#it's the dark side of giving a fuck i guess

[urdreamgirls-dreamgirl]

“vickie!” eddie practically screams from his kitchen, rage coursing through him as he stares down at the tabloids spread out in front of him on the counter. “get in here! now!”

eddie’s had an issue with his rage lately. well. he’s had an issue with a lot of things, since he got famous, really. but that’s not his problem right now.

his problem is he’s looking down at image after image of himself on the covers of people and us weekly and entertainment tonight being dragged out of last night’s night club by his own security team with blood pouring from his nose. he looks angry. he looks crazed.

just then, a stranger walks into his kitchen.

“who the fuck are you?” he blurts out at the man, who’s wearing a dark green sweater vest over a white t-shirt and tortoise-shell glasses.

“i’m steve,” the weirdo stalker says, smiling brightly. he has surprisingly swoopy hair for an insane fan. “i’m your new assistant.”

“where’s vickie?” eddie asks, rubbing at the sore spot on his nose. thank god it’s not broken.

“you fired her,” steve tells him. “two days ago.”

“i fire her all the time.”

“ok, well… i guess this time it stuck,” steve shrugs. “chrissy hired me.”

“fucking chrissy,” eddie says under his breath, rolling his eyes. he pulls out his phone from the pocket of his sweatpants and speed dials chrissy. “chris, what the fuck?” he doesn’t even give her the chance to say hello.

“good morning, eddie. i’m doing really well, how are you?”

“not fucking well, that’s how i am!” eddie practically yells into the receiver. “what the fuck? did you see the pictures? and who the fuck is this guy in my house?”

“yes, eddie, i saw the pictures.” eddie can hear the eye roll in her voice. “we’re handling it. nancy’s already on it with the team. what was the other thing?”

eddie knows she’s fucking with him and that pisses him off even more. “who is this freak in my house wearing a goddamn sweater vest?!” he feels like a blood vessel in his eye is about to pop.

“hey,” steve protests softly from across the kitchen where he’s started to pull shit out of eddie’s fridge. he didn’t even know there was anything in that fridge.

“that’s not a very nice way to talk about your new assistant,” chrissy’s voice comes loud and clear through the phone.

“christina fucking cunningham, you know i have final say on all hiring decisions when it comes to my assistants.” he rubs at his sore nose again.

“you had final say on all hiring decisions until you fired vickie for the thirteenth time and she refused to come back, even with a three hundred percent raise. we’re going in a different direction now.” chrissy sounds entirely too pleased with herself.

“well, i fucking hate him,” eddie grumbles and watches steve to make sure he’s heard him. steve doesn’t even react, just continues doing whatever the fuck he’s doing with the frying pan he’d found in the cabinet.

“you don’t even know him, eddie. give him a chance. anyway, i have to go, i have brunch plans with my very beautiful, very intelligent, perfect fiancée,” chrissy tells him, gloating, before hanging up on him.

eddie wants desperately to throw his phone across the kitchen, but if he breaks this one that would be his fourth phone in three weeks and he couldn’t bear to have to ask this steve person to go buy him a new one. he settles for squeezing it in his hand until it creaks while taking several deep breaths through his nose.

“what are you doing?” he grits out.

“are you always this rude?” steve asks, ignoring his question.

“to weirdo freak strangers showing up in my house unannounced? yes.”

“it’s not unannounced, chrissy wrote it on your calendar.” steve gestures toward the paper calendar hanging on the side of the fridge where chrissy writes his major life events and which eddie mostly just ignores before sliding a plate full of food toward eddie.

“what is this?” eddie sneers.

“it’s an omelette with cheese and mushrooms,” steve replies, smiling. he’s always fucking smiling.

“i’m allergic to… omelettes,” eddie says, just to be a dick.

“no you’re not. you’re allergic to blueberries and dust.” steve doesn’t stop smiling pleasantly.

“did you get access to my medical records? that’s a violation of my… whatever rights.” eddie waves a hand through the air.

“no, i didn’t go look at your medical records, jesus. i’m not a stalker. chrissy told me when she hired me.”

“whatever. i still fucking hate you.”

“okay,” steve shrugs again. “eat your breakfast.”

eddie has every intention of leaving the kitchen, full plate of food and all, but. he is hungry.

so he eats.

and he’s pissed that it’s actually good.

~*~

eddie spends the rest of the day being a general nuisance to steve any time he tries to do his job. when steve answers the phone before handing it to eddie, eddie “accidentally” hangs up on whoever it is on the hand off & makes sure to blame his new assistant when the person finally calls back. when steve has to drive him to his meeting with nancy and the pr team, eddie tries to give him the wrong directions, but steve’s too smart for that. when steve has to do the grocery shopping, he makes steve go to the erewhon all the way across town during rush hour because the one down the street “just doesn’t have the same vibe, steve.”

and all the while, steve just does his job, still smiling, not getting angry at all even though it’s beyond obvious eddie’s being a little shit to him.

which honestly just pisses eddie off more than anything else today.

“here’s some aspirin,” steve says, placing two white pills on the coffee table in front of eddie, along with a mason jar of water. eddie, lounging on his big squishy couch, pulls the ice pack away from his nose, which has started throbbing again. “you didn’t have any glasses.” steve shrugs when he sees eddie’s arched eyebrow looking skeptically at the jar of water. “if you don’t need anything else, i’ll take off for the day.”

it’s past 8pm already, long after steve should have left for the day except that eddie had made him stay to organize his extensive tshirt collection by color, shade, and design before he could even think about going home. it was an emergency, after all.

“i’ll have to check the t-shirt closet first,” eddie replies, before swallowing the aspirin dry. steve shrugs again and rolls his eyes. eddie would say something about his blatant rudeness, but he’s too exhausted.

eddie pulls himself off the couch and makes his way down the hallway to his “t-shirt room.” it’s so stupid, but he has all this space and he’d started collecting the tshirts so long ago. they’re not worth anything, they’re just his wardrobe but… they remind him of wayne and the thrifting they used to do every saturday morning.

the organization eddie had been having steve do was entirely arbitrary. it’s not like eddie plans his outfits. he mostly just pulls whatever out of wherever, unless it’s an event and then he pays someone to do the deciding and dressing for him anyway.

but. steve’s organized the t-shirts by genre and subgenre and then by band alphabetically and finally color. more than eddie had even asked him to do.

eddie had come in here fully prepared to rip steve a new one, but even he can be shocked into appreciation.

steve notices eddie’s silence and grins.

“can i tell you something?” steve says pleasantly and then continues without even letting eddie respond to the question. “i know i look like a nice polite guy next door that moms totally love—it’s the sweater vests, i think.” steve plucks at his top. “and that’s true. i am a nice polite guy and moms do love me. i’m awesome.” his grin widens. “but i got kicked out of my parents house when i was 18 and i lived in my car for a while. i’ve been on my own for seven years. i made a life in LA out of nothing. so you can throw your little temper tantrums and tell me how much you hate me. you can make me go to the erewhon all the way across town and you can make me look incompetent to my colleagues. but i need this job. i’ve worked hard for this job. this job pays more than any other job i’ve ever had combined. and you’re hardly the biggest asshole i’ve ever met. so you can continue trying to make my life miserable—hell, i’ll even give you my dad’s number, you guys can swap ideas!” steve laughs at his own joke before turning serious for the first time all day. “but i’m not vickie. you won’t make me cry. you can’t fire me. i’m not going anywhere.” he claps his hands together. “anyway, i’m gonna take off, since i have plans with my actual friends. but hey, i’ll see you tomorrow, huh?” and he smiles again, giving eddie a small waggle of his fingers, before heading out through the door.

eddie’s still just standing there in the middle of his tshirt room when he hears the front door slam shut.

[zmbiesoph]

TENSION PT. 2

CARL GRIMES X FEM!READER

𝜗𝜚 A/N - lowkey improved in smut (guys don’t judge I guess I was feeling real freaky while writing this😭)

𝜗𝜚 SUMMARY - after you and Carl finally kiss, the tension just grows… and grows

𝜗𝜚 WARNINGS - smut, lowkey boob kink, use of Y/N, use of “good girl”, lowkey just kinky, unprotected p in v, kinda rough smut, rushed and fast paced writing, kinda detailed

Carl's hands roamed your body, one sliding up your back to tangle in your hair, the other gripping your hip possessively. You responded in kind, your fingers curling into his shirt, tugging him even closer. The kiss deepened, turning sloppy and desperate, tongues tangling, teeth clashing. The feverish need that had been simmering between you for so long finally boiled over, and you both surrendered to it fully.

Your hands slid under his shirt, feeling the hard planes of his abdomen, the defined muscles that spoke of his strength and agility. He groaned into your mouth as your nails lightly scraped his skin, arching into your touch. In return, he yanked the hem of your own top free from your pants, his hands sliding up your sides to cup your breasts through your bra.

You gasped at the sudden sensation, breaking the kiss to lean your head back against the wall. Carl took the opportunity to trail open-mouthed kisses along your jaw, down the column of your throat. His lips found a particularly sensitive spot where your neck met your shoulder, and he sucked hard enough to leave a mark.

"Fuck," you breathed, fisting a hand in his hair. The pain-pleasure of his teeth and tongue sent sparks of heat straight to your core. You needed more. Needed to feel him everywhere.

Carl seemed to read your mind, his hands deftly unhooking your bra and pushing it up out of the way. Your nipples pebbled in the cool air, and he wasted no time in bending his head to capture one between his lips, swirling his tongue around the stiff peak.

You cried out, arching off the wall, pushing your breast further into his hot mouth. He obliged, sucking hard, before moving to lavish the same attention on the other side. Your hands scrabbled at his shoulders, trying to pull him impossibly closer.

When he finally released your nipple with a wet pop, you were panting harshly, eyes glazed with lust. Carl looked just as affected, his own pupils blown wide and dark, cheeks flushed with arousal. Without a word, he gripped your thighs and hoisted you up, wrapping your legs around his waist. You automatically clung to him, arms around his neck and ankles locked at the small of his back.

He carried you over to a small table in the corner, sweeping the dust and debris onto the floor with one arm before setting you down on the rough wood. The change in position pressed his obvious arousal right against your clothed center, and you both groaned at the contact.

Carl captured your lips again in a searing kiss as his hands slid down your sides to the waistband of your pants. He paused, pulling back slightly to look at you, silently asking for permission. You nodded breathlessly, and that was all the encouragement he needed.

He popped the button on your fly and dragged the zipper down torturously slow. Hooking his fingers in the waistband of your pants and panties, he slowly peeled them down your legs along with your boots, leaving you bare before him. For a moment, he just drank in the sight of you, eyes smoldering with desire.

Then he was kissing you again, hard and hungry, his hands spreading your thighs wide as he stepped between them. His fingers found your slick folds, stroking through your arousal with deliberate slowness. You whimpered into his mouth, hips rocking forward into his touch.

"Fuck, you're so wet," he groaned, circling your clit with the pad of his thumb. "All for me."

"Yes," you panted, tilting your hips to give him better access. "Only for you."

Carl smirked at that, two fingers plunging deep into your tight heat without warning. You cried out at the sudden fullness, inner muscles clenching around the welcome intrusion. He pumped his fingers in and out at a relentless pace, curling them to hit that perfect spot inside you with each thrust.

The table creaked beneath you with every snap of his hips, the lewd sounds of your wetness mixing with your escalating moans. Your orgasm built quickly, your walls starting to flutter around his pistoning digits.

"That's it," Carl rasped, thumb flicking over your clit in time with his thrusts. "Come for me. Let me feel you."

His words were all it took to send you careening over the edge. You came with a loud cry, body shaking and hips jerking erratically as wave after wave of ecstasy crashed over you. Carl didn't stop, fucking you through it with those relentless fingers until you were boneless and gasping.

When you finally came down, Carl was watching you with a look of pure male satisfaction. He withdrew his fingers slowly, bringing them to his mouth to taste your essence. His low moan sent a fresh shiver down your spine.

"You taste fucking incredible," he said hoarsely, licking his lips. "But I'm not done with you yet."

A fresh rush of arousal flooded your core at his words, but Carl wasn't done proving his point. In one smooth motion, he undid his own pants and shoved them down just enough to free his straining erection.

You widened your eyes at the impressive sight. Large and thick, flushed red and leaking pre-cum from the tip. Carl caught your gaze and smirked knowingly before lining himself up with your entrance.

"Brace yourself," he said warningsly. Then he thrust forward in one powerful surge of his hips.

You both groaned as he filled you completely, your walls stretching deliciously around his thick length. He paused for a moment, letting you adjust to the sudden fullness. When you nodded that you were ready, he pulled out slowly before snapping back inside.

The table rattled with the force of his thrusts, the sound of skin slapping against skin filling the small cabin. Carl gripped your hips hard enough to bruise, using his hold to pull you into every snap of his hips. You clutched at his shoulders for dear life, meeting him thrust for thrust.

"Fuck," Carl grunted above you, sweat beading on his forehead. "So goddamn tight. Feels like you were made for me."

"Just like that," you gasped out, nails digging into his back. "Don't stop."

Carl responded by angling his hips to hit that special spot inside you with each thrust. Your head thrashed against the table as your pleasure built again rapidly, so intense it bordered on painful.

"So close," you panted, feeling the telltale tightening in your lower belly. "Gonna come again."

"Yes," Carl hissed through clenched teeth, gripping your hips harder as his thrusts turned erratic. "Do it. Come on my cock like a good girl."

His dirty words pushed you over, your orgasm hitting you like a freight train. You screamed your release, vision whiting out as ecstasy consumed you. Distantly, you felt Carl's rhythm falter before he was coming too, spurting hot and deep inside you with a hoarse shout.

He collapsed on top of you after, both of you sweaty and panting, still intimately joined. For a few moments, there was only the sound of your breathing evening out as you came down from your highs.

Then Carl pulled back slightly to look at you, a lazy smirk on his face. "So," he said, brushing damp hair from your forehead. "That was... something else."

You huffed a laugh, still floating in the afterglow. "Definitely something else."

He kissed you then, sweet and slow, all traces of the earlier animosity gone. There was just this new connection between you now, electric and thrilling and oh-so-right.

When he finally pulled away, he nuzzled into your neck with a contented sigh. "We should probably get dressed before someone comes looking for us."

You made a noise of agreement but didn't move, just enjoying the feeling of him still half-hard inside you. In this moment, everything else could wait - the walkers outside, the prison, all of it. Right now, it was just you and Carl, finally giving in to what they both wanted.

And you knew, without a doubt, it was only the beginning.

@hiro--aoki @carlsangel @acid9786 @bethberry

[ta1is]

in honor of the time i sent my gf a feverish voice message in discord prattling on about this, i must now torture the dash with it:

jayce's greatest strength and simultaneously greatest weakness is his empathy

he so effortlessly understands where people are coming from, and that makes it exceptionally hard to decide who's right, who's wrong, who he should be supporting, who he should be standing against . . . if you genuinely and wholeheartedly understand every single standpoint in an issue, what do you actually fckn do?

that's his achilles heel throughout the show. he has core values he ends up straying from because he's so empathetic toward everyone else's causes. he's gullible because his emotional literacy makes him prone to understanding basically anyone even if he didn't originally agree with them or still doesn't

the recipe for a bIGGER disaster is him also being a people pleaser. he's scrambling to appease everyone, bolstered by his innate ability to put himself in everyone's shoes— yeah, no fuckin duh he ends up screwing most everything up royally because this boy is constantly trying to do the impossible and stretching himself thinner than viktor

he's so real for that jfc jayce we're really in it now

[maryasmorevna]

why are you, as an adult in 2024, still hung up on reylo. why are you still mocking the shippers. why do you believe yourself to be superior only because you dislike a stupid ship from a fucking space fairytale. girl (gnc) get a grip

[s0fter-sin]

i had an eye test done a few days ago and one of the tests gave me mad vertigo, it only lasted a few minutes but i still have a major headache and nausea and it flares up when i’m scrolling. obviously the answer is to get off my phone but it’s making me think of the march that shall not be named when i couldn’t look at fucking anything and ya girl is getting nervous

[plateauofmemories]

*Stares into the middle distance* Maybe Kingdom Hearts III necessitated the creation of khdr, not to expand upon Xehanort's character but to expand upon Eraqus's.

Seriously, he's not, like, in KHIII a lot, but he definitely got some story beats he did NOT earn

[no1ryomafan]

My ass needs to be in bed but I was looking at my anilist-yes I have one as it’s super helpful to keep track of anime I’ve watched + plan to watch-since i finished big o s1 they separated s2 as a different thing and WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU MEAN INTERNATIONAL VIEWINGS BASICALLY SAVED THE SHOW FROM ENDING ON A CLIFFHANGER??

[boobachu]

Link to first tweet if you wanted to read better

Edit: there was a revision

i found the second funniest map in the world today

[theorist-fox]

Some more insecure Simon Riley talk, because he's precious.

18+

Word count: 1.4k

CW: nothing, just smut. Simon finds you in lingerie and has a stroke. I love him your honor.

Masterlist 🦊

Simon, who is not sure what to do with himself the first time you welcome him home in nothing but lingerie.

He’s so unbelievably tired, dropping his clothes on the floor of the bedroom without even lifting his head. Mumbling apologies to you—how he’ll clean tomorrow, how he just wants to go to bed and sleep fourteen hours straight, right now. Bonus points if you hold him through the night, too.

Yet you’re not replying, but he’s seen your silhouette in the darkness; he knows you’re awake because you whispered a soft “Welcome back” when he walked in the room. His heart pounds in his chest, his palms get clammy—he thinks he’s overstepping lines by not giving you the attention he thinks you deserve.

So, as he unzips his pants, he lifts his eyes to look at you, and fuck—

You’re lying on your side, propped on your elbow, chin tucked in your palm. Perfect tits covered in sheer fabric, burgundy and black, your nipples peeking through. The soft line of your waist is bare—he follows it with his eyes until they land on your hips. Ornated lace curves around your hipbone and thins into see-through, dark fabric over your mound. Two strips of silk clasp your knickers to a pair of thin stockings that cinch the fat of your thighs, and the sight makes his mouth water.

“Welcome back,” you say once again, this time with soft amusement.

He looks like a proper idiot. Hand still on his crotch, practically feeling how his cock comes to a stand at the mere sight of you.

He gulps. Feels a little lightheaded. “F’ me?”

You smile, chuckling softly but not derisively. Simon follows your hand as you guide it over your belly, up to the valley of your breast, as if you’re there, showing the goods he can pick and taste.

“For you.”

Simon is stunned into silence again.

Fuck is he supposed to do, uh? He’d be content just looking at you lying there and looking like you came out of a magazine, instead of touching you and potentially ruining what you did just for—for him?

He must not have noticed how his whole body (aside from his cock) has gone into standby—entered sniper mode. He's quiet, breaths reduced and silent, eyes attentive and narrowed.

It's a handful of seconds that leave you uncomfortable, as your plastic pose softens, your smile faltering at the corners.

“You don’t like it?” You ask, trying to sound steady, but he picks up the nervousness in your tone right away.

He won’t let you have it, obviously. He snaps out of it and takes you in for what you are: a fucking present, on his bed, wrapped in strings and bows and lace like gift wrap.

“Shoulda guessed it was too much, maybe. Should’ve gone for somethin’ soft—"

Simon is on you in seconds. Grabs your face in his hands and smashes his lips to yours something fierce, nothing like you’ve ever experienced before. No hesitation. Simple, tangible desire. Scorching lust. Want. Need—fuck, he’s never kissed you like this.

Your eyes lose their surprise, and they slowly surrender to him—hands wandering down to help him out of his pants and briefs. And then you wrap your arms around his neck, grazing his scalp with your nails until he shivers.

Simon thought there was nothing comparable to the softness of your skin against the harder patches of scars freckling his abdomen. But he’s proved wrong when he feels the rough texture of your lace scratch his chest and his hips—it has him leaking embarrassingly quick.

He’s all lips and tongue as he races down your chest, sloppy kisses leaving a burning trail between your tits, down your belly, settling on your cunt covered by thin mesh.

Simon looks up at you, holding your thighs between thick fingers, smushing them against his cheeks. His eyes are hooded, dark, different. He tilts his head and bites into the plump flesh within reach—not enough to hurt, but sure enough to taste. Mercifully passes his tongue over the teeth marks before biting into it again, until the sting has you arching your back off the bed.

And he never breaks eye contact, which leaves you dumbfounded and flustered to the bone—because where is this confidence coming from? You’re wide-eyed and biting your own teeth in anticipation—this is all new and all the more exciting.

His kisses travel from the lines of your stretch marks up to your sex, where he doesn’t even bother moving the gusset of your knickers, and he just dives in.

Tongue flat against your cunt, drenching the sheer fabric with his spit and your moisture. Your moans are so soft compared to the sloppy mess he’s making of you down there, his insecurity blessed by a sort of beginner’s luck. Or maybe he’s just that hungry, and that is enough for your cunt flutter around nothing anyway.

You’re speechless when he finally lifts himself up, slotting his hips between your kiss-bitten thighs. His cock lands heavy on your pelvis, painting your lower belly with speckles of sheer precum. Head swollen and red right above your belly button.

You look at him wide-eyed, on your back, stock-still—anticipating his next move with your heart rate spiking.

He takes you completely by surprise (once again? In one night? Who is this man?), when he moves your knickers to the side, and instead of plunging in, he slides his cock between your folds and snaps the lace back above it. And then he starts rutting in shameless abandon, holding you steady by your thighs, letting the sheer fabric of your panties cover his tip and half of his shaft, as he runs himself back and forth over the surface of your pussy.

“M’gonna ruin it, sorry.” He croaks, as one of his hands comes to clumsily grab your tits through the lace. “So fuckin’ pretty—fuck—bloody hell, you—”

You coax him to go on with breathless moans because he’s never looked more breathtaking than he does now. Tiny drops of sweat drip from his forehead onto your belly, cheeks flushed and long lashes fanning his cheekbones. His lips yield a grunt each time the lace scratches his shaft. Your breath hitches each time the head of his cock catches your clit.

“Gonna buy ya a new one, yeah?” He grunts, looking down at the wet patch his cock is making through the lace. “Gonna buy ya fuckin’ ten.”

He’s never been this vocal, and you don’t dare to mouth a whisper in case he catches himself in the act. Not even when you cum, a short and stinging orgasm that makes your clit burn at the friction, do you dare to moan. You tilt your head back and shut your eyes, neck corded in the strain to keep it in, flushing with warmth in unbearable silence.

You think you hear his voice crack through the cotton in your ears when you come back down from your high. “Fuck—God, fuck. Wha’ a gift, eh? F’ me. All f’me.”

He pulls back a few moments later, taking his cock out of your panties and into a thick hand. A few pumps, and he cums on your lace, painting your belly and your cunt in glistening white.

He’s panting as his hand languidly comes to a halt. Chest flushed and with a thin layer of sweat over it.

“Sorry,” he murmurs, clearly dizzy—as if he needs to apologize for this. “I ruined it. I—just—gonna go grab somethin’ to—to clean y'up, wait 'ere—Jesus Christ.”

He slowly comes to stand, knees popping and legs shaking as he stumbles to the bathroom.

You look down at the spurts of cum covering your stomach and staining the lace of your panties, and then you flop your head back onto the mattress, wide eyes locked to the ceiling.

A chuckle of disbelief escapes you, still in shock from the sudden switch in behavior. And you think, when he comes back with a towel to clean the mess he’s made on your skin, that you might have to take another trip to the shop this weekend—buy yourself a new little piece.

But later, then, he falls asleep with his head on your chest, fingers lazily toying with the lace of your bra (because he’s asked you to keep it on, you know—“Like how 't feels”), and so you move up your shopping a little—already on your phone, running your thumb to skim through pinks and blues, laces and silks.

You might just order a new one right now.

It’s at that moment that he shifts in his sleep, slipping his hand under the band of your lacy bra and curling his fingers around your breast.

You change your mind.

You might just order ten.

[seospicybin]

THE FUCKBOY NEXT DOOR.

PART I

Bangchan x reader. (s,a)

Chapters: Part II / Part III / Final.

Synopsis: Having issues to break up with your boyfriend, you seek help from the boy next door and the number one fuckboy in the area, Chan. (10k words)

Author's note: I went through a nasty break up a few weeks ago and this is basically just me trying to cope by being delulu about having a fuckboy Chan as a neighbor. Enjoy x

It becomes a habit now that Chan doesn't know where he is when he wakes up in the morning.

The first thing that he'll do is retrace everything to last night. He was DJ-ing at a club, had a few drinks in between, met a girl who was eyeing him the whole night, had a few more drinks, there was a little touching and a quick makeout session in the dark alley and people can guess what happens after that

So this is where he is right now, the girl's bedroom and he can recall everything that happened last night except the girl's name.

"Fuck!" Chan mutters under his breath.

Judging from how bright the sun is outside, he knows he only has a little window to make his escape so he quickly gets off the bed as calmly as possible. He then tiptoes around to gather his clothes and put them on without making any noise.

However, he fails at it as the head from his belt hits the bed frame and the clanging of metal meets metal echoing in the room.

The girl steers on her sleep and rolls over to the side, she brushes her hair away from her face, catching Chan putting his belt on.

The plan to make a quick getaway has come to a failure but he keeps his cool, continuing to buckle his belt and then plants his hands on each side of his waist.

"Morning," He awkwardly says with a forced smile.

"Morning," the girl replies with a smile then props an elbow against the mattress, sending the duvet sliding down her body and exposing her bare chest to him.

Chan might have been a little drunk when he met her but damn, his fuckboy radar works well even under the influence of alcohol.

"You're leaving already?" She asks, flipping her hair to the back to expose more of those beautiful mounds to him.

Chan has to tell his pervy brain to focus actively, he looks away and picks up his jacket from the floor.

"I promised a friend to help him move out today," He lies, then pretends to check the time on his phone, "And I'm kind of late."

The girl nods then twirls her hair around her finger, "Well then... when can I see you again?"

"I hope soon," Chan says with his charming grin that disguises the insincerity in his answer.

The girl smiles at that which confirms that the grin works, "But seriously, I can't wait to see you again," she says.

"I'll call you," he says because that's what he can promise her at the moment but whether he'll do it or not is uncertain.

"But you don't have my numbers yet," she says with her eyebrows wrinkled in suspicion.

"No, I'm sure you already did," he says, convincing her by scrolling the contacts on his phone.

"Yup. I have your numbers already," he lies again, showing her a random contact on his phone for a quick second.

"But my name is Thalia," she says, cleverly catching the name on the contact.

"Yes, of course, you're Thalia," he says with utmost confidence and his ultimate weapon of a dimpled smile.

The girl seems alarmed though. She sits up on the bed and clutches the duvet close to her chest, "We're going to see each other again, right Chris?"

"Yes," he answers without a beat, and at this point, lying is as easy as breathing to him.

"Can I get a kiss before you leave?"

"Sure," he says, coming around the bed to give her a quick peck on the lips.

The girl smiles when he lets go and watches as he walks to the doorway, "I'll call you, Tanya."

"It's Thalia," she corrects him with an apparent displeasure on her face.

Chan shoves his phone into the pocket of his jeans and takes the time to properly bid her goodbye. Nothing a girl likes more than a sweet mouth and a little assurance, he'll give her exactly that.

"I'll see you soon, Thalia," Chan says with a smile.

"See you soon, Chris," and the girl naively believes him, if only she knew that this will be the last time they're seeing each other.

Yet again, Chan makes another successful getaway.

-

The warm weather of spring makes it a pleasant walk from the bus stop to his apartment building. He wants to stop somewhere for breakfast but his head feels heavy from the hangover, he just wants to go home as soon as possible, have a bowl of cereal then take an aspirin for the pounding headache.

In the lobby, he makes a quick stop to collect his mail and takes a quick check at it, sorting them out on the spot so he knows which ones he should bring upstairs.

From the corner of his eyes, Chan catches his neighbor, you with your boyfriend chatting by the elevator. He notices the gestures, the expression, and the whole interaction, it doesn't take a genius to know that something is going on there that the naked eyes can't see.

Chan throws the unnecessary mail into the trash bin nearby and walks to the elevator, hearing the little conversation going on between you and your boyfriend.

"...the waffles were delicious. We should have breakfast there again," the boyfriend says as he looks at you, "What do you think?"

"Yeah," you meekly answer while looking at the little screen that shows the floor the elevator is stopping in.

Chan tries to remain invisible but his eyes accidentally make contact with your boyfriend so he may as well make his presence known.

"Hi, neighbor," he greets, he knows your name but you seem to prefer to be called that way.

You do what you always do whenever you meet each other in the building, give him a quick judging look and a courteous smile.

"And hi neighbor's boyfriend," he greets your boyfriend next.

"Hi," your boyfriend greets back, "Chris, isn't it?"

"Yes and you are Lee," Chan responds.

"Right. So how was your Friday night?" Lee initiates a small talk.

"I believe it wasn't as good as yours," Chan playfully answers.

"Oh, we just stayed in and watched a movie, right baby?" Lee says, putting his arm around your shoulder.

All of a sudden, you take a step forward and say, "It's here."

The elevator doesn't chime until a moment later but you seem to be more than eager to get in. You turn around to give your boyfriend a quick hug.

"I'll try to leave early so we can have dinner together," Lee says with a quick kiss on the cheek.

"It's okay. Take your time," you say with a faint smile.

Chan quietly gets into the elevator and holds the door open for you, he tries not to look at what's happening in front of him not out of politeness but it's just painful to watch.

"I'll call you," Lee adds, catching your hand as you enter the elevator and kissing it.

"Okay," you say then wave your hand at him.

To help you get out of it, Chan releases his finger off the buttons and sends the doors sliding shut.

"Bye, baby," Lee says for the last time before the doors completely close.

It's just another awkward elevator ride with you and he'll usually try to endure it but after watching all that and trying not to say anything is hard, he can't help but impose.

He glances at you to check whether you're ready to hear about what he has to say but you always have the same stoic expression. Then it occurs to him that he has never seen you smile impolitely or out of joy, or even hear your laugh, but maybe after you hear what he's about to say, he'll get to see a different facial expression on you.

"Oh, man! That was painful to watch," he sighs as he keeps looking straight ahead at his reflection in the shiny furnace of the elevator.

There's no one else in the elevator so you're fully aware that he's talking to you but you don't respond until a while later.

There you go, with your judging look and stoic expression, looking at him as you say, "Excuse me?"

Chan doesn't want to sound rude but beating around the bush isn't his thing, he prefers to be straightforward. He knows it's all based on assumptions but he's pretty sure his judgements are pretty accurate.

He's going to just do it and lay out the facts, he turns to the side, then leans his back against the cold surface of the elevator.

"Your shoulder tightens when he called you baby and the fact you lied about the breakfast tells me that you didn't actually like his choice of restaurant," he pauses to let out a cynical chuckle, "the waffles weren't that good, I guess?"

When he wants to see a different facial expression on you, he doesn't mean seeing your angry one, but oh well, the damage has been done.

"Because I'm a good girlfriend that's why I let him choose the restaurant," you become defensive all of a sudden but that's an unconvincing answer.

"No, you let him choose out of pity," he simply remarks, "And just now, your nostrils flared when I pointed it out."

With all of these signs combined with his personal experiences, Chan narrows it out to one conclusion. He looks at you in the eyes and says, "You're about to break up with him, don't you?"

It looks like you've been slapped right on the face except that the slap doesn't come from someone, it's from the truth that comes out of Chan's unfiltered mouth and he instantly regrets it for meddling in in someone else's business.

"I'm sorry, but why are we having this conversation?" You ask, crossing your arms together in front of you.

"It's not like you're any better. You slept around, you're scared of commitment and now, sticking your nose at my business. You are the kind of person that I deeply despise!" You angrily say with your chest heaving.

It seems like you're saying all of those things about him out of anger because he sees right through you but now he knows why you always give him that judging look. He's the one who started it so yeah, okay, maybe he deserves that but that doesn't change the truth. The problem is what he said and your response, they're heading in the opposite direction.

"I think someone has her panties in a twist," Chan coyly responds.

"Look, there's nothing wrong with wanting to break up. That doesn't make you a bad person," he adds and decides to end the talk right there.

It gets quiet in this enclosed space and it's already suffocating as it is but how lucky that he has to patiently wait for the elevator to ride through three more floors to get out of here.

When the elevator finally dings open, Chan lets out a breath he doesn't know he's been holding but he's not the one in a hurry to exit both this space and the situation. He stays where he is and lets you out first.

When he thinks you don't have anything else to say, you stop right outside the elevator and look at him with a piercing gaze.

"Don't, for one second, think that you had any effect whatsoever on my panties!" You emphasize every word in anger, then storm off.

Know what? Maybe Chan should skip the bowl of cereal and take two aspirin instead. As for you, maybe you need to chill the fuck out.

-

Just because you've been neighbors with Chan for the past three years doesn't mean that you know each other on a personal level.

All you know about him is that he's a DJ which explains why there's always music playing in his apartment, he always wears a sleeveless top to showcase his muscles, and he always has a stupid grin on to show off the stupid dimples on his stupid face, an annoying Australian accent and from how many times you caught different girls taking a walk of shame out of his apartment, it's safe to say that he's the number one fuckboy in the area

So how dare he say all of that stuff in the elevator when he doesn't know anything about you at all? Moreover, what does a fuckboy like him know about relationships?

It shouldn't be hard to ignore because it's something you usually do but gosh, the memory of the conversation still vexed you a few days later.

Then it hits you that it bothers you so much because deep down, you know what he said is true. You've been wanting to break up with your boyfriend and hearing that comes from someone outside that relationship only solidified that thought.

There's nothing wrong with your boyfriend, Lee is nice, too nice even, and when you think about it, maybe that is the problem, he is too nice and that leads you to another problem, you don't know how to break up with him without hurting his feelings.

But you know who can help you with that? Someone who has a lot of experience in breaking up with people.

Oh, what a joy that you find the answer right across your door!

Before you get to ask for his help though, you're fully aware that there's another thing to do and there's no other way to do it but walk up to his apartment, knock on his door, and apologize.

As you're standing there in front of his apartment door, you're dreading it. All sorts of thoughts crossed your head like why did you have to be so riled up that time in the elevator? Why did you have to say that thing about the panties? Just why? Ugh!

Let's just get it over with, you mutter inside your head.

With hesitant hand, you knock on his door and then hold the urge to turn around and run back to your apartment. You let yourself take a step back as you wait for him to come for the door.

Do not open the door, do not open the door, you chant inside your head while tapping your foot against the floor. However, things are not always going the way you want.

The door swings inward and a second later, Chan appears with disheveled hair and he only has one arm in the sleeve of his t-shirt, then you spot a girl's shoes next to his feet.

Oh no, please don't say you're coming at the wrong time.

You reflexively take another step back but he grabs your forearm and then opens the door wider, showing you that there's a girl there.

"It's my neighbor, she's here to remind me about the tenant meeting," he says to her.

The girl looks at you rather suspiciously and crosses her arms together in front of her as she glares at Chan.

"No. Don't you dare try to get out of this, Chris!"

"But it's true. We have to leave now," Chan says, then gives you a look that tells you to lie along with him, "Right?"

Running a quick assessment of the situation, you're certain that Chan is trying to get himself out of it to avoid having a difficult conversation with the beautiful lady. You hate to be the accessory to his crime but if this means that it would help you earn his forgiveness...

"The pigeons!" You make up a lie on the spot.

"The pigeons are ruining our rooftop garden so we held this urgent tenant meeting," you add with what you hope is a convincing smile.

"Oh, those damn pigeons!" Chan heavily sighs with a phony expression.

The lie makes your throat dry and your cheeks hurt from forcing a smile, you have to keep it going as the lady considers whether to believe that the tenant meeting is true or not.

Chan grabs his jacket from the clothes hook and puts it on, "We'll continue this later, okay?" He says to her.

Without waiting for her answer, he gets out of the door and drags you with him to go to your apartment. Once both of you get inside, he immediately closes the door behind him and lets out a long sigh.

"Oh, wow!" He exclaims once he realizes that he's inside your apartment.

He allows himself further inside and leisurely walks around your apartment, checking your kitchen, trailing his fingers on your book collection on the shelf, and observing the potted plants lining up on the window sill.

He walks back to the middle of the room and takes another 360-degree look around the apartment, then nods in approval.

"So, this is what the inside of your apartment looks like," he says in a cryptic tone.

Not sure if he wants you to respond to that or if should respond at all. You choose to remain silent and only respond when his intentions are intelligible.

Chan then sits on the sofa, making himself comfortable, and looks at you, then at what you're holding in both hands.

"Is that for me?"

The jar of cookies you've been unknowingly holding in your hands is a token of apology and it is for him.

"Yes, it is for you," you say, handing it to him with both hands.

"I'm sorry about the other day," you sincerely apologize, but you know you have to let him know what you're apologizing for, "for what I've said to you. I'm terribly sorry."

"Well, since you're helping me with the uh... situation," he coyly says as he scratches his eyebrow, "consider us even."

See? That wasn't so hard. You feel bad for lying to the girl but at least, you've been forgiven.

"Thank you," you add with a smile.

Chan doesn't say anything else but opens the lid and takes a cookie out of the jar. He gets comfortable on the sofa, sitting slumped with his legs spreading wide, and then he takes a big bite of the cookie.

It doesn't take long for him to notice that you have something else to say to him other than an apology.

Before he gets to it, you force yourself to start speaking.

"So, Chris..." you call, then abruptly stop talking. You suddenly have a second thought about asking for his help.

"What's up?" He asks while chewing on his cookie.

It's at the tip of your tongue but your mouth feels like they're sewn shut. You clasp your hands together and muster up the courage to just blurt it out.

"Do you want something to have with the cookies?"

You swear you plan on asking for his help but somehow, your mouth saying a different thing.

"Milk would be nice," he answers.

"Milk. Yes, I have milk," you awkwardly say, slowly making your way to the kitchen like a walking dead.

You take a carton of milk from the fridge and while pouring it into a glass, you're scolding yourself for being so cowardly.

After taking a moment to take a deep breath and muster up the courage to ask, you walk back to the sofa with the glass of milk in hand. With a smile, you hand it to him.

"Thank you," he says, his eyes catching something in your eyes.

You immediately break the eye contact and take another step back, standing and watching him finish his third cookie then wash it down with a sip of milk.

"I hope you don't mind that I'm going to stay here until the girl leaves my apartment," he informs.

"Oh?" You meekly gasp.

"But I can leave if you're uncomfortable," he says as he sits straight on the sofa.

"No, it's fine," you shortly reply, "Take your time."

"Okay, thanks," he says, reclining back on the sofa and continues munching on the cookies.

You can't decide if he stays longer than you expected is a good thing or not. You use the opportunity to reconsider it and walk to the kitchen to get out of his sight.

"Do you need help or not?" You quietly ask yourself as you pour yourself a glass of water.

Why is it so hard? He's right there. All you need is to go and ask for his help.

The water sloshes out of the glass as you fill it too full and you reflexively back away to avoid getting water all over the front of your dress.

"Everything good there?" Chan asks in a slight panic.

That's it! Enough time has passed from overthinking it! You walk up to him and just do it.

"You're right," you blurt out, "I've been wanting to break up with my boyfriend."

Sensing that it turns serious, Chan slows down his chewing and puts away the cookie jar. You expect the I-told-you-so grin on his face but no, he looks saddened instead.

"Things aren't working out," you openly share with a sad sigh.

You take a seat on the ottoman facing the sofa and sadly sigh, "I've been wanting to break up with him for a week now but I just don't know how."

"How long you've been dating each other?"

"Three years," you answer.

"Wow," Chan lowly gasps in awe.

Three years is not a short time, he understands why you hesitate to break up and it isn't an easy decision either.

"I need your help," you hopelessly say, unintentionally becoming vulnerable in front of him.

"My help?"

"Help me how to break up with him," you further explain.

"Of all people, why me?" He asks in utter confusion.

It's hard to answer that without being rude, you decide to let him process the question until it leads him to the answer. After a while, he lets out a dry chuckle and nods, "Okay, yeah. Make sense."

Chan takes another minute to accept the fact that his help is needed because he knows how to break up with someone without feeling awful about it afterward.

"I guess you want to let him down gently?"

"Yes," you answer.

"Well..." he inflates his cheeks then lets the air out through his pursed lips, "You can break up with him through a text."

Which part of 'let him down gently' did he not understand? How is it a good idea to break up through a text? But okay, it's just one suggestion, you give him the benefit of the doubt for now. Who knows he'll come up with better suggestions.

"I'm sorry. No, I can't do that," you kindly refuse his suggestion.

"You can send it when he's sleeping," he adds.

Oh, God! He gives you an even worse suggestion instead of better ones. You know what? This is a bad idea and you regret asking for his help.

"I don't—" You stop yourself from talking and get up from your seat.

"I'll just check if the lady is still..." Your words trail off as you walk towards the door and check through the peephole first, then you get out of the door to check his apartment next.

"Hello? Excuse me?" You shout from the doorway but no one is answering you.

You take it the lady has left and walk back to your apartment to deliver the news to the rightful owner of the apartment.

"She already left," you tell him.

Chan lets out a sigh and closes the cookie jar, he finishes the milk to its last drop and then gets up from the sofa.

"Thank you for the cookies and the milk," he says with his signature grin.

"No worries," you reply, trying so hard to hide the disappointment in your voice.

Chan holds the cookie jar in one arm and takes a step closer to you, "if you need help on how to write breakup texts, I'm just across the hall," he says.

You don't respond to that but keep a smile on for him as to seem polite.

"And good luck!" He says with gentle pats on your shoulder.

The second he walks out the door, you collapse onto the sofa and dread it even more than before. Turns out, asking for his help is not helping at all.

The next day, you meet him as you collect your mail in the lobby and it's hard to ignore him when his mailbox is next to yours.

"G'day!" Chan greets you as he leans the side of his body against the wall while sorting his mail.

"Good day!" You respond and hurriedly walk toward the elevator. You push the button to summon it to the lobby and hope it comes soon enough for you to avoid talking to Chan.

Of course, things don't go as you want it. He comes just in time for the elevator about to arrive, he crumples a few letters in his hand into a ball and then tosses it into the trash bin.

"How did it go?" He asks.

"Pardon?" You nonchalantly respond.

Good thing that the elevator chimes open and you can pretend to forget about what he asked you a while ago. You get inside while clutching your mails in hands in front of you but it's not safe yet as you have to share the elevator ride with him.

"So... the break-up texts? Did you do it?" He asks again, going to the corner of the elevator and leaning his back against it.

"Chris, I think you can't just end a three-year relationship with a text," you put it as nicely as you can.

"Yeah, I reckon," he innocently answers.

It seems like Chan can't tell the difference between what is easy and what is right. It isn't a good idea in the first place to ask for help from someone like him who doesn't consider other people's feelings except his own.

"What are you going to do then?" He asks, shifting his weight on one leg.

Since his help is not helping at all, you have no answer to that yet. This should be something you have to figure out on your own in the first place.

"I'll figure it out," you not-very-convincingly answer.

Chan crosses his arms in front of him, making the muscles and veins on his arms more evident under the fluorescent light of the elevator.

"Lee seems like a nice guy," he remarks with a deep inhale of air.

Well, if you have to compare your boyfriend to Chan, then yes, Lee is a really nice guy. Lee excels in a lot of things, including how to treat a person with feelings.

"Yes," you settle with a simple answer.

"A drawn-out break up is only going to end in a big scene," he says, "Just saying."

Chan has a point. It's worse to prolong the pain for both you and Lee, you can't keep pretending that the relationship works and it's unfair that you keep Lee oblivious about all this.

"We can practice, you know," he offers.

"Practice?"

"On how you're going to break up with him," he explains.

He comes up with a better suggestion this time and is almost endearing even but again, he wouldn't know how a person with real feelings reacts to a break-up which makes you unsure if the practice would be any help.

The elevator is about to arrive anyway so you decide to skip on responding to his offer. Once it chimes, the doors part open and you take the first turn to get out with Chan getting off after you. You turn to the left to your apartment while he turns right. You take the key out of your pocket to unlock the door and push your way in while clutching your mail close to your chest.

"You know where to find me if you need help," Chan says just before you close the door to your apartment.

Hard pass, you answer in your head but you put on a smile for his kind offer, then close the door

-

Okay, you admit it. You were too haste when you said that you didn't need his help. You were doing fine for these past few days, you've been avoiding meeting your boyfriend to give you some more time to think of the best way to break the news to him until he calls you.

The phone rings and you just stare at it, considering whether to pick it up or not. If you pick it up, that means you have to lie to him and if you don't, it'll alert him that things are, in fact, not okay.

The latter seems like a better idea so you pick it up after taking a long, deep breath.

"Hi, baby. Am I calling you at the wrong time?"

Not entirely wrong but it would be nice if he didn't call you, you answer in your head.

"Yeah, sorry, I was in the bathroom," you lie.

"Coconut shrimp for dinner. What do you think?" he asks out of the blue.

"That sounds nice," you easily respond.

"I know you'll like it but, babe, do you mind getting us a bottle of wine on the way?

"I'm sorry?" You ask in confusion.

"For our dinner, remember?" he answers, "I'll cook tonight we'll be having dinner at mine."

You hardly paid attention to him because your mind was always elsewhere, you couldn't remember saying yes to the dinner but you did and it must be out of pity.

"No, of course, I remember, I'm just..." you rake your brain to think of something to say.

"I thought it was next week," you lie again with an awkward chuckle.

"You silly!" Lee says, "Aren't you glad that I called, huh?"

"So glad," you lie, again and again.

"I should start prepping the ingredients so they'll be ready when you get here," he says, his voice exuding enthusiasm.

"Okay."

"Don't forget the wine!"

"I won't."

"I can't wait to see you, baby," he sweetly says.

The lies are piling up so may as well add another one to the pile, "Me too."

"I love you, bye."

Don't think you can lie your answer to that, you gulp air, "Bye," you say to the phone, then quickly hang up.

Desperate times call for desperate measures and you don't know your desperate measure means knocking on your neighbor's door. Probably because you hate to admit that you need his help.

Not long after, Chan opens the door and his head pops out from the gap, "What's up?"

"My boyfriend just called and tonight, we'll be having dinner in his place," you blabber in panic.

It takes a second for him to process it then his face turns a little surprised, "What are we going to do then?" He asks in confusion.

You may be in dread but you catch the error in his question, "We? Now, you got your panties in a twist," you tell him.

"Shame on you!" He responds with a sly grin then opens the door wider and shows himself dressed in nothing but a white towel hanging low around his hips.

He puts one arm against the doorframe and leans close to you as he says, "Cause I'm not wearing any panties right now."

You should have noticed it from his wet hair and the beads of water rolling down his neck, and now that you're seeing the whole of it, your eyes immediately following where the beads of water going, they're going down the outline of his abs and eventually, to where they're all gathered as his pelvic bones leading down to one way: down south.

However, your instinctive reaction goes against what you're actually feeling inside.

"Ugh!" You groan and turn to the side, "Put some clothes on and I'll see you at my place!"

Without waiting for his answer, you rush back to your apartment and close the door behind you as fast as possible, then you rest your back against it.

The images of his naked body flashing through your head, his glistening wet pale skin, and how some parts of his body are blotchy red around the neck and chest. You get flustered all of a sudden, you immediately press the back of your hand to your cheek and you can feel them heating.

"Get it together!" You scold yourself.

After waiting for almost fifteen minutes, Chan finally comes knocking on your door like it's a musical instrument.

"Are you dressed?" You ask with your hand on the doorknob.

"Hardly," he jokes.

You peek through the peephole and see that he's already dressed to what you can say is his usual attire of dark short pants with a matching sleeveless top, showing off his bulging biceps. You open the door to let him in and he coyly walks in, treating your place like it's his own, sitting on your sofa with his legs spreading wide.

"Okay, so, why am I here?"

You stand in front of him with your hands clasped in front of you, "I've been lying to him the whole phone call and honestly, I've been doing it since the moment I decided that I want to break up with him, and I... I don't think I can lie to him again."

It's easy to admit your mistakes to him because he barely knows you and his opinions about you won't matter that much to you.

"I need to do it tonight," you hopelessly say.

"I take it you need my help to practice your break-up speech?"

You hate that he guesses it right but it's also convenient that you don't have to beat around the bush to ask for it. But first, you try to explain the situation as much as possible so he has ideas on what you're facing here.

"Lee is a man of many emotions and I'm not exaggerating when I say he'll likely cry," you inform.

Chan's forehead wrinkles as he processes this piece of information then stifles a nod. It seems like he still has no idea what you want him to do about it.

"I think it's less painful if you acknowledge the dumpee feelings," you blatantly explain.

"Okay, I got you. Let's practice!' He says, sitting up straighter on the sofa and then putting his hands on his knees.

It's just a practice but your anxiety takes over you not just mentally but also physically as your palms get sweaty. You wipe them down your jeans and take a breath.

"Lee," you call him by your boyfriend's name, and even though it's weird that you're roleplaying, you continue, "I want to break up with you."

Chan looks at you and gets quiet for a moment, "Wow. I'm in utter shock and it makes me very sad to hear that," he says with a rather serious tone.

Not the kind of reaction Lee would likely pull off but that will do if you decide to continue with it.

"I'm fully aware that this is so sudden but I've been thinking hard about it for some time and I think this is a decision that I should take," you say and you know it's a practice but you feel something caught in your throat.

"I'm sad and I need time to process it, but I'll be okay," he calmly says.

Chan gets the tone right but you believe breaking up wouldn't be this easy in real life, especially when there are real feelings to protect. To be honest, you're not ready to face the truth that you may hurt those feelings tonight.

"I think that went very well," Chan says, returning to his default settings.

"Yeah, I think that's it," you meekly say.

The worries and sadness are drawn on your face that Chan can easily see through your veiled expression, "If Lee is as nice as you said he is, then you shouldn't worry much," he says.

He waits until your eyes meet his to continue, "He may get surprised or shocked even, but he'll come around and respect your decision."

You can't believe that those words are coming out of his mouth or that he even tries to comfort you, but you appreciate it. Maybe his heart is still there, he just doesn't let it control him most of the time.

He gets up from the sofa and walks up to you, he takes your hands, ignoring how cold and sweaty they feel in his, "You got this," he assures you.

"Thank you, Chris," you sincerely say with a sad smile.

It is time to stop torturing both you and Lee with lies and forcing yourself to believe that the love is still there. It's time to accept the truth that if you can fall in love, you can also fall out of love.

-

It's a surprise that Chan worries about things that aren't his business. He's been playing some music to distract him from his head but he keeps the volume low because he doesn't want to miss hearing the sound of the elevator that will tell him any signs that you're back from the dinner.

Eventually, he tires himself out from worrying and falls asleep on the sofa. He startles always close to midnight after hearing the knocking on his doors.

Half disoriented, he trudges his way to open the door and finds you there, surprisingly, looking nice in a white cotton dress and your eyes dry.

But from the way you let yourself into his apartment, forgetting your impeccable manners and walking with shoulders slumped and carrying your shoes in your hands, he takes it that you did it.

"So... how did it go?" He carefully asks, following you as you're making your way to the sofa and then sitting on it.

You let a heavy sigh and your shoulders slumped even more, "At least, there's no crying," you answer with a sad smile.

Chan is unsure of how to react to that, is that a good thing or a bad thing? He just stands there with his arms crossed on his chest, thinking out loud.

"And even though it was ending... it was incredibly meaningful to me and I'm going to miss him," you say with your lips trembling.

Oh, no, Chan knows when a girl is about to cry, he quickly finds a remedy to it, one that he knows always works wonders for him. He runs to the kitchen and brings a bottle out of his alcohol stash, then hands it to you.

"Let's have a drink!" He says, realizing that he forgot the glass.

"Wait another second, I'll get the glass," he says, sprinting to retrieve two glasses from his kitchen cabinet.

When he returns, he sees that you're chugging the alcohol straight from the bottle. You gasp and then wince from the bitter aftertaste of it.

"Okay, straight from the bottle it is," he says, popping onto the sofa next to you.

You wipe your mouth with the back of your hand and then hand the bottle to him in which he wastes not another second to take a sip of it.

"The thing is... I really care about him but he wanted to get married, and I'm just not ready for that," you share with your eyes blank and looking at the void.

You take a deep breath but it seems like it only sends your heart sinking deeper and deeper, and making it harder for you to breathe.

"And if I'm not ready with a guy as great as him then what if I'm never ready?" You say, turning your head his way with your eyes glassy, pooling with tears.

"What if that was it..." you lift your shoulders then drop them as you let out a low sigh, "my one chance at love?"

The tears start streaming down your face like a bursting dam and Chan knows he can't do anything about it but let them out.

Hearing your words makes him think about what his idea of love is. He used to think that it was something he could get whenever he wanted it but now he knows that he's wrong, because that's just a short-lived infatuation, just some sort of meaningless connection.

From you, he learns that love is a privilege that not everyone can experience.

"What if I never get a second chance?" You ask him the question that he doesn't know the answer to.

"I don't know. I'm just sad," your voice cracks, then you break into tears.

Chan is quick to catch you into his arms and offers you his embrace. He knows he can't do anything about this sadness but he can try to soothe the pain, he's placing gentle rubs on your back as you cry into his chest.

The cry is resounding in this space, echoing the sadness back to you and it makes him inexplicably sad too, and he gets the urge to make it stop.

"It's going to be alright," he murmurs at the top of your head.

You look up with your eyes wet and red with tears caught in your lashes, "Is it?" You croak.

He doesn't know when but he knows for sure that time heals everything.

"It will be," he answers with a gentle caress of his knuckle on your wet cheek, "eventually."

Your eyes tell some more assurance for him and he doesn't know what drives him to do it, but he leans in, then kisses you.

To his surprise, you kiss him back and he knows you're doing it because you seek his comfort and he wants to give you exactly that. He wraps his arms around you and pulls you close, giving you that closeness you seek. He kisses you ever so softly because he knows he's kissing a broken heart and he wants to mend it. He can taste your sadness and the bitterness of it, and also the relief underlying all of it. As he kisses you, he lets his heart open just enough to take some of that sadness away from yours.

As the kiss deepens, the sadness withers, and something else emerges. Chan loses in it for a bit until he realizes what you're trying to do with your hand that reaches for the front of his jeans.

He abruptly detaches his lips from yours and shakes his head, "No, we can't do this," he says.

As much as he fancies you enough to have sex with you, he knows better not to do it when you're not in your right mind and your judgments are clouded with sadness. The last thing he wants is you waking up in the morning full of regrets.

"I want this, Chris," you croak.

"No, we can't," he adamantly says and takes your hand away from him.

"You're sad. You do want this," he says in an effort to put some sense into you.

You roughly crumple the front of his t-shirt and pull him close, "I want– No, I need this, Chris," you say to him with your eyes dark like two bottomless pits.

"Please?" You plead as a tear rolls down from the corner of your eye.

This is the most hopeless he ever heard of you and it breaks his heart. You said it yourself, you need this and he knows what you mean by that. You need the distraction, you need him to take this pain away even just for a fleeting moment, moreover, he can't break what's already broken.

He takes your hand off of his clothes and puts it in his, he leans in until his forehead is pressed against yours.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" He asks once again.

"Yes," you answer without a beat.

That's all Chan needed to hear, he inhales air and puts an inch between your faces. He then tenderly holds your face with both hands and looks at you, unsure where to start but maybe, he can start by making those tears coming out of your eyes.

Chan dabs the tears pooling in the corner of your eyes with his knuckle and without the slightest of hesitancy, he places a gentle kiss on each of your closed eyelids and before you can open them, he captures your lips in a kiss.

Sex is not something new to him but Chan knows that this time is not about physical fulfillment, but a way to offer comfort and hopefully, to also mend your broken heart.

He takes his time to strip away every piece of clothing on you until you're bare, lying on the bed with nothing but sadness that fills your heart.

He touches you with utmost gentleness, using just his fingertips to feel the softness of your skin and you're so pliant, sensitive to his touch.

To make it fair, Chan takes his clothes off as well before joining you on the bed, caging you in between his arms and hovering only inches away above you.

"Touch me," he says to you, taking your hand and placing it on his shoulder.

He then glides your hand down his neck and chest, he makes you feel every inch of his pale skin with him. However, when he looks at you, your eyes remain on his.

"You feel so warm, Chris," you lowly mutter.

He brings your hand close to his mouth and kisses it, then crashes his lips on yours.

The gap between your bodies becomes non-existent as you keep pulling him close, he relents by lowering himself on top of you and props an elbow against the mattress to not put his whole weight on you.

Lips locked, hands around each other, bodies pressed together and the temperature keeps on rising in the room. Chan makes you feel every part of his lips brushing and gliding over yours. He skillfully parts your mouth open with his tongue so he can kiss you deep and hard, yet slow until you run out of breath.

At the same time, his hand makes its way down until his fingers land on your delicate flesh. He touches it tenderly, running his fingers between the folds, and drags them upward to rub on your bundle of nerves.

"Ah..." you moan against his lips as you curve your hand around his neck and pull him incredibly closer.

Judging from it, he knows he's doing it right and he should continue, he applies gentle pressures on your clit, making you drenched and that way, he can slowly put a digit inside of you.

You let go of his kiss to let out a moan and your head falls onto the pillow as he puts another digit into you, two fingers pumping in and out of you.

Chan intently watches as your face contorted along to the pleasure, how your jaws slack open and breathless moans keep spilling out of your parted mouth.

The way you clench around his fingers makes him impatient to feel you and how tight you feel around him, and the noises you make oh, they're his new favorite tune that he wants to keep listening to until his eardrums burst.

He glances down as he pulls his fingers out of you and finds them thickly coated with your essence, it doesn't stop him from shoving them into his mouth and lick them clean.

Chan holds you by the chin to keep you still as he kisses you, "Give me a second to get a condom, yeah?" He says to you and you nod in answer.

He makes his to the bathroom and pulls the drawer open to take a condom. To save time, he decides to put it on right away, he tears through the foil packet with his teeth and rolls the rubber down his hard length.

On the way out, he catches his reflection in the mirror and gets reminded that this is not about him. Tonight, it's all about you.

He returns to the bedroom, finding you still lying in bed naked and hugging yourself. He climbs onto the bed and lowers himself on you, letting you absorb his body heat to warm you.

Craving for another taste of it, he goes down and plants his mouth on your cunt next, tasting you right on his tongue.

You're squirming as his tongue laps over your wetness, drinking in on your essence and then using it to circle on your clit.

He's not the only one getting impatient and asking more of it, you both want it and there's no wasting time anymore. Just before he takes it to the next part, he places a long, tender kiss on your clit and immediately brings his mouth to yours again so you can taste yourself on him.

"I'm going in, mmh?" He says as he endearingly brushes your hair away from your face.

You hold on to his shoulder as he settles himself between your legs, aligning his cock with your entrance but before that, he rubs his length between your folds, lubricating it with your essence.

Your hands fly to your chest, hugging yourself again as you lowly moan to his hard length rubbing over your clit and then, pushing its way into you.

"Goodness fu—" he can't even finish his sentence without breaking into a satisfied groan.

It's just the tip but he can already feel how tight you are around him, he's scared yet excited to push more of him into you. He reorganizes his breathing and rests his hand on your abdomen to do it.

Chan looks down to check and he still has a little more of him that needs to be inside you, he sharply inhales air through his nostrils and pushes the remaining length in one quick push.

"Oh..." you breathlessly moan as you're squeezing on your breasts.

Chan allows himself to take a moment to adjust himself to being inside you and you seem to also need time to adjust to his size because you feel so incredibly tight around him. It makes him wonder how this little thing can take him so well.

He takes your hands away from your chest and puts them around his shoulders, that way he can put his body on top of you, lips locked with yours again in no time as you wrap your legs around his waist, sending him deeper inside you.

As he takes a breath in between kisses, you hold his face and look at him with a different kind of sadness in your eyes which only reminds him that his initial plan is to make it go away.

He starts thrusting into you, wanting to fuck this sadness out of you. He wants to make you think of nothing but how his cock fills you full and how good he is fucking you right now, and soon, he's going to make you feel nothing but immense pleasure.

"Ah... ah... ah..." you moan for every thrust going into you and the skin-slapping sounds echo along with it in the room.

Chan plants his mouth on your breasts to contain his grunts and groans while keeping the steady motion of his hips pulsating against you.

A hand reaches for his chin and forces him to look at you, instantly engaged in eye contact with you. He continues thrusting into you with eyes looking deep into you, they're no longer looking like bottomless pits, they look like deep oases that he wants to dive into.

The next thing he knows, Chan finds himself deep in you, not just physically but also connected with you in a way that he's never experienced with anyone else until now. He feels barer than he already is and instead of shutting himself off, he embraces it and lets you in.

Soon enough, he finds himself lost in it and fully connects himself to you in a way that lets him know how it feels to love without fears or insecurities holding him back, without worrying if it's being reciprocated or not, to love wholly and completely.

"Oh," you let out a broken moan and that's when he notices that you break into tears again.

Chan abruptly stops moving, afraid that something he does is hurting you without realizing it.

"No, keep going, keep going," you tell him with your voice hoarse.

He needs to make sure to continue, he cups your jaw and asks, "Are you okay?"

"Yes, please, keep going, please," You repeatedly nod and plead with your teary eyes.

He wants you to stop crying, he wants you to stop thinking about what hurts you and start to see him as he tries to take this pain away from you. His body picks up the pace, going impossibly fast and also taking himself close to his high.

Your eyes are screwed shut, your breath is ragged and your hands are gripping onto his shoulders, overwhelmed by the pleasure that he brought on you.

The moment he's sure that you already come to your climax, he allows himself to let go and uses all of his strength to give you a few more thrusts until there's nothing left in him but waves of pleasure that wash over him.

"Chris..." you softly call and then pull him for a chaste kiss on his lips, "Thank you."

Chan's face hovers only inches above you as he softly gazes into your eyes, you look so fragile and open like a wound and he's just glad that he can make your heartache gone even just for a while.

"Shh..." he stops you from talking by running his thumb over your lips and then kisses you with his heart wide open. He lets this beautiful feeling pour out of him and into you.

"No, thank you," he mutters his gratitude between kisses.

Thanks to you, he experiences something he's never felt before with someone else, something new, something pure and real, something that feels a lot like love.

When he wakes up in the morning and finds you're not there, it hits him that maybe it is love but Chan is not ready to admit it yet.

-

A week passes and Chan hasn't seen you ever since that night.

He can't tell if you're avoiding him or needing the space and time to piece yourself back from the break-up, he hopes it's the latter. Gosh! Let him be right.

Regardless of what happened, he can live with the fact that you despise him but it would be sad to know if you choose to go down the path of believing that you're not going to find love again.

Chan just needs to know if you're doing okay, that's what matters for now.

Fortunately, the two of you have been neighbors for quite a long time to learn your routine and knockabouts. He knows what you like to do on a Saturday morning, he goes to the lobby and chats with the concierge as he waits.

At the first sight of you entering the apartment building, his heart palpation, and in all honesty, he's just so happy to finally see you after a while.

Are you not seeing him there? Or you're just pretending which only confirms his initial thought that you've been, in fact, avoiding him.

You're walking through the lobby carrying a bag of groceries in your arm, you skip checking on the mailbox and go straight to the elevator. It just happens that the elevator is vacant and the doors slide open after you push the button.

Chan decides to take the risk, sprinting to get into the elevator before the doors close. You already despise him so a little more hate shouldn't be a problem to him.

"Morning, sunshine," He greets you with his dimpled grin.

"Good morning," you politely reply without looking at him.

Things are going back to normal and he should be glad, right? At least, you're back to your usual settings of looking stoic and acting polite, and the best thing about it is you're still talking to him.

"I should learn to avoid people from you. You're good at it," he pushes it a bit just to see if he can crack through this facade.

"Excuse me?" Your head turns his way and with your eyes widen, "I have not been avoiding anyone."

Chan holds the urge to smile for successfully getting your attention and rests his back against the cold, metal furnace of the elevator, "Are you sure?"

"Well, we're seeing each other now," you tell him.

"That's because I know you like to go to the farmer's market every Saturday morning," he says at the same time, admitting that he knows about your routine.

You slowly turn your body facing him and squint your eyes at him, "You've been keeping tabs on me?"

"It's my favorite pastime activity," he shamelessly answers then pokes his cheek with his tongue.

"It's better than watching porn," he playfully adds, something that he knows will annoy you the right way.

"Ugh!" You groan as you look straight ahead.

Oddly enough, that's what he misses the most about it, interacting with you and seeing your reaction to his antics, but you, especially.

"Don't be so uptight," he coyly says.

He takes a step closer to you and puts his hand on the handlebar, "it's not like we haven't slept together or anything."

You let out a scoff and hoist the strap of your grocery bag higher on your shoulder, "I'm shocked you even remember," you say.

You turn your head next and your eyes immediately lock in a gaze with him, "I figure I'm just a low notch on a very long bedpost," you add.

"Are you calling me a man whore?" Chan says, feeling offended.

You take a step closer to him and daringly stare back into his eyes, "I didn't call you a man," you answer with a sly smirk.

There's a few seconds of silence until Chan realizes what you just said to him but you know what? He's going to give it to you, for now.

He looks at you and smiles, "Touche!"

You both look at each other and at the same time, burst into laughter, and it keeps going until the hilarity subsides with each passing second.

Is this real? Did you just poke fun at him with a beautiful smile on your face? Did you really laugh and the sound of not only echoing in this enclosed space but also in the back of his mind? Did he just see a different facial expression on you? Either way, he likes it and he likes how it makes him feel.

The elevator chimes open and soon, the doors part open. He lets you get off first and then takes his turn after, he gets a little disappointed as you both are going in the opposite direction.

"Hey, Chris," you call as he's only a couple of steps away from the door of his apartment.

His heart palpation again but he keeps his calm and then slowly, turns on his feet to face you, "Yes?"

"I'm cooking curry for dinner and I know it'll be not as good as the one you always ordered but you can come and..." your hand is fiddling with the strap of your grocery bag as you speak but your eyes remain steady on him, "see if it suits your taste."

And did you just invite him for dinner? Him, the neighbor you despise so much?

Chan acts coy and scratches the back of his head, he holds the urge to answer right away. He has a reputation to uphold and he reckons, you have to at least wait a minute for his answer.

"Yeah, okay, let's see," he nonchalantly answers but his smile tells otherwise.

You crack a laugh and nod, walking to your door with the keys jangling as you're unlocking it.

Chan thinks that's the end of it until you call his name again, his heart leaps this time and he almost flies his way to you.

"Yeah?"

"Don't worry, I'm not going to ask you what are we," you say with a smile then get inside of your apartment.

That's funny because, after that night, he was hoping that you would ask him that as most girls do but that's where he is wrong, you're not most girls, you are his neighbor whom Chan is secretly in love with.

-

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[wcnderlnds]

opposites attract | choi su-bong (thanos)

・❥・ summary: he's chaotic and loud, you're shy and introverted but he can't help but be intrigued by you ・❥・word count: 1.3k ・❥・warnings: mentions of death bc squid game, nam-gyu is mean to reader (im sry), female reader. ・❥・ authors note: i love writing this chaotic man <3

Of course the second game just had to be one where you had to interact with people and find a team. Talking to people, approaching them – it was your worst nightmare. As you stood there in the sea of people all talking and teaming up, you timidly stayed in place, your hands pulled into the sleeves of your jacket giving yourself sweater paws. Since the first game, you had kept to yourself. You had even voted to leave. Why would anyone want to stay in a place like this where people were getting killed for losing children’s games? Unfortunately, the majority had decided to stay even after a heavily heated debate where player 456 had declared he’d been here before. While it was all kicking off, you had hid behind the crowd. Conflict was something you avoided. People were usually something you avoided but when a salesman came up to you with promises of money, how could you say no?

So, as you stood there, too shy to approach, you accepted the fact that you were probably going to die. There was no way you had enough courage in you to find a team. Even if you did, who was there to ask? The only person you might consider approachable was player 456 but he already had a team. There was no point going over there, asking and risking embarrassment as they turned you down. Aimlessly you wandered around the room, fingers toying with the ends of your sleeve – a nervous habit that you’d had since you were a child.

Guess you’d just have to accept your fate. You were either going to get killed because you couldn’t find a team or end up in a team who didn’t want you. Just as you were about to sit down and give up entirely, someone cleared their throat behind you. Spinning around, you came face to face with the infamous player 230. His purple hair was unmistakable, you’d seen him when he’d been fighting some other boy yesterday.

“Senorita, excuse me,” he said, his hands clenching his jacket to his chest. Your eyes landed on his multi-colored nails first before daring to glance up to look at him. Eyes met his dark ones for only a second before looking back down at the ground. He noticed instantly, tilting his head to the side as he looked at you. “Team with us.”

“R-really?” You dared to glance back up. He seemed serious but the look his friend was giving was anything but friendly. It looked like he’d rather team with anyone but you.

“Yeah, really? She’s kind of weird,” Nam-gyu looked you up and down, pulling a face then turning back to Thanos. “We can find someo-”

“Shutup,” he held his hand up in front of his friend’s face, his eyes solely focused on you. “Team with us. I’ll keep you safe.”

It wasn’t like you had any other options so you nodded. Thanos seemed thrilled, throwing his arm around your shoulders in a side hug. Your instinct was telling you not to trust him but at the same time there was something slightly comforting about him. After all, he had ignored his friend to solely talk to you. Why on Earth he was so adamant to have you on his team baffled you but it saved you from getting eliminated… if you made it through the game anyway. 

Turns out it was five mini games in one. As the rest of your team argued about who would do what, Thanos’ eyes were fixated on you who was looking at the ground. There was something about you that intrigued him. The difference in your personalities was more than noticeable. He was loud, crazy and obnoxious while you, on the other hand, seemed shy, insecure and quiet. Maybe it was true. Maybe opposites really did attract because for some reason, he wanted to get to know you more. He actually wanted to know you. That rarely happened with him. Usually he was the type of guy to get a crush, fuck and then move on to the next one. It was rare for ‘Mr One Night Stand’ to really want to get to know someone. To be honest, he wasn’t sure he liked the feeling. The pounding in his chest as he tried to examine you with his eyes. It was impossible to really get a good read on you.

“And, the loser over there can do Gonggi,” Nam-gyu’s voice echoed through your ears. Panic struck, you leaned forward, speaking before you even thought about it.

“I-I don’t know how to play Gonggi,” you mumbled.

“Better learn quickly then, huh?” Nam-gyu smiled fake-sweetly at you.

“Hey, stop it,” Thanos stopped his silent beat boxing to chime in, leaning forward to glare at his friend. “Leave her alone… What are you good at?”

“I can do spinning top. I played it a lot with my friends…” you tried to speak with a bit more confidence, a pink hue tinting your cheeks. Thanos noticed, grinning at you.

“Spinning top for you then. You’re cute, by the way,” he winked, causing your cheeks to only redden more.

Somehow, someway, the team had managed to survive. A lot of teams seemed to struggle with Spinning Top but you had got it the first try – Thanos almost blowing out your eardrums with the loud cheer of celebration when you did. Now, back in the main room, you were sat with the team. If it was up to you, you would have gone to sit by yourself but Thanos had insisted you sit with them. It seemed like he wanted to keep you around. It wouldn’t be too bad to have some friends, right? You sat beside Thanos, a space between you. While he was in a world of his own, DJing some invisible show in his head by the looks of his hand motions, the rest of the team were arguing. Your knees were pulled up to your chest, chin resting on them.

Watching everyone talk with each other so easily – even if it was arguing – made you feel slightly jealous that you couldn’t. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to because you did but the mere thought of striking up a conversation with anyone brought you too much anxiety. It was just better to keep to yourself. If you had to be the weird, quiet girl then so be it.

“They’re idiots,” the deep voice beside you said. Turning to look, you’d noticed Thanos had closed the distance between you both, his shoulder touching yours now. “You good?”

“Uh, yeah, thanks,” you smiled, tucking a stray piece of your hair behind your ear. “Thanks for letting me team with you.”

“No problem, Senorita. Told you I’d keep you safe, didn’t I?” His toothy grin made your heart skip a beat. Oh boy. That was the last thing you needed.

“Y-yeah,” you laughed, tearing your eyes away from him yet again.

This time, his finger gently reached out, tilting your chin to look at him. His eyes pierced yours, a look of intrigue on his face. “You have pretty eyes. It’s a shame you think the floor deserves to see them more than me.” He leaned in a little closer, his hot breath fanning against your face. Being close to someone wasn’t new for you. It was something that didn’t happen often but you’d had your fair share of encounters with people. “Meant it when I said you were cute, babygirl. Stick with me through these games and when we survive, let me take you out for a drink. Maybe I can get more than a few words at a time out of you.”

Once again, he winked at you, removing his finger from your chin and turning his attention to the argument going on in front of him. Meanwhile you were in a daze, your heart beating against your chest so much you were sure it was about to beat out of your ribcage. Yeah, this man was definitely going to be trouble.

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[lowkeyremi]

MARKS ! a. miya x fem!reader

"Atsumu Miya," You gasp out, looking at your neck in the mirror.

"Yes'm?" He replies lazily, laying in the bed scrolling through his Instagram feed, without a care in the world.

It takes a moment for you to get your words out because, what the actual hell...? There are multiple, dark, marks on your neck.

"Holy fuck, do you want people to think you're abusing me or something?" That catches his attention immediately, but once he sees what you're referring to, he lies back down with a smirk.

"M'sorry that I love my wife and I want everyone to know." Oh, they'll know alright, and then you'll be on the receiving end of the teasing.

"I know, but, this is just downright ridiculous. It looks like you tried to fucking eat me." Atsumu laughs at that, and decides to get out of the bed to come take a look for himself.

The warmth of his bare chest seers through the tank top you have on and you can feel his steady heart beat. He, not so subtly, inhales the scent of your conditioner in your hair. "Mm, yeah. I did a number on ya, huh?"

You meet his beautiful brown eyes through the mirror and he looks heaven sent. His hair is all over the place, he's got a few marks from you, on his neck and chest, and that stupid smile that you fell in love with. How could you possible stay mad at him?

"You sure as hell did, and I have work in a little." He hums in thought as he snakes his arms around you waist.

"Why don'tcha just cover it with some makeup?" Oh if you could you would... you don't even think the best concealer could hide these marks.

"If it was just a singular hickey I would, but I don't think this can be covered without being super noticeable." Atsumu tries and fails to stifle a chuckle.

"Looks like ya gotta stay home today, huh?"

"Not happening, I have a super important presentation today." The both of you examine your neck together trying to figure out the best way to tackle it.

"Turtleneck?" Atsumu suggests, rubbing his hands up and down your sides in a comforting way.

"That would work it if it wasn't so hot out."

"But yer gonna be inside, giving a presentation..." He reasons.

"Ugh, turtleneck it is, I guess." The blond presses a kiss to your cheek, and you swat his face away. You're not mad anymore, but it's still his fault you'll have to wear a turtleneck in 80 degree weather.

[taffywabbit]

a bunch of my computer parts came with super bright gamer RGBs all over them (not by choice - the models with lights just happened to be better deals) and my case has a glass side panel, so when I first brought it home and set it up, I had to spend like 2 hours downloading and configuring several different programs to turn them all off (because no single app seemed to be able to control all the components at once).

in the end, the only light I left on was on the side of my GPU, and I set it to be a soft dark purple that would slide across the length of the GPU like a marquee every few seconds - nothing that'd disturb my sleep if my computer happened to wake itself up in a dark room, but enough to look cool and give me a visual indicator that the PC was turned on.

anyways sometimes I guess the driver that controls that specific component's RGBs just... crashes? for absolutely no reason? and the result is that it defaults to an intense, solid red that harshly illuminates my whole case and the area around it. every time this happens I cannot shake the immediate, instinctive fear that my computer has turned evil and is going to kill me. like oh god oh fuck it knows I ""fixed"" one of its CPU cooler fans by scotch-taping it in place so it would stop spinning unevenly and screeching at me, and now it's waiting for its chance to strike and claim ultimate revenge

[fairy-angel222]

Gojo getting jealous of your attraction towards actor! Choso

The two of you laid together on the couch. His chest pressed into your back as you snuggled under a thick white blanket. A pack of gummy bears in your hand as a smile graced your face when Rin, played by your favorite actor Choso appeared on the screen.

Gojo raised a brow, his brow raising while his chin still rested on your head, looking down at your curled lips in question. “What are you smiling so hard about?” he chuckled.

“Oh nothing, Choso Kamo is just one of the hottest men ever created.” You sighed, biting down on the chewy snack while Gojo sat up behind you.

“What did you just say?” he scoffed. Offense clear on his features as he eyed the man on your screen.

“Choso Kamo is one of the most attractive men ever? I mean.. have you seen the guy.” You replied with a giggle like it was the most obvious thing in the world, Gojo’s eye twitching lightly as his jaw clenched. “Is that so?”

“Mhm, he’s just so.. perfect. It’s a shame he’s married.” You rambled enthusiastically, eyes fixated on a man who wasn’t your boyfriend. “Not as perfect as you baby but you get what i mean.” Pressing a short kiss to his cheek before focusing your attention back onto the show.

Your attention was pulled away when Gojo roughly turned you onto your back, his knees on either side of your hips as he straddled you. His hand coming up around your neck with the tilt of his head followed by a dark grin. “So you’re attracted to other men now?”

You whimpered when his grip tightened, “Have all this to yourself yet you’re smiling over some guy on your screen.” He laughed to himself, leaning down so that his lips ghosted over your ear. His breath hot on your skin as he whispered. “Let me show you what these dumb actors you like could never do, i mean.. not like you’d ever meet him anyway.”

Hurriedly stripping you out of your clothes, “How they could never make you feel.”

You shuddered when Gojo ran his fingers between your already wet folds, running them along your slit before circling them around your clit. Your back arched as you moaned softly. “See that? Barely even touched you and you’re already soaked f’me. Pussy knows who she belongs too.”

Dipping his finger into you with a smirk. “Can this Kamo guy physically touch you like this?” You moaned once more, Gojo’s tongue running up your neck and over your ear. “Even if you got to meet him baby, no one could take you away from me.” He breathed.

Large hands on your waist flipping you onto him. Sitting up with you on his lap facing the still playing show. Sinking you down on his cock with one arm around your hips while the other snaked around your neck.

You mewled as you felt his cock pierce deeper and deeper, your ass flush onto his thighs with your head falling back onto his shoulders. “Satoruu.”

Gojo groaned, fucking up roughly into you as you moaned adorably. Thick cock hammering up into your g spot as you cried out loudly. Your stomach tightening with heat as your pussy spasmed, breathing speeding up with a string of loud mewls when Gojo quickened his pace.

“Satoruu— fuck,” you clenched down on him, lewd sounds of skin slapping against skin filling your ears along with the sticky squelch of your sopping pussy on his thighs. Gojo grinned as he forced you to look up at the screen. “Fucking look at him. This is who ya want over me? Someone who doesn’t even want ya?” he gritted, not giving you a chance to answer before he continued, “Well guess what baby, i’m the only one who could fuck you this good regardless. So even if you did meet him, you bet your ass you’d come running back to me.”

You moaned shakily, wanting to tell him that he was right. Choso was just a stupid actor crush, which meant he had nothing to be worried about. But he was fucking into you so good, so deep, thrusts mean and quick to bully your tight pussy open. Stretching you out to take all of him.

Gojo grunted deeply, letting out a low curse as your pussy messily drenching his thighs. “I’m the only one who’ll ever get to see this messy pussy.” His slender fingers rubbing harsh circles onto your sensitive clit, pulling a loud cry past your lips at the increased stimulation.

“Satoruu— nngh, ‘m cumming,” you cried with a whimper, your toes curling with the violent shake of your body as your head grew foggy. Gojo never slowing the movement of his hips as he fucked through the clear streams leaking out of your pretty pussy.

“Yeah baby? Gon’ cum for me? Or to the sight of that fucker in front of you?” he growled out, choking you even harder as he neared his release.

You let out a choked mewl, “You. Gonna cum f’ you.” Your chest rising and falling as your eyes got watery, your nails digging into his arms as you were brought closer to your orgasm.

“Sure about that?”

“Mhm- you, just you. Choso… nngh— Choso doesn’t come close,” your eyes closing as your back arched, feeling yourself at the edge of letting go. “Oh f-fuckk— you’re the one f-fucking me so good. The only one i need.” you added on with another tearful cry.

“There ya go, that’s a good fucking girl- speaking my language now. Go on baby, cum f’ me.” Watching as you fell apart on his cock with his name heavy on the tip of your tongue. Your legs trembling as your orgasm raked through your body, vision blurred as you squirted with a short scream.

Gojo whistled, “Know for sure that no one else can make ya do that.” His thrusts getting sloppy before he was burying himself inside you with a moan of his own, cock twitching as he began to pump you full of his cum. “Fuck baby, pussy’s so damn tight. The only one who can breed ya full is me.” Stilling his movements completely as spurts of the sticky substance spilled into you. “Now would you look at that.”

Your eyes peeled open to a close up shot of Rin staring sadly into the distance. The image slowly zooming in closer and closer to his face. Gojo laughed loudly, “Seems like someone’s not too happy with what he sees.” He joked, his palm randomly landing onto your puffy cunt to see you jerk with a whine. “‘S too bad for you that he’s not here to do something about it.”

You rolled your eyes tiredly with a small smile. Gojo Satoru was truly a strange man.

[girlygguk]

WIT IT THIS CHRISTMAS ⋆ JJK

you’re done watching girls shoot their shot with your man. this time, you let them know. or, better yet, hear.

🦌⋆⁺₊❅. christmas & chill: instalment 2 of 6

pairing drummer!jk x secret situationship fem!reader

genre fwb2l, angst, fluff, smut 18+ mdni

content jk 25 | yn 22, bratty oc, jk knows how to handle her, jk is in an alt rock band with jinnie and yoongs, tae is jk's best friend & oc's confidant, vmin are bfs, jk spoils oc, babygirl just wants to be cuffed, ruined christmas plans, oc whines a bit, oc gives jk the cold shoulder for approx 7 mins before folding bc… idk dick too good i guess, jealousy (both parties, more so oc's side), neither of them entertain it tho, fwb but like exclusive ones because cmawn… it's me, kissing, grinding, groping, big tiddy reader, big tiddy sucking, sm dirty talk & praise, quick bj, cunnilingus, choking if u blink, oc gets fucked w his drumsticks, and then his cock, condomless p in v sex, oc is on birth control, clothed sex, sub dom dynamics, daddy kink, a little tiny bit of squirting i think, creampie, happy but very abrupt ending sorryyy

word count 8.9k

banner by the lovely @awrkive ⟡ ݁₊ .

North Star Pavilion, Seoul

Christmas lights twinkle across the city, their warm glow mocking the chill in your chest. Everything feels like too much—too cold, too noisy, too far from what you actually wanted today. What you were promised.

The van door slams shut behind you, the biting breeze nipping at your skin as your boots crunch against the icy gravel.

Jungkook follows close behind, his shoes scuffing against the ground as he jogs to catch up.

“Baby,” he calls softly, reaching for your hand. But you shrug him off, your arms folding tightly over your chest as you keep moving toward the back entrance of the venue.

Jungkook lets out a heavy sigh, his breath visible in the icy air. “Come on, baby,” he murmurs, his tone dipping into that pleading softness that always makes you want to fold. “Y/n, I had to—”

“I’ll see you after the show, J.”

Your voice comes clipped and cold as you cut him off, not bothering to look back. His soft footsteps falter, and you can feel his eyes fixed on you.

For a brief, brief moment, something in you threatens to crack.

But you don’t let it.

The angry stomp of your boots against frozen pebbles drowns out anything he might have said as you disappear through the back, weaving through the venue without so much as a glance in Jungkook’s direction.

The warmth of the building barely registers. It isn’t enough to thaw the stubborn frost clinging to your chest as you move down the hall, barely nodding at the familiar faces of the staff who greet you in passing.

Eventually, you find an empty corridor, the hum of the growing crowd muffled by the walls. Leaning back against the cool tile, you tip your head back and let out a bitter scoff.

This isn’t how today is supposed to fucking go.

Rolling your eyes, you dig your hand into your pocket and pull out your phone, desperate for a distraction. But the memory you’ve been avoiding all day slips in anyway—very vivid and very unwelcome.

Yesterday, you’d been curled up on your couch, your legs draped lazily over Jungkook’s lap as the soft glow of the tiny Christmas tree on your coffee table lit up the room. It had become a routine of sorts—the quiet calm after his shows, a pocket of peace that felt like yours and his alone.

Jungkook’s tattooed fingers traced idle patterns over your calf, the gentle pressure soothing against your bare skin. You were warm and sleepy from the shower you’d shared earlier, your body clad in a little sleep shirt and panties. Jungkook, in his sweats and no shirt, smelled faintly of your shampoo, his long, damp hair falling loose around his face.

It was all so soft, so cozy, so domestic.

So fucking stupid.

You caught him staring, his gaze steady and quiet, that intensity in his dark eyes making your stomach do that stupid flippy thing.

“Watcha lookin’ at, creepy?” you squinted, nudging his stomach with your foot.

Jungkook’s lips twitched as he shook his head, his fingers still lazily stroking your leg. “Nothing,” he hummed, but his gaze lingered a moment longer before he dropped it back to his phone.

You tossed your own phone to the side, crawling onto his lap with a light shove to his shoulder. He grunted softly as you shifted over him when he lay down, his hands instinctively finding your thighs as you flopped against his chest.

“You okay?” you murmured into his neck, your fingers brushing softly over his collarbone.

“Very,” he replied, his voice low, his big hand sliding up to smooth over and cup your ass.

You smiled into his skin, pressing a kiss to his neck. “I bought us Christmas pajamas,” you mumbled, your lips brushing against his pulse.

Jungkook paused for a moment, then let out a quiet laugh, his fingers stilling briefly before resuming their lazy path. “Did you?”

“Yup,” you said, smirking. “Try not to wear them, and your ass is spending Christmas alone.”

His laugh deepened, his hand slipping beneath the hem of your panties to rub slow, little circles over the curve of your skin. “I’ll wear them, baby,” he promised.

“Know you will,” you whispered, your teeth grazing lightly against his neck.

His head tilted, granting you more access as a low, soft grunt rumbled from his throat, the sound enough to make you press closer.

You were ready to tease him further, your tongue lazily flicking over his pulse, when his phone buzzed loudly on the couch beside you.

He shifted, reaching for it with one hand while his other stayed firmly on your thigh, absently stroking your skin. You pressed your cheek against his shoulder, eyes closed, soothed by the soft, lispy cadence of his voice.

Until you heard it.

“North Star fucking Pavilion, bro! On Christmas Day!” The Spine Breakers’ lead singer’s voice crackled through the speaker. “The check is insane, JK!”

Jungkook sighed heavily, his grip tightening slightly on your thigh. “I already have plans, Jin-hyung—”

“We need you, man,” Yoongi, his bass player, cut in. “You’re our drummer. We can’t do this without you, dude...”

The air shifted. You felt it before you even opened your eyes.

“Fuck,” Jungkook groaned. You could feel his gaze on you, hesitant, like he was waiting for you to intervene. But you didn’t. You stayed still, letting him make his choice.

“Fuckin—okay, okay, hyung,” he muttered into the phone, his voice resigned as he cut off Jin’s begging. “I’ll do it.”

The second the call ended, you climbed off him, ignoring the hand that reached for you, brushing off the way he called your name. The bedroom door slammed angrily behind you.

He followed, of course.

Jungkook dropped down on the bed beside you, his arm wrapping around your waist as he tried to apologize, his voice soft and pleading. But you didn’t respond. Didn’t even look at him. You fell asleep facing the wall, his hand still resting on your stomach.

And now, here you are.

Not curled up on the couch, watching a stupid Christmas movie like you had planned. Not eating takeout, because neither of you can cook for shit. Not sneaking up to the roof to get holiday high together.

No. Instead, you’re standing in a cold, empty hallway of one of Seoul’s biggest holiday locales, the muffled roar of the crowd growing louder behind the door to your left.

The hem of your winter dress shifts as you fidget, the festive vibe of your outfit doing little to match the storm in your chest. At least it’s black. That’s, like, emo, right?

Whatever.

Merry fucking Christmas. And fuck Jeon Jungkook.

The crowd thickens as you weave through, the bass of the background music vibrating under your boots with every step. People press in on all sides, the noise a tangled mess of cheers and shuffling feet. You don’t let it faze you, your eyes scanning the mass for a familiar figure.

The closer you get to the side stage, the more recognizable faces appear—crew members rushing around, regular staff you’ve seen countless times at past shows. But it’s not until your gaze catches on a mop of black hair that some of the tension in your shoulders finally lifts.

You spot your boy...friend’s best friend leaning against a speaker, his ear piercings glinting under the scattered lights. A plastic Christmas wreath headband sits snugly atop his neatly straightened curls, and the corner of your lips quirks up despite yourself.

He notices you before you reach him, a grin spreading across his face as he lifts the beer bottle in his hand in greeting.

By the time you push through the last cluster of people, your gaze flicking over his ripped jeans and the artful layering of his black shirts, he’s already stepping forward to wrap you in a hug.

“Ah,” Taehyung says, giving you a once-over, his brows wiggling as he pulls back. “We’re matching.”

You glance down at your black-on-black outfit, then at his. “I’m in a mood,” you roll your eyes, though a quiet laugh escapes.

Taehyung hums knowingly, offering you the spare beer in his other hand. You take it, cracking the cap before taking a long sip. Your gaze flicks toward the stage, where crew members scurry to finish sound checks and tune the equipment.

“It’s fucking packed,” he comments, nodding toward the crowd, which seems to grow thicker by the second. “J said tickets sold out in minutes.”

You hum noncommittally, your focus still fixed on the stage. “Of course they did. It’s Christmas, and these emos don’t have anything better to do.”

Taehyung snickers, leaning in to nudge your shoulder. “And your excuse? No Christmas plans…?”

You shoot him a glare, taking another sip of beer as he raises his hands in mock defense.

“Still haven’t made up yet?” he prods, his tone teasing, knowing.

“Nope,” you huff, the sound bratty as your gaze flicks around the venue. “I’m ignoring him until Valentine’s Day. And if I’m not cuffed by then, I’m castrating the motherfucker.”

He shakes his head, laughing under his breath. “Why not just ask him to go steady again?”

“Because,” you grumble, pointing the neck of your beer bottle at him, “he’s the one who doesn’t want me seeing other guys. So, he can ask me.”

Taehyung arches a brow, taking a slow sip of his drink. “Didn’t you also say you didn’t want him fucking with other chicks?”

“Shut up,” you huff, giving him a halfhearted shove as he laughs again.

The minutes pass as the venue comes alive, the energy thickening the air around you with heat. The chatter grows louder, the crowd swelling until it feels like the walls are pulsing. You and Taehyung stand shoulder to shoulder, unfazed by the chaos. You’ve done this too many times before—waiting at the edge of the stage, watching the lights dim as the band take their places.

You hadn’t met Jungkook through Taehyung, though. You’d met Taehyung first at one of their early performances, back when The Spine Breakers were barely on anyone’s radar.

It had been a little bar in the city, the kind of place where the beer was watered down and the sound system was a half-step away from blowing out. You’d gone with your friend Marcy, both of you already knowing a good chunk of TSB's songs before the first chord even played.

Most of the crowd back then hadn’t been as familiar, more there for the vibe than the band. You’d been a few rows back, swaying to the music, when Taehyung walked by and stumbled into you, spilling half his beer onto your skirt.

He’d been flustered, apologizing immediately and offering to buy you another drink as yours dropped on the ground. When you’d rolled your eyes and waved him off, turning back to Marcy without much more than a shrug, he hadn’t used it as an excuse to keep bothering you. Sad as it might sound, that had caught your attention—guys who actually took a hint were fucking rare.

He’d genuinely seemed sorry, even offering to hold your place if you wanted to head to the bathroom to clean up. You’d given him a once-over, told him it didn’t bother you, and pulled him into your little huddle instead.

By the end of the night, Taehyung was dancing to the music beside you and Marcy, and when the set ended, he asked if you wanted to come backstage to meet the band. You’d told him to shut the fuck up, convinced he was joking.

He wasn’t.

That was the first time you’d seen Jungkook up close. The first time you’d stared a little too long at the drummer with the intriguingly quiet intensity and ink-covered arms that you wanted to run your tongue along.

While Marcy hit it off immediately with Tae—bonding over their matching daith piercings or whatever—the pull between you and Jungkook had been something else entirely.

Maybe you’ve been to every single one of his shows since then. Maybe you took a gap year from college, picking up shifts at a club in town to cover your rent while Jungkook paid for everything else. Maybe you’ve only been with one other guy in the 449 days you’ve known him—and that was way back, in the early days, before it all started to feel like this.

Maybe.

Taehyung’s voice cuts through your thoughts, his tone casual but his smile teasing. “You’re doing it again,” he quips, nudging you lightly with his elbow.

“Sorry,” you say quickly, clearing your throat as your gaze flickers back to the stage. Jungkook’s seated behind his drum set now, a crew member leaning in close as she adjusts his mic stand.

“S’okay,” Taehyung replies with a quiet laugh, raising his bottle to his lips. He leans back against the speaker, his grin softening. “You guys wanna come over for drinks after the show? Jiminie made Christmas pudding.”

You blink, your focus still trained on Jungkook as the staff member smiles at him, her mouth moving—maybe asking if he was okay, if he needed anything else. His tongue flicks over his lip rings, his head tilting slightly as he shakes it in response.

She lingers.

He gives her a dismissive, doe-eyed look from under his lashes, his dimple peeking out as he shakes his head again. Finally, she tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, glances around quickly, and scurries backstage.

Slut. The both of them.

Your lips press into a line, your eyes narrowing as you take another sip of beer. “Sure, I’ll come,” you mutter half-heartedly to Taehyung without taking your eyes off Jungkook.

His gaze catches yours from the stage.

You look away.

The crowd roars as Jin takes the mic, yelling out a quick greeting before launching right into their set.

The music is electric, Yoongi's smooth, heavy bass and Jungkook’s crisp, pounding drumming vibrating through your chest as the band plays. You can’t help but let your body move with Jin's voice, nodding your head along as Taehyung sways beside you, the beer in his hand getting lower by the minute.

Halfway through the third song, a guy squeezes his way through the crowd toward you and Taehyung. At first, you don’t think much of it—packed shows like this always mean a little too much physical closeness. But when he stops right next to you, leaning in far closer than necessary, his intentions become annoyingly clear.

“Hey,” he shouts, his voice barely cutting through the music.

You glance at him briefly, tilting your head and pursing your lips before looking back at the stage.

The guy doesn’t get the message—or maybe he doesn’t care. “You here alone?”

You shake your head shortly, keeping your eyes fixed on the stage. “Nope.”

Taehyung notices the exchange but doesn’t intervene, his gaze flicking between you and the guy as he sips his drink.

The guy leans in again, louder this time, more insistent. “You want another drink?”

You roll your eyes, stepping closer to Taehyung. “I’m good,” you say flatly, your tone leaving no room for interpretation.

From the stage, you notice Jungkook’s playing start to shift. His drumming grows heavier, each strike more intense than usual. Your gaze flicks to him, catching the way his eyes keep darting toward your spot in the crowd.

Exhaling through your nose, you swap places with Taehyung in an attempt to move out of the guy’s line of sight. Taehyung’s grin fades into something firmer when he notices.

Taehyung lowers his beer, turning to the guy, his taller frame blocking the dude’s view of you entirely. “You good, man?”

The guy hesitates, visibly weighing his options. He looks like he wants to argue but ultimately decides against it, laughing under his breath before slipping back into the crowd.

Taehyung watches him walk off, shaking his head before leaning closer. “You alright, Y/n?”

You nod, offering a light rub on his arm in thanks, but your attention is already back on Jungkook. He’s still looking, his tongue pressing against the inside of his cheek as he watches you.

The last notes of the set fade into a wave of screams as the stage becomes a field of tossed roses and stray undergarments. Jin, as always, makes a show of it, crouching to pick up a red lace bra and biting down on the strap with a cheeky grin. His bandmates laugh as the crowd loses their shit, Yoongi shaking his head as Jin winks into the audience.

They bask in the chaos for a moment longer, waving to the crowd before the elder two begin to slip offstage. Jungkook lingers behind, his hands braced on his knees as he catches his breath. He drags a hand through his damp hair, pushing it back as he straightens to his full height, chest rising and falling in exertion.

Just before he steps off, his eyes find yours. His gaze drags, a quick once-over, a slow run of his tongue over his lip rings, a subtle sniff of his nose. Then he’s gone, following his bandmates backstage.

Taehyung nudges your arm lightly. “Ready?”

You hum, nodding as you start making your way through the crowd, the buzz of energy still heavy in the air. The hallway to the dressing rooms is dim, much quieter than the rest of the venue.

Up ahead, you spot Jin and Yoongi walking a few steps ahead of Jungkook. They’re laughing at something, their figures disappearing around the corner. Jungkook trails behind them, dragging his hand through his hair again, the motion automatic.

Then you see her.

The staff girl from earlier is struggling with a speaker, her grip tight on the handle as she drags it down the hallway. When she glances up and spots Jungkook, her face lights up instantly.

Your steps slow without thinking, your gaze locking on her as she stops beside him. There’s a shy tilt to her smile as she offers him the water bottle balanced on top of the speaker. Jungkook takes it with a murmured thank you, cracking the seal and tipping it back, like he’s barely aware of her lingering.

But she doesn’t move.

She starts talking instead, her pace quickening to match his as he walks. Her cheeks flush slightly as she speaks, her eyes flicking up at him now and then like she’s gauging his mood.

Taehyung shifts beside you, his gaze flickering between you and the scene unfolding a few feet ahead. You can feel his curiosity, but you don’t acknowledge it. Your eyes stay glued to Jungkook.

Jungkook, whose head tilts slightly as he glances back at the girl, then forward at his bandmates. You catch the faintest crease in his brow before he slows his steps and eventually stops altogether.

The girl stumbles slightly at his sudden halt, her grip on the speaker slipping. Jungkook’s hands dart out instinctively, but she catches herself before he touches her. He pulls back quickly, murmuring, “You okay?”

“Yeah, uh, yeah. Sorry, I’m such a klutz sometimes,” she replies, her voice flustered.

Your lips press into a thin line as you watch, something sharp curling in your stomach.

He’s not doing anything, you tell yourself. He didn’t even touch her.

But he would’ve if she hadn’t caught herself, a snide voice in the back of your head sneers, cutting through your logic.

You shake off the thought, ignoring the way your chest tightens as Jungkook shifts. His hand brushes over his jaw while she continues speaking, her words softer now.

You don’t hear much after that. It’s not because the hallway is loud—it’s not. It’s the pounding of your pulse in your ears, drowning out everything else.

Jungkook finishes the bottle of water, twisting the cap back on with a quick flick of his wrist. “I gotta go,” he says, lifting the empty bottle as a gesture of thanks before brushing past her.

She hesitates, her hand still on the speaker’s handle as she watches him walk away. Her face burns red, and she fidgets slightly, but eventually, she turns back to her task, dragging the speaker further down the hall.

Your eyes stay fixed on Jungkook as he reaches the dressing room door. His free hand lifts to wipe the sweat from his face with the bottom hem of his shirt, the toned lines of his stomach flashing briefly before the fabric falls back into place. The drumsticks clutched in his other hand tap lightly against the now-empty bottle as he disappears inside.

Taehyung pulls your attention back, rubbing your arm soothingly before nodding toward the door. “You coming?”

You nod quickly, shaking off the haze that lingers as you follow him down the hall.

The dressing room is warm and noisy, Jin and Yoongi sprawled out like they’ve been there for hours. Yoongi greets you with a rare smile, handing you a can of seltzer as you lean down to hug them both. Jin, already halfway through his beer, ruffles your hair affectionately before leaning back into the couch like he’s clocking out for the night.

You drop down beside Jungkook, your usual spot on his lap notably left empty. His brow furrows immediately, the arm around your waist tightening slightly as he tries to pull you closer to him.

“No, J,” you mutter, giving him a pointed look.

He grumbles under his breath, clearly displeased, but his hand slips down to link with yours instead. His thumb brushes idly over your knuckles, and for now, he settles.

The conversation flows around you as Taehyung throws out an invitation to his place. “Jimin’s been baking all day,” he says. “And we’ve still got drinks leftover from the other night.”

It’s an easy yes from everyone. The energy in the room shifts, a slow wind-down as cans and bottles are finished and the band starts getting ready to head out.

When you stand, Taehyung catches your arm, pulling you aside as Jungkook follows, his arm still firmly around your waist. “Hey, just wanna make sure you’re okay,” he says, his head tilted in slight concern.

Jungkook frowns, his gaze falling to your face. “Why wouldn’t she be? Did something happen?”

Taehyung glances at you, waiting for permission before answering. After you shrug and turn to Jungkook, Taehyung speaks. “Some dude wouldn’t leave her alone earlier,” he says simply.

Jungkook’s jaw tightens, his grip around your waist firming. Your hand squeezes his as you tilt your head at Taehyung. “I’m really okay, Tae, but thank you for looking out for me.”

Taehyung studies you for a moment longer, then nods. “Always.” He pulls you into a quick hug before doing the same with Jungkook. “Jimin’s waiting outside. You guys need a ride back to our place?”

Your gaze shifts to Jungkook. He stays quiet, his tongue working the inside of his cheek, eyes unfocused.

“We’ll come together,” you answer after a beat.

Taehyung nods, flashing you both a smile before heading for the door. The room empties out slowly after that, the others trailing behind Taehyung until it’s just you and Jungkook left in the quiet.

You glance at Jungkook as you shift on your feet. “Do you want me to order an Ub—”

“What did he do?”

You look up, his jaw tight as he stares at you. “That guy,” he starts again, quieter now, his words laced with tension. “Did he do something to you? Are you okay? Why didn’t you tell me?”

“J,” you sigh, shaking your head. “It was nothing. Just some loser.”

He watches you carefully, his eyes searching for something you’re not sure he’ll find. “And you’re okay?”

“I’m okay,” you nod.

His frown doesn’t relent as he closes the space between you in a few slow steps. His voice dips lower as he murmurs, “Fucking hate seeing guys trying to get with you, Y/n… not knowing you’re mine—”

Your eyes roll before you can stop yourself. “Let’s not do this right now, J.”

His brows pinch. “Really?”

“Yeah, really,” you bite back, your tone a little sharper. “Especially not when you’ve got bitches crawling all over you, and I can’t do anything about it.”

“Baby—”

“No, like this is so fucked, Jungkook. I’m tired of it. You promised me a cute night tonight, and I didn't get it. Fuck you.”

His teeth tug at his lip ring as he shakes his head, ready to apologize again, but you’re not done.

“And what about her? That slutty mic tech or whatever the fuck she is, leaning down with her tits all in your face? Or just so happening to have a fresh bottle of water ready for you backstage? God, don’t.”

“Fuck, you’re so hot when you’re jealous—”

“And then you do this!” you whine, throwing your hands up. “I’m tired of it, J. If I’m just another one of your groupies, what the fuck ever. But don’t be surprised when I go find someone who—”

His voice cuts through your rant with a hum. “Someone who what?”

He’s right in front of you now, so close that you have to tilt your head back to meet his gaze. His eyes flick between yours, waiting for an answer you don’t fucking have.

“You want someone else, baby?” he presses, his voice dropping even further.

Your lips twist, a bratty huff escaping as your frustration crumbles under his intensity. “No, you fucking asshole.”

His head tilts, his lips quirking into something between a smirk and a grin. “No?” he mocks lightly, his tone teasing, coaxing.

“No,” you mumble, quieter this time.

He hums, leaning closer, his hand lifting to brush a strand of hair behind your ear. His fingers linger, grazing the side of your face as his gaze softens, his teasing edge dissolving into something heavier.

“And what do you want, baby?”

You blink, your eyes flicking to the thick line of his arm beside your face, his cologne and sweat mixing into something intoxicating. It fills your lungs, dizzying you more than you want to admit.

“You, idiot,” you mumble. “Want you.”

His lips twitch as he leans down, his voice a low hum against your mouth. “Y’wanna be mine, baby?”

Your eyes flutter shut, your body tilting toward him like it’s instinctual. His mouth grazes yours, soft and teasing, like he’s pretending to give you a choice.

But you know better.

There is no choice. It’s him. It’s always been him.

His lips press fully against yours, damp and plush from the way he’s been licking over them all night between backing vocals. You melt into the kiss, your hands slipping under the hem of his shirt to press against the warm, slightly sticky skin of his back. He leans in closer, jaw tilting as his tongue coaxes your mouth open. You keen softly, sucking the muscle between your lips and savoring the low groan he gives in return.

Then you pull back.

His eyes blink open slowly, a haze clouding his dark irises as he stares down at you.

“Do you want that?” you ask softly, tilting your head.

“Do I want you to be mine?” he echoes, his brows lifting slightly, his head shaking like the question is absurd.

You give him a pointed look, nodding just enough to make it bratty.

“I thought you were already mine,” he murmurs, his hands sliding down your dress. His touch is reverent, his gaze dipping over you as a satisfied grunt escapes his lips. “I’m already yours, baby..”

“Just mine,” you lean into his hold, your words brushing against his skin, “nobody else’s…”

“Just yours,” he nods firmly, leaning down to nudge his nose against yours, the softest smile tugging at his lips. “There’s been no one else since you, baby.”

The back of your neck tingles as his pretty nose drags along yours, his lips pressing a soft kiss to your pout before trailing down to nuzzle into the crook of your neck. His breath is warm, his lips brushing against your skin as he mumbles, “I just didn’t think you wanted the title…”

Your brows pull together, and your hands slide up to cup his face, tugging him back so you can look him in the eye. “I want the title.”

One corner of his mouth lifts into a crooked little smile, his head tilting just enough to press a kiss to your palm. “Okay,” he murmurs, his voice quiet but sure. “Then you can have it, angel.”

A hum of satisfaction escapes you, your hands squeezing his cheeks with a smile. He chuckles softly, leaning back down to steal another kiss, but you pull away before he can reach you.

“Oi,” he grumbles, the faintest pout forming on his lips. “Why? I want a kiss.”

Your hands drop from his face, crossing over your chest as you fix him with a look. “Ask me.”

His eyebrows shoot up, amusement flickering across his features. “What—? I thought we just—”

“No.” You huff, squinting at him as you take a step back, dodging his hands when he reaches for you. “I want the proper thing. I’ve been waiting so long for the girlfriend title. Ask me properly.”

Jungkook stares at you for a moment, his lips twitching as he fights back a groan at your cuteness. “Really?”

“Yes, really.” Your squint sharpens, your stance firm despite the way your heart jumps when his lips curve into a grin.

“Aishh,” he chuckles under his breath, shaking his head slightly before stepping closer. “Y/n,” he starts, voice soft but teasing, “will you be my girlf—”

“Yes!”

You don’t let him finish, grabbing the front of his shirt and yanking him down to meet your lips, cutting off the surprised huff he lets out. Your arms loop around his neck as you pull him in, tilting your head to deepen the kiss. His hands find your waist, steadying you, but you’re already slipping your tongue past his lips, swallowing the low groan he gives.

When you finally pull back for air, your breath is shaky, your lips humming. You stare at him, taking in his swollen mouth and the mess of his hair, his pupils blown wide they almost swallow the brown of his irises. He looks so good it’s almost fucking devastating.

“God, yes,” you murmur, your fingers brushing over his jaw before tugging him back down.

“You’re—okay with this—” Jungkook murmurs between heated kisses, his words coming in low breaths. “Your gap year’s almost over, baby—mmf—the distance… me being gone all the time?”

You pull back just enough to see his face, his dark eyes locking onto yours. His words hit you, and for a moment, all you can do is blink, your mind racing to keep up with the weight of what he’s asking.

“I can do my studies remotely,” you say finally, your voice soft but sure. Your hands slide up his shoulders as you tilt your head, searching his gaze for a hint of doubt. “I can…” You pause, swallowing as your heartbeat kicks up. “Like… travel with you, if you wanted—”

Jungkook surges forward, his lips claiming yours in a kiss that feels like he’s pouring every unspoken thought straight into your mouth. His hands grip your thighs, tugging you closer until your soft body’s pressed tight against him.

“Fuck,” Jungkook mutters, voice rough as his mouth moves against yours. The groan he lets out vibrates through you when you catch his bottom lip between your teeth, tugging lightly before letting it slip free. “I had no fucking idea, baby. I would’ve...”

You hum softly, pulling back just enough to meet his gaze, your breath coming in quick. “Would’ve what?”

His fingers tighten on the curve of your ass, holding you steady as he leans in, his lips brushing yours. “Would’ve made you mine the first time I fucking took you, baby,” he murmurs, his tongue slipping back into your mouth.

A breathy laugh escapes as you lean into him, your hands threading through the damp strands of his hair. “So... the first night we met?” you tease, your voice swallowed by his eager mouth.

“Pretty much,” he chuckles against your lips, his tone low and sinful as his hands drop to the backs of your thighs, hoisting you up easily. Your legs wrap around his waist instinctively, and he carries you the few steps to the couch, dropping down with you prettily perched in his lap.

His lips find yours again, hungrier, wetter. His tongue pushes into your mouth, licking deep into you, chasing the tang of raspberry seltzer still lingering on your tongue. His hands roam higher, sliding over the fabric of your dress, fingertips pressing as they search for skin.

Without breaking the kiss, your fingers fumble with the little zip at the front of your jacket, the metallic sound making him pause. Jungkook leans back just slightly, his gaze dropping to your hands as you slide the zipper down. His tongue darts over his lip as the fabric falls away, leaving your corset-top barely holding your tits in place.

“Fuck,” he breathes, the word guttural. His eyes trail over your exposed skin, his hands moving on instinct to pull the hem of your dress down. The fabric drops, and your breasts spill free into his waiting hands, his thumbs eagerly brushing over your hardened nipples.

His mouth surges forward, latching onto your left nipple with a deep groan. He exhales through his nose, the sound almost a sigh, like his whole body just relaxed the second he had you in his mouth.

“God,” you whimper, your hips rolling against the bulge in his jeans, your hands gripping the back of his neck as you tilt your head back in pleasure.

“Fuck,” he grunts around your nipple, his wide tongue swirling over the peak before sucking gently. “These fucking tits,” he mutters, his voice thick as his hands knead the soft flesh. “Big, juicy fucking tits. All fucking mine, yeah?”

“Mmmh,” you whine, grinding harder as your fingers tug at the ends of his long hair, your thighs tightening around his hips. “All yours, Jungkookie. Always been yours.”

His cock twitches beneath you at the nickname, and his eyes flick up to your face. He coos through his mouthful before gently switching to your other bud.

“All mine,” he mumbles, the words muffled as he chews softly on your hard nipple, pulling a breathy moan from your lips. His big hands press your tits together, bringing them closer to his face, and he pulls back slightly to hum. “All daddy’s, isn’t that right, angel?”

“Nnnm,” you whine, your hips stuttering against him as the teasing tone has you clenching around nothing. “Yes, daddy. All yours. No one else’s.”

“Mm, that’s my girl.” His tongue flicks over your nipple one last time, pulling a soft gasp from your lips before his hand slides up to the front of your throat.

He brings you back down to his mouth, your tongues meeting immediately, wet and eager. His grip stays steady on your neck, thumb brushing softly along the sides as your hands bury deeper into his hair. The roll of your hips against his lap matches the rhythm of the kiss, each grind pulling a quiet groan from his throat that vibrates into your mouth.

The room is silent save for the wet, slick sounds of your lips and the rustle of your dampening panties against his jeans. Jungkook’s fingers tighten slightly around your neck, and you lean into it, moaning lowly when he catches your tongue between his teeth.

You pull back, your breaths uneven as you take hold of the wrist still resting at your throat, guiding it away. Your eyes meet his as you bring his hand to your lips, your tongue flicking over the tips of his middle fingers before sucking them into your mouth. No reason, really. Because you want to. Becaue you can.

Jungkook’s gaze stays heavy on you, his lids low as his tongue drags over his lip. You release his fingers with a soft pop, and he licks the remnants of your saliva from his hand when you let go.

Sliding off his lap, you reach for the zipper of his jeans, pulling it down with haste. You shimmy the denim over his hips, just far enough to bare his briefs. His cock presses against the black fabric, hard and thick, the sight alone making your stomach rumble.

Leaning down, you brush your lips over the length of him, the heat of his cock radiating through the cotton. A soft, hungry hum slips from you, and Jungkook groans quietly, his head tipping back against the couch.

One of his hands moves to the cushion beside him, the other slipping into your hair, brushing it back as you mouth over his covered cock.

Your hand slides under the waistband of his briefs, your lip catching between your teeth as his warm, hard length pulses against your palm. You pull him free, savoring the low curse that slips from his lips when you guide it to your lips and take the thick tip into your mouth.

“Shit, baby,” he huffs, his hips lifting slightly as your tongue swirls over the head.

“That’s it,” he mutters, his voice rough and breathy. “Get it nice and wet for daddy. Go on, baby.”

Your eyelids feel heavy as you obey, pushing spit to the front of your mouth and soaking his tip in it. The slick sound fill the quiet room, mixing with Jungkook’s sharp breaths and the low grunts slipping from his lips.

Your tongue moves slowly, wetting him nice and thoroughly, and his fingers twitch where they hold your hair out of your face. His head tips back further, a deep groan escaping as his hips up rock into your mouth on instinct.

Your lips work sloppily over his length as you take him deeper, your hand pumping the base as he groans low in his chest. “Good girl, baby,” he mutters, his fingers brushing the curve of your jaw as he watches you, his lashes heavy. “Such a good fucking girl.”

The praise makes you ache, the wetness pooling between your legs unbearable. Jungkook seems to sense it, his hand wrapping around your arm to pull you off him with a wet pop. His lips are on yours the moment you’re upright, licking into your mouth like he’s chasing his own taste on your tongue.

You melt against him, humming softly as his hands cup your waist, guiding you back until your spine presses into the couch. He hovers over you, his bigger frame warm between your parted thighs. Your boots dig into the cushions on either side of him, but he doesn’t care. Neither do you.

Jungkook’s hands are hasty as he pushes the fabric of your dress up your thighs, exposing the black lace stretched over your dripping core. His adam’s apple bobs as he hums, his thumb brushing over the darkened patch where your slick has seeped through.

“So pretty, baby,” he murmurs, pressing his tattooed thumb firmly against you. The friction makes you gasp, your hips jerking toward his hand.

The lace doesn’t last long. He hooks his fingers into the waistband and pulls it down just enough to expose you, wasting no time before dipping down. His mouth latches onto your pussy in one go, his wide tongue licking a slow, filthy stripe over your slit.

“Fuck,” you breathe, your hands flying to his hair. The heat of his mouth is overwhelming, his tongue teasing your swollen clit before dragging down to press at your entrance. He groans as he tastes you, sucking your folds into his mouth like a greedy fuck.

You whimper when his teeth graze your clit, his tongue circling the bud before flicking over it repeatedly. The wet, sloppy sounds of his lips and tongue working against your pussy fills the room, and your hips buck against his face—

“Uh… J-Jungkook?”

You freeze, your eyes snapping to the door as your blood runs cold.

There is no fucking way.

Jungkook doesn’t stop. If anything, his movements grow greedier, his mouth slurping noisily at your cunt as though he didn’t hear a thing.

You bite back a moan when the bitch's voice comes again, shaky and hesitant. “Sorry, uh… your friends got you a driver, and it’s—uh—can you hear me? Should I come in?”

Your hand tightens in Jungkook’s hair as his tongue presses deep into your dripping hole. “Tell her to fuck off,” you gasp, your voice pitching higher when his lips close around your clit. “Jung- fuck- Jungkook.”

He hums into your pussy, the vibration shooting through you as his tongue drags lower. “You do it, baby,” he murmurs, the words muffled by your slick folds. His lips press deeper you as he mumbles. “Tell her your boyfriend’s busy, hm?”

Jungkook’s mouth doesn’t falter, his jaw working as he fits as much of you into his mouth as he can, lips wrapping around your folds while his tongue drags over your clit. His jaw moves, sucking and licking, pulling sinful sounds from your throat like it’s his final fucking mission.

His hand fumbles to the side of the couch, searching for something, but you barely register it through the haze of pleasure. “Jungkook, seriously—”

The girl’s voice cuts through again, louder this time. “Uh, I don’t know if you can hear me, so I’m going to come in—”

Before the words fully register, you feel it. The slick, cool tip of a drumstick sliding into your cunt.

“Fuck!” The cry rips from your throat, loud and uncontrollable as your back arches off the couch. The stretch is sharp, sudden, but it has your toes curling, pleasure overtaking every thought as your grip tightens on his hair.

The sound outside the door ceases instantly, but you couldn’t give a fuck less.

Jungkook doesn’t stop, his tongue relentless as it flicks over your clit, fast and precise, his lips drenched as they lap at your soaked pussy. He glances up, watching you through his lashes, his big eyes dark as he gauges your reaction.

He’s slipped plenty of things inside you before—his fingers, his cock, even the handle of a vibrator… but never this. He’d be lying if he said it wasn’t a fantasy of his, something he’d thought about during one too many late-night practices when you were at home and he was missing you.

“That okay, baby?” he murmurs with a mouth full of pussy. His long fingers grip the drumstick firmly, holding it still, not pushing deeper until you give the green light. His thumb brushes the edge of your clit, adding another layer of friction as his tongue continues its work. “Gonna let daddy fuck you with it, baby?”

“Yesss,” you whine, your head lolling against the couch. Your thighs tremble around his head as you pant, the word spilling from your lips like a fucking prayer. “Yes, please, daddy. God, I fucking want it, baby, please.”

Jungkook groans into your cunt as he presses the drumstick deeper, the slick glide making your legs quake. His tongue continues it's soft, wet work against your clit, a little slower as he eases the stick into your hole.

He works it in deeper, his pace quickening with every breathy moan that falls from your lips. The smooth wood glides in and out of your pussy with ease, covered in your juices everytime it pulls out, and the angle he’s hitting has your back arching into his mouth, your thighs trembling around his head.

“Fuckk,” you gasp, your nails scratching into the couch, desperate for something to hold onto as the thin stick brushes your g-spot. “Fuck, daddy—”

He groans against you, his lips dragging over your clit before his tongue flicks faster and faster. “That good, baby?” He hums, “daddy making you feel good, hm?”

“So fucking gooodd,” you cry, your chest heaving, your hips chasing the movements of his hand as he thrusts the drumstick faster. Your walls clamp around it as your head spins, tears welling in your eyes.

Jungkook gives one more slurp before pulling back just enough to catch your fucked-out expression. His lips glisten with your slick, hair messy from your tugging. “Want the other one, baby?” he asks, voice honeyed with mockery as his thumb brushes over your clit.

You whimper without hesitation, your thighs clenching around his head. “Fuck, please, daddy. Please.”

“Mmm,” he hums in satisfaction, his tongue dragging a long, wet stripe over your clit as he reaches for the second stick.

You barely have a moment to prepare before the second one presses into you, your toes curling as he works it in beside the first. “Oh my fuck,” you choke, your head falling back against the couch.

Jungkook’s jaw clenches as he watches you, his hands tight around the sticks as he thrusts them together, slow at first, then faster. And faster.

His greedy mouth is back on you, his tongue lapping at your clit, wet and messy, the dirty, soppy sounds of his lips and the squelch of your pussy taking the drumsticks echoing in the room.

“Fuck,” you moan, your breath coming in short, sharp gasps as your hips buck into his mouth. “Gonna fucking cum, daddy. So—fuck, uhhhhh!”

“That’s it, baby,” he growls, his lips wrapping around your swollen bud, sucking hard as he thrusts the drumsticks relentlessly into you. “Show that bitch who’s daddy’s girl, huh? Gonna cum on my tongue? On my drumsticks? ‘Cause only you can, huh baby? My fucking baby.”

Your whole body seizes at his words, your head snapping back as a strangled cry rips from your throat. Your vision blacks out, your body trembling violently as the orgasm rips through you.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” you sob, your walls clenching hard around the sticks as wetness gushes out, soaking his hand, his mouth, the couch beneath you. Jungkook groans loudly, his lips glued to your clit as he sucks you through it, his tongue flicking over the nub as you writhe beneath him.

“That’s my fucking girl,” Jungkook groans, his voice thick as he leans in for one last lick, dragging his tongue slowly up your pretty slit. He pulls back just enough to watch your pussy twitch, glistening and flushed, clenching around the sticks as you whimper weakly.

“Jungkookie,” you manage through trembling breaths, your body trembling under his heavy gaze. “Th-thank you, fuck.”

He hums against you, his big eyes darting up to meet yours as his lips curl into a satisfied smirk. “Any fucking time, baby, shitt.”

You shudder as he finally eases the drumsticks out of you, slick dripping from the tips as your thighs twitch. You watch through hooded eyes as he raises them to his lips, sucking your wetness off, the hollow of his throat bobbing at the sweet taste. Once clean, he tosses them carelessly to the side, licking over his lips as his gaze drops back down to your wrecked cunt.

“Messy girl,” he murmurs, voice low and teasing as his fingers trace over the sticky mess between your thighs.

Your eyes fall lower, catching the tip of his cock peeking out from the waistband of his briefs, red and dripping. Your breath catches, your hands instinctively sliding up his arms, tracing the ink there as your gaze stays locked on it.

Jungkook notices, his tongue running over his swollen lips as he chuckles. “You want it, baby?”

You swallow hard, your eyes flicking up to meet his through your lashes. “Please, daddy.”

He groans softly at the way you look at him, nodding before leaning down to capture your lips in a kiss. It’s so wet, everything is wet as your lips part to welcome his tongue when he licks into your mouth, giving you every bit of the taste of yourself. You suck greedily on his tongue, and he groans low in his chest, his hands finding your waist as he pulls you closer.

Your hands slide up to wrap around his neck, holding him as he reaches down between you, adjusting his briefs and pulling himself free. He pulls back slightly to look down as he drags the tip of his cock through your soaking folds, catching on your clit.

“Need to fuck you so bad, baby,” he mutters, his voice rasping with need. “Need you to feel how much I fucking love you.”

Your breath hitches, your hands tightening around his neck as his words hang between you. His cock stills against your entrance once he realizes what he just said, his head snapping up.

“You love me?” you whisper, your voice quiet as your gaze flicks between his eyes.

He blinks, his throat bobbing as he swallows hard. Then, with a soft nod, he admits it. "So much, baby."

You beam, your face breaking into the brightest smile, and it’s enough to make his chest swell. You tug him down to you, pressing your lips to his in a wet, giddy kiss.

His lips are soft against yours, but the way he kisses you is anything but. It’s raw as his tongue slides against yours, his hands tightening around your waist, pouring himself into you.“I love you, J. Holy shittt, baby!!”

He pulls back just enough to look at you, his eyes scanning your face as he smiles, his lips red and swollen. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you whisper, so fucking giddy, your hands cradling his face as you lean up to kiss him again. “Now fuck me, please.”

He chuckles, the sound low and sweet before leaning down to press a kiss to your neck. His lips brush against your skin as he shifts, lining himself back up with your entrance.

The moment he pushes in, your breath catches. The stretch burns so good as he sinks into you slowly, his cock thick and pulsing, the loud, slick sound of your arousal filling the room as he bottoms out.

“Fuck,” Jungkook groans, his head falling forward as his hands grip your thighs. “So fucking wet, baby. You fucking feel that?”

“Y-yeah,” you stammer, your fingers digging into his shoulders as you adjust to the fullness. “So full, Jungkookie.”

He groans at the sound of his name, his hips pulling back before thrusting forward, a little harder this time. You gasp, your back arching into him as he sets a slow, deep pace, every thrust hitting you delicious and deep.

“So fucking good, baby,” he mutters, his voice thick with praise. “So perfect for me. Take me so well, always.”

Your hands find his hair, tugging at the strands as your head falls back, exposing your neck to him. He takes the opportunity, his lips finding your skin, sucking at the flesh as his thrusts grow faster.

The wet sounds of your bodies moving together, the squelch of your pussy soaking him, his breathy groans and your desperate moans— they drown out every other thought.

“Fuck, Jungkookie,” you cry out, your legs locking tighter around his waist, pulling him deeper. “Y-yes, yes, oh my goddd.”

He grunts low in his chest, his pace quickening as he chases your high, each thrust hitting your g-spot with reckless precision. “That’s it, baby,” he rasps, his voice rough and wrecked, eyes glued to the way your tits bounce with every snap of his hips. “Cum for your boyfriend. C'mon. Show me how much you fucking love me.”

“Fuck, baby—fuck!” your voice breaks into a high-pitched whine, the sound desperate as your nails dig into the sweaty shirt stretched over his back. “Gonna fuckingg cummm, baby. God, fuck—fuck—”

You shatter around him, your orgasm crashing over you in a sore wave, your body shaking as your pussy clamps down on his cock. Jungkook groans, his lips finding yours to swallow your cries as his thrusts don’t relent, driving you through every pulse.

“Gonna take my cum, baby?” he grits out against your lips, your head tipping back as his breath fans over your sweaty skin. His hands tighten their hold on your thighs, keeping you locked in place. “Huh? Gonna take it all ‘cause you love me so fucking much, yeah?”

“Y-yes, baby,” you sob, your body jerking from the oversensitivity as he keeps pushing deeper and deeper. “I fucking love you, Jungkookie—please, give it to me. Give it, baby. Fucking give it!”

A deep, guttural curse spills from his lips as he stills, his cock buried deep as his release hits. Warmth floods your hole as he fills you, every drop making you whimper, your legs trembling around him. His forehead drops to your neck, his damp hair sticking to your skin as he pants heavily.

“God, I fucking love you,” he mutters, his voice thick as he presses his lips to your collarbone. “Never gonna get over saying that.”

“My sappy boyfriend,” you tease, your fingers threading through his sweaty hair, scratching softly at his scalp as he groans into your skin. “Who would’ve thought?”

Jungkook lifts his head, his dark eyes narrowing as he gives you a look. You smile sweetly, dragging a finger across his swollen lips as you snicker. “I love you too, daddy.”

sorry for the delay, i was having a mental breakdown bites lips

[lokisgoodgirl]

Like a Queen [Loki x Reader]

A Link to my Masterlist is HERE Summary: Just a dirty, praise-filled railing. Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI. Smut. Loki x Female Reader. Mirrors. Language. Established relationship. Smut. (w/c 1.2k)

"Urgh, gods..." Loki slurs as his head falls back.

A year. It's been a year. But every time you see that face lost in the pleasure only you can give it's like the first time. In the mirror at the foot of the bed, the hard angles of Loki's jawline set like an anvil. He tips his chin to the ceiling and sinks so deep, so slow, it's like he never wants it to end.

Your best lingerie clings to damp skin, the modest slit in your crotchless panties tugging against Loki's thick cock. Slow, liquid thrusts slip against your walls and slurp when he circles his hips; hands guiding your ass against him. He teases himself at the entrance while you moan his name before easing back in with a groan.

"What did I do..." he breathes as his sex-drunk face falls forward and he meets your eyes in the mirror. "What did I do to deserve this sweet, perfect cunt?"

You clench your fingers against the bedsheets, swaying on all-fours. Loki slips his cock from your pussy and slides it against your throbbing clit, still swollen and humming from the worship of his mouth.

He watches with dark fascination as you start to squirm at the halt of his movements, knuckles whitening. “Well?” he asks again with playful menace.

"I'm just made for you I guess," you sigh as his large palm skates down the ridges of your spine, settling at the base. There’s no getting any sense out of you at times like this; he should know that by now. And he does.

"You are,” he growls approvingly, rubbing the curve of your ass. “Made to take me like a Queen. Made to take my cock like a Queen; made to fuck me like a Queen.” Queen.

The word sends a thrill down your spine that blossoms new fire in your pussy and you clench tighter around the tip of his cock. Loki pushes back in just when you’re tightest. “Norns,” he gasps, half-lidded eyes smouldering down from his station.

There’s something about when he fucks you from behind that’s utterly primal. Like he’s mating you. Like you’re a bitch in heat and he’s powerless to resist the scent he craves; the urge beating through him like the drums of war.

He’s not a god in moments like this. He’s just a man that wants to shake you up and fuck you out and love you harder with every filthy, curse-laden groan from his throat. “Talk to me,” you plead as you sit back against him, inhaling the fresh sweat clinging to his hair, his cock never leaving the grip of your cunt. Where he belongs. Your fingers skate up his cheek. His heartbeat thumps between your shoulder-blades, the flat planes of his chest and stomach pressed tight to your back. Your thighs spread as he readjusts on the mattress, guiding you down to the root of him with a rumble of pleasure. Loki moves hair from one side of your neck, placing a messy kiss on the curve and pulling the flimsy strap of your lingerie between his teeth. It stings your heated skin with a tight thwack.

“You love when I talk,” he goads low and filthy in your ear. “You love when I talk, and you love when I fuck.” “Only me,” you whine. Loki chuckles darkly. “Only you, my Queen.” His thrusts make your body rise and you lose yourself in the fullness of your walls fluttering to the rhythmic lilt of his hips. Loki’s hands massage your breasts, palming upwards, pinching your pebbled nipples as he does it. “No one,” he groans as you reach between your legs and graze his balls, “no one has ever carnally eviscerated me like you can.” They tighten beneath your gentle touch, drawing lazily against the velvet skin.

“When I fuck you… all realms cease to be,' he chokes, 'Only b-burning worlds and…f-fuck, erupting galaxies when I…”

He jolts against your ass, a hiss searing between his teeth. “When I see you trussed up for me like a gift,” he pants, tugging at the flimsy lace cupping your breasts, “when I feel your pussy grip me like wax on a finger.” A wet groan erupts from your mouth into his and Loki’s fingers move to your clit, rubbing slow, wet circles just the way you like it. His kiss is hungry and dark and dangerously loving. He still tastes like your cum. “The most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen,” he mutters as climax tightens in your belly, tensing your thighs, “is your face when you come undone for me.” You whimper, the hand wrapped around his neck clutching at long waves of his sex-damp hair. “Yes, my beautiful queen,” he praises, unable to keep the tremble of impending orgasm from his voice as his thrusts become heavy. “Take me, use me; use my cock like no other in the nine realms can. Give me what I need.” “Not yet,” you beg and he smiles against your cheek. The mirror shows what the two of you are: sweaty and unbearably perfect together. He’s huge behind you; a colossus of muscle and lean lines and luminous skin. His dark hair hangs against your shoulders, his exquisite profile nuzzling into your neck. The god of mischief works one expert hand between your legs, the other grasping against your chest like you might vanish as his powerful thighs pump slowly beneath you. Obsessed. He’s obsessed. Another threat of orgasm rises in your centre. Loki groans loudly and his shoulders tense as you clench, feeling the thick vein running down his length throb. “I think you may take me a little too well,” he chokes as your grip on his hair tightens.

A series of feral grunts burst from Loki’s throat at the smallest increase of speed against his cock. He's ready to burst. Wetness coats the inside of your thighs, his knuckles, his mouth, your fingers. You cover the hand working against your clit, feeling his fingers while they lightly strum you over the edge. He knows your body like it's his own. “Loki,” you moan like a whore, head falling back to his shoulder.   “I’m yours,” he whispers, breath catching. The hand cupping your chest flies to your stomach and he pulls you closer with a stuttering gasp. The flat of his abdomen curls to your back: sweat sticking, curses thundering, stars bursting in front of your eyes. He erupts with a long, guttural groan that shakes the bed. The swell of his cum is immediate; squeezing against the tight throb of his mighty cock and the final, fluttering spasms of your cunt. You see it glistening in the mirror, dripping down the thick root still buried inside you and pearling at the curve of his balls. Loki’s mouth fastens to your cheek like he’s trying to eat you - and maybe he is. His pants are hot against the skin as he slides down your face, top lip dragging before his forehead comes to rest. “What did I do to deserve…?” he pants quietly as he feathers weak kisses along the angle of your jaw. You silence the impending question with a kiss, pulling him closer. “I’m your Queen,” you say with utterly feigned humility. Loki bites his lip, glancing to the mirror. His eyes drop to the sight of him still sheathed deep in your pussy, a thick spindle of cum dangling to the mattress. “You are,” he whispers lovingly in your ear, eyes nailed to yours in the reflection. "Always."

♥️x