#lost in the woods? more like lost in the plot

[steppingonyourshadow]

Lee watches Legend of Zang Hai: Episodes 1-10

Decided to clean up and post my commentary thread here for easier reading.

Plot, language, culture, history, Chinese TV and novel tropes, and general commentary.

Episode 1

Man, I kind of can't believe it's actually here? And it looks so good?

You can tell by the mode of dress etc that this is an alternate history Ming dynasty.

The Ming dynasty ruled from 1368 to 1644 (Elizabeth I died in 1603, if that helps you situate yourself). It was a time of great flourishing of the arts and literature but fewer advancements in science.

The nation of Dong Xia/冬夏 is an invention of the Lost Tomb franchise. There was a real East (also Dong) Xia but it was destroyed by the Mongols long before the Ming dynasty.

On a less scholarly note the child actors are all absolutely adorable.

Kuai Duo's job is 钦天监监正 - basically, the imperial astronomer. It was an important, extremely politically sensitive role (and we'll talk about why later) but not a super highly ranked one.

Think of it as architect, astrologer and astronomer all in one.

Our protagonist says his dad Kuai Duo is an expert at 堪舆 (kanyu), a term we're gonna come across a lot.

Kanyu (Chinese geomancy) is the proper term for what is now popularly called fengshui - a combination of philosophy, astrology, geography and anthropology.

So funny to me that baby Zhi Nu (Nu is a suffix for child names, which is why both kids' names have it) is already digging tunnels what with his character being based on a Lost Tomb legend who would go on to make a lot of them.

Zhi Nu/Zang Hai's parents are played brilliantly by a duo who really look like they could be Xiao Zhan's parents, the Hong Kong actor and singer Wallace Chung and the Taiwanese actress and singer Michelle Chen.

Michelle previously encountered Xiao Zhan during his survival show days.

In an episode full of horrifying, tragic moments I think I was most struck by Gou Li's decision to impersonate Zhi Nu (and therefore die for him).

What a well-shot, well-made, amazingly acted episode.

Episode 2

The selection that the masked man recites to Zhi Nu is from the poem 即事 by the Song dynasty poet and philosopher 王安石. It's about how small our lives are in the grand scheme of creation.

1) Masked Man is so sus. He's so clearly pushing Zhi Nu along this path for his own reasons. 

2) The cosmetic surgery scene depicts real techniques and tools from traditional Chinese medicine.

Oh before I go on, I should say that if you came into this expecting straightforward good and evil instead of complex people, you're watching the wrong show.

Everyone in China knows Zheng Xiaolong, he's made so many classic shows and he's known for portraying complex humanity.

Kuai Duo was (and Zhi Nu is) an expert in building with 榫卯 (Mortise-and-tenon), a construction technique first used in China during the Neolithic period, in which wood components were made to interlock with perfect fit, without using screws or glue.

The death puzzle is solved by Zhi Nu using a poem by a 易学 (literally the study of changes) scholar. 

易学 derives from I Ching (the Book of Changes) and is the study of philosophy, science, divination and meteorology from a Chinese worldview. 

We talked about kanyu before and how it's geography and architecture and astronomy.

Not sure how they're translating the other thing Zhi Nu is learning but it's basically how to win friends and influence people (con artistry, except sometimes you're not lying).

The scene with Liu Chu is really interesting because (spoilers) it turns out Zang Hai is a natural at manipulating others' feelings, as she says. 

But he's also inherently a little impulsive, as she also points out.

The puzzle scene is incredible. Our boy is so fucked up. The fact that he recites the massacre of his family so calmly and with a smile just makes it even more fucked up.

Zang Hai's making a murder list, he's checking it twice, he already knows they're all terrible motherfuckers.

Episode 3

One thing I have to commend this show for is that all the actors feel like they belong in this era. No one has overly modern posture/affect/speech (a very common problem with idol dramas that always takes me out).

Xing Dou quotes from the Song dynasty poem 晏殊: "觥船一棹百分空。何处不相逢" - no need to be sorrowful at parting, we could always meet again elsewhere.

Which is certainly interesting in context.

The fireworks are 药发木偶, an art form originating in the Song dynasty in which artisans made puppets of popular characters and installed fireworks to make them dance. They were used for celebrations.

The beautiful screen here is actually a hand-carved lantern - another traditional art form.

I love how much Zang Hai has going on behind his eyes at all times. 

Let's be real, Xiang Antu is letting him off easy not only because she wants to fuck with him but also because she thinks he's cute.

Shadow plays have their own English wiki entry.

The use of instruments to change one's voice to suit the role like Ba-gongzi does here is a part of the tradition.

The play is a convenient recap of the political situation - a heir-less emperor, and two of the political powers (the Marquis and Cao-gonggong with his secret police).

Eunuchs could be very powerful during the Ming dynasty.

The Emperor is the child of the Dowager Noble Consort and of course he wants his mother to remain buried with the previous emperor rather than have her dug up and the Dowager Empress put in to replace her as tradition demands (because the Dowager Empress was the wife).

See, what was Liu Chu saying last ep about not being taken in by a friendly face?

I love that Zang Hai can't fight and is even a little clumsy. Pure guile protag (I was going to say hero but that word is so loaded in English).

From this ep you may have seen that kanyu fengshui is not just decisions about buildings. It's actually mostly politics.

We're going to return to this idea. 

Three things about Zang Hai:

1) man loves to smile humbly head bowed at someone he wants to murder

2) he's learned the best way to avoid being fooled is to fool everyone else

3) that self-destructive, reckless streak is a mile wide.

Zang Hai figures out that the solution to the tomb is contained in phrases from 滴天髓, a famous divination text

Two things about the Marquis (fandom calls him by his title Lord/Duke Pingjin):

- clearly very sensitive to any implication that he's past it, that retainer was very silly 

- note him saying his residence would burn down if he left it to Chu-daren.

Episode 4

Did you see how he gave himself barely a second to grieve and rage?

(Insert kitten thinks only of murder meme here.)

Zang Hai only had a second to feel emotions because he then immediately had to put on his most harmless smol bean facade, down to bowing his back like a peasant awed to be surrounded by power and wealth. Someone who knows his place.

This first meeting is electric, my god.

I said before that kanyu is politics. The issue here is that none of the other fengshui masters managed to 1) come up with the correct political solution that suited the Emperor and 2) give a convincing explanation for it that suited tradition and the rules.

Zang Hai saw that he needed to offer a story and a solution that would accomplish two things:

1) allow the burial to proceed (so appeasing broadly held values) in a way that doesn't degrade the Emperor's own mother

2) kept powerful regional lords from coming to the capital.

The spirits stuff is all politics and everyone knows it's politics but it needs to have a justification that makes it sound like it's from on high. 

This is the kind of ambiguity that you have to get very comfortable with in traditional and modern Chinese culture.

This scene is so tense I barely breathed. Masterful direction and performances all around.

One thing folks keep commenting on is how unique Zang Hai is as a protagonist - and one of those traits is his willingness to be totally shamelessly obsequious when it helps him.

Did you notice the big clock outside during the scene where they're waiting for noon?

Sundials have been in use in China for telling time since the Han dynasty.

Zang Hai references my OG historical blorbo Zhuge Liang's famous "with deference and prudence, to the state of one's depletion, until one's death" (鞠躬盡瘁，死而後已) in trying to pledge himself to the Marquis.

Except of course he's on his knees begging his enemy to take him on.

Zang Hai is also unique as a protag in this genre because as netizens say he's "绿茶" and "毒蛇" (green tea bitch and venomous snake).

Green tea (bitch can be omitted) means to act harmless and sweet in order to manipulate people, which is what he's doing here with the Marquis.

His fundamental sense of justice can be seen in how he saved the child and tried to get his fellow tomb sufferers a burial.

But he's not your conventional heroic morally pure protagonist in the Western sense.

The production actually built the Marquis' residence using period appropriate construction techniques. It took six months. The design was in part based on the Song dynasty painting 七夕乞巧图.

Zang Hai has managed to get himself a role as a 幕僚 to the Marquis, but what is that? The modern equivalent is basically a military general's staff, in ancient terms a strategist, advisor or aide.

Zang Hai was able to pull off his performance at the tomb because he noticed that the Imperial Observatory (responsible for burials) had become so corrupt that they'd dared to use substandard construction and materials on the Emperor's tomb, leading to it not being watertight.

The way the Three Stooges discuss Zang Hai is so slimy, full of insinuation about his youth. The truth is that they're incredibly bothered and threatened by his mere existence, as they ought to be.

(Two of them are playing Chinese chess.)

Zang Hai things:

1) He looks so good in that retainer's uniform.

2) Thank god he's so wily and such a good actor. Having to deal with the petty jealousy and bullying of Yang Zhen must be infuriating.

3) You can kind of see him plotting murder behind those eyes, can't you.

Episode 5

Oh god what a tense episode.

A note about forms of address. Before Zang Hai's employment by the Marquis, he uses 草民 to refer to himself in front of the powerful, basically "this peasant". 

Once he's employed, he switches to 小的 or 小人 ("this insignificant one").

The secret basement room has a super special lock (see the 士 character on it? That means it's an anti-theft lock with a very specialised key).

This is a hilarious second meet cute between Zang Hai and Zhuang Zhixing, two sneaks sneaking around, one of them much better at it than the other.

Zang Hai cannot resist giving Zhuang Zhixing attitude even while keeping his humble obsequious smol bean act up, hahaha.

Zang Hai's enormously clever long distance romancing of the Marquis works because no man, no matter how powerful or cruel, can resist the allure of someone who knows them.

And of course Zang Hai knows him entirely, he's spent years studying him in order to kill him.

The Three Stooges know that Zang Hai's smol bean act is just an act, but that's fine - they're meant to To them, he's cosplaying a clever boy desperate for advancement and willing to abase himself for it.

What they don't know is how far he's willing to go.

This conversation between Zhuang Zhixing and Antu about the Marquis' spoils of war from Dong Xia is a heavy hint as to her secret identity.

Dying that Zhuang Zhixing has been taking dad's spoils to fund his lifestyle and owes like 300x Zang Hai's monthly salary to Pillow Pavilion.

The worst party of all time:

1) the way this show builds tension is incredible.

2) Zang Hai is playing smol bean and thinking about murder again

3) lord this show is brutal. Thank god for Antu.

One of the common themes in the work of Zheng Xiaolong is the fundamental injustice of feudal society. Look how cheap the lives of common people are to those with even a little power like the Three Stooges.

Zang Hai is himself one of the common people, of course. That's why his situation is so precarious. He doesn't have any kind of protagonist halo keeping him out of the clutches of the powerful.

And again we see his compassion and sense of justice come to the fore.

Another thing that sets him apart:

He spends about 2 seconds raging about the injustice and then gets down to solving the immediate problem. Plotting murder is for the long term.

The retainers trying to get face time in front of the Marquis despite Yang Zhen's obstruction reminds me strongly of an Emperor's harem vying for any scrap of his attention (which is of course the subject of director Zheng Xiaolong's most famous work, Legend of Zhen Huan).

One more thing aboth the terrible party - we all get why Zang Hai said no to the girl right? Not because he has some kind of sexual purity thing going on, or a need to maintain a reputation, but because he can't let himself be owned by Yang Zhen.

Love this bath scene, so much to unpack:

- Zang Hai going from obsequious smile to looking at Zhuang Zhixing like he's a dumbass as soon as his back is turned

- how incredibly sinister Zang Hai seems particularly toward the end - that smile!

Zhuang Zhixing asking Zang Hai to bathe with him might have the air of a rich frivolous gongzi flirting with a cute servant if not for Zang Hai's scary scheming face (especially with that "why do you keep asking about my father" exchange) 

Zhuang Zhixing with a "let them eat cake" moment - as Zang Hai says, of course Zhuang Zhixing can afford to look down on those who need to spend their days eking out a living.  He doesn't have to worry about any of that.

A final note about the poor singing girl. Her song is in a folk style called 挂枝儿 and the song is called 蜻蜓 (Dragonfly).

The lyrics are flirty (appropriate for a sexy party), common (because the Three Stooges have common taste) and a warning to Zang Hai that he can't escape.

Episode 6

Yang Zhen's idea isn't that bad except for the part where it's a trap to kill Zang Hai.

The idea of one's 八字 came up a lot in this episode. 

Your 八字 is determined by your birth year, month, day and hour.  Chinese folks believed it could tell you whether two people were compatible, and what someone was best suited for.

Zang Hai very calmly telling Gao Ming that the Three Stooges definitely plan to make him a human sacrifice and sounding amused about it is pretty fucked up. 

Also fucked up to be building your own burial chamber.

We're gonna return to this idea many times so I'll just flag it for now - Zang Hai pretends that he fears death when he wants someone to think so but he really doesn't.

Because in his head, he's already dead. He's a vengeful ghost come to claim his due.

One of my favourite Zang Hais is when he's Just Asking Questions, all innocent (knowing that what he's asking is a deadly secret).

Xiao Zhan is so good at playing very smart people.

The device in the flashback is an armillary sphere - an astronomical device invented in 4th century BC.

This one in particular is a copy of a sphere invented in the Yuan dynasty which was, fun fact, melted down for scraps by a German missionary in the Qing dynasty.

Really enjoyed Zang Hai's guide to proper tomb construction (again, linking to something fans of the Tomb franchise would know about the original character of Wang Zanghai).

They're making 三合土 (tabia) - a real ancient Chinese construction material made from clay, lime and sand.

Zhuang Zhifu is your classic fuerdai - dad got him his cushy job and he can't even do it without doing a corruption and getting in trouble.

Even as thick as he is, he still managed to recognise that his dad is already a bit fond of Zang Hai.

Poor Zang Hai having to pretend he doesn't know who his own father is.

Loved "I'm not working for him, I'm working for me".

Using sticks to tell fortune in China dates back to the Jin dynasty and is still practiced in temples today.

Gao Ming quotes from the classic divination text the Book of Changes. 

(You can tell Gao Ming taught Zang Hai how to lie, he's great at this.)

One thing that really sets this show apart is that not only is Zang Hai starting from a position of total powerlessness, his enemies are extremely powerful *and* pretty clever. So his plotting needs to be even more intricate to fool them.

These poor folks "volunteering" to be buried as a human sacrifice so they can save their families.

And then Zang Hai just smiling a little like he's thinking "these lowlifes are so predictable".

Episode 7

We start with some classic bullshitting about the will of heaven from Chu-daren.

Everyone knows what he's actually happening but there's nothing to be gained from pointing it out. Same with the "volunteers" for human sacrifice.

Corruption is so rife in Great Yong that officials take a cut from even the money used to compensate the families of the human sacrifices.

Here Zang Hai refers to himself as 卑职 (this humble official), a form of address used by those of lower rank toward those of higher rank. 

Chu-daren is his boss. Zang Hai's path to advancement is through murdering all his immediate superiors.

Fans have been posting about how this show really exposes the fantasy of transmigrating to the past and being able to do well with "modern smarts" as just that - a fantasy out of step with the harshness and unfairness of feudal society. 

There's a colloquial Chinese phrase which is roughly "if you want to look pretty, wear mourning colours" (wearing very plain colours complements and elevates true beauty).

Imperial Chinese government officials were classified into a 9 rank system. Every single thing about their treatment was strictly in accordance with their rank. 

The Marquis is the first ranked military official in the country.

Loved Zang Hai's speech about how we can't wait for posterity to improve the world, we have to do it ourselves.

These men are all going to die anyway but they still have something to fear - the worst crimes were punished with death of one's entire clan.

Zang Hai came prepared, of course, but his enemies have done the same.

I genuinely gasped when the trap mechanism activated.

"Get up, we're going home" really got me. 

Zang Hai definitely should murder every single one of these scumbags.

God the scene with Ji-bobo (Uncle Ji) is so moving and well acted.

Lovely to tell him to live well but how can he when he's living on knives and murderous intent?

The shot of Zang Hai wiping blood onto his face ("sealing tears with blood") is incredible. Such a great idea.

Having Gao Ming make the Marquis think that Zang Hai is his lucky totem is so smart, I love it.

They're all so scared when he walks out of the royal tomb, like he's a ghost. And he is.

I love that Zang Hai not only plotted to come out of this alive but also to take down Yang Zhen at the same time, and he's clearly been planning all this ever since the birthday party from hell. Incredible.

Zang Hai uses the will of heaven and the well established rules governing imperial burials to apply pressure to not just the Marquis but the entire body of governing officials masterfully.

The Marquis correctly perceives that Zang Hai isn't afraid to die.

The Marquis immediately abandoning Yang Zhen and even tricking him into walking into the tomb is very funny and in character. Of course he's going to trade you in for a younger model, dude.

Love Zang Hai's facial expressions throughout this scene. Xiao Zhan has never looked better.

Xiao Zhan said that when he first read the script he was already picturing how he'd play this scene and you can really see why. It's amazing and he does an amazing job with it.

Episode 8

The one with the famous carriage scene.

The thing is this is kind of a rigged game. If the Marquis had really made up his mind to kill Zang Hai, he would not be in this carriage. He's in the carriage because the Marquis finds him amusing and wants to give him a chance.

Zang Hai's performance (not Xiao Zhan's, the character's) here is very interesting. He has the Marquis' number and has calibrated this persona to appeal to him. 

Let's call this persona smol bean white lotus Zang Hai - a docile, clever boy with nothing to his name, eager to advance.

I almost choked at Zang Hai's line about wanting to serve the Marquis with an unsullied/pure name.

Along with Zang Hai's delivery and the way the scene is shot, the subtext here is uh, rich. And will only get more so as the episode goes on.

The other thing Zang Hai is counting on is that the Marquis knows his underlings are a problem.

Zang Hai isn't just trying to save his own life, he's laying the groundwork for murder number two by making a paranoid man question his underling's loyalty.

Huang Jue's performance here is also really interesting because although his words are severe, it's crystal clear from body language and his face that he likes what Zang Hai has to say (especially the seemingly sincere praise for his abilities and achievements).

"My life is in the Marquis' hands" is such a clever thing to say in this moment.

The Marquis does enjoy resting his sword on Zang Hai's neck, doesn't he.

Qu Jiao, dude, don't you know questioning the Marquis' ability to command Zang Hai is like questioning his masculinity. Doing it in front of Zang Hai is even worse.

(More seriously this is Zang Hai's scheme of turning the Marquis against Qu Jiao working.)

I spent a lot of text on this scene but you gotta understand it was so viral and resulted in so many memes.

This one compares Zang Hai's poor little meow meow act to a famous scene from a Korean show.

Also I laugh at the green tea way Zang Hai looks at Qu Jiao here every time.

Nepo baby dummy Zhuang Zhifu isn't smart enough to perceive that his father wants Zang Hai around but his smartest moment might be perceiving the danger.

Again I almost choked laughing at his suggestion of marking up Zang Hai's face, like we're in a palace intrigue drama.

At this point there's really no suspense to the decision to kill Qu Jiao, at least once you've seen the look on the Marquis' face at Zhuang Zhifu's suggestion. Zang Hai isn't surprised either.

Notice how he doesn't sleep though :(

This next sequence can be read on a few levels if you're familiar with palace/household intrigue tropes (like the Chinese audience would be).

Consider what we're shown of Zang Hai's sudden elevation:

1) the Marquis has given him rooms next to his own, in the inner courtyard.

2) all the gifts. 

3) the retainer pointing out that even when Yang Zhen was in favour, he never got this treatment.

4) getting to eat with the Marquis' family. 

5) the Marquis offering to let all the other aides go and only use Zang Hai.

The text layer is that he's being treated as a very favoured courier. 

The subtext layer is how this feels like the entry of a new, highly favoured wife into a household/palace.

(Reminder that the director of this show directed the most famous palace intrigue drama of them all.

Folks see parallels between the relationship of the Emperor and Zhen Huan in Legend of Zhen Huan vs Zang Hai and the Marquis.)

Of course, the warlord/favoured strategist relationship is also traditionally very charged and intimate. See Sun Ce/Zhou Yu, Liu Bei/Zhuge Liang.

Zang Hai gets into character immediately, promising undying dedication and service and saying he's the Marquis' man (can also be translated as "this insignificant one belongs to the Marquis"). 

To which I can only quote this genius RedNote post:

"Marquis, when a perfectly suited person appears who shares all your interests, gives extremely strong emotional support and meets your every need, don't doubt, it's just a pig slaughtering scam designed specifically for you."

This wordless scene with Chu Huaiming is so good. Next on the murder list and I think he knows it, now that the other two Stooges are gone.

The Marquis knows that Zang Hai is ambitious and even dangerous but he's confident that he can handle it, that Zang Hai can be tamed for his use and his family's use.

The way Antu forces Zang Hai into this meeting is so funny. I love their scenes together. Zang Hai clearly enjoys fucking with her and she's into it too.

The way his posture changes when he decides to drop the act.

Some culture stuff:

The drawings are 界�� (boundary drawings), a form of traditional Chinese art featuring detailed renderings of architecture. 

The painting in the background of Zang Hai's quarters is Hundred Cranes from Lu Ji, from the Ming dynasty.

The quarters chosen by the Marquis for Zang Hai are called 飞鸿印雪, from a poem by the great Song dynasty poet, writer and early food blogger Su Dongpo.

It depicts the faint, temporary marks left by the feet of waterfowl in snow. Zang Hai shows as much of himself as those steps.

Episode 9

AKA "in Great Yong all the domineering CEOs want me"

Antu really is bringing the domineering CEO energy - saying the Marquis sure is lucky to have Zang Hai and that anything the Marquis could give Zang Hai, she could too.

Antu to Zang Hai:

(Meme explanation.)

Antu is only saying out loud what everyone else is wondering - how has this very young man who came from nothing managed to rise so quickly? What kind of methods might he have employed?

(The actual answer is murder, of course.)

Zang Hai puts on a different act for Antu - an ambitious striver dazzled by the prospect of power and making a name for himself.

Antu's agenda is pretty obvious too. She doesn't want the Marquis to regain military power and threaten Great Yong's neighbours again.

It's not easy to be the man closest to the one in power. There's an idiom 伴君如伴虎 (to accompany the king is like living with a tiger). Keeping the favour of a tyrannical, mercurial man isn't easy, particularly with so many gunning for you or trying to get something from you.

All sorts of people will be trying to butter him up for access to the Marquis because it's clear that he's the flavour of the month and may well have influence over the Marquis. But there's no such thing as a free lunch.

This show portrays the complexity of corruption and bribery and how it can become formalised. 

Zang Hai brilliantly turns the potential massive liability into another way to score points with the Marquis, by helping improve his reputation.

Zang Hai apologises for acting without prior authority but he knows the Marquis will be happy and you only have to look at the Marquis' face to see he's right. 

Again he emphasises his awareness that he's the Marquis' man and his actions reflect on his master.

Again: everyone likes an underling who anticipates their every need and constantly thinks of the best thing for them.

The Marquis' affection toward Zang Hai is that of the powerful toward something in their power that they can give treats to for good behaviour. Like a pet. But free access to his private sanctum is a pretty big gift.

Zang Hai's clothing and guan have gotten much nicer too. 

Aw, Antu and Ba-gongzi are cute.

The use of children's rhymes to spend rumours or influence the discourse was very common back in the day.

In this case the rhyme is even correct. 

(In the original script Wang Zanghai was plagued by rumours of having obtained his position by seduction. Not a joke.)

Zang Hai's face at the concept of apologising to Antu, haha.

Have you noticed that his actual personality isn't deferential at all, it's actually impatient, kind of bratty and even mean at times (while being fundamentally sentimental and moral)?

Oh now this is a dilemma, the poison is an obvious trap but...

Christ, this trauma train. He was having a decent run pretending to be a living person and now the vengeful ghost is back in charge.  And he can't even do proper rites for his parents yet.

Oh right, *this* scene.

Look, I'm sure that's not the first person to want to wear that face.

Zang Hai getting them to take his shirt off by saying "actually you need more than my face" is very funny also.

Zang Hai's physical attempts to get out of danger are always so action movie female lead coded - he's allowed to do smart things like cut the rope but he's very easily overpowered and can never get out of danger by himself without using guile.

Oh wow, it's the other aide. I forgot about him. I also forgot Guan Feng got told to go into the hills! 

This is so lovely for Zang Hai. He's no longer alone. There's someone else on this path with him.

Episode 10

AKA the one with ethical archaeology and such a tense scene I almost couldn't watch

(Also, big fan of these robes.)

Kuai Duo teaching his son to preserve tombs and respect the dead and also murder tomb raiders is also a fun reference to Lost Tomb Wang Zanghai making all those tombs with extensive defences.

Pay attention to the story of Liu Xian and his shifu. I suspect it's going to be very relevant to Zang Hai's own story, quite aside to the tomb's plot relevance. 

衡 is an interesting character to use to encompass the virtues of the ideal Confucian - it means balance.

There's a sort of unreality to Zang Hai saying they'll succeed and all run away to somewhere nice where no one knows them. He doesn't even really believe it himself. 

Zang Hai being in charge of rites for the Marquis' parents must make him even more furious - the Marquis' parents get to enjoy worship and offerings from their descendants, while his own parents had their bodies desecrated and don't even have their proper resting place.

His father didn't want his craft to be used to kill. But his father is dead. Zang Hai cannot be the ideal gentleman his father wanted him to be.

I don't think I breathed during this scene with Zang Hai's doctored incense. 

But as netizens say, the moment Zang Hai starts begging for mercy with wet eyes you know he's gonna be fine.

The thing about men like the Marquis is that them liking you doesn't mean they trust you. In fact if they feel especially drawn to someone, that'll just make them more suspicious, particularly if that person is very clever. They'll also turn on a dime at any moment.

So the Marquis' feelings are genuine - like Huang Jue said, he probably wishes someone so good looking, capable and talented was part of his family. 

And his treatment of Zang Hai is genuine. But that doesn't mean Zang Hai is ever out of danger.

By the time he goes to see the Marquis, Zang Hai has fully recalibrated and is thinking rationally again.

Being a frightened little flower in need of protection works for the Marquis. Like Huang Jue said, the Marquis is into the green tea routine but only if it's from Zang Hai.

What kind of flex is "uncountable number of people want to kill me", Zhuang Luyin? 

He calls Zang Hai his 心腹 - confidant (literally "vital organs").

The Ming dynasty was plagued by powerful eunuchs who were effectively rulers. The character of Cao Jingxian was probably based on Ming dynasty eunuch Wei Zhongxian, the most infamous eunuch in Chinese history, whose power rivalled that of the Emperor. 

Every time we see a glimpse of Zang Hai under his masks it's just knives and rage and screaming.

The only thing keeping him tethered to life is revenge and that's a pretty horrible state to be in.

[whispertree-coll]

"oh u like damien lavey because hes a bad boy how original" NO I DO NOT I LOVE DAMIEN LAVEY BECAUSE HE IS CHRONICALLY STUPID AND I LIKE MY MEN DUMB AS ROCKS!!!! AY-FUCKING-MEN!!!!!!

[roguestorm]

In my dream last night, Rachel worked at a community center for a while in the late 90s-early 2000s. She was like a very street-level hero who would pop up in comics mostly when Kitty or Kurt went to visit her, but she was just low-key doing her job every day and then sometimes finding missing kids or something on the side. And she had a trenchcoat.

[mirananananan]

just desperately need to type out some thoughts for this wip, gonna do it in the tags, don't mind me

[sillyfudgemonkeys]

Me: I don't like Sci-fi, space operas, or fantasy. Me: *sees fanart of some characters* Oh these look cool. I wonder why their arm looks like that. Why is that one person dressed in skull attire? I keep seeing these guys everywhere, let's get the book on Audible what could possibly go wrong? Book: *Sci-fi fantasy novel in space* Me:

[nanamiskentos]

JUDAS (IS THE DEMON I CLING TO)— 両面宿儺 RYOMEN SUKUNA

PLOT 𐙚 After Gojo’s death and the collapse of the jujutsu world, you were taken, not killed, by the King of Curses. Sukuna decided you were to remain at his side, whether you liked it or not. Now, you spend your days silent and simmering, trapped in an estate built on ash and bone. And you hate Ryomen Sukuna. Hate the way blood perpetually follows him, streaking the wooden floors. You also try to pretend that you don't spend your nights with fantasies of the rough grip of his inked hands on your hips.

FEATURING Ryomen Sukuna x Reader

CW 𐙚 afab!reader, enemies to lovers, Sukuna Won AU, implied past Gojo x Reader, másturbation (f), trueform!Sukuna, incorrect jujutsu/domains lore, creámpie, máting press, crude talk, mentions of blood, injury and violence. dp!Sukuna, CÓNSENSUAL (c/nc) but if dark romance makes you uncomfortable, please be wary! MDNI

WC 𐙚 5.4k

NOTE 𐙚 this isn't a genre i dabble in much but i wrote this as a gift for a very dear friend 🎁

You had been dragged through the wreckage, head throbbing, and flanked by two low-grade curses. Their knobby hands clamp around your elbows like damp stone, claws digging just deep enough to sting in the thin winter air.

The atmosphere is ash-choked, acrid as it burns the lining of your nose.

Above, the sky bleeds a violent shade of red, seeping like an infected wound. Somewhere in the distance, a temple bell tolls in a cruel and ceremonial mockery.

You’re not even sure where you are. Maybe this is the ancient heart of jujutsu, the city of Kyoto.

Or perhaps, you’re still stranded in the remains of Gojo’s battlefield, the ruins of Shinjuku.

The curses drag you forward until your knees slam against rough stone. Pain blooms ferociously as your chin knocks downward, gravel grinding into your teeth, and the sharp warmth of iron blooms on your tongue.

“Careful,” one of the curses chitters, reprimanding his companion. The curse has a voice like cracked clay, digits digging deeper into your tired bicep, “Sukuna wants her in one piece. I don’t fancy being flayed for messing up.”

You don’t bother speaking, not even as the sliding doors creak open behind the bone-white torii gate. The air shifts, with cursed energy curling outwards like heavy smoke, thick with the scent of incense and firewood. There’s a sweetness to it, beneath the copper tang of dried blood.

As a sorcerer, you understand that Domains are complicated. Half-real, and half-willed into existence. A metaphysical pocket carved into space.

Over the centuries, countless sorcerers had likely gone mad trying to decipher whether a Domain was tangible or simply a trick of the five senses.

Had things been different, had you not been dragged before a victorious King of Curses, you might have pondered the estate’s nature too. Because it felt real, too solid and too grounded in the bones of the world to be an illusion.

The throne room is dim, and lanterns glow behind crimson silk shades, casting slow-moving shadows over the floors. Despite your tired eyes, it’s hard to miss the striking architecture, dark wood beams and protective spells dangling from the rafters, parchments swaying like ghosts.

Of course, the King of Curses mars the decadent view. All four of his thick arms are draped along a throne, an ivory structure that bears the dull, dried appearance of charred bone.

His bare chest gleams, ridged with muscle and heatless sweat. Rings glint on his fingers, gold and dried sinew, as long, obsidian nails tap lazily against the throne’s edge.

Your gaze drops, instinctively. The lower arms twitch in an almost restless, feline manner. You could almost get lost in the hypnotic vision, were it not for the flash of memory. Gojo Satoru’s corpse, bisected on the snow-dusted pavement of Shinjuku.

Ryomen Sukuna is a monster, make no mistake.

The upper corner of his mouth lifts, but not in a smile. It’s a barbed expression, something more fang than good-will. His voice cuts through the thick air like molten stone, low and mocking, “Kneeling already?”

Your jaw clenches, as an aching pain blooms behind your ears, scorching your temples, while defiance stings your tongue, “Dragged here, actually. Don’t act so surprised.”

Sukuna’s laugh thrumbles through the chamber, dry and humourless like a sour thunderclap, “Still got that mouth.” The King of Curses is musing, head tilting just slightly as dawn-pink hair ripples across his forehead, “Good. I was afraid you’d be broken.”

You lift your chin, dirt-streaked and trembling, “Not yet.”

“Not yet,” Sukuna echoes, savouring your words slowly, like a promise, “Mhm. That will do.”

The thick fingers of his lower right-hand twitch, and one of the curses step back as though he has been charged. The other captor hesitates too long; cold grip still latched to your arm. He’s looking between you, his prisoner, and Sukuna, his lord.

A ripple of irritation flashes across Sukuna’s fine features, or at least, the half of his face that isn’t covered in thick, rough plates of hardened flesh, “You may leave us.” His tone leaves no room for suggestion, and the curses dissipate with a hiss.

The room falls into an odd silence. Stretching long enough for the pain to settle in, your knees aching, and arms burning with a tight strain. You feel as though your lungs and heart haven’t caught up from the constant tolls of countless battles. From Gojo’s sudden –

No, don’t go there.

Sukuna shifts, as the throne creaks beneath him as he leans forward, gaze glinting as he coos, “Look at you.” There’s something deceptively soft in his tone now, but it is not pity nor kindness. Curiosity, or hunger, you don’t quite know.

You feel the cursed energy rise as he steps down from the dais. It tightens the air like a noose around your neck. The ground seems to warp with each step he takes, and you can barely breathe through it.

There are ankles on him, coils of gold and iron, resting round the thick jut of tendons. He’s taking his time, not out of grace nor indulgence. And your eyes lift up against your will.

Sukuna is terrifying beautiful.

His face is inked in brutal brushstrokes. The markings carve along the sharp angles of his jaw, and his four eyes are concentric, rust-coloured, as they drag across your form, committing you to memory. But you try to look away, attempt to not track the split tongue that flickers over a fang.

But there’s a heat that coils in your gut anyway. Shameful in a way that makes your heart pound, and your stomach lurch.

Sukuna crouches before you soundlessly. Not a king. Not a god.

A beast.

One hand reaches forward. Not to strike, but to hold. Your chin is caught between a clawed thumb and finger, his touch calloused and searingly warm. Far too intimate, too wrong.

A long nail drags along your jaw, tracing a streak of dried blood, “Yours?”

“Does it matter?”

Sukuna hums, a low sound, almost pleased, “No.”

He gently wipes the blood away, before bringing his thumb to his mouth. Maroon eyes never break contact with yours, and you nearly recoil. Disgust curdles in your stomach, as Sukuna savours it.

You’re jerking back, a mere few inches, before his upper hands shoot out, catching your shoulders and yanking you back forward. Your body collides with his chest, the contact searing like a sharp brand.

“What’s the matter?” Sukuna murmurs, a furnace of air brushing hot against your cheek, “You forget? I did promise to not kill you.”

“Then what do you want?” You grit out, pain splintering behind your temples.

Sukuna’s eyes drop, trailing down your blood-slick chest. The bruises, and the grimy mess of the past few weeks clinging to you. The sorcerer’s gaze lingers where it clearly should not, and there’s a twitch of his reddened mouth as though he’s barely reining something in.

“Is it not obvious?” Sukuna’s voice is like velvet over a knife, “I would have you.”

You blink, “Me?”

It’s stupid, the way the jagged question leaves your lip. Weak, and reeling from both rage and disgust, and something far more traitorous that coils like fire beneath your skin.

“I would have you as my Queen,” Sukuna says easily, “By my side.”

You scoff, mostly to cover the very real pulse of panic that cracks through your ribs. But Sukuna only smiles wider, cruel in his manner, as his grip tightens. Your knees buckle.

“You think I would waste you?” Sukuna murmurs, dragging his lower hands reverently, slowly up your arms, “You fought harder than anyone.” A sneer flickering across his features as his lower lip juts, “Aside from Gojo Satoru, of course.”

Sukuna tilts your face upward, fingers cradling your jaw as if the King of Curses sees you as something fragile. Even worthy of worship.

But you know better, for Ryomen Sukuna does not believe in anything sacred nor holy.

“You made me bleed,” Sukuna muses thoughtfully, “And you are still strong. Still beautiful, even now.”

“You killed – ”

“Yes, yes,” Sukuna interrupts irately, “Spare me the weeping monologue. I killed them all.”

There is no guilt in his tone, no remorse. Your grief and fury is just another discarded page in the story he’s already rewritten.

“But you, I let live,” Sukuna leans in, voice dark and indulgent, “And you will thank me for it.”

You don’t ask what Sukuna does during the day. You don’t want to know.

It’s far easier that way, not wondering which cities lie burning beneath the horizon, or which shrines have been Sliced and Cleaved under the weight of his wrath and lazy hunger. You’ve long since stopped pretending the wind doesn’t carry ash through the open windows, or the sky hasn’t been a sickly, stagnant red for weeks.

Your days are now filled with things that mock comfort. Silk gowns in every shade of shadow, and blood. Combs and ribbons woven through your hair by silent handmaidens with cracked porcelain masks, and soot-darkened fingertips. You sleep on linens, in sprawling, ornate quarters, with no locks.

You hold to your resolve with a white-knuckled grip. You will not scream, nor will you give your husband the satisfaction of tears. And above all, you will not entertain Ryomen Sukuna in any form of conversation.

Especially not when, each night without fail, the King of Curses prowls into the dining quarters like a victorious beast, ivory robes loose, and rivulets of dried blood tacked to his chin. He slams his weight down beside you, all four arms sprawled, and thighs parted indecently, tearing into his food like it still writhes.

But he does not touch you.

Sukuna, for all his cruel jabs and leering glances, has yet to lay a clawed hand on you. It is a thought that you refuse to dwell long upon.

You eat in silence, and you certainly don’t flinch when Sukuna cracks bone in one hand and tosses the shards behind him. You try not to look at the second mouth on his torso, where the skin of his abdomen stretches into a grin.

You hate to admit it, but the icy little shadow trailing behind Sukuna, Uraume, knows how to make a damn good bowl of stew. Fragrant with green onion and wine, rich enough to cut through your ever-present nausea. You chew slowly, contemplatively, and make a mental note.

It might be worth befriending the sour, quiet bastard.

Maybe you could convince Uraume to slip something extra into Sukuna’s next meal. Not enough to kill him, because Sukuna is probably the sort to drink pond water for fun, but enough to leave him doubled over with a stomach-ache. The humbling image is amusing, and you can’t help the twitch of your lips.

“You’re quieter than usual, wife,” Sukuna drawls, tipping a goblet of wine to his lips. You ignore the thin rivulet of red that spills down his chest, straight into the waiting grin of his second mouth, “Not even a nasty look for me tonight?”

You focus on your stew. The heady wine, the sweetness of the fried onion. You’re chewing with purpose and stabbing chunks of beef with more force than strictly necessary. Imagining, quite vividly, what it would feel like to jab him instead.

If Sukuna notices, he doesn’t seem to mind. If anything, he’s amused, “I look forward to that look, you know,” he murmurs, voice coiling like smoke around your spine, “The one that says you expect me to be grateful you’re here, instead of finding a knife in my ribs.”

You glare into your bowl, slicing meat carefully. You don’t reply.

“That’s the one,” Sukuna laughs, low and rolling, like distant thunder in this broken world.

You jolt when one of his lower hands, the left, reaches for you. Slow, deliberate. It tilts your chin, and you yank back before his grip can tighten. The woven mat beneath you shifts sharply as you stand, breath catching in your throat.

You’re not sure what to say.

Don’t talk to me?

That would be a pointless command, for Sukuna is the only one in this cursed estate with a voice. The others only click and twitch, nodding as if you’re supposed to understand their insect-like chatter.

Don’t touch me?

That one’s worse. That one stings. Because saying it out loud would make it real, and expose the awful, shameful truth.

You can’t bring yourself to say that either.

The rooms have been quiet these past few weeks. Lonely, and lately, far too often, you’ve finished with your own slick fingers buried between your thighs.

Chasing the ghost of ivory hair and blue eyes, and furiously flushing as the image gave way to inked sun and rippling, inked muscles.

And Sukuna, perceptive as he is, seems to know this. He watches you, head titled. Not angry, nor offended. Curious, in a way that makes your skin crawl.

“I like it when you talk back,” Sukuna finally says, voice low. His upper arms drape lazily over the back of his cushion, while his lower hands rest on his thighs, talons twitching like a predator biding its time, “But your body betrays you.”

Sukuna grins, fangs peeking out beneath a wine-red mouth, as though he’s aware of the slow, sticky throb beneath your fine robes, “I wouldn’t have needed Six Eyes to tell me that.”

You spin to leave, with the words blooming on your tongue, detailing exactly what you think Sukuna should do to satisfy himself.

The door slams shut before you reach it, a thud of finality that vibrates up your spine. A pulse follows, not sound, nor touch. You realise it’s the own beat of your heart, thrumming hot.

You freeze.

Sukuna hasn’t moved, not a single inch, but his cursed energy spikes. It wraps around your ankles like invisible chains, slow and deliberate. Then it rises, serpentine and humming, up the backs of your calves, your thighs, blooming heat at the hinges of your knees.

You swallow. Hard. It isn’t painful. But it’s heavy, clinging to your pulse points like it knows you intimately.

“You think I do not notice?” Sukuna’s voice is a slow, scraping murmur, “The way you jolt when I enter. How your thighs press together when I speak. Odd, no? For one who detests me so much.”

You don’t dignify Sukuna with a response. But you don’t deny it, either.

Sukuna stands, towering and bare-chested. The memory of your first night here vividly strikes in your mind once more.

Beautiful, but monstrous.

Holy, but sacrilegious to all you’ve ever held dear.

And yet, so tantalising. You would be lying if you said that you had not spent cold nights in your soft bedding, aching to know the feel of thick fingers in you, ringed with dark ink.

“Say the word,” Sukuna lazily rolls a ring from one hand to the other, “You need only ask.”

His cursed energy is tight. Not enough to hurt, just enough to hold. Your back finds the edge of the long dining table all the same, breath caught as your knees brush carved wood. But Sukuna’s hands remain at his sides. He hasn’t touched you.

But his presence is everywhere.

You glare up at him, voice tight, “Coward. Can’t even touch me without your cursed tricks?”

That earns you a laugh. Low, rough and sharp-edged.

“You think I need to?” Sukuna steps closer, concentric eyes trained on the swan-arch of your neck, “This is still my form of mercy, wife.”

Sukuna lifts a single finger, just one. He runs a dark-tipped claw along the line of your throat. A gesture that could slice your carotid artery cleanly, should Sukuna become careless with the pressure he uses.

But there is no threat in his touch, and your knees buckle at the prospect of moving away.

“I can feel your heart,” Sukuna murmurs, and a snarl dies in your throat. Words meant to tear and strike, for Sukuna has no clue of what truly lies in your heart, for how can he know something he lacks? But it’s a weak retort, and you exhale as another hand rising to rest flat against your sternum, and Sukuna’s eyes narrow, “Here. Beating like a war drum.”

“I hate you,” you snap, voice finally battling it out of your throat.

Never let anyone say you aren’t consistent.

Sukuna smiles, slow. Wolfish, as he brings a third hand to tap at his temple, “Perhaps. Up there.”

But his mouth dips towards your cheek, and the heady scent of pepper and wood-smoke envelops your senses, as he continues, “But down here?”

The heat between your legs is heavy and throbbing, beading at the apex of your thighs.

You can feel it, and you know he does too.

Sukuna always knows.

The silence stretches, and it’s unbearable.

The King of Curses tilts his head, forked tongue flicking out, dragging up the side of your cheek in a long, filthy stripe. The gesture is warm, obscene.

You shudder, but it’s not revulsion that ripples through you. Just heavy, irrational arousal.

And then, so close to your ear that you can feel the air vibrate, “Did he taste you first?” Sukuna murmurs, “Before I killed him?”

Your stomach drops, and everything inside you goes still. Your hands coil up into dense fists, as you shove at his chest, with little avail.

“Fuck you! – ”

Sukuna catches your wrists before you can even land the second blow. Two of his strong, meaty hands pin your arms above your head. Cursed energy cinching around them like a velvet rope, as you sink your teeth into your bottom lip. Desperate for Sukuna to not hear a breathy sound escape your mouth, as you suddenly clench around nothing, and find yourself aching for some friction.

You’re spread against the wall now, held up as much by furious adrenaline, as by him. His knees part your thighs, but they don’t press. Not yet.

“Gojo Satoru,” Sukuna says, and the name falls quietly. Almost reverently, “Did he kiss this mouth?”

He brushes your glossy lips with his thumb. You resist the urge to sink your teeth into his hand.

“Did he fuck this cunt?”

Gojo hadn’t, despite what people assumed. He had been your friend, not your lover.

But Satoru had always wanted more, an eager, gentle and wide-eyed love that you should have given him.

And yet, here you were, pinned in the arms of the four-armed demon that brought him down. Wet and slick, pulsing and hungry for a monster’s touch.

Some little mercy.

Another hand hovers between your legs, a breath above the silk of your inner thighs. Not quite touching. Not yet.

Your jaw is locked, but your hips shift. Just once, bucking upwards for the smallest scrap of pleasure. Barely perceptible.

And he feels it. Of course he does.

“That is what I thought,” Sukuna mutters, “Think I am not finely attuned enough to every breath you take?”

His large, warm palm settles between your thighs. Not rough, nor forceful. Just there.

You flinch again, not from fear. From want. You want Sukuna to slowly drag the flesh of him palm further up, to brush up against where you ache for his touch the most.

“Think I do not hear how your body begs?”

You hate how true his words are. Your breath shudders when Sukuna leans in again, “Begging to be taken,” he whispers, “To be filled. To be ruined.”

A single flick of his callous thumb brushes silk, right over your swollen clit, pressing down.

You jolt, a sharp and involuntary sound leaving your throat. Half-started gasp, and half moan. That single huff of air hands in the space between you and your husband, and you’re not sure if it’s a trick of the low light, but the very tips of Sukuna’s ear glow a flushed and angry red.

“Say it again,” Sukuna whispers, and you’re taken aback at the sudden anger that tinges his voice, but it’s not directed at you. Anger at himself for becoming so affected by the merest taste of you, “Say that you hate me.”

You bite your lip hard enough to draw blood. But you don’t move.

Sukuna bites. Not deep, just enough.

Just enough to make you mewl, your spine arching off the wall as sharp teeth catch at your throat. Claiming, branding you as the wife of the King of Curses. The pain blooms for only a second before it melts into something darker, filthier.

You pant against his mouth, dizzy with the force of it. Some unreasonable part of you aches to push forward, to press your lips to his, to end this charade once and for all.

But Sukuna pulls back, and your arms fall limp as the cursed restraints vanish with a crimson whisper. You’re crumbling forward against the oak table once more, chest heaving and legs shaking. Your pulse beats furiously at your neck, just beneath the strategic imprint of his fangs.

The King of Curses watches you, with some undiscernible expression flickering across his face.

You certainly must appear dishevelled now, fine robes crumpled as you flush from cheek to chest. Lips parted, throat damp where his tongue and fangs left their mark.

“Don’t look at me like that,” you rasp, cursing the unsteady waver of your voice.

“Why not?”

Sukuna is already turning, always walking away, and you don’t miss the angry twitch in his broad shoulders, the red heat crawling over the nape of his neck. The door slides open with a hiss, as your husband looks over his shoulders, “I will return to the estate within three days.”

And then, Sukuna is gone.

Your puffy cunt throbs, miserable and neglected as you pinch your thighs together for some weeping friction.

You should have put that dining knife through his ribs when you had the chance.

You don't see Sukuna at meals. Nor in the halls. Not even in the cursed, rotting corners of the estate where his minions cling like ash in your lungs.

Ryomen Sukuna is gone, true to his word.

Off hunting, off killing, off doing whatever it is that makes him a happy, smug prick.

And it irks you to no end. Not just your moral dilemmas with Sukuna's hobbies, but the fact that you've been waiting. For his voice, for his touch, for the rasp of his breath against your throat.

Your fingers keep twitching with the phantom memory, of claws at your hips, of heat between your thighs, of your own body folding under him like it belonged there.

You hate how vividly you remember it. The last few nights you've spent, alone in your chambers, weren't spent sleeping at all. On your back, with your knees bent and parted, silks twisted around your thighs.

The touch of your own hand wasn't nearly as overwhelming or deep as you wished. You'd press your fingers in, curling them in search for some sweet spot and relief, but it was never the same.

The ache didn't go away. It only bloomed, dark and awful, curling in your gut like hunger. For Sukuna.

On the third night, the sunset drips molten red through paper walls. The light begins to cut your pacing shadow in half as you mutter ill, seething omens into the air. You tell yourself it's not about the King of Curses, that he hasn't gotten under your skin that badly.

It's the confinement, right? The stillness, the —

Snap!

A voice, all teeth and thunder, curls through the room, and if you didn't know better, you would have caught the faint surprise beneath the bored drawl, "My wife is still here, it seems."

You whirl, fury burning across your face. Fury, yes, for how dare he leaves you wanting and aching for a touch that should not be yours to claim.

But Sukuna is already pressing his mouth to yours.

There's no warning nor hesitation, just sheer collision. Sukuna's mouth crashes into yours like a war cry, two hands already in your hair, and another two settling at your waist. The force of him has you stumbling back, but Sukuna follows, devours, consumes.

It's not gentle, and it's certainly not kind. It's all him, brutal and overwhelming, tasting you like you're already his in every way imaginable.

You gasp into the kiss, but your hands are already clawing up his frame to rest in his blush-pink hair before you can think better of it. Yanking and clawing, your teeth clinking against his.

You can feel Sukuna's mouth against yours, curling into a half-sneer, and half-satisfied smile as you moan, nails sinking into the inked planes of his back, right as he begins to push you towards the floor.

"You missed me," Sukuna breathes against your lips, dragging his forked, split tongue over your bottom lip before biting, hard enough to make you squeal, "Say it."

"No."

"We will see."

Sukuna takes you to the polished floor, rough palms skimming up your thighs, making space for you scramble at the knot of your robes. But his patience seems to grow thin, and quite soon, dark claws are curling into the fine fabric, tearing clean through silk.

You're bare beneath him. Bare, and furious, and soaked.

Sukuna's mouth is everywhere. Searing heat down your jaw, your throat, between the valley of your breasts. Leaving bruising, blooming marks that make you stifle sharp gasps.

He laves his tongue over one pebbled nipple, and rolls it between his teeth, while a massive, calloused hand pins your wrists above your head.

Your hips buck up, needy and shameless, as you blindly grasp for the waistband on his loose, martial pants. There's a thick, curved jostle against your thigh already.

No, there's two.

You can feel them, one thick and low, pressing right where you need it. And the other cock dragging higher, riding the curve of your abdomen as Sukuna ruts against you, clearly chasing pleasure of his own, a cherry-red hue painted high across his furious scowl.

"I can't – I can't b-believe you."

"Oh, so you would wish for me to stop?"

Your legs are spread beneath him, thighs splayed wide as your weeping folds swell and throb, pearly drops of your arousal already feeling unbearably hot against the cool, evening air.

And you glare at your husband, cheeks flushed with the prospect of the ridiculous motion, "I didn't say that."

You catch a rough, half-coughed snicker from the King of Curses who shifts his weight, and with little forewarning, shoves the lower of his cocks right between your folds, sliding along the wet slit, hot and heavy.

You need not even glance down to comprehend the sheer size of him, the thick bulge that snags against your entrance.

You're keening as the wispy, heated head bumps into your glistening clit, then lower, as Sukuna drags his cock against your entrance, but not quite pressing in yet.

"You're already dripping for me," Sukuna hisses, watching the hypnotic slide of his cock being enveloped by your heaven-sent pussy, "Fuckin' perfect. You want it? Take it."

And you do, for you roll your needy hips, desperate, catching the head of his cock once more, right at your entrance.

"Beg."

You growl, wiggling your hips further down to try and ease at least one cock in, "Go to hell."

Sukuna's responding look is flat, exasperated even, as all four hands are grabbing your thighs, spreading them wide, holding you open for him like a feast, "I will take you there."

Nothing could have prepared you for the jaw-dropping stretch, the snug inches that are melded by your gummy walls.

You cry out, spine bowing off the floor, eyes rolling. Sukuna's huge, stretching you, splitting you open like you were made for him.

The second cock, thankfully, does not slip further, but instead, drags against your belly as he begins to set a steady pace within you, the obscene friction adding a devastating pressure just under your skin.

You can't breathe. Can't think. Can only feel.

Sukuna moves with mean intent, driving into you with maddening rhythm, hips crashing against yours. Your back arches, hands scrambling for purchase on his biceps, his shoulders, the floor, anything.

"You should see yourself," Sukuna snarls, fangs glinting in the low light. "Mouth open, legs shaking. Grindin' on my cock like a bitch in heat."

You moan, head falling back, body clenching around him. He feels it, groaning, dark and low, and shifting his angle just slightly. Thick head finding that rough, sweet patch that makes you whine.

Kissing that spot deliciously with every sticky thrust and smack of his hips against yours.

"F-fuck, S'kuna— !"

"That's it." He leans in, sweat beading on his brow, and it brings you decent satisfication to know that he looks just as ruined as you feel. Maroon eyes hazy, lips glossy and flushed, and pulled back into a handsome snarl, "You can get louder. Let her talk."

Sukuna's second cock is leaking translucent, creamy pre against your stomach now, the obscene slide of it adding to the slick mess between you.

He presses his broad chest down, grinding the upper cock against your skin while the lower one ruins you, thrust after thrust dragging you closer to the edge.

You're trembling, gasping, sweating. And you want to hate him. You do, right? Heady and cloying arousal floods your senses in quick, lightning-style jolts that claw at any rational thoughts peeking in at the edges.

Sukuna feels you clench again, and his brutal pace falters, just for a moment.

There's stringy strands of slick being pulled between your thighs and his hips, all while Sukuna grunts, brows furrowed, "So soon, wife?"

"F-fuck you."

Sukuna snickers, mouthing at the juncture between your throat and jaw, "You are."

Your climax tears through you like fire, sharp, bright, overwhelming. Your back bows. Your throat rips open on a cry as you clamp down around him, spasming, sobbing, soaking his cock with your release.

And Sukuna doesn't stop. He fucks you through it, chasing his own end, voice ragged as he growls, "Gonna' take all of it? Every, last – fuck."

He slams in once more, deep and brutal. You feel it, everything. His cock throbbing inside you. The flood of warmth that fills you.

His second cock pulsing against your skin as he finishes, both of you trembling, writhing, lost.

Silence.

Heavy, sweat-slicked, tangled. He collapses over you, caging you with his body, still buried deep. And you're suddenly struck by the oddest comparison of your husband and a large, forest bear.

You're blinking up at the ceiling, chest heaving, and your legs still shaking. Your thighs sticky and spread, with drops of thick, opaque seed leakin' right out of your clenching cunt, smeared equally over Sukuna's abdomen.

You pretend not to notice that dastardly second mouth of his doing a right, determined job of cleaning the taste of both of you up.

"So," Sukuna rumbles, voice hoarse and smug, "Think you can take both?"

You let out a breathless laugh, eyelids heavy as you meet his challenging gaze. "What? You think I can't?"

His clever mouth twitches. One dark brow arches in challenge.

"Get on your back, husband."

And he does.

Wordlessly. Fluidly. Like he's been waiting for the command, and is still indulging you. You climb over him, the last of your strength curling into something sharp and hungry as your knees settle against the floor.

His hands find your waist. One of them slides up, slow, warm, steady, palm flattening over your stomach. The claws are gone. Blunted. Gentle.

Neither of you says a word about it.

[tranquilreign]

seven | oneshot | 18+

- © tranquilreign - all rights reserved | DO NOT STEAL, TAKE, or COPY any of MY WORK without MY PERMISSION.

🗒 details

pairing; jungkook/reader genre: 18+ f!boyjk! college au! rivals to lovers(?) warnings: swearing, sexual-fucking-tension, teasing, jimin likes to join in on the teasing (slightly), porn with little plot (?), sexual themes, nudity, oral (m&f receiving), a lot of teasing, fingering, praise kink, creampie, protected sex (reader is on contraception), jealous kookie, needy kookie, deep throating, orgasm denial, slightly possessive kookie, nipple play, dirty talk, voyeurism, public sexish(?), hickies, overstimulation, mirror sex, just a lot of sex word count: 14.5k permanent taglist: @someoneelse0109

🖋 synopsis

seven (n.) seh·vehn a group or unit of seven people or things

seven days a week, seven locations, plenty of positions. when you lose a bet to infamous playboy jeon jungkook, you can't help but feel as if you lost on purpose.

🖇links

jungkook masterlist main masterlist request | request rules prompt list

Saturday.

Music blasted from the house speakers, so loud that the liquids in the discarded cups and bottles rippled in time with the bass. It was the end of the college year, meaning you had to celebrate by drinking away the weekend.

Groups of friends hussled together, the confined space almost claustrophobic. Several people had abandoned the party early, pulling someone up the stairs by the hand, obviously to have some privacy.

Jungkook sat at one of the tables, a smug look plastered over his face as he dealt another round of cards. His friends sat around him, nudging each other and muttering amongst themselves.

You sat across from Jungkook, lightly tapping your nails against the wood. Your other arm was casually slung over the back of Namjoon's chair. Letting out a sigh of impatience, you let your head roll back, exposing your neck to the infamous fuckboy.

He watched you closely, subconsciously licking his lips as he stared at the sweat that glistened against your skin.

"Sometime today, Kook," you teased.

You looked back at him, staring at him with such an intensity that he swallowed out of mild nervousness. You didn't like Jungkook, but you didn't hate him either. He was a fuckboy, and a charming one at that.

He knew exactly what to say and how to act to get any girl to want him. It infuriated you, him having a new girl every night. The thought of him being buried between another girl's legs made you jealous beyond belief.

Not that you would ever admit that to him. You knew he would flirt with other girls to get your attention, always stealing glances to ensure you were watching. But two could play at that game. From then on, whenever one of his friends would speak to you, you made sure to be extra friendly, your touch lingering a little too long on their arms or chest when they made you laugh.

They had taken notice of your antics, finding it amusing that you could bite back. Jungkook's best friend, Jimin, had decided to play along. He would lean against the wall that your back was pressed against, and move down to speak in your ear. Your eyes would stay on Jungkook, watching his jaw clench and usually soft and playful eyes turn into a glare.

"Have some patience, Y/n," Jungkook replied, dealing out the final card and setting the deck face down onto the table.

You stood out of your chair, leaning over to him. He watched you hungrily, eyeing your cleavage. You subtly pushed your breasts closer together, smirking, when Jungkook reacted. You took his bucket hat from him, giggling flirtatiously when you placed it on your head and sat back down.

Jungkook didn't utter a word as he watched your breasts bounce lightly. He tried not to palm himself in his jeans, feeling the discomfort increase.

"Just get on with it. I'm getting bored," you taunted, side eyeing Jimin, who sat on your left.

He tried his best to stifle his laughs, watching the scene unfold. He loved nothing more than watching Jungkook lose himself with you. He knew Jungkook loved making you jealous, but nothing was more fun than contributing to making him jealous.

"Alright, alright," Jungkook breathed.

The game started with Jungkook as the dealer. You looked at your cards: two of diamonds and an ace of spades. Jungkook slowly worked around the circle, and people either stayed or went bust when they asked for another card.

"Right, your turn, Y/n."

"Hit," you spoke.

Jungkook flipped a card down onto the table. Six of diamonds. You nodded, indicating another hit. Jungkook flipped another card. Three of clubs. You sat and thought, looking at everyone else's hands. Not many high cards had been flipped, increasing your chances of a loss.

"Sometime today, Y/n," Jungkook mocked.

You smiled sarcastically at him, asking him for one more hit. You bit your lip, watching as Jungkook flipped the final card for you. Queen of hearts.

"Fuck," you whined, throwing your cards onto the table. "I'm bust."

Jungkook grinned, tutting at you tauntingly. Your tongue darted across your upper lip, suppressing the urge to insult him.

"I just think you cheat. Every game we've played, I've either been bust or you've had a higher number than me by one," you huffed, rolling your eyes.

Jungkook laughed.

"I'm afraid Blackjack is a game of chance, love. Maybe you're just unlucky," he teased, piling all the cards back into the deck.

"I'm not this unlucky."

Jungkook ran his hand through his hair and leaned back in his seat. He shuffled the cards casually, locking eyes with you.

"I'll tell you what. I'll let you shuffle and deal," he suggested, sliding the cards over to you. "And we'll make a bet."

The idea intrigued you. Leaning forward, you rested your elbows on the table, your chin on your interlocked hands. You thought for a moment, then shrugged and grabbed the cards.

"Fine. If I win," you began, shuffling the cards skillfully in your hands, "you can't sleep with anyone for a month."

Jungkook grinned. He liked where you had gone with this bet. He let his thoughts wander, wondering what the best reward would be for him if he won. His eyes landed on Jimin, who casually put his arm over your chair and leaned close to whisper in your ear. His gaze hardened at his friend's closeness, which you had noticed.

"If I win, I get to have you all to myself next week."

His friends let out cheers in unison, while your stomach flipped. You hadn't expected him to be so bold, especially in front of his friends. You shifted in your seat, feeling your underwear dampen at his words.

"Fine."

You dealt the cards between the two of you. You glanced at your cards, checking they didn't add up to twenty-one while Jungkook looked at his.

"Hit," he spoke, voice breathy.

You flipped over the first card, revealing a 5 of clubs. He asked for another hit, and you obeyed, flipping over the next card. He grinned.

"Stay."

He placed his cards down onto the table, revealing twenty-one. You closed your eyes, letting out a sigh in disbelief. How was this man so damn lucky?

You had a nine of spades and a three of hearts, which was not a good start. The first card you flipped had you cursing under your breath. Throwing your hand onto the table, you let your head fall against the back of the chair.

"Bust."

Jungkook and his friends cheered and laughed, looking at the king of spaces on the table with your two other cards.

"Looks like you're gonna be all mine next week, love," Jungkook teased, eyeing you lustfully.

Your nerves got the better of you, and you avoided eye contact with the man who smirked at you. Your heart raced at his words, your chest rising and falling quickly.

Jungkook stood up and squeezed past his friends, so he stood next to you. He hooked his forefinger under your chin, forcing you to look up at him. Jungkook suppressed a groan when you looked at him. He fought with every ounce of his being not to take you right there on the table.

"I'll see you Monday, love. I'm really looking forward to it."

Sunday.

You had awoken with a pounding headache, groaning as you sat up. The rays from the morning sun shone through the partially closed blinds, making you screw your eyes shut to try and block the light.

"Morning," a familiar voice hummed next to you.

Hoseok sat beside you, holding some ibuprofen and a glass of water. You had ended up at Hoseok's house, which he shared with Namjoon and Yoongi.

"Thanks," you rasped, taking the medicine from Hoseok's palm.

You threw your head back, letting the pill fall into your mouth. Then, you took a gulp of water, letting it wash down with ease.

"You remember what happened last night?" Hoseok asked.

"Unfortunately, yes, I do," you sighed.

You let your head fall into your hands, recalling the previous night. You had lost the bet with Jungkook, meaning that tomorrow, you were all his. You sat, crossing your fingers, silently praying he would forget.

Ping.

"Of course," you groaned.

You knew who it was before you even checked your phone. Jungkook's message popped up on your screen, making you want to hide away under the covers of Hoseok's bed.

Make sure you're at mine by 11:00 pm. Our bet won't start til tomorrow, but I want you here before then. You'll be all mine from the second it hits midnight.

"Hoseok," you whined. "Please get me out of this."

"No can do. You made that bet when you were tipsy. And you had been teasing that boy all night. You did this to yourself," Hoseok replied.

He stood up and left, leaving you to your own thoughts. You fell back onto he bed, groaning in frustration. Why did you have to tease him so much? The idea of this bet wouldn't have even crossed your mind if you weren't shamelessly flirting with him and his best friend.

Huffing, you pulled yourself out of bed, tugging on your joggers, which Hoseok probably took off for you last night, and slumped down the stairs.

"Morning, Y/n," Namjoon greeted with a grin.

"Don't, I know what you're gonna say," you replied, holding your hand up to him. "I fucked up."

"I wouldn't say that," Yoongi mumbled from the chair behind you. "More so that Jungkook's gonna fuck you up-"

"Oh my god, stop!" you cried out, burying your face in your hands.

The two boys laughed as Hoseok entered, carrying a plate of bacon, eggs and toast. He put the plate on the table as you moved to sit down.

"It can't be that bad, can it?" Namjoon asked. "I mean, ever since the start of college, you've both been trying to get each other worked up or jealous."

"That's different, though! It's harmless flirting," you defended, picking up your fork and playing with the scrambled eggs.

"Yeah, because Jungkook looking like he's gonna rail you against the wall all the time is harmless flirting," Yoongi replied.

He moved up from the chair to stand beside you, leaning against the island table on his forearms.

"Just admit it, you both like each other."

"We don't like each other," you snapped, glaring at the man. "He's a fuckboy, liking someone isn't in his brain chemistry."

"I'm just saying, people who don't like each other don't get jealous when they aren't getting attention," Yoongi finished, shrugging.

You smacked him on the shoulder gently, scolding him for his words. He only grinned, pushing himself off the table and moving into the living room.

"You might be overthinking this as well," Namjoon added.

You snorted.

"Joon, it's Jungkook. Of course he's going to try and fuck me," you replied.

"Are you against that?"

You were silent, unknowing of what to say. You had no idea why you were suddenly against this bet. The thought of it last night excited you, so why did it leave you feeling self-conscious?

"See. You're just overthinking," Namjoon stated.

With that, he walked away, leaving you alone. You thought over the different scenarios that could play out. Not knowing how this would go down made you even more nervous, but all you could do now was wait.

⊱ ────── {⋅. ♪ .⋅} ────── ⊰

Evening had come around much sooner than you would have liked. You packed a travel bag, filled with all the essentials, and realised that if Jungkook wanted this, you would give it to him and make this an unforgettable week for both of you.

Standing before his apartment door, you inhaled deeply, feeling your nerves slowly return. Gently, you knocked, looking at your phone to appear nonchalant. The door swung open to reveal Jungkook—except he stood in nothing but a towel.

"Hey-" you paused when you looked up from your phone.

All casualness had disappeared as your eyes wandered shamelessly over his body. Water dripped from his hair into his muscular chest, and the muscles in his arms tensed slightly as he adjusted the towel hanging loosely around his waist. He couldn't help but grin as your eyes roamed his body.

"Bang on eleven," he teased. "Eager are we?"

You scoffed.

"You wish."

You gently pushed past him, careful not to accidentally touch him as you did so. He watched you closely, noticing how your breathing had picked up when you entered.

You couldn't help but gasp in awe at his home. It was beautiful, stylised in a modern aesthetic, and surprisingly tidy. The black furniture contrasted elegantly with the living room's white walls, with hints of colour being found in the accessories.

"You actually have good taste," you sighed.

"And what do you mean by that?" he asked, suspiciously close to your ear.

You jerked away at his sudden closeness, stepping away to ensure space between you.

"I just mean, I pictured you to seem more... basic, I guess," you responded. "So where am I sleeping then?"

"With me, of course."

Your head fell back as you let out a loud, overdramatic laugh. Jungkook raised an eyebrow at you, waiting for you to finish. You looked back at him, your smile faltering when you realised he was serious.

"Oh hell, no," you protested. "Nu-uh. You said-"

"I said-" Jungkook interrupted you, "that I would fully have you to myself as of next week. But there is only one bedroom, and I'd be damned if I'm letting you sleep on the couch."

"Then you sleep on the couch!" you countered.

"No, it's my bed."

"Yes!"

"No."

"Yes!" you cried out, growing frustrated.

"Either way, if you sleep on the couch or in the bed, I'll be by your side," Jungkook explained.

Your heart fluttered at his words. He sounded sincere, almost as if he wanted to be close to you. To feel your skin on his.

"Fine," you grumbled. "But no funny business."

"At least until midnight," he grinned cheekily.

Monday.

Surprisingly enough, Jungkook hadn't tried anything, even after it hit midnight. You stood in the kitchen, humming quietly as you cooked breakfast. You'd be lying if you said you weren't nervous. You never expected this to happen between you and Jungkook, let alone it happening because of a stupid bet.

Jungkook had awoken not long after you, hair still a mess, as he walked into the kitchen in his boxers. He stood behind you, looking over your shoulder as you cooked.

"Smells good," he hummed, his breath fanning your neck.

You shivered at his raspy voice. He couldn't help but grin, walking over to the bathroom to brush his teeth. Your stomach flipped, and you felt yourself becoming wet. You hated how he had such an effect on you despite doing so little. You frowned, wanting to give him a taste of his own medicine.

As if a switch inside you flipped, you decided to suppress the nerves and fight back.

You ever so slightly pushed the waistband of your joggers down, revealing your emerald green underwear. You pulled at the sides, bringing them up over your hips to make it more visible.

Jungkook had walked back through as you were plating the food. His eyes immediately fell to your hips, inhaling sharply when he noticed your underwear. He felt his mouth go dry, his cock twitching in his boxers.

Fuck it.

He moved towards you, grabbing your hips and spinning you around to look at him. You were shocked by the sudden action, having no time to react when he pulled you in by the nape of your neck, kissing you.

He was rough, forcing open your mouth by gripping your cheeks with his hand. His tongue past your lips, entangling with your own. You moaned against his kiss, the sound almost sending him into a frenzy.

He pulled your body up against him, letting you feel his bulge poking your stomach. You ran your hand down his chest, stopping just above the waistband of his boxers. He hissed when you gently tugged the fabric and let it go, it slapping softly against his skin.

"Keep teasing me, and I'll show you what it's like," Jungkook warned.

You smirked into the kiss, continuing your ministrations while your other hand tangled in his hair, tugging occasionally. He grunted at your movements, his patience thinning. The final tug of his hair sent him over the edge. He pulled away, moving to shove the plates of food onto the floor with a crash.

"Jungkook," you scolded.

He didn't listen, spinning and bending you over the kitchen counter. You gasped, feeling his hands on your waist, massaging your sides. He bent over you, his bare chest flush against your back.

"I warned you not to tease me. But you decided to act like a brat," he spoke lowly. He straightened back up, staring at the waistband of your joggers. He hesitated.

"If you're going to fuck me, do it," you challenged.

That's all he needed to hear. Your joggers were at your ankles, your thong and ass on full display. He let out a groan, grabbing the flesh and kneading it.

"God, you're so fucking hot," he breathed, gently spanking you, watching as you ass recoiled against his touch. "I'll have you begging for mercy by the time I'm done with you."

He knelt down, now level with your clothed heat. He breathed heavily, the cool air making you shiver as it hit against your soaked underwear. He chuckled at your reaction and leaned in, licking a slow strip up your clothed entrance.

The feeling of his warm tongue and the fabric of your underwear had an involuntary moan escape your lips. You jerked forward slightly at the sensation, not expecting it to feel so good. His hands moved back to your hips, pulling you back with a tug and keeping you in place.

Another moan echoed throughout the kitchen as he repeated his action, this time, his nose gently brushing against your clit before his tongue touched you.

"Fucking hell, Koo~" you moaned in bliss.

The use of the new nickname had him palming himself in his boxers, and the strain of release became too much. Letting go of one of your hips, he pulled his boxers down slightly allowing his cock sit against his stomach comfortably.

He moved his full attention back onto you, running his hands over your hips and grabbed the band on your underwear. You wiggled your ass, silently giving him permission to continue. Jungkook pulled your underwear off in one swift motion, letting it pool at your ankles with your joggers.

He couldn't help but groan at the sight of you, your wetness glistening against the light. Jungkook moved his hands to the back of your thighs, rubbing them and accidentally letting his thumb brush over your clit. You gasp at his touch, subconsciously pushing back into him. He stopped your actions.

"This is what you get when you disobey me," he breathed.

You whined at his words, but were too prideful to beg. He hummed, smirking as you squirmed in defiance. He brought his fingers up to your entrance, running his fore and middle finger between your folds, glazing them in your essence.

"Koo~ please," you cried, entirely giving up on what little dignity you had left.

"Since you asked so nicely."

A high-pitched moan ripped from your throat as Jungkook eased his fingers into you, almost pulling back out fully, then pushing back in further.

Your head fell against the counter, your legs shaking at his teasing movements. He grinned at how easily you melted into him, his fingers now entirely inside you. He gently curled his fingers, hitting against your sweet spot.

"Oh- oh my god," you breathed, your hand moving instinctively to the edge of the countertop and grabbing the edge.

"You're being obedient for me now? Being such a good girl," Jungkook whispered, seduction lacing his voice.

You let out a hum, nodding in response. Jungkook changed his tactic, thrusting his fingers into you at a steady pace. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head at the new feeling, and your walls tightened around him.

He chuckled at your body's natural reaction, deciding he'd reward you for your obedience. He leaned forward attaching his lips to your clit and sucking gently.

The combined feeling of his mouth and fingers had you seeing stars, instantly having you reach your high. A string of moans left your lips, your body trembling as Jungkook helped you ride out your orgasm. He slowly pulled his fingers out of you, making you whimper at the sensitivity between your legs.

"You look so good like this, baby," he exhaled.

Jungkook was pressed back up against you, cock resting between your ass cheeks. His breaths grew uneven as he began to grind into you.

"For fuck sake Koo, just fuck me," you pleaded, your hips bucking back into him when he'd grind into you.

"I'll need to-"

"I'm on contraception," you interrupted. "And fuck me properly, no more of these teasing shit," you paused. "Please."

Jungkook could have came right there at your words. He wasted no time taking his cock and positioning it at your entrance, soaking his tip in your arousal. You both moaned in unison, each feeling the pleasure.

He pushed in slowly, letting out a grunt as he felt you tighten around him again. Your moans mixed in with his as he stretched you, only stopping when he was fully inside. He leaned over you, the feeling of him pulling out of you slightly leaving you breathless.

"Are you ready, baby? Because once I start, I won't stop until I'm satisfied."

"God Koo~ yes, so ready for you," you cried, pushing back into him.

He straightened, grabbing your hips and, without any hesitation, thrusted back into you. You pulled your t-shirt up, stuffing it into your mouth to suppress your moans, the pleasure euphoric.

"Fuck, you feel so fucking good," Jungkook grunted, his head falling back from the pleasure.

His hand moved to your hair, pulling your head up. Your t-shirt fell out of your mouth, and you let out continuous moans. He laughed breathily, the sounds you made making him go feral.

"Let me hear you, baby," he grunted, his thrusts becoming rougher. "You're being such a good girl. Taking me so well."

"Yes, fuck Koo~" you whimpered. "Your good girl."

Jungkook almost came from your words. He had never thought you would be so submissive for him. He untangled his hand from your hair and moved it past your waist and between your legs.

"Come for me," he whispered.

His fingers rhythmically rubbed your clit in circular motions as he slightly slowed his pace. The combined feeling of him stretching your walls along with him stimulating your clit sent you over the edge. A long, breathy moan left you as your body shook again.

Jungkook didn't stop, though, leaving you a whimpering mess when the sensitivity became too much for you. You moved your arms behind you to push him away, but he held them behind your back with one hand.

"Just a little longer, baby," he breathed. "Be good for me a little longer."

Despite your sensitivity, you didn't actually want him to stop. The feeling of him in you was unbelievable. Pure bliss, you had never felt so complete or fulfilled by anyone. His grip on your arms and waist kept you in place as he trusted a few more times before reaching his high.

"Fuck Koo~" you whined, feeling him fill you with his come.

Jungkook grunted as he slowed his pace, riding out his orgasm. He exhaled, finally stopping his thrusts. Slowly, he pulled out, groaning as he watched his semen drip out of your soaked cunt.

"God, you're perfect," he breathed. "If I could, I'd bend you back over that counter."

You laughed, slowly, standing up straight, your mixed orgasms running down your leg. You wobbled slightly. Jungkook noticed, moving to grab your waist and keep you steady.

"I'll help you to the bathroom, baby. Get yourself cleaned up, and I'll clean up in here," he spoke softly, looking at the broken plates and food scattered over the floor.

Putting his cock back into his boxers, he then scooped you into his arms without hesitation, carrying you to the bathroom. He sat you down on the toilet, gently tucking a few loose strands of hair behind your ear.

"Thank you."

"Once you're finished in the shower, I'll also get cleaned up. I just don't want you stepping on any ceramic shards."

He left momentarily, leaving you by yourself.. With your desire now subsiding, you finally realised that you had sex with Jeon Jungkook. You buried your face in your hands, wanting to scream with joy.

You turned on the shower, thinking that six more days of this would be pure bliss.

Tuesday.

Today was different. You were awoken by your phone ringing, its sharp notes making Jungkook grunt in annoyance.

"Sorry," you mumbled, groggy.

You leaned over to the bedside table, sluggishly grabbing hold of it. You answered without looking at the caller, putting it to your ear.

"Hello?"

"Hey Y/n."

Jimin.

"Oh hey," you replied, perking it up a little.

Jungkook lifted his head, listening closely to the person on the other end. When he realised it was Jimin, he scoffed, threw the bed sheets off himself, and grabbed a pair of grey joggers. Without saying a word, he walked out of the bedroom.

You watched him leave, confused by his behaviour. Shrugging it off, you focused your attention back on Jimin.

"I just wanted to check up on you and see how it's going with Kook."

"It's uh-it's great," you replied sheepishly.

Jimin chuckled at your embarrassed tone. Jungkook returned, his glare hardening when he saw you still on the phone. He walked over, snatching the device from your hand.

"Hey!" you called.

"Sorry Jimin, she's gonna have to call you back," he snapped before handing up.

"Kook, what the fuck was that for!" you asked angrily.

He huffed, tossing your phone onto the bed, grabbing you by your ankle, and pulling you to the edge. You squeaked at the sudden pull, falling quiet when you locked eyes with him. He was jealous.

"You're mine, got it?"

You couldn't help but smile at him. Silently, you moved onto your knees, ass resting on your heels and slowly ran your hand up his bare chest. He melted slightly into your touch, a quiet sigh leaving his lips.

"If I weren't yours, would I be here?" you asked innocently.

He hummed at your question, not trusting himself to speak. You moved up from your heels, wrapping your arm around his neck, pulling him down and kissing him.

Jungkook smirked into the kiss, trying to take control of the situation when you pulled away. You shook your head, moving to stand up and spinning him around so he faced away from the bed. You pushed him gently, making him sit down.

You sank back down to your knees, spreading his legs further apart with your hands. He watched you eagerly, silently consenting to your movements.

Jungkook was hard, an outline of his bulge straining against his trousers. You palmed him through the fabric, making him throw his head back, letting out a quiet moan.

Slowly and teasingly, you pulled his trousers and boxers down, revealing his length. Wrapping your hand around his dick, you ran your finger over his tip. He shivered at the pleasure, locking eyes with you as you did so.

You smiled teasingly, pulling away and seductively licking the tip of your thumb. Jungkook couldn't take his eyes off you, finding you alluring to watch. You grabbed his cock again, running your now wet thumb over his head.

The new feeling had him leaning back on his hands, groaning. You flirtatiously tilted your head.

"You like that, Koo?~" you teased, applying a little more pressure as you swiped over his tip again.

"Fuck yes, baby," he spoke breathlessly.

You hummed, noticing pre-cum leaking from his cock. Taking the opportunity, you moved forward and wrapped your lips around him.

Jungkook instinctively grabbed the sheets on his bed, the feeling of your tongue swirling around his cock sending him into a state of euphoria.

All the jealousy he felt for Jimin was out the window. You were here with him, not Jimin, significantly boosting his ego. He fought the urge to thrust up into your throat, not knowing if it was something you would enjoy.

Like he had done to you yesterday, you slowly took in more of him with every bob of your head. You coated his cock in your saliva, making everytime you went back down on him easier.

He watched as you slowly worked your way down him, eyes widening in surprise, impressed by how well you were taking him. Relaxing your throat, and with one final push, you had taken him down to his base.

"Ah, fuck," he moaned, running his hand through your hair.

When you could no longer hold your breath, you pulled back, a gagging sound following. You gasped, your hand moving up and down his length to keep pleasuring him.

"Taking my cock so well," he cooed, moving his hand from your hair to your chin, wiping away saliva that ran down.

"I'm not done yet, baby," you whispered.

You moved back, and instead of deep throating him again, you bobbed your head at a steady pace, hollowing your cheeks as you did so. He groaned, slowly losing himself to the pleasure. He bucked his hips upwards, taking you a little by surprise.

"Shit, sorry baby," he stammered. "You just feel so fucking good."

You hummed, sending vibrations through him. He shook, feeling his orgasm getting close. You listened to him stutter, trying to speak. Knowing he was close, you suddenly pulled back, making him whine at the loss of pleasure.

"Why'd you do that?" he asked, pouting at you.

"You don't want to fuck me?" you asked, feigning innocence.

Those words alone gave him all the strength he needed. Jungkook grabbed you by the waist and stood, turning you and pushed you down onto the bed. He discarded his trousers and boxers entirely, climbing on top of you.

You lay underneath him, which gave him plenty of time to examine you thoroughly. He slowly ran his hand up your naked thigh, stopping just before he reached your underwear. You let out a slight whine when he stopped.

He continued shortly after, but instead of touching you where you wanted him most, he moved up, his hand snaking under your white t-shirt and in between your breasts.

"You think teasing me funny, baby?" you taunted.

"You weren't complaining when I was doing it," you pouted.

Ping.

The sound made you both look at your phone. Jimin's name could be read on the screen. Jungkook's jealousy rose again at his friend's name, and you watched his expression change. You bit your lip, unsure of what would come.

Jungkook lost all chivalry, tearing your t-shirt off from the neck. You yelped as your breasts bounced from the movement, nipples hardening from the cool air. Your breathing increased as he stared, eyes hardened in jealousy.

You watched as he lowered himself to your right breast, his hand snaking up to the other, grasping it firmly. He let his finger run lightly over your nipple while his lips attached to the other one.

You arched your back as the sensation of pleasure travelled through your body at his actions. He flicked and sucked at your nipple, occasionally biting gently, while his fingers worked on the other one.

"Holy shit. Kook."

"You have no idea how crazy you drove me when Jimin would flirt with you. You're mine, got that? And if I have to fuck that into you for you to understand, I will," he growled against your skin.

He switched to your other breast, blowing cold air against your nipple, then encasing his lips around it.

"I'm only yours," you replied, tangling your fingers through his hair.

Good.

He pulled back, staring at your reddened breasts. He grinned, moving to your underwear and pulling them off. His eyes rolled to the back of his head when he saw how wet you were.

Jungkook moved back up so he hovered over you, his cock pressed against your entrance. He looked at you, to which you nodded, and he pushed in.

"Fuck," you whispered, wrapping your legs around him and pushing him all the way.

He lowered himself, moaning softly into your ear at the familiar feeling of you around him. Jungkook grabbed a pillow from the top of the bed and effortlessly lifted your ass, placing the pillow underneath you.

Resting you back down onto the pillow, the new angle had you whimpering at how deep he was. He buried his face into your neck, breathing softly. You caressed his hair, letting your fingers glide down to trace small patterns into his muscular back.

He slowly pulled out and eased back into you, the feeling of him stretching you out, leaving you in a state of pure bliss. He grunted, feeling himself losing his composure at how good you felt.

"Baby, you feel so good," he mumbled, his breathing restless.

"Kook. Please," you begged, your back arching uncontrollably.

He aggressively kissed your neck, biting ever so slightly. He straightened and grabbed you by the hips. You both paused, looking at each other for a moment, then he proceeded to move you in rhythm with his thrusts.

You wailed, grabbing hold of Jungkook's forearms as some type of support for the pleasure you were feeling. He panted, watching as his cock slipped in and out of you with ease.

You both groaned in unison. Jungkook's thrusts slowed, but they became rougher as he did so. You were seeing stars, mouth agape from the pleasure as he hit you deeper than he had before.

He traced one of his hands up your body, to your breasts, massaging them. His fingers ran over your sensitive nipple, and then pinched, the pain and pleasure a perfect combination.

The steady pace Jungkook kept had you coming undone quickly, turning your face into the duvet cover to muffle your noises. Jungkook stared in awe at how beautiful you looked underneath him. Your skin had begun to glisten with sweat, your hair messily covering your eyes, and your soft hands gripped his forearms for support.

Jungkook suddenly lost his pace as he came, moving to lean on top of you as he orgasmed. His head rested against your breast, both of you panting loudly in the silence of the room.

"Fuck, Y/n," Jungkook whispered between breaths.

"What's wrong?" you asked, wondering if you had done something.

"Nothing, baby, you are just amazing. Your head is just... wow."

You chuckled slightly, both lying in a tangled mess, silently enjoying one another's company.

Wednesday.

Jungkook had decided that he had to join you in the shower. No matter how much you protested or insisted you shower separately, he was adamant that you be together.

At this point, you had both grown comfortable around being naked in front of one another, often sleeping together nude, with him spooning you. So you were both unbothered if one of you suddenly wandered around the house naked.

That was precisely what you were doing, trying to locate a towel. You covered your chest with your hands and wandered around the apartment.

"Kook!" you yelled, frustrated.

Jungkook was by your side in seconds, completely ignoring the fact that you were naked. He let his hands rest on your upper arms, looking at you with concern.

"What's wrong, baby?" he asked softly.

"Baby?" you asked. "You only call me baby when we're fucking."

Jungkook stammered over his words, heat rising in his cheeks in embarrassment. He awkwardly removed his hands from you, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Force of habit?" he replied, though it sounded more like a question.

"It's fine, Kook. I kind of like it, actually," you teased, gently tapping him on the nose with your finger. "The real issue is, I can't find a fucking towel."

Jungkook's eyes finally wandered over your body, subconsciously licking his lips and suppressing a smirk. You huffed, glaring at him and his lack of help.

"I'll go get us some. Just get in the shower, and I'll join you shortly."

"Okay."

You left the living room and wandered into the bathroom. You had turned on the shower earlier to let it heat up when you had noticed the missing towels. You moved your hand under the running water, humming in satisfaction at the perfect temperature.

You stepped in, sighing at the water hitting your skin. Turning to face the showerhead, you ensured the water soaked your body entirely. The feeling of the water hitting against your breasts made you shiver.

You let your hands roam your body, breath hitching when your fingers lightly brushed your sensitive bud. You continued the ministrations, a quiet moan emitting from you as you did.

Leaning forward, your head rested against the shower glass, eyes closed, drowning in the pleasure. Your other hand traced down your body and between your legs. Gathering some of your wetness on your fingers, you moved up to your clit, rubbing the bundle of nerves gently.

Being so enveloped in your pleasure, you hadn't realised Jungkook had walked in. He stood silently, listening to your melodic moans. The shower glass had steamed up, but he could clearly see your silhouette. His mouth fell open when he watched you turn around to slide down the wall.

Not sparing a second thought, he quietly removed his clothes, discarding them in the laundry basket. He grabbed hold of his cock, pumping himself a few times as he watched you.

"Fuck, Kook-" you muttered absentmindedly, catching him off guard.

You were unaware he was outside the shower door, but your mind wandered to him as you played with yourself, wishing he were making you feel this good.

Your fingers now dipped inside you, while your thumb continued you rub your clit in circular motions. Back now arched, you let out a breathy moan, it echoing throughout the bathroom.

A string of quiet moans left you as your orgasm approached. Jungkook continued to jerk himself off, his tip now leaking with pre-cum. Your body jolted as your orgasm washed over you, the feeling causing your legs to shake in pleasure.

The sound of the shower door opening startled you, and you instinctively pulled your shaky legs up to your chest to cover yourself. Jungkook stepped into the shower, looking at you hungrily.

"Kook-" you began.

Jungkook cut you off, kneeling down to your level and pulling you into a heated kiss. You melted into him, expecting him to slip his tongue into your mouth. But he didn't. He continued to kiss you, passion burning inside both of you.

"Stand up," he breathed when he pulled away.

Jungkook helped you up, so you stood in front of him. The water was hitting against his back, little sprays of water dampening his hair. His hand snaked under your left leg, pulling it up. Naturally, you wrapped it around his waist, fully feeling his length against your heat.

Your head fell against his shoulder at the feeling, your desire for him increasing. He removed his hand from your leg, taking hold of his cock and angling it in front of your entrance.

"Please, want you so bad," you pleaded, kissing softly against his skin.

You bit down on him as he pushed into you, the feeling of him inside you, being too good. His head fell back in bliss, having you around him seemed to get better everytime he fucked you.

Now in you entirely, he slowly thrusted, the position slightly restricting his movements. But that didn't matter to you. Jungkook simply being inside you was all you needed.

On the other hand, Jungkook was growing frustrated with the lack of movement. He cursed under his breath, moving your arms around his neck. You were confused, but still complied.

He wasted no time hooking his hands under your thighs and lifting you up with ease. You slid up and down on his cock as he moved, trying to suppress your mewls. He wrapped your other leg around his waist and moved so your back was pressed against the wall.

"Such a good girl, baby. Thinking about me while you touch yourself. That's exactly how it should be. Only me that you think about," Jungkook grunted, beginning to thrust into you.

Your cheeks flushed at his words. He had heard you call out his name when you touched yourself. He chuckled at your expression.

"Don't be embarrassed, baby, it just means I got my message across yesterday," he panted.

You tightened your grip around his neck, pulling your body flush with his. Jungkook took that opportunity to step away from the wall and bend his legs slightly, reducing the weight on your arms and legs.

Grabbing your waist, he slid you up and down on his cock, the lewd sound of smacking reverberating throughout the room. You let out cries of pleasure at how deep he was hitting inside of you, brushing against your sweet spot with every thrust.

"Such a-" he grunted as he pulled you back onto him, "good fucking girl."

"Fuck, Kook. I'm close," you whimpered, your second orgasm pooling in your stomach. "Please make me come. Wanna come on your cock."

Jungkook's thrusts - somehow - become rougher, pounding into you with such strength that you milk his length within a few thrusts. Your nails dug into his back as you came, making him hiss. Jungkook's hands wrapped under your thighs again, and he gently pulled out, whining at the emptiness.

"I'm not done with you yet, baby," he grinned. "Think you can handle more?"

"God, yes, please."

Jungkook manoeuvred you, pressing you up against the glass, your breasts flattening. He gently moved your legs apart and pushed himself back into you. You whined, slightly sensitive from your previous orgasms.

"You've had your fun. Now I'm going to fuck you until I come. And I don't care how many time you come on my cock for me to do that," Jungkook spoke, voice low.

"Yes, please, use me as you please."

Jungkook thrusted into you, his speed and rhythm having you come undone almost immediately, the sensitivity from before returning. Your hands were flat against the glass, the condensation of the shower disappearing under your touch.

"Feel, so fucking good. Like your pussy was made for me," Jungkook growled, not showing any sign of slowing his thrusts.

"Only yours, Koo," you cried out, feeling another orgasm wash over you.

It wasn't until your fifth orgasm that Jungkook began to lose his pace, the constant feeling of your walls tightening around him bringing him close.

"Come with me, baby," Jungkook panted, his hand moving between your legs to gently pinch and rub your sensitive clit.

Your hips bucked at the sensitivity, and you pushed back into him suddenly. You screamed his name as you came one final time, body shaking violently at the pleasure and overstimulation. With one final thrust, Jungkook came, grabbing your hips to keep you still.

He leaned over your back, pulling out of you entirely. You whimpered, and your legs gave out from underneath you. Jungkook quickly caught you, wrapping his arms around your waist protectively as you both sank onto the floor.

"I've got you," he soothed. "I've got you."

You panted, feeling yourself throb between your legs. Your legs were closed tight, and Jungkook watched, growing slightly worried as your body continued to tremble.

"Are you okay? I didn't hurt you, did I?" he asked, voice laced with concern.

You chuckled weakly.

"No, baby. You didn't," you exhaled. "Just really-" you twitched, "really sensitive."

Jungkook smiled at your words, rocking you back and forward slightly, which surprisingly put you at ease.

"Take as long as you need, baby. And when you're ready, we can shower properly."

"At this rate, with how long we've been here, we won't have any hot water left," you joked, making Jungkook laugh.

Thursday.

One thing you had discovered about Jungkook was that he was loaded. You were astonished to learn that he had his own home gym. There was no doubt that he worked out. You could hardly stop yourself from staring at how he filled out his t-shirts, or how his veins were visible when lifting something heavy.

You only found out about his home gym when Jungkook, in gym attire, made his way in the opposite direction of the front door.

"Is the front door not that way?" you asked, pointing behind you.

"Yes?" Jungkook replied, confused. "Why are you asking?"

"Didn't you say you were going to the gym?"

"I did, and I am. I have a home gym."

You were shocked initially. He led you down the hallway to the door at the end and opened it. You were surprised at how spacious it was, with mirrors and gym equipment neatly arranged, looking like a public gym.

"Fucking hell, are you secretly a billionaire or something?" you asked in disbelief.

"My dad's a CEO," he explained. "If you ever want to use the equipment, you can."

"I wouldn't know where to begin," you replied, sheepishly.

Jungkook held his hand out to you, which you gladly took, and pulled you further into the room. You reached the other end of the room where the weight racks stood. Next to them was a pull-up bar, which Jungkook stood under.

"Come here," he instructed.

He placed his hands around your waist and gently pulled you in front of him, back against his chest. He let out a little giggle as he stepped back a little bit, bringing you with him so you were directly underneath the bar.

"I'm gonna lift you, okay, baby? And I want you to grab hold of the bar," Jungkook explained.

He bent down slight, wrapping his arms around your thighs, face pressed against you ass. You blushed at his position and the fact that he expected you to suddenly be able to do a pull-up.

"Kookie, I don't know if I can even do a pull-up," you mumbled shyly.

Jungkook's heart melted at the nickname, and how cute you were when you were shy. He gave you a reassuring squeeze before lifting you up. You quickly grabbed the bar, allowing him to let you go.

"Jesus," you cursed, feeling gravity wanting to pull you down to the ground.

Jungkook moved in front of you and wrapped his hands around your ankles. You stared at him, struggling to maintain your grip on the bar.

"It's alright, baby, I've got you," he smiled. "I'll be right here to help. And if you need to let go, just say."

Jungkook assisted you in doing five pull-ups. Assisting as in he held most of your weight as you pulled yourself up. You giggled at how easy it was, knowing Jungkook was doing all the work. He let you go, and you dropped back down onto the floor.

"See, you're a natural," he teased.

You laughed, placing your hand on his arm. Jungkook's face flushed as you leaned against him, heart racing at your closeness.

"Do you want to help me work out now? Since I was so nice in helping you?" Jungkook suggested with a grin.

"Sure!" you beamed, excited to see his routine.

It was the worst decision you had ever made. Not because Jungkook made you do anything complicated. But because you couldn't stop staring.

Jungkook had discarded his shirt the moment his workout session started. He would constantly ask you for resistance bands or lighter weights. You would hum in response, staying exactly where you were, just... staring. Jungkook chuckled.

"Baby."

"Yeah?" you asked, thoughtlessly.

He exhaled, stood up, and walked over to you. You swallowed thickly, staring at his chest directly in front of you. Sweat glistened against his skin, slowly running down the grooves of his muscles. Your breathing picked up, your underwear beginning to dampen as inappropriate thoughts clouded your mind. Jungkook forced you to look up at him by placing his forefinger under your chin and tilting your head upwards.

"If you want me, you need only ask," he teased, mischief dancing in his eyes.

You flushed at his words, averting your gaze, though it was hard when every wall in the room was covered in mirrors. It was Jungkook, shirtless, in all his glory, everywhere you looked.

"Get down on one of the mats in front of the mirrors," Jungkook demanded, voice low.

You shuddered at his voice, but obeyed, shuffling over to one of the mats and sitting cross-legged facing the mirror. Jungkook watched you, biting his lip at how your hips swayed in your joggers. He quickly followed after you, kneeling down behind you.

Jungkook's gaze was intense as he watched you in the mirror. He lowered himself to your neck, still watching and attached his lips to your skin. He smirked as he kissed your neck, your head falling back onto his shoulder.

"Kook," you moaned, moving your hand to tangle in his hair.

"Gonna fuck you in front of the mirror, show you how fucking beautiful you are getting wrecked by me."

Your stomach flipped at his words, his dirty talk turning you on more than you already were. His kisses continued, slowly travelling down to your shoulder. You jolted when he found your sweet spot, your grip in his hair tightening.

Jungkook took the opportunity to suck and bite at your sensitive spot, only pulling away when he was satisfied with his work. You raised your head, looking at your reflection in the mirror. Jungkook stared at you, eyes dark and waiting for your reaction.

You gently touched the now bruised skin on your shoulder, tracing the outline. Jungkook's hand snaked up your arm, interlocking his fingers with yours. Planting a quick kiss against your jaw, he gently pushed you forward, your ass now pressed up against his crotch.

You involuntarily moaned when you could feel his bulge poking against you, excitement building up in your core. Subconsciously, you arched your back, pushing further into him. The action had him groan, holding your hips steady as he slowly grinded into you.

"Patience, baby," he chuckled, kneading your hips gently.

You whined, burying your face into the mat in frustration. Jungkook leaned forward slightly, tracing his fingers along your stomach teasingly.

"Kook, please don't tease," you whispered. "Want you so bad."

Jungkook's hand travelled further down, moving underneath your cargo trousers and underwear. His middle finger slid between your folds, gathering some of your slick.

"So wet for me, and I've barely touched you," Jungkook teased.

He moved back up to your clit, grazing it lightly, making you jolt at his touch. He laughed through his nose at your sensitivity, gently stimulating your bundle of nerves.

"So good for me," he breathed, kneading the flesh of your butt in his other hand.

He gently smacked your ass, the added action having lewd nosies fall from your lips. His pace slowly increased, but was still gentle, watching you in the mirror as you cried, fingers trying to grab the mat for support.

"You gonna come for me, baby?" he encouraged "Gonna be a good girl and come on my fingers?"

"Yes, Koo, wanna come for you," you moaned, feeling your high approaching.

"Come for me."

As if on command, you reached your orgasm, jolting away from him when the sensitivity became too much. Body twitching, you fell forward, lying flat on your stomach. The knot you felt slowly dispersed as your body began to relax.

Jungkook didn't wait for you, moving to pull down your trousers and underwear, revealing your glistening heat. He wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you flush against him. He had discarded his trousers and boxers as you were attempting to recover, his cock sliding between your wet folds.

The feeling of his tip brushing against your clit had your whining at the sensitivity. Jungkook grinned, moving forward slightly, watching your reflection in the mirror.

He ran his hand underneath your baggy top, massaging your breasts over your bra, another added sensation making you moan. You had began to move along his cock, without realising, the sudden movement making Jungkook grunt and gently bite down on your shoulder.

He moved his free hand to his cock, guiding his tip to your entrance and slowly pushed in. It was a feeling you wished you could experience every second of the day. The stretching of your walls had your eyes rolling to the back of your head in ecstasy.

"Look at yourself, baby. See how beautiful you look coming undone because of me," Jungkook whispered, nipping at your earlobe.

He gently moved your face to look at yourself in the mirror. Your cheeks flushed at your reflections, watching as his cock slid in and out of you with ease. The way your chest rose and fell with his movements, how the hand massaging your breast had moved past your bra and was now teasing your nipple.

"Kook," you whined in bliss.

Your eyes fell on him, and his gaze was dark, staring at you with lust-filled eyes. Your breath hitched, the combination of his gaze and how good he was making you feel forced you to look away, suddenly shy at how exposed you felt.

"No," Jungkook breathed. "Look at yourself."

Obeying his command, you looked back, watching Jungkook thrust into you. You felt so dirty watching, but you couldn't take your eyes off the way he thrusted into you. Jungkook smirked, noticing where your gaze was.

"You like watching me fuck you, baby?" he panted. "Well, how about I give you a better angle?"

In a moment, you were in a new position. Jungkook lay on the floor, you sitting above him, still facing the mirror. Your cheeks burned at how exposed you suddenly felt.

Jungkook bent his knees slightly, instructing you to place your feet on his thighs. He wasted no time sliding back into you, fucking you with ease. The new position had him going deeper with every thrust, his hands on your waist to keep you steady while yours were flat on the floor.

"Better baby?" Jungkook asked. "Get to see me fucking you properly, like the good girl you are."

You mewled, the sight before you having that familiar feeling bubbling inside you. Your walls clenched around him, slightly, and Jungkook knew you were close. With his orgasm closing in as well, he pushed into you with more force, the feeling almost winding you.

"Come with me, baby. I know you're close," Jungkook encouraged as he reached his limit.

He continued to thrust, ignoring the oversensitivity he was feeling, to help you reach your high. You cried out his name as your orgasm washed over you, and he immediately stopped, too sensitive to continue thrusting.

You sat down on him entirely, his cock sliding back into you, making you both hiss at how delicate you both felt. Leaning forward, you panted, body slightly spasming from the bliss you were in.

"You okay, baby?" he asked soothingly, rubbing his hand up and down your side comfortingly.

"Yes, Kook," you replied. "I just didn't think, watching us fucking in a mirror would be so... hot."

Jungkook chuckled, grabbing a discarded towel and holding it underneath you. You pulled off of him, the towel catching most of your mixed orgasms. Jungkook loved to watch his come drip out of you. It was as if he had claimed you entirely. You, and you alone, were his. No one else could have you.

"I think we need a shower," you said softly, holding the towel between your legs. I don't want to ruin your mats."

Jungkook stood up, scooping you in his arms and walked out of the gym. He brought you into the bathroom, sat you on the toilet seat, and then turned the shower on.

"Well, my workout didn't go exactly as planned," he confessed. "But I do love a bit of cardio."

You both laughed, gently taking hold of his hand, waiting for the shower to heat up.

Friday.

You hadn't even left the bedroom when Jungkook started following you, wanting to be between your legs. You informed him that Jimin had texted you about a party happening the following day at Namjoon's. Needless to say, Jungkook didn't like Jimin's name in your mouth.

"You always sound so beautiful," he hummed, the vibration of his voice sending thrills through you.

You were sitting on the stairs, originally on your way to brush your teeth, when Jungkook had suddenly spun you around and forced you to sit.

Your protests were cut short when he was already nestled between your legs, shoving your underwear to the side and diving in like he hadn't drunk anything for weeks.

"Kook."

"Yes, baby?" he asked, he asked between kisses.

His lips wrapped around your clit, letting his tongue brush over it. You sighed, body melting into his touch. You felt him smirk against your skin. He flattened his tongue against you, his touch making you shiver.

He continued to lick and suck, sometimes pushing his tongue past your folds, your back arching in pleasure. Jungkook pulled away suddenly, making you pout at the loss of contact.

"Koo~" you whined.

"Can't you mess up the floorboards, can we?" Jungkook teased.

You scoffed, feigning offence. His smile faltered as you stood and walked up the stairs. It returned quickly, however, when you looked over your shoulder, eyeing him seductively.

"You coming or not?"

Jungkook ran up the stairs, two steps at a time and scooped you into his arms when you were both at the top. Both of you laughed as he spun you around. He stopped briefly, still holding you in his arms as you laughed.

He couldn't help but stare at you, smiling softly. Your slightly tousled hair from being spun around, and you leaning into him, had his heart fluttering.

"Are you okay?" you asked quietly when you noticed his dazed expression.

"Huh? Oh yes," Jungkook responded, quickly putting you down.

You stumbled slightly when your feet touched the floor, quickly grabbing Jungkook's forearm for stability. He instinctively wrapped his arm around your waist.

You pulled away from you, grabbing the hem of his t-shirt, beckoning him with your other hand. Desire clouded Jungkook's eyes, a grin sliding onto his face. He caught up to you quickly, tugging your hand off his t-shirt and facing you away from him.

Jungkook guided you forward until you were pressed against the glass window at the end of the hallway. His hands roamed your body, grabbing and groping whatever he could.

"Since I couldn't finish what I started on the stairs. Let me do that here," he offered, voice thick with lust.

You nodded, pushing your ass against his crotch making him groan. He moved quickly, pulling your underwear down to your mid-thigh. Removing himself of his clothes he let his cock sit against your ass, grinding against you slightly.

"Kook," you moaned, growing impatient.

Jungkook only chuckled, teasing your soaked entrance with the tip of his cock. He gently pushed in, but pulled out when he was only halfway in. You huffed, jerking back so when he next pushed in, he was all the way inside you.

"F-uck, Y/n!" Jungkook gasped.

"If you're not going to do it I will," you fired back, cocky grin evident.

You moved at a steady pace, the feeling of you moving instead of him had Jungkook in a state of euphoria. He gripped your waist tightly, but didn't take over. He just threw his head back at the pleasure you were giving him.

"Am I taking you well, baby?" you asked teasingly, slightly mocking him for all the times he praised you.

"Jesus, yeah. Taking me so fucking well," Jungkook replied.

He looked down, watching as your ass bounced up and down on him, the recoil alone having him moan in pleasure. He couldn't help but watch as you moved, moans falling from your lips as you rode him.

"You-" he panted, "you keep this up, I'll come."

You abruptly stopped, making him pout. You slowly pulled him out of you and turned to look at him. Your eyes were innocent, but your smirk said otherwise.

"Then I guess we'll have to leave this for later?" you taunted.

You ran your hands slowly up his chest and around the nape of his neck, the feeling making him shiver in delight. Pulling him down, you interlocked your lips into a passionate and heated kiss. Your tongue traced along his bottom lip, and you nibbled at it gently, making him moan. You pulled away, smiling at him sweetly.

"Now I really need to brush my teeth," you finished, walking away.

⊱ ────── {⋅. ♪ .⋅} ────── ⊰

Jungkook had tried to have his way with you multiple times that day, but you'd stop him every time he began to get a bit too handsy. It didn't help that you had decided to wear a black lace lingerie body suit around the house. And black was a colour he most particularly enjoyed seeing on you.

Jungkook sat at the dining table in the early evening, scrolling thoughtlessly through his phone. You had walked into the room, then entered the kitchen. Jungkook had to do a double-take when he saw you.

You still wore the same bodysuit you had all day, except this time, the crotch was missing from the one piece, leaving your heat on full display for him to see. Another thing that didn't help was that you were now wearing thigh-high boots, perfectly squishing your thighs.

"You want something for dinner?" you asked nonchalantly.

Jungkook didn't answer, instead watching as you bent over, looking in one of the cabinets for a wok. His tongue darted across his lower lip, fighting the urge to take you right there.

"Kook?"

A reply didn't come. Instead, Jungkook's arms snaked around your waist and pulled you away from the kitchen counter. He wasted no time sitting you up on the dining table, mildly surprising you.

"I only want you. Only need you," Jungkook breathed, his words profoundly affecting you.

Jungkook spread your legs, and dove in, flattening his tongue against your clit. Mewls escaped you as he lapped at your juices, not seeming to get enough of you.

He had barely started before he was pulled away, pulling you off the table. In no time, you were bent over, legs spread wide apart, and he had pushed into you.

"Fuck- Jungkook," you cried out.

"You think it's funny, teasing me like this? Huh?" Jungkook growled, thrusting into you with such power that it left you breathless. "Looking so fucking hot, I can barely control myself."

His hands tightened around your waist, tighter than usual, and it was almost uncomfortable. You moaned with every thrust, each time he reentered you, it was deeper, harder, faster.

"Come on, baby. You were so mouthy earlier, where's all that confidence gone?" he taunted.

You frowned at his words, knowing he was challenging you. Placing both hands on the table, you pushed yourself up slightly and moved back into him when he pushed forward into you. He grunted, clearly feeling that you were working against him.

"I don't need to be mouthy to be confident," you snapped back.

His movements slowly ceased as yours increased. The feeling of you moving on him was pure bliss, something that Jungkook didn't know could feel as good as this. He gently slapped your ass a few times, the sound echoing quietly in the room.

"Come for me, baby," you instructed. "You wanted to come in me so badly earlier, go on."

As if on command, Jungkook orgasmed, grabbing your hips to slow your movements as he did. He leaned forward, his chest pressed against your back. Slowly pulling out of you, Jungkook straightened and went to the kitchen to grab you a tea towel.

"Did you come too?" he asked.

"Not this time," you responded casually.

You noticed Jungkook pout, moving over and hugging you from behind.

"I guess I'll need to fix that."

"Kook, you just fucked me," you laughed.

"Yeah, but I can't have you not feeling good," he said, tracing his hand over your upper arm. "Besides, you always seem to enjoy my tongue."

You rolled your eyes, but smiled at his words.

"No."

You turned, walking away into the bathroom to go clean up.

"Oh, come on, please!" Jungkook whined as he followed behind you.

Saturday.

"Are you almost done?! I really need to pee," Jungkook pleaded, banging on the bathroom door.

"Almost!" you called back.

Jungkook had decided that trying to have sex at every given opportunity this morning was a good idea. Now you were rushing your make-up and were already an hour late for the party. Finishing up the last little bits of your eyeliner, you spun around and unlocked the door.

"Oh my god, move!" Jungkook squeaked, already unzipping his jeans before he was even at the toilet.

"Calm down, Kook," you laughed, exiting the bathroom.

You wandered into the bedroom, admiring your appearance in the full-length mirror. You weren't overdressed, wearing a simple black dress that dropped at the mid-thigh. It hugged your figure, accentuating all your curves perfectly.

Jungkook had stepped into the room while you were putting on your heels. His eyes wandered over your body in admiration. How the dress looked on you was breathtaking. Heat began to rise in his cheeks, turning red at the inappropriate thoughts that now clouded his mind.

"You going to survive in heels all night, baby?" he asked, trying to push the images of you underneath him aside.

You jumped slightly at his voice, not having heard him enter the bedroom. You spun around, looking him in the eyes innocently.

"Probably not," you mumbled in response. "But heels are the only thing that looks good with this dress."

Jungkook chuckled and moved over to you. He knelt on the floor, taking your hand and planting soft kisses against your knuckles. The action made you blush.

"You look beautiful in anything," he complimented. "I'll pack your trainers, okay? And if your heels hurt too much, you can swap."

"Okay," you replied shyly.

"I'll also pack you a change of clothes, in case you get cold, okay? I have a feeling people will be staying over anyway, and we'll probably be amongst those people."

You nodded, and Jungkook smiled, gently slapping your thigh and standing up. You sat, slightly embarrassed at his gentle touch. It was different from usual, almost as if you were a couple.

You quickly shook the thought from your head, finding the idea of Jungkook, the well-known playboy from college, and you being in a relationship. You had to stifle your laugh to stop yourself from looking like a mad person just suddenly laughing.

⊱ ────── {⋅. ♪ .⋅} ────── ⊰

You arrived with Jungkook at the party a few hours after it had started, and surprisingly, the place wasn't wrecked. Upon entering, you immediately tripped over someone's foot, barely catching yourself.

"Here, follow me," Jungkook whispered in your ear.

He slid his hand into yours, something that Jungkook was one hundred per cent against when it came to having a situationship with someone. No public affection. The action took you by surprise, but you followed behind slowly.

Jungkook could feel when you were falling behind, stopping every now and then to wait for you to catch up. You greeted people as you walked past, finally entering the kitchen where you and Jungkook's friends sat.

"Guys! You finally made it!" Taehyung stood up from his chair to hug his friend.

Jungkook's hand slipped from yours, something that left you feeling empty. You wanted nothing more than to reach out and grab his shirt for comfort. But you refrained.

"Too much fucking I'd say," Yoongi teased, eyeing you knowingly.

You flushed at his words, stuttering, trying to explain yourself. Jungkook stood, watching you grow more embarrassed as you stammered.

"Cards, anyone?" Jungkook suggested, pulling the attention away from you.

The boys nodded eagerly, waiting for the two of you to sit. Noticing you weren't moving, Jungkook slid his hand back into yours, that warm feeling returning, and guided you to sit beside him.

Jimin watched, grinning at your flushed expression. He glanced at Jungkook, and Jungkook was already looking back at him, a glare evident. Jimin tilted his head tauntingly, eyebrows raised.

You winced as Jungkook's grip tightened subconsciously. Your sudden noise worried the boy, who looked at your hands and noticed his hand wrapping tightly around yours.

"Fuck, sorry baby," he mumbled, kissing your hand gently.

The action had everyone at the table staring, Hoseok absentmindedly shuffling the cards as he watched. Your heart raced, giving Jungkook's hand a reassuring squeeze as if to say it was okay.

Jungkook's heart ached when you winced. He didn't mean to hurt you, but his friend was testing his patience. Jungkook didn't let go of your hand, holding it and lovingly tracing his thumb across your skin.

"You dealing or what?" Jungkook asked, looking amongst his friends.

"I-uh, yeah," Hoseok stuttered, quickly dealing out the cards.

"I'll just watch," you claimed, pushing the card back to Hoseok.

He shrugged, putting the card at the bottom of the deck and moving on to Jungkook.

"You scared you'll lose again?" he teased, leaning in closer to you.

You only hummed in response, slightly nudging him and smiling. He chuckled, and you both looked at his cards eagerly.

⊱ ────── {⋅. ♪ .⋅} ────── ⊰

As the night passed, the group slowly got more drunk, and you were practically hanging off Jungkook's arm, still not letting go of each other's hands. You were giggling, clearly tipsy, and whispering in Jungkook's ear as he continued to play.

"Whoa, there," Jungkook spoke, discarding his cards and catching you as you slid off the stool.

"I wanna dance," you slurred, tugging his hand.

Before Jungkook could even answer, a voice sounded from behind him.

"I'll dance with you."

You beamed, sliding your hand out of Jungkook's and into Jimin's. You guided him onto the dance floor, leaving Jungkook, who had clenched his fists.

"So I assume you and Kook are together now?" Jimin asked, taking your hands in his, as you danced.

"Oh, no," you replied casually, taking Jimin by surprise. "I don't think he'll ever see me as something more than a fuck buddy now."

"Please tell me you're joking, Y/n. Look at Jungkook right now. He wants to tear off my fucking head cos we're dancing."

Looking over Jimin's shoulder, you could see Jungkook's dark gaze, eyes filled with hatred. You gulped, only realising how jealous he had become of you and Jimin.

"Then maybe we should stop," you suggested.

"Believe it or not, I agree. Jungkook has become rather... protective of you. The only reason he hasn't killed me yet is because I'm his best friend."

You laughed, slapping him slightly on the chest. Jimin chuckled, stepping away from you, and pulling out the wackiest, most embarrassing dance moves he could. You howled in laughter, the sound reaching Jungkook's ears.

His eyes softened, watching as you bent over, your hands on your thighs, trying to stop your laughter. He realised just how close you and Jimin were as friends there, and it put him at ease. Jungkook had grown worried that Jimin had also developed feelings for you, and the dreaded feeling of him having to choose between you and his best friend made his heart ache.

You continued to laugh, tears welling at how funny you found the situation. Suddenly, you jerked forward, shock plastered over your face. Jimin had stopped, too, now glaring at someone behind you. Quickly, you straightened and turned to see a man behind you grinning. He had smacked you ass.

"Don't fucking touch me," you snarled.

"Maybe don't dress like you're asking for it," the man laughed.

You didn't waste a moment to raise your hand and slap him across the cheek. The whole room went silent at the loud slap.

"You fucking bitch!" the man yelled, making a move to grab you.

It happened so fast. Jimin had pulled you behind him, shielding you from the man. But what shocked you the most was that Jungkook had sprinted towards the man and had thrown himself at him, handing a powerful punch straight to his jaw.

The man stumbled back, holding his jaw as he cried out in pain. Jungkook didn't wait, landing another punch to the man's gut. He toppled over, allowing Jungkook to climb on top of him and land blow after blow.

You panicked, pushing Jimin aside and making a grab for Jungkook. He shrugged you off, continuing his brutal assault on the man.

"Jungkook!" you screamed.

Finally, he stopped, looking back at you with anger-filled eyes. Though they second, they fell on you, they softened. He stood, shaking, then left without uttering a word.

"I'll call an ambulance, go get Kook," Jimin instructed.

You didn't hesitate, running as fast as you could in your heels, after Jungkook. You ran out the door, looking everywhere to see where he might be.

"Jungkook!" you called, taking a few more steps to get a better look.

You had noticed him walking ahead of you, towards a park bench. You continued to call out to him, attempting to run across the road. On the third call of his name, Jungkook sighed, turning around to look at you.

"What?" he asked bluntly, his tone taking you aback.

"Kook," you breathed. "Are you alright?"

You glanced down at his hand, noticed his knuckles were bloody and beginning to bruise. He pulled away when you went to hold his hand, making you flinch.

"Just fuck off, Y/n."

"Excuse me?" you asked, tone dropping. "Don't talk to me like that."

Jungkook ignored you, turning around to leave when you stopped him. You moved to step in front of him, and he glared at you.

"Move."

"No," you challenged. "Why are you so fucking angry!"

"It doesn't concern you," Jungkook spat.

"I think it does, considering you just beat someone up!"

"He touched your ass! What the fuck was I supposed to do!" he yelled, throwing his hands up in the air in frustration.

"Maybe not beat someone half to death!" you yelled back.

"Right, next time I'll just sit by and watch it happen," he scoffed, rolling his eyes.

"You know that's not what I mean! You've been angry since Jimin and I went to the dance floor! Why?"

You already knew why. Jimin showing you just how jealous Jungkook was, confirmed wishes.

"I've told you it doesn't concern you," Jungkook snapped, tone laced with venom.

You had went off on a tangent, yelling and poking his chest as you continued to dig into him. His patience was growing thin, his emotions were getting the better of him, and he was struggling to hold back.

"Shut up," he whispered, but it was not loud enough to hear over your scolding.

He repeated it until the last of his patience disappeared.

"Shut up!"

You fell silent, shocked by his sudden outburst. Your chests were heaving in anger as you stared at one another, waiting for the other to back down.

"You don't understand," you mumbled to Jungkook.

Your soft tone caught him off guard, and his breathing eased with your words.

"Do you know how hard watching you flirt with all those girls was? Kissing them at parties, fucking hell even fingering them in front of everyone. It made my blood boil," you sighed, averting your gaze.

Jungkook remained silent, waiting for you to continue.

"I wanted nothing more than to be one of those girls. To kiss you, touch you, feel you. When we made the bet last weekend, I had hoped to lose, just to know what it felt like."

"I-"

"But I see now that it was clearly a mistake. Because throughout this week, I've completely fallen in love with you. It was always in the back of my mind, but being with you brought it to light," you replied, sobs escaping your lips.

Jungkook stood, watching you tremble as your emotions spilt out of you. He was in shock, not realising that you had been hiding this for as long as he had. Jungkook gently caressed your cheek, the feeling making you flinch. You looked up at him, eyes glassy.

"It was never a mistake," he breathed.

He leaned in, planting a gentle kiss upon your lips. You melted into him, your hands snaking around the back of his neck as you pulled him deeper into you. Jungkook pulled away quickly, leaving you feeling empty.

"I love you, Y/n. Since we first met, I've been so unbelievably in love with you that I only wanted your attention. I made that bet, hoping you would lose, so I could show you just how amazing you are, how beautiful and perfect you are to me."

"Kook," you sighed.

You pulled him back down, kissing him. It was soft, gentle, but soon became rough. Jungkook's hands snaked around your waist and pulled you in as close as possible. You moaned against his lips, giving him enough time to slide his tongue into your mouth.

Passion burned between you both as you began to grab at one another, wanting to undress the other. You pulled away suddenly, panting.

"Maybe we should find somewhere a little less... open," you suggested.

Jungkook looked around, trying to find somewhere to take you. Gently, he tugged you behind him, pulling you in front of a wall, hidden by bushes and trees.

"Better?" he asked.

You nodded. With the confirmation, Jungkook dropped to his knees, pushing your dress over your hips. He groaned as he placed his hands over your smooth skin, tracing small circles as they glided up to your underwear.

"Please, Kook. Want you so bad," you breathed. "No teasing this time. Please."

"Anything for you, baby," Jungkook replied.

Just as Jungkook went to pull down his trousers, a sound could be heard in the distance, making you both freeze.

"Y/n! Jungkook! Where are you guys? Everyone's gone home now, so you can stay the night if you want," Hoseok's voice rang.

"For fuck sake, we can't catch a break," Jungkook chuckled, making you giggle.

"We can continue this tomorrow, Kook. We probably need the sleep anyway," you explained, tugging your dress back down. "And besides, I could use a day off from being fucked raw for the past five days."

Jungkook pouted, but followed behind, fingers interlaced with yours.

Sunday.

You both had left early the next day, thanking Namjoon, Hoseok and Yoongi for letting you stay.

"Whoa, hold up there," Namjoon called.

You both turned around, looking at your friends. The entire group had stayed the night and were now watching you both intently.

"Is there something you want to tell us?" Taehyung asked, tapping his foot impatiently.

"We didn't have sex in the bed if that's what you guys are worried about," you spoke, waving them off casually.

"That's not what we're on about," Seokjin replied. "And it's not about Jungkook beating up that guy last night either, or his very obvious jealousy of you and Jimin's friendship."

Both you and Jungkook turned red at Seokjin's words. The group laughed.

"Please just tell us you're finally together," Jimin pleaded, resting against the countertop.

"Well, what do you think?" Jungkook grinned as he held up your interlocked hands.

The group cheered, jumping up and down excitedly and hugging one another.

"About fucking time," Yoongi laughed. "God, we were beginning to think you'd both be dead before you got together."

"Yeah watching you both get jealous was really beginning to piss me off," Namjoon spoke, grinning.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever. We're together now, that's all that matters," Jungkook laughed.

"We are?" you asked.

The group and Jungkook looked at you in shock, but you smiled, indicating you were joking. Jungkook scowled at you playfully, lifted you over his shoulder, and walked out the door.

"Hey!" you called, laughing. "Bye guys! See you next time!"

You watched your friends waving goodbye, some punching the air in victory, while others fist-bumped and hugged.

⊱ ────── {⋅. ♪ .⋅} ────── ⊰

As soon as you both entered Jungkook's apartment, you slumped onto the couch in the living room, sighing in relief at being home. You looked to your right, staring lovingly at Jungkook. His eyes were closed, and his hair fell slightly over his eyebrows.

His chest rose and fell slowly, tiredness falling over him. You hummed, moving over and snuggling into his side. Feeling you move, he automatically wrapped his arm around you.

"Hi, baby," he whispered.

"Hi, Kook," you replied, relishing the moment.

You lightly traced his hand with your fingers. Jungkook lightly hummed a tune under his breath, enjoying your gentle touch.

"You know," you began, your fingers moving from his hand onto his chest. "We still need to make up for last night."

Jungkook's eyes pinged open, and you looked at you knowingly. You laughed, lightly pushing him when he wiggled his eyebrows at you.

"Well, what do you have in mind?" he asked.

You didn't say anything; instead, you decided to show him. Throwing your leg over him, you straddled his waist and slowly began to grind against him. He let out a breathy moan, and his head fell back. You tugged at his t-shirt gently, indicating you wanted it off.

Jungkook complied, quickly removing his top and discarding it on the floor. He fiddled with the buttons on your shirt, letting out a huff when he couldn't unbutton them. You laughed, taking his hands and removing them from your shirt.

You quickly pulled your shirt over your head, revealing your bare chest, making Jungkook smirk. His hands moved to your breasts, and you flinched at his cold touch but immediately melted into him when he lightly flicked your nipple.

"Kook," you breathed, arching your back and moving closer to him.

"What do you want, baby?" Jungkook asked teasingly.

"You, please. Want you, all of you," you begged.

Jungkook smiled, leaning in and attaching his lips to your bud. A gasp fell from your lips at the sudden temperature change. His warm tongue enveloped your nipple, changing the amount of pressure he applied.

His other hand was occupied with your other breast, pinching and brushing over your nipple, adding a new sensation with each movement.

"God, you are so beautiful. My perfect girl," he spoke between kisses, pulling you closer to him, as if you'd suddenly disappear.

"Only yours, Kookie," you sighed out.

Jungkook pulled away, sliding his hand to your cheek and pulling you into a soft, delicate kiss. You kissed him back, both of you smiling when you accidentally bumped noses.

You moved, standing up and pulling your trousers and underwear off. Jungkook eyed you hungrily, staring at your legs and their smooth appearance. He had realised your fingers were wrapped around the belt loops of his jeans, gently tugging, asking him to lift his backside off the couch.

"Sorry," Jungkook laughed, lifting himself off the couch. "You're just so... breathtaking."

You giggled, pulling off his jeans and boxers. His cock sat against his stomach, tall and erect. Pre-cum leaked from the tip, and the veins pulsed.

You climbed back on top of him, and angled his cock to your entrance. You looked at him, waiting for some sort of permission to continue. He nodded, slowly guiding your hips down onto him.

You would never get sick of the feeling of him pushing into you. He slid into you with such ease, it was as if he truly was made for you. Both of you softly moaned when Jungkook was all the way in, savouring the moment. You looked at him, a smile evident.

"I love you," you whispered.

Jungkook looked at you with wide eyes, not expecting those words from you at such an intimate time. Your smile faltered at his expression, and you grew shy.

"I'm sorry- I just-"

Your words were cut short when Jungkook pulled you close, planting kisses all over your face. The action made you giggle.

"Don't ever apologise for saying that, baby," Jungkook spoke between kisses. "I love you, too."

Slowly, you began to move, in circular motions that had him hitting against your sweet spot immediately. You moaned his name, keeping a steady rhythm. Jungkook's hands stayed on your hips, guiding you when you flinched from sensitivity.

"You want me to move, baby?" Jungkook asked when he felt your legs begin to shake.

"N-no," you replied. "Wanna make you feel good."

"Baby," Jungkook whispered, halting your movements. "I can't feel good if you're feeling discomfort. Let me, please."

Slowly, you nodded, slightly embarrassed. Jungkook kissed you softly and sat forward slightly. He manoeuvred your legs so they wrapped around his waist, continuing to plant small kisses against your lips, then moving to your jaw.

"Kook," you breathed, letting your head fall back as he kissed your neck.

Jungkook slowly began to thrust into you, the feeling of him pushing into you, having you both moan in unison. His rhythm stayed the same, not wanting the romantic moment to be ruined by lust.

"I love you so fucking much," you said in between breaths, your breasts bouncing lightly as Jungkook moved.

"I love you too, baby," Jungkook responded, kneading the flesh of your hips.

You hummed, feeling your high approach with each thrust. Jungkook could feel you were beginning to tighten around him, and he took the opportunity to lock his lips onto yours.

"Come with me," he begged between the kiss, struggling to keep pace.

Now moving along with him to keep the rhythm, you both came together, feeling Jungkook's seed spill into you while you milked him. You gently rocked your hips, helping you both ride out your highs. You only stopped when Jungkook gripped your waist, growing sensitive at the movements.

"That might have been the best sex we've had," Jungkook laughed breathily.

"Maybe because you weren't trying to fuck me into the counter or bed," you joked.

"Hey!" Jungkook protested, but smiled. "You love it when I do that."

"Yeah, you're right. I do," you giggled, resting your forehead against his.

There was silence, pure and peaceful, as if nothing in the world could ruin it.

"So, same time next week?"

"Oh for fuck sake Kook."

⊱ ────── {⋅. ♪ .⋅} ────── ⊰

finally! it is done! thank you so much for taking the time to read this and I am so sorry for taking so long to upload anything! I've been focused af to get this done and posted so I hope you enjoyed!

if you enjoyed it please take a look at my other works or if you're interested in requesting an idea/or have a prompt click the links below!

masterlist | requests | request rules | prompt list

tranquilreign~

[baeshijima]

thoughts on being engaged to duke!sunday, the head of the oak family, an incredibly influential figurehead within society, the close subordinate of emperor gopher wood who brought him and his sister in and raised him like his own, and the villain who faces a tragic ending in a novel you recently finished — the very same one you just so happen to find yourself transmigrated into. he is as cunning as he is blinded, a trait which brought ruin to many in the empire, and one which ultimately brought ruin to himself at the hands of the protagonists.

as luck would have it, you became a barely mentioned side character from a marquis family, whose role was to be the villain's wife stuck in a one-sided love who, too, would get caught up in the tragedy alongside him. however, now that it's you who is stuck in this position, you're determined to try any means necessary to deter him from going down that path, all in an effort to escape your predestined doomed fate!

of course, you didn't expect it to be easy. the day of your arrival in this world was already the night before your wedding, so you had little time to prepare yourself for the nonchalance of your supposed family, how they viewed you as but a means — a tool — to boost their influence and prosperity, the dismissive mannerisms of the household servants, and the absolute beauty of a man you will be married to.

(seriously. the novel descriptions did not do him justice. he was like... like... like he was handcrafted by god himself! and not to mention his sister, robin, was the very epitome of an angel! perhaps you're destined to perish by the god-tier visuals instead...)

to say the least, the wedding ceremony went by quickly. safe to say you didn't spend the night; he was cordial and gentlemanly upon letting you know that he won't do anything until you're ready, that you can take this relationship slow, but somehow you ended up feeling a tad insulted. like, who leaves their newly wedded alone in a big cold bed as they walk out on their own? a sick bastard that's who!

well, whatever. it's not like you need nor want to consummate with him! besides, you have bigger things to worry about — things such as your impending death. and, of course, the only way to stop sunday that you can imagine working is by chipping away at his resolve bit by bit, and opening his eyes to reality.

he is a tragic character, one who cares more about the well-being of penacony and its people than anyone else, but was manipulated into getting his hands dirty in the emperor's stead. you knew this. you sobbed over his story, cursed out the protagonists, and even fought internet randos on novel forums about sunday's motivation and how,

no, he is not just a stupid villain. he is a complex character with flaws and humanity and was cruelly taken advantage of by someone he considered family. he was deceived through the suffering the emperor wanted him to see to make him easily manipulated, creating a rift between him and robin to have that prominent separation. you know what? maybe you're just a !%#@ who can't even #@?"% read properly!

and yet you still find yourself at a loss when faced with the walls he has in place. your initial efforts went as well as it possibly could have; you trying to earnestly help him, while he "kindly" dismisses your offers! well, "kindly" being more condescending since you could read between the lines of his mannerisms and amiable demeanour, but that's fine! you expected this! that just means you have to double down on your sincerity, get through to his heart (somehow), and help him realise humanity isn't as weak as he's led to believe!

you have three years until the novel's plot officially starts, and another year after that until your demise. that's plenty of time to get him to warm up to you!

it was easier said than done, but after your valiant effort and abundance of time put into this relationship, which admittedly you could do with some of that lost time back, you could give yourself a pat on the back with the progress you made! while you definitely could have done without a lot of the headaches, it's safe to say sunday has significantly warmed up to you in comparison to your wedding day. he now willingly eats all his meals with you with some real conversation, takes garden strolls with you in the early evenings, invites you out for dinner at a restaurant at least four times a week, hell he's even joked and laughed with you more frequently! but most importantly, he has begun asking for your opinion before finalising any decisions he is required to make. and he actually listens and considers your side! now, that certainly is the best outcome you could hope for after all this time, and it most definitely will help in your endeavour to save you both from the protagonists!

however, you've noticed he's been more... affectionate? well, at the very least he now willingly holds your hand when in private (not just in moments when you're in the public eye and he has to make sure the family's reputation is spotless), sometimes he will hug you out of the blue ("i just need to... recharge. you have a way of calming me down. i hope you don't mind." ...how could you say no to his supreme god-tier face card? that's just a losing battle you won't even bother fighting against.), oftentimes he opts to just gaze wordlessly at you (robin had mentioned over one of your tea times how it almost appears as though there is no one but you in the world when sunday gazes at you with, in her words, "the eyes of a man so deeply in love!" ...whatever that's supposed to mean...), but a more recent development has been his sudden interest in kissing you; well, more specifically giving you a kiss to the back of your hand or on your forehead — certainly not anywhere near the lips! (besides, he's probably just gotten comfortable with you, enough where he can freely act without judgement. nothing more, nothing less.)

well, either way, development is development! soon enough, the time for the main plot to start has arrived. it of course follows what you remember, from the organised balls to the protagonists meeting to the political aspects of it all. the only difference is sunday's less active involvement in all the schemes and the emperor's ploy. rather, he seems more focused on you and the future of your marriage and even displayed a sudden interest in your practically non-existent relationship with one of the foreign diplomats, aventurine— wait...

"[name]," he calls your name out so sweetly you nearly disregarded it as someone else he was talking to. well, perhaps you would have done had he not suddenly appeared before you, a tight-lipped smile tugging the corners of his lips as he steadily approaches you.

oh. he doesn't seem very happy, if his tense figure is anything to go by. you wonder if one of the nobles grated his nerves a little too much this time?

sunday comes to a halt a step away from you. "i don't like that... gambler being so close to you. it... it brings me a rather unpleasant feeling." there's a slight, trembling pause. not a moment later does he close the gap between you, one knee on the ground as he matches your seated height on the fountain rim, your hands gently enclosed in both of his.

you idly wonder if this is what robin meant by the so-called "eyes of a man so deeply in love" she constantly gushed about, for the way in which he gazes up at you is enough to render you breathless.

"tell me, [name]," he begins once more. there is an underlying desperation woven within his tone, one which has your head spinning and heart thumping wildly as his trembling gaze holds you in place. "tell me, what am i to do with this fervent love and overwhelming adoration i hold for you?"

oh.

...oh.

perhaps your impending doom should be the least of your concerns when you now find yourself in the arms of a clingy husband...

(though, it's safe to say you did, in fact, manage to prevent him from succumbing to his tragic fate! you just gained a loving, yet slight slightly emotionally challenged husband along the way.

well, you can help him work through it; you have the rest of your lives now to figure it out, after all.)

[plutoswritingplanet]

In My Back (Remmick x Female! Reader)

a/n: sooo uuuh... basically yeah... never in my life had i been on such a long writer's kick. idk what they put in this irish freak but im eating it up (this is a long one, like 11k words i think). Cross Posted on AO3

Warnings: Canon Violence, Carpet Munching like crazy, P in V, just... Smut y'know, Some Plot, Manipulation, General Vampire Shenanigans

Summary: Three times he comes in the night, with offers a plenty on his fingertips. The third night, he leaves you with a gift. A Devil's kiss and a taste for freedom.

MASTERLIST

"And then, when you least expect it..." your cousin's voice dips down into a menacing tone, that only serves to push a giggle out of your chest "They sink their teeth, and suck the blood straight outta your bones"

She snaps her mouth at you, teeth clinking together, and you push her away, laughing at the story. She laughs as well, dodging skillfully, as you swipe a wet rag at her. 

"Stupid" you huff, trying to act exasperated with her antics, and failing miserably, as always. "I told you not to bother me with those silly stories."

She shrugs at that, twirls around the kitchen, like a fine lady in a coarse dress, her bare feet sliding over the linoleum tiles. You watch, as she dances out of the kitchen, grabbing a muffin from the table. You almost scold her, but decide to let it go, as you usually do. It's hard to be mad at her, damn near impossible to be honest. She always had a way of melting coldness around her. 

With a small sigh, you go back to cleaning, wiping the counter and the windows, your mind wandering to your cousin's stories. It's always ghosts and goblins with her. Some new, terrifying thing, that would surely snuff sleep off your eyelids, if your feet weren't planted firmly on the ground. That's how it's always been, since the moment you both learned to crawl. She was the flying one, the one with her head in the clouds, too preoccupied with counting the stars to look down.

And you were the complete opposite. Grass at your feet, a clear road ahead of you. No wondering, no straying. 

Sometimes you envied her lightness, sometimes you remembered, it was a burden. Especially for a woman on this earth. Despite that, she never lost herself. Despite hardship after hardship, she remained strong in her openness, in her will to think beyond, what the world offered her. How she did that, after living the past she's had, was beyond you.

God must be a cruel, cruel man, you think. For condemning the most unequipped for the biggest disappointments. 

Still, you made sure, your cousin would never have to face her life alone. Not while you're still standing, unmoving, like an ancient pine tree. You would always give her shade, always protect her from the rain, pull her down if need be.  

The sun starts to set over the horizon, the last rays of light flickering behind the woods. Your house was small, and well hidden, despite its proximity to the town. Your parents knew what they were doing, choosing this place to settle down, and you couldn't be more grateful. Before your cousin begged for shelter, you lived here alone, picking up both your parents' professions. And so, along with baking and feeding the entire area, you also became mean with any car troubles. A woman's and a man's job, both of them dancing under the sweat of your brow. 

Your cousin begged you to leave that "dirty work". To focus on opening a legitimate business, a bakery at the marketplace. She cussed, cleaning out grease stains from your skirts, and you didn't have the strength, nor patience to explain to her, how you're only able to afford the soap in her hand, because the "dirty work" payed better, than any baking. 

And so, when she stops you at the door, her arms crossed in front of her chest, her nose scrunched. She's looking you over, taking in the rough gloves and the utility belt, contrasting almost comically with the flowy material of your dress. 

"Don't start" you point at her with your wrench, and she raises her hands in a mockery of surrender.

Her mouth twists in a way, that betrays her inner thoughts, betrays her need to say more. But, to your general surprise, she swallows, shaking her head. Then, her eyes find yours, and you feel the tangible warmth of comfort, at the slight, teasing pull of her mouth.

"Don't let any monsters in" she chirps behind you, as you open the door, and start walking towards your late Daddy's workshop. 

All you can do is laugh. A rough sound, deep and dark like freshly brewed coffee. A mourning dove, and a wise owl, that's what you two were. 

Lamps guide your steps through the darkness, as you make your way towards the workshop. It's a spacious raggedy shack, your father built himself, every nook and cranny marked by his strength. You feel as if you're stepping into a church, every time you slide the barn doors open. 

It takes you a moment to light the place up, as you skip around a beaten down Buick, your feet padding softly over the recently swiped floors. The silence of the night calms you down, adds a layer of something almost sacred to your work. Night birds call out in the woods, crickets chirp in the grass, and you inhale the crisp air with your whole lungs, until they hurt. Until you feel the wind in the essence of your being. As soon as the workshop is ready, you find the ghost of your father inside every clink of metal, every grease stain. 

That's why you do, what you do. That's why you hide the woman in your pocket, tug your skirts up, tie them to your belt, throw your hair out of your face. Your father's hands guide you, years spent looking over his shoulder marr your movements. It's not work anymore. It's a ceremony, a communion. 

The Mississippi heat covers you with sweat, salty drops mixing with grease and motor oil, staining your skin. And as you wipe your face with a coarse rag, you entertain the thought, that this, here, is freedom. Your own, personal brand of freedom. Or at least some ghost of it. 

That's how he first finds you. 

Skin glistening under the warm lights, making you shine in his eyes. Your breasts exposed to a scandalous degree, your skirt hiked up so high, he sees the small stretch lines on your thighs. The sight makes his mouth water, literally. Such a wild thing, the sickly sweet scent of gasoline clinging to you, as you stretch on the little stool. A groan pushes past your lips, and he has to grip the doorway with his claws, to stop himself from pouncing. Even if he can't really do it, while you're in the safety of your workshop, he feels as if he'd be able to tear down any rules of ancient times, just to taste the nectar of your blood. 

Then you start humming. Some unknown tune from far away, long ago. Your voice dripping like molasses, filling his ears with something, he was sure damnation took away. You move around the workshop, tidying up after yourself, legs strong like an ancient tree. A tantalizing image of skin, muscle and a jiggly layer of fat, that makes him want to sink his teeth in, over and over again. 

Such temptation could not be ignored. Shouldn't be. It begged him to indulge, and who is he to deny the sweet embrace of sin? 

"A woman with a wrench is such an uncommon sight these days" he starts, and skillfully dodges the aforementioned wrench, as it flies towards his head. "Now hold on there, darlin'..."

You spin around like a storm cloud, heart jumping into your throat, at the unfamiliar, male voice. He stands in the shadows, just out of reach for the outside lamp, leaning on the workshop's door frame. His face is barely visible, but you notice the paleness of his wrists, peaking at you from his front pockets. A sillhouette of a banjo on his back, tied with a frayed string, that's digging into his chest.

The world becomes quiet around you. Not a night bird, not a cricket. Just you, and him, and the increasingly fast beating of your heart.

"Who are you?" you demand, and the suspicion in your voice lets him know, he'll have to work for it "What are you doing here?"

Raising his hands in a mockery of a friendly gesture, he takes a slow step backwards, offering space. Your shoulders don't relax, hand creeping towards the folds of your skirt, where you hide a kitchen knife. One, you've never had to use, but God help you, you will. 

"Apologies, darlin'. I didn't mean to startle you" he says, keeping his tone light, as if he's just an old friend, paying you a visit "I was walkin' down to the town, but I must've lost my way."

"Yeah, you must've." you eye him cautiously, the tartness of your voice making the corners of his mouth curl. 

"Best get back on the road then."

He laughs sheepishly, scratching the back of his neck, as he swipes a look around the workplace. 

"I saw the lights, figured there might be some good folks up in 'ere" he comes even closer to the door, lingering just outside, his well worn out boots kicking at the pebbles. 

He makes a pitiful expression, as he looks up at you through his eyebrows, and for the first time, you can take a good look at his eyes. Blue, you think. But at the same time, strangely dark. It makes your eyebrows furrow, because despite your weariness, you can most certainly say, this stranger is a handsome one. With nicely toned arms, broad shoulders, and features that look warm in their softness, as well as dangerously sharp. 

You don't like it. This strange impasse, that's seized your muscles. Like a deer stuck in the crosshair of a predator, it makes your skin crawl, and your insides tighten. 

"No good folks here, just me." your voice is like a bell in his ears, slightly out of breath from all the work, and so, so dark. 

The stranger laughs, and the sound sends an onslaught of shivers up your spine. Your fingers twitch nervously.

"See now, I find that hard to believe" the lightness in his tone starts to get to you, slithering under your skin like a snake "Surely such a sweet darlin' has some good in 'er"

God dammit, the way his head tilts to the side, as if trying to coax this mystical goodness out of you, chips away at your defenses. Your brain wrestles with your natural, tart disposition, and the facts presented before you. Here he stands, a respectful distance away, his hands in view. You don't see any weapon on him, but you see the sweat clinging to his dark hair. You see the dirt on his clothes, under his fingernails, the labored breathing he tries to conceal. He seems harmless enough, but looks can be decieving, and you'll be damned if a soft smile and a twinkling eye will be your downfall.

"You a travelin' musician or somethin'?"

He laughs, in pure delight. As if the notion is something he'd never consider, but he loves it either way. His laugh makes your cheeks tingle with warmth, and you curse yourself for such a strong reaction. 

"Something like that..." he nods, eyes shining with mischief "I follow music 'ere I go."

With a defeated sigh, your shoulders slump, as you throw the dirty rag at the car.

"I'll get you some food and drink" you concede "Then, you can go on your merry way, yeah?"

"Yes Ma'am" he agrees immediately, his eyes following you, as you exit the workshop, sliding the door closed "D'you live here alone, darlin'?"

The question makes you remember the knife in your skirts, but you don't falter in your steps, as you make your way towards the front entrance to your house. It's not wise, running from a predator, if he indeed turns out to be one. 

"That's none of your business, is it?"

"Fair enough" he nods, walking behind you, teetering the line of being much too close for comfort "Though it's a curious thing, don't you agree? A woman of your young age, alone in the woods. No ring on your finger either..."

He knows you're not alone. He smelled the other woman, felt the lazy drag of blood through her veins a mile away. But you don't need to know that, nuh huh. 

Your right hand tightens into a fist on instinct, at his observation. Skipping the steps to the porch without an answer, you leave the door open for him. 

But he doesn't enter, stopping right at the entrance, his shoulder leaning on the painted door frame, mirroring his stance from before. You shoot him a questioning glance over your shoulder, and once again, he scratches the back of his neck with a sigh. Such a boyish, shy gesture. Or a camouflage. You're undecided yet. 

"Would be improper, to walk in without an invitation..." he explains, voice quiet, and almost timid. 

Something tugs at the back of your mind. The story your cousin told you just hours ago, rings out like a sermon between your ears, and gooseflesh erupts all across your arms. Stupid. Utterly stupid and impossible, and yet... Your shoulders jump up, and down, in a nonchalant shrug, before you disappear into the kitchen. No use pondering over demons. The night is scary enough without them, and strange men can be worse than all the ghouls combined. 

As soon, as you're out of sight, Remmick growls under his breath, finger scratching at the peeling paint on the entrance. He can smell you in the house, sweetness and musk, gasoline and cherry pie. Your heartbeat has calmed down significantly, but he knows, the cards he's been dealt are tricky to play. Good thing, he's a skilled gambler, and you've already extended a hand of hospitality. Already let him see a glimmer, of what's hidden under that hard shell. The sweetness of the fruit within, warmth like the sunlight he's been denied for so long. Your blood will be exquisite, he's sure of it. But before that...

There's a thrill like no other, when playing with one's food. 

"There you go" you announce, slipping out of the kitchen, your clothes in proper place this time, obscuring the sight of your bare skin from him "Water and food, for your journey"

His eyes trail over your body, before landing on the glass in your hand, along with a package, wrapped in cloth. Another smile graces his features, this time however, he looks less like a shy farm boy, and more like a pleased man. All skin, and bone, and muscle. The transformation is quite jarring, and you have to blink a couple of times, not allowing yourself to be distracted, by the gentle shadows of his eyelashes on his cheeks. 

"Thank you, lass" he answers, taking the water first, and downing it all in one go, causing a small laugh to rip through your lips, almost despite yourself.

 "Forgive me, seems I'm more parched than I thought" he inclines his head, and you hand him the package. 

This time, his fingers run the length of your palm, sweaty and rough, as they retrieve the offering, and your mind goes to some very unsightly places. His eyes trail up slowly to your face, and you swear, you can see his pupils shining, just for a split second. 

Danger. The word climbs up your spine, takes root in your mind, as his tongue slips out to wet his chapped lips. Pink, and soft. 

Don't let the monsters in, your cousin's voice follows you. But she didn't mention anything about letting the monster stay a while, right at the threshold. She didn't mention the shivers you feel, prickling at your skin under his inquisitive gaze. And she sure as shit didn't mention, how your breathing gets slower, deeper, when you recognize that traitorous need in the depths of his eyes. 

It's been a while, since you've had a man, but you still remember, what it looks like, when you're wanted. When there's hunger crackling like fireworks between two people. And the hunger this stranger exudes, is nearly overwhelming, suffocating in the best way possible. 

Time to end this, cut the weeds out, before they overpower all rational thought.

"You should get on your way" you say, and shiver at the way his eyes snap to your lips, drinking in their shape as you speak. 

"Just one more thing..." he murmurs, low in his throat, so quiet, yet so unbelievably loud in the oppressive silence of the night. 

This time you're the one wetting your lips, preparing yourself for something, although you're not sure for what. The air feels sticky, smooth like honey, passing between you and him. An intimate sort of exchange, that slowly, but surely, melts your insides. Makes you feel a bit lighter, as if your cousin's spirit has invaded your usual hardness. 

Is this how it feels to be her? And if so, when will the first crash of thunder bring you down? Just like it brought her to the ground, again and again.

The man's eyes move back to yours, capturing your gaze and holding it hostage. 

"A cigarette for the road?" his words are a whisper now, and you feel ashamed, at how long it takes you to register his words. 

When you finally do, a single arch of your eyebrow makes his lips pull into a lazy smile. One that has no right working on you as much as it does. Alas...

"I saw you smoking in the workshop" he explains.

"...Ah..."

Your hand slips into your skirts, fingers brushing over the knife handle, and you take out a half empty pack. You offer it to him, and he reaches for the cigarette, his fingers sinfully elegant, as he presses it against his mouth, licking lightly at the tobacco. Something tightens low inside you at the movement of his pink tongue. 

He's good. You'll give him that. 

"I shall be off, then" he takes a slow step backwards, keeping his eyes on you, like he tries to pin you in place. "G'night, darlin'"

As soon as his boots hit the soft ground in front of your porch, your senses come back to you like a flood, as if some ancient spell has been lifted off your shoulders, and you straighten out with a sharp breath. 

You don't know what compels you. What wild, unfamiliar force beckons you, but before you can stop yourself, you're calling out to him.

"Stranger!"

He twirls on his heel, like a dancer on a stage.

"What's your name?"

"Remmick" he answers, voice carrying through the night. 

Then, he jumps up, dances a little jig that pushes clouds of dust into the air, and you can't help yourself. You laugh. A clear, honest sound, that surprises you in it's lightness. 

Remmick bows, turns around, and walks into the shadows of the woods, leaving an indent in the shape of his curved smile in your brain. 

"Remmick..." you repeat under your breath, before shaking your head at your own antics, and closing the door of your home.

The moon laughs at you as well, her light slipping into your room through a half open window. It's not a merry laugh however. It's a mournful, hopeless one, to which you are none the wiser, falling into dream-filled sleep. And as soon, as your eyelids close, as soon as your consciousness slips, a shadow rises from the earth, hanging over you like an executor's axe. 

***

You awake in the early morning, sweat clinging to your feverish skin, your hand squeezed tightly between your thighs. You don't remember what dream has put you in this state of mess, but your limbs shake as you stand up, your heart beating right out of your chest. It's a little disappointing, really, you think to yourself, as you wash off the slick from your thighs, that you've become reduced to this so easily. Surely not because of last night's visit. You're stronger than this. Stronger than some wanton virgin, who's never felt a man before. 

And yet, as you skip into the kitchen, and prepare for the day, you can't seem to shake the image of him from your brain. Like a sickness immune to all ointments, Remmick lingers under your skin, slithering and burning. 

Your cousin joins you downstairs some time later, lured out of bed by the smell of freshly baked goods.

"Whooo! Baby!" she sighs, taking in the kitchen, her smile crinkling the corners of her eyes "You gonna sell these?" 

The sluggishness with which you turn to her, makes you realize just how distracted you've truly been. Ridiculous. You're being ridiculous, and for what?

"Yeah" you nod, wiping flour off your hands into your apron "Gonna head to town in a bit. Sure you gonna be alright on your own?" 

Your cousin rolls her eyes, and steals an apple from the fruit basket. 

"I'm not a lil' kid no more" she tells you, like she's reminding you of homework, and it's your turn to roll your eyes at her. 

Ain't you?, you wanna say, but you bite your tongue in time. She doesn't deserve your crudeness. So you cross the kitchen and peck her cheek affectionately. As if to make up for the thoughts, that are left unsaid.

"I know, I know. And you know where the shotgun is, in case trouble comes a knockin', yeah?" she nods once, with a resolute expression.

You recognize the irony in your words. Last night you practically invited a strange man into your home, just 'cause he smiled nice. In your stubborn refusal to admit your own transgression, you tell yourself, you'd shoot his ass to high heaven's, if he tried anything. Even if the notion rings hollow in your own brain. 

"What's on your mind, cuz?" 

Her voice drags you back to reality with harshness, and you take a sharp breath through your teeth. One, she immediately notices, her eyebrows scrunching into a frown. 

"Nothin'." a weak lie, a pathetic one, really "Just... Ghost and Goblins"

Concern melts into a teasing smile, as your cousin starts packing up the still steaming bread. 

"Ah..." she laughs, bright and airy "Some stranger in the night sunk his teeth into you?" 

For a moment you watch her expression carefully, trying to decipher if she knows, if she heard. Even if she sleeps long and hard, like the dead. All you can see on her face, is a smile of someone proud of her stories taking root. Relief and guilt mix in your gut, and you have to look away, before you crack. 

It doesn't matter. Nothing happened, and you'll never meet the smiling stranger again, so why do you feel so... What is it exactly that you're feeling? Disappointed? No, disappointment is for people like your cousin. For people who hope, who fly. Then what is it, biting at the back of your spine like a bloodsucking flea?

"I'll be back from town before you know it" your voice is quiet, dismissive, but she doesn't seem to hold it against you.

"Have fun" she calls after you. Then, silently, she adds "God knows you need it."

The road to town goes by smoothly, your truck jumping and bumping over stray stones. The bustle of the market welcomes you like an old friend, and just for a moment, you allow yourself to miss it. The people, filtering through the streets, laughing, talking, keeping friendly despite the underlying tensions in the air.

Your father would take you here often, while he was alive. He'd stand under the very same sign, you're lifting over your truck now, letting people come to him with business. You'd listen, like a diligent little student, soaking in the wisdom of the trade, helping him run books, count the money, catch conversations.

They all knew you here. From the very moment you've been old enough to stand on your own, you were part of something bigger, than just your family. Always your parents daughter, but so much more at the same time. And now... Now you're a ghost of your own choosing. Respected, liked even, but always on the outside, no longer part of something, but a welcomed guest nonetheless. 

Bread goes out first, then sweet rolls and pies. You've been slaving away in the kitchen since the break of dawn, but as the sunset comes closer, you'd be damned it it wasn't worth it. Soon enough, your purse is filled, and you're packing your stand back into the truck, arms burning from work. 

Wiping the sweat off your face, your neck, you make your way across the street, to the supplies store, where, as soon as the bell above rings, you're greeted by the owner. A woman, who could've been your peer, could've been a friend, if you were someone different. If you were your cousin, or at least, not a ghost.

"Look what the wind blew in." she leans on the counter, hair slipping out from under the scarf on her head "Haven't seen you in a while."

"You know me, always busy..." your eyes already scan the products, landing heavily on the prices.

She doesn't know you, though. You've never given her an opportunity to know you, and perhaps, that's why you always choose this shop. Perhaps, that's the only time you allow yourself to hope. That maybe this time, you'll be different, this time you'll let yourself be open. That's the reason you know, disappointment is for the hopeful. 

"You got some flour for me?" 

The shopkeeper nods, crosses the floor and jabs her foot into a couple of bags by the window.

"Got some milk too" she says "Hell, even some sugar, if you wanna"

To that you shake your head.

"I've got some sugar left still. And I'll pick up some eggs on the way back, from Ol' Johnson's farm"

A beat of silence.

"Oh? You haven't heard then?"

"Heard what?" you don't sound too interested, already pulling out a bunch of dollars and sliding them on the counter. 

The shopkeeper walks over to you slowly, a solemn expression on her face, and that finally gives you a pause. The sun paints the inside of the shop a deep orange color, your neck tingling with heat and sweat, hair sticking to your skin. 

"Ol' Johnson's dead. God rest his soul" the shopkeeper says, swiping a sign of the Cross over her heart, and you repeat the action, like it's second nature. 

Coldness seeps through you, a strange sort of feeling, like there's something more hidden in the revelation. Some terrible truth just waiting to bury you. You swallow thickly, trying to ground yourself. 

"What happened?"

Another moment of tension filled silence passes, as the shopkeeper takes a deep breath, eyes scrunching in sorrow. 

"His wife came back from her family down South. People said she found him, dead and burning in the morning sun."

Cold turns to freezing in your bones, brain working overtime under your skull.

"They burned him?" you ask, mindful not to sound too curious, too insensitive.

"Sheriff said they killed him first, mangled the poor man beyond recognition."

"Jesus...." you sigh, trying, and failing to push away an image of the old man's face, scorched and bloody. "What about his widow?" 

"She's staying at the Motel until they burry him. I think she'll head back South after, there ain't nothin' keeping her here anymore."

You nod solemnly at her words. A quick thought passes through you, a worry, where you'll get your eggs now. But you scold yourself hard in your mind for such heartlessness. This is not the time, nor the place for wondering about trivial matters. Not when a man's life has been snuffed out, and so brutally at that. 

"The funeral's tomorrow, if you care" the shopkeeper's words snap you back from your cold thoughts, and you realize, that yes, you do care "We'll have a small thing for him at the Joint"

"Yeah..." you speak before you have the time to think on it "I'll be there."

She helps you load your groceries into your truck, a comfortable silence settling between the two of you, and once again, you wish things would've been different. Instead, you thank her with a dollar bill, and start the car on the road back to your home, where you're not alone, but solitude still awaits. 

By the time you arrive, it's dark outside, the porch light guiding your steps. The house is quiet, your cousin asleep in her room, buried under heavy covers. You linger in her doorway for a moment, mind lost deep in thought, as you watch her peaceful form. Something tugs on your heart. Some undeniable feeling of sorrow, dragging your heart down to the wooden floors. 

What you're mourning, you're not sure. But it brings a tear to your eye nonetheless, and your feet carry you outside, into the peaceful darkness, the crisp evening air. There, you can finally breathe, you can let the tears flow easily, without worrying about your sorrow staining the warmth inside. 

Hands clutching your head, your shoulders shake in silent sobs, the heaviness, and the cold of today reaping it's spoils on your body. And you stay there, soil soaking up your tears greedily, until the steps of the porch creak loudly, tearing your heart straight from your chest. 

You shoot up, turning your whole body so fast, you nearly collide with one of the pillars supporting the roof over the porch. Hand wraps around the handle of the knife, perpetually hidden in your skirts. And then you see him.

"Heaven's you startle easy, darlin'" Remmick raises his hands, giving you a sympathetic smile. 

Here he sits, right at the porch step. The man you were sure you'd never see again, same clothes, same twinkle in his eye. He gazes at your tear stained face, with a calmness of someone who's seen more sadness, than you can comprehend. 

"The hell you doin' here?" you try to demand, but your voice is still too shaky, and your hand too weak, to hold the knife any longer. 

"Heard a bird sing in mourning" he answers, something warm slithering into his voice "Followed it's song all the way here."

You should be better than this. Stronger than this. Hell, you are stronger than this. But there's something so gentle in his presence, so different from the hunger you've felt the first time you've met. And your bones are tired, and your head is pounding, and God... 

Slowly, like a wild animal learning to trust, you sit back down on the porch, a safe distance from him. But nothing can shield you from the warmth of his body next to you. From the unexplainable sense of calm, that floods your veins with every breath you take. And the night is so quiet, not a noise around you...

"I could sing you a song" he starts, and you scoff at the notion, a wet, broken sound "Something that would lull your pain to rest..."

"I don't need cheerin' up" you cut him off, and he smiles in a way, that makes you feel exposed like a bleeding wound.

You look down at your hands, woman's hands marred with signs of hard work. No longer soft and gentle, but trembling and covered with callouses. You're proud of them, of every scar and blemish, and you wish they were clean at the same time. You wish they were made for holding silk instead. At least just for tonight, in the dead silence.

"No" he murmurs "No you don't"

His eyes meet yours, when you risk a look in his direction, and what you find, makes your heart feel light as a feather, and heavy as a stone at the same time. 

"Cheerin' doesn't bring anythin' for you, does it." he says it like it's a fact, like he knows you from within "You know the value of sufferin'."

God damn him, you think, new tears already stinging your eyes. He leans in, cold breath tickling your cheeks, and to your surprise, you don't run. You don't want to run. Not even a flinch passes you, when his fingers brush the stray hairs out your face, pushing the rest over your shoulder. 

A small hiccup rips through your throat, because you never want to be touched. Never, until now, until him. Any other boy from town would already have his neck scuffed, for even daring to get this close. But this stranger, this man, this...

"Remmick..." you whisper, something wet and broken in your tone, something you haven't heard since your mother's funeral.

He hums, deep in his chest, as if he's pleased you remember his name. As if somehow, in this state of brokenness, he's the most proud of you. Your head ducks on instinct, when he moves closer, taking a long whiff of your hair. 

"You know" he continues, low and intimate, his lips moving like the wings of a butterfly over your forehead "That tears can be sweeter, than any smile, any laughter.

Fingers pinch your chin, pulling your head up, until your glassy eyes meet his once again. For a moment, he searches your face, gaze drifting over your wet eyelashes, your trembling cheeks, your mouth opening and closing.

"Because tears are honest" he finishes, and a ragged sound of a gasp escapes through your teeth.

Your hand finds purchase on his chest, feeling the rough material of his shirt, the buttons hanging on a couple of flimsy threads. You could mend them for him, you could offer him food, drink, your bed, anything. If he'd only ask. 

But he doesn't. Instead, his large hand presses gently over the flushed skin of your cheekbone, thumb running gently under your eye, gathering saltiness as it goes. 

"Let me taste it, Sweetness" he whispers, pleading, his face leaning impossibly close "Let me taste your honesty."

His breath mingles with yours, and you can almost taste him on your tongue, so close, yet not close enough. Your fingers tighten on his chest, dragging the fabric beneath your nails, and finally he dips down. 

But before you can feel him fully, before he drinks you like communion wine, your cousin's voice rings out throughout the house.

Heart jumping into your throat, you nearly rip yourself away from him, the spell of his honeyed words gone as quick, as it appeared. You stumble back on your feet, flushed and confused, gaping at him like a fish out of water. Something flashes through his expression, quick like a band of wild horses, but you catch it, you always do.

Perhaps, just a trick of the lights, something insignificant and unreal. But just like your cousin's stories, it lingers. 

If tears are honest, then what do you call the sudden meanness in his eyes? The ghost of irritated anger, that pulls his mouth down, sets heavily over his brow? 

Danger, you brain supplies again, and as your cousin calls out your name again, dread climbs up your back. 

He repeats your name, so silent you can barely hear him, but even so, he looks victorious. Defeated, but victorious nonetheless, and your instincts kick in tenfold. The handle of the knife is cold in your grasp, a grounding weight against your hand. He doesn't move, just stares at you, expression of utter calm gracing his confusing features. 

Now that's how a proper predator looks like. Half hidden under the shadows, his mouth open and panting, as if tasting the lingering scent of you from air alone. There's no tension in his figure, only steady confidence. He's gotten your name, he's almost gotten your trust, your honesty. 

You wish you were stronger. You were taught to be stronger. 

The front door creaks open, and you turn to push your cousin back inside, scream at her to stay back, stay where it's warm, and safe. Where the darkness won't catch her. 

But just as she steps outside, her thin sleeping gown flowing around her form, your eyes flicker to the porch steps. And he's gone. 

Not a trace of the strange man, of Remmick. Only the moon and utter silence. 

"You're back" your cousin wraps her arms around your waist, tugging you inside "I fell asleep waitin', I'm sorry"

"No, I..." you try to respond, barely hearing your voice over the thundering sound of your own heart, eyes scanning the tree line, every shadow looking like him. 

"You good? You look like you've seen a ghost" 

Finally, she drags you over the threshold, closing the doors behind. 

"You've been cryin'?" 

"No it's just..." you swallow thickly, throat tight "Needed some fresh air, don't you worry your head about me"

Your cousin looks beyond skeptical, a strange reversal of your usual roles, but she doesn't push, God bless her soul. Instead, she kisses your forehead, wiping away the ghost of Remmicks lips, and at last, your shoulders relax. 

"You work too hard, y'know" she murmurs, sleep still clinging to her "It's not good for the nerves" 

You know exactly what's not good for your nerves, and it sure as shit isn't your work, but you can't say that. You can't reveal the true source of your frazzled state, if only to shield her from all the confusion. All the dread and longing, that's mixing dangerously in your gut. She's been through enough, and suddenly awave of fresh guilt crashes over you. 

Carelessness is a sin, you never thought you'd commit. Yet here you are. God forgive you, because you cannot do it yourself.

***

Leaving the window open is your continuous mistake. One, which Remmick uses generously. 

His body levitates in the cold air, unmoving like a hanged man's corpse, scraping his nails over the window frame. Stuck in perpetual stillness, the warmth of his breath fogs the glass. Two dots of red cut through the darkness, overpower the moon's cold light behind him. Like a shadow of death to come, his presence looms over your room, over your sleeping form.

You never sleep under covers. He noticed it a while back, when you didn't know him, when he still thought you were just a bag filled with blood. His for the taking, to sate his never ending thirst. 

Now, he sees the bag has arms, that curve elegantly over the pillow. He notices the smoothness of skin, the delicate slope of your neck, where your blood sings a hymn just for him. Such a sweet thing, the ripest of fruits, just waiting to be devoured. 

Later. 

He has to remind himself to be patient, no matter how hard the pull of your saccharine scent calls to him. He needs you pliant, he wants you at your fullest. He wants love dripping from your fingertips like a fountain. Just so he can lap it up like a hungry dog. 

For now, he satisfies himself with this image of you, splayed out on the covers. A ghost of a Babylonian queen, come to life in this abandoned neck of the woods. 

Remmick takes a deep breath, humming to himself, as your scent fills every pore of his damned body. Dark and heavy, sweet on his tongue. He closes his eyes, nose pressing into the glass, teeth biting into his lower lip. What sweet torture this is. Being so close, yet so far away. 

Makes the spoils all the more worth it, in the end.

***

Ol' Johnson was a good man. 

He never took more, than he needed. Greeted everyone with a smile and a story, told in a voice roughened by years of smoking cheap tobbaco. He helped you, when you couldn't bring yourself to call on anyone, and kept helping you, until you've learned to accept it. 

And now he's dead. And all you have to remember him by, are dwindling memories, and a glass of lukewarm whiskey in your hand. 

The funeral service was a miserable affair. His crying widow nearly drowned out the sounds of the sermon with her sobs, and your heart broke for the poor woman, who lost everything in one night. She didn't look at you, when you offered her condolences, and you couldn't blame her. Tear stained eyes stayed  fixed firmly on the wooden coffin, as they lowered her husband into the ground. And they didn't move an inch, when ground covered him forever. 

She's a good woman too. Kind in a natural way, that seems to spread warmth wherever she goes. Always willing to give more, than what's expected of her. Now, the burden of being warm falls on the shoulders of the town. And they all take the mantle in stride, holding her through her grief, offering her comfort, that can only be found in community. 

You don't fit in here anymore. Besides, who would want comfort from a ghost. 

So you linger at the back of the Joint, sipping whiskey through your teeth, trying to remind yourself, that solitude is what you chose. You chose safety, you chose your cousin, your family. You can't regret that, you're simply not allowed to. 

Soon enough, mourning of death becomes a celebration of life, as musicians take stage, and bodies filter onto the dance floor. Sweaty, greased with alcohol, and yearning for a moment of recklessness, they dance. And with every step, every twirl, every pull of the guitar strings, you feel Ol' Johnson's spirit. You feel every story, every helpful hand, every puff of cigarette smoke. 

You can't stay still. Despite your promises, your responsibilities, you can't let his memory fade into a sad song. So you abandon your glass, your lonesome seat at the table, and you join in dance. You dance like you've never danced before, heels stomping on the wooden floor, sweat dripping down your face like tears would've. The music swells, and swells without stopping, and you're not stopping either. Not until your legs are burning, and your breath gets stuck in your throat. 

Then, you're stumbling out the Joint, passing by the bouncer into the cold night's air. Where there's stars, and the endlessness of the skies. You want to keep dancing, even if your legs beg you to stop, even when you collide with the cool metal of your truck's door.

This is freedom. This is love. This is the only regret you have. 

Digging out the keys from your purse, you eyes catch something in the dark. Two shining points, deep ahead of you. Your blood boils under your skin, a familiar feeling, which you keep forgetting ever day. Because you know this sight, deep within your bones, it settled a long time ago, a memory of something so terrible, your mind had to protect you from it. Had to keep forgetting. It can't protect you now however, and as the familiar spell of curiosity roots you into place, Remmick steps out of the shadows. 

Moon paints his skin in glowing paleness, something otherworldly clinging to his every step. 

No knife will help you now, you realize, as your back presses further into the cold side of your truck. And no one on the Joint will hear you, should you call for help. That's the price you pay for being a ghost. Music still plays inside, a quick tune that borrows it's rhythm from your feverish heart. 

"You followin' me or somethin'?" voice cutting through the night, you feign confidence, crossing your arms in front of your chest.

Such a flimsy shield, one he'd tear without even trying. But he stops, a safe distance from you, his palms raised high in a placating gesture you know too well. There's not a trace of that alarming meanness from the night before, a lazy smile gracing his features instead. 

"I told you" he starts, tone light and friendly, like before "I follow music, that's all"

God, you wish you could believe him.

"This here a Juke Joint?" he asks, and once again, suspicion rears it's ugly head in your gut. 

"Ain't you a traveling musician? You should know where to play" 

He laughs, sheepishly. Although you're more and more convinced, it's a wolf laughing underneath sheep's hide. You can't shake the image of his face, twisted in anger, the two red dots hanging in air, just where his eyes could've been. 

"Folks wouldn't let me in" he shrugs, and you notice the considerable lack of the guitar on his back "A private celebration I think."

"A wake." you cut swiftly.

"Ah..."

He doesn't ask who died. You would've found it strange, if you didn't know. You don't want to know, fighting that awful feeling of your guts churning in premonition. But you do, and despite that, you can't run. Still, after all the dots connecting in your mind, you can't run from him, his shining eyes and his curling smile. 

Remmick comes closer, measured step after another, as if he's approaching some feral little animal, thrashing in the hunter's binds. Or a killer, that's found an easy victim. Your blood runs cold in your veins, gooseflesh covering your skin. Still, he doesn't snap his jaws, not yet. 

"You dance mighty fine, darlin'." the comment doesn't even sound like a flirtation, just a pure, bare bones fact "Saw you through the window, twirlin' and stompin'."

He doesn't wait for your reply, reaching into the pocket of his trousers, and pulling out a cigarette case. You recognize the design despite the darkness, and your throat tightens, until you can't breathe properly. God forgive you, you've almost let a killer into your home. Would've let him into your heart, if he'd ask. 

"Where'd you get that?" there's a tremble in your voice, one, that puts an edge to his easygoing smile.

"My Daddy gave it to me, for the long road ahead."

Lies come like second nature to him, leaving his lips dripping with honey. Once again, he licks at the end of the cigarette, eyes flickering up to meet yours. 

"My friend had one exactly like that" you note, still trying to cling onto some semblance of hope.

Alas, hope only breeds disappointment, you know that too well.

A slender flame from the lighter flickers in his pupils, as he lights the cigarette, taking a long drag of smoke. 

"Maybe we've got the same Daddy" he muses, clouds of white slipping past his teeth.

You'd laugh, if you were light as a feather. 

Another drag of the cigarette, and Remmick closes the distance between the two of you, standing foot to foot. Your body fails you, at this crucial moment, because all you can do is watch him, eyes wide, stuck between pleading and anger. 

"What are you?" the question leaves you, before you can catch it, and the man before you sighs, shaking his head.

"Told ya'. Travellin' musician" 

Your mouth opens, but he's quicker, flicking the cigarette to the side, and grabbing ahold of the back of your neck. You grab at his wrist, but don't go any further. His hold is gentle, despite everything you'd anticipate, and he leans his head towards your ear, like a lover whispering a secret. 

"Shhh..." he shushes you quietly, cold breath tickling your feverish skin "I've already decided I'll help you."

Confusion overrides any rational feeling, and your hands slip to the coarse fabric of his well worn shirt. The buttons are still barely hanging, but now you'd rather be caught dead, than mend them. Hell, you probably will be. Something mean and dark rises in your throat, pushing past your teeth with a hiss of a venomous snake.

"I don't need savin- ah!" 

A small, surprised moan tears it's way through your throat, as Remmick runs his tongue over the delicate spot behind your ear. His fingers bury themselves into your hair, gently massaging it in a way, that is almost grotesquely delicate. You can feel his mouth, running the length of your jaw, up your cheek, where he presses delicate kisses. The tip of your nose is next, then the softness under your eyes, the wrinkle of conflicting emotions between your eyebrows. 

"C'mon darlin'." he whispers into your hairline "Won't you let this sinner in?"

Once again, he doesn't leave time for you to reply, diving down towards your lips, taking them into a slow kiss, that makes your insides flutter. You should hate yourself for the way you're not pushing him away, for the way you chase his mouth with your own, when he pulls back for just a second. 

You should hate him for everything, but most importantly for the moan he gives out, when his tongue slips into your mouth. Such a beautiful sound, it shakes every bone in your body, makes your fingers dig into the fabric of his shirt.

He tastes of iron, an unmistakable bloody residue, but it's so sweet on your tongue, you can't seem to care. Like poison attacking your senses, you let yourself be carried away, mind going deliciously blank. His hand still continues to coax you with the gentle movements of his fingers in your hair. While the other takes it's fill of your body, warm palm pressing against your waist, your hip, pushing the silken dress up your thigh. 

Then it moves higher, until he's grasping at your heart through the plush flesh of your breast, and this time you're the one moaning. His thumb brushes over your hardening nipple, pulling another sound from you, like he's playing a fiddle.

Heat rises within you like the tide, every touch, every caress building up a storm of want. Soon, it doesn't matter anymore, that he's surely the monster from your cousin's stories, because he kisses like an angel. 

His mouth leaves yours, a sticky mess of saliva that should disgust you, but God, you've never tasted anything sweeter. Once more, he attaches himself to your neck, kissing it with fervor, broken sounds escaping him, like a starved dog feasting for the first time in months. His hand palms at your breast one last time, before reaching back, and soon enough you hear the click of your truck's door. 

There's no time for questions, for concern. Not when the need runs so deep, and begs to be satiated. He pushes your body inside, splays you out on the back seat, amongst old blankets and empty bags of flour. Your thighs fall apart, to accommodate him, when he climbs over your body, like he can't bear being away from it even for a second. 

"The door..." you pant out, against the hunger of his lips.

"No one will see us" he huffs into your shoulder, and the utmost certainty in his voice makes you believe him. 

This time it's your hands doing the massaging, as you grip the black strands of his hair, trying to bring him closer. Trying to morph the Devil himself into your body. He hikes your leg up, over his waist in response, and you can feel with damning clarity, his burning hardness pressing against the flimsy cotton of your underwear. 

You want him inside so bad, it's nearly breaking you apart. 

"Too damned sweet..." he murmurs into the running pulse of your neck, and your entire body freezes, when he teases the place with surprisingly sharp teeth.

"...no..." 

It's a quiet, barely audible whisper, but he straightens himself on his arms, hovering above you with a questioning look on his flushed face. 

"No biting..." you repeat, louder this time, your heaving chest brushing over his "No pain. I don't wanna hurt tonight."

A blink, a gasp, and Remmick morphs between your very eyes. His expression turns into something so gentle, so caring, you're sure a man like him shouldn't be able to look like that. He takes a deep breath through his mouth, a broken sound emanating from deep within his chest. And then, he kisses you again. Slow, intimate, until your head is spinning.

"The things you do to me, woman" he whispers into your mouth, and starts to crawl lower. 

His tongue laps at your collarbone, lips sucking into the skin of your sternum. Your body arches off the seat, as he dips into your cleavage, letting your breasts spill out the top of your dress. He kisses them, like they're more than just a body part. It feels sacred, feels like a prayer in a language you don't fully understand. 

Another series of kisses over the fabric covering your stomach, and soon enough, he's making a home for himself between your thighs. Your body starts to shake in anticipation, half lidded eyes following the movements of his dark haired head, as he leaves wet kisses on the inside of your thighs. 

"Christ Almighty..." he groans, as his thumb runs over the wet patch steadily forming on your underwear "Like Heaven's Gates opening for me"

Your hips buck in a stuttering motion, as he puts his mouth over the cotton, tongue lapping at the fabric in a promise of things to come. 

"Knew you'd be sweet" he comments, voice dipping down so low, you can feel it in your insides.

Then, your legs get thrown over his shoulders, and before you have time to adjust, he pushes your undergarments to the side, and nearly drowns his face in your cunt. 

The sound you make is nothing short of scandalous, as he begins to lap at you, greedily soaking in the very essence of your being. His tongue finds your clit faster, than any man before, and as his mouth close over the pulsing bundle of nerves, you throw your head back. 

He's good, so good in fact, that your stomach begins to tighten in seconds. Your hands flail at your sides, nails scraping over the backseat, over your dress, his scalp. You don't know what to do with your body, completely surrendering to the ancient magic, he pulls from you with every drag of his tongue.

And God, the sounds he makes. You've never met someone so vocal, so utterly devoted to drinking every last drop you have to offer. Soon enough, your thighs start to shake, the pressure building inside you reaching levels you never thought possible. And he doesn't stop, not even for a moment, licking, sucking, flicking his tongue until your voice becomes hoarse. 

"Remmick..." you mewl.

The sound of his name feels right, leaving your lips, feels like truth. Like that mythical honesty, he wanted to taste in your tears. 

His grip on your body tightens, and it's as if he's been possessed by some demon of desire. You can feel his face pressing closer, deeper into you, and that's the final straw. Stars erupt in your vision, as you come, hard and fast, earth shattering around you. Body nearly flying off the car seat, your breath gets punched out of your lungs with the force of the most delicious of sensations. 

Remmick seems almost reluctant to part with your cunt, licking at the swollen flesh, until your hand slaps him away, too sensitive for any more attention. His face is glistening in the pale moonlight, and his sinful tongue cleans everything with an almost inhuman groan. 

"You're heaven, mo ghrà" his voice breaks "You're sunlight incarnate"

There's devotion like nothing you've heard before in his tone, and if you weren't so completely wrecked, you would've blushed. Instead, you reach for him, and he obeys, coming back up, until you can kiss him again. 

His arms sneak around your waist, pulling you up into an embrace, and your boneless body let's him do what he likes. Let's him settle you into his lap, legs nestling on both sides of his thighs. Forever greedy, he ruts into your twitching core, and you're cruelly reminded about just how empty you feel. 

"You'll never be alone" he whispers, voice muffled by the skin of your chest "You'll never be forsaken, not while I walk this earth." 

Something in the way he says that, makes your spine tingle with a dreadful sort of shiver. But there's comfort in his words, enough of it, for you to throw caution to the wind, and reach for the button of his trousers with shaky hands. 

You'll worry later. For now, you want him to make you forget what worrying even looks like. 

And as if reading your thoughts, he obliges, pushing your hands away, to do the work himself. His trousers fall open, and he frees himself with a choked groan. His cock rests on your lower stomach, hot and ready, smearing drops of precum over your skin. Your muscles tighten in anticipation, hands squeezing his shoulders.

"My girl" he murmurs "My sweet girl, let me in"

All you can do, is nod. 

Remmick lifts you up, as if you weight nothing, positioning you just right, before he slowly lowers you onto him. Your combined groans fill the silence of the truck, as you stretch around him. He's gentle, letting you adjust before pushing into you a bit further, until he's buried to the hilt in your heat. His head falls back against the headboard, hands roaming your body. You can see the treacherous light in his eyes, now, finally a tangible truth, rather than a figment of your dreams.

It doesn't scare you though, nothing scares you now. Not when he fills you up so completely, you feel like you belong for the first time in years. This moment of stillness, of silence interrupted only by laboured breathing, doesn't last long. 

Nails digging into the bottom of your thighs, he rocks you in a steady, almost languid rhythm. You flutter around him, small gasps of pleasure leaving your lips, and that familiar pressure introduces itself once again. He speeds up, guiding your hips in an up and down motion, that soon makes your teeth clink together. 

"That's right... God in Heaven... So warm... Mmmmm..." his voice flows between murmurs, groans and whispers, every word making your insides twitch, making your eyes flutter.

 "Take me in... Good... Deeper..." 

You can feel him, pressing into your bones, nestling into the deepest parts of your soul, and with every ragged moan he breathes, something close to sweet affection blossoms inside you. Honey and milk, they drip from your fingertips, as you caress his face, contorted in a beautiful image of pleasure. You could love that face. You won't, but Heaven's above, you could. 

"Christ" he chokes out, hips bucking off the seat "My sweet girl, mo ghr- ah..."

The sound of his voice alone makes you come again, lighter, but no less pleasurable. And as you tighten around him, a choked sound leaves his throat. His arms encircle you whole, pushing himself so close, he might as well find home in your chest cavity. Soon, his movements stutter, face hidden in your shoulder, breathing in the scent of your hair, and with a last, decisive thrust, he spills himself inside you. 

Bodies covered in sweat, you both shake in each other's arms, for a small, blissful moment being completely alone, shielded from the world. Remmick holds you, like you're his only hope, mouthing gently at the skin of your throat, whispering things you barely comprehend. Prayers, that are marked by something ancient, older than the trees and the rivers. Worship, that flows like blood from a wound. 

"Thabharfainn fuil mo chroí dui..."

You want to whisper back, but there are no words, that could compare to his. So you do the next best thing, running your fingers through his hair, tracing circles into his back, mapping his features with delicate kisses. He basks in the affection, eyes fluttering closed, a familiar twitch of renewed desire stirring your insides. Your thumb brushes over his bottom lip, still wet with whatever mixture of fluids, and he parts his mouth under your touch. 

And that's when it all comes shattering down. 

Because hidden beneath the chapped softness, are teeth that don't belong to a human. Sharp, pointed angrily, perfect for tearing at flesh. 

Remmick hums in his throat, feeling the way your body seizes with dread, and as his eyes slowly open, you're met with another damning sight. 

Those aren't human eyes either. They shine at you, reflecting moonlight in a haze of red that makes your skin crawl. 

People who dare to hope, are the one's crushed by disappointment. How dare you forget that?

"It all makes sense now, doesn't it?" he asks in a low voice, all traces of gentleness gone in an instance "The nightly visits, the quiet in the woods..."

His finger traces a line from between your breasts, up to your bobbing throat.

"The pull you feel, even now." a slow roll of his hips makes you choke on air.

Remmick's smile turns cruel. There's no denying, what you're seeing, and it's no longer the man you almost could've loved. It's not a man at all, but a monster your cousin's stories warned you about. Things you believed to be impossible, come to life before your very eyes.

"What are you?" your voice breaks, and he smiles, as if the question has become some sort of a joke shared between the two of you. 

"How about I make you a deal?" 

You've never noticed, how sharp his nails are, not until they drag back down your throat. Gentle enough not to break skin, but brutal enough to leave imprints in their wake. 

"I'll race you back to your house, and if you get there first, I'll leave you two be."

Dread turns your blood into ice, and all you can do, is stare in shock, as Remmick lifts you off his lap. His cock slides out of you languidly, and for the first time, since you've met him, you feel disgust. At him, at yourself, at the whole waking world. 

He brushes your sweaty hair out of your forehead, claws dragging over your face as he does so. Then, a quick press of his lips to your temple, and you shiver in your spot. 

"Be quick" he instructs in a tone that is entirely too cheerful, before he shoots you a wink, and climbs out of the truck. 

Three seconds, that's all you need, before you realize the severity, the absolute hopelessness of your situation. And as you scramble to the passenger side of the truck, thighs sticky with evidence of your misplaced affection, all you can see is your cousin's smiling face. 

***

The door to your home slams against the wall, when you stumble inside, feet barely catching up with your panicked movements. 

You scream her name through the halls, pathetic and desperate. Silence greets you, not a sound to be heard, and as tears spring from your eyes, you sprint towards the stairs. You climb the steps, hunched over like a wild animal, adrenaline pushing your every movement. And then, with the entirety of your body weight, you slam into the door of your cousin's bedroom. 

You can smell the blood, before you see it. A stench so profound, you'll never be able to get rid of it. 

And then, a scene so terrifying, so profoundly heartbreaking unfolds before your very eyes. 

Remmick stands in the middle of the room, hands folded casually behind him. His jaw clenched tightly over your cousin's throat, her lifeless body half hanging from the bed. There's blood on the floor, on the walls, on the sheer dress she wore to bed. And then, red eyes find you. 

Your cousin's form falls onto the floor with a sickening, wet sound, as Remmick let's her go, licking her blood from his gums, his chin.

"Now I understand..." he claps his hands lightly, and once again, you can't move, frozen to your spot, eyes glued to the heap of fabric and flesh, that was once your family "Why you've kept her hidden, like a princess locked in a tower."

His boots leave bloody prints on the wooden floor, as he steps closer to you, crossing the bedroom in long strides. 

"There's no worse thing, than a cruel man. Not for a woman like her." 

You can't look away from her. Not even, when Remmick's hand covers the side of your face, his thumb brushing the underside of your jaw in a gentle caress.

"I can see it all now, y'know" he murmurs "All her memories are mine. I know what a bastard her husband was. It's no wonder she ran away."

Another step closer, and his other hand finds the softness of your stomach, sharp nails scratching gently over the delicate fabric of your rumpled dress. You can still feel him, a dull ache between your legs, a stickiness of your bodies joined together. 

What a damned fool you are.

"And you took care of her so loyally" he continues, a hint of admiration entering his words "Sacrificed so much... But not anymore."

Finally, you dare to look up, and he sighs in delight, as tears fall on your cheeks. 

"I promised you" a whisper, a cold breath against your skin "No more alone, no more forsaken"

His lips kiss away the saltiness, with gentleness so unbefitting his monstrous nature, it makes your breath lock itself in the column of your throat. 

"There's only love in your future, mo ghrà. Only love."

The bundle of fabric moves. A jerky sort of motion, and your eyes snap behind his back, as your cousin's hand jumps against the bloodied floorboards. Remmick let's you go without a fight, and you stumble on your feet, falling to your knees, next to the slowly awakening corpse of your cousin. 

Her name is a prayer on your lips. You're begging for the impossible, you're aware of that, but she moves nonetheless, lifting her face. 

"Hey cuz." she croaks, the wound in her throat moving as she speaks "It's all gonna be alright now."

It's a fate worse than death, seeing the unnatural, golden shine in her eyes. The monstrous, sharpened teeth peaking from behind her smiling lips. You reel back from her, vision blurry from all the tears. She follows you, on her fours, as if she's forgotten what it means to walk. 

"I know it's scary" she stands up, blood dripping from her dress, her mangled body "I was scared too. But now... Now it's all bliss. It's all love."

Your heart breaks into a million scattered pieces, dread and pain nearly knocking you off your feet. But you keep backing away, until you stop at the very top of the stairs, swaying in your sorrow. 

"You did so much for me" you cousin closes the distance, drool slipping out her mouth, mixing with crimson on her chin "Let me repay you, let me give you a better life."

It's only as she reaches for you, fingers digging into your shoulders, teeth bared and ready to bite, do you react. A sharp yell rips through your throat, and you don't think anymore, that primal instinct of survival taking root. The world becomes a mess of limbs and screams, and soon it all spins around you. Wood of the railing breaks under your weight, when your cousin slams you into it, blood of your blood sends you flying. Your fingers grip her nightgown in a death grip however, and the both of you crash to the floor below, with a thunderous crack, that carries through the entire house.

For a moment you can't breathe, your vision going black as night. Then, everything spins, but you don't feel any teeth, any claws. Just waves of pain crashing over your back. 

You will never forget the next sound. It will haunt you through your life, turn every dream into a nightmare. The broken, ragged intake of breath on your left.

"Cuz..." 

Your head turns, and there she is. The dreamer, the flying dove, her chest split open by a stray piece of wood, blood spilling out her mouth like a fountain. 

"...no..."

Despite the blinding pain in your back, you rise to your knees, falling over her, hands trembling and for the first time, you're at a loss. What can one do in this situation? How can you fix this?

"No, no, no, no" your cousin's body twitches, her eyes growing more and more glassy with every ticking second "Please, God... Help..."

But there's no God in this house, not anymore. He's been casted out, with your cousin's last breath, and so, as desperation shakes your being, you call out to the only other option. The only way that's in the cards for you, until you too leave this earth.

"Remmick, help me!" it's hypnotizing in it's irony, you calling out to him, begging him.

He stands behind you, watching your shaking shoulders. Watching those fascinating, calloused fingers rip out hairs from your scalp. He knows, somewhere deep inside his rotten, ancient heart, that he would help you. He'd come acrawling for just one word. 

He also knows, you've been crying over a corpse, as soon as wood pierced your cousin's heart. 

And so, he lingers, a silent statue in a house, that was once a home. Like a pillar of marble, devoid of guilt, of heartbreak, stirred to life only by the misplaced fondness for a woman, who dared to hope in his presence. 

Time ticks by, your sobs turning into heaving breaths, which soon fade, leaving silence in their wake. That's when he finally makes a move, bloodied soles of his boots dragging closer, until your abused back leans against his side. It's a small touch, but for him, it means more, than any before.

There's no more strength in you, no more fight. Like a block of clay, begging to be shaped into a masterpiece, you surrender.

And it's all he's ever wanted. So then why...?

"Leave this place" his voice sounds foreign, even to his own ears "Go far, far away. And live."

You don't even lift your head, don't look at him, but he knows you listen, he knows you understand. A brush of cold lips against the gentle curvature at the back of your neck. There's no shivers, but your heart stutters, that's all he needs.

"A gift for you, mo cuishle"

***

A month later you're standing on the platform, nails drumming anxiously on the leather surface of your baggage. 

You're going far away, like he's told you, leaving behind the town, Ol' Johnsons abandoned home, the shopkeeper's smile, and the ghosts haunting the small house in the middle of the woods. 

And life goes on. You find your place in a shop of your own, in the middle of a town, that's buzzing with life. You put your talents to good use, and soon, people remember your name. They wave at you as you pass, they visit your shop, and talk to you, as if you've lived here from childhood. 

You make friends, good ones, that last through thick and thin. And despite waking up every night, covered in sweat, with the haunting images of that fateful midnight flashing behind your eyes, you're happy. You find lightness in your step, in your mind. You cradle the community within your calloused palms, and let them cradle you in turn. 

So, when the new Juke Joint opens, you don't think twice, about letting your dearest friend, Pearline, drag you with her. For a night full of drinkin', dancin', and cheerin'.

[roturo]

₊˚ෆ FALSE GOD

warnings: masturbation, sex, smut, porn with no plot, unprocteted sex, overstimulation, use of toys, cunnilingus, mentions of low/high sex drive, dom/sub dynamics, shaming, humilliation, blue balls, edging, corruption kink, mentions of somnophilia, and twitter links. (Gojo, Geto & Nanami)

author's note: this is not a goodbye, but take it as a see you soon writing.

part 2 (coming soon if it’s well received)

gojo satoru

He's been annoying you the whole morning while trying to coach the kids on their training– slapping his hand away everytime it lowers down from your lower back and giving him a glaring look.

Both of you talked about this. Not letting his high sex drive come across work, and mostly in front of his students.He looked like a lost puppy, searching for attention and someone to relieve his needs.

“Gojo. Stop it–” You pushed his hand away from you, looking back to see if someone else noticed what’s going on. “But I can’t princess, I need you right now~” He whined in your ear, he was about to throw a tantrum if you continued neglecting him this way. It’s been two weeks without sex, can you believe it? Two weeks! He prefers fighting Mahito’s annoying ass again on his own rather than pass one day without inside you.

“It’s not the time right now– and I'm not in the mood either.”

Okay. First of all he knew you weren’t too into sex, and he accepted it! He respected your boundaries, and he didn’t only want you for the sex, he loved you for who you are! But the way you said his last name instead of his first name, and looking like you were about to slap him turned him on even more.

He wouldn’t stop whining and throwing tantrums for your touch, opting for dismissing the class early so they could go to sleep or wherever, it’s weekend anyways. 

Both of you sat in silence in his office. Waiting for someone to break the tense silence thanks to him— and he was about to do it, but the moment your mouth opened his mind got in control of your sweet voice.

“Get up and take your pants off. Briefs too-” His eyes light up like a kid when receiving a lollipop for behaving like a good boy he is. He took off his shirt too, feeling like it was drowning him and taking the air out of him because this was the first time you were really taking control over all this.

“Sit.” He did as you said, his cock proudly standing tall and full of cum to dump wherever you wanted him too. But he wasn’t too lucky this time, because the moment you stepped closer to him and his desk, searching for one of his blindfolds he usually leaves there– you kneeled down infront of his, massaging his hard balls that made him moan out loud– taking them in one hand, they were heavy. His blindfold was around them, in a knot– tighten them. 

The moment you started jerking off he knew he wouldn’t come as easy as he would. It was wet, really wet– and all thanks to his pre-cum leaving his cock, he was begging for release, he couldn’t come, literally and physically. It was impeding him from cumming, it felt ten times worse than not having your touch– He had it now, but at what cost?

“Aw, look at those blue balls!” You laughed in front of him and slightly slapped the red swollen head of his cock– he was crying, he never did. But it felt so good but it hurt so much at the same time.  You took off the blindfold, cum coming out like a big wave, wetting his abdomen, part of his chest and your neck too. His moan almost sounded like a scream, cries and nervous laughs coming out of him– He came but you continued jerking him off, this time overstimulating him instead of edging him– He doesn’t know what was worse. Coherent words were long lost, babbling out trying to stop himself but he couldn’t move himself, way too lost in the pleasure to be able to stop you.

“Let’s see if you can atleast last a week without acting like a fucking horny virgin bitch this time mhm?, let’s make you cum again just to make sure, yeah?”

geto suguru

Geto is a morning wood guy. And he knows you have a low libido, actually Suguru is the only one you’ve sex with. 

“I’m scared of dicks ´guru” You whispered, kneeled down in front of him, you were at his dorm, it was 11 P.M and you decided to lose your virginity to Geto assuring he’s the one and you’ve never felt safe in someone else’s arms– he chuckled and looked at you with loving eyes– one of his hands caressed your cheek, “How are you going to be afraid of dicks and want to suck me off at the same time princess? Mhm?”

He laughed at himself at the memory, now you were 6 years together and he’s eager to know how your life is going to be with him, having a wedding, getting a house together, making you pregnant… full of him, shit. This is not helping with the main problem right now.

He’s a decent man. At least that’s what he thinks about himself– he’s not horny all the time like Satoru. Maybe that’s his form of love language? Satoru is a weird ass anyways– he thinks to himself while scrunching his eyebrows together, –stop thinking about him Suguru!, it’s going to make you puke instead of helping the problem… He was looking at the ceiling of your room while you’re sleeping right beside him. He doesn’t want to wake you up, you deserve to have a nice and comfortable sleep.

But the pain down there is not going anywhere, not even with a cold shower. He knows to identify his morning woods– living with them for his whole life, I guess. Unconsciously one of his hands is now touching himself through his boxers making him moan, his free hand quickly covering his mouth and looking to his side to find you still sleeping.   

He swears he’s about to slap himself to stop this and suck it up, but he feels your hand stopping him. “Are you okay baby?, I heard something and I thought you hurt yourself or something.”

Oh my god… How could you be so… pure? So perfect for him, always making sure he’s okay, your sleepy voice sounding deeper than your normal voice… His shirt is way too big for you that he swears if he moves his head a little higher he could see your nipples. Shit Suguru, you turned it sexual again!

Should he just… ask you? beg you? beg and cry for some release? Would he sound as horny as a teenager? This problem should be for teenagers! Not for a grown ass man like him!

“Um… I might just had a little problem down there”

“Might? Little?”

His flushed face was cute, his body was fully uncovered by the blankets, leaving him with his chest exposed and a clear wet patch on his boxers.

“C’mon baby, let me help you” He called out your name, trying to stop you the moment you placed your hand on the elastic of his underwear— in one swift motion you freed his cock, catching a glance of how swollen it was due the negligence of the past weeks. 

The moment Suguru felt the cold breeze on him, he came.

He fucking came with no touch.

Damn embarrassing.

“Aw, cute. Want me to suck you off?”

nanami kento

You haven’t rushed things with Nanami yet. Both of you were such a cute couple that made people gag. 

He’s amazing, not like any other boys you have met before, he treated you nice, spoiled you and mostly respected you– in a world of boys, he’s a gentleman. 

He’s such a hard working guy, such an inspiration, so committed to both of his works that you tell him if you ever get married you’ll be the best housewife he could ever have because he deserves it.

But one thing about Nanami is that he keeps things to himself. Just like the boner he has right now by imagining you being his little housewife. He really needs to leave this office right now and relieve some… stress.

The last weeks have been hard for him, naturally affecting your relationship with him. He was always tired, even more earnest and quiet. You know he’s bad at telling what he feels, and he’s always stressed by something– but you have never seen him like this. Like ever.

When he tries to distress himself he just keeps failing over and over again, not being enough and having to suck it up and continue his day with a hard poking erection most likely visible in his pants. That’s why he remains seated most of the time.

But one day he went to your house after work. It was impossible to not notice his erection even when he’s trying to hide with his briefcase or on the sofa. 

“Take your pants off Kento.” You’re not a big fan of sex, Nanami knows that, he hasn’t even had sex with you before! So this caught him by surprise, the red on his cheeks spanding through his neck.

“E-excuse me? I’m sorry, what honey?” 

“You heard me, take your pants off.” He’s seated on your sofa– unloosened tie, two or three bottoms of his shirt undone, messy hair, in his socks but that damn thing was literally capable of breaking his pants if it didn’t have some release.

He slowly started unbuckling his pants, losing his mental battle and accepting what he needed, and if you were willing to do it, all he could do is take it– but dear god, it was even worse.

All you would do is touch him. Through his briefs. Just the feeling of your fingers through them. Touching the tip was the worst part.

And he couldn’t believe that the most simple touch is capable of making him cum with just your fingers than him raming and jerking off the hardest he has ever tried.

[aureatelys]

lunch break

pairing: jesse/fem!reader genre: smut smut smut w.c.: 5.5k a/n: the first scene of 2x03 had me blacking out and then i wrote this in two days. this is my first time writing for jesse, pls be gentle and i hope you enjoy because i had so much fun writing this <3 ty for my dear lover for enabling me. you can also imagine either show or game jesse for this!

summary: You've been distracted by your boyfriend all morning. Jesse knows you better than you expected.

c.w.: 18+ MDNI, porn no plot, post 2x02 but joel lives (!), established relationship, jesse is sexy and reader is horny for his arms, oral sex (f receiving), brief fingering, unprotected p in v sex (lets pretend birth control exists ok), fluff, no y/n

read below or on ao3 here <3

You’re starting to wonder if you’ve gone insane.

Jackson has been somber for the past several months—mourning all the losses after the walls were breached and focusing on rebuilding. The makeshift hospital was still as busy as ever, and every time word spread that another person had succumbed to their injuries, the weight that seemed to blanket over the town grew heavier, quieter.

Luckily, you hadn’t lost anybody you were particularly close with. Even then, you’re not sure if you would even have the time to mourn them with how hard the council was pushing any and all able-bodied people to help in the rebuild. Your body was sore and hands were covered in blisters as you helped carry logs of wood to the main street.

So, you’re not exactly sure why you’re about to start drooling, heart thudding in your chest and pulsing between your legs, as you watch Jesse lift a sledgehammer to pound a wooden pillar into the ground.

You stop in your tracks, arms aching despite the small bundle of wood you’re carrying, as you stare, absolutely transfixed.

Jesse always ran warm, warmer than you, so despite the chill in the spring air, he was wearing a short-sleeved shirt that showcased his broad shoulders and thick arms. You watch as his muscles bulge with every lift of the sledgehammer, the prominent veins running along his forearms drawing your attention. The buttons of his shirt were undone, providing you a delicious peak of his chest, as if he was teasing you.

Sweat was already starting to form along his hairline, causing a few strands to start sticking to his skin. His pants were tight, unfairly hugging his hips, his thick thighs straining through the fabric. If you strain your ears hard enough, now able to discern the low cadence of his voice through a crowd, you could detect the quiet grunts with every lift of the sledgehammer.

You blame the fact that you both have been too busy with the repairs and Jesse being added to the council for the way molten heat begins to pool at your core, fingers twitching with the rampant desire to get your hands on him.

The only time you’ve been able to spend with Jesse lately was when he would crawl into your bed late at night, usually when you were already asleep. Sometimes you were able to wake up before he had to leave and would only have time to press your face into his chest, inhaling and memorizing his clean scent. Other times he’d already be gone, leaving a short and concise note but with a crooked little heart next to his name.

So you’re a little sexually frustrated, okay?

“You alright?”

You startle out of your thoughts, tearing your gaze away from your boyfriend continuing to grunt extremely inappropriately, to Tommy sitting on the sidelines while he waited for his turn.

He’s watching you with a hint of a smirk tugging at his lips despite the weariness physically weighing on his shoulders.

Tommy’s nice, always has been, and seemed to be around you more lately after he found out you and Jesse were a thing. You’re not exactly sure why, but you had found yourself spending more time with him and Maria, Ellie, and even Joel. You were starting to feel like you had an actual group of people that cared about you.

His question seems to have caught Jesse’s attention. He stops working, resting the sledgehammer onto the ground and leaning against it, raising an eyebrow at you.

Jesse’s protective, always has been, but even moreso in the past several weeks. He says it’s because he knows you and how you’re a little reckless, impulsive, but you know that’s not entirely true.

You feel heat crawl up your neck at being caught ogling, and you don’t even bother to tiptoe around Tommy like you know other people have been doing after Joel’s near-death experience when you mutter a “shut up” and stalk away.

You hear Tommy laugh. The sound makes you smile, your shoulders loosening up because he’s been so stressed lately with the rebuild and worrying about Joel still in the hospital.

You ignore the weight of Jesse’s gaze digging into your back.

-

You’re unfortunately tasked with clearing out some additional rubble from a nearby building, which means your entire morning is spent with Jesse’s grunting and groaning within earshot as he worked only several feet away.

It’s a cruel form of torture, and you almost drop at least 2 pieces of concrete on your feet because you were too enraptured by the way you could see his muscles shift underneath his shirt.

By the time your group breaks for lunch, you’re shifting uncomfortably due to the wetness gathering in your panties and brushing against your thighs. The ache in your shoulders and hips pales in comparison to the ache in your core as Jesse sidles up next to you silently.

“Ready?” he asks, slightly out of breath and brushing his hair away from his forehead with his wrist. He’s so hot, it’s really unfair.

It was Jesse’s suggestion to take a lunch together whenever you could if he wasn’t busy. Your heart had thumped an erratic and concerning pace when he brought it up, his voice low and tinged with an endearing sort of bashfulness.

It had taken you awhile but you’ve come to find out that Jesse was more affectionate in private than in public. He liked to spend time with you, enjoyed being in your presence and sitting in silence. He didn’t have much dating experience besides Dina, who often took the reins in their relationship, so him making an effort to make time for you despite his busy schedule was new to the both of you.

“Yep,” you say, hoping he doesn’t notice the rasp in your voice, and steps in time with him as you head to your house only a couple blocks away.

Jesse has only been able to join you for lunch a handful of times, often having to give you a regretful smile before being pulled away for an emergency council meeting or to help another person on the other side of town. You didn’t mind, you knew he was busy, knew that this was what to be expected after he had told you that night that he was talking to Maria about being added to the council.

You admired him and his tenacity for wanting to help the people of Jackson. He was undoubtedly the most responsible person in your age group and it only made sense that he got added since he was friendly, even had a golden boy reputation.

You knew that he couldn’t talk about what happened during their meetings, even to you, and you honestly didn’t have much to talk about besides the fact that your neighbor’s dog slept on your porch last night.

So you two walked in comfortable silence, his bare arm brushing against your sleeve every few paces. Even through your multiple layers, the warmth of him still bled through the sweaters and was doing nothing to quell the building heat underneath your skin. The smell of him and his sweat, mixing with the smoky burning of wood nearby, was starting to make you feel faint.

By the time you two make it to your house, you were one second away from falling to your knees and scrambling to unbuckle his belt to tug his pants down and take him in your mouth.

It’s when the front door closes behind you when Jesse asks “You okay?”

You’re toeing off your boots and tugging off your jacket to throw over the rusty coatrack by the door before making your way to the kitchen, already preoccupied by trying to remember what sandwich ingredients you could scrounge together. “Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?”

“You just seemed distracted today.”

You have no idea. “I’m just tired today.”

Jesse hums, and you think you’re off the hook and can focus on rushing to make a sandwich because Tommy does not give you guys enough time for lunch, when he’s suddenly pressing up against you, his large hands resting on your hips and mouth inches from your ear as he mutters “So that’s why you kept staring at me today? Because you were distracted?”

You huff out a laugh, setting down your butter knife, because you’re honestly not surprised. Jesse was possibly the most perceptive person you knew, of course he would notice that you were ogling him all morning. You knew at this point, there was no harm in hiding anymore.

You lean back into his chest, sturdy and warm, as he noses at the nape of your neck. “And what if I was?”

“Just making sure.” And then he’s spinning you around until the edge of the counter digs into the small of your back and pressing his mouth to yours.

He’s gentle, always gentle, his hands skimming up your sides reverently, as if worried you were about to disappear into thin air. His lips are unbearably soft, maybe a little chapped, as you kiss him back and part your lips with a sigh. He tastes like the stale coffee from this morning and it’s the best thing you’ve had all day.

You loop your arms around his broad shoulders, tugging him closer until the hard line of his body was pressed up against yours. You card your fingers through the tufts of hair at the nape of his neck, humming at the sensation of being trapped by his body, and experimentally tug.

Jesse lets out a low groan, muffled against your mouth, and then his large hands slide down to your ass to squeeze once before suddenly lifting you up.

You squeal against his lips, causing him to smile, and your legs instinctually come to wrap around his waist despite already being seated on the counter. The coldness seeping through your jeans shocks you and provides a delicious contrast with Jesse’s heated body against yours.

When you separate from each other, you’re panting into each other’s open mouths. Jesse leans his forehead against yours, hands on your thighs, and from this proximity, you’re mesmerized by the fan of his eyelashes against his cheekbones as he catches his breath and the way his hair tickled your face.

When he opens his eyes to peer into yours, your breath gets stuck in your throat along with something else you can’t name at his hungry gaze, eyes dark and pupils wide.

Jesse has always been able to say so much with just his eyes; a sharp warning that Maria was on her way to give you a stern talking to, warm fondness when you were telling him about what you bartered for today at the market, or primal desire whenever you stripped and crawled into bed with him.

“Are you okay with skipping lunch today?” he asks, voice a low timbre that sends a shiver running down your spine. His hands, rough with the day’s work, knead your thighs through your jeans, and the silent strength in his thick fingers and the flex of the muscles in his biceps has you licking your lips. You could feel the heat of his cock, hard and confined in his jeans, against your inner thigh.

“Are you going to eat something else?”

Jesse rolls his eyes, an exasperated smile tugging at his lips that he tries to hide. It has you beaming. He squeezes your inner thighs a bit harder, as if in a warning. “You’re unbelievable, you know that?”

“Yeah, but you love me,” you say, before you could think better of it.

It’s slight, but you can tell he pauses by the way his breath catches and his hands falter. A rush of panic rises up your throat and you say, as nonchalantly as you could, “As long as you sneak me something from the food hall later?”

You hope he can’t tell that you’re holding your breath, nearly praying that he doesn’t point out your slip up.

His eyes soften, causing a sudden weakness in your chest, before he’s reaching out to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. “Deal.”

You give him a shaky smile. You know he sees right through you.

But it doesn’t matter, because he’s leaning in to kiss you again, harder, rougher, as if he can’t find the words he wants to say and lets his desire for you to do the talking for him.

You melt into him, you always do, and when you press your palm against his chest to feel the steady rhythm of his heart, you’ve never felt so safe in your entire life.

“I guess we better hurry up then,” he whispers, giving you a slight smirk, before his hands expertly unbuttons your jeans, tugs down the zipper, and then helps you tug them down all the way off your legs.

You nod rapidly, causing him to chuckle breathily. You reach out for him to grab at his arms, pulling him in to kiss you again.

He obliges, because he always does when you peer up at him with glazed over eyes, as if he’s already fucked you.

You hum against his mouth, the ache in your pussy starting to become unbearable. You’re barely aware of his hands running down your bare thighs, causing goosebumps to rise, before he’s lifting your legs up by the knees to prop your feet up on the counter.

The new position has you spread open and exposed, dimly aware of the way you could feel your panties sticking to your pussy. You’re expecting him to rub his thick fingers alongside your seam through the fabric, coaxing a breathy whimper from your lips, before tugging it aside to thrust a finger inside of your soaking entrance.

You don’t expect him to pull away. You definitely don’t expect him to fall to his knees, face achingly close to your center, while his hands squeeze at the flesh of your thighs before prying them apart.

“Oh,” you exhale, eyes wide, as your hands scramble to the dull edge of the counter as your mind reels at the heady image of Jesse, sweet and courteous, on his knees. His face inches from your pussy.

“Fuck, baby, you’re already so wet,” he whispers, as if in awe. His right hand comes to trace the edge of your panties, a plain baby blue color, while he stares unblinkingly at the definite wet spot at the center.

“I was just kidding, you don’t actually have to—”

“I want to,” he says, and when he looks up at you, your chest aches at the tender affection clear on his face. “Is that okay?”

And it’s not like he hasn’t gone down on you before. In fact, it seems like he tries to eat you out any chance he got, which you were definitely not complaining about. You still shivered when you thought about the first time he ate you out, the first time you ever came from another man’s mouth on you, and how your thighs trembled as you squeezed around his head. You swear you had thought you died and gone to heaven.

Now, however…

“We’ve just had a long morning; you know I sweat a lot…” you trail off. It sounds weak, even to your own ears.

Another exasperated sigh, though this time Jesse doesn’t even bother hiding the fond smile. “You know I don’t care about that.”

But he waits. He stays on his knees, thumbs tracing comforting and distracting circles against your inner thighs, and he just waits. For your permission.

You don’t think your heart can swell any further before it’s bound to burst. “Okay.”

Jesse’s smile grows, making him look utterly sweet and boyish, before leaning in to press an open-mouthed kiss on your inner thigh, and then another, and then another.

“Don’t worry,” he mumbles, as his kisses begin moving inwards to your aching cunt.

You exhale unsteadily, thighs already starting to shake from holding this position and the sensation of his mouth on you. The scratch of his slightly chapped lips, the damp kisses he leaves that cool as soon as he moves to the next inch of skin, and his hands that have moved to your thighs and taking some of your weight, has you nearly begging for him to hurry up.

As if he can read your mind, he pauses, his mouth hovering over the crotch of your panties that have undoubtedly melded to your pussy.

“Besides,” Jesse whispers, and the barest brush of his lips against the fabric has you shivering. You resist the urge to card your fingers through his hair to tug his face closer. “I have to take care of my girl, right?”

And then he’s pressing his open mouth to your cunt, deliberately nowhere close to your clit, but the action still wretches a gasp out of you. His mouth and his breath are hot as he takes his time, as if warming you up despite the fact that you two do not have enough time for this.

But he just looks so pretty, you think as you glance down at him. His eyes were shut, savoring you, brow relaxed as if he wouldn’t be anywhere else in the world besides between your thighs.

“Jesse..” you sigh, slightly frustrated, as you thread your fingers through his hair to push out of his face. Your hips jolt forward, impatient.

He opens his eyes at that and the heat in his expression has you wanting to scoot forward on the counter until your ass was hanging off, if only to get closer to him. He cocks his eyebrow at you and mutters something suspiciously like you’re lucky that I like you so much.

Before you could question him, he’s parting his lips and then laving his tongue over you, flat and over your clit through the fabric of your panties.

You let out a soft moan, your hand on his hair tightening. The action causes Jesse to groan, muffled between your thighs, and then he’s diving in fully, pressing sloppy wet kisses against your core.

It’s heavenly, especially after not being touched for several weeks, but it’s still not enough as your hips shift forward to chase the feeling of his warm mouth.

His hands on your thighs tighten, another warning, before he’s finally dipping his thumb into the crotch of your panties to pull it aside and exposing your soaking cunt to him.

You don’t even have time to gasp at the rush of cool air against your warm skin before his mouth is on you again, tongue parting your puffy folds as he licks a stripe up your seam.

A shaky moan falls from your lips, sheer ecstasy at finally being touched without some stupid fabric in the way dripping into your veins and making you drop your head back. Your thighs begin to shake from where you still have your feet propped up on the counter, spreading you open further.

Jesse has always taken his time with you, steady and focused and knowing exactly what to do to have you unraveling in his mouth. He gathers the wetness increasingly dripping from your entrance, tasting you and groaning, spurring him on even further to press his face harder against your cunt. His strong nose prods at your clit and it has you choking on a gasp as heat begins to curl up your spine.

He traces along your folds with a firm tongue, the lewd noises from his mouth on you filling your ears, before circling deliberately around your clit.

Your mouth drops open, eyes rolling back, and you blame the fact that it’s been way too long since you’ve had his mouth on you for the way your orgasm rapidly approaches.

“Fuck, Jesse,” you gasp, head lolling over your shoulder as you stare, glassy-eyed, as he meets your gaze from where he’s kneeling in your fucking kitchen with his mouth on your pussy. “I’m—"

He closes his eyes and presses his face further against your core, tongue flicking your clit back and forth at a relentless pace, while one of his hands leaves your thighs to pull your folds apart and circle at your entrance. He immediately pushes it in, easily despite how thick his fingers were due to how slick you were, and the pressure has you letting out a high-pitched whine.

Your thighs were absolutely aching, feet starting to slip from the sweat forming all over your body and getting onto the counter, so you finally let your legs fall forward to place your thighs on his wide shoulders.

Jesse takes it in stride, as he does most things, and begins to suck earnestly at your clit while his finger thrusts into you, working and stretching you open so you were ready for his cock.

The thought of him fucking you, bending you over in the open air of the kitchen, has you squeezing your thighs around Jesse’s head and coming hard into his mouth. You writhe on the counter, hips bucking, but his firm grip on your thigh keeps you steady as he works you through it, tongue gentler as he runs it flat against your clit.

He doesn’t let up, that asshole, when your thighs start twitching around his head from the overstimulation. You let out a strangled noise, brain feeling foggy, as you tug at his hair to pull him up and away from your spent pussy.

When he’s face to face with you, the sight of your slick covering the entire bottom half of his face has you clenching around his finger where he still has it slowly fucking in and out of you. His eyes are tender, if not a little wild, and there’s an unbearably sexy smirk on his swollen lips, his tongue coming out to swipe around his mouth. As if he couldn’t get enough of you.

You’re surging forward, capturing his lips with yours, and the taste of yourself on his tongue has you moaning into his mouth, wrapping your thighs around his hips to pull him closer against you.

He eagerly reciprocates, tongue swiping in your mouth while he ruts against your inner thigh. You could feel the heat of his cock and how hard he was through his jeans, and you’re sure if you looked down, you’d be able to spot where his precum has bled through the fabric.

He begins to trail kisses alongside your jawline until he’s nipping at the spot underneath your ear that has your knees weak. Your own slick on his face, smearing against your cheeks, has your face heating up. “Ready to take my cock, baby?”

“God, yes.” And you’re just about to drop down off the counter so you could bend over and wag your bare ass in his face, before he stops you with a firm hand on your thigh.

Before you could ask him, he’s tugging you forward until your ass was hanging off the counter and begins unbuckling his belt. His eyes find yours, ablaze with hunger, as he rasps in a low voice, “I want to see you.”

Your heart thuds painfully in your chest. You don’t know what to say, what you could say, so you don’t say anything at all and instead lift the hem of your shirt and off, tossing it haphazardly to the floor.

Jesse groans at that, eyes immediately drawn to your breasts and the way your nipples instantly pebble in the cold air. He mutters an expletive before dropping his head to wrap his plush lips around one, as if he couldn’t help himself.

You let out a soft sigh, arousal already starting to flare up so soon after you came in his mouth, and you bring your arms to wrap around his shoulders, your knees to wrap around his waist. He’s so fucking broad, strong, unbearably handsome, yet his warm mouth on you is gentle as he swirls his tongue around your nipple.

He releases your swollen bud with a lewd pop, sitting up straighter so he could lean his forehead against yours as he shoves his jeans and briefs down until they bunch up around his thighs. His cock springs free, slapping against his black shirt and leaving a trail of sticky precum. Your mouth waters when he wraps a hand around the base of his cock, head flushed a pretty pink that was begging to be tasted.

He swipes the head between your folds, smearing his precum around and mixing with your slick that was steadily leaking out of you, before notching at your entrance and glancing up at you. You give him a slight nod, barely a tilt of your chin, and then he’s pushing into you slowly.

The stretch is immediate, his finger thick but not thick enough, and it’s bordering on too much despite how needy you felt, nearly aching for his cock. Your hands grip his shoulders, his muscles tensing a small comfort as he strains not to immediately fuck into you.

“Fuck,” Jesse groans, once he’s buried all the way inside of you. “Been thinking about this pussy all day.”

You let out a pathetic whine, hoping he would get the message you were trying to convey that you were running out of time but also he needed to hurry up and fuck you already.

“I know, I know,” he mutters, tone nearly condescending enough that had you clenching around him. He huffs a laugh at that, a hand coming to rest at the small of your back where the counter was digging into you and hikes your legs up higher on his hips.

The new angle has his cock pushing in deeper, and the low, drawn-out groan that you emit takes you by surprise.

“There she is,” he coos. He draws his hips back, carefully, and then he’s fucking back into you hard, punching a gasp out of your chest.

He finally starts a steady pace, one that has your body nearly going limp in his arms and your eyes rolling back in your head. The flesh of his skin slapping against yours and the lewd noises of your soaked cunt swallowing his cock with each thrust fills your ears, broken with Jesse’s heavy grunts.

You’re not even aware of the depraved sounds you were making—breathy whines and strangled noises each time he plunges into you, filling you up over and over again.

“Fuck, your pussy feels so,” he grinds into you, barely swiveling his hips yet causing you to gasp wetly as your hand comes down to claw at his chest. “Fucking good.”

He shuffles closer to you, his hips flush against the back of your thighs, and you thank God that you conveniently moved into an old house with low counters as he hovers over you, broad and solid.

Jesse’s hair continuously falls into his eyes, causing him to swipe at it several times in annoyance. When you follow his gaze, you notice with a thrill that he’s staring at where your bodies meet, and you don’t blame him.

The sight of his cock, shiny with your slick, as he continued to pump into you, your walls clenching and unclenching with every thrust, was heady. Filthy, even. It has your skin growing hot, pressure tightly building again despite feeling like you didn’t have the brain capacity to come again.

The hem of his shirt flutters in your eyeline and Jesse swiftly tugs at it until the fabric is bunched around underneath his armpits, exposing his abs and the way they flexed every time his hips snapped against you.

You lick your lips as your hand drops from where you were clutching at the fabric of his shirt to skim along his abs, sensing the way his muscles shifted and tightened.

God, was he sexy. Broad chest, strong arms, and a thick cock that he knew how to use that had you nearly drooling every time he walked by? You’re not sure how you got so fucking lucky.

“Always take my cock so good, baby,” he grunts, eyes meeting yours before dropping down to the way your tits were bouncing with each thrust. His free hand comes to grope at one of your breasts, squeezing and thumbing at your nipple, and drinking in the way you arch your back into his touch as best as you could with his other hand still protecting your back.

“Jesse, fuck—” you gasp as he picks up a desperate pace. You could tell he was close, most likely been on the brink as soon as he pushed himself inside of you and felt your walls clench around him, but he was holding back. Waiting for you.

His hand drops from your breast to snake in between your legs, causing your breath to get caught in your chest. The steady amount of slick dripping from you made his thumb glide easily in between your folds before circling precisely around your clit.

It’s nearly instantaneous the way your body locks up, thighs tightening from where they’re still hitched around his hips and your hand stilling where you were lightly tracing the contours of his stomach. Your mouth falls open, eyes glassy as you meet Jesse’s.

He curses and then he’s maneuvering you closer, grabbing a hold of your thighs and pushing them back until your knees were pressed into your chest. If possible, his cock slides in deeper, the weight of him as he hovers you becoming heavier. It’s all so fucking good, you’re nearly dizzy from how fast that familiar tightness begins to coil in the pit of your stomach.

“I always take care of my girl, don’t I, baby?” he pants into your open mouth, face merely inches away from yours. He’s relentless, fucking you and splitting you open over and over, you have no choice but to take it.

“Yes, yes—” you gasp, mind going foggy. Your arms come up to wrap around the back of your knees, hand grasping weakly at his forearm. You were so fucking close.

“That’s it, come on,” he whispers raggedly. The low timbre of his voice, smooth and breathless, and the intensity of his gaze melts into you. “That’s my pretty girl.”

Something cold and sharp was digging into your lower back, and when you blink down, you notice that Jesse’s jeans were still bunched around his thighs. The sight of him still in his clothes while you were completely bare and exposed on your kitchen counter had squeezing your eyes shut, fire burning underneath your skin.

You cry out as your orgasm finally hits you with a particular hard brush of his thumb against your clit. You feel yourself clench around him, causing him to bite out a curse, as your hips stutter against his and your thighs tremble.

That’s all that Jesse needs as his thrusts falter, turning more erratic before he’s burying his face into your neck, jerking forward and coming into you with a low, broken groan. His cock twitches inside of you, making you let out a whimper as you can feel his hot come fill you up and threaten to drip out of your aching pussy.

Both of you lay there for a moment, catching your breaths, before Jesse tilts his head to brush his lips against your jawline. Your hair flutters with every exhale. “Are you okay?”

You nod, still feeling dazed, as your throat swallows from how dry it was. “Never better.”

“Good.” He snakes his arms around you so you’re sitting up alongside him when he leans back, placing you gently until you were sitting with your bare ass on the counter.

When he steps back, hissing as his softening cock slides out of you, you let out a soft moan at the sudden emptiness. He quickly leans over you to grab a fresh dishrag, tenderly cleaning you up before tossing the rag to the side.

When you blink up at him, there’s a slight flush to his neck, sweat gathering at his hairline. He shakes out his hand that was placed behind you, shielding you from the sharp edge of the countertop, and you feel a surge of affection when you notice the red lines adorning the top of his hand.

You take his hand in yours to rub at, the roughness of his skin contrasting against yours. “You didn’t have to do that.”

Jesse leans in, nosing at your hairline before pressing a chaste kiss to your temple. “I said I’d take care of you, didn’t I?”

You flush at the words, feeling a sudden spark of arousal between your thighs.

Jesse feels the way you attempt to clench your thighs together, still on either side of his hips, and he laughs softly. He steps back to get dressed, easily, since he literally only needed to pull up his pants, however you stay rooted to the spot, taking the opportunity to admire him.

When he notices you’re making no move to get dressed, he rolls his eyes fondly. He stretches a hand out to you, helping you jump down from the countertop but also because he knew how weak in the legs you get after he fucks your brains out. And he’s right, as you nearly plant face first onto the floor when your knees buckle as soon as you step down.

Of course he catches you with a hand around your waist, his thick fingers warm against your skin. He tugs you in close, nearly tucking you into his chest, and the fabric of his clothes against your bare skin causes you to shiver. He starts to rub his hand up and down your side, naturally assuming you were cold.

Handsome, strong, protective, and affectionate. You’re going to keep him forever.

“Come on you, I still have to get you something from the mess hall.”

[mydrink-n-my2step]

YANDERE FARMER x TWITCH STREAMER READER

A/N: Howdy! I'm back again with a new series. My first ever fanfic series. I hope y'all enjoy, strap that cowboy of yours down and read this.

TW//: Smut, Bathtub masturbation, original character has you jorkin' his peanits, age gap (OC is 20, you are around 25), knives, spiders, teasing

5.8k words

“Fuck!” 

Today was supposed to be a lovely day for you. After you had gained 2,000 followers on Twitch, you wanted to celebrate your win with your number one cheerleader: your grandmother. She had already bought you a celebratory cake and some balloons for your little party. Followed by a little gift from her. She had a charm bracelet from James Avery crafted for you with a gaming console and a little heart that says “I love my granddaughter!”

You had left her house over 45 minutes ago. She warned you about leaving at night into the woods. However, you reassured her that you would be fine. The car ride home was somewhat okay, until you saw the car battery light flash. Your car had alerted you as well. You were scared because you were in the middle of nowhere. The nearest Autozone was an hour and thirty minutes away. Shit! 

A minute later, you could hear your car sputtering like crazy. It scared you when the car stopped on its tracks, leaving a tire imprint in the dirt road. You punched your car horn in a fit of rage, unaware of the fact that you might let someone or something dangerous know where you were. You retracted, remembering that your ex-boyfriend is a mechanic, and somehow you still had his phone number. Though it was a rocky relationship, you two did come to terms with remaining friends, so having his phone number seemed normal. 

Okay, you dialed his phone number, waiting for him to pick up. “Hello?” He responds, sounding tired. You felt bad for calling him at such a late time. Though on the other end, he was busy bumping uglies with another girl he had found at a bar. “Hey, could you come help me? I know it’s on such short notice, but my car broke down in the middle of the woods.” For a moment, the other line went silent. Then, you heard someone click their tongue. “Girl you know how far you are? I’m not going to leave my bed at 11:34 at night to pick your dumbass up!” 

“Well fuck you to then!” You said out loud for him to hear you. Then you heard a giggle on the other line. “You wouldn’t help your friend because you’re too busy fucking some other chick!” 

“We’re not friends Y/n, I don’t befriend my ex.” was all he said before hanging up on you. Ouch! You wanted to rip your steering wheel of and throw it across the dirt road. Break something or whatever! You were so fucking pissed off at the piece of shit man. But not for long. 

Behind you were blaring white lights from a truck that was coming by, you could hear the bass that was boosted, the person behind the wheel was playing Luke Bryan. You were in enemy territory. Pack it up.

Or so you thought? When the person parked in front of you and hopped out of his red and white 1990 Ford-250. Fear instantaneously overwhelmed you. You, a girl in the woods in a broken down car, with a random hooded man walking to it ever so slowly like he was plotting for your death! Okay Y/n, calm down. He’s probably wondering why you’re blocking the road. Maybe he is here to help you, be more optimistic–

Knock Knock! 

The man’s gentle knocks still startled you out of your deep thinking. You were scared to roll your window down and talk to him. But the fear decimated a bit when he removed his hoodie. Only his hat covered his eyes and dirty blonde hair, which looked like it wasn’t taken cared of, but who cares. 

“Are you lost?” He spoke, however his voice was faint from the window and the sound of his loud ass truck. You furrowed your eyebrows, you were seriously about to cuss this man out right now over your stupid ass ex. The man pointed his fingers down, indicating that he needed you to roll your window down. So you gave up, holding onto the pocket knife you had stolen from your grandma underneath the wheel by your knees, preparing to use it against him. 

“Can I help you?” 

“I um, see that your car has broken down. Do you feel comfortable coming with me while I tow your car to my place? I can get her fixed for free.” 

“Uh, no, that’s ok, sir. I have a tow truck coming for me right now.” You lied, and it was pretty obvious too.

“You sure ‘bout that? Because there are no tow services for 65 miles onward. And nobody normally gets lost in our neck of the woods. Please, you don’t have to lie to me, just let me tow your car, I can get it fixed.” 

You sigh, rolling your eyes. He had noticed and was close to saying something but bit back his tongue. You exit the car, he held his hand out for you to take, hesitant, you looked at him. He seems to be genuine with his gestures. He took it anyway, walking you to his pickup truck to sit in while he hooks your car up to his truck. Once he was done, he climbed into his truck. 

Something about this man calmed your nerves a bit, but at the same time, you wouldn’t let your guard down. Your left hand was still holding onto that pocket knife you took from Grandma’s. Your eyes wouldn’t leave his eyes, his auburn eyes that were finally visible and locked on the road ahead. You, a southern girl, weren’t too shy around country folk, however, you felt intimidated by this hulk of a man. You assumed he was around 6 feet 4, you were pretty tall yourself, and he seemed taller as well.

“What’s on your mind? You’re staring an awfully lot.” He asks, glancing at you for a brief moment before returning his attention to the dirt path. “Oh, um, nothing,” you said, placing the knife by your leg. It was pretty stupid of you to do so, and it was proven stupid when he hit a bump on the road, causing your knife to slice through your pants and skin accidentally. It wasn’t gnarly, but it was enough to bleed through your clothes.

“Shit,” you swore, causing him to stop on his tracks. The tall man faced you, noticing your hand was covered in blood. He sighed, unbuckling his seatbelt and exiting the truck. A few seconds later, you saw him on your side of the truck. He had opened the passenger door, and then he pulled his hoodie over his head, also taking his plain white t-shirt off. He folded it vertically. Wrapping it around your thigh and tying a knot around your thigh. When he was finished, he shut the door on you before you could thank him. He hopped into his seat for the last time, sighing in with an attitude in his tone. As if he told you himself that he wasn’t going to make any more stops until he made it to his house. 

The minute he turned his way out the dirt pavement, he pulled into a driveway that led him to his garage. He had pressed a button that opened his garage. When the garage was opened, he drove straight inside, stopping his tracks when he hit something. The taller man had switched his ignition off, taking his seatbelt off to exit his car. You reached for the door and attempted to open it, unbeknownst to you, it had a child safety lock on it. Now you felt like an idiot for deciding to hitch a ride with him. Though you thought it was the end, the end of you, you heard someone open the door to the house: A child.

“Elizabeth, help me unload the trunk.”

“I won’t help unless you say please,” the little girl said, crossing her arms and turning her head away from her likely brother. He rolled his eyes, scoffing at her, “Please, Eliza?” 

The girl finally complied, going to the back of the truck to help. When you would see them again, Elizabeth would make eye contact with you. She tilted her head with her eyebrow arched up. “Tannie, who is this girl in your truck tryna get out?” 

“Fuck!” the tall man cursed, running to let you out. “You’ll have to forgive me, I have the safety lock on for Douglas.”

“Oh, is Douglas your son?”

“Um, you could say that.” Coincidentally, Elizabeth had opened the door, allowing a big dog to run towards you as you were climbing out of the truck. You nearly screamed when it barked at you. “Dougie, don’t scare our guest like that!” Elizabeth scolded, rubbing her free hand through Douglas’s blue and white fur. Douglas had twirled around and rubbed his wet snout against your hand. He wanted you to pet him. So you did, and were smiling at your action, lying on the floor to allow you to rub his belly. 

“Oh, hi sweetie, it’s nice to meet you–um,”

“That’s Douglas, our Blue Heeler.” 

“Ah, ok, I thought you had kids.” 

“Tanner? Kids? No, he’s too shy around people,” the girl teased, laughing at her brother while he was glaring at her. “Elizabeth, get inside!” The tall man named Tanner said, walking off to tote your bags into his house. You hesitated to follow him inside. Not knowing what your next move was. Would you leave and find someone to take you home? Would you offer to sleep in your car instead of the house?

“Hey, whatcha standing there for? We have to get inside before the coyotes come getcha.” He teased, keeping the door propped open as he closed the garage and left. You had no other option, so your feet started moving, leading you inside the sibling’s house.  

“Tanner, where the hell have you been?” A raspy old man’s voice spoke on your left. You turned around to see who it was. Another tall man who, this time, looks roughly in his mid-fifties, had black hair with silver streaks on the side, a thick moustache, and a jaw that screamed Stan Smith looked you up and down. Tanner set your bags on his side, going up to his father, whispering something to him. You noticed how tall the father was, he was merely a few inches shorter than his son. Elizabeth tapped your shoulders, she told you she would take your items into the guest room. You were relieved when you heard “the guest room”, your stressed-out mind finding some peace. 

When Tanner was done talking to the older man, said man had walked up to you, apologizing, “My apologies my dear, you’ll have to forgive me, my son here often brings his friends over without my knowledge, but I see that you’re a hitchhiker looking for somewhere to stay while your car get fixed?” You nod, “Not much of a speaker, aren’t ya?”

“I’m very sorry, sir, it’s just been a long day, it’s a little scary being alone on the road in the woods.” You respond, taking in his features and trying to size him up a bit.

“I understand, it’s pretty dangerous out here. Hey Tanner, take the rest of this lady’s bags into the guest room.” The older man walked next to you and placed his arm around your upper back, leading you into his kitchen. He directed you into the dining room, where you assumed his wife was in, couponing. “Amelia, we have company.” He says to his wife. Amelia looked at you, a smile across her mouth. 

“Hi there, stranger, nice to meet you!” She said, coming off as teasing. She had stood up, taking you in her embrace. Not wanting to leave her hanging, your arms snake around her back. “What’s your name, dear?” Amelia asks.“It’s Y/n, Y/n L/n.” You heard a gasp behind you. The older adults looked to see who it was, but you didn’t seem to care. 

“Son, while you’re over there gasping, why don’t you direct Y/n to her guest room. My name is Dale, if you need anything, Tanner will be willing to assist you. We’re going to turn in, have a good night’s rest Y/n.” Dale says, leading his wife upstairs. Leaving you with Tanner, who only stood there with his mouth wide open and eyes dilated. 

“Are you *insert Twitch Streamer name*?”

“Yeah, is there something wrong?”

“I love watching your streams!” He spoke, walking next to you.

“It’s an honor to meet you finally. You got me through high school!”

“High school? I just started streaming a year ago. How old are you?” You jokingly ask, but in all seriousness, you genuinely believe he was up there in his twenties. 

“I’m 20!” 

“20?” He nods, taking your hands into his bigger, callous hands. 

“Yes, I’m 20. It may not seem like it, though. Y’know, you’re entertaining to watch.” He says, taking up the space between the two of you, his amusement at finally meeting his favorite Twitch streamer was making you uncomfortable. 

“I’m sorry, I think I should lie down. Where’s y’all’s guest room?”

“It’s down the hall, but you don’t have to sleep in that dingy room. You can sleep in my room, I’ll sleep on the couch.”

“Oh I don’t think that’s necessary, I can sleep in the-“

“It has termites!” He spoke in a hasty tone, he obviously wanted you to sleep with him.

“No, look, I’ll be fine in the guest room. I will only be staying for one night anyway, then I’ll be out of y’all’s hair.”

“Ok, good night then,”

When you entered the family’s guest room, you surveyed their overly decorated room. It had a cute aesthetic that you felt comfortable with as it reminded you of your Grandmother. From the mahogany vanity with cute family collections, to the family portraits that hung on the ribboned wall. Her house is nicely decorated too. One of the first things you had done was remove your bra and stow it in your suitcase, then, you got undressed by their huge mahogany vanity. It was not rare for you to admire yourself in the mirror while you are bare. In fact, it has become a quiet ritual—those still, in-between moments when the world faded and the only gaze upon you was your own. Sometimes, it felt like a kind of worship, not of vanity, but of presence. Of being. You enjoyed seeing yourself in mirrors—not just to catch a glimpse of your shape or the curve of a shoulder, but to witness yourself as you truly are, unguarded and real. And only your eyes could see the true you, not another person. 

    Until—you noticed a peeping Tom entering your room. Why haven’t you closed the door? 

Douglas entered your room with a tennis ball in his mouth. When you acknowledged him, you immediately shut the door behind him. Maybe it was ok for the dog to see you, it’s only a dog. And…on a second thought—maybe not; you hurriedly rummage through your suitcase for your nightgown. Instantly throwing it on. Douglas hopped on your bed, still chewing on his ball. You sat beside him, running your hand through his coat. Looking back at the vanity mirror, you saw that the door was ajar, seeing a pair of auburn eyes watch you watch him.

“Tanner, what are you doing?”

“I umm—-was looking for Douglas. He ran off from my room. There you go Dougie!” He lied, taking the wet ball from him. Douglas cried, rubbing his wet nose against you, signaling that you tell Tanner to give him his ball. “Hey, why don’t you give your puppy his ball back?” Tanner obliged, but only threw the ball out of the room, the two of you watched Douglas scramble through the door, running as if he was a Scooby Doo character. 

“I hope you know, I’ve been a subscriber since you were at only 100 subscribers.” He spoke with pride on his tongue. You only cringed at his words, but immediately changed your face when he looked at you with those puppy dog eyes. 

“Thank you so much, I appreciate your honesty.” You half fibbed. Cheesing so he wouldn’t see how uncomfortable you were. You really wished at that moment a country bumpkin had picked you up instead of  him. “Could we stay up, I want to learn more about you.” He asks, leaning his shoulder against yours before resting his head against yours. “No, actually, it’s pretty late. Why don’t we continue this tomorrow morning when you’re fixing my car.” Tanner sighs in a disappointed tone. He got off of the bed, walking to the door abruptly. He bid his goodbye and told you to sleep well, you told him the same, peeling the covers to crawl in bed then switching the lights. 

A little over three hours later, Tanner couldn’t sleep. He had stayed up watching your previous streams on his laptop in his boxers. His fingers dangerously close to his groin as he watches you play your most recent game, Class of ‘09. Normally, he’s not a fan of vulgar content. Matter of fact, he despises vulgar, dark content, often watching your more tame content. As a streamer, you always make sure to check on your 200 viewers, making sure they aren't uncomfortable. One time, he had replied to your comment section, after you had asked what everyone was doing. Tanner mentioned that he was milking his cows while watching you. You, not believing him, merely laughed. He didn’t find it funny, though he loved seeing you laugh, even at him. 

    When he watches your streams, he feels as though you and him are the only people in the chat. You’re talking to him and ONLY him. As a fan, he felt prideful of having you at his house, sleeping in his guest room too. And maybe you will warm up to the idea of sleeping in his room. You will have to, he’ll make sure of it. Growing bored, he decided to go downstairs to pop his head in your room. Seeing your body rise and lower as you sleep. He wanted a closer look of you, so he creeped inside, making sure to avoid bumping into anything. As he walked closer, he felt a stir in his boxers. Oh God, not this!

He had instantly turned around, walking back into the light. Unaware of you turning to your side to face him. “Tanner?” you spoke, your morning breath prominent. He turned to look at you, you switched the bedside lamp on. Now you were scared again.

“What the hell are you doing in here?” 

“I-I, I left my…book in here. That’s why.” He lied straight to your face. He picked up his book, a family bible that was older than you and him combined. You were too tired to argue with him, so you switched the lamp off and went back to sleep. Tanner shut the door for you, his mind begging him to go back inside, even though you were so close to calling for Dale or Amelia. So he ignored his greedy mind, taking himself upstairs to go back to sleep. Later on today, he has some work to take care of on your car. 

You for sure saw his pecker.

When you woke up, it was 9:30 am. Your nose could smell hotcakes on the stove. When you turned to the other side, you nearly punched the daylights out of Tanner. “Rise and shine! Mom made some breakfast for you.” You signed, eyes rolling as you sat up in your bed. Your fingers gripped the bridge of your nose, glaring at Tanner as he only smiled at you. Your glare was eating him up.

“I know this is your house, and that you are a big fan of me, but all I ask from you is that you give me some personal space, please, Tanner?” Tanner’s smile faded, his arms crossed as he–pouted at you? Why was he pouting at you?

“Okay, I’m sorry about last night. It wasn’t right for me to bombard your privacy.” 

“Or enter the room unannounced twice,” you mumbled, “All I want from you is to fix my car and let me go home.” 

“Okay, I’ll get onto that after breakfast.” Tanner leaves the guest room, keeping it wide open so everyone could see you. Elizabeth was in the kitchen with her mom, she noticed you exiting the guest room a little peeved. “Good morning, how did you sleep last night?” She asks, giving you a plate of hotcakes and bacon. “I slept fine, I just kept having a few visits at night.” You didn’t tell her who, so she assumed Douglas wanted to sleep with you. 

“Douglas can be a handful. Come and sit with us, darling.” Amelia says, pressing her hand on your back and walking you to the dining room table. There, Tanner and Dale were talking about what work needed to be done on the car. You could tell it was their passion by how they were passionately arguing with each other on what to do to start your car battery. Once you sat down, the argument ended, Tanner had ignored his father while scooting his chair and plate to you. You gulped down your last remaining spit as your mouth was severely dry. Amelia had sent over a pitcher of orange juice for y’all to drink, so you immediately got a glass of that. 

“Oh, good morning Y/n, it’s nice to see you and Tanner have made acquaintances.” Dale assumes. Tanner smiled at you, his big hand taking yours. You hastily removed your hand from his. Though he was visibly embarrassed, he still kept his smile on his face. “When breakfast is over, we will start working on your car. Imma need your keys by the way.” Dale continued. 

“Thank you sir, I really appreciate the hospitality from y’all.” You really did. The family were extremely kind and were at access to your needs.  “Well we appreciate the company. It’s only been a couple of  hours, and you’ve already gotten Tanner out of his shell.” Amelia jokes, causing her family to laugh. You tried to ignore Tanner’s admiring stare at you, but your skin was burning from his stare. What was with this boy?

“Pop the hood, let’s see what we’re working with,” Dale told his son, watching Tanner open your car’s hood. He obliged, propping it open, being welcomed by the car’s problem. The fuse had blown. Not to worry though, the Jeffersons had plenty of unused car parts in their shed. 

“I’ll go grab the thing and my tools, go tell Y/n what the problem is.” Dale responds, leaving his son to go behind his house. Ignorant to what his son was going to do. 

Watching for his father, making sure he was leaving, Tanner had the opportunity to pull your pocket knife out. He stole it while you were asleep. He rubbed his index finger against the blade, making sure it was sharp enough to cut. He looked at his cut skin, seeing the blood threaten to trickle from his finger. He had to hurry, his dad knew where all the car parts were, he’ll be back soon. 

He pulled out a random red wire, cutting it with ease. Before he heard his dad’s boots against the crunched up leaves, he stowed your knife into his pants pocket. Dale returned, unaware of what his son was doing. Tanner was the car mechanic; he knew more than anyone, so Dale assumed his son was analyzing the situation.

“Dad, we’ve got bad news.”

“What is it, son?” 

“There’s a cut wire.”

“Damn, have you told Y/n yet? Or I’ll go tell her?”

“No, I’ve got it.” Tanner ran into his house. When he shut the door lightly, he tried to contain his smile, he was pretty proud of himself. Taking that risk so you could stay with him longer. His dad would assume that the wire was cut by a hooligan, and he’ll have to order a new wire and have another person fix your car. Now you’ll HAVE to stay with him.

*Knock Knock*

You opened your door, rolling your eyes when you saw Tanner again. You’re going to have to get over it soon. “How may I help you?”

“Y/n, bad news: your battery has blown a fuse, and there’s a cut wire. We currently have no spare wires so Dad is going to order one.” 

Damn it, you curse in your brain. Your hopes of leaving this weirdo fan forever squashed by someone who was a bitch enough to cut your wire. You couldn’t help but cry a bit. Like literal tears were streaming from your face. Tanner, obviously consoling you in his muscular arms, rubbing his hand against your hair. 

“I know you want to leave so bad. Leave me—to go back and make videos for us. But I’m sorry.”

You wrapped your arms around his thick torso. He felt as though the wind was knocked out of him because of you. What were you doing to him? He rubs your back, feeling your bare back, you still had no bra on. You still had no bra on! 

He prayed for his body to reject his arousal. Thinking of weird things to get rid of those lewd thoughts. When he felt secured, he let go of you, looking down to make sure it wasn’t there. 

“If it makes you feel any better, would you like to go visit some place with me?”

“Where, Tanner?” 

Tanner had stopped his truck by a log that prevented him from going any further. When he got out of his car, walking in front to let you out, he opened the truck door, letting you out. When your feet were on the ground, he took your hand into his, leading you to the little pond boardwalk. 

“I know you’re pretty tense right now, so I decided to take you to my favorite place to wind down. There’s no one around to bother us.”

“Oh, ok, thank you,” you said, sitting down on the boardwalk. Not aware of Tanner toting foldable chairs for you two. “I've got chairs if you want to sit comfortably.” He says, propping one open, then going for the next one. “You stood up, taking the chair next to him. Tanner leans back, his head hanging from the seat. You watch him, earning a smile on his lips. Something in you started to feel off. His juvenile smile, dusty blond hair, and his hulking build on a childish man. Fanboy behavior fighting his shy demeanor, his admiration towards you. Somehow, you didn’t abhor his admiration, you just wish he were less of a nuisance. 

You weren’t aware, but you were staring at his sleeping body. Watching him breathe lightly as he napped. You didn’t want to stoop to his level of “admiration”, so you pulled your phone out and scrolled through your notifications. You took another look at him, this time scared. 

“Tanner? Hey Tanner, wake up, hon!” Tanner’s eyelids pried open. “Something’s tickling my leg.” He says, disoriented. “I know, there’s a big ass spider on your leg.” Instantly, he jumped up, kicking the spider off his pant leg. You hopped out of your seat as well, your body shaking from the big wolf spider that was still crawling up his leg. The hairs on his body erected as the eight-legged heathen gradually crawled up his calf.  And suddenly, you did the unthinkable, you told him to stay still so the spider would get flicked by your phone. He obliged, not moving a muscle, not breathing while he stood absolutely still. When your phone picked the spider up, it crawled on your screen, and then you flicked it off, causing it to land in the water below. 

Without warning, Tanner wraps his bulky arms around your body and lifts you clean off the boardwalk like you weigh nothing. One second you were steady, the next your feet dangled in the air, heart skipping a beat at the sudden closeness. His scent hits you–clean sweat, his mother’s linen softener, the wooden smell of his cologne, something warm and alive. His grip was firm, a little too tight, but not uncomfortable. Just present—unshakably there. 

Only did he realize that he was holding you in the air like he would to Douglas. Right hand on lower back, left on upper. He puts you down gently, clearing his throat as he is rendered uncomfortable with his actions. “Thanks,” he murmurs near your ear, voice low and rough with adrenaline. “For flicking it off.” 

You acknowledged how rattled he still was. His thick fingers twitch against your back like the ghost of the spider had climbed there, and his breath fans your neck–hot, uneven. “You saved my ass,” he adds, and though it was half a joke, there’s a real edge in it. Like for a second, the spider wasn’t the only thing crawling under his skin. 

“It’s okay, you seem tense, let me drive you home so you can take a bath. That usually calms my nerves.” 

In the guest bathroom, you turned the bath water on. Running your hand under the cold water as it gradually turned hot. Tanner had waited for you on the bathroom’s vanity chair. When you weren’t looking, he locked the bathroom door swiftly. Once the water became hot, you told him to strip off his clothing. You were about to leave the bathroom when he took your hand and gestured for you to sit on his chair. What you were about to see was not something you agreed to. Tanner unbuttons his flannel and removes it, then along came his white t-shirt, and before he could start unbuckling his pants, you stopped him by placing your hand on his. “Honey, let me go so you can undress.” 

“You’re still…coming back right?” You sigh once more, pinching your nose in shame. Do I really want to deal with this right now? 

“Yes, dear, I’ll be back.” 

When you returned, he was already in the bubbly water, waiting for you with that smug look you knew too well. His legs were hanging out of the tub, and the dusty blonde tips of his hair were wet. You rolled your eyes, and he chuckled, arms lounging lazily along the rim of the tub.

You grabbed his washcloth and soap, dipping both into the water until the cloth foamed. He watched you with a smirk as you worked—first lathering his arm, then his chest. When you leaned in closer, he tilted his head toward your ear and whispered, “This is your idea of multitasking? Bathing me and torturing me at the same time?”

His teasing made you sigh and pull your hand away. He groaned dramatically—half-laugh, half-whine—and caught your wrist gently. “Hey,” he said, grinning, guiding your hand back. In the moment of tugging and half-resisting, your fingers slipped somewhere you hadn’t intended.

You both froze, then burst into awkward laughter. “That–I didn’t mean to, I’m sorry!” you muttered.

“Maybe it meant to happen,” he replied, eyes glinting, but his voice stayed soft, leaving the moment open—for you to decide where it would go next. When you continued your bathing, he stopped you, taking your hand and gliding it down into the bubbly water. You didn’t retract, only watching his molasses pupils take control of you. While your hand grasped his, y’know, you were shocked at how thick it was. He was a pretty big guy, maybe that’s why. 

Suddenly, the room grew silent—and hot. The hot water that caused his skin to sweat also turned it pink. But that wasn’t the only pink on him. While he had your hand on his shaft, the warm water lapped gently around you both. Tanner’s breath hitched when you started jerking him off, muscles tightening above and beneath your touch. When he had the courage, he leaned closer to your mouth, wetting his lips while you were still touching him. He let his hand maneuver your head to face him, and then, he pressed his thinner, cherub pink lips against yours. 

Tanner allowed his tongue to invade your mouth, teasing your slimy tongue with his. Your lips parted enough for him to play with your mouth with his pink organ. You had slowed your progress on his cock, distracted by the kiss. Tanner noticed right away, cupping your cheeks with his bear hands, “Please, don’t go anymore slower.” He had rested his forehead against yours, “I need you, Y/n, I need you so bad.”

What you were feeling wasn’t annoyance anymore. It was a mixture of multiple conflicting feelings. You were scared of being outed as someone who jerks off fans. And you feared that Tanner would tell people, even show it. But you couldn’t control your urges FUCKING hell you wanted this man and you can’t deny it anymore. From his chivalric behavior the other night to this, if your moral compass wasn’t the way it was, so conservative, so forbidding, you would’ve toppled this guy the night he came into your room. 

It was only day one of you staying over at the Jeffersons, who knows how long you will be staying with this family. But here you are, pleasuring the eldest child. What is wrong with you?

Tanner was almost close; you could sense it. From him tightening his butt to his head thrown back against the tile wall. He had unlocked his jaw to moan, damn he moans like a girl, you thought, causing you to feel a twinged down your south tinseltown. He had you in his clutch, figuratively and literally, his strong hands holding your arms. He nearly cried from his pleasure, his body tensing up. And all of a sudden, you felt warm juices on your fist. Then on your cheek, you saw his cum dribble from his cock, and then came the orgasm thoughts that became words.

“I love you, Y/n, always have!” You pressed your finger against his mouth, realizing that someone had entered the guest room. “Tanner? Ms. Y/n? Where the hell are y’all?” It was Dale. You scurried into the towel closet, hoping Dale wouldn’t persecute you for what you’d done. 

“Son, are you in here? I heard some weird noise, just say something so I can go back to what I was doing, I don’t want to confront you right now.”

“Yes, Dad, it’s me, I’m taking a bath!” Tanner yelled, taking the washcloth and finishing his wash. Dale responds with an ok, leaving the guest room and shutting the door behind him. “Hey, you can exit the towel closet now,” Tanner says, rubbing himself with the soap. You exit the closet, “You do realize that now you have to take another bath?” 

“Yeah, and maybe,” Tanner stood up, he leaned to grab his towel from the towel rack, wrapping it around his torso, “you’ll join me?” You scoffed at his response, opening the door and leaving the room. 

[ikeuverse]

safety point | pjs

pairing: jay x fem!reader genres: angst, fluff, smut wc: 18.6k+

꒰ 𝅄 warnings ꒱ : some swearing, several mentions of cancer and chemotherapy. some mentions of food. kissing, dry humping, jongseong being extremely chivalrous and cliché. lmk if i missed anything.

꒰ 𝅄 synopsis ꒱ : you stopped your whole life to live for your mother and her cancer treatment. you wanted to do everything alone, without burdening anyone, of course… you could do it! but the unexpected happens when jongseong enters your life, sharing this task with you effortlessly and without asking for anything in return.

꒰ 𝅄 notes ꒱ : it's my birthday, but i want to give a gift to those of you who always read my work. initially this idea was much bigger than what i wrote now, it would probably have to become a fic of almost 3 parts… however i tried to reduce it as much as possible because i really wanted to post it. it's an old plot that i thought about with affection and that i took inspiration from a book i read. hope you like it!

꒰ 𝅄 masterlist ꒱

“Don't you think you need to go out for a while?” your mother's voice snapped you out of your thoughts, making your eyes disconnect from the book you were reading and look at her slowly.

“But I've been out this week, mom” you mumbled, a small smile adorning your lips before returning to your reading.

Both you and your mother knew that a trip to the supermarket wasn't such a big outing, but she also knew that your concern and instinct wouldn't make you do more than that.

It was a forbidden conversation after your mother's diagnosis. You quit your job to live with her in the childhood home you lived in with your family since your younger sister had her own family now. Nothing would be lost for you without teaching the classes you loved so much. Just that.

It would bring you closer to your mother, to palliative care and everything she needed. But there would also be a hobby for you to read more books while she slept, knit some scarves that your grandmother had taught you, then passed on to your mother, and now she had taught you. And your great passion for painting.

Your mother had been against the idea from the start, with you dropping everything to move back in with her, always trivializing the state. However, you and your sister had seen the worst of her before the diagnosis was discovered. She was sure she'd raised two strong, independent women, and you, with your strong, rigid personality, wouldn't give a toss when you turned up with all your suitcases on her doorstep.

You had no reason to think otherwise; after all, she was your mother. You'd do anything for her, and you knew your sister would, too, if she hadn't just given birth to a beautiful baby boy.

That delicate moment had upset your family a little, especially since you all lived together and your mother decided to return to the old house where you and your sister grew up. Everything was so old, vintage, and nostalgic. There were still marks on the hallway doorpost where you and she marked the heights over time. Or the big stain on the carpet where you and she had spilled grape juice and ended up staining it a bit.

There, nothing had been changed to maintain the essence of when you two were little, even more so with the arrival of your nephew. You and your sister wanted to show him where you both grew up, how the tree house your grandfather made was still spotless, the wood looking like new. A good clean inside and you knew it might be habitable to take the little one there when he came to visit you.

“I mean really leave, Y/n” your mother sighed, bringing you out of your thoughts again. You closed the book this time, looking at her intently. Her hair was starting to thin, not completely falling out, but there were signs of it. You tried to smile, although the image always cut you to the heart “When was the last time you accepted a friend's request to go for a walk?”

“We've been over this, miss Dorothy” you tried to play it cool, knowing that the subject would always come up. Your ways of deflecting it always worked, but on that particular afternoon, your head was so immersed in the book you were reading that you didn't see it coming, you were just hit with countless questions.

“I'm going to die one day or another, and you won't have enjoyed anything” she seemed to be starting to get angry, you knew she was.

In those moments, your mother would say things that would cut your heart out, like a little – and unwanted – goodbye, ragging on you for not wanting to go out and stay at home with someone like her. That's what she used to say and you hated it. You hated the way she tried to trivialize it.

You took a deep breath, trying to ignore the slight stinging in your eyes and the lump forming in your throat. This was a losing argument because you could never finish talking, leaving the place crying or hugging your mother and agreeing to leave next time.

“I—” you opened your mouth to say something, but your cell phone rang halfway through.

Your blurred vision gradually dispersed as you blinked hard to keep the tears at bay, lifting your body to the other side of the table to pick up the phone and answer it in a few rings.

“Hi, sis” your gaze was on your mother, who was analyzing the whole situation in a brief silence “We're fine. And the rest of you, how are things?”

As your sister told you about your nephew and her husband, and how things were going in the house, your mother got out of the chair in front of you on the balcony and entered the house. At that moment you let out a heavy breath.

“What's wrong? Tell me” she asked on the other end of the line. That simple question made you collapse in seconds. Although she was the youngest, your sister seemed to have the instincts of an older sister in every respect.

She was stronger in situations like this, more resilient, and much more rigid. Your sister could get around her mother when the heavy stuff started and she always helped you when you got into trouble at school. It couldn't be any different now. If she had been in your place, she would surely have made your mother stop talking about how she was going to die or that you were wasting your time with someone who was sick. Your sister would never allow that kind of thing.

“I have some good news to share” she was so excited and, at the same time, you could sense a hint of wavering in her voice. Your thoughts had already run wild about your nephew or something else that might have happened, but if that was the case, your sister wouldn't have spoken so excitedly like that. So you just sighed.

“Tell me they're not pregnant again” you joked, the first relaxed thing to come to mind after venting your frustrations for minutes on that phone call. Knowing that she would listen to you even if she didn't have time. Your sister was your haven after your mother and you felt grateful for that.

She laughed, making you laugh too as you frantically denied it.

“Not really, although Jake has already said he's expecting the second in a few years” you could imagine her rolling her eyes as she snorted. Maybe one hand on her waist while the other held her cell phone nonchalantly. You, on the other hand, were straightening your posture on the sun lounger and, from time to time, looking inside for your mother.

Noticing the comings and goings around the huge counter in the middle of the kitchen, now preparing something to eat. At least that's what she did on her own, since you didn't dare to cook, because you were so bad in front of the stove.

“But what I wanted to tell you is—” she paused for a few seconds, a mumble on the other end of the line and you knew that your nephew was waking up or awakening your sister's attention. She said a few words of comfort to him before returning to the subject: “Mackenzie and I are going to spend some time with you and mom.”

What? If you weren't sitting down, your legs would surely give way, because that wasn't supposed to happen. Your sister had only given birth to your nephew a few months before, so there was no way she could go there.

“Hazel, that's—”

“It's not crazy and I've already decided” she interrupted you, saving her little speech, “We'll talk about it later.”

“Hazel!” you called out again, wanting to understand the reason for the sudden idea.

You wanted your sister and nephew there, of course you did. Although they didn't live that far away, the commute took time and with a small child and a woman in palliative care, it was a bit more complicated.

She said goodbye briefly, knowing that no matter what she did, you would be against any of her arguments. So just letting you know that she was leaving was enough. Hazel still had the room from her childhood and it would be more than perfect to stay there for a while.

When the call ended, you were still trying to absorb it and think about what came next. Of course, you'd lecture your sister for hours, but you'd forget why you were angry soon after, after all, you and she never really got angry with each other. But what worried you was how your mother would react. If with you she was always more restricted, with your sister and nephew coming, she might be even more vulnerable.

But at least you'd have someone else to share the anguish with a little more closely. After, of course, cuddling your nephew and scolding Hazel a bit.

You went into the kitchen to get Jaeyun a glass of cold water, and a small silent thank you for taking your sister's and Mackenzie's bags upstairs.

His footsteps were right behind you, following you into the room.

“You're angry, aren't you?” he asked in a calm tone, entering the kitchen just after you. His eyes didn't look at you, but you knew the boy had those puppy-dog eyes your sister always talked about.

“Angry, me? Why would I be?” you tried to sound indifferent as you opened the fridge to get the jug of water, forgetting for a moment that, as well as your brother-in-law, Jaeyun was your best friend.

It was because of you that he started dating your sister. It was with your help that he asked her to marry him. Jaeyun knew you even before he met Hazel.

“Maybe because I know you as well as you think,” he let slip, humming softly after you turned to get a glass from the drainer. Jaeyun raised one eyebrow when you looked at him, the puppy-dog look having been abandoned for your best friend's shrewd gaze.

Pouring the water, you handed him the glass so he could drink. A moment of silence passed between the two of you as Jaeyun finished the contents, thanked you, and then handed it back to you.

“You know” he began, his hands still resting on the marble of the kitchen counter as he stared at you from across it, “it was my idea for the two of you to come here.”

“Yours? Why?”

He sighed softly, trying to ignore your exasperated tone and looking towards the kitchen door. At that moment, Hazel was talking to your mother in some corner of the house while asking her about her health and even trivial things. She must have been asking the same questions about the family, what it would be like with a baby in the house, and things like that. At least they were both too entertained to even think about going to the kitchen.

“Because I had to go back to helping out in the restaurant a few days ago, it's a mess there without her” Jaeyun began, his eyes now on you as he explained “The boys can manage, but you know, Hazel's the one who puts things in order” he smiled shyly.

You knew this because you had lived with your sister all your life, she was the one who made order happen in every respect. You also knew how organized she was in the workplace, even though you hadn't had a chance to visit the new address yet.

“And she was getting very lonely, so I thought I'd leave her here with you,” he kept looking at you, hoping that some glimmer of a smile or some praise for a good idea would come out of your mouth “Not to mention that the restaurant is a ten-minute drive away, so any of the guys and I can get here if you need anything.”

It was a good plan if you thought about it that way and wanted to give it a go. Jaeyun was right and you knew it, Hazel wouldn't be going back to work and what she liked to do any time soon, at least not until Mackenzie could go to nursery, and you knew that was a few months away. She must have felt lonely since Jaeyun, her only adult companion, had to go back to work.

From the glare on your best friend and brother-in-law's face, you knew he didn't want that. Not when his dream was to build a life alongside Hazel and now that his family was formed, being inside the restaurant was all he wanted at the moment. Not that he hated his job, on the contrary, Jaeyun loved what he did, but he loved his family even more.

“So you forgive me for going against your wishes and bringing the two of them here?” he asked after a while of rambling, knowing that his mind was running wild as countless assumptions ran through his head. How you would take care of Hazel and Mackenzie, how you would make Jaeyun less worried about his wife and son, and even about you and your mother. Because you knew that he worried as if he were her son. He called every night by video call to talk for hours with the two of you since you moved back in with your mother to take care of her.

“I swear to God, I hope Mackenzie doesn't bring out that puppy dog side of you, otherwise Hazel and I are going to be screwed” you muttered, looking away from him as you heard him laugh.

As with Hazel, getting angry with Jaeyun didn't last long. You and he had never had a serious fight since you met and became best friends. So it wouldn't be now, as an adult, that you and he would do that.

He knew how focused and determined you were to take care of your mother alone so as not to burden anyone, but you also knew how tiring it was and how much Jaeyun and your sister knew that. Little by little, they wanted to sneak in to help you and make you give in at least a little. Getting everyone to the house had been the first step that was working.

“There's just one condition, then” you muttered as you watched him cross the kitchen, stop beside you, and stretch out his arms towards you. You rolled your eyes at the small act of affection that was about to take place, but you still didn't deny it, moving closer to Jaeyun to hug him.

“You can ask me and I'll do anything, I hope I can” he said, hugging you as tightly as you hugged him, resting his chin on the top of your head as he slowly cradled your body.

“You can bring me a tasty meal from the restaurant at least once a week, can't you?”

Jaeyun laughed a little loudly, echoing throughout the kitchen as he felt you squeeze him even tighter, laughing along with him.

“I'll do that” he whispered.

“Look, did you two make up after all?” Hazel walked into the kitchen with her mother by her side, both of them smiling while the eldest held the baby in her arms, a little sleepy and grumpy. You and Jaeyun stepped aside and he smiled at his mother-in-law lovingly.

“Of course, Jake promised me meals from your restaurant” you hummed.

“I'm sure you'd ask for that” Hazel laughed, walking past Jaeyun and kissing him quickly on the lips. Then she walked past you, messing up your hair and going to the fridge.

This time with a full house, apart from you and your mother, could be good after all.

Having your sister and nephew at home wasn't so bad, not even Jaeyun's regular visits after work. Your best friend making a point of having dinner with everyone and still keeping his promise to bring some of the restaurant's meals for you and your mother to try.

“They're not the ones I make, but they're still wonderful” you knew Hazel would boast, and rightly so. She was an incredible cook and you were immensely proud of her.

Even more so in her strength and determination to balance Mackenzie's growth and development with hospital visits and appointments with her mother. Of course, she wanted to intersperse, so that she could also drive once in a while to a routine check-up or to pick up some medication for her mother. All of this was part of the companionship between you as a family, which you were learning to deal with.

Because before it was just you for your mother. Your car leaves the garage at least four times a day to chase things. Now you could rest and take a nap while your sister did it. Even if guilt consumed you, but… Guilt about what? Her helping you? Because that's what was happening.

A whole month passed with these thoughts hammering away in your head, Hazel and Mackenzie becoming more and more embedded in the routine of looking after their mother and now Jaeyun was sleeping there some nights too. A full house was always a good sign, but the extra help made you a little uncomfortable. You didn't want to burden their small family, especially with a small baby. That was absurd.

“In a few weeks I can put Mackie in nursery, so we'll have more time to do things for mom” Hazel said after leaning over the coffee table, picking up some sour treats you'd bought earlier in the week.

Just to settle your stomach before Jaeyun called to let you know he was coming. Your mother was upstairs fixing some hair scarves. She'd gotten way ahead of herself by buying a few pieces when the hair hadn't even fallen out yet, but you knew how anxious she was – and afraid of what lay ahead – so letting her focus on that was the best choice to make.

“But you're going back to the restaurant and your house is twenty minutes away, don't make it up” you tried your best big sister tone, staring at the side profile of your sister who was eating yet another acidic treat without trying to grimace.

She opened her mouth to say something, to try to protest and say that that house could house all of you with peace of mind. Jaeyun wouldn't mind spending some time living there other than in the apartment they had planned when they got married. Everyone knew that your mother's treatment would take a while, but your sister was worried too.

Not just about your mother – that was the main thing – but about you too. About the fact that you had quit your job with no foreseeable return date, abandoning your hobbies while creating new ones. Or at least some of which you could do at home with your mother, keeping her in your field of vision at all times.

“I think we can handle this very well as a big family, Y/n” Hazel turned, finally facing you. She ran the tip of her tongue over the corner of her lips to wipe away the remnants of jam that had remained there “You've done a lot on your own and—”

Suddenly your sister's speech was interrupted by the ringing of her cell phone reverberating through the room. She straightened up on the sofa, picking up the device without even looking at the caller ID.

“Hi” from her smile, it was Jaeyun. You'd recognize it anywhere, because it was the same way, in this very house, that she used to answer his calls when she was in college.

You decided to leave the two of them a little more privacy and got up to go to the kitchen, eating those candies had left your throat a little dry, maybe sparkling water would help. Grabbing the bottle from the fridge, you let the fizzy noise invade the room with such pleasure as you turned the cap on the bottle before taking a long sip.

“Hey, sis” Hazel came into the kitchen a little while later. The phone was still in hand, but the screen was off and she looked at you expectantly.

“What?” you asked, taking another sip and feeling your eyes sting from the fizzy water going down your throat. It was a wonderful sensation that calmed all your previous thirst caused by the candy.

“You know…” Hazel placed her cell phone on the counter, glancing at you quickly “Jake said he was going to have a small meeting of the boys, a dinner between them, and he asked us to come.”

You were ready to protest, your mouth open to deny the invitation and repeat the same words you'd say to anyone who tried to get you out of the house, but your mother appeared in the kitchen long before you could even think.

“Of course she's going” she smiled slowly.

“Mom” you began, but she interrupted you again.

“I'm a bit tired from fussing with those scarves” she said, standing between you and your sister, alternating her gaze between the two of you “I probably won't be having dinner tonight if Jake brought something, so you'd better go.”

The protest was already on the tip of your tongue, a strange feeling of not having anything to say while two people, en masse and in force, were trying to get you out of the house.

“Besides, you need to go out with your sister and your nephew too, just staying in here will make you sick along with me.”

You wanted to be able to predict every time your mother made a comment that made the atmosphere heavy or made you ill, reminding her how sick she was. Making her sink further into ruin along with that damned disease.

She knew that you would say something, that you could scold her as you always have since she began to face a reality – a rather harsh one – in the face of that situation. Your mother approached you, kissed your cheek, and wished you goodnight. She passed your sister and did the same, leaving the kitchen and leaving the two of you there.

A moment of silence between you and her was enough to make your eyes sting, remembering the words that came out of the mouth of the person you love most in the world.

“I hate it when she does that” your laugh came out without humor, and you sniffled softly to try to keep away the tears that threatened to fall. It was your sister's turn to approach you in slow steps, testing the waters until she was finally standing in front of you.

“You know she's going to say that kind of thing because look at everything Mom's going through” Hazel held you by the shoulders, staring into your eyes with tense emotion. She took a deep breath at the same moment as you, feeling her eyes sting in the same way. “But we know that nothing bad will happen because we found out at the beginning, that this phase of degradation always happens to those who go through it.”

“It's just that— Shit” you cursed softly, feeling Hazel pull you into a hug.

“How about we go out for a while tonight, have dinner at the restaurant?” she proposed while still hugging you tightly “You can meet the staff, have a real chat, and try some more good food.”

Pondering for a while, you wanted to say no again. Even if the idea was too tempting and your stomach was rumbling, you'd never gone out like this before. Ever since your mother discovered cancer, everything around you stopped to focus on the woman who gave you life, and that was what had to happen. But not all the time.

You could also go out for a while and still send a message or wait for a call since your contact was your mother's emergency contact. You had all sorts of means of communication, so there was little way of depriving yourself of going out this time, and from the pleading look on your sister's face, after she pulled away from the hug, you knew there was no denying it.

“I'm just going to take a shower” you finished. She squealed with excitement, running into the kitchen as you walked slowly out of the room.

“I'm going to shower Mackie and get ready too, we'll be leaving soon. I'll let Jake know!”

It seemed that Hazel had won a huge prize just by agreeing to leave. You laughed at her excitement, realizing how important it was for her, even for your mother and Jaeyun, that you also took care of yourself. Because you needed to be strong and healthy to deal with the whole process together with everyone else.

You allowed yourself to take a little longer in the shower this time, taking a deep breath each time you scrubbed your body, thinking about how strange the feeling in your chest was that night. It could have been a bit of relief at finally getting out, or just a feeling of gratitude at having such loving and caring people around you.

Both answers could be correct, and that's what motivated you to get out from under the shower and look for a nice outfit to go out in.

The drive to the restaurant was filled with nostalgic conversations and a few mumbles from Mackenzie. The atmosphere in the car was light and you found yourself smiling a little more than usual as your sister talked as much as you did. About everything and anything.

The two of you were trying to make up for the time when you were too far away from each other while, in the time since Hazel's return, you and she have been closer than ever.

She announced quietly when she arrived at the restaurant, maneuvering into the parking lot while you got ready to leave. Grabbing your bag, hers and your nephew's while your sister parked to pick up the baby. A perfect team effort that you and she developed without even agreeing.

“We went through a renovation before Mackenzie was born, so I'm entering this new place together with you for the first time” her smile was so infectious that you couldn't help but smile back. Her excitement, her enthusiasm.

This place meant everything to your sister. You remember when she went to gastronomy school, something completely out of the ordinary that your family thought the youngest would follow. You had already been a total buzz studying to be a kindergarten teacher and majoring in fine arts as a second degree. Your sister doing something that wasn't geared towards medicine, law, or whatever your family thought, made you very happy. Hazel never followed any kind of pattern and that's what made her unique and a role model for you, even though she was the youngest.

After she graduated, she thought about opening a restaurant, but her savings were low and she had just been proposed to. Everything was being saved for the big day, even with the help of her family and Jaeyun's, Hazel wanted to have an important role in this as well, besides saying yes in front of many guests.

She was lucky to have friends in college, one of them in particular encouraged her to open a restaurant, even becoming her partner, where you heard very good things about it. All the people who did good to your sister were worthy of your respect and joy, even without knowing them. Until today, in fact.

You let her go in first, opening the huge glass doors while you marveled at the new decor. Since you didn't know what the old one was, you started to appreciate the place as being the way it was from your first impression, every detail being in very good taste while you could feel your sister's opinion of everything. There was a bit of her in everything in that establishment.

“I can’t believe my eyes” a male voice took you out of your thoughts. It wasn’t Jaeyun’s, so you didn’t know who was speaking “Our greatest love…”

“Mackie!” another voice interrupted the boy, who opened his arms to run to Hazel and pretend to ignore her while taking the little one from the girl’s arms.

“And I’m invisible in this place?” Hazel protested, crossing her arms over her chest as she watched the two drooling men playing with the little newcomer. He watched with curious and wide eyes, paying attention to the little noises they made to try to get attention.

“We’ve worked hard with you, we want to see our new mini-boss.”

“I think I’ll talk to Jay about layoffs when I get back” she hummed.

“Don’t scare them, love. We’ve had a busy day today, they deserve a distraction” Jaeyun finally appeared, the only one you knew so far.

The game with your little nephew lasted only a few seconds, as soon as they looked up to look at Hazel, they saw you behind her too.

“Oh, we have a visitor” one of them said, moving away from the one holding Mackenzie and walking towards where you and Hazel were. He smiled, greeting your sister first and then looking at you with a small smile “I’m Sunghoon, nice to meet you.”

“Hi, I’m Y/n” you lightly shook his hand that he extended after saying the name.

“Hazel’s sister? Poor thing, having to put up with her at home” the other joked “I’m Heeseung” he rocked Mackenzie lightly, giving small sniffs on the top of your nephew’s head. You couldn’t blame him, the baby smell was addictive.

“She’s more demanding than here, I bet” you joined in the joke, getting the first laugh from your sister’s friends and employees.

Hazel would even protest if it were at another time, maybe saying it wasn't like that or pretending to be angry. But seeing that you were comfortable in the first few minutes you were there made her heart swell with joy. That was what she wanted. That was what Jaeyun also wanted from his best friend.

“It's working out” he whispered to his wife, kissing the top of her head as he approached, pulling out a chair for Hazel to sit down.

“I hope you're all willing to help me bring the food to the dining room” the voice was loud enough to come from the kitchen and reverberate where you all were, but in a playful way. You could hear the effort the owner of the voice had to make to speak loud enough for everyone to hear.

“I'm busy” Heeseung shouted back, not wanting to let go of Mackenzie for even a second, but that didn't last long since Sunghoon also wanted to hold him. And that's what he did.

“Now he can, my turn to be busy,” he joked for a moment before the huge wooden door opened.

The steps that followed made everyone stare at the man who was approaching. He walked gracefully, carefree as he untied his kitchen apron and placed it on the table where you decided to sit. It had an identification plate, probably the number that was used during the time the restaurant was open, but that was no longer so important.

For a moment, all the conversation around seemed to go silent when your eyes met his. The expression of the man in front of you was of slight surprise, but he kept a small smile on his chapped and reddened lips as he maintained eye contact with you.

Your sister, your brother-in-law, and the other boys were still talking about something, but you and that man seemed not to want to break your gaze from each other. And you wanted to understand why.

Maybe it was his well-defined jawline, or his tanned skin and the way his neck was adorned with a silver chain. The top two buttons of his white shirt were open and his black hair almost got in the way of your vision, if it weren't for the hands insisting on moving them out of the way.

“Jay” Jaeyun's voice finally brought both you and him back to reality. “This is Y/n, my sister-in-law and best friend.”

He blinked a few times in understanding, a noticeable “oh” leaving his lips without much sound. He had certainly heard about you, as well as the other two you had met a few minutes ago.

You looked around to notice that your sister was now holding Mackenzie in her arms, he was whining – probably hungry – so that was the reason why she hadn't introduced you, but Jaeyun instead.

The boy with the perfect jaw took a few steps, looking a little less confident now. If you were a good body reader, you would say he was nervous as he got closer. But as soon as he stopped in front of you, he extended his hand towards you.

It was your turn to blink slowly, finding the greeting a little more formal than usual, but even so, it didn't stop you from reaching out and holding his hand too. You just didn't expect that, when you touched his hand, the boy would lean in and press his lips to your skin. Even though it was chapped, it felt strangely soft and warm against your back.

“I'm Jongseong” he said softly, his lips still close to your skin and his warm breath hitting it. This made a shiver run through your body and made your heartbeat accelerate in a ridiculously instant way. “But you can call me Jay.”

The words wouldn't come out of your mouth, you wanted to say something. Anything to not look like an idiot in front of him, but Jongseong seemed to notice your shyness and his act that had – probably – taken you by surprise. Even him, after all, why had he greeted you so intimately like that?

He wouldn't say it was because he was mesmerized by your beauty, or even that his heartbeat was almost in his ears because of you. Jongseong had never been nervous like that.

“Do you want help in the kitchen, man?” Jaeyun bit his tongue to keep from making any kind of joke, much less making a fuss about the situation since only he had seen everything. The others were busy talking while Hazel got ready to feed the baby.

“Please” Jongseong turned to him, thanking him with just a look since his friend was the great savior.

“Do you two need help?” your voice finally came out, and Jongseong swore he felt his knees weaken a little. Your voice was beautiful, just like you.

“Actually—”

“Don’t even think about it, miss Y/n” Heeseung appeared, placing himself between you and the other two who were gathering to go to the kitchen “Leave it to us, you stay with Hazel and hope for the best in this restaurant.”

“It’s only not better because I didn’t prepare anything,” Hazel said a little louder.

“How conceited” Jongseong joked.

“Tell me the truth, you miss our competitions” she said.

This man had all sides equally attractive. Whether it was the flirtatious side – unintentionally – that he showed you a few minutes ago, the relaxed side he was showing with his friends. You feared that he would be like that in every way, how could you stand it, after all?

When the three disappeared into the kitchen, you finally sat next to your sister and faced Sunghoon. The two quickly looked at you, a small smile on the lips of the only boy present there.

“Sunghoon, no…” Hazel started saying, leaving you completely confused.

“What? I wasn’t going to say anything” he tried to defend himself, but she interrupted him.

“I’ve known you long enough to know what you were going to say.”

“And what was he going to say?” you asked, almost regretting it the moment your sister closed her eyes and Sunghoon’s smile widened even more. Working with people for so long could sharpen a sixth sense of what they were thinking or what they were going to say next. Knowing someone so well that you could know what the other was capable of.

And that was how it was with your sister and Sunghoon. The two seemed to understand each other while she tried to tell him to be quiet with just scolding looks, but he didn’t seem to care. Shrugging almost every time before turning to you and smiling even wider.

“That someone finally brought our cliché Jongseong back” Sunghoon leaned over the table to say those words as if he wanted to tell you a secret. Hazel mumbled something, throwing her head back as she listened to him continue, “You two really fit together.”

“Sunghoon!” you protested, your cheeks turning red and hot, your face on fire. Your throat was dry and you almost ran away from there if it weren’t for the lack of a ride since you had gone with your sister to the restaurant.

“Tell me I’m lying” he turned around, speaking directly to your sister. She was focused on making Mackenzie burp, your nephew’s head resting on her shoulder as she patted his back lightly.

You thought your sister would deny it, say it wasn’t like that, and that Sunghoon was crazy. Everyone there seemed a little crazy, you could tell by your brother-in-law and your sister, that they weren’t normal. But what followed was a knowing smile and a slight nod.

“I knew this would happen” Hazel finally said, leaving Sunghoon to celebrate with fist pumps in the air.

“So… Did you guys plan it…?”

“Not at all” they both said at the same time.

The question hung in the air, if that had been something everyone had done for you to get to know him or if it had happened that way. That it was supposed to be that way. From their surprise, you knew that nothing had been planned, but at least the doubts were hammering in your head.

What did it mean to bring the cliché Jongseong back? Wasn't he the way he was showing? You looked at Hazel and then at Sunghoon, your mouth opening and closing a few times before being interrupted by the kitchen door opening again.

Your heart almost jumped out of your mouth when Jongseong appeared, a small smile on the corner of his lips and his gaze directly at Sunghoon.

“Hey man, enough talking, we need another hand here” he nodded into the kitchen, before closing the door and disappearing from view.

“Duty calls me” he stood up, waving to you and your sister before running the few steps until he opened the doors with less delicacy than before and went into the kitchen.

Hazel bit her lower lip to keep her smile from widening even more, while her eyebrows were still furrowed and her expression was one of complete confusion. But she knew you well enough to know what was going on in your head, so slowly her sister began to speak.

“Maybe in time, you’ll know what Hoonie meant” Hazel settled your nephew on her lap, now he was a little sleepy and mumbling. She gave him a little kiss on the forehead before looking back in his direction “It just depends on you getting out a little more.”

Part of you didn’t want to find out, simply letting it go and ignoring everything that had happened. Focusing only on dinner and the conversation that would come from there until you left. But another part of you was looking forward to it, maybe a very small one, because it meant you would see Jongseong again until you found out what Sunghoon meant.

The mental conflict made you even more confused, you just wanted to understand what had happened for a guy to mess with you so much in such a short time.

After that night at the restaurant, you tried to get back to your normal routine. Continue to focus entirely on your mother, taking advantage of the fact that your sister would be back home soon, but almost everything slipped through your fingers.

One night you were sitting on the porch of your childhood home, refusing to go out for anything other than your mother's appointments and the tests she needed to do. Another time you were sitting at the table in your sister's restaurant, having dinner and chatting animatedly with her friends and changing the course of your entire life.

You didn't imagine that that night Jongseong would sit next to you, start a conversation with you, and not mind joining in on the conversation his friends were having. He was just trying to fill Hazel in on what had happened while she was away, so it was much more interesting for him to talk to you and hear your stories.

This led to a long night in which you got to know a little more about him, and how charismatic and truly charming Jongseong was in every way. All the topics with him flowed naturally, engaging in one conversation after another without stopping and without the two of you having a single moment of silence. Save for the few seconds in which he listened to you talk, sipping some of the wine that Jaeyun had chosen or answering a question from the other group when directed to him.

You also didn't mind having only his attention, even with the provocative looks from Hazel and Sunghoon, and a giggle here and there from Heeseung and Jaeyun. That wouldn't make you so shy. And the redness on your cheeks you could blame solely on the wine you were drinking, so everything was under control. Until you started to feel strange.

A part of you ran from one side to the other as your mother's exams became more frequent, the discouragement she felt with each chemotherapy showing in the thinning of her hair and the thinness on her face. It was affecting her little by little. Another side of you, the small side that had little life outside of hospitals, longed to see Jongseong again. But you couldn't afford to leave your mother at home and go on a date with him, no way would happen. Not even the few hours you spent at the restaurant that day would be enough to repeat.

You brought the cliché Jongseong back, that only made sense when you realized that man was in your kitchen making dinner.

He asked your sister for your number, and Hazel certainly wouldn't object to that. If she did, Jaeyun wouldn't do it, so there was no way out but for him to send you a message. He knew what he was getting into, he knew what you were like from the countless conversations he had with your sister, who was his business partner and best friend. Family problems were shared between the two of you, and when Hazel told him that you at least did something for yourself, Jongseong didn't think twice.

If inviting someone to your house wasn't something he wanted to do, then he decided to talk to Jaeyun and propose a dinner for all of you. Maybe if your mother attended, if it was under your roof, you would at least be there. He could see you again.

And that's what he did.

Cutting the umpteenth asparagus and looking away at you, Jongseong gave a small smile when he realized your eyes were still on him. Arms crossed as he watched you prepare the ingredients before Hazel came back to help.

“Do you cook too?” he asked, breaking the silence that had settled for a short minute. Jaeyun had just left to put Mackenzie in the stroller when he fell asleep. Your mother was upstairs choosing an outfit a little better than the pajamas she wore, after all, it wasn’t every day that she had guests.

“Only my sister inherited this talent” you commented with a small smile, looking at Jongseong’s fingers that cut masterfully. He seemed to have a unique precision in each cut. If it were you, nothing would be asymmetrical and you would have hurt yourself by now.

“Come on, you have a talent for artistic things, or do you think I forgot?” he joked.

Your heart skipped a beat when he said that, and then Jongseong remembered the conversation you had at the restaurant a while ago. You two had talked about so many things, you just didn't know he would remember your speeches about college and graduation. Maybe it was irrelevant.

But for him, it wasn't. Jongseong remembered every detail and every word you had said to him that night, he could recite the most diverse subjects you and he talked about if it was to keep things lighter again.

“Y/n” he called you next, your eyes leaving his hands to go to the boy's face “Do you mind trying it and see if I put too much salt in the sauce?” he removed the dish towel from his shoulders and looked for the largest spoon he had on the sink next to the stove. Your throat dried, and you became slightly nervous.

“Me? Really?” your tone of voice almost betrayed you, if it weren't for the secondary noises of cutlery that Jongseong was spreading until he found what he needed.

“Hazel usually does this, but I think she and Jake are checking out the mini chef,” he said, making you laugh.

It wouldn’t be a big deal to try a seasoning on something you were going to eat sooner or later, and it was certainly just to put Jongseong’s insecurity aside. After all, he was a great chef. Getting the salt right was the least of his worries. Even so, you approached, still with hesitant steps, and walked around the kitchen counter until you were standing next to him. A few more steps and you were next to the boy.

“You can be honest if I’ve overdone it, okay?” he asked, trying not to waver in his tone of voice to convey confidence, but deep down, Jongseong was a little scared. He wasn’t sure, but he wanted to impress you with a sophisticated dish, he wanted you to admire him cooking in his kitchen. Even though the first time you two met, you ate something he had prepared. But it wouldn't be the same if he hadn't been watching from across the kitchen.

“I bet it’s amazing, I don’t know what you’re so scared of” you joked to lighten the mood, seeing that he was nervous. Wanting to believe your words, Jongseong took the spoon and ran it along the edge of the sauce, collecting some of the bubbling mixture.

You waited patiently as you were mesmerized once again. Jongseong’s lips formed into a pout as he blew out the smoke that formed under the red mixture, some leaves between the sauce and the smell lingered in the air. If your stomach could talk, it would scream to try it right then, but you were also delighted with his care before serving it to you.

It was something simple, your sister had already done it for you, and your mother did it too. Even Jaeyun once blew on a hot mixture before handing it to you to try, but no one had done what came next.

Jongseong brought the spoon to your lips, waiting for you to open it to try it. He didn’t hand you the spoon or let you take it yourself… He did it for you.

Your heartbeat was racing, your face was burning and you could at least say it was because you were so close to hot food. At least that would serve as an excuse. Not the fact that Jongseong had one hand firmly around a spoon in front of your mouth, while the other was against your chin.

“Open” he just whispered, so softly, but in such a seductive way at the same time. His fingers touched your skin like a feather, you saw him look away at your mouth as it opened, wrapping itself around the spoon to eat the sauce.

It tasted great and the salt was perfect, it couldn’t be any other way.

“It’s… It’s great, Jay” you didn’t even care about the stuttering due to nervousness at that moment, you were too focused on Jongseong’s eyes alternating between your eyes and your lips. Your tongue slowly ran over your lower lip to collect the remains of the sauce and at that moment you noticed his lips slowly part, an inaudible sigh leaving the lips of the boy in front of you. This made you nervous and unresponsive because you swear he leaned in a little. You also swear you leaned back, but before anything else, both of you moved away with Jaeyun's thunderous entrance into the kitchen.

“So, everything ready?” he asked nonchalantly, not looking at you and Jongseong much. Thank goodness, you both thought at the same time, without even knowing it.

“A few more minutes and we can have dinner” Jongseong composed himself, waiting for you to do the same before turning his attention back to the sauce.

The rest of the time passed in a blur, you followed the entire dinner talking to everyone who was there, picking up Mackenzie when he woke up to let your sister have dinner with a little more dignity too. Your heart raced when it was Jongseong's turn to hold the baby in his arms. That scene was unusual and so cute. You didn't know why you were like that.

Maybe it was because of the way he always acted, so naturally and so politely. How he talked to your family, or how he always interacted with you. Showing care in his words and showing that he cared about what you were saying, no matter how small.

Jongseong was the first person you let get a little closer after your mother's diagnosis. He was the only one who was able to talk to you for hours without making you mention your mother, or without making you look at your phone to see what time it was time to go home, or making you uncomfortable with something he said. He was always making sure you were okay or asking if you needed anything.

I need you to stop this, it's dangerous, you answered mentally every time. So dangerous that your heart already felt the possible effects that Park Jongseong was having on you.

“The dishes are on me now” your mother smiled after a long time of talking, denying it in every possible way as Jaeyun and Jongseong tried to run ahead to stop her. The two of them were seeing how stubborn she was, and where you and your sister had inherited it from.

“If anything, you can call me, okay, mom?” you asked.

“Sure, my love. Enjoy it” she smiled in your direction before disappearing into the kitchen. Jongseong and Jaeyun took all the dishes to the sink, at least helping with that while you and your sister still sat at the dining table.

“And I'm going to change someone's diaper because I think we have a surprise here” Hazel hummed as she saw the concentrated faces and expressions that Mackenzie was making. You laughed out loud when you saw your nephew's face turn red, then the farting noises he made.

“Good luck” you said before she left with the little one upstairs for a long diaper change.

“Your sister—” Jaeyun soon appeared.

“Upstairs changing the little boss's diaper” you heard his and Jongseong's laughter at using the nickname everyone was giving the little boy. Your brother-in-law and best friend didn't even wait or say anything else, he followed your sister upstairs, leaving you and Jongseong alone again.

“So…” he said, pulling the chair next to you to sit where you were before. You felt your body tingle when his shoulder touched yours, slowly turning towards the boy.

“So…” you repeated his words, biting your lower lip to keep from smiling so much. Or so he wouldn't look at your mouth again, making you nervous. Not that you weren't at that moment, but something in the air seemed a little lighter between you and Jongseong.

“I was thinking” he rested his elbows on the table, stretching his hands in front of his body and staring at his fingers. Anything to get the courage to speak instead of staring at you, because he knew nothing would come out coherently if he was looking into your eyes. “Would you be willing to have coffee with me sometime?”

You turned so abruptly towards him, that the shock in Jongseong's words caused you a certain panic, but as his eyes reached you, noticing a certain curiosity as he waited for your answer, you relaxed. He seemed as shy and vulnerable as you were at that moment.

“Jay…” you started speaking, noticing how attentive he was as he waited for you to speak “My mother… You know…” and then he smiled. A small, simple smile, but it didn't seem sad. You knew your answer, but you were surprised by his reaction.

“Jake told me you would say that, but I decided to try anyway” he laughed at your expression, and you noticed that your eyes were wide and still in shock.

“I’m sorry, I—”

“Hey, it’s okay, I rushed” Jongseong interrupted you.

“No, Jay, you didn’t rush” you said too quickly, fumbling with your words and, most importantly, your actions. In a moment of desperation so that he wouldn’t feel upset or rejected – you didn’t want to reject him, nor were you crazy about it – you held his hands. Your fingers slowly slid between his and Jongseong just let it, feeling your soft skin come into contact with his “I’d love to have coffee with you, but it’s just—”

“We’ll find a way, okay?” he asked “I’ll wait, it’s okay.”

Hot, understanding, and patient. Did that man have any flaws?

You couldn't say anything at that moment, lost in your thoughts and in the caress he began to make with his thumb on your torso. Your eyes quickly met his, and then a smile drew your lips that he loved to see so much up close. Jongseong wanted to feel them too, but one step at a time.

And as he said out loud, he would wait. Jongseong, for sure, would wait.

Getting used to a full house would only be bad when your sister returned to her routine, working at the restaurant after she managed to put Mackenzie in daycare. You thought it wouldn't shake you, after all, it was always you and your mother. You were always the one who ran after everything so that your sister could feel calmer and less overwhelmed.

But you also didn't know that you would miss more laughter and voices in that house. That the antics of your brother-in-law and best friend would fill an environment that only had sadness and regrets. You also noticed how pale your mother started to get after the chemotherapy treatments were becoming more and more invasive.

The conversations with the doctors and nurses were more frequent, both because of your mother's complaints and for them to warn the two of you of what was starting to happen. The hair loss came gradually, and you thought you would be strong enough to deal with it alone. Seeing the clumps of hair in the bathroom and the older woman's teary eyes she tried to say that everything was fine.

It wasn't. And you knew this because you lost count of how many times you sat on the bathroom floor, hugging your mother's fragile body while she cried over the loss of more strands of hair. The scarves were now her best friends. At least something she had chosen a long time ago was helping to keep her a little happier.

Not as much as you would have liked, seeing Mrs. Dorothy crying around the house and staying quiet was worse than hearing her say atrocities. At least she talked to you, mumbled something or simply fought with you to leave the house. You just wanted to hear your mother's voice. But the few conversations you had were on the way to chemotherapy or at the dinners she decided to attend, not when she left you alone in the kitchen with the cold plate in front of you waiting for her to come down.

Not hungry. That was what she usually told you the next morning, and you swallowed it because you no longer had the strength to argue. Hazel would come by every day after work to check on you, talk to your mother – or try to – while bringing her a new hair scarf to wear at her next appointment. That made her smile, at least.

You just wanted it all to end, you just wanted to cry in peace and get all that weight off your shoulders while thinking about nothing but yourself. But thinking about yourself was as far away as you wanted, and opening up about it to your sister was a delicate subject. She would make you drop everything to take responsibility, and you wouldn’t forgive yourself for making her become an absent mother to Mackenzie while you went to take care of your mother. There was no escape.

“Are you hungry? I’ll make you something to eat…” you left the bag on the kitchen counter, waiting for your mother to come into the room after another appointment. She smiled at you, in a sad way that broke your heart even more, if that were possible.

“I think I just want to rest now, sunshine” she said quietly, but you heard enough. Her tone was sad, but she tried to encourage you as she looked and smiled in your direction. Your mother leaned down enough to kiss your cheek. “Don’t go without eating, I’m going to go to my room, okay?”

“Mom—”

“My door is open and my phone is fully charged, I’ll call you if I need anything. I promise.”

It was a promise she had never broken, at least. The few times your mother needed you, she called you to run upstairs and help her with trivial things, but she still called. So even though you hated leaving her alone, you decided to trust her and let her rest.

Sometimes it was good for her to be alone for a while to reorganize her thoughts. You were going through this as her daughter, while she was the patient with that damned disease. She was the one who was feeling everything, experiencing it – literally – on her skin and you couldn’t imagine the pain and anguish it was to live with that inside yourself.

Your eyes followed her figure up the stairs and, finally, disappeared from your field of vision through the upper floor of the house.

You let out all the breath you didn’t know you were holding, your eyes starting to burn as you didn’t know what to do. Would you call Hazel now? Would you leave the house to clear your head? You even thought about sending a message to Jongseong, but nothing that was going on in your head was coherent enough to be carried out. So the only lucid thing you could do was to grab a bottle of wine and drink it in no time.

The bitterness of the drink went down your throat for the umpteenth time, your body was curled up in the corner of the couch while your eyes flickered through the silliest channels without really paying attention to what was happening there. You just wanted to get drunk on wine and go up to your room so you could sleep. But the sound of the doorbell wouldn't let you do that.

Maybe it was time for Hazel to arrive and check on you and your mother, this could happen quickly because you started to get dizzy from a bottle of wine and your mother was already on her tenth sleep if she could be counted. So you got up from the couch to drag your feet to the front door. The speech was on the tip of your tongue because your sister would certainly scold you for drinking without eating anything, but what you found there in front of you didn't look anything like Hazel.

Jongseong had nothing to do with your sister. Only his worried expression and his eyebrows together could be said to be an expression you knew well: concern.

“Y/n… Are you okay?” he asked a little euphoric, but trying to relax little by little when you blinked a few times, trying to assimilate.

“Jay…”

“Gosh, I was worried” he moved his hands from side to side as he gestured and spoke, and you heard the sound of bags, but ignored it for a moment “Hazel said she would come here to check on you and I said I could come after work, she called you and you didn't answer so I—” little by little, Jongseong followed your gaze to his hands, where there were bags he was holding “Oh.”

“What is this?” you asked.

“Answer me first” he said back, looking at you this time. You straightened your posture, a narrowed look in his direction before softening and leaning against the door frame.

“I can’t deal with my problems so I drank an entire bottle of wine—”

“Did you eat, at least?” he interrupted you, seeing you shake your head. For the first time, you noticed a serious expression on Jongseong’s face, as if he was angry with you. And something stirred inside your chest when he walked past you without asking permission and entered your house.

Jongseong wasn’t a stranger, but he also didn’t consider himself an acquaintance to the point of doing this. But combining concern with several other feelings made him act on impulse. You closed the door to the house and simply followed him to the kitchen, where he placed the bags on the counter where you had placed yours a few hours before.

“Jay” you finally called out to him, and he looked in your direction. The same serious expression from before was still there, not softening for a single second. “What are you— What is this?”

Stop stuttering, idiot. Your eyes started to burn because he was mad at you, and you were too drunk to deal with that kind of thing.

“You said you’d have coffee with me, didn’t you?” he asked, waiting for your answer. You blinked slowly to keep the tears away and sighed, nodding positively to the question he had asked. “I decided to bring some things to make coffee here, since that way you wouldn’t leave the house and… Well…”

Now he felt shy enough to verbalize all the effort he was making. Of course, Jongseong had contacted your sister and Jaeyun to see if it was a good idea, especially since he was constantly listening to Hazel’s complaints about your mother’s situation. He didn’t want to demand attention from you, much less for you to go out with him. As he had said that day, he would be patient enough and wait. But nothing was stopping him from bringing the coffee to you.

“So you… You wanted to come have coffee with me?” Your voice was shaky, you felt like you could break down at any moment. No one had ever done that for you in your entire life: demonstrated. You had been around people enough to understand that not everything could be reciprocal, not everything people would make an effort, and that was okay. No one had that obligation.

And seeing that Jongseong didn’t treat it as an obligation, but because he wanted to do it, made you even more vulnerable. Sunghoon’s voice always hammered in the back of your head saying that you had brought the cliché Jongseong back, and if that was him, you were happy to rescue him somehow.

“I didn’t… Damn—” you heard a sob erupt from your throat, realizing you were crying the moment you felt the salty tears run down to your lips.

Everything happened so fast and before you knew it, Jongseong's strong arms were around your waist, pulling you close and nuzzling your face against his chest.

You and him could stay like that for hours and you wouldn't complain. The smell of his cologne was calming your nerves as you cried copiously and sobbed against his light shirt – now completely stained with your makeup – while he said nothing. But the caress on your back and the few kisses on the top of your head could say much more than you wanted to hear.

He didn't know when it was the right time to open his mouth or look at your face, so he let you dictate the time you needed until you gradually stopped crying. Slowly, your face lifted from his chest, finding Jongseong's face now a little softer and his bright eyes looking only at you.

“I'm sorry” you whispered. It didn't surprise you when he leaned in, resting his forehead against yours and lightly brushing the tip of his nose against yours. If it had been before, this would have left you completely static and nervous, but at that moment, it was the most calming thing he had done besides still hugging you.

“Don’t be sorry” he whispered back, the air from his lips hitting yours as one of Jongseong’s hands went up to your face, wiping away some tears.

“Could… Could you…” it would be bold of you to try that, but you needed it. Something inside your heart told you to ask, and that was exactly what you were going to do. “Can you stay here today, please?”

Jongseong smiled a little, still caressing your cheek with his fingertips as he moved down to your jaw.

“I’m glad you asked that” he said, his nose still brushing against yours. You could see the internal battle he was fighting between closing the distance and still respecting you and waiting for everything to calm down so he could get even closer. That in itself was making you even more enchanted because he took care of you down to the smallest detail “Because I wasn’t planning on leaving any time soon.”

“Are you the one taking my mother to the doctor today?” Hazel frowned, glancing at Jongseong as she focused on the right amount of green leaves for the dish she was preparing.

He decided to just watch, as the movement was a little slow because it was the beginning of the workday. Resting his hands on the edge of the kitchen counter, he lightly pressed his fingers on the marble to try to contain the emotions that were bubbling inside his chest.

Jongseong thought he was making the same mistake as in his other failed relationships: he was too emotional and had thrown himself into something that hadn’t even come to fruition. He knew you were different from any woman he had ever met in his life, but the slight fear lingered in the back of his mind. What if you spoke like the others, or felt the same way?

You’re such a cliché, Jay. You don’t have to be so emotional.

He always heard that, and after a while, the women would simply leave. Claiming that the problem was the way he showed it. But what could he do if that was the case? That was what Jongseong did when he felt he was worth it.

People who aren’t worthy of you, Hazel would hammer those phrases home whenever he talked about how exhausted he was from people saying he was too emotional.

“My sister is just a little bit cornered because of our mother, but she won’t complain about your cliché” she added one night, one of the many they got together after work to talk about their day and plan their week at the restaurant. Hazel was Jongseong’s biggest supporter of you, and she made sure you two got along.

He was happy about that. Because at least someone, throughout the love life he had faced, wouldn’t think he was crazy for it.

And Jongseong found out that what Hazel – and all the other guys – said and encouraged him when it came to you was true. He was afraid to bring meals to your house and eat in your living room. It was too intimate, but at the same time, it was the only way he had found to be close to you since you never went out. The efforts were worth it with every shy smile you gave when he arrived with the bag of food.

Then, after a lot of talking – and a little arguing on your part – he wanted to take your mother to a doctor's appointment. It wasn't his obligation, of course, but Jongseong felt his heart heavy when he arrived at your house and saw you practically a sleep-deprived zombie. You hadn't slept the day before the exams, getting nervous about how your mother would handle it. So he thought he could take you so you could rest more.

“It's not your obligation and I'm not going to leave my mother alone” he remembers the shine in your eyes, your trembling voice, and the shortness of breath as you tried to hold back your tears. Tiredness, fear, anguish, all together as he stood in front of you, wanting only to do the best.

“I know that.” Jongseong took a few steps toward you, stopping right in front of you. “But nothing I do for you or your mother is out of obligation. I do it because I want to and because I like you both” He didn’t care if that statement – ​​at least on his part – was interpreted romantically. He would make a better announcement, he wanted to say that he liked you more romantically, but for now, that would do. “And your mother will be with me, who said she’ll be alone, Y/n?”

That night he knew he had won the argument and that he had started taking your mother to your appointments so you could sleep a little longer, only on the condition that you both told her every detail when you got home.

Jongseong and Dorothy told you what the doctor had said, of course. But they didn’t tell you that they ate fast food on the way, or that they were late because they were at the mall buying a new scarf for her and a matching shirt for him. Your mother already saw you as a potential son-in-law and Jongseong didn’t deny it when she asked you things about you in the sentimental sense of the word. He wanted to tell you openly about it, and the best way was to start with your mother. Since your sister and brother-in-law were well aware of that.

“I’ll go” he sighed, trying to hide a smile that was forming at the corner of his lips. That didn't go unnoticed by Hazel, who stopped what she was doing to look at her best friend. “It's her last chemotherapy, and we—” he couldn't help himself, his smile widening even more. “We're going in matching clothes.”

“What?” she almost shouted inside the kitchen, surprise taking over and causing Heeseung to enter the place with wide eyes.

“What? Did someone get hurt?”

“Jay and my mother are going to the last chemotherapy in matching clothes,” she practically shouted. “And they didn't tell anyone!”

It was Heeseung's turn to scream, with joy and surprise. He followed Jongseong's advances on you as much as everyone else in the restaurant, being updated by the boy and your sister since you were shy enough to say something when you went to the restaurant to meet them.

“Your mother asked us not to tell, it was supposed to be a surprise” he grumbled, pushing himself away from the counter as soon as Heeseung approached. He knew his friend would mess up his hair or squeeze him, so the further away he was from him at the moment, the better.

“Now you’ve ruined the surprise and we want to see it.”

“Okay, I can bring her after the appointment and you can all see. What do you think?” Jongseong said.

And he kept his promise that day. The short time he stayed at the restaurant was just to get things organized for his friends to drive for the rest of the day, while he ran out to the car and towards his house. His pastel blue shirt was the same color as some details of the scarf your mother was wearing that day.

You didn’t get to see them leave, keeping your promise that you would rest while Jongseong took you safely. He was happy to see that you were trusting him and taking a little more care of yourself, with the fear going away when you saw your mother finally recovered. It was a victory for everyone that she was going to her last chemotherapy.

“Ready, Miss Dorothy?” he asked as he parked, turning off the car and looking at his mother with a charming smile.

“Ready, future son-in-law” she said as excitedly as he was, taking him by surprise even though that had already come out of her mouth a few times. But not calling him directly future son-in-law. Dorothy was just expressing her desire to make Jongseong part of the family. That you would give him a chance and stop being so worried since she was getting better and managing to reach the end of her treatment.

He got out of the car and ran around the vehicle to open the door for your mother, with the way she called him still hammering in the back of his mind.

“Jay” Dorothy called him, intertwining one of her arms with his as they both headed towards the elevator of the hospital building. The path so familiar to both of them is now being taken one last time.

“Yes?” he replied, pressing the floor button while turning his head to her and smiling.

“How about dinner at home tonight? Hazel and Jake are also coming, I wish you were there to celebrate.” She tightened her grip on his arm a little, showing how happy she felt in the boy’s company.

His smile widened, he knew they could celebrate somehow, but being invited by your mother before anyone else seemed a little more special than if he were even invited by you.

“I would love to” Jongseong said finally before the elevator door opened.

Your mother and he left, with confident and determined steps, heading to the oncology desk to finish that cycle.

Life seemed to have taken a huge turn for you in the last few months. Your mother was finally cured of that damned disease. Your routine began to settle down when your sister, along with Jaeyun and Jongseong, managed to call the school where you previously worked. The principal of the place didn't think twice about accepting you back, especially after Hazel told the whole story in a little more detail.

You had omitted a lot of things, saying that your departure had been due to personal problems. It was. But no one needed to know about your mother's diagnosis, much less that you sank into it with no prospect of coming back to the surface.

Now, with the routine of working at school again with your classes, you still lived with your mother until you settled in a new place nearby. A small apartment on the outskirts was all you needed, different from your old place. It was relatively big, you loved it, but after the turmoil in your life… Just a space for you to have your things and sleep now and then was enough.

You let out a small sigh, closing the tab to search for apartments online as you looked around the room. You would have already left school if it weren't for Jongseong's request that he pick you up that day. Something like the two of you having dinner together to unload a tiring Friday was all he needed. And, apparently, so did you.

Because denying him that was out of the question. You remember rarely having denied him anything since the two of you met. Taking into account that he was the only one who managed to make you give in to the tiring routine you had with your mother. It was Jongseong who made you sleep a little longer while he took you to the doctor. You wouldn't even let Hazel drive to the hospital.

Sure, she had a child at home and you were afraid that she would catch something contagious on the way or simply get even more tired. But with him… It was all so much easier.

Jongseong settled into your life effortlessly, with the attitudes you always sought without knowing you needed. He was the one who brought you lunch on the days he was sure you were living on nothing but coffee – he wouldn’t tell you that he had memorized your routine, knowing exactly the days you were most agitated because of your mother’s medication or something she needed to do.

The two of you also started having more nighttime dates, like dinners out with the guarantee that you would take him home early so you wouldn’t be gone for so long. But you bit your tongue about it, because the time with him seemed to fly by and, before you knew it, you had spent the whole night talking to Jongseong and learning a little more about him.

About how he was patient with you all this time, touching you subtly and getting closer little by little, afraid to make a move and invade your personal space or disrespect you. The most you and he shared were kisses on the forehead and hugs that lasted a little longer. A few times you almost made a move, but there were such vulnerable moments when you were crying or exhausted enough to just do something thoughtless.

You also noticed that he would hold back whenever he was close enough, staring at your mouth for a little too long before nibbling on his lower lip, sighing, and looking back into your eyes. It made your heart race, your heartbeat pulsing uncontrollably. Both he and you wanted this, but it seemed like something always happened to make it not right. Yet.

Something inside you was boiling that day. Jongseong asking you to wait at work so he could pick you up was just the icing on the cake of your relationship. You were going to make a move today. There was no way out of it. If he thought it was still too early or that you two didn't need to take that step, that would be fine. You would understand. But you wouldn't stop trying at any cost.

Your cell phone vibrated, still in your hands, and you shivered in the chair with the slight fright you got.

jay: i'm around the corner from the school, can you wait for me in the parking lot?

A simple message, but you smiled at it. There was no need to reply, you just finished organizing your things inside the large bag, going to the bathroom to see your current state.

Shit. You swallowed hard.

Working at a school again made you forget the state you were in when you came home. The denim overalls you were wearing were stained with paint from the straps to the hem around your ankles, much of your arms were also stained with the same colors. Your hair was disheveled in a ponytail and your cheeks were flushed and shiny from the light marathon you ran after some little students during the day.

Well, you could fix that last part by splashing some water on your face. And that's what you did, drying it with a paper towel before leaving the bathroom.

Maybe Jongseong would drop you off at home so you could shower and change, that would take a while since you only needed a few minutes. Get the paint off your skin and the sweat off your body to look a little more presentable.

Picking up your bag again after leaving the bathroom, you walked through the school hallways until you reached the exit, waving to the doorman and some employees who were still there. Arriving at the parking lot, Jongseong was already there. You could feel his smile through the dark mirrors, even though they blocked the view from those outside. You quickly reached the car, opened the passenger door, and slowly got in.

“Hey” he greeted you softly, as he always did.

“Hey,” you said back, closing the door and adjusting your bag in the space between your feet. Turning to him, you smiled at the sight. He had a small, tired smile on his lips, but the sparkle in his eyes was always there when he had you around.

“Long day?” the same question he asked when he came to pick you up, testing the waters to see how you were feeling that day. If he should talk more or let you do the talking. Jongseong loved both.

“Somewhat” you leaned back a little more on the bench, your eyes still on the boy next to you who didn’t look away for a second “I think I prepared an activity that didn’t work out very well in the end” pointing to your clothes, he looked away to notice a little more.

The paints, the variety of colors, and, finally, your face. Your hair looked beautiful to him, even with the strands out of place although you had already tried to fix them with each stroke of your hand. He suppressed a sigh, biting his lower lip.

“You look beautiful like this” he let out, making no mention of any regret as his eyebrows rose.

“Jay, come on” you held back a shy laugh “I’m covered in paint… I was even going to ask you so I could go home and—”

“Actually” he interrupted you, raising one of his hands towards you and taking your hand in his. Jongseong had done this a million times, you had lost count, but it was as if it were the first time with each touch of his against your body. He brought your fingers to his lips, smelling your skin and closing his eyes as if that would calm him down for a moment. “I wanted to ask you if you don’t want to do something simpler today. Maybe different.”

“And what would that be?” you said quietly, afraid that your tone of voice would make him open his eyes. The boy’s breath was beating against your skin, warm and comforting.

“Dinner at my apartment” he squeezed his fingers lightly in your hand, opening his eyes to continue with the sentence “You can take a shower there if you want, I have something that will fit you if you need it.”

Wearing his clothes was quite intimate and different. You had only worn his coats when you went out somewhere and it was cold enough – you always forgot how many clothes you should put on on a cold night – and that was it. Nothing like a sweatshirt or a shirt. Especially taking a shower outside your house. He wasn’t a stranger, anyway.

“You…” your voice faltered a little, he still held your fingers against his lips, occasionally kissing your knuckles when he felt you a little more thoughtful and tense “Are you sure, Jay? We can leave it for another day…”

“I’m sure” he said seriously, but there wasn’t a hint of anger in his voice. He just wanted to steady any uncertainty you might have shown at that moment. He then sat up straight in his seat, still holding your hand lightly enough to intertwine his fingers with yours “My day was full and stressful, but I didn’t want to miss seeing you because…”

For a second he was quiet. One of the rare times Park Jongseong stopped talking mid-sentence without you interrupting him was because he thought he was talking too much.

“Because…?” you encouraged him, squeezing your hand in his for the first time.

With his free hand, Jongseong turned the key in the ignition and let the car slowly start moving. You slid your hand into him, letting him have both hands free so he could drive safely, but your hand still traveled to his shoulder. Soon sliding down to reach the hair on the back of his neck.

A position that screamed couple, but neither you nor him cared about that.

“Because you calm me down in a way” He was looking at the movement on the street now, leaving the parking lot of your work to go towards his apartment “I think it’s better than anything I could try to do in my day to make the stress go away.”

“And is dinner at your apartment a good idea? Don’t you want to rest?” you asked, trying to ignore the agitation of your heart as Jongseong leaned into the small caress you were giving his hair.

“Having dinner with you at my apartment is what I want most right now” he sighed tiredly, looking away for a brief second before returning to the other cars that were in traffic with him. “Taking a shower, talking about anything, and having your company until I fall asleep… I swear, I’ve been looking forward to this all day.”

This was even more of a couple than the touch you were doing in his hair, sliding your fingers down his neck to his shoulders, returning to the nape of his neck and tangling his hair again.

Even if he didn’t see it, Jongseong knew you were smiling. Shyly or not, he could feel a slight smile on your lips as you let the naked truth come out of your mouth.

Secretly, he also thought it was time to act, that he should take a step beyond what the two of you were. And it could start with you finally going to his house. Getting to know his space since he’d been to your house so many times.

He was taken by surprise when he stopped at a red light and felt the warmth of your lips against his cheek. He quickly turned towards you before realizing that, yes, you were indeed smiling.

“I think that’s the perfect idea” you said so quietly that he had to hold back as much as he could not to stop at that light, take off his seatbelt, and kiss you right there.

So Jongseong was content to wave, smiling a little more than you before moving forward when the light turned green. He was desperately looking forward to being home soon.

Jongseong had such a cozy apartment that screamed, in every corner, how much of it was him. From the colors to the decoration, you were enchanted by that place more than you thought you would be, forgetting the slight nervousness that settled inside you when you got there.

But little by little, he made you relax effortlessly. He guided you through the corners of the apartment and showed you each part, then he went to his room and separated a change of clothes for you that, according to him, were the ones he wore the least. But even so, those pieces smelled like him. The t-shirt and sweatpants smelled like Jongseong and you were becoming more and more addicted to it. To smelling his scent, to knowing that it was calming you to extreme levels.

After taking a shower, having dinner, and cleaning up all the mess you two made, sitting on the couch and watching something while talking was all that was left to do before going to sleep. Neither you nor he had brought up the subject of where you would sleep. In the bed with him? In the guest room? Would he let you sleep in the room alone and sleep there on the couch? If Jongseong didn't say anything, you wouldn't talk about it.

Especially because the weight of his head on your lap, the silky dark strands between your fingers, and the sound of his laughter after a funny subject were your focus at the moment. You wanted to have maximum attention on what was happening above anything else. Listening to him talk about Jaeyun's antics on a workday made you laugh a lot, it helped you share with him some things your best friend did back in the last year of high school.

“And he won Hazel over like that?” Jongseong turned his head to look up, his attention was now on you and no longer on the TV and the entertainment program that was on. Neither of you were paying much attention to that, anyway.

“You bet” you sighed loudly and dramatically, making Jongseong laugh. “These two have been pestering me for a week so I could play cupid.”

“And it worked” He was still looking at you, his eyes half-closed from the shared laughter while the two of you were still on that subject. But as the silence settled in, he remained looking in your direction, and that made your heart race. Your heartbeats went up to your ears as Jongseong’s gaze didn’t let you. “Now they both wanted to return the favor” He lowered his voice enough for you to hear him closer. It wasn’t quite a whisper, but it was low enough for a normal tone of voice.

Your eyes roamed all over his face, trying not to linger on his lips, freshly moistened by the tip of his tongue, which still contained a small smile.

“What do you mean?” you asked, trying not to stutter or let your voice fail, but it was becoming increasingly impossible not to be nervous in front of him. Not when Jongseong lifted his head from your lap, sitting next to you on the couch, but without breaking the distance between the two of you.

He looked away for a few seconds and let out a little laugh, and you wondered if it was because of nervousness, shyness, or if he thought you were a fool for asking that. It was the first two, but you would never know that.

“Introducing you to me, making us both go out together whenever we had the chance” he began listing the little things that Jaeyun and Hazel had done for the two of you over the long months. You knew your sister and your best friend had given you a little push about it, but the biggest effort was Jongseong’s persistence.

You felt his hand find yours, his fingers slowly intertwining against yours. That gesture was starting to become familiar to both you and him.

“I didn’t persist in anything, I just… I let it happen because I wanted to” he whispered this time, and your eyes widened when you realized you had let your thoughts out loud.

“I didn’t— I mean… Damn” your low, displeased mutterings at yourself for being caught only made him laugh a little more, pulling your hand to his lap and bringing the other one to your face.

Moving your damp hair away from your cheek, tucking it behind your ear to get a better look at your face.

“Why do you think that way, Y/n?” he asked.

You thought about it for a bit, not knowing what to answer. Why did you think that way about someone who showed so much care and affection for you and the situation you were in without asking for anything in return? Maybe it was because it was something rare, almost nonexistent. No one you know – except for your family and your best friend – would do something like that. But he did. And he did it long before you knew him.

“I don’t know” was the only thing you could answer after a while because it was true. You weren’t sure what to say, but it seemed like he did.

Leaning towards you again, Jongseong rested his forehead against yours. Like that night in your kitchen, the closest gesture you had with each other. His breathing, unlike yours, was calm. Warm against your skin, almost making you sigh.

With a slow movement, he brought one of his hands to your face. His fingertips made their way from your cheek to your jaw, holding your face with all the gentleness you had known from that man in the last few months.

“I know it’s random to say this, but…” Jongseong began, speaking softly and slowly, giving a small smile when he met your eyes. They seemed bigger and more questioning, curious, and that was enough for him to continue, “I want to tell you because all my friends say you brought back the old, cliché Jongseong.”

A nod was enough for you to agree. First, curiosity had been eating away at you since the day Sunghoon had talked about it at the restaurant, the first night you had met all his friends, and him. Then, more and more, someone would say that phrase, making you even more thoughtful. Wanting to ask why that cliché had been hidden for so long.

Jongseong kept his hand holding your face, rubbing his thumb on your cheek with random drawings against your skin. His other hand looked for yours and, when he found it, he made sure to hold it with the same affection he held your face. You tried to calm all your heartbeats at that moment as you listened to him speak.

“I was raised in a way that we should show care and gratitude in our way, to the people we love and who do us good” He kept his eyes on yours, never letting them fall anywhere else on your face. Jongseong wanted to capture every second of your reaction and attention as he opened up in that conversation “I've always been someone who did everything for the people around me without expecting anything in return.”

He was too kind and you knew it, but hearing that only confirmed your suspicions. Hearing him say with so much affection everything he did for his friends, for his family. You even dared to let out a little laugh when he told you that he left home at two in the morning to hit the road for the first time and meet Heeseung, who was at the beach house alone and feeling sick.

“He wanted to go before us to organize the house, but he got food poisoning and I ran to take him to the hospital” was the simplest, yet cutest explanation you heard.

That was Jongseong through and through, the guy who had done everything for you, your mother, and your sister in the last few months. Every gesture, every moment of company. The weight you felt thinking you were taking advantage of him gradually faded away as he told you everything he did for people. Until he cleared his throat a little.

“Do you want to stop here?” you said for the first time since you started that subject, feeling your voice crack a little due to lack of use.

“No, it’s okay” you felt him squeeze your hand lightly, a small smile forming on his lips. Resentment? Sadness? You didn't know, but you wanted to hear it anyway “I want you to know.”

You nodded once more and listened to every word with the same attention. You knew that Jongseong would have other relationships. After all, a man like that couldn't have gotten this far without trying anything in life. It was a sin to think that he would be immaculate. But a wave of sadness washed over you, not because of that, but because of the way he started telling the story.

He only had two girlfriends. But they were enough to traumatize him. Jongseong did everything for them, as he did for anyone in his life, but they both ended up the same way: calling him an idiot for doing everything, saying that he was too passive and that the relationship was monotonous. Without adventure and boring. The first one left him less than two weeks after the breakup, going to live abroad. The second one took a while, but she came back to torment him when he opened the restaurant.

“She went there today” he said, almost in a whisper. “After I started making money, it seems like I became even more of an idiot because she tried to get closer out of interest. And that drives me crazy.”

It would drive anyone crazy, of course. You wanted to feel uncomfortable and jealous that someone who had done him so much harm was around on the same day you were with him. But all you could think about was the sadness Jongseong must have felt. Seeing someone he had tried everything for show up just to want something in return.

After all the trauma that followed, he had closed himself off to clichés and managed to do this only to his friends. No one had ever accessed the old, old Jongseong again. Until you arrive.

“That’s why I say that everything I did was because I wanted to” he got a little closer, his breath getting hotter and hotter against your skin “You rescued something in me effortlessly. Something that I thought was buried after what I went through.”

“Now I understand” you replied, letting go of his hands and holding Jongseong’s face between your small fingers. Your touch on his skin sent shivers all over his body. He thought he was warm after his bath and a nice dinner, but your touch made it even better “I just thought I was being a burden because I kept even Hazel away from what was going on.”

“But you don’t have to do this to me” Jongseong had a pleading tone in his voice, you could feel it in every word. “Because I like you and I want to be around to do everything I can.”

I like you. He said. Without pause, without wide eyes or regrets. You smiled without realizing it.

“I like you too, Jongseong. And I promise not to stop you from anything else in my life.”

“Oh, that’s good” he teased “Won’t you stop me if I kiss you now too?” your laugh was the sound he liked to hear the most in the last few months. The sound he liked to tease just to feel complete.

“You can do it whenever you want” was the cue for him to finally lean in and press his lips against yours. They were soft and warm, and you could feel him smile against your lips before parting his to press the tip of his tongue between your lips.

Your hands slid to Jongseong's shoulders and, as soon as he entwined his tongue with yours, tasting you, he wrapped his arm around your waist to pull you onto his lap. You kept your protests of surprise to yourself, settling yourself on his lap at the same time that you became familiar with having his tongue subtly touch yours.

Jongseong was taking it slow, savoring your taste and molding his mouth to yours as he led the pace of the kiss, resting his hands on your waist to keep you in place on top of his lap. Your head was spinning, wondering where he got so much courage to do that… He was the one who took great care to hold your hand, kiss your forehead, and scream into the pillow when he got to the apartment because he had been so close to your mouth and hadn't even managed to lean in.

But now here you two were, pressing your mouths against each other and feeling the rhythm of the kiss change every time Jongseong tightened his grip on your waist or you tangled your fingers in his hair to pull.

The breaking point was when you unconsciously shifted on his lap. The slight brush of your hips against his newly growing bulge made Jongseong gasp against your lips and swallow a moan that he knew would be loud enough. Instead, he slid his lips over yours and down to your neck to kiss and lick your skin.

He had no idea where your sweet spot might be, what to do with you, and how to proceed. Not wanting to cross any boundaries that day. So he went carefully, slowly kissing his way down your neck to below your ear, feeling your body shiver against his lap and your hips press into him a little more. It was your turn to let out a low noise, he knew it could very well be a moan if you weren't so shy.

“Don't hold back for me, Y/n” he whispered against your skin, sliding his teeth on your earlobe and moving down to your neck again “I want to hear you.”

Why had that simple, stupid sentence stuck right in the middle of your panties? Jongseong couldn't be serious, he simply couldn't say that kind of thing and pretend it had no effect on you.

Your response was a small nod, thinking better of returning what he was doing against your skin. As the kisses became more intense and wet, you decided to follow the movement of his mouth against your skin with your hips circling over his. The brush of Jongseong's cock against your pussy, the layer of clothing creating a nice friction in the sensitive area that you and he both wanted to touch so much.

“Fuck” he murmured against your collarbone, his fingers tightening on your hips, but not stopping you from moving on his lap. If he was guiding the pace of the kisses and marks he was leaving on your skin, he would let you guide the pace on his lap.

One of Jongseong’s hands left your hips to pull the shirt you were wearing, the collar going down enough on your skin to show your collarbone where he could continue the session of kisses and marks on you.

Your smile grew, along with the shivers running through your body with each kiss of his and each intensity with which his hips moved. The sweatshirts you both wore weren’t that thick, but it was a hindrance to have that amount of clothing between you and him, even so, it was something you would work on. Not to tease him, but to make it even hotter.

So you pressed your chest against his, hiding Jongseong's face against your neck and collarbone, keeping your hips so close that one movement forward and you could feel the head of his cock rubbing perfectly against your needy clit.

“Jay” you moaned his nickname for the first time, making the boy go into an internal meltdown at how that sounded to him. It was beautiful. A perfect sound that he never thought he would hear in his life. If you moaned like that just because of the way you and him were, Jongseong wanted to imagine the aftermath of it.

“Yes, love” he replied against your skin, lifting his face and placing a slow kiss against your chin. His eyes stared at you with so much affection but at the same time with so much desire that it made your head spin. His hands were still on your hips and he pulled you even further forward, rubbing your clit against the head of his cock again, sliding the entire length over his sweatpants “You're doing so good, you know that?”

You only had the strength to agree, nodding and moaning his name as you moved a little more willingly against Jongseong's clothed cock. He dared a little, the teasing was too much, but he didn't want to stop. Leaning back, he pulled your body along so that you were both more comfortable on the couch.

Now, he had enough strength to support his feet on the floor and push his hips up to go against your movements, so both you and him could feel each other's arousal even more.

Your panties were already sticking against the lips of your pussy, you knew that a few more frictions and your juices would be passing through his sweatpants. It would be shameful if you weren't seeing Jongseong's determination to follow your movements, moaning your name and pressing his lips against your jaw every time he knew he could moan louder when you rubbed in a specific way against his cock.

Something inside you was on fire, the knot in your stomach was getting closer and closer to bursting, and by the way, Jongseong was moaning, grunting, and pushing his hips against yours, you knew he couldn't be that far away.

It wouldn't be shameful to cum like that, after all, the friction was as good as the penetration. And you would be bold enough to ask for this to continue in his room. You promised you wouldn't let anything go by.

Another kiss was initiated, this time by you as you felt your clit throb every time it was pressed in an even more delicious way. The wet noise muffled by the sweatshirt, you couldn't tell if it was from your pussy or his cock, but either way, the pleasure was being very well distributed. You nibbled on Jongseong's lower lip, releasing slightly with a pop as you rested your hands on his chest to steady yourself.

“Jay, I—” you lifted your body, arching your butt a little higher to give more momentum to your movements. He placed his hands on either side of your buttocks, letting you slide down his cock even though you were still dressed.

“Are you going to cum?” he asked, even though he already knew the answer. Your nod was the answer he needed, pulling you into a messy kiss as he thrust his hips again and intensified the rubbing with you.

The feeling was surreal. Cumming in your panties while still riding your orgasm with the shallow thrusts and over the clothes that Jongseong gave you to help you reach your peak. You moaned against his mouth, watching him swallow all your moans just as you did with his. His hips stuttered, but never really stopped to prolong that sensation until it bordered on overstimulation.

You fell against his chest, tired and panting. A little embarrassed by the sticky feeling between your legs, your cheeks started to heat up and you wondered if it was from the orgasm you had just had or if it was because reality was setting in and you had just dry-humped Jongseong.

Your eyes slowly opened, searching for his as he was already looking at you. A tired smile adorned the lips you loved kissing, along with a blush on the tanned skin you were addicted to. Both you and him looked down at the same time, and his chuckle made you feel a little more relaxed.

It wasn't just your sweatshirt that was sticky, but the large stain on his pants told you that the orgasm had been intense for both of you.

“We can clean ourselves up and lie down if you want” he whispered, his voice husky and deep, sending shivers down your entire body even after the intense orgasm you had had. Leaning towards him, you kissed Jongseong's lips and smiled slowly.

“Or we can continue this after we clean up too” you whispered back.

“Bold” he chuckled softly, “But I like it.”

“That’s good, right?”

“That’s great” he finished, kissing you once more before hugging your body to his. “Since you’re being bold, can I too?”

He had more time to be bold than you that night, but you would never stop Jongseong from being bold. From being cliché. You would never stop him from anything. So you just agreed, feeling him hug you even tighter as you hugged him back.

“I wanted to tell you that this apartment is too big for just one person” he hummed, his face slowly hiding in the crook of your neck. His smile grew bigger and bigger as he saw the fresh marks on your skin starting to turn a reddish color. You chuckled softly, already imagining where the conversation was going “Maybe you and I can share it. Only if you want, of course.”

He shrugged, outwardly pretending that it didn’t matter. But deep down Jongseong was afraid of your answer. He was afraid that he had been too invasive, even though the moment you two shared a few minutes ago had been more than intimate.

“Are you asking me to live with you?” your tone was playful, but even so, he still didn’t dare to look at you. He kept his face buried in your neck. He only agreed with a slight nod as he murmured, “I’ll need to see if your bed is good to sleep in every night, then.”

“Or we can do it on the couch every day. It’s comfortable here, isn’t it?” He finally lifted his head, his bright and inviting eyes making you sigh – internally and externally. It was your turn to rest your forehead against his, brushing the tip of your nose against Jongseong’s.

“Anywhere is comfortable with you” you whispered, kissing him slowly “You’ve convinced me.”

“Great” it was his turn to kiss your lips, sliding his hands from your waist to your legs, picking you up. Finally, he stood up with you in his arms, accompanied by your little screams and laughter along with his “Because I didn’t intend to let you go, anyway.”

It was so good to have let him into your life. And even better that he stayed because, honestly, you didn’t know if you would have been able to endure everything up until that moment without him.

You would be immensely grateful to your sister and Jaeyun for having introduced you that day at the restaurant, after all, they were both just repaying what you did years ago. Jongseong was right about that.

© ikeuverse, 2025. do not copy, translate or steal my stories.

[erinwantstowrite]

Dick and Tim would be REALLY good on reality tv,,, they're both charismatic (please do not forget that Tim makes friends/allies easily just like Dick can), handsome, CLEVER, and know how to play to a persona. i think they'd go on shows for fun and to de-stress. like one too many things piss them off in their daily lives and they could pretty much get a vacation from it just to go on these shows. no one in the family can talk to them and they get to annoy people, crack jokes, and get fun puzzles in the form of a literal puzzle or figuring out social dynamics of the other players.

sometimes they go on shows by themselves but mostly use it as a brotherly bonding activity. if it's a show where they can be a duo they're GOING to do it. and they're going in to play to a storyline, not to win. they don't need the money, they don't need the publicity, they just want to have fun. sometimes if they figure out that everyone on the show sucks and they get competitive, they'll win. but mostly their goal is "how can we make the funniest plot line look the most natural." or something like that. i know a producer LOVES to see them coming. i bet EVERYONE tunes in when they're on a show because they're fucking hilarious even if half of what they say are inside jokes. the rest of the family watches and they KNOW what those shits are pulling, they have betting pools where they guess what the two are gonna do next, they're the FIRST to make memes for both internet and for the family group chats.

one time they convinced Bruce to go (it's been many a years since he really had to play up the Brucie role, cause he's a dad now and the older he gets the more people expect him to mellow out, and even back when he was full Brucie, reality TV wasn't his thing). it was one of those survival based shows where you come is as a team and try to win together. Bruce got lost in the woods after going on a hike. The camera men literally lost him and Tim and Dick were playing it up for the camera. Dick cried and invited the other teams to a funeral. Tim had a speech that was basically "I think he's fine but this is my perfect opportunity to embarrass my dad with stories." The producers were like "we fucking killed Bruce Wayne oh my fucking god" and Bruce shows up at the funeral like "oh what a beautiful service my boys are so great." They won by pure luck and circumstances and they were actively TRYING to lose that game. They were gobsmacked at the end and everyone uses the moment they looked at each other in confusion and shock as reaction gifs

[witerh]

Happy Valentine's Day, sweetheart! || husband re:di daddy!leon

NSFW!

warnings: porn with a plot, fluff and smut, comfort, cook in the kitchen, blowjob, face riding, cunnilingus, pet names: «baby girl», «princess», «baby»

note: Happy Valentine's Day to you! I admired the idea of one of the drabbles, so thanks to the author for the idea! (I lost it, eh)

rating: mature

summary: you wakes up early to make you two breakfast so that it makes him happy on valentine's day after his mission!

all rights reserved!|| valentine's day event!!

With the sun rays flowing in through the curtains, your eyes flutter open, your blurred vision focusing in on the gorgeous man lying near you.

You start the night laying on his chest, but after turning through the night, you two never failed to end up in this position.

You thrived on the feeling of his heavy palms on the yours body, his nose snuggled deep into the crook of your neck, hot breath burns your sensitive skin and his herculean arms wrapped around you enough so that you weren’t going anywhere; not on this morning.

His snoring was not quiet, but you learned to love it. It become the music to your ears with the opening of eyes.

And it only takes you a few seconds for it to get it. A couple of flutters of eyelashes and awakening came with the thought that this it...

It’s Valentine’s Day.

You smiled weakly, excited about all things you have planned for Leon. It was necessary to part with the warm bed and sneak out of the bedroom (don't forgot about softly kiss his forehead) and into the kitchen.

You weren’t too worried, though. Leon didn’t get to sleep in a lot like this due to his work, but when he did. You were safe. You start listing in your head all the things you wanted to make for him.

You were a jack of all trades in the kitchen. He loved coming home from missions, leaving his bike helmet to the side while he reached out to you as you cooked a hot dinner. His mouth is already watering at the sight of the warm plate on the kitchen table.

Gratitude in the form of a juicy kiss on the lips. Oh, shit!

You slave away in the kitchen, frying the wafers and topping them with cream and sliced strawberries, making sure everything was perfect.

You go to check on the sleeping husband. He’s still knocked out thankfully, except he’s on his back now, hugging a pillow.

You notice that the blanket wasn’t on him anymore, which allowed you a beautiful view: his dark hair sprinkled with hints of gray tussled from his sleep. His thick neck, chest and arms, peppered with dark hair as well, resting beautifully. His soft midsection, rising and falling with each snore. Near his happy trail was a prominent tent, the print of his huge dick tightening his briefs.

You bit your bottom lip at his morning wood. God, this man was too perfect for his own good.

You could feel yourself salivate as you remind yourself of all the other things you had to get to like decorations or lighting the candles or the rose petals… It doesn’t take much for you to give into your urges. He won’t miss the candles or any decorations anyways…

He’ll appreciate what you’re about to do way more.

You silently climb onto the foot of the bed, your face dangerously close to the bulge. You give it a small caress, your hands gently molding around the shaft on top of the fabric of his boxers. You look up when you evoke a barely audible groan from Leon , who’s still asleep.

You apply just a little more pressure in your next caress, this time making his dick twitch and his hips faintly buck up into your hand, his instinctive neediness signaling you to proceed with your lustful endeavor. You then lift the band of his boxers, his completely hardened cock immediately springing up.

You have to literally suck in your lips to muffle a moan. Your eyes drink in his perfectly shaped bush at the end of his delicious happy trail, the pumped veins going up his shaft, the singular drop of pre-cum already running down, and finally his fat tip. He was perfect.

You use the juice already there as lubricant, slowly stroking his dick, the other hand on his thick, hairy thigh for support. You start to feel Leon‘s thighs contract and hips slightly bucking up some more, little grunts escaping his lips. His arms tense up as well, his muscles clenching around the poor pillow. His small, slow thrusts drove you crazy, not able to wait any longer to put your mouth to use.

You test the waters by giving his tip soft licks, swirling your tongue on it in lazy, annoyingly slow circles.

This grants you a few quiet hums from him, his belly and round pecs rising and falling faster, his body telling you to keep going for him. Faint «mmhm's» were sighed in his sleep, brows furrowed, lips in a pout; signs that you were doing amazing. You then take him in completely, hollowing out your mouth for him as much as you possibly can, because as mentioned before, this man is big.

You bob your head slowly a few times. It’s when you pull him out with a wet pop! and start treating it like your own popsicle does his eyes finally slowly open, his lips curling when he looks down at his now very cock drunk girlfriend with a satisfied smirk. His chuckle is low and silk-like, his morning voice making your cunt clench around nothing.

"Well," his breathing remains labored, his jaw hanging open, "Good morning to you too, —… Mmfuck." He says as you maintain eye contact, your lips wrapped around his long and thick member, tongue tracing along a vein.

You pull away with a wet smack before saying: "Happy Valentine’s Day, Daddy", in the most sing song tone of voice. Leon tuts at your adorable yet seductive response, "Hey baby, so thoughtful good to me…do that again..." he pleads. "Oh!"

"Like this, Daddy?” You ask, lapping your tongue over his tip just the way he likes it. "Oh-oh fuck… yeah, just like that, princess, go-o-od girl-l-l..." his head falls back against the headboard for a moment to sigh before looking back down at you again, seeing his balls in your mouth as your thumb works on his sensitive tip almost making him instantly burst.

You know he’s getting close when he starts panting, propping himself on his elbows and reaching a hand out to your scalp, gently applying pressure now that he’s in your mouth again.

“Aw shit…. I’m close, baby, almost there… fuck, takin’ my fat cock so well, princess…” He mutters apologies and thank you’s as he relentlessly rams into your mouth, his bush managing to meet the tip of your nose almost every time. He growls as he starts greedily thrusting his hips, face fucking his release into you.

You take your sweet time pulling him out of lips, making sure to get every drop, your eyes on his the entire time. Once he’s out of your mouth, he sees you swallow, "Open," and you do as he asks, "ehh, so-o good girlie!"

You begin to sit up, wiping your mouth, "Only for you, baby… C'mon, there’s some things in the kitchen for yo—"

“Whoa-whoa-whoa,” He grabs your hand as you’re about to leave the bed and pulls you toward himself, “I didn’t say we were finished, did I?”

You fall into the bed again, Leon guiding your hips onto his lap as he sloppily makes out with you, his tongue practically down your throat.

“I’m not done with you yet,” he mumbles against your lips. He lays back down on the bed, “C’mere, pretty.”

He brings his hands up to his face motioning for you to sit on your «throne».

Placing your hands on his body for support, you scoot your way up to his face, Leon’s grin getting wider as your wet cunt comes into full view. “So perfect for me, fuck,” His voice is sweet and tender now, planting a few equally tender kisses on your inner thighs, making sure to show them some love before you squeeze his head between them like a plushie.

“You are such a beauty, you know that, baby? Wanna make you feel good, baby.”

“Mhm,” You nod, biting your lip as the breath of his voice tickles your womanhood.

If Leon could, he would just live in between your thighs just like this for all of eternity. His absolute favorite place in the whole world.

Your hands use the edge of the headboard as support, tentatively hovering your hips over his face as he showers your inner thighs with loving pecks and nibbles, the smack of his lips making your pussy clench again. One of his big hands steadies your hips with a tight grip, the other moving your panties aside to reveal your unshaven lips. "Prettiest pussy ever. Fuck, you’re so wet, princess, did I do that?"

You sigh when his lips kiss your clit, his tongue following shortly after by flicking it a couple times. You hear him grunt beneath you after having to lift his head off the bed to reach your hole. "Baby, sit down. All of your body weight." He's short with his words. It sounds more like an order than a request.

"But Leon—" He breathes out, "You're really testing my patience, baby." And with that, his massive hands wrap firmly around your waist and pull you down, a yelp falling from your mouth as he feasts on your sensitive pussy. Leon is the definition of a munch. His head movement adds to the stimulation, moving it up and down, side to side.

His nose, the perfect size and shape that brushes against your clit while he simultaneously slurps and tongue fucks your cunt. The vibrations of his «mmph» the scruff of his face rubbing against your inner thighs, and softly pressing your clit between his tongue and front teeth were the cherry on top.

Your sounds are pornographic as he eats you out. When you're unable to sit up straight anymore due to the immense pleasure, you lean back, hands landing behind you on his soft pecs, pushing into them in an effort to get some kind of break, but Leon wasn't having it. Plus, he was way stronger than you.

A small part of you wondered how he was going so long without coming up for air, but you quickly answer your own question when you remember that your man loves to eat, and when he does, he’s like a starved man. Each time you pushed, his grasp only got stronger, but as much as you pushed, you truthfully didn't want him to stop. Ever.

"L-leon…" sigh, "I-I can't," you cry, unable to speak without stopping mid-sentence to let out a whine, "I'm so close, Daddy, don't stop, please, don't stop-don't stop!" You became a broken record, all sense leaving your body.

The only thing on your mind was Leon's mouth ravishing your weeping cunt. You sat forward again, now tugging on his hair, making him hum further. "Mmmph, fuck!... don't worry... I'll give you whatever you want,"

You began to literally ride his face, desperately chasing your climax with his hands slapping against your ass. Leon was in heaven with this view, bucking his own hips into the air from how perfect you looked like this.

“Mmm… such a dirty fuckin’ girl you're,” smack, “wakin' me up like this…” smack. An octave lower, and the wet, sucking sounds of his mouth helped uncoil the knot in your stomach, bursting on his handsome face.

Your hips stutter and your jaw falls open when you cum, Leon greedily drinking in your juices as if he’s been stranded on the Sahara for set weeks. You could’ve split his skull into two, that’s how hard you pressed your thighs together, but he wouldn’t have it any other way. Leon finally let you go, allowing you to sit on his chest now, both of you catching your breaths.

He smirks back up at you, and you roll your eyes, blushing. "Awww, my princess gets all shy when I make her cum, ehhh?" With Leon’s big hands as support and guidance, he rolls over, so he’s still in between your legs, but you’re now the bottom, and him the top.

Then he goes in for a romantic kiss on the lips. You feel safe and taken care of while feeling his body weight on you again, his muscles against yours and his big muscly arms wrapped securely around you.

You can feel his cock twitch against your too much stimulated cunt, completely soaked from his second climax from simply eating you out, no doubt. He moves any hair on your face aside, caressing your cheek when he does. "Happy Valentine’s Day, baby girl. Have I told you how much I love you?"

You manage a tired smile, “I love you, too.” you chuckle, “Oh! I completely forgot you must be hungry, baby…” you say, as you start getting up.

He gently stops you, and you lay back near him.

"Baby, I think I was very hungry before, but you fed me."

[wandaslittlepsycho]

Precious

pairing: 𝚌𝚛𝚊𝚣𝚢!𝚠𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚊 ༝༝ 𝚏𝚎𝚖!𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

summary: your bunny slips through the crack of your front door and you run after her in hopes of catching the pet again. You get lost but your time still ticks, nightfall inching closer and closer as you inevitably sink further into the woods. Luckily, your eyes spot a cabin, and you become acquaintances with the unusual redhead that resides there.

warnings: dubcon, filthy smutty smut smut, HEAVYYYY dacryphilia, groping, dry humping, praise kink, thigh riding (r receiving), mid writing, wanda is lowkey a sadist, slightly unhinged crazy yet loveable and sexy cabin wanda, age gap > r is 20 w is 32

A/N: first fic!!! hi… im very new to writing fics so please be nice ૮꒰ྀི >⸝⸝⸝<꒱ྀིა (i wrote this listening to a true crime documentary idk)

kind of a messy plot but I still hope my little freaks enjoy…… and I’m also sorry this took longer than expected I just kept contemplating if it was good or absolute shit </3

+

this is a dark fic. 18+. wlw. men & minors dni!

⫘⫘⫘ ⫘⫘⫘ ⫘⫘⫘ ⫘⫘⫘ ⫘⫘⫘

It’s getting pretty late…

You think to yourself, hugging your shoulders as you look up at the overcast sky.

How did I end up here in the first place?

✦

You move a leaf to the side and pick the fresh strawberry that was stashed there, rinsing it in your small bucket of water and taking a mouthful of the delicious treat.

You hear a shuffle beside you. Turning your head, you see a white bunny hiding behind one of your sunflower pots. You smile and place another strawberry onto the ground before slowly walking away. Your eyes relish how cute the little animal is as they chomp away at your colourful fruit.

You stand in the corner of your garden and decide from then on, you’d feed the hungry bunnies that would stroll into your neighbourhood.

A few days pass and you quickly became friends with two specific bunnies who you named Clover and Daisy. You eventually took them in as your own, rottenly spoiling both of the creatures. You loved having them around because living alone in a small town that was an hour away from the city can definitely become lonely.

“This tastes like candy to you doesn’t it Daisy?” You say as you hold out your hand and watch her nibble it up. The fur around her mouth is stained purple, you laugh at the sight.

“Okay that’s enough blueberries for tonight! You’ll get sick if you keep eating those.” You click the plastic container shut, standing up and walking into your kitchen. You place the container in the side compartment of your fridge for tomorrow and stroll back into your living room.

Your brows furrow. Daisy is gone. Daisy and Clover are such good bunnies, they never leave your sight for more than a minute. You assume she ran to her sister Clover, but your eyes widen in horror when you see your front door slightly more cracked open than it was before you left.

You anxiously open your phone and dial your best friend Frankie. You ramble to her about how stupid you felt for leaving the door open, like you are an irresponsible parent who’s no smarter than a bag of rocks. She calmly tells you to go look for Daisy and that she’ll come over as soon as she can to watch Clover.

“Thank you so so much, Frankie. I don’t know what I’d do without you.” You sigh in relief, a hand pressed over your chest. You feel your heart jump underneath your palm and your lips trembling with every breath.

“It’s no problem, Y/N/N. Now go look for that bunny, I’ll be over in 5.”

“Bye, thank you again..” You hang up the phone and dart out the door. You frantically look through your shrubs and call her name, but a bright white spot in your peripheral steals your attention.

There she is, bouncing her way into the open forest across the road from you. As soon as she hops out of your view you race towards her, carelessly running past two moving cars. You ignore the frustrated yelling and the beeping horns, continuing to boost into daisies direction.

“DAISY! WAIT!!”

You yell, but your shouting only seems to spur her on. You run after her and neither of you lose pace. You turn corners, run through mud and almost slip doing so at least two times. The animal suddenly picks up it’s speed, turning abruptly and disappearing into a thick bush. You get on your knees and practically rip this bush to shreds, but she was already long gone. Daisy is no more.

You feel tears sting your eyes, ears and cheeks becoming hot from your stress. You sniffle and wipe your tears with the sleeve of your jacket. You knew it was impossible to look for her now. That bunny became your life in just a couple of days, she felt like a childhood pet. The thought of never seeing her again made your heartstrings tie themselves into knots.

You lose the path you were on but you couldn’t care less. You lost your beloved bunny baby; life is no longer worth living. You wonder if Clover’s okay, and how exactly you’d break the news to her.

So lost and full of woe, mind not even switched on, you didn’t notice the thick tree root in front of you until you stub your foot against it and fall forward. You wince and slowly stand up again. Dusting the crunchy leaves off of your clothes, you use the back of your hand to wipe the dripping bead of blood from your cheekbone.

Great, a cut. I’ll have to clean that up when I get home..

You wonder aimlessly with your head hung low. A brisk breeze that brushes past you is what makes you finally look up.

You hug your shoulders as you stare at the gloomy airspace. The sun isn’t beaming, only a variation of different grey clouds flood the sky.

A person? This far out on in the woods?

Wanda thinks. She watches you with a deranged, curious look as you weave yourself through the webs and bushes, seemingly extra careful about tree roots.

You look up from the ground, scanning the area around you and pause when you see the warm glow of her cabin.

My god, she’s gorgeous.

She takes a swift step back so she’s not in the frame of the window anymore, her brows furrowing. She stares at the wall, she hasn’t seen an actual person in so long.

What is a girl like you doing traipsing in the woods?

She peeks again and now you’re making your way over, big wary eyes cautiously examining your surroundings. A shiver rocks through you as you cough into your elbow, then using that arm to place three firm knocks on the door.

You sigh while you wait for someone to answer the door. You switch from tippy toes to the heel of your feet in a nervous manner. The cabin looks great, almost pristine, there’s no way it’s abandoned.

You feel stupid for going into a cabin in the woods. It’s like some dumb movie; you’re just hoping you don’t end up dead. You expect to see an old, wrinkled man the size of a third grader, but your eyes widen when a tall red headed woman swings the door open. You stutter, stunned that a woman like her would live in a place so isolated.

Holy shit, she’s fine.

“Hi, um.. I know it’s a lot to ask but can I stay here for a little bit? I… got lost.” You fiddle with your fingers. She chuckles as she crosses her arms, biting her lip and letting her eyes run up and down your fidgety figure.

“No it’s not asking anything at all. It’s not like I get visitors very often.” She moves to the side and welcomes you in. You look up at her and mumble a small thank you, slowly stepping inside her warm homestead.

The smell of firewood burning and sweet lavender conquer your senses. The comforting atmosphere relaxes you despite how unfamiliar it is. You kick off your boots and grab them so you can neatly place them next to the door. She shuts the door and clicks it locked, quietly making her way over to what looks like her kitchen.

You drink in the sight around you. A tall, cobblestone fireplace lined up against the wall with wood already burning inside of it. A soft lounge suite with a fluffy mat sitting right underneath it. There’s a short hallway and two doors, one you assume leading into her bedroom and the other probably being her bathroom.

One thing you notice in particular is a painting, one with two women sitting on a red velvet couch. One is dressed in white, the other is dressed in black and they both have lace blindfolds wrapped around their heads.

Their Victorian dresses were detailed and long, their lips so close but afraid to touch and give in.

You look away and clench your fists. Your face is now hot, when you entered a remote cabin in the woods, a gay victorian painting was the last thing you expected.

“Take a seat, make yourself comfortable.” The woman’s hoarse voice echoes through the room. Your ears perk up when they catch a touch of an accent.

Is she some type of Russian? That’s hot.

Your anxious form shifts over to her couch to sit down. You sigh in relief, your aching bones melting into the man made cloud that was this woman’s sofa.

“So what’s your name, milaya?” The woman hands you a cup. Your cold fingers feel fuzzy against the hot mug, shuffling back further into her couch so you can sit up comfortably.

“Y/N. You?”

“Wanda.”

A small smile sits on her face that is on some level, disturbing. It’s such a beautiful smile but you can feel something is not right with her. Your intuition has never made itself more distinct, it was less noticeable when you were walking alone outside.

The room feels like it’s getting smaller, the claustrophobia whips the air right out of your lungs. Your eyes flicker between hers. The room starts to spin. Your ears start to ring. Before you could pass out cold, she cups your chin, the gentle gesture pulling you out of your panicked state.

“That’s a nasty cut isn’t it? Would you like me to take care of that?” She says, her tone coaxing. Your curious eyes linger on her,

Why is this stranger being so generous?

If someone entered your home and needed to stay the night, you’d tell them to get lost. She caresses your face softly while she stares at the wound.

“No it’s oka-“ She suddenly pushes a finger to the fresh cut, forcing you to wince and pull away from her. She looks at you in a way you can’t describe, your reaction seemingly piqueing her interest. Her pupils dilate but not enough for you to notice. You look at her with fearful eyes and think to yourself,

Who would do that?

“Actually, that would be nice. Thank you..”

~

Your eyes switch between the steaming drink in your hand and the obviously unhinged redhead sitting next to you. Her aura is intimidating, but you convince yourself it’s paranoia.

I’m in a remote cabin deep in the woods.

Who wouldn’t be unsettled? She’s nice and she helped you…stop being dumb Y/N!

“Thank you again for cleaning my cut, Wanda.” You try to strike up a conversation, but all you’re met with is painful silence. She watches your lips touch the ring of the porcelain teacup, then moving her eyes up to meet your own.

“You’re very observant aren’t you?” You refer to her endless stare, disguising your discomfort with a small chuckle. Her smile widens.

"Fascinuješ ma, miláčik.” “You fascinate me, darling.”

Your brows squeeze together. You wish you could understand what she said, but it felt rude asking her to repeat that in English. You result in shyly looking away and focus on your dangling feet.

Her hand occasionally runs down your back or strokes your arm. Her icy featherlight touches cause goosebumps to ride over your skin. She notices your eyes following her fingers, a mischief smirk hiking up her cheeks.

“You’re so lucky I’m here to help you, dear. What was a girl like you doing in the woods all alone?” Her hand lands on your knee, slowly climbing up closer to your heat and lightly massaging the flesh there. You squirm when she inches closer to your mound, but you’re in her home. She could do anything to you if you said something that upset her.

What if she’s just being nice? I don’t want to offend her…

“I- uh- I was hunting?” You try to paint yourself as tough but fail spectacularly; you can tell by the way she squints her eyes when she hears your answer.

“If that were true, you’d have hunting gear on you, sweetie.” She moves your hair to the other side of your neck to expose the milky skin there. She gawks at your neck like a predator creeping on her prey, ready to pounce on you at any given moment.

The thought of kissing and licking at your silky skin and the vivid image of you biting your plush pink lips made her tremble with desire.

You shrink, staring at the drink in your hands and feeling a strike of vulnerability as you quietly say the words, “I was chasing a bunny..”

“Aww aren’t you precious?” She praises. She toys with the soft threads of your hair, your cheeks glowing a rosy pink from her comment. Her hand squeezes your thigh more roughly, the unexpected act making you jump.

“Such a pretty thing.” She whispers to herself. You don’t catch her words, so you hum and tilt your head, showing your confusion in hopes she would repeat herself.

“Oh… nothing.” She quickly replaces her shock with a crooked grin. Your lips stretch into a small and nervous smile, slowly putting the cup to your mouth again.

A few more moments of silence are present. The crackling of burning wood and the crickets chirping in the distance gave you a chance to finally breathe, although you still struggle to ignore her invasive presence.

“Put the drink down.” You look at her in surprise. You stutter, taken aback by her orders but don’t dare ask any questions. You lick your lips and shuffle, leaning forward to sit the drink on her coffee table. You then move back against the couch and stare into the orange flames in front of you.

“Do you like when people are rough with you, angel?”

You freeze hearing her question. She tucks a stray strand of hair behind your ear ever so gently, grinning when she sees the sheer terror written on your face. There was something eerie about the way she had asked you, a corrupted little twinkle beaming from her eyes.

“Well, no.. N-Not really why?” Your voice is shaking. You know for sure now that this woman is not in her right mind. She could be capable of doing anything and you wouldn’t expect it. She flashes you a charming smile as she continues to twirl and play with your hair, leaning closer to you before whispering,

“Can I tell you a secret?” Your breath hitches softly and your body tenses at the close proximity. You refuse to look at her. You cement your eyes to the flickering fire in front of you. Her hand smoothly travels from your thigh to the zip of your corduroy jacket, slowly pulling down at the metal teeth to reveal your white v-neck shirt and ruby necklace. The sound of your zipper in the unsettling silence makes your skin crawl. You could almost hear the ominous, suspenseful background music. You don’t know what would happen if you deny her, so you hesitantly nod your head.

“I like hurting people… Especially pretty toys like you. I haven’t done it in a long time though.” Her eyes hungrily take in your chilled expression. You gulp when she pulls the jacket off of your shoulders and throws to the side.

“I love to see girls cry, tears running down their sweet little faces…” Her hands rub your upper arms soothingly as she rubbed her nose into the nape of your neck, inhaling your scent. You found yourself unable to move or respond, giving in to her game and listening to her sick train of thought.

“Can I make you cry, please, sweet girl?” She mumbles into your neck, gently nipping at the sensitive skin there. Your breathing becomes heavier, needing her so very badly you start to tune out the blaring alarms in your head.

“Wanda listen-” She moves on top of you. She situates herself between your legs giving you no chance to close them, running her hands up and down your thighs. It all happened so fast.

“Pretty please? You’d look so good..” She becomes breathless at the thought, lunging forward and forcefully pushing her lips onto yours. Her lips feel pillowy and soft against yours, she smells of sweet vanilla and a smoky but subtle cinnamon; the mix makes your brain go dizzy with want. She tangles her hands with yours so she can pin your frantic ones onto the couch. Butterflies dance in your stomach, adrenaline rushing through your veins. Her kiss is rough but somehow so soft at the same time, the conflicted feeling makes your heart flutter.

She puts all her body weight onto you, grinding her crotch into yours as she murmurs praises into your mouth. “You’re so fucking cute,” “It’s gonna feel so so good, just let me touch you..”

She slides her tongue across your lip, silently telling you to open your mouth. She angrily tightens her grip on your hands when you groan and clench your jaw shut, forbidding her access.

“Open your mouth, or I’ll find another way to make it stay open.” You whine quietly, slowly opening your mouth and letting her slide in. You whimper and squirm when her hands land on your hips, guiding you to grind against her knee.

“There you go, so so pretty grinding on me like that..” You grab handfuls of her sweater, the fabric of your cotton panties rubbing against you creating the perfect friction. You softly moan her name, back arching while hiding your face in her neck, ashamed how riled up you are from being taken advantage of. One of her hands move from your hip to your thigh, exploring the rest of your body before snaking up your stomach to grope at your breasts.

“Fuck,” She whimpers before biting down on your lip. She twists and teases your nipples between her fingers, feasting on the sight of your pathetic writhing.

“Wanda!” Your movements against her thigh become more frantic, so blissed out you couldn’t care about how needy and dumb you must look.

Your hands advance to her biceps, clutching onto her as you try reach the high you so deeply crave. Your heart thuds in your chest, sweat glistening on your forehead and gasping for air. Your tears soak her shirt, hating yourself for giving in to her but also not willing to stop.

“Cum, make a mess for me bunny..” Her hand grabs your chin and holds it still. You foolishly kept trying to turn your head, but your actions cease when her hand moves from your chin to wrap around your throat.

“Look at me when you cum.” She forces her face impossibly closer to yours, jutting out her jaw and admiring the sparkling tears falling from your eyes. Her breathing becomes ragged listening to your whines and sobs, the throb between her legs intensifying.

“I don’t want to..”

“I don’t care if you want to or not. I won’t let you move until you do.”

Your mouth falls open and your eyes roll to the back of your head, her cruel words somehow pushing you over the edge. Everything becomes white, your thighs shake and your body tenses. Waves of pleasure crash down on you, the euphoric feeling pulsing through you from head to toe.

She eagerly watches you fall apart from your first climax, knowing that she’s not even halfway done with you. Your chest rises and falls rapidly, eyes struggling to stay open and arms spread over the couch.

She carefully pushes her knee further into your pussy, your pleas and protests only making her more excited for what she plans next.

“I’m going to have so much fun with you, angel.”

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