#pretty colored tag for one of those maybe?

[ineffablefool]

This doesn't really mean anything in terms of concrete effects/specific legal protections for trans and enby people in Dane County (where I live). It's more like a rainbow capitalism thing, except instead of acquiring dollars they're scoring political points.

But When I Was (some of) Your Ages, this could never have happened, I'm pretty sure not even in the liberal hotbed of Madison. The benefit of publicly supporting enby/trans people can now outweigh the cost of offending transphobes. And I just think that's neat.

There is still some light out there. 💛🤍💜🖤

[rustedhills]

Disney, releasing Wish: "so it's all about legacy--the new generation surpassing the old, overcoming the evils perpetuated by them, relinquishing singular power... and there's an old man in a tower, uh... animal sidekick, i guess..., ah... magic...?

Miyazaki, just out of frame, sledgehammer raised:

[chiropteracupola]

"Are you finished with my portrait yet? Show me!" "Cipacton, I can't draw you if you keep moving!"

[catinasink]

the traveler, the star, and the fish

"why are there fish, nico?" you ask. well. lets jusr say. fish

sign that says id really appreciate reblogs of my art !!! /nf

[anpiels]

I was going to try and finish this before i posted it but i'm just posting it now as a treat to myself and a testament the fact that i got hard read on here half a day ago so it's going on the internet now. again as with the other sketches i might finish this at some point and if i do i'll post it again then

anyways

[kittzuxp]

wait acrylic colors are awesome actually i might try painting something again once i buy new ones

[prettybbychim]

looks like i will be.. skipping a lot of dialogue after quickly reading it over or maybe even turning off voice audio entirely this summer event

[ahundredtimesover]

I Want You to Stay (09) | JJK

Pairing: Jungkook x (f.) Reader

Genre/Tags: boss!JK x assistant!reader; idiot strangers to lovers; slow slow burn; k-drama feels; angst, drama, fluff, smut

Chapter (Series) Warnings: foul/explicit language; alcohol consumption & passing out, unhealthy coping mechanisms; family drama; minor injuries; power dynamics (JK starts off as a jerk); work-related anxiety, feelings of helplessness, insecurities; childhood traumatic experiences, nightmares; sexual harassment, attempted assault; use of the term slut in a derogatory way, prior incidence of domestic violence (PLS PLS BE CAREFUL WHEN READING); arts and business/property devt talk that’s probably inaccurate; commitment issues & emotionally constipated characters; cold and detached JK; eventual explicit sexual content (specific warnings stated per chapter) (18+)

Chapter Word count: 18.4k

Series Masterlist

Status: Ongoing

Series summary: Working for Jungkook isn’t the same as working for Hoseok. For starters, Jungkook doesn’t smile, he doesn’t appreciate you, and he gives you too much work. It doesn’t help that he’s incredibly handsome and has women at his beck and call. But as the tension grows, it becomes impossible to resist him. You’ve dedicated yourself to your job for 8 years so when you finally decide to put yourself first, he asks you to reconsider. And while you know that leaving is difficult, you learn that when it comes to Jungkook, staying is always so much harder.

Playlist 🎶: on the way home

A/N: Hiii thank you for being patient, and again for all your love and appreciation for this story. 🥰 Updates will continue to take longer as I return to uni. On another note, I hope you enjoy this!

And as always, my biggest thanks to @wonwoonlight  🥰

PS. If I can’t tag you, pls fix your settings!

Seeing you standing in his kitchen donned in that pastel-colored blouse makes Jungkook stop in his tracks; you’re exactly who he needs to wake him up. 

It’s been weeks of vacation, which also means weeks without his usual routine. It’s striking how being absorbed in his work has altered him in that sense - he looks for the stress, for the long hours, for the isolation that’s demanded of his job. Perhaps there was just really nothing to look forward to, and work was an excuse for all those things because there wasn’t much else going for him. Ironic, considering everything he can do with what he has, yet nothing seems to be what he’s looking for, even if deep down, he knows what it is.

This is something that Hoseok and A-yeong made him realize during the trip as he watched them gush about the pretty streets and marvel at the fjords and immerse themselves in the view of the northern lights. 

His cousin, the President of the company who makes decisive decisions and conducts press conferences and signs off on billion won projects, is the same man who squealed during a husky ride in Finland, laughed his butt off when he slipped on a glacier, and muttered words of love to his wife as they all watched the bright evening sky over the lake in Norway. There was so much passion in him, something A-yeong mirrored, whether it was about work or his relationships or just about everything in life. Hoseok looked forward to that trip, to that time with his wife, to that break, to seeing the scenery and feeling peace. 

While Jungkook found himself constantly thinking about the Arts Center and upcoming projects and new design ideas… and the one person who connected him to all those - you. It felt like he was rushing towards something because the achievement was the goal, and while he stopped by the mountains and marveled at the water as he sat on the cliffs, his mind was racing, chasing something that he couldn’t even grasp. 

That’s how the past six years have been. Perhaps more, he thinks. Maybe 20. He’s never allowed himself to just be. Quite frankly, he doesn’t know who he is outside of what he does; he doesn’t know much of how he is outside of being an executive and heir, and so during the moments when he isn’t functioning as such, he’s a bit lost, just existing in a place he’s visiting, not knowing how to interact, how to breathe; not knowing how to connect or to be free.

You’re the bright spot amidst it all. With you around, he still seems to be wandering while stuck in a certain spot, but he’s not alone because you’re there. With you around, there’s a sense of calmness somehow, with your smile and your presence warming the coldest parts of him that he’s left untouched and unfeeling for years.

So when he walks towards you, his eyes fully opening now to see you better, he hums in satisfaction. 

“It’s nice to see you again,” he says, prompting you to turn around. “It feels like it’s been so long.”

“Really, Mr. Jeon? I thought the three weeks felt fast,” you giggle. “But it’s nice to see you, too. Were you able to rest out there?”

“Somehow,” he replies, taking the glass of water you give him.

“Is that why you passed on your morning workout to sleep in?” You raise an eyebrow, thinking that he’d slept in when you walked into his penthouse earlier without the usual sounds from the gym that you’d gotten used to.

“I was pretty jet lagged,” he groans. “Couldn’t sleep so I did it last night to tire myself out and then I finally fell asleep three hours ago. It’s a miracle I woke up after the tenth snooze of my alarm.”

“Ooh, that is not good, considering all the documents on your desks and messages on your inbox,” you shake your head. “What if I move the team meeting to tomorrow so you don’t push yourself too hard today? You could’ve taken the day off.”

“And have a worse day tomorrow? No thanks,” he chuckles. “I’m fine, but I agree with moving the meeting.”

“Just take it slow,” you advise. “I brought some pastries because I know your fridge and pantry are empty. I’ll get them ready shortly.”

“I’ll wash up then.”

You follow not long after, preparing his outfits for the second half of the week, then setting out the breakfast for both of you. He returns to the kitchen wearing the brown suit you chose for today, looking just as handsome as you remember. You fix his tie like you always do and meet his eyes like it’s reflex, the warmth bubbling within you when he returns your soft smile. You take your seat a chair away, taking your iPad after to start going through updates when he stops you.

“Not yet, please. My mind’s still half asleep.”

“Okay, sir,” you respond. “We can talk about your trip instead. How was it?”

Jungkook finds himself more engaged in telling you about it, not like how he was when his best friends met him for dinner last night and he was too tired to narrate how it went. But you ask with such excitement that he ends up sharing more than what he planned.

He talks about the Vikings museum and historical tours, the bike rides and coastal walks, the calm but lively cities and the breathtaking waterfalls. He even mentions the things he’d only kept to himself - like that one evening when the sky looked like one of Lee Jaemin’s paintings that had him staying at the balcony with a glass of wine while basking in its beauty, and when they were in Hans Christian Andersen’s hometown and he wondered what kind of fairytale character he would be, and that he learned he really enjoys hot springs during the winter. They’re random thoughts that he just ended up saying, somehow feeling natural and comfortable in sharing them with you. 

You indulge him, asking more and sharing your thoughts, too. You even throw in the occasional teasing remark and playful laughter. You ask about the scenery, expressing your yearning for the outdoors that you said you never really appreciated before, as the open space always overwhelmed you.

He passes you his iPad where he’s opened the folder of the photos that he took with his camera, a gift from Taehyung who’d said that Jungkook needed to go out more and “feel the sun.” He rarely used it but a Northern Europe trip seemed like the perfect excuse. He’s used to assessing interiors and marveling at structures from afar, but this time he got to appreciate what lies beyond his walls, beyond the little world he’s been burrowing himself in.

“These are stunning, Jungkook,” you gush, dropping the formalities as he shares something that feels so personal. “I didn’t know you had the talent for photography, too.”

“I wouldn’t call it a talent,” he shakes his head. “I took it as an elective during university and it helps with design ideas. I should at least take nice photos if I need inspiration or a basis. I don’t really do it much, though.” 

“Did it make you feel good, at least?” You ask, wondering what else gives him satisfaction.

“Somehow. It makes me feel good when I’m looking at the pictures. I’m transported to that day and that place again, like a holder of memories and desire for the good things.”

You go through the photos - dozens of them. He didn’t take too many, just one or two shots of every scenery. Beyond the majestic landscape, there are the everyday scenes - people talking at a cafe, strangers enjoying the park. There’s a couple holding hands, laughing at each other; from the silhouettes, you can tell they’re Hoseok and A-yeong, a moment that Jungkook probably thought too precious to not capture. 

Something in you stirs, as the photos elicit a mix of awe and yearning. You look at Jungkook and you think it’s what he felt, too. 

There’s a saying you heard about watching what people photograph to learn what they fear losing. With Jungkook, it seems as if these - freedom, tranquility, connection, intimacy - are things he wants; somehow they seem to be what he fears having. 

“It’s nice to have a keeper of good memories, isn’t it? Of that reminder that beautiful things exist and that they’re tangible, you know?” You say, returning his gadget. 

“It is,” he responds after a beat of silence, seemingly processing your words. “We forget sometimes. Or maybe, we just don’t know what that’s like. In that case it’s like an illusion. But it’s still good to have that, I guess. It’s still something.”

You don’t know what more could be said. It feels too personal or even intimate of a conversation to have with your boss on a Wednesday morning as you eat breakfast in his apartment. So you let it go, smiling as you say you’re glad he got to have some rest. 

He says that so does he and then asks about how your holiday was as you both head to the car. You talk about it during the ride, how you spent a week in Wando with your mother’s partner’s family and then drove to Jeonju, how the entirety of your break had you stuffing your face with food and bonding with them, and how they drove you back to Seoul last weekend, thankful that for those two weeks, they had you around.

You don’t tell Jungkook that some days, you’d think of him, wondering how he’s doing. You don’t tell him that you’d seen A-yeong’s posts and that he looked at peace in them, that there was a softness in his eyes that you’ve rarely seen on him. You don’t tell him that despite the vacation that you said you were looking forward to, you were also looking forward to this - having him back, sharing stories, and living in the silence alongside him.

You wonder, as you glance at him looking out the window, if this is what you meant about savoring the moment, enjoying what’s in front of you, and feeling less alone. Because right now, those are exactly what you feel. 

Jungkook wanted to wait to get to the office before proceeding to work matters, something that surprises you because he always gets down to business immediately, not unless he’s recovering from a hangover. But he blew you off even in the car, wanting instead to listen to your stories and then doodle on his leather notebook again for the rest of the ride. You end up meeting with him for an hour before he settles in, then he goes to lunch with his father, meets with your team, and then decides to visit the Arts Center mid-afternoon. 

Work is back in full-swing just like that, and you pull the energy from within you to manage the crazy week. There are start-of-the-year events to attend and organize, a board report and meeting to prepare for, new projects to initiate, and a major one to monitor. 

You’re glad that despite all that, Jungkook allows you to have a four-day off on the succeeding week so you can celebrate your birthday with a road trip down coastal towns with Jimin and Soomin. It’s a silly thing to do in the middle of winter, but they insist that warmth is most satisfying when it’s cold outside, and you don’t disagree. You’ll definitely be sighing in relief when you hold the steaming hot hotteok in between your hands, and it’ll be the best one you’ll have. 

It’s Thursday and you’ll be back in a week. You’ve just finished briefing Do-hyun, who’ll be covering for you while you’re away, and you get off your chair to grab tea in the pantry. Jungkook’s voice stops as you, as he stands by his door and asks if you’re already leaving.

“In an hour, Mr. Jeon,” you reply. “Is there anything I can help you with until then?”

“No, nothing,” he says. “I’m actually about to leave for dinner with Taehyung and Seokjin.”

“Oh, alright, sir,” you hum. “Goodbye, then. And I’ll see you next week. Just know that you’re the only one who can disturb me.”

He laughs in response. “Come on, I won’t be badgering you, especially on your birthday. It’s your one week away from me. You have to savor it.”

“So should you,” you counter. “But okay. I will.”

“Good,” he nods. “I’ll just fix up and go ahead then.”

He returns to his room and you’re just the tiniest bit disappointed that he didn’t properly greet you but you suppose that’s good for you. So you go to the pantry and end up chit-chatting with the team, finding yourself smiling when you look up and see Jungkook by the door, who tells everyone not to stay too late before he heads out. 

You arrive back at your desk, your heart beating fast at the sight of a small brown bag on your table. 

For your trip. Something to help remind you that beautiful things exist and they’re tangible, the note reads. Happy birthday. 

Your mind goes to a conversation you had not long ago, about how photos can elicit certain emotions and be a keeper of memories, especially of good ones. You know this is from Jungkook, and you also have an idea of what this might be, which is why you open the package right away.

Still, it catches you by surprise, especially when you find two disposable film cameras inside. They’ll definitely be enough for your upcoming trip and you know the photos will come out amazingly. You’re ecstatic. 

Perhaps this is why he wanted to leave before you did - you’d thank him and he’d be terrible at accepting it again, then you’ll call him out for it. Maybe it was good he hadn’t stuck around to see you act this way. At least he didn’t see you with that silly smile on your face.

But Yoongi does as you head down the elevator, smirking at you when he sees the bag you’re holding and the familiar handwriting on the card.

“I’m guessing you’re not fighting it anymore, huh?” He says, teasing yet somehow still comforting. 

“I’m trying not to, even if I know I’m being stupid,” you admit. “I can at least have these fleeting moments of joy after I walk away from this.”

“Retain the good memories. That’s one way to let things go,” Yoongi advises, as he exits the carriage on the parking lot floor.

The doors close on your smiling face, and he chuckles to himself at the irony of things. That’s how he learned to let you go, after all.

You return to work the following week with a spring in your step, with Jungkook noticing as you heat up the fried rice that you told him you’d be preparing for breakfast. You hum as you go about in the kitchen, feeling energized after the last few days you’ve had. 

It was freezing, but you, Soomin, and Jimin went a little crazy and ran down the beach whenever you drove by one, something you all did as kids living in Busan. The drives from town to town were slow but they had you all singing to your favorite songs, munching on chestnuts and bungeoppang, and stopping over viewing sites for fresh air and photos. 

You used Jungkook’s gift a lot, taking pictures of things that elicited strong emotions and good memories - purple and orange skies, snow melting on the pavement, the crashing ocean waves turning white at the tip, an empty playground in the park, Soomin’s infectious laughter, Jimin’s angelic smile. 

The cold was an excuse to seek your best friends’ warmth and they took advantage of it. It reminded you of those few years growing up with them before you returned to Daegu for college, something you and Jimin reminisced about, and something that you thanked him for after what seemed like ages. You recalled how he approached you first as the new girl who entered school in the middle of the school year, how he followed you around because you were always alone and was scared of loud noises, and how he’s never left your side since then. 

Every night during that trip, he hugged you as you tried to fall asleep, knowing you needed it for the cold you felt inside and out. He was next to you when you talked about Jungkook gifting you the cameras and admitted that it made you feel good, that it made you happy.

“I’m glad he’s showing you kindness,” Jimin had said. “But… just be careful, okay? Your heart is capable of a lot of good things. Pain is the last thing it deserves.”

“I don’t really know what my heart is capable of,” you replied. “My brain does the hurting but my heart… I don’t know what it does. I don’t know how it works.” 

It left him speechless then and somehow, you were glad that he just held you tighter, only because it was the only way you wanted to be comforted at that moment. But you also knew that whatever your heart ended up doing or experiencing, Jimin and Soomin would be there to help you make sense of it, to pick up the pieces should they need to.

“It seems as though your birthday rejuvenated you, ___,” Jungkook disrupts your thoughts. “You look much lighter and relaxed.”

“Only because I haven’t checked my emails nor taken new instructions from you,” you laugh as you serve the fried rice in bowls then head towards him. You fix his suit again and speak casually like you’ve gotten used to. “Once I open that iPad and see what I have to deal with, relaxed would be the last thing I’ll be.”

“Fair enough,” he chuckles. “Let me savor this then.”

His words catch you off guard and they prompt you to meet his eyes - soft yet piercing, then he turns shy and turns away from you. Perhaps he’s surprised at what he’d said, too.

“Work is stressful and your calmness rubs off on me most times,” he says nonchalantly. “We’ve got a busy few days ahead and I want that calmness to linger.”

“It will,” you assure him. “And yes, I feel rejuvenated, and that’ll probably last me for days so that will linger, even if I’m stressed, so don't worry. You’re gonna do well. I don’t doubt it one bit.”

Jungkook’s meeting the Culture Minister next week to present the Arts Center’s plans and activities leading to its opening to the public, which is why you think he needs that calmness as well. The team has been helping him with the preparations and while you felt bad that you didn’t get to contribute as much, he assured you that all the notes you left him have been instrumental. 

But still, his words affect you. Is this calm and relaxed version of you all he wants to savor? Does it mean anything more? 

The thoughts wander away as you have breakfast with him, and he asks if you wish to talk about work later on but you insist that you’re mentally ready for it all. He’s the one who gives you updates this time, and just like that, you’re back to your usual routine.

You glance at his plate, all clean right after because even this dish, he savors. And you realize that doing things for him, no matter how simple, makes you happy, too, especially when his lips turn up in a small smile and he nods in satisfaction.

“Good, huh?” You wiggle your eyebrows. 

“It’s infinitely better than mine,” he hums.

“So, it’s really, really, really good then?”

“You don’t even know how mine tastes like.”

“True. But Taehyung said once that yours was really delicious and I’ll take his word for it. Seokjin agreed and I believe them.”

“Wow, really? That’s a rare moment where they praise me,” Jungkook laughs. 

“You should savor that, too.”

“I should. Heavens know the last time that happened. And when it’ll happen again.”

“That’s kind of hard though, isn’t it?” You say, being a bit reflective as you go back to your daily routine after a trip that you wholly enjoyed. “Savoring things… capturing them, appreciating them. Like, you have to be in the moment, you have to be present, and that’s not easy to do.”

“It isn’t,” he responds after a while. “You have to care enough for something to be worth savoring, I guess.”

“Exactly. But how do you do that when everything is temporary - things, feelings… people. Not all of them are meant to stay,” you reply, meeting his eyes as they seem to be in deep thought.

“Maybe they will… if you ask them to,” he softly says.

“That depends.”

“On what?” He asks.

“If they have a reason to,” you shrug. 

Your faraway eyes tell him that you’re in deep thought, perhaps processing the exchange that even Jungkook can’t fully wrap his head around. But you turn to him not long after, smiling as you take the plates to clean up, as if you’d just snapped out of a trance, of a moment of honesty. 

He watches you from his seat. There’s an aura about you that truly feels more relaxed, yet there seems to be an added layer of pensiveness, of deep thinking that could easily be mistaken for savoring the moment when you might be questioning it, perhaps wondering if it’s real… or worth caring about in the first place.

Even until now, he doesn’t know what it is about you that has him hanging on to every word you say, like it’s some secret message or code to learning who you are and what your fears and pains and hopes and dreams might be. 

In the past months, his moments with you have allowed him a peek inside - there’s this yearning for something that you’re not ready for; there’s this knowledge of the fleeting nature of the world that you want to capture as memories because that’s the only way you can make them stay; there’s this desire for companionship that terrifies you more than anything.  

But then again, as he sees that soft courage in your eyes, maybe he knows why - he has the same fears as you, and perhaps that’s terrifying, too, as he realizes that much of what he’s scared of is tangible. 

He fears the emptiness left in your absence and the silence surrounding him when you’re gone. His trip over the holidays made him think so; this past week when you were away solidified it. There’s a lot of you to miss. He’s unsure how to deal with these thoughts and feelings; he doesn’t know how to move forward and be professional when you affect him this way. All he can hope for is that you’ll always find a reason to stay close to him, that you’ll always find a reason to want him around, and that every moment you share is something worth it enough for you to savor but that you both never have to let go.

You think about the conversation with Jungkook later that night on your way home. There’s something about the impermanence of the world that’s always scared you; things break and wither away all the time and you fear the loss in their absence. Perhaps it’s because you’ve experienced various types of losses throughout your years of living. 

You lost that childhood innocence the first time you saw your mother cry, then when her smile that finally returned was wiped off, and then when her hopeful eyes became filled with tears out of fear. You lost that comfort of a routine when you left Seoul at 10 years old, and then that stability when you said goodbye to your life in Busan. You lost that security when you decided to come back here with a dream tucked away, burdened with a debt and a past that you couldn’t escape. You lost that feeling of freedom when your favorite library closed, and then of safety during that night at the restaurant when you were hurt and exposed. 

It’s hard to savor things when you know you’ll lose them one day. But that’s also precisely why you should, as what these past months have been showing you, you think now. The absence reminds you that something good was in its place, and that at one point in time, it made you hope that you deserved it, that you were worthy of having it. 

But as you lay in bed that night and think of how much of Jungkook you thought about while you were away, you start to think that maybe things aren’t as temporary as you once believed. He was in the icy streets that you walked on and the warmth of the hot chocolate drink you had. He was in the drizzle on the playground that you wiped off and the touch of the leather notebook you saw at one of the shops. 

And perhaps that was the difference - you didn’t just stand by; somehow it felt like you connected with them - they were tangible, within your grasp, and that made them linger, that made them feel real. In your mind, that’s where they stayed.

The tail-end of winter marks the time when you’ve settled in the new year. All your backlog from the holidays and your short birthday break have been worked on. Operational plans and goals for the year have been finalized. The Board report and meeting are over and major events have been scheduled. Things are picking up now as the Arts Center is near its completion, with the consequent promotions and marketing on full speed. That last bit has been contracted to a subsidiary company but Jungkook is still on top of most things, which means that so are you. 

You accompany him to meetings with different departments regularly, and that’s on top of monitoring the other small projects that the VP office is working on, which is also on top of supporting Jungkook’s executive functions. In a blink of an eye, you’re back to the hustle and bustle nature of your job, and you’re reminded of why it’s been so hard to get out of it, and also why you can’t wait to do so. 

There’s just so much going on all at once, and given how you are, you give all of yourself to it because it’s the only way to get things done; it’s the only way to get through it without feeling like you’re taking for granted all that you’ve been given and achieved. But it also means you’ve lost the sense of meaning of most other things, and you wanna be able to do something that means something to you, something of good memories, of beautiful things that are tangible that you can touch and feel. 

You let go of the thoughts when Do-hyun and Yohan pop in your area to say goodbye. It’s another long night for everyone and you’re glad that they finally listened to you and decided to go home. You say that you still have a couple of things to work on when they insist that they walk you to the bus stop, telling them once more that you’ll be fine. 

“It’s forecasted to rain soon,” Do-hyun informs you. 

“I’ll get a cab, don’t worry,” you assure them. “Finance needs these files first thing tomorrow morning and we’ve got that ocular at 8. Thank you though.” 

“Fine, but let us know when you’re home, okay?” She says.

“I will. Get home safely, you two.”

You get back to work, and with the peace and quiet in the office with you being the last one here, you manage to finish what you need to in an hour and then finally call it a night. You head out and sigh to yourself once you see the lightning strike, knowing that it wouldn’t be long before the rain will begin to pour. You manage to bring out your umbrella by the time it does, then turn at the corner to look for a cab so you can avoid those who’ll be hailing from the main road. 

There are a few people who have the same idea as you, and it’s after some time before you spot one, with the driver slowing down once he sees you. But right as you start speed walking towards it, some man decides to get ahead, running past you and bumping you in the process, causing you to lose your balance. The wet pavement doesn’t help, as you slip on your foot and fall to the ground. You try to get up but jerk in pain when you do, realizing that you’d hurt your ankle, a foreign feeling that has you immediately worrying. 

After all the times you’d found yourself under the rain, this is the worst moment of all - you’re hurting, all alone, and completely worn out. You’ve had a really long day and you don’t have the energy for this; all you want is to go home and have some rest. But you know there’s no other way, so you shift on your bum, manage to get up and strain your arms in the process, then you limp to the nearest post you can find using your umbrella as a walking stick then stand on one foot.

The rain has weakened a little, so you’re at least not getting even more wet, but it’s still winter and you’ve started to freeze. There are no other cabs in sight and all ride-hailing apps have been such a pain to book. Knowing that it’ll be tough to get home in any way at this stage and that you won’t be able to manage on your own, you decide to call Mr. Ri. He’s always told you that if you need help for anything, he’s another person that you could call.

It’s half past 8 in the evening. You’re banking on him being on the way home after having dropped Jungkook off at his building after a dinner meeting at 5:30.

“Hey, ___. Is everything alright?” Mr. Ri asks, knowing you rarely call at this hour. 

“Not really,” you sigh, the shiver in your voice evident. “Have you dropped Jungkook off?”

“Not yet. But what do you mean, not really? What happened?”

“Are you driving?”

“No. I’m still waiting for him to finish. Tell me, are you in danger?” He presses, and you hear the worry in his voice. 

You told him about Chi-won some weeks after it happened, and Mr. Ri, having known you for many years, knows you’re not one to usually reach out. He’s made it a point to check on you regularly, and calls like this would definitely ring some alarm bells. 

“I’m not in danger but I hurt myself,” you say, quickly appeasing him that it’s probably just a sprained ankle and not that serious. “I just can’t get any ride and I can barely walk. I was hoping you were on the way home.”

“I’m not but I’ll go get you, okay? I’ll tell Jungkook and we’ll drive to you right away.”

“Mr. Ri, he’s in a meeting!” 

“That’s most likely over and now they’re just chatting over drinks,” he reasons. “I’ll get him. You know he’ll want me to.”

“You don’t know that,” you stammer.

“You weren’t there with him the days after what happened that night at the restaurant, ___,” he huffs. “I just knew it was really bad because of how worried he was, and he’s never been that way. So yes, I know he’ll want me to get his ass out of there and be on the way to you. Plus, I’m sure he’ll fire me if I don’t.”

“Fine,” you concede. “Just don’t make it sound so bad because it really isn’t.”

“You know I can’t control how that kid reacts,” he hums. “Just send me your location.”

Mr. Ri heads out of the driver’s lounge and rushes to the restaurant where he manages to send a message to Jungkook that you’re stranded somewhere with possibly a sprained ankle. He says it as it is, knowing that Jungkook won’t need much to decide on ending the meeting and go to you, which he does right away.

“What happened?” He asks the older man as they both walk towards the basement parking.

“I don’t know. I didn’t ask any more questions,” Mr. Ri responds. “She’s somewhere near the office. We’ll be there in 20 minutes.”

“Try for 15,” Jungkook instructs.

He calls you right after and he immediately picks up on your chattering teeth.

“Hey, ___. How are you feeling?”

You’re a little surprised when Jungkook calls this soon, and with how you’re trying to move past whatever attraction you have towards the man, this really isn’t helping.

“Just… cold. My umbrella flew away,” you laugh. “The wind’s picked up and I think it’s gonna rain again.”

Just as you say so, it starts, and you pick up on the change in Jungkook’s voice. You’ve since learned that he’s not fond of it, always closing his eyes and trying to tune everything out with even just a drizzle. But he continues talking and asks what happened, trying to keep you company. You narrate the incident and attempt to play it off as something minor, although the longer you stay leaning against the post, the more pain you’re starting to feel. 

“We’re five minutes away. We’ll be there soon,” he assures you then drops the call.

Jungkook clenches his fist and closes his eyes as the rain continues to pour. With the sound of the thunder, he jerks in his seat like he always does, but he pushes forward, knowing you need his help. He takes deep breaths just as he’s learned to do, and not long after, Mr. Ri informs him that he sees you just meters away.

The car slows down and Jungkook looks outside the window. He can see you leaning against a pole on one foot, drenched and shivering, your eyes closed as you wait for them to arrive. He meets Mr. Ri’s eyes in the rear view mirror as they halt, and with the rain just barely stopping, the older man nods and exits the car.

Jungkook watches from inside as Mr. Ri runs to you. He sees the smile on your face despite the droplets on the window. The older man takes your bag then helps you walk, leading you to the car where Jungkook manages to push the door open. 

You slowly enter with as much energy you can muster, wincing in pain when you have to adjust your foot inside. You sigh in relief as you feel the warmth and dryness of the car, prompting you to apologize for getting it all wet.

“Don’t worry about it,” Jungkook shakes his head. “We’ll take you to the hospital, okay? And I won’t accept no for an answer.”

You nod in agreement, knowing that much as you’re causing him inconvenience right now, you’re too tired to argue. You lean your head by the window and try to catch your breath. 

“Have you had dinner? He asks.

“Not yet. I was supposed to grab it on the way home.”

“We’ll pass by somewhere after the hospital.”

“Okay,” you look at him and smile. 

Jungkook isn’t surprised when you don’t counter him. Perhaps it’s the exhaustion, as he sees it in how your smile isn’t as bright as what he’s used to, with it fading as you turn away. You’re still shivering though, despite the car heater being turned up. He doesn’t have a towel to dry you up, though, so he instead removes his coat and instructs you to lean forward so he can place it over your shoulders to warm your back. He takes his puffer jacket from the front seat and puts it over your lap right after, giving you warmth there, too. 

“Is that better?” He asks.

“Yeah,” you mouth. “Thank you.”

His scent wafts through your senses, allowing you to breathe and feel all of him at once. It’s the closest thing to tangible comfort you’ve gotten from him, and you hate how good it feels.

You’re just about to fall asleep when the car comes to a stop. The rain has subsided and perhaps that’s why soon after, you hear Jungkook open his door and then your door, too. He removes his coat over your back, placing it back inside, then he holds onto your forearms to help you climb out. He takes his jacket and instructs you to wear it, giggling at how you’re being swallowed in it.

“I look ridiculous,” you pout as you sit on the wheelchair that he’s asked the nurse to get.

“Just a little,” he teases.

He walks next to you as you’re wheeled inside the hospital, staying close by when you explain to the ER doctor what happened. She assesses your foot and lower leg, diagnosing you with a sprained ankle like you expected, and proceeds to wrap it in elastic bandage. 

She treats the minor scratches on your palms you got from the fall then writes you a prescription for painkillers. Jungkook takes it so he can buy them for you after, then he helps you settle the bill with your insurance. 

You’re quite uncomfortable - you’re still a little wet and the bandage feels foreign around your foot. But you’re also feeling a bit shy, now that Jungkook is the one pushing the wheelchair towards the pharmacy nearby. He parks you at the side while he buys the medicine, and as you look on, you can’t help the relief mixed with giddiness that you feel despite the pain that’s close to overtaking you.

He stands by the counter with his white dress shirt slightly untucked and the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. His hands are in his pockets while he waits for the pharmacist to return, and amidst everything that’s going on, you’re still able to admire how overwhelmingly handsome he looks, especially given what he’s doing right now for you. His side view is quite blinding, so you’re slightly embarrassed when he turns around and calls your name again after you missed it the first few times.

“Dazed and tired?” He asks as he walks back to you with a pack of medicines.

“Definitely,” you say, which isn’t a lie; it’s just not the whole truth. “I just want to eat and have a nice bath and then sleep.”

“And you’ll do all that soon,” he assures you. “We’ll pass by whatever’s open on the way to your place. Just make sure you don’t have the hot water on, okay? And then elevate your foot when you sleep.”

“Yes, I heard everything she said,” you playfully roll your eyes. 

“Including the full-on rest that’s required of you for the next few days?” He raises an eyebrow. “Because that’s what you’re gonna have. You’re on leave until you’re able to walk properly again, Ms. Cho.”

“So now you’re being formal,” you tease, flashing him a playful smile. “But yes, Mr. Jeon. The instructions are understood.”

“Good,” he laughs softly. “Glad you’re not being stubborn about it.”

“Oh, not with this one, not when I’m this tired and in this much pain.”

His look turns sullen at the admission of what you’re feeling and you wish he didn’t feel this bad. But you can’t deny the way it’s giving you butterflies, prompting you to scold yourself internally because learning how caring he is isn’t exactly what you need to get over a crush. This is definitely the worst part about being injured, you decide. 

You make it out of the hospital and he helps you again as you enter the car, sliding in next to you as he ensures that you’re warm. 

You pass by a noodle house on the way, and he buys you some more food for the next day despite your insistence that he didn’t have to. But you’re too tired to argue some more, and you doze off a little during the drive to your apartment, with your half-awake self mumbling your apology about taking up his time.

Jungkook playfully shakes his head. Knowing you’re probably shallow sleep-talking, he disregards your words. He just gets glimpses of you, comforted to know that you’re at least getting the most rest you can have, given your current state. The painkillers will kick in soon and that’ll help you sleep better, but right now, he wishes he could do more for you. 

In the deepest crevices of his heart, he wants to hold your still shivering hands and maybe hug your trembling body. He wants to stay with you until you’re warm and comfortable in your bed, perhaps assure you in whatever way that you’re not alone, that there’s help whenever you need it. He can’t imagine how it would’ve been like for you being under the rain, cold and hurt with no one around. 

On second thought, he can, and that’s the thing about it. Even if you get out of it with just a sprained ankle - considering how much worse it could’ve been - it’s still terrifying being alone and powerless, paralyzed on the spot and not knowing if anyone will show up. He wants nothing more than for you to get over that and be able to move past it because he knows how haunting it could be; he knows how restraining such memories are.

But he also knows that there’s not much he could do - not with the unnamed feelings he can’t express, and not with the line he still believes he shouldn’t cross.

So he settles for glances and soft smiles at your fluttering eyes and slightly parted mouth. You look tired but peaceful; he thinks it’s quite endearing. It also feels intrusive so he looks away, out into the streets that he’s able to somehow see now. He thinks about the timing of it all - your late night and his dinner out, your injury and the bad weather. He’s thankful that the rain subsided and that allowed him to help you as much as he was able to, and that he got to you in the first place.

You arrive at your apartment with you now fully awake, and Jungkook heads to your side right away. Pulling you out of the car requires more strength from him, and despite your terrible condition, the butterflies appear once more when he instructs you to hold onto him for support. You have to act unaffected when you feel his broad shoulders and taut arms, with your hands gingerly laying on them; you wonder if he feels anything, too, under the thin material of his dress shirt. 

His left hand only grazes your waist but his hold tightens after you grant him permission, perhaps knowing that it would be harder for you if he holds you that loose, he asked you to put your weight on him after all. Despite your agreement, you still hold in your breath, a silly attempt at slowing down your quickening heartbeat. He’s never been this close, and you’re unsure if you want him to be anywhere else.

You suspend your thoughts for the shortest of seconds until you both manage to get up the few steps to your door. Mr. Ri helps in unlocking it, and you settle on the dining chair that Jungkook pulls out for you after you both enter.

As you release a breath and watch him look around, it’s then you realize that your boss - the Jeon Corporation Vice President who lives in a penthouse in an exclusive district in Seoul - is in your tiny studio apartment that’s literally just the size of his bedroom. You’re not ashamed one bit but you are a little shy, so you jokingly welcome him to your “little mansion.”

“It’s nice,” he hums, looking around some more, which he doesn’t need to move to do. 

The small round dining table, the off-the-wall kitchen, and the three-seater couch are all in the open living space. There’s a half-wall that separates your sleeping area, with your double bed against it and the tiniest of balconies just off of it. 

You’re quite proud of what you’ve made of the place, with the plants in the corners, some chic art pieces on the walls, and photos with your friends and family on stick-on frames resting on the shelves. It’s cozy and comfortable for you, and you feel quite proud when Jungkook’s lips turn up when you respond that you’re happy here when he asks.

“It’s everything I need,” you hum. “And it’s in a safe part of town. My neighbors are older couples who are all kind.”

“That’s good,” he says, turning to you. “Will they be much help to you while you recover?”

“I’ll be okay,” you insist. “I have a crutch. I’ve got food to heat up, and my place is so small that I don’t have to move around to get things done. I don’t really need help, you know?”

He scrunches his eyebrows, seemingly unconvinced. 

“Watch,” you say, your shallow confidence pushing you to grab the crutch next to you then using it to walk towards him so you could prove that you’re capable enough to look after yourself. 

But your unfamiliarity with it leads you to mistime your step. Before you know it, you’re tripping on your foot and losing your balance, and as your life is about to flash before your eyes thinking that you’re gonna fall once again and make your injury worse, Jungkook’s reflex kicks in and he steps forward to catch you. You feel his grip on your waist gradually tighten as if to keep you steady, as if to make sure you’re alright. He’s so close, you can feel his breath as he pants, the worried look on his face something you’re familiar with by now. But he stays there, inches away, and so do you. 

He’s bending, so he stays leveled with you. You can see his long eyelashes resting on his honeyed skin and the endearing curve of his nose. He looks so soft like this, comfortable even, with his big round eyes looking like the most innocent ones you’ve ever seen.

The voice in your head suddenly becomes loud enough and you break his gaze, realizing then that you’re also clutching onto his shoulder for support. You give him a look of apology but he just laughs, something you’re thankful for because the last thing you want is for the tension to thicken.

“You’re stubborn, aren’t you? You think it’s that easy?” He shakes his head, his tone sounding like he’s both teasing and reprimanding you.

“It seemed like it,” you shrug, allowing him to help you back on the seat, disregarding the slightest bit of giddiness you feel as he has one hand on your free arm while the other ghosts over your waist in case you fall again.

“It’s not. And I know this because I’ve used this before,” he says. “So since you’ll be by yourself, we have to make sure you can at least use the crutch without falling, okay?”

“Fine,” you concede, listening to his instructions carefully then trying to do it on your own. 

It takes some getting used to, but after a few tries, you manage to at least walk without tripping. You plan on just staying in bed or on the couch tomorrow anyway so you’re not that worried. Even if Jungkook still seems to be.

“I’m okay,” you insist. “I’m gonna survive. But you should head home. It’s getting late and you have that ocular in the morning. I’ll just have to email Chin-sun about accompanying you and—”

“None of that,” he interjects. “I’ll be the one to tell her and I don’t want you worrying about work tomorrow, okay? You’re gonna take your medicine and just rest.”

“You’re demanding, aren’t you?” You raise an eyebrow.

“Only when I’m dealing with someone as stubborn as you,” he counters. 

You just laugh at him answering back, enjoying your banter more than you should, then he says that he’ll go ahead, for as long as you’re sure you can manage. It takes another five minutes until he makes it out the door. But before he disappears, you call his name, your heart skipping a beat when he turns around, as if he’s just hanging onto your every word.

“Thank you,” you say. “I know it was a long day and it was raining but… you still came for me.”

“Just recover quickly, okay? I’ll check on you in the morning.”

You nod and he leaves. And just like that, you’re once again on your own - damp, injured, and extremely tired. Jungkook’s presence remains in your apartment though, and there he is again, making you smile and making you feel things you shouldn’t.

You don’t mind being alone. In fact, you enjoy it. But during the times when you don’t want to be, he just happens to be there. And being the stubborn woman that you are, deep down, you like it that he is, that in your own little world with the walls up so high, he’s become a frequent visitor. You’re just not sure if you want him to stay just yet. 

You wake up the next morning feeling faint and sore, and it’s probably the painkillers having lost their effect. And there’s a reason why, seeing that it’s close to midday when you finally get out of bed. You manage to stand and walk to the kitchen with no issues, and you take your medication and heat up the food that Jungkook bought for you last night. It’s when you’re seated that he calls, bringing that smile to your otherwise uneventful day.

“Hello?”

“Hey, ___. How are you feeling?” He asks.

“Just fine. I took my medicines for the day and I’m about to eat lunch,” you reply. “And you? How was the ocular?”

“It was good. It has a lot of potential so I’ll run down the details with the teams and propose it. But speaking of sites, remember what I said about Hoseok and I thinking of a Scandinavian-inspired mid-rise in the mountains?”

“Yeah, the one you came up with during your trip. Are you gonna push through with it soon?”

“Perhaps. I’ve gotten emails of proposed sites for some other projects but I’ve seen a few that could work with this idea,” he shares. “There’s one in Gangwon that’s near the town center so it would be practical for many. There’s even— ah, why am I saying this to you now? You’re off the clock.”

“It’s okay,” you assure him. Jungkook doesn’t always show this much excitement with the projects he has to manage so when he does, you encourage him. It’s also an excuse to hear more of his voice. “My mind’s not prepared for being home today anyway so I’m a little disoriented. But that’s good. I can look into the sites and we can do an ocular whenever you prefer.”

“Alright, that’s something to schedule for next month. But uh, you sure you’re fine? Does your ankle still hurt? Did you get proper sleep?”

“Well, I slept like a baby,” you giggle. “And I at least remained in one position. It still hurts a bit but it should be okay in the next few days. I’m just gonna have to replace the bandage tomorrow morning.”

“Okay. Just make sure to ice it and keep it elevated.”

“Yes, boss,” you tease, earning you a groan. “But uh, thank you for checking up on me. I know you’ve got a busy day ahead.”

He’s silent, and you suppose it’s him again not knowing how to respond to gratitude, so you follow it up by saying that you’ll eat your meal now and reminding him of his meeting at 2PM.

“You better not be checking your emails and my calendar right now,” he warns.

“I’m not. I just memorize your schedule,” you defend.

“Okay then, I’ll go ahead.”

Jungkook drops the call and sinking in his seat, he sighs in relief. He managed to get through that conversation without sounding extremely worried, which is what he’s been since last night. His busy day today actually includes constantly worrying about how you’re doing, but he supposes it’s too much to let you know. Sure it’s just a sprained ankle, but knowing how you tend to move about, anything can happen. You were all alone for some time last night, too, just waiting for a way to get home. And that’s another thing he worries about - that fear latching onto you, that helplessness weighing you down.

He asks Mr. Ri if he’s heard from you, thinking that you’d probably be more honest with him, but the older man says you told him the same thing.

“Don’t you believe her?” Mr. Ri wonders.

“I do, but she’s quite stubborn though,” Jungkook laments. 

“Well, I’ve known her for a while and she tends to just deal with things on her own,” Mr. Ri says.

“But she shouldn’t. She’s injured.”

“I think it’s natural for people who’ve been alone for many years to be that way,” the older man shrugs. “I mean, you’re the same.”

Jungkook doesn’t disagree. And if you’re truly anything like him, then you’d just push through the pain and force it to stop hurting so you can go back to your normal busy life because doing so keeps you from thinking of how lonely it feels when you’re sick or hurt and there’s no one around. It’s how he’s always been, too, he admits to himself.

The thought disturbs him, which is why he messages you three more times during the day and then again the next morning, asking if he could drop by. He’s expecting you to insist that you’re fine and he doesn’t need to, so it surprises him when you say that he could. 

You’re pacing back and forth in your mind since you’re unable to physically do so, but the thought of Jungkook visiting you this Saturday morning is a lot for you to handle, even if you did say it was alright for him to come. The truth is, you wanted him to, only because selfishly, seeing someone be that worried about you gives you some form of comfort.

You called your family yesterday and told them about the injury, which they obviously panicked about. Your mom asked if you needed her to come to you but like always, you said she didn’t need to. You told Yoongi about it, too, and he was worried as well, in the classic way that he often is; he had food delivered to you for dinner last night so you didn’t have to think about it. You only told your best friends about it this morning and they were furious you waited so long to let them know; they were packing their stuff right as you were speaking to them two hours ago. 

You know you have people to depend on and would be at your doorstep anytime you ask. These are the same people who’ve done that for years and you fully accept their care and attention; it’s become a part of you and your healing process. But when someone like Jungkook who, for whatever reason he has, shows you the same, it feels different; he goes out of his way to show it to you, and he’s not even someone who normally does it. It’s a new kind of comfort, one that you find yourself seeking. So when he called earlier and asked if he could drop by, there was an internal sigh of relief. 

Over half an hour later, your doorbell rings, and you limp your way towards the door to open it. 

Other than being in suits, you’ve only ever seen Jungkook in his gym clothes - half naked as well - and in night out wear. You realize that this is the first time you’re seeing him in a casual outfit, and with a jacket over a sweatshirt and a brown beanie, he looks different - there’s that boyish charm that you’ve never seen; he looks softer, kinder, still reserved but a lot more comfortable.

You let him in after your greetings, then you turn to him and smile. 

“It’s really the suit, I know it now,” you tease. “It’s what makes you look intimidating.”

He looks at his attire then frowns at you. “So how do I look now?”

“Not intimidating.”

“Wow, what a surprise,” he playfully rolls his eyes. “Whereas you…” He eyes you in gray leggings and a blush jumper, looking soft and comfortable and even more like the bright spot he’s realized you are, but he’d never tell you that. “You look injured.”

“Gee, what a surprise. I feel injured, too,” you laugh. “But uhm, it’s nice of you to visit my humble mansion once again.”

“I just wanted to make sure you’re doing better,” he hums. “And bring some more food so you don’t have to worry about it.”

You eye the beef brisket with rice and say that you know what you’ll be having for lunch. He responds that he might just go back to the restaurant and meet his best friends there, too. You return to your seat on the couch, realizing there’s not much room for him to sit on, but he gets to you first, standing in front of you and eyeing the elastic bandage on the table.

“Aren’t you due for a redress?” He asks.

“Yes but uh, I can’t actually reach my foot,” you say with an embarrassed smile. “I’m not really flexible so I’ll just wait until Soomin and Jimin arrive.”

“I can do it,” he offers, thinking that the bandage isn’t serving its purpose if it remains loose. “I mean, I’ve dressed myself on my own before so I’m familiar with it.”

It’s probably the painkillers but something possesses you and you agree, your mind too out of it to take the words back. A part of you wishes you had, especially when your heart does a thing when he kneels on the floor and slowly takes your injured foot. You wiggle your toes in reflex, as if they’re shy, too, and Jungkook laughs at your silly antics, especially when you admit that you’re a little ticklish. 

But he softly looks at you right after and asks if he’s hurting you, and you shake your head, unable to say anything else and process that you really allowed this man - your boss and in-denial crush - to do this. 

You sit there, charmed by the way he looks determined to get this done. He removes the old bandage and wipes your ankle before wrapping it with a new one. His hands are large and quite rough but he’s very gentle, making sure to not lift your foot too high and that the bandage isn’t wrapped too tightly. Once he’s finished, he lays it on the table and looks up at you to ask if it feels okay.

“Yes,” you shyly smile. “Thank you. That was, uh, that was really nice of you.”

He nods and stands up to throw the trash in the bin, wanting to quickly hide his smile at how wholesome you looked in thanking him. 

He proceeds to look around, taking more of your home in. There’s something very calming about it, and it’s more than just the plants that you have and the right amount of sunlight coming from the balcony door and kitchen window. There’s also something familiar, as he looks through your shelf of photos, seeing your mom and her partner for the first time. She looks a lot like you. She has a nice smile like yours, and she sees that same joy on her face as he’d seen on you, as she hugs you tightly in one of the pictures. 

The familiarity is similar to when he first had a whiff of your scent - old rose like the one his mother used to wear, one he remembers as a child when he still clung to her. There are those memories that stick with him. Others he doesn’t have anymore but that’s good, he supposes. Seeing your shelf, he sees all the good and tangible things you hold dear. 

“The photo on the far right, the one with Soomin and Jimin. We took that during my birthday trip using your gift,” you tell him. “It came out really nicely.”

“It did. Did you finish the film? What else did you take photos of?”

“We used it all up,” you smile. “And just a lot of the scenery and the three of us. We all divided them so we could have copies and just remember how fun that week was.”

“Good, that’s what I hoped.”

Jungkook stands there, his jacket now off so his sleeves are rolled up to his elbows and his hands are in his pockets as he looks through your shelf. You wonder what he’s thinking, what he’s seeing, if any of this makes him curious. It’s as if he’s taking in all the small parts of who you are that he can see displayed before him. He turns to you and your eyes meet again, and for a moment, it feels like you’re really seeing him and he’s really seeing you, like there’s something only both of you share and understand and want and can give.

But the doorbell ringing disrupts it, with you wondering who it could be since your best friends won’t arrive until an hour from now. Jungkook walks to the door and opens it, surprised to see Yoongi who’s just as surprised to see his friend in your apartment.

“Hey, you’re back. And… here,” you smile, attempting to stand up but Yoongi tells you to stay put. 

“I flew home last night and thought I’d visit and get you some food, but it seems like I’m second in line,” he says, his smug face causing you to glare at him. 

“I just wanted to make sure she was okay,” Jungkook defends. “I won’t stay long.”

“Of course you do. And I won’t stay long either. I don’t wanna disturb anything.” 

He smirks at his friend, prompting Jungkook to glare at him as well. 

“Yah, chill, you two. I’m really just passing by,” Yoongi reiterates, making his way now to sit on the arm of your sofa. “Just wanted to check on ___ and make sure she’s well-fed.”

“I’m injured, not starving, okay?” You groan. “But thanks. What have you got there?”

“Noodles, custard buns, and some tarts. Wasn’t sure what you’re into when you’re incapacitated,” Yoongi shrugs. 

“I’m very much mobile,” you correct him. “Just… slow and limping.”

Jungkook pulls your dining chair and sits in front of you, and the three of you talk as if this isn’t weird at all. You’re all colleagues - you and Jungkook consider Yoongi as your friend, but you don’t know if you should consider your boss as such, and you don’t know if he considers you the same. You’ve definitely experienced a lot of things that could qualify what you have as friendship, but even then, there’s something more about it, something a little more intimate, different, terrifying.

You brave through this dynamic and learn that Yoongi likes to tell Jungkook off a lot. It’s the kind of bluntness you expect from Yoongi’s no-nonsense attitude but it’s refreshing to see him be more straightforward towards someone like Jungkook who you’re used to seeing as commanding and serious. Jungkook takes the hits, seemingly unbothered as they bicker, and it’s another side of him you enjoy seeing - the smiles and laughter are natural, and there’s this comfort about him that you suddenly want more of.

The time passes quickly, with the doorbell ringing again signaling that your friends have arrived. Yoongi gets up first to open the door, greeting them who do the same. You manage to stand up with Jungkook telling you to be careful, and when it dawns on them who else is in your apartment, Jimin’s face turns sour and Soomin’s goes from confused to amused. 

Jungkook looks taken aback by the cold welcome, but he manages to introduce himself to them.

“Oh, we know,” Jimin says dryly. “You’re the one who gives her so much work that she had to do overtime again and that’s why she got hurt.”

You feel the tension come like a strong wave and you try to lower the level a little bit. 

“He also brought me to the hospital and got me some food,” you tell Jimin, whose bitterness isn’t unfounded. He did listen to you complain about this very man all those months ago. “He’s just checking up on me, making sure I’m alright, the way you guys are.”

“As we should,” Jimin huffs. “At least we don’t cause you any injury or pain.”

“You don’t. But you do make things better so could you do that, please?” You say, opening your arms for a hug, something to appease him before it gets even more tense. 

Jimin has the sweetest smile but wouldn’t be afraid to burn anyone down with his looks if they deserve it. Jungkook did at one point, but you obviously feel very differently about that now. But still, you glance at the man, hoping this encounter isn’t putting him off too much, and with the slight tinge of guilt in his eyes, you suppose it hasn’t.

Jungkook turns away, partly because a reminder of how he’d treated you before makes him regret even more how you both started, and partly because seeing you affectionate with any man - even if it’s your best friend - makes him a tiny bit jealous, only because it’s something he can’t be with you. Seeing you that way with Hajoon months ago was different; Jungkook had been more shocked than anything. But this time, given that his attraction towards you seems to grow every second, and that he’s been wanting nothing more than to comfort you, there’s more of that feeling of loss, of hope that it could be him one day, even if that’s something that’ll probably never happen.

“I know you dislike him but tone it down for now, okay?” You whisper to Jimin. “My place is too small to contain all this tension.”

“I know, I’m sorry. Seeing him just reminds me of what you had to go through because of him,” he says before pulling away. “But he did help. And well, Soo and I are still upset that you didn’t tell us sooner. You know we would’ve driven here on Thursday night.”

“I know, and that’s exactly why. You both had something big going on and I could wait,” you reply, a reason you give them everytime. 

Wanting a short breather from all this, you excuse yourself and ask Soomin to help you with something in the bathroom, and she heads there right away.

“Can you make sure that those two don’t murder each other?” You whisper to Yoongi as you gesture towards Jimin and Jungkook.

“It would be entertaining if they did, but yes, I’ll try,” he chuckles.

You walk to where Soomin is and after closing the door, she looks at you with the same amusement that she’s had since she arrived.

“What in the romance drama is this!” She exclaims, lowering her voice when you scold at her to keep it down. “All your three men coming to your home to make sure you’re okay? Talk about making an impression.”

“They aren’t my men, okay!” You scowl at her. “They all just happened to have the same thought. And no, Jimin doesn’t count.”

“Whatever,” Soomin laughs. “It’s just… I know you’re hurt and that you’ll be okay but it’s just amusing to see them show up for you like this. Especially the big boss. He’s way hotter up close, I can tell you that.”

“Please don’t remind me,” you frown. “I wish there was a potion I could take to make him look unattractive to me so that I’d stop being so giddy at everything he does. And fuck, Soo, I haven’t been like this in ages. Or ever.”

“Well, you haven’t been this accepting of someone’s attention, that’s for sure.”

“Yeah, and I’m being silly. I might just be putting myself up for disappointment here,” you groan. “I mean, I don’t even know what I’m feeling, but I know what I’m not supposed to feel. And he’s not making it any easier.”

“Your situation isn’t easy in the first place, hun. And there are many reasons why,” she sighs, wishing there was a way to uncomplicate this very complicated relationship you have with Jungkook. “But whatever it is you think you shouldn’t feel, think about what he may be feeling, too. He wouldn’t be making all this effort since Thursday night for this to just be nothing.”

“I wish none of that means anything. That’s probably gonna be easier, right? That he doesn’t feel anything remotely close to what I do? That’s probably better than dealing with all the complications.”

“Maybe, but we don’t really know,” Soomin says, pulling you in for a hug. “But also think about how new and different this feels. It might be worth it in the long run.”

You fall into her embrace, knowing that during the toughest times of your life, this was your saving grace. It’s no different when you’re confused and in need of guidance, and though you’ve always made decisions for yourself with knowledge of the consequences, Soomin was there to back you up during the times when you were going in somewhat blindly. She wants you to be happy, and you won’t really know if continuing to feel what you do about Jungkook will make you so. If all else fails, well, you could always go back home, or maybe return to Busan and start a life there. Jungkook will just be a memory; you hope to the heavens it’ll be a good one.

You shake away the thoughts and finally go back out and are relieved to find some peace. Jimin’s washing your dishes while talking to Yoongi who wipes them dry. Jungkook sits on your sofa, looking around quietly, but he stands when he sees you approach him. 

“I’ll go ahead,” he says, gesturing towards the door. “I… I think you’ve got everything you need.”

“Let me walk you there,” you smile. 

He’s outside the door when you thank him again then apologize if Jimin made him uncomfortable.

“It’s okay. I’d be protective of my best friend, too, if I learned how their boss treated them,” he responds.

“I, uh… those were hard times and I may have complained quite a bit about you,” you pout. “I’m so sorry.”

“I’m sure I deserved it,” he chuckles. “You’re lucky you have them. I mean, my best friends tease me a lot and say shit about me to my face and behind my back.”

“Oh come on, Seokjin and Taehyung love you,” you laugh. “I’ve seen it, but you all also said you’re like that to each other; it’s how you guys grew up. I mean, I was the new girl in school and Jimin and Soomin have been protective since day one, whereas your best friends have shown you tough love since you were kids. They said you never accepted their affection so they switched tactics.”

“That’s fair. I was always shy and then turned into a bitter, introverted child. There was no transition, I guess. Now we’re adults and have just stuck with each other because we’re all we’ve ever known.”

“Well, you make decisions to stand by people, Jungkook. They do with you and you do the same with them. Plus, you’re not that insufferable,” you tease. 

“At least you don’t think so. Not anymore, I hope,” he says softly, looking away. 

“People deserve second chances. You gave me some and more and I… I’m glad you did. I at least get to see this side of you that’s helped me a lot these past months. I’m thankful. And I hope you know that.”

Jungkook just nods, unable to reply through words again. You let him, knowing it’s his default response. He walks to his car and turns around for a final goodbye, leaving you in anticipation for when you’d be with him again.

“Well, that was a long goodbye,” Yoongi says, surprising you as he stands behind you. “And no, I didn’t hear anything.”

You turn to him with a playful frown. “I was just making sure that Jimin didn’t make him feel too bad. I mean, I know I complained a lot but still. I didn’t want Jungkook to think I cursed his existence or something.”

“You did at one point though,” Yoongi laughs. “But it’s acceptable. Jungkook was rude, and heavens know how much shit I gave him for treating you the way he did.”

“You did, huh?”

“I always told you I’d look out for you, ___. Whatever happened or didn’t happen between us, I was always going to have your back.”

“You’re heaven-sent, Min Yoongi,” you smile. “I wish I could do half as much as you do for me.”

“You do more. I hope you don’t ever doubt the comfort that your presence gives to people. Maybe that’s what it’s done to Jungkook. And I know he hasn’t felt much of that in years.”

It’s Yoongi’s last words before he says goodbye, and they stay in your head for the next few days. Maybe Soomin’s right - all that Jungkook has been doing might mean something, and you hope that finding out what it is will all be worth it.

Jungkook decides to meet with his friends at one of his favorite restaurants for lunch. All he planned on doing today was visit you and he has nothing else going on for the rest of it. The club scene has become boring for him, and going to one only to bring home a woman to hook up with is no longer appealing, not when you invade his mind all the time.

Being welcomed in your home was refreshing. And even if it was awkward, meeting your friends allowed him another peak into your world. You choose the people you allow in, and you don’t choose many of them. The ones you do stay for a long time, and that’s the kind of person you seem to be. You value relationships so much that’s why you don’t have many of them, and with all that you went through and the vulnerability you’ve both shown each other, he’s started to hope that one day, he’d be deserving of that, too. 

“So did you feel like a fish out of water being there with her actual friends?” Seokjin asks. “Because I don’t know what you’d consider your relationship with her is. Boss-assistant feels too simplistic at this point. Are you friends? Are you more? Or is that all too ambiguous?”

“I don’t… know,” Jungkook sighs. “We’re all that but we also aren’t. We’ve gone through so much that it doesn’t seem like there’s a way to define what we are. But I feel like I’ve seen her at her most vulnerable and we’ve connected because of that.”

“And what about you? Have you been vulnerable in front of her?” Seokjin asks.

Has he? Jungkook thinks. Maybe that first time he asked for your help with his new role but he supposes it’s nothing compared to what you’ve shown him, intentional or not.

“Not really. I… I don’t let myself be. That’s still distance I need to establish,” Jungkook reasons.

“More like, because you know that if you do show that side of you, you’re scared you’ll find out that she’ll understand, and that having her next to you is what you need to heal whatever parts of you that are still hurting?” Seokjin counters. 

“I don’t want to need her, you know that. There’s a boundary I shouldn’t cross. She’s my assistant and—”

“You’ve been treating her like the most important person and it’s not hard to miss,” Taehyung interjects. “You were never like this, not since Chaerin.”

“I don’t even know what it is about ___ that just makes me consider risking things, you know?” Jungkook sighs. “I’m always torn with what our reality is and what we could be but I’m afraid that if we cross that line, we’ll have to make sacrifices. I… I’m finding myself wanting her around all the time. When she leaves, I want her to stay. When she’s not there, I want her to come. But at the same time, I don’t want her too close because I don’t know if I can have her or if I can want her. Because I don’t know what of me I can give that won’t hurt her,” he admits, with a bit of help from some whiskey.

“Maybe if you let yourself be vulnerable, you’d know,” Seokjin advises. “Some people would run and hide but there’s always that one person who wouldn’t. That might just be her. And then you’ll learn what you can give, too.”

Jungkook lets his friends’ words settle and then thinks about them throughout the night that he spends all alone in his penthouse, with another glass of whiskey in his hand as he looks out the balcony. A part of him wants you to run and hide when you see who he really is, what he hides and what he’s ashamed of. Maybe that would be easier, he thinks; maybe that would hurt less.

You return to work the next Tuesday, having gone to the hospital the day before and being cleared to return to your usual routine. Jimin and Soomin stayed with you until that evening, with you rejecting their insistence to stay another day. You can manage, you assure them. You’re able to walk properly now and would just need to do daily exercises, wear the elastic bandage for another week, and forego the heels. 

Jungkook’s pleased to know that you’re doing better and makes sure you don’t walk around if you don’t need to, so he’s been the one going to see you when he needs something. He also postponed some potential site visits for the project that he and Hoseok are working on until you’re fully capable, which is why it’s three weeks later when you find yourself in the car with him, on the way to some towns in nearby provinces on an early Friday morning. 

Mr. Ri called in sick today and Jungkook didn’t want to deal with a chauffeur he doesn’t know, so he decided to drive instead, thinking it’s more efficient that way. These are all initial checks and being that you’re the only one from his team who’s privy to the details, he wanted you to join him as a sounding board and also to get your own thoughts about what you’ll be seeing. He has a vision in mind and he needs to translate it properly; you’ve been helpful these past months in making sure he’s able to do that.

Disregarding what this time alone with you would do to him, Jungkook meets you in his penthouse, telling himself to focus on only one thing today, and that’s finding the right place for his planned project. 

You leave early for a quick stop at a cafe and then head north to some towns in Gyeonggi province. There are some properties and land that are up for sale, and you prepared the information about them beforehand, allowing Jungkook to play around with the timeline and budget in his mind, even drawing rough drafts on his iPad as he assesses them. You’re both in work-mode, discussing each site on the way to the next one, with you searching for more details along the way and him, stopping on the side of the road to add an idea that he comes up with on the spot. 

It’s a little chaotic, as his mind goes from one thing to another, but you suppose this is how Jungkook naturally is. You’ve seen him perform his duties in various ways, but this is when you see the most raw side of him, and it’s quite the privilege to see. He always said he preferred the creative aspect of the job, which is why he enjoyed his time in Singapore, handling the design department. You contend that he’s grown tremendously in his executive role. As Hoseok has said, Jungkook relates to his staff better now, and has even engaged and attracted more partners with his great ideas.

You’re quite sentimental going on this trip with him. It wasn’t long ago when you were going to work with anxiety, anticipating his next criticism so you can prepare yourself, and then going home feeling like a failure. So much has happened since then, and you could even say that you’ve found comfort in your daily routines; doing something different like this is now exciting and something you look forward to, especially since it allows you to go outside, see the sights, and breathe the cool air. 

“You okay there?” He asks, noticing your silence.

“Yeah. I was just thinking how 10 months ago, this would’ve stressed me out so much.”

“What? Going on a road trip?”

“Pretty much going anywhere with you,” you laugh. “Car rides even with Mr. Ri made me freak out, and I was so scared to make a mistake or make you wait for information that I couldn’t find. And now here we are - I survived the last five hours with you and not once did you groan at me.”

“Wow, I must’ve been a really terrible boss to make your standard for a non-stressful day to be that low,” he laughs before turning serious. “But I… I’m… I’m sorry, for all the stress and anxiety that I caused you. I was being selfish and irrational about it. I hate change and you were the biggest one, even with my new role. I took out all the frustration on you and I shouldn’t have.”

He says more than he expected, but it’s also the apology that he should’ve given—that you deserved —months ago. 

“I forgive you,” you say softly, glancing at him before returning your eyes towards the road. “I always knew my limits and I guess I let you push it and that was on me. I could’ve stood up to you, too.”

“You did though, more than once. And that knocked some sense into me.”

“I guess,” you hum. “And then things improved and I’m just glad they did.”

There’s a prolonged silence after, as you both opt to bask in the scenery around you. There’s that understanding and acceptance of how things were and that regardless of what’s going on in your own minds, you at least have this. You think to yourself that this just makes leaving that much harder, but at least this is one more memory you could take with you.

You make it to Hwacheon in Gangwon past noon, and this is where you spend most of your time in, as the sites are spread out around the county. There are areas tucked away in the mountains while there are those closer to town with grand views. It’s in the latter where you grab some lunch and go through some of his plans, and you take in his ideas, learning from him in the process. 

It’s late in the afternoon when you inspect the final site, which is in an area in the neighboring Chuncheon county. It’s got potential for another project that CEO Jeon is looking to do, and with your notes completed, you and Jungkook start the trip back home. You would reach the tail-end of the Friday night traffic by the time you return to Seoul, the GPS says, and so both of you savor the sky’s changing colors as it transitions to the evening, letting the soft sounds of the radio replace the silence.

Barely 30 minutes in, the rain starts to pour, and it’s seconds later when it dawns on you what that means, as you hear heavy breathing next to you. You turn to Jungkook whose hands are tightly gripping the wheel, with sweat lining his eyebrows despite the cool temperature.

“Did the forecast say it was gonna rain?” He asks, the mix of panic and frustration evident in his voice. 

“Yes, but not until late in the evening,” you say, checking your phone to make sure you got the correct information. 

Your heart breaks upon realizing that at midday, the weather station warned that there was going to be a thunderstorm, with rainfall coming in around this time. You inform Jungkook, and despite all the progress in your relationship, your heart breaks a second time when he says that you should’ve constantly checked, that the weather changes all the time and you should’ve been mindful, and that now you’re both gonna be stuck on the road because he’s unable to drive and you don’t know how to. His tone is harsh, accusatory, as if it was something you could control, as if everything was your fault, just like how it was before.

Jungkook stops on the side of the road as the downpour continues, and he leans his head on the steering wheel now as he takes deep breaths. You tell him he could breathe better if he sits straight up, but he ignores you. 

A part of you wants to remark how it’s ironic that just earlier, he was apologizing for the way he treated you, and now it’s like you’ve both taken a few steps back. You want to say it’s not your fault, that you wouldn’t even have known that the rain affected him this way if you hadn’t seen him be nervous about it when you went home from the gala last year. But you think about the way his eyes looked earlier, how they filled with worry and fear, like there was a sense of powerlessness that you know a little about. 

So you settle for a bit of grace and understanding, thinking they’re what he needs.

“I don’t know why this is on me,” you say softly. “I didn’t know how bad it was but if I did, I would’ve checked constantly and I would’ve had us turn back the second I saw that forecast. And if I could drive, I’d drive us back as fast as I could. I’m sorry.”

He slows his breathing and sits up. His hands still tightly gripping the wheel but his eyes are downcast, and you suppose there’s more sadness than anger, so you stop pressing your nails on your skin, which you’d started doing in anticipation of him arguing with you about it.

“I don’t like the rain,” he shares, his voice low. “I… I have a bad memory of it as a kid and I just get reminded whenever it starts. I panic when it gets louder and I just… I can’t stay out here when that's all I can hear.”

His honesty surprises you. You can’t imagine how it must’ve been like for him, even more that he has to suffer through this right now in front of you, considering how hard it is for him to express how he feels. You don’t know how bad this weather is gonna go, and at this pace, the thunderstorm will probably reach you by the time you make it back to Seoul. So you do what you do best, and that’s to come up with options. 

“There’s a guesthouse not far from here,” you say after checking the map. “It’s the closest one. We could spend the night there and wait out the rain. That’s better than being stuck here or continuing the drive back to the city.”

He nods in agreement, knowing there’s not much he could do. He doesn’t want to be stuck here; even more, he doesn’t want to unload on you nor have you witness how much worse it could be. 

He keys in the address you give him while you call the property and ask if they still have available rooms. They do, so you reserve two and sigh in relief that that’s one problem solved.

You make it there in 15 minutes. Jungkook heads out the car first with the rain having eased up a bit, and you retrieve his luggage from the trunk, the one he keeps there for emergency trips and instances like this one. It has enough clothes for a day, and you’re glad that at least he has something to change into.

You make it inside and meet the owners then introduce yourself, stating that you reserved two rooms. 

“I’m so sorry but we had to give up one of them,” the woman says. “A family came in with a baby and we couldn’t turn them away. The weather’s going to get worse tonight and we try to accommodate as many people as we can. I hope you understand.”

“That’s… that’s okay,” you say, knowing you would’ve done the same. 

The thought of sharing a room with Jungkook feels too intimate and definitely not good for your heart, added to the fact that you’re probably not his favorite person right now, so you try to find a way out. You turn to the living room and see the sofa that’s big enough for you, so you ask if you can just stay there instead.

“Our cleaners will be using that space since they can’t go home due to the rain. I’m sorry again, Miss. Your room has twin beds so I hope that eases your worry somehow.”

“It’s fine, we’ll manage,” Jungkook says from behind you, hoping to the heavens that he will. He has one fear, and that’s you seeing how he really is during times like this.

He takes the key and walks up the stairs to the room you’re given. It’s spacious with a fair enough distance between both beds. He takes the one farther from the window then gets his clothes from his bag. It dawns on him that you don’t have your own with you, so he offers you his sweatshirt. 

“It’s okay,” you shake your head. “It’s gonna be cold and you’re gonna need it.”

“So will you. You can’t be in wet clothes, not in this weather.”

“It’s happened before,” you shrug.

“___, just take it,” he insists, placing the item on your bed. “I have a top here that I can wear and the blankets will be enough. This is loose but it’s at least better than damp clothing. And you can go ahead in the bathroom. I’ll just give Mr. Ri a call.”

You nod and head out, taking his jumper and the towel with you. You’re given some basic toiletries, and the warm shower is just what you need for that bit of comfort after a stressful evening. As you’re about to dress up inside, you hear a knock on the door.

“I asked the lady if they had spare pajamas for you and she gave me a set,” Jungkook says from outside. “I’ll leave them on a stool by the door.”

You wait for him to leave before getting them and putting them on. It’s a plain set of shorts and shirt that’s a little big but it’s way better than your damp skirt and blouse, which the owners offered to wash and dry for you for tomorrow.

You return to the room with Jungkook sitting on the floor, and you give him back his sweatshirt that he turns down. 

“I’m fine,” he insists. “Don’t you get cold easily? You’ll need that.” 

He walks out, barely meeting your eyes. You’re sitting on the edge of your bed when he returns half an hour later, the sight of him with damp hair in black sweatpants and a white sleeveless top doing things to you. But you shake the thoughts away, especially as he once again creates that distance. He doesn’t look at you when he settles in bed, nor when he switches off his bedside light, and definitely not when he turns around to face the other way. You sigh to yourself, feeling even more alone now with him acting like this.

You can’t really blame him though. Dealing with something that elicits painful memories is difficult, and you understand the tendency to isolate yourself and push people away when that happens. It’s what you do sometimes, but still, it doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt you a little when Jungkook does this to you, considering how good your relationship has become, regardless of your stupid attraction.

Settling in your bed, you decide to turn around and face the window. You focus on the droplets creating their own artwork on the glass, in hopes that it’ll help you take your mind off Jungkook, even if he’s literally just a few feet away from you. The last thing you want is a strained relationship, and you hope that this doesn’t make him fall back into his old ways. Although he’s experienced a few stressful moments these past months, they weren’t personal, and you suppose situations like this are when his emotions truly come out.

The rain has gotten stronger again and you’re pleased that Jungkook isn’t awake for this, based on the soft snores you hear. You’re about to fall asleep, the sound hypnotizing you a little, but that’s when the first blare of thunder strikes, causing you to jerk in bed in surprise. It used to scare you because of what it reminded you of, but you learned how to manage it after the first hit; the succeeding ones are no longer triggering. In fact, you just think of how it used to drown out the sounds of what you were truly afraid of.

Just then, you hear distressed moans. The sounds of frantic breathing and shifts on the bed follow right after. And then there’s a restrained groan, like a call for help that doesn’t fully come out, and that’s what alarms you. You immediately get off the bed and rush to Jungkook’s side. You see that he’s still asleep, his body - now uncovered by the blanket - is tense, despite his efforts of turning about. The low sounds of almost-cries convince you that he’s having a nightmare. 

Thunder hits once again and it’s much louder this time, eliciting another frantic response from Jungkook. He’s kicking the covers while gripping the sheets, and with another roar of thunder that causes him to scream, that’s when you decide to wake him up. 

“Jungkook, hey, listen to me,” you say, sitting on the edge of the bed and keeping his head still with your hands. You’re able to control him as he continues tossing and turning, repeating his name until he slowly opens his eyes. “Hey, you’re safe with me, okay? Just focus on my voice.”

He’s awake now and you see the worry in his eyes, but you talk to him calmly, wanting him to trust you. It works, as he nods and slows down his movements. But he’s still breathing heavily, his lips chattering and the rest of his body shivering. 

You anticipate another hit of thunder, and you’re able to shield him from it, pressing your palms on his ears, trying to drown out the sound. You stay that way, thumbing his temples as you tell him it’s okay, that you’ve got him, and that it’ll be over soon. You hold his gaze to let him know that you’re not going anywhere, and his pretty eyes that often look so far away are now overtaken with fear. 

“Just look at me, alright? And follow my breathing,” you instruct him, your voice as gentle as you can make it despite your own worries for him.

He does as you say, his hands gripping your wrists as if to keep them there, and you assure him that you won’t let go until he says so.

“You’re doing good, just keep breathing,” you repeat, pacing your breathing with his until you’re doing it together. 

You don’t know how long you stay that way, with his head between your hands and your eyes locked on his. It takes a while, but the thunder eventually stops and the rain eases. Jungkook finally calms down and you slowly release him from your hold. You watch him shut his eyes, as if in desperation to let everything go, before he opens them again. 

“Is that better?” You ask, moving just a bit farther from him to give him space, but you remain close, wanting to be next to him in case something happens again.

“Yeah, that was, uh… that was tiring,” he huffs.

“I think the thunder has passed but if it happens again, I’ll be here, okay?”

He nods, his soft and desperate eyes now looking at you to express his gratitude. You want so badly to hug him, to hold his still-shaking hands and assure him that he’s not alone, that you won’t let anything hurt him for the rest of the night, and that you understand it all - whatever it is he’s afraid of, and why he keeps it all to himself.

But you suppose that’s going too far. You’re afraid that you’d want to stay there, even more if he doesn’t want you to. So you nod as well and think that he at least has this to comfort him, that he at least knows you’re just there.

You walk back to your bed and lie down, facing him this time. You smile, wanting that assurance to be the last thing he sees before he falls asleep again. Jungkook does the same as he settles under the covers, patting it down so he could see you better. You both stay there, safe in your corners, your eyes telling each other things you can’t say.

Whatever distance you felt earlier has shortened. Right now, with both of you falling asleep to each other’s view, he’s never felt so close.

The morning after heavy rain is always bittersweet. There’s the reality of the damage it caused but you also can’t deny that it gives life to other living things. What it also does is make way for clear skies and give you that fresh, rainwater scent of the grass and the trees. It’s what you see and smell when you open the bedroom windows, reminding you that the evening has passed and the worst is over. 

You spot Jungkook seated on one of the chairs in the garden, and you hope that the view is making him feel better, with the nightmare from last night slowly drifting away from his mind. You dress up in the dry clothes you find hanging on the doorknob of the room then head downstairs, surprised to see food prepared in the dining area. The tofu stew and grilled mackerel are so appetizing, and the loud rumbling of your stomach reminds you that you didn’t eat last night, with all the stress making dinner your last priority.

“Hello, dear. It was a pretty hard evening so we prepared something for our guests,” the owner says, her radiant smile reflecting the brightness of the day. “You may call your friend outside so you can both eat and get ready for a long drive home.”

You thank her then call Jungkook, his eyes brightening when he walks back inside and sees the food. He engages in conversation with the owners, asking about this town and the surrounding ones, and what their appeal is to non-residents. You gauge that he’s doing a bit of research himself, and you think he’s at least not too out of it to still do so.

“You’re free to stay until noon,” the owner informs you. “You can enjoy the view outside; it’s really pretty now that the sky has cleared. I’ll be making tea shortly as well.”

Jungkook says he’ll return to the garden and you wait for the hot drinks before following him. You’re unsure if he wants you around but you try, sitting next to him then sighing in relief when he doesn’t move away.

“I was 10 years old when my parents sent me and my brother to a cabin somewhere in Hwasun,” he starts. “I thought they were coming with us but it was just me and Jeong-sik and some staff. He and I never got along. If he wasn’t ignoring me, he was teasing me. But that day, he convinced me to play hide-and-seek, saying that by the time he finds me, our parents would be back. We were outdoors and I ended up wandering too far, so close to the woods that I couldn’t find my way back. My brother hadn’t come and I was getting scared. And then it started to rain.”

“Jungkook, you don’t have to—”

“It started getting stronger and the skies had become so dark, I could barely see anything,” he continues, his eyes fixed towards the mountains faraway. “The rain made the ground slippery so I decided to just sit by a large tree and hope someone would find me. It felt like hours and maybe it was. The thunder was so loud then and it kept going and going and going. And I was drenched and all alone, and no matter how hard I screamed, no one could hear me.”

“I’m so sorry, Jungkook,” you say, feeling your heart break as he narrates a painful memory that you can relate with. 

It’s only close to what you experienced yet it feels so real to you. You can feel his fear and his pain in the tremble of his voice, in the way he grips on the edges of the bench, in the way his jaw clenches at the memory, like it’s one he’s tried hard to bury yet can’t get rid of, no matter how hard he tries. 

But this feels so personal, and you don’t want him to feel like he needs to share it with you.

“You don’t have to explain,” you add. “I know it’s difficult to share something like that.”

“But I want to,” he responds, turning to you now. “Because I’ve carried the memory with me for 20 years and I’ve been dealing with it all on my own. But that’s not an excuse to treat you the way I did last night. That’s not a reason for me to take it out on you and especially to blame you. That was wrong of me and I’m sorry, ___. I…”

He looks down, perhaps trying to gather the courage he needs to be honest with you, to be vulnerable with you.

“I don’t want you to think that I didn’t need you because I did,” he adds. “I was scared and I didn’t think I needed you but you were there and I’m so sorry.”

You sit there and watch him cower onto himself, and somehow you see the little boy who was scared, who was wondering why he’d been left alone, who was waiting for someone to come find him or perhaps… someone to sit there and be with him until the rain stopped. There’s a lot he carries; there’s also a lot he buries, as if there’s a bottomless hole within him where he keeps everything hidden but it still feels too heavy, too much, taking from him every time he hides something new. 

You don’t say anything for a while, as you start to see Jungkook for who he really is. You feel the weight of his words and how much it took for him to say them. It’s not that his experience makes him different, but now that you know the pain he’s been carrying with him, you’re able to see the other parts of him that he’s unable to show, perhaps too afraid that someone wouldn’t understand, or that they wouldn’t stay if they found out why he keeps his distance and why he pushes people away.

Your silence prompts him to look up. You meet his eyes and see the sadness in them and it feels like he needs more than just forgiveness.

“We do things we don’t mean to when we’re afraid,” you tell him. “It doesn’t always mean we intend on hurting them. And I understand that, more than you know. I’ll never take that against you.”

Jungkook nods, shifting again towards the view as he lets your words sink in. He was hoping for forgiveness, but he got so much more. Maybe there’s a reason why you’ve been patient and gentle with him ever since the beginning. Perhaps you’re carrying your own burden and painful memories that you’re unable to share and deal with, too, and though he’s nothing like you, there’s comfort in knowing that you’re the same somehow.

He senses you turn back to look at the mountains, and the silence prompts him to continue the story of an experience he’s only shared twice before - once to his best friends and another time with Chaerin, all of whom have seen this side of him - the scared and vulnerable side. They were understanding and supportive as well, trying to find ways to comfort and help him deal with it. You’re the third and the one he’s known the shortest time, yet he feels more comfort with you than anyone who’s ever tried.

“I fell asleep at that tree while waiting,” he recalls. “The next thing I know, I was being carried back to the cabin. The rain had stopped but it was still dark, and I was tended to until I fell asleep again. I was sick for days and I didn’t see my parents until we were back in Seoul. It’s just a hard thing to remember. I know we have selective memories and I always wish that’s one thing that I don’t ever have to remember but life isn’t that kind, I guess.”

“It isn’t. But we learn to face those fears though, and manage them. It’s the only way we can get through it,” you say.

“Have you?” He asks, wondering if that’s another similarity he shares with you. 

“Not really. I wouldn’t be alone and where I am if I have,” you say. “But I’m trying. And I’ll continue to.”

“That makes one of us,” he sighs. 

“Well, it’s not always easy if you’re not quite sure what you’re really afraid of,” you respond. “Is it just thunder?”

“Yeah… but once the rain starts, it tells me that thunder could come. It doesn’t always but it’s what my brain tells me. Then I get anxious and I… I don’t know what to do. Like I’m paralyzed and unable to think or move. I just… stay there and sometimes, I don’t even know what’s happening.”

“Well, it rained when I got injured,” you remind him. “But you managed to get me to the hospital. And you stayed with me. That’s definitely something.”

“You were hurt and it was more important that you got treated,” he reasons. “That was scary and I guess my brain told me to get shit done that moment.”

“So… do I always have to be hurt for you to get through the rain when it starts getting bad?” You ask.

“Don’t talk like that. I can’t have you going through that again,” he frowns at you. 

The way he reacts to the thought of you being hurt gives you that warm feeling again. But it reminds you that you feel the same. You don’t want him to be scared, you don’t want him hurt, too.

“Fine. But when it starts to rain and you’re all alone and you feel like you can’t manage, you call me, okay?” You tell him.

“And what would that do?”

“That way I can talk you through it. Maybe go to you if you want me to.”

“Why would you do that?”

“Because during the times I was afraid and alone, you were there,” you bravely say, turning to him and prompting him to do the same. “Sometimes something triggers those memories but then I think of how you stayed with me in the alley and in the playground and in my apartment. I think of you and I stop feeling scared. Maybe you can think of last night when it starts to get bad, too. And we can just create more of those memories to override the bad ones. Wouldn’t that be better?”

He savors your words, not realizing how much you’ve held onto your moments together. And he understands that now. The way you held him together last night is ingrained in his mind, and if that’s how it feels to be with you during his darkest moments, he starts to wonder how good it would feel during the good ones.

Maybe he’ll start with this, as you both sip citrus tea while looking at the lush mountains out on the horizon. He’ll continue with the scenic drive back to Seoul and a stopover at a cafe for some iced coffee and conversations about good memories. And at least for today, he’ll end with the sight of you walking to your apartment and then turning around to wave him goodbye, and then your smile giving him warmth on this cold afternoon.

The door shuts and he starts the trip back to his place - empty, lonely, just like how it’s been for years, all his pent up emotions bringing him to this point of isolation. But there’s you - the feel of your touch, the soothing sound of your voice, and the gentleness that got him through the night.

He misses you already. And much as he knows he’s in big trouble, thinking about you and wanting you is all he could do.

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[chilumi-shipper]

Crowned Flowers

Kamisato Ayato x Fem!Reader (Royal AU)

Summary: He's the Crowned Prince and you're just a commoner. You love each other but you had to keep your relationship a secret. Knowing it was the best to leave him alone and not make his life harder, you avoided him and no longer visited the castle. After years of pining for his first and only love, he is met with the sight of a little boy identical to him.

Warning: Slight Smut nothing intense

Tags: Slight Angst to Fluff, Royalty x Commoner

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

The young prince Ayato wasn't aware that such a cheap flower could bring about such beauty, yet a crown made of those cheap flowers laid on the head of a maiden he found strikingly admirable, he couldn't keep his eyes off you.

You were trying to catch the attention of other people around you, offering them a look of your basket of flowers, perhaps hoping that the flowers would be of interest to some people, and thus buy it off you.

"Sir..." The blue haired prince was shaken out of his trances, realizing that you had made your way over to him. You smiled at him with all the joy in your possibly pure heart. "Would you like to buy a flower? They're really pretty."

You didn't recognize him, probably because of his thick robe, covering the unmistakable blue hue of the hair of the royal family.

"Ahhh- Umm..." Ayato patted himself, looking for some mora to give you, but all his expenses are handled by his retainers, so he doesn't have anything on him. "I-I apologize, I don't seem to have any-"

You held up a flower for him still, "That's okay! I want you to take one for free! My mama said that giving something nice to others brightens up their day, and you can make good friends!"

He took the flowers in his hands, and never has the young prince felt so grateful for something so small.

Nobody knows why King Ayato's favorite flower is a cheap, white petaled flower that can be seen all over the kingdom. Surely someone of his status would love a rare, exotic flower only someone as rich as him could gaze upon.

But the sight of the beautiful flower reminded him of the love he unfortunately couldn't keep in his arms. The love that remained embedded in his being, never letting him forget the face that brought upon color in his world, the hands that cradles his face and caress his cheeks ever so softly, the body that he forever wants to hold close to his own, though he probably could never again.

The crowned king Ayato could only reminisce about the love of his life.

"The young prince is missing again!" Yelled one of his guards, his voice laced with worry, less for the prince and more for himself if he doesn't bring the prince back to the palace immediately.

The panicked guard yelling for help at the other guards drew a little giggle from you, making you cover your mouth to avoid making too much noise. You were hiding behind the tall fence of the local orphanage, Ayato next to you sitting close, trying not to laugh as well.

"Looks like we got some time for ourselves." He whispered, his face awfully close to yours. You smiled brightly, as you usually do, cuddling up to him.

"Your parents might kill you..." You rest your head on his shoulder, prompting him to wrap an arm around you. You sighed in contentment, hearing the fading frantic footsteps of the guards.

"I don't think I mind having this as my final moment before my parents kill me." You playfully slapped him on the chest due to his statement.

Ayato then had a thought, "Maybe... they wouldn't be disapproving of our relationship like we thought." He tightened his hold of you. ''Perhaps, we can finally-"

"It's unheard of, couples like us." You spoke sadly, sighing after. "It's only in those teenage fanfiction books does the commoner get the prince."

Ayato didn't want to admit that you were right, there was a low chance that his parents would allow him to marry a commoner, much less would the royal court.

He chose to end the topic with a joke. "Well then, I hope the writer of this story knows the decorations I want for our wedding." He basked in the smile that your lips formed.

As the king of his kingdom, he was expected to produce an heir to the throne within the first five years of his reign, yet he had not stuck to this expectation, he had not even chosen a bride.

It feels as though his heart is tied to only one, and no other lady could capture him in a loving blanket of eternal bliss in which you caged him in.

And no other could satisfy the hunger that you satiated during your first (and last) night together.

"I still wish to see you after this..." He says in a breathless moan, his hand landing on your hips as you grind yourself closer to him. "Archons, my queen..." He hisses, shutting his eyes at your moves above him sending him to absolute euphoria.

Your fingers poked at his cheek before your palm made contact, caressing it to opt him to open his eyes. You smile softly at him, "You have a duty..."

In the dim light of the moon illuminating from the windows of his room, you looked absolutely radiant, completely naked for him to devour with his eyes. His hips instinctively jerked up at the sight, making you whimper at the sudden sensation.

"I have a duty to the woman I love..." His own hand reach for your face, cupping your cheek. "I fucking love you..."

He had never felt such raw and intense emotions, but being bare and romantic with you within the warmth of his abode, showered by the cascading light of the moon truly made him love you even more.

You lean into his touch, closing your eyes as you start to move on his lap, letting him caress your insides. "I love you, I love you too..." You whispered, letting it mix with the moans that leaves your mouth.

After your intense, romantic, sweet love-making, you left his life with one last kiss to remember him by.

He's never seen you since then.

Sometimes he even thinks that you were just a figment of his imagination, his version of perfection within a girl that he would hopelessly fall in love with for the rest of his life.

But, as he stares at the scene in front of him...

"Flowers! Fresh flowers here! So pretty, it'll make you fall in love!"

...that young boy, selling white flowers in a somewhat familiar, worn-out basket, hair covered with a cloak, but his eyes... that unmistakable tint of purple that only one member of the royal family has.

His heart then drops, as the door of the house behind the little boy opens, revealing... you.

You... 're so beautiful...

A version of perfection within a girl that he would hopelessly fall in love with for the rest of his life.

"Your Majesty, the royal guards are done with their business here, we may go if you would allow us." A guard stood beside him, unbeknownst to the conflicting feeling swirling within the king.

"Yes, go..." Ayato refuses to take his eyes off the scene in front of him.

"And you, your Majest-" The guard could not finish his question before Ayato was walking up to the boy holding the basket.

"Sir with the crown! You want flowers, right?" As their gazes meet, the purple-eyed boy pointed at him and shouted excitedly.

Ayato chuckled, taking out a pouch of mora from his suit and kneeling down to the boys level. "Would this suffice for one lovely flower?"

"Wow! That's for a whole basket!"

"You can have it, I've been thought that giving something nice to others brightens up their day, and you can make good friends."

"My mommy says that!" As the boy exclaims, a figure walks up behind him, opting Ayato to look up.

"I know she does..." Though he is filled with conflicting emotions, he still smiles at you. "My queen says that."

"Is mommy your queen, Mr. Crown?"

Your eyes lock onto his, your gaze softening. "King Ayato... I'm sorry for my child..." His eyes seem to darken as you refer to your son as only yours.

Ayato gently places a hand on the little boys hood, lifting it off a little to reveal the same shade of blue hair as his. "Hmm... a very handsome young prince..."

The boy silently tugs at your skirt. "We're secretly royalty, mommy." He giggles, making his father smile.

"Yes, nobody would go against a king for declaring his beloved as a royal, to be by his side. " Ayato smiles proudly.

For the longest time in his life, he had always wanted to just hold you without worrying about the eyes of the public, and as he shamelessly holds out a hand to cup your cheek, he has fulfilled one of his many wishes.

"You can run from a crowned prince, but not a king, my queen." He pulls you in for a kiss, and despite to nosy eyes of your neighbors, you let him.

And you don't have to run away again.

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

The little boy is unnamed, cuz I suck with names, so comment what you would name your little love child with Ayato!

Also, I found this in my drafts, it was like from a year ago and I read it and I can't believe it's so... beautifully written?? (not tutting my own horn, I was just truly impressed that I could come up with this, I mean, you guys read my smuts >:)) Anywayyy, hope you like it!

[bwabys-scenarios]

Yandere!JJK/HXH men when you take over domestic duties(NSFW)

!!REBLOGS APPRECIATED!!

warnings: dubcon, implied Stockholm syndrome, yandere characters, nsfw in Gojo’s, Leorio’s and Geto’s, Illumi is the worst yandere to have, implications of reader being harmed in Illumi’s, reader is chubby

A/N: sorry if some of these are out of character, it’s been forever since I watched JJK and I’ve only seen season one!

characters: Gojo, Nanami, Choso, Geto, Kurapika, Leorio, Chrollo, Illumi

taglist: @desiray562 @lovelyxkazuha @ashdownunderscorebeloved @stygianoir

if you would like to be added to the NSFW taglist, comment a ❤️!! make sure you have your AGE in your bio, and that you’re able to be tagged/mentioned!

JJK

Gojo

He’s ecstatic. Although Gojo is perfectly capable of keeping his own home clean and making his own food, he’s more than happy to watch you walk around in a sweater and jeans, tidying up the place and making a meal for the two of you to share. “Aren’t you just the cutest thing?”

He can’t help but coo and fawn over you, pulling you away from your work to smother you in kisses and right squeezes. He’s got a bad case of cuteness aggression, and can sometimes forget his own strength. It’s best you let this happen, he’s in a good mood, and you’d rather stay on his good side.

His reward is to stay between your plush thighs, making you cum on his tongue until you’re crying and begging him to stop. Because it’s a reward, he’ll listen this time. Gojo wants this to be good for you after all, since you have finally begun acting like you’re supposed to, like the perfect stay at home girlfriend and not the woman he keeps captive.

Nanami

Although his heart races with joy and love when he notices you’ve started taking over the cooking and cleaning, he still can’t stand to see his darling do all of the tasks around the house, so he used this an excuse to get you to love him bond with you more. He’ll roll up his sleeves after a hard day of work and come up behind you, hands taking away the spatula. “I’ve got this, you go relax.”

He’s determined to spoil you for the upcoming week, bringing home sweets from his favorite bakery to share with you and buying you those books you’ve been asking for. After all, it gets boring being trapped in his home every day. He might as well give you a reward for being such a good girl.

Choso

When he comes home to see you wearing an apron and cooking dinner, he nearly fucking LOSES it. He just stares at you from the doorway, mouth agape. When he took you, you cried and cried begging to go home every day, and now you were humming to a song on the radio as you made dinner for the two of you. “Princess, that smells amazing.”

He follows you around as you work, watching until you swat him away for making you nervous. Choso can’t help but swoon when you offer him a plate of food, face hot with embarrassment.

Geto

He more or less expected you to get the hang of being his little wife eventually, so it’s less of a shock and more of pleasant surprise to see you with your hair pulled back as you dust the bookshelf in his office. “My, my, seems my little wife has gotten busy.”

Although this was expected of you, Geto still goes out to buy you a new apron and cleaning supplies, along with your comfort food to reward you for your good behavior. Maybe you’re finally coming around to the idea that you’re his wife, and will respect him as your husband! He’ll hold you in his lap, letting you cockwarm him as he keeps a hand on your plump hip. “There you go, that’s my sweet little wife. Taking me so well, you’re ready for a creampie aren’t you? You can take it, sit still and pretty and I’ll let you call your family this weekend.”

HXH

Kurapika

He had made the kitchen perfect for use, all the(hard plastic) utensils in your favorite color, and a fridge always full of fresh food. Kurapika hoped you would eventually come around to cooking and cleaning, but he certainly didn’t mind doing the work himself if it meant you would be happy and comfortable. When he saw you preparing a meal for him after seeing he’d been losing weight and skipping meals, he nearly cried from joy.

You were worried for him, you cared about his health! He wasn’t delusional, he knew he took you away from your friends and family and had a love for you that sometimes crossed into obsession, but it was obvious his efforts to make you happy and comfortable had worked. “Angel, I cannot explain how happy this makes me, thank you.”

He spends the rest of the night doting on you, wanting nothing more than to snuggle and hold you to him. Kurapika is just incredibly happy to know despite your tentative behavior towards him, you at least care about his health and well being. That’s the first step towards falling in love, and he’s determined to make sure he follows through each and every step.

Leorio

Honestly, with his busy schedule working at the hospital, he didn’t have much time to cook and clean. Thankfully, you eventually got fed up with eating takeout and living in a messy home, so you took over the cooking and cleaning for your own sanity. When Leorio came home from an especially brutal shift, he nearly cried when he saw the apartment clean and smelled dinner cooking. His little princess was cooking and cleaning, all for him! His guilt from kidnapping you faded away into mushy lovey dovey thoughts as he came up behind you. “Mmm, princess you look like the perfect little house wife right now…”

You can’t help but notice the bulge poking into your ass, his hands wandering around your body. Usually he’s not so touchy, preferring to respect your boundaries in an effort to get you to trust and love him, but it’s hard to resist you when you’re making him a meal and looking oh so cute! He can’t help but squish your chubby tummy and grab at your plush thighs, tugging down your pants to get to your plump pussy!

Chrollo

Honestly, he never expected to come home to a meal being set on the table and the small home they were currently staying in to be spotless. Chrollo eyed the various dishes, raising an eyebrow at you. “You made this?”

You looked up at him, looking a little shy but accomplished. “Yeah… I figured you… would be hungry after your… job.”

Although you sounded sincere, Chrollo wasn’t stupid. He made you try a bite of everything before sitting down to eat. After seeing your look of disappointment when he questioned if it was poisoned, he almost felt bad. This was a genuine attempt at making a meal and trying to live as normal as a life as possible, but he was too jaded to just accept that. “Sorry, dear. I haven’t even thanked you for preparing such a lovely meal. Thank you.”

Illumi

He’s another one that expected you to do all of the domestic duties from the get go. Although there are butlers that take care of most of the work, you as his victim wife was expected to take care of his every need. You were very resistant to this at first, being absolutely terrified of him, but with a little ‘gentle’ pushing in the right direction, you were able to become the perfect, reluctant little house wife.

Although you preformed your duties to your best ability, you had never been genuine or happy to do them. He noticed this in the way your eyes looked empty and humiliated when forced to clean up the blood he tracked into your bedroom.

But tonight was different. You were excitedly cooking away in the kitchen, Illumi almost looking… soft when you smiled at him. Were you finally coming around? It took a lot of hard work, but he had finally molded you into a happy, cute little housewife. “Ah… is this my favorite meal? Thank you, it looks delicious…”

He noticed how your face lit up with his praise, the dark haired assassin taking note to use that to his advantage in the future.

[nanivinsmoke]

✩ Work it Out

✩ gym trainer!toji x fem!reader

accidents happen, right?

✩ tags: aphrodisiacs, mating press, multiple creampies, overstimulation, sensitivity, raw sex, rough sex, submissive toji, dominate reader, squirting, etc…

note: a little short, but it’s a good one !

it was an accident, right? you swore you checked the label. right?

then how come….no you surely hadn’t….

oh, you’re fucked. so very fucked.

you were at your trainer’s private gym, taking a break after your most intense workout—when your trainer, toji, asked you to run into his office to get his vitamins. "black bottle with a white label, should say Vitamin-A on it.” he told you, but when you got to his office, there were two bottles that met the criteria.

‘that helps a lot, toji.’ you said to yourself, trying to figure out which one he needed—but you weren’t given enough time to decide as he yelled for you to hurry up. so, you grabbed one of the bottles, grabbed two of the pink colored pills and raced back into the gym; giving him the pills.

little did you know, those were the wrong pills.

“let’s try benching 150 this time, I’ll spot you” Toji spoke and you immediately laid down onto the leather bench, while he stood over you; counting as you lifted the heavy weights.

but, as you kept your eyes on him, you could tell something was wrong—way wrong. you could see the perspiration glistening on his tan skin and how it looked like he was strained—not to mention the fat bulge shadowing your eyes.

you finished your set and immediately sat up afterwards. maybe you were hallucinating…was it always that big?

“let’s….—mhm—work on your squats” he grunted, holding back a moan that had crawled up his throat. you gave him a look before looking away, getting ready to start on your squats. he handed you two dumbbells and you got started, counting the sets as you moved.

toji watched you as your toned body moved up and down, his eyes slowly falling onto your ass; watching it jiggle as you bounced back up. he groaned again, and fixed himself underneath his dark grey calvin klein sweats—thoughts running rampant about how your ass would look bouncing on something st—what the fuck was going on with him? what did he take? he had to focus and get rid of that hard boner, he tried so hard to hide.

“your form is all wrong,” he grunted and stood behind you, holding your sides and spreading your feet apart—trying so hard to not cum in his spot.

“like this fushiguro?” you asked coyly, your cheeks brushing up against his cock—causing an unexpected orgasm to course through his body, making him cream his black underwear on the spot.

his deep blue eyes widened and he backed up from you, realizing what was happening now. “y/n, what did you give me?” you could hear whimper leave his mouth and you immediately put down the dumbbells, standing close to him—his musky scent overpowering your nose.

“hm? the vitamins you asked me to give you—what’s the matter?” you touched his bicep and he let out a low moan, making your eyes widen and something down below awaken inside you.

“did you ready the whole botttle—shit—you gave me an aphrodisiac!” now this time, your eyes were the one to widen. you back up and took a good look at the buff male—seeing how hard he was trying to maintain control of himself, but that control was weakening by the second.

“how was i supposed to know! your labeling fucking sucks and everything looks the same in your office!” you poked at his chest, your body unbelievably close to his, and the feeling of your body radiating heat against his—had him melting. he couldn’t fight it anymore, he had to cum; in you, on you and all over you.

he lowered his eyes down to your chest, his cock twitching in his pants; watching it bounce with each movement you made. you followed his trail and you couldn’t help but smirk as an idea popped up into your pretty little head.

“no use for you trying to wait this out, let me do what i can to make this alllll better,” you dragged out, grabbing his hand and leading him over to one of the benches. you raised up the side he laid on and kneeled down, becoming eye level with his raging boner. your mouth watered at the sight of his cock pressing against his cotton pants, eager to be released from its confinements.

there was many times where you fantasized about fucking your trainer—many times. he was hot and was just your type, everything about him oozed sex and you just wanted to see what it was all about.

toji said nothing, lidded eyes watching you push down his sweat pants, and peeling his stained briefs along with it—causing him to hiss, the coolness from the hair combining with his cream coated cock—sent chills on his lower half. but you payed no attention to that, your focus was on some thing else—his fat cock they sprang to life in front of you; nearly hitting you in the face.

“so big…!” you moaned softly, thighs pressing together as you watched it jump slightly; mouth salivating at the sight. you wasted no time and tore off your shirt, and slipped him right underneath your sports bra—and right between your soft plushy mounds.

he let out a low growl, cock twitching and spurting out another milky white load right across your breasts. the affects of the aphrodisiacs had left him sensitive and vulnerable—the perfect recipe to make your cunt gush.

with a swipe of your finger, you took a nice slather of his cum and slipped it right into your mouth—moaning at the bitter, yet sweet taste.

“good boyyy. gna give me two more all over my pretty tits?” he nodded, biting his lip and watching you squeeze his cock between your tits; the softness from them, driving him insane. your gripped them, bringing them up and down onto his cock—his flush pink tip disappearing and reappearing each time.

the mix of your cum and sweat added a nice lubricant against your soft breasts, making it feel like nirvana for him, and the older male couldn’t help but cum once more—a thicker load splurting out on your soft body. you hummed and continued to work your boobs around him, this time you wrapped your mouth around his wet tip—giving him the best blow job he’s ever had. everything about this was mind blowing and thanks to the aphrodisiac; he was cumming another load onto you—a loud primal growl leaving his lips, his seed flowing down your throat; swallowing it completely.

you pulled away with a loud pop noise, a trail of spit with a mix of his cum followed your plump lips—face showing nothing but sheer arousal when you did. you pulled your cum coated tits away from his still hard cock, unzipping the sports bra in back; before letting it fall to the ground. he watched as you peeled your biker shorts off, the fabric clinging to your plush—muscled skin—before making a home on the gym’s wooden floors.

the small strip of fabric, you called panties, was coated with your essence—sticking to your slick coated lips as you slowly peeled it off and tossed it in your small clothing pile. you climbed onto the bench with him and hovered over his throbbing cock, a line of spit dropping out of your mouth and onto his shaft, which you rubbed on it—adding more wetness to it.

“im on birth control, so you can cum inside me as many times as you’d like~” grabbing his veiny shaft and guiding it to your entrance, spreading your lips apart and pushing him deep inside. you let out a breathy moan to hide the pain that followed, as he filled you up to the brim with nothing but his fat dick.

toji groaned and his hands immediately went to your hips, his own bucking upwards to hit the deepest part of you—tummy starting to bulge from his cock. “fuck…” you let out, holding onto his arms before remembering that you were in control here—you were going to make him cum repeatedly until he couldn’t no more.

quickly getting used to his girth, you got up on your tip toes and began to ride him; his grip on your hips falling and his pretty purple eyes rolled back into his head. “gonna cum for me already? so sensitive baby….”

you rolled your hips, his dick rubbing against your spot—making a strew of moans fly from your lips. a lewd squelching noise began to echo throughout the gym, along with the faint clinking of the bench the two of you were currently fucking on. his dick twitched inside of you and you rocked your hips faster, bringing another orgasm to crash down onto him.

“y/n…..!~” he groaned out making your clit throb, his voice an absolute turn on for you.

you continued to ride him, milking every last grip from him—not sparing him some time to recover before his next one came. the fat, squishiness of your ass felt amazing each time it hit his potent balls, driving the both of you insane. he could feel your walls spasming and he pushed your torso down onto his, jackhammering your cunt anew.

curse after curse you let out, babbling incoherent words while you creamed all over his dick—orgasm hitting you hard, while he continued to pound you. and after your body shook repeatedly, he sat and up and flipped the two of you over—your back now pressed against the warm leather.

“wait! toji, I just—FUCK!”

your legs were spread apart, while his cock was pushed so deep inside of you—his ball hit your sloppy cunt each time he pumped. he couldn’t take it anymore, you wanted to drain his cock? he was going to fuck you absolutely stupid.

“running from it? tch, what was all that shit you pulled earlier?” he pulled your hips back as you tried to wiggle away, grunting; his face serious while his scarred lips fixed into a smirk.

“too m-much….fuck—take some out,~” he ignored your request, his face between your pretty tiddies as he continued to train your pussy. he was going to train and mold your cunt just like he’s been doing with your body the last couple of weeks, so she could fit around him and him only.

“gna fuhcum’ sooo much for yyyou” toji couldn’t help but chuckle at how you sounded, so drunk off his cock.

“go ahead. cum for me like a good girl and I’ll make your tummy full of my cum, that’s what you want?” you nodded, grabbing your feet so he could reach deeper inside of your cunt. you needed all of him.

with a few more hard pumps, you were seeing white—back arching off the bench, cunt gushing clear streams of your essence—splashing against his balls and his stomach. and now he was at his limit, no longer wanting to fight against the euphoric feeling the pills gave him—he gave you once last load; pumping your pretty pussy with thick white ropes.

his huge body shook, before he pulled out of you; some of his cum landing onto your stomach; warning the sweaty, pudgy skin.

big, rough hands gave your leaking pussy a smack—before they wrapped around you and picked you up; leading you to the gym’s showers—so he could clean you up and the two of you could go a few more rounds after that.

[notjustjavierpena]

Panties

Series Masterpost | Main Masterpost | Support a disabled creator

A/N: Well look who are back. I didn’t think dbf!joel still existed in my brain but it seems that he is actually thriving. A little treat for you all while I polish some hubby stuff. This one absolutely goes out to @sugadolly 💖💅🫶

Summary: You show off your cute little underwear. Joel wants to fuck you but you want to try something else.

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader/you (no y/n)

Tags: +18 smut, dbf!joel, age gap, daddy kink, dirty talk, praise kink, pet names, reader is a good little girl, outside sex (idk what is to call it), clit stim, overstim, reader is cockdrunk af, they’re actually very much in love for real, cum!!!!

Word count: 2.2k

Link to this work on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/52857010

Panties

“Lemme see them,” Joel says with a gentle tone as he admires you only in your jeans. He is hovering above you, kisses your lips a few times, and cups your tits as he slips his tongue into your mouth for a brief moment. 

You wrap your arms around his neck, feeling his chest against your breasts as you embrace each other. You giggle softly, “They’re silly, Daddy.”

“Never thought in a million years that my baby would be silly,” he says with obvious sarcasm, nudging your nose with his own, “Show Daddy your pretty little panties. I’m gonna see ‘em eventually.”

You remove yourself from him to step back. You roll your eyes, and he raises a brow but then you follow through. 

“Fine,” you tut as you lie down on his bed. His eyes lock on your buttoned jeans, his mouth slightly agape as he breathes deeply with anticipation hanging in the air. 

You undo your jeans and pull down the zipper, wiggling your hips as you pull the denim down over them, and into view comes your pink cotton briefs. They’re cute, not silly, but you already know this, sporting a little bow on the front and a pattern of chibi-style cats.

“Well?” You kick off your jeans, throwing them onto the floor.

Joel kneels on the bed, admiring them thoroughly, “Pussy panties?”

You snort, covering your mouth and nose as you do, “Shut up.”

“Am I wrong, baby?” He crawls closer to you, lifts your legs up to bend them, and spreads them until his thighs hit the back of yours. He reaches up to peel his shirt off and throws it into your arms so you can hug it close and get drunk on his scent. 

“No,” you say as you contemplate crawling into the piece of clothing that he has given you. God, you want him everywhere on you. That masculine smell has you wet in moments.

“Makes ya look real pretty, lovebug,” he compliments, just about to peel the underwear off of you. He stops himself as you scrunch your nose up at the new pet name.

Joel laughs heartily, “Don’t like it?”

“Say it again,” you grin up at him.

“Love. Bug,” he repeats, yanks one of your legs at a time over his hips. 

“Hmm,” you tap your chin, “Maybe you should call me it as I come, just to make me associate it with something nice.”

“Cheeky,” he says as he pulls down his own underwear. They are in no way as thrilling as yours; black briefs that can barely contain his hard cock and with a little logo on the waistband. He settles them around his thighs, and whilst he does, you reach down to pull your colorful panties to the side.

“Joel?” You say his name. He makes a movement as if his ears have perked up at hearing his actual name.

“What is it?” He asks, rubbing your legs soothingly. His eyes are locked on your cunt.

“When— when you’re,” you trail off, suddenly shy, “Uh, when you…”

“Yes?” He drags the word out, looks up. 

“I want you to come on them,” your heart beats in your chest and ears but out of the corner of your eyes, you spot Joel’s cock twitching in the air upon hearing those words.

“Was that so hard to ask for?” He digs his thumbs into your thighs, causing you to squirm underneath him, “You just lie back and let Daddy treat ya right.”

You wait in anticipation. And then, oh.

Ohh.

“Ah,” you mewl, looking down between you to see what he is doing. The thick head of his cock lays heavily against your clit, and when you tell him how good it feels, he holds the base of his shaft and slaps the tip against the small nub a few times. 

You shudder, clenching around nothing and flexing your thighs as you shift a little. Joel’s cock hangs between his legs again, and his hands slide down to rest on your hips, thumbs reaching inwards to spread you open and watch your pulsing cunt. 

“You want me to make you feel good, baby? Make you come so hard that your little clit won’t stop twitchin’ until you get all teary-eyed?” He reaches for your clit to circle it with the pad of his thumb, and you can feel slick drip down between your ass cheeks. You moan helplessly and nod repeatedly, already heaving for breath, and Joel beams with pride, “Already cockdrunk? My my. I haven’t even fucked ya yet.”

“I don’t want you to f— I don’t want that,” you say suddenly, surprising even yourself. You reach down for Joel’s cock, pulling it against your cunt but not dipping the head into you. Instead, you rub him against your clit, “This, Daddy, I want to come like this.”

“I can make that happen,” he reassures, batting your hand away to replace it and grabbing at the base of his cock himself. He resumes what you were doing, dipping the head down to catch some of your wetness before adding pressure to your clit. He slides back and forth a few times, “Like that?”

“Mhm,” you hum softly, furrowing your brow in concentration. You hold still to let him rub his whole length through your folds until he is sticky with your arousal. His left hand is still grabbing your hip, and he uses it for leverage as he leans a little weight into you. 

When he grows impatient after a few minutes of you crying quietly for him, he tries to enter you. You catch his wrist and shake your head, “No! No… you promised.”

“I did no such thing,” he clicks his tongue at you. 

You pout up at him, “But…”

“Oh, don’t make that face,” he groans,  “You know I can’t do anythin’ when you make that face.”

“Please,” you beg, “I’ll come so hard for you.”

“Yeah?” He smiles down at you.

“Yeah,” you blink your eyes prettily, “This feels so good. I’ll cream all over your cock, Daddy.”

“Now how can I say no to that?” He moves a little before guiding his cockhead back to where you want it. He rubs the blunt head in circles over your clit for a moment, slaps it against the sensitive spot too, until you can hear the squelching sound of your wetness coating you. It makes him glide over your cunt easier. 

You curl your toes and bite your lip as you look down at what he is doing, “Ahh… Keep going.”

He does, building up a rhythm that has you whining pathetically. This shouldn’t be that intense but it is, making your pussy flutter and seek out more. 

“Let me try something,” you say, and he stops as you reach down, “One second.”

With both hands, you take hold of the seam of the leg of your underwear, holding tightly at the very top of it and the very bottom. You yank it down to sit tightly over the girth of Joel’s cock, essentially trapping it underneath your panties so it drags along the shaft with each of his thrusts. He sits so tightly against you now. 

“Try now,” you don’t even have to say please for Joel to know you are begging. 

“Jesus Christ,” he growls at the new sensation, spurred on to make himself feel it even more. He fucks himself against you with a sudden quickened breath. 

The bed starts shaking. You start trembling. 

You’re not able to take your eyes off of your sinful act, chewing on your bottom lip as he works his cock back and forth over and over again underneath the seam of your panties. 

“Please,” your sound is weak, “Fuck!”

“Careful with that,” he scolds, “Eyes on me.”

You quickly look up at his face, barely able to focus with how much he shakes your whole frame with every push of his lower body. 

“Say sorry,” he commands, referring to your use of a swear word. He doesn’t relent one bit, rolling his hips again and again. 

“S-sorry,” you apologize, too focused on how your orgasm is already approaching, “Please.”

“Hold on,” he slows down, and you nearly sob with how close you are, but he only does it to remove his shirt and uncover your chest again. Then he goes back to his frantic thrusts, eyes fixated on the way that your tits bounce with every push of his hips. 

“‘M close, Daddy,” you hiccup, feeling your heartbeat in all parts of your body. You throw your head back and groan loudly at the head of the bed, “I’m so close.”

If you weren’t holding onto your underwear, you would be clutching the bed frame so hard that your knuckles were white. Instead, the fabric is pulled so taut by your fingers that it hurts when it digs into your skin. You probably don’t have to do it so roughly but the pleasure racking up your spine makes you need it.

“Don’t hold back, baby,” he encourages with ragged breathing. Confident that you won’t let go as you orgasm, he lets go of himself and grabs both of your hips. He hoists you up a little, leans forward a little further, and then drives his hips back and forth, cockhead sliding over your clit repeatedly. 

“I’m gonna— Oh my God, I’m gonna come, I’m gonna come, I’m gonna come,” you say it like you’re almost in a panic, almost too overwhelmed to embrace the intensity you’re about to experience. You want to push him away and pull him in at the same time but he holds you so roughly in place that you just have to take it. Your eyes find his as you let it happen, “I’m coming! Daddy, oh f— I’m coming!”

“Yeah? My love bug’s coming?” He nods as encouragement, “Come for me, darlin’ baby.”

And my God, you do. You can feel your whole pelvic floor erupt into beautiful spasms of pleasure, your clit pulsing so fast and strongly that you are sure that Joel can feel it against his dick. You thank God that he is holding onto you because you are twitching and moving involuntarily as he continues his sweet torment, and tears stream down your face. 

“That’s it, baby doll, you just cry all ya want,” Joel manages to coo between his own moans. You sob as your orgasm peaks, even more when you slip into a state of oversensitivity. Joel doesn’t relent, “Oh, baby. I know, baby, I know.”

It isn’t until your panties start to tear that he draws back, precome beading at the slit of his cock from how turned on he is. He is smeared with your arousal too, pearly white, and he seems to have put all the strength he has into holding back so you don’t pass out. 

You shiver, trying to make sense of why your body chose to make you come so hard from a simple clit orgasm. The sweat on your body suddenly feels cold, and you reach for him until he leans down and kisses your lips. You whimper into his mouth. He wipes away a few tears.

“You okay?” He asks softly, pulling back slightly to look you in the eyes as you reply.

“Yes, sorry.”

“No, no. Don’t apologize,” he tuts, “You were gorgeous. God, I am so crazy about you.”

“Now you,” you insist, looking down between the two of you to see the red tip of his weeping cock, “You promised.”

“That I did,” he draws back until he is on his knees again. He grabs the base of his dick, strokes it a few times, and then lays it against the crotch of your underwear. 

Joel rubs the head fast against the soft fabric. He holds onto your thighs, neck muscles straining as he seeks out his own pleasure. You watch him whilst delirious with post-orgasmic bliss, occasionally whimpering when he unintentionally slides over your swollen clit. 

A moment later, after one of your particularly high whines, he comes with a short breath of relief. He stains the fabric, lays his cock heavy against the front of the underwear, and pulses until he has no more to give. It’s intense to see him like this, and you find yourself grabbing his wrist to keep him in the moment with you. 

“Christ, sweetheart,” he pants. He slumps a little.

“I thought it was love bug,” you say with irresistible charm. 

“Don’t make me tell you to lick ‘em clean, young lady,” he smirks, already crawling forward to lay down on top of you. He crushes you so heavenly with his weight, pretending-biting your cheek and causing you to snicker, “Are we clear?”

You hold him close, relishing in everything that he is, “We’re clear. I’ll behave. Somewhat.”

“Somewhat?” He nuzzles into your neck and presses a kiss. 

“Well, I don’t think I’m quite satisfied,” you say dramatically. 

Joel pulls back to glare at you, “What is that supposed to mean?”

“Well, I need you inside me too,” you pout even more dramatically, “Pussy feels so lonely, Daddy. Needs something.”

“Well, we can’t starve this insatiable pussy, can we?” Joel catches on quickly, and soon, he has you screaming on three of his fingers. 

.

.

If you would like to follow my writing then go follow @notjustjavierpena-fics and turn on notifications 💖❤️

[jetii]

Theory of Attraction

Pairing: Tech x fem!Reader

Words: 10,975

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only! friends/squadmates to lovers, virgin!Tech, Tech’s autism rizz, smut, oral (m and f receiving), dirty talk, fingering, unprotected sex, squirting, Tech being a bit of a perv but can you blame him

Summary: It's no secret that Tech has been fascinated by you ever since you joined the team. He's spent months carefully crafting a plan in the hopes of someday asking you on a date, but it all goes out the window with the smallest push.

A/N: *slaps roof* you can fit so much smut inside this baby. That’s pretty much all this is, the feelings are a garnish.

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The heat is cloying, sticking to Tech’s skin in an unwelcome blanket where his armor doesn’t cover. Whisps of hair are plastered to his forehead, sweat dripping down the back of his neck and pooling into the collar of his blacks.

He’s uncomfortable and on edge, much preferring the cold of space to the sweltering heat and humidity of the planet that seems dead-set on torturing him.

Maybe that’s why his body is feeling the way it does. Why it’s so receptive to the image that’s right in front of him. Something so innocent, that no one around except for him is batting an eye.

You, your eyes closed in apparent pleasure, licking and sucking a bright red popsicle.

Tech isn’t sure precisely how long he’s been staring at you, but he knows exactly how much of the treat you’d started with and how little was left on the stick now as it disappeared again into your mouth.

Somewhere between finishing the repairs and watching Wrecker load their replenished rations and potable water onto the ship, you produced the collection of colorful popsicles and offered him one. You, Wrecker, and Omega had already devoured two each on the journey back, gushing over how refreshing they were when you breached the tree line and caught sight of them.

He’d nearly declined, not wanting to add syrupy stickiness to the laundry list of less-than-pleasant sensations he was currently experiencing, but a pout from your slightly swollen lips had him reaching into the box. He devoured his meiloorun-flavored popsicle in a few bites, ignoring the offended looks from the others at his method, and returned to his datapad to study up on the flora of the planet.

Or, he had tried to.

His datapad lies forgotten in his lap as he regards you with slightly shallow breaths falling from his lips. A line of red syrup drifts down your hand, and you slowly follow the trail with your tongue before it reaches your wrist.

His hand clenches on his knee, hoping no one else is noticing the way that his eyes darken at the sight of your tongue disappearing into your shining wet mouth. The popsicle is quick to follow it, drifting in and out between lips stained a very enticing shade of red. His mind is full of cotton as he swallows thickly, and he feels himself twitch in his jeans.

Of all the things to be his sexual awakening, this one has to be the most embarrassing.

Sex had simply never interested him before, at least not in a way that felt like this. He isn’t a stranger to the urges that came with being a healthy human male, and he took care of it himself the same as his brothers in the ‘fresher or in the cover of darkness in his bunk when the need arose. But the idea of being with another person hadn’t been top of mind, well, ever.

Between missions, recovering from said missions, endless repairs and modifications to the Marauder, and satisfying his insatiable thirst for knowledge, it hadn’t ever been a possibility worth spending time thinking about. He preferred to focus his efforts on things that were real and tangible.

He’d spent a lot of time lately thinking about you, however.

And even more time analyzing those thoughts in an effort to tease apart why he’s so distracted by you. Wondering where you are, what you’re thinking, feeling delighted whenever he receives new information about you. That had quickly led him down a path that turned into watching out for you specifically when you were in danger and looking for opportunities to help you when you weren’t.

Last week, you’d been stuck on a lift alone together, and he’d pretended to struggle with fixing it just to spend a few more minutes talking to you.

It’s embarrassing, it’s irrational, but he couldn’t stop it if he tried.

After weeks of deliberation, he’d resolved to set a plan into motion that would eventually lead to him asking you to dinner. Tech never did anything without thorough research and preparation. When the others went to sleep, he went through a long list of romantic holofilms, some less terrible than others, and imagined himself in the leading role.

He pictured himself saying the right things, knowing the right way to touch you to hold your interest. You’d talk over a nice meal about what you always talked about, hold hands on the walk back to the Marauder, and perhaps share a dry peck on the cheek before calling it a night. He thought he’d want to start slow.

The wooden stick nearly disappears completely between your red lips. His hand forms into a fist on his knee. Kark.

Slow went right out the window with the last of his sanity, evidently.

It takes a lot for Tech to admit when he’s wrong, but stars, was he wrong about this.

He replays that moment over in his head again. How your cheeks hollowed ever so slightly as you sucked the stick clean, trying to get every inch of the sweet syrup. He pictures you doing the same action but on your knees, his skin underneath your lips instead.

It’s late, or what passes as late when you’re traveling at light speed through the cosmos. He’s awake as he often is, back pressed into the pilot’s seat while the others are sound asleep in their bunks. But unlike the other nights where he’s alone, you’re there, nestled between his spread legs, your hands softly caressing the inside of his thighs.

You’re wearing that oversized shirt you always wear to sleep and nothing else but a pair of GAR-issued briefs, and he can see a flash of their damp center even from his position above you. Your pupils are blown with lust as you stare up at him through your lashes from where you kneel until they flutter closed when the head of his cock presses into your awaiting mouth.

“Ah, just like that,” he whispers through clenched teeth, his fingers twisting into the hair on the back of your head.

You let out an appreciative moan at the slight pull before sliding forward, sucking the remainder of him into your awaiting mouth. He can feel the press of his tip at the back of your throat as you swallow around him, and his eyes nearly roll back in his head at the movement. He casts his head back until it thumps against the headrest, breathing heavily to desperately stop himself from coming down your throat and ending it all so soon.

You seem to sense his desire and slow your motions to a crawl, leaning away to press kitten licks to his head. He holds your hair gently while keeping one hand tangled in it, his eyes searching your face as he continues watching you suck him off slowly and deliberately, moving up and down at your leisure. But when a hand reaches up to cup his balls, he pulls you off him with a wrenched gasp.

The motion entices you to stand and climb onto his lap, his hands welcoming you by grabbing two handfuls of your soft thighs just before they reach the flesh of your ass. You settle your weight on him, hands coming to wrap around his neck before your lips meet in a vicious and messy kiss.

Somewhere between the meeting of teeth and tongues, he helps you lift your shirt up and over your head, whipping it over his shoulder and the back of the chair without another thought. Your bare breasts heave directly in his line of sight, and he’s mesmerized by their shape and apparent softness. The birthmark above your right breast has always enticed him whenever he catches a glimpse of it, and he doesn’t think twice to bring his lips to it.

You eagerly press into his awaiting mouth as Tech dips his head to taste the skin of your chest. He spends special attention on your nipples, teasing them into hardened peaks as he caresses your bare skin wherever he can reach. You moan, nearly trembling with his efforts while you mindlessly rut against him, just as drunk off the contact as he is. He can feel you practically drip onto him from where your clothed core rubs against him.

Tech moves a hand up to cup the side of your face, admiring the desperate expression he finds there.

“Please,” you beg with a wanton moan as your clit catches the tip of him, sending a shudder down your thighs.

Tech is nothing if not attentive, and he reacts quickly by lining himself up to your entrance, his thumb pushing aside your underwear to bare you to him.

There's a moment of delicious, almost painful waiting, and then he slowly lifts his hips to sink up into you. Your fingers latch onto his forearm - nails sinking into fabric and flesh. It feels incredible, almost dizzying as he stretches you out and fills you to the brim.

He can’t help but dig his fingers into the flesh of your ass as you lower yourself completely onto him. You turn your head slightly and suck his thumb into your mouth, the most incredible sounds escaping your lips as you wrap your lips around him and draw him in to lave your tongue along the digit.

You move yourself up and down torturously slow, but every time his tip nudges against that spot inside of you, you whimper. The motion makes your bare breasts brush against him, and he’s enticed to lean forward and run his tongue along your flesh, sweeter than any dessert —

“Tech, you’re staring.”

It takes everything in his power not to jump out of his skin, mouth snapping shut with a clack of his teeth to hide his surprised gasp. But Tech still startles slightly — only slightly — before his wide eyes are met with the sight of Echo in front of him.

There’s no mistaking the amused expression on his brother’s pale face as he watches Tech fumble to look anywhere except at the woman currently making an absolute mess of him.

Tech is far from the only one who looked at you, he knew that. But after months of traveling together, it became increasingly apparent that he’s the only one who remains flustered by your presence.

His brothers teased him endlessly over it, but Tech had never been bothered by their assumption of his affections, nor made any effort to deny them so long as they didn’t make you uncomfortable.

His interest in you is only natural, after all. A byproduct of forced extended proximity, your objectively admirable qualities, his lack of experience with women, and the way your mere presence seemed to ease the constant buzzing in his brain.

At least, that was the working theory.

Echo clears his throat, bringing Tech back into the present as he shifts to cross his arms over his chest, still clearly enjoying the situation.

“I was not,” he responds with a huff, adjusting his goggles.

The heat that’d already been traveling up his body from his loins diverts to flush his cheeks and ears with red. He’s suddenly grateful for the datapad in his lap — he’s already been caught, he doesn’t need to be caught like that as well.

The look Echo gives him makes him feel chided, but the clone is only struggling to hold back a smile, eyebrows raised. “Sure you weren’t.”

Desperate to escape the teasing — and there’d be no shortage of it once Echo reported back to the others — Tech jerks to his feet. He can feel eyes on him as he retreats, offering a rushed explanation about HVAC diagnostics, but he chooses to ignore them in favor of hurrying toward the cockpit.

Once inside, he throws himself into his chair and locks the doors behind him. His hand is drawing out his hard length from his jeans before the lock kicks in.

Tech can’t sleep, so he does the next best thing by heading to the cockpit, taking over Hunter’s watch with very little convincing. It's quiet there, and it gives him time alone to sort through his thoughts. Not that the ones that are currently racing through his mind are all that productive, but it's better than tossing and turning and waking everyone else.

He settles himself in the pilot's chair, the dim lights and steady thrum of the engine a welcome distraction from the constant replay of the previous day's events. His mind drifts back to the heat, the humidity, the way your hair fell over your shoulders and stuck to your neck with sweat.

And then his brain helpfully supplies the memory of your mouth, swollen and red from sucking on the popsicle, the way the liquid melted in the summer sun and dripped down your arm, and the way you chased it with your tongue.

He sinks lower into the pilot seat and groans, throwing his head back against the headrest and squeezing his eyes shut. This is becoming a problem, he thinks.

“Oh!”

His head shot up at the sound, snapping over to glance at the entrance to the cockpit as the door hisses closed.

You stand still, your hand slightly raised toward your mouth as you catch sight of him in his chair. Your eyes are wide in surprise as they meet his own. He can see even in the dim light that you'd just rolled out of bed, wisps of hair escaping your braid and sticking to your neck.

His eyes travel lower, and he nearly lets out a groan when he realizes you’re wearing the same shirt as you were in his fantasy, legs enticingly bare underneath its hem.

He must’ve been staring for a while because you start to fidget under his attention. Your fingers play with each other in front of your waist as you bite into your lower lip. He tries not to focus on the movement, but there’s something about the air between you that has him entranced by it.

“Sorry, I thought no one’d be in here,” you whisper. When he does nothing, his mind too distracted to form words, you move to turn back toward the door. “Goodnight, Tech —“

He has a split second to make a choice.

“Wait,” he calls out, stopping you in your tracks. “You can stay. If you would like to, that is. I don’t mind.”

“Um, alright.” You still look a little unsure, but you're soon sitting in front of his turned chair in the co-pilot’s seat.

When it comes to love, Tech is far from an expert. Unless you considered an encyclopedic knowledge of courtship rituals and human erogenous zones being an expert, which he does not. Particularly when the breadth of the information stored in his mind seems just beyond his reach every time he looks at you.

He has a feeling you won’t enjoy many of the techniques suggested in his reading, either, such as what one author referred to as “playing hard to get.” You don't seem like the type to entertain mind games, not that he was interested in playing that type of game with you anyway.

No, his approach is going to have to be different, and more importantly, genuine.

The problem is, the longer he thinks about how to approach you, the more his mind becomes overwhelmed by the prospect.

At some point, Tech realizes you've been sitting in silence while he monologues internally, and once again, his mouth opens before he can stop it.

“Are you alright?”

You look surprised, and he isn’t sure if it’s because of the question or because he’s the one asking it. He doesn't exactly make a habit out of checking in on the others, figuring that they would tell him what’s on their mind if they wanted to, but he’s been watching you long enough that he can tell the look on your face is solemn. He doesn’t enjoy it.

“I…” you trail off when you meet his eyes, looking back down at the hands folded in your lap. “Yeah, I’m fine. It’s stupid.”

“I sincerely doubt that. You are a very intelligent woman.”

His earnest, rapid-fire compliment seems to have caught you off guard, because when you turn to face him, you look bewildered.

He stammers to recover.

"I-I only mean that if you were thinking something that was bothering you, it would most likely be something important."

Your features softened. “Do you…ever wonder what will happen to us?”

The chair turns fully, your knees nearly brushing. You draw your legs up so they’re balancing on each armrest, elbows falling to brace yourself on them. You're looking at him now, and he once again is struggling to know what to say once you clarify, “What you’ll do after the fighting ends?”

Tech sets his datapad down on the console. When he looks into your eyes again, he can see them shining in the dim light, and it makes his heart feel heavy to see you look so lost.

Still, he can’t help but say it. The truth.

“We are clones. War is our purpose. There is no ‘after’ for us.”

Tech knows immediately it isn’t the right thing to say. You inhale sharply and quickly scrub your cheek. “But do you think about what it would be like if there was?”

He hesitates. He wants to say no, to tell you that the thought never crossed his mind, but that would be a lie. Tech has thought about it, at this point quite extensively.

He’s pictured a life outside of running from or into danger, one where Omega could actually be a kid and one where he and his brothers aren’t constantly looking over their shoulders. He’s pictured a home that isn’t a gunship or a lab balancing over a tumultuous ocean, a life that is simple and routine but no less rewarding.

But he’s afraid to say it, he realizes. Not just because it’s an illogical waste of time to consider the possibilities, but because now in every one of those pictures his mind has loosely constructed, you're there by his side.

You had already become part of his routine, your lives inexorably intertwined, and he didn’t want that to change. His ideal future is any future where you're together, whether it’s simply as teammates or friends or something more.

He isn’t sure how he’ll react if he divulges that to you, and you don't feel the same. He reminds himself that he wanted to start slow, his strong sexual attraction to you be damned.

The words are quiet when he finally speaks.

“Yes, I have.”

Your hand reaches out to take his, and the sensation of your bare skin warming his own sends something like a static shock to his system.

You've touched before — to swap tools, pull each other into the safety of cover, and that one time you fell asleep on his shoulder at dinner — but all of that had been through his gloves or armor. This was the first time he’d ever felt you.

It’s thrilling, he wants more of it, and he immediately understands why people get addicted to this sort of thing.

Tech’s hand turns, and he laces your fingers together before he can convince himself not to. When he catches your eye again, tearing his gaze away from where you're connected, you're smiling at him.

It’s small, a far cry from the ear-to-ear grin you wear when Wrecker says something to make you laugh, or when he dips the Marauder into a nosedive, but it still makes him feel warm.

“You deserve to have a life outside of war, Tech,” you say earnestly with a squeeze of your fingers. “You all do.”

“Thank you.” He scoots closer to the edge of his seat, toward your warmth and welcoming smile. Tech’s heart is in his throat, but if there was ever a time to tell you how he feels, it’s now.

“I—“

The door slides open, startling you both into letting go of each other’s hands. Wrecker stumbles into the room with an arm thrown up over his face, the other outstretched and waving wildly.

“Everybody decent?” he asks, then barks out a laugh at his own quip as he lowers his arm from his eyes.

You're both quick to scoot your chairs away from each other and stand, a flustered blush rising to your cheeks and an annoyed one rising to his. Tech opens his mouth to give his brother a piece of his mind, but you speak up first.

You clear your throat. "Yeah, um, I was just on my way out."

When he turns to you, your cheeks are flushed.

“Goodnight, Tech,” you mutter as you stand, avoiding his gaze. “Wrecker.”

You shove past Wrecker without another word, and the two watch you go before Wrecker turns back to Tech with a wide grin.

“Soo?” Wrecker asks, drawing out the question as he looks back and forth between the door and Tech, who has his hands braced on his hips.

Tech is silent for a beat, but when the tension gets too high, he throws his arms up. "So what?"

“What was that all about?” Wrecker gestures to the space you had just been occupying, his smile turning smug.

Tech scoffs and turns away, settling back into the pilot’s chair and picking up his datapad. “We were just talking,” he replies curtly over his shoulder. “Was there something you needed?”

“Aw c’mon, that’s it?” Wrecker whines. When he doesn’t get a response further, he heaves a sigh. “It’s my turn for watch.”

Weeks have gone by since your talk in the cockpit. The mission for Cid went off without a hitch, relatively speaking. You had your cover blown at the last minute, which led to an inevitable firefight and a hasty retreat. While some would consider it a failure, the group was optimistic. After all, you'd gotten the stolen cargo back and then some, and miraculously no one was hurt.

The generous sum of credits that greeted you on your return to Ord Mantell was split the usual way. Cid took more than her fair share before the chits hit the table, and what little amount was left was first pooled together in a fund for food, supplies, and repairs for the Marauder, then divvied up equally among the Batch. Your individual take-home pay was meager, but with the essentials taken care of, it was enough to keep paying your rent. For now.

As soon as the credits were pressed into your palm, you made yourself scarce, muttering something about needing a real shower and bed for once. Tech couldn’t blame you, though he was itching to speak to you again.

The group made their way to Cid’s arcade, Omega half hanging from Hunter’s arm as she fought sleep. Though none of you were eager to spend much time planetside, there was little else to do but wait for Cid to need you again. And if you were going to endure the city and its splendors, a drink was required.

An hour into Cid’s beer reserve, still full price and then some for the Batch, and you finally return. Freshly showered with a new set of clothes, you're easily the most put-together and rested any of them have looked in days. The tight shirt you chose rides up slightly when you wave a greeting, revealing a sliver of the skin of your abdomen. Tech quickly buries his nose in his datapad to avoid being caught staring again.

You settle into the empty stool beside him at the bar, and the others welcome you back. You seem relaxed, a stark difference from the somber mood you were in the last time Tech saw you, and he feels relieved to see you happy.

Still busying himself with his research, he slides over the glass of tsiraki in front of him in your direction. It's your drink of choice, one that he noticed you always seemed to prefer over the fruity mixed drinks Echo ordered for you.

“For you.”

He didn't have to look up to know you’re smiling at him, though he can feel his own lips tilt up when you speak. “Thank you for thinking of me.”

“I am always thinking of you,” he says, eyes still on his datapad.

A beat passes, and Tech realizes his mistake. His eyes widen, and his gaze snaps up to meet yours. You're looking at him with slightly furrowed brows, lips parted in a quiet gasp.

He opens his mouth to correct himself, but nothing comes out to correct his accidental confession. One that he meant entirely, but perhaps could have timed better.

His face feels hot, and his mind is racing as he watches the expression on your face soften. You huff out a quiet laugh, closing your eyes and shaking your head as you reach for your glass. He watches you carefully, not wanting to look away for a second, as he struggles to process your reaction. Or lack thereof.

“Is something wrong?” Tech finally asks, setting down his datapad.

You take a long sip of your drink before setting it down and leaning your elbows against the bartop, turning to look at him. A soft smile pulls at your lips. “No, not at all. Don’t worry about it.”

Normally, he would press further. Leaving questions unanswered is never his strong suit unless he is sufficiently distracted. Like now, for example, when the sight of you licking your lips is far too enticing to let him focus on anything else.

If you notice he’s staring again, you don’t show it, choosing instead to throw back the final drink of your glass before setting it aside. You turn your body to face him fully, your knees brushing softly against his leg.

“Have you ever heard of five-blossom bread?”

“It is a pastry from your home planet, correct?” He asks, eyebrows raised slightly in surprise at the sudden question. You nod. “I have only been once to Naboo, and we did not spend much time there to try the cuisine.”

You hum in affirmation, tilting your head at him. He feels as if you're searching for something in his gaze, and his mouth opens and closes as he thinks of something else to say. Fortunately, you speak up first.

“There’s a place not far from here that sells it. Wanna come with?”

You glance away from him awkwardly, but when you meet his eyes again, he can see the excitement in them. It does something to his heart that has him nodding before you could finish speaking.

You don’t talk about your time before the Batch much, but from what little he’d gleaned from you, you hold a fondness for your home that he simply doesn’t feel about Kamino. And it made you happy when you came across any memento of Naboo on your travels, something that never failed to make the rest of them feel happier as well.

“I know you have a sweet tooth. You’ll love it, I promise.” You beam up at him, and he returns your smile with a hesitant one of his own.

“That sounds agreeable. Do you want to leave now? If you are hungry, of course. Or we could wait until the morning, if that would be better—“

Tech is interrupted by your hand covering his on the table, and all thoughts of five-blossom pastries and Naboo leave his head immediately. The feeling of your touch is the only thing on his mind as he looks up to meet your eye.

“Let’s go now, Tech,” you say.

You stand and begin to make your way through the bar, passing by the others on their way out.

“Where’re you two off to?” Wrecker asks with a wide grin, eyes on where you’ve grabbed Tech’s hand to pull him along.

“Out,” you answer before Tech can open his mouth.

He glances over at you, eyebrows raised in surprise by your sharp reply. You tug him forward before anyone else can speak up, throwing a quick “catch you later!” over your shoulder as you quickly ascend the stairs and out into the evening air.

The sun has just started to set, and the streets are alive with the noise and bustle of the city. Tech keeps close to your side, trying his best to keep an eye on the people around you while simultaneously focusing on you. It isn’t as difficult as it sounds; you are a bright point among the chaos of the crowd.

He could have sworn that you were smiling wider, your steps lighter, the closer you got to your destination. It makes him happy too, even though he has no idea where you are headed.

Tech hadn’t considered the fact that you’re still holding his hand until the two of you are forced to stop at a crosswalk. You stand waiting for the signal to change, and he becomes very aware of how closely you’re pressed together.

After you cross the street, a thought suddenly occurs to him, and he stops abruptly, his arm tugging your back.

“Is this a date?” he asks, bewildered.

You turn around, and he can feel your fingers tense in his. He hopes he hasn't said the wrong thing, and the panic is short-lived when you start to smile.

“Do you want it to be?”

His mind is racing, but Tech manages a single word, surprising the both of you by the certainty in his voice, "Yes."

Your eyes are wide as they search his, and when you bite into your bottom lip, he can feel his cheeks heating up.

“If that is also your preference,” he adds quickly.

“It is, yeah,” you say with a gentle squeeze of his hand. “C’mon, it’s just ahead.”

He follows along after you, feeling lighter than he has in weeks. The bakery is a small, hole-in-the-wall establishment, but the smell coming from inside is delightful. The door jingles as you step inside, and the girl behind the counter looks up from the customer she’s helping with a startlingly friendly smile considering the city you’re in. You’re practically bouncing on your feet as you wait in line.

Tech glances over the baked goods in the display case, eyes catching on one that looks familiar. He points it out. "Are those the pastries you mentioned?"

You follow his gaze, a smile blooming on your face. "Those are! How did you guess?"

Tech feels his cheeks warm. "It’s not difficult to deduce. You seem quite excited by their presence."

"I can't help it. These things are the best; I'm telling you."

A few minutes later, you’re seated at a table by the window, a five-blossom bread garnished with syrup steaming on a plate between you. You take a bite, sighing happily as the taste washes over you. He smiles at your expression, and after a moment, you open your eyes again.

"Here, try some." You break off a piece and hold it out to him. He eyes it warily, not used to someone wanting to feed him, and takes it slowly between his teeth.

The taste is…not terrible.

"Well?"

"It is adequate, I suppose." He shrugs.

You roll your eyes, taking another bite. "Just say you love it."

"I am not going to lie to you."

You laugh, and Tech feels a surge of pride knowing he was the one who caused it, however unintentionally

"Alright, alright. I get it. Just know, I'm never letting you live this down. You're gonna have to find a way to make it up to me." You grin at him, a look of mischief in your eye, and he finds himself smiling back.

"I am sure I can think of something."

You finish the rest of your dessert quickly, and the two of you continue to talk as the night draws on. You tell him about Naboo and its many charms, the foods and people and sights. He tells you about the many other planets he has been to before you joined the squad, the differences and similarities. The conversation flows easily between you, and before he knows it, hours have passed, and the bakery is closing.

As you leave the bakery, you slip your hand back into his, and he marvels at the simple joy of the action.

The streets have cleared somewhat, and you're able to walk at a leisurely pace to your apartment. Tech insisted he escort you home, as the streets are not the safest place to be even for a trained mercenary. You had tried to convince him you would be fine, but when you saw the look in his eye, you agreed without further argument.

When you reach the entrance, he expects you to release his hand and step inside, but you pause.

"I had a great time tonight, Tech. Thank you."

"It was my pleasure." He pauses. "Perhaps we could do this again sometime."

You smile. "I'd like that."

"As would I."

There’s a moment of quiet between you before Tech looks around awkwardly and takes a step back, dropping your hand. “…Well, goodbye.”

He turns to leave, but your hand on his arm stops him. "Tech.”

When he turns back, you're closer, looking up at him with a soft smile. Your fingers trail down his arm until they meet his. You squeeze gently before letting go, and his breath catches.

“Yes?"

“Generally, at the end of a date, it’s customary to kiss the other person goodnight."

Tech feels his face flush. He swallows hard, his voice slightly strained as he replies. "Is that so?"

"Mhmm," you hum. Your gaze falls to his lips, and he finds himself unconsciously doing the same to yours.

"I did not want to presume—"

Your hands cup his cheeks, and then your lips are on his, soft and warm. The kiss is sweet, short and over far too soon, and when you pull away, his eyes flutter open, his breath leaving him in a rush.

"You weren't," you whisper. He watches your lips move, unable to tear his eyes away.

"Good. That is…good." He leans in to kiss you again, his hands coming up to grip your waist and pull you close. Your lips are soft and yielding beneath his, and when your tongue flicks against his lower lip, he gasps.

His mind is hazy, a pleasant fog clouding his thoughts. All he can think about is the way you feel in his arms, the taste of your lips, the warmth of your body. You kiss him with a passion he has never felt before, and he tries his best to match your fervor.

When you finally break apart, both of you are breathing heavily, your foreheads pressed together. Your cheeks are flushed, and you look as dazed as he feels.

“You’re…you’re pretty good at that,” you say between breaths, chest heaving.

“Your positive feedback is noted,” he replies, just as winded, before adding, “and reciprocated. I’m pleased to know my research has paid off.”

You grin, a blush rising to your cheeks. "Research, huh?”

“Yes. Once I better understood my interest in you, I took it upon myself to learn more about the nature of romantic relationships and affection.” Tech adjusts his goggles. “It is a surprisingly fascinating subject with no shortage of material on the HoloNet.”

You tilt your head as your fingers trail along the back of his neck. The light scrape of your nails sends a shiver down his spine.

“What else have you learned?” you ask, voice soft.

“Many things I am eager to share with you,” he confesses, leaning closer and tightening his grip on your waist. You mirror his movements, your lips parting slightly.

“Did you know it is customary for alpha-bull Crolutes to have a harem of concubines in a breeding colony? They must constantly battle other Crolutes to maintain their status. It is fascinating they are able to sustain such a base culture given their female species’ proclivity for space travel.”

The words fall out of his mouth, and the sudden shift in mood has you snorting, your shoulders shaking with laughter.

He's confused, but he doesn't let it stop him from pressing on. "There was an entire subsection dedicated to the topic. I can send you the link if you'd like to read more about it."

You smile up at him, a look of fondness on your face, and shake your head. “Tech.”

You kiss him again, slower this time, and he can feel his heart skip a beat. You pull away after a moment, your lips ghosting over his.

“As interesting as that is, I was hoping for something a little more…tactile.”

He blinks, struggling to understand your meaning beneath the pleasant haze creeping over him. A litany of possible anecdotes crosses his mind before his train of thought is forcibly interrupted by the feeling of your fingers tapping against his chest plate. They drag downward, following the contours of his cuirass, and suddenly it clicks.

Just as you move to pull away, Tech follows, tightening his grip on your hips. He crowds you against the door, careful not to push too hard as his chest touches yours. With your hand trapped between you, his own travels upward to grasp your chin between his thumb and index finger.

“I apologize for the misunderstanding,” he murmurs. “I am more than happy to provide a physical demonstration.”

When your lips meet again, Tech feels as though a switch has been flipped, his desire for you flaring bright and hot.

His kisses are no longer gentle and tentative but passionate and demanding. He wants to know what you taste like, how you will react if he sucks your bottom lip into his mouth. You gasp, and he takes the opportunity to slip his tongue between your parted lips. You moan, a low and needy sound that makes him ache.

Tech can feel his body responding to the physical stimulus, his cock already hard and straining against his pants. He groans into your mouth, grinding his hips against yours.

Your fingers clutch at his chest plate, pulling him closer as he explores your mouth with his tongue. He can feel you trembling beneath him, your breath coming in shallow gasps. He releases your chin to slide his hand up to cradle the back of your neck, angling your head so he can deepen the kiss.

Your leg lifts to wrap around his waist, and he eagerly grabs for it, fingers digging into the plush of your thigh. He uses his grip to hoist you further up, and you quickly get the hint, wrapping both legs around him until he fully supports your weight with his arm tucked underneath you.

The new position has your core flush against his, the heat of you obvious through your clothes. Your arms wrap around his neck as you continue exploring each other's mouths. Tech can feel you grinding against him, and he moans, hips bucking instinctively.

His withdraws his hand from your face to reach for the door panel, deftly deactivating the lock, and it slides open with an abrupt hiss. Gasping at the sudden loss of the barrier behind you, your body tenses against him. Tech quickly maneuvers his hand back underneath you to prevent you from falling backward through the threshold, and you let out a relieved laugh into his mouth that turns into a moan as he shifts you to grab two generous handfuls of your ass.

He carries you inside, and you fumble blindly with the control panel, struggling to close the door with his mouth attached to yours. When you’re finally successful, the door sliding shut behind him, he breaks from the kiss momentarily to look around the dimly lit room. “Where is—“

“Door on the left,” you say immediately between open-mouthed kisses on his neck. He nods, making his way to your bedroom as best as he can in the dark.

Just as he’s about to reach the door, teeth sink into his earlobe and tug. He lets out a gasp and stumbles, pressing you back up against the wall near the door as he involuntarily ruts into the juncture between your thighs. You let out a little laugh before he descends on your lips again, forcing them apart with his tongue.

The kisses become increasingly frantic and messy, and Tech finds it difficult to think. All he can focus on is the taste of you, the warmth of your skin, the way your legs tighten around his hips. His cock aches, desperate for relief, and his hips begin rocking steadily into your core.

He can feel you panting against his mouth, the heat of your breath driving him wild. His grip on your ass tightens, fingers digging into your soft flesh, and he groans, rutting against you harder.

You’re moaning now, fingers scrabbling for purchase on his armor. The sound makes his cock throb, and he grinds his hips against yours, chasing the sensation.

Tech wants to see you, needs to see you, but he can't bring himself to pull away from the kiss. Your lips are so soft, so warm, and the way you whimper and cling to him sends shivers down his spine.

You suddenly wiggle out of his hold with a nip to his lower lip, and his hands fall to his sides. He can't help the noise of protest that escapes him as you back away into the dark bedroom, but before he can do anything else, your fingers dig into the lip of his cuirass and tug him after you. He follows your lead, hands roaming over your waist and hips as he backs you toward the bed.

Your hands drift toward the fastenings of his chest plate, and his heart rate accelerates, pulse thudding loudly in his ears.

“Can I take this off?” you ask with a tilt of your head.

He nods.

You make quick work of the clasps, removing his cuirass and tossing it aside. Together, you remove his armor piece by piece until he’s standing in just his blacks and jeans.

When his holster is removed, you drop to your knees before him, fingers moving to the clasp of his pants, and he nearly chokes as he’s reminded of the fantasy he’s been tormented by for weeks.

"Oh, Force.”

The button pops, and the zipper is tugged down agonizingly slowly. You lean forward and mouth his length through the material of his briefs, and his knees go weak. You look up at him, pupils blown wide with desire.

Tech can’t tear his gaze away.

With trembling fingers, he pushes his pants and briefs down, allowing his cock to spring free. He has to resist the urge to touch himself, to fist his aching length and seek relief. Your breath hitches at the sight, your eyes raking over his body.

"Stars, Tech, you're big."

His cheeks burn, and his heart is pounding in his ears. You run your hands up his thighs, and his cock twitches, straining toward your touch.

Tech has never been particularly interested in his size, but the way you said it makes him feel like the most desirable man in the galaxy. Your words and the expression on your face has his ego skyrocketing, his chest puffing out with pride before he sucks in a sudden sharp breath.

Your breath is hot against his tip, your lips so close he can feel them brush against the sensitive skin. He’s aching, the urge to thrust his hips and bury himself in your throat almost overwhelming. But then, your mouth is on him, and his mind goes blank.

The wet heat of your mouth is incredible, your tongue tracing the veins on the underside of his cock and flicking across the slit. Your hands come up to rest on his hips, fingers digging into his skin, and you take him deeper, swallowing around him until he feels the back of your throat.

Tech moans, his eyes squeezing shut as his head falls back. His hips rock forward instinctively, and you make a noise in the back of your throat, one of your hands coming up to rest on his stomach.

He looks down at you, his hand cupping your jaw and thumb caressing your cheek. Your eyes are closed, tears leaking from the corners, and your lips stretch around his girth. He’s mesmerized, his fingers brushing over your features.

You open your eyes and look up at him, and the sight of you is nearly enough to undo him. He bites back a groan, his grip on your tightening.

Tech has never seen anything so beautiful.

"You are so lovely." He brushes a lock of hair behind your ear, and you hum around his cock, sending vibrations through his body. "I have dreamt of this moment, of having your perfect mouth wrapped around me. The reality is even better than I could have imagined."

You swallow around him again, and he shudders, his hips rocking involuntarily.

"You look exquisite on your knees, taking my cock. So perfect. So eager."

A whimper escapes you, and he moans, his hips snapping forward. He’s careful not to go too deep, but the sensation of your throat constricting around him is divine.

Your pace quickens, and you bob your head, taking him deeper each time. He’s so close, his cock pulsing and throbbing.

"That's it. Take it. Take it all."

Your lips stretch obscenely around him, and he can feel the tip hitting the back of your throat. He’s lost, consumed by the pleasure, his words pouring out of him. "You look so beautiful like this. Taking my cock, letting me fuck your mouth. Such a good girl."

You whimper, your hands sliding from his hips to cup his balls, rolling them gently between your fingers. His orgasm is building, a tingling sensation at the base of his spine, and his hips begin to stutter.

"Fuck, mesh'la, I'm close. I'm going to cum. Stars, yes, I'm—"

With one last thrust, his vision whites out, and he’s cumming, cock pulsing relentlessly as he empties himself into your mouth. You swallow every drop, licking him clean as he comes down from his high.

When he finally pulls out, you gasp for breath, cheeks flushed. Tech is breathing heavily, his legs shaking, and he collapses onto the bed next to you, his head spinning.

"Force, that was…" He trails off, unable to find the right words. You grin, a sly look in your eye, and he knows that you know exactly what you've done to him.

Tech can still feel the buzz of his orgasm lingering, the tingle in his limbs making his toes curl. His eyes are half-closed, and he can’t seem to stop smiling.

"Do you have any idea how badly I've wanted to do that?" you ask, crawling up the bed and draping yourself over his side.

He blinks, surprised by the admission. "No. But I must say, I am extremely pleased you did."

You giggle, and his arm wraps around you. He pulls you close, relishing the feel of your body against his.

"That was…incredible."

"Mmm, I'm glad you liked it." You press a soft kiss to his cheek.

He sighs happily. "More than liked. It was a singular experience. One that I would be interested in repeating." He sits up, leaning over you. “But first, I wish to return the favor."

He kisses you, slow and deep. His hand slides up your body, caressing your curves. Your breasts are soft under his palms, and he feels you arch into his touch. Tech teases your nipple through your shirt, his tongue exploring your mouth. You pant into the kiss, your hands roaming over his bare chest.

Tech wants you naked, your skin against his.

He breaks the kiss, sitting up. "May I undress you?"

You nod, and he lifts the hem of your shirt, exposing your bare torso. His eyes travel over your body, drinking in every detail.

"Beautiful." He murmurs, fingers tracing the swell of your breast. You shiver at the touch, and he leans down, pressing a kiss to your collarbone. He drags his lips down your chest, peppering your skin with soft kisses. Your breasts are heavy in his hands, and he can feel your heartbeat racing under his tongue before his head dips lower.

His teeth tug at your nipple, and you gasp, your fingers tangling in his hair.

"Please."

Tech sucks hard, and you moan, your legs spreading beneath him. He continues his exploration, moving to the valley between your breasts. He trails his tongue down your stomach, his hands tugging at the waistband of your pants.

"Take these off."

He hooks his fingers into the fabric and pulls them down. You lift your hips, helping him remove the garment, leaving you bare save for your underwear.

Your skin is smooth and warm beneath his touch. Tech can feel your thighs trembling, your body arching toward him. He traces your hip bones, dipping his tongue into your navel, and you gasp.

"Tech…"

"Patience, cyar'ika. I promise, you will not regret the wait."

He drags his tongue over the apex of your thigh, teasing you with the barest of touches. You whimper, and he feels your legs spread even wider. He moves lower, tracing the seam of your pussy with his finger. You're soaked, your arousal seeping through the fabric of your panties, and the sight of it makes his mouth water.

“Tech, wait—“ He pauses immediately, though his fingers don’t leave you.

“Yes?”

“Have you…done this before?”

He tilts his head. “Intercourse?”

You sigh. “Yes, Tech.”

His brow furrows. He had not. Was that a problem?

“I am admittedly inexperienced in this area,” he says, eyes flicking downward toward the dampened crotch of your underwear and back up. He can feel saliva pooling in his mouth, and he swallows against it. “But I assure you I am a quick study.”

You reach out and run your fingers through his hair, pushing the unruly locks back off his forehead. He leans into your touch, his eyes closing.

"That's not what I meant. I just don't want you to feel obligated. If you aren't ready, we can stop."

“Understood,” he nods, pausing pensively to thank you before his thumbs smooth over your stomach. “Though I doubt I will wish to stop until I have had my fill of you. Lift your hips, mesh’la.”

After a second’s hesitation, you comply with his request, and he drags your underwear down your legs before tossing it aside. His hand is on you in an instant, middle finger gently exploring your slick folds before he dips it inside. He’s pleased to note that your anatomy doesn’t differ much from his research as he gathers the slick weeping from your entrance and swipes upward to catch the bundle of nerves above it.

You let out a soft cry and arch against him, your legs trembling. Tech grins, a thrill shooting through him.

"Is that good?"

"Yes, oh stars, yes." You pant, your hips rocking against his hand.

He continues to move his fingers, exploring your body, watching your reactions. You're so wet, your juices dripping down his hand. His thumb replaces his finger on your clit, rubbing gentle circles while he drags his finger down to your entrance.

He breaches you slowly, searching for the spot he had read about on your upper wall. When he feels a texture different from the softness surrounding it, he presses upward, and he’s rewarded with a loud whimper.

Chasing your noises, he begins to create a rhythm, drawing in and out and focusing on your core with rapt attention. He marvels at the way wetness seeps from your slit, dampening your thighs and his hand, at the sounds you make, at the way you arch into his touch.

He moves his free hand to press down on your lower stomach just as he adds a second finger, earning him a loud moan. Your hips begin to writhe with the motion of his thrusting fingers, wetness squelching lewdly.

“Are you sure you’ve never done this before?” you gasp out between panted breaths, your eyes locked on where his fingers are disappearing inside you.

“I have not,” he says. “But I admit I have thought about you in this position many times.”

You wail as he increases his pace, lowering himself onto his stomach so he can watch your impending orgasm up close. “That’s it, mesh’la. Cum on my fingers."

You shudder, your hands fisting in the sheets, and Tech can feel your walls clenching around his digits. His own arousal is steadily increasing, his cock filling out against the bed as he imagines how it would feel to fuck you.

Your climax hits you hard, your hips lifting off the bed and thighs pressing tightly around his hand. You let out a wordless scream, your body writhing in ecstasy.

Tech watches with wonder, his cock throbbing as a flood of release escapes you, soaking his fingers and the inside of your thighs. He doesn’t let up in his thrusting, eager to see how much he can wring from you.

“Tech—“

He groans at the breathless way you say his name, pressing harder onto your stomach as his thumb nudges underneath the hood of your clit. A choked sob leaves you under the squelching of his fingers deep in your cunt.

Suddenly, you arch and shake with a scream, and a flood of liquid squirts from you, splashing onto his goggles and dripping onto his nose and mouth. He blinks, stunned. It takes everything he has in him to not cum the instant you soak his face.

"Fuck! Oh stars, Tech, I'm sorry."

You sit up, a mortified expression on your face. Tech licks his lips, the taste of you flooding his mouth. He can't hold back the moan that escapes him, his cock aching to bury itself inside of you.

"You have nothing to apologize for. That was...extremely arousing," he says, pulling his fingers from you, though not without marveling at the way the inside of your walls grips him as he pulls out completely, as if they wanted him to stay.

"Are you sure?"

"Positive," he replies before wiping the lower half of his face. He lifts his goggles onto his head, unable to stop the smug smile from forming as he watches your heaving chest.

“I’ve never done that before,” you say, blushing furiously. Your hand comes up to cover your eyes as he licks his fingers clean, sucking them into his mouth to collect the remains of your release.

“I am honored to have been present for such a spectacle. You are quite extraordinary, you know."

You peek through your fingers, and Tech can see the smile curling your lips. "Flatterer."

“I wonder if you could do that again. Would you like to try?" he asks. Your hand drops from your eyes as you stare at him in utter disbelief. “That was the most arousing thing I have ever witnessed, and I would very much like to experience it again."

He slides his hand between your thighs, fingers sliding easily along the soaked length of your pussy, and he watches as you visibly shudder, a whimper leaving your throat.

“Maker, Tech, you’re going to ruin me,” you groan, throwing your head back. A distinctly male part of his pride preens, filing your words away for later in the back of his mind to repeat when he was alone. “Maybe some other time.”

His brain stutters, and the hand he’s trailing absently up and down your slit slows to a stop. “You want to do this again?”

“You’re not going to be able to keep me away after this,” you warn, and though he recognizes it's a joke, he can see a hint of something else in your eyes. He pushes himself up to his knees, drawing close until he can anchor himself onto either side of your head with his hands.

“That will not be a problem,” he says, pressing his mouth against yours.

You respond immediately, your arms wrapping around his neck, pulling him closer. The movement forces his cock, still hard and aching, to press against you, and he gasps as he feels the precum beading at his tip smear across your skin.

As if reading his mind, you move a hand between you to take him between your fingers. Using your thumb to spread the leaking fluid down his length, you wrap your fingers around and squeeze. He’s still sensitive from earlier, and he can’t help but move his hips to fuck your fist.

“I—kriff,” he swears as he leans his forehead against yours. His eyelids flutter closed. Your thumb presses against the vein underneath his head, and the sentence forming in his mind disappears in time with the needy whine that falls from his lips.

“I want you inside me, Tech,” you whisper, meeting his gaze when his eyes blink wide. He scrambles back to position himself at your entrance, and he’s surprised again when you shakily move as well.

Your hand presses gently on his chest, and he follows the motion to take your place, his head nestled in your pillows. You move to straddle him with your thighs on either side of his waist, and he feels faint with the amount of blood rushing down to his cock.

He can hardly believe what he’s seeing, though he wishes he could see you more clearly. With the lights still off and his goggles resting on his forehead, he can barely make out your silhouette above him.

Your hand goes back between you to guide his cock to your entrance when he stops you.

“Wait!” He calls out, just as you are beginning to lower yourself onto his lap.

You freeze, and he quickly grabs onto his goggles, tugging them off his head. He nearly drops them in his haste to wipe them off on the sheets before securing them back over his eyes. They aren’t perfectly clean, far from it, but it’s enough to allow him a clear view of the way your slick folds open around his length.

“You may continue.”

You huff out a quiet laugh before you resume your descent, grabbing his cock to hold it steady. His hands reach out to grab hold of either side of your hips as you lazily move his erection up and down your folds, his tip catching on your soaked entrance before notching your clit.

You let out a small whine before doing it again and again, and Tech feels like he is about to combust.

You repeat the motion two more times, and he feels a desperate noise tear itself from his throat. He isn’t entirely sure how he is still managing to breathe.

“Please, cyar’ika,” he hisses, staring hard at your cunt. Your folds are glistening, and his mouth waters at the sight. His grip on your hips tightens as he tries to hold you still, and you relent, taking a deep breath. Your eyes lock on his, and the intensity of your gaze sends a shiver down his spine.

“Since you asked so nicely.” You smirk before sheathing his cock entirely, punching a deep moan out of his chest.

Tech feels as though he is being swallowed whole. Your heat engulfs him, and he can feel every muscle and ridge along your walls. He gasps, his head thrown back, and his nails dig into your skin.

The feeling of being inside you is indescribable. You're so perfect, and his brain is melting, his vision is whiting out, and his heart is going to burst out of his chest, and he never wants this to end.

It’s a revelation, an epiphany, a truth he could have gone his whole life without knowing, but now that he does, there is no turning back.

You seem to be having an equally hard time with it, your breath escaping you in tiny pants. You slowly shift your hips, grinding against the nearly trimmed hair of his pubic bone with a barely suppressed whine.

After a few more minutes of adjusting to each other, you start to move. You lean forward and brace yourself on his chest as you rock back and forth, and the motion draws another gasp from you, the feeling of your tightening around him nearly making him choke. You are relentless, using him for your pleasure, and he is more than willing to let you.

A litany of curses and praises pour from his lips as you ride him, and you seem to delight in his vocalizations, speeding up the more he says. Your nails dig into his skin, leaving behind crescent-shaped marks, and the pain only heightens his pleasure.

His hands find their way to your breasts, and he plays with your nipples, twisting and pulling on the hardened nubs. You moan, arching into his touch, and Tech can't stop himself from leaning forward and wrapping his lips around one of the buds.

Your pussy clenches around him, and he groans, sucking and biting and teasing until you are squirming on his cock. Your hips are rocking faster, and you’re panting and gasping, and Tech is sure he has never seen anything more beautiful. He can feel his orgasm building, the tingling sensation returning, spurred on by your movements.

“I will not last long,” he warns you. “You feel so good.”

His broad vocabulary is failing him, but he can’t find it in himself to care as you slowly lift yourself, his cock nearly sliding out before slamming back into your body, and his hips thrust upward to meet you.

He feels his tip kiss the mouth of your womb, and his eyes roll back, the feeling nearly sending him over the edge.

You begin a new rhythm, rising and falling onto him, and he matches you thrust for thrust, driving into you with a ferocity that has the bed creaking beneath him. It’s clumsy at first, but the awkward movements give way to something more rhythmic as you figure each other out.

He can see the tension rising in your body, the way your brows knit together, and he wants nothing more than to watch you fall apart. He releases one of your hips to slide a hand between you, his thumb finding your clit.

The effect is instantaneous. You clench around him, the rhythm breaking for a moment as you try to move faster, to find your peak. Tech can feel the coil inside him tightening, and he knows he won't be able to hold on much longer.

"That's it, mesh'la, come for me," he growls.

You let out a keening wail, and your body goes rigid, your back arching. Tech watches in wonder as you throw your head back and scream his name, your pussy clamping down on him. He can feel your release seeping out of you, coating his thighs, and the sound of his name on your lips is enough to send him over the edge.

He can only manage a few more thrusts before his own climax overtakes him, his muscles locking as he comes with a shout. His vision whites out, his mind goes blank as he empties himself inside you. He feels as though his soul has left his body, his entire being centered on the feeling of your cunt wrapped around his cock.

It feels like an eternity before he can think straight, and when his senses return to him, you're slumped over him, your face pressed against his shoulder. He wraps his arms around your waist, holding you close. He can feel your heartbeat through your skin, and the weight of you is surprisingly comforting.

You stir after a moment, leaning back to look him in the eye.

He raises a hand, cupping your cheek. “Are you alright? Did I hurt you in any way? Do you require anything? I was aware that you would be dehydrated and—”

"I'm fine, Tech." You giggle. "Just a little sore. But, I'm really good."

Tech breathes a sigh of relief, relaxing further into the bed.

"I'm glad," he says, moving his hand down to brush your sweaty hair from your face. “Is this an opportune moment to tell you that I love you?"

You stare at him for a moment, your mouth dropping open.

"What?"

"I love you," he repeats, suddenly feeling apprehensive. Perhaps you don’t feel the same? He thinks back to the moments leading up to your coupling. He’s almost certain he hasn’t imagined you returning his feelings. "Do you not feel the same way?"

"No, I do. I mean, I love you too, Tech," you rush to explain, sitting up.

His softening cock slips from your body, and he’s mesmerized by the way your combined releases trickle from your folds. You lean forward, pressing your lips to his.

It’s a short, sweet kiss, and he can feel his lips pulling up into a smile when you pull away.

"Well, in that case," he begins, "I think it would be appropriate to suggest that we make this a recurring activity."

You laugh, burying your face against his shoulder. "Definitely. We have a lot more of your research to verify."

"Agreed." Tech nods before his brain catches up to his mouth. His ears turn pink as he processes what exactly you're saying. "Oh."

You shift, lifting your head to smirk at him. "I suppose you should get started."

He doesn’t bother with a reply, rolling you over to pin you beneath him.

[heiayen]

this looks like us! gn!reader x various (kaveh, wanderer, zhongli, childe, kazuha, lyney, venti.)

summary: what things do they match with you? keychains, jewelry, clothing? let's take a look!

tags: implied modern au, around 80-100 words per character, just very short headcanons <3 could be ooc because it's my first time writing in a moment, not proofread that much

notes: ehhhh trying to get back into writing with short silly hcs... hello everyone. grand heia comeback 90% will make second part with more characters !!

Kaveh is the kind of person to have matching keychains with you! He has already got a keychain for his keys, a proud lion guarding the keys... that he manages to lose often anyway, so why not get another one? This time matching yours, and instead of attaching it to his keys (because gods forbid he loses them and the keychain!), he attaches it to his bag. And let me tell you, it does not end on a single keychain!

Most of the time, you don't even know that you are matching anything with Wanderer, seriously. If you ask him to get something matching together then, yes, he will agree, although begrudgingly, but also so often he will buy you something (while telling you to not make a big deal out of it, you're his partner, yes, yes, move on), and a few days later you will notice him having a matching pair of that thing. You never call him out for that, just smile to yourself.

As the gentleman he is, Zhongli is the man to give you matching rings or necklaces, all selected by him with utmost care. Every piece he gets for you two is one of the best quality, and he makes sure it fits your preferences, so don't worry if you wear only one kind of metal! He always pays attention to any stones in your jewelry, to ensure they are the best quality available. And sometimes, you find it so hard to bite down the urge to show off your new ring or necklace to all your friends, saying that yes, it's your partner who got it for you.

Childe is the person to see something that reminds him of you two, and get it, no hesitation. A pair of funny socks (with an animal that reminds him of you), keychains (that teddy bear was similar to you)... a scarf in the same pattern as his, because you need to be dressed well during winter, he doesn't want you to get sick– did he just point at those two chestnuts and said that it reminded him of you two? You don't see it, but whatever makes him happy!

Kazuha makes handmade yarn bracelets for you two, and he's quite skilled at it! He always picks your favorite colors, sometimes with matching pedants and pretty patterns, and you never know that he's making one, usually during late night hours, with the lamp's light as his companion, when sleep doesn't want to arrive. You got a few of them already but will happily accept every next one he makes, proudly wearing them on your wrists. It's always a lovely sight, to look at your joined hands adored by the bracelets he makes. Maybe you should learn how to make them too…?

With Lyney, you will more than often find yourself matching outfits... or at least pieces of it, if you can't wear a fully coordinated outfit. A matching shirt? Sure, that sounds great! You two can get some funny print together on it– or not funny, just a normal print. You two can also dress in a similar style if you don't have anything to match, or even match socks out of all things. Additionally, if you enjoy painting your nails... Lyney would happily paint his nails with a polish matching your eyes, and would gladly help you find one matching his, so that you two can match your nails!

Venti, on the other hand, likes to match... yes, hair clips with you. He got a bunch of them at home, all different. Ones with small flowers or stars, animals even, in so many colors and shapes– the point is, he's got them a lot, and he will happily lend you them so you two can have matching hairclips in your hair. He will also happily buy a pair if he sees one and likes it, and give you one of them. Soon, you will have an entire box of hair clips...

[eiightysixbaby]

santa baby

eddie munson x fem!reader

2.3k

summary: watching eddie play santa for your kids makes you want to show him some…. appreciation

cw: 18+ ONLY. reader and eddie are married & have kids, oral (m receiving), unprotected piv, creampie, breeding kink

Presents in crinkly patterned paper are placed delicately under the tree, your nimble fingers making sure each bow is perfect and every tag that reads ‘From: Santa’ is visible.

Eddie tip-toes into the living room from your bedroom, the final stack of gifts in his arms. Your two daughters sleep soundly in their beds, likely dreaming of those sugarplums the stories talk about. He hands you each present one by one, letting you find the perfect place for them around the base of your glittering tree. The tiny colored lightbulbs cast a pretty pink glow throughout the room, and it fills your heart with warmth.

When you’ve finished your work, you turn to see Eddie filling the stockings, the ball of his Santa hat bobbing with each movement. He hangs each one back on the mantle with so much care, he wouldn’t want to drop one and send one of your little ones running to see what caused the noise. A fire crackles in the fireplace, fending off the cold of the snowy landscape outside.

“Is that everything?” he double checks, giving you a sweet grin.

“Not quite. Santa has to eat his cookies,” you tease, moving closer to him and tugging on his hat as you press a kiss to his lips.

“Damn, how could I forget these delicious cookies?” he asks, kissing you on your cheek and squeezing a healthy handful of your ass before moving towards the small table that holds a plate of sugar cookies. You giggle, still blushing like you did the day you met him.

You can’t help but smile when you turn to look at the baked treats, each one having been eagerly frosted by tiny hands. The girls had done their very best, and you know your husband certainly won’t complain about a little too much icing dripping down the sides. A glass of milk rests beside the plate, and Eddie takes a hearty sip of it after polishing off his first cookie.

It makes your heart swell, the way he breaks off one little bit of the second cookie to leave on the plate. A tiny splash of milk rests in the bottom of the cup. To make it look as though Santa couldn’t quite finish it all. This is the first year your girls are both old enough to really enjoy and get excited about the holiday, and it makes you so happy to witness it through their eyes.

Having a partner that plays along perfectly only makes it sweeter. Honestly, Eddie has probably been more into it than you, making everything so fun for your children. He stops at nothing to make them happy, to make things magical for them. He makes things magical for you, too, and it fills you with an impossible amount of joy.

To your surprise, it also fills you with need. A deep, hot desire for the man you’ve made a home with. It’s insatiable, the way it hits you like a train. Something about watching him play up this whimsical figure for the sake of your kids, something about him in that damn Santa hat. Before you realize it, he catches you staring as he sits back in the comfy chair, his eyes meeting yours and his face breaking into a cheeky smile. You might as well be drooling.

“What’re you looking at, Mrs. Claus?” he asks, stretching his arms behind his head, his pajama-clad legs spreading wide.

“I just think…” you start, stalking closer to him, eyes trained on his. “That Santa works so hard…” you murmur, sinking onto your knees between his legs. “Maybe he deserves to be properly thanked.”

“Oh—” Eddie gasps when your hand palms over his clothed cock, feeling it stiffen against your touch.

Wasting not even a second you tug his pants down, his hips raising to help you, and you feel your eyes blow wider at the sight of him. You’ll never get tired of seeing his cock — never. The way it leaks for you, the way he gets so hard from the simplest things that you do. You open your mouth, letting the weight of him rest heavy on your tongue. Licking the tip gently, you run your fingers up and down one of his legs.

“Baby,” he sighs, tipping his head back a bit. “What got into you?”

“Jus’ something about watchin’ you play Santa…” you say, kissing the tip of his cock. “You’re so good to us. To me. Wanna worship you for it,” you say softly, blinking up at him.

And God, how could he turn you down?

“The girls, what if they—?”

“Just be quiet, and they won’t,” you say like it’s simple, and he doesn’t have a moment to respond before you’re kissing your way down his shaft.

He’s struck dumb when you take the head into your mouth, suckling on it with pretty lips. One hand reaches up to grip the base of him, your tongue licking his slit. A heavy breath leaves his nose, his lips pressed in a thin line. His fingers tangle in your hair, his other hand gripping the armrest of the chair so tight it could rip.

You glance up at him, licking a long and slow stripe up the underside of his length. His eyes are half-lidded and dazed as he stares down at you, watching in disbelief. You stop teasing, then, taking him as far into your mouth as he’ll go. Your nose brushes the patch of coarse hair that sits at his base, exhaling through your nose as you adjust to the way he presses against the back of your throat.

“Oh fuck,” he whispers when you start to bob your head, trying your very best to keep the wet, slurping sounds to a minimum.

The hand that was gripping his shaft moves down to his balls, squeezing softly as you hollow your cheeks around him. You can hear the way he struggles to quiet the groans that claw their way up his throat, his breathing ragged. His hands reach up, yanking the Santa hat off so his fingers can run through his hair, tangling themselves in it.

“Christ, baby, thatfeelssogood,” he rushes out, voice breathy. “Your mouth is fuckin’ perfect.”

You pull off of him, still rolling the flesh of his heavy balls between your fingers. You make out with the head of his cock, tongue running over it, saliva dripping everywhere. He takes a handful of your hair, pulling gently to make you look up at him.

“Get up here. Right now,” he says. You know he’s trying to be demanding, but he sounds so fucked out it doesn’t quite work. It makes you want him even more.

Following instruction, you climb onto his lap and straddle it, but not before slipping off your pajama pants. With just your underwear separating his cock from your heat, you grind your hips down on him, sucking in a sharp breath when his tip nudges your clit. His strong hands guide your movements, taking control as he peppers kisses on your jawline, making you tilt your head back in pleasure.

“Need you inside me, Ed, please,” you croon, your breaths staggered.

“I don’t know, have you been a good girl this year? Do you deserve it?” he taunts, raising his brows at you. His teasing holds no weight, he has every intention of giving it to you, but you still nod.

“Been so good,” you say softly, teeth tugging at his earlobe.

A strangled, breathy sound leaves him before he’s shoving your panties to the side, running a thick finger through your wet folds. Wet is an understatement, honestly. You’re soaked for him, and he’s barely done anything to you.

“God damn, honey,” he growls low in your ear. “You’re so wet.” His teeth nip at your jaw before moving to your neck, his lips planting themselves on the delicate skin and sucking. “Watching me play Santa really got you that hot, huh?” You can hear the smirk in his voice, and if you weren’t so needy for him you’d roll your eyes. But unfortunately, he’s right.

You whine instead, a featherlight sound that he almost misses through the crackling of the fire. He grips his cock, lining himself up with you as you hover above his lap. You reach down to help him, guiding him into your aching heat as you slowly sink down. You gasp in unison when he parts your walls, each of your mouths hanging open until he’s fully sheathed inside you. Calloused fingers press into your doughy hips, beginning to bounce you on his thick cock. A high-pitched squeak escapes you when you feel him press deep inside, and he instantly covers your mouth with one big palm. He stills his movements.

“Remember when you told me to be quiet? Hm? Now you can’t control yourself?” he whispers hotly in your ear, his breath making your skin prickle.

His hand is removed from your mouth in favor of guiding the roll of your hips once more, keeping you bouncing steadily. You can hear the way his cock glides through your sticky folds, pushing in and pulling out and pushing back in again. His eyes are impossibly dark as they watch you, especially in the dim light, but you can see the lust and adoration burning behind them all the same. You swear you can feel him in every inch of your body as he pushes himself as deep as he can possibly go, making you drop your forehead against his and bite back a moan.

One of his hands pulls the hem of your shirt up in order to expose your breasts to him, his open palm giving the first one a squeeze before rolling your nipple between his fingers and pinching. Your back straightens slightly, arching into his touch. He dips his head down, sucking on the nipple his fingers aren’t already toying with. He kisses the soft swells of flesh, nipping and sucking gently while you start to take some control, bouncing yourself on his cock.

“Fuck,” he mutters around a mouthful of your tits, his tongue flicking over the sensitive buds on each one.

He diverts his attention, moving away from your breasts and instead reaching a hand down down down to where your bodies connect. The pad of his thumb swipes over your clit, making a filthy, desperate huff leave your mouth. You’re getting so close, your body desperate for him to bring you to release.

“Eds,” you sigh, rolling your hips slowly on top of him, savoring every single second of this bliss.

“What is it, sweetheart?” he asks, bringing his free hand up to cup your cheek, thumb stroking along your cheekbone. He smiles at you, soft and sweet as he continues to circle your clit.

“So good,” you breathe, feeling the tension in the pit of your stomach grow and grow. “Want you to cum, baby, give it all to me.”

“Yeah? Want me to fill you up?” he taunts, leaning forward and catching your bottom lip between his teeth. “Get you pregnant again? You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

Everything in you screams yes. Your hormones are on overdrive, wanting him to pump you full of his seed and make it stick.

“Fuck, yes, Eddie,” you agree, throwing your head back.

He bucks his hips up, his cock stretching you so deliciously, reaching the deepest parts of you. His lips kiss any part of your skin they can reach as you completely fall apart for him. Your walls clench so tightly around him as you cum, drenching his cock in your arousal. Giving you a few final thrusts, his movements get less precise as he unravels. Soft grunts leave his mouth as he fucks you through his orgasm, ropes of cum painting your walls in spurts. You cling to him, panting as you recover from your high. Gentle hands rub your back, sliding up under your shirt and soothing you with repetitive motions.

“I love you,” you say softly, crossing your eyes to watch as he presses a kiss to your nose. One reaches your lips immediately after; a drawn-out, lingering kiss that you don’t want to ever end.

“I love you, too,” he says, millimeters away from your mouth after he pulls away. You feel it, almost overwhelmingly, in the way he holds you close.

You shift on his lap, letting him pull out of you carefully. Your thighs are sticky with your own arousal and his as it drips out of you, but you don’t want to leave his comforting embrace. The warmth from the fireplace kisses your skin, making you sleepy in Eddie’s arms. You take his left hand in your own, running your thumb over his wedding band, a pleased hum reverberating within you.

He turns, looking at the clock that rests on the mantle. Just after midnight.

“Merry Christmas, sweetheart,” he says, pressing a tender kiss to the top of your head.

“Merry Christmas, handsome,” you coo, reaching up to brush some of his hair out of his face.

“Can we make this a Christmas tradition?” he asks, giving you a cheeky smile as he pinches the fat of your ass.

“Whatever you want, Mr. C,” you laugh, leaning in to kiss him once more.

The night ends with the both of you creeping quietly down the hallway to your bedroom, tangling yourselves beneath warm blankets. Snow falls outside, you can see it through the gap in the curtains as sleep starts to take over your body. Blinking slowly, heavily, you feel Eddie’s strong arms wrap around you, pressing you close to his chest.

In the morning, your girls will wake you with unbridled excitement, ready to see what Santa brought them. But for now, it’s just you and the man himself, dreaming cozy winter dreams.

[shanastoryteller]

happy valentine Shana!!! I can't believe i made it finally jgfcjjcgjgx i would love to see some fma (Sacrifice is free/ed&ling betrothed/What They Expect) or more of Lord Arthur De Bois, or time travel Jiang Cheng/drarry, or Avengers' Three Faced Goddess! (can anyone tell I Cannot choose favourites? They're all so gooood) and if none of those sound appealing, dealer's choice! thank you!!

continuation of 1 2 3 4 5

It's sort of awkward, because Eden insists on thick tights and long sleeves and keeps her gloves on, but Catherine takes it in stride and doesn't react with anything more than a single raised eyebrow. Maybe she thinks she has some sort of terrible skin condition on her limbs, or something, because she's perfectly fine with plunging necklines and the lacy bras Catherine shoves at her.

She hasn't worn anything besides a sports bra since she's had breasts. They're not exactly comfortable, but compared to the constant, background ache of the automail it doesn't even make a blip on her radar.

Besides. They make her look like a girl, shoving her breasts up front and center, and their size had been an annoyance when passing for a boy and a comfort when she looked at herself naked in the mirror, searching for the girl she was rather than the boy everyone saw, but this is different.

"Wow," Catherine blinks, tilting her head to the side.

Eden flushes and wishes that at any point she'd learned how to talk to pretty girls outside of life or death situations. "I hadn't realized they - I'm not used to wearing, um, girly stuff."

"You look good in it," she says, touching Ed's back and shifting her to face the mirror.

She's in black tights and boots with a chunky heel, taller than the ones she normally wears and sleeker, stopping just below her knees. She's wearing a dark green dress with a deep neckline. She's used to be hard lines and sharp edges, but she looks soft here, her hips and breasts curving out from her waist and the dress somehow minimizing the breadth of her shoulders, or maybe it's just that with all the skin on display in the center, her shoulders just don't get as much attention. She'd had to build them up, to make the automail balanced, to make sure her body could support it, and she'd always hated how masculine it made her look. But looking at herself now, she wonders if that just wasn't in her head.

Green's never been a color she gravitated towards, but the dark color makes the gold of her hair shine, brings out the warmth of her eyes and the pink of her lips.

"You're really good at this," she tells Catherine, throat tight.

Catherine grins. "You are a beautiful canvas, Eden. It was not difficult." Ed's face burns. "Do you have plans for dinner? We could have it at my home. I am, honestly, dying to curl your hair."

Ed hesitates, because her shade of blonde is rather distinctive, then takes a second look at herself in the mirror. No one is going to think she's the Fullmetal Alchemist looking like this. "Okay, yeah. Sure. That'd be great."

~

Catherine knows that Eden is military at first glance, seeing her elder sister in the way Eden stands and moves. She looks young, but she can't be that young, not when she has the stance of someone who's been enlisted for years.

She figures that Eden is looking for clothes to wear outside of her uniform for the first time and something in her softens at how insistent Eden is on keeping certain parts of her body covered. Her siblings have scars too.

When they get to their home, Eden seems slightly surprised at the grandness of her home, but gets over it quickly, which Catherine almost expected. She hadn't looked at a single price tag as they'd been shopping and had paid for her bags of purchases with a nonchalance that spoke of a familiarity with money, although that leaves Catherine to wonder how she ended up in the military in the first place. She hadn't gotten a last name out of her, but Catherine is familiar with most military families, and she would have heard if any of their daughters had enlisted.

"Your bedroom is so pretty," Eden says, looking around at her pink, frilly room filled with flowers and clothes and gilded in gold with a soft wistfulness.

Catherine loves her. "Thank you. Here, sit at my vanity, let's play."

Eden laughs and pulls her hair out of the hasty ponytail she'd pulled it into, letting Catherine run her hands through it and carefully brush out every knot. It's gorgeous, thick and silky and the most wonderful shade that Catherine's never seen on anyone else.

People always act so oddly with her because of her family, even those similarly situated looking down at her for her choices, to be neither an officer nor married to one, but that's just not what she wants right now. It's nice to hang out with another girl that just treats her like a friend.

"MY BELOVED SISTER HAS RETURNED!" booms from what sounds like the first floor.

She sighs.

Eden goes rigid in her chair, eyes wide. "What - why-"

"It's just my brother," she says soothingly, concerned with how pale Eden has gotten. "He's harmless, really."

"Brother," Eden repeats. "Fuck. Fuck! I'm so stupid-"

"It's okay," she says in alarm, "Eden, what-"

She gets to her feet, grabbing her hands and looking at her a desperation that Catherine doesn't understand. "He can't know I'm here. Who I am. Do you understand? It's important."

She doesn't understand. "Eden-"

There's the sound of heavy footsteps heading their way and Eden wrenches herself away, bolting for the other side of the room. She claps her hands together, then presses them against the wall, and in flash of light she's disappeared.

Catherine stares. mouth agape.

She's familiar with alchemy. The skill has been passed down her family for generations.

Eden didn't use a circle.

"I HEAR YOU HAVE MADE A FRIEND, DEAR SISTER!" Alex shouts, flinging open her door and flexing in the doorway. "I WISH TO MEET YOUR NEW COMPANION!"

She picks up a pillow from her bed and lobs it at him, hitting him right in his stupid curl. "We're having girl time, go away!"

"Ah, girl time!" he says. "A storied tradition that has been passed down the Armstrong family for many generations!" He looks around, seeing her empty room, and his eyebrows dip together.

She grabs a makeup brush, holding it up threateningly. "You know what else has been passed down our family for generations? The art of knocking! Go bother Momma!"

"Where's," he starts.

Catherine throws the brush, pointy end towards his eyes.

He ducks, retreating to the safety of the hallway and closing the door just in time for the brush to hit it.

She takes a deep breath, calming her racing heart and smoothing her hands down her skirt. She crosses the room, knocking against the wall and whispering, "Eden? He's gone."

There's nothing for a moment and then there's light and heat and she's looking at the the inside of her house, pipes and insulation, and Eden standing there in the center of it, eyes blown wide and lips trembling.

Eden, who won't let her look at her limbs and doesn't know how to wear girly things and uses alchemy without circles and recognizes her brother from his voice alone.

"I'm sorry," Eden whispers, arms wrapped around herself, trying to make herself small. "I just wanted-"

Catherine interrupts her, reaching out to place her hand over the arm Eden had been careful not to let her touch and is unsurprised to feel hard, unyielding metal. "The art of secret keeping had been passed down the Armstrong family for generations."

Eden's eyes snap to hers and Catherine smiles, squeezing her arm and hopes that she can feel it. Slowly, wondrously, Eden returns it.