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minisugakoobies · 7 months ago

Text

Cross My Heart | KMG

Pairing: Mingyu x GNReader (afab)

Genre: smut, porn with the barest of plot, friends to lovers (?), non-idol!AU

Rating: M (18+)

Warnings: pussy drunk mingyu, late night texting, biting/marking, fingering, lots of flirting, lots of teasing, grinding/dry humping, dirty talk, cunnilingus, face sitting, come eating, hand job, mingyu's a messy boy, OC is needy and mingyu loves it, mingyu has maybe the tiniest bit of a praise kink, use of pet names - pretty, mingyu requests death by pussy

Word Count: 5.2k

Disclaimers: NSFW, obviously I don’t own SVT - they just inspire me

Summary: Your crush Mingyu wants (to eat) you.

Text Prompt: You: I can’t stand you Mingyu: Then sit on my face

A/N: Hiiiii I'm writing for svt now and I'm starting with Mingyu because he's driving me insane. This is actually the first in a planned series of 13 svt fics based on text prompts. I'm fully in my self-indulgent era, so this is for everyone who, like me, needs some munch 'Gyu right about now 👅

Unbeta'd as usual. If you like this and want more svt fics from me, please let me know! I'd love to hear what you think (but please be kind I'm fragile 🥺) 💕

SVT Masterlist 💜 Main Masterlist

It’s finally here. After months of planning, you and your friends have flown halfway around the world for a week of vacation. The six of you arrived just a few hours ago, and after the long flight, the long wait at the airport for your luggage, and the long drive to the hotel, you’re exhausted.

Well, mentally you’re worn out, at least. Your body? Is still on your old timezone, where it’s currently tomorrow morning. So it thinks that you need to be awake, even though it’s night where you are. You had stayed awake the entire flight here in order to avoid this very problem.

Fucking jet lag got you anyway.

Unlike you, Seungcheol and Vernon are having no issue sleeping. The three of you are sharing one room, while Minghao, Wonwoo, and Mingyu are sharing another. You glance over at the two lumps tucked in their beds, snoring away like you would be if your body wasn’t so confused.

Because you’re trying to be a good friend and let them sleep, you’re lying on your bed, scrolling lazily through your various social media apps. You could watch something, but you don’t really have the focus right now. Yet you want something pleasing to look at. Something to mindlessly enjoy while you wait for exhaustion to overwhelm you.

So, naturally, you turn to your favorite nightly pastime - scrolling through your social media apps, looking for any new posts from Mingyu.

It’s an addiction, borne out of your raging crush on your friend. Well, really, he’s Minghao’s friend, you don’t know him as well as you do the others, but still. You’re friendly enough around each other. Which is because Mingyu is so nice, such a sweet and funny guy who always makes you feel more than welcome whenever he’s around.

He’s also a blatant flirt. At first, his cocky smiles and playful words made you think he might be interested in more than just being your friend, but it wasn’t long before you realized he’s like that with everyone. So you tamped down the hope that burned in your chest, leaving only a simmering crush to smolder forever.

It’s morning back home, where most of your friends have barely started their days, so your feed is fairly dead. There are a few photos from Wonwoo from the flight, including one of Minghao sleeping with his mouth open that you immediately save to your favorites, a couple from Vernon, and, of course, several from Mingyu. You tap into his page.

Mingyu’s an avid photographer, particularly of beautiful things - breathtaking landscapes, delicious meals, himself. Mostly himself, to be honest. Not that you’re complaining. It’s maybe the most mutually beneficial relationship you’ve ever been in. Mingyu loves to provide pictures of himself. You love to admire them. A win-win all around.

You tap back to home and refresh your feed. A new post appears, from Mingyu. The jet lag must be getting to him, too, if he’s awake and posting right now. The photo is another selfie, this time of him lying in bed, one arm resting behind his head, showing off a perfectly sculpted bicep. God. Could he be more gorgeous?

Clicking into his page again, you rub your thumb over the screen to make his photos flip by in an endless parade of hot Mingyus. It’s ridiculous, you muse, watching picture after picture roll by, to think about how much time Mingyu must spend on these photos. Making sure he’s got the perfect lighting to bounce off his muscles just right in those gym selfies. Or figuring out the best angle to show off that sharp jawline of his. Just ridiculous. And yet, every second isn’t spent in vain, considering how the photos drew you in like shiny trinkets to your magpie eye.

It would be so easy to think of Mingyu as a modern day Narcissus, endlessly snapping selfies, drowning in his own reflection on his phone. But he’s never struck you as conceited. It’s something else - a desire for connection, perhaps. A need for-

A tiny heart floats up your screen and you gasp. Shit. You just liked the post the scroll stopped on - one of his many gym selfies, frame zoomed in on his torso, his hand clutching the bottom of his shirt to show off his rippling abs.

Your eye drifts to the date of the photo. Posted eight months ago.

Quick as lightning, you hit the screen again, shattering the little heart icon. Your pulse is beating too fast. There’s no need to panic. He couldn’t have seen that. Maybe you’re overreacting, but no one needs to know you’re lurking in his profile in the middle of the night, especially not him.

A notification drops down over Mingyu’s face. A message.

Mingyu: Someone’s up late.

Ah, damn. You were too slow. And now he’s in your DMs.

After taking a moment to shriek quietly into your pillow, you write back.

You: Can’t sleep

Mingyu: Same. Jet lag’s got me fucked up

Mingyu: You know what always helps when I can’t sleep?

You: What?

Mingyu: Creeping through someone’s old photos

Even though he’s not here looking at you, your neck flames with embarrassment anyway. You could play it cool. If only you knew how to do that.

You: Shut up

Mingyu: It’s ok, I’m flattered

You: Oh fuck off

Mingyu: No really, I am

Mingyu: I like that you want me so bad

Pressing your mouth firmly into your pillow, you swallow another screech. Here we go. Right into the flirting. You can’t handle this right now.

You: Idk what you’re talking about

You: It was an accident

Mingyu: Oh you were accidentally admiring me?

You: How did you even notice? Are you just staring at your phone, waiting for attention?

Mingyu: I mean yeah

You snort.

You: You’re ridiculous

Mingyu: Maybe. But I’m honest about it

You: I’ll give you that

A few seconds go by, then a minute, then two. Maybe you’re boring him. Maybe he’s found something else to entertain him. Or someone else.

When the next notification comes in, you jolt a little.

Mingyu: What else will you give me?

And now your heart does a funny jump as you stare at his words. God, what a question. How you wish he were asking for real, and not just being playful, like he always is.

Would it be too real to reply with the truth? “Whatever you want?”

You: I don’t know

You: What do you want?

Mingyu: What if I say you?

Suddenly you don’t understand words.

You: Why would you say that?

Mingyu: Because it’s my answer

Mingyu: I’m being honest again

You: That’s the jet lag talking

Mingyu: Oh come on

Mingyu: You really don’t know?

You: Know what??

Mingyu: How I feel about you

Is he being serious right now??

You: If this is a joke I don’t get it

Mingyu: Not a joke

Mingyu: Hold on

The notification icon on your app suddenly lights up. One heart. Two. Three four five. You open your notifications and immediately start laughing. Mingyu’s going through your oldest photos and liking them, one by one.

Mingyu: See? I’m obsessed with you

Seungcheol grunts in his sleep, and you press your arm harder over your mouth, trying to muffle yourself better.

You: You’re so annoying, oh my god

Mingyu: So annoying that you can’t stop looking at my photos at 1 am?

Mingyu: Or flirting with me?

You: Is that what’s happening? Are we flirting?

Mingyu: Ok don’t act like you don’t know

Mingyu: I flirt with you all the time

You: You flirt with EVERYONE all the time

Mingyu: Yeah but I only mean it with you

Like any other time this happens, any time his words make your head spin, you put on the brakes, stopping before you start to believe you might have a chance.

You: You’re so dumb

Mingyu: Are you really going to pretend you’re not enjoying this?

You: Who said I’m pretending?

Mingyu: Me. I know you’re loving this

Mingyu: Because you want me soooooo bad

You: Shut uppppp

Mingyu: Go on, yell at me

Mingyu: You’re cute when you’re mad

You: No really

You: I can’t stand you

Mingyu: Then sit on my face

Your mouth falls open, an amused huff of air escaping in a befuddled laugh at his unexpected response.

You: What?

Mingyu: Come shut me up. Sit on my face.

You’re blinking so hard, you can hear your eyelids clapping together.

You: Fuck off. Stop playing.

Mingyu: Who’s playing? I’m serious

Mingyu: Smother me with those gorgeous thighs of yours. I’ll go out a happy man.

Your gorgeous thighs? He’s never said anything like that before. What the fuck is happening.

You can’t help but picture it - him lying on his bed, you kneeling over him, fingers tangled in his dark hair as you ride that pouty little mouth of his. It’s not the first time you’ve fantasized about it, but it’s the first time the vision has felt… possible.

Mingyu: No response? You’re just gonna leave me hanging like this?

You: Don’t tease me

Mingyu: Trust me, there are a million ways I’d love to tease you, but this isn’t one

You lay down again, rolling onto your side, curling in on yourself, like you’re trying to contain all the excitement rushing through your veins, keep it from spilling out and over into the room where your friends are still sleeping.

You: You’re really serious?

Mingyu: Cross my heart and hope to die

Mingyu: Between your legs

Again you laugh.

You: You’re such an idiot

Mingyu: Does that mean you’re not coming over?

You: Like right now??

Mingyu: Why not?

Mingyu: Wonwoo and Minghao both slept on the plane. They went out exploring

Mingyu: I’ve got the room to myself

You bite your lip, a little harder than you normally would, the sharp sting confirming that you are not dreaming and this is, in actual fact, happening right now.

You: I guess if I’m not sleeping anytime soon

In the dim light from your phone, you eye the path to the door. You can easily make it out of the room without waking anyone. Should you so decide.

You: I could come over

Mingyu: I promise I’ll make it so good for you

Mingyu: Eat that pussy like you deserve. Make you cum on my tongue over and over

You inhale sharply. He’s definitely never talked about your pussy like that before. Reading his words has you positively throbbing.

Mingyu: Please, just let me taste you

What else is there to say to that but -

You: I’m coming over

It’s a short walk to Mingyu’s room. A rush of anticipation hits you as you raise your hand to knock. It doesn’t take long for the door to open, bringing you face to face with the man whose social media you can’t stop stalking. Mingyu’s shirtless, grey sweatpants hanging alarmingly low on his hips, and if you weren’t already planning on crushing him with your thighs, this insta thirst trap of an outfit would push you right over the edge.

“That was fast,” he laughs, stepping aside to let you in. “Did you run down the hall?”

“I thought I told you to shut up,” you shoot back.

“And I thought I told you to make me,” he smirks, reaching for you at the same time you reach for him, practically mashing his teeth against your lips as he pulls you in for a kiss. Despite what he just said, he’s kissing you, too eager to wait for you to do what he demands.

It’s rough and messy, all teeth and tongue, both of you doing your fair share to keep the other silent. Or maybe it would be more accurate to say speechless, because Mingyu’s definitely not being quiet, moaning into your mouth, and you’re certainly whining loud enough for the other rooms to hear you.

He presses you back into the door, chest to chest, hip to hip. You tilt your head and he follows, chasing your mouth, as if he’s needing another taste. Your hands roam over his biceps, his shoulders, his neck, covering every inch of warm skin that’s exposed, and he slips his arms around your waist, holding you impossibly tight. Not for one second do your lips part. This is the type of kiss you’ve always read about in your favorite stories - the one that makes your knees weak, makes your head float, makes you forget everything but Mingyu.

It’s delicious. It’s amazing. It’s every superlative you can think of. But it’s not enough. You want more. Part of you wants to tell him to get on with it, take you to bed, because you’re here to make him eat his words by eating you, but the other part isn’t about to quit kissing him any time soon.

Thankfully, Mingyu takes care of your dilemma by eliminating the choice. Without warning, he bends his knees and lifts you, big hands secure on your thighs to hold you close to him. Okay, now it’s like one of your stories, the way he lifts you like you’re lighter than air. You’d swoon if you weren’t so busy licking into his lips. All that time in the gym is really paying off

He carries you to his bed, displaying his impressive thigh strength by slowly lowering himself into a sitting position, bringing you into his lap. You loop your arms around his shoulders, desperately seeking his mouth, as if the 0.2 seconds between kisses might kill you, which, honestly, it feels like it might, and you’ve never been in this situation before, making out with the man of your dreams, so for all you know, it will, so why risk it?

“Stop me if I’m going too fast,” he says between kisses.

“You can go as fast as you want,” you reply, without even a second’s pause. “Just don’t stop.”

“Damn, and here I was worried I was coming off too excited,” he grins, face lighting up in delight. Then he kisses your cheek, whispering against your skin at your offended huff. “It’s okay, I like how needy you are for me.”

“Shut up,” you groan, but you know he felt the way you shuddered, so you give up the weak protests and start kissing him again, twisting your fingers in his hair to keep him close.

Mingyu finally stops laughing when you take his bottom lip between your own, sucking and licking at the plump skin. With a groan, he digs his fingers into your sides, and he starts to guide you back and forth, rolling you over the eye-catching bulge in his sweatpants. It’s a sight that makes you clench, thinking about how much you want to sit on it now, just pull him out and ride, too needy to feel him inside you to even take your clothes off.

But again, you want more. You want what he’d promised earlier.

He nips his way down your throat until his mouth latches at the base of your neck, sucking and biting, and you whimper, squirming in his hold. “

‘Gyu, please!”

“Please what?”

He doesn’t lift his head, too absorbed in sinking his vampire-like canines into your soft skin, not sharp enough to pierce, just hard enough that you know you’ll have bruises blooming there tomorrow, little souvenirs of this moment.

Please everything, you think. You want it all, whatever he’s willing to give, you’ll take. You’re feeling greedy as fuck right now.

“I want what you promised me.”

“Hold on,” he intones seriously, right before laving his tongue over a fresh mark. “Let a man at death’s door enjoy his last moments.”

“Oh my god, you’re so stupid,” you groan, grabbing his face and smashing your lips together. He’s just - just such an idiot, such a stupid sexy idiot and you want him more than you’ve ever wanted anything in your life.

“Fine,” he says after a few minutes of frantic making out, a cheeky grin spreading across his face, hands circling around your ass, squeezing as he pulls you closer. “Time for my last meal.”

He kisses away your embarrassingly pleased moan, and then he maneuvers the two of you around so he’s lying on the bed on his back and you’re straddling him. As he watches with rapt attention, you peel off your shirt. Since you’d been dressed for bed, you hadn’t bothered to throw on a bra. Judging from Mingyu’s expression, you made the right call.

“Pretty,” he breathes out, wide eyes finding yours, and you have to take a beat, have to take a moment to sit and let the reality of the situation wash over you. The two of you are here, together, in this hotel room half a world away from home. Both wanting this. It’s clear to you now just how eager Mingyu’s been since you walked in. He wasn’t lying - he wants you just as much as you want him.

With this new understanding, you stand up to slide your shorts and panties off in one go, before straddling him again, and lowering yourself for another kiss. Immediately, his arms are around you, gliding down your back, all the way to your bare ass, taking the biggest handfuls he can.

“You drive me insane. So pretty, so hot.”

Mingyu’s words kick the simmering heat in your gut into a full blown fire. You moan into his kiss, grinding yourself against him. One of his hands grips your side, helping you chase the friction, while the other slips between your bodies. When his fingers brush your inner thigh, he lets out a strangled groan. “Oh fuck, you’re so wet.”

“Your fault,” you gasp, lips fervently pressing against his, licking at the seam of his mouth until he allows you in, so you can roll your tongue over his like you roll your hips.

“Then allow me to make it up to you,” he grins, long fingers cupping your mound, trapping the heat there in his palm as he rubs it against you. You keen, thighs already twitching. You’re going to lose your mind before you even get to his face.

You’re not alone in that feeling, as he suddenly reaches for your thighs, urging you to crawl up his body. “Get up here, please,” he begs, flat out begs you, and you slide forward as fast as you can. You need his mouth, right now.

Hovering over him is a little surreal - MIngyu’s big brown eyes are gazing up at you in a perfect replication of your favorite daydream, only it’s so much better than you’d ever imagined, because the expression he wears is one of complete awe, like he’s the one living out his fantasy. Again you feel bold, so you run your fingers through his hair, nails lightly scraping over his scalp. He moans quietly, low in his throat, like he’s trying to hold it in, and your mouth quirks in a half smile as you kneel.

“Nice knowing you, ‘Gyu.”

He hums a happy note, lips vibrating lightly just as your cunt reaches them, and you moan quietly. You don’t settle all the way down, because as much as you were playing along with this whole death-by-pussy dream of his, you are slightly worried that you might actually suffocate him, if not because of your weight than because of your dire need, that you might get too lost in the aching desire that’s building inside you, spurred on by the way he’s brushing the lower half of his face and down your folds, just breathing you in, teasing you with his touches but not giving you what you so desperately want.

“‘Gyu,” you whine, tilting your pelvis forward, to catch his tongue as he traces your inner thigh, leaving a trail of saliva behind. He blows a puff of air across the wetness, sending goosebumps running at the cooling sensation.

When you try to shift again, he’s quick to wrap his hands up around your hips, holding you still. Not hard enough to hurt, but strong enough to let you know - he’s in charge now.

“Stay still, pretty,” he murmurs, tenderly pressing a kiss into your skin. “Don’t worry, I’ll keep my promise. Cross my heart, remember?”

With that reminder, he pulls you down further onto his face. His tongue slides into you, nose bumping your clit, and you whimper, hands flailing at your sides, seeking something to cling to, finding nothing but the warm air around you. The pressure on the sensitive bud combining with the wet hot muscle plunging between your slick folds is overwhelming in the best way.

“‘Gyu, oh, that’s so good!”

Mingyu nods his head vigorously, nudging his nose around, letting his tongue drag up and down your slit. It almost feels like he’s agreeing with you, backed up by the way he grunts brokenly, this deep rumble in his chest that gets strangled halfway through his throat.

You’re not sure at what point you start thrust your hips. Mingyu helps you find the right pace, big hands guiding you forward and back, forward and back, until you feel the rhythm all the way from your ears to your toes.

As his mouth slides up to suckle on your clit, his left hand also snakes upwards, cupping your right breast, thumb rolling over your puckered nipple. You shudder, nerves sizzling like power lines, lit up by his every touch.

“‘Gyu…” Mingyu’s mouth pulls another whine from you. You glance down, catching the furrow in his brow, the sweat dripping down his temples. “Oh my god.”

“Mmmmphf,” Mingyu agrees, or so you assume, unable to understand anything he might be mumbling into you. A particularly sharp suck on your pulsating clit makes your back arch, and Mingyu’s hand falls from your chest, disappearing behind you.

The sudden rustling of fabric draws your attention. You glance over your shoulder, only to whimper when you catch sight of Mingyu’s hand stroking his erection, band of his sweatpants hastily shoved down, stiff cock so flushed it brings a matching heat to your neck.

If you were more limber, you’d reach for him, give him a helping hand, but you can’t stay twisted around for long, not when Mingyu’s tongue makes you refocus on his mouth. It’s too difficult to think about anything else right now but the way he keeps plunging inside you, using the thick muscle to fuck you shallowly.

You can’t stop mewling like a cat in heat, rutting back and forth over Mingyu’s tongue. Even in your daze, it doesn’t escape your attention that Mingyu’s absolutely pussy drunk at this point, depraved moans buzzing endlessly against your most sensitive spots because he refuses to detach his mouth from you long enough to let them escape. Every muffled note reverberates deep in your core, joins the tense chord that’s building inside you to a crescendo.

“‘Gyu, please.”

At the sound of your plea, Mingyu stops stroking himself, bringing his hand around to find your clit, middle finger drawing circles around and around and around.

When you double over, hands sinking into the plush bedding on either side of Mingyu’s head, he grunts, tipping his head to the side so he can speak. “You okay?”

“Fuck, Mingyu, ‘m good,” you giggle, suddenly hit by a burst of glee, perhaps due to the lack of oxygen in your head, since all the blood in your body is concentrated in your clit right now. “I’m having an amazing night.”

Mingyu hums again, sounding very pleased, and you meet his gaze, and suddenly you wish his phone was nearby, so you could snap a photo, because this look - hair mussed and clinging to his forehead, pupils blown, nose to chin coated in your glistening wetness - this is a look worth capturing.

“Yeah, me too,” he says, chest heaving as he catches his breath, and the sincerity in his voice steals your own away. If you had any nerve, you’d confess something right now, something you weren’t planning on telling him tonight or tomorrow or maybe ever. But you keep silent, only breathing a tiny exhale of surprise as he slides out from under you, and nudges you onto your back.

Mingyu folds you in half easily, because you’re giving no resistance, letting him shape you the way he desires, and then his mouth is on you again. Now that he's lying facedown between your legs, he’s able to get some much-desired friction without using his hands, grinding his neglected cock into the bed as he concentrates on you.

His tongue glides over your throbbing nub again, and then his right hand ghosts over your slit. You whimper a soft “Please,” and that’s all he needs to slide his finger inside. The intrusion has you squirming, urging him silently to go deeper, and to your relief, he obliges. But he also locks his other arm over your legs, holding them so you can’t keep bucking your hips up.

“I said, stay still,” he mumbles, with no anger or heat behind it, just amusement, laced with a slight tinge of cockiness. He knows he’s frustrating you, judging by the curl of his lips as he plunges his finger in and out slowly, way too slowly, teasing you with what you need most. You try to press your hips down onto his hand, to make him glide faster, but he just leans into you slightly, big arm stopping your movements.

Your whine is beyond petulant. “Don’t tease me!”

“Pretty, I promise you, when I tease you, you’ll know.”

And then he adds his middle finger, curling both, pressing on the most sensitive spot on your inner wall. Over and over, his fingers flutter, massaging until starlight bursts behind your eyelids.

“It’ll be something like this.”

He withdraws his hand.

“Gyuuuuuu.”

If he was slightly cocky earlier, he’s fully arrogant now, face breaking into a wide grin while he laughs. “Wow, so whiny. You do want me bad.”

“I swear to god if you dohhhhHHH-”

You break off in a moan when he lowers his face again, loudly lapping at your wetness. Clever fingers alternate between scissoring and stroking, following the changes in your breathing, and you hope that he’s close to being satiated, because you’re teetering on the edge of your climax, only the slightest bit more stimulation necessary to push you over.

“Mingyu. Mingyu, I’m gonna cum.” You open your eyes, raising your head enough to look at him, to watch with a dropped jaw as he buries his face in your cunt, his own eyes closed in ecstasy, and oh, that’s it - “Oh god, I’m gonna cum!”

Your warning cry - though clearly appreciated by Mingyu, who groans in answering refrain, hips humping the bed furiously - is ultimately unnecessary, given how hard your walls suddenly clench around his fingers. He doesn’t stop his ministrations, fingerfucking you through your orgasm as your lower half trembles beneath his heavy arm. He holds you in place as best he can, sweetly kissing your clit, while you wail and writhe, pressing your palm into your mouth to keep your cries from waking the rooms around you.

Eventually your tremors slow, turning into occasional twitches, before your body finally relaxes. Mingyu continues to lap at you, every pass of his tongue getting lighter and lighter, until he lifts his head. He’s the perfect image of lust, eyes dark and desirous, and you claw at his shoulders, needing him close again.

“Kiss me.”

He wipes his face with the back of his hand, smearing you over himself more as he rises up to meet you. His cock is hard between you, and you moan, knowing that you did that, that he got this turned on just from eating you out, and extend your fingers to wrap around him.

The unbidden sound he utters when you take his cock and slide it through your soaking folds, coating it in your wetness, is the filthiest sound you’ve ever heard.

“Careful, pretty,” he pants, looking down at your hand. Under his close gaze, you circle the head of his cock before rubbing your thumb over and around the slit there. “‘M close.”

“Wanna make you come, ‘Gyu,” you tell him, and he hisses, hips bucking into your grip.

“Fuck.” His long fingers cover yours, guiding you into a faster pace. “But I’m gonna make a mess.”

“Do it. Make a mess.” The need to make him completely fall apart takes possession of you, makes you say things you’ve never said to anyone else. “Come all over me.”

Mingyu whines, chin dropping to his chest. He’s barely blinking as he stares at your entwined hands.

“Pretty… don’t say that….”

“Please, ‘Gyu.” All shame has fled your body. “I want it.”

No further encouragement is needed. Mingyu grunts a few times before he’s painting your stomach in so much white, in little drops and big splashes, doing exactly what you told him, eyes rolling back in his head as he does.

When his high abates, he sits back on his heels, gazing at the mess he created, all the sticky sweat and semen that covers your body. A delirious thought comes to you. Is the sight beautiful enough for him to want to take a picture?

“Wow,” he murmurs after a moment, shaking his head. “You’re even prettier when you’re covered in me.”

His dead serious expression is enough to break the haze of lust hanging over you. You throw your arm over your face, too flustered to look at him. “‘Gyuuuuu!”

“Changed my mind, I’m calling you ‘whiny' from now on.” The bed shifts as Mingyu rises. He laughs all the way to and from the bathroom, laughs even harder when you glare at him, reaching for the towel he holds. He surprises you by nudging your hand away. “Let me.”

His touch is so gentle as he wipes away his mess, then your own. When you’re both clean enough, he lays on his side, draping his arm over you. “Think you can sleep now?”

Oh, you can sleep. You’re feeling satiated in a way you haven’t for a long time, and now that the rush has worn off, you could knock right out. You should probably go back to your room, ride this calm wave right into sleep, not let yourself get too excited at the thought that this vacation might be the best one ever.

Instead, you grin, sliding your fingers through the hair on the back of his neck. “Yeah. But I don’t want to.”

“Oh?” Mingyu’s smile mirrors yours. “What do you wanna do instead?”

“I might have some ideas.”

He lets you pull him down for a kiss, humming eagerly.

“Tell me what you want, pre-”

A sharp rap on the door startles you both.

“Dude, don’t you dare!” Minghao hisses through the wood. “We’ve been out here forever!”

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weepingwillowwonder · 2 months ago

Text

Huskerdust, RadioApple, StaticMoth X GN!Reader (separately) [NSFW, MDNI 🔞]

Where you’re on top riding one of them, reverse cowgirl, and the other one is holding you open to give you head at the same time.

In other words:

Fucklicking w/

🩶Husk & Angel Dust🩷

❤️Alastor & Lucifer💛

🩵Vox & Valentino💜

—

🩶🩷 For these two it really could go either way, but Husk would love to be the one in control, watching as you and Angel got each other worked up.

🩶🩷 Angel sits back in the love seat, holding you close by your waist as you hover over his aching cock. In front of you, Husk gives Angel a firm stroke and guides him to your entrance, the tip easily sliding into your already slick hole. You and Angel echo each other's high pitched moans as you take him deeper inside. Find purchase on your chest, Angel's first brush against your nipples, then slowly rolls them between his fingers. His other hands hold you steady at the hip as he humps himself back into you, biting his lip as he watches Husk settle himself between your legs.

🩶🩷 Husk's hands briefly slide against the side of Angel's thigh before he begins, "Slow down for a sec, baby boy..." He chuckles, lifting your legs slowly underneath your knees. Angel whines at the pet name and slows the rolling of his hips to a still. The slight change of position forces a groan from you as Angel unintentionally bucks into you a little deeper, your head also falling back against his shoulder.

🩶🩷 Husk spreads you wide and leans in to give you a teasing kiss between your legs, looking up to maintain eye contact with you. “Alright, go ahead sweetheart, make sure you fuck ‘em good alright?” Your mouth drops open in a silent moan as you feel the vibrations of him chuckling against you. He takes his time, slowly licking a stripe between your legs, and Angel's hands that held your hips move to now help hold the backs of your knees as you squirm in his lap.

🩶🩷 He starts moving into you again at an even pace as he feels you tighten around him, the sloppy sounds of husk’s mouth on you and the slapping sound of you being thoroughly fucked fills the room. Angel tries to respond to Husk in a sultry manner but ends up sounding needy instead when he feels Husk's tongue on the base of his member. “Oh I intend t-to…A-ah!”

❤️💛 Rarely does this ever happen with these two, but when it does, it’s a wild ride. Alastor is almost always the one fucking you in this scenario.

❤️💛 He leans backwards against the headboard of your bed, pulling you back to press as close to him as possible. He easily controls the pace as his hard cock pistons into you from behind, hands at your hips effortlessly guiding you along his length. Your legs are straddling across his thighs and he uses them to spread as far as they can go. He watches the scene in front of him, with his head tucked away in your shoulder.

❤️💛 If you listen carefully, you can hear his uneven breathing over the messy sound of Lucifer going down on you and the constant smack of your ass against Alastor’s hips. Lucifer’s mouth has no limits as he licks and sucks between your legs, even mouths the area where Alastor length is pumping into you.

❤️💛 Alastor’s hips stutter when he feels the other’s tongue, in what he thinks is an accident, stroke the base of his cock. A hiss falls from his lips that Lucifer seems to pick up on very quickly. He focuses his tongue on the area where you and Alastor are connected while using his fingers to give attention to the dripping area between your legs. A gasp gets caught in your throat when you look down to see Lucifer looking up towards you. But as he continues his lewd actions, you quickly realize his eyes aren’t focused on you, but on the one behind you…

🩵💜 This is another pair in which things could definitely go both ways, but in this situation, you were watching Valentino between your legs as Vox buried himself inside of you.

🩵💜 Valentino’s lips encircled you between your legs as his tongue expertly swirled against where you were most sensitive. Two of his hands firmly hold you open despite how hard you tried to close them. Between his mouth and the length bullying your hole, you had already orgasmed once and were well on your way to a second one.

🩵💜 Vox’s arms wrap around your waist to hold you still, despite your overstimulated cries, and bucks into you deeply as he chases his own release. Valentino moves lower and mouths the cock pistoning into you, catching the rim of your stuffed hole. Immediately, Vox's arm unravels from you and a hand comes down to hold Valentino’s head in place as he feels the tongue sliding against him. He focuses sucking on the exposed part of Vox’s cock and growls when he feels the heavy hand hold his head down.

🩵💜 Now despite the position, Valentino would be the one in control, reveling in the way Vox begs for his mouth when he pulls away. “Yes, yes yes! Fuck just like that! N-no wait, please…!” Valentino's fingers would find their way back to you, a hand sliding up along your chest, then a second one stuffing itself into your mouth, which you suck on greedily. Another hand comes between your legs to work you through the second orgasm that suddenly comes over you.

🩵💜 As he creeps closer to the edge, Vox's hips would buck into you just a tad bit too hard, his member then easily slipping out of you. And out of frustration he scrambles to get himself back inside, however, Valentino envelops Vox's cock instead, making throw his head back with a moan as he too reaches his peak.

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minminyoonjii · 6 months ago

Note

Forever clawing at the cement walls that surround me for needing to call Felix mommy

❤️Ultimate Masterlist

💜Rules and Guidelines

🕯Summary: There's nothing a good old-fashioned BJ can't fix, especially when you're stressed.

🌹CW

You sighed, rubbing your sore neck, "Baby?" you questioned, closing the front door behind you. Felix peeked his head out of his room, "You're home early," he pointed out, walking towards you. "Yeah. Is that a problem?" you teased, leaning forward. Felix chuckled, placing a peck on your lips, "Nope, not a problem at all. I was planning to bake something later if you want to join," he prompted, biting his bottom lip.

"I'd love to," you said, pulling him in for a hug. "Maybe we could catch a movie or two after," you suggest, squeezing him close. Felix giggled against your chest, "Sounds great," he said, looking up at you. "Call me down when you want to start baking, sunshine. I need to wash up," you groaned, rolling your shoulders. Felix smiled, "Sure can do, I'll set an alarm," he said, making a beeline towards his gaming room.

You stripped off your clothes, setting the water just right before getting in. The feeling of water coaxing your skin instantly made you relax and soon thoughts began to pour. Some pure and some filthy, you imagined how the rest of your day would play out. Baking and then cuddles sound absolutely perfect but an itch deep within your brain thought of less wholesome things. You shook your head, blaming the heat of the water for your dirty ideas.

The thoughts spiraled from sucking Felix off before the timer rang or pinning him against the kitchen counter while he's stirring the baking batter. "Fuck," you whispered, pinching your cheeks. You sighed, getting out of the shower, "I need a drink," you mumbled to yourself, tying a towel around your body. You walked towards the kitchen, searching for anything cold in the fridge to subdue your thirst.

A loud thud came from Felix's room, "What is the healer doing, we're getting crit here," he groaned, tossing his headphones in frustration. You knocked on the door, making him flinch, "Are you alright, baby?" you asked, opening the door. Felix nodded, "Yeah, just shitty teammates," he grumbled, crossing his arms. You cooed, placing a kiss on his forehead, "You'll get them next round," you encouraged. Felix's cheeks burned, noticing that you were only in your towel.

You furrowed your eyebrows at his silence, "Ah," you chuckled, seeing his agape jaw. Felix closed his mouth when you tilted his chin up. His eyes waver under your stare. The shower thoughts from earlier came forward again but this time you weren't going to stop them. You got on your knees, cleavage perfectly plump for him to stare at, "Do you want this baby?" you whispered, seeing Felix quickly close his game tabs.

He nodded, "Please, Mommy looks so pretty," he whined, gripping his seat. You cooed, "Can you do something for mommy before that?" you asked, hand grazing over his obvious bulge. "Yes, yes. Anything mommy wants," Felix said, eager to please you. "Good boy. Now turn on your recording system and plug in your mic, sunshine. Mommy wants you to hear yourself fall apart," you purred, pulling down the zip of his pants.

Felix moaned at the idea and did what you said, "Mommy," he keened, bucking his hips against your palm. You hummed, rubbing your throbbing clothed cock. Precum leaking through the tip. "Hah, Hhgh," Felix mewled, back arching to feel more. You chuckled, pressing your thumb between his clothed slit, drenching his boxers in slick. Felix sobbed, "Mama, mommy. No mo-more, teasing," he whimpered, aching to feel your mouth or hand around his cock.

You cooed, "Aww, but you're so pretty, sunshine. Look at the pretty mess you made," you said, showing him your slick-covered hand. Felix whined, pulling your wrist towards his mouth and taking a lick. You chuckled out a moan, "Mommy's dirty little prince, aren't you," you praised, tugging his boxers down to his calves, letting his cock slap against his plush tummy. "Mommy's prince," Felix mewled, tossing his head back when you finally stroked his cock.

"Moan for mommy, sunshine," you purred, pumping his cock within your palm. Twisting your wrist at his throbbing cockhead. Precum leaked all over his thighs. "Ah, hah, hah, ah," Felix panted, lips wobbling from pleasure. You gulped at the sight of your lover falling apart, "Fuck it," you grumbled, tapping his cockhead against your tongue. Felix squealed, staring down at you with half-lidded eyes, "Too much, it's too much," he babbled, overstimulated by your stimulating tongue working his slit apart.

You moaned, wrapping your lips around his cockhead just to hear him cry from the pleasure. Felix sobbed, thighs trembling at the waves of arousal buzzing through his body, "Need to cum, Mama," he cried, his cock throbbing on your tongue. You hummed, sending more stimulating vibrations. Felix sucked on his bottom lips, abs tensing from the appending orgasm. You smirked around his cock, waiting for the moment his body arched and you pulled off.

Felix sobbed, tears spilling down his cheeks at the denial, "Mo-mommy!" he sniffled, his cock hard and aching. You shifted your body, heel placed directly on your bare clit, "Aww, I know pretty baby. Mommy knows," you cooed, licking a stripe up Felix's shaft. He keened, gripping the seat hard. You blew on his warm cockhead, smiling at the way he shivered, "Just relax, yeah?" you whispered, flattening your tongue to take his cock to the hilt.

"Shit, shit. Feel so good," Felix slurred, eyes rolling to the back at the warmth engulfing his cock. You bobbed your head at a relentless pace, his cock head making a filthy 'pop' sound every time he slid perfectly down your throat. Felix thrashed in his seat, his body quivering from the immense pleasure. You ground your hips, chasing your own orgasm as you swallowed around Felix's cock. "Cum-cumming," he wailed, digging his nails into the seat.

You sucked, gulping down every last drop. Felix mewled, his body convulsing as your mouth held a tight suction around his cock. You moaned, eyes rolling back as you came, soaking your feet with slickness. Felix's body twitched, cumming again from the overstimulation. You pulled off his cock, laying your head on his thigh. Felix lay spent, "Kiss," he rasped, jutting his bottom lip. You chuckled, wobbly standing up to kiss him.

Felix melted into your warmth, "Thank you, Mommy," he whispered, nuzzling your chest. You cooed, patting his hair, "Anytime, sunshine," you said, kissing his forehead. "You forgot to mute our call," Jisung said, jolting Felix from his daze. You shifted his messy tabs and pulled up Discord, only to see a flustered Jisung on the other end, "Didn't Chan teach you privacy, Ji?" you smirked, eyeing his oddly placed lotion on the desk.

Jisung whined, "How is it my fault your boyfriend is dumb," he grumbled, crossing his arms. "Hey, I'm not dumb," Felix retorted, glaring at the screen. You rolled your eyes, "You should've stopped listening the moment you heard him moan, Ji," you teased, turning on the camera. Jisung gulped at the sight, the both of you disheveled with post-clarity evident on your faces "Sounded hot," he mumbled, looking away. You smirked, "What was that?" you asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Ugh, you both sounded hot now fuck off," Jisung rambled, ending the call. You looked at Felix and instantly burst into laughter, "Do you still want to bake?" you asked, wiping a stray tear. Felix nodded, "Yeah, just let me wash up and we can start," he said, pulling you in for another kiss.

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rainba · 8 months ago

Text

Yandere OC (Kairos) x dom! Reader

AN: I couldn't figure out how to make this GN,, so I just decided to make two versions where the reader is afab and the second one is amab!! (´｡• ω •｡`) ♡

I was gonna write and post a Luka fic first,, but I kept getting asked to make another Kairos fic, and I got inspired to write one!! (Except I went a little overboard,, I was planning on just writing something small at first,, but couldn't stop writing (´,,•ω•,,)♡)

((Luka fic is still in the making, mwehe))

TAGS: 18+ !! Dom! reader, Kairos being Kairos 💜

Wordcount: 1700~ ish

MDNI.

(AFAB reader!)

With you pushing him gently onto the bed, Kairos’ eyes shake uncontrollably. His heart is pounding against his chest, his hands are trembling with unbridled excitement. He can’t believe that any of this is actually happening… His wildest fantasies are finally coming true.

“L-love, please,” he mumbles sweetly as he moves his arms above his head, compliantly spreading his legs for you. “P-please, make me feel good, please,” he whines as he lifts his hips in the air, begging for you to give his cock some much-needed attention. “I’ll do anything for you!”

He writhes hotly as your hands reach down to unzip his pants– and his bulge pokes out, his dick yearning to be freed. “T-touch it, please, touch it! E-even just a little bit..!” He whimpers cutely as he bucks himself into the palm of your hand, and you can’t help but give in to his demands. His lust is palpable… His cock twitches like crazy.

It’s so powerful, seeing him melt under your touch.

You can’t stop yourself from smirking as you massage him.

“Who’s my good boy?”

Kairos’ purple eyes widen; his heart stops. He doesn’t hesitate to respond. “M-me, me, I’m… I’m your good boy!” His thrusting grows faster, more erratic, needier. There’s precum already leaking from his tip, forming a wet spot on his boxers. It’s adorable how desperate he is.

“G-good boy, I’m your very good boy..!” He pants heavily as he feels himself growing closer and closer to his climax; he’s already mere seconds away from coming undone. He needs this– he needs this so bad.

But you don’t let him cum. Not yet.

He looks so confused– almost hurt– when you move your hand away. “W-wha-” He tears up a bit. “W-why did you stop?”

Instead of answering him, you smash your lips against his own, and it sends a shiver down his spine. He gasps loudly when you move on top of him, straddling his hips. You warmly kiss his cheek as you point down between your legs. “Grind against me until you cum,” you whisper those magical words. In an instant, Kairos’ eyes light up.

“Y-yes, I’ll– I’ll do that–!” His small hands shakily grip your hips as he pulls you down onto his bulge, and he ruts into you like there’s no tomorrow.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck..!”

His eyes are shut tightly as he focuses on how good he feels. Your warmth against his own, the love and attention you’re giving him– his head is spinning so fast. It’s almost too much. His nails dig into your thighs as he throws his head back, unashamedly moaning your name.

“I… I love y-you, I love you!!” In an instant, he cums into his boxers, not caring about how messy it is. His body is trembling all over as you reach down and pet his soft hair, praising him while he comes down from his high. “I love you too~” You coo, smiling all the while.

You get up from your position once Kairos finally calms down, his breath evening out and his eyes fluttering open. However, before you can get too far away from him, he pulls you down and holds you next to him on the bed. “Y-you– I– I have to make you cum too,” he whispers as he kisses your lips over and over again. Kairos attempts to push his tongue into your mouth, but he’s honestly not very good at what he’s doing– he’s so messy and inexperienced.

At least he’s trying his best..!

Kairos tries to move on top of you, but you don’t let him. Instead, you push him down even harder into the bed, straddling him once more. He whines, “l-love– what are you doing..? I– I want to make you feel good!”

Kairos struggles against you as he tries to get on top, but you simply won’t allow it. For tonight, you want to be the one in charge, not him.

His face flushes as you tell him this, and he still can’t believe he’s not dreaming. He gulps, “if… If I c-can’t be on top, then… Then does that mean…” His thoughts go haywire as he imagines you fully riding him. Now he realizes that he absolutely needs to see you bouncing on top of him– he needs to see his cock disappear inside of your warmth over and over again until he inevitabley comes undone a second time.

Fuck, he wants to cum inside of you so badly.

Desperately, Kairos reaches out to remove the last of your clothes, but you smack his hands away. “Ah-ah, you’re not allowed to do that.~” You put on a fake, innocent smile as you grab his wrists and pin them by his sides. “For tonight, you’re not allowed to touch me… Okay?”

Kairos hesitantly nods as he digs his hands into the black bed sheets beneath him, trying his hardest to resist his deepest urges.

But you move so painfully slow– and he knows it's on purpose. You’re teasing him. The smirk on your face drives him crazy as you slowly remove his black boxers. He’s already hard again.

Your fingers dance around his tip and gently massage it, teasing him lovingly. He wishes so badly to thrust into your hands again, but he knows that’s not what you want. So he forces himself to be still as you take your time fondling him.

Kairos obeys your wishes like a good boy.

He gasps a little when you fully wrap your hand around his length, lazily stroking him. It feels so good– really good– but it’s just not enough. It’s not nearly enough. “P-please, just… Just f-fuck me already, love! I.. I can’t t-take this anymore!”

Kairos squirms and cries as you start to stroke him even faster, giving his cock one last squeeze before you finally begin to remove your own underwear. His heart skips a beat when he finally sees your pussy on full display.

It’s so close to his dick– so, so close– he has to be inside of you. Now.

“L-let me put it in, please, love,” he shakily raises his hips a bit more, but he still somehow musters the willpower to not force himself inside of you. “Please, please, please…”

Very gently, you rub his cock against your clit, and you exaggerate a moan. In that moment, a borderline-evil idea strikes you, and you wonder if it’ll be enough to make him lose his self control.

“Hmm… I’m not so sure if I should put it in. Maybe some other time would be better?”

With a wink and a laugh, you slowly start to move away from his cock, and his eyes grow impossibly wide in horror. “N-no, no!” Kairos’ hands shoot up from his sides and harshly grip your hips, refusing to let you go. He then shoves his entire length inside of you.

And it feels wonderful.

“D-don’t, don’t tease m-me like that ever again! Y-you can’t just do that!!” Kairos starts relentlessly pounding into you, his eyes shutting tightly as he relishes the way your cunt squeezes around him. The sweat of both your bodies mix together as you begin to move in sync.

Kairos’ movements start to slow down as you take control once again, both of your hands resting on his shoulders as you push him down into the mattress. You gyrate your hips and kiss his skin, eventually moving your hands down to play with his sensitive nipples.

All he can do is dumbly mumble the phrase “I love you” over and over again as drool spills past his lips, the hot sensations turning his mind into an incoherent mess. He opens his eyes once more for a moment, and he looks down to see his cock sliding in and out of your warmth, your juices glistening on his length.

Ah, if only he had a camera on him– he’d take so many pictures to cherish this sight.

Deep down, he can’t believe that he had to spend over 23 years without you in his life. For so many years, all he had was his stupid hands and a pile of cheap plastic sex toys to satisfy himself with. And a pillow. But now..?

Now he has everything he could ever want and more.

As the minutes pass, he can feel the same overwhelming wave of pleasure starting to wash over him. Kairos opens his eyes and reaches up to touch you again, despite knowing that you told him not to. But you let it slide as you feel a wave of pleasure starting to wash over you, too.

“C-cum with me, please,” Kairos begs. “A-and let me cum inside of y-you, too!”

He picks up the pace from under you as he moves his hands to rub your clit. He’s also not very skilled with his hands either, but his pure enthusiasm proves itself to be enough to make you unravel.

“Oh– Kairos–!”

Your breathing grows heavier and heavier as he continues to touch you passionately, and without realizing it, your pussy tightly clenches his length, milking him for all he’s worth. Your eyes roll back into your head as orgasmic waves roll over you, and the same thing happens to Kairos.

He reaches his hands up to your shoulders and holds you in place on his cock, shooting hot ropes of cum inside you as he moans. “Y-yes, yes… Yes..!” He hungrily grinds himself against you, unable to stop himself.

When the two of you come down from your highs and are brought back into reality, all you can do is smile and bask in eachother’s presence.

“I, I lov-”

Before he can finish his sentence, you happily lunge towards his lips and cut him off with a kiss, falling into the bed beside him. “I love you too,” you whisper as you gleefully kiss his nose. He warmly kisses your nose back, tears of joy pouring from his eyes.

He clings onto you tightly, wrapping his arms and legs around your body as he pulls the blankets over the both of you. You can shower later– or tomorrow– but for right now, all he wants to do is hold you.

And for one of the rare times in his life, Kairos manages to peacefully fall asleep.

(AMAB reader!)

With you pushing him gently onto the bed, Kairos’ eyes shake uncontrollably. His heart is pounding against his chest, his hands are trembling with excitement. He can’t believe that any of this is actually happening… His wildest fantasies are finally coming true.

It’s so powerful, seeing him melt under your touch.

You can’t stop yourself from smirking as you massage him.

“Who’s my good boy?”

But you don’t let him cum. Not yet.

He looks so confused– almost hurt– when you move your hand away. “W-wha-” He tears up a bit. “W-why did you stop?”

“Y-yes, I’ll– I’ll do that–!” His small hands shakily grip your hips as he pulls you down onto his cock, and he ruts into you like there’s no tomorrow.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck..!”

You get up from your position once Kairos finally calms down, his breath evening out and his eyes fluttering open. However, before you can get too far away from him, he pulls you down and holds you next to him on the bed. “Y-you– I– I have to make you cum too,” he whispers as he kisses your lips over and over again. Kairos attempts to push his tongue into your mouth, but he’s honestly not very good at kissing– he’s so messy and inexperienced. But… At least he’s trying his best.

Kairos tries to move on top of you, but you don’t let him. Instead, you push him down even harder into the bed, straddling him once more. “L-love– what are you doing..? I– I want to make you feel good!”

Kairos struggles against you as he tries to get on top, but you simply won’t allow it. For tonight, you want to be the one in charge, not him.

His face flushes as you tell him this, and he still can’t believe he’s not dreaming. He gulps, “if… If I c-can’t be on top, then… Then does that mean…” His thoughts go haywire as he imagines your cock ravaging him. Now he realizes that he absolutely needs to see you pounding into him– he needs to see your cock disappearing inside of his tight hole over and over again until he inevitabley comes undone a second time.

Kairos hesitantly nods as he digs his hands into the black bed sheets beneath him, trying his hardest to resist his deepest urges.

But you move so painfully slow– and he knows it's on purpose. The smirk on your face drives him crazy as you slowly remove his black boxers. He’s already hard again.

He obeys your wishes like a good boy.

He gasps a little when you fully wrap your hand around his length, lazily stroking him. It feels so good– really good– but it’s just not enough. “P-please, just… Just f-fuck me already, love! I.. I can’t t-take this anymore!”

Kairos squirms and cries as you start to stroke him even faster, giving his cock one last squeeze before you finally begin to remove your own briefs. His eyes widen when he finally sees your cock on full display.

It’s so close to his ass– so, so close– he needs you inside of him. Now.

“J-just put it in, please, love,” he shakily raises his hips a bit more, but he still somehow musters the willpower to not force himself onto you. “Please, please, please…”

Very gently, you rub your cock against his entrance, and you exaggerate a moan. In that moment, a borderline-evil idea strikes you, and you wonder if it’ll be enough to make him lose his self control.

“Hmm… I’m not so sure if I should put it in. Maybe some other time would be better?”

With a wink and a laugh, you slowly start to pull away from him, and his eyes grow impossibly wide in horror. “N-no, no!” Kairos’ legs begin to shake as he wraps them around your hips, refusing to let you go. Without much of a choice, you finally shove your entire dick inside of him.

And it feels wonderful.

“D-don’t, don’t tease m-me like that ever again! Y-you can’t just do that!!” Kairos starts relentlessly bouncing on your cock, his eyes shutting tightly as he relishes the way you fill him up. The sweat of both your bodies mix together as you begin to move in sync.

Kairos’ movements start to slow down as you take control once again, both of your hands resting on his shoulders as you push him down into the mattress. You grind your hips against him and kiss his skin, eventually moving your hands down to play with his nipples.

All he can do is mumble the phrase “I love you” over and over again as drool spills past his lips, the hot sensations turning his mind into an incoherent mess. He opens his eyes once more for a moment, and he looks down to see his cock twitching and bouncing as you fuck him.

Ah, if only he had a camera on him– he’d take so many pictures to cherish this sight.

Now he has everything he could ever want and more.

“C-cum with me, please,” Kairos begs. “Please, cum inside m-me..!”

He picks up the pace as he bounces on your cock even faster, eager to please you. He can’t help but squirm and whine as he imagines your cum filling him to the brim, and maybe even spilling out onto the bed sheets.

“Oh– Kairos–!”

Your breathing grows heavier and heavier as he continues to match your pace, and without meaning to, your cock hits his extra-sensitive spot, and his ass tightly squeezes against your length, milking you for all you’re worth. Your eyes roll back into your head as orgasmic waves roll over you, and the same thing happens to Kairos.

His hands grip the sheets beneath him as he shoots ropes of cum onto his own stomach, his mouth hanging open as he tries to catch his breath. He hungrily grinds himself against you, unable to stop himself. And when the two of you come down from your highs, all you can do is smile and bask in eachother’s warmth.

“I, I lov-”

And for one of the rare times in his life, Kairos manages to peacefully fall asleep.

#yandere #yandere male #yandere x oc #kairos posting #yancore #yandere fic #my silly little guy part 2

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violetsiren90 · 6 months ago

Text

New Rules | Don't pick up the phone.

Table of Contents: Teaser (Prologue); Don't pick up the phone; Don't let him in

Pairing: f*ck boi!Jisung x f!Reader; Jisung x Minho

Genre: choose your own adventure; drabble/vignette series; angst and smut; f*ck buddies; college/post grad

Summary: Jisung has had you wrapped around his finger for the last half-decade. You know good and well that it's time to move on…but you can never seem to follow your own rules long enough to shake him.

*Based on the lyrics of "New Rules" by Dua Lipa

Content warnings: 18+ (minors, dni) Explicit smut; toxic relationship; partying (alcohol and marijuana usage); characters commit sexual acts while partaking in controlled substances; sexual frustration; masturbation; fantasizing; flashbacks/backstory; lust and resentment; possessive Minho; dom Minho/sub Jisung if you squint; voyeurism; hand job; orgasm

Word Count: ~1600

Author's Note: Well, here we go! This is gonna get messy. Thanks to your poll responses (thank you so much for voting!!) we have a Minsung plot line. The next poll will be at the end of the drabble. I hope you enjoy this sinful little indulgence! ❤🔥

As always, if no one has told you today, please know that you're loved, and worthy of love! 🧜‍♀️💜

You know he's only calling 'cause he's drunk and alone.

Your heart hammers in your chest as you watch your phone buzz beside the stove. A groan escapes your lips as you let your head sag between your arms, outstretched to clutch the cheap, white tile of your kitchen countertop.

You’re wet just from seeing his name scroll across the caller ID.

Pushing away from where the device continues to ring out, you press your fingers to your temples and screw your eyes shut.

No. This has to stop.

The sudden phantom sensation of a pussy drunk tongue laving lazily over your swollen clit has you shuddering violently. As your eyes snap back open you shake yourself, stripping off your sweatshirt, suddenly hot.

The phone begins to buzz again, but you retreat into your bedroom, shutting the door as you lay against the cool softness of your comforter. You know what needs to be done…or rather, you know who absolutely cannot be, and your dominant hand has already begun to breach the the waistband of your leggings. You can feel him, smell him, taste him. You chest heaves.

You hold the onslaught of unholy memories at bay as your fingers brush over your mound.

Unfocused gaze aimed at the blades of the ceiling fan as they cycle hypnotically, your mind reaches for an image you’ve recalled and pushed away countless times. Your lips part as your fingers find your warmth. It was the moment that had sentenced you to the madness, an erotic and hollow awakening. You could see it now, as if three years hadn’t passed.

…Jisung.

Han Jisung was a fruit that hung from the tree in the center of the garden. One that many thirsted to taste. You ran in very different circles when you first met, sophomore year of undergrad. He was living life in the fast lane and you were diligently working your way through a six-year education plan. And yet, you became something like friends in the minutes between two and three pm on Tuesdays and Thursdays. He would drop by the student success center for assistance with business economics, though you rarely talked about that, and amongst the textbooks and index cards and vending machine nourishment, you discovered him.

You found him to be different than he presented in a crowd, especially his typical one. He was shy and sweet and silly with an unbelievable amount of intelligence that he carried around like a key he hadn’t found the lock for - something that kept him awake at night and brought his nails between his teeth. When he wasn’t subdued by a quiet reserve, he wielded his boyish good looks and a charisma that could be harnessed at will with nearly total recklessness, and you fell no less a victim to his cheeky charm than the rest of the student body.

Of course, you’d known of him before he’d sat down at your tutoring desk that first day. Everyone did - and not a few in a way that had earned him a specific brand of notoriety. You’d seen them time and again, the passersby who waved and giggled with their friends at the recollection of a mouthful of his cock.

And you’d taken it for another part of his restlessness, the promiscuity - an easy outlet for all of that vibrating, frenetic energy. Until that night.

Jisung was in a punk rock group, and a good one for being so amateur. The five of them, The Maniacs, had established a fair amount of celebrity on campus. He was close with his bandmates, especially one in particular who you’d taken for his best friend - Minho. He talked about him constantly.

Lee Minho was another fruit on the tree in the center of the garden. Devastatingly handsome, his eyes and lips held a kind of cold cruelty that only seemed to sharpen his beauty, and he sang with the voice of a fallen angel. The senior was The Maniacs' front man and walking lingerie department, considering the sheer number of lacy underthings that had been tossed in his direction. Jisung worshiped him, and it wasn’t unusual to see the pair sharing a cigarette in a grassy corner of the quad, casually draped over one another like two cats in the sun.

Jisung lived in his world, and you in yours. Your circles turned with earth and the moon, intersecting and deviating in natural course. And then, on the Thursday before spring break that year, he did something he’d never done before - he invited you to one of his gigs. It was a house party at the vacation home of an old-money alum. You surprised yourself by saying you’d go. Uncharacteristic of you. You didn’t expect to know a soul aside from Jisung, and it meant calling out of your shift at work…but recently, you’d begun to fantasize.

You’d begun to dabble in dangerous and preposterous daydreams in moments between your encounters, and created a little monster he’d fed just enough with the invitation. You were a sensible person as a rule, and tonight you felt like being reckless. Like being indulgent. So you went.

You dressed the part. Did yourself up. Drenched yourself in your roommate’s perfume.

You showed up on the late side, and the band had already been playing when you arrived. He looked glorious strapped to a guitar in a fitted tank top and distressed skinny jeans, glinting silver hoops catching the light at his ears. You smiled at him when he found you in the crowd and he waved. Then, after the set, he found you, handed you a joint, and told you with a wink to save it for after the show.

Your heart pounded the rest of the night.

You watched him tear up the room with the rest of the band. You cheered uproariously. You danced with your drink raised over your head. If it was a dream, you were sleepwalking for all you cared. The more buzzed you became the fuzzier the lines between reality and fantasy began to appear.

You stayed late into the night, as you’d promised. And sometime after midnight, when the majority of the guests had dispersed and those who remained were locked in bedrooms or passed out on cushioned furniture, he found you. He took your hand and tugged you towards the backyard.

From the couch in the sitting room, sprawled out and sweating with smoke wisping from his lips, Minho watched.

Jisung led you out to the pool, and you both sat on the edge - you with your calves dipped into the cool water as he sat cross-legged beside you. He lit the joint, and you passed it back and forth as you talked. You talked like you always did, but with something new hanging in the air, an energy that had you humming with anticipation beside him. He was so relaxed. You wondered if it was the weed. You hoped it was you. And then he looked at you like he did in your daydreams and his eyes dropped to your lips.

Then his phone chimed.

Glancing at it he sighed and ran a hand through his hair as he stood and told you he’d be back in a minute. So you waited. And waited. Then you pulled your feet out of the pool, picked up your heels, and went to find him.

You didn’t have to look far.

The moonlight was streaming through the floor-to-ceiling glass of the wall facing the expanse of the yard and across the sitting room, casting the bodies of sleeping party-goers draped over chairs and loveseats in the cool marble of its illumination. Everything was silent and still - so the soft, desperate groan from the couch on the far side of the space was enough to pull your eyes to its source.

You sucked in a breath, your lips parting and mouth going dry as the scene before you seared itself onto your retinas like an obscene tattoo.

Minho was seated low on the cushions, the black leather of his shapely legs splayed wide to accommodate Jisung. The younger man sat in his lap, his back to Minho’s chest, skinny jeans pushed down his thighs while the older man methodically stroked his exposed cock. Jisung’s eyes were screwed shut, his features contorted in ecstasy - mouth hanging open as he whimpered and gasped.

You couldn’t tear your eyes away…and then you saw his. Minho’s.

Gleaming and dark and full of a lustful wickedness, they locked you in their gaze over Jisung’s shoulder. As he watched you he began to twirl his wrist, tugging Jisung’s cock in torturous circles as he twisted and pumped so that it began to weep from its tip. Minho’s lips curled up in a sensuous sneer.

You should have run. You should have turned around and shut the door on everything. But you were hazy on weed and liquor and you swayed, frozen where you stood, as you felt a sticky dampness gathering at the gusset of your panties. It was the most arousing and gutting thing you had ever seen.

Minho’s left hand raised to snake around Jisung’s throat, two lithe fingers pressing at his pulse point. Jisung jerked and twitched over him, as if trying to restrain himself from writhing under the ministrations of Minho’s fist. It was intensely lewd, how naked he looked in all his clothes with his belly and cock and the tops of his thighs exposed to Minho’s touch. The zipper on the sleeve of the singer’s leather jacket kept time like a tinkling pornographic metronome as he jerked his bandmate closer and closer to oblivion.

Your pulse pounded in your pussy as you watched your friend’s face twist in carnal euphoria, hips jerking erratically as his white cum surged over Minho’s hand to drip over his bared tummy and hips.

You watched Jisung. Minho watched you.

Your eyes snap open and you pull your sticky fingers from your folds, crying out in frustration as your climax eludes you. Rolling over, you rip open your nightstand drawer to grasp for a vibrator.

The toy buzzes you brutally over the edge.

Your phone has stopped buzzing in the kitchen.

~To be continued~

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two-white-butterflies · 1 year ago

Text

no time to die | c16 | part one

Description: After a messy breakup with Charles Leclerc. You resort to feuding with him online. In where, he hates your guts.

Pairing: charles leclerc/actress!reader

part two |

YNMakesItSparkle: Never need a bitch, I'm what a bitch need.

293 likes 1,283,389 likes

comments:

carlossainz55: hermosa 💜

princessdoesntcry: THE WAY THAT CHARLES ISN'T IN THE LIKES 😭 I AM A CHILD OF DIVORCE

delancyfortuna243: Calm down carlos the body isn't even cold yet

Charles_Leclerc: Do the boys back home touch you like I do?

283 comments 982,852 likes

tifosiofficialstan: this confirms my suspicions 😭

ynleclerclovvve: UHHH WHAT BOYS?

loveerrmercedes: love from brazil 🇧🇷

Charles_Leclerc: Might be the next best thing but not quite me.

283 comments 1,238,483 likes

baudelichois: Ya'll should talk it out? 😭

ynleclercsupporter: I think you still love each other. Having rebounds is not healthy! :(

carlossainz55: nice, mate

YNMakesItSparkle: Rumor has it, he's the one I left you for.

192 comments 1,283,439 likes

imsebastianstan: Really? - YNMakesItSparkle: Wanna make it official?

(MONACO, LECLERC APARTMENT)

"Are you still beefing with your ex-girlfriend?" Arthur peeked through his brother's shoulders, seeing him scroll around your instagram feed. It was clear that none of you were getting over the breakup.

Arthur was always fond of you - he believed that you were a good influence over his brother. "Why did you break up in the first place?" he asked, intrigued about the real reason.

Charles' face quickly turned sour - and he turned his phone off. "None of your business, and shouldn't you be cleaning the dishes?" he inquired in their mother tongue, casting his younger brother a knowing stare. "I'm not leaving until you tell me," he crossed both of his arms, tapping his foot impatiently on the wooden floor.

"It's stupid," Charles mumbled - turning the other way.

"Seeing you talk to her with instagram posts is stupid." Arthur insulted and a large sigh escaped from Charles mouth. The real reason was - egotistical and stupid. "Mama, he's not cleaning the dishes!" Charles screamed from the tops of his lungs, prompting his brother to sprint towards the kitchen.

Why couldn't he just tell Arthur the truth?

YNMakesItSparkle: Hotel 💗

183 comments 1,482,238 likes

daenerysfanedits: How did charles leclerc pull this?

badgalriri: you ate ❤️ - YNMakesItSparkle: just like u pretty girl

f1editsnow: Why did u break up with Charles??

GRETA GERWIG AND Y/N L/N TALK ABOUT 'BARBIE' FILM THAT HAS TAKEN CINEMA BY STORM.

comments

loveslendrina: THIS IS SO TARGETED 😭

margorobbiefanbase: Charles, you are KENOUGH for me

arianabomba9: this is the 3rd time a man has felt threatened by their spouse's success 💀 taylor, ariana and now y/n

ynandcharles: HE HELD HIS PRIDE THE WAY HE SHOULD'VE HELD HER...🥹

@shouq @fdl305 @iloveyou3000morgan

comment to get tagged.

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scrumptiousfanbasement · 3 months ago

Note

I wanna see more about Remy and Tammy, I’m intrigued 🙂

Like, when they both confessed, Tammy’s transition, confronting both Remy and Tammy’s awful parents?

Man I never thought so many peeps would be so intrigued in my little lore 😭 I love it sm that people are 💜 but oh boy I'm trying to get around to that but work and my motivation is kinda dog shit. I have a couple of sketches like what Tammy's first baby steps into transitioning is and Remy being an awkward mess. I can share those at the moment.

I feel like they don't really confront either parents they just kinda move out and do their own thing. Tammy is more involved with her parents because they weren't really terrible just abit absent parenting. Remy however doesn't really see his parents but he doesn't really have to worry about losing his riches either so they just kinda fuck off and live comfortably somewhere else and tolerate his parents bs while Remy helps AJ with the Galax institute.

At the moment I've been thinking about an au where Remy and Tammy gains custody of Dev, but in a funny ass way.

It's been an all over mess with these two in my brain lately

They're abit messy

Then some stuff with that gaining custody au thing.

#Ask #remy buxaplenty #tammy turner #dev dimmadome #fairly odd parents a new wish #Fop #a new wish #fopanw #fairly oddparents

75 notes · View notes

psychedelic-ink · 1 year ago

Text

𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐇𝐀𝐓𝐄 𝐈𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐌𝐄

pairing: stripper!jack daniels x f!reader

genre: stripper AU, explicit, minors dni

word count: 8.2k

series summary: frustrated by your everyday life, you seek solace at a male strip club. It's your first time and you're instantly mesmerized by the one that calls himself "Whiskey".

chapter summary: you're still heartbroken but that doesn't stop you from attending your friends' bachelorette party— how were you supposed to know the male stripper that she hired would be the one and only whiskey.

warnings: angst, grief, mention of the loss of a child, enemies to lovers ✨ v i b e s ✨, semi-public sex, angst with happy ending, stripping, one time use of good boy (i was in a mood don't @ me), praise kink, oral (fem receiving), piv

a/n: not gonna lie with the trip I took and my laptop breaking when I returned I feel like I've been working on this chapter for months. Hopefully, it turned out okay! Thank you for all the support you've shown for stripper!jack it was much appreciated and made me so happy to see everyone so enthusiastic 💖

[stripper!jack masterlist]

dividers by @firefly-graphics 💜

Jack has a lot of regrets in his life.

The night is warm, yet his skin is cold like ice. His legs feel shaky, his steps echoing and blending with the stretched-out shadows of the buildings. Cars whizz past him, a couple of cabs as well, but he doesn’t hail any of them. He’d rather complete his walk of shame back to his apartment. It’s only fitting after the stunt he pulled.

He wasn’t expecting you to look at him the same way Vivienne used to. Full of admiration and love. There was a certain blindness to it, like he could do no wrong, but he could. Jack could do many wrongs.

He shakes his head, the yearning in his heart growing with every painful beat. He misses her. His Viv. When Jack thinks of her, he can only remember their last moments together. Her stomach round with his child—a baby boy, he later on learned—her cheeks glowing, her hair in a high messy bun. She kissed him on the cheek that night. Hugging him tight. Maybe she had a feeling. He shouldn’t have let her go.

A car honks as it passes him by, screeching laughter coming from the inside. He glares at the taillights of the car, two red eyes glaring back at him.

With you, Jack thought he just liked the attention. You were shy, clumsy, unfiltered. He could tell what you were thinking just by looking at you. He thought. . . the growing feeling in his stomach would stop if he just slept with you. If he fucked you nice and hard that it would all go away.

But the deed was done, and his feelings remained.

Jack could see how badly he’d hurt you, but he didn’t see any way around it. He had to go. He had to leave. He was a coward and he was afraid. Looking at you, so happy and pliant with his spent dripping down your stomach— he just couldn’t stay. All Jack could see was Viv, her smile before she left to go get the milk he’d forgotten to buy because he had an exhausting night of stripping. It was the day before his last. He was quitting, he’d found a job at the distillery, something more stable he could do for when the baby came. And for her.

He stops and stares.

He feels sick. His mouth floods with saliva and bile, his stomach churns violently, he sees a tree nearby and leans over, emptying everything. His knees shake. While his throat burns and the stench breaks his nose, images of that night come to mind. How he got anxious after the first hour. How he called and called and called. No answer. How the police couldn’t reach him because he was constantly dialing Vivienne’s number. He remembers the way he stuck his bare feet into his boots to go and search for her, only to come face to face with two policemen. The eyes can be quite loud. Or maybe they were always loud for him. His heart sank into his chest. She was gone. His baby boy was gone.

He hurls again, the leaves of the tree creating a symphonic backdrop accompanied by the gentle caress of the wind. He didn’t have anything else in his stomach anymore. Only bile coming out. It tastes like poison.

Jack remains in the same position—half bent over, hand braced against the grooves of the thick tree. His eyes are teary. He thinks it has little to do with his throat burning and everything to do with Vivienne. He misses her. Misses her scent, her feel under his fingertips, kissing her swelled stomach for good luck before starting the day.

He misses all of that, yet, he aches for you. He feels like shit for leaving you like that. Despite all of what he’d said and done, Jack doesn’t want you to hate him.

Slowly, he raises. His grief clouds his vision. He can’t see the mess he made even though he’s staring right at it. Some sensible part of him is hoping no one saw. Or filmed him—a fear he had developed with the increasing popularity of Instagram and TikTok and whatever the fuck is popular now.

His feet start moving again, the sound of his boots clicking against the pavement, but his mind is still at the bottom of the tree. Still lurching over, still vomiting. Thinking of her.

Jack has a lot of regrets in his life. Now he has added another.

You.

Jack is a morning person—normally.

But not today. Not when his head hurts like hell and his muscles ache in such a profound way that no matter how aggressively he gives himself a rub down it doesn’t go away. The sky is clear and he dares to glare at the sun. Staring until his eyes burn, tearing up right before he pulls his gaze away from the fiery orb hovering in space.

He’d very much like to be the one hovering in space right about now.

The club is pretty much empty. A couple of guys sitting here and there sipping their coffee while Vodka—aka Steve—hugs the pool and dips down. Jack is not a fan of the poll. He prefers to sensually dance, he doesn’t like the sudden metallic chill that touches his burning skin during a routine. He heads to the bar where Tequila is restocking the fridge. Your seat is empty. Jack's heart clenches at the sight.

“Hey there old timer,” he greets him. “You know where our firecracker regular is?”

“No,” he grunts, his shoulders raising. “Why the hell would I know?”

Tequila’s sole eyebrow lifts along with the corner of his lip. His eyes soften with amusement, and just by the look, Jack knows he’s seconds to being incredibly, infuriatingly annoyed with the other man. Before Tequila can say anything, he waves him off, heading towards the dressing room. He doesn’t want to talk about it. Even if he did, Tequila would be the last person Jack would want to converse with about such a thing. He’s still feeling guilty about the whole ordeal. His brain screaming at him to give you a call, or write a letter or something apologizing.

Of course, he does none of that.

Instead, he gets ready. His eyes swiftly move over each and every outfit he has. Most of them are cowboy attire. Today he’s not really feeling it. He wants to be someone else and a change in outfit seems like the perfect way to go about it. He quickly tugs off his shirt and kicks off his pants, his chest and legs bare, he looks over the selection of clothes. His fingers graze over a red suit. It’s soft and light under his touch, and to accompany it, he picks a copper and black animal print shirt. It’s way more flashy compared to his usual outfits but he felt like it. He wants to look the opposite of what he’s feeling.

The shirt is smooth like butter, cool against his sweat-slick skin. His only complaint would be the pointy shoes. It always rubs the back of his ankle the wrong way, leaving it hurting and bloody.

Looking into the mirror, he slathers his fingers with a generous amount of hair gel and brushes the soft strands back. They curl slightly at the ends, sticking to his nape. When he’s satisfied, he drags a comb through them, making sure that everything is in place and slicked back.

Just as he’s about to leave, Tequila pops his head through the door. “You have a call on line three.”

“A’right, thanks, Teq.”

The younger man promptly leaves and Jack reaches for the landline. The club is probably the only place where landlines still exist. He takes a seat, his palm flat on his thigh. A small sigh parts his lips, his body already feeling drained. Jack swallows thickly before answering.

“Hello?”

“Hello!” a chipper voice comes through the speakers of the phone. “This is Whiskey, right? My sister is getting married and we’re throwing her a bachelorette party and we wanted a stripper to liven things up a bit.”

Jack smiles despite himself, “Of course, don’t know a better way to get a party goin’. When were you thinkin’ of havin’ it?”

“This Saturday. Is that okay?” the voice suddenly sounds panicked, as if she might’ve been too late in asking. “Also it’s going to be at our house, I can send the address over.”

“Sounds good, sugar,” the pet name tastes like iron in his mouth. He’s not sure why. “Let me give you my cell and you can text me all the details.”

You’re heartbroken, poor beating muscle ripped apart and stomped on while still beating. Yet, the world still makes its lazy routes around the sun. The people around you none the wiser of the knot lodged in your throat, the tears that constantly linger in the corner of your eyes, burning.

Jack certainly left his ever-lasting impression on you. You’re not sure what you could’ve done for a different outcome. He was so soft with you, so tender— then the switch had been flipped. His rage twisted at his lips, swirled in his eyes, and just like that he was gone.

You didn’t tell anyone about it. Just the thought of explaining everything exhausted you. Besides, you didn’t want to listen to your friends bad-mouthing him. You were protective of him. You held on to the hope that there was an explanation there. A reason that would soften your heart and everything would work out.

But days passed. You didn’t visit the club even though you missed Tequila and you never heard from Jack.

Your anger festered like an irritated wound. The hurt, the sadness, all of it shifted into an emotion that was easier to handle, an emotion that was blinding and made you think of little else. If the world was adamant about moving forward, so would you.

Your friend, Betty, was getting married in about a month and luckily, she was dead set on having the most unhinged bachelorette party ever. You’d make the most of it, promising yourself it would be the perfect distraction.

The wind blows warm, the trees that surround your friend's house dancing wildly as muffled music echoes into the blue-purple sky. You feel the breeze playing with the ends of your dress, lifting and teasing the fabric up your legs. You suck a sharp breath. Your heart beating in your throat ready to jump out of the bone and skin. Now that you’re here, staring at the imposing architecture —you often forgot that Betty was much more comfortable than you— all your bravado that built in your mind is dwindling. You take a step, then another. It will be okay. You’ll have a good time with your friends and sleep soundly tonight with alcohol lingering in your veins.

You wish, for once, things would go as planned.

“You called for a stripper?”

In a weak attempt to hide the very obvious tremble in your voice, you swallow, again and again. Betty is absolutely radiant, her shapely brows coming together while giving you a startled look. She shrugs. “I mean. . . It’s a bachelorette party, of course, we hired a stripper. Why the big reaction?” Before you can answer she lets out a overexaggerated gasp and brings her hang to her chest. “Have you been a prude all this time baby?!”

You snort at the question and shake your head, “No you idiot. I just. . . It’s okay, it’s fine. I just didn’t know.”

“You’ve been so secretive lately,” she remarks, sucking the cherry of her cocktail between her lips. It reminds you of Jack, a longing tingling at your skin. She chews on the juicy fruit and just as you’re thinking of an excuse to get out of this cross interrogation, her eyes snap to something behind you. Her eyes sparkle, a wide grin stretching across her face. “Wow. . . “ she says wistfully.

You turn to see what got her so worked up, your eyes grow wide and you swear—swear your heart stops beating at that very moment.

It’s Jack.

Fucking hell.

Everything comes rushing back. Every ounce of emotion you tried so hard to shove deep inside bursting from every orifice. Your eyes sting, the know in your throat larger than ever. He hasn’t noticed you yet, too busy talking to Rachel, Betty’s sister, and maid of honor. You’re shaking like a chihuahua. What the hell is he doing here and what the hell are you supposed to do about it

“Whatever it is that’s going in with you, I’m sure a dance from that cowboy will certainly help,” Betty says, unaware that all you want is for the ground to swallow you whole.

“Yeah,” you breathe out, an awkward chuckle escaping your lips. “I’ll be right back.”

Before Betty can say anything, and before Jack spots you, you disappear between the halls. Your steps echo against the smooth marble. You’re not sure what your plan is since the bathroom was in the opposite direction of where you stormed off to. Some part of you wants to leave, perhaps run away screaming, but you know you won’t be doing that. It’s Betty’s night. And even though she has a habit of peeving you, you love her and want to be with her on her special night. Besides, she seemed really excited when she saw Jack. You can’t blame her, who wouldn’t be?

He was as handsome as ever. His cowboy hat snug atop his head, shirt hugging his biceps as he strutted inside. You knew that walk. It was his stripper walk, he told you about it once, how he would move differently even when doing something as mundane as drinking water, or walking.

Your steps come to a halt, the music of the party nothing but muffled, silent melodies now. You want to stay but you’re not sure how you’ll react seeing him dancing again. Memories come flooding back, reminding you of the love and hurt you felt in the short time that you got to know him. You wonder what his reaction would be like when he inevitably sees you. Would he act like the two you never met? Or would he just tilt his hat and greet you as if you were neighbors that barely talked?

No matter his reaction, you have no doubt that it is going to sting.

You take a breath, furrow your brows, and turn on your heel. If anyone should be hiding it should be him, not you. You ignore the quick beat of your heart and head back towards the party.

There’s a stage, and an actual, god damn squeaky clean stage.

You knew that Rachel was going all out with the bachelorette party and you knew Betty and her family were. . . Comfortable, but wasn’t this a bit much?

Seated between Rachel and Betty, both sisters gaze eagerly toward the stage as Jack ascends the stairs and positions himself at the center, his back turned to the audience. You hold your breath. It almost feels like you’re peeping on him. Hopefully, he won’t spot you among the crowd, you don’t want to look like you’re stalking him.

Jack rolls his shoulders and relaxes his neck, tilting his head to one side and then to the other. Betty straightens in her seat, green eyes wide. Finally, he looks up, and with that, the music begins.

Have his performances always been so spiritual? There’s something about the way he moves that is slower compared to his usual routine. He turns and your eyes instantly drop to his crotch, the leather of the belt he’s wearing framing his bulge. You swallow thickly, heat pooling under your cheeks. Your thighs clench together with need. Damn it. You can't help but feel the tender ache he left behind while dragging himself in and out of you.

He rolls his hips and unbuckles his belt, which coaxes whistles and screams from the crowd. In a single fluid motion, Jack pulls the leather from the belt loops and uses it as a makeshift whip, cracking it in the air. His dark eyes search the crowd, presumably for the bride. Your eyes slowly drift to the crown glimmering on top of Betty’s head, your gaze moving back to Jack right after.

Your entire body stills, your breath catches in your throat.

Your eyes lock with one another, his dark brows shooting up. He’s still moving with the music, hips swaying as he drags his fingers down sensually over each and every button. You press your lips together, wanting to tear your gaze away but also feeling as if it’s impossible. His breath hitches, unnoticed by everyone except for you.

After what feels like an eternity, Jack drags his gaze from you to Betty, shooting the bride-to-be a toothy smile.

“Now ain’t this a shame,” he drawls with a wink. “What a lovely woman to be snatched so soon.”

Betty’s grin widens and you can’t help but feel a bit light-hearted. You’re glad that Jack is at least good at his job. He always makes people feel good.

Jack begins his descent from the stairs and her cheeks flush. You’re as stiff as a board, some logical part of your brain screaming at you to push your chair back, add some more distance between what’s about to happen. His all-too-familiar scent fills your nostrils and you’re glued to where you are. Jack doesn’t so much as glance at you as he straddles Betty’s thighs, dipping low and arching his back as he comes back up, lips barely grazing her.

It’s hard not to be reminded of the first dance he’d ever done for you. Your chest too tight for your heart, your body feeling too small to be holding every organ in. You want to tear your gaze away but you feel trapped by the cheering and the clapping. In trance, you lift your hands and add to the noise, a small whoop leaving your lips.

You swear Jack cringes. It’s such a small movement, just a small jump in the muscle of his jaw and a small sneer turning at the corner of his mouth.

Good, you think, you don’t want to be the only uncomfortable one here.

Briefly, his eyes meet yours, a flicker of challenge in his eyes. You gape at the stare, does he think you clapped on purpose? To annoy him? He’s unbelievable.

But no matter what your intentions were, his eyes shift back to Betty, finger digging into his shirt with a self-satisfied smirk. He straightens and tears the fabric, the sound of buttons hitting the floors hidden by the loud sensual music. You gape at the sight of his bare chest. Betty seems equally as shocked, her eyes rake his chest, hungry.

Then, ever so gently, Jack takes a hold of her wrists and places her hand over his pecks, slithering back so her fingers move down his torso.

You weren’t jealous before, but you can’t deny the fire that suddenly flares in your stomach. An ugly feeling fills your insides, clutches at your heart. Sharp nails bury themselves into the soft, tender muscle. He doesn’t look at you as he shifts on his feet, turning while rolling his hips. Betty laughs, her arms barely caging the width of his waist. Jack sinks down and guides her hands to his crotch, Betty flushes when he feels him, her smile still wide.

He unbuckles his jeans and the crowd screams, meanwhile, you’re left dizzy, hands feeling numb as you clap. What the hell are you supposed to do in this situation? Leave? Continue to pretend that Jack is nothing more than a sexy stranger? Luckily you don’t have to think too much of it because he steps forward, leaving Betty’s arms to fall limp to her sides. You don’t know how, but as he walks towards the stage, the denim slips lower and lower, until the start of the swell of his ass is visible and his back dimples are in full view. Gifted from Venus herself.

“I’m gonna need a volunteer,” he drawls into the microphone, the honeyed voice making every hair on your body stand with attention. Jack slowly turns on his heel, eyes glued to the bride-to-be, making it clear to the entire room who the volunteer should be. Your eyes shift to Betty, her bottom lip sucked between her teeth, shapely brows knitted tightly together.

You realize, with horror, that she’s planning something.

Before the thought can become something tangible, something that you can mull over, you find yourself being pushed forward. Your wrist yanked upward by a gentle, yet firm, hand.

“We have a volunteer right here,” Betty calls out cheerfully. When you stare at her, wide-eyed and in shock, she winks at you. She mouths the words; have fun.

No, you want to scream, you certainly won’t be having fun. Alas, you see no way around it as all the women around you begin to cheer, your ass being edged out of your seat by sheer volume alone. Your eyes find Jack’s as you take the first step. His lips are curled in a wicked smile, an expression that doesn’t reach the darkness of his eyes. You swallow. The noise fades when he extends a hand, a silent ask for trust that you’re not that willing to give. But you do. You lay yourself in the middle of his palm and he wraps his fingers around it, guiding you to the stage. Lights flicker around you, some white, some colorful.

You stand like a doll in the middle of the stage, his body firm behind you, chest brushing your back. A shudder that you’re sure he won’t miss rolls down your spine. “Relax,” he murmurs into your ear. Involuntarily, you scoff. “You can leave,” he reminds you, nudging your arms to your sides and dragging the pads of his fingers across the delicate skin of your upper arms. His lips touch your cheek. “But that might raise some questions, darlin’.”

Damn it, he’s smooth.

You can’t really answer with everyone’s eyes glued on you both, so you make a sound that you hope expresses something along the lines of; I’ll stay but not for you, dickhead. You have doubts he got the message though. You assume you not running and cussing him out is probably a good enough of a sign for him to continue.

Your pulse skyrockets as his hands find your hips, prompting you to sway along with him. It doesn’t help that you’re stiff as a board but you manage to follow his lead. The thick outline of his cock brushes against your ass, and your cheeks burn. Your body betrays you as it grows hotter and hotter, the seam of your underwear growing damp with every move. He intertwines his fingers within your own, lifting your arm and spinning you around so you face him. Before you have a moment to catch your breath, he dips. Your breathing hitches as he comes back up, mouth an inch away from your body, inhaling as if you were completely bare to him.

Your knees start to shake. His hands slide down your back and nudge your legs apart before hooking afoot around your ankle. You find yourself sprawled upon the stage, knees bent with the soles of your shoes planted against the smooth floor. He towers over you, intimidating while standing tall between your legs. Jack doesn’t look down, eyes almost predatory as he observes the crowd. With a grin, he claps and hypes them all up. Both worry and excitement entangle around your heart, suffocating and squeezing your lungs.

Confusion crosses your face when he turns instead, but whatever you’re feeling is short-lived. He drops himself to the floor, long legs threading yours, he flips you both, and suddenly, his body is flushed against your own. Your heart skips a beat, arousal pooling deep in your gut. You feel every inch as he grinds himself against you, fingers cupping your throat, mouth skimming your cheek—he inhales and you feel teeth grazing your skin.

A moan parts your lips, a moan so silent that it’s drowned by the music and cheers, but not silent enough that it goes unnoticed by him. Every muscle grows tense. He smiles, something wicked and taunting reverberating out of him, another grind provoking you to raise your hips. Which you do, begrudgingly. Because you’ve missed him. Despite the anger. . . you still miss him, miss the weight of his body, the layering of his words.

“I’ve missed you too, darlin’,” he whispers, his breath warm over your skin. The sentence sends a coldness down your spine that seeps into the very fabric of your being. A whimper shakes your throat. His lips move, but not a word comes out. You’re surprised to notice that you’re disappointed with the fact.

You're being flipped over again, thick thighs straddling your waist as he comes to an almost plank position, your noses nearly brushing against one another. Jack grins and whips his upper body back, hand pushing back his hat and threading his hair. Thrusting into the air, he slides a palm down his torso. You watch in awe as his hand disappears beneath his pants, briefly grabbing himself before pulling his hand back. With the same hand, he holds your throat, leaning closer. The crowd goes wild. You hear the blood rush in your ear.

The music comes to a close, the melody fading into the distance. Your eyes meet, and just as it does, a loud cheer bursts from the crowd.

You’re both panting heavily, two sets of eyes eating the other up, engraving every detail to memory. The color of his eyes are darker than you remember, his lips a bit paler compared to your memory. He looks like he’s about to say something. You beat him to it.

“Screw you,” you mouth at him, nostrils flared and gaze becoming one of steel. He’s startled but not surprised. You’re basically scrambling off the stage when he moves away, and disappear into the halls. You don’t care if it raises suspicion. You don’t care if Betty demands answers later on. You just want to vanish into thin air.

This isn’t how you expected this day to go. You were expecting to have fun, maybe get a bit tipsy and go home to relieve yourself further with the help of your vibrator. You, in no way, were expecting to run into Jack. It didn’t help that Betty volunteered you to go on stage. There’s an endless pit in your stomach now because of it.

The halls seem endless. You walk and walk, not really having a clear vision of where you want to go. Maybe you should leave. The sound of the party is still roaring in the background. You wonder if Jack’s still dancing. You wonder if he stared as you left. Some part of you desperately wants to pick a fight, your nails itching to be buried in a soft surface—

You should leave. That’s the logical thing to do. And after everything you’ve been through, you’re not that keen about listening to your heart.

You turn on your heel, heart ramming wildly in your chest, ribcage barely contaminating the muscle violent with emotion.

Sadly, something warm and firm presses into your face—hard. Pain blossoms from the base of your nose, spreading throughout your face. You yelp and take a step back, the moment feeling oddly familiar as you rub a palm over your aching nose.

“Sorry,” you hear him say, and finally your gaze lifts. You see him. Jack. Standing there like a kicked puppy, his hands somewhere between wanting to lay on his sides and reach out for you to soothe the pain. He does the former when your eyes flit between said hands and eyes, a pang of instant guilt overwhelming the color of them. “Are you a’right?”

“You,” you say, the word bouncing against the back of gritted teeth. You point an accusatory finger at him. “Don’t get to ask me that.”

“Fair enough,” he mutters. “At least let me do this since it was my fault.”

His hand disappears into his jacket and he smoothly pulls out a tissue. He takes a step forward and your eyes go wide when you feel him pressing the soft material against your nose. You hadn’t felt the bleeding. Feeling slightly disoriented, your fingers curl around his hand, thinking he’ll move away so you can clog the bleeding yourself. He makes no such move. The heat from his fingers seeps into your skin even with the tissue in between.

“I think that’s enough,” you say with a glare. “I’m fine now.” Jack finally lets go and you detest how cold you feel without his touch. You give your nose one last rub before lowering your hand, peeling the tissue away. At a loss, you stuff it into your purse.

“What do you say?”

The question catches you off guard, your brows furrow and he repeats himself. Slower this time. “What. Do. You. Say.”

“What—” The tips of your ears burn and you swear if you were in a cartoon your air would be forming a spike right about now. “Are you expecting a damn thank you?!”

“Perhaps,” he tuts. “Or maybe I just wanna talk and I’m lookin’ for a gateway to do so.”

“Getting me angry isn’t the way to do that,” you inhale a sharp breath. “I don’t want to talk to you.”

He takes a step, crowding you until your back is pressed snugly against the wall. Your breath catches in your throat, your anger and frustrations from earlier dwindling upon feeling his warm breath ghosting your cheek. His hand finds purchase over the empty spot right near your ear. You can almost taste him on your tongue. Involuntarily, you inch closer and your regret is immediate when you see the twitch of his lips. He tilts his head. His eyes bore into yours, searching for something, anything. They’re so dark. Almost black.

With a sudden jerk of your head, you pull back, a thud echoing where your skull meets the wall, “What do you want?” you hiss. “A quick fuck?”

The poison beneath your words startles even you. His eyes go wide.

He doesn’t move away though.

“That’s not why I’m here,” he rasps, voice dropping. He slips a leg between your own, your spine becoming a stick with the sudden jolt of electricity snapping through your body. His thigh firm and warm against your sex. When your hands grip his arms despite you, he grins. “But it seems like you wouldn’t mind it.”

No. No, you wouldn’t. Fuck. What the hell is wrong with you?

“Why?” you gasp as he pushes his leg further up, heat coiling in your stomach. You squeeze his biceps, and when you meet his eyes, he gives you a questioning gaze. “Why are you taunting me? Is it really that fun to string me along?”

Jack attempts to pull back but your grip constricts. He remains, comes closer even, your bodies impossibly close. His hand slides down to your waist, thumb drawing slow, soothing circles. “I’m weak,” he answers simply. Like it’s meant to explain everything. “I’t not a matter of stringing you along or to taunt, darlin’. I just can’t keep away.”

“I don’t want you to keep away,” you breathe, voice desperate and hoarse. “I just want you to explain, Jack. I want to understand.”

You were telling the truth. You did want to understand. You want to see for yourself if he was worth forgiving or not, if whatever had gone through his head that prompted him to leave you in the middle of the night made sense. Even then—Even with the off chance that it does make sense, you still might find it hard to forgive him.

Time stands still, the air heavy with your unanswered plea. You feel the tremor of his hand. He chews his bottom lip vigorously, contemplating his fight or flight response. It’s brief, but your gaze drops to his lips. So full, the bottom one plump from being abused between sharp teeth. Your tongue darts to lick your own lip, mimicking how you would soothe the ache of the tender muscle. A mistake, you’re quick to realize, because instead of explaining, he tempts your desires, crashing your mouths together, licking where you had just not moments ago.

You surrender to him quicker than you thought. His tongue slips between your lips, tasting you, urging you to part for him further. You do. He traces every inch of your mouth with the tip of his tongue, pushing deeper. Heat licking the base of your spine, you grind down, the solid drag of his thigh against your cunt a delicious friction.

“Jack,” you pant, he nips at your chin, his gaze finding your own. “Fuck, that feels nice.”

“‘M about to make you feel even nicer,” he answers with a sultry drawl. Before your brain can register, he’s on his knees, bunching up your dress. He pulls down your underwear, leaving it dangling just a bit below your knees. You hold your breath as he inches closer. Hot breath ghosting your damp folds. He lays a tentative kiss over your mouth, a bit of tongue poking between his lips. When he looks up you’re mesmerized, dark lashes heavily framing his eyes.

Jack doesn’t say a word as he begins his feast. He’s a man starved. Mouth and tongue leisurely moving between the delicate lips of your pussy and sucking the sensitive bundle of nerves that crown it. Your knees buckle. Thankfully, he keeps your hips firm against the wall, hand splayed wide over your thighs. Your moans are hushed, short gasps of air that fills your lungs rapidly. The aquiline curve of his nose bumps against your clit as he ventures deeper, tongue tracing your fluttering entrance. He retraces your opening, his hum falling on your skin.

You lift your hips off the wall, chasing the warmth of his mouth. He licks you with fat strokes, tongue flat, he follows the seam of your heat. You push your fingers through the damp, soft locks that frame the back of his head. He growls and brings his thumb to your clit, rubbing circles. The motion sends you into a frenzy. Eyes closing, you thrust against his pointed tongue. You swear he smiles as he fucks you shallowly with it, your orgasm quickly building to something indescribable. You tug at his hair, pulling him off of you.

The sight takes you by surprise.

His eyes are glazed over, only lust and need swirling in them. Your gaze follows the opening of his lips, a gasp parting them while his thumbs stroke the heated skin of your thighs. His lips glisten under the dimmed light, mustache soaked with the pure essence of you. Jack clears his throat before he speaks, not breaking eye contact as his tongue swipes sensually over his bottom lip. “Use me,” he breathes heavily, voice nothing but gravel. “Take what you need, darlin’.”

You note the tell-tale signs of losing control. His words warm your stomach. Something primal and possessive taking over. You bring a hand to his cheek, thumb right above the tender skin that resides right under his eye. As you drag the finger down, you make a point of grazing your nail. His breath hitches and your eyes go wide. Your chest heaves, breathing suddenly the hardest thing you can do.

“You enjoy seein’ me on my knees, sugar?” he asks, a weak tease to his tone. You don’t answer.

“Touch yourself,” you say instead, voice soft contrary to the command. Jack obliges, bringing a hand between his legs. He palms himself over his tight jeans, pupils dilating as he holds your gaze. You swallow. “Good boy.”

“Fuck,” he rasps. “Fuck—” he grinds himself into his palm, frustrated. “Do I make you feel good, darlin’? Tell me. Tell me how good I make you feel.”

The air between your crackles. More slick dripping down the inside of your thighs. He swallows thickly and you notice the traces of fear that you won’t give him what he so desperately needs. Craves. And maybe you shouldn’t give it to him. Maybe you should just pull him back and ride his face until you’re soaking him. But your resolve has already cracked. Been like that ever since you stepped on the stage, giving him that trust again.

You bring him back, his tongue darting by instinct. He circles your clit, eyes still fixed on you. Your breathing slows. “You make me feel amazing,” you mutter, a bit breathless. “Which is a problem because I never seem to get enough.”

You expect him to laugh, snort, or at least shoot you one of those mischievous grins—he doesn’t. His eyes flutter closed and he inhales you, signaling the end of the conversation, he buries his mouth deep. His lips tighten around your clit and he flicks at it with the tip, your pulse skyrockets, your breathing coming in short. When your hips move away from the wall once more, he slams them back, a growl reverberating in his chest. He moves his head from side to side, tongue relentless.

Every nerve in your body is electrified. Skin taut over muscle. Your head falls back, knocking against the wall. He forces his tongue inside and resumes circling his thumb over your clit. Your moans become loud, uncaring as you feel the gentle scrape of his teeth. “Jack,” you moan. “I’m—fuuuck—I’m ‘bout to come—”

The confession seems to stir something wild inside him. He laps at your soaked cunt and meets your gaze, knocking the air from your lungs a second time that night.

He pushes you over the edge, your inside pulsing as you come. The halls around you spin and your arms loosely coil around his head, hanging on for dear life. His tongue is still moving. Licking, tasting everything you have to offer. Tingles spread throughout your body, goosebumps rising across your skin at the chill of the hallway.

Jack gives you one final lick before pulling away and standing. Suddenly, he seems larger than life, you realize you prefer him on his knees, at least for now.

“What do you want?” he asks, and your eyes drop to where his hand rubs over his hard-on. Memories of his cock splitting you wide open flash before your eyes, your inside clenching at the phantom feel. However, despite you both knowing what you want, you can’t voice it. You don’t have it in you to ask him to fuck you. So, you turn around, your forearms bracing the wall. His palms move up from the back of your legs to your ass, he squeezes gently before sliding up to your waist, taking the ends of the dress with it.

His lips touch your nape and you tense at the gesture. He must’ve felt it because Jack moves away, slipping his cock inside of you. He slides in with ease. Like you were made for him. A choked-out sound leaves you, his hips flush against the swell of your ass.

“Feels so good, darlin’,” he mutters, lips hovering an inch away from your skin. “Missed this pussy.”

Jack doesn’t waste time any time, knowing that your time is limited and someone might walk by at any second. His pacing is brutal. Cock filling the tight fist of your cunt with hard thrusts. Your brows knit with pleasure, mouth hanging open. If it wasn’t for the wall and Jack’s solid presence behind you, you’re positive you’d collapse. His hand slides up your torso and cups your breasts. Your back arches, pleasure rolling down your spine. He traces the column of your neck with his tongue and you shudder at the feeling.

“You’re loud, sugar,” he warns. “Not that I’m complainin’ but I’m assumin’ you don’t wanna get caught with your pants down. Literally.”

You shake your head vigorously, words failing you. But the movement of your head is all it takes for him to cover your mouth, moans bouncing off of his palm. The wet sounds flood the hall, deafening to your ears. The heavy drag of his cock is heavenly, your body clenching and begging him not to leave. He makes a choked sound, head falling between your shoulder blades. His nails bite into your skin, pulling you against him, pushing into you harder.

“I ain’t gonna last,” he groans.

You’re quick to reply, fear curling at your heart, “Don’t come on me.”

You don’t think you can handle him leaving you again in such a vulnerable state.

He rolls his hips and you feel every tantalizing inch. “Okay,” he answers, the previous raps of his tone becoming something somber, bittersweet. “Okay,” he repeats. “I won’t.”

The pleasure that had been building flickers away like a dying flame. His pacing slows, wild thrusts becoming indulgent, slow. He grinds himself deeper with every push of his hips and your eyes roll. It feels good. Amazing. Breath shortening. But you can’t deny that the previous rush is gone. Time is once again moving, reality becoming the most solid thing around you. He’s going to come and leave. Your vision blurs.

It doesn’t take him long, he pulls out and you feel incredibly cold and empty. So much so that you shiver as you press your forehead into the wall. You want to turn around. Watch him, see the desperate snap of his hips. Watch him make a mess of his hand. However, you remain in place, refusing to look.

He grunts and his breath becomes labored. You hear the faint whisper of your name falling from your lips—then silence, only soft, slow breathing. You finally turn then, seeing the tissue in his hand briefly before he stuffs it in his pocket.

“I—” he starts, meeting your gaze. You raise a hand.

“I know. You’re going to say you can’t see me again and all that bullshit. I’m leaving don’t worry.”

You barely fix your dress, swiftly heading towards the exit of this ridiculously large building. He calls out to you, asking you to wait but you refuse. You’re not going to wait for him to break your heart again. You don’t need to see the pity in his eyes. Your poor thundering heart can’t take it.

The sun is gone. The sky a mixture of dark blues and blacks. You take a deep breath of the crispy air, allowing yourself to stall just a moment before searching for your car. You’re outside, yet you still feel suffocated. Pleasure still simmers under your skin. Already missing, aching for his touch. You ball your hands into tight fists, allowing your nails to bite into the tender flesh of your palm. You welcome the mild pain. At this point, you would welcome anything that provides the bliss of forgetfulness.

“Get back here!”

You flip him off without looking. You swear you hear him snort with amusement. The bastard.

“At least let me explain—” he sounds desperate, his voice grows closer. You shake your head even though he can’t see and hug your jacket, your car should be close. . . You don’t stop. You can’t. A broken hiccup parts your lips and the tears you fought so hard against finally escape. You wipe them with the heel of your palm.

“I’m sorry!”

And as if time itself stood still, you stop dead in your tracks. The silence between you grows, his steps coming closer.

All that hurt, all the anger. It finally boils over.

“For WHAT?!” You turn around, the wind howling around you. Tear streaks chill over your cheeks. “Are you apologizing for that night, or right now? Do you have any idea how hard it was to force myself to go out tonight?! Are you aware how much it hurts to fucking look at you?!”

He’s not as far as you thought he was. Only a couple of steps between you two. Your eyes drop to his feet and back to his face again. He stops. For the first time, Jack seems at a loss for words. His brows come together in remorse, lips parted with words unsaid. You shake your head, hands still in fists, you’re not at a loss for words, however, all of it piles up in your throat like a dam. The world stands still. The only giveaway that time is still moving is the wind. Icy whips of air irritating your skin.

“You hurt me,” you say, surprisingly clear despite the knot in your throat. “Do you understand what that means, Jack? I’m hurt. There’s a bleeding wound in my chest because I stupidly thought—” Your chest caves in and you avert your gaze. “I thought you might actually look past all the fucked up parts of me. Maybe it was selfish of me but it made me happy to think I might be the one you would open up to. That me, being the way that I am, would be enough. But in the end. . . I didn’t even get an explanation. You just left.”

You drag your gaze back to him. You’re not sure but you think he took a step closer while you were speaking, his hands outstretched like he’s fighting the urge to pull you into a bear hug. His eyes glimmer under the faint moonlight. As if every word you said hurt him just as much as it did to speak them. You shake your head again. “Just leave.”

“No,” he chokes out, closing the gap. His fingers curl around your wrist. He must’ve seen your flight response starting to take over. You don’t fight the iron grip. “I—I don’t think you’re fucked up,” he blurts, unintelligently. “I don’t think any of that. In fact, I think the opposite, you’re too good for me, sunshine. You. . . I’m a coward, I couldn’t handle the love in your eyes. Couldn’t handle being that for someone again. But. . . I want to try, sugar. I want to try and be that someone for you. I don’t want to run away from this.”

You stand silent, shocked. You can’t see it for yourself, but you know your gaze has warmed up to be something soothing and understanding.

“I lost her,” he says. “Viv. . . she was my everythin’ and one day she was just. . . gone. My—My little boy along with—”

You shatter. All of the anger, the hurt, your icy resolve melting and becoming a puddle at your feet. You cradle his face, catching the first tears with the pad of your thumb. His arms coil around your waist, muscles tight around your frame. He’s not looking at you, he’s looking at a random spot on the concrete.

“She went out for milk,” he continues, broken. “She was still pregnant, two months. . . two months later I would’ve,” he cuts himself off. “I should’ve left instead but she argued that I was tired from work and that she needed to stretch her legs. I let her go. An hour later the police were at my door, telling me that she got caught in a gun fight between two rival gangs. Shot. Dead.”

He spat the last words out, his guilt, his hatred for the world laced in every one of them.

“That’s why I couldn’t. With you. I don’t deserve a second chance, darlin’.” he finally meets your eyes, and for the first time you see him for what he truly is. A good man, broken and lost. Just like you. “I’m afraid of losin’ you.”

“Who says you don’t deserve a second chance?” you whisper, your thumbs stroking the delicate skin. “I’m sorry, Jack. I’m sorry you had to go through all that. I—I didn’t know. And I don’t want to lie and say you won’t lose me, life is unpredictable but. . . I promise that this,” you point between the two of you. His gaze follows your hand as it rests on his chest. “Deserves a chance. I’ve never felt anything like I have with you. You make me happy, Jack. As simple as it sounds. And. . . well. . .” your lips crack into a heartfelt smile and when he sees, he lets out a breath. “I’ve already fallen pretty hard for you. As you can guess.”

His hands come up to your cheeks, holding you as delicately as one would a rose. Instinctively, you lean into his touch, eyes fluttering closer and smiling. “I think this deserves a chance too,” he mutters, his breath tickling your lips. “Will you have me, darlin’? Fucked up parts and all?”

He brushes your lips together, prompting the grin that is quick to form, “Only if you’ll have me, cowboy.”

Jack’s fingertips trace the contour of your lips before lightly pressing against them. His touch is gentle and warm. His lips come slowly towards yours, and when they meet, it is heaven itself.

His hands slide down your neck and around your waist. His mouth moves in perfect harmony with yours as his tongue lightly skims across your lips.

You can feel the heat radiating from his body as he wraps his arms around you and pulls you closer. His mouth moves feverishly desire and your body starts to respond in kind. And when he breaks the kiss, you’re surprised to see Betty’s house behind him, completely forgetting where you were.

“Of course, darlin,” he smiles, brushing his mouth over your forehead. “Of course.”

#agent whiskey x you #agent whiskey x reader #agent whiskey x female reader #jack daniels x you #jack daniels x reader #jack daniels x female reader #kingsman the golden circle #kingsman fanfiction #pedro pascal character fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #stripper!jack

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peachsukii · 6 months ago

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Hello, loves! I will be participating in the fics for gaza initiative to use writing to benefit a good cause. 💜

@ficsforgaza // how to participate

𝒔𝒑𝒐𝒏𝒔𝒐𝒓 𝒂 𝒘𝒊𝒑 & 𝒉𝒐𝒘 𝒊𝒕 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒌𝒔

Rei's Rate; $1 USD per 100 words

Instructions: Follow this link to choose a vetted fund to donate to. Afterward, send an ask or message to myself including a redacted screenshot with your donation (hiding any personal information), a link to the fundraiser you’ve donated to, the name of the WIP you’re sponsoring.

Example // Hi! I have donated to PCPF and I would like to sponsor Crimson Veil [screenshot of $5 donation for 500 words]

** Current wips are under the cut! Word counts are all subject to fluctuation. if nothing is to your liking, be sure to check out the list of writers to support. i'll be adding any WIPs to this list as they come, so feel free to check back for anything new! minors, please do not donate toward/interact with the nsfw content included.

『 updated! // 08.23.24 』

𝒄𝒖𝒓𝒓𝒆𝒏𝒕 𝒘𝒊𝒑𝒔

𝗂𝗇𝗄 & 𝗋𝗁𝗒𝗍𝗁𝗆 // drummer!bakugo x artist!reader music au | tags; rock/punk/alt band au, slow burn, meet cute, strangers to lovers, various smut, smoking/drugs/alcohol consumption, talks of emotional & physical abuse from past partners, angst with a happy ending, emotional hurt/comfort, mild violence

Distortion is the hottest band in town, making waves in the underground scene with their unique sound. Led by your college best friend and music prodigy, Kyoka Jiro, alongside her misfit group of friends, they've been playing shows every weekend for the last few months and have gathered a decent following. You're whisked into the whirlwind of their rockstar lives when Jiro commissions you to design a band logo for their merch, reconnecting with her and meeting the members of the band. Your eyes immediately gravitate to their powerful drummer, Katsuki Bakugo. Fresh out of a nasty three year on/off relationship, he's not looking for anything or anyone while shutting out the world around him. He's focused on the one thing that keeps him sane; music. You're six months free of a breakup as well, looking to repaint your world with new colors and experiences, but turns out it's more tumultuous than anticipated. Explosive fights, newfound fame, clashing egos, dive bars, stolen kisses, black out dreams, messy exes and hard lessons; but somehow, love finds a way to bloom like a flower in the desert - deep in the hottest, driest wasteland of two broken hearts.

current word count; 2,500/20,000+ donation goal word count; 1,500/5,000

𝖼𝗋𝗂𝗆𝗌𝗈𝗇 𝗏𝖾𝗂𝗅 // bakugo x reader soulmate au | tags; hurt/comfort, angst with happy ending

In a world where soulmates are established via a multitude of different systems, yours is a tattooed marking on your wrist - a constant reminder of your fate sealed to someone you don't even know. You despise the soulmate systems, purposely avoiding the topic at all costs with your family and friends, covering the mark from the world to keep your heart safe. The first day of getting accepted into UA High's support program turns sour when you walk past a boy with the same tattoo on his wrist as yours - Katsuki Bakugo of the hero course.

current word count; 0/5,000+ donation goal word count; 0/1,500

𝗐𝖺𝗅𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖻𝖺𝖼𝗄 𝗂𝗇𝗍𝗈 𝗋𝖾𝗄𝗂𝗇𝖽𝗅𝖾𝖽 𝖿𝗅𝖺𝗆𝖾𝗌 // ex-bf!kirishima x reader in-universe | tags; fluff & smut, emotional hurt/comfort

Things ended mutually with Kirishima, you both agreed that you didn't have enough time for dating at this point in your careers and it's better for you two to stay friends...until he comes knocking on your door in the middle of the night, begging for you to take him back after a life-threatening incident.

current word count; 0/1,500 donation goal word count; 0/1,000

𝟧𝟢 𝖿𝗂𝗋𝗌𝗍 𝖽𝖺𝗍𝖾𝗌 // marine vet!bakugo x art teacher!reader romcom collab - 50FD au | tags; fluff, comfort, cheesy romance

Katsuki Bakugo is a dedicated marine veterinarian at Wavecrest Haven, rehabilitating native animals and living out his island life dreams to the fullest. The catch? He only dates tourists to avoid any serious commitments, easily able to bounce from one fling to the other without repercussion. One fateful day, that all changes when his boat breaks down and he's forced to wait for the Coast Guard at the local café. While waiting, he encounters a beautiful art teacher making a house out of her waffles. He assumes she's a local and avoids her gaze, only to be captivated by her the next morning at the same café. Taking a chance, he asks to join her, forming an instant connection and agreeing to meet up the following morning for a breakfast date. There's just one problem - she doesn't remember anything about Bakugo the following day, insisting they've never met before.

current word count; 500/5,000+ donation goal word count; 0/2,500

𝗎𝗇𝗍𝗂𝗍𝗅𝖾𝖽 // adventurer!kirishima x witch!reader soul mate & magic au | tags; strangers to enemies to lovers, emotional hurt/comfort

((extension of this post)) Eijiro is the heir to the Kirishima family, set out on an adventure to travel the world and find his soulmate via the precious Kirishima family jewel. The jewel has been passed down for generations, glowing when the wearer is close to their soulmate. One day while traveling from town to town, he stumbles upon a hut in the woods, enticed to investigate by the wonderful smells emitting from it. Little does he know that you're the wicked witch they warned him about...only his crystal glows the moment he's inside your home.

current word count; 200/2,500+ donation goal word count; 0/1,000

𝗎𝗇𝗍𝗂𝗍𝗅𝖾𝖽 // incubus!bakugo x succubus!reader supernatural/demon au | tags; strangers to lovers, smut

((extension of this post)) Katsuki is an incubus, feeding off of weaker mates with his insatiable appetite, until he meets you - a succubus, ready to play the game until the other cracks.

current word count; 450/2,500+ donation goal word count; 0/1,000

𝑓𝑢𝑛𝑑𝑒𝑑 𝑤𝑖𝑝𝑠

𝗂𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝗍 𝗈𝖿 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖾𝗅𝖾𝖼𝗍𝗋𝗂𝖼 𝗍𝗈𝗎𝖼𝗁 // bakugo x tattoo artist!reader modern/no quirks au | tags; smut, friends to lovers donation goal word count; 500/500

𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝗐𝖺𝗒 𝗍𝗂𝖼𝗄𝖾𝗍 // kiribaku x reader tangled hearts series | tags; fluff, splash of angst donation goal word count; 500/500

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doodle-pops · 7 months ago

Text

Finrod NSFW Alphabet

Request: Hello 👉👈 I really love your writing and since your requests are open if you're up for it could I ask for some NSFW headcanons for Finrod? I deeply enjoy this blonde blorbo 💜 thanks and be healthy - Anon

A/N: It’s always a pleasure to write one of these alphabets for the elves, especially for our golden boy. I hope you’re staying well also. Enjoy!

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

The air is quiet, however, he’s still energetic after having sex and would cuddle you like an overly ecstatic puppy while touching some part of your body. It’s usually him pulling your sweaty body halfway on top of his while his hand wander and touching your back, butt and thighs. Finrod doesn’t mean for it to be an initiator for another round, he simply enjoys the proximity of the bodily contact you two are sharing in the moment and doesn’t want for it to end or be limited to simply lying beside each other. At the same time, when you manage to catch your breath and haven’t fallen asleep, likewise him, he would inquire about your next move. His voice is tender, yet, deep as he asks if you would like to have a bath run, something to eat and drink or lie in bed and talk? Once he receives his answer and is aware of your body status, he returns to being the cuddly bean that he is.

B = Body part (their favourite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

It’s your eyes. Those gorgeous eyes of yours he loves endlessly. He wants every act to involve you looking into his eyes because the eyes never lie; they are the windows into one’s soul and he wants to know how lost in the pleasure or in love are you. All those whimpers and pleads are usually followed by your eyes softening or becoming puddles as they roll or cross when the pleasure is just right. He loses his mind when he knows how close you are and you’re struggling to keep your eyes open, which drives him wild. It allows him to calculate his next move with accuracy and precision to make you lose your mind.

On him, it’s between his mouth and fingers because he’s exceptionally skilled at bringing you great forms of pleasure using those two. He simply loves when you beg him to use his mouth, guiding him to where you want him most or how he whispers sinfully into your ear as he holds you down to finger you. His ability to drive you crazy with his body parts makes his ego run wild and he uses them to his advantage.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

Not a messy person to begin with and prefers releasing inside you, on your thighs or in your mouth if you provide him with a blowjob. While his desire to impregnate doesn’t run explicitly as the rest of the members of his family, he enjoys the sensation of your walls milking every ounce of his cum out of his cock. It’s a feeling he experienced and became hard to ignore anytime you two are intimate. The rare occasion when he doesn’t desire to finish inside you is when you’re rewarding him with an earth-shattering blowjob, which he can’t refuse.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self-explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

As regal and majestic Finrod appears, he enjoys the days when you take the weight of dominance off his shoulders and take the lead in bed. Yup, he’s a switch and revels in the dynamic. Not all the time he want to be giving the pleasure even he receives; he wants to see what tricks you have up your sleeves and how well you can take the lead and return satisfactory pleasure to your King. The sub side of him tends to appear when he’s down on energy or when he’s in that roleplaying headspace. However, he tends to lean on the dominant side more often than the sub.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

He read lots of books and heard discussions from his lawless family members about the basic do’s and don’ts when it comes to intimacy. Finrod isn’t a skittish person when it comes to daring acts when it’s new to him. This is something he faces with passion and determination; it’s both your pleasure on the playing field and he isn’t wanting to take it as a joke. His first time with you would be full of confidence, leading you to believe that he’s done this before—he’s a natural. Anything outside of the basics would require experimenting and your input should you have intel, and he isn’t one to shy away from learning new intimate activities.

F = Favourite position (this goes without saying)

Finrod is a simple person and would go for missionary as his most used position because he wants to get lost all up in your eyes—you have gorgeous eyes he wants to see, okay. It’s such a raw and intimate position in his eyes that allows him to grant you the world of pleasure, plus, he can manoeuvre your legs anywhere he enjoys while choosing the pace he wanta to deive hismelf into you with. Furthermore, in this position, he gets to have access to your body to utilise his mouth, meaning his pretty lips are whispering sweet praises in your ear or attached to your lips, neck and chest.

Riding him is another favourite position because he gets to watch you riding him like a stallion. Those hands on his chest leaving behind moon crescents, or the up and down motion of your body causing your breasts to jiggle spurs him on. His own hands can’t help but reach out to ‘assist’ as you ride him like there’s no tomorrow. It’s an easy-to-access position when you slip into his study or throne—should he be up for a quickie—or when he wants to lead you under the false impression that you’re in control of the session. So easy it is for him to buck into you, pinning your arms behind your back and take over. All you can do is hang on for the ride.

On mornings after your night together, when his energy might be too low for him or you to get on top, he’ll opt for spooning. In this position, it feels like he doesn’t have to rush, and you don’t have anywhere to go as the world unravels around you two as the morning awakens. Your leg resting in the crook of his elbow as he spreads you wide enough for his cock to sink smoothly into your heat, while he presses soft kisses to your shoulder as he takes his time carrying you off to your climax.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

He’s capable of being both goofy and serious during sex, it all depends on the reason. If he’s jealous or the moment calls for a touch of sentiment, Finrod would hope that you would understand his reasoning and respect the atmosphere. Laughing during times like that would lead him to believe that you didn’t care. Anything outside of those moments, Finrod wouldn’t mind revelling in a burst of hearty laughter if he or you made a mistake, or the moment requires great joy to be expressed. You two probably knocked heads or slipped, leading to you laughing at each other’s eagerness.

H = Hair (how well-groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Sadly, elves don’t have body hair and Finrod is remarkably famed for the hair he had on his head compared to what he has below. So if you peeked, it is clean.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Finrod has his own way of making every sentimental moment romantic and full of love. I’m sure there were times when you two slept and it was simply pure fucking for the sake of pleasure and relief, but there are times when he wants to romance you. This is when you get introduced to body-worshipping Finrod who doesn’t stop until you know your worth and you are incapacitated, in a good way. His mouth is attached to every inch of your skin, whispering sweet words as he kisses and bites while having extreme body contact—like he’ll rest half his weight atop you to pin, but also want to let you feel him.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

I can see him masturbating if it’s done under mutual masturbating and voyeurism. Other than that, it’s hard to see him touching himself when he’s alone. Don’t get me wrong, he would touch himself to thoughts of you, but he would rather you watch as he comes undone to the thoughts of you that consume him, putting his cravings at the back and waiting for the right moment to gift you that sight. So if he was thinking of you, he’ll wait when you’re alone in your chambers and gift you the magnificent sight of witnessing how crazy you drive him.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

One of Finrod’s weaknesses stems from his titles being used to get him either on his knees or feral. He adores when you address him as ‘My King’ or ‘Your Majesty’ which already announces his position, however, he likes to take it up a notch and introduce roleplaying. He has admitted to enjoying the use of domineering titles being used on him, so he opts for roles that grant him access to hearing names like, ‘Sir’ or ‘Master’. The cheeky devil finds himself caught up in a whirlwind of pleasure when you’re playing a servant or a merchant, desperate for your King to grant you favour.

Whether it is a kink or not, he has the strangest fascination watching you squirt. It brings out a childlike wonder in him, especially the first time it happened, and he inquired about it. That was all Finrod needed to get to work using every technique in the book, and like I said, he’s skilled with his mouth and fingers, so it will be achieved with ease. Just seeing you gush a waterfall which is derived from the satisfaction of the insurmountable pleasure he’s giving you makes him content. He doesn’t always make you squirt every session, since the time and place prevent that, but when he’s in the mood to, count your blessings because one is not enough.

Believe it or not, sensory play is also a favourite of Finrod. He’ll introduce blindfolds and elven ropes to leave you on the edge as he strips away your sense of sight and touch, even going as far as to remove hearing as he becomes a ghost on his feet. One minute you’ll be feeling the feathery touches of his fingers, and the next, you’re experiencing his cock pounding into you. When you’re incapacitated like this, his teasing tends to go up a notch, denying you any and all chances to feel his body against yours except his cock, fingers or mouth.

A massive body-worshipper which grants him access to quite a few other kinks up his sleeves like bondage. Nothing extravagant or elaborate, just a few simple bonds to your/his wrists and ankles, and he’s good with that. All that’s left to do is to relax and enjoy the oncoming pleasure either of you would grant the other. The only difference between you two is that Finrod is a massive tease and revels in teasing you as he worships your body; making you beg or confess how beautiful you find yourself if you desire his touch. However, he doesn’t appreciate the favour being returned excessively; tease him, but not too much. He’ll tug against the restraints, easily breaking out of them, before pinning you to the bed and asking, ‘What was so funny about teasing me so much?’

L = Location (favourite places to do the do)

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Mostly in his chambers, study, the courtroom and his home (in Valinor). You can get him to participate in a session in the forest if you two are camping, at a spring or a waterfall and the area if safe. It wouldn’t be wise if his guards were standing outside while he was taking you because it meant that he couldn’t hear your sweet moans and cries of his name. So, he would ensure that his guards weren’t around before he indulged.

Whispering ‘My King’ or ‘Your Majesty’ in his ear late at night or in private easily gets his blood pumping. He’s doing his best to restrain himself as he grips his quill with every effort not to snap it. The desire to pounce on you is strong yet hangs by a thin thread and grows more dangerous each second you wander about his space, taunting him. Finrod is also quite proud of his accomplishments and himself, so praising him also goes a long way in getting him to conform to your wishes to of having him in bed. Run your hands across his muscles, his clothes and through his hair giving small tugs, tell him how good of a King he is to his subjects and that you wish to pay respect to his kindness. He’ll easily allow you to have your way.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Nothing that would involve infliction of pain, blood or violence. Extreme BDSM would be out of the question to Finrod as well as any use of weapons. Furthermore, he isn’t going to be pleased with sharing or having others watching.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Like his older cousin, it’s no joke that he has an oral fixation as well and his mouth has to be on some part of your body. Finrod is a pleaser and he’ll eat you for both his pleasure and yours. Spending hours between your legs while it’s wrapped around his head suffocating him helps to relieve his stressful days as King. All he has to do is bat his pretty lashes at you and you’ve succumbed to his desires. There are times when he keeps his crown on and informs you to come sit on your throne while flashing you a lopsided grin because he knows what he’s doing. This is the one time where he doesn’t let up because he can’t get enough of your taste. Your legs could be shaking, you could attempt to push his head away and he’ll continue; this is after all for both you and him.

When receiving, he doesn’t shy away from accepting the act, however, he has a preference for you pleasuring him in other ways, so you’ll have to push him down. Or you can sneak into his study and suck him off from under the table while he struggles to keep a straight face and focus. During those moments, his hands would gently cradle your head as he leaves you to do your thing at your own pace…until you decide to go extra slow and tease him. That’s when he’ll grumble before guiding your head along his length or if he’s standing, thrusting into your mouth. It’s the one time when he’s rough while receiving oral.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Finrod leans towards slow and sensual whenever he’s intimate. This means that he’s a slow and passionate lover, enjoying deep, long, and slow strokes that are almost too much for you to handle before speeding up slightly, leaving you breathless or begging him to ease up—he doesn’t because he enjoys how flustered you become with his thrusts. This isn’t to say that he can’t get rough from time to time. For him, being rough only comes when you make him jealous, he’s heavily stressed or being a damn tease. This is when his thrusts are swift and rougher than usual, perhaps a slight bit of manhandling might happen in the moment. But to say the least, his rough side is enjoyable when he’s pinning you against some surface.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Quickies are a thing you would depend on due to both your hectic schedule as leaders, and he would follow along. Most of the time, it’s him helping you out when you require relief since he isn’t as horny as you unless you purposefully rile him up by calling him one of his titles or wearing a tight or low-cut neckline. Otherwise, he genuinely goes along because he doesn’t have an issue when you desire him to please you. And here is where he gets to use his mouth and fingers most to get you off. It is on the rare occasion that he undresses and fully takes you, leaving you to take charge in the form of riding him.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

I believe that the biggest risk Finrod is willing to take is allowing you to crawl on your knees to him in your submissive role. The act to him is debauched because you shouldn’t ever be on your knees in that manner, but there’s something sexy about watching you crawl over to him dressed in your finest lingerie or naked, to greet him. It’s different compared to when you’re on your knees sucking him off. Either the predatory or innocent look in your eyes as you look up at him makes his brain shut down for a split second before he gets serious. It’s the only lowly act he considers taking a chance to participate in.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Should the moment surround love and sentiment, Finrod is willing to have two to three rounds for the night, stretching each out to over thirty minutes. He’s worshipping you from head to toe every round because he is a passionate lover who leaves his touch quaking in your bones when he’s finished. However, if he’s jealous, everything is rougher and longer, as in five rounds until you understand that it’s he you should focus on and belong to. Of course, he gauges your responses to know if you can go for more.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Since toys, like what we have, don’t exist in Middle Earth, there aren’t many options to choose from if he were to indulge. To him, the idea of including toys would be great on your behalf since it would allow you to pleasure yourself when he couldn’t. The most he would request is to be present when you use them, so he can enjoy the performance while sipping on a glass of wine. Blindfold and elven ropes, something they have, would be included frequently in your activities since you mentioned that you enjoyed the heightened pleasure they added.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Yes, Finrod is a massive tease who hates to be on the receiving end when the tables are turned. He wants to drive you mad and have you moan, cry and beg for his touches; it fuels his ego to learn how much you crave him. Just listening to your whimpers as his lips ghost the shell of your ear as he tells you how much he desires you, knowing that you’re unable to do anything because you’re in public. The wicked, innocent, grin he throws at you before he saunters away, leaving you in a mess. But if you return the favour, he’ll take it for a while before growing impatient and pouncing.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

I have to say, his moans are heavenly. Quite angelic, especially when he tosses his head backwards to allow his golden curls to fall while releasing sweet notes, emphasising how good you make him feel. Either that, or he’s in your ear moaning like crazy, knowing how his voice makes you wetter and come undone faster. He isn’t excessively loud, but rather soft whimpers and moans like his goal is to seduce you with them, and he succeeds.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Finrod has a mirror kink which is a category under his love for body-worshipping. It goes both ways because he wants you to witness how you come undone with every touch, stroke and whisper he delivers so diabolically while you also desire the same with him. If you have an issue with your confidence, you can bet yourself that mirror sex is going to be a frequent occurrence until you can get it into your head that you’re beautiful. He’ll force you to watch as he takes you, the only time he’ll have you from behind, and force you to repeat after him, ‘I am beautiful.’

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Hmm, for someone considered one of the many beautiful elves to exist, he sure does have a pretty package. Well endowed, not too thick or thin, just the right length and girth to smoothly enter without any discomfort and carries a gentle weight, so he feels just right. He’s a shower that has a few veins running along the surface with a pink tip that stands out. Finrod is incredibly proud of his appendage as it matches his good looks, allowing him to have both a pretty and well-endowed cock.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

His sex drive is quite low. He doesn’t crave sexual intimacy as much as you probably would, hence why he would invest in toys of all sorts for you, once he can access them. In the early days of your relationship as a newlywed, he would experience the same need to be as close to you as much as possible and spend more time behind closed doors, wanting to understand your body and bask in the joys of being newlyweds. But as time rolled on and the newlywed phase disappeared, so did his urge. Being dutiful to his people and with the ongoing war, his focus lies elsewhere. Perhaps twice to thrice a month, you two indulge to keep the flame burning.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

It takes him a while to fall asleep due to his boundless energy. Leaving you after having a moment isn’t an act he enjoys since in his eyes, it makes him believe that he's using you, so he always stays. Most of the time, he’ll be the one awake while you’re curled up in his arms, fast asleep. Should you manage to have the energy to stay awake, some pillow talk would help to sedate him. Once he does drift into slumber, Finrod becomes a cuddler and a sleep talker. Softly murmuring your name as he snoozes and clings to you like a bear cub, he refuses to let you go the entire night.

Masterlist

Taglist: @lilmelily @ranhanabi777 @mysticmoomin @rain-on-my-umbrella @asianbutnotjapanese @batsyforyou @involuntaryspasms @aconstructofamind @addaigio

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mysslyssblog · 9 days ago

Note

I recently re watched gravity falls and found your blog! i love the way you characterize Dipper, btw.

If your requests are open, do you mind writing something about Dipper x Reader where reader has a crush on dipper but is kinda low key about it but maybe Mable knows and tries to help Dipper and Reader get together?

I was thinking maybe Reader is Wendy’s younger sister and she has to watch Dipper have a crush on her (a little bit of angst doesn’t hurt anybody 🤣) but then she goes through a near death experience and Dipper realized he has a crush on her.

Sorry if this was very hyper specific, I’ve had this idea for a while now but I’m really nervous about writing it myself i guess…

Older Dipper Pines × reader (16-17)

Warnings: angst, happy ending, feminine pronouns used

Thank you for the request! It took me a second to get to it but l'm back to writing so please sending requests if you have them! 💜💜

____________________________________________

————————————————————————

I Hate You ~ D.P.

“I hate you.”

Those were the last words I spoke to my best friend Dipper Pines before I blacked out.

“I hate you too.”

That was the last thing I heard Dipper say to me before we got separated.

To understand what’s happening, let’s go back.

~Four Summers Ago~

I sigh as I walk into the Mystery Shack to give my sister, Wendy, her lunch she left at home. I walk in and see Mr. Pines having his usual debacle with a customer, trying to get them to spend an unfathomable amount of money on a rock painted gold. I chuckle as I watch the scene go down.

“Y/n.” I hear my sister say. “Mh?” I hum as I place her lunch on the counter she’s standing behind. “Me and the gang are going to the haunted gas station tonight, you in?” She asks. I look hesitant. “I don’t know Wendy. Last time we did something like this it didn’t go well.” I shutter as I remember our prior experience to a haunted location. “C’mon dude. Your boyfriend’s gonna be there.” She teases. “Boyfriend?!”

I whipped around as I hear a girls voice I’ve never heard before. I’m met with a messy head of brown hair, big brown eyes, and a smile filled with silver braces. “Hi! I’m Mabel, and people call me the love expert!” She declares. “No one calls you that.” I move to look around Mabel and see an identical boy holding a notepad and pen. He’s cute. A blush creeps onto my cheeks as I hear Wendy expose my secret.

“Yeah, you guys know Nate? Well Y/n has had a huge crush on him for like, forever.” Wendy snickers. “This reminds me of Dipper’s big crush on Wen-“ Mabel is suddenly cut off by the Dipper’s hand slapping over her mouth. He turns beat red. “Excuse us.” He says before dragging Mabel into the living room.

“Who’s that?” I ask. “That’s Dipper and Mabel, Stan’s great niece and nephew.” She says before turning her attention to the magazine in her hand.

Dipper and Mabel come back in, Mabel trying to hide the smirk on her face. “So.” Dipper squeaks our before clearing his throat. “So,” he says in a forced deep voice. “I overheard that you two are going to the haunted convenient store. What if I- I mean Mabel and I come with you?” He says. “Yeah but I’m only gonna go if Y/n goes and she’s too scared to go.” Wendy sighs. “What? I’m not scared. I’ll go. I’m going.” I state.

Wendy raises her eyebrows. She knows something’s up. “Great! I guess we’re going.” Dipper says as he looks up at Wendy like he’s star struck.

Oh.

~One Month Ago~

I take a deep breath as I rest my head on Dipper’s shoulder. His jacket is draped over my shoulders as we sit on the shack’s roof. It’s just the two of us and the stars.

“There’s the Big Dipper.” I say, point at the constellation. He chuckles. I always point it out to him every time we star gaze. A comfortable silence falls over us. I feel the weight of his head fall onto mine as I hear him take a deep breath.

*Just tell him Y/n. There’s no better time than now.*

“Dipper?”

“Yeah?”

“Can I tell you something?”

“Of course.”

“I-“

“Hey dudes!”

Me and Dipper’s heads whip around to see Wendy. She crawls up the ladder, Pitt Colas in hand. “You two need some company?”

I see Dipper’s face light up. “Yeah! I mean of course!” He says with the biggest smile on his face. I sigh as Wendy sits next to him.

I love Wendy to death but she’s such a cock block. (DON’T TAKE THIS LITERALLY LMFAO)

Wendy and Dipper start laughing about something stupid before Dipper looks at me. “What were you gonna tell me Y/n?” He asks. “Nothing. I’m tired and Mabel and I were gonna watch a movie anyway.” I say coldly before walking over to the ladder. Dipper and Wendy give each other a look before Wendy looks to me and mouths ‘I’m sorry.’ I shake my head and climb down the ladder.

So much for that.

~Three Hours Ago~

Dipper, Mabel, Soos, Wendy and I make our way through the woods to our next adventure. Ford send us out to find some fairy dust for his next invention. He says he’s making a stain remover for Stan’s bed sheets because allegedly his sheets are so stained that he needs a magical solution to fix it.

I shudder at the thought of Stan’s stained sheets. “You okay?” I hear Dipper ask me. “Yeah, just thinking about Stan’s stained sheets.” Dipper and I laugh together until we hear Soos say something. “Yo dudes, check this out.” We all make our way over and see exactly what we’re looking for: the fairy village.

“Okay guys this should be easy enough. We just need to get one cup of fairy dust and we should be good to go.” We all nod and go separate ways to find fairy dust.

An hour later, five fairies cussing me out and a gallon of fairy dust in my eyes, we finally got a cup of fairy dust. “That was harder than expected.” I say. “No kidding.” Dipper says as he rubs the top of his head were a diary pushed a brick onto.

“The sun is going down and you know what they say, when the sun goes down in the woods, take care, for shadows loom and secrets share.” Soos whispers.

We all look at each other confused. “Where did you hear that?” I ask. “I think I read it on a cereal box.” He says. I furrow my eyes in confusion until I feel an arm stop me from walking. It’s Dipper’s. “What? What is it?” I ask. “Did you guys hear that?”

Suddenly, we hear a high pitched scream. We all cover our ears. “What is that?!” Wendy shouts. “It’s a Dybbuk!” Dipper answers. “A what?!” Mabel screams. “A Dybbuk! It’s a- no time to explain, run!” He shouts before grabbing my hand and running.

We all start running but all of us get separated, except Dipper and I. He leads us to a hiding spot behind a big tree.

I grip onto his hand tighter, him returning the action. He looks at me and I look at him. For a second I could’ve sworn it looked like he saw something in me. Something more than just friends.

“Y/n.”

“Yeah?”

“If I die, I just want you to-“

“To what?”

“Tell Wendy I love her.”

My heart drops.

That sentence snapped something inside of me. All of those years of waiting. All of those years doing anything and everything to get his attention. All those tears wondering why he chose my sister and not me.

“Dipper.”

“Yeah?”

“I hate you.”

His face drops.

“What?”

I jump up and beginning running from our hiding spot. “Fine! I hate you too!” Dipper shouts from his hiding spot.

I run. I run as hard as I can. I run until I can’t feel my legs and my lungs burn. I trip and land on a rock, busting my knees and scratching up my arms. The tears finally start falling.

I don’t know what’s happening, I don’t know where I am, I don’t know if my friends are alive.

“Wendy!” I scream. I just want my sister. I just want someone.

**Snap.**

My head whips around.

**Snap.**

Another twig snapped.

**Snap.**

Twigs all around me start snapping, my head unable to keep up with them.

**Snap.**

I hear a twig snap directly in front of me. I looks up and see it. The Dybbuk.

~Now~

That was the last thing I remember. Where am I now? I’m not sure. It’s dark. It’s quiet. Very quiet.

I can’t hear, I can’t see, but I feel something. I feel a hand in mine, another on my face.

That’s when I heard his voice.

“Y/n!”

Dipper?

“Oh Y/n. Please wake up. This is all my fault I shouldn’t have let you go! I shouldn’t have-“ He’s cut off with a sob. “I shouldn’t have hid my feelings from you. I- I’m like in love with you Y/n! I’ve just been too much of a coward to say it.” He begins sobbing harder. He hand gripping mine harder.

I’m able to move. I squeeze his hand.

“Y/n?”

My eyes flutter open.

“Y/n!”

“Dipper?”

“Yeah?”

“I love you too.”

____________________________________________

I LOVE THIS IDEA!!! I hope I wrote this to your standards and I’m sorry for getting to this late I’ve been in a writing slump. Thank you everyone for the support! 💜💜

#gravity falls #dipper pines #gravity falls x reader #gravity falls x you #x reader #alex hirsch #dipper pines x reader #mabel pines #pines family #stan pines

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blackcatwriter · 1 month ago

Text

Summer Love (Arthur Morgan x f!reader)

a/n: college has been beating me up lately so I've decided to spend my time writing again instead of studying. yay! here's another arthur pic because I can't get him out of my mind. also just wanted to say all your likes, reblogs, and comments are everything to me. its nice to know that at least someone out there in the world likes what I write so big thank you :]

shout out to @scumscumpooties47 for taking the time to not just read this once but twice. love you fool 💜

warnings: canon typical violence, fluff/some angst, canon ending, set prior to rdr2, mary linton never happens here!

wc: 5k

summary: You take an interest in the new stable hand your father hired.

line divider by @enchanthings

You met him in the summer of 1881. It had been particularly hot that July, but you did your best to endure it as you committed yourself to tending to the family business. Being the only extra hand capable of assisting your father with the horses, you had been pulling your weight and then some.

Of course, you were disappointed. Valentine was a small town–so small that it seemed you knew everyone and everyone knew you. Arthur had been new to the town, passing through with two charmingly mysterious older men for the summer. Your mother had been no different either. She was extremely protective of preserving your innocence–whatever that meant–and kept you busy with household chores. It was only one afternoon when both your father and mother had been away that you managed to sneak out to the stables, where Arthur would be working.

Poking your head in from the doors, you watched as he shoveled the manure into a wheelbarrow. The stench of the manure should’ve been enough to deter you away, but you hadn’t expected him to be so muscular. His shirt had been discarded somewhere else, allowing you the view of his sweaty muscles flexing as he cleaned the stalls. With each lift of the shovel, his biceps flexed in a way that left you feeling flushed in your face. Your dignity was long gone at that point. There, in all his sweaty glory, stood the boy your parents told you to stay away from, Arthur Morgan.

And here you were in a simple dress that had surely seen better days and messy unruly hair. For god's sake, you couldn’t even be sure if you had anything on your face. Why hadn’t you double checked that? How is it possible for someone to look this good shoveling literal shit? Life was clearly not fair.

But you were here now and who knew when you’d have another chance to chat with him. Taking a deep breath, you tried to relax and walked into the stables. Calm down. He’s just like any other guy in town, totally not gorgeous or rugged. As to not startle him, you announced your presence by clearing your throat as you made your way towards him. It was just as he set the shovel down to acknowledge you, that you stepped on a piece of manure and fell. It was only by luck that you fell on your butt rather than faceforward, but nonetheless you were still mortified.

“Sorry ‘bout that. Haven’t gotten there yet.” Arthur mumbled, walking to you and reaching out a hand. Sheepishly, you accepted his help and stood. You thought he was tall from afar, but standing this close to him left you feeling rather foolish. What interest would he have in you? You’re just a stable man’s daughter. Surely in whatever adventures he’s had in other towns–he must’ve seen all kinds of beautiful women.

“Are ya’ alright, miss?” He took his hat in his hand and used his other hand to slick back his hair. Oh the things you’d give to be raking your hand through his hair with his head in your lap, looking up at you–

“Miss?” Arthur interrupted your thoughts. Feeling rather defeated from your fall and now being caught gazing at him starry eyed, you’d wanted to run back to your room and curl up on your bed. “I’m-I’m alright. I’m just rather frazzled, that’s all. No one’s fault but my own.” You rambled, desperately trying to look everywhere but at him. “S’a good thing you ain’t hit your head. I wouldn’t be workin’ here much longer if ya’ did.” It was clear Arthur wasn’t as comfortable as you would’ve liked him to be. Being as well-traveled as he was rumored to be, you would’ve thought he’d be more charismatic.

“Mr. Morgan, I apologize. I ain’t tryna be a bother here. I just wanted to introduce myself.” And so you did. You introduced yourself to him, giving him the best smile you could muster under the mortifying circumstances you had just been. “You’re the bosses’ daughter; you ain’t a bother at all.” A small lop-sided grin grew on his face to your delight.

And so you spent the rest of the afternoon following him around the stalls. You had offered to help him with the work, but he refused to let you. Arthur claimed it was something along the lines of “it ain’t right to let a woman handle something he was hired for” or so he said. You think he just didn’t want you falling flat on the floor again.

Once the sun began setting and you knew your parents would be back soon, he offered to walk you back to your little farmhouse on the outskirts of Valentine. Your little slip in the manure had been long forgotten by the both of you after Arthur had offered you his jacket to tie around your waist while you walked back.

“How long ya’ plan on staying around for?” Clasping your hands behind your back, you pretended to not be as curious as you truly felt. Arthur was a breath of fresh air from this small town. There was far more to him than meets the eye as you had spent the day discovering. “I dunno. Guess that all depends on what Dutch thinks.” He shrugged.

Walking up the porch of your home, the lights were still off, which meant your parents were still out. “This is me.” Thrumming your fingers on the railing, you couldn’t help but hope he’d want to steal a few more moments with you.

He stood tired on the other side of the railing looking up to you. Arthur had been up since the sun, helping Dutch with his plans and then working for your father. He hadn’t had a break the entire day, yet somehow he felt re-energized standing before you. The moonlight shone brightly above the both of you, dancing in your eyes. You had this spirit about you that left him wanting to linger around your company. He never saw anything like it and Arthur had been through all kinds of crowds. Still, it’d be foolish to get caught up with you.

For starters, he’d end up with a bullet between his eyes if his boss ever caught the two of you together. The other problem that had his main concern was Dutch. Dutch would see you as a distraction from whatever plans he and Hosea were scheming–or worse. He’d see you as a tool for his plans. Even though the young outlaw just met you today, he couldn’t help but be entranced by you.

Unbeknownst to your knowledge, he had seen you around when he had been taking hay to the horses. He saw you in the window of your kitchen while you were helping your mother prepare lunch. It had been a harmless crush at the moment, one he’d known would be forgotten about once Dutch and Hosea carried out their plans and they’d be forced to move towns. But then you showed up in the stalls unexpectedly to him and robbed him of his heart before he could stop you.

“I should leave before your father gets back,” he took a small step forward and placed his hands next to yours on the railing. “But I should come back for my jacket sometime.” He added nonchalantly. Your pinky accidentally brushed his hand, but to your delight neither of you moved your hands away. “I’ll have it clean before ya’ do.”

And so you said your goodbyes. He stayed on your mind and vice versa. The next time you saw each other had been when he managed to finish his work early to sneak away with you. Of course you had forgotten to bring his jacket, having kept it hidden away somewhere your nosy mother would never find it. Thus giving you the excuse to see him again with the promise of returning it.

Arthur didn’t see his jacket again for the rest of that summer. Instead, you’d have countless adventures throughout what remained of the hot weather. Most times the both of you would sneak away for a quick dip in the river that ran north of Valentine. It was risky on your end, but it would give you the opportunity to be away from the nosy eyes of your townsfolk. Sitting by the water, you dipped your feet in the river. Arthur sat by you doing the same.

“Listen, I…I’ll be leavin’ soon. I’ve finished up most of the work I need to do for your father and Dutch says he’s got some business prospects in another town.” He scratched the back of his neck, careful to keep his gaze from yours. Neither of you ever addressed it, but it was clear what was blossoming between the two of you.

“But what about the horses? They need year round care-takin’ and you ain’t even finished fixin’ up the roof!” The inevitable had finally come yet you thought if you were convincing enough, you’d be able to keep him for longer. The thought of being alone again after he left had been plaguing you for a while, but usually that fear would be long forgotten when he managed to make you laugh with one of his stories.

“Your father already got another stable hand lined up for when I leave. He made sure he hired someone good to take care of them horses who can be here for the rest of the year. He loves those horses plenty…they’ll be just fine.” But by the look in his eyes you knew he wasn’t really talking about the horses. You fidgeted with your hands in your lap until he enclosed your hand with his own, giving it a gentle squeeze for comfort.

“So…you won’t be back next summer?” You hesitantly drawled, hoping he’d understand what you were really trying to ask him. Arthur released your hand from his and took a deep breath. “There won’t be a need to. Dutch and Hosea say ain’t no reason to stick around.” He scratched at his stubble. The indifference in his voice felt like a punch to your stomach. How could he act so casually about this?

“I think it’s time I get back. My mother will be wondering where I went.” It came out more harshly than you intended, but you hoped he got the message. You stormed away from where you sat only for Arthur to grab your arm and stop you. “It ain’t like that. I got no choice in the matter.” He reasoned, raising his voice.

“Didn’t sound like it! You seemed just fine with leavin’ me–”

Arthur pulled you towards him, interrupting your anger with a harsh kiss. You were startled by the move, but quickly returned his passion by tugging him down towards you. “I ain’t the man you think I am. I’ve done some bad things.” He rested his forehead against yours, panting as he caught his breath

“You’re smarter than that, don’t be foolish. We need to get ya’ back home before the suns gone.” He walked back to his horse, leaving you standing there dumbfounded. Eventually, your senses returned to you and you followed in his footsteps to his horse, but you were more than sure you had left your heart there.

As he said, Arthur returned you to your farmhouse and disappeared in the darkness of the evening. The days went on and you stayed away from your father’s stables as you were too scared to face the heartbreak of seeing a new stablehand. Your mother noticed your drop in mood and pestered you for a long time about it before eventually leaving you alone to your devices.

Arthur had been your first love and your first crushing heartbreak. Yet, as the seasons changed and time passed, Arthur began to occupy your mind less and less. However, along with burying his jacket under your bed you seemed to have erased any notions of romance in your life completely.

You seemed to have changed with the seasons too, and having a new sense of maturity in your nature, the men of Valentine began noticing you. You rejected all of their advances, but it wasn’t as if you swore off romance entirely after the heartbreak Arthur left. You were simply looking for something that made you feel what Arthur did, but not once did they ever come close. In all your time together he only kissed you once, but god did he kiss you with his entire being. Pressing your fingers to your lips, you wondered where he was.

“All aboard!” The conductor yelled from the train, knocking you out of your thoughts. Picking up your purse, you hurriedly boarded the train to pick a nice seat by the window. Being an adult now, you have begun traveling out of Valentine in hopes of finding opportunities for jobs in other towns. You loved your family dearly, but you had outgrown Valentine a long time ago and it was time for change. So here you were on a train to Blackwater for an interview.

The only bad thing being that the head banker only seemed to have time for an interview in the morning before the bank opened, so you had woken early and got to the train station before the sun was up. Your mother had desperately begged you not to go, seeing as there might be criminals looking to rob trains while it’s still dark out, but you fought back.

While the folk in your hometown were sweet on your family, this was your chance to explore as much of the world as you could. You were young and a woman so when you inevitably married you knew you’d be limited by duties as a wife. Besides, how far could one go in Valentine?

The cart you sat in thankfully only had a few other people in it to which you were grateful. As the train began rolling forward it began lulling you to sleep. A woman traveling by herself at such hours should be alert of her surroundings, but you were too tired to give a damn. Yawning, you leaned against the window and relaxed, drifting out of consciousness.

By the time you awoke, you were nearly to Riggs Station from which there you’d take a wagon to Blackwater. All was going accordingly until the train came to a sudden stop, followed by loud shots fired outside the train. The passengers in your cart began screaming, looking around at each other as if any of them had any idea what was happening. You yourself were wide awake now, startled by the sound of yelling men outside the train. If you survived this, you were sure you’d never survive your mother’s worrying.

You poked your head up to look out the window and saw horses standing by as the men began making their way on the train. In the dark you could’ve sworn that one of the horses had a similar coat pattern to Arthur’s horse, but it’d be silly to dwell on that especially in a moment like this. One by one, the masked men made their way through the carts demanding money from what you could hear. Grabbing your purse you looked at what you had inside. You only had enough dollars on you for a train ticket back to Valentine and the lunch your mother packed. Perhaps they’d take pity on you and leave you alone.

“Hands up, this is a robbery! Make any moves and I’ll shoot ya’!” The man barged in with a gun in one hand and a sack of money in the other hand. “Give us all your money!” He threatened, slowly walking up the aisle. Most of the men gave their money and watches without a fight, except for the man in the seat behind you. “I ain’t scared of you and I ain’t giving you jack shit.” He spat, crossing his arms.

Raising your head from the ground you turned to look at him. He sat firm in his seat even with the robber right in front of him. The robber cocked his head as if the man’s defiance entertained him. “Alright, maybe my friend here might change your mind.” He stepped back and allowed the man behind him to move forward.

If the first robber was tall then this second man was a giant. His boots thudded on the hardwood floors of the train as he raised his revolver at the man. The only visible feature of the masked man’s face were his cold blue eyes. Eyes that you remember once looking into lovingly so many summers ago.

“Arthur?” The name came out before you could properly register what was occurring in front of you. Your sweet and quiet Arthur Morgan had a raised gun in the face of the man behind you and all you could do was sit there in shock. He visibly faltered by the shock of your being there allowing the man he threatened to knock the gun out of his hand. “Arthur!” His fellow gunman yelled, shooting the passenger before he had another chance to fight back. The man instantly went limp against his seat at the horror of the other passengers.

Your eyes darted between the now dead man and Arthur who stood silently. Just as you were about to speak, lawmen arrived at the scene of the robbery. “Come on, we gotta go!” The robber shouted as he ran out of the cart. The outlaw’s gaze stayed firmly on you like he couldn’t hear anything else that was happening. The sound of a bullet shooting through a window was what made him duck next to you, instinctively covering you with his body. “We gotta go, come on.” His voice was gruff in your ear. Arthur ushered you away with the safety of his chest against your back as protection, keeping his gun aimed in the air to keep everyone away.

“He’s taking her hostage!” One of the women in the seats yelled. Truthfully, you didn’t really have a choice in being led away by him but it likely wouldn’t be any different if it was in your power. Here was the man who stole your heart so long ago yet he couldn’t be anymore different than when you first met him. Just as you were about to exit, he pulled you back and whispered in your ear, “No ones gonna hurt ya’.”

“What do you mean? What are you–” Arthur pushed you out the cart before you finished your sentence. The cold steel of his revolver was pressed against your without notice, but not enough to hurt you. “Shoot and I’ll kill the little lady.” He barked, making the lawmen instantly lower their guns. Your eyes widened in shock as you processed his words. Kill the little lady?

Arthur dragged you along with him, using you as a human shield for him until you reached the horse you noticed earlier. The man who was on the train with Arthur earlier helped you mount the horse before turning to Arthur. “You sure about this? Dutch ain’t gonna be too happy to hear about this.” He waved his gun around.

“John, you worry about yourself and I’ll worry about her. Now go! I’ll see you at camp later.” Arthur kept his gun towards the lawmen as he mounted the horse. You held on tight behind him, but you didn’t fail to notice he certainly had more muscle on him now than he did all those years ago. Was this man who protected you one moment then risked your life the next, still your Arthur? Was he still even yours?

While you worried over Arthur’s new identity, the rest of his accomplices stayed behind to give the both of you a chance at escaping with the lawmen on your tail. The horse galloped away into the hills and forests until you recognized the area as the heartlands. You spent the entire ride unsure of what to say. What would you even say? He had just finished robbing the train you were on AND took you with him. What did he plan to do with you?

“We’ll stop here for the night. You’ll need rest.” He pulled the reins on his horse, stopping in an area passerbyers wouldn’t be able to see. The outlaw dismounted the horse first before grabbing you by the waist to lift you off. He remained silent for the rest of what took him to set up a small fire. After he was done, you both sat on a log as he prepared venison over the fire.

“It ain’t much, but it’ll do.” He handed you the meat and took a bite of what was left. “Arthur, what is happening? We haven’t spoken in years and then you just rob the train I’m on and now what? You think you can just take me hostage?” An overwhelming sensation fell over you as you began to process your reality. You were in the middle of a forest, with a man you’re not sure you know anymore, with no way home.

“I never said you had to stay. You’re free to leave, but Valentine is still a good walk away from here and there still might be bad folk walkin’ around.” He spoke nonchalantly as he munched on his food. The unseriousness in his voice left your jaw hanging. This wasn’t the Arthur you knew. “Well I can’t just walk out of here! I ain’t got a way home and I had an interview set up within the coming hour and now–now what am I gonna do?” You stood from your seat angrily, pacing by the fire. “And who are you? I don’t recognize this version of you!”

“I told you I did bad things.” He grunted. “I don’t know why I took you here. I just saw you and I acted without thinkin’. You do that to me.” Arthur mumbled the last few words, but you managed to make out what he meant.

“You can’t risk my entire future just on the whim! It’s my future!” Arthur winced at your raising voice. Shame was clear on his face as he nervously scratched at his fully grown beard. “I’m not some “little lady” you can order around. I ain’t that girl you knew from before.” You groaned, tugging at your hair in frustration. Arthur sighed and stood in front of you. “I’m sorry.” He took his hat in his hands and fidgeted. Only you could render this force of a man to be so vulnerable. That’s why he never brought you up again once he left Valentine so long ago–and why he could never bring himself to go back.

“I’ll take you back home and…I’ll give you some money to make up for missin’ out on that job. I was an idiot for doin’ this. I’m sorry.” He turned from you and began kicking dirt over the dying fire. “Arthur.” You softly spoke. “Arthur, look at me.” Smiling sadly, you placed a hand on his shoulder. As he turned to face you, you took his hat from his hands and placed it to the side. “I missed you too.”

Cradling his face in your hands you kissed him with a tenderness he hadn’t known in so long. One hand came to hold the back of your head while the other moved to your lower-back, keeping you close. “I ain’t ever known a woman who ever kissed like you do.” He caressed your cheek lovingly. “Yeah?” A laugh escaped you, the way most of your feelings did when you were around Arthur. He seemed to have a way of doing that to you.

“Come on, cowboy. We’ve been here long enough. Them lawmen are gonna come running through any second and what’re we gonna tell them? I fell in love with my captor?” You teased him, nudging his shoulder. Arthur’s cheeks reddened slightly to your hearts delight. He never enjoyed expressing his feelings so it was nice when you could catch him off guard. It was almost like the old days.

“They’ll think you’re as crazy as me and just kill us both.” He grumbled, earning another laugh from you. Arthur packed everything back onto his horse and helped you back up onto the horse before sitting behind you. The rest of the way back to Valentine, you and him shared stories of the parts of your lives neither of you were present for. Arthur came clean about his situation and clarified that the man John had killed on the train was not how they normally went about things.

“Dutch’s motto is we save folk as need savin’, kill folk as need killin’, and feed folk as need feedin’. We ain’t heartless people. Most of us anyways.” He chuckled. You had leaned back against him, relaxing in his arms the entire time. It’s been so long since you’ve been back in your favorite place. “Dutch had done right by you from what I hear. I trust you ain’t needlessly killing people.” You hummed, sighing dreamily.

You knew that you should be mortified–disgusted by his actions. You should be screaming your head off for someone to save you. Arthur’s hands were crimson red from the amount of blood he had shed, but they were the same hands that held you so gently. You knew there was no safer place on earth than in his arms. He’d do anything for you and you felt the same.

Of course, you knew your time with him was coming to an end once more. Valentine was visible in the distance which left you disheartened, but you didn’t show. Once you arrived closer to town, Arthur had raised his bandana over his face again to protect his identity. Word was bound to be spreading over an outlaw holding a woman of your description captive. You’d have a limited time with him until someone reported him and he’d be on the run again.

He stopped the horse when they reached your farmhouse, thankfully your parents must’ve still been asleep, giving you the chance to bid him goodbye. Just like the first time you met, you stood on the porch with Arthur looking up at you, but this time his hands held yours. “Where you gonna run off to now? Lawmen are gonna be looking for you.” You leaned over the railing, smiling down on him.

“You don’t need to worry, sweetness. I’ve been on the run for my whole life. Ain’t nothing that can keep me away from you anymore.” His words sent a warmth coursing through your body. Damn this man and his words. “Does that mean I can expect to see you again? Or do I have to wait for you to rob the train I’m on?” You grinned.

He rolled his eyes, but smirked at your teasing. “I’ll be back before you know it.” Satisfied with his vague answer, you gave him a kiss to hold him over for however long he’ll be gone. “I’ll be here.” Arthur kissed you once more before mounting his horse and galloping away.

Clearing up the air with the head banker, someone had notified him about your misfortune with your train to Blackwater to which he understandably rescheduled your interview. You managed to make it to the bank this time and impressed them with your skills, earning yourself the job. And true to his word, Arthur visited you once again in the summer. He set up camp nearby and spent the high season with you down by the river or in nearby towns where you wouldn’t fear your father shooting Arthur.

He’d leave at the beginning of fall, but would return every summer to see you again. It wasn’t a conventional situation, but he was a man worth the wait. He’d spend every summer loving you as much as he could before the cold came to whisk him away again and when he faced his ultimate ending, you’d visit him every summer where his grave stood.

#arthur morgan x f!reader #rdr2 #rdr2 x reader #Arthur Morgan #f!reader #rdr2 arthur #in this house we love Arthur morgan #m x f #pls reblog #pls dont flop #we love cowboys here

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medusas-daughter · 8 days ago

Note

Can Nicky actually forgive Agatha in the afterlife ?

Billy is a bit of a proxy for him in the last scene and his answer is yes. But also Billy doesn't seem to want to forgive Wanda at the moment so if we are following the parallels between the two boys, the answer for Nicky is probably a little bit more nuanced.

Sidenote: the parallels in this show are so fun ! Because you can absolutely parallel Wanda and Agatha and Billy and Nicky but also Billy and Agatha are similar as well and both Wanda and Nicky are the ghosts over their shoulders.

This show is just so good.

ooh thank you anon that is a fascinating question!

Wanda and Nicky are definitely both ghosts haunting the entire narrative of Agatha All Along, and Billy and Agatha parallel each other in that both are trying very hard to ignore/avoid their ghosts.

I want to say that Nicky doesn't have anything to forgive Agatha for but that would be too optimistic of me. I think a six year old Nicky doesn't resent Agatha, he loved her very much, and she loved him very much, and then he got too sick and tired of fighting for his life, and then he joined his other mother peacefully, end of story. Agatha didn't wrong him in any way, she tried her best to keep him alive but it was not in her hands. But a Nicky who has been on the other side for centuries, who has watched Agatha use his song, their song, their wholesome little game, to continue killing witches for her own gain, the one thing he didn't want to do anymore on his very last day with her? Who has watched Agatha avoid Rio at all cost? Who is watching Agatha avoid him at all costs? I think there might need to be more nuance there. But I still don't believe he needs to "forgive" her necessarily. I think he would just need to adjust to a full vision of his mother, the way all children must at some point in their lives adjust and acknowledge that their parents are flawed human beings and not these heroes we want them to be. But Agatha needs to forgive herself first, for being human and not being able to keep adeath away from her child forever. Only when she forgives herself can she face him again, and only then will she know just what kind of relationship she can have with Nicky and how he truly feels about her.

Billy was picking up on Agatha's guilt and went out on a limb when he said Nicky would forgive her. But I also think he's projecting his own resentment of Wanda. He's hearing about all these different versions of her, the Avenger who helped save the world, the wicked witch who ruined the lives of an entire town, the broken woman who created a family out of grief and then chose to sacrifice said family for the sake of the people she hurt, and he doesn't see where he fits in all these versions, he doesn't see what he thinks a mother should be, this perfect human with infinite love and wisdom, and he resents her even if he doesn't consciously realize that resentment yet. And his relationship with Agatha here is so important. That line "neither are you" that he tells Agatha has so many layers. It's him accepting that he's not bad himself, that mistakes don't define him as a person. It's also him accepting deep down that Wanda isn't bad she's just human. And maybe that puts him on the path of eventually forgiving her as well just how he believes Nicky would forgive Agatha.

This answer turned out more confusing than anything and that's because I don't have a definitive answer I'm treatign it more as an interesting thought experiment than anything else. Agatha and Nicky and Wanda and Billy are like this messy complicated rectangle of grief and love and they're each haunting each other and projecting shit on each other and leaning on each other in the most beautiful if sometimes unexpected ways and I hope we get to see more of them in the future 💜

#agatha harkness #billy maximoff #nicholas scratch #wanda maximoff #agatha all along #wandavision #rio vidal #anon ask #anon #medusasdaughter answers

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ask-missparker · 3 months ago

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Things Mia Said/Done..

~ Pregnancy edition (Pure Fluff and tiny bit of angst! 🥰)

~ All the young avengers and friends are included -> Liane, Rick, Luna, Cole, Cassie, Jeremy, Rochelle and etc

- Pairings: Mia x Nik, Cole x Jeremy, Rochelle x Michelle, Rick x Luna etc. 🎬

Wearing comfy cardigans, graphic tops, and her hair in a cute messy bun. Painting her nails and wearing certain earrings too

Being a cuddle/hug bug 🤗

Buying pillows and blankets for the living room in the house. Cause of course who doesn’t want pillows and warm weighted blanket??

Binge watching tv shows with the gang (like Voltron with Luna, certain documentaries series with Rick and OUAT with Liane)

Watching movies, such as classic Disney movies, sci-fi and action comedies 🎬

Aunt May becomes a grandma 💜

Making Bruce Banner and Natasha Romaneoff grandparents (again!) heheh ( AND HULK TOO OBVIOUSLY! 😌)

Going to the Disney store and shopping in general.

Mia appear in the living room holding up car keys, “I’m going the mall, who wants to join me?”

Liane grins, “Where we going?”

“Target, H&M, Pandora and of course The Disney Store. Might buy some plushies!”

Luna gasped and squealed, “You had me at plushies! How much can we buy?!”

Rochelle already packing a bag and grabbing money

Being emotionally invested in everything she does and becoming a little passionate about something as mundane as making breakfast for everyone at home

Cooking and baking all the time! (No one going hungry in The Avenger Tower 👏 )

MIA BE EATING 🍽️ SNACKING AND SHARING FOOD

Eating sweet and salty foods

Ricky finding a eating buddy in Mia ☺️ as they are always eating together or creating combos of meals

“Ooh nachos!” Mia said as she entered the kitchen and taking a bite.

Rick gasp chuckled as he glared, “Hey that was mine!”

“Sorry, eating for two…”

“Eating…for two? But you’re not—OH MY GOSH?! Wait you-?!”

“Hehehe! You just found a foodie friend for the next few months.”

“OH MY GOODNESS! I’mma be an absolute legend of an uncle!”

A little forgetful but eventually remembers!

“Is it too early to pick names? And no we’re not naming them Cole Jr!”

Playing music and dancing in the kitchen

Passionately singing out lyrics 😂

Gets annoyed with her favorite Star Wars t-shirt doesn’t fit her cute belly and decides to steal one of Nikolai instead

“Aww they’re kicking!”

Squeals at cute baby clothes

Doesn’t mind when one of her friends rubs her belly for good luck 🍀 and finds it adorable

A little sensitive to smells and comments about it

“Yo! Who farted?!”

“Someone needs to take a shower!”

“I’m a hot mess.” She said randomly

Cole snickers, “Tell me something I don’t know, love.”

The two just start laughing

Sometimes question why her friends and hubby bought SO much stuff.

“What did you guys do?! Buy the whole mall?!”

Becomes emotional and just wants to wrap her arms around her friends, after getting worked up

Or one of her love ones are sad and she just wants to do EVERYTHING to make sure they feel better ❤️‍🩹

Find Mia napping or sleeping in (she’s a night owl so this a shocker to everyone!)

She will sometimes finds herself taking care of others and even doing chores for them

She blushes when someone decides to chat with the baby

Mia is laying down on the couch flipping through channels and smiling. Then suddenly Nikolai pops beside her and cuddles his wifey, telling her about his day.

“What are you doing?” She asked giggling looking at him.

Nikolai grins and rubbing her belly, “Gossiping with our baby boy.”

Everyone suddenly becomes overprotective and careful around her, even though Mia has to remind them that she’s fine

Jeremy reminded her to take it easy and she making a witty remark to him

Luna and Mia putting the baby’s room 🥺 together

Rochelle wanting to return the favor to her, due to Mia being supportive during Rochelle’s pregnancy ☀️ meanwhile Michelle is freaking out over everything and being super excited

Nikolai becoming a huge fan of wifeys cooking and becoming extremely protective of her. Hell, he figures it out before her 😂

Mia creates t-shirts for everyone as gifts!! Baby lab coats too

Bruce, Liane and Nikolai telling Mia to chill out 😤

Rick would be sooooooo excited and want to do things for Mia (chores, errands, paperwork) and also spoil the kiddos. Bruce, Natasha, Hill and others want her to listen to the doctors advice too.

She doesn’t always listen to them and regrets it later, knocking out cold on the couch.

~~~

Miss Mia will never admitted it fully but she’s emotional and has her moments insecurity across the board. In response she is often used humor to cope with any kind of worries she got. But sometimes she brings up the thoughts she has.

“Will be a good mom like mine is? I hope so.”

She knows that Nikolai wonders if he will be a good father. Of course she will find him and talk it out, how they’re both feeling about everything going on.

“We’ll be alright and this kid is gonna have a great village to raise them.”

Sometimes Mia is found on the couch or sitting at her desk doodling thing too, it’s a great mental break to relax. Relive herself of any kind of tension and sometimes she ends up with a good laugh.

Sometimes she is just embarrassed and emotional for no reason and honestly it’s cute

“I cried over a meeting yesterday and an email.” Mia exclaimed, “I never cry during a meeting!”

“What was the meeting about?” Cole asked

“Saving and investing in Panda bears for cute press releases..” She admitted

Jeremy burst out laughing, “Oh jeez! Okay, that’s cute.”

Cole snickered, “Oh you poor thing you’ve gone soft.”

~~~

This girl sometimes end up saying random stuff��😂

“I know what I should do! I should cut my hair like Princess Diana.”

“If Donkey and that dragon ended up together, why are their kids donkey size?”

“Why don’t donuts grow on trees?”

“Hercules was a good movie and the cartoon was fun too.”

“If I listen to Justin Timberlake and dance around, do you think the baby would like to dance as a toddler?”

“What? Tom and Jerry is educational…if you don’t about the violence part..”

Other times she is saying sweet and sappy stuff 🩷

“I love you guys! I don’t say it enough.”

“Shut up, you are beautiful and smart and wonderful human being!”

“I know I have been emotional lately and a little annoying, I don’t mean to act that way…so I got you a little something to show my appreciation for you.”

“Did anyone ever tell you that you are amazing and doing your best today? Cause you are.”

“Who wants donuts? I’m buying!”

“You gotta stop baking so much.” Cassie says chuckling, “You gotta eat some healthy food too.”

Mia dressed in a white apron and wearing Mickey Mouse ears while making Goofy themed treats.

“You weren’t complaining last week when I made you Hogwarts theme snacks for your movie night!” She remarked yelling.

Luna gasped, “She got a point!”

Liane eating popcorn with Rick watching it all go down giggling

Mia tends to go a little overboard with things especially when she starts nesting too early in the season

SHE JUST WANTS THE PLACE TO LOOK COMFY AND COZY! That’s all she ask 😌

She tends to be a bit dramatic and silly too, often when she’s in a mood.

“Why are you looking at me like that? Am I forgetting something? Oh god, did I say something wrong? Don’t laugh!”

She will eventually get over it and go back to normal

She gets excited over the littlest things too!

Mia is often a tad bit clumsy and lack the energy to do things around the house at times. She adopts a lazy era 💅🏻

But everyone loves her all the same in the end!

~~~

Ahhh let me know what you think 💭

Add onto any ideas u got too 🍂 in the comments or reblog 👀

Tags: @jackiequick @gcthvile @meiramel l l @cherrysft @blueboirick @wizzzardofoz z @finlayholmes @ethan-lensherr @elzabeth-stark k @marvelsfavoriteuncle @sci-fi-lexcon @ask-starrk @therealdaydreamstark @luna-d-marsh @rickb-chaos @the-x-ladiesofnyc @trulysummersprivate @missstrawbs2001 @purpleprincessonfyre

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violetsiren90 · 9 months ago

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All I Haven't Said | Namjoon/Reader

💜 Chapter 3: Part 2 💜

Table of Contents: Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3 (part 1), Chapter 3 (part 2)

Pairing: idol!Namjoon/f!Reader

Genre: Soulmate AU; idol AU; chapter fic; strangers to lovers; a bit of idiots to lovers, tbh; slow burn; eventual romance; eventual smut; angst (life is messy & hearts are complex); OT7 featured

Summary: You found your soulmate - or rather, he found you. Turns out he's an idol of much acclaim who needs you for very real and unglamorous reasons. What could become of two hearts so used to giving of themselves when they are confronted with needing each other?

Chapter Word Count: ~7k

Chapter Warnings: This fic is 18+, as is all my work and my page as a whole; depictions of cancer and its treatment; secondhand embarrassment; awkward situations; soulmate skinship; loss of consciousness; dudes dude-broing a bit lol; mentions of minor character death (in past); cursing; chemo therapy and its symptoms; nausea and vomiting; characters eat meals; Reader is starting to grapple with some difficult feelings; Hybe kinda sorta depicted as being collective assholes in responding to this situation (gonna be a theme, guys)

Author's Note: Here comes part two! I know this is months coming (again), but I've finally found my stride with writing and work. I had this mostly done, and then redid some parts and finished editing, and well...I just hope you all enjoy it! My hope is to post part three in two weeks - I really want to get into a groove with plot progression here!

There is a lot of content in this chapter about medical procedures and treatment. I tried my best to represent these as accurately as possible with what information I could acquire, but if there are any misrepresentations, great or small, please don't hesitate to let me know!

Thank you again to all who have stuck with this story! I continue to be blown away by how much love you have all showered upon it, and I'm so excited to walk the path I intend for these two and have you all along for the ride!!

P.S. If you want to join the tag list, drop me a comment or an ask!

P.P.S. If no one has told you yet today, you're loved and worthy of love! 🧜‍♀️💜

"Out of sheer taciturnity the ceiling listens To the fall of ancient leafless rain, To feathers, to whatever the night imprisoned." ~Pablo Neruda

Chapter 3: My Windows Ache

Namjoon's labs had come back with even more promising numbers. A radiology scan had shown no shrinkage in his tumors, but the doctors commented that these were early days, and that the effects of the bond might even be keeping them from inflaming due to the chemo. You had watched him, smiling as the doctor reviewed the result, and couldn't help but feel a sense of pride. Your soulmate was on the road to recovery.

Nurse Cha quickly checked both of you over before initiating another skinship session.

"I saw you out on the grounds earlier, and for the first time in weeks," she said, shooting Namjoon an approving grin. "Keep that up. He needs sunlight and fresh air," she remarked to you, flustering you even as you nodded in agreement.

Why was she telling you that? Were you his keeper?

Actually, you supposed, in fact, you were.

You peeked back up at him and found him regarding you with a small, amused smile, which disconcerted you further. You shook your head, shooting him an eye-roll as you made your way into the bathroom to disrobe.

After your first few experiences with skinship, you had asked Matt to acquire you some sporty, conservative sports bra and boy-short sets, and you slipped into one, pulling a hospital gown over it. After the way your conversation with Hyung-seo had unfolded you were glad to have them - the practical underwear felt far less intimate and flirty than your typical bras and panties, giving you much more peace of mind.

As you left the bathroom and made your way back to Namjoon's half of the suite, you noticed him sitting on top of the covers, long legs stretched out in front of him, in nothing but a black tee and blue boxers. He had a drip attached to a tube that ran under his shirt. When Nurse Cha glanced up from her touchscreen tablet to see you approaching, she waved her hand for you to come around to the other side of the bed, which had been adjusted to accommodate Namjoon's upright position.

"We’re going to try this sitting up today," she explained as she typed. "He's on a chemo drip right now, and the doctor wants to see if the bond will help ease the nausea and some of the other side effects. I heard you just had a nice lunch, so it would be wonderful if Namjoon could hang onto his."

She shot him a rueful smirk and he let out a chuckle. You smiled in turn and nodded as you slipped off your hospital gown and draped it over the end of the bed. You glanced up at Namjoon who had cast his eyes down at his hands, folded in his lap. The huge apparatus was lower than usual, so you slipped rather easily into it and against Namjoon's side. He raised an arm to drape over your shoulders and you settled against him, pressing your bare leg against his. It was comical how much shorter yours were, but you could only think of that for a fraction of a second as every other thought in your mind melted at the feeling of the man beside you.

Butter. Warm, melted butter. It was as if every single muscle group in your body had suddenly released every bit of tension it had been holding. So many sensations at once, but this was the one you felt like leaning into at the moment. You felt like collapsing against him.

He sighed deeply through his nose. Yeah, you felt that on a spiritual level. Mmh.

Your melty, bond-induced reverie was broken, however, by a dissatisfied noise from Nurse Cha as she stepped toward the bed. You looked up to find her expression matched her tone.

"You're not really getting much contact," she said, scanning her eyes over everywhere you touched...and didn't.

You raised your arms slightly and a bit uselessly. You felt Namjoon lean forward.

"Should I...like..." you looked to her for direction, but she was already in motion.

She grabbed your arm, guiding you off the bed and motioned for Namjoon to scoot back to the middle. She said something to Namjoon in Korean and suddenly he was tugging his shirt over his head. You felt your cheeks getting hot. Social norms had not prepared you for this amount of casual nudity. You stood there, eyes glued to Nurse Cha, hugging your arms over your middle and hoping that Namjoon was playing his usual blessed game of "look anywhere but soulmate". The nurse took your arm again and guided you back toward your previous perch.

"Sit between his legs and lean back against his chest," she instructed, nudging you to join him.

You looked up at Namjoon. His face looked like you felt. And then it was just too much. You were standing in a hospital in South Korea in your underwear being asked to sit in a practically naked celebrity's lap so that he wouldn't die.

You busted out laughing.

Nurse Cha jumped, surprise clear in her features as she regarded you.

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" You gasped, bending over to support yourself against the bed as you continued to chuckle, "This is just..."

You snorted. Mortified but still attempting to swallow your giggles you clapped a hand over your mouth and looked up at Namjoon whose dimples were out and whose shoulders were shaking with his own silent amusement. Nurse Cha's lips curved up a bit to one side, but her narrowed eyes spoke of far less hilarity felt.

"Here's the thing," you said, turning to the nurse while still biting back your laughter, "Namjoon is spoken for, and...well...I have a pretty nice ass."

The nurse's eyes widened.

You were probably being really impolite. That would have been borderline in the States. You weren't sure about here, but you felt like that might have broken some unspoken rules. Or, maybe spoken ones because there were a lot of formalities, you were learning. But you had reached your limit with all this. The awkwardness levels were at maximum, and you were gonna cope the only way you knew how - with humor.

When you hazarded a look at your soulmate, he had drawn his knees up, grabbing them with his hands, his head dropped between them and his shoulders shaking as he badly repressed laughter of his own. You could see those dimples again. They were even deeper than before.

"We need to get maximum skin-to-skin contact during these sessions," Nurse Cha insisted indignantly, clearly a bit flustered.

"I know, I'm sorry, I'm sorry," you offered her a contrite smile as you rocked back on your feet.

"Ah!" Namjoon drew your attention as he pointed behind you. "Throw me that pillow?"

You grabbed the little green cushion from the corner of the couch and tossed it to him. He lowered his legs and placed it over his lap.

"How's that?" he asked with a closed-lip smirk.

You gave him a thumbs up and clambered back onto the bed to situate yourself between his legs. You looked back over at Nurse Cha.

"Better?"

She raised a brow as she handed you a blanket. You thanked her quietly and cleared your throat as you fanned it out over your legs and Namjoon's, tucking it up to your waist. The nurse checked Namjoon's vitals and said that she would return in an hour to take him off the drip.

You sank back tentatively against your soulmate's chest, careful to avoid the little port below his sternum. There it was again. Butter.

Somewhere above and behind you, Namjoon chuckled. You smiled knowingly.

"What?" you asked indignantly.

"Did you see her face when you said that?"

You shrugged against him.

"Hey, it's true!" you insisted.

"Sorry if this is uncomfortable for you," he murmured.

You could hear that he was still smiling, but he sounded serious all the same. You let your head fall back.

"Honestly, I felt bad for you," you huffed in another laugh before sobering. "And, thank you," you turned, casting your eyes up over your shoulder, "For always being so respectful. It's made this a lot easier."

"Oh," Namjoon responded softly, "Of course."

You looked at his arms resting at his sides and thought of what Nurse Cha had said. You slowly picked up his hands in yours, raising them slightly.

"May I put them around me? For more contact," you asked.

You asked it boldly, but you felt shy. You wanted the chemo to work. You wanted it to stop hurting him while it did. When Namjoon let out a low hum of assent you drew his forearms around your waist and laid your own over them.

Your eyes slipped shut. So euphoric but it always made you feel like sleeping. You weren't going to give into the urge, though, not just yet. There were conversations to be had.

"Tell me about Hyung-seo," you prompted softly, shifting against him to get comfortable.

He was quiet for a moment.

"Well," he responded slowly, "what do you want to know?"

"How did you meet her?"

He went quiet again. Then he sighed a small sigh. You wondered what that little breath carried.

"She debuted in 2019. A buddy of mine - Seo Jungkwon, he goes by Tiger JK in the industry - had signed her to his agency. Bangtan was just taking off, things were blowing up. I actually collaborated with him which is when I met her."

He silenced for a moment.

"We had a lot in common - how we approached life and music."

"Had?" you asked, gently.

He heaved another sigh.

"The last few years have been really tough on her. I mean, she hasn't had an easy life to begin with, but..."

He paused, as if deciding whether or not to utter the words he wanted to say next.

"Anyway," he redirected himself, and you wondered what thought he had dismissed, "Preparing for a tour is grueling, and this is her first one. I think the stress is really getting her."

You hummed in acknowledgement. You recognized it in his voice - you should after all, as the same sound had echoed so often in your own - the hollow clemency of lying to yourself on someone else's behalf.

"Well," you offered, "She's lucky to have you supporting her, especially when you're going through such a difficult time yourself."

Namjoon scoffed.

"I mean, yeah, I'm sick, but...I don't know. In a lot of ways my life has been a lot easier these days. A lot simpler."

"Really? In what way?"

He huffed out a wry laugh.

"I have so much time to just do whatever. Read, write...I've been learning a couple of languages. I get to do v-lives with ARMY pretty regularly, as the company allows - Jungkook went kind of crazy with it before enlistment so we have to go through them for access now."

You had no idea what a v-live was, but from what little you had seen of Jungkook, you could imagine it took very little for him to get up to a significant amount of shenanigans. You smirked.

"Did you have so little time for those things before?" you queried.

"No! No way. It was like running non-stop for ten years. During my time in the military, I got a bit of a break and a change, but then I got sick and had to be discharged early, so...well, I didn't even get to experience that like I should have."

You felt your hands tighten in response around his forearms. His life hadn't been cake-walk either, that was clear. You wondered if he knew that, if he acknowledged it.

"Well, I'm glad you have more time for those things. You should keep as much time for them as you can, even when you're better."

He paused for a moment before whispering agreement into your hair. You felt it even though he didn't say it, the caveat - if he got better. He would. You'd never make him a promise you couldn't guarantee, but you could make one to yourself. So you did.

For the rest of the session you talked about Bangtan, and the recent history of the group's situation.

You learned about conscription and that it applied to idols as well. You learned the members had decided to enlist pretty much around the same time so that they could reunite to tour again after being discharged. Namjoon had been released ahead of schedule when he had fallen ill, and at this point most of the members had followed, save Yoongi who was set to be discharged the following week. He fondly reported that they were all anxious to meet you, and that Jungkook and Jimin hadn't stopped pestering him with all manner of questions in your regard since their visit the previous day.

Every time you had heard him speak about his members, the deep brotherly affection that permeated his words was incredibly evident.

You asked him to tell you about each one, and he did.

You blinked your eyes open as you felt Namjoon shift you in his arms. You slowly pulled yourself forward, struggling to focus.

"I...I'm sorry," you murmured, "I fell asleep on you again."

Namjoon chuckled and assured you it was quite alright. As you wearily slipped off the mattress to stand, you suddenly felt the room tilt and your knees buckle. Namjoon's reflexes were quick enough to catch you in his arms. He stood to pull you up and hold you against him.

"You okay?" he asked in concern.

"I...I got dizzy..."

You attempted to put your weight into your legs, but failed, sagging weakly against his broad frame.

Nurse Cha was already in motion.

"Help her to the bed," she ordered, striding across the room.

Namjoon wasted no time in scooping you up in a bridal carry to follow her. You gasped despite yourself, the sudden movement and his strength equally surprising. But every thought was fleeting as you found yourself struggling to maintain a grip on consciousness.

You felt Namjoon lay you gently on the bed as cold, sticky monitors were pressed to your skin; heard him ask the nurse what was the matter, his voice tinged with anxiety.

You heard him say your name.

And then you heard nothing.

You groaned as you came to. Your throat felt like the Sahara and your head was pounding. Pushing yourself to sit up, you became aware of the sound of voices on the other side of the curtain. Carefully drawing your legs to the edge of the bed, you clutched your IV stand as you struggled to your feet.

Pulling back the hanging divider, you were surprised to see Matt occupying the little couch, a cup of coffee on the low table in front of him. Namjoon sat in the opposing chair, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees in rapt attention as the older man spoke. It was dark out.

"Matt," you croaked, shuffling forward.

Namjoon's head whipped around at the sound of your voice and he sprang up, just a moment faster than his guest, striding over to take you by the arm. You faltered just a moment in your steps as his hand cradled your elbow and you felt it - his touch and what it did to you. You wanted to curl into him. You wanted him to hold you.

You gently tugged your arm away.

"You're awake - let me call the nurse," he said, almost to himself as he moved to press the red call button.

You sank down beside Matt.

"What time is it?" you asked in a husky murmur. Your friend checked his watch.

"1:33am."

You frowned, blinking blearily.

"What the heck are you doing here at the hour?"

"Well!" Matt laughed before taking a sip of his coffee, "It's nice to see you too."

"You know what I mean..." you grumbled, rubbing your eyes.

"He called me," he said, gesturing with his raised mug toward Namjoon, who had returned to the armchair. "Said you'd had a fainting spell."

Your eyes followed his motion to your soulmate, who was already scanning his over you, brow furrowed and full lips pursed pensively.

"How are you feeling?" Namjoon asked.

You huffed out a mirthless chuckle.

"Like I got hit by a freight train."

The worry lines on his brow deepened.

"Hey, look..." you held up a hand to wave it weakly between both men as they regarded you in apparent concern. "I'm probably just adjusting to the bond or something. Cancer isn't contagious, you know," you ribbed, shooting a tiny smirk at Namjoon who attempted to return the expression though the smile didn't reach his eyes.

The night shift nurse and an aid entered the room to assess you. Namjoon asked to speak with a doctor, and was told that Dr. Na would be checking in first thing in the morning. The nurse had very little else to report other than that your blood work had been sent to the lab and that they would be able to determine more once your results were available. He informed Matt that some charts would likely be available in twenty-four hours, but that your CMP could take up to three days. The aid urged you to try to get some more rest. Before departing, the nurse removed your spent sodium chloride drip and said that a meal would be sent up which you were advised to eat if possible, but to be sure to report any signs of food-rejection should they appear.

Namjoon stood and sighed, rubbing the back of his neck as he gazed at your little portion of the suit.

"They want you to rest, but how the hell are you supposed to sleep with me over here snoring? It's keeping you up, right?"

You smirked.

"Well, most of my rest over the last couple of days has been due to a lack of consciousness, but I do have to admit that you woke me up a couple of times last night."

Namjoon groaned discomfitedly.

"It really isn't a big deal!" you reassured him, "I'm a pretty sound sleeper."

"And still I woke you up."

"Don't worry about it..."

"It's not just that, though," he insisted, hands in the pockets of his sweats and head cocked to one side as he continued to consider the small space across from his. "You don't even have a window. If you want privacy, you have to sit behind that curtain in the tiny bed -- I hate it. I've hated it since they were first preparing for you to arrive. I'll make some calls tomorrow. You need your own room," he stated decidedly, returning to the chair across from you.

He fished his phone out of his pocket and leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees as he fired off a message.

Namjoon did have a point, it was a pretty meager space you currently occupied. But they must have had a reason, you thought, for wanting you to share a room with him. And you didn't want to cause any kind of fuss in the name of personal convenience that might detract from his treatment or recovery.

"Namjoon, it's fine..."

He looked up at you, his brown eyes assured and determined.

"Just let me handle it. I've got you."

A sudden warmth spread through your chest like the rising sun on the frost of your anxieties, his gaze melting away the familiar worry of burdensomeness. You looked away shyly.

"Good man," Matt said to him with a nod, and they shared a look as your soulmate nodded in return that seemed to be one of mutual masculine respect. You wanted to roll your eyes a little bit. You also felt pretty damn grateful.

Matt stood to leave, pressing a kiss on your temple and promised that he'd return in the morning. He paused to shake Namjoon's hand.

"If there are any further developments, don't hesitate to call me," he said, to which the younger man nodded in agreement.

"Or I can call you!" you rasped after him as he raised his hand in one last gesture of farewell while shutting the door.

You huffed.

"Smart guy," Namjoon remarked, sitting back down in his chair. "You know he's read Toegye exhaustively?"

You raised a brow at him, your lips quirking with a wry grin.

"Two peas in a pod. He's probably going to be coming around here nonstop until he leaves just so you two can gab in genius."

Namjoon smiled and touched his fingers absently to his jaw, his eyes trained on the linoleum.

"Are you bothered that I called him?" he asked abruptly, glancing up at you.

"What? No, of course not," you reassured him with a shake of your head. "I just..." You rolled your eyes and smirked. "I'm not used to sitting around while boys decide what's best for me."

"Aaahhh," Namjoon responded with a nod, interlacing his fingers, "Well, you've been looking out for me since you walked through that door back there, and honestly, I could get used to that..." he leaned forward a bit, "But only if I get to return the favor. You said we don't owe each other, but that doesn't mean you get to be the only one doing the giving."

You stared at him. The only one to do the giving. The words jarred something loose inside you. You swallowed the strange feeling that threatened to well into your throat.

Before you could respond, an aid entered with your meal. A tray loaded with dakjuk, rice, and several banchan was placed before you. It smelled fantastic, and you actually felt you could eat. You moved to take the tray to your side of the suite but Namjoon stopped you.

"Hey, wait. I'm hungry. I'll eat with you."

He crossed to the other side of the room to pick up the telephone.

"Go ahead," he said with nod of his head a little grin, "Don't wait on me."

He didn't have to twist your arm. The chicken porridge was steaming and savory, warming you up within just a few bites. A similar tray soon arrived for Namjoon, and you found it did feel far nicer to eat with someone than alone.

Between bites he asked you about Matt.

"He's my dad's best friend. When he died - my dad - Matt and his wife Rebecca helped to take care of us for a while. They've been really good to my family."

Namjoon's face sombered.

"I'm sorry about your father."

You smiled softly at him.

"It was a long time ago, when I was ten. He was a firefighter."

He nodded quietly, giving you the opening to continue. You decided to take it.

"A fire broke out at a high-security prison. The situation got really bad with a lot of people still inside - prisoners. They told the team to stop attempting rescues, that it wasn't worth it, for people like that. But my dad kept going. Alone. He saved seventeen more lives before...well, he couldn't make it out."

When you looked up at Namjoon again his eyes were locked on you, his chopsticks resting idly in his hand.

"Wow," he murmured after a pause. "And you were ten years old? That must have been so hard."

You dragged your spoon through your dakjuk.

"It was. But managing things after he was gone...that was harder, I think."

Namjoon's brow knit in question but he didn't press you further. For the second time that night, you were grateful. Death was easy to explain, other things were much more difficult.

You finished the rest of your meal chatting about Matt, Neo-Confucianism, and unequivocal humanism between mouthfuls of rice and porridge.

The next day, you were moved into your new suite a few doors down. Namjoon had received no resistance from the hospital in procuring you the space, as apparently Hybe's representatives had been the ones to originate the request that you be at the idol's immediate disposal.

Your room mirrored the setup of your soulmate's, being on the same floor but across the hall, and Kang Dae had dropped in with a catalog stating that you could select whatever you wished to make the space more comfortable. You had circled a few things and he had departed to procure them. Matt had brought the bulk of your luggage, which meant a good portion of books, your art supplies, and finally more clothes which you would blessedly now have no worries of mixing up with Namjoon's. You changed into jeans and a comfy Nirvana graphic tee.

You were busy unpacking when a knock came at your door. You called for the person to come in while you continued to stack books onto a small set of shelves. The doctor had cautioned you and Namjoon against further skinship sessions until your blood work had come back, so you were anxious for the results, not wanting him to go through another bout of chemo without the aid of the bond.

When you glanced up expectantly, however, you found your curiosity would have to wait - at least, concerning your charts - as in the entry stood none other than Kim Hyung-seo.

She lingered in the entryway at the mouth of the space, her arms wrapped around her middle. She looked much more casual today in a pair of big baggy camouflage cargo pants, a tight black crop top, and chunky white sneakers. Her hair was pulled up into a bun, and she had black mask pulled under her chin. She was bare-faced, save for two small red dots under her right eye.

You stood from your crouched position, trying your best to keep the surprise from your face.

"Hi," you greeted her with a small smile, which she returned remorsefully, still hugging herself as she glanced around the room. "Would you like to sit down?" you offered, motioning to the furniture beside you.

She nodded, crossing over to take a seat in the little arm chair. You moved to sit across from her. Your first instinct was to offer her something to drink, only to realize you were in a hospital room with no way to deliver, at which you both laughed awkwardly. After a moment of tense silence, she looked up at you, gnawing her bottom lip.

“I owe you an apology," she sighed.

You gave her an encouraging smile.

"Fuck..." she dropped her head in her hands, and you waited for her to collect herself. Finally, she raises her eyes to yours, interlacing her fingers with their long white nails in her lap.

"What I did...what I said yesterday...I was cunt. I'm sorry."

You let out a little laugh at her choice of words.

"Well, I do accept your apology...but, don't be too hard on yourself. It was a really bizarre and unprecedented situation for all of us. I'm glad we're moving forward, and in a better direction."

You smiled again at her reassuringly.

She nodded, her lips pursed and quivering slightly. You could tell she was blinking back tears.

"Me and Joon...we'd only been engaged for a few weeks before we found out...you know, that he had a match. That it could be his only option to live - bonding. With you. It's just all really fucking scary."

You nodded sympathetically. She released another sigh as she continued.

"He had to decide so fast, they pushed him to just make this huge life commitment as fast as they fucking could and now..." She raised her arms, looking around the room in resign, "Here we are. And we have to figure everything out, and I'm about to leave and..."

"I'm sorry," you murmured sympathetically.

She looked down into her lap, worry still twisting her features.

You wondered why she was leaving, now of all times - when things were the way they were. But that wasn't for you to judge.

"You know," you offered hopefully, "At least he's on the mend. At least you know he'll have someone to look after him."

She hummed. You wondered if it was an agreement as her eyes flitted over your face searchingly. Anxiety from the previous day's encounter began to seep into your chest as you considered if you had chosen your words poorly. You had said what would have comforted you in under the same circumstances. But maybe you were different - too different.

You softened your heart, determined to reserve judgement. Life had given Hyung-seo had her own shoes, and you would do everything you could to understand what it was like to walk in them.

"Can I add you on KakaoTalk?" you asked, realizing you were still clutching a book, and setting it onto the low table to pull your phone from your pocket.

She was chewing on her lip again when you looked up. She stared down at the hardback.

"You read a lot, huh?" she asked, though it didn't sound like a question.

"I do," you answered slowly, wondering where her train of thought was headed.

"All that stuff you said yesterday, you seem, like really in tune with people. And smart. You guys are, like, the same."

She pressed the words out in a strained voice. She looked so small and so sad. Your heart sank for her.

"Namjoon actually said that very thing about you yesterday."

She glanced up at you in surprise and confusion. You smiled.

"He said that when you met he was struck with how much you shared in how you saw the world, and how you approached music."

She regarded you silently as you continued.

"And that's your life right, your great love? Music? What a wonderful thing, to base your life with a partner in a love you share."

She nodded slowly, her eyes watering.

"Thank you," she finally whispered, and you nodded in understanding.

You reached out to take her hand and she squeezed yours. After a few moments of silence, she rose and wiped her eyes.

"I'm leaving tomorrow and I want to see Joon again before I go," she explained.

You nodded.

"Thank you for coming to talk to me and for sharing about how this has been for you. I really appreciate it."

She smiled - perhaps genuinely for the first time since you met. It was a lovely smile.

You sighed as she left. It wasn't much, but it was progress. Maybe she would let you in. Maybe it wouldn't be so hard after all.

When several hours had passed with no updates on your lab results, you decided to take a walk down the hall to see how your soulmate was faring. You knocked on his door, but received no answer.

"Namjoon!" you called softly with another rap of your knuckles, but were still met with silence.

Just when you were about to turn and go, the door creaked inward on its hinges, slipping open to reveal your soulmate's tired face.

"I just came to see how you were doing...are you okay?."

You followed him as he slumped back into the suite, but before he could even reach his bed he turned and pushed past you to hurry into the bathroom. It caught you a little off-guard and you stumbled, catching yourself on the opposing wall, but quickly realized the reason for his urgency when sounds of retching followed.

The bathroom door was cracked open and you could see him hunched over the toilet, breathing heavily as his body wracked with each attempt to expel the contents of his stomach. You hesitated a moment, then pushed the door in slowly, coming to kneel beside him and gingerly place a hand on his back.

He raised his head, eyes fluttering when you touched him. You gently pulled your palm up and down his spine, feeling the warm surge of the bond even through his shirt. He reached for a piece of toilet paper to wipe his mouth.

"You don't have to do that..." he murmured, resting his forehead on his arm propped on the porcelain rim.

"I know," you answered quietly, continuing to slowly rub his back. "Can I put my hand under your shirt?"

"You're not supposed to be touching me until we know what's going on with you."

You slipped your other hand out to curl your fingers around his exposed bicep below the sleeve of his tee. He sighed, shoulders sagging as the comfort and warmth of the contact soothed his aching body.

"Can I?" you softly persisted, and he nodded his head where it laid against his forearm.

Slipping your hand beneath the baggy cotton you ran your fingers over his soft, taut skin, heart squeezing at the definition of his spine and the ghosts of his ribs.

"Did you do chemo without me?" you asked.

“I've been doing it before you got here, you know,” he retorted weakly.

"How are you supposed to gain weight if it makes you this sick? Please don't do it again without me."

"You passed out, Y/n," he shifted his head to look at you.

"We'll figure that out," you smiled, "But you need to be as agreeable to these treatments as possible, right?"

He nodded.

"Hyung-seo paid me a visit this morning," you remarked after a moment of silence.

"She told me."

"Said she leaves for her tour tomorrow. When does she get back?"

"February."

"Of next year?" You paused to temper your shock, "That's a long time."

"It's a world tour. That's how it goes."

"Wow."

You realized for the hundredth time in as many hours that there was so much about their lifestyle to which you were ignorant. You had so much to learn, but one thing you did know: he needed you right now, so you stayed by his side until the sickness had subsided.

Nurse Cha arrived shortly after to conduct routine checks on Namjoon, and you sat by, thumbing through the latest issue of Batman and Robin which Matt had been kind enough to drop off with your things.

"Your initial blood work came back with some concerns," she said, turning to you and picking up her tablet to access the results. "There are signs that your body's nutrients are being depleted. Since your fainting spells have been occuring during skinship, we ask that you refrain from touching until your CMP comes back."

Namjoon glanced over at you, a chiding expression on his features. You flatly ignored him.

"I need to be able to touch him, especially if he feels ill. He needs to keep down his food, right?"

Nurse Cha hummed, pursing her lips.

"Well, I'm going to run this by Dr. Na, but if absolutely necessary, keep it light and brief. And please be sure to document even the smallest instances of skinship so that we can track the effects."

You agreed readily, and she left to continue her rounds.

Glancing out the window, you noted that the evening was mild, and the gardens were aflutter with birds and awash in soft late-afternoon light. You thought about what the nurse had said before about the fresh air.

"Hey," you remarked, still looking out the window, "We should take a walk - it looks so nice out. You up for it?"

"Great idea," he replied, joining you to look out across the greenery. "I'm definitely feeling up for it." He huffed out a little chuckle.

"What?" you asked suspiciously. You were beginning to recognize his different laughs - this particular chuckle was always at your expense.

"Gonna keep pushing it with the poor nurse, huh?"

You scoffed.

"Well, if I hadn't would you be feeling well enough to go out right now?"

"No."

When you glanced up you found that he was gazing raptly at you, his face filled with unchecked thanksgiving. Your witty response faltered on your tongue.

His touch, you were pretty damn sure that for the rest of his natural life you would never grow used to it...but his eyes? It was almost the same. Was this part of the bond? Or was it just...him? Did everyone feel this way when he held them in those eyes? When he looked at them, really looked...

You couldn't tear your eyes away. You couldn't find words.

When Namjoon's phone suddenly buzzed you thanked almighty Samsung and sagged against the window pane.

"Damn," he muttered.

You looked at him questioningly.

"I have a consultation with my radiation oncologist in ten minutes. Go ahead! I'll meet you down there right after."

He pulled a sweatshirt over his head and changed his slippers out for his shoes.

You returned to your room to grab outerwear as well. The evening was temperate enough to go without, but you were feeling chillier than usual. You felt your phone buzz in your pocket.

Mom flashed across the screen.

Your chest tightened and you silenced the ringer. You'd call her tomorrow, you told yourself. Besides, she had already spoken to Matt.

When you reached the garden, you decided there was someone you should call while you waited. Ambling down a gravel path, you held the phone up to your ear, stuffing your other hand into the pocket of your jean jacket.

"Matt told mom that you passed out - are you okay?" Diana's voice on the other end registered genuine distress.

You rolled your eyes and sighed.

"I'm fine. My body is just adjusting to the bond and probably jet lag and whatnot."

"You better fucking be fine or I'm coming out there to make sure you are."

You laughed.

"To South Korea? On a Wednesday?"

"You know what I mean, god! You're so - hey! How did the fiancee thing go?"

"I knew you'd want an update."

"Spill."

You sighed.

"Uh-oh," she hummed, "That was your, things-are-an-effing-disaster sigh."

"It was no- why do you keep trying to divine my air flow like they're casting-runes or something? Will you just let me tell you?"

"You don't always say."

You huff in exasperation.

"Okay, well, I won't tell you what that sigh is," she mumbles in trepidation, "But I will tell you that I know enough to shut up and let you continue. Go on."

"It didn't go swimmingly."

"Fuck."

"Yeah,” You lifted your fingers to absently stroke at the petal of a rose. “She seemed very frightened by the whole situation, which is completely understandable. But then...she also kind of came at me. She started asking pretty intimate stuff about the bond right off the bat. When I tried to redirect by suggesting we get to know each other better she started saying all this stuff she already knew about me. About Dad and Mom."

"What?!" Diana gasped incredulously.

"It was almost as if...I don't know, I could have been reading her incorrectly, but it was almost seemed as if she was trying to bring things up that might knock me off my footing. Make me...insecure."

You suddenly remembered your conversation with Namjoon the previous night. He hadn’t let on that he had already known your father passed when you were a child...but he had known. Passing out during skinship had gotten in the way of the conversation you had intended to broach with him about knowledge of the other. You had done research before meeting him, but only the basics. You had felt that as much should come from him as possible. Clearly you hadn’t been given that opportunity.

"That bitch," Diana seethed, pulling your mind back into the moment.

"Hey, hey, hey," you cautioned her, "She's in a extremely difficult situation. And that was just my biased impression of her intentions. Don't be too quick to judge her, Di."

Diana hummed discontentedly.

"Also, she came to apologize to me today before she leaves on tour. We made progress, I think."

"Apologizing? Bare minimum," Diana said with an air of dismissal. "What did you say her name was?"

"Kim Hyung-seo. Her stage name is Bibi."

Diana was silent for a moment.

"Found her," she declared.

You smiled to yourself - of course she had found her, the woman was famous. It wasn't as if stalking measures were necessary (though you had no doubt of Diana's abilities should that have been the case).

Diana clicked her tongue in disappointment.

"She's hot."

"She is very pretty," you agreed.

"Yeah, but you're hot too. And, y'kow, you're you. Bet you're smarter..."

"Di," you said, stopping to pinch your brow, "We're not in some kind of competition. We're both just human beings navigating pretty uncharted waters, okay? We both have our strengths and weaknesses. She's going to be part of my life as Namjoon's wife, so not only is building a good relationship with her important to me, I have a responsibility to her as well. We all do. To each other."

Your sister paused on the other end before relenting sullenly.

"Yeah, yeah. I guess you're right - you do need to make nice with her...as long as they're married, that is..."

"DIANA."

"Okay! Geez!" Diana cleared her throat. "How is the soulmate doing?"

"He's getting stronger every day," you answered, happily moving the topic away from Hyung-seo.

"That's great!" she crooned.

"It is."

"Are you smiling? You sound like you're smiling."

"How are you doing, Di? Classes are starting soon."

You smirked as your sister's attention surged in a new direction, and for the next half an hour she regaled you with tales of her new housemates, and the smarmy and unseemly Johnnie (who had come crawling back, as predicted, upon returning to the States).

Upon hanging up with Diana, you checked the time, and discovered that it had been nearly an hour since you left Namjoon. You were starting to feel weak, and a bit cold - hunger, you told yourself - so you decided to return indoors for dinner.

You called Namjoon on the way up to the fifth floor to inform him if your change in plans. He apologized profusely, saying that the doctor had been detained, and asked you to join him for dinner.

Letting yourself into his suite, you shrugged your jacket off as you headed for your usual spot on the couch when, suddenly, you froze.

A man was rising to stand from where he had been seated on the sofa. He was clad in a dark blue button-down with a golden emblem on the shoulder and black slacks. He wore a black cap which bore a similar insignia to the one on his shirt and fit snugly over his short dark hair. He wasn’t as tall as Namjoon, though his shoulders were nearly as wide. His features were soft but arresting, and his deep brown irises, you thought, seemed to hold a bit of everything a pair of eyes could. Your comic book was in his hand.

You crossed the room toward him.

"Hi, I’m sorry, Namjoon will be here soon - oh, I'm his soulmate, Y/n," you stammered, before catching yourself.

The young man's sharp eyes widened, his lips parting as you bowed.

"Je ireum-eun Y/n imnida," you started over in Korean.

He bowed in return, raising his dark brown eyes to you again as he responded in a soft deep voice.

"Annyeonghaseyo, je ireum-eun Min Yoongi imnida."

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