#those things have moved with me through multiple apartments

[tasteracha]

take care of me.

word count: 2.1k

warnings: afab!reader, oral (f. receiving), multiple orgasms, teasing, edging, hyunjin x reader x minho - smut, MINORS DNI

synopsis: hyunho knows how to take perfect care of you. thank you my angel @astraystayyh for giving me this idea i love you endlessly <3

you had an itemized list of reasons why having two loving partners was the best thing you possessed. the never-ending attention, always having a moderator in arguments, twice as much love than you ever thought you deserved.

it comes in the form of little notes taped to your lunch bag telling you to have a great day, gorgeous ;), in hands brushed across your back as they pass you in the hallway, in your favorite snacks always being stocked no matter how busy they are. 

it comes in the form of you collapsing into hyunjin’s lap after an unbearably long day, your muscles melting into his body as you press your nose into the space between his neck and his shoulder, the scent of his cologne making your eyelashes flutter. 

“one of those days?” he murmurs, tracing his nails lightly against your back in a way that makes your toes curl in pleasure. 

“take care of me,” you stamp into his skin with your lips, a sigh taking over your body before you add on a please to the end of your poorly concealed demand. 

“take care of you like this?” he moves his hand to run through your hair, nails scratching lightly at your scalp. you melt further into him, your body shivering with his movements. 

“no,” you almost whine, wriggling your hips with the last of the energy you had left. he knows exactly what you want, he just loves teasing you, and craves the desperate little noises that he can pull from you like this.

“oh, like this then?” you can hear the smirk in his voice as both of his hands cup your ass, pulling you into him. you can feel his cock twitching in interest under your hips, and you nod fervently, thankful that he relented so easily. “alright darling, go to the bedroom and take your clothes off, i’ll be right there.”

you move with an urgency you didn’t think you had the energy for, stripping and leaving a trail of clothes in your path until you’re flopping down onto the bed. you can hear the shower running from the bathroom as you wait, and you let yourself feel a pang of longing for minho before you shake it away. it wasn’t unusual for two of you to be intimate without the other - the three of you were busy, and any room for jealousy and envy was discarded long ago in favor of respect and trust. 

at any rate, you’re sure he’ll join you as soon as he is done, even if he complains about having to shower again later. 

hyunjin enters the room in a flurry, dumping a selection of snacks and a water bottle on the bedside table for later. he climbs onto the bed and leans over you, dropping his head down to kiss you. you kiss him back, but when he runs his hands down your chest to cup your breasts you lose focus of it. he takes control, dipping his tongue into your mouth and nipping at your bottom lip with his teeth and you’re already feeling foggy and light-headed. 

his hands roam further down, teasing at your stomach and tracing circles against the sensitive flesh of your inner thighs. you’re helpless under him, little sounds flooding into his mouth from your throat from his touch. he dips his fingers into your folds just as minho enters the room, a towel wrapped around his waist and his skin still damp from his shower. hyunjin releases your mouth and a wet smack echoes through the room, so lewd that it makes you flush. 

“how is it that i just got here and you’re the only one who’s still wearing clothes,” he says, quirking an eyebrow up when hyunjin shoots him a lazy smile. he moves his hands back to your thighs and you whine, letting your legs fall apart in invitation. your gaze flickers back and forth between hyunjin and minho, a pout on your face as you silently plead one of them to touch you.

“awh, she’s so cute,” minho says, reaching his hand towards your chin. 

“if you pet me like one of your cats,” you hiss at him, the fog clearing a bit. “i’m leaving this room-”

“must not be doing your job well enough if she’s still talking like this,” minho cuts you off sharply, looking pointedly at hyunjin who was still running his hands along your thighs absentmindedly.

“well, i was waiting for your help,” hyunjin rolls his eyes at minho. “i know you hate it when i eat dessert without you.”

the way they were talking about you, like you weren’t a living, breathing person in the room with them, sent heat sparking along your cheeks and ears. it was embarrassing, it was humiliating, it was turning you on. the fog comes back with a vengeance, clearing your vision of anything except for the two of them.

minho takes his invitation for what it is, and hyunjin moves seamlessly to the side as minho takes his spot in front of you. hyunjin curls his hand under your thigh and moves it aside aside, leaving your legs spread and your pussy spread out for them.

“look at you, all wet for us,” minho taunts, a sharp glint in his voice that betrays his emotions.  “you’re only like this for us, right? no one else.”

the gentle possessiveness sends a lick of fire through your body. he knew you would never stray from them, would never even consider looking at anyone else when you had the most perfect men in your possession already, but he never got tired of being reminded of that. 

“min,” you whine, embarrassed as he stares openly at your pussy, laid bare for him to feast on by hyunjin’s hands holding your legs open. you try and close your thighs together but his grip is too strong.

“shh,” he moves in close, his lips a fraction of an inch from your folds. “let me have this.”

the first touch of his lips to your clit makes you jerk, and he pulls back with a wicked grin.

“stay still, baby,” his voice is dripping with condescension even as his lips are glistening with your slick. “don’t make me work for my meal.”

he dips back in, lapping at your pussy like a starved man, and it takes every ounce of control that you have left to stop from grinding against his face. he eats you out expertly, forgoing the teasing you knew he loved and if you had any mental capabilities right now you’d be grateful. instead, all you can focus on is the rapid heat building in your core that’s threatening to explode. 

wet, slick noises echo across your moans as he eats you out, spurred on by hyunjin narrating to him how good he is making you feel. you tangle your hands in his hair when you feel yourself getting close, holding him against you as your hips jerk in little motions, and he lets you use him. you come on his tongue, your walls clenching and absorbing any sounds of appreciation that he makes. 

after a few moments he lets out a little hiss, and you release your white-knuckled grip on his hair with an apology waiting on your lips. he stops you before you can say anything, taking your hand in his and pressing kisses to your fingertips in reassurance.

your orgasm leaves you lax and dazed, and you watch with heavy-lidded eyes as they switch positions again. hyunjin kneels over you, his clothes finally discarded and his cock hard and leaking as he looks at you. minho sits on the bed by your head, and he runs a hand through your sweaty hair. 

he’s hard too and you raise a hand towards his cock, wanting to feel the weight of it in your hand, but he stops you. 

“we’re taking care of you, not the other way around,” he soothes, his words a sharp contrast to the condescending words he had thrown at you earlier. “i am thoroughly enjoying this, don’t worry.”

he tilts your head towards him to kiss the confused look off of your face just as hyunjin fucks two of his fingers into you, stretching them out. the aftershocks of your orgasm hadn’t left you yet and you can feel your walls protesting him. 

“look at you, clenching around my fingers,” he says, amazement in his voice even though neither you nor minho were capable of answering him. “god, you’re so perfect, your pussy was made just for us to ruin.”

you didn’t have the words to tell him that you couldn’t stop your walls from closing down even if you wanted to; the onslaught of sensations left you incapable of controlling your own body, and it felt so good. you could taste yourself on minho’s tongue, could feel each knuckle of hyunjin’s fingers inside of you, and it was overwhelming in a dizzyingly euphoric way.

he loses his patience with his fingers quickly, stumbling in his rush to climb over you. his hair is falling over your face, shrouding you in his shadow and all you can feel is him as he runs his cock through your folds. your eyelids flutter as he presses the head of his cock into you, your mouth going slack against minho’s as you let out a sound you would surely be embarrassed about later.

minho, sending your inability to kiss him back, trails his kisses down your jaw to the side of your neck, right over your racing pulse. hyunjin bottoms out just as minho sucks, and you’re left shaking. 

“relax, darling,” hyunjin pets your thighs, “i can’t move if you’re this tight around me.”

“sorry,” you gasp, the word punched out of you from minho’s teeth grazing at your skin. 

“don’t apologize,” hyunjin shifts his hips back and you feel a gush of wetness leave you, helping the slide of his cock inside you. “i want to make you feel good. do you feel good?”

“yes!” you cry out when he rams back into you, immediately setting a mind-numbing pace. minutes, hours, days pass as he fucks you, filling you up perfectly in accompaniment with minho whispering into your skin about how you’re such a good girl and only for us, right?

you feel another orgasm approaching too quickly, and you try and clamp your legs to keep it away; it was too much, every nerve in your body felt like it was on fire and if you came you might actually explode in pleasure.

“baby, it’s okay,” hyunjin coos at you, draping himself across your body and tracing along your sweaty hairline with his fingertips.  “you’re doing so well. you can give us one more right? just come one more time.”

“ngh,” is all that leaves your mouth when you try and answer, the dual sensation of hyunjin’s cock fucking into you and minho’s lips still sucking at your neck enough to stop any words from forming in your head.

“you’re such a good girl, just one more,” hyunjin nods, like he was making the decision for you, giving you exactly what you wanted. 

you didn’t realize that minho was fisting his cock until he came against you, spilling over your stomach. the noise he makes rings right into your ear, a soft whine that was so him that it made you want to cry, and you couldn’t keep the waves of pressure back. your eyes roll back as you come with a cry, your muscles pulling taught like a bowstring as hyunjin keeps fucking you, chasing his own high. he pulls out a moment later, his hand flying across his cock until he comes with a growl, spilling over you. 

he collapses by your side and you’re sandwiched between the two men, heavy panting filling the room and your heartbeat lodged in your throat. you feel good, you feel so taken care of that you couldn’t even think past the twitches of pleasure still racking through your body. 

minho pulls away first and you let out a soft noise of betrayal, but he comes back just as quickly with a bottle of water pressed to your lips. he helps you drink and in your distraction hyunjin manages to clean your body free of their come. they settle back against you, fitting themselves into your sides like puzzle pieces, and you sigh in contentment. 

“how do you feel?” hyunjin asks, looking at you with fond eyes and a soft smile. 

“yes,” you answer, fully confident that it was the right answer to his question.

“oh, she feels good,” minho laughs, and it sounds like twinkling bells in your ear. 

[beomcoups]

F.U.C.K.

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: ex!bf Seungcheol x fem!reader

𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: angst, smut, small fluff, lovers to exes au, 18+

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬: 3.1k

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: You've been on and off forever and you couldn't leave him alone if you tried. You have an itch only Seungcheol can scratch.

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: unprotected sex, oral, missionary, riding, praise, dirty talk, creampie, clit stim, multiple orgasms, a bit of overstimulation, Coups is a lover boi, angsty feelings about the relationship

𝐀𝐍: Thank youuuuu @hobeemin & @wongyuseokie for reading this for me and Beezy you are the best hype woman ever <3. Also thank you @aaagustd for making this sexy ass banner 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭: 💿 F.U.C.K- Victoria Monet, Dirty Dancer- Orion Sun, Idea 686- Jayla Darden, Strings- iyla, Behind- Woodz, Forgive Me- Chloe x Halle, Art- Tyla, I Could Imagine- Alina Baraz, Good& Plenty- Alex Isley, Masego and Jack Dine, Skin Tight- Ravyn Lenae Steve Lacy, Idea 683- Jayla Darden, Body and Soul- Emotional Oranges and Biig Piig, Butterflies- Tyla, Between Us- Alina Baraz, Nasty- Tinashe, Under The Moon - Alex Isley, Jack Dine (spotify)

It’s complicated. Your Facebook relationship status has been that way for over a year. If someone asked, you wouldn’t know how to define your relationship with Seungcheol. You can’t say you’re just friends when the love is still there, but you can’t stay together longer to just work. Something happens, and you argue and split up. Months, sometimes years, can go by, and you feel like you’ve finally moved on, but all he has to do is call, or you have an itch that needs scratching, and there he is, ready to make it go away.

He stands there in front of you, his dark hair clipped and trimmed perfectly, highlighting the handsome features on his face: his dark, round eyes, high cheekbones, and plump pink lips. He comes dressed in a simple white tee and sweats, with an overnight bag in hand, as he knows he is staying the night. Seungcheol smirked as he walked in, placing a small kiss on your temple. 

“Well, hello to you too,” you say, shutting the door behind you. You watch him take off his shoes, walk into your living room, and admire the view of the city through your picture windows. You just moved into your high-rise condo a couple of months ago, and your job promotion allows you to level up in life and enjoy nice things for once. Your place looks straight out of a movie, with your tastes added. Your favorite color is blue, and you included it in your decor. 

“You kept the couch?” Seungcheol points at the royal blue sectional sofa with matching gold-trimmed throw pillows you bought from your favorite thrift store. “Yes,” you say proudly. “That couch is my pride and joy. We’ve been through a lot together.” Memories about the many times you spent together on the couch, clothed and unclothed, cloud your mind. He chuckles as you sashay to the kitchen, grabbing a bottled water. You offer him one, and he shakes his head, returning his attention to the city's shining lights. He’s been in your life for five years, meeting at a grocery store with both of your hands on the last bag of cherries. He relented, letting you have them in exchange for your number. You didn’t give it to him, hoping that you would see him again. At the time, you just moved to the city, and if you were meant to meet again, you would give him your number. A couple of weeks later, you did when you went to a birthday dinner with your former roommate. His eyes twinkled when you exchanged glances, and you felt like it was fate.  “You did it,” he felicitates you. “You did everything we talked about doing all those years ago. I’m proud of you.”

You would have late nights with him in your shitty old apartment, eating Chinese takeout in bed and talking about your hopes for the future. Seungcheol wanted to have it all: a nice house, cars, and riches beyond his dreams. All you wanted was a good life. You grew up poor, raised by a single mom who worked two jobs to ensure you had a roof over your head. You understood each other in that way, and it worked between you two for a while… until it didn’t.

“You got your high rise before me,” you appear beside him. “What does it feel like, being the top broker in your firm?”

“It’s nice,” he nods. “It keeps me busy.”

You knew that all too well. One of the reasons you broke up was time. His work felt more important than maintaining a relationship with you. You swear if someone called in the middle of the night, he would answer in a heartbeat. It’s not like you aren’t busy; you work on Wall Street. But you still made time to be with him at all important events and when it mattered most. The energy wasn’t reciprocated.

“I see nothing has changed,” you say, taking a swig of your water.

“Yeah,” he mumbles. “I think I am ready for it, though.”

“Are you now?”

“Yeah. There is no point in having all of this if there is no one to share it with, right?”

You didn’t have to say anything back because he was right. What is the point of working hard, making more money than your parents could ever dream of, traveling, and having life experiences without having someone to share them with? It also incredibly frustrates you. Why did it take five years for him to get to this point? The back and forth, blocking each other on all accounts. Was it worth it?

You two are silent, watching the city lights twinkle in the distance. His fingers slip in between yours, pulling you closer to him. Just being near him makes your heart skip several beats. No one like him can melt you just by his touch and presence. Yes, he can irritate you to no end, but he also makes your soul smile.

“I missed you,” he says, gazing at you. 

“I know.” 

You kiss him, the magic stirring in your chest as he returns your feelings; sparks all around you two like fireworks. Your hands explore him fervently, pulling off his shirt and throwing it on your couch. He unhooks your bra, helping you out of your shirt and exposing your breasts. He bites his lip as he palms his growing bulge, the very thought of his lips all over you making you hot.

“You’re beautiful,” he whispers. 

You take his hand and guide him to your bedroom, climbing over your king-size bed. He follows you closely, his index finger sliding up your thigh. It feels electric, having him touch you again after so long. You have tried moving on, going on dates, and having one-night stands here and there. But deep down, those people weren’t him. Seungcheol knows your body, what makes you tick, your boundaries, and what drives you crazy. It’s exhausting trying to find that chemistry with someone else. Too bad you can’t just make it work. 

He slides your shorts and panties off with one hand, your naked body being illuminated by the moonlight. He notices your sheets, trying to hold it in before succumbing to a belly laugh. 

“Cherry sheets? Really?” He says in between breathes.

“Come on now,” you chuckle. “You know I love my little house on the prairie sheets.” “I swear you were born in the wrong generation,” Seungcheol expresses, brushing his thumb across your cheek. “Yeah, maybe,” you muse over his words. “I’m glad I met you in this lifetime, though.” He admires you, his thumb caressing your cheek before he kisses you again. This time, it’s more heartfelt, your bodies hungry for another as each minute passes. His hand travels down to your inner thighs, spreading your legs apart and slowly entering a digit into your wet core. Seungcheol licks his lips, watching your eyes roll back as you unravel his arms. “Shit,” you moan. “Keep doing it just like that.”

“I’m going to do more than that,” he whispers in your ear. 

Seungcheol was already great with his fingers, slipping one more in you as his tongue played in circles on your neck, your sweet-smelling perfume intoxicating to him. He loves the way your brows furrow when he goes deep, your mind focused on nothing else but cumming all over his hand. You play with your clit, drunk on the pleasure he’s giving you, with your wetness pooling onto your sheets. You two are connected in a way, in your own little bubble surrounded by ecstasy.

“Fuck baby,” you pant as pressure builds up in your stomach. “I’m almost there.” He pulls his fingers out of you quickly, snapping you out of your zone, and you whimper in protest. He aggressively pulls down his pants and briefs, revealing his hardened cock already leaking with precum. He slides down to your entrance, his face nose deep in between your legs before he dives in; his tongue attacks your sweet nectar. Sensational couldn't even begin to describe how you feel. He eats you with an enthusiasm that almost makes you laugh despite the deep pleasure he brings you. “You taste better than I remembered,” he mouths. “Cum for me.”

Your body is at its brink, ready to fall, when Seungcheol slips his fingers in, working together with his tongue to make sure you hit that pool of ecstasy. Your hands grip his hair, and your orgasm hits you like cool water on a warm day. You feel him smirk against your thigh, leaving you with lasting, small kisses before lifting his face and revealing your essence on the lower half. You cover your mouth to hold back your giggles, and he rolls his eyes, leaning over and kissing your lips. “I’m not sorry,” you breathe. “You knew what you were doing.”

“You shouldn’t be,” he smirks. “Especially when I’m going to make you do it again.”

Seungcheol lifts your leg, pulling himself back as he rubs his throbbing dick against your entrance. Your eyes grow wide as he taps your sensitive, swollen clit, a mischievous grin on his face. 

“Don’t worry, baby,” he says as if reading your thoughts. “I’m going to start slow.” “You don’t want me to blo—” you start to protest. “No, I’ve waited long enough,” his deep and velvety voice serves as a warning. FUCK.

He enters you inch by inch, stretching you out the way you like, your fingers already gripping the sheets. You look at him through a hazy daze, his focus on burying himself deep inside of you, bringing you a deep satisfaction. You enjoy watching his Adam’s apple shift when he moans, his voice barely audible while he dives into you. You remember the first time you slept together; he had your legs over his shoulder, fucking you long and deep on top of your blue couch at your old place. You both didn’t intend for it to happen that way; you were caught up in the highs of seeing a band you both enjoy, and one thing led to another. His dick is long with a bit of a curve, fitting perfectly like your pussy was molded and made for him. No one has even come close. 

“Give it to me,” you breathe. “Please, I need you bad.” Seungcheol loves it when you beg for it, and he obliges, his thrusts becoming harder, deeper. Maybe it’s because you love him, but he is the sexiest thing you’ve ever seen. The way his hips roll as he snaps into you, watching him come in and out of you with your wetness coating him, turns you on. Your hands grasp his face, your thumb slipping into his mouth as he fucks you silly. You can barely form words in your head, let alone say anything else but “fuck” and “make me cum”. He fucks you in a way that makes you have wet dreams and leaves you with a puddle in your sheets. If he were a Greek god, he would be Eros, the god of love and sex. That’s how bad he has you. “Turn over,” you grit your teeth. You lean up and flip him over, his throbbing cock still inside you as you are on top of him. You let your body take over, riding him while his hands are placed firmly on your breasts. You set the pace, and he follows, a harmonious rhythm between the two of you, your senses heightened to another level. You are on this incredible high, sliding on his shaft while you vigorously play with your clit, ready to cum. “Did you miss this?  He teases you as he grinds harder into you. “Did you miss sitting on this dick until you cum?” You nod fervently, your hand still playing with your clit, and you are ready to explode. 

“Fuck,” he grits his teeth. “I’m close. Let’s come together like we always do.” You erupt, screaming his name while he sloppily pumps into you, his hair sweaty and his succulent lips red from biting. He leans up and kisses you hard, your moans and words of praise swallowed and digested. Whatever you were going to say, he felt it more, your hearts beating in unison powered by your feelings for each other. He talks you through it, helping you come down from your high before he releases his own, spilling into you until he is completely spent. You’ve been on birth control for years, and Seungcheol is the only person you’ve let hit without a condom. It just feels so right with him. You roll off of him, collapsing on your pillow as you try and catch your breath. His breathing is relaxed, and when you gaze at him, his eyes are closed, already half asleep. You attempt to get out of bed, but he grabs your arm, pulling you close to him. 

“Stay,” he kisses your shoulder. “I sleep better when you’re with me.” 

You can’t deny him when he is in this state, pulling on your heartstrings like that. 

“Fine, you win,” you say without much effort. 

Glancing at the time, it’s after 12, and fatigue finally hits you at least. Snuggling into him, you fall into a deep sleep, but not before admitting that you still love him and would do anything for him. 

The sunlight is not kind as it peers through your windows and wakes you up a little after 9. You had forgotten to draw the curtains before you fell asleep, but you didn’t have much energy left after the night you had. You woke him up after three, sucking his cock until he exploded down your throat, and he returned the favor by eating you out until you were ripe from overstimulation. You made such a mess that you had to change your sheets and listen to him teasing you about your “old lady” sheets. Whatever, you liked them.

You rolled over, and Seungcheol was already awake, scrolling through his phone. He notices you and kisses your forehead before removing your blanket and smacking your ass.

“Good morning, beautiful,” he says, leaning back against the headboard.

You chuckle as you get out of bed, grab your silk robe, and walk into the bathroom. You feel sore; last night’s shenanigans are indeed catching up with you. You just want to lay in bed and relax, but you have this nagging feeling in your stomach. You could brush it off and deal with it later, but knowing you, you will overthink, turning it into something it's not. You have to know how he feels.

Finishing up in the bathroom, you leave to find him setting orange juice on your nightstand with a couple of ibuprofen. He is only dressed in his sweats and nothing underneath, your center aching for him despite the tenderness you feel.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, reading your look. You have never had a good poker face.

You sit down on the bed, take your two pills, and wash them down with orange juice. You allow yourself to get your thoughts in order. You're unsure what to say, but you know the conversation needs to be had.

“What are we doing?” you blurt out. “I love you, and you never stopped loving me. Why can’t we just get it right?”

The silence is too deafening for your liking. It would be like you to tear the band-aid off first thing in the morning. But you hate being in the dark, not knowing what the future will hold. You’re not saying that you have to jump the broom, but you have to know if there’s any chance he feels the same way you do.

“I-I-m sorry,” you shake your head. “I shouldn’t have sprung that on you first thing in the morning. Forget I said anything.” 

You attempt to leave the room before Seungcheol catches your arm and motions for you to sit down. Grudgingly, you do, sitting on your ottoman and facing him. “You didn’t even give me a chance to respond,” he complains. “You can’t always assume how I feel is something bad. Give me a chance.” You nod, knowing deep down he is right. “You are right,” He admits. “I love you, and this song and dance we’ve been doing for years is tired. I came to you last night because I missed you and I need you. You’re the only one in my life who has always kept it straight with me, even when you get on my nerves.” You smirk at his comment, knowing it’s true. “But we have also been apart for a long time, and as much as I want to jump back into our usual routine, I recognize we have grown up a bit and need to get to know each other as our different selves.” You nod slowly, mulling over his words, unsure what to say. “I also don’t want to see anyone else,” he breathes. “You are the only person I want to see, to do this with.” He points at the sheets, and you roll your eyes. It would be like him to somehow bridge it back to sex. 

“So…” your voice trails off. “What are we then? We are more than friends but not together? I don’t understand.” “I want to be with you,” he grabs your hands. “If we fight and storm off to our houses, I’d rather it be that then we break up and don’t talk for months at a time. I hate that.” You nod, finally understanding what he is saying. He is scared of the future, just like you are. But in this life, you would rather go through it with him than anyone else. You have too much time and feelings just to throw it away. “Maybe we can try talking to someone about it this time around?” You say. “A therapist or something? I want to be with you, and maybe working through our issues to understand each other better sometimes is what we need.” “Yeah, I’m open to that.” He hugs you, embracing you tightly before leaving sweet kisses on your face. You are deathly ticklish, and he knows it. He moves his kisses elsewhere until you find yourself in your bed, his body towering over yours. He leaves you one more kiss on your lips before laying his head on your chest. “We’re going to be okay,” he whispers.

You look down and smile, caressing the dark stresses in his hair.

“Yeah. We will be.”

[rebelliousstories]

Rightful Spot

Relationship: Remy LeBeau/Gambit x Reader

Fandom: X-Men

Request: Yes by Anon

Warnings: Fluff, Brief Angst, Mentions of Fighting

Word Count: 1,521

Main Masterlist: Here

X-Men Masterlist: Here

Summary: After coming back to his timeline and finally joining in on missions, Remy underestimated how powerful cuddles could be.

Consider Donating: Here

Looking back on it now, he could have stuck that landing better. However, the circumstances leading to him having to stick a landing were a bit unforgiving, so it should not have been terribly surprising. Still, falling from the sky and rolling into a dark alleyway was not how Remy wanted his welcome home to be.

He could not complain though. Remy was home. He was back in his own universe, and now had a renewed sense of purpose. Stumbling out into where he could see lights, familiar sights and sounds greeted him like old friends. New Orleans, Louisiana; home sweet home. Gambit was on Bourbon Street, which was always hustling and bustling.

His feet began the trek to who knows where. All he knew was that they were going some place familiar and safe. The man ducked and weaved, making his way effortlessly through the crowds. In his hands, a card was always there, just in case. Further and further from the crowds, his feet took him. Down to where there were some apartment buildings, his brain finally started catching up with his feet. Taking over, Remy bolted up to the top, and began to run across the rooftops to his destination.

Dropping onto the fire escape, he thanked whatever was out there that he managed to keep mostly quiet. Peaking inside the window, he was shocked to see someone was still awake. In fact, multiple someone’s had been awake and moving about the apartment. Remy could not hear what was being said, but he knew those faces. Scott with his red glasses, and Jean with her matching red hair, Storm with her flowing white locks, and her. His cher was sitting there entertaining them all.

She looked like she was exhausted. Not from sleep, but mentally and emotionally tired. She looked like how Remy felt being in the Void. In her hands was a mug of something warm, probably that tea she likes to drink, and one of Gambit’s jackets around her. His heart tugged at the sight, and his lips curled in a smile. She never did do well with the cold.

Picking the lock on the window, Remy silently creeped into the apartment. Their eyes had not noticed the new person in the apartment, but he noticed how quiet it had gotten. Before he could speak, his body was suspended in the air as Jean turned to face the man. But she gasped in shock and let the man go almost immediately. The rest of the party was just a second behind her.

“Now, that ain’t no way to treat da Gambit, no?” His hands began massaging his body as the other people finally reacted to the new arrival. He heard her voice whisper out his name as he stood once more.

“Cher, I’m home. I’m so sorry.” But before he got any closer, Scott stepped in front of the ladies.

“If you really are Gambit, what’s something only he would know, huh? What was the last thing he said to me?” Scott pressed, worried that this might be an imposter.

“Cyclops, really? I just got back, mon ami. We really gonna have us an inquisition right now?” But the man was not swayed.

“What was the last thing Gambit told me?”

The Cajun was looked around for someone to support him not doing this, and just wanted to lay his eyes on his girl again. But he groaned, and wiped a hand over his face in frustration.

“Gambit told ya, ‘I’ll go on the mission. Jean needs ya here. Tell my cher dat I love her.’ That was the last thing I told ya before leaving for that damn mission to go so some recon on the brotherhood.” Everyone stood down. But Scott was still unimpressed.

“Where have you been all this time? And why only come back now?” He continued, even though Jean was tugging at his sleeve.

“Went on dat mission, and touched down in da forest. Didn’t find no brotherhood, but instead some people called da TVA takin’ bunch o’ dem out. Next thing I know, I wake up in da desert in some place called the Void. Been der evea’ since. Den a Deadpool and a Wolverine fought to leave the Void, and bargained for my freedom to come back as well as others. Believe me now, Scott?” Remy was getting fed up with answering questions. All he wanted was to get her in his arms.

Before anyone could speak again, he was nearly knocked over by the weight and force of something hitting him hard and fast. Remy regained his balance and looked down to see his girl squeezing him tight. Closing his eyes, he wrapped his arms around her and held her close. Hands landed on his arms, and he found Scott and Jean there on one side, with Storm on the other. Remy pulled the rest of the gang close as he relished this moment he never expected to have again.

After a few months of training, flying back to New York to go live at the school again, and a brief adjustment period to not always being on edge about who or what was going to find him, Gambit was back in the field. He did not do solo missions anymore, but he was excelling in team exercises again. This last one had kicked everyone’s butt though.

What was meant to be a simple mission of going down to help stop a mutant riot in the city, turned into a full scale brawl with the Brotherhood. In the end, they had eventually stopped the riot, but not without acquiring some scratches and bumps. The flight back to the school was a silent one; one where everyone that was not navigating the plane just wanted to rest with their eyes closed, and their brain off.

It was a smooth landing, which was a blessing. But having to walk back up was a curse. Every bone felt ten times heavier, and their feet felt like they were made of lead, but they did it. Bidding his teammates adieu, Remy continued his climb to where their room was. Thankfully, she had moved back into the mansion, having left when Remy disappeared, and was staying in their old room together. It was just like no time had passed.

Creaking the door open, he was delighted to see that she was folding some laundry with music playing somewhere in the background. Upon hearing the footsteps, she looked up, smiled, and abandoned her task.

“Remy, you’re home! Are you alright?” Her arms wrapped around him in a tight hug that made him groan.

“Ease up, cher. Ol’ Gambit done had the card house dropped on him.” Pulling away, she saw that a bruise was starting to form right underneath his chin. She traced a feather light touch over it, and furrowed her brows.

“Is there anything I can do to help?” She pleaded, worried to see what other marks he had gained in the afternoon that he had been gone.

“Non, cher. Just finish wit’ dem clothes so we can lay down, yeah? Gonna go get out of my suit now.” Gambit pressed a kiss to her lips, but was careful over the split he felt in the corner. While he went to the bathroom to change, she resumed her task of getting the laundry done.

Her mind was distracted, and worried about her lover that was just on the other side of the door. She could hear his groans and hisses, especially once the water started and he was underneath the stream. Setting out a loose shirt, and an equally loose pair of pajama pants, she went to work putting the rest of the clothes away while waiting for him to come out.

The door opened, and she just had to turn to see. Bruises started darkening already, and there were some minor scrapes, but that seemed to be the brunt of his injuries. With a towel loose around his hips, he grabbed the clothes from the bed, and sent his lover a wink. Not a seductive or even teasing wink, but rather a way to say thank you. He disappeared back into the bathroom, and she changed herself to something a bit more comfortable. As she was pulling the covers back from the bed, Remy emerged once more, with damp hair, and a fresh set of clothes on.

Gambit crawled into the plush bed, and sunk into it with a groan. She giggled, but crawled in beside her lover all the same. His arms, no matter how bruised or sore, opened wide to accept her right where she was supposed to be. They were facing each other, and her hands were tucked up against his chest to keep her close. One arm under her neck, and one around her waist, Remy kept her as close as humanly possible.

“Je t’aime, cher.” Remy whispered, pressing a kiss to her hairline as they began to drift off.

“I love you too, Remy.” She replied, feeling perfectly at peace in her spot with her lover.

[loveisanimaginarydagger3000]

Please...

Wanda X Reader 18+

Summary- “Please,” she once again begs, “ I want you not him. Make me yours, please.” Wanda removes her head from your shoulder to look at your eyes with a new look of desire and lust. She somehow moves her lips closer to yours without them touching, knowing that if they touched, neither of you would be able to stop.

Warnings/Tags: Smut 18+ MDNI, Implied/reference cheating, Fluff and Smut, Strap ons, Rough sex, Dom/sub undertones, Multiple orgasms, Fingering

This is an old fic I found from my ao3 so the writing quality isn't that good, apologies but I don't have the time to improve it.

General Master List

W/c- 1.5k

“We need to stop,” Wanda quietly whispered as her lips ghosted yours. You currently had her pinned to the wall, a knee between her legs, yours mouths millimetres apart as you panted against each other. “Vision is going to propose to me,” she painfully said while closing her eyes to avoid the look on your face.

“That didn’t stop you from proposing that I fuck you last night,” you murmur at the shell of her ear, hearing her breath hitch at your words. “Especially in the bed you share with him. The father of your children, the man who doesn’t deserve, never deserved you.”

“Please…” she whimpers placing her head on your shoulder as she still remain trapped between you and the wall.

“Please what?” you softly say, “Leave? Tell me to go and I’ll go. You know I’d never hurt you.”

“Please,” she once again begs, “ I want you not him. Make me yours, please.” Wanda removes her head from your shoulder to look at your eyes with a new look of desire and lust. She somehow moves her lips closer to yours without them touching knowing that if they touched, neither of you would be able to stop.

“Are you sure?” you faintly say while staring into those green eyes you could get lost in. “There’s no going back,” you warn as there’s a lot she’s giving up or changing for you. She answers your question by crashing her lips to yours like she’s been starved of this intimacy for years. A low groan escapes your lips as her hands wrap around the back of your neck to keep you in place. Your hands find her hips and press her more into the wall making her moan. Suddenly you lift her up and hold her against the wall as her legs wrap around your waist, the friction against her clothed core making her break away from the kiss with a gasp. Threading her hands into your hair as you pepper kisses along her jaw and neck, you push off the wall with one hand and move around your apartment. You stumble through the living room while stubbing your toe making her chuckle against your skin and eventually make it towards your bedroom. Well your bedroom door.

“Fuck,” she gasps out as you push her against the door and practically rip her shirt off her body. Her hands fumble for the end of your shirt and eventually pulls it over your head. “Bedroom. Now,” she rasps out between heated kisses making you fumble with the door handle. Quickly, the door swings open making you almost fall into the room but you keep steady with the help of her magic. You move towards the bed and gently place her on there before swiftly climbing on top of her and crashing your lips to hers once again.

“Tell me what you want,” you mutter along the skin of her neck as you make your way down to her bra covered chest. You nip at the top of her breasts making her back arch giving you the perfect opportunity to unclasp her bra before throwing it somewhere in your room.

“Fuck me please,” she whimpers out while her nails scratch down your back making you groan around one of her nipples. You gaze upwards to see her eyes closed in pleasure as you continue to suck and lick at her sensitive flesh.

“You have to be more specific love,” you taunt out while letting go of a breast with a loud pop. A quiet whine leaves her lips at your words as you know she gets embarrassed asking you for things but you also know how wet it makes her. “Come on love, use your words.”

“Please fuck me with your fingers, mouth, cock! Just fuck me please!” She whimpers beneath you and you move back up her body to kiss her with this new sense of desire. You pull back slightly to pant against her lips while looking up to see her green eyes blown with lust and want causing a smirk to appear on your face.

“I’m going to ruin you for anyone else,” you purr out while moving back down her body, leaving marks now as you don’t care if Vision sees them. “No one will be able to fuck you as good as me,” you murmur at the waist band of her jeans. In one quick motion, you pull down her jeans and underwear in one go leaving her bare beneath you and to gasp as the cold air connecting with her exposed core.

“Holy shit,” Wanda moans out as the feeling of your hot breath causing a wave of arousal to wash over her. You don’t waste anytime teasing her as you both just want each other. You attach your lips to her clit making her moan loudly and run a finger up and down her folds, gathering her wetness. Before sliding your finger in you pull away from her soaking cunt and look at her directly in the eyes while sucking her juices off your finger, moaning at the taste of her.

“You taste delicious my love,” you mumble out before returning to her clit and sliding a finger into her dripping core. A low groan leaves her lips as you slowly thrust your finger in and out of her before adding another one. You can feel her walls slightly stretch around them and decide to add another one making her back arch once again. You pick up the pace of pumping your fingers in and out of her causing her to whimper at the feeling while also moaning into her, the vibrations sending a different pleasurable feeling through her.

“Please, I’m so close,” she begs, her accent thick and sultry. You smirk into her core before sucking and licking harder at her clit while curling your fingers at her g-spot making her instantly cry out. You feel her legs shaking besides your head before moving to wrap around your back and neck, holding you in place as she crashes head first into an orgasm. Her whole body tenses and she lets out a string of moan before going limp in your hold as she recovers from her first orgasm.

“Good girl,” you praise while gently pressing your lips to hers, a whine escaping her at the taste of herself. The kiss remains gentle until her hips start grinding up into yours making you groan at the contact. You pull away abruptly to strip yourself of your clothes and you quickly grab the strap on from your bedside table. “Do you still want this?” you mutter against her lips while bracing yourself on one arm above her.

“Yes, please just fuck me,” her tone desperate as you pull on the toy as quick as you can. Her nails return to you back leaving red marks as you slowly press the toy into her. As soon as she’s adjusted to the size, you start to thrust your hips into her and lean down to take a nipple back into your mouth. You switch breasts before pulling back to sit on your knees, moving her legs to go over your shoulders making her scream out in pleasure. “Fuck right there please!” she groans out as you snap your hips into her repeatedly, the force of your thrusts making the whole bed shake. With how brutal you are fucking her, it doesn’t take long for Wanda to once again come but this time you don’t let her ride out her high before pushing her over the edge once again.

“How pathetic must he be if a piece of plastic can please you better?” you tease out while slowing your thrusts down so she can catch her breath. “And I didn’t even need to touch your clit,” you mutter while kissing along her chest and moving upwards to meet her lips. “You did so well for me my love,” you whisper while kissing her forehead, still buried deep inside her. “Can you do one more?” You feel her nod against you but you remind her to use her words.

“Yes,” she breathlessly says and that’s all you need to flip the two of you over. A sinful moan leaves her lips as she straddles your waist, the toy never leaving her cunt as you switched positions. Slowly, you guide her hips on your lap as you move to sit up so you can kiss her once again.

“That’s it, that’s my good girl,” you praise her again and again as you notice how her face flushes even more at the praise. Gently, you move your hand to circle her sensitive clit and help her reach her final orgasm of the night. You muffle the moans that escape her before carefully rolling her onto her back and pulling out of her. Swiftly, you go to the bathroom to grab a wash cloth and help her with aftercare before joining her in the bed.

“I love you,” she sleepily murmurs while nuzzling her face in your neck, arms wrapped around your body, legs tangled under the sheets.

“I love you too,” you whisper back before drifting off to sleep, holding her as close as possible.

[taegularities]

colour me in: translucent | jjk (m)

Summary: And whenever the world seems to fall apart and your thoughts cast a shadow over your heart, he rushes to lift you to your feet. Conjoining your hearts and souls, again and again and again.

➳ pairing: Jungkook x reader ➳ rating: 18+ ➳ genre: fwb/f2l, fake dating; some healthy angst, so much fluff, smut ➳ warnings: y’all. So. Much. Fluff, talk about stars, talk about his hometown, mention of a wedding 😁, 1 nara mention, a guest appearance!!, and another guest appearance…, daddy issues mention, oc has a tummy ache :(, banter, conversation with her mom, badass oc, their friends <3, moving and work stress, overworking, kook panics in this one, oc does too, tears and tears and tea–, abandonment issues, overthinking!!!, they communicate too late bc they’re scared, pregnancy scare, mention of throwing up, kissing and hand holding <3, petnames, insecurities/slight envy; explicit sexual content: diving right into the smut as the chapter starts 🤭, tie around oc’s neck ha ha, oral (f. receiving) (over panties and without 🥲), fingering, brief masturbation (m.), making out, jk takes the backseat and oc drives for a while <3, bit of choking, they’re half clothed for a bit, tiddie and butt love, tears, flirting, big dick jk, soft dom jk, emotions omg 😷, unprotected sex, multiple orgasms, squirting, he unloads in her mouth 😄, and yeah, maybe more but i forgot – lmk if you notice smth! also… THE 👏 EN 👏 DING 🚨🚨🚨 ➳ word count: 35.8k 💀  ➳ a/n: here it is… after a long ass fight with tumblr and my tears, it’s here! i don’t have much to say this time except that this chapter means the world to me. and i hope you love it just as much. shoutout to @missgeniality for betaing parts of this and helping me with difficult scenes, i truly struggled!! <3 if you guys enjoy this one, let me know and don’t be shy to reach out!! love you and let’s dive in 🥺 ➳ listen to: say you won't let go by james arthur | full collaborative playlist 🤍

SERIES MASTERPOST | TAGLIST MASTERLIST | WIPs | DC SERVER

The whispers cease the moment your door closes.

The whispers of the world, of all traffic, of all passersby, of all echoes. And those in your head, susurrating since you left the glass building and its conference hall.

They dim the moment you drop your palm off the door; your heart is still a nervous mess as you take your shoes off, watch him take his shoes off. He places them neatly in the shoe cabinet, jacket hung on one of the coat hooks.

Right here, you’re surrounded by a tranquil, quiet dome. Not as subdued as the emotions the outer world elicits; just an arena that feels perpetually warm, sepia and still.

And amidst that warmth, there’s yearning. You feel it in every nerve of your body, burning through your limbs. Stunning sentiments pull at your soul, making it heavy; and your heart floats, perpetually above the clouds.

As he rubs his cheek with a soft hand — you know, because you were holding it just two minutes ago, clutching it in the car for dear life —, you take a step forward, your mouth open, but not quite capable of saying all that’s weighing on your tongue.

They’re good things; amazing things. And he hasn’t yet gathered all his thoughts either to truly voice what he’s been hiding since you left the chaos. Only opting for the living room, painfully slowly, as if he’s waiting to face you again.

And maybe… maybe he really is. And maybe he doesn’t need to talk at all.

Because he stops the moment you speak, tenderly calling, “Jungkook.”

It’s all he needs. Combined with the lightest touch to his elbow, a hint of your voice is all he needs. He wants to keep hearing his name. Again and again and again. And today, announcing it to the world, you promised that you’ll be doing just that.

Shit. What have you done to his heart? He wants to ask questions that neither of you has an answer to; or, not one that can be verbalised. One that could explain this euphoria.

So he doesn’t say anything at all.

Instead, he stumbles as he turns back to you again, taking a deep breath before his head tilts. The unbounded amount of want is swimming in his tired eyes, and you barely manage a hushed, “Should we—” before his fingers flutter and he—

Dashes straight toward you. One large step, both hands jacking up to take your face captive. He raises your head, eyes closing, mouth parting an inch before it’s locked with yours.

If he hadn’t started, you would have.

The same thumb always caressing your skin pulls your lower lip down. An unfaltering habit, tender whenever he spirals. You trip backwards, with him in tow, immediately gripping his arms with a wild, accelerating heartbeat.

Your soul was already awake, lit up from today’s events; but he dunks it in a brighter shine — and now it flushes pink.

For a while, your kiss’ sounds are all that echo off the wall, mixing with your sighs. He starts gently, head angled, diving deeper.

Every now and then, he tugs at your lip ever-so-slightly, teeth and tongue dragging over it. The wet muscle is soft against yours, and you let your touch drop down to his waist to hold him closer.

But there’s not that much time to dissolve into him right here, against your entrance door, because Jungkook backs away before you can bid your sanity adieu. Maybe that’s for later.

Maybe you need to be okay with his breath grazing your skin for now, for the words he murmurs so close to your lips, “You’re crazy for this. Absolutely crazy.”

You are. Both okay with this, and incredibly crazy.

There’s never been more certainty in your actions or your intentions than whatever you do with him. For him — if that deems you crazy, then you absolutely are.

Heated from the kiss, Jungkook steps away, but not without entangling your fingers with his. On the way to the bedroom, you ignore everything that doesn’t entail him.

Like, the humming of the fridge. Or the sound of the traffic outside, audible through the tilted window. And the buzzing of your phone; it’s been doing that for a while now.

Of course it is.

But you don’t hesitate to deposit it on your bedside table mere seconds later; you barely manage to put it there, nearly watching it slide down as Jungkook pulls you back. You clash against his body, and the tongue once again mingling with yours only enhances your disorientation.

God, you’re a lost cause. Nothing else to expect with his palm holding your jaw, arm slung around you, kissing you senseless.

Time slows down; the sensation turns electric. His motions are rhythmic, fingers brushing your neck. And despite the bitterness he must have felt at the conference, he tastes so , so sweet.

Heady desire growing, you grip the back of his head, pushing it closer. You’re insatiable. Yearning for more of his damp, soft lips, hysterical when he lets out a craving, small moan.

“Do you have any idea,” he starts, giving your neck no more than a handful of teasing pecks, “what that did to me?”

He moves back until you plummet into the mattress; your eyes follow when he leans in and falls to his knees. Placing a hand at the nape of your neck, tenderly moving your face a bit closer to his.

“Without a warning, too,” he continues, “what, were you planning to drive me mad for so long?”

Not the angry kind of mad. His smile and the fondness in his eyes reveal that much. No — the mad that a lover is.

“Did it work?” you ask, and he flashes his teeth, beloved crinkles around his eyes.

“Did it? What do you think?” He kisses your nose; then, the apple of your cheek. “You didn’t notice any of it today? Or any other time before that?”

“I wanted to… I want everyone to know. I was going to tell you when you came home, but… I wanted to say it in front of everybody. That,” you touch the collar of his blazer, rubbing it between your fingertips, “I’m done with their games. I don’t care anymore, Jungkook.”

“I know… You don’t care.” His hand leaves the nape of your neck, caressing your face. “But you care about me, yes? You care so much.”

It’s not really a question. It’s a statement, a reassurance to himself. A mantra, as if he needs to repeat it and let it reverberate in his mind until he’s grasped its meaning.

“I do,” you whisper, peeling the blazer off his shoulder by only a few inches, “and I want to stay. Can I… just stay here?”

“You’re crazy,” he echoes once more, emphasising his words with a shake of his head, “to think I’ll let you go again. You’ll see.”

Although he still establishes a brief, temporary distance between the two of you right after; you’re reluctant to stop feeling his warmth when he stands. He towers over you, and you muster utmost courage to not faint.

Because the sight is one to behold.

How he removes the blazer in a swift movement, discarding it on top of the table at the wall. He rolls up the sleeve of his shirt, but only one side, glancing at you throughout the ordeal.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” you ask.

“Why is your mouth open like that?”

“Do this exactly in front of a mirror, and… and you’ll know why.”

He smirks. “Right. And stare at yourself in the mirror for longer than a second, and you’ll know why, too.”

God, this guy…

And he actually doesn’t stop.

His pupils keep wandering; to your eyes, to your lips, to your heaving chest. To how you close your legs when he loosens his tie with tattooed fingers, lettered knuckles on full display. He opens a single button of his dress shirt; enough to reveal a patch of golden skin.

The tie dangles off his neck, doing wonders to your mind, and you resist the urge to grab it and pull him down to you. But you don’t need to; you only get to cherish the sight for another second.

Because right after, he pulls it over his head, baring the highly kissable mole on his neck before—

“What are you doing?” you wonder, eyes wide, and probably filled with anticipation as he puts the tie around your neck. “I’m…”

“Looks a lot better on you.”

One more shake of his head. You subtly catch a jerk behind his pants, and your gaze drops instantly. Behind the dark slacks, he’s already waiting for you, and the thought leaves you frothing at the mouth.

“You’re not looking bad yourself…” you say, drifting off, barely looking into his face as your hand reaches out. “May I?”

“What, baby?”

“Just…” 

You move forward, a palm to his thigh, and close your eyes before placing a kiss to the growing bulge. It twitches under your lips, and you drag your mouth lightly over his dick’s outline.

“Should’ve known,” Jungkook breathes, affected straight away, “but somehow, this is worse than your hand.”

“Really?”

He clicks his tongue when you do it again, unfazed by the layer between you as you give his clothed cock an open-mouthed kiss. Two of his fingers settle underneath your chin, and he raises your head in order to meet your gaze.

Then, he pushes you back a little, within a second back to one knee; then the other. He cocks an eyebrow as if to reprimand you, but then gulps down a chuckle as he says, “Really. But wait a bit more.”

You need to wait, because he prioritises your pleasure. One demand you’re ready to give into.

So, so prepared, when he asks politely, “Open your slacks?” You do. The way he drags his hands over your thigh and up to your hips, starting to discard your pants, is arguably less polite. “Here we go. Raise your ass.”

You help him out as best as you can. But he attaches his lips to your naked thigh the moment it comes into view, scattering kisses over your hot skin as he casts it off of you entirely.

You raise your feet a bit above the ground, and he uses the moment to separate your legs. Doesn’t even bother taking off your panties first; casually making himself at home between your limbs.

Light-headed, you open your eyelids halfway to glance at the blurry ceiling light; you never noticed when you closed them. Maybe when the sweetness spread over your thighs’ skin.

Maybe he’s as dizzy as you — only, when your whirling stare descends to his face, he’s smirking. And for a second, you don’t understand why. Puzzled, you keep looking, observing the tempting lick over his lips; the deep exhale; the barely-there blinking.

And then he says, “Never thought about it. But you should wear light-coloured panties more often.”

“…Why?”

But you soon get why.

Because you feel the arousal behind the fabric. How it glues your pussy to it, the damp spot probably growing. It’s visible — that’s what he’s liking so much.

He can see all of the desire you harbour for him, showcased so blatantly. And despite the embarrassment, watching his face flush in that rosy dust boosts your ego, too.

Your face burns.

“You’ve been like that for…” he starts, shrugging his shoulders in curiosity, “how long now?”

“Long enough. And I dare you to do something about it.”

Because fuck, he talks too much. In hindsight, only really when you need him to shut up; deliberately.

“Oh god,” he exclaims, dramatic as ever; as he raises a hand, you nearly think he’ll place it on his chest for further effect, but he only touches your knee, “now if you’re daring me, I’ll have to.”

“Mhm. I’m sure you’re not a sore lo—”

“Yeah, yeah.”

It’s a rude interruption, and the sudden push of his fingertip against your clit is ruder. It’s a momentary touch, fleeting, as opposed to the slow and calculated way that he buries his face in your panties. Eyes glued to yours for a moment.

And then…

Then, you relish the first taste of Heaven — as does he, you suppose.

Because the satisfied sigh is outrageous, hot against your covered folds. He licks over the damp stain, only the tip of his tongue; thoroughly salivated, because you feel the wetness seeping through the clothing.

There’s no moment between the start of his action and your immediate, ”Fuck.”

And to him, your reaction sets just the tone for a woozy night to come. He nods between your legs, gelled back strands tickling, hums so sweetly. You adjust on your seat, though the subtle change affects nothing; only drives you wilder as you shift deeper into his face.

His tongue is painting circles over your clit. Drawing out sensations, and you don’t understand how… there’s underwear between him and you. A barrier, aching to be removed, so how is he doing this, howishedoingit—

“No! Oh god—”

You can’t decipher why you voiced the rejection; you don’t want him to leave. Frustrated when he does, mouth open, waiting for you to speak up until you do, “Sorry. Sorry, I don’t fucking know…”

“Babe…” He shakes his head… He’s doing so much of this today. But one of the loose strands keeps moving so gorgeously over his forehead, so if it was up to you, he could keep doing it. “Don’t scare me like that.”

“Sorry…”

“Nah.” He says it when you press your lips together, hot and bothered as he licks another stripe along your cunt. “Didn’t mean it that way. Open that pretty mouth. Do scream, yeah?”

You could melt into the ground. Or into the sheets; he always knows what to say. No matter what the situation. A verbal monster once, a graceful poet another time.

They say, get you a man who can do both. But he can do all million things known to humankind and the book of romance.

His mouth works deeper into where you ache. Tongue action expanded, he returns to the panties, seeking one of your nether lips to tease it, pull at it. He’s ruining your garment, making it stick to your pussy.

Pries your legs open when he comes back to the clit, and then drops down to the overflowing sex again. The sensual gestures are toying with your nerves, and you still can’t figure out how. Leaves you waiting, yearning, craving the lack of a blockade in between.

And once the uncomfortable, wet cotton of your panties rubs against the inside of your folds, you finally speak up, “Why are you—”

“Sorry,” he interjects, aware of his bestiality. You see it in his stupid wicked smile. “I know. This is just…” Big eyes stare back down, albeit hazier than before; his finger touches the drenched patch for a second. “So good to look at.”

“You’re the worst.”

“Of course.”

Shit, he’s so cheeky. If you had the strength, you’d wipe that bubbly smile off his face; not good for your heart. Would smooch it away. But fret not — you’ll get your chance, too.

For now, you need to grant him this win. Not least of all, because it feels so good for you, too.

So you don’t defy him when he suddenly moves in more. Hooks a finger into your panties and slides them aside, letting them snap back against the juncture between your pussy and leg. And then, you guess the actual fun starts.

Because he throws one carnal look at you before his arms wander under your legs. You can barely gather your thoughts before he digs in again, properly this time. Lips directly attaching to your skin, he starts diligent work on soiling your body.

And god, does he do it well…

So experienced. Aware. Studied you and your body well enough — because the agonisingly slow tease isn’t random. He knows how much you hate it; knows how much you love it.

How it builds anticipation, and how it grows your desire.

He’s a little fuck, but maybe that’s why he never fails to break you this hard. You know he’s enjoying this — delighted when your eyebrows furrow, close to weeping as he breathes against your pussy.

Even though a man starved, he takes his time. For a second. Then another. And then parts your folds with his fingers, whispering, “Would you say that’s better?”

Like he’s at some meeting. Goddamn.

You blink, responding, “I don’t know. Better than the panties, worse than…” His finger slips in mid-speech, just halfway through when you manage a breathy, “this.”

“I… Shit, you’re… hot as fuck.”

Right.

Even you’re turned on by how your head tips back again, eyes rolling inward when he diminishes the distance and kisses your cunt. Nobody else is going to raise your confidence like he does.

“Mmmh,” he voices as the make out session intensifies, smacking noises sounding from below. He lifts his lips by a mere inch, only to mumble, “So hot. So fucking good.”

And that’s it — back to business.

“Nnnghkook…”

The arms he dropped under your legs sling around them, hooking in, and somehow, he’s able to reach to your back like that. Raises your legs in the process, pulling you in. Deeper in your heat, big button nose against your pelvis.

Your right hand attempts to grip his hair before you threaten to fall backwards, failing miserably. You immediately place both your palms back on the bed, because you doubt you can trust that damned left arm to hold you upright — quivering like this.

The tip of your tongue touches the arch of your upper lip, and then you tilt your head, warning him, “Fuck… if you don’t fuck my brains out today, Jungkook…”

Brains? Plural? Acting as though even one’s present in your head right now.

Jungkook chuckles, licking you dry; the little sound combined with the sinful ordeal is a delightful one. Contrary, but gifting the moment some reality. Some tenderness. You’re having fun.

He stops to throw the escaping strands back again — all in vain, of course — and brings his hand to your ass, moving you over the bed until you’re off the edge. You yelp, close to falling, but he holds you carefully.

Ass half dangling, he throws your legs over broad shoulders, kissing your thigh before he promises, “Don’t worry at all. Won’t leave a single thought in either of our heads.”

You wince when he bites the flesh of your leg, and then proceeds to advance his soft lips to the tender ache. He collects saliva on his tongue, probably ready to dive in again; moves in at least, tickling your pelvis with his breath.

His nose takes a deep breath, inhaling you, dizzy from your scent. And his thumb — it floats over your clit, preparing for more insanity. But when the position elicits some discomfort, you say, “Put me on the bed. Can I… bed properly.”

Fragments of sentences. They make him smile.

“Sure,” he says rather calmly; you’re anything but.

It’s not normal. Watching a guy like Jeon Jungkook push his hair back with his jaw on full display; tongue darting out.

He signals his approval once more as he pats your thigh, and you make quick work at weakly turning around and crawling onto the bed. You’re still trembling as you get on all fours, very conscious of what you’re doing.

Casually, you say, “I’ll get the lube, too.”

Of course you know what might follow. What will follow. He never stops raving, daydreaming, bragging about your ass — walking past you in the kitchen, just to grapple a handful and to innocently claim, “What? I love your butt.”

But before he strikes this time, you’re only barely able to grab the lube out of the drawer, placing it next to the pillow instead of handing it back to him. Because… because before you know it—

There’s already a finger to your pussy.

“Shit,” you curse, “you and your impatience.”

“Do you want me to wait?” he asks, as purely as the butt-love-statements as his touch retracts. Mellow voice; only a flutter of his lashes is missing, really. “I can wait.”

No, he can’t. Liar.

“No,” you repeat, readily letting your upper body fall. You bring your fingertips back to your ass, tracing it down until met with your arousal. “Don’t do this to me now.”

You know his answer before he utters it, “Don’t you do this to me now.” You hear a click of his tongue; a poised beam plays around your lips. “Alright. But.”

He snatches your legs from under your body until you’re flat on your tummy; you grunt just a bit. Not expecting the soft, little, “Do tell me if I do too much.”

As if…

He knows his limits. But the constant, caring pleads still always grip your heart; so you nod.

“Okay.”

Simultaneous with a fond slap, that word is the last verbal sign of his presence that you receive for a while. Whatever follows is a pure testing of limitations; of jumbling up your senses.

Because the moment Jungkook lifts your ass to his face, his tongue is already out. Experimental at first, of course, patient. He takes a second for languid kisses and soft necking, fingers exploring the inside of your thigh as if to soothe your restlessness.

And it helps. Your limbs shake a bit less, your mind focused on where his touches go. Fingertips near your folds. Lips kissing around your pussy. Then, repeating the same brush of his hands as before, but on your other leg, moving inward. 

Despite the first taste he already got, he’s suddenly changed his tactic; and you’re greedy. Mewling in tiny, quiet sounds, barely realising that they’re coming out of you. You repeat his name over and over, but it never quite tumbles out in its entirety.

So you keep it at moaning, eyes closed, so infinitely relaxed.

He moves back, gently asking, “All good?”

“So far… do more, please.”

It’s what he always waits for. You know. Jungkook has a fetish for your pleas, and the tiniest fragment of your beseeching voice is usually enough for him.

Like now.

Encouraged, he pushes your shirt up to your tits, halting right under them. He touches your naked stomach, brushing your belly button, grazing a palm over your lower back and straight to your ass.

The tongue ghosting around your sex finally dares a step forward. Gets a little taste of what’s to come. Circles around your folds, then to your nub; spit gathered on the tip, never too hard, oh-so-mildly — and maybe that’s what makes it even worse.

The lack of any force. How pleasant it feels. And you let him know — respond with a desperate, unheard sound, goosebumps sprawling over your skin.

Jungkook discerns it as a signal to go on; to do more. His nose buries between your ass, pushing his tongue in a little further, alternating between licking and kissing and collecting spit. Your lust shoots to the sky; you twist and move, but he holds you in place with a single hand.

And when he disappears, you regret it immediately. You hear him say, “Hey, hey… Don’t you want me to fuck your brains out, sweetheart? Isn’t that what you said?”

“Mmhyes, yes, please.”

“…Then stop moving.” His nails are harsh against your waist, and you whimper. “The more you behave now,” he leaves a kiss on your butt, loosening his grip around your waist, “the harder I’ll go later.”

“…Okay. Okay. I’m sorry.”

He chuckles. What an ass; leaving you physically and mentally covetting, and then enjoying your reactions.

“Are you okay with this?” he asks, biting a little, stroking your hips, holding onto your ass cheeks.

“Mhm.” It’s all you can voice at this point. You don’t have any power over your body; can’t lift it off the mattress. “Love it.”

“Perfect.”

And then, everything seems to happen faster.

Arousal and orgasm have already built from his advances, and he gives you the rest when he starts drawing circles around your pussy again. Heightens your senses, slurps and drinks you up. Every single time it feels like he’s learned something new; you swoon at the attention to detail.

What might he be looking like right now?

Perhaps he’s biting his lip. Maybe his eyebrows are furrowed, usually tell-tale signs of either him enjoying his meal or him enjoying his meal.

“Shit,” you mumble, but you don’t think he hears it — too busy sucking at your folds, adding a finger to the mix.

Sometimes, the licks are generous, wide-tongued; sometimes, he focuses on each part individually. The insides, the clit; how you sound, how you wind.

There’s truly an utter craze you feel for this man; no matter which hazy or soft or delicate situation, he fits you like a missing puzzle piece. Like a match made in Heaven. Knows what he’s doing.

Because he knows you. Because he studies you. Observes you.

Sex is only one instance of his attentiveness.

And perhaps that’s the whipped thought that pushes you over the edge eventually. Maybe that’s why the moment passes so quickly and explosions blind you all of a sudden. Why your face glows so hot, sweat collecting over your upper lip.

It must be.

Because as he stimulates you for another minute, your sensitive cunt submits, the knot in your lower stomach unwinding. He unties it fully, eliciting a stirring feeling that makes your pussy flutter.

“Holy shit…”

You only register your voice when the peeping in your ear stops. Your voice is still damped, the world around you vanishing a bit; except for him. Always except for him.

And.

You also notice that your fingers are hurting. Did you dig them into the sheets too hard? Tug too hard? You don’t know… but their pads are almost numb.

Jungkook’s mouth is still there, though lighter now, and his finger is slightly slapping your cunt, encouraging you to keep letting go. Catching you on his tongue.

And then… it’s over. You remain quiet.

You’ll be a mess for the foreseeable future; or at least, the upcoming one or two minutes. Your back and neck are already covered in a sheen of sweat; it’s so unbearably hot, as opposed to the recklessly approaching cold outside.

Remaining like this, you let him kiss your body through your orgasm, delicately soothing the pain his fingers caused across your ass. Hovering above the small of your back, he asks, “Can you move?”

“Not yet. But…” You scan the spot next to the pillow until you find the lube, throwing it back to him at last. “I can watch.”

No objection. So you turn around.

When you finally meet his gaze again, having started missing it, he’s already unbuckling his pants. Right there, towering above you, looking directly at you. Jaw chiselled, lips swollen.

You decide to spur him on; bring the tie between your covered tits before gentle fingers grasp them deftly. Rolling your digits around their outline before squeezing them. There’s an instant reaction: The hard bite of his lip, the rushed discarding of his clothes.

And fuck, he’s beautiful. So pretty how he despairs bit by bit, only letting his pants make it to his knees before his cock has sprung out. A true monster, bloodshot like this, further growing as it twitches and jerks… blue veins wanting to be licked.

But it’s lube-day, and neither of you can wait.

So you let him make a fist around his thickness, stroking it and momentarily letting out a groan. His chest seems to deflate, shoulders dropping as he jerks himself off once more, squirts some lube into his palm, and returns to his intentions.

“Good,” you praise, watching his cheeks grow rosier, “wish you could go all out.”

“I can’t.”

You know. You know, because he’s storing all his patience for what’s to come. With and for you.

Breath stagnating, you watch a drop of sweat trail down between his tanned pecs and then into his shirt; fabric sticking to his skin. He doesn’t notice it, dazy as hell, wiping his tip clear of the precum. Every damn time you’re in disbelief when his cock grows in size, firmer and rock hard.

So many veins adorning it as it rises to his belly button; you’re sure you’ll feel them against your walls, too. You get on wobbly knees, hair already a mess, both of you still in your soaked white dress shirts.

Jungkook’s mane is falling apart much as yours, messier now, but soaking him in so much more sex appeal. There are no boundaries to his beauty; it transcends your understanding.

Enough of watching, you mentally capitulate a minute later. Too many moans and clipped vocals fill the room, whiny once, deep later; so you float up once your body allows, targeting his cock straight-forwardly.

You only deliver one surprise kiss, helping him out as you drag your tongue along the tiny slit. He reacts, caught off guard, voicing, “Oh—”

But against his possible expectations, you don’t continue. Instead, you drag your hand along his cock only twice — up and down, feeling the smooth skin, the slippery lube, the hardness underneath.

And then, you order, “Sit. Please.”

“What?”

“Here,” you point to the headboard, on your knees, kissing his sides and up his chest until you reach the open button. “Sit down for me.”

He pauses. Waits for a moment, touching your cheek when your face aligns with his. And when you keep your begging, soft gaze intact, he huffs out a broken laugh, and states, “Not sure if I can trust you to not kill me. But…” A kiss to your left eyebrow. “Anything for you.”

And whatever happens next, passes by fast.

How he obliges, dick dangling in front of his body, waiting for ruin. How he hisses a little when the sweat-drenched back touches the cold headboard. And how you adjust your body, soon sitting in reverse, facing the closet.

Floating over his cock, straddling him, spreading your pussy with your fingers. He stutters behind you, grasping for words, but silences when you move and wiggle your ass a little, only dropping a few inches until your cock can prod your entrance.

And that’s all you do. Multiple times. Practising restraint, focusing on the closet, blinking rapidly. Perhaps you’re more patient this time, because from behind, you hear another sharp hiss, and then a somewhat agitated, but endlessly turned on, “The hell are you doing to me?”

“Nothing,” you promise; the jest costs you all your energy, “what are you talking about?”

“You’re so funny, aren’t you?”

His words are accentuated by sudden grabs of your ass. One or two pinches. You should’ve known. But despite his impatience, he never forces you down onto his cock. Lets you do.

“I’m not trying to be,” you argue, aligning yourself with him gradually. Preparing yourself mentally and physically. Leaking to no end. “You’re just delusional.”

“Must be. Too good to be real.”

If you had it in you, you’d laugh. But the approaching sins and the image of his affected expressions fog your brain. Your body burns, your lower tummy tenses; your muscles feel heavy as you loom over him, and you only endure another moment.

Because soon enough, your thirst overpowers every other thought; the weight of your desire drags your body down, thankful that he’s keeping his cock upright. And then, just like that… so easily, no resistance detected, you slide down.

His tip splits you open first, eliciting an immediate sensation. New every freaking time; like the craze he fucks your mind into space with wipes your memory each time.

“Hnnngh, this is just…”

Whatever it is, there’s no word yet invented for it. So you give up right away, squinting your eye shut until you see dots and forms, breath stuck in your throat. The lack of regular inhales muddles your mind, and you feel further heat rise to your cheeks.

“Go— slow,” he pants behind you.

Of course he’s not all the way in yet. No matter how much it feels like it; you could keep going and going. Hard and monstrous, burying inside you, no end in sight.

The filling feeling catches you off guard each time; the way he leaves no room inside, causing butterflies in your stomach, wandering straight to your pussy. A ridiculously perfect phenomenon, like a key to its lock.

God. You’re overspilling.

As soon as he’s bottomed out, you relish the feeling of his skin against your ass for a moment, registering how his fingers sneak to your flesh slowly. And then, you angle your body forward, clutching the sheets before you start moving.

You keep your pace slow. Put all your intention on delicate motions, all the way up with a whimper, and then slamming back down with a gasp. The farther you go, the wetter you get. Until you’ve probably left a shimmering liquid all over his cock, gliding too damn easily.

“That’s… that’s new,” Jungkook mutters. At least that’s what you think you hear. “Gotta do it again.”

And you’re not even done with this time. But you understand — oh, you fucking understand. There’s something about not yet seeing his face but imagining all of it. How fucked out he must look. How red the apples of his cheeks must be. How sweaty his hairline is.

You grip the sheets tighter, legs closer to his, head between your shoulders. All you manage between the heavy breathing is a high-pitched, ”Jungkook—”

“Yes. Yeah, baby. This is…”

“I know. I know, keep talking.”

Which is an unfair command. He can think as much as you; you can barely comprehend letters, even less put them into actual words. But somehow, he still mutters whatever nonsense he can think of.

“Gotta do it again,” he repeats as you fasten your pace.

“Why always play such an angel, huh?” he asks as you moan and whine.

“When you’re a… a fucking demon. Literally,” he declares when you blow out breaths, letting out a crying sound.

He feels glorious inside you. Solid and gorgeous. He holds your ass cheeks in a tight grip, the strength nearly bruising when you let a hand wander back between your legs, grazing his firm balls.

When you turn around to check briefly, slowing your motions, he looks up, meets your eyes. Apparently, he wasn’t gazing at you directly at all; and you imagine there wasn’t much to see other than a bouncing mane anyway.

What he’s actually so distracted by must be…

“How’s it… it look?” you ask, circling your hips, feeling every vein, as predicted.

“It looks…”

Must be art.

Combined with his love for your ass, he must be enjoying the view; at least judging from the constant kneading and spreading. Allowing a direct, front-seat show of his cock appearing out of you, disappearing inside of you.

Glistening. Sucking him in. It must…

“Looks so fuck—ing insane from where I sit.”

The swear word is interrupted by a millisecond, breathy as hell. Allows a glimpse into how delirious he might already be, possibly faring worse than you. Impatient, seeking more.

And you do know your Jeon Jungkook well.

Because not even another breath later, his body that slid down halfway, bolts up. You feel the shift clearly; it pulls you backwards along with him. Only, you realise the movement isn’t the only source straightening you so fast.

First and foremost, it’s the freaking hand. Covered in letters and more ink, tugging at the dangling tie and following it up to the slowly unravelling knot before… abruptly snaking around your neck. Fingers right under your jaw, lifting your head.

He tugs you in until your back collides with his chest, and to your chagrin, you notice that neither of you has gotten rid of those stupid dress shirts. You won’t be able to wear them again without drifting to this memory…

Sleeve open, he wraps his arm around your body, just under your tits, and whispers, “Why… drive me mad like this?”

“H–huh?”

“So far away. Weren’t you ffffu—” The messy zero you’re drawing with your hips interrupts his string of thoughts, and he spends a second finding it again before he finishes, “Weren’t you far away long enough?”

Shit…

This isn’t just an affair. This isn’t temporary. Your brain still can’t quite understand that you’ve actually occupied this man’s heart.

That your gestures and touches aren’t a fleeting dream, but blissfully real. That you’re his, and that he’s yours.

He’s right. You were far away for too long.

So you sneak your arm back, around the back of his neck and pull him closer by his hair. His lips brush your cheek and then retreat to your ear. Nibbling for a moment. Kissing it.

You don’t know what to focus on — on the way his teeth light up your nerves, or the way his hand moves down your shirt and bra, and up your body. Soon taking your tits captive, squeezing hard, pinching your nipples.

“Move a bit,” he orders, though you don’t really have to.

His hand remains on your neck, so he pulls you forward; guess he’s sick of the shirt, too.

“You too,” you murmur.

“Yes. Patience, love.”

No. Fuck no.

Is it the nickname or his actions that empty your head this time? You don’t know. But you react.

Moaning, but it soon transitions into a yelp when he jerks up suddenly, balls deep. Your voice breaks, and you’re breathless; grateful when he unbuttons your shirt, dragging it down your shoulders.

Helping him however you can, you pull at the clothing almost aggressively, over your hand until it’s stuck there. Sporting a shirt paw, you hear Jungkook laugh behind you, peppering more kisses to your shoulder as he says, “Ah… take it easy. You’re with me tonight.”

One quick pause, and then, “You’re always with me. No rush anymore, okay? Yeah, baby?”

He aids you out of the shirt and tie with tender pecks. Thoroughly affected when you only nod so softly, eyebrows kissing. He unclasps your bra swiftly, breathing against your neck as he bares your body once and for all, putting the garment aside.

And then his forefinger moves along your neck again, only barely touching over your vocal cords; feeling your gulp before he journeys further down, back to your tits. Probably leaving scars; his nails are reckless today.

“Wanted to see those pretty tits so bad,” he says, though he doesn’t halt here — tiptoes south to your pelvis, and then to your clit. “Been thinking about this all day.”

Really? 

So each of these touches consume his thoughts every damn moment of the day, too?

“You wanna see them… properly?” you wonder. You haven’t moved in a bit, lost in him, mentally tracing the lines he draws on your body. “‘Cause I wanna see you.”

“Mmmmhm. Doesn’t sound too bad.”

“Then I’ll…”

You don’t speak further; busy with your further advances. Your pussy feels lonely the moment you let him slip out. You’re terribly wobbly on your knees, your thighs visibly shaking as you turn around.

Jungkook holds a hand towards you, a safety net in case you tip over. He holds your wrist gently as you move over the mattress; never more than now are you glad that his isn’t as soft as yours back at the house.

Keeping your balance, you straddle him again, back in a similar position, albeit finally facing him now. And your eyes roll back just the moment he fills you up again.

Your legs are exhausted; the moment you start moving, you barely make it far enough, and Jungkook notices immediately, whispering, “My baby tired?”

And when you nod, he holds you tight, wrapping you in his arms, and—

“Hold– hold onto me, okay?”

You do. And then — he thrusts up once.

When your head falls, his eyelids drop a little, nose touching your jaw as he says, “I could fuck you all goddamn day.”

“Do it… you can now.” His head descends to your chest, mouth open. You’re not sure what you’re opting for, but you still call his name, “Kook…”

Repeatedly lunging in, he collects the words he needs to say, so irresistibly frenzied when he vows, “I’m yours. Okay? And… I need you to stay. Am yours, baby.”

Out of nowhere — or maybe not. Maybe these very sentiments were swimming in his eyes all the time; you could just not see them yet.

Lips a hair width apart, you opt for one single kiss, only a ghost touch. You tell him, “Promised the world. Will promise it to you… too.”

“Good.” His nails scrape your back, and you tug at his hair. A moan tumbles out of him, transforming into words as he holds your body in place, pumping into you, “Fuck, you– feel so good. Just you. So, so good.”

“Ngh, I—”

“I know, I can… can’t breathe, either.”

He kisses your shoulder, the skin flaming under his mouth. Although late, you imitate his prior gesture, peeling off his intruding shirt as smoothly and fast as you possibly can. It’s been a wall between you for too long now; you need to see those pretty tits, too.

And once the buttons open and the shirt flies, you finally bask in the toned beauty. Soaked chest, brawny, chocolate chip nipples as hard as yours. Soon pressing into you, lips thirsting for you, slamming against your mouth.

The fever rises, the temperature akin to lava. Your sounds are desperate and wanting, and you hold onto him for dear life. And before you know it, you’re not claiming your throne anymore.

Suddenly, you find yourself floating for a moment, and then sinking into the mattress, and then curling your hands into fists and him slamming into you harder, deeper, all the way in...

Fuck.

Towering over you, he spreads your legs wide, temptingly licking his thumb before it presses down onto your swollen clit. One jab. A second. Another and another and another.

“Yes. Yes, please—” you beg and yell, letting him pound you into oblivion.

The first hint of stars already grace the darkness behind your eyelids, but then Jungkook starts delivering rapid, light slaps to your nub. He’s chasing your high as much as you are; you know. The chaos unfolding doesn’t hold him back from observing your reactions.

Only focusing on his own end of pleasure when you’re done.

Tears gather at the corners of your eyes, and you cling to his arms, his hands pushing into your waist. And it takes just a moment longer. And another second. Several more shoves, the curve of his cock dragging along your walls and your sensitive spot.

Thoroughly drenched, both of you, as he drives all of him into you. Parting your legs whenever they attempt to shut again. And the universe finally expands, a million celestial bodies dying and imploding, much like you and…

Suddenly, you’re off the cliff.

Falling into a deep ocean. Or the vast night sky. You don’t know — you don’t feel real.

All you know is that your thighs and ass are wet. That you ruined yet another sheet. That Jungkook is out of breath, fucking you through your high, ensuring that you come back to him only bit by bit, so, so slowly.

Gentler now, you feel his body subside, down to you. His skin is glowing with sweat when your eyes crack open just a slit, though they instantly drop close again when he kisses you once more.

He does it only softly this time, as if he’s trying it out. Gauging your reaction. And you do reciprocate the touch, even if weakly. You’re still too gone to look at him properly, but that doesn’t deter him from casting another spell in your heart.

Because his words reach every fibre of you. Butterflies swarm your stomach as he says, “I still can't believe that you’re staying. You did this… you fucking did this—”

“Why not? Wh–why can’t you believe it?”

“Because you’re staying with me. You stayed with me. And…”

Somewhere, it stings. That he’s surprised by constant company. By someone not leaving… by someone worth all his affection glueing themselves to him. And yet, you understand.

That’s a pain the two of you share.

He stares through your gaze, as if he’s frisking for something specific. With each passing moment, it’s like he’s realising something new, yet unable to really verbalise it.

Like something’s burning on his tongue.

But all he does whisper is, “How do I ever stay away from you now, huh?”

“Don’t.” You touch his face, and he doesn’t waste a second to lean into your touch, kissing your palm. “Please just don’t.”

“Won’t be able to… And it sucks that—”

He frees your face from your stick hair strands, still moving inside you. His own tresses hang into your forehead; his thumb touches your lower lip.

“That I can’t be with you every damn second of the day. I mean…” He leans in. Pecks your eyelids; your heart bursts. “What if I can’t move an inch from you?”

You keep staring. Unable to answer. Keep looking and drinking in every emotion laid bare in his confessions. Your misty mind feels calm; not as heavy as hours ago.

And you’re woozy; so indescribably giddy when he adds, “You… you mean so much to me.”

Damn. Damndamndamn.

And you’re fucking obsessed with him. Want his kiss on you all the time; words tattooed on your brain, etched into your soul.

“Jungkook.”

“Huh— yeah?”

“Can you…” You gulp, drooling at the thought, and then spitting it out at once, “Finish in my mouth.”

“Shit,” he exclaims, though the word is more a maniac laugh than anything else, “you know exactly you— you can’t say this to me.”

You know. Because any image of his cock ramming your throat empties his head.

Once more, he mumbles, ”Damn it,” before he’s picking up on pace. You move your hands over his broad shoulders, soon curling your fingers in to hold tight — it’s what the situation suddenly requires. Because gradually, his hips slam into you faster.

The dull sound of his thighs meeting yours repeatedly is lewd, volume increasing when he starts jackhammering into you. Your rhythmic, breathless cries become irregular and broken, turning into screams, and you feel a droplet escaping the corner of your eye.

Throat dry and jaw aching from the parted mouth, you keen from the sensitive feeling inside. You’re so full. So invigorated. Holding onto him tight, so you don’t crumble.

And just as you yell out a dozen curses, Jungkook, voice raised, states, “Fuck, fuuuck, gonna come, babe, f— open your mouth—”

You do. Instantly, tongue out, choking because it’s so much harder to breathe like that. Jungkook trembles over you, lips wet; his arms threaten to give out, letting his body nearly collapse on you, but just a moment before he does, he pulls out.

Hurrying, his knees dig closer to you, cock and ass right above your face as he holds the length between strong fingers. Secured in his palm, he strokes himself over you, glancing into your hungry eyes.

“Pretty girl,” his other digits raise your head by your chin, and his body is swinging, unstable; shoulders high. “My sweet baby… You can’t just…”

Pinching your chin fondly, he digs his cock into your mouth, still pumping the base and touching his balls. You raise your head to not suffocate in the process, and he lets your chin go to grip your hair, lifting you halfway just in time before—

His load finally spills. All of it. So much of it. Hot and sticky, thick as the ropes shoot straight into your throat. You nearly gag, keeping yourself together, swallowing diligently as he empties his balls.

There’s fucking buckets of it, shit…

You close your eyes, focusing on breathing, and once he’s done, you close your lips around his cock. Still hard, although slowly softening, you lick the remnants of his arousal and whatever’s left of you. The tastes mingle, and your head spins…

And then, he pulls back. You’re beaten, gulping, smacking away the saltiness.

Still overwhelmed from the taste, you let your head fall back onto the pillow; but your fingers still seek his touch. The mattress next to you flattens again as his knees retract, and soon enough, laying down beside you.

Both of you are too done in to speak, even less to move. So you let a few minutes pass. Then, you find his fingers, entangling them with yours; waiting a bit more.

And only when your heart rate calms a bit, you stir, hearing him suggest, “Quick shower?”

You smile. The kisses aren’t over yet.

For a while longer, the profuse heat lingers.

The radiator is off, and some of the windows were open when you came home. And despite choosing to stay bare after the shower for some more, you don’t register any of the cold yet; you’re sheltered, safe and so, so warm.

Jungkook’s fingers keep trailing up and down way after you’re done, lips planting generous kisses to your scalp and face. He paves his way to the corner of your mouth and then up to your eyebrows; and when he reaches your nose again, you lift your head abruptly.

Chasing his kiss, even if for just a second, a hand on his cheek and shoulders rising. Occasional giggles and smiles, tickles and pinches keep you busy temporarily; you don’t know how much time passes, nor do you care.

You only snap out of your daydreams when his kisses gain on urgency, tongue diligent. A palm creeps dangerously close to your ass, threatening to slink to your beaten sex.

But your reaction is quicker than his sly attempt, and you say, “Wait— no. Can’t do it again.”

“I wasn’t going to.”

“Of course.” Damn his shoulder shrug. You tap his pelvis before you wrap a leg around his waist, teasing, “I didn’t feel the twitch at all.”

He shakes his head. “No, you didn’t. But it’s not my fault that you’re so stubbornly sexy.”

“Stubbo—” You giggle mid-sentence, imitating the shake of his head. “I hope you know I’d let you tie me down and do whatever the fuck—”

“My god. Stop saying it like that.”

“—but my body won’t let me yet. I also still stink.”

“Stink?” He shifts dramatically, burying his nose between your tits. His voice is muffled when he asks, “Do you?”

“Stop. You’re so weird,” you scold, but the word is drenched in laughter; you forcefully lift his head again. “We still need to change the sheets and the shower was quick. Do I not?”

“You kinda do. Like cherry blossoms.”

“Shut up.”

“What? Sue me for telling the truth. My girlfriend smells like cherry blossoms.”

Oh… oh?

Wait.

Your mouth shuts tight.

Did he…

The beam that spreads on your face is almost embarrassing; surprise, joy and affection conjoin, your guts twisting. You take a breath. Feel the sparkles in your own damn eyes; tender gaze directed at him.

And the freaking flutter in your heart; the temperature in your cheeks. Do these things ever stop?

The words sink in slowly; and Jungkook takes the time to ask, “What?”

“You… you haven’t called me that yet, have you?”

He’s perplexed. Guess even to him, it was a Freudian slip, because his eyes are wider than ever. He waits, thinks for a moment; then admits, “Uhm. No. I don’t think so.”

“Well, I… like the sound of it.”

“It’s… it’s true. You’re my girlfriend, aren’t you?” His eyes smile before he does; unrestrained devotion in them. “My baby?”

He says it so innocently, so sweetly that you can’t help but coo. Teasingly, you pat his cheek, telling him, “I mean I hope I am. Considering I’m moving in with you.”

“Yes. You are. Of course you are.” 

“…Girlfriend.” Sheepishly, much like a teenage girl, you keep your twinkle intact, still feeling the lasting gleam on your face. You must be reminiscent of the sun and the moon. Emboldened, you start, “Then… boyfriend. Can I ask you something?”

The term elicits similar glee in him, teeth out, grin bright. He waits wordlessly with sparkling eyes, and you touch his lip, asking, “How do you feel right now? About all that?”

“I feel… I’m in disbelief. You’re moving in with me and just. Somehow, even saying it feels surreal.” He sighs, searching for words. “I’m in disbelief and crazy for you. That’s all I know.”

Falling deeper and without an end is possible. Jungkook has taught you that; still does.

“…I was so scared you wouldn’t like me doing this,” you confess.

“What? Saying yes to being with me all the time? Sounds horrible.” He laughs. “I’m happy. And I’m happy that you’re happy, too. Okay?”

“I wasn’t for a while, you know? You make me feel good. Take me by my word and give yourself credit for it.” He needs to. He might have doubted his role in everyone else’s life so far, but his value to you needs to be clear at all times. “Not just now, Kook, but, you always make me feel good. I hope you know that.”

“I do. This time, I do…” Content, you smile; until he stalls for dramatic effect, mouth open to indicate something to come. Your beam expands to exhilarated laughter when he squeezes your ass again, adding with another snicker, “What kind of boyfriend would I be if I didn’t make my favourite munchkin feel good?”

“…There’s more than one?!”

Hmm…

That’s what you’d been yearning for all this time.

Because there’s something so vulnerable about your elation; the enlivened titter. About your newfound feelings. About these very first phases of a sensitive relationship. Something serene.

And the meaning behind your words keeps changing with him; carries much more weight, and makes you feel so much lighter. As if levitating on cotton clouds.

Girlfriend. Boyfriend.

Peace reigns supreme and for a while you’re hopeful enough to doubt anything could disrupt it. Even the world is quiet when you look out the window.

September isn’t yet harsh enough to cover all above pitch black, but it’s still dark grey and drab. The sky still somewhat illuminates the unruffled room through the tilted window.

But just when tranquillity reaches its peak, your phone vibrates on the bedside table; you flinch.

The screen’s shine overshadows the faded monochrome of the world. It’s unwelcome, intruding — and once you lean over, holding the blanket over your chest, you realise that the message is just as unsought.

Mom [7:12PM]: We need to talk. Mom [7:12PM]: I’m still at Charmante for another hour and a half.

…At this time?

Did you leave her this desperate?

“What is it?” a dulcet voice asks from behind.

You hear the bed creak a little, his body cold without yours. Despising the distance, he puts a gentle hand to your shoulder, planting a kiss right next to it; when you lack his desired reaction, he asks again, “Everything okay?”

“Hm?” You barely tilt your head, eyes still glued to the words that you’ve already internalised. You cover his hand with yours. “Yeah. Just. Look.”

You hold the phone into his face; the penetrant white floodlights his skin. The warm gold shines in the glow, his lips drier than before. They move as he reads, and then, they close, giving way to a hum.

The initial silence suggests that he might be thinking the same as you — to bail. To shut the phone again, slide it to the edge of the bedside table and drop back against his chest, above his heart.

But you should know Jungkook better; he won’t discourage a familial reunion, praying for a better outcome than he ever had. He’s always spoken for your relationship with them — thinking back, he has never truly badmouthed your mother.

So you’re not too surprised when he hands you the phone back, careful to not turn your mother’s two marks blue, and suggests, “Maybe you should go.”

You sigh. You don’t want to. It’s too early for confrontation; time hasn’t passed, and the issue hasn’t yet marinated. Then again, the problem might only grow if you postpone this.

But your heart is biased, angry, refusing to oblige to her demands one more time. So you ask for yet another confirmation, “Right now? But I…”

You turn back to him, shaking your head slowly, troubled. He props his head up, eyes staring down to you as you lay flat on your back, hands folded under your breasts.

“Give yourself closure, babe.”

“I got closure.”

“No,” he strikes back, fingers lifting to your jawline. He touches it lightly, brushing it delicately, “Actual closure. To finish this. And she deserves it, too, you know? She’s still waiting there, angel.”

“Jungkook, you…” You click your tongue, gaze swerving to the unlit ceiling light and then back to him. “You’re too good.”

“I’m sorry.”

You smile, and he throws a palpitation-inducing twinkle back. You know he’s right — it must have been a shock for her after all. More or less double-crossed by her own daughter, humiliated in a public setting — her brain must be frying.

Reluctantly, you stretch your arm to the side, tapping for your phone, and roll your eyes at Jungkook playfully when you open the message to type back. His body floats down, lips planting a barely-there kiss to your collarbone.

You [7:14PM]: I’ll be there in half an hour.

“Alright then…”

Your body lifts off the mattress with the idlest of movements. The afterglow might die once you’re there, but you guess you need the confrontation–fight? Argument?—to ensure more, blissful nights.

This time, you don’t bother with your clothing as much as you did when you prepared for the press conference. You slip into the first best jeans you find, throwing a cosy pullover over your torso.

Busy with the rush, you don’t notice that Jungkook isn’t standing behind you in his usual grey joggers but in jeans, too. He’s fiddling with your car keys, stuffing his wallet into a pocket, and you stare wide-eyed, waiting for an explanation.

And once your digging stare pierces through him, he reciprocates it with similar confusion, half his hand still in the pocket as he inquires, “What?”

“What are you doing?” you ask, gesturing up and down his body.

“What do you mean?”

The back and forth of questions leaves you further bewildered, and you step closer, softly snatching the keys out of his fingers as you say, “Babe… It won’t take long.”

You don’t think he quite understands — it seems that to him, it was a given this entire time that he’d accompany you to your work building. But when it seeps through, his expression changes, more relaxed.

His head tilts, blinking slowly as he assures, “I won’t let you go alone.”

“Kook—”

“It’s honestly not a big deal. You said it won’t take long, so I’ll wait outside.” He shrugs, forefinger at the nape of his neck, scratching. “Plus, I’ll just get bored here alone.”

A warm flutter engulfs your heart. You wonder how couples spend days, months, years together without burning up every moment during their togetherness. Because you don’t think you’ll ever get over the fire he sets ablaze in your lungs — how does one get accustomed to affection like this?

You don’t know.

Maybe you don’t need to know.

Not more than what his eyes say, at least.

“What did you do all the time I wasn’t here?”

His grin is playful, but there’s tender truth in his words, “Something any guy waiting for you would do,” big brown irides meet yours, fingers fiddling, “counted the seconds until I could see you again.”

Your laugh is sudden before you ask, “Is that a quote from SpongeBob?”

And the joy holds on as you leave the apartment and rush down the flight of stairs. The short comedic journey to your car is distracting — most of reality only dawns on you when you step into the car.

Reminiscent of the last time the two of you drove over to a confrontation — just a little after his vacation; just a bit before the heartbreak.

The streets are quieter and emptier at this hour, the repose enhanced by the gentle drizzle. It’s significantly darker than when you arrived home, though it hasn’t been too long since you drove this exact way in the opposite direction. Two hours?

Maybe it’s the cloudy, almost black sky, accompanied by the hushed sound of the rain that’s amplifying your fears. Because the calming ambience from a minute ago worries you the closer you get — this once, you’d rather bask in sunshine and daydreams.

But no.

Hope is on your side; you’re done worrying, right?

As you sit up straight in your seat, Jungkook glances from you from the driver’s seat, eyes shooting to and fro between you and the street. His lips part as he operates the wheel with one hand, using the other to wrap around your fingers.

“Don’t be nervous,” he says, squeezing once before he lets go, brushing over the back of your hand and gripping the wheel again, “there’s just so much she can say. You made a decision as a full adult and she’ll have to accept it.”

“Yeah.” You follow the streetlamps and their warm radiance, redirecting your focus on the next as you pass each. “I hope so.”

The ride home was different; you were filled to the brim with energy and adrenaline. Your legs were putty, so he insisted for you to freeze on the passenger’s seat, reluctant to hand you the keys to drive.

You were waiting for the streets to end, to shut his door behind you, and to breathe and sigh through a sleepless night with him. The anticipation, combined with the aftermath of the press conference made you restless — you wouldn’t stop gnawing on your thumb.

And he didn’t interrupt your thoughts, let you flick through them until he finally looked at you at a traffic light. Raising the back of his digits to your cheek, assuring, “It’s okay, angel.”

Maybe the breathy tone and the hundred promises wrapped into one reassurance prompted your reaction at his place at all.

Jungkook turns into your work street, and you hold your breath. Your heart knocks violently against your ribcage, disabling a proper thread of thoughts. Which is a shame, because you really wanted to draw a collection of snappy remarks you could retort in there.

Instead, you merely look at the entrance far at the end of the street, unmoving as Jungkook moves into a parking lot and kills the engine. You blink; then blink some more. The gulp, you think, is audible in the small space of the car.

“Do you want me to come with you?” he asks.

“No… I don’t think she’d want that.”

“Okay,” he murmurs, leaning forward to pinch your chin between two fingers. He moves your head toward him, eyes a liquid, wavy ocean at night. Affectionate. “She’s your mom. Despite everything, I know she loves you.”

“I don’t know…”

“She does. I saw it the night I picked you up and I saw it Monday morning, too. So.” The head tilt, the soft curve of his eyebrows, the care in his pupils — they’re a healing bandage around your heart. “Don’t be scared.”

He leans over the centre console armrest, still holding your face in his grasp, and presses his lips just barely, sweetly to your wrinkled forehead. You think the muscles react immediately, temples relaxing.

For a second, he lingers, and then he pulls back a fraction, looking at you from an inch-wide distance, and whispers, “Don’t be. I’ll be here all the time.”

Right — armour-clad, like a knight. You finally nod, a weight dropping off your heart. You cement his smile deeper into your mind; a coping strategy in case things escalate in there.

Once more, you squint at the entrance doors, though barely visible from here. Hand on the handle, you say, “If I’m not out in twenty minutes, call the police.”

Jungkook tsks, eyes rolling with badly hidden amusement, ordering, “Just go. Will be here.”

Yes. Breathe.

He’ll be right here when you come back. And it’ll all be over then.

The building feels sinister, empty like this. Nothing of the busy and lively mood remains; the lack of the chatter and footsteps drenches the entrance hall in gloom.

It reminds you of horror movie locations; you can’t help but hesitate as you walk in.

Especially today, the silence is unbearably odd; the press isn’t lurking anymore, isn’t swarming you anymore. You don’t want to imagine how hard it must’ve been to convince the reporters to finally leave.

You sigh…

In less than a day, they’ll have today’s highlights printed in newspapers and posted; feasting. Big, bold headlines will narrate the words you uttered; of course they will. With your family relishing a local celebrity status, the media would be damned if it didn’t make any profit out of you.

For the first time, however… you don’t care. You inhale.

And as you walk past the glass walls and up the stairs, clutching your work keys, you don’t feel the overwhelming urge to run away from this place anymore.

You’ve liked your job since you started, no doubt, despite your initial worries and fears. But the thought of losing against the world, or of losing him terrified you. Maybe you were too naive to fight those who wished you harm mere months ago, freshly out of college.

But now that you realise that you won’t be roaming these hallways in a couple weeks, that you have dropped the mic in a way they won’t be able to pick it up to hurt you again, you feel relieved. 

Feel a sense of responsibility. Like an adult.

Okay.

She told you she’d wait in an unoccupied office on the first floor — you usually frequent it with Zara, sifting through theories and changes. You wonder why your mother didn’t settle on her own office — then again, you imagine it must hurt to suffer defeat in the very room where she’s supposed to reign.

As you reach the room, your fist lifts to the door. Though you soon realise that it might be entirely unnecessary, judging the slight gap and the soft noise from within. So you gently push the ajar door open, met with a tired figure behind an imposing desk.

She’s lost in thought, but as you enter, her gaze slowly ascends, her posture reclining. And you see it immediately.

The usually cold eyes, now brimming with disappointment and sorrow.

Her eyes flit, as you assume unintentionally, into a corner. She dodges a simple greeting when you mumble a timid, “Hi,” and you drop the formalities right away. Don’t even attempt to sit — stand there, towering in front of her, not intending to stay long anyway.

And it seems her thoughts and intentions align, because she refuses to beat around the bush, a weary voice asking, “Why did you do that?”

“Mmh… You’re asking like I shouldn’t have.”

“Because you shouldn’t have.” Typical. Her point of view will always be her only truth. You listen on, but can’t help but tense. “Your father and I built this for you, and we intended to forward it to you. You know that.”

You don’t like that tone; you never have. It always ran over your spine as a shiver, weakening your knees. Even today, you’re conditioned to buckle just a bit. You exhale.

“Mom, have you ever heard yourself speak? You’ve never even remotely tried giving me anything else that way,” you complain, leaning to clutch the chair with one hand, the other gesturing around the room. “You built this stupid empire for yourself and kept it intact for me, so I can continue your work.”

You huff out a mocking breath, shaking your head just a little. “You never even asked me. You just told me to do it all.”

Her voice is sharper when she responds, “We didn’t hand it to you to make you suffer, for god’s sake.” She’s irritated, eyebrows deeply furrowed. “Christ, you were supposed to have a good future.”

“Yes, and I will! I’m happier than I have been all summer. Do you even have any idea what happened during that time?!”

You pause. She doesn’t answer, clearly sorting out a hundred answers.

Because a lot happened — most of it a direct effect of her or the media’s bullshit. Of course she won’t be able to pick out just one single thing.

So you explain, “Did you even understand that Jungkook broke up with me because of the thing you pulled with that dumb journalist?” You spit the word like a curse, grimacing. “And that he avoided me because he thought he was ruining me?”

You try to make it sound as ridiculous as you can muster, wondering if the realisation is dawning on her. 

“Did you even notice how I didn’t come out of my room for da—”

“Just why,” she interrupts, eyes shutting tight in disbelief and agitation, palms toward the ceiling, “would you jeopardise your life and emotions because of him?”

Jeopardise. Holy fuck.

She has a whack understanding of villainhood.

“Because he’s important to me! You can’t even imagine how hurtful it is to only be talking about work to you. You never ask me if I eat or sleep enough. You didn’t even give me a graduation present. He did! But you wouldn’t know!”

You think back to the lamp in your room, the one she has never seen — remember the dark ceiling, the aurora and stars projected to it. The touches that followed.

“He’s unbelievably important to me, Mom. Okay?”

“You’ve been with him for just a while.”

You grit your teeth. It’s like talking to a wall; a daycare child would catch the sentiment better than her.

“Yeah,” you say, scoffing, “and it makes me embarrassed for you, because I’ve known you my entire life and you never cared this much. Like, fuck, even Dad did.”

Her jaw clenches as you swear, nostrils close to flaring as you concede more pain, “Jungkook actually makes me feel human.” There’s a sting in your eyes. You blink it away. “I’ve been feeling like a person, which just… made me understand that—”

You gulp, your throat tied and your head heavier now. You wait, shrugging. Then—

“That I can receive affection, too.”

Your friends are your first memory of care; barring them, you only had a faint idea of what devotion entailed. Learning what it means to be genuinely important to someone had been on your bucket list — this year, you ticked it off.

“I just hate that he had to glue me together first for me to understand.”

Because she broke you first. The contrast couldn’t be more crystal clear.

She doesn’t dig your monologue. Her countenance fills with different shades of ridicule and embarrassment, shreds of anger thrown into the mix. Filed nails tap against an open folder, the other hand rubbing her forehead.

“You sound ridiculous,” she derides, “you can’t throw your future away because of love. It won’t pay your bills.”

“I’m gonna be a manager, though. I’ll pay my fucking bills. And Jungkook is working his way up, too.” Your latter statement gains a sceptical stare, followed by a skyrocketing eyebrow. It satisfies you. “He is. He’s getting his own part at an exhibition. We’ll be fine.”

She frowns, mouth already agape as she psyches herself up for another answer, and you already roll your eyes, prepared to interrupt.

“You—”

“You were so grateful last weekend,” you argue.

“Because you almost killed yourself!”

“No! If you’re so worried, then call! You could’ve called and asked where I was like mothers do. Made sure I was well and not drunk out of my mind!”

“Stop it,” she stands, her voice as damaging as a serrated knife. You flinch as she charges for you, and you breathe out, ready for a slap — but her body halts in front of yours. “How do you expect to run from this just by switching to another company? Novaura’s still mine, too.”

No…

You hold your breath. Straighten your back, hands sweaty as your nails dig in. She’s been predictable half her life; not always quite vile. But you know what she’ll say next, and you know it’ll be the most odious thing she’s ever uttered.

“And I could keep you here if I wanted to. They’d throw you out if I told them, too.”

Your eyebrows shoot up, and you blink, scorning, “You’re serious?”

A breath of laughter escapes your chest, and you shake your head in disbelief. You’re done.

You press your lips into a thin line before smacking them, nodding in faux agreement before you say, “Okay. Go ahead. But if you do, I won’t shut up this time. Today, I was being nice. I praised you, and none of my nice talk was actually deserved.”

Choosing your words carefully, you pronounce every syllable as if explaining molecular biology. She listens, not spitting an answer immediately.

So you challenge further, “You want to throw me out? Do it. It’s your reputation. I didn’t say anything wrong at the conference today, because it’s my right to choose the career I want. You’d be abandoning your own daughter if you pulled this through.”

You have her attention. Her lips stay sealed.

“And when they ask me,” you continue, eyes now fiery; you’re so done. So, so done. “I will let them know that you did it out of spite. Try finding an excuse why you did when we’re there. I won’t be at any disadvantage.”

You press into your palms one more time, relaxing your jaw, and opt to turn and walk away. Hurling one more glare towards her, you spit, “I have a degree, just a reminder.”

And that should be it.

Pride unfurls across your chest, warm in your stomach as you take long strides out of her office. You hear the quiet call of your name, suddenly desperate. But now that you’ve said your part of the truth, you don’t turn around anymore.

Only shut the door behind you hard; shutting all she’d hoped for with it.

Despite the satisfaction still bubbling in your stomach, you can’t shake the clump in your throat and the anxiety in your heart. The post-fight adrenaline pumps through your veins, and your fingers shake.

There’s discomfort in deserting your own mother; the irrational fears were to be expected. You didn’t do anything wrong, you know, you know. But your organ still thumps like drums, and you lift a hand to your chest. A vain attempt to calm your breathing.

And then… something miraculous happens.

The brisky gust of the evening brushes your cheeks; the bright lights of the city contribute to your sudden peace. They’re a reminder that the world is far wider than this damn building. Than her.

But more than anything, your worries dissipate when the strolling figure grows in your sight. As you walk the short distance to your car, you feel your heart lighten — your forehead and temples relax.

He has his hands on his waist, chin slightly raised as if watching the stars that hide in the city sky anyway. His steps are small, and his eyebrows calm. He looks serene.

And once his hands slide into his open jacket’s pockets, he looks down the street again, surprised when you’re mere steps apart.

“Ah,” he voices, one palm already out as he stretches it toward you, “barely fifteen minutes. I was about to come in.”

Deep sigh in, you let his arm pull you in his embrace, swiftly wrapped around your torso. He smells like fresh clothes, after-rain, and vibrant, like the lights in the sky.

Your arms sling around his body with an urgency, and you muffle your voice against his chest as you ask, “Already?”

“Already?” he repeats, though dragging the word more than you did. His arm squeezes you once as his other hand escapes his pocket, too, stroking your head. “Those weren’t days? I swear I felt myself ageing in there.”

Your fist thumps against his chest lightly, and you giggle against his sweater. “Don’t be so dramatic.” Eyes slowly unfocusing, you rub the zipper teeth of his jacket between your fingers, softly mumbling, “Thank you for being here. You’re the best.”

You feel a movement over your head; he’s lowering his chin to your hair, still caressing your head as if lulling you into sleep. And it’s working — you feel drowsier by the second.

But then, his chest rumbles as he hums, cautious as he asks, “Are you okay?”

Are you?

You’re about to start a new life where you desire, with whom you desire. Finding permanent residency in his presence the way he finds it in your thoughts.

A few more steps, and you can make yourself home. Not in those rooms, but in him. Because that’s what he is.

A blanket, a radiator, the comforting voice that soothes and heals. Worshipping you within the same four walls every single day.

You’re not just okay — you’re craving.

Leaving his warmth and scent, you lean back and look at him. His eyes are as big as you’re used to, awaiting an answer, genuinely curious. Your heart threatens to burst; the sting is painfully sweet.

“Yeah,” you answer, touching the purple sweater, “I promise I am.”

Because. Because that’s all you ever wanted.

It’s over. You’re going home — you are home.

You can’t remember whether it was your fingers clawing into Jungkook’s shirt or his hand brushing through your hair that kept you in the sheets twenty minutes longer than anticipated.

The plan was to snooze once and get into a routine with divided work. One prepares breakfast, the other makes the bed and cleans up before leaving the apartment.

But it seems that so far, your routine has consisted of lazy mornings. Tired hums. Quiet, hushed and slightly hoarse good mornings and entangled limbs.

You pressed between his shoulder blades as he strokes your head, planting kisses on your temple and your forehead.

“Slept well?” he asked today. Another peck in between. Then, drowsy and sighing, “Is the mattress okay, by the way? I like the firmer ones better since they’re good for your back, but I know you had a softer one, so if you need…”

“No, not at all,” you promised, warm and safe under the covers. “This is perfect.”

No… the softness wasn’t needed. Your muscles were so relaxed, you were sinking into the bed anyway. Sleeping a dent into it. At peace as his nails gently scraped over your scalp, massaging and caressing.

He could’ve lulled you into sleep like that; and his voice served as soft, white background noise. The words he used. The honey sweet tone. The past tense in what you had, and what you have now.

If you hadn’t been so lethargic, you would’ve floated through your chores. But when the clock ticked too dangerously fast and brought your working hours sickeningly close, you decided to eat out instead.

You always fool around at breakfast too much — stretching it longer than it needs to be. A café was, surprisingly, the smarter, more time-efficient option.

And a great opportunity and excuse to explore the places near you. Jungkook promised there was an amazing bakery nearby, and you trudged along, tummy rumbling, now that you weren’t in bed with him and satiated anymore.

“You’re sure you’ll be at home by the evening?”

You gather the remaining crumbs of your pastry with the pad of your thumb, waiting for Jungkook to slurp the last of his coffee. He nods, soon answering, “Mhm. I won’t be at work for long. Might come home before you do, actually.”

“Okay,” you suckle at your thumb, shoulders relaxing as you stare at the drizzle outside. The day started out grey. “And then tomorrow, I’ll be off work by the afternoon, so I should be able to bring more things over from the house.”

Tired from the morning, your eyes remain on the customers trudging in and out of the café. They shake the water drops off their umbrellas, or sigh at the prospect of stepping out into the rain again. 

Their expressions aren’t quite dispirited, but… perhaps a little dim.

You raise a side of your lips in empathy, and then continue, “And then on Saturday, I’m getting the truck to the house, for the rest of my stuff.”

“Babe,” Jungkook interrupts, pausing to smack the coffee’s taste away. His hand slides over the table, wrapping his fingers around three of yours. “Let me come with you tomorrow. You’re already doing too much.”

“Absolutely not. I won’t drag you there unless I absolutely have to. Besides,” your voice is soft when you lean forward, raising your entangled digits to your lower lip. “You’ve been busy plenty, too.”

And it’s true.

He’s been taking care of the apartment and cooking dinner these days. Organising documents with you, so you have whatever needed to change your address and whatnot. Doing small purchases for the household and vacating some of the closet to make place for your stuff.

Two weeks have passed since the press conference — and Jungkook has been a pillar of strength and sanity as much as you have been his. You communicate each night, regulating finances, dividing roles and sharing comfort.

You don’t think you’ve ever witnessed or felt a relationship as symbiotic as this one… and you’re just starting out.

His thumb brushes over your fingers, still reassuring you, much as you expected, “I honestly don’t mind.”

“It’s okay,” you argue, “we still have a lot more to do. Save your energy for that. I’d still love these deco vines for the living room, remember? Let’s get them together.”

Your words are breathy, as if you’re being reborn. A breeze of refreshment — and he feels it, too. There’s something about the thought of simplicity livening up your bustling days.

Mundane tasks, like shopping for casual things together.

Groceries. Decoration. Plants.

With all the planning of switching work and homes, the two of you have been incredibly breathless. You even told him about a meeting at your new place today, a discussion about trivial matters, general know-how and preparation you need to do.

The sliver of stress is visible in your eyes — you’ll be seeing the other managers today. And you’re nervous about it, unsure what vibe the meeting might set.

But despite the stress, you’ve been as bright as Venus in the night sky. He understands. If anyone does, then him.

Because the idea of strolling through Ikea's tableware department is balm to his mind. Your laughter sounding through its hallways, half your body leaning over the shopping cart, because you surely seem like the type to do so.

His voice is as gentle as the mizzle outside when he promises, “We’ll get anything you want.”

“Really?” Your smile is radiant, cheeks glowing as you press the lightest kiss to one of his knuckles. “Sounds good to me.” 

Time passing has always been a bummer. Despite the quiet noise in the café, the clock ticks as if in a deafening volume, a reminder that you need to let this hand go soon.

Sometimes, you do worry. About the attachment, and the healthy obsession with him. And on the other side, about every moment he worships you, and every second he misses you.

How there’s discomfort in being apart, even if for mere hours. Maybe that’s why he holds you so tight at night. Or why you’re constantly itching to get home.

Perhaps there’s a lingering fear that your time separated brought, a sneaking anxiety of being dragged apart again.

Yet, instead of dwelling in improbable what-ifs, you breathe in the air of the room, direct your senses away from the clock and toward the increasing patter of rain against the window panes. 

You squeeze the fingers around you harder, delving into one last soft conversation as you ask, “You’re at lunch with Joon later, right?”

“Yeah, he promised me burgers today.”

“What for again?”

“Because I’m his favourite staff member?” Jungkook lifts your hand to your mouth when you open it, shushing you with your own fingers. “Don’t say it. I am his favourite staff member.”

“‘Kay. Understandable.”

“You know…” He shrugs his shoulder nonchalantly, but the soft drop of his gaze, fingers fiddling and toying with yours betrays him. He’s still so delicate around you. “If you want, you can join.”

“Oh. Mmmh,” you think for a moment, but then click your tongue, insisting, “it’d be weird, I think. Dunno if he’d want it.”

“I would want it.”

He always does.

Yearning. Obsession. A humane way of falling in love.

You feel like a person. No matter how odd the phrase might sound in your head, the painful truth behind it is undeniable. You feel like a person.

“Okay,” you reply, slowly reclaiming your hand, reluctantly preparing to leave. “I’ll see if I find time and energy during my lunch break.” You halt, unblinking, before you look back at him with squinting, uncertain eyes. “Totes Bag Street, was it?”

The sudden, choking laugh erupting out of Jungkook is a surprise. If his coffee cup wasn’t empty yet, he’d still be sipping, probably ruining the white, silky shirt you’re sporting today.

You actually mean it, don’t you?

His trademark laugh is high-pitched, melodious, though a little more controlled in the public space, but the flashing of his teeth and his dimples implies genuine joy.

You already know: the lighthearted banter has become a hallmark of your connection. Doesn’t get old. Heartwarming — albeit right now, very confusing to you.

So you cock an eyebrow, questioning, “What?”

“Babe,” he simply mutters, hands coming together in a mock prayer. “Shit, you’re so fucking cute.”

He lowers his head between his shoulders, torso shaking, and you pull his palms apart again to dig with another, ”Hey. What?”

“Boats Track Street. Not Totes Bag Street,” he corrects, endeared by your wide eyes. The back of two of his fingers grazes your temple, and then down your face, before playfully pinching your chin. “You’re so cute. And a dummy. I mean it.”

“You’re a dummy,” you reply, forcing your face back and out of his grip. “Besides, that’s a pretty stupid name.”

“To be fair… I agree.”

A hesitant smile spreading on your face, your gaze wanders to the clock at the opposite wall again. The beam drops a little, giving way to a small sigh.

“It’s okay. I’ll probably be busy anyway… will join you guys another time.” You shove the chair back, getting off with a fatigued groan and a hand rubbing your tummy. “And I feel a bit weird today, too. Shouldn’t have eaten before bed because I’m feeling the effects right now.”

“Ahhh, I told you. No worries. I’ll make you something light tonight. And some peppermint tea.” His hands wave you goodbye, making a begone motion. “Go for now. The longer you stay, the worse the next hours will be for me.”

“Dork. You must survive.”

You huff, eyes rolling at the dramatics, and push your bag behind your body before you lean into him. A hand on his cheek, you watch his eyes close, setting your lips onto his.

The two-second long goodbye peck remains just that before his fingers, pushing against the nape of your neck, tug you in again.

Against your lips, he mutters, “Eat, okay? Call if your stomach bothers you. Anytime. And don’t be nervous. You’ll have fun.”

And before you can answer, he kisses you again.

Once, and then twice more. Your guts somersault, even when he finally lets you go. Your lungs feel dry all of a sudden.

All you have left in you is to nod. For your wobbly legs to step away. Looking back a few more times until the door opens, the bell chiming, your transparent flower umbrella spreading over your head.

Jungkook watches as your careful steps wander away, your head never lowered like every other passerby’s. They’re hiding from the rain, but you’re staring up, observing the movement of the clouds before your focus falls on the road — and a minute later, you disappear out of his sight.

His chest and muscles relax, a quiet laughter still tumbling out as he repeats, “Totes Bag Street.”

The sky may be colourless. The people might look into the world dimly.

But despite the rain tapping against the window, no inch of you is painted in a dismal, drab grey. You’re the brilliant, gleaming sun.

The location of your new job isn’t as fancy as the area around Charmante. The building certainly isn’t made of reflecting glass throughout.

There’s wood and actual walls; not every door opens with a chip, but a key, and the luxuries are limited. Compared to your old building, this one is humble, but it still oozes wealth and success — guess that’s what a subsidiary looks like.

The meeting room for today is somewhere on the third floor. Your mind races as you fix your clothes in the elevator, throwing regular glances into the mirror to guarantee that your hair sits as perfectly as three seconds prior.

You breathe deeply, exhale through a rounded mouth. Whether it’s this meeting or something you ate, your stomach does not feel great.

As the nerves start kicking in, you think of Jungkook’s hand in yours and the everlasting smile. You use him as your safe place; close your eyes for those few seconds that the elevator floats up.

And it works. Feels like an oasis, calm and lovely.

That is, until the bell pings, forcing your eyes open. You stare up at the number, nearly stepping out until you realise that — you’re not on the third, but on the second floor. Were you supposed to halt here?

No. And there’s nobody outside, waiting.

Until, someone is.

Rushed steps move to the elevator, a nice but stressed voice urging, “Ah! Keep the doors open, I’m coming!”

Strange. Oddly familiar voice.

You can’t say why, but you already prepare a polite smile, trying not to let the ticking seconds stress you out. Rationally, you know you’re not late, but the time passing messes with your nerves.

And it seems it doesn’t get better when the figure finally rushes in, pressing the already lit number 3 before he says, “Good. Just in time.” Looks back at you, delighted as if he expected you somewhere around, and adds, “Ah! Hello!

It takes a moment. Then another.

One more until you figure out who he is, why you feel like hurling and how maybe, just maybe, he might be heading to the same room as you — as another new manager of Novaura.

You blow a raspberry at the boxes in your backseat. 

Deciding to at least take your favourite box up with you, you leave the rest here for now; you don’t want to bug Jungkook yet. You can heave it all upstairs on the weekend, in peace.

It’s only moderately heavy — but with both your hands busy, the task is a hassle. You secure it under your arm as you close the door of your vehicle with your hip, clutching the phone previously tucked between your cheek and shoulder.

You straighten your head, reflexively looking up to Jungkook’s apartment window. To your apartment window. Doesn’t quite roll off the tongue just yet.

Somehow managing to open the entrance door, you sigh into the phone, giving Taehyung a relieved, “I’m finally back home.”

“Mmmh,” Taehyung voices, and you imagine his full lips in a line, tiny nods serious, “how’s it feel? Knowing that this is where you’re gonna be for the foreseeable future?”

“It feels… quiet.”

“What, he bore you to death like that?”

You giggle, taking deep breaths as you ascend the staircase; though slightly irritated by the slowly and constantly slipping box. You heave it back up.

“Absolutely. You’ve no idea, really.”

Taehyung laughs, but your joke doesn’t stick for long. You feel bad immediately — even in a playful tone, your heart knows nothing for Jungkook but praise. You guess that’s how kindness affects people.

And your brain stays mean, prolonging your pout — because it conjures pictures of a crooked smile, wrinkles around tender eyes, a tilted head as shoulders rise when the laughter reaches its peak…

A sting jabs your chest.

The longing is unbearable, and you’re barely another level from the apartment. He’s waiting for you on the other side of that flat’s door, and you know his pupils will widen in his dark brown eyes the moment they fall on you.

“No, that feels horrible to say,” you correct, shaking your head. You pause in the middle of the staircase for a moment, gaze fixated on a dirty spot before you shake your head once more. “You know Jungkook. If he’s not joy personified, then I don’t know.”

And it’s true — despite his own demons, you don’t think you’ve ever seen anyone spread this much comfort.

“I just meant that my mind’s been quiet. And a lot more peaceful. Not a hundred worries whirling around anymore,” you tell him, your steps upward slower now.

“Just ninety-nine, huh?”

You smile. “Maybe. But he’s not one of them.”

Dull background noise interrupts your thoughts; Taehyung doesn’t respond to you, but reprimands Yoongi in a distant mumble. He’s been doing it since he called, covering his phone to argue with his friend.

Apparently, Yoongi had been with him for hours before you picked up Taehyung’s call; they’ve been settling the rest of the arrangements, scurrying through paperwork. The apartment you considered is entirely their adventure now, but you aided in anything they needed.

Which basically just meant clearing things with the landlord and then answering his new tenant’s million questions. 

As in — how were you thinking of decorating it? Why were you going to take it? Did you calculate monthly costs including rent, water and gas? You didn’t mind, because Yoongi might be one of the most polite people you have ever met.

But it seems he’s reluctant to return to his dorm’s lonely walls, too.

Because Taehyung values alone-time, and Yoongi hasn’t granted it for hours. You feel kinda bad for Yoongi. And while the younger man attempts his hardest to maintain the gentle tone, you hear the exhaustion in his voice.

“I’ll drive you home after this, ‘kay?” he tells Yoongi; you snicker at the groan that returns. “You got this, bro.” Attention back to you, a murmur of your name. “Anyway. Everything should be good now.”

“I’m glad. That was… quite something.”

A euphemism, really. The handful of visits weren’t fun; not to mention the stuff you had to get over with for your own move. And then all those calls. You needed minutes upon minutes of preparation for each of them. One hell of a businesswoman, you are.

“No, say it as it is. ‘Cause it knocked me the fuck out. You guys really had to drag me into this.”

You feel guilty about making Taehyung your spokesman here; but as an already residing individual of the building, he was a great support in this matter. 

“We— love you,” you tell him, inhaling deeply between your words. You rub the dirt off your soles on the welcoming mat and hold the box tight, not opening the door yet. “Tell your forehead to feel kissed.”

“Nah. You’re gonna upset Eun.”

“Why? Eun and I are more in love then the two of you might ever be. She’ll choose my side.”

“Ha. Fair. Whatever.” His voice doesn’t carry an ounce of solemnity. Once again, you imagine him pulling a face, waving your statement off. “Enjoy your life. Your voice has been echo-y forever. Also, don’t forget to talk to Jungkook about what we discussed.”

Ah… yeah. There’s more than just one thing you need to clear, actually.

“Aye, aye, Captain,” you confirm, though arguing, “I’m surprised you haven’t done it yet.”

“You do it. I know he’ll like hearing it from you better.” He pauses to answer his friend; you don’t even know what he said. “Okay. I’ll go grappling with Yoongi then.”

“Good luck.”

“Buy me sushi.”

One last laugh before you cut the call.

The clicking sound of your keys turning in the lock is music to your ears and balm to your feet. You skip the threshold with a relieved release of air; the apartment smells like diffusers, so warm compared to the declining temperatures outside.

You don’t hear a movement until you get to your knees, seating the box next to the shoe cabinet. As you start working on your jacket, you register a shuffle from the living room, but no voice — Jungkook said he’d be home before you. Perhaps he’s painting; or gaming.

A short text message during lunch assured him he could start dinner without you; deep down, however, you understood he wouldn’t listen anyway. And the obvious lack of aromatic scents wafting from the living room proves it.

You don’t enjoy eating alone — and he knows.

Clearing your throat, you announce your arrival, bent as you take your shoes off and rub your aching heels for a moment. You wish you could float. Offer them reprieve.

Stumbling in the anteroom, you wait for a greeting, but it seems he didn’t hear or notice you. You lick your lips, standing straight, and then speak into the hallway—

“I swear I don’t have a foot fetish,” a short pause — nothing, “but can you massage my feet again today?” You wait. Not a word comes back. So you joke, “Actually, just massage my whole body? I don’t mind. Need some hands-on relaxation.”

Subjectively, you think you’re hilarious. You giggle on your way to the living room, cheerful despite the jam-packed day — but your laughter ebbs down soon. Because he’s standing in the middle of the room, lips pressed into a tiny smile, head lowered, hands in his pockets.

And right in front of him, a timid woman in a coat. Blinking at you.

Your eyes dodge her gaze immediately. It’s an impolite reflex, heart pounding as you watch Jungkook’s hand lift to his forehead, hiding behind his bangs as he rubs. When he looks at you again, there’s an equal amount of worry and amusement in his expression.

“Shit,” you mumble, another mishap, and you continue cursing internally. Stupid, stupid, stupid. And then, “I’m sorry.”

She looks like him. Same sweet aura, short hair, big eyes.

Her right digits are wrapped around the fingers of her other hand, mouth shut tight, though smiling. She knows less what to say than you, and the moment stretches and stretches and does not end and—

“Hi,” you finally murmur, bowing slightly before you cringe. Too much? Not enough? You clear your throat again, and then introduce yourself quietly. “You must be Mrs. Jeon. I… I didn’t know you’d be here or I would’ve come earlier! I’m very sorry.”

Are you rambling?

How horrid. You’d feel so uncomfortable if you were her.

Only, she barely showcases any sign of displeasure or irritation. Despite striking you as an introvert, her movements soon prove confidence — the type to know what she’s saying or doing, but in a humble and gentle way.

She unfolds her fingers and lets them dangle, soon moving up to clutch the strap of her bag. Looking between Jungkook and you once, she raises her eyebrows and shakes her head, as if to promise that there’s no reason for any tension.

You sigh when she speaks, “Oh, it’s alright. I didn’t stay long and I need to go in a minute anyway.”

“Oh?”

“I was going to leave ages ago, but,” she points to her son with rolling eyes, and the man in question shrugs in faux guilt before she speaks on, “that one wanted me to see you for at least a second. I wanted to meet you properly… prepare dinner and all, but. It’s still nice to meet you.”

Her eyes are kind, taking you in; if you could guess, you’d say she’s… excited. Urging to finally speak to her son’s girlfriend.

She moves a teeny tiny bit, as if opting to offer her palm to you, or to— maybe hug you? But maybe she realises the timing, or sees your terrified expression, because she holds back for now politely.

“I see. It’s wonderful to meet you, too.” Incredible how you spoke about initiatives just this morning, rambling in the office until someone had to interrupt you for their own turn. Now, you can’t get a word out. “But, I… I am still sorry I barged in so rudely.”

She grimaces, moving closer to you with a waving motion, “You didn’t barge into your own apartment. It’s all good.”

Jungkook doesn’t interrupt much; doesn’t interfere with his own jests and statements. They mirror each other so much, though. In the way they smile, and in the way they talk.

Even the manner in which she places her hand on your arm, reassuring you, delivers the same warmth. You tense for a moment, not quite expecting the touch; but it’s motherly. Soft. 

A new emotion floods your heart, but you can’t decode it. Too many thoughts streaming in, brain working overtime to come up with a full sentence without stuttering, without those dumb hesitation markers that your studies taught you to avoid.

And maybe you’ve succeeded — only, the clump in your throat, accompanied by a strange twist in your stomach builds a barrier now.

Her touch feels… good.

“Do you… would you like to sit?” you ask, voice softer by an infinite amount. “I have a variety of tea here, and you could choose one. If you…”

You want to talk. About whatever. Not the slip occurring a couple minutes ago; maybe you just finally want to know who made Jungkook the man he is today. It wasn’t necessarily his father, was he?

Somewhere, this incessant, constant comfort derived from. But.

“I’d like nothing more than that,” she admits, “but I have massage therapy in a bit, and should get going. An adult’s back.” You laugh, and she gestures towards you with an open palm. “Oh, don’t you work in an office? Take care of yourself, too.”

“Not just an office, Mom,” Jungkook interrupts, inching closer until next to you and rubbing your back, proud, “she’s a manager. She walks around a lot, so the problem are,” he nods toward your feet, “these.”

True. Just today alone, your heels made it feel like you ran a marathon. Learning about each corner and wandering around that building drained you.

“Ah… I thought so,” she says.

You blink in faint confusion until you realise. Jungkook lets out a breathy laugh, brief but telling, and his mother smiles in awkward amusement. Hell.

Your blood shoots back into your face, warming it thoroughly, and just before you can opt for another apology, she says, “You have him to take care of you. Make him spoil you! You do, don’t you?”

Her voice changes the moment she faces her son, a little strict but all in good fun; her eyes squint and he exclaims, “I do!” the moment you defend, “Oh, he does! He definitely does.”

She seems to like this. There’s a sparkle in her eyes, similar to the one you already know; perhaps she’s just as endeared as mothers–usually?–get, realising their children are happy and settling.

“We take care of each other,” you tell her then, and she responds with a content nod.

“Good. It’d be a shame if not. Taught him how to treat people.”

“He knows for sure, ma’am. I don’t think you’ll ever need to worry about that.”

You’re careful with your gestures, your smiles, your movements. Even though she’s made clear as day that she’s not to fear, you still shift your entire focus on the delivery of your words.

If you weren’t, you’d be more lax. Looking through the room, exchanging glances with Jungkook. If you weren’t so distracted, you’d notice that he’s playing with the ends of your hair.

And you’d see the way he looks at you.

With those barely blinking, calm eyes. An ocean of fondness in them, a light, lost smile around his face. As though you’re soothing him, pumping oxygen into his lungs.

You don’t see any of it; but his mother does. And you register the drift of her pupils, the minimal upward movement in her eyebrows as she shoots a glance at him — then back at you.

But when you follow her gaze to him, he’s already snapped out of it, clearing his throat.

“You should go before you’re late,” Jungkook reminds her, removing his hand from your hair, “I’ll go spoil her as you taught me, Mama.”

“You better. Pressure’s on.”

He smirks, lopsided as he slings an arm around her shoulder. She’s so much smaller than him. “Tell Dad Hi from me.”

A slight drop of his lips. He doesn’t look at her but the ground. Tell-tale signs of a distant ache, hidden behind an attempt to find a cure.

The sting is palpable, right in the middle of your heart, but it dissipates bit by bit as he smiles at you again. Genuine once more, back to where he was only five seconds ago.

You nod at her, one last, non-verbal confirmation that you feel cosy here. There’s something inarguably sweet in her instant care. How she instantly roots for your happiness. How she’s pouring all her empathy into you with a single look.

A stare that usually understands someone else’s pain; and then hopes for eternal peace for them.

She doesn’t even know you — does she? You wonder if he ever did speak about you.

“Okay then. Tell me if you need anything,” she says it to Jungkook, but promptly turns to you, promising you, “you can, too. Of course.”

“I will. Thank you so much.”

Purse lifted further up her shoulder, she starts a move toward the exit, already starting to wave you goodbye before she suddenly stops. Looks at you, and blurts, “Oh, and— has he uhhh…?”

She starts the sentence with hesitation, ending it with uncertainty and a look over her shoulder. You follow her eyes, barely catching him throwing a warning sign. His eyes are ripped open, head delivering tiny shakes, but he returns to normal the moment he catches you staring.

Okay. Something happened there that you’re not part of.

But that you’re supposed to be part of? You don’t know.

You’re curious, though. Already aware of what you’ll be pestering him with tonight.

She shuts up, letting out a short, tiny breath. Her small, sweet fingers curl just once before she releases them again, and she flattens her coat, nodding.

“I’ll leave you two alone then,” she declares.

“You should stay for dinner next time, though!” you offer.

“Of course. I’m eating with my husband after the appointment, so he’ll probably already be waiting, but. Next time for sure. And you should come, too, someday.”

Right. 

It doesn’t stop. It’s permanently odd hearing someone talking about that man other than Jungkook. Shouldn’t be, because she’s the closest and dearest individual to him, sharing a home and marital bed. But…

It’s like people don’t quite feel real from stories until one actually faces them. His mom’s subtle, harmless words about her husband make him feel realer, and Jungkook’s issues with them.

But most of all you wonder — why has he never visited here? You wish he had. You wish he would sometimes. But she didn’t even suggest bringing him with her next time. Or how his father would be delighted about a visit, too.

It doesn’t seem to faze Jungkook. Or maybe it does, but he doesn’t let it show. Or — worse. Has he gotten used to it? His father’s absence, or the term that defines their relationship.

Because he nods, a soft smile as a son usually throws at his mother. Casual but loving. He says, “Won’t keep you here then.”

Jungkook kisses her head at the door, and she stuffs her hands in her coat, politely bidding you goodbye.

You watch as she approaches the staircase, still waving when she turns around one more time. You sigh in relief — she was friendly. No panic. You didn’t fuck up entirely.

And despite the last moments of gloom that the mention of her husband evoked, you hear Jungkook’s chuckle resonate once the door finally closes. His steps move toward the living room, his shoulders shaking.

You nearly slide down the closed door as you watch him, head falling back before he falls into a wholehearted laugh. You imagine deep, multiple crinkles around his eyes, mouth wide in joy.

Eyebrows kissing, you follow him inside, nearly bumping against him when you realise he’s standing in the middle of the room, body still shaking from the chortle. He’s facing the ground, and you hit his arm from the back.

“Shut up,” you only order, opting to walk away.

But he turns to you, a hand around your elbow; he can barely breathe when he assures, “Okay. Okay, I’ll stop. Sorry, I just—” He sniffles as you look at him, sulking and trying his gloating not to make you laugh, too. “What were you doing?”

“That’s not funny!”

“I’m not trying to be funny! I’m serious.”

Which he clearly isn’t. The smile is too infuriatingly wide, and the tug at your arm too affectionate. He’s amused and you hate–love?–that you are, too. You keep the act of agitation intact for another moment.

But pieces of you break, your heart a melting mess when you watch his eyes nearly close, nose scrunched up. His shoulders rise — they always do whenever his laughter increases, bunny teeth protruding and the mole under his mouth a magnet to your lips.

And when he raises his hands to your face, cradling it, and speaks, you lose it entirely.

“What were you even saying, munchkin, huh? You’re such a little idiot, you know?” he playfully scolds, squishing your cheeks; peppering kisses on your skin and your lips; barely allowing you a moment to talk.

“And you’re—” you say between tiny kisses, distracted by the childlike, muah-ish sound effects that accompany his pecks, “so mean.”

“And you are the sweetest thing to exist.” The lovingly aggressive touch vanishes from your cheek to be replaced by sudden pinches; your protests are high-pitched, and unfortunately, enhance his statement. “Okay, okay. Come on.”

He flicks your chin as if to provoke you further, but dodges all your teeny tiny rage to come when he moves past your body. Warning abandoned, his fingers tweak your ass as he targets the kitchen, and you yelp, instantly slapping a hand over your butt.

“Freshen up and let’s get to dinner. And hurry. Gotta give you hands-on relaxation later.”

“You’re the worst, I mean it.”

But his evil snicker isn’t.

He might make your hackles rise, and test your patience the way he used to so long ago. Back when you’d seek him out in a miniscule dorm room, eyebrows furrowed just to see him a bit longer after class.

You’re always baffled how your foundation still stands; after all the shattering and agony and stings that fractured your heart. Only now, you’ll be surrounded by the bicker every hour of the day.

And you wouldn’t have it any other way.

Living through an odd day at work, driving around town and embarrassing yourself in front of your boyfriend’s mother makes one dizzyingly hungry, you realised. Stress didn’t let you eat properly today.

Even now, there’s something you need to reveal to him — but the moment you sit down to eat and crack the first joke, you don’t have the heart to. And then, combined with the rush still lingering from the awkward, wholesome interaction before, and the shift in mood, you soon do the worst:

Forget about the issue.

Your eyes meet the bottom of your bowl sooner than preferred, your stomach still seemingly as empty as before. Whatever magic Jungkook seasoned the dish with, you want him to sprinkle it on your tastebuds every day.

Jungkook is sipping on his water when you suddenly look up and place a hand on his bicep, shaking him for attention. A guilty Oh slips out of you as you watch droplets roll down his chin, and he tries not to choke as he puts the glass back on the table.

“Babe—”

“I’m sorry!” you exclaim, thumb wiping at the fluid dampening his chin. “Just. Can we have more? That helped with that sickness all day, and… I’m still hungry.”

Along with the lack of appetite, you assumed the stress and the constant overworking dragged the feeling of illness and stomach ache throughout the day, too. Jungkook keeps warning you about burnouts — doing a thousand things at once, you’ve been thoroughly burdened.

But honestly. Maybe it was just hunger for a real meal.

“Oh? I'm so glad it helped then! And sure,” he responds. “Go ahead, there’s enough for like four people.”

You blink. “And you?” He shakes his head, patting his full tummy, attempting another try at drinking. You argue, “I’m not eating alone, though!”

“Angel, I’ve had like two portions. I'll be full until next dinner.”

“Lame!” You shift on the couch, half of your ass holding you onto it, “And if we found ways to burn it off?”

“…Ah?”

“I mean… You like working out. So just work me out.”

“Shut up. You’re impossible.”

You’ve long given up — you’re not an ass. You would never force him to eat or not to eat, unless he hasn’t in hours. But you also need a foolproof way of amusing him.

Which, despite his very unimpressed expression, you know you did. His lips still twitch.

Sombre, his tongue pokes the inside of his cheek before he shakes his head. You pat his strong thighs, standing from the couch with a hungry groan.

“Fine. I’ll go heat up some for myself then,” you announce, but Jungkook’s shrill alarm bells ring immediately, his body jumping off his seat.

“Not the microwave.”

“Jungkook—”

“Not! The microwave. Just toss it in the pan and heat it up there.”

You tiptoe to the kitchen just a little faster, playful as he hurries after you. You spend your seconds explaining why the microwave won’t explode; how tickling you won’t change anything; how you’ll break something if he doesn’t stop.

But most of all, you spend your seconds allowing him to chase away all sorrows you carried for so goddamn long.

Shut up. You’re impossible.

His prior agitation truly wasn’t one at all.

Because despite your obvious jests, the calories lost on the couch rob you of all sanity at last. A hand in your hair, a body pushing yours down, free fingers roaming your sides and your legs, and lips never separating from yours.

He doesn’t strip you off a single piece of clothing. Doesn’t dig a hand underneath your shirt, focused on how your mouth feels, how his name rolling off your tongue sounds.

The eyes he stares into are vivid and bright, and he uses up all his power to not let them kill him. Your body wraps around his like the most tender of all embraces; he doesn’t need you bare for it, no matter how blank the thought leaves his mind.

Only needs the proximity. The tongue touching his, the nails testing his shirt’s quality.

You miss most of the movie that he suggested, eating each other up, a fist around the hem of his shirt until he nearly falls off the couch and wakes you from your dream. You giggle and joke, spending the second half of the film yawning, sipping the peppermint tea. 

Jungkook uses the quiet time for whispered conversations; massages your feet as you pleaded for, repeatedly asking for your comfort.

The moments aren’t anything big, in theory. You’re not in a fantasy novel, not throwing a ring into a volcano. You’re mortal and here, surrounded by humane domesticity and drowning in casual conversations.

Yet — even though you’re not living through spectacular adventures, you’re breathing through special moments nevertheless. Because not a single second spent with him feels mundane, after all.

Sometime as the ending nears, you let your legs fall, pulled close to Jungkook by your hip. You don’t quite understand when or how he does it, but miraculously, you land half on his lap, ass barely on the couch and cheek pressed to his temple.

Jungkook pushes a hand against your thigh, heaving you up further and moving you until you’re comfortable. There’s a light groan, followed by a feathery kiss to your jaw; and you wrap an arm around his shoulder to hold on, shifting even closer.

Your touchy warmth isn’t new to Jungkook; but it seems that the changes in your lives made your inhibitions disperse. Like you broke the bars trapping you so far.

Because the increasing clinginess feels carefree; you don’t overthink your movements tonight. Even before, there was lightness in your interactions; how you’d breathe in his presence, compared to when the world intruded.

The difference was still never quite veiled.

He saw it when he called from so far away all those weeks ago, staring at the distress in your face through a device — versus when he returned to your world.

Or just recently, when you stood on that tiny stage, talking down to reporters — as opposed to when you whispered for him to get you home.

Your shoulders always dropped in relief the moment you stood in his soothing radius. And yet—

There was quiet discomfort in your eyes. And today — today he doesn’t see that usual steam frying your brain. Your smile isn’t burdened; you’re weightless, like you’re breathing.

Overwhelmed and endeared, Jungkook gulps. The pricking needle rods his heart, simultaneously flicking the wounds. He could cry.

He watches you busy your fingers with his shirt, unable to put his thoughts into a coherent string of sentences; so he only says, “You’re so cosy today.”

“Hm? I’m always cosy.”

“Mmmh… a bit more tonight.”

Your forefinger traces the outline of his pecs over his shirt, and you nod with a hum before you declare, “That’s because I’m trying to establish a healthy balance.”

“A healthy balance? How so?”

“I need to be nice, because you’re not.”

His eyes follow your finger’s slow movements, so his voice is soft, barely concerned. But his brain can’t quite compute as he asks, “I’m not nice?”

“You’ve always been mean, actually.”

He laughs. Taps your thigh rhythmically, close to your butt. “How am I mean to you?”

“Like,” you press your palm flat in the middle of his chest, looking at him. There’s a crease between your eyebrows, the slightest hint of a pout on your lips. “You ass could’ve answered when I came home. You didn’t say anything! Or did you really not hear me?”

Oh.

Ogling into your anticipating, subtly piqued eyes, he suppresses a laugh. His lips form a thin line, but the glow in his dark eyes betrays him. Your hand lifts a little, ready to spank his pecs, but you close the gap again as you grant him another chance.

“Hey, if you tell me you didn’t hear, I’ll let it slide.”

You’re well aware Jungkook graduated as the best of his year in Teasing You, and holds the degree proudly to your face every day — but you also know he’s honest.

So you’re not surprised when he admits, eyes mischievous, “I heard you.” Your slow blinking, the scolding gaze are hilarious to him; he looks unspeakably pleased. “I wanted to see what you’d do.”

Now you do slap his tits.

“And you didn’t expect me to say that shit?!” you reprimand. He wraps his arms around you, his laughter a deep, genuine emergence from his chest. “I’m an idiot, in case you didn’t know.”

“Of course. I do know,” he suddenly deadpans. Wow. That couldn’t have come any more naturally. “I know you well, baby.”

“And yet…”

He waves your concerns off, hand soon returning to your back to pull you closer. “She’s chill. I knew you were gonna amuse her right away.”

“Oh god. You planned this… Wait. You didn’t shush her when you heard the door open, right?”

He doesn’t answer. Just keeps looking at you. And then… is he…

Is he zoning out?

“Jungkook,” you call again.

“Hm?” He stares at you beguiled, as if utterly distracted by whatever. “Sorry. Can’t hear you—”

“You so can. We’re alone and I’m speaking loud and cl—”

“Nah, you’re just so pretty. I can barely focus.”

“I hate you.”

But you don’t.

He doesn’t need to spell his intentions out for you to understand. He might be testing your patience, but there’s a hidden meaning in his words that he can’t hide as well as he intends to after all.

Because you know he just wanted you to be yourself instead of playing a different role; just like he has never pretended in front of your parents. He knows you’d try extra hard for him — but he needed you to come in and receive affection as the person that you already are.

Guess whatever you blurted was the first impression he wanted to leave of you.

“So,” you start after a moment, back to tapping his chest, “do you think I did amuse her?”

“Oh, she loved it.” Of course she did. You could see the Jeon-esque endearment in her eyes the moment you stepped into the living room. Humbles you. “She’s gonna adore you, too.”

“Ah. Like you adore me.”

Jungkook’s response arrives in the form of a long, semi-damp kiss, delivered to the corner of your mouth. You grimace, torso moving backwards at his gentle force. He adds another Mmmhhh to the gesture until you’re nearly falling off his lap, pushing him away again with a giggly, “Stop!”

He leans back with a content sigh, eliminating more of the distance between you until his head almost rests against your chest. But when you speak again, he looks up into your face.

“Hey. Your mom was saying something as she was leaving. What was it again?”

“Uhh…”

His pupils roll up in thought, one shoulder already rising to shrug, but then it drops again before he voices, “Oh… Yeah…” A break in thought; then, “I figured you’d be busy with everything going on, so I was being reluctant about asking. Didn’t wanna put you in a difficult position.”

You wait. He speaks on, “But my cousin’s getting married next month, and I’m invited.”

There’s a beat of a pause, and you anticipate, already sensing a presentiment before he spits it out—

“And you are, too.”

Hold on.

Weddings. More often than not, weddings happen in big places, filled with a great number of guests. Of friends. And… of family members.

If what he’s suggesting isn’t a hallucination, it means that’d be how you’d step into the battlefield. Attempting your best to be yourself, to charm his family with whatever strategy.

Is he thinking of the same thing?

Because you’re speechless.

You close the mouth you only now notice stood agape, trying not to show the bubbling exhilaration too blatantly. That’d be your first joyful event together.

Oh god.

You might squeal; faint of nervousness. If you could, you’d press your fists to your lips and stomp your feet and twirl your hair and—

“Wait… You want me to go to a wedding with you?” you finally ask instead, keeping your voice in a normal pitch.

“Only if you feel like it.”

“And… and you?” you inquire, wide eyes looking into his wider ones. He’s nervous, too. “Do you want me to?”

“I… yeah. I do. I really, really don’t want to go without you, actually.”

Shit.

“Where is the wedding?”

“Yeah, see, that’s why I was afraid to ask. You’re so busy and your job’s so new. But we’d—” He hesitates, as if scared of rejection. Clicks his tongue, evaluating his words. “The thing is that we’d have to drive all the way down. It’s back at home.”

You need a moment. Back at home; you’re home. Meaning, it’s not here.

Meaning, it’s in his hometown. Meaning, you wouldn’t just meet his family, but walk through a place of memories and deeply rooted, nostalgic affection, too.

Which is… such a huge fucking thing.

Especially for a girlfriend.

Eun always says it doesn’t do bringing a girlfriend or boyfriend to big events such as birthday parties or weddings. It’s disadvantageous for the pictures, she claims. Who knows how the future might play out?

But Jungkook isn’t concerned with these issues. Jungkook wants you all the way down there, lurking on streets with him that he grew up on; tripped on; played on.

These are places with core remembrances. So easily expanded when more are added to them in later years; and so easily shattered when hearts break.

But a heart breaking is not an option, is it? Not anymore.

“You’re… taking me to your hometown?” you ask. You immediately realise the choice of words, and don’t hesitate as you add, “I mean. You’d be taking me home. You’d like to—”

“Is that—” he interrupts, suddenly unsure, “bad? Did it change your mind? You don’t have to, I promise.”

“No. I actually might cry.”

His expression momentarily softens, a big, clear Awwwh written in it. Gentle fingers brush your hair back, observing the vulnerability in your eyes. But shit, you mean it.

You could cry.

Because you talked about this so long ago.

Back when he was miles away, yet so deeply settled in your heart. Sneaking his way into your head, eating you up inside. When he broke off a piece of you and took it with him as he left, no relief for weeks on end.

And when he came back, he promised he’d take you with him one day.

Is that it? Is that now?

“Fuck,” you curse under a quiet laugh, confused by the burning in your eyes.

Jungkook’s hand brushes over your cheek, eyebrows slightly cocked. He might not have expected you to react with such… emotion. You hadn’t either.

“Hey,” his voice soothes, “don’t cry. It’ll be good. And if it’s not, or if you don’t want to, we can just stay here and never go again.”

You’re gonna sob. How did you deserve him?

Of course you want to go. Of course you’d make the best of it. No fibre in you wants to reject his offer.

In fact, you’re already daydreaming. Because…

How’s it gonna be? Will you see more stars there? Will his family like you? His Dad like you? And what are weddings with boyfriends like? Will you be seeing him in every flower in the hall, in every kiss the couple shares?

“No,” you say, “I’ll go. I will go because you’re too obsessed with me to leave without me.”

Jungkook chuckles immediately, but not speaking before rolling his eyes, “And you’re a brat.”

You wait a moment, smiling in unison with him, and then ask, “Honestly, I… I’d love to. Can I just still ask…” You’re curious; but you also want to keep feeling that warmth. More tranquillity from his words. “Why would you not go without me?”

He doesn’t stall.

“Because it’s such a big event, and… so far away. I don’t want to leave you here. And the thought of being at the most lovey-dovey place without my favourite person sucks.”

You’ll freaking screech.

“Jungkook!”

Half of the name is muffled when your lips drop to the crook of his neck, back uncomfortably arching and face heating up. Your ass threatens to fall back on the couch, legs still over his, and he hugs you close as he snickers again.

He shakes your body gently, trying to lift your face. Calling your name when your breath tickles his skin, asking, “Are we embarrassed?”

“No.”

But when you look at him again, your smile is wide enough to freeze your muscles in place. He shakes his head, flooded with aching joy, and makes sure again, “So you want to go, yeah? Don’t need time to think or something? It’s okay if you do.”

“As if. I really wanna go. I’m gonna make this,” you touch his collarbones, then your own, “work.”

He smiles. Grants you a short break to organise your thoughts. And while what you query next shouldn’t come as a surprise, it does introduce a delighted shift in mood.

“What am I gonna wear?”

Jungkook puffs out a breath.

You don’t notice; your focus drifts, directed to the carpet. You mentally scurry your closet, quietly trying to recall appropriate attire for weddings. Which is odd, because you should have the entire catalogue of your and every other place cemented in your mind.

“What do I wear?” you repeat, back to looking at him, barely allowing him a moment to think. “And don’t say anything would look good on me. Serious answers only.”

“You know a question like this prompts nothing but unserious answers from m—”

“Kook—”

“Okay. I mean, you have such pretty dresses. Lemme just choose one and we’re supplied.”

It’s an easy idea; fair enough. Only, you’re barely listening, earning a side-eye from Jungkook when you say, “I should buy a new one.”

Which still doesn’t deter him, though. “Cool. I’ll go with you then.”

“Or will I seem overdressed?”

“It’s a wedding, baby. Overdress like hell.”

“And… if I’m underdressed?”

“You’re still gonna be the hottest around!” he exclaims, and you flinch just a little. He’s not truly agitated, but there’s playful frustration in his voice, a grin around his lips. “Don’t worry about the dress, okay? It won’t stay on you anyway.”

Jungkook expects you to react with similar scolding, using it to hide how timidly flattered you actually are. But you’re too fired up, restless in his grip as your voice grows shriller, “I’m so. Fuck, I’m so excited!”

“I am, too. But…”

His palm moves up and down your back, one eye squinting shut as you start swaying a bit, pumped with serotonin. Like a thrilled child. You’re so…

He lowers his gaze; you might just see the heart eyes otherwise.

“Okay, hey,” he tries again, calming you as his fingers grasp your wrist. “Should we go to bed for now, though?”

You wait with your answer, relaxing your body. Stopping your elevated sounds, you draw the deepest breath in history, and then breathe out a whispery, “Yeah.”

“Yeah. Good. Oh.”

“Hm?”

“You haven’t actually been to the bedroom yet, right?”

“Oh…”

True. Since you came home, you only conversed with his mother, then rushed to take a shower as she left, still filled with prickling and nervous emotions. And then you hurried back to him, starving, eating, watching TV.

And now you’re here.

Was something different about the bedroom, though? You don’t think so.

“You’re right,” you tell him, “no, not really. Just to shower. Why?”

“Just…”

“…What?”

“Okay. Hold onto me.”

“Hold ont— oh, f—”

You gasp for air when two strong arms replace his soft hands, settling under your kneepits and around your back. He shifts dangerously on the couch, moving forward before he starts to lift with a self-motivating grunt.

“And— off we go.”

You sling your arms around his neck immediately, hiding, letting out a panicked, ”Be careful, I’m sli—”

“All good. Relax.” His arms wrap more properly around your limbs, and you dare to listen. Allowing your legs to dangle, you let him carry you calmly, breathing air through O-shaped lips. “Good girl. I won't just let you fall.”

“You better not.”

“No. Just wait.”

He looks at you with a comical grin, throwing a kiss into the air and down to you. Using your feet to kick the door open, he halts at the threshold; for a second, he looks… up.

And just when he finally enters the room, you quietly follow his gaze. The question as to what to wait for gets stuck in your throat when you realise what it is he needed you to see.

Holy shit.

the chapter isn't over yet – much to go!! tumblr just doesn't allow more than 1k blocks/paragraphs. apologies for the scrolling, but i promise it's worth it :'D here's the rest! <3

[mionemymind]

Blood Drive

Summary: While donating at a local blood drive, Y/n stumbles up the best nurse in town, Wanda Maximoff. Unable to get Wanda out of her mind, Y/n goes through a lengthy process just to ask her out.

Warnings: Fluff, Blood Donations, Passing Out, Needles, Happy Ending

A/n: Not gonna lie, I think it's somewhat getting easier to write kissing scenes but I still have to look at a tumblr post just to figure out the wording for it. Let me know what you think :)

Word Count: 4.0k

Masterlist

In an era of new politics, the Mayor of New York City declared that registered heroes of the city had to do mandated community service. This was a new mission to help build relationships between the regular folk of New York City and the heroes that harbor it. Because let’s be honest, having Hulk throw your new car at the enemy was not the best introduction for regular people. 

Those who harbored powers relaying force or strength helped out in the trade industry. You’d often see super soldiers helping out in the demolition zone by crushing what was needed. Those with magic tried their best to help heal the homeless or aided at soup kitchens. Anywhere you can unconventionally help, the heroes did. 

For Y/n, it was a lot of physically demanding tasks. Such as helping families move from apartment to apartment. Or helping police officers move accidents out of the way. Sometimes, she would even demonstrate how to safely carry a person through a burning building for the local firefighters. 

Today, however, Y/n decided to do something different. Rather than focusing on the same physical tasks, she chose a simpler mundane task. “Hi there, are you here for the blood drive?” Y/n nodded in agreement to the receptionist upfront. “Just sign in for me right here. Have you filled out the online rapid pass?”

“Yes, I have the QR code screenshotted.” The receptionist smiled warmly. “Perfect. Someone will be with you soon. Please have a seat in our waiting area.” 

Y/n walked towards the waiting room area. This was the fourth thing on her list of community service opportunities to try. She wasn’t quite sure if her blood was even allowed to be donated, having the super soldier serum in her surely could cause a reaction to a regular human. 

After some tests back at the compound, the staff found everything to be okay. That’s how Y/n ended up in a place like this. 

“Y/n Y/l/n.” Getting up from her seat, Y/n followed a nurse in red scrubs to a different area. “How are you today?” 

“I’m good. I'm a little nervous. I’ve never done this before.” The nurse led them to a private part of a huge common room. Multiple stations were built throughout with various people donating blood. “It’s okay to be nervous, but the worst feeling you’ll get today is just a small prick.”

Y/n breathed out slightly in relief. “Let me first get your basic information.” The nurse had gone over Y/n’s personal information but was immediately flagged by the date of birth. “It says you were born on April 2, 1917. It must’ve been a typo.”

The nurse almost changed it to 1971. “Actually ma’am, that is the correct birth date.” 

“So you mean to tell me you were born during World War I?” The nurse was unwilling to believe the joke that was being played. Y/n could immediately tell from the look she gave. “It was the Great War at the time, but yes ma’am I was born in 1917. I’m actually a super soldier.”

The nurse went back to her computer and typed in more information to store on Y/n’s file. “Ah - I see. I’m sorry about that. There’s already a note on your file. It looks like your director has already approved your donation today.” 

Y/n sighed in relief, while she didn’t mind explaining to people her situation of being frozen for so long, it was strenuous trying to get them to understand it all. The rest of the consultation went along smoothly as she gathered the remaining information such as Y/n’s hemoglobin and her rapid pass. 

“Alright dear, let’s get you to a bed.” The nurse led them back to the common area where all the beds were laid out. “Just sit right here for me, right now we currently have a special volunteer today that’s helping out with the drive. She’ll come over in a couple of seconds to help you out. But if you have any questions, please feel free to let us know.” 

Y/n sat up on the reclined bed and looked at her phone. She scrolled through her messages to make sure nothing important was happening. The sound of someone clearing their throat gained her attention. “Y/n?” As Y/n looked up, she could physically feel the moment that time stopped again. Was it possible that she fell back into the ice again? Surely she would feel the same numbness as before. But it was all different. Because from just one look from this girl would be enough to melt all the ice away. 

Y/n’s breath hitched as she locked eyes with her. “I- yes, that’s me.” Y/n cleared her throat, embarrassed at the lack of composure she had. 

“Nice to meet you today. My name is Wanda Maximoff and I’ll be helping you with your blood donation today.” All Y/n could do was nod as she further realized that the woman in front of her was the Scarlet Witch. 

Wanda looked through her notes on the clipboard. “It looks like it’s your first time donating, is that true?” Y/n’s eyes remained locked on Wanda. It was embarrassing how much she couldn’t look away. “Uh yes. It is.”

“Do you have a preference on which arm you would like to use today?” Y/n shook her head in disagreement. “No preference at all.” 

Wanda wrote down more information when a note caught her eye. “S.H.I.E.L.D. approval - are you a member?” Wanda looked over at the young girl in front of her trying to see if she could remember the pretty face.

“I’m one of their new recruits. Only been active for three months.” And suddenly, Y/n seemed to never mind all the questions that Wanda could possibly ask. If it meant talking to her, Y/n would oblige. 

“That’s great to hear. If you don’t mind me asking, do you have any powers that we should be aware of?” 

“Well, I think you’re aware of my counterpart, Bucky Barnes. We both have a super soldier serum.” Wanda smiled at the mention of her old teammate/acquaintance.

 “Interesting. How come I haven’t heard about you before?” Wanda couldn’t shake the feeling that somehow she had managed to miss this girl for three months. 

Y/n scratched the back of her neck sheepishly. “You know how Steve was found in ice right?” Wanda nodded. “That’s basically the same situation I was in but rather than crashing into the arctic, I was in a freezer chamber. I’ve been awake for only ten months.” The shock on Wanda’s face was apparent. 

“Sorry to keep asking,” Y/n never minded, “how has it been like adjusting back to the new life?” Y/n shrugged indifferently. 

“A little rough. I do miss my friends back from my time, but Bucky has been trying his best to help me. However, he has been focused on helping the new Captain America, Sam?”

Wanda nodded, confirming that Y/n’s information was correct. “I do enjoy the fact that I’m no longer Hydra’s soldier though. More than anything, I’m just glad to have a second chance in life. Not a lot of people get that so I’m pretty thankful.”

Wanda digested Y/n’s words and was pretty enlightened at Y/n’s outlook on life. “Thank you for answering all my questions.”

“It’s no problem.” 

“Now, let's get you set up to donate.” Wanda proceeded to bring out a couple of items from the nearby stand. On the table beside Y/n, Wanda placed various tubes and empty bags. Although it was nothing, the sight made Y/n feel slightly uncomfortable. It reminded her too much of Hydra’s labs but minus the dark atmosphere and torture that came with it. 

As if sensing her discomfort, Wanda grabbed a disinfectant and started to disinfect Y/n’s left arm around the area inside her elbow. “Ya know, for being so nice and cooperative. How about you ask me a couple of questions? It makes the day go by faster.” 

Bringing herself out of her internal thoughts, Y/n asked the first thing that came to mind. “You’re the Scarlet Witch, right?”

It was Wanda’s turn to blush. She hadn’t expected Y/n to recognize her so quickly, especially since she just got back to the real world.  “I am.”

“I wasn’t aware that you could help with the American Red Cross as part of your community service.” Wanda grabbed a marker and a squeezable toy. She placed the toy in Y/n’s left hand stating, “Give me three big squeezes and hold on the last squeeze.”

While pressing around Y/n’s elbow, she continued with, “I had to do some training to get qualified. A lot of the people who use magic generally help in other areas.” Wanda marked a dot followed by a line. “You can stop squeezing now.”

“I’m gonna disinfect one more time and then I’ll have to poke you. Are you scared of needles?” Feeling more embarrassed, Y/n looked away as she said, “Yes.” 

“All good. Just means I’ll have to give you a small distraction.” Wanting to distract herself even more, Y/n asked, “Why did you decide to do this rather than something in your wheelhouse?”

Wanda thought about it before replying with, “I like the normalcy of it. On the plus side, it feels more rewarding. Like I’m actually earning my community time rather than going the easy way of using my powers.” As Wanda finished disinfecting, she blew on Y/n’s elbow hoping it would dry fast. 

“When I give you the go-ahead, I’ll have to ask you to give me three more squeezes and hold on to the last one, okay?” Y/n nodded and waited for the signal. 

“And - go.” Y/n did as told, but as she did her last squeeze and held, red wispy magic flowed in front of her morphing into swirls in the air. “Woah.” She followed the magic with her eyes, not even noticing that Wanda had already poked her and started the transfusion. 

“Should be about 10 minutes. Every couple of seconds give the toy a small squeeze to keep it going.” Y/n glanced away from the magic amazed with Wanda. “That didn’t even hurt.” For the first time in Y/n’s life, she didn’t scream when the needles came. 

Wanda couldn’t help but keep the magic up for a little longer. The dopey look on Y/n’s face was something she didn’t want to go away. 

“I told you I would distract you.” Y/n was at a loss of words. Her brain jumbled for anything but all she could focus on was that Wanda Maximoff successfully distracted her. She had a natural caring heart, something the media failed to show. 

“Your magic is beautiful by the way.” Y/n savored the last few seconds of it before it completely disappeared. 

Wanda’s magic has been called many things in life, powerful, destructive, and manipulative but none have ever said beautiful…till now. “Thank you Y/n.” 

There was a small silence as Wanda stayed to make sure Y/n was okay. “I’ll be assisting other volunteers, but if you start to feel like you're fainting, just call me over, okay?” 

“I will.” Would it have been wrong to immediately fake an injury just to get Wanda back? Possibly but Y/n weighed the consequences and none could compare to her. So as Wanda left, Y/n used her free hand to call Bucky. After a couple of rings, he picked up the phone. “Hey, Y/n.” 

Getting straight to the point, “Is Wanda Maximoff single?” 

“Uhh - I think so. She and this synthezoid, Vision, used to date but I believe they broke up a year ago. Why do you ask?” Y/n looked at Wanda who was across the room. Her radiant smile could be spotted from miles away. “Just wanting to gather intel. Thanks Bucky.” 

Y/n hung up the phone, not caring about what Bucky had to say back. Her eyes lingered back to Wanda. No matter how much she distracted herself with her phone, her eyes always glanced back on Wanda Maximoff. Her hair was tied up in a high ponytail and all she wore was matching red scrubs. But everything about her looked and felt beautiful. 

Little did Y/n know, Wanda was admiring her too. 

The blood donation was soon over, quicker than Y/n anticipated.  Wanda had already come over, stopped the machine, and disconnected the line from Y/n’s arm. She taped a cotton ball on top of the area she poked and proceeded to wrap a red bandage around Y/n’s elbow.  “You keep this red bandage on for two hours and the cotton ball for four hours.” 

Wanda grabbed a pamphlet that had Y/n’s personal information and gave it to her. “Don’t miss a single meal for the next eight weeks. Make sure to drink plenty of water as well. If you feel dizzy in the next couple of hours, be sure to call this number, okay?”

Y/n nodded. Her mind was elsewhere at the moment, trying to find ways to ask Wanda Maximoff out. “Do you have any questions for me though?” 

Y/n opened her mouth, wanting to ask her, “Are you busy after this?” But nothing came out. And the more she tried to say words, the more silence that remained. 

“Wanda!” The pair turned to the employee that shouted her name. “I have someone that needs your help after you're done with your current volunteer.” 

“Understood.” Wanda looked back at Y/n. “We have snacks and shirts over there but I think you should be good now. Thank you for donating today.” 

As Wanda walked off, Y/n couldn’t help but beat herself up for not asking. She took a couple snacks and juice boxes before walking out of the donation center. 

Was Y/n in love? Not quite yet. Infatuated? Probably. It was the best explanation as to why she was back at the blood drive the very next day. The brown eyed girl paced around all night trying to think of ways to see Wanda again. And the very first realistic idea she thought of was to donate blood again. 

The super soldier practically begged the compound to give her another approval to donate blood stating that her super serum allowed for faster recovery. When no one could argue with her logic, they allowed a special approval to donate so soon. 

So when Y/n followed all the same directions, all the same questions, she was met with disappointment when she didn’t see the redhead that captured her mind. “Hi, my name is Lucy and I’ll be helping you today.” 

As Lucy proceeded to set up, Y/n couldn’t help but ask, “Is Wanda Maximoff here today?” 

The blonde shook her head with a small smile. “I’m sorry dear. She’s not going to be here today.” Y/n couldn’t hold back the frown that escaped. It was stupid to think that Wanda would come back the very next day, but she had hope. 

And as much as Y/n wanted to ask when she’ll be back, she knew the blood center wouldn’t give out information like that. Regardless, Y/n was determined. She was going to see Wanda again. 

It was a new month and a new day. Although Y/n was glad to help a good cause, her hope waned as each day passed with no Wanda. By now, everyone in the blood center knew Y/n by name. On the bright side, the other volunteers were not bad to talk to but none compared to her. 

So as Y/n sat down once again, she scrolled on her phone, expecting much disappointment. Until the voice that captured her heart called her name. “Y/n?”

She looked up from her phone and saw that familiar smile that was ingrained in her head. “Wanda.” Y/n couldn’t hold her smile back as she finally saw the girl that she’s been begging to see. 

“Looks like you’re here for you…18th donation? Look at you being a star citizen.” Y/n blushed knowing that those donations were mainly for something else. “I think by now you should know the drill. Are there any concerns you may have?”

Wanda looked back at Y/n, ready to disinfect her arm. “I-” Y/n’s brain short circuited at the feeling of Wanda’s hands on her arm. It was like everything that she wanted to say suddenly left her brain. But the feeling was just on the tip of her tongue. 

“You know, they should give you a badge or something for donating so much. I didn’t even know that was possible. Didn’t you start donating like last month?” Again, not a single thought formulated in Y/n’s head when all she could focus on was how soft Wanda’s hands were. Because if Y/n was able to focus, she would be able to say that her donation was 17 days, 13 hours, and 5 minutes ago. But who was counting? 

Wanda looked back at Y/n’s chart to confirm her suspicions. “Are you still scared of needles though?” And that’s when Y/n finally got back into the real world. For all the times she’s been back, she’s had to look away from the needle while using a nearby pillow to control her nerves. 

“I think I might need your magic again.” Y/n blushed at the request but felt proud at the smug look that came from Wanda. “I might have to start charging you for the show.” 

With sudden blind confidence, Y/n asked, “Let me take you out on a date in return.” Wanda almost missed the vein at Y/n’s sudden question. She had an inkling that the girl liked her but never expected her to actually pursue her thoughts. 

“You didn’t even need it.” Y/n looked down and saw that Wanda had poked her without realizing it. 

“Does that mean you won’t go?” Wanda looked at the time on the clock and smiled at Y/n. 

“It actually means you have three hours till my shift is up.” Wanda patted Y/n’s arm, reminding her to squeeze the ball in her hand. “So pick me up then. How should I dress?”

“Something casual. I hadn’t really planned out what I was going to do after you said yes.” Wanda blushed at the idea of Y/n practicing this moment. 

“How about this? You and I walk around New York. I don’t think the guys have given you much of a good tour. So I’ll tell you all about the new New York and you tell me about the old New York.” 

“You have a deal.” 

Wanda and Y/n were in the back seat of an uber. The small date was something Y/n never wanted to end but the lack of energy made it hard to keep up. So when Y/n asked if it could be an early night, she was relieved that Wanda wasn’t mad at her. 

Right now, the uber was at a stoplight and the two hardly spoke as their shoulders touched. 

“Can I hold your hand?” Y/n whispered as she lightly placed her hand above Wanda’s. The small smile was hard to miss on Wanda’s face. She could feel Y/n’s internal battle to ask her that. She leaned into Y/n’s ear and whispered, “You don’t even have to ask,” and pressed a small kiss on Y/n’s cheek as they interlaced hands. 

A small blushed and a wide grin appeared on Y/n’s face. “I hope you had fun today.” Looking away, Y/n yawned into her hand.. “You tired dekta?” 

Looking back at her, Y/n tilted her head in confusion. “Dekta? What does that mean?” Wanda blushed more. She hadn’t meant to call Y/n that, but it left her lips so easily. Like it was second nature. 

“I’ll tell you later,” Wanda placed her left hand on Y/n’s bicep and gave it a small squeeze, “Aren’t you supposed to be a super soldier? It's barely past 10 pm and you’re already tired.” Y/n scratched the back of her neck, slightly embarrassed at how tired she was. But all Wanda could focus on was the feeling of Y/n’s muscles as she gave one more squeeze. 

Y/n yawned again, unable to fight the sleep that took over her body. “It’s what happens when you donate blood every day to try and see a pretty girl.” They hadn’t even kissed but Wanda could’ve sworn she was in love. The dopey smile on Y/n’s face would make any girl’s heart melt. The red head mentally thanked that it was her that Y/n was looking at and nobody else. 

“You did that for me?” Y/n could think of many things she would do for Wanda, rescue a billion people, punch a hole in the moon, even kidnap someone. Regardless of how unrealistic it was, Wanda Maximoff was worth changing the tides on Earth. So how could someone so wonderful could ever question that someone would do something for her attention? 

“I wanted to see you again.” Y/n bit her inner cheek, trying her best to stay calm but all she could think about was how soft Wanda’s lips looked. 

The red head hadn’t meant to hear that thought, but she was glad she did. She bit her lip wishing that Y/n would just kiss her already. But something about the way they stared into each other's eyes was already enough for her to feel alive. And for someone so sober, her body grew drunk at the touch of Y/n. 

“So you donated blood to see me?” It was still all unbelievable to Wanda but Y/n would tell her a million times until she believed it.

Their eyes interlocked causing Wanda’s breathing to hitch. She swore she could look into those brown eyes forever. “18 pints and counting.” Y/n couldn’t hold back her grin as Wanda looked away, unable to hold back her wide smile. 

Y/n gave a gentle squeeze in their interlaced hands as Wanda turned back to face Y/n. “You’re gonna get yourself sick if you keep donating.” Wanting to focus on something else, Y/n caressed Wanda’s cheek as she tucked a loose strand back. 

Not wanting her touch to go away, Wanda placed her hand above Y/n’s. So many thoughts ran through both of their heads. Wanda could feel the weight inside Y/n’s mind but didn’t dare to peak. 

“Tell me what you’re thinking…” 

“...I think you’re really pretty,” Y/n admitted in secret. 

“What else?” Y/n rubbed her thumb gently across Wanda’s cheek. 

“I think I want to take you out on a second date.”

“Oh yeah?”

“And I…I think I want to kiss you.” Wanda swallowed all the nerves in her chest.

“...I’d really like that…” And as brown eyes looked at greens eyes one more time, Y/n slowly leaned in and kissed Wanda. There was no rush with each kiss, something Wanda never experienced before. All she could remember was the sloppy kisses and fast make outs. But something about kissing Y/n slowly drove heart mad because how dare she live this long without being kissed like this. 

And as they kissed, their hands never broke apart, instead, they gave gentle squeezes with every kiss. And when slowly pulled apart, Wanda knew then she was love sick. 

Bonus

“Let me get this straight,” Bucky rubbed his forehead, feeling the headache coming forth, “Y/n passed out from kissing you?” 

“Well, the kissing didn’t help but she also donated 18 pints of blood in the last three weeks.” Wanda looked at Y/n’s sleeping figure. Her head rested comfortably on Wanda’s lap. 

Bucky sighed. “Okay, I’ll meet you at her place.” 

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[laylaplease]

Warnings — SEX POLLEN, dub-con, Master x Padawan, power imbalance, intoxication, abuse of authority, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, unprotected sex, creampie, mentions of pain, brief nipple play, brief fingering, degrading if you squint, pet names, praise, swearing...

Word count — 3.3k

Notes — Thank you, Anon for the request! This is the first time I write a fic this length, I hope it's enjoyable! I truly hope I didn't miss any warnings; it's currently past 3am and my head is fried.

“You know this is completely unnecessary; you are overexaggerating…” Anakin complains as you wrap a thick linen rope around his wrists, securing your master in place. “I swear, I’m fine. Look,” He leans forward, putting his face on display. So close, you could feel his soft breath on the tip of your nose.

You inspect his eyes, deep blue eyes with slightly dilated pupils; if it were somebody else, they wouldn’t have seen a difference, but you… Oh, you were different. You knew his eyes a little bit too well for just a Padawan, and you were certain: something was wrong. You could sense his heart pumping blood through his veins a little bit too fast, his irregular breathing, you spotted things he failed to notice about himself. Maybe all those stolen glances at his undeniably gorgeous face and broad body will pay off, giving you something else than just fantasy material for all the lonely nights.

“No.” You reply bluntly. “I’m sorry, master.” You tie a last knot around his wrists. You wanted to explain; tell him all the things you sensed were different: the way his gaze twisted when landing on your body, the way he squirmed just slightly as you bind his limbs together, the way he… Smelled. It wasn’t just a regular Anakin scent, no. It was sweeter, almost milky, and it made you want to burry your face into his skin, so naturally, you could never reveal your reasoning.

Anakin sighed, leaning his back against the remains of your spaceship, his tied hands resting on top of his lap, hiding the slowly-forming tightness you both failed to notice. He could swear everything was perfect. Well, aside from the fact that you both were left stranded on an unknown planet and after hours of wandering in search of life and help, you ended up back at the crash site. 

“You realize I would never hurt you, right?” He stares at you, visible annoyance present on his features. “There is nothing wrong with me, I didn’t even touch anything unknown.”

He was right; he touched nothing. He… Inhaled it. And (un)fortunately neither of you knew.

“I know….” You look into his eyes pleadingly, trying to convince him to stay put in case he goes on some kind of rampage that your whole body senses is coming. You wanted to deny your gut feeling, but the gleam in his eyes told you it was a bad idea. 

Time passes slowly, and Anakin is growing more and more impatient as he watches your failing attempts to fix the transmitter and possibly reach someone. 

“Give me that.”

You stare at him from a short distance, thinking whether it’s smart to approach him, but your doubts are quickly wiped away when that sweet scent reaches the inside of your lungs with the help of a soft breeze. You stand up and bring him the broken device.

Anakin grabs your hand instead and pulls you down to your knees in front of him. Your face meets his with a surprised stare, and before you can complain about the invasion of your space, he speaks. 

“When I tell you to do something, you do it. Fast.” His stare is intense, and he holds your hand tightly in his restricted grip. “Got it?”

“Yes, M-master.” You stutter, stunned by his sudden change of demeanor; you can’t even move. And the worst part is that he smells even better this close.

“Good girl.” He keeps staring into your eyes, grasping your hand as if he doesn’t intend to let it go. “Maker, you are such a pretty thing, I could tear you apart…” He contemplates out loud, his words surprising the last part of his sane mind as he’s becoming more and more vulnerable to foreign planet’s drugs.

“What?”

He slowly frees your hand, swallowing a lump in his throat. He’s starting to feel it —  pants failing to hide a very prominent arousal, mouth watering at the sight of your cleavage, you look fucking scrumptious; and he needs to devour you. He snaps his head to the side.

“Sorry.” Anakin mutters, seemingly regaining some of his senses. He shifts on the ground as you stare at him dumbfounded, not only because of his sudden vulgarity but also because the outline of his dick was now very visible and your eyes couldn’t help but glance. 

“Master?”

He groans. “Don’t say that.” He shamelessly palms himself in front of your eyes as if he were in pain from how tight his underwear was. “Don’t call me master. Not now, sweetheart.” His voice softens just for a moment.

“Master, are you okay?” You deny his request. Involuntary. Maybe because it was a habit, or maybe because some part of you really wanted him to get unbearably hard for you.

He yanks you towards himself with his sluggish grip. Tied hands wrap around your throat, and he hisses. “I fucking mean it. You call me that again. I’m going to bend you over this wreck of a spaceship and bruise your insides until someone finally comes and gets us off this forsaken planet.”

If you weren’t surprised before, you are now absolutely bewildered. You pushed him away, landing on your butt and quickly crawling reversely to create some space between yourself and the animal that possessed your master’s body.

Anakin stood up and leaned himself against the wreckage as if trying to fight something that’s been trying to claw its way out of his body. His back turned to you, shoulders rising up and down repeatedly as he struggled to speak.

“Go. Now.” He groans, trying to hold his panting in.

“Anakin?” You rise yourself from the ground and take a step towards him, hesitating to move or speak more.

“Fucking RUN.” A growl slips from his throat; you’ve never heard such an animalistic sound coming from him. It wasn’t an order; it was a warning, a head start for you. And if there was a perfect time to listen to his advice about doing everything he’s telling you — that was it.

So you do.

You feel the wind blowing through your ears and burning your throat as you try to get away as far from Anakin as possible. Your pulse is thudding rapidly, your limbs are shaking, and yet your insides are throbbing, aching to have relief from the extreme arousal created by your master’s primal behavior and the image of his hardening cock imprinted in your head. 

You turn your head slightly, glancing behind you, expecting to see Anakin making his way towards you, but instead you are greeted with the sight of nobody. Anakin’s nowhere to be seen. You look around, panting heavily, trying to spot movement somewhere between the trees. You fear him and what he could do to you, but the fact that he’s gone frightens you even more. Your master could never hurt you, right?

“Master?!” Your voice echoes through what seems to be an empty grove of an unrecognized planet. The only sound you can hear is your own breathing, and you realize how loud it is, how easy it is for any predator to hear you. Anakin's hunt was simple when his prey served herself on the plate before him.

A gust of wind passed through your ears at the same moment as Anakin’s hands gripped you from behind and harshly pushed your quivering body against a tree nearby. His wrists bruised red from the rope, which he seems to have torn apart. Your vision blurs for a moment from the force he’s grabbed you with. His lips press on your ear.

“I told you not to call me that, you stupid girl. Now look what you’ve done.” He whispers into your ear as his bulge presses against your ass. 

“A-Anakin-” You whimper, miserably trying to push him off you but instead just creating more friction on his already painful core.

His hand snakes into your robes, grasping your breast roughly, making your back arch. It’s hot and desperate to tear your flesh apart. And it feels so so good. So pathetically good that you almost feel like you’re the one taking advantage of him and not the other way around. He toys with your nipple, rubbing it between his fingers as his free hand grabs onto your thigh and presses your body onto his clothed cock.

“S’ alright, sweetheart… Your body’s so perfect…” He sinks his teeth into your neck and pulls on your delicate skin. “I’m so sorry—fuck—Sweetheart… I can’t stop-” His soft voice was a complete contrast to his forceful grip on your curves. His hands boldly groped you, kneading every bit of your body he could reach — all while grinding himself against you like an animal in heat.

“No- You can’t,” You whimper, trying to fight him and your own desire. “Anakin!” You gasp in pain when he presses your body into the tree, bruising your cheek.

“Shhhh… ‘s alright, just let me—” He pulls your robes, his hand making its way down your stomach, cupping your dripping heat. He inhales into your neck. “Don’t be scared.” He shushes your whines.

And it’s not like you’ve never imagined Anakin fucking you; you have. Way more than you should have, and yet you were shaking in fear, especially knowing that he was under the influence of something wicked.

“No, master-” You gasp as he inserts a finger inside you, wasting no time before fucking you with his hand. “S-stop-”

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry-” He whimpers into your shoulder as your walls clenches around his digit. He slips another in. “What a perfect cunt… I’ll fucking ruin it." It was almost as if Anakin’s alter ego was overtaking his normal self — the one who would never dare to touch his Padawan like that, to taint her precious body with his pathetic touch.

“Ah!” Your back arched into him involuntarily. It was wrong. So so wrong and yet deep inside you never wanted him to stop, not when your walls spasmed around him for a sweet release. 

“That’s it, good girl, come here.” He pulls his fingers out, making you pulse and whimper at the lack of pleasure. He quickly lands you both on the ground, spreading your thighs apart for himself. “Look at that,” He bites his lower lip. “And you say you don’t want it? You’re fucking soaked.”

“We can’t-” You whimper yet again. “You wouldn’t- Ah!”

He grins as he slaps his cock against your clit, rubbing it up and down your entrance as the wet, slippery sound reaches your ears.

“I’m going to fuck you one way or another, so you just might as well enjoy it, after all…” He leans on top of you, lining the crown of his cock with your hole. “…master knows best.”

He slides in with one swift movement, filling you to the brim as you claw his back with your nails. He’s big, way bigger than his fingers, forcing your walls to stretch wide open to welcome both his length and girth. He doesn’t wait for you to adjust much when he pulls almost all the way out and slams back in, earning a loud whimper from you.

“Pretty girl…” He coos, stroking your cheek as he repeats the movement more urgently. “Master’s cock feels good, hm?”

It did, Maker; it felt amazing. Every vein bruised your gushing hole just right as he thrusted into you, long and powerful strokes, head hitting your cervix at the perfect angle to make your toes curl. Each time his sack slapped against your ass, an electric sting flashed through your cunt, forcing a pathetic moan out of your mouth. Your vision is so blurry from how hard you are rolling your eyes back, you don’t even see how Anakin comes forward and presses his lips onto yours.

His kiss is starving, depraved of you. He tries to say something, but it’s pretty incoherent, muffled by your saliva mixing with his. He tugs on your lips, sticking his tongue far up your mouth, smearing spit over your chin. His teeth clash against yours every time he attempts to reach into you deeper, as if trying to devour you from the inside out.

“Fuck,”—thrust—”So…”—thrust—”Fucking…”—thrust—-”Tight-” He moans into your mouth, and you swear you can feel his whimpers inside your body.

Anakin props himself up on his forearms — each on the other side of your face. He snakes his fingers into your hair, making you look at him.

“Look at me, baby. Look at me, and tell me you love it. Beg me to fuck you, come on, baby…” 

He’s a mess, and he’s messing you up too; he wants you to plead, but there is no reason to; he’s already balls deep in you, abusing parts of your body nothing and nobody has ever reached before. 

“M-master…” A feeble whimper is all your body can muster when your whole lower half twitches from pleasure. “…Stop...” You claw on his chest, trying to push him off, maybe because you know how sick it is to allow him to turn you into a drooling cockslut, or maybe because you don’t want to cum so fucking soon.

“What’s the matter, angel? You wanna cum, yeah?” A wicked smile spreads across his face, as if he were listening to all of your thoughts while you laid there spread open. “Yeah? Your little cunt can’t take master’s cock at all, hmmm?” He mocks you, and you know you deserve it, for one reason or another.

His filthy words and a couple of powerful strokes are enough to have your juices coating his whole shaft as your back arches and hardened nipples rub against his chest. The orgasm he’s giving you blinds your mind; it drowns out every other noise that’s not his moans of pleasure or your wetness spurting around him.

“Thought so.” He laughs in your face, gripping the backs of your thighs and pushing them up — his cock still inside you, soaking up all you had to give it. “That’s alright, angel, it’ll hurt less now that you’re all stretched out and drenched.”

“N-no…” You cry when he adjusts your position to reach deeper into you, seemingly not even caring that your soaked walls are still aching from him fucking you over the edge just moments ago. “A-Ani…” It’s a bittersweet pleasure — the way he keeps going through your body desperately, trying to push him out and stop the ache inside of you.

“Look,” He releases his grip on your thigh and grabs your chin. “Look how perfect your little cunt is…” He slides all the way out and slowly pushes back in, his pubic hair tickling your skin. “As if it’s made to take me.” He forces your head to look down between your bodies and admire the mess he’s creating.

The more he sees you struggle to look without squirming, the more precise his movements are. He angles his painfully thick cock to scratch your spongy insides, your throbbing cunt squeezing him enough to force delicious grunts out of his mouth. 

Your eyes are blurry from the tears you didn’t know formed; you blink rapidly, attempting to catch a glimpse of Anakin’s face. You were self-evident about the desperate mess he’s turned you into, drenched in sweat and cum, your body sore and bruised, it was obvious, however, you didn’t expect Anakin to be as disheveled as well. His lips were apart, soaked in spit, the blue of his eyes barely visible from the expansion of the pupils, dirty locks sticking to his forehead, your master looked and, quite obviously, behaved like a brute beast devouring his prey. And yet, he was angelic.

Your idealization of Anakin was the root reason why you resisted digging his eyes out with your nails and putting up a violent fight against him for corrupting your body inside and out. Because, essentially, Anakin is still your master. The one who teaches you, the one who tends your wounds, the one who is now currently fucking you over your second orgasm with no mercy in his bloodshot orbs. And honestly, you are starting to genuinely enjoy it. 

“Just like that, pretty girl, keep squeezing me…” Anakin presses his lips against yours, forcing his tongue in and making you answer his desperate kiss. One of your legs is stretched up painfully, foot dangling over his shoulder, while the other almost involuntary wraps around him and makes sure he’s plunging deep into you with no chance of escaping. “Good girl, that’s it,” He moans into your mouth, “I’m going to cum, yeah, s’ like that, let me fill that tight cunt.”

“P-please…” You reach for his head, grabbing him by the roots of his hair to lock your lips back together. “Master- fuuuuuck!” There it is again — you are cumming all over his cock, slurping onto his tongue while milking him to his own orgasm. You can barely see or make sense of your surroundings; all you know is that he’s pounding you into oblivion, and you love every second of being stretched out for your master to use.

Anakin is grabbing your body, toying with your flesh. Even when his dick starts to fuck long threads of his thick cum into you, he can’t stop frantically abusing your body in every way possible; grabbing, biting, kissing, and fucking all come at the same time, sending your body into a sensory overload, and you can swear you are about to lose your mind and die right there and then.

But there is no time for dying, not when you realize Anakin has emptied himself deep inside you and yet is nowhere close to stopping. His cock, still hard, surrounded by the mix of your and his cum, is slamming into you with sensual yet forcible strokes, making it seem like you can taste the sourness of his release in your mouth. 

“So needy, going to make sure to fuck it deep in you, angel.” He whispers into your neck, you can’t help but whimper and dig your nails into his shoulder blades in hopes of him easing up on you, but he only pulls his face off your shoulder and greets you with a filthy grin. “If I knew how beautiful your fucked-out expressions and little whimpers were, I would have devoured this pretty pussy much earlier…”

“M-master…” You cry out for help, for pleasure, for him. Everything ceases to exist except Anakin. His expression softens just for a moment. He settles his cock inside of you and reaches out to wipe the mess of drool and tears from your cheek.

“It’s okay, my sweet Padawan." He whispers, his hands gently caresses your hipbones in a subconscious attempt to soothe your aching muscles. Anakin leans down to kiss your lips one more time. You can feel his whole length throbbing and begging for friction while the wetness of your releases seeps down your cunt. “I know you can take more, yeah? Just like when we train, alright? You want to stop…”—Thrust—”But I’m the Master…”

Your eyes roll back when your sex is rewarded with a glimpse of more pleasure, a little promise of what he can give you if you just enjoy it like he’s commanded you. So you buck your hips into him, seeking yet another release.

“There she is…” Anakin’s deranged expression makes its way back between his perfect features. To your surprise, he swiftly pulls himself out of you, which makes you whine from the lack of fullness and feeling of the mix of liquids trickling down your body. “Let’s see how useful your other holes are, mmm?”

And with that, you know — whatever he’s infested with still has yet to wear off.

[jhdyuiee]

blossom

wildflower - part 1 .

❁ blossom : a new beginning & growth .

❁ pairing: ex!jaehyun x fem!reader

❁ tags/warnings: angst, fluff, smut!, pregnancy, unprotected sex (flashback scene), multiple positions (doggy&missionary), oral (f), squirting, kissing/making out, nipple/breast play, hair-pulling, spanking, fingering, mentions of masturbation (m), pet-names (baby&darling), down-bad and groveling jaehyun (:0), cursing, mentions of drinking, time-skips, bittersweet ending

❁ w.c: 7.9k

❁ a.n: hi! you ask and i shall deliver, part 2 of wildflower! writing this one was so challenging because i was having major writers block, which ended up delaying it's release, aghh. anyways i tried pulling through, so stick until the bittersweet end <3 ! JOLO OUT IN 2 WEEKS (obsessed with roses, like jaehyun babe who hurt yuh?!) 🥃 . anyways love you all, stay safe & jiji out 🤍

“i'll never forget how stupid in love i felt. i'll always regret how i couldn't ever tell, that you walked a little faster, left me behind.”

“kissed me with somebody else in mind. i loved you so much that i settled for less.“

“oh, you were my everything… i was your second best.”

- laufey | “second best”

jaehyun’s pov.

“fuck, fuck, fuck,” i shouted as the door closed. i contemplated chasing after her, but something told me not to. how could’ve i been so fucking stupid? why did i think she would understand– no, this whole shit was impossible to understand.

i cheated and lied to her. there wasn’t going to be anything i could’ve done now to undo what i did. i did the worst thing a man could’ve done, and broke her, played with her innocent self. i could love for infinitely, but that still wouldn't have been enough to repair the damage. 

i looked down, remembering the gift she gave me right before leaving. this small gift bag held a massive weight. with trembling hands, i started unboxing it and pulled out a small velvet box.

no, this couldn’t be… now hurriedly i opened it. a silver colored ring, in the middle of the box. you fucking bastard, i thought. i really fucked up, really beyond repair.

i took the ring out. i noted the small stones around the band of the ring, my birthstone, amethyst.

my cheeks felt wet, only then did i realize i started crying. now i regret not chasing after her, spending the rest of my day apologizing to her, pleading with her. she took my happiness when she walked out that door, a part of me with her.

and for all i knew matters would only continue to get worse from here on out…

two lines.

there are two fucking lines on the stick…

“i’m pr-pregnant…” i muttered.

this couldn’t be happening, oh how i wished this was a dream— a nightmare i could wake up to right about now. but no, this is fucking reality.

well i guess that would explain why i was late and the nauseating feelings i kept having. however so i still hoped it would come out negative. it wasn’t that i didn’t want this child, it was just about whether or not i’d be up to live as a single mother.

i caressed my stomach, though still unnoticeable, how would this child be able to live? made without mutual love, and there was no denying this was a result of that night. the very same night before disaster struck.

did the birth control not work? i thought. no, impossible it’d always worked, but perhaps luck was truly never in my favor that day. it’d been about or over a month since that day and a lot has happened, my newly discovered pregnancy being one of those things.

as i walk outside my bathroom and into my bedroom, i gently sit on the edge of my bed as flashbacks of the past month flood my mind. first things first, that same week i began moving out with my shared apartment with yuna. we had a pretty heated argument, both sides equally hurt and betrayed. yet one thing i’d say we both saw eye-to-eye was how much of a scum he was. who knew a simple man would cause our friendship to fall apart.

anyhow, with that out the way i started making preparations to move out of not only that apartment but the city. luckily the move went smoothly thanks to a special someone.

mr.jeong.

it happened a day after my talk with yuna when i decided to talk to his father. i felt the need to come clean, confess to everything that went on. to my surprise, mr.jeong hadn’t yet heard of our breakup nor from his son. i expected mr.jeong to feel upset, or at least angry towards me but he didn’t. in fact he cursed at his idiotic son, sympathizing with me. the woman who entered a fake relationship and lied to him, nonetheless there was no denying mr.jeong’s genuine care and love towards me. he treated me as his family, the thought made my heart ache. i mean it was a silly thought as i’d never will become his family.

our talk lasted well around an hour before i decided to depart. i made the decision to tell mr.jeong that i’d be moving, in which he offered two things. one, to never tell that idiotic son of his where i’d gone to in case he asks. two, money.

i refused to take the money, but he insisted i take it since i’d just quit my cafe job. also adding how expensive getting a singular apartment would be for me. after much dispute… i ended up taking the money. he also added there was no need to repay him back, and that if i wanted to look at it as a i’m-sorry-for-my-idiotic-sons-foolishness recompense.

nonetheless i’m eternally grateful to mr.jeong. i mean without his help i probably wouldn't have been able to move into this apartment in a fairly quicker time as if i didn’t have the amount they asked for. once i settled in, i began job hunting.

just the other day i went in for an interview. i still awaited the call from the company, it was a publishing firm.

i plopped down onto my bed, absentmindedly staring at the ceiling. who knew the year would turn out so catastrophic for me. a whirlwind of thoughts flooded my mind which eventually led me to a deep slumber. the pregnancy sure to be the cause of my tiredness.

ring. ring. ring.

my eyes slowly fluttered open, trying to find the noise of the abrupt ringing. my phone's screen lights up, vibrating against the mattress. i reached a hand towards the device, not even bothering to look at who was calling me.

“hello? is this y/n?” a woman’s voice spoke.

slightly unconscious i answer, “y-yes, may i ask who’s this.”

“ah- nice to speak to you y/n, this i’m mrs.kang and i work for the publishing firm you applied for.”

oh, now i was fully awake. “woa- hello! nice to mee-speak to you ms.kang,” i stumbled on my words.

a slight chuckle arose from the other line, “yes, well i just wanted to tell you that… you’re in! congratulations, the company has decided to hire you!”

what! no way… it has to be a dream. i pinch myself, ow. okay not a dream. “wo-wow, thank you so much! w-when can i start!”

“next monday, if that’s alright with you,” she explained. “yes! that’s fine with me,” i almost immediately replied. “that’s great, see you on monday ms.l/n!”

i bid her farewell before hanging up. wow. my life is really seemingly picking up after all the bad luck. oh but now there was the baby to think about, i still haven’t called my clinic. “it’d be best to call them now,” i muttered. and so i did, my appointment was set for thursday.

i reach back for my stomach, a faint smile appeared on my face. “my little light,” i whisper into the empty bedroom.

i was keeping my baby, it didn’t matter whether i would be a good mother or not because this child was a little gift to me sent from the heavens above. my baby, not his. “you may not have a father, but that’s okay, my little light. i’ll make sure to give you both so you’ll never feel lonely. mommy loves you so much already.”

my little light. finding my way out the deepest depths of hell, you became my light who guided me to my new beginning. and for that you’re my little light. my savior.

jaehyun’s pov.

i drove into the driveway of my father’s residence, parking before finding myself knocking at his front door. he’d called me yesterday night, urging me to see him today. i wonder what he could’ve wanted. i wasn’t in the mood to see him today or come to my childhood home where memories of her existed.

it’s been over a month since we broke up and my life has been nothing but a shit show. i stare at my left hand, the sun's light reflecting on the piece of medal around my finger. her final gift, her parting gift; the ring found it’s home on my left ring finger. i’ve never taken it off once since that day that i put it on.

i can’t even count how many nights i spent crying, drinking, and cursing myself. y/n… her name hurt to say, verbally or not. sometimes it felt as though she was still there, waiting for me at my apartment, in my car, everywhere. she haunted me everyday, even when i slept.

she never answered or responded to any of my calls or texts, assuming she blocked my number.

the door swings open, and instead of being met with ms.kim i was met with an angered man, my father. “nice to you see you too,” i said when he didn’t offer to greet me first. strange, i thought. normally he’d be chatty but today he just walked, guiding me to his office. we took a seat across from each other on the leather couches he had in there.

silence filled the office before i decided to speak up. i cleared my throat, “so what’s wrong father.”

he huffed, “you’re no son of mine jaehyun.” i furrowed my brows, no son of mine?

he must’ve noticed my confusion because he then continued. “i know what you did, what you did to her. how could you!” he spoke, his words getting louder the more he continued.

shit.

”you think i wouldn’t find out? the poor girl came to me just the other day, a mess, yet nonetheless confessed to everything that was going on between the two of you,” he continued, my eyes widening more. she came over… she was here…

i clenched my fists. “i-is she alright? did she look okay?” i trashed question after question. my mind only thinking of her. he stayed quiet, not answering any of my questions. a beat or two passed before he continued speaking, “i mean really jaehyun… lying to her just to get back with that other woman?!”

fuck, looks like he knew everything. i sucked a breath in, “i-i didn’t mean to-” he cut me off, “mean to what!?” he shouts. “to fall in love with her. to break her. for any of this to happen,” i answered. my vision was beginning to blur. i faintly hear my father, tsk, before speaking.

“get ready jaehyun.”

i looked into his eyes for the first time since we entered his office. “f-for?” i asked, a gut feeling telling me it wasn’t for anything good. “i’m passing the company to you. i’ve been meaning to for a while now, and after all this mess you got yourself in you don’t exactly deserve it but i’m not getting any younger.”

my mouth fell open, then closed. no way he was asking me to take over the company… i wasn’t in any way, shape, or form prepared. heck i was still a mess from the break up.

“and i don’t care if you’re not prepared, a mess, or whatever excuse you have to offer me, you’re gonna take over and that’s final.”

there was no point arguing, when my father made a decision it was final. “alright,” i said, throwing my head back against the couch.

i hear as he gets up, resting my head back up. he pauses for a moment when he grabs the doorknob, turning to face me.

“and to answer your questions from earlier, she’s gone. y/n left jaehyun, she’s not coming back so you should give up. i mean it’s not like she’s going to take you back after everything you put her through.”

my heart dropped, my eyes blurring again. she-she’s gone? y/n, my y/n? no, no… this wasn’t supposed to happen. and so before i could further inquiry my father any further, he opened the door and walked out.

he left me all alone in his office space, me and my thoughts. my gaze drops down to the ring, where a single tear drop landed.

7 months later.

“ow,” you muttered. you bring a hand to your stomach, feeling the tiny kicks of the little human inside you. “i might as well sign you up for soccer,” i say, feeling another kick that causes me to chuckle. perhaps that was my sign that my little light was up for playing the sport.

for the past 7 months since i found out i was pregnant it’s been… a lot. it was hard being alone, but as time quickly passed i started getting the hang of it. i wished i had someone to go to, but my parents were long gone. i never really had a family to call my own, except now for this little human.

ever since my stomach started showing i’ve been working at home, the company was surprisingly pretty insistent about taking a maternity leave, but i still needed a way to make money. the workload wasn’t a lot, in fact i was only assigned with editing reports. nonetheless the pay was still great.

in fact, next month was going to be my last month working as the date for my birth approached, i needed to take the time off. in the 7 months too, my memory and thoughts of him dissipated. i was doing better, i could feel it. it wasn’t just for me, but for my baby too. i didn’t want my child to be upset with me.

as i got up to go use the restroom i heard the faint ringtone of my phone. i sighed as i looked at the caller id. “and what do i owe you the pleasure of, jungwoo?”

kim jungwoo. my co-worker and newly found best friend. he was the only one by my side and the only one i’ve spoken to about everything that’s happened. shock would be an understatement of his reaction, but nevertheless he still stuck by my side… annoyingly so.

“is that really a way to greet your bestest friend!? i’m very offended y/l/n, after all that trouble of going to get you those midnight cravings,” he says, falsely sobbing into the phone. though he couldn’t see, i rolled my eyes. this guy, i swear.

“oh my, i’m sorry your majesty. please forgive my behavior just now,” i replied. “you are forgiven,” he says back. “but… really jungwoo, why’d you call?”

“nothing much, just… open the door and you’ll find out,” he says. i do as he instructed, slowly walking to my door.

you open it, revealing jungwoo with a carry-out bag in hand. was it unusual to say you developed a keen sense of smell since your pregnancy? well because it smelled like he brought over fried chicken.

“uhm… can you maybe drool later, and let me in now so we could dig in,” he says, standing frozen. i snap out of my hungry state, moving aside to let him in.

we walk to my dining table, sitting across from one another. jungwoo does all the unpacking whilst i watch with prying eyes as he takes the food out and opens it. “dig in,” he announces. i wasted no time, grabbing the chicken and stuffing it into my mouth. i let out a satisfied groan, the chicken tasting so damn good.

you being too engulfed with that damn delicious fried chicken, failed to notice as jungwoo turns on the television. “come back before i finish everything,” you warn him. he lets go of the remote, stopping at some random channel. well the television was the least of your worries right now.

“how’s she doing,” jungwoo speaks up, eyeing my stomach. “i’m thinking of signing her up for soccer when she’s straight out of the womb, little girl can kick,” i replied, earning me a laugh from jungwoo.

a couple months back, my doctor told me the gender of my little light. a girl, my baby girl. i didn’t partially care what the gender was going to be, but nonetheless i was still ecstatic about the revelation. having a baby girl meant i would be able to dress her up, so cute like a little doll.

“jeong jaehyun.”

i whip my head to the television at the mention of that name. my eyes widened, dropping the food from my hand.

“n corps newest ceo is the first to accomplish acquiring various kinds of subsidiaries in such a short amount of time– ranging from luxury brands to flower shops,” the female reporter says as they display a picture of the man.

i squint my eyes, focusing them solely on his left hand. i hoped my eyes weren’t deceiving me because… is that the ring i gave him. no… no, my mind and eyes had to have been playing tricks on me because why on earth would he wear, better yet still have the ring.

“is that him,” jungwoo speaks up, interrupting my thoughts. i turn back around, my mood suddenly plummeting. i don't say anything, just nodding my head to indicate that the man who just appeared was the same man i spoke of.

and so for the rest of dinner we ate in silence, minor talk appearing but jungwoo would always be the one initiating it. i was too lost, going down a rabbit hole about him.

when we finished eating, jungwoo insisted on cleaning up– he even took the garbage with him as he left. i walked him to my door, bidding him goodbye. when he was gone, i headed to the bathroom, a shower was very much needed.

plopping onto my bed, i stare at the ceiling. my thoughts on, jaehyun. a familiar ache appeared in my heart, i thought i was over him but it seems i might be far from it. “i guess mommy isn’t all that strong, huh little one,” i whisper as i reach my hands over my stomach.

you’re not sure what came over you that night, that news report igniting your lost feelings. and so in the midst of your thoughts, you somehow drifted off into a deep slumber.

an interesting one, per say. not only for you but for the other party involved as well…

✧˖°ʚ ❁ ɞ♡

jaehyun crashes his lips to mine, eloping me into a deep and passionate kiss. his tongue slides along my bottom lip, begging for entry in which i grant him.

our tongues fighting one another, and teeth occasionally clashing. my mind began to fog, but i refused to stop. i could feel his love with every kiss.

“strip,” he says in a sultry tone. i felt the air getting hot.

grabbing the hem of my top, i pulled it over my head, and then followed my shorts. i left myself in my lace panties and bra, jaehyun licking his lips in delight.

reaching his hand over, he gropes my tits which earned him a breathy moan of his name.

reaching his hands to the back, he swiftly unhooks my bra, letting it fall beneath me. he groans, admiring the way my tits were on full display. “so fucking beautiful,” he says, taking his mouth over one of my nipples.

he sucks on it, and eventually bites down on the bud. i bite my bottom lip, not wanting to yell out loud.

i look down at him, his eyes staring back at mine as he practically makes out with one of my tits. i could feel one of his hands slides down my back at a slow pace, leaving a burning trail behind.

“you want me to touch you, baby?” he asks as he fondles your ass, sending a small slap across the flesh of skin. “y-yes,” you moan.

“tell me baby, where.” his voice so deep, his head coming up to peck my lips. i nearly melted, “yo-you know.” i take an unoccupied hand of his to my sex, making him palm it. “my pussy needs you,” i whisper as i leaned into his ear.

jaehyun’s lips twitch up, kissing you hard one last time before he begins to go down on his knees. he places his hands to the waistband of your panties, dragging them down your legs. “open up for me,” he says, and i begin opening my legs up. he drags his fingers to collect the slick that began dripping down my thigh.

kiss after kiss, bite after bite along my thighs. reaching a hand to his hair, i grip it. and when he finally reaches my cunt, i become a whimpering mess. his hands gripped my thighs, holding me in place as his tongue darted out.

a slow tantalizing lick, and then another. i jerk my hips forward, wanting more friction. i feel as jaehyun stops his licks. “don’t move, or else i won’t let you cum darling.” his warning was clear, i stayed still.

and so he continues, but instead of licks he sucks on my clit. along with using the tip of his tongue to tease the poor bud, before finishing off with a bite. “j-jaehyun!” i yelled when i felt his teeth on my clit.

letting go with a pop, i watch as he licks his lips before diving back in. his licks faster than when he first started, and before i knew it he brought his fingers into the mix. one of his fingers entering you, then two, both knuckle deep inside you. it wasn’t until after he pecked your clit that he began thrusting them inside you.

in and out, out and in. your gummy walls clenching around his digits as they quickly thrusted into you. you feel the stretch of your walls as he opens them, like scissors. the constant chant of his name was such a melody to his ears, urging him to do more.

you felt yourself getting closer to your release as he continued his ministrations on your pussy. he must’ve felt the way you clenched around his fingers, “close?” he asks. “y-yes, m-my cl-clit!”

jaehyun got the message as he attached his mouth onto your clit. with both his mouth and hands working themselves on you at the same time, it felt like you could cum at any moment. with one suck to your clit and his fingers plummeting in you, you gushed out. a stream of liquid coming out of you, splattering all over his arm. it wasn’t the first time you’ve squirted but nonetheless you still felt shy, hot all over.

jaehyun gets back up, watching you as you watched him lick your essence off his arm and hand. “so delicious, a delicacy that you are baby.”

you could almost cum again from those simple words. as you try regaining your breath jaehyun brings his lips to your ear. “on the bed, all fours,” he whispers. a shiver runs down your spine, his sex-dazed voice was one of your favorite things in the whole world.

without wasting another second you head towards his bedroom, onto his bed with hands and knees on the mattress. your ass up, on full display. slap. you jerk forward from the sudden movement.

and another one on the other cheek. you turn your head around, a naked jaehyun behind you in all his glory. his hard, thick cock reaching his stomach. you could see the glisten of his pre-cum. you feel his hardened member rub against your slit, both your essences blending with one another.

then he places a hand on your hips, while the other holds his cock so he could slide it into your aching hole. his cock slowly stretches you out, walls wrapping snuggly around it. you could hear jaehyun’s groans the deeper he goes in. when he’s all in, he kisses your exposed nape before going absolutely mad.

jaehyun was an absolute madman when it came to having sex. when he was balls deep inside you, he felt like he’d gone into another dimension; another world. you are quite literally the most perfect thing in this world, you were made for him.

your mouth falls into an ‘o’ shape when you feel his tip kissing your womb, tongue hanging out when he grabs some of your hair to pull you against his chest. you didn’t know if it was even possible for his dick to reach you even deeper, but it must’ve because this angle allowed for him to reach places that have never been touched before.

it wasn’t long before you ended up cumming on his cock, jaehyun following suit after a couple more thrusts. feeding your womb his seeds, which eventually dripped out of you as slides his cock out. you slump onto the mattress, too tired, body giving up.

on the other hand, there was something so hot about watching his cum drip out of your pussy. it turned him on, his cock beginning to harden again. his hands reached your body, turning you the other way so your back was against the mattress. you looked so fucked, he loved it.

“ready for round two?” he says, not even waiting for your answer before he intrudes back into your hole. fucking his cum back into your pussy. his hands, finding yours as he interlocks his fingers with yours. your watery eyes, low chants of his name, the clenching of your walls and fingers, the way your mouth falls open, and your tongue lolling out. fuck. it was the perfect sight.

“god, i love you,” jaehyun groans as he thrusted into you.

there was no stopping him now, he was going at an insane pace. the sounds of skin slapping, his balls on your ass, and the squelching sounds of you both echoed in the room.

letting go of one of the interlaced fingers, he brings his hand to your clit. the poor swollen bud victim to his ministrations again. he used his thumb to rub the bundle of nerves, you clench tighter around him. your own orgasm not too far away.

“k-kiss me!” you yelled. jaehyun wasted no time bringing his lips onto yours. it was sloppy but you didn’t care, you loved the way it felt.

you moaned into the kiss, as you finally came for the third time tonight. taking his lips from your mouth, he puts them on an exposed section of your neck, sucking on it as he came.

filling you up for a second time tonight, you felt the warmth inside your womb. you wondered whether you could get pregnant after tonight. having his babies, becoming parents, getting married— a dream.

both of you crash onto his bed, not bothering to clean up for now. both too tied, and unable to get up. he kisses your hair, whispering sweet nothings and lulls you to sleep. you and jaehyun peacefully sleeping in each other’s arms for the night.

jaehyun’s pov.

fuck. what the fuck.

jaehyun jumps up from his bed. too shocked, unable to comprehend what just happened. he doesn’t mutter anything, he just goes into his bathroom and turns on the shower.

stepping into the cold water, he faces the tile walls. his throbbing erection the least of his worries right now.

“wh-why… why did i have a dream about that night, the night before we-we-“ he mutters, the water dripping down his body.

jaehyun didn’t know why he dreamt about you, the steamy night that unfolded a week prior to the break-up.

yeah, he’d get off to past memories of you but never a full on dream. he didn’t know what to do, to think, to say, to anything.

and he couldn’t even being himself to sleep again, so he showered in the cold. it’s been 7 months, the pain still not gone. he misses you tremendously every single day.

he stares at the ring that still stayed on his finger, clenching his hand as he wants to punch the wall in front of him.

“y/n…”

2 months later.

december 14. the day my little star was born.

she was born healthy, no complications. and luckily i was fine as well. it was excruciating pain but knowing she was close to being brought into this world made such pain disappear.

in fact, today we were scheduled to leave and i couldn’t wait to just go home. my home wouldn’t feel so empty anymore, the thought made me smile.

d/n (daughter name) was currently being breastfed, her eyes shut and wrapped like a burrito. she was the most beautiful baby, though she does look quite a lot like her daddy.

i sigh, throwing my head against the pillow. and before i could fully relax after various sleepless nights, there was a knock to my hospital door. the knock causing me to jerk my head towards the door.

“come in,” i said loud enough so the person on the other side could hear, and low enough so it wouldn’t frighten my baby as she was fast asleep.

i thought it was just some nurse coming in to check in before i left but it wasn’t, far from it. my eyes widened. the person also stopping in their trace when they noticed me.

“y/n…” the feminine voice speaks.

my mouth falls open, “m-ms.kim?!”

what was she doing here? why- wait… kim jungwoo, kim… oh my god. the pieces clicked together, she was the person jungwoo promised to call.

just last night jungwoo called me, apologizing over and over again for being unable to take me back home. i do remember him telling me that he’d find someone else, but… who knew it’d be his mother, ms.kim!

we both stayed frozen. neither speaking, you could probably even hear our breaths. however, the cries of a baby erupted into the room. the cries bringing us back to reality.

i look at d/n, swaying her gently in my arms. her wails didn’t stop though. “c-can i?” ms.kim asks. i look up, nodding my head, handing her my daughter. it was almost intriguing how fast d/n calmed down, falling back asleep in ms.kim’s arms. she takes a closer look at the baby in her arms, “she’s adorable, such chubby cheeks.”

i admire the scene in front of me, when was the last time i saw her? i thought. does she still work for them? countless questions wondered in my head until she spoke again. “she looks just like him,” she says softly. i almost froze, eyes widening. i never told her who the father was, but then again my baby does look a lot like her dad. then considering ms.kim had been with the jeong’s since he was born, she must’ve seen how he looked as a baby.

“d-does she,” i say at a loss. she nods, “i’ve been with them since he was still in the womb, and watched him grow, so i can guarantee you they’re daughter and father.” when i didn’t speak she spoke again, “i probably shouldn’t be bringing him up… i- mr.jeong told me. he explained to me what happened when i asked why you weren’t coming over anymore, and well… i’m sorry.”

wait… why- why is she apologizing. i stopped her immediately, “n-no, you-you have nothing to do with what happened, why are you apologizing?!”

“i raised him after,” she answered. i shook my head, “no, please don’t apologize. you and mr.jeong played no part in what unraveled between me and him, nor do or will i blame either of you.”

she faintly smiles, “you’re too kind, y/n. in all honesty, i thought i would never see you again but yet here you are, you even befriended my son.” i giggled a little at the thought of jungwoo, “he sure is something else, but i’ll be eternally grateful to him.”

we continued our conversation for a while longer before a nurse came in to give me the okay to leave today. i did and completed the necessary things so i could go home, ms.kim helped me. and after a couple hours we were finally out of the hospital with d/n in the car seat ms.kim brought along. she said jungwoo got it for me, as a congrats-on-giving-birth gift.

ms.kim drove, while i stayed in the back with d/n, arriving at my home a while later. we spent the rest of the evening there, ms.kim preparing dinner. whilst she was doing that, jungwoo got off work and came over. he was overly excited to see d/n, shunning me and his own mother out.

when the food was ready, i put a sleeping d/n in the crib i placed in the living room. then i headed back to the dining table, sitting down and for the first time enjoying a homely meal. it was so good, i started crying. when was the last time i felt at peace? when i felt complete? jungwoo nor ms.kim said anything, letting me have a moment.

my home was finally warm and cozy, my new life begun today. my little light radiating throughout my- our home.

4 months later.

i sighed, pushing the stroller of my 4 month-old child along the park. the cold winter weather was gone, and the flowers were in full bloom again. we came for a stroll at our local park, i was in need of a refresher.

it’s been a month since i began working again, and things were going great until a couple days ago when i was informed of a new task. the ol’ mighty task being… interviewing… jeong jaehyun. with the rise of n corps, my company was in desperation to get an interview with him. and if matters couldn’t get any worse, our main interviewer broke their leg a couple days ago, so they decided to assign me with the job. well, they gave me until the end of the week to decide whether i was up for it but… come on, me?!

no way, there was no way i was going to-

“y/n?” a voice shouts. the voice sounding familiar, i turn around without any second thoughts. though now i wished i hadn’t turned around at all, that i had simply ignored the call of my name.

i froze. “j-jaehyun,” i said in a voice that was only loud enough for him to hear. what was he doing here… he shouldn’t be here… no… no wh- “it really is you…” he says, interrupting my thoughts. he walks closer, my eyes beginning to blur. “baby,” he says gently. my stomach churns, in a bad way at the use of the word.

“d-don’t ca-call me t-that!” i say, my voice distorted. i was probably trembling as he walked closer. he stopped in his tracks when the cries of a baby erupted.

shit.

he stops, his eyes focusing from me to the strolling behind me. i instinctively blocked her, hiding her from his view even though it was too late now.

it seems it didn't take long for jaehyun to connect two-and-two together. “i-is that my- our child,” he says in an astonished tone. at least he wasn’t such an idiot, i’ll give him that.

i shook my head, “no, you’re wrong. she’s mine, she doesn’t need you.” i wasn’t going to deny that he was the dad but that didn’t mean i’d consider him as her father.

jaehyun drops to his knees in front of me. his sobs getting louder as he cried. my heart ached at the sight, but then remembered why we were even here in the first place. i turn back, my grip tightening around the stroller’s handles.

i begin walking away, stopping briefly. “you should’ve moved on the day i left the hotel. we are strangers jaehyun, remember that.” he looks up, tears staining his face. i noticed a shine from his finger, it came from the ring around his left hand. i immediately identified it as the ring i had gotten him for his birthday. 

“w-will i truly never see you again, see her again,” he says, trying to regain his composure. i don’t reply back, leaving him in that park.

on the walk home i made up my mind… i was going through with the interview.

✧˖°ʚ ❁ ɞ♡

i was sat, waiting for jaehyun to arrive. our meeting location was chosen to be at a restaurant, where we were designated with our own room for privacy reasons. honestly, i could care less about the interview. 3 days had passed since our reunion, and i felt that there was still much left to be discussed, so what better way than to talk about it here.

the door slid open, jaehyun stiffened. his mouth falling open, “w-what-” i interrupted him before he could continue. “surprise,” i sarcastically said. he looked out to check if he was in the right room, only to be reassured he was. jaehyun sits down, his head down, not daring to look up. i could tell he was keeping his guard up around me.

i softly sighed, “the person who was set to interview you, broke their leg so they put me as their replacement.” i felt it was only right to explain the situation since i’m sure he was wondering what i was doing here.

when he stayed quiet i continued, “and for the record i accepted it only because i felt that we needed to have a deep talk about everything. let’s put aside the interview for now jaehyun.”

he finally looked up, his eyes meeting mine. “w-where is she?” he asks, stumbling on his words. “she? oh! d/n is with ms.kim. you probably don’t know but ms.kim offered to look after her while i worked,” i explained. it was the truth, ms.kim, since the time i began working again took care of d/n. she argued she’d find a way around working with mr.jeong and babysitting.

however it seems jaehyun was oblivious to this. “m-ms.kim,” he whispers, in which i respond with a nod. “that’s where she’d gone,” he continued. “what do you mean?” i asked.

“well, my father briefly explained that she’d gotten a job somewhere else so she wouldn’t be able to work from certain hours,” he answered. so that’s what she told them, i thought. “mmm, speaking of your father… how is he?”

“i guess he’s alright. the old man and me aren’t doing so well, so it’s hard to say…” he says, stopping briefly to take a sip of his water that was placed there by the waiter before he even arrived. “ever since you left, he got pretty upset with me. he forced me into the family company, didn’t even wanna consider me his son. i mean it didn’t matter to me, i deserved it after all.”

i stayed quiet, not knowing what to say at his revelation. “s-so, tell me about her. please, y/n,” jaehyun pleads. i give it some thought before sighing.

“her name is d/l/n. she was born on december 14th. i found out i was pregnant around a month after that day. she was all i had left so i decided to keep her. and god was that the best decision i’ve ever made. yeah, those 9 months were sometimes hell, but i managed. i was scared of being a single mother, but hey look at where i am today,” i explained. his features softened as i continued explaining my past year.

and when i finished he asked, “won’t you let me see her?” i ponder, “i wish, i want to… but, i-i’m not sure if i can trust you yet jaehyun.” “and why is that?” he asks. “b-because of what you did. you broke me completely, crushed up all faith and trust i had for you.”

“t-then give me a second chance,” jaehyun declares. you look at him astonished at his declaration. “w-what do you mean?”

“give me a second chance to prove to you and d/n i can be trusted. i’ll make up for lost time, i’ll love her triple, no infinitely more. please, just please… we don’t even have to go into it thinking we might get together, i-i just want to see my baby girl.”

his voice was getting weaker, practically pleading with me. a second chance, huh. i took my time to think about it, would letting him into out lives be the right choice? i was gambling here, but nonetheless i made my decision.

“f-fine. you better prove yourself worth forgiving, jeong jaehyun.” his face almost lit up, “th-thank you! i most definitely will, i’ll prove to you both. i won’t make the same foolish mistakes. i’ll love d/n, i’ll love you,” he says. i’ll love you. the phrase brought something out of me, touched my heart per say. 

and so after an overdue talk, we cleared up our misunderstandings. we agreed on co-parenting, among other things. the interview then proceeded as planned, and once that was out the way he drove me home. i offered to invite him in, in which he gladly accepted.

ms.kim was shocked to see him show up, confused even but i briefly told her i’d explain it later. d/n was awake, and when i introduced her to jaehyun it was like the most sentimental scene. he cried, heck i probably did too. even more shockingly, d/n warmed up to jaehyun faster than i expected.

it felt like we’d finally become a family, like we could finally live happily ever after. and although i knew the journey was far from being over, i was willing to test the waters. if in the near future jaehyun and i ever get together then we get together, and if we don’t then we don’t.

whatever the future had in store for us, we’d face it once it came. but until then this new life that has bloomed for us like the flowers, will be lived with one another by each other's side.

“you’re my dandelion.”

© jhdyuiee

2024. 08. 18

final a.n: woohoo, we're at the end! writing part 2 like i mentioned was a hassle since i was having writers block, worst feeling ever! on top of that i started school again :(( . not the best couple of weeks but i managed to get this done in a week, nevertheless i really hope you all can enjoy it. thank you for your continued love and support, i truly cannot thank you enough for everything! that being said, i will be taking this upcoming week off, and will hopefully be back to uploading for the last week of august. i love you all berry much! please look forward to jaehyun's solo, JOLO, on august 26! thank you&i love you, jiji signing off 🤍

[arminsumi]

we've had ex geto... but what about ex gojo?

YOUR FAVORITE EX

↳ GOJO さとる + fem!reader

Note : ooo... ex gojo 🤤 hope u likey

Warnings : 🔞 minors do not read/interact : contains smut/explicit content, kinda toxic themes, some angst, baby trapping, pregnancy, dirty talk, unprotected sex + creampies, possessiveness

Playme : streets

🍒 More from Jay : Gojo works / Gojo fave works / JJK works / oct. reqs open

Ex!Gojo makes the break up everyone's business. And of course it's you breaking up with his obnoxious, overdramatic ass. Multiple times, too. You two have broken up so many times in fact that your friends just don't take it seriously anymore when you announce "We're breaking up". That just means "We're getting back together in two weeks (lol)."

Ex!Gojo pulls the "I can't find anyone like you" and the "Aw, don't be like that, baby" cards on you.

Ex!Gojo claims to be your favorite ex. Yeah you hate him... buuut he's still your favorite... right? Right? He'll nag you to admit it. It makes his heart flutter and ego swell bigger than his head.

Ex!Gojo is a menace, always deterring your potential new lovers and declining dates on your behalf. He gives you a stupid excuse with that cheeky smirk, "What? It's not like they could love you better than me, anyways. I'm the best. Don't waste your time. Just come back to me, yeah? You know my arms are still open to you."

Ex!Gojo doesn't act like an ex at all. He still kisses you. Still hugs you. Invites you for every party. Visits your apartment at 2 AM when he's drunk and rambles to you about all the crazy things he always rambled about at 2 AM. And you don't treat him like an ex because... his kisses put you in a trance. Then you realize oh, we're broken up, what the hell.

Ex!Gojo clings to your body and holds it with the same possessiveness that he always used to. He places his big hand on your hip and grips it tight, especially at parties. "Stay close to me."

Ex!Gojo taunts you during those late-night hatefucks, "You missed this fat cock fucking up your guts, huh? I know you did. Don't you fucking lie to me." while he's balls deep in you, skin slapping loudly against yours in the backseat of his car. He just kindly offered you a drive home, and then one thing led to another and you ended up on his lap having his big hands moving your hips up and down. "That's it, admit how much you missed me 'n bounce on this cock, baby. Admit it."

Ex!Gojo fucks you harder when he's your ex, making sure you're super full and stuffed with his cock. He loves molding your tiny hole to accommodate his shape, hitting your sweet spots with mean pounding thrusts until you scream those three little words for him. "I miss you!" he smiles when he hears this, presses his forehead to yours and coos while cumming inside, "Missed you too, baby. Missed this pussy. You know it's m-mine forever, don't you? No one can fuck you better than I can..." and it's true, no one knows the map of your sweet spots and erogenous zones better than he does. He's masterful at pleasuring you.

Ex!Gojo cums inside you more than he did while you two were dating. Who knows why. Seems like his animalistic, primal brain kicked in and he thought well if I put a baby in you... you'll have a piece of me forever. You'll have to come back to me. And his seed is potent. You bet you're getting pregnant. He has the wolfiest smile when you bitterly show him the pregnancy test. "Ooh, baby I'm so proud of that little pussy for getting pregnant. Let's have a celebratory fuck."

Ex!Gojo knows that no matter where you go, he'll always find you. His high school sweetheart. His five year girlfriend. The mother of his child. The only woman that's ever had such a strong hold on him. The only one he's ever been weakened by.

Ex!Gojo cries sometimes after creaming up inside your pussy, "Please come back... I miss you so bad..." and starts sobbing like a puppy into the crook of your neck when you run your fingers through his snowy hair.

Ex!Gojo feels his broken heart get pieced back together when you finally return to him. And just like that, he slots half his soul into yours. "Baby... you're the best thing this world ever gave me. Just let me marry you, please..."

© arminsumi

Do not plagiarize / repost / translate / copy layouts / etc.

Do not steal what I've worked hard to create.

[noiriarti]

Trying New Things: Anakin Skywalker x Reader

NSFW!!!!!!! Literally so NSFW!!! MDNI! Summary: You and Anakin, your best-friend-turned-boyfriend, try anal and double penetration. Pairing: Anakin Skywalker x AFAB!Reader Word Count: 2.0k CW: anal sex, double penetration, definitely dom/sub elements, gentle degradation (usage of 'slut') AN: hey friends! this can be interpreted as the bonus chapter of my series 'Just Practice,' or it can be read stand alone because there's just PWP!

When Anakin bought the plug and the rabbit vibrator, he was rock hard and almost had to take care of himself while driving to your apartment. He made it there, thankfully, but didn't get far past the entryway before he started stroking himself. You were in class, and the opportunity was just too nice to resist. His body was shivering when he imagined you on your hands and knees, sticking out your pretty little ass for him.

God, how he wanted to destroy you. Make you scream. Spread your tight little virgin ass wide with the cock he was stroking. But that had to wait until you came home. For now, he had his hand. And photos of you. Anakin flipped through the gallery he had of photos of you. Some were you, splayed out under him, getting fucked while you were blindfolded and tied up. Others were your lips, wrapped around his cock. His favorite, though, was the photo of you, tied up on your knees, looking up at him with those big, innocent eyes, your face and chest coated in globs of his cum. With his eyes locked onto yours in the photo, so adoringly staring at him, he came with a grunt into a tissue.

The plug and vibrator went into a drawer, for later. Until then, he had to finish up a report for work. After graduation two months ago, he almost immediately jumped into his full-time job at Bell Labs. Sitting among the different machines and chips, he felt at home again. Moving in with you was a wonderful bonus. Since you'd closed the distance, he wanted to take you and fuck you on every available surface, sometimes multiple times a day. Ever since you explored your shared kinks together, he was desperate for you. The first time you called him sir, he nearly came on the spot. He loved having that control over you, to make you cum whenever he wanted.

Two hours later, after you had come home from class and eaten the dinner he had made, he had you on his bed again. You were grinding against his thigh, desperate and mewling as he squeezed your throat. Your pulse raced under his fingers, and he pressed down just enough to make you light-headed and dizzy. Your movements were getting frantic--he knew that you were going to cum by the hitch in your breath, the stuttering roll of your hips. He knew you too well. But it wasn't time yet.

"Get on all fours for me, baby," he interrupted. You whined at the fact that you had to stop what you were doing, but still did as he said. You knew what was coming. On the bed, you stuck your ass up dutifully, on your hands and knees. Your heart was thrumming in anticipation of what you were about to do. You'd confessed the fantasy to him last month a just a whisper in bed, nothing serious. But he couldn't stop thinking about it, he told you.

"Okay, baby, touch yourself while I do this, and just relax," he said soothingly. You snaked your hand down your front, finally back to your clit, where you started rubbing circles and told yourself to Relax. Then you felt a pressure on your ass, and you immediately tensed up. This would be harder than you thought. Anakin's finger, warm and slick, gently circled around your asshole. Deep breath in, deep breath out. You felt yourself relax, the muscles in your thighs unclenching a bit, when he began applying just the slightest bit of pressure. You hadn't expected it to feel this good. His finger was gently pushing in, teasing you, and you could have sworn you could feel every ridge of his finger as it got deeper. Eventually, when it was in to the knuckle, he gently started working it back and forth. Fuck, that really was good. His finger was so smooth with the lube that there was no pain, just a nice stretch. Then he added another, which was a bit more of a stretch, which you groaned about into the pillow, but you soon acclimated to it. By the time that he could easily move his fingers in and out of your ass, it was time for something bigger.

He grabbed the plug, meant to loosen you up a bit with its slightly wider base, then dribbled some lube onto it before pressing it into you. The push of the plug into you was delicious, so much wider and better than just his fingers. His cock would be so much bigger than this, and you already felt so, so full, bent over like this. As it inched in, slowly but insistently, you keened, and then it popped in all the way, finally seated within you. It lit up your pussy, and you felt yourself get even more wet under your fingers.

"You're doing so well for me, baby," he whispered as he trailed his hand down your thigh. Anakin tapped the plug once, twice, three times, and a whimpering moan burst out of you. That felt amazing--it was rubbing up against all the sensitive parts of you, and you could even feel it pushing up against the walls of your pussy. He was obviously enjoying the display, based on the warm, hard flesh you felt poking against your ass. He left the plug in you for a few more minutes as you got used to its girth, only a little bit smaller than him, but still a stretch.

"Are you ready baby?" You nodded, and he started pulling it out. God. If you thought it was good going in, this was a whole other level of pleasure. But then you were empty, clenching down around nothing. You moaned and drew closer to him, trying to entice him to put a finger in, or the plug, anything. Anakin smacked your ass with a pleasurable crack that made you hiss.

"M'gonna fuck your tight little asshole now," he growled out. His tip brushed your ass, the lube cold and smooth, then the pressure started as he filled you to the brim. For a moment, it felt like he was splitting you open, but then the feeling subsided and all that was left was that gentle stretch.

"Shit," he groaned as he felt the clench of you around him. Then he started to move, and both of you let out a grunt. He started slow, scared he would hurt you, then sped up, setting the same punishing pace he did with your pussy. It was almost too much, almost too tight for him to believe. Anakin had wanted this for so long, but he was starting to think it wouldn't last. You just felt too good under him as he pounded into you.

"Ani, Ani, please please please," you begged and babbled, losing yourself in the feeling.

"What do you want? Huh? What do you want, slut?" His voice was gruff, husky. He wanted you to say it.

"More, please!! Stuff me full!" Just hearing those words was almost too much, so he pulled himself out and bit back the regret at postponing a perfectly good orgasm. But it was all for you. He grabbed the vibrator he had bought--thinner and shorter than his cock, but it had a little protrusion that would vibrate against your clit. He touched your pussy with the hand he hadn't fingered your ass with, just to see if you were wet enough that it didn't need lube. Anakin didn't expect your pussy to be so soaked. He smirked, and you could hear it in his voice.

"So wet, little slut. You want something stuffed in here?" He tapped your entrance, pleased at the wet smacks it made, then let his finger dip inside just a little bit. Not too much. You'd be taking something bigger soon. He slid back into your ass, this time with far less resistance, and your chest fell to the bed, so that you were completely ass up. Then, as he kept still, he grabbed the vibrator and started easing it into your pussy.

Your pussy, ready and willing as it was, swallowed the first inch greedily. Anakin barely held back a moan when he could feel it rubbing against the bottom of his cock buried inside you. The pressure inside you was unbelievable--it felt like you were being wound up tighter than any person could be, stretched and spread and tightened until you couldn't take it anymore. But you couldn't deny that the very idea of being filled and stuffed to the brim made you feel sinful, sexy. All for him. It had made you wet for weeks before you suggested it, and when you saw his face (and felt his cock), you could tell he would love it. Even in real life, just like the fantasy, being doubly penetrated was so dirty, so arousing. Anakin started thrusting shallowly to test if you could handle it, and the loud moan you produced told him you could. The plastic cock wedged inside your pussy was tilted at just the right angle so that when Anakin pounded into your ass, the toy moved forward and filled you out. You knew that if he kept at it, you'd cum all over him.

And then Anakin turned on the vibrator, and you shattered. Having your clit stimulated like that, on top of everything, was enough to push you over the edge. He must have felt the orgasm as your whole body twitched, clenching and unclenching around both your stuffed holes. You didn't even know what you were saying, something about how you were so dirty for him, how he was so hot, or maybe that you wanted to do this all the time. It was all background noise as you lost yourself in the feelings coursing through you.

"Fuck yeah, cum on my cock while I fu--fuck your ass," he said, his throat catching as you clamped down on him mid-sentence. Anakin tried to keep going, but was too much. The vibrations he could feel from your pussy, the sound of your moans, the warmth, the tightness around his cock. His brown hair, sweaty and dark with all the effort, fell into his eyes while he panted and grunted your name. He came so hard that his body spasmed, giving one final, brutal, thrust as he filled his condom. Now, he had to be careful. Slowly, so slowly that you could barely tell in your blissed-out state, he pulled himself out of you, then inched the vibrator out and turned it off. You flopped over to the side, your bones having become jelly about five minutes ago, so he came to circle his arms around you on the bed once he dropped off the toys on the nightstand.

"You did so well. I loved that so much--I love you so much. Did you have fun?" His question was full of affection You nodded, lazily. It was all you could manage. Your head was still swimming. After a bit, he sat up and gently swatted your ass with his hand.

"C'mon, let's get your cute ass cleaned up. Shower?" You nodded again, this time letting him pull you and carry you with his strong arms to the bathroom. Anakin grabbed some tissues and let you wipe up any lube you could feel, then helped you over to the shower to spend some time relaxing you before you went to sleep. Sometime around the middle of him shampooing your hair, you found your tongue could produce words again.

"Hey Ani?"

"Yeah, baby?" His voice was playful, stuffed full of joy and love. Just like usual.

"I love you," you told him as you looked up at him. With his hair plastered to his face under the shower water, cheeks flushed, and eyes twinkling, he grinned at you.

"I love you too."

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

Let me know if you'd like to be added to the tag list for future one-shots!

[hedonists-den]

I stroll through the grocery store, cart loaded with assorted junk food. And not one of those half carts either. A full-sized cart full of fresh baked pastries, boxes of snack cakes, frozen pizzas, massive sub sandwiches, bags of chips and candy, various pints of ice cream, cases of full-sugar soda, just an obscene amount of unhealthy garbage.

By now, the employees know me by name with how often I'm there to indulge your cravings. I bring my haul over to a checkout aisle and start unloading, but I figure one more candy bar wouldn't hurt, and I add it to the pile. The checker begins the extensive process of scanning all the items, and I can see the look on their face.

None of them are really shocked anymore. When they see me, they know they'll be scanning pounds and pounds of junk food. And judging by the size difference between you and me when they last saw you, I think they know where it's going. You're not with me this time, of course. You've gotten too lazy and too heavy to be waddling around the grocery store anymore, especially when you can trust me to fetch everything your greedy heart desires.

Getting it all inside is a full task in and of itself. I practically get a full arm workout hauling all the bags from my car, through the door, and to the kitchen. You know I'm not one for taking multiple trips, but with the amount you go through, I'll have to go back at least once.

When I walk in, you're right where I left you: feet up on the ottoman, laid back on the couch that is undoubtedly straining to hold your weight. The groceries are heavy, but I just can't help but pause and marvel at what a sight you are. Rolls covering your body from top to bottom, legs forced apart from the sheer girth of your thighs, your blubbery mound of a belly spilling onto your lap from under a t-shirt turned tank top, fattened tits resting on top of your gut, pillowy arms and pudgy hands tilting a fast food milkshake cup back to get every single drop. A living definition of unrestrained hedonism.

You glance over at me, continuing to suck down the entirety of your indulgent treat. I have to wonder if you're putting on this little show just for me, or if you really have become that gluttonous. Probably both, if we're being fair.

"Looks like you didn't wait for me to get back," I say, walking to the kitchen to set your goodies down. "How much did you struggle to get to the front door and back for that delivery, hm?"

I hear a soft groan from you and the echo of an empty cup set on the side table. "I moved myself just fine!" Your heavy panting suggests otherwise, but I let it slide. After all, it could just be that you didn't stop to breathe until you consumed the entire shake. "You get everything?"

"Everything and more. I doubled up on some things, knowing how you've been lately."

"Oh my godddd, I need one of those sandwiches. I'm starving..." There was a time when you would rush into the kitchen to look through everything I brought back, but the last few times- "Could you bring it to me...?" you ask. Right on cue.

"My pleasure, princess," I say with a grin. I pull out one of the footlong subs and unwrap it for you, taking the liberty of slathering on some extra mayo for good measure. The moment I step into the living room, I can see your excitement as you lift your arms and lean forward ever so slightly, a wide grin on your face.

"Thank you thank you!"

I turn to leave, but I watch you take that first bite out of the corner of my eye. And then that little moan of delight that sparks the urgency in your feasting. I can hear you stuffing your face as I head back towards the garage and gather the rest of the groceries. You'll almost assuredly be at least halfway done by the time I get back inside and set everything down.

And you never disappoint. I step back in and see you pushing the last bite of a sandwich half through your lips before licking your fingers. The way you've been gorging yourself is nothing short of breathtaking. It really is no wonder that you've managed to gain hundreds of pounds.

"Your shirt is looking a little small," I call from the kitchen.

"You like how it fits?" You respond with a full mouth. "I just can't pull it past my upper belly anymore..."

"To be fair, not much does fit you anymore. I can't even tell if you're wearing underwear most days," I chuckle.

"Think I'm wearing any right now?"

I can practically hear the sultry smile on your face as you ask. "I think you want to see me struggle with all your rolls to check. But I don't think you've eaten enough to earn it."

"Well, you better bring those cookies and make a proper hog out of me, then."

With an invitation like that, the rest of the groceries can wait. I dig through the bags for all 4 boxes of soft, chewy cookies, bringing them in and setting them beside you.

"A proper hog? Like I haven't done that to you already..." I tease, taking your belly flab in in one hand and squeezing it gently. "Look at all this. All this heavy, moldable fat..."

I lift your gut and drop it on your thighs, a dense slap resonating through your whole body. The sound, the ripples that shake every inch of you, it's mesmerizing. I continue handling your corpulence with increasing roughness, gripping all your rolls and jiggling them, slapping your love handles, and sinking my hands into your hips.

"I've gotten so huge...I can't help that it feels so good..." You moan, laying your head back.

I pop open the first container of cookies and situate myself in front of you. Your belly makes such a nice table to hold the container while I lean into it. "Open up. Let me make you even bigger."

You part your lips, letting me push nearly half the cookie in. I get more aggressive with each bite you take, encouraging you to take more and more, over, and over, and over.

"Come on, piggy. Keep it up. You want to be a good pet, don't you? Eat..."

One by one, the cookies disappear, and I get to hear that beautiful, overfed panting of yours again. You huff and puff, finally able to catch your breath from the relentless feeding. Everything about your current state just encourages me, igniting a need to see you helplessly engorged.

I slowly but firmly caress your poor, sweets-stuffed tummy. "Well now look at you. All stuffed with sweets. You know we're going to need to offset that with something savory and greasy. Settle in."

"Okay..." you say, your chest heaving up and down as you place your hands on the sides of your belly.

I start scrolling through DoorDash, tending to you while I look for your next meal. It's only early afternoon, after all. And gluttonous house pets like you need to keep fed all day long.

[veryberryjelly]

gone to shit

pairing : jake peralta x fem!reader

prompt : "can i have one more hug?" "aw, babe you don't have to ask, c'mere..."

𝐧𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐠𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧

your day had been going too well for it to continue.

you had gotten to your local coffee shop before it got too busy, gotten up to the bullpen without getting catcalled by some jackass outside and you and your boyfriend were the only ones in the office which was nice.

it was quiet and the first 30 minutes your day was spent sat opposite jake just talking until your friends and colleagues filtered in through the elevator.

and then everything came crashing down.

multiple people in the holding cell caused the bullpen to be filled with noise which was unsettling.

the coffee you had gotten this morning spilled over your desk and your lap.

your phone had died half way through a conversation with your sister and you knew she wouldn't appreciate it seeming like you hung up on her.

and you had misfiled some evidence and had to talk to holt to fix it.

you hoped he would be in a good mood so this wouldn't end up with you getting reamed out.

unfortunately that was not the case.

while he didnt yell you could sense the annoyance & slight disappointment in his tone as he told you do leave so he could deal with it.

and you did leave.

but instead of heading back to your desk you went to the evidence lock up, heading towards the back corner and sinking down onto the floor, the cool surface bringing you out of your head very slightly.

but it wasnt enough to stop the hot burning tears from falling from your eyes.

this wasnt something you should be getting so upset about, there were people in the world that had it a lot worse than you and here you were crying over the tiniest things.

just because they had happened in quick succession it felt so overwhelming.

you were way too in your own head to notice your name being called quietly into the room.

it was only when you saw a set of shoes infront of you that your attention was pulled from the spiralling thoughts in your head.

your hands instantly lifted to wipe at your cheeks to try and pass it off like you weren't crying.

" woah woah, hey. what's wrong, babe? "

the sound of jake's voice did not relax you as much as usual.

you shook your head, trying to shake off this awful tightness in your chest but that did nothing to calm jake's worry.

he crouched down beside you momentarily before sitting down next to you, knowing that his gaze on you could overwhelm you even further.

his arm dropped to around your shoulders and your head instantly dropped down onto the soft fabric of his hoodie.

" you wanna tell me why you're hiding in the evidence lock up ?" he asked, his fingertips running over the fabric of your shirt.

" everything was just going so well this morning and then i spilled my coffee, the holding cell is so full of jackasses, my phone died and then i misfiled some evidence... it all just went to shit "

his small motions on your shoulder were calming you slightly but not by much, your shoulders were still shaking and you couldnt bring yourself to take a full breath.

jake didn't reply for a few moments but his fingertips kept tracing shapes over your shoulder.

" ok, well these are all easy fixes. rosa has a charger in her desk she'll let you use, the holding cell is thinning out really quickly and you left a spare pair of jeans at my apartment a couple days ago and i brought them to give back to you, so you can change into those. "

how he managed to solve all of your problems so quickly you'll never know, but you were just so grateful.

you turned your body further into his, smiling softly when he wrapped his arm tighter around you and pressed a short kiss onto the top of your head.

" thank you "

" you're welcome, babe " he said quietly.

both of you remained sat on the floor of the evidence lock up for a couple more minutes before jake moved to stand and lead both of you back to the bullpen.

before he could take you outside you pulled him back by his hand, a soft and playful pout resting on your lips.

"can i have one more hug?" you asked, tilting your head back to look up at him.

a grin spread across his face.

"aw, babe you don't have to ask, c'mere..."

you quickly closed the two feet between the two of you and wrapped your arms around his torso, your head buried against his chest.

another 5 minutes were spent surrounded by weapons in boxes just hugging your boyfriend.

but when you returned to the bullpen, everything seemed a little bit better

[14dayswithyou]

I'm going to be a little evil :3c /silly

*I have stolen all of their headwear, leaving only FROGGY HAT in his closet.*

"Boy it sure is chilly today. Don't forget to wear a scarf and a hat when you come pick me up, okay [REDACTED]?"

✦゜ANSWERED: I believe in froggy hat [REDACTED] supremacy 🖤🐸

He knew. Of course he knew. [REDACTED]'s security system alerted him the second you stepped foot into his apartment, and it took the dark-haired hacker almost all of his willpower not to rush home and see you. But alas, he had other matters to attend to and messes to clean up here. Things he couldn't risk putting on hold, lest he pay the consequences for them later.

So, [REDACTED] settles for watching you through his cracked phone screen as you try to sneak your way around his apartment. They didn't really understand why you felt the need to be so secretive; you knew your boyfriend would be out for the day, you had his spare keycard and access to the entire 14th floor, and [REDACTED] had made it explicitly clear early on in the relationship that everything he owned was yours completely. Nothing was off limits to you, and that included every inch of his living space.

...And even himself.

Curiously, they watch with keen interest as you quietly slide the door to his walk-in closet open and take in your surroundings once more — making sure that you really were alone in his dimly-lit bedroom. But barely a moment passes before you stride in with a newfound purpose, unzip your backpack, and begin to stash all of his caps and beanies inside.

Well, alright then. If you decided he no longer needed those items, then so be it. He was never one to deny you anything.

But in retrospect, you were honestly doing [REDACTED] a favour. He genuinely didn't really need those items in his possession anymore — especially considering how he had no real reason to conceal his identity from you after all these years of being together.

He could never forget about that pivoted moment in time when you opened up to your beloved hacker about his rather... intense need to watch over you 24/7. And after you had scolded him multiple times for stalking you from darkened corners and alleyways outside your apartment complex, [REDACTED] had all but tried to change his ways. To better themselves for you.

After all, you deserved nothing less.

Glancing back at his phone once more, [REDACTED] takes in every little movement you make as you continue to tuck away his belongings; down to the turn of your head and the flex in your muscles. Not a single twitch or glance goes unnoticed under his watchful gaze — and had the dark-haired man not been so enraptured by your ministrations — he surely would've noticed that it was just about time for him to start packing his tools up and head home.

Home, in time for the date you had planned for the evening.

But the way you purposefully moved around his closet had [REDACTED] in a trance. You were extremely methodical about the things you were swiping from his shelves; neatly packing away all of the headgear, earmuffs, and scarves on display (and even the ones hidden within the depths of his drawers!). Yet... One single item remained in the aftermath of your wake.

Atop one of the lone shelves in the corner, it sits, isolated from the rest of its kind. Worn out yet well loved; it was no more than a novelty item your boyfriend had originally won for you from a crane game. But even after their constant insistence that you should keep it, you rebutted it all by saying it'd look better on him instead — all while pushing the cute, froggy hat back into his hands with a teasing smile.

("If you keep bleaching your hair like that," his real name falls from your lips like sweet nectar, "All of your hair will fall out. When that happens, you can use this to keep your bald head warm!"

"...When that happens? Hmph. You're gettin' cheeky." With a smile of his own, your boyfriend reaches out to gently pinch your cheek. "I haven't touched m'hair in ages.")

So after watching you be so meticulous with the items you were "robbing", the hacker couldn't help but wonder what your main motive was. Why leave that silly, little frog hat alone unless... Did you want him to wear it? You knew [REDACTED] would never say no to you — let alone to a frivolous request — but admittedly, they did find it rather endearing to watch you put in all that effort just for him.

Just like how he used to be... Back before you opened the curtains of his life and brought sunshine into his heart.

Gone are the days of "Ren", when [REDACTED] had to snoop around your apartment just to get any sort of inclination of what your type and interests might be. No longer did [REDACTED] have to "borrow" some of your old clothing to keep himself company on lonely nights; to put them over his pillow and pretend like it was you he was holding close to his chest. He no longer had to steal your presents and tokens out of spite and jealousy — only to return them days later once they noticed how upset it made you.

Too caught up in reminiscing about the past, [REDACTED] had almost missed your swift getaway from his bedroom. Living up to your nickname, you glide down the staircase and across his foyer as if you sprouted angel wings on your back and stroll into the elevator, before closing the door and pulling out your phone.

And just like clockwork, [REDACTED]'s camera feed gets replaced by the bright red and green call buttons that shake and taunt him at the bottom of the screen — alongside the personalised caller photo of you smiling towards the sunset ocean with [REDACTED]'s jacket atop your shoulders. The dark-haired man leaves no room for pause before he's swiping his finger across the screen and eagerly anticipating the sound of your voice.

You greet him in that casual, nonchalant tone of yours, and [REDACTED] had to resist the urge to start recording the call — to save the addictive timbre of your voice for when he needs to hear it the most.

"Man... It sure is chilly today, don't you think?"

There's the familiar sound of tacky elevator music playing in the background, and part of [REDACTED] thinks you're purposefully calling him right now to let him in on your (not so) secret escapades... To let them know where you are.

Or perhaps you were already aware that he knows, if the way you were glancing up at the elevator camera was anything to go by.

Regardless, you don't give away any other telling signs as your beloved hacker watches you through the camera. Your bag is still carefully slung over a shoulder, while one of his old, black university caps received the pleasure of being fiddled with in your hand. Your voice returns once more, and it causes a grin to form on his lips.

"Don't forget to wear a scarf and a hat when you come pick me up, okay?"

There's a newfound teasing lilt in your tone, which has [REDACTED] latching on to your every word with bated breath and scrambling for a reply.

"'Course. Wouldn't miss our date for the world. 'N make sure y'stay warm too, angel." Without missing a beat, he easily takes his place in your little game. "Wouldn't wanna misplace your jacket 'n get cold now, would we?"

Your pixelated smile on the screen gives everything away.

You hear the unmistakable sound of [REDACTED]'s sports motorbike before you see it; watching the corner of your street as he appears from the darkness like a phantom.

And like the gentleman that he is, [REDACTED] doesn't make you stray far from the safety of the streetlamp either. The moment your boyfriend pulls up in front of you, one of his large hands reaches around your waist to draw you near (almost as if he'd gone years without being in your presence), while the other makes quick work of the latch of his helmet. In one swift motion, he pulls it off and rests it against the tank—

Only to reveal that cute, pastel green frog hat sitting atop his head.

He can't help but smile when you do; clearly pleased that he went through with your silly request. At that, you let out a low hum of appreciation as you lean against your boyfriend's chest, and [REDACTED] returns the favour by bending down and pressing a chaste kiss against the crown of your head as well.

"...Think y'could give this unworthy prince another kiss, love?" Your beloved boyfriend leans in closer until your lips are millimetres away from touching, "Otherwise I might stay cursed t'live in this froggy form forever."

[diremoone]

yakuza! ryomen sukuna | hcs.

overdone trope with this man but here we go again lmao. i’m just writing little drabbles that pop up in my head atp to keep the inspiration going sobs… i need a gallon of coffee

🖤 Yakuza! Sukuna, who’s been involved in yakuza bullshit since his last year of middle school, has a soft spot for you. Most people who went to school with you (who are also apart of his gang) two know that, and they know that unless they want to end up like the Zen’in named Naoya, they won’t fuck with you. You’re untouchable, and the second anyone starts rumors about you (everyone knows they were lies regardless because of your character), they’re moving schools within 48 hours.

Fuck ‘em.

🖤 Yakuza! Sukuna keeps you far away from his gang bullshit as he gets deeper into the darkness and you pull yourself farther away, into the light where he wants you to be. But he knows that even his little sunshine is capable of being mean like him, but it’s tucked away for those that warrant your wrath.

He thinks fondly back to the time you knocked out a couple girls cold with a volleyball for picking on Miwa.

🖤 Yakuza! Sukuna who swears his hands aren’t stained red whenever they’re holding your hands. Whenever he’s with you, he feels nothing like how his gang makes him feel—he feels normal, like that part of him doesn’t exist. And inside the walls of your home, it doesn’t. To you, in those shared moments, he’s just the nice boy you helped get through middle and high school and grew feelings for.

🖤 Yakuza! Sukuna who buys you pretty things with money that isn’t gotten by bloodshed… as much as possible anyway. You aren’t ignorant to where the money comes from, but you’ve done your best to make your wishes clear. And Sukuna abides by them as much as possible.

🖤 Yakuza! Sukuna who has his younger cousin Choso posted as your personal bodyguard whenever you go out, even when it’s just to do some simple grocery shopping. He isn’t taking any chances, this you’ve been made aware of and have accepted. And you’re fine with it, too, considering you grew up with Choso.

But what you don’t know is that there’s already been multiple attempts on your life and your safety. Sukuna isn’t having it.

🖤 Yakuza! Sukuna who gets fed up when you’re on your third date within four months. What pisses him off is that he can’t tell if you’re enjoying the asshole’s time and company or not. But when he sees the man press a kiss to the back of your hand at the end of the date, jealousy rears its head.

The next night, he’s at your front door, dressed in leather and with a spare bike helmet under his left arm.

You answer in a hoodie and black sweatpants, confused and dazed until he says softly, “C’mon, sweetheart. Lemme show you how a man gives a woman a good time.”

Your confusion turns to amusement. “Was wondering when you were going to take me out. It’s about time.”

Sukuna grins and holds out his arm. “C’mon then.”

🖤 Yakuza Husband! Sukuna who ends up putting the ring on your finger two months after that date. You end up signing the papers long before the actual ceremony happens. And to Choso, Yuuji; and all the others that have witnessed your relationship from its first greeting to the ring on your finger, they can only sigh in relief because it’s about fucking time.

… Oh, shit.

Kids.

a/n: the rain and thunder while writing this was a big help lol. it’s been raining for two days now hehe

[slutforfictionalwomen]

Just relax

Kinktober day 28

Natasha Romanoff x Fem Reader

Main kinks: mommy kink

Word count: 1,2K

Summary: You're in a bad mood, and your mommy is just trying to cheer you up.

Warnings: Smut, mommy kink, praise kink, fluff, soft sex, cunnilingus, fingering, begging.

(Please tell me if I forgot anything)

"What's really going on, baby?" It's late in the evening, and you've just come down to get a snack. Ever since you got home in the afternoon, Natasha has noticed your annoyed attitude.

You rummage through the cupboard, clearly still irritated for whatever reason. Natasha notices you making a mess of her cupboard and decides to help you find what you need.

You're a young college student with strict Christian parents. When the 39 year old Natasha met you, you still lived with your parents because you couldn't afford an apartment. She took you in, and quickly, things started to bloom between the two of you.

"Sweetie, please tell me what happened. I'll get you the snacks you're craving, but please just tell me what's going on." Natasha's hand in on the small of your back, rubbing the circles with her thumb she knows you go crazy for.

Finally, you turn to face her. But as soon as your eyes meet hers, tears start running down your face. Natasha immediately pulls you into a hug, whispering sweet words in your ear.

"All my classmates are having a Halloween party at campus, including my friends. I'm not invited, I'm the only one in our form who isn't," you sob into Natasha's shoulder. The older woman is shocked by what you tell her, how could everyone be invited except for her sweet girl?

"Honey, are you sure they didn't just forget they hadn't invited you yet?" Natasha keeps rubbing circles on your back, not pulling away from the hug. You immediately speak in sobs again, "No, I asked at what time and where it exactly was., but they said it was a stupid question because I wasn't invited anyway." Saying that last sentence out loud breaks you again.

"Oh baby," Natasha pulls away from the hug to wipe away your tears. Your poor little face has makeup smudged all over it, your eyeliner long gone. "You know what? I'll give you an extra nice day, we can have fun without those stupid college people. But first we need to clean your face, pretty girl."

Natasha has gently washed your face with a cloth and warm water. She also helped you change into some more comfortable clothes.

Now she wants you to decide whatever you want to do. She has named multiple examples, like watching a movie, shopping, or swimming.

However, you found out about a place to cuddle with goats near your house, and that is what you want to do.

It's only a ten minute walk away from Natasha's house. "This is a rather funny activity, but I could've expected it from an animal lover like you." Natasha presses a soft kiss to your hand, a gesture that still makes you blush.

There's only a few other people, people with little kids. It reminds you of how you used to spend time at a similar place at home when you were little. You pull Natasha just a bit closer.

You end up having a lot of fun. Natasha acts like a typical mum, petting the animals but keeping a bit of a distance and taking pictures of you. She loves seeing you happy like this, having fun out of just playing with goats.

The two of you decide to go by Starbucks on the way home, getting coffee and a sweet treat. You attempt to pay for yourself but fail as Natasha refuses to let you. "It's your day, sweetheart."

Natasha picks out a table with a booth for you. You start sipping on your drink and eating your muffin when Natasha moves her hand to your upper thigh, softly caressing it. When you try to move her hand away she gives you a warning look, so you just have to put up with the feelings it evokes.

Apparently, that was the idea because Natasha leans down to whisper in your ear. "When we get home, I'll make you feel so good, baby. Better than any Halloween party could ever make you feel. No one could ever make you feel better than I do."

The walk home is uncomfortable with the slick between your legs. As soon as you get home and sit down on the couch, Natasha is all over you. Normally, her kisses are rough, but now she's being soft. Her hands caress your body, whereas they normally grope you in an almost bruising way. She's being the most gentle with you she has ever been.

"Baby, I don't want to do this on the couch today." She takes you upstairs to her room to continue there. Asking you if she can take your shirt off before doing so, she same with the rest of your clothes.

When you're fully naked, she first spends time thoroughly exploring your body with her mouth. "Beg for it, baby," she says when your hands grab her hair.

You think for a moment about whether you want to do as she said or you want to be a brat. Giving in seems the better option right now. "Please mommy, please fuck me. I'm so needy, please!"

Natasha chuckles at your words, how you have learned how to beg properly in the time you've been with her. She kisses down your body, pressing a kiss to the mound of your pussy before speaking, "Such a good girl for mommy."

You whine at the praise, but it turns into a moan as the older woman dives in to lick your pussy. Her tongue disappears to pay attention to your bundle of nerves, making you hold onto her hair tighter.

"You like that, pretty girl? Like it when I praise you and rub your little pussy?" She says before diving back in to suck your clit. She's high on the moans that escape your mouth. You know you can be loud, but you still hold back. Natasha knows that about you and often sees it as a challenge.

She pushes one of her short nailed fingers into your aching hole while keeping up the licks on your sweet spot. The way she curls her finger pulls another loud moan out of you.

The older woman starts thrusting into you, sucking and licking your clit, trying to pull as many sweet moans from you as possible on the way to your orgasm.

She's relentless when it comes to this, whispering sweet words when she can, but mostly keeping her mouth on you. When she feels you getting closer, she adds a finger to your pussy. You immediately clench around it.

"Please mommy I'm gonna cum," you say when Natasha starts to constantly hit your spot with her fingers, while lapping your bundle of nerves with her tongue.

The older woman pulls her mouth away for a second, keeping up the motion with her fingers to not lose your orgasm. "Cum whenever, sweetheart."

It takes seconds for you to reach the edge, fully clenching around her while bucking up and riding out your orgasm. Natasha chuckles at the sweet sounds you make. She pulls her fingers out and cleans up your pussy with her tongue before making you clean her fingers.

"Come on, baby, it's time to take a shower." She takes her clothes off, then she lifts your already naked body up to walk to the bathroom.

[zahri-melitor]

In terms of trying to transplant how Dick’s generation grew up to independent adult heroes onto Tim’s generation, one of the significant issues is that the two groups have very different backstories.

The Fab Five and their generation were largely cared for children with present guardians during their teen years. Their ‘growing up’ rebellion moments were about wanting to establish their own identities separate to their parent/guardian. Then once NTT occurred and new young adult characters were added to it, you had a bunch who were escaping overbearing guardians with expectations the young adult didn’t want to fulfil, and leaving trauma behind.

The Core Four and other 90s heroes, in contrast, were mostly latchkey kids. They had loving but absent parents and parental figures. They were largely expected to grow up and show they were independent in their early teens. The arcs of their stories were not about growing up and finding themselves and ‘be your own person’, but about learning to trust others and interdependency and working together.

Like the shape of a Fab Five story is ‘in my preteens or earlier a Disaster Happened and I was taken in by a hero who cared for me and taught me the business as their sidekick. Then around 18-20 I moved out to live in a sharehouse with my friends as I wanted to find who I was outside of the shadow of being a sidekick’.

While…Tim’s generation largely aren’t sidekicks in the same sense. The shape of THEIR stories are of ‘teenager with largely absent adults is expected to grow up and show emotional maturity too early’. It’s actually notable that Tim, Kon and Bart all have long term story arcs that involve gaining a stable household right near the end.

Kon’s entire solo is the story of how he is neglected and exploited by every adult around him. He doesn’t have parents. He’s Peter Pan, the little boy who cannot grow up, who lives without parental expectation. He’s a celebrity kid exploited by Rex Leech and by CADMUS, who’s expected by those around him to act in an adult manner and held to that standard while simultaneously specifically being underage and not having the right to make his own decisions. His final arc in Superboy is about being so abandoned he doesn’t even have CADMUS to depend on anymore so he has to find an apartment and a job (the building superintendent) and is expected to act and function like an adult in that position. Superboy #59 (FIFTY NINE) is when Kon finally gets his own name. Superboy #100 is ABOUT Kon moving in with Jonathan and Martha Kent and finally having a stable home environment where he can be a child. Heck Kon’s already had a story where he’s ‘married’ and responsible for a kid. He’s had solo space adventures.

Bart’s solo is about Bart and Max learning to be a family together, but also: Bart’s childhood didn’t contain parents. Meloni turns up occasionally through his solo and loves him but also has to disappear away back to the 30th century at the end of each appearance. The final arc of Bart’s solo is about him moving in with Jay and Joan Garrick for more stability, because Max has disappeared (and stays disappeared). And then, post his solo, Bart even already has HAD an arc where he had to grow up and assume the Flash mantle (which went horribly wrong and led to his death).

Tim? Tim’s entire solo is about upheaval and change. The first time he’s expected to behave as an independent hero, not a sidekick, is literally Robin #1 when Azbats kicks him out of the Cave. Jack threatens to send him away to boarding school on multiple occasions and DOES for the Brentwood arc. He loses Jack, he loses Dana, he moves out to be a hero caring for his own city at 16, in Bludhaven post War Games. Bruce’s adoption of Tim was all about giving him back that sense of stability and support so that Tim had people backing him up again in his personal life and not only as a hero. And then he does the ‘leave and get a new identity’ thing during Red Robin.

And Cassie? Cassie starts with a loving mother and her story arc over becoming a hero is about periods of operating on her own. She moves away from her mum to go to Elias School. Due to operating as a hero under her own name she eventually has to come up with the alias of Drusilla Priam to give herself a non-public identity to retreat to (and isn’t living with Helena Sandsmark but renting on her own during this period to protect Helena).

This is a set of characters for whom it makes no narrative sense to tell a story of them growing up by ‘moving out and finding their own identity as separate heroes’ because their entire PAST is about being alone and looking for connections and people to rely upon. They haven’t been looking for their mentors to accept them as independent adults, they’ve been looking to their mentors to be present and work with them.

They have already all BEEN through the steps of moving out (while underage) and learning to look after themselves as nobody else was there to support them. Growing up for them is about learning to trust and be respected for the skills they already have and trusted to know what they’re doing, rather than leaving to show they can operate independently.

And that’s a harder narrative to show, because it’s a less common growth story in our culture. But in the Core Four’s case, I’d argue a lot of the traditional signifiers of adulthood (moving out; moving away for education; taking responsibility for a city on their own; travelling for quests) are things they were already expected to do while still significantly underage, and so sending them through that plot again isn’t showing anything new to allow them growth. What they need is the adults around them to treat them as adults for the things they already can and do do.