent Louboutins and black diamond choker.

This time, you found your reflection in the mirror to delicately correct your smeared red lipstick with your fingertips. Good enough. You nodded at your reflection. The corners of your mouth curved upwards.

You turned to face him, showing Jungkook your smile.

-

This smile was real.

The smile she only showed when she was with him. He didn’t know if that was a valid thought or not, but he liked to think so. Besides, no smile meant as much as this one. That he was sure of, because he had been chasing this smile for all these years before finally accepting that he would never find another one like it. It was too precious to belong to anyone else.

His smile.

If his dick wasn’t trying to rip open his pants, Jungkook might have cried seeing it for the first time.

He couldn’t speak, too afraid he was going to lose it right then and there.

She walked towards him.

No, walk wasn’t the correct word. Strode, strut, glided, fuck, he didn’t know, she just moved as fluidly as a shadow and water combined, silver moonlight glistening off her skin and her diamonds, and he knew he would never love the mere act of walking more than when he watched her move.

She stilled.

He stopped breathing.

Her foot raised, toes tracing the inside of the heel, raising the pointed toe, balancing it on the stiletto, and she flicked it backward, causing it to tumble and somersault backward, falling to its side.

Fuck.

She thought of everything.

She balanced on tiptoe and did the same to the other shoe, discarding it with a swift tick.

He made a less-than-elegant noise of her name mixed with a needy whine.

“P… Please…”

Jungkook was quite sure he was a hair’s breath away from ripping off his pants to get some relief.

She finally made her way to stand in front of him. Smile so close now, emphasized by painted lips.

Her hands closed over his, peeling them away from his crotch, holding them loosely. She leaned forward, placing a delicate kiss on his lips. Deep, meaningful, nothing flashy. Drew back, still smiling.

This smile.

He wanted to protect it forever.

“I should have told you that I love you, but I didn’t know it then,” he whispered.

She chuckled.

“I know now.”

She was lowering herself as he spoke, tilting her head at him, inviting him to continue. Getting to her knees, positioning her feet right under her ass, neat and orderly. His hands dropped, leaving hers on his belt, undoing the buckle, her gaze still on him. Looking up at him with amusement, diamonds glittering on her throat, perky tits and nipples, thighs on display, kneeling in front of his crotch.

“I love you.”

Jungkook meant it, every syllable.

He never meant it more in her life.

“I know.”

What?

She casually undid his belt and slid the closure open, unzipping his slacks.

“Wait… what?” he sputtered, blinking rapidly.

“I know you love me,” she repeated calmly.

Jungkook had time for a single blink before his pants were yanked down to his knees. He started, almost falling over, but her hands came up behind his legs and gripped them, keeping him upright.

“Careful,” she purred, stroking the backs of his thighs.

He jerked his head down, hardly able to breathe, shock blossoming as she leaned forward, hot breath warming his black boxer briefs. Eyes on his face, pink tongue extending.

“O-Oh, fuuuck…”

She planted her tongue over his hardness and soaked it with saliva, wetting the fabric and tracing the outline, molding his underwear to his length, sending him into gasping shivers, heat from her tongue and then her lips closing, blowing a cool stream over it, hot and cold, sensation and deprivation, too much and not enough, placing kisses all over and he flinched with every one, savoring the feeling, the touch that was familiar and unfamiliar, everything he wanted.

“W-Wait… that’s dirty…”

“Not as dirty as the things I want to do to you.”

Not as dirty as the things I want to do to you.

Pants racking his torso, looking down, and it was the same but different, her lips kissing up his abs, his chest, back to his face, holding him to her, lipstick smeared and now on his skin. Open mouth to elegantly parted lips, gasping as she collected her breasts and pressed her nipples to his chest, squashing the softness to his pecs.

“Spit on my cleavage,” she breathed.

“W-What?”

She raised an eyebrow, knowing that he heard her perfectly well, squeezing her breasts together and rubbing them on his chest, sending the electric sensation of her large nipples dragging across his heartbeat, rolling her shoulders to the beat of the sea, bathed in silver moonlight.

“Spit on my tits, Jungkook.”

“I… c-couldn’t… do that to you…” he moaned, pitch hiking with pleasure.

She didn’t chide him to cover his mouth this time, instead smirking wider, licking her teeth. “Sure, you can. Do it, golden boy. Spit on me.”

She hooked a leg over his hip and grinded her crotch to his wet one, causing him to whine, knowing his cock was so close to her pussy but not yet skin to skin, the soaked fabric barrier driving him insane, his hands coming up to grip her waist and press her down on him, staring into her eyes, inhale shaky and erratic.

She smiled, teasing, sculptural, his.

“You trust me?”

Jungkook was drunk on something he didn’t understand and it was love.

“Yeah…”

He leaned forward, capturing her lips, an intense, burning kiss. She smiled into his kiss, and he knew she was aware of his nervousness, but she remained patient as she always was, pressing back daintily, taking his breath away. He broke apart, trembling.

She nodded, telling him it was okay.

He collected saliva at the tip of his tongue and looked down, spitting into her cleavage.

It shot out of his mouth, splattering over the swell of her breasts and onto his own chest. His ears burned, self-conscious at the dirty act, but she moaned deliciously, backing up, his saliva dripping down and stuck to the inside curve of her breasts. He had a moment to appreciate the image, the most beautiful woman in the world with her diamond choker and his spit on her tits glistening in the moonlight reflected by the sea.

“Wow.”

That was all he could say as the image burned into his memory.

She smirked, falling to her knees, tugging his black boxer briefs down his thighs, his stiff cock popping out, bobbing in the air at the suddenness of its release, and then trapped once more, except this time not in drenched fabric but in her soft, saliva-covered breasts – or his saliva, depending on how he thought about it – but he couldn’t think about it, abrupt pleasure shooting up his spine, throwing his head back in a moan, eyes darting everywhere, surrounded by mirrors, reflections of his face, his long black hair a wild mess, his facial features consumed by wanton lust, his throbbing cock jammed between her breasts and her body sliding up and down, her large nipples rubbing against his crotch and thighs, oh, fuck, the sensation insane, soft and rough and wet, her perfectly pinned hair leaving only the curls at the ends bouncing from her effort.

She spit down his length, adding to the lubrication and her name burst out of his mouth in an erratic groan.

“F-Fuck…!”

She pushed his cock up, almost uncomfortable, but then her mouth closed around the tip, tongue swirling, and he was lost again, ecstasy as she switched to blowing him, pressing her breasts to his thighs, smearing the saliva on them too, covering his cock in red lipstick, soaking every centimeter with saliva, running her tongue over the veins and the head, his hands clenching into fists, close, so close, and then she popped her mouth off, leaving him near tears and in whines.

“P-Please, let me cum, please…”

“I want you to cum on my necklace,” she panted, planting his cock in her cleavage again, lacing her fingers over it, pressing the head down into the slick skin, shock of her words and the escalating pleasure, his chin lowering and staring down at glittering black diamonds and the engorged tip of his length popping in and out of her breasts.

“You want me to… cum on your necklace…?” he echoed hollowly, in utter disbelief.

“Fuck yes, I do,” she grinned, tip of her tongue flickering at the edge of her lips. “Cum on my diamonds, Jungkook.”

Well, fuck.

This was the worst surreal and hottest moment of his life.

He clenched his jaw and thrust his hips into her chest, adding to the stimulation, chasing it, seeing her grin grow, devilish and devious, squeezing him tighter, faster, faster, faster, his hands and his body shaking, gripped by pleasure and her hold, panting her name over and over, his prayer, his drug, his lifeline, trying to hold out, the line inside him pulled taut, thinner and thinner, snapping.

“F-Fuck, I’m gonna cum!”

His hips jolted and he forced them upward, her head tipping back as the thick red tip popped out, twitching and splattering thick streams of white, painting the black diamonds with his white orgasm, clinging to the jewels and her collarbones, dripping down, covering her with his strong and masculine scent. She lifted her body, trapping his jolting cock in her breasts, and he moaned helplessly, rutting against her skin, sparks of pleasure shooting through his veins, uncontrollable flinching and shuddering as more dribbled out, milked out by the tightness.

“Oooooooh, f-fuck… fuck, I’m s-so sorry…” he gasped out, wincing at the mess he made.

“Ah, shut up, Jungkook.”

In awe, he watched her back up slightly, strings of his orgasm all over her breasts, chest, and diamonds.

She smiled and dipped her fingers in it, coating them with his cum and bringing them to her smeared red lips, licking them off one by one, pink tongue slipping between her elegant digits, moaning as she drank up his taste.

Eyes on his, drunk on him.

-

time left: --:--

Kim Namjoon leaned against Kim Seokjin’s shoulder, listening to the other man’s deep breathing.

They were sitting on the plush green couch in Kim Taehyung’s room.

The night was quiet, nothing but the sound of the waves coming through the open window, a light breeze as Namjoon watched the moon reflect off the ocean. Seokjin had already fallen asleep, head resting against the back of the sofa, tired from the day’s events and needing the rest. Namjoon felt the drowsiness beginning to weigh on him too, using Seokjin’s wide shoulder as his headrest. He had opened the window to prevent the room from getting too stuffy.

It would have been more comfortable to be in that giant bed with the one he was paid to protect, but he hoped she was in good hands now.

He smiled to himself, watching the silver moonlight dance off the choppy waters.

His mind went back to those moments, moments when he had to hold her shoulders and remind her of who and where she was, moments when he sat and waited as she clenched her teeth and a skilled medical tattoo artist filled in those white scars all over her hands, moments of when she finally sat him and Seokjin down and told them why she sometimes woke up at night, screaming and crying, yelling the names of past demons.

She had told them she was sorry, sorry for being weak, sorry for not taking responsibility.

Seokjin had scoffed, smacking her lightly on the head. “Are you an idiot? You have been through enough. Stop it with that nonsense. It’s part of our job, so let us do our job.”

After that, Namjoon would make it a point to check up on her at night, reaching over to soothe her brow as she slept, relaxing her face with gentle touches. He wanted to be there in case she woke up from a nightmare, and it became a habit, until Seokjin too elbowed himself in the bed, muttering that she always got the best digs anyway, so why shouldn’t he? He was handsome enough, after all.

They only accompanied her to events or appearances.

It bothered Namjoon to think that sometimes she was alone in her own home, waking up screaming and crying, and that he couldn’t be there.

He wondered what would come of this.

Jeon Jungkook.

Did he know that if he broke her heart that two ‘big-scary-dudes-with-massive-shoulders’ were going to find his ass and rearrange it?

Hm.

Namjoon closed his eyes, letting the night take him under its wing.

-

time left: error

The black diamond choker was on the vanity, covered in Jungkook’s cum.

Both of your clothes were on the floor, shoes, pants, dress, undergarments, strewn all over, a mess, along with a now cold, wet, white bath towel that smelled like semen and saliva. It had what was left of your red lipstick on it.

One of the designer cosmetic bags was open.

There were condoms scattered on the bed now, thrown over the red silk sheets.

Jungkook was holding your hands, palms up, tenderly kissing them.

It felt strange, his soft lips on your scars.

Most people didn’t realize it. It wasn’t something they looked for or thought to think twice about, because to them, your hands had always been like that. It would be rude to comment or mention it even if they had noticed.

But Jungkook had known your hands before they became like this.

“It’s why I stopped going to school.”

He kissed the pads of your fingertips, looking at you with those dark brown orbs.

“Did something bad happen?”

You smiled, somewhere between sad and apologetic.

“I wanted to make sure that I could still see you, but unfortunately I ended up doing the exact opposite.”

He squeezed your hands tightly, giving you his own smile. “Still, you came back to me.”

You chuckled ruefully. “Not with the best intentions.”

The silver moonlight highlighted all your favorite features, the cupid’s bow of his lips, the tiny mole underneath, the wrinkle of his nose with his smile, the stars in his eyes.

“You’ve always been dangerous and ill-advised for me, but I always liked that about you.”

You arched a brow. “Hm, you were a shitty class representative, huh?”

Jungkook shrugged. “You weren’t really a class delinquent either.”

You shook your head, pulling your hands out of his. “Look at you. What kind of class presentative gets all these tattoos?” you teased, dancing your fingers up his right forearm and elbow, tracing the outlines of the script and graphics, following the swirls of the clouds and flower petals with your nails, listening to his shallow breath at your touch. “And an eyebrow piercing? Are you trying to tell everyone you’re one of the cool kids now?”

His lips twisted into a small frown. “Am I cool?”

You shrugged. “Every time I hear about the cool kids in our grade, it’s just about how they got knocked up too early or how they dropped out of university, so you tell me.”

“I haven’t gotten knocked up.”

You gave him a look, bordering on impatience.

“Wait, I mean–”

You raised a hand and planted it on his chest, pushing him down on the bed.

“Enough. Stop talking, please.”

You crawled over his body, placing your hands by his head, looking down at him. Jungkook stared up at you, long black hair splayed over the pillows. He was definitely a man now, sharp jawline, manicured brows, slight dark circles from long nights, and, as you leaned down, expensive cologne now, still light and clean but with a twist of sharpness and sweet fruit, still with the same warmth. Your lips pressed against his jaw, leaving kisses, sinking your weight onto him, skin to skin, his gasps under you, and now it seemed like you were back in that time, his teenage self and your teenage self, the same eagerness as his arms surrounded you, running his hands down your back, but now he added his nails, making you hum in approval. He did it more, scratching his nails over your spine as you kissed his jaw, his throat, his ear, jingling his earrings with your tongue, whispering against his skin.

“No one has ever been what you are to me.”

You didn’t bother using past tense, because it wasn’t.

You sat down on his thigh, his semi-hard cock twitching against your skin, turned on by your kisses and your tongue toying with his ear.

“You weren’t even very good, you know. You were kinda shit. Too impatient.”

He shuddered, tensing his forearms against your sides.

“I’m b-better now…” he whimpered, turning into a moan as you bit his ear and rubbed your wetness on his thigh, painting it with your juices. You kept it slow, leisurely, with even pressure.

“Still…”

You lifted your head, bringing your fingers inward, slipping them into his hair, pushing it back, caressing his temple with your thumbs.

“I have loved you all this time, Jungkook, even back then when I didn’t know what love was, when I was only chasing a feeling that was different from all the others.”

His eyes widened, stunned by your words.

“Ah, nevertheless, I came back too late.”

“No.”

His hands on your back, holding you tightly to him.

“I want to kiss you all the time,” he whispered, words from long ago, bringing them back. “And I will.”

He raised his forehead and touched yours.

“I know it’s not fair, I know it’s bad, I know it’s terrible, but I’ll be fucked up if you can’t be right here, with me.”

His lips to yours, small kisses and closed eyes, hiding his tears behind his lashes.

“You are the happiness, and if you continue to love me, I will never let you go.”

That’s what Jungkook said, but the sentiment was slightly interrupted by his cock being so hard that it was actually raising your thigh up into the air.

You smiled against his lips, chuckling.

“I guess I’ll bring a towel when you get her cocktail splashed into your face.”

“Maybe two. She has a lot of internet friends.”

“Hm.”

You lifted your head, smirking.

“Well, I can’t say it would be the first relationship I’ve ruined, although those were far more indirect.”

-

Jungkook tried to make the moment romantic, but her naked body was on top of him with her wet pussy rubbing on his thigh and his dick was coming back to life right in the middle of his speech.

Still, he couldn’t really complain, because at the moment he was ripping open a condom, on his knees between her legs, rolling it down, eyes roaming over her body lines, poised and elegant and sexy, her hair flared out on the pillows, still neatly pinned up, some kind of sorcery, but that didn’t surprise Jungkook, for she had always had her spell on him and he was better for it.

“You want missionary?” she teased.

He bit his lip, nodding.

“I want to watch your face.”

Her tongue flickered out on the edge of her upper lip, accenting the high point of her smirk.

“Good, then I can watch yours.”

He positioned himself in front of her, pausing for a second, unsure now, but she simply grinned and reached between her legs, one hand on his length and the other on his hip, digging her nails into his ass and shoving him inside her.

“Oh, fuck!”

She seemed highly amused, but he was gone, sudden tightness and wetness enveloping him, pitching forward and catching himself on his palms, sinking into red silk, the intensity bursting from his core and washing over him, shuddering and gasping as she gripped his ass with both hands and sank him down into her pussy, down, down, drowning in the feeling, diving into the depths of pleasure, fuck, he felt it everywhere, her walls clenching and wrapped around his length, the sensitive head rubbing against the ridges, and the emotions that rushed through him as he looked into her eyes, a little humiliated that it affected him so much, a little shocked at how good it felt even with the condom, and a lot of lust and trust and love, all rolling into one, and she purred his name, smooth and silky and gentle, and he couldn’t help himself, slowly rolling his hips and smacking down hard, burying himself to the base, eyelids fluttering, feeling it radiate over his body.

“Too... hard?” he choked out, trying to be considerate, desperate not to fuck up.

She shook her head, snickering.

“Not even close.”

“How can I–?”

But she didn’t let him finish, tapping the mandala flower tattoo on his right elbow and he raised his arms, at loss for words and breath when she raised her legs to his shoulders and tugged his forearms back down, his hands landing on the bed once more.

Oh no.

This was tighter.

“Fuck me, Jungkook, and make it rough.”

I can’t talk or I will blow my load in two seconds.

He nodded, tensing his jaw, and smacked his crotch down, her thighs smacking against his chest.

Oh, fuck me.

He wished he could sound less desperate and less ruined, but he simply didn’t have the capacity for that any longer, tumbling into a series of wild moans as he built up the pace, wave after wave of pleasure crashing into him, too much sensation, soft thighs, wet tightness squeezing his throbbing length, her hands on his upper arms, holding on tightly, his name falling from her mouth along with her erotic exhale. He loved every sound she made, every single one, her moan, her hiss, her growl, fuck me, fuck me, fuck me, that’s it, give it to me, Jungkook, loved the way she looked at him, a mixture of bliss and slyness, loved the sound their bodies made, a harsh rhythmic smack, louder and louder, messing up the sheets, her head tipping back, eyes closing, fuck, yes, gonna cum if you keep going like that, so he did, hard, firm, powerful slaps of skin-to-skin, feeling so good but holding himself back, biting his lip hard and moaning in his throat, not willing to orgasm until he made her do so, at least twice.

Jungkook was being ridiculous, he knew, but he wouldn’t forgive himself if he lost it too soon during his first time inside her.

“Mmm, fuck, Jungkook, fuck!”

A sharp throb and then a cascading effect, brutal massages of his length, and he didn’t even realize it, pausing for a second from the strength of her orgasm, his cock clenched all over and squeezed, shocking pleasure that made his eyes roll back, struggling with every fiber of his being to not explode, edging himself by ceasing his thrust, and then he drew back and rammed back into her, clawing up the sheets to press her further down into the bed, nearly bending her in half, but she didn’t seem to mind, gripping his arms and raising her hips to meet him, deeper now, the head being constricted even tighter by this changed angle, him sucking in a deep inhale, smelling blackberry, evergreen, and sex, the sweet smell of her pussy, reminding him of sitting on the bus on his way home and catching that scent on his hands and clothes, not regretting it, loving her mark on him.

It was better now.

Better because he was actually in her pussy.

And better because her teeth caught the side of her lower lip, a second of lost control, lashes lowering, moan in her mouth, his name, his name, his name leaking from her lips.

“Oh, Jungkook…”

He would never tire of it.

Never.

It burst again, a lewd squelch, and the insides of his thighs were soaked with viscous honey, clinging to his balls, violent throbs around his jerking length and Jungkook was gone, gone, everything accumulating at the peak and shattering down, his deep moan flooding the room, shooting his orgasm into the condom as his quivering cock was clenched all around, unbearable euphoria that he welcomed, letting it consume every nerve and vibrate through him, a feeling he never wanted to end.

He let it swallow him, her ocean, her moonlight, her night, and he promised himself that he would never leave.

-

All in all, Jeon Jungkook hadn’t changed much. That was alright. It was clear that you both had unfinished business in the past that was being hashed out right now.

Through sex, because how else?

He was behind you, both of you kneeling on the bed, his breath on your skin, murmuring your name, wonderment and desire, leaving a trail of kisses on your shoulders and neck.

“You can bite me, you know.”

He nipped at your skin experimentally. You pinched his finger on your upper arm, the little sheepish emoji on his middle right. He squeaked and bit harder. You hummed approvingly, lowering your hand.

“You’re turning me into a crazy person,” Jungkook mumbled to the curve of your neck.

“You were already a crazy person. You just pretend you’re not.”

“That’s not true…”

You gently peeled his right hand from your arm and yanked him forward. He inhaled sharply, hard chest hitting your back as you tugged his arm forward, curving it around you.

“What non-crazy person blacks out the inner part of their elbow and tattoos the bone on the outer part as well?” you accused, rubbing his muscular forearm against your nipples, smirking at his moan, his shiver traveling through your back and to the sparks of pleasure radiating from your breasts at the lovely friction.

“Um…”

That was as far as he gave you as an answer because he had no good answers.

“Mhm.”

His hand curved around your left breast and he ran his fingers over it, tugging at your nipple. You leaned into his touch, sighing softly. Well, maybe you had been a bit harsh. He had changed. Less clumsy now, attaining his own irresistible sensuality that he probably wasn’t even aware of, considering the wavering in his tone.

“You’ve probably had better than me, huh…”

“You would be surprised at the complete inadequacy of the human race when it comes to sex, Jungkook. Most people don’t give two shits about listening to their partner’s wants.”

He pinched your nipple and you moaned, rubbing your ass against his crotch.

“You always do everything I want and even things I didn’t even know I wanted,” he mumbled.

His cock was getting the hint with every rock of your hips, rousing at the soft friction. You listened to his rapid breathing, amused, the amusement turning into fond irritation as you felt his free hand slide between your bodies, tucking his hardening length between your ass cheeks, now slowly and non-discreetly humping you.

Well.

Can’t say you were surprised.

“You’re not that hard to read, Jungkook.”

He was leaking all over the top of your ass, ramming the head into your tailbone, now both hands on your chest, forgetting to answer, too absorbed in touching you, tugging at your nipples in time with his rocking hips, lips back to your neck, biting down and sucking hard, leaving marks. There was power in his hold, passion and desperation, a needy whine vibrating in his throat, faster, harder, pinching your nipples and rubbing the tips, pulling slightly, pleasure from his lips and his hands, your own reaching back and clawing at the small of his back, leaving scratches, yes, please, harder, mark me, make me yours, and you chuckled at his declaration, you were always mine, Jungkook, and he moaned your name in affirmation, licking up your neck, hot shaking breath ghosting your ear.

“Wanna fuck you from behind.”

You sunk your nails into his skin and brought your fingers outward, flicking your wrists to leave sharp lines of lust, his moan in your wake.

“Do it,” you drawled, voice saturated with need.

He pushed you down and your caught yourself with your hands, clutching fistfuls of red silk. You heard the rip of another condom and his groan as he encased his aching length, one hand on your ass, and you spread your legs, his knees fitting between them, the head grazing your wet opening and he slid in with a shudder, filling you up and stretching you out, a little pain that dissipated as he squeezed your ass with two hands, sighing with satisfaction with you.

“I know I said I want to kiss you all the time, and I do,” he panted, stalling.

You smiled, turning your head to look over your shoulder. Jungkook looked back at you and he reached forward, driving deeper into you, making you mewl for him. He plucked the pins from your hair, one by one, undoing the perfection, tossing them aside as he spoke, shrouding your shoulders and face with cool-toned black, surreal and glamorous.

“But I think I’ve decided I also want to fuck you all the time.”

You smirked. “You don’t take much convincing, I must say.”

He eased the last pin from your hair and flicked it aside.

You heard it fall to the floor.

That one wouldn’t be found in the morning.

He grinned. “Maybe I already knew you would be amazing.”

Instead of replying, you leaned forward and then smacked your ass back into his crotch.

Jungkook reeled, hand flying back to your hip, grabbing it tightly as you roughly pushed back into him, his natural response being to thrust forward, compounding the pleasure for you and for him, looking forward again and tipping your head back, letting go, moaning for him, his hardness twitching with your sound, loud and getting louder, bodies tangled, bed creaking, clutching your ass for dear life. You lifted one hand and brought beside your hip and Jungkook gripped your forearm, your body naturally dropping lower, deepening each thrust, and that was it, the uncontrollable need resonating in his deep voice, forcefully pounding you into the mattress, thighs, crotch, balls slapping into your lower half, carnal and wild and visceral, his name and your name mixing together, filling the room with the sight, sound, and smell of sex, so strong, fuck, he was so fucking strong, and so were you, a shock every time your bodies connected, until you were wailing with the ferocity of orgasm, squirming and clutching his forearm as he held yours, clenching around his length, but this time he didn’t stop, fucking you through it, gasping for air.

“Oh fuck, yes, fuck, do it again, cum for me again, fuck, feels so fucking good, feels like you’re choking my cock…”

And he brought it out of you again, your right hand punched into the sheets, your left in his hold, moaning for him, Jungkook, fuck, Jungkook, for him then, him now, him forever, ecstasy and elation, hitting a high you thought didn’t even exist, lust and trust and love, raising your torso and slamming your palm onto the headboard, rattling the whole damn bed.

“Fuck!”

Slamming back onto his cock and squeezing hard, Jungkook gasping at the suddenness of the harsh throbs around his length, jolting inside you and spilling another into the condom, your head whipping to the side, spotting a mirror and there he was, head thrown back, long black hair touching his shoulders, open mouth, eyes rolled back, chest shuddering, your name a shaky moan, holding you tight, his right arm travelling, wrapping around you and lifting you up, and then it was you in the mirror, your body against his, skin to skin, his dark brown orbs shifting down, feeling your eyes on him, and then he was watching your reflections, seeing your joined bodies, panting in unison, both sweaty and spent.

You smiled at him, lit up by moonlight and mirrors.

He smiled back.

And then his hand was on your chin and he turned your head to face him, tilting his head and kissing your smile, seeing it not its reflection but the real thing, no longer only when you thought he wasn’t looking.

-

time left: 00:00

“Oi.”

Jungkook didn’t recognize that voice at all. He concluded must still be dreaming.

A finger podded his temple.

“Oi!”

He started, but the arms encircling him pinned him in place, not letting him and his naked body leave the bed. Softness pressed against his back, bare nipples rubbing against his skin. He froze.

His dick was rock-hard.

A black-haired man in a black suit with a disturbingly handsome face was glaring at him.

“You animals made a fucking mess.”

“Go away, Seokjin.”

Jungkook squeaked, unable to talk because one of the hands holding him was dancing downwards under the covers, wrapping around his impossibly stiff length. He prayed it wouldn’t start moving up and down, but it did. Slowly. Not enough, but still too much, because he didn’t really want to get jacked off first thing in the morning while someone was very clearly assessing whether or not to cause extreme bodily harm to him.

Well, he did want to get jacked off first thing in the morning.

It was the bodily harm he was less enthused about.

The man named Seokjin squinted at him and it took every fiber of Jungkook’s being to not make a goddamn peep as her fingers ghosted the head, smearing slick pre-cum over the slit.

“I want to take a shower.”

“Then go take a shower. I left towels for you,” she mumbled behind Jungkook’s back.

“Namjoon’s in the shower right now.”

“Then order us some breakfast.”

“I sent Taehyung to do that. Also, it’s noon.”

“Couldn’t you order room service?”

Seokjin shrugged and Jungkook realized his shoulders were huge. “He said he had a friend who worked in the kitchen and was going to reserve us a table.”

She raised her head, resting her chin on Jungkook’s right shoulder and pulsing his cock with her right hand under the sheets. “Taehyung has a lot of friends, doesn’t he?”

Seokjin looked at Jungkook pointedly.

“Er… yeah. T-Tons…”

Those brown eyes narrowed, scrutinizing Jungkook suspiciously. “He seems like a dork.”

“I like dorks. That’s why I keep you around.”

Seokjin stuck his tongue out childishly and yelled at the top of his lungs. “Namjoon!”

“I’m done!”

“Finally,” Seokjin grumbled, walking off and yanking the bathroom door open, barging in unceremoniously.

“Gah!”

“Gah!!!”

-

“Oh, fuck, please, d-don’t…”

“It’ll only take me a second.”

You dove under the covers and Jungkook clapped his hands over his mouth, your grip on his twitching length moving fast and tight, rubbing your tongue on the hot head, and you were right, it only took a few seconds, and then Jungkook was hissing through his fingers, now, fuck, now, and your mouth swallowed his cock, not a moment too soon as thick spurts of his orgasm shot into your throat, coating the back of your tongue, savoring his smell and his thighs under your breasts, rubbing your nipples on the muscle.

“N-No, stop, stop,” Jungkook whimpered desperately, grabbing you by the shoulders and yanking you up, your head popping out, smirk on your lips.

You opened your mouth and showed him your tongue covered in his cum.

“Shit, you’re going to be the death of me…”

He hurriedly nudged your chin and you closed it, grinning.

Dangerous.

Ill-advised.

Jungkook grinned back at you helplessly, holding your smiling face in his hands.

---

some time later

“I have two towels.”

“She didn’t throw her drink at me.”

“Damn. I even seduced the bartender a little bit to get those plush cotton ones.”

“She asked if she could keep the ring so she could sell it and give the money to her secret, less good-looking boyfriend so he could buy her a new ring.”

“Oh. Wait, what?”

He shrugged, rubbing the back of his head. “I said sure, because it wasn’t like the love of my life couldn’t afford her own diamonds.”

“Ah, true, true.”

“I might be slandered for a little while on the internet.”

“Nah, you won’t. Maybe for like, six hours. Then everyone’s attention span will be somewhere else. Also, your taste upgraded in their eyes, from social media influencer to burlesque dancer.”

You grinned, raising your hands to create a finger frame of your index fingers and thumbs, enclosing the handsome face of Jeon Jungkook, long black hair, silver brow piercing, dark sculpted eyebrows, big brown eyes, defined jawline, shapely pink lips, mole of his nose and cheek, and finally that perfect mole underneath his lower lip, appearing as he smiled at you, confused at what you were doing.

“Even though we all know you’re just a hopeless sucker for the class delinquent. Tsk tsk.”

His grin grew mischievous, walking over to you as you lowered your hands.

“Well, I was a shit class representative anyway.”

He leaned down to kiss you, smile to smile.

Twelve hours.

Sunset to night.

-

fin.

--

masterpost

[babyboibucky]

White Noise

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: Bucky has a new neighbor and she's even grumpier than him.

Word Count: 2,490

Warnings: TW!!! Domestic violence (not from Bucky, he’s a sweetheart in this 🥺)

A/N: I’d say I’m on a roll for writing new shit lately but I’ve got two ongoing series and a part 2 of a oneshot that I haven’t even updated for quite a while lmfao

MAIN MASTERLIST

Bucky blinked his eyes open and stared at the ceiling before forcing them close again. He focused on the hard floor beneath him and the soft blanket tangled in between his limbs. His television was left open but with the volume at the lowest level. Bucky always slept this way, so that the white noise would help him ground himself whenever he would wake up from his nightmares.

A few minutes later, Bucky finally felt himself begin to doze off. A couple hours of uninterrupted sleep were good enough for him, at least he'd get some peace before his past would come back to haunt him.

Just as when Bucky was about to fall into a deep slumber, loud music began to boom through his walls, stirring him awake. He grunted as he sat up on the floor, turning around and staring at the wall separating his apartment from his neighbor. He didn't even know he had one until now. The music was loud, too loud that it wasn't even white noise anymore. It was just...noise. And as much as Bucky hated how silence triggered his self-destructive thoughts, this kind of noise wasn't something that he needed.

Bucky let a few more minutes pass just to see whether his neighbor would turn it down but then a new song started playing right after the first.

Grabbing his shirt, jacket and some sweatpants, Bucky quickly dressed up and headed out the door. He stood in front of his neighbor's door and could actually understand the lyrics of the song playing. It wasn't his enhanced hearing, the music was just that loud. His neighbor didn't even hear him knocking until he decided to use his vibranium arm to do so. Bucky had to hold back a bit in order not to break down the door at how hard he knocked on the door.

Mid-way through his knocking, the door finally opened and out his neighbor stepped-- you. Bucky frowned when you didn't even bother turning off your music when you opened the door.

"How can I help you?" you asked, your expression matching Bucky's.

Bucky scoffed, "I don't know, maybe turn down your music? It's like fuckin' two in the morning. You're not the only tenant in this building." he snapped.

"I can't sleep without music. And no one else has been complaining, just you." you said and was about to close the door right into Bucky's face.

Bucky was appalled at your rudeness and slotted his foot into your doorway before you could even slam the door shut.

"I just complained and you're not really going to do anything?" he asked.

"No. If other tenants can sleep through my music then so can you. Stop bitching around and leave me be." you huffed out and kicked his foot before closing the door with a loud thud.

Bucky blinked, unable to believe that you just did that. You actually kicked his foot and ignored his complaint. He knew that he was a bit harsh when asking you to turn down your music, but it was two in the morning! Why would you even blast music at such an ungodly hour? Bucky rubbed his face with his hand and headed back to his apartment.

He'll deal with you tomorrow. It wasn't like he was going to sleep through the entire night anyway.

-

And deal with you, Bucky did but it always ended the same. Bucky was surprised at how aggressive you were whenever he paid you a visit to complain. The first night he kind of understood your behavior, he wasn't the nicest then. But every single encounter he had with you after that, you were just borderline mean.

Bucky just arrived from having lunch out when he saw you unloading your car with a few more boxes. Over the past few days, he had learned that you were indeed new and just moved in a week ago. He also learned that the rest of tenants on his floor either slept like a fucking rock or had impaired hearing for them not to care about your music.

You struggled to carry all three boxes when you stacked them above each other. Bucky chuckled in amusement as he watched you attempt to carry them all twice. Obviously, you didn't want to do multiple trips but with the strength (or lack thereof) you were displaying, it would be an impossible task. Being the gentleman he was, Bucky decided to set aside his feud with you to offer his help.

"Let me help." he said as he approached you.

Your eyes softened up at him for a brief moment and Bucky thought that maybe you'd be kinder to him this time. Boy was he wrong because you immediately shot his offer down and ignored his presence.

"Look, I'm trying to be nice here. Just let me help so you wouldn't have to do multiple trips." he explained.

"I don't need anyone's help. How hard is that to understand?" you snapped and carried one box, brushing past Bucky to enter the building.

Bucky rolled his eyes and quickly grabbed your arm to stop you. He's had enough of your attitude and if you weren't going to even try to be nice to him, then he'd stop being the gentleman that he was.

"Why do you have to be such a little bitch?" For the first time, Bucky raised his voice at you.

He just wanted to confront you, not scare you so when you gasped out loud and dropped the box in your arms, Bucky's heart fell. Your eyes widened at him in fear, your hand quickly wrapping around the arm that Bucky grabbed. He realized that he had used his vibranium arm to grab you and was quick to regret it.

"Please don't touch me like that again." your voice was soft, almost a whisper and Bucky didn't expect for you to react like that.

He was expecting for you to yell at him, maybe even land a slap on his face. But instead, you shrinked and for the first time in a long time, Bucky saw someone look at him with fear like that. It was as if he was back to square one, back to the old version of him that he's been fighting so hard to forget.

-

It's been two days since the incident and Bucky still hadn't seen you around. He’s been wanting to apologize to you and patch things up. Your music still blasted through his walls so at least he knew that he didn't scare you enough to move away. Bucky's nightmares got worse and somehow, the incident with you was what violently shook him awake.

Bucky stared at his ceiling once again, his television turned off because he knew that you'd be playing your music out loud in a few. He was actually starting to get used to it and as much as he hated it, he often found himself singing along to the songs you had been playing.

Two am and there was still silence. Bucky laid on the floor as he waited for your music. Three minutes have passed and yet it remained quiet. Maybe you weren't home? Although he did see you from his balcony as you headed back inside the building after bringing your trash out earlier. Perhaps something else was keeping you busy? Why was Bucky even thinking about what you were doing? If any, he should be jumping at the opportunity to get some shuteye.

Bucky sighed and turned on the television like how he used to, turning the volume down and then closing his eyes in an attempt to fall asleep.

For a while, Bucky felt at peace for falling back to his routine before you moved in. Hushed whispers and soft cries caused Bucky to quickly sit up. He wasn't sure whether it was from the television or if his enhanced hearing was picking up something else. Bucky quickly turned off the television and sat in silence, closing his eyes to focus.

There was a loud thud coming from your apartment followed by a muffled sob. Bucky knew that something was wrong so he quickly dressed up and went to your apartment, knocking on the door continuously.

"Hey, it's me. Open up." Bucky called out and continued to knock when you didn't respond.

"Is everything okay in there?" he asked again, the silence from the other side of the door bothering him even more.

Bucky heard a few shuffles before he heard the door click. It slowly opened until you showed up, gaze downcast and hands trembling as you prevented the door from opening any further. Bucky couldn't even see through you at how you were blocking his view of your apartment.

"I'm fine. Just go." you softly said and attempted to close the door again.

Bucky frowned and held the edge of the door with his vibranium arm, stopping you from closing it and instead, pushing it open. You just allowed him to do that, something that confirmed Bucky's gut feeling that you were hiding something, or rather, someone.

"Man, just get the fuck out of here!" a guy exclaimed as he stood in the middle of your apartment.

Bucky was quick to notice the mess inside your apartment— clothes and chairs were strewn across the floor. His gaze went back to you and it was then that he saw the bruises on your arms and legs.

"Did he hurt you?" he asked worriedly.

You kept mum but saw the slow movement of your head, affirming his suspicions. The guy walked over to you and gripped your arm, violently pulling you behind him as he stood face to face with Bucky.

"It's none of your goddamn business." he threatened.

Bucky refused to look at the man and focused on you. He finally understood everything. Why you had been so aggressive towards him, why you reacted like that when he gripped your arm. You were afraid, not of him but because of what you were going through. This man had been abusing you and Bucky doesn't need to know for how long for him to understand your behavior.

"You just gonna fuckin' stand there or what?!" the guy asked, irritated at Bucky's presence.

"I think you should be the one to leave." Bucky said calmly, finally lifting his gaze to look at the man.

The man snickered, "Who the fuck are you to tell me that? You got the hots for my fuckin' girlfriend?" he asked.

"Leave her alone and never come back. I'll only ask you this once." Bucky warned, his jaw tightening as he stared at the man.

"Or else? You threatening me, man? You're gonna fucking regret it." the man chuckled before lifting his fist up to punch Bucky in the face.

Bucky rolled his eyes when he easily caught the man's fist in his vibranium arm, twisting it until the man looked at him in horror, screaming in pain. He let go of the man's fist and grabbed at the collar of his shirt, tugging him closer as he glared daggers at him.

"You are gonna fucking regret it if you come back here. If you ever lay a finger on her, so much as look at her...I'll find you. That's a promise." Bucky warned.

The guy was nearly in tears as he nodded in understanding, not trusting his voice. Bucky chuckled and dragged him out of your apartment, throwing him to the ground before pointing a gloved finger.

"You understand?" he asked again, snickering when the guy almost immediately scrambled away without even responding.

Bucky waited until the man was out of sight before quickly turning to you. You merely stood inside your apartment, body trembling as you hugged yourself.

"You okay?" Bucky asked gently, brows furrowing in worry as he slowly walked towards you.

He bent down to catch your gaze, "Can I...?" he asked, asking for your permission as he attempted to hold your shoulders.

You meekly nodded and heaved out a shaky sigh, composing yourself. Bucky held you carefully, rubbing your arms to soothe you after everything that has happened. You let him touch you like that because it was the first time in a long time that you received such gentleness. It almost moved you into tears, how Bucky held you with so much care.

"Come on, let's get you patched up." Bucky said and led you out of your apartment, not wanting you to stay there after being beaten up by your asshole of a boyfriend.

Bucky kept a hand on the small of your back, guiding you into his almost empty apartment. He almost felt embarrassed for having nothing but a couch, a chair and a television. You didn't seemed to mind though and immediately sat down upon reaching the couch.

Bucky fetched you a glass of water and sat down next to you, watching you drink it all in one go. Your hands weren't shaking that much anymore and the tension in your shoulders seemed to have subsided. You turned to Bucky and smiled at him for the first time.

"Thank you." you said. "And I owe you an apology. I know I was—“

"It's okay. You don't have to apologize. I understand." Bucky explained with a smile before it faltered, "I'm sorry for what you witnessed back there, I didn't mean to be violent like that but—“

It was your turn to cut him off, "Please don't be sorry. He deserved that." you bitterly chuckled.

Bucky found out that the guy was an ex-boyfriend and that he had been abusing you all throughout your relationship. You broke up with him a month ago that's why you moved into Bucky's apartment building. Apparently, you filed for a restraining order against him but the guy was obviously crazy to go against it, stalking you back to your apartment, hence the commotion.

"And the reason why I've been blasting music is because it keeps me from remembering the abuse he caused me. I can't think about anything else but that at night, when everything is quiet." you explained.

Bucky's heart ached because he understood, he truly understood your sentiments. His therapist taught him that peace isn't always a good thing. Sometimes, it is peace that causes chaos in the mind. Silence could be a dangerous thing, that's what you and Bucky have been experiencing.

"Would it help you if you talked to someone instead?" Bucky asked. "Because I'd love to have someone to talk to on nights I can't sleep." he said.

You offered a smile, "I'd keep you up every night then."

Bucky returned your smile, "Then it's a perfect set-up." he said, telling you that he too had trouble sleeping almost every night.

Bucky realized that he might have had a rough start with you, but he was glad for that. If it wasn't for your loud music blasting through his walls that one night, he wouldn't have found the perfect white noise to help him find solace at night— you.

-

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